Am I really that strange?

I haven't been feeling great for the last few days due to some new cootie the kids brought home, in order to test my immune system.

Therefore, I conned Military Dad (MD) into going to bed early tonight so I'd have company. It's hard to be alone when your sinuses are so plugged you sound like Darth Vader when he breathes. Plus, I imagine I'm making even more attractive noises as I try to clear my previously mentioned stuffed sinuses. (My father once, not so gently, compared the sound of me blowing my nose to that of a fog horn.)

I imagine I'm not anywhere near ravishing or acting lady like, however I'm sick, so I have an excuse.

MD is truly wonderful. He lies next to me, ignoring the strange assortment of noises coming out of my nose, in order to keep me company. What a wonderful man!

Out of nowhere, a moth flies steadily for my face, threatening to beat me up with its tiny, little wings..our worse yet, land on me! Now I am forced to take evasive action in order to defend myself...I slap the crap out of myself, the bed, sheets, the wall, etc. You get the point...it was war and I was fighting with honor as the snot runs down my face.

As World War III is happening, a thought occurs to me: MD is just lying next to me, not even looking up from his damn phone!!!

Am I really that strange that I can slap the crap out of myself for about a minute straight and get no reaction or concern?!

I'd like to believe that MD knows me that well, he realized what was going on, and thought I was handling myself with the grace and eloquence required.

Doubt it, but if he can sit by with no reaction, then I get to say I handled myself well.

You can learn a lot from someone's playlist!

If you truly want to understand a person, find their music selection. It doesn't matter the type, just find those mixed tapes, burnt CDs, or those mp3 playlists and give them a listen. Those personalized, hand-picked with delicate thought,  selections of music will tell you more about someone than anything you could ever ask them.

About a year ago Military Dad (MD) and I downloaded the Google Music app, which is awesome. It takes those hundreds of CDs you have taking up space and puts them out there in the wonderful web's space. In the process of downloading millions of MB, or whatever the techno term is, we have gotten rid of literally hundreds of CDs and their cases. We no longer fear the kids getting their sticky fingers on one of our cherished CDs in fear of scratching...or breaking. (You'd think virtually indestructible would mean lasting through an encounter with Little Dude, but it doesn't.)

During this upload I let my husband do most of the work, just like a good wife should. This meant that some of his CDs from before my time were uploaded, as were a few of mine. I caught a lot of hell for my love of Megadeth; but let me tell you, when you are playing "Doom" on the computer, Megadeath is the perfect soundtrack. Plus I also went through a horrible phase where I actually enjoyed listening to country. Not that old, country music (that MD grew up listening to) but evidently the new cross-over stuff.

So as the upload progressed we learned a lot about each other's musical tastes and how they changed throughout our past: before, during and after our marriage. There used to be a time when MD would put on any Counting Crows' album and I could be passed out, asleep before the first track was done. He found it insulting, as they are his favorite band. I on the other hand found that they had this lulling quality to their music that helped a high-stressed individual find some relaxation. (That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.) However, as the years went by and my tolerance to the Counting Crows' music grew, I found that I actually love their music. (I do use it on my children though, it works wonderfully when the kiddos need to calm down a little.)

Almost 11 years have gone by, our musical taste has melded together and we enjoy the same things, most of the time. For the most part, our playlists are interchangeable.

Then one day I had the opportunity to actually listen to his entire workout playlist. As I have said before, I have to be tricked into exercise because I just don't enjoy working out. I've tried so many things, that I started to lose hope that I would ever find a way to get healthier.

(Insert that dun-dun-dun music here.) Then I found the recline bike at the YMCA. I can sit on my butt and pedal away. Since I don't have great knees, bike riding is supposedly preferable to my joints than running, walking, blah, blah, blah. I have an elliptical machine at home, however those machines you actually have to pay attention to what you are doing. Otherwise the stupid arm bars can pack a pretty good wallop or worse you can walk right off the platform. Either way, I enjoy losing focus and zoning out, so the recline bike is perfect. I get my exercise and a weird sort of meditation period.

One of these meditation/exercise occasions, I grew bored with the TV screen that is somehow built into this bike and started playing with the Google Music app on my phone. I knew my husband has good "workout" songs, with good solid beats, so I let it play. Normally, I only ride the bike for 30 minutes or 6 miles whichever comes last. However, that day I was feeling really good and kept pedaling.

Here I am, in my pedaling zone, spacing out, when my playlist just plays a song I was not expecting to be on my husband's playlist. For the sake of his embarrassment, I won't post the song. I will even go as far to argue, that once I got back on the bike after my sudden stop in pedaling, the song did have a great beat for working out. Even after people turned to stare at me and give me strange looks, I kept on laughing (probably louder than I thought, due to the headphones) and pedaling.

For the sake of my poor feet being caught in the pedals and people giving me looks, I think I will stick to my own playlists from now on. At least then, if I put my own weird song in, I will know it's coming. The sneaky part of me wants to add a few songs to his playlist, so he enjoys the same thing I endured. However, unlike him, I don't lift weights. I would feel horrible if he hurt himself because of some song I added. It would also be equally horrifying if somehow his headphone cord came loose and now he is blaring some song like, Christina Aguilera's "Fighter" in a room full of weight lifters. I doubt they could appreciate that the song has good, strong beats....gets you through recline biking like a champ!

If you truly want to learn more about your partner, then take a listen to their playlists. I would not recommend exercising without a preview first, just for health reasons.

Why the hatred?

I apologize for this post. I try very hard to keep this blog light and humorous. However after reading several social media sites and listening to people speak to each other, I'm really upset.

I'm not going to get into politics or religious beliefs, but I'm actually disgusted with our poor country.

After watching the election (before and after), I'm absolutely amazed with how people treat other human beings.

Whether you are happy or upset over who was or was not elected, is no excuse to post or say some of the things I've seen on social media sites..

What happened to the Golden Rule? How can you be the voice behind stopping kids from being bullied, when your own words and actions are hurtful?

Differences are supposed to be a good thing; that's what makes us stronger. The more ideas brought forward makes us stronger, better to defeat those who would do harm.

If we become a country where people are afraid to voice their ideas, we are no better than the countries that hate us.

People still try everything they can to come to our country due to the oppression they face in their homeland. Would you risk everything to come here to find out it's not that different? If this happens, we have truly lost our influence as a world power.


Please keep this in mind today and in the future: Your beliefs are YOURS, that is what makes you a special individual. Instead of trying to force others to believe what you believe, try listening and becoming educated about our differences.

Education is truly the most important weapon ever. Instead of trying to figure out who is right or wrong, why can't we sit down and have civilized conversations; we may actually learn something? We could actually find a middle ground that makes most everyone happy. Instead, we choose to label ourselves and further divide and alienate each other, in order to be right or better than others.

In the grand scheme of things, would you rather have people around you who support you, no matter what you believe and try to work together? Or would you rather be right (or think you are) and be completely alone?

Would you rather someone listen to your opinion and value you as an individual, or tell you that you are an idiot and yell at you, for no other reason than they believe something different?

Please be good to each other. Passion is a wonderful thing, however if you can't say or do something without being harmful: for the good of the country and the human race; just keep it to yourself!

Irony is a 6 year old Princess

Princess absolutely loves all animals and most insects. She learned to be afraid of spiders from watching me, otherwise she would probably love spiders too.

A few months ago we happened to find a cute show on PBS called Wild Kratt's. The idea of the show, is that two brothers, the Kratt's, are environmentalists and save all sorts of endangered creatures from people who want to use them in fashion, cooking and some guy who wants to make them into robots. In their attempts to save the animals, they throw in some educational facts about the animals or their habitats. It's cute and educational.

We watched an episode about earthworms and why they come up to the surface when it rains. Evidently, even adults can learn a thing or two, because I thought it was because they would drown in the water. Well, they don't. They just come up out of the ground because the surface is now wet enough, they can eat things on the surface without drying out. Near the end of the show, kids were running around after a rainstorm, collecting worms and throwing them into the grass (they were supposed to set them down gently), so they wouldn't get caught on the sidewalks and dry out.

Another interesting fact is that worms sense vibrations caused by moles and other ground diggers. When they feel the digging vibration, they go to the surface to avoid being eaten. When you see Robins pecking the ground, they are causing similar vibrations that move the worms up towards the surface.

The Wild Kratt's show failed to educate us on one other thing that causes vibrations...lawnmowers.


Most days, on our walks to Princess' school, the sprinklers cause the worms to come to the surface and the worms end up on the sidewalks. Much of our normal routine now has become Princess and I picking up these worms and tossing them back into the grass.

We made it past the first round of worms and progressed onto the park area, just before her school. This area is a major earthworm gauntlet. Grass on both sides, creates a virtual landmine area of dead and dying worms. Today was no different in this respect, we tossed the living worms into the grassy area and tried to avoid stepping on the dried up worms.

It was different however, with the reason why the worms had ventured onto the pavement. The landscapers had arrived and were mowing the park's grass. Here we come as nature lovers, tree-huggers, whatever you want to call us, launching these poor worms back into the grass they were so desperately trying to escape from, just to be shredded by lawnmower blades. Yay, compassion!

Fortunately, Princess didn't put the two things together and went to school feeling good about her rescue efforts. I'm having an internal battle, between feeling sad, that I sentenced worms that managed to escape to die a horrible death, and absolute laughter at the irony of the entire situation.

By the way, don't let your kids watch that episode if you plan to take them fishing in the near future. I'll share that story another day.

Haunted Houses

Being completely honest, I don't like Halloween much. I already came equipped with an incredibly overactive imagination. I don't need someone else to scare the crap out of me, I do it just fine on my own! After having kids, my imagination has taken on an entirely different level of horror. (Evidently, most parents have these horrifying thoughts, so I feel slightly better....though not much.)

After blocking most of this memory from my childhood, I will do my best to share a story my dad takes pride in retelling with the Haunted Mansion at Disney Land. Evidently before the ride even officially started, I managed to work myself out from the safety bar and hid on the bottom of the car floor. After getting my dad yelled at for allowing me to work magic and get out of that intricate safety restraint device, I promised to sit nicely for the costumed person working the ride. The one and only time I opened my eyes, after begging from my dad, an apparition of a werewolf was sitting on my lap. I was glad my parents couldn't afford all the drinks I begged for at that point, because I would have emptied my bladder and upset the worker further.

Another horrifying moment in my young impressionable life was when I was trick-or-treating. For some reason my dad couldn't come, so my mom took me. This involved only going to houses she knew were safe and well-lit. My mom has some paranoia issues. One of the last houses we stopped at, had this stuffed gorilla sitting on a porch bench. Yes, I realize you know where this is going, however I was probably 4 or 5. Either my mom didn't register the stuffed gorilla or she knew, which is much worse, but she walked right up and rang the doorbell for me. I wasn't going near the porch swing. The nice lady offered me candy, however I had to walk to her door to get it from her. Candy to a 4 year old will take your mind off about anything. So up I walked, forgetting all about the damn porch swing. I didn't even get my candy and the guy probably coughed or something, hell, he may have even said "hello," I flew off the porch and didn't stop running until I was safely across the street. My mom and I walked home after that, however we had to stop every few minutes so my mom could wipe the tears from her face and catch her breathe from laughing so hard.

I've gone to a few haunted houses since then and it always seems to happen that I am the one they pick on. Yes, I realize that the one time I went to Six Flags I wore a glow-in-the-dark Phantom of the Opera shirt, so yes, that time I had it coming. However the other times, I feel that I was singled out to be terrorized.

Once during my senior year in high school or my freshmen year in college I wanted to go to a haunted house in St. Louis. It wasn't necessarily in the best part of St. Louis and since my parents worked there at the time, I felt safer if one of them went along. So with a group of my friends and my mother (my dad refused to go) we went off to a haunted house. That year the guy who did the monster designs for the Predator and Alien movies, supposedly worked with this haunted house, so it was supposed to be extra scary.

During the hour wait my mother took the time to prepare me by bringing my attention to the fact that it's just people in costumes and props. There was also something about mind over matter.

After waiting for an hour in line we approached the beginning of the door. My mom and I were "volunteered" to be first through, so we sat back and watched the other victims go through first.  We watched as a guy on the other side of the curtain brought down a large stick, and whacked it on the floor before you went through. My mom leans in to me and says, "Watch, the guy waits until you aren't paying attention, then he brings the stick down. It is just a way to get you unsettled." Oh my god, my mom is a genius! I am now in awe of her wisdom and have this new found bravery. This haunted house is NOT going to scare me!

We finally make it up to the door, my mom starts looking around at other things. I am ever-vigilant, I will NOT allow this guy to catch me off guard  He didn't either....he waited for my mom. He brought that stick down so hard I thought he broke the thing. I am amazed with myself, but I hear this screaming and I am horrified that it might be me. Wait a second....it's not me, I turn and look at my mother, who at this point is leaning back, hands up in the "FREEZE" position, screaming bloody hell. She is now what we would call "unsettled."

Our group of 7 is moved forward and I am literally pushing her through the maze of darkness. She is alternately screaming and saying "no, no" but we are pushing through. A guy dressed up as the Hellraiser dude comes out of some hidden door that my mom didn't see. She almost runs right into him, sees him, screams and then runs to the back of our group. Alone, I continue on until I realize my mom is now running back to the front....screaming. The same guy who scared her in the front, got her again in the back of the group. At this point, all I can do is laugh...hysterically.

Several more costumed characters give her some exercise when we finally reach the room the Alien movie guy helped with. You walk into a square room that has a huge statue of the Alien in a corner. You are meant to walk around him and go through the opposite door. My mom finally has a chance to catch her breath, as this room is well-lit, so she can see all the threats coming. She leans into me and says, "See this room, you are supposed to stare at this stupid statue while someone comes through that other door and scares the s*&% out of you!" So while she watches the opposite door, we watch with fascination as the huge Alien statue is slowly leaning forward. It's animatronic, so the rest of us know that it can't really go anywhere. What you don't realize is that my ever-vigilant mother decided the best place to keep look-out was directly in front of the Alien.

"Um, Mom....check out the Alien thing, it's moving." My mom turns and looks, at this moment the Alien opens its mouth like in the movie and that thing inside launches out! My mom loses it, screams and runs away through the opposite door. A friend of mine walks up to me and says, "Wow! I have never seen an old lady run so fast!"

We do our best to keep up with my mom, but our entire group at this point is laughing hysterically. I am laughing so hard that I am crying and coughing because I cannot get air into my lungs. The Hellraiser guy comes out of another hidden door to see if I'm okay, or if I need medical help. My mom notices him and runs away screaming. I convince the guy that I am in fact okay and he then looks at me and asks, "Is she going to be okay?"

We finally get to the end of the maze where you go down a slide and then you are done. I decide my poor mom has had enough at this point, so I volunteer to go first. I slide down into a pit filled with fluffy stuff and a guy in a costume helps me up and out of the pit. Here comes my mom....screaming.

The nice costumed employee reaches down to help her out of the pit, but she is batting away his hands and screaming.

"Mom! We're done, it's over, he's trying to help you out of the pit!"

After saying good-bye to my friends, my mother turns to me and says, "Well, that was fun! I will NEVER go with you to a haunted house again."
At this point, I take the opportunity to be a smart a## and say, "What happened to the mind over matter thing?" She gave me a look at which, I thought it best to shut my mouth.

I think this one wonderful experience with my mother, more than repaid the gorilla experience. I realize that this one time was a fluke and I still could not go through another haunted house with that much success.

I just hope that my kids will ask their father to go with them through the haunted houses, I'm not even going to pretend I'm brave enough to go again. I also appreciate the extreme entertainment my mother gave me that night and will do my best to not repeat that for my children.

Motivational Surprise

Lately, Little Dude has been wanting to wear only one specific pair of shoes. The problem is, this one pair has shoelaces. Every parent out there knows exactly why this is an issue. Usually when you are rushing around trying to get everyone mostly dressed, homework and lunch in the backpack, breakfast eaten and everyone in the car...the 3 year-old needs you to tie his shoes, causes everything to come to a screeching halt. Why, of all the mornings when you don't have the time, why oh why, can't he wear the slip-ons or the Velcro shoes?

In trying to avoid these breakdowns, I have told him that he needs to alternate his shoes. Little Dude does not compromise well if it is not what he wants at the time. He's what I like to refer to as stubborn. Some mornings, this alternate shoe method works, some mornings it doesn't.

Last night he wanted to go outside to play and I told him to wear his slip-ons or Velcro; I was making dinner and couldn't stop to tie his shoes. He threw his customary fit, but I stayed strong and told him that if he could tie his own shoes, he could wear them whenever he wanted. Surprisingly, the next 30 minutes involved him sitting down in the kitchen, tying and retying his own shoes, while I made dinner. Unfortunately for him, dinner was made before he got his second shoe tied well enough.

Little Dude in one session of stubborn pride, managed to get the basics of shoe tying down. Since Little Dude has always excelled in the motor skills department, I imagined I had a few more sessions using this argument before he would pick up the nuances that made the bow actually stay tied.

This morning the fire alarm decided to wake up the kids promptly at 6:00 AM. A train could pass by the house and neither kid would even stir in their sleep. A low battery that causes a fire alarm to "chirp" wakes them up effectively. Now we had 2 hours before we even needed to leave for school!

Breakfast is made and eaten. Tonight's homework is completed. Kids are dressed. Lunch is made. Only 1 hour left before school. Little Dude decides he wants to play outside in the backyard. We have a discussion  about tying his own shoes and he disappears.

After about five minutes of eerie quiet, he screams, "Mommy, I did it!" He comes running around the corner with one shoe tied correctly. Inside my head, I am screaming, "Yay!" with him because he's only 3 years old and he just did something awesome. Outside I have to maintain my poise and say something like, "Great job! Now let's get the other one done."

This remaining shoe took about 3 minutes, but he did it! Then I got to give him high fives and congratulate him thoroughly. Then the realization that he can actually tie his own shoes hit me....yes, I did a happy dance.

For you doubters out there, Princess was conveniently located at the kitchen table reading her book, while I was drinking my coffee. Military Dad was already at work, so he had absolutely no help in tying his shoes.

Also, for those worried about the fire alarm battery...that's another story; however, a brand new smoke detector has been installed with a fresh new battery for back-up.

When it comes to shots, I am a pansy!

As I sit here nursing my homemade pumpkin smoothie after yoga class (yes, I do love California and what it has done to me), I think about the pain my upper body is in. I'm not talking just the soreness associated with working out, I am talking about that feeling you get when your muscles are fatigued and shaking uncontrollably. I love yoga right up to the point that my body says, "nope, no more" and then my legs or arms start shaking in a most epileptic manner.

I have been told several times, by several different people that my body looks like an upside down triangle or I look like I'm wearing shoulder pads, blah, blah...I get it, I have broad shoulders. For my quaint size I'd like to think that I have very good arm and shoulder strength. There are times when my husband and I tease each other; I have all the upper body strength, while he has all the lower body strength.

When I heard that today's workout focused on shoulders and arms, I was excited because that small part of me said, "Yay! I won't have to work as hard, I can work on stretching instead." I was wrong, so very wrong. In order to explain, let me back track a little and inform you how I was exposed to an embarrassing reality on Saturday.

Saturday, Princess had to go to the clinic to get a routine check-up. While we were there, we decided to get our flu shots out of the way. This is when the doctor asked if she had been tested for TB or anemia, of which I was sure she was tested for anemia when she was an infant...I remember the screaming. (Oh, the days when kids would scream while getting shots, how they will be missed.)

The doctor begins explaining the procedures to me and Princess. Princess may have missed the bit about the flu shot, but I didn't! Doctor says, "Yeah, I got my shot on Monday (doctor rubs her shoulder) and today it's just starting to feel bet....so how are you doing in school?" At the time, I was only thinking about how if Princess had heard that, she may lose her excitement.

Off we went to the lab, where Princess skipped over to the chair, sat down and began telling the technician about how she liked shots, just like her daddy. He then had the sad job of telling her she wasn't getting a shot just yet, he was going to prick her finger and squeeze out drops of blood. If this had been Little Dude, he would have said, "Cool, I'm out of here!' Princess, on the other hand, "Can I watch?" The poor technician was ready for a fight, so he sat in stunned silence for a second before he explained what he was doing while he did the test. Now the ever-important bandage is applied and she jumps up happy. The technician tells her that she is probably the bravest 6 year-old he has ever dealt with.

Now we leave the lab and head back towards the clinic for the TB test and flu shots. We try our best to manage Princess' huge ego as we manage the narrow hallways. Once in the vaccination room she climbs up on the exam table and begins explaining to the nurse that she is brave and likes shots. The nurse looks at me and asks if I needed to go first. With Little Dude I have to go first in order to show him that it really isn't that bad, I figure Princess can have her glory. I regret this decision a lot over the next couple of days.

The nurse begins explaining the TB test and Princess just watches her as she completes the procedure. The nurse explains that the flu shot will hurt when she injects her and it will hurt a few days later. At this point, I don't think Princess is listening, she almost has this happy phased out look on her face. She gets the shot, the bandage and her sticker before jumping off the exam table in excitement. It's sick, really. While she is getting the shot, I start thinking to myself, I probably should have gone first just so I don't look like a pansy. Too late.

It's my turn to get a shot, yay. Have I failed to mention that I hate shots? I understand the importance and the physical aspects of getting an injection. They aren't supposed to feel good...well to normal people, they aren't. When giving blood or getting vaccines I have to look away. Evidently, there is always a look that comes across my face because I am always asked, "Are you going to be okay?" I grit my teeth and reply that I'll be fine. The nurse has me wiggle my fingers while she injects me, this is new and very painful. I suppose it is to make the muscle in my upper arm relax, but it freaking hurts!

Everything is done and over, I get no stickers or bandage (I'm not much of a bleeder, either) and my arm hurts like someone repeatedly hit me in the exact same spot. I even look for bruising, it hurts so bad. My arm feels as though it may actually fall off at the shoulder! Princess is skipping down the hall, singing, "I got a shot, I got a shot."

This is when it hits me. My 6 year-old daughter just kicked my butt in something!

The flu shot did wear her down though, so I was glad that it did effect in her in some way. I was starting to think she was invincible. Her elementary school has a running club where kids can come before classes and run for 20 minutes. Every mile (10 laps) they get a plastic foot and the prizes get bigger the more miles they run during the school year.

On Monday, instead of her normal 14 laps in run club, she only ran 12...and she was really sweaty. I told her to walk after her 8th lap, but she just kept on chugging. Yes, I did run with her for 4 laps until I was needed to help in counting laps for the kids.

Now it is Tuesday and my arm feels as though it will fall off again. If it hadn't been "picture day" and my stern warning of not getting dirty, Princess would probably be running her own obstacle courses at recess. It's amazing to see your children do what they do, there is so much pride! It's also sad when you are forced to realize you just aren't as young and invincible as you once thought you were.