Archive for the ‘Family Ties’ Category

12 years

Tuesday, April 15th, 2008

My wedding anniversary (12 years, hence the title of this post) was Sunday. We celebrated with a family trip to the fair on Saturday night (nothing says Happy Anniversary like funnel cake and rides put together 3 days earlier!) and a trip to JCPenney. We decided not to buy each other gifts, but rather to get one thing we could use together. So what did we come home with? New sheets! And not just any sheets, but 500 thread count sateen sheets. It’s like sleeping on a little cloud, I tell ya. They’re worth every penny.

The county fair and new sheets…we really are an old married couple!





a note from the management

Thursday, April 3rd, 2008

I just printed this note out, and I’m leaving it on the kitchen counter for the kids to find in the morning:

Who left an old ham & cheese sandwich on a hamburger bun in his or her backpack? Lola got it out and tried to eat it!



Lola is our 7 year old dachshund, and apparently she’s quite the hunter. As long as her prey is lunch meat, that is. She took the sandwich (which is in a ziploc bag) out of a backpack (which one, I don’t know, since they’re all by the door in the same spot) and brought it upstairs. She was dragging it under my bed to kill it off when I caught her.

The kids denied having the sandwich, but based on the sandwich itself, I think the culprit was Gracie. The girls are the only ones who eat ham, and Gracie is the only one who uses American cheese. Plus, the automatic school thingamabob called me yesterday and today to tell me she owes $2 for a lunch purchased on Tuesday…

You just can’t be sneaky with a super sleuth for a mom!

not a patient patient

Monday, March 10th, 2008

My son is quite possibly the worst patient ever.

He’s been sick since Friday, and each day he gets a little better, but each day he also gets a lot whinier. He’s definitely not a “patient” patient – not even close. There are temper tantrums when he needs to take his medicine, or when he coughs too much, or when his throat is sore. My own patience wore out today, when I told him I didn’t care if he was sick / bored / tired of being at home, I had HAD it, and I would ground him if his bad behavior continued. The threat of being sick and without access to the TV, computer, or Playstation seems to have worked for now, but believe me, I am counting the minutes until his return to school. (Looks like he’ll be going back Wednesday!)

my son, the sickie

Saturday, March 8th, 2008

I got a call from the school clinic on Friday – Matthew was there with a 102.5 fever. I rushed right over to the school and brought him home, and he’s been going downhill ever since. He’s feverish, hacking, coughing, and he’s got this rattle sounding in his chest. I was worried that the fever meant strep, so I called our pediatrician this morning only to find out that all of their offices were completely booked. I started checking into walk in clinics in the area, and was clued into the fact that drug stores now offer walk in clinics, and there was one reasonably close to our house.

We jumped into the car and went to the drugstore, checked in, and were seen within 20 minutes. The nurse practitioner gave us her complete and undivided attention for 20 minutes, and after doing a rapid strep test and checking the boy out, told me he had an ear infection, swollen tonsils, and an upper respiratory infection. Um, yay? I’m glad it wasn’t strep, but none of those things sound that great either.

He’s so wiped out that he asked to go to bed at 7:45 (unheard of!) and he’s tucked in, Vick’s vapo rub on his chest, humidifier going full steam…I’m hoping he sleeps well tonight, because he was up 3 times last night crying because he ached so bad. His little throat was so sore and swollen that he couldn’t breathe well, and at one point he told me he was scared to go back to sleep, because he might die. Heart breaking, huh?

and so it begins

Friday, February 15th, 2008

As you all know (unless you live under a rock), yesterday was Valentine’s Day. My oldest, who is 12, came home from middle school with two roses – one she had purchased at school for me, and one that a boy in one of her classes had purchased for HER! Do you hear that sound? It’s the sound of my voice, screaming as we start to fly downhill, because it is ALL downhill from here.

This is how it starts, and soon she’ll be getting phone calls from boys and sneaking out behind the gym during her lunch period to make out. Boys will be ringing our doorbell – I’ll make pleasant conversation while Jim cleans his gun. Curfews will be set and broken, clothing choices will be approved, and too much makeup will be worn. Hearts will be broken, hands held, and I’ll be a nervous wreck through all of it.

And I thought potty training was hard.

my son, the artist

Tuesday, January 29th, 2008

I can’t believe I forgot to mention this. I’m the worst mother ever!

While we were in Amsterdam, an invitation came home to attend an art gallery put together by the school board. Matthew is a featured artist in the event, and the awards ceremony is tonight. We’ll be off in a bit to attend the gallery viewing, and the awards ceremony is tonight as well. He doesn’t even know what piece of art he’s got in the showing – isn’t that typical of a little boy? He told me though, with all the sincerity and seriousness he could muster, that he’s a great artist, and whatever they’re showing must be good.

cursing is fun!

Tuesday, January 8th, 2008

It got to be 8:30 last night, and Matthew was still lounging on the couch, stalling before heading up to bed. I reminded him that it was bedtime, and of course he balked at the thought, despite how tired he was. As he headed up the stairs, he started making that little whiny noise all kids make, that sounds a bit like a bleating lamb.


Keep in mind, he’s 8 and way too old for this nonsense. So I decided to use a little reverse psychology, and I whined right back at him. We exchanged a few whiny noises back and forth, and I could see that he was getting mad at me for mimicking him. The wheels were turning in his little head, wondering how he could best me. As he got to the landing at the top of the stairs, it came to him – he could say a really, horrible, awful word. That would teach me a lesson!

So from the top of the stairs, all the way down in the family room, I hear him say, “Penis!”

Did I just hear what I think I heard? Did my son throw down a pseudo-curse word at me? Yes, he did! He was so mad at me that he decided to shock me by saying penis, which in his mind, equals some of the four letter words only Mommy is allowed to say. I walked to the bottom of the stairs and looked up, and saw him smirking at me. He said it again, “Penis!” Meanwhile, I’m trying not to laugh, and heading upstairs to deal with my sorta foul mouthed little boy. As I reach the last step, he says it again – “Penis”, and heads into his room, slamming the door behind him.

I opened the door to his bedroom and replied, “VAGINA!” The look on his face was one of shock. Did his mom just come back to his penis retort with the V-word? Oh, yes she did! So he replied, “BALLS!” I one upped him with “Butt!” and he came back again with “Penis!” and collapsed onto the bed in giggles. I kissed him, told him our potty talk time was over, and it was time for bed. He let me tuck him in without arguing further.

And that folks, is parenting at it’s finest.

my son, the hillbilly

Saturday, January 5th, 2008

I awoke to screaming earlier this week. Matthew’s very loose canine tooth had finally popped out, and he was downstairs with a mouth full of blood. What a way to start the morning! Even after we got his mouth rinsed out and cleaned up, the tears persister. He trudged up the stairs ahead of me, saying, “I don’t WANT to go back to school!”

When I asked him why he was worrying about his return to school (which isn’t for another week!) he admitted it was because of his missing teeth. He’s missing both of his front teeth, and now the canine to one side. “I’m going to look like a bum, mommy. Or a hobo. Or a hillbilly!”

It’s too bad that Halloween is so far off. We could dress him in overalls and a funny hat, give him a little Daisy air rifle, and have our own little Hatfield or McCoy look alike in the house!

the pros and cons of children

Friday, January 4th, 2008

We attended Mass on Christmas Eve together, as we always do, but things were a little different this year. For the first time, all three of our children sang in the children’s choir, so Jim and I were kid-less for the first time ever during church! The children sitting around us made up for it though. Our neighbors were two rows in front of us with their 1 1/2 year old (who Catherine babysits) and he was quite vocal at times, reminding me of the days when Jim or I would need to go outside with a fussing, bored toddler.

There was a brand new baby playing the part of Baby Jesus during the Christmas pageant. He lay in a car seat on the altar, sleeping happily, unaware of the production going on around him.

Another friend and her husband sat in front of us with their three year old, who was amazingly patient, but also VERY busy during Mass. At one point she climbed on and off her father’s back, and told him, “Daddy! I’m on your back!” She’s a doll though, and even let me hold her a few times while I attempted to entertain her quietly. The baby on the altar made a great case FOR having another baby, but my three year old friend reminded me that even quiet babies grow up!


Monday, December 31st, 2007

I was snuggling with the boy on the couch last night, and gave him a big squeezy hug. “Ouch!”, he said. “You’re going to squish all of the juice out of me.”

I replied saying “Ooh, juice? I like juice…can we squeeze you and drink all of the juice?”

He gave me a look, the kind of look that says ‘exactly how stupid ARE you?’ and replied, “The juice inside of me is pee. And blood. Mostly blood. You can’t DRINK it!”