DIY's



My friend Jannie has this awesome DIY blog where she tests out different DIY products/techniques, and evaluates them. There are several that I've wanted to try, and one day I opened up her blog to do a workout she recommended. As I was scanning her blog I decided to procrastinate my workout for a few hours  be productive, and get some things done around the house! Here are my results!

 

 

Jannie's Post: Microwave Cleaner



 

Jannie says to put a microwave safe bowl/container of water in your microwave and let it run for 10-20 minutes. Then wipe the crud out.

 

Verdict: I turned it on for only 10 minutes, I was a little worried about my plastic measuring cup melting in there. The crud wiped off pretty easily from the roof and top half of the walls. I had to use a little more elbow grease to wipe the bottom half of the microwave. I think if I'd let it run for another 5 or 10 minutes, I wouldn't have had this issue. All things considered, super easy, super successful. Except for that part where I thought it would be great to use that hot water to wet my rag, and shoved my whole hand into that measuring cup full of boiling hot water. That is not what I would call super successful. This is my before (Shame on me, I know...)

 

 

And this is my after. Voila!! Go look in YOUR microwave... Shame on YOU!

 

 

Next up, Jannie's Post: Make up Remover

 

 

Read that post for specifics, but you mix water, tear free kids soap, and a teensy bit of olive or coconut oil. Mix it up, and whammo blammo, you got yerself beauty in a mason jar, hot darn!

 

My verdict: Jannie said to mix it up in the jar, and then pour some in a 3oz squeeze bottle to get it on your cotton square/ball for application. Being the genius that I am, I mixed it up knowing full well that I did NOT have a 3oz squeeze bottle. I wouldn't recommend doing this, because that will mean that you have to stick your arm, nearly up to your elbow, in that big jar to get this makeup remover onto your cotton ball. Which I did. The product itself is quite nice. I need to rinse my face (and hand. and forearm. and elbow. and shirt sleeve.) afterwards because I don't like the suds on my face. But I have been stuck in a rut trying to find a new facewash that works well with my awesome dry/flaky/greasy complexion. This is a good product I'm using to mix it up a little bit. I like it so far.

 

Moving on, Jannie's Post: Headlight Cleaner

 

Jannie says wipe some toothpaste on your headlights with a rag to restore and clear your headlights. Rub it around til it looks like its doing something. Then wipe it off with a clean rag.

 

My verdict: Works like a charm. Fair warning - When you sneak out into the garage, your children WILL notice, and they WILL lock you out of the house, and they WILL turn off the lights so that it takes you several minutes to locate and remove the spare key from its spot, and they WILL stand on the other side of the door laughing at you hysterically as you yell Mother Goose versions of curse words and threats at that them. Don't say I didn't warn you.

 

 

And then there was, Jannie's Post: Grips

 

Here, Jannie talks about three different kinds of grips, one that I really wanted to try. She says that to grip-ify the bottom of your kids' socks, put puff paint on the soles.

 

My Verdict: Works like a charm. Izzy can now run freely through the kitchen, and we have less incidents where she looks like that puppy from that toilet paper commercial. Anyone? Anyone? However, Izzy has been picking at it a bit, and I don't know how long it will stay on with her picking at it... who knows!!

 

 

We're almost done, Jannie's Post: Teeth Whitener

 

In her post, Jannie describes an epic fail she had with a teeth whitening system she bought. So here, she says to mix together baking soda and a few drops hydrogen peroxide. Let sit until it forms a paste, then spread on toothbrush and apply to teeth without touching gums or lips. Do not swallow, and do not leave on your teeth for more than 1 minute before rinsing mouth completely. Repeat every other day for 10 days.

 

My Verdict: Jannie warned that this substance would BURN your gums and lips, so I was super cautious when applying, which meant that I got it everywhere. I was expecting it to burn real bad, like you know, make my lips hurt real bad, bad enough that I might have to call Kip for some chapstick. But it didn't burn at all. So, either Jannie is a wussy, or my gums and lips are just really buff. You decide. Anyway, I left it on for about 40 seconds before I started drooling, and almost swallowed some. I think I noticed a difference, but I've only done it once so far. I'll report back later after the 10 days are up (or in 5 months, that's how I blog, yo.).

 

 

And last, but not least, Jannie's Post: Miracle Workout

 

After nearly 3 hours of other projects, I finally banished the children to the basement  buckled down and got to work on creating a new and healthier me. Jannie says she found this awesome workout, it only takes 15 minutes a day. It will make you win competitions, and money, and generally make you awesomer than anyone else, ever. And apparently when you're done, you'll still have enough energy to do five minutes worth of other stuff, too.

 

My Verdict: I hate you, Jannie. And my hamstrings hate you double.

 

Right this very minute...

Right this very minute, I'm kneeling at my laptop, which is sitting on my kitchen counter. The girls ran out in the garage and brought their bunny camp chairs in the house, and so they are set up behind me, sitting peacefully (HAHAHAH YEAH RIGHT) eating their snack cheese. Izzy is trying to force feed me her piece of cheese, and I don't particularly appreciate it. And I just had to break from writing for a few minutes to a) get more cheese for Izzy, b) get fishies for both girls, c) clean up fish guts that were smashed all over the floor about 15 seconds after said fishies were dispersed, d) stop Emma and Izzy from killing each other over who got which (completely identical) bowl, and e) clean chewed up cheese out of Emma's hair.  So why am I blogging right this very minute? Because I keep forgetting to do it, and got a subtle reminder to get my act together, and so I picked this very minute to stop and write. Obviously, the girls do not appreciate it. They rarely appreciate it when I have the audacity to be a Person, and not just Mother Servant. Sigh...

But on the good side, they are playing together more these days, instead of just playing in the same space. They don't always place nicely, but even when they're fighting I'll sometimes just let them go so they can figure it out on their own. I do try to minimize injurious/murderous situations, though. And there are  A LOT of them. Shocking, I know... What's even better is that the girls have started to like playing in our basement, more. I try to keep separate sets of toys for the upstairs, middle, and basement floors. So they've figured out that if they want to play with those particular toys, they have to go in the basement to do it. And they've started playing down there by themselves on occassion, for up to 30 minutes. That's 30 WHOLE MINUTES that I can be upstairs just listening to them. I've been able to pay bills, do dishes, fold laundry, and/or SIT ON MY BUTT, uninterrupted (mostly) without having to wait until naptime to do it. It's pretty glorious. Also, we recently rented The Muppet Movie, and Emma has been reenacting the "menomenom" sketch. It's so, so hilarious.

You know what else is glorious? I'm on my fourth week of training for these races I've got coming up. I fell off the bandwagon last week while I was at Chrysta's, but am right back on track this week. I've got a half marathon in Lancaster on Sept 8, and the Hershey Half on October 21. I may or may not continue with the training and do a full marathon in November. Still undecided. I'll probably wait until after the Hershey Half, and see how my knees and hips are feeling. But anyway, my midweek runs are still pretty short at 3-4 miles depending on the day. But two weeks ago I had a 7 mile long run that I finished in 65 minutes. That's pretty fantastic for me. And when I did my three miles on Tuesday, I ran it 3 min 45 sec faster than I ran it three weeks ago. (Insert another break here while I sniffed Izzy's suspicious smelling bum, concluded it was just a toot, and then spent several minutes tickling the bejeezes out of her, until she got mad and smacked me in the face. I deserved it.)  So, I'm feeling kind of pumped for the half coming up next month. If I can do it in 2 hr 15 min, I'll be really, really really happy. So we'll see how that goes!

And now I must go, as I do believe the children are eating something that I didn't give them, which begs the question, which piece of furniture did you find that under? And how old/moldy/petrified is it? And, do I have the number for poison control on hand?

The Color Run

The Good, the Bad, the Ugly.

Did the Color run in Philly with my friend Molly today, and the whole experience was pretty crazy.

The Good:
The Philly Color Run was the biggest color run ever! 23,000 people, completely sold out, just insane. And it was the 3rd largest 5k in America. There was awesome music, and there was just amazing energy in the air. It wasn't timed and there was no pressure to actually run, it was just all about having as much fun as possible. But even though there was no pressure to run, the adrenaline was pumping, and carried me through the whole thing (on about 2.5 hrs of sleep - I'll explain that later). The city was awesome, the route was awesome. We started and ended at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The finish line was actually at the bottom of the Rocky Stairs. The color stations were kind of hysterical. People were dancing around like crazy, and some of the outfits people wore... well... it took guts! And the color festival at the end of the race was insane. We were just floating the whole time we were there. What was also great was that I ran the race with Molly, one of my former students. She and I have become friends over the years (a common love of volleyball makes for good friends!) and she also loves Emma and Izzy, and is a great babysitter! She's the one who told me about the race and got me to sign up, and it was cool to run with her on her FIRST EVER 5K. She was totally nervous and didn't think she'd be able to run the whole thing, but she killed it. I also ran into 3 other former students - it's a small world!

The Bad:
Purple boogers after the race. Having to scrub the skin off of my body to get the color off. Blue teeth. Color in the eyes. Molly's bleach blond hair being died pink and purple, despite several shampooings.  Also, the packet pick up. The pre-race info was only available 9 days before the race, and that's when we discovered that packet pick up would only be open until 3 pm on Saturday. Every race I've done or heard of, has packet pickup open until the EVENING before the race. So, we had just planned to get to Philly by late afternoon. Because the information was only available last week, we just couldn't make it work to get our packets in time (Molly worked early in the day, and Mike and I were coming back from Inner Harbor - I'll post more about that later!). Which meant that we had to get up at 4am on Sunday morning to get dressed, ready, and get our packets that morning. After the fact we saw that we probably could have come about a half hour later than we did, and still avoided most of the lines. But it was definitely worth it to get up and over there as early as we did, because as I already mentioned, we were fighting a crowd of 23,000 people. So, I guess in general it was just disappointing that we couldn't get the information sooner, and had the hassle of packet pick up in the morning.

The Ugly:
The hotel. We stayed at the Best Western Center City Hotel. Location-wise, it was perfect. We literally only had to walk across  the street and through a baseball field to get to the party. Less than five minutes walking. However, when we walked into the lobby to check in, it was hot. And when we got into the elevator, it was hotter. And when we got to our room on the third floor (the top floor) it was hot, hot, hot. AC was on, but it wasn't able to keep up with the heat. Talking to other people at the hotel, we heard that it was a problem in all the rooms, and so we didn't bother to say anything to the hotel people. We just kind of sucked it up, and decided it was definitely worth the heat for the convenience of the location. So, other than the AC not working, the room was decent. No frills, but clean with comfortable beds. So, knowing that we had to get up at 4am, we were trying to get to sleep early.

Unfortunately the heat made that pretty difficult, so by 11 we were both still tossing and turning. Around 11:15, I happened to toss, and look up to see a pretty large looking bug. I was about 99% sure it was a cockroach, but was trying not to freak out. So I quickly and quietly got out of bed, and walked as far away from that roach as possible, over by Molly's bed. I didn't take my eyes off that sucker, and when it started moving (it was high up on the wall on my side of the room) I said, "Molly, I don't want to alarm you, but there's a bug." Not thinking much, she rolled over and said "what?" So I pointed it out to her, and she spent a couple minutes trying to convince me it was a moth. When it started crawling towards us, we both finally confirmed that yes, it was indeed a massive cockroach (about 3 inches long and fat). At that point, we both screamed like school girls, and Molly immediately called down to the front desk. They said they were sending their security guy. We contemplated trying to trap it under a cup, or smashing it with a shoe, but it was high up on the wall and I wasn't confident I could reach it without knocking it down onto myself. By this time, the cockroach flew (DID YOU KNOW COCKROACHES CAN FLY? I DID NOT KNOW THIS.) over onto my headboard, climbed down underneath it, and disappeared somewhere by the head of my bed after I tried whacking it with my shoe a couple times.

That's when I told Molly to pack her stuff up, because there was no way we were staying in that room. And I was getting pissed, because WHERE WAS THE SECURITY GUY? It had been AT LEAST 3 minutes since we'd called, and I expected him to come running up to our room with his Raid cans blazing, a pistol in his holster just in case things got out of hand.  We finally just turned on the light to get our stuff together, and that's when I saw that little bugger right next to my bed. I froze, and started yelling at Molly to get me a shoe. She gets me the shoe, and after whacking it twice I realize that DUH I'm not gonna kill a cockroach with a shoe, so I just trapped it under the shoe, had Molly get me a cup, and then trapped it under the cup. And then for good measure we put the trash can on top of the cup.

Ew. Finally the security guy came and was pretty nonchalant about our situation, so he clearly did not understand just how dire it was. I mean, there was a cockroach. Under a cup. Under a trash can. IN. OUR. ROOM.  Why wasn't he more concerned about this!?! But when he lifted up that trashcan even HE jumped a little, and was surprised at just how big it was. He lifted up the cup and squished it with his foot (I had knocked it onto its back with the shoe, so it's soft underbelly was showing). Then he grabbed a little toilet paper, picked it up, squished it some more WITH HIS HAND (ew) and threw it in the trash. And then he walked a little further into the room, and asked why we didn't have the AC on. Long story short - he got us a new room on the second floor where SHOCKINGLY the AC was working just fine. By the time we got settled in our new room it was midnight. And we were both wide awake. But the working AC did make it easier to relax, so I did eventually fall asleep. Problem was that I kept having this dream where I woke up in my hotel bed, and the walls were crawling with hundreds of cockroaches. Then I'd jolt awake, spend several minutes scanning the walls and ceiling before I could lay back down, and then wait to drift off to sleep again. So, that's why I only had about 2.5 hours of sleep before having to get up at 4 to get ready for packet pick up.

 Three colors in: Pink, Blue, and Yellow.

 The Color Festival

 Crazy Dirty

This is what I look like when I'm loading up to jump again, and trying not to swallow large amounts of colored cornstarch, and trying to actually breath, all at the same time. Hot, I know. Actually, this is probably the most awkward photo of me, ever. EVER.

But despite all the craziness, the color run was a blast, and I hope I can do it next year!! In fact, this morning Molly and I were even thanking that little (enormous) cockroach, because without we wouldn't have gotten a new room with AC!

 Enjoying the anticipation of baked goods in the oven

 Bed Head.

My ecstatic Emma, holding Perry the Platycar (which matches her Perry the Platypillow, and Perry the Blankepus)





A Thought

I have been reading a certain book for quite some time now. I'm taking my time with it, because it's not one of those books that's easily processed. I've read and re-read a few passages, and today one stuck out at me like a sore thumb. This won't be a particularly interesting post, I don't think. But I just keep thinking about this passage and I have a response. I've started and lost dozens of journals, so putting pen to paper on this one just won't do. So forgive me, but I'm using my blog now simply to record some thoughts I don't want to forget.

The passage goes like this:

"When you have a child, you start to dream of how this kid will grow up and make you proud. The only thing you can predict with 100% certainty is that the reality will diverge somehow from that dream. Some of our children will disappoint us by not being the scholars we hoped they would be. Some children will disappoint us by not being the athletes we hoped they would be....... The real question is not, what book can I read, what technique can I use to raise a perfect child? The real question is how will you handle that gap between the child you dreamt of having and the real child growing up in your home?"

I cannot get this passage out of my head. And it's because I don't have dreams for my children. It sounds bad when I say it like that, but it's true. Emma is 3.5 and Izzy is 18 months old, and I would be lying if I told you that I have ever, EVER once thought about what they were going to be like as teens or young adults, what niche they'd fill in middle/high school, what schooling, if any, they'd pursue, what career path they'd follow,  or who they'll spend the rest of their life with. I have spent more time than I can count thinking about those precious little babies of mine. But as far as future planning goes, my vision hasn't ever gone further than things like, "I really can't wait until Emma is done with this phase of tantrums" or "I can't wait until Izzy has all of her teeth!"

That is not to say that we aren't planning for their future. We are. We are trying hard to be responsible financially so that we can provide for them the things they need. We are  trying hard to instill a love of reading, music, physical activity, imagination, and all those other good things that kids need to thrive. But I have never once said, or even thought, "Emma, one day you could be the/a/an _________________".  Is that strange? Is it strange that even as I'm typing this, I just don't have those stars in my eyes about where my kids will end up?

If my parents had a dream for me about where my life would end up, I never knew it, or have since forgotten it. I have seven siblings, and I often wonder how my parents did it. The biggest miracle, I think, is that despite some bumps along the road, my parents have produced eight children who are smart, responsible, adults who contribute to society in a positive way. But I don't ever remember my parents pushing me, saying "Alyssa, you better hit the books or you'll never be a doctor!" or "Alyssa, you better hit the gym, or you'll never be an Olympic athlete!" What I remember is that I developed a natural love of sports on my own. And when I decided to join a competitive volleyball league, my dad would get up with me sometimes as early as 4am on a Saturday morning to drive me (while I slept) to an all day tournament in another state, and sit for hours on end in over-filled bleachers, and then drive me home while we jammed out to Simon&Garfunkle's 4-disc collectors set. What I remember is that Every. Single. Day. my mom would drive me to school in the morning and say "Go! Fight! Win!" as I got out of the car, because even though she's not a "sports person", she knew that every game (or meet) was a big deal for me. And not once did I ever get the sense from her that she was disappointed in me for giving up on music when I started 9th grade, even though music has been a big part of her life, and something she is very good at. Or that my dad was disappointed I'd picked volleyball, even though HE had played basketball.

It was the same situation in every aspect of my life. I developed my own natural interests, and my parents supported me, and guided me when I needed it. And that's all I want to do for my kids. This is not to say that I'll sit idly by and watch as my children develop a real and intense love for building meth labs in my basement. No, no I'll nip that one in the bud should the time ever come. What I mean is that I don't feel compelled to create my own vision for their future. This notion that my child could disappoint me by "diverging" from MY vision for THEIR future just doesn't sit right with me. Why would I speculate such specifics? The only vision I have for their future is that they are happy, well adjusted, contributing members of society, who can show love and compassion for those around them. I could care less whether they are the President, or a professional dog-walker. What matters is that they are good people, that they are happy people, that they are healthy people.

I know that my children will suffer through trials, hard times, and heartache, much as I have and will in my life. And my heart will ache with, and for them. But I would never want my children to think for one second, that I was disappointed IN them, because they did not get the degree I had hoped they would, or they were not as musically or athletically gifted as I had hoped they would be, or they were not as wealthy or famous as I had hoped they would be. I will support my children, and push them when they need it, and I will do my best to guide them towards a happy and bright future. But for right now, no one knows what that future will be, and I don't feel the need or desire to speculate. I suppose my only dream for my kids is that they will create and achieve their own. I think that's good enough for now.

But what does it mean?

I rarely have dreams that I remember. For a while I was having this weird recurring dream about the Death Blow Kiss Killer, but I finally was able to kill him in one of those dreams, before I woke up, and haven't had that dream since. But I've had another recurring dream in the last few months that I just can't figure out. It goes like this...

I start in the locker room, getting ready for a volleyball game. I'm trying to get my act together to get out to the gym, but I can't find my shoes. So I go out to the gym, and have a major freak out, because I'm talking with Coach Piscotty, and figuring out that I have eligibility left, but holy crap I'm 29 and I can't jump. And she's expecting me to be in tip-top playing condition. And I'm so not. So she sends me away to find my shoes and then I'm somehow at track practice. And I have this crazy intensity to throw, but when I'm trying to finish my throw it feels like I'm trying to move my arm through wet cement. I want to accelerate but I. Just. Can't.

So I quit doing that and go in the locker room again. But when I come out, there is not a soul to be seen. I start roaming the earth, and literally can't find a soul. I'm so confused, and scared, and then I look up in the pitch black sky to see the sun. And it's shooting off these crazy flames, and looks like it's coming crashing into the earth. So I'm running around like crazy trying to find someone, ANYONE, to find safety in. I finally come upon a large gathering of people watching the sky, but they are all in an area at the top of a big stone wall, and there's a fence on top of the stone wall. So I am trying to scrape and climb up the stone wall, but when I do, I can't find an entrance to the fence. I'm trying to figure out what's going on, and I'm freaking out, and the people inside the fence are completely ignoring me.

So I somehow find my way inside the fence, and ask the people what's happening, and why are they all there, and why are they just watching. And they are all totally chill, and tell me it's just a solar flare, and they're enjoying the view, no biggie. So then I get totally confused, and leave to find my family. But I can't find them.

Then I wake up.

I don't know why, but this dream is really unsettling to me. I don't really remember many dreams, but when I do they're usually way freaky and off the wall. This one just leaves me feeling anxious and tense. Yuck.

This post is for my future grandchildren...

Dear Future Grandchildren,
This was my facebook (does that still exist??) status and ensuing comments from today, regarding how I spent my time with your mother/aunt. Please enjoy, and use it to harrass them as needed.
Love, Grandma.


This morning was nothing but a string of unfortunate events. Both girls were awake entirely too early, which means they were up before daddy left for work. The result is always a tantrum of epic proportions x2. Finally got the girls calmed down, fed, dressed, and we set off for the grocery store followed by a trip to the Curiousity Connection at the State Museum. We got to the museum, I dumped 2 hours worth of quarters into the meter, and headed in. Only the museum is closed on Mondays...

So I had to drag the girls back to the car (in the rain), and they both melted down again because a) we couldn't play at the museum and b) who wants to get buckled in again when you JUST got out. Finally got them in with promises to go to Chocolate World. Headed out when Emma informed me she had to poop. Immediately called Mike, since we were right near his building. He didn't answer, and there was nowhere close to us where I felt safe/comfortable enough to drag the girls out of the car AGAIN, use the bathroom, and then buckle them up again. So, we headed for home after Emma assured me she could hold it that long. Traffic was strangely heavy, and it took 20 minutes to get there. Of course, Emma pooped her pants in the garage. Got her cleaned up (while Izzy was still in the car, raging), then headed out for Chocolate world...

Got to chocolate world, rode the ride once, and headed for a second ride. Except Izzy threw herself on the floor and had a psychotic meltdown, acting like she was terrified of the ride (even though she was fine and happy the first time, and has ridden it at least 20 times in the last 6 months). I finally dragged her off the floor and headed for hot chocolate, when Emma said she needed to potty again. We stopped, found a large stall, Emma went, then I did too. Except as soon as I sat down, Emma opened the door at the exact same moment that Izzy opened the trash bin and reached in. My instinct was to grab them, Izzy first because ew. Got Izzy, but Emma had the door swinging wide open. A nice lady outside (there were lots of them...) tried to shut it for me...

 

But Emma was blocking her way. I finally grabbed Emma and the lady shut the door and then leaned against it so Emma couldn't open it again. During all of this bouncing, I got pee all over my pants/shoes, because lets be honest I never did my kegels and couldn't stop it midstream, and didn't even think to in the moment, anyway. So I got cleaned up, and we headed home. And of course they melted down because now we weren't having hot chocolate. Decided to stop for nuggets on the way home, because I was about to lose my marbles and the thought of having to make lunch at home made me want to retch. That settled them reasonably enough. Got them home and at the table. Thought they were occupied at the table, so I got everything ready for dinner in the crockpot (since I'm working at 6pm). Except while I was doing that they made an ENORMOUS mess at the table.

 

After that was all done and cleaned up, I took them upstairs so I could get a shower. That was all fine and good until I was completely covered in soap/shampoo. That's when Emma came in, needing to potty yet again. Except Izzy followed her,... and in the 30 seconds it took me to completely rinse, Izzy managed to unroll and destroy almost an entire roll of toilet paper. I was yelling for them to stop the whole time, and they just looked at me and laughed and unrolled more TP. When i got out, I could tell Izzy had pooped, so I put on my robe and took her downstairs to change her diaper. Except she flipped out, and I got poop all over my leg and my robe (OF COURSE it's immediately after I shower). Then I had to sit on her to do yet another round of eye drops.

 

I don't think I've ever looked forward to going to work as much as I do right now...

 

I'm so stupid

Hey remember that one time a while back when I declared that I would never again post anything on this blog that even remotely hinted at happiness or joy in life, because everytime I did, I jinxed myself and everything went to crap? Yeah, I'm reinstating that. I was dumb enough a couple posts ago to mention how the weather was great, and the kids were so happy, and how Izzy was having a nice break from teething, and the girls were getting along and playing so nicely...

Yeah. About two days later the weather got cold again (not full blown winter cold, but cold enough to need a coat when you go outside), and both kids immediately got colds. I don't know about your kids (if you've got 'em), but mine ARE NOT the type who get sleepy and cuddly when they're sick. They do not sit or lay around watching tv, or reading books, or sleeping. They are up and running, they just happen to also be crying/whining/vomiting, instead of running around happily. So they got sick, and then I got sick, and then later Mike got sick. Then it seemed like the girls were getting better, but JUST KIDDING they weren't. And now, nearly a month later, we're all still sick, and the girls have pink eye now on top of everything else. And as if having a cold wasn't enough to make Izzy mIzzerable, she's got two new teeth popping in, which has brought about another round of "I'm going to cry and scream all day, and cling to you like glue"-itis.

And then there are the cars. Both cars ended up in the shop, and needed RIDICULOUS amounts of money for repairs, in a ten day span. And when I say ridiculous amounts of money, I mean, amounts high enough that we probably won't make the reunion this summer, because it's friggen expensive to fly four people to Minnesota.

And the girls, who were playing so nicely, have begun another round of fighting over EVERYTHING. There are so many toys in this house, and they always want the same one. Although they don't actually want it. They just want the other to NOT have it. And Izzy has these sharp little razor blade fingernails, and she knows how to use them. Sadly, she knows how to whack Emma pretty good too, and Emma gets so upset when she does. And I just keep trying to tell Emma that Izzy wouldn't know how to hit if Emma didn't REPEATEDLY GO AFTER HER AND HIT HER. This does not satisfy Emma. Izzy, whose vocabulary is expanding rapidly, has mastered the phrases, "NO!" and "BACK UP!" and routinely screams them at Emma whenever she approaches, because Emma approaching generally means trouble.

So from this point forward, please note that I will not be happy or excited about anything, ever. Lest the universe see fit to smite me.

On another note - I took the girls to the fabric store this morning, so that Emma could pick out some materials. She is one who insists on being covered while she sleeps, and the blanket she has now is just way too heavy for this warmer weather. We picked up some lightweight fabric, and I did the sewing, and then washed it today while the girls were napping. I broke it out after dinner to show Emma, and she was totally excited about it. Unfortunately, she should have played it cool, because after Izzy saw how excited Emma was, she quickly concluded that this was obviously something she needed to have... there was a lot of arguing tonight...

Strange Things

Since I started working at the gym, I've seen a lot of strange things. Some are gym related, like the guy who wears these crazy space-looking bouncy shoes made out of hard plastic, or the guys who come in and workout wearing garbage bag-looking sweatsuits. Of course, we also have a swimming pool, which is just behind the front desk on the other side of a glass wall. So I see lots of big, big men wearing teeeeeeeny tiny speedos. And I have to clean the locker rooms at the end of the night, so I've cleaned up lots of weird, wet, bathroom things that I won't mention.


But this lady?? She does some of the strangest things. You can't see very well because I was trying to be discrete taking the picture. But she's lounging in one of our leather lobby chairs, head on one armrest and feet propped up on the other armrest. She's chatting on her cell phone, in a language that's not English, but I don't know what it is. And she wears side ponies almost all the time. And she eats slim jim's by the box. I know this, because she checks in to the gym, then plops down in that chair, opens up her Kmart bag, pulls out the box(es - depending on the night) and empties them right in front of me. And she talks on her phone with her mouth full, so the chair usually needs a wipe down when she leaves. When she's done with her slim jim's, she'll walk back to Kmart (which is next door), buy some magazines, then come back, plop on down in her chair, and read for a while.

I always say hi, and am friendly/chatty with people as they come in, depending on how chatty THEY want to be. Some people barely nod as they hand me their keys, others stick around the desk and talk for a few minutes. I'm not sure how well this woman understands English, but I've heard her speak to someone else at the gym, so I know she knows at least a BIT of English. But she doesn't look at me, speak to me, or really acknowledge me at all when she checks in. She just throws her keys up on my desk, then plops down on her chair and leaves her keys sitting on my desk til she leaves. It's so, so strange. I don't know how often she comes into the gym, because I only work nights twice, MAYBE three times a week, and she's not there every night I work. But I've never actually seen her work out either. I've made it my mission to figure this woman out!!!

Sisters

Emma and Izzy. They are living proof that everything is better with a sister.

For instance, sitting around wearing boots is much funnier with a sister.

And it's more effective when there are TWO of you to attack Grandma.
Even going to the bathroom is a delight when you've got your sister (and froggy and perry the Platypus).

It sure is nice to relax in a pile of pillows. But having a sister/ottoman? Now THAT is relaxation. (Pants are also optional)

I think they're texting each other. And I'm pretty sure this is a vision of our future.

When your little sister falls asleep in the car, and by some miracle DOES NOT wake up upon extraction, and mom lays her down on the floor thinking she'll immediately wake up, but again by another miracle, she is still sleeping... well then that's a good time to have a nice fake nap with her! And then 30 seconds later it's totally cool to starting making loud dinosaur noises, and your awesome little sister will wake up smiling, saving you from what was sure to be a very long time out.

And, heaven help mom if she disappears to the bathroom by herself for five minutes. Because sisters are the best at emptying the contents of the pantry all over the living room, kitchen and dining room.

Go ahead and tell me this isn't the cutest thing ever. And then I will PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE.

Lighting isn't good, but do you see the pig tails??

So, to sum up, these sisters are awesome. I spend many days trying not to rip my hair out, but there are also many many many days that I'm just rolling on the floor laughing my butt off. By 40 I fully expect to be bald and buttless.

And, we're back!

Sort of? Maybe? I hate blogging again after such a long break. I feel like I can't just jump into a post, I have to do an update on months worth of activities and goings on. And it's daunting to try and remember it all. Here we go...

Since my last post, my neck has healed and I've got a nice scar, that should fade away to just a small line in another six months or so. I'm feeling much better health wise, and have recently made big changes to my diet, and have started exercising regularly again. I've also got a job at LA Fitness, working front desk and kids club. The perk (in addition to the paycheck) is a free membership to the gym, free access to the kids club, and there's a trainer there who firmly believes that all gym staff should be working out. So he's training me for FREE. Just started working with him last week, and I'm hoping that his knowledge will help me focus my workouts on weight loss. So I'm pretty jazzed right now.

Also, Izzy turned 1, then Emma turned 3. Both festivities were a blast and the girls enjoyed the spoils of the day. Then we had Thanksgiving, and then Christmas, and then New Years and Valentines. So much family, so much fun. All winter we've had mild weather, and in the last two weeks we've had temps near record highs. Which has been AMAZING! My little Izz-bot has had a rough go of teething for the last several months, which caused her to be clingy and miserable. Unfortunately this meant that Emma had to deal with it, too, and often got frustrated and upset with how much time I had to spend holding/calming Izzy down. The cabin fever just added to the misery. But now...this weather has us all shouting hallelujah's! It is glorious to be outside every waking moment. The perfect temps, not too cold, not too hot. Just playing all day. Park hopping all week. The zoo, chocolate world (inside, but still...) picnics, ice cream... perfect, perfect, perfect.

So, let's call that an update, and see if I can keep up this time. Oh, and to my blogrollers, I've been reading, so keep on writing!!

breathing again

So, I used to be a big fan of the sitcom Home Improvement when it was on prime time. There was this one episode where Randy Taylor went in for a visit to the doctor, and suddenly came home with a problem. It was either a goiter, hypothyroidism, or cancer. And boy oh boy, Jill and Tim were prayin' for a goiter. Randy overheard his parents worried whispers, and took off to the arcade to distract himself from the stress.

Well, call me Randy. And I just got home from an 8-month stay at the arcade.

So. 8 months ago I was at the doctors office for a regular check up. Dr. thought my thyroid felt large. Told me it was probably nothing, but she was going to send me for an ultrasound, anyway. Had the ultrasound, and the techs said hey we think there's something there, but its probably nothing. We'll do that again later, anyway, just in case. And then they saw the 3 cm nodule sitting nicely behind my thyroid, and said hey nodules are really common. It's probably nothing but we'll send you to an endocrinologist, anyway. And then the endocrinologist says, 3 cm is about 3x the size of "normal" nodules. It's probably nothing, but we'll do a biopsy anyway. And then the biopsy comes back with atypical cells. And the endocrinologist says, its probably nothing, maybe an error, but we'll do another biopsy anyway. And then the second biopsy comes back the same, and so does the core sample. And the endocrinologist says, hey there's this type of cancer that will cause these biopsy results, because you need to see the WHOLE thing to actually see the cancer. It's probably nothing, but we'll take out half your thyroid, and that growth that's attached to it, anyway.

And after hearing all of this, you really start to think that when it's probably nothing, it's probably something. And you don't know what. And you don't know why. And you don't know if you should be worried, but all of a sudden seemingly small numbers like 15% and 20% (the odds I'd have this cancer) start looking like really big numbers. And you feel kind of silly for worrying when really, odds are in your favor that it's nothing, but you can't shake the feeling that it's something. And you're already a worrier, who can get worked up into a frenzy without having any real, tangible thing to worry about. And then you have this. And you don't want to talk about it or think about it, but when you're alone in the car, or trying to fall asleep after a hard day, all you can think about is, holy crap what if this is cancer? And you just cry and cry with the worry. And you do any and everything you can to try and distract yourself from the worry, but nothing seems to push it out of your mind. Even thyroid cancer, which is one of the least deadly, most successfully treated types of cancer, scares the crap out of me. I could still be sick, and these babies of mine, they need me. And for 8 months I felt like I couldn't breathe.

On Friday, they took out the right lobe of my thyroid, and the nodule attached to it. Preliminary pathology came back benign, but full pathology results weren't done until today. And I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to breathe again. It was benign. Didn't talk terribly in depth (I will on Tuesday at my post-op appt), but the dr basically told me that had this been overlooked and not noticed for another 5, maybe 10 years... this would be cancer.

And it suddenly dawned on me just how lucky I am that my doctor decided to go back and feel my throat a second time, because she thought it felt funny. It was by sheer luck that we were able to find and remove this 3cm piece of funk that had the potential to turn my life upside down, 10 years down the road. It's also given me great perspective, and helped me to know, in the smallest way, what it must be like for people who have real, long term health problems. And it has made me so grateful for what I have. And especially for what I don't have.


(Randy Taylor had hypothyroidism, and had to take thyroid hormone medication daily. I know you were worried about that.)

Alyssa, Just remember...

Note to Self:

Being a mom is way harder than you thought it was going to be. Even with just two kids, there are A LOT of days when you darn near pull your hair out. Emma's quite good at being two, and her dare-devil, defiant independence is the best and worst thing about her. And Izzy is just a sweet little ball of butter who has the misfortune of just about every day being a very bad-no good-down-and-out sort of day, in some way or another. It's not her fault that she's got tummy problems, or that she's having a hard time with teething, or that she's picked up bugs and colds here and there. Wouldn't you cry a lot if every day you felt like crap?

But Alyssa, just remember, that even on a night like tonight, there are sweet moments to savor.

Savor those moments when Emma, who can rarely sit still, wants nothing more than to sit next to you and read book after book after book after book.

Savor those moments during middle of the night potty trips, when she wraps her arms around your neck, and whispers "I love you Zurg." (Because she, of course, is Buzz Lightyear...)

Savor those moments at the park when she wants to hold your hand, as you go down the side-by-side slides together.

Savor those moments when your girls are in the swings next to each other, both of them giggling as you push them along.

Savor those moments when Izzy pulls herself up on your shoulder, and gives you big sloppy kisses.

Savor those moments when she laughs with delight Every. Single. Time. that you pop out from behind the blanket and say "peekaboo!"

Savor those moments when, in the midst of her screaming, she stops and nuzzles into that perfect spot on your neck, and you can feel the soft rhythm of her breathing and she drifts away into sleep.

Savor those moments when you know the only thing that can soothe her is you.

Savor those moments...

All those years you spent wishing to be a mother. You weren't dreaming of the poopy diapers, and the crying, and the boogers, and the tantrums, and the teething, and the shots, and sleepless nights. You were dreaming about all the moments to savor. And they are here. They are happening. Remember them. Love them. And let them get you through these long, long nights. You have so, so much to be grateful for.

Sincerely,
Me.

Things I like:

*When playing with her cars, instead of saying vroom, Emma says "Verm Verm!"

*My ENT finally solved the mystery of my ears. It's an antiobiotic-resistant super bug. And now I've got the right drugs to treat it. Hooah.

*Tonight my mother-in-law was holding Izzy and asked her where her mommy was. She smiled really big, then pointed to me!

*Our sump pump is holding out, and keeping our basement dry. I really, really like this.

*We live pretty much right in between the Swatty in Hershey (down Rt. 39 to the East) and the Susquehanna River downtown (down Rt. 39 to the West). We are so lucky in our location right now.

*My sister Chrysta moved to the DC area, and we've already seen them three times in just over a month. Heading down to see her again next week.

*While we're there, my brother Scott will be at Pax River with his plane (he's a navy pilot) and we'll get a tour!

*When Izzy makes this face, with her little baby dino spikes! And she's rash free!


*When Emma makes this face. It's her "I'm a star" face.

*When my little girls cuddle up to Franklin, our new five foot teddy bear, that daddy brought home.

*I think we've found the true secret to Izzy's hair-do.

Photo Shoot

Ok, so before you go thinking I've jumped on the "update blog format" bandwagon, let me tell ya's something. I have been planning on updating my blog for a while now. I mean, the picture for my header was taken 5.5 years ago on our honeymoon in Hawaii. And the other pictures were of Emma when she was 9 weeks old. So, we're overdue for a change. BUT. I wanted to wait to update my blog until we had our family photos taken! Which happened in July!! Soooooo now I have lovely pics to highlight here. So don't go thinking I stole the idea from you!

ANYWAY. My friend Dani happens to be married to Matt who happens to be an amazing Sports photographer. He's had photos in Sports Illustrated, among other things. Oh, and he also done family portraits now! WOOT WOOT for connections! So Matt did our photos and they are amazing. I was totally nervous, because I thought Izzy was going to be a wreck. The shoot was right smack dab in the middle of when she'd normally be napping. But, surprisingly, she was alllllllll smiiiiiiiiiiles for the entire shoot. Emma, on the other hand... well she was her usual wild self.

At first she was pretending to be shy for Matt. Then she got all weird and actually MADE HERSELF SAD for real. Like, crying, tears-running-down-the-cheeks sad. But Matt wooed her with his camera and some high fives, and then she was down for it. For about 30 minutes. After that she started trying to eat sticks, ran away various times, and nearly jumped into a pond. But I digress.

Moral of the story, Matt (and Dani, who joined us later) were awesome and got some great photos of the family and especially of the girls. They were so lovely, in fact, that afterwards at lunch, Emma asked us why "cousins" Matt and Dani didn't come with us:)

So if you're in the area, and you need photos, Matthew O'Haren Photography is the way to go. Here's a peek at a few of my favorite pictures!!

My favorite family portrait

My three most absolute favorite people in the universe



My lovely ladies and I

Emma, pre-stick eating

My hammy little Izz-bot

Life as Muppets

Recently, I've been reflecting on my family. I have been thinking about the unique characteristics of each of us, and the unique qualities we bring to the family. We are definitely an interesting bunch. And the thought occurred to me that with the whackos we are, everyday life is like an episode of The Muppet Show. Waka waka. So, without further ado, let me introduce my Muppet Family.

Alyssa, as Janice.

Free loving, guitar slingin', leader of the crew. Tries to go with the flow, and keep the people happy. Known to have a fondness for side ponies.

Mike, as Waldorf and Statler.

He's one man providing the crotchetyness of two muppets. Ever the outward grump, full of sarcasm and dry wit. But although he may seem like a grump on the outside, on the inside he's really more like

Fozzie Bear
Just loveable, cuddly, and ever the comedian.

Emma, as Animal.

Self explanatory, but for those who've never met her, I'll explain.

Wild, with a proclivity towards turning every item in a room into a drum. She bounces off walls and shouts at the top of her lungs in a barbaric, primal tone. Looks, and is, a little bit crazy. Ok, a lot crazy.

Isabella, as Beaker.

Known for high pitched, unintelligible mutterings. Due to circumstances beyond her control, she is often luckless and forlorn. But no fear, each day is a new chance to "meep meep" her way to happiness and success. Also, the hair.

And there you have my Muppets.

Touchy

I am about to vent. Feel free to disregard.

There are a lot of things going through my head right now. Over the last two years there have been a lot of negative experiences piling up, and they are just getting to me. For example, almost as soon as I had Emma, I learned that perfect strangers will feel completely comfortable giving me unsolicited advice, criticizing my actions or inaction, giving dirty looks or glares, making rude comments in that kind of whisper that is meant for you to hear, scolding my children, or PUTTING FOOD DIRECTLY INTO THEIR MOUTH. And the list goes on. I've just learned that there are crazies out there with no filter, no sense of proper social etiquette, no concern for the feelings of others. It was hard at first not to take these encounters personally. It was hard to realize that these people were making snap judgments based on minimal observation, and that they REALLY had no clue what they were talking about. But slowly, I've gotten better at letting those harsh encounters roll off my back. I still get upset sometimes, (like when a woman scolded me in the parking lot of Target for changing izzy, who'd had a blow out, in the back of my car instead of taking her inside where "they have stations for that...") but generally I'm able to take it for what it is.

But more recently, I've picked up on an undertone coming from people who aren't just strangers. People who I consider friends. People who know me, and know my kids, and know about our life. People who I thought would be understanding. The first part of this that bothers me is the "you're JUST a stay at home mom" attitude. I chose this path. My husband works very hard to make it possible. And I think I do important work. I don't like it when others minimize that.

The second part of this is the small little digs people make about my kids or my parenting. Emma is hyper and out of control sometimes. I know that. It is only exacerbated around large groups of kids/people. She is just so happy to be out and about, and she really has unbounded energy. She has gotten much better about controlling it, and about knowing how to behave, but for heaven's sake, she's 2! Isn't that part of what being 2 is about? Being wild and crazy and running and playing and jumping and singing and being all spunky and stuff? And yet, two different people made the comment to me that if their oldest was like Emma, they'd be an only child. Adding "haha" to the end of that statement does not make it any less insulting.

And Izzy. Poor Izzy. First the stomach problems, and now teething. She's having a hard time, and she cries. A lot. I'm sorry if it bothers you, but telling me to just "nurture more" because you "nurture" your baby and he hasn't had any problems with teething, well that's not really helpful. And obviously it means you think I don't nurture my kids! OF COURSE I DO!

Ugh. So stupid. I wish these types of comments were coming from people that I could just blow off. Or from people that I could just tell off. But these comments come from people that I never expected. And it hurts.

So I've just been asking myself why I let it get to me. And the honest answer is that its because I'm insecure. People aren't saying anything that I haven't already worried about in the back of my head. I worry about Emma. I worry about whether or not she'll be able to slow down and thrive in a school environment. I worry about Izzy, and if I'm doing enough to comfort her. But I know deep down that I am doing the best that I can. I know we all can't be perfect. And I don't expect perfection from myself. But goshdarnit I hate hate hate when others feel the need to put me down to elevate themselves. Worst of all, coming from my friends. And its just made me realize that a purge is necessary. No more room for haters.

Blahhhhhhhhh.

BOMBARDO MAXIMA!

You are about to be bombarded. With pictures and videos. Of cuteness. Of Cuteness SO CUTE, that your ovaries will explode. If you do not possess ovaries, these pictures and videos will cause your body to spontaneously generate them, and THEN they will explode. You're Welcome.

Playing Peekaboo

Seriously, Izzy LOVES peekaboo

Her blankie was in the wash...

It's normal for kids to dress up like a lady bug on a typical saturday afternoon, Right?

Izzy loves a nice tubby

Beauty and the Beast

Lately, we've been watching Beauty and the Beast a lot. And there are a few things I need to say.

First, in the beginning sequence the narrator tells us that there was this Prince who had everything he wanted, and he was spoiled and all that. He couldn't see the beauty in the haggard old lady, so she cursed him and gave him a rose that would wither away over time. If he didn't learn to love before the last petal fell, on his 21st birthday, he'd be a beast forever.

Later, in the song Be Our Guest, it makes reference to the fact that they've been in this enchanted state for 10 years.

Now, using my powers of deductive reasoning, my skill in extrapolation, my interest in inference, this tells me that when the prince was turned into a beast, he was 10 years old.

REALLY??? 10??? What ten year old isn't at least a little bit spoiled? And a prince, at that. A 10 year old prince will be spoiled. Do you know many ten year olds who, when approached by a strange, hunchbacked, hideous old woman, wouldn't at least give her a weird look?? I mean come on, those are pretty high expectations for a ten year old.

Also. He was ten. Where were his parents?? Even if you were far off traveling, don't you think you'd send communications every once in a while to check on your pre-teen son? Maybe they were dead or something, but wouldn't that then make the "Prince" the King instead?

ALSO. If he was a prince, how come nobody in the whole flipping country knew their prince had been turned into a beast FOR TEN YEARS??? Aren't royalty expected to make decisions, or at least public appearances? And nobody notices when the prince goes missing?? It's not like the royal staff could make appearances on his behalf, because they were turned into flippin' candlesticks, clocks, teapots and armoires... And even if the small villages didn't know about the prince, how did they all find the castle so easily, huh?

I mean, Belle's dad stumbled upon it, but then Phillipe (the horse) was able to take Belle right to the gates even though he wasn't actually there when the old man found the castle in the first place. And then, later, the angry mob was able to march straight to the castle, even though they'd never heard of the beast before, and even though Belle and her father, the only two people who supposedly knew about the castle, were locked in the cellar.

The pieces don't add up, people. They just don't add up.

Warrior Dash

Muddy
Bird, Also too muddy

This was the "shower". A fire truck with hoses.

A much belated post on the warrior dash...

So. Bird and I ran a Warrior Dash! It was just over a month ago, and it was awesome. We had to drive out to the middle of nowhere, because the races generally take place in the middles of nowheres. It was a fun drive, and included Bird needing to pee, so she got out of the drivers seat and I got in, she ran back to a restaurant, and was forced to buy a gatorade to be able to use the restroom, and then she ran back to the car, which had only moved about 400 yards while she was gone. That was fun.

Also, the parking lot was a mud pit, and it was questionable if my little Civic was going to make it out alive. But it did. As did Bird and I.

Ok, so the race. It was awesome. Started out with roaring flames carrying us into the wooded path where the race took place. We had to crawl through a dark maze, climb over 5' walls, crawl under barbed wire, run through knee deep mud, cut through a lake, more mud, climb over a 20' wall, climb over a 15' cargo net, run over 5 or 6 junkyard cars, run through tires, crawl through tunnels, jump over flames, and crawl under another 20 yards of barbed wire, in the mud, to get to the finish line.

You know, easy peasy.

It was really intense. After just the first few obstacles, I kind of thought I was toast, and was questioning whether or not I'd even be able to finish. But that's always my problem with running. Once I get past the three mile mark, I can run and run forever, I just hit my stride, catch my breath, and my legs just go on autopilot. So, when I'm running a race that's only 3.5 miles, and adds in the obstacles... well let's just say I never really felt like I hit my stride. The mud is really what held me back. Trail running isn't my forte, and it had rained heavily the whole week prior to the race, so even the parts that weren't "mud pits" were pretty much covered in a thick layer of slime that made it difficult to get my footing.

But anyway, long story short, it was hard. But MAN OH MAN was it fun! I really enjoy pushing myself, and this was great. I had a goal of finishing in under an hour, but I had no idea if that was realistic in terms of the course, or just how much the obstacles would slow me down. In the end, I finished in 48 minutes and some odd seconds. But what I'm most proud of is that I finished 76th out of almost 800 women in my age group. Booyah:)