Just Couldn't Help It

Many years ago, when Jeff and I first got married, we did not have the luxury automobiles we do today. (Okay, I'm really overselling my Toyota but still.) Back then, we had older, more mature *ahem* rides.

Hubby had a little Nissan pick-up truck with no air conditioner that we loving referred to as 'The Little Mule'. Pretty reliable little truck that he got in his first year of college.

I had a maroon Grand Am that I inherited from my mom. When I first got this car, I was so pumped. I thought I was the bees knees. I mean I was getting rid of my Chevy Nova (don't be jealous) for this sweet ride.

Then I started to drive the Grand Am. And realized why she gave it to me.

Don't get me wrong. It was a hundred times better than the Nova that did not like idling at a red light. But it did give me a lot of grief.

So shortly after buying our first home, we decided it was time to trade in the Grand Am for something more reliable.

We searched and searched.  We looked online and compared prices. We went to dealerships and test drove cars.  We knew we wanted something new but not real expensive.  

Finally, we decided on a make, model and color.  We take it for a test drive and decide we'd like to make an offer.

(While waiting on the salesperson to come back with the quote) Jeff: Let me do the negotiating.

Me: Sure, sweetie.

Jeff: I am going to try and get the best deal we can.  I'm going to make them work for it.

Me: Do you think we will get anything for the Grand Am?

Jeff: They won't want to give us much. But I'll work on that too.

So, after waiting for our salesperson to come back with the details after "talking it over with the manager to get the lowest price" (what a scam), the salesperson returns to the office with quote in hand.

Jeff is stoic.  He is not this guy's buddy.  He's got his game face on.

Salesperson: Well, I spoke to my manager.  I told him that I wanted to get you the lowest price possible. *Slides the paper over the desk to us. Points.* This is the price we are willing to offer you today.  We took off this amount here and lowered the amount here.

Jeff: And what about the Grand Am?

Salesperson: *Attempting an earnest look.*  My boss wasn't happy about it but I told him I wanted to give you two the best I could.  We'll give you $2000 for the trade-in.

Me: *Blurts out.* That's a great deal!!!

Jeff: *Glances at me like he wants to strangle me. Looks back to the salesperson.* Well, I'd feel much better about the whole thing if you take $500 off. Then you'd have a deal.

Salesperson: *Scribbles on paper. Sticks out his hand.* You have a deal.

Jeff: *Stands up and shakes his hand.*

Me: *I do the same.*

Salesperson: I'll be right back. I'm going to go get the paperwork. *Leaves the office.*

Jeff: *Turns to look at me.* Michelle!  What are you thinking?! What part of "let me take care of it" did you not understand?!

Me: *Sheepish.* Sorry. It's just I thought we would hardly get anything for the Grand Am and then he said he was going to give us $2000!!! I got excited and it just popped out. I just couldn't help it.

Jeff: *Running hand through his hair.* Gee whiz. (Except it was probably more profane but I don't remember the exact words so let's just go with "gee whiz".) Here I am trying to be a hard-a and then you are all, *mockingly* "That's a great deal!!"

Me: *Putting a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.* I'm so sorry, honey.  I think you did manage to get us a really good deal. AND you made him take $500 more off the price.

Jeff: Well, I had to do that to save face.  Goodnight woman!

Me: Well, this will sure make for a funny story some day.

Jeff: *Shakes his head.*

And folks, luck you, that someday is today! 

Jeff wised up and the next time we needed a new car, Jeff went by himself to get it.

What can I say?! It was a great deal! I just couldn't help myself.

Princess For A Day

One day last week, I think it was Tuesday, I was having a hard day.  

The kids were playing the "let's see who can send Mommy over the little edge she is hovering on" game.  

Both boys were sick. I was sick.

The boys were uber whiny.  I was whiny.

The boys were crabby.  I was crabby.

Well...you get the idea.

Anyway, it was late afternoon and I was fighting my 3' to 5' o clock slump. (Anyone else feel this way?  This time of day is when you would like to just 'stop drop and sleep'. You think to yourself, "I've never in my life been this tired! Should I risk staying up late by drinking some coffee now? What are the chances the kids would let me take a quick cat nap? There is no way I can make it until bedtime.")

J: *Grabs my hand. Pulls me towards the stairs.*  Come on, Mama! I want to show you something.

Me: *Sighing. Scooping up Baby L.* Okay, what do you want to show me?

Once we get to the top of the stairs, J tugs on my arm, pulling me towards the end of the hallway.

We stop at the end of the hallway. In front of us hangs our wedding picture.

J: *Pointing.* Look Mama.

Me: *Putting Baby L down on the floor.* Yes, J. That's Mommy and Daddy's wedding picture.  That is a picture of when we got married.

J: Where was I?

Me: You were not born yet. You were still with Jesus in Heaven.

J: Before I was in your belly and I was born?

Me: *Rubbing his head.* That's right J.

J: *Points again.* Look at your pretty dress, Mama.  You are a princess.

Me: *Teary eyed. Hugging J.* Oh, thank you, sweetie.  That is so nice of you to say Mommy looks like a princess.  I felt like a princess that day.

J: You look beautisul.

Me: *Sniff.* That is so sweet.  Thank you, my sweet boy.

J runs off in search of his brother.  He finds him in his room.  Both boys commence jumping on J's bed.  (J's mattress is currently on the ground so I don't worry about the boys jumping.)

As I lean against the door frame, watching my two little guys jump, giggle and play, I realize that what started out as a rough day, turned into a really great one.  All because of J's sweet, innocent, loving comments about me in my wedding dress.

I was princess for a day.  And that felt wonderful.  Our wedding day was absolutely perfect.

But standing here.  Looking at my kids. Watching them play. Hearing them laugh. Feeling so much love for them. 

I'm thinking that being a mom feels pretty great too.

The Love Hate Relationship

Remember when you brought your baby home from the hospital?

Remember how excited, scared, nervous, in-awe and madly in love you felt with your little one?

If you were like me, you watched them like a hawk.

Every little peep - I'm on it.

Every little squawk - I'm there.

Then, they start to sit up. So, you surround them with pillows in case they get a mean lean and end up falling over.

Then they start to crawl around. So, you crawl around at eye level to see what they see so you can baby proof the house from a one and a half foot perspective.

Then they start to walk.  So, you work on putting up a blockade to the stairs and all sharp corners.

And you find out your pregnant again.  You have the second baby, your second love of your life, second bringer of light to your heart.

You are exhausted.  You no longer have time to hang on their every whim and attend to their every whimper.

You try.  But there is only one of you.  And two of them. (Then three. Or four. Or five. Or...I don't think I can count that high...

(Now for moms who have more than two kids - I applaud you. Seriously. My two boys are the loves of my life and I am so happy to have them. But two is our limit. Hubby and I are sticking with man-to-man defense.  Anymore kids and we would have to go to zone. The two of us are less effective that way.)

After one kid, you find yourself a bit more lax than when you only had one child.  Some things don't worry you as much as they used to.  You find with more than one kid that you cherish any quiet time you can get.  

So if the kids are quietly playing with something that will not maim or kill them, you will snatch that moment like a fat kid eating cake.  Greedily devouring it.

See, there are toys that I have a love hate relationship with.  My kids love them so it occupies them for a while which means I too love them.  But I also hate these toys because the aftermath is brutal.

• PlayDoh.  Oh PlayDoh!  Why must you mess with my emotions, you gooey substance, you.  My kids will play with you for 30 minutes at a time (which is an eternity in toddler/preschool time).  However, you never seem to entirely end up in your cases.  I find you in giant rock like clumps around the house.  Or better yet, I find you ground into my carpet.  Grrr...
• Trains. I know. You're thinking, "Why trains?" Well, I'm so glad you asked.  I say trains because all of the tracks never end up back in the box.  Wanna know how I find the missing pieces?  I end up stepping on it. I stepped on a piece of the train bridge 4 months ago and my foot it still gimpy.  No lie.
• Balloons. My kids love to play with balloons. You can buy a bag of balloons at the dollar store, blow them up at home and BAM! Instant kid party!  They love to throw them in the air, run through them laughing and kicking.  They REALLY love playing with balloons.  The downside is that at some point along the way, one of them will lose their mind and try to eat the balloon.  This results in me taking and popping all the balloons with everyone screaming in the background.  Good times.
• Nerf gun. I believe you see where this is headed.  J (soon to be 4) plays with his "dart shooter" (as he calls it) and will play happily by himself for a while.  Then, he gets bored and seeks out other people to shoot (i.e. mama or little brother, L).  Once one of us get a dart to the face, I end up taking it away which results in a bit of drama. (Okay, it results in A LOT of drama.)

In the end, you weigh each side.  I can get 30 minutes of quiet play time right now, if I am willing to have 5 minutes of crying later.  Hmmm, decisions, decisions....

What about you?  Are there toys with which you have a love hate relationship?

The Sunshine Award

The Sunshine Award is an award given to bloggers by other fellow bloggers.  People who love to blog like I do decided to give me The Sunshine Award which is why it makes it so special.

I am honored to have received this award twice from two great fellow bloggers - Deanna of Little Green Bow and The Vintage Boomer. Thanks so much ladies!

With the Sunshine Award, you must answer 10 questions about yourself, then you must nominate 10 bloggers to receive the award.  Leave a comment on their blog letting them know they are a recipient.

1. Favorite Color? Red. I like it because it's sassy and demands attention.
2. Favorite Animal? Platypus. It's like God had all of these spare parts and just decided to throw them together and said, "Let's see what they make of this!"
3. Favorite Number? I'd have to say 4 because that is the size of my little family. (I know. I'm getting emotional right now too...)
4. Favorite Drink? Hmm, non-alcoholic would have to be McDonald's Coke. (I know. It's bad for you.) Alcoholic drink? Well, you can't beat a good margarita.
5. Facebook or Twitter? For serious?! Like it's even a contest! Twitter - hands down. However, I log on to take a quick look then one hour later....
6. Good Book or Good Movie? There is nothing like getting lost in a good book. And a good series!  A good dystopian series!!!  Forget about it! So much better than tv or movie.
7. Your Passion? This one is tricky.  At this time in my life, I am passionate about my kids. I want help them grow into compassionate, hard-working, God loving men.  I am also passionate about literacy.  I think it is important that we help ALL children learn to read.
8. Giving or Getting Presents? I love giving presents to my kids.  It is so neat to see the joy on their faces when they open a present they have been wanting.
9. Favorite Day? Since I'm a SAHM, I'd say all days are the same.  How about Thursday?  I bet Thursday doesn't get a lot of love.
10. Favorite Flower? The Moth Orchid.  In white. So pretty!

*Drum roll please...*  Here are just a few of the spectacular bloggers out in the blogosphere who I think deserve the Sunshine Award. (Some you may have heard of, others are new ones to check out!!)

*Ain't No Mom Jeans

*Crappy Pictures

*Bad Parenting Moments

*Airing My Dirty Laundry, One Sock At A Time

*Fadderly 

*Adventures with Captain Destructo 

*Fancy Feet 

*Dad Vs. Spawn 

*Life On Peanut Layne

*The Caffeinated Chronicles of Supermom

That's My Foot You Just Drove Over

Growing up my brother played baseball, basketball and football.  It seemed like we were always running around taking him to some sort of practice or a game.

And we were always late. (Hmm, wonder where I get that from...)

One particular day, we were running late to baseball practice (as usual). Trying to get out the door with all my brother's baseball stuff. Not to mention my brother and myself.

This was my Dad's weekend so he was driving us.

Now, my Dad can only hear out of one ear - his left ear. He doesn't tell people as I guess he doesn't want anyone to know. He's good at reading lips so you'd really never know.

So, we are all piling into the car.  My brother jumps into the front seat and slams the door.  As I am opening the back door to climb inside, Dad starts the car and takes off.  He drives over my foot - my right foot.

It was like time slowed down, everything was in slow motion.

I looked at the car driving away.  I looked back at my foot.  I looked back at the car, then back at my foot.

My brain was having a hard time understanding what my eyes were seeing.  I suddenly understand. That's my foot you just drove over!

What felt like an eternity but was really probably just eight seconds, I realized what happened and screamed like a banshee.

Looking in the rear view mirror, my dad also realizes what happened and he immediately reverses the car and jumps out to see how bad I'm hurt.

Dad: Shelly!  Oh my gosh! Are you okay? I thought you were in the car! I'm so sorry.

Me: *Crying.* No, I'm not okay, Dad!  You just ran over my foot!

Dad:  Expletive! Expletive! Expletive!

 

Me: *Still crying.*

 

About this time, our next door neighbor who doesn't give two flying acorns about us, comes over to ask if I am okay.  (I'm on to you, lady!  You just want some good gossip. Go back inside, you mean hag!)

 

Dad: She hurt her foot.

 

Mean hag: *Feigning concern.* Are you okay, dear? I saw what happened.

  

Dad: *Running hand over his face.* We'll get her checked out. She'll be okay. (To me.) Alright, we'll take your brother to practice, then we'll head to the urgent treatment center.  Let me help you in the car.

 

So, Dad helps me into the backseat, then dives into the front seat. (This time he makes SURE I am in the car before driving off. *Ahem.*)

 

After dropping my brother off at practice, we head to the urgent treatment center. 

Dad keeps looking at me in the rear view mirror asking if I am alright.  He looks like someone stole his lunchbox as I can tell he feels horrible about running over my foot.

At this point, I am not longer crying as my foot now has a dull ache but not a sharp shooting pain as I had initially.

Upon limping into the urgent treatment center and filling out the forms, we sit and wait for us to be called back.

(Once we are back in the room waiting on the doctor) Dad: *Shifting nervously from foot to foot.* Um, Shelly. Let's not tell the doctor I ran over your foot with the car.

Me: *Looking at my foot, then looking at Dad.* Dad, I'm wearing white Keds. You can see the tire marks. I think it's pretty obvious.

At this point, Dad looks like he is going to hurl. I don't know if he thinks they will cart him off to the big house for running over my foot or what.

The doctor comes in and takes a look at my foot.  After an x-ray, miracle of all miracles, he confirms it is sprained, but not broken.  *Whew.*  He tells me I need to stay off it for a while and gives me some crutches to use.

On Monday, at school, everyone wants to know what happened to my foot.  You can imagine how funny folks thought this was.  This was such an awesome thing to happen my senior year.  One for the books I imagine.

Well, at least I earned some street cred.

Okay, I'm lying about the last part.  But it did make for spinning a good yarn.

It's My SITS Day!!!

Hello there!  

If you are stopping by from SITS for the first time, welcome! 

If you have been here before, great to see you again! *Fist Bump.*

Woo hoo! It's my SITS day! It's my SITS day! Yeah, it's my SITS day!

So glad you stopped by!  There's free bacon for everybody!  (Just kidding! I don't share my bacon.) *Ahem.*

You can't see my right now but I'm doing the running man.  (Okay, obviously I'm not doing the running man right now if I'm typing, but still! I am super excited!!) 

Can't you tell by all of the exclamation points!!!!

I'm a wife, mom, werewolf and dragon. Okay, I'm not really a dragon.

I love babies, books, chocolate and nice people.  I really like funny people.  I mean like super hilarious people like myself.  Oh, and humble people like myself too. 

I started blogging in January of this year at the encouragement of my family members.  My cousin told me I was the third funniest person she knows.

How can a person NOT blog after hearing something like that?! 

Here's a few posts of mine that I think may give you a chuckle (or make you a little verklempt):

Fisticuffs With Grandma

Doesn't Matter How You Get There, Just That You Arrived

I'm Going To Axe Kick My Doctor In The Face

The Ugly Truth

Why Yes That Is My Bikini Top Floating In The Ocean 

Hope to see you around these parts again, pilgrim.

Thanks for visiting!

My Six Stages Of Airport Travel With Kids

This past summer, we drove to Minnesota to visit our family up there.  Driving from Kentucky to Minnesota is a long trip. With two kids. Under age four.

So, we decided this time around we would fly up there as it would be much quicker and less troublesome.

Oh, how naive we are.

If I may, let me share with you my six stages of airport travel with kids.

STAGE 1

The night before travel. After finally packing everything up at 2:00am, I try fall asleep.

Can't fall asleep.  Somewhat worried and apprehensive about traveling tomorrow.

Hope all goes well.

STAGE 2

Everyone is ready to go. Getting ready to pack the car and leave the house.

Receive email saying flight is delayed an hour.

Little frustrated but glad they notified us.

STAGE 3

Getting ready to leave a second time. Receive another email saying delayed another hour.

Starting to get a little hacked but still, glad they told us before we left. Feeling blood pressure become slightly elevated.

Kids are getting antsy.

STAGE 4

With no notification from airline, we head to the airport to check-in.

After our ride takes off, we find out it is delayed another two hours. Was not notified.  Feeling angry.  Like maybe I would like to punch the airport personnel in their nether regions.

Kids are starting to get fussy. They are tired and want to eat.

Go to airport restaurant. 

Hubby and I start drinking. 

Spend $1000 on crappy airport food. Kids won't eat any of it.

STAGE 5

Discover the flight is delayed another hour.

Blood is boiling.

Curse Hubby out on group text with his family.

EVERYONE BETTER STAY OUT MY WAY.

Kids are whiny and fussy.

STAGE 6

Dejected.

Hopeless.

We are all sprawled out on the airport floor in front of ticketing counter.

Hoping if we make enough of a spectacle they will try to rebook us and get us the heck out of here.

Kids are licking the carpet.

I don't even care.

CONCLUSION

Finally, they re-booked us to fly out the following day at 6:30am WITH a connection. (Um, that's why we paid extra for a non-stop flight?! Hello?!?!?! Igmos.)

All flights were on time, kids were slightly crabby, and Baby LT stuck his hand in the airport toilet.

All in all, I call it a win.