You don't realize before you have children that it is a privileged to go to the store alone. To walk down the isles and look at wrinkle creams without a nosey mini person looking over it asking questions like "Mom! How old are you?!?!" Or "Don't use that... I like that your face looks like Grandma's". But I'm past those days. My youngest child is now 12, and with two teen age daughters at home, i was free to make a quick trip to Target for a prescription refill and to maybe look at some beauty products in peace.

I parked and worked my way into the store. I decided to grab a basket... just in case my leisure shopping got more serious. I was on my way to drop off the prescription first when my cell phone rang and shattered my euphoric moment. A quick glance at caller ID showed it was my 14 year old daughter calling. I was certain she had come up with something that she couldn't live without and would I please pick up while I was there. "Should I answer? Maybe I can pretend the phone didn't get signal in Target." I thought. But my conscience nagged at me, and I was eventually forced by the mother instinct dwelling inside of me to answer the phone.

"Hello?" I said tentatively

"Mom!" the reply came rushing in at me, " Travis stabbed himself with a pencil and he's bleeding and everything!"

"What? Where? How?"

"I don't know how," came the teenage reply, "but he stabbed himself in the armpit"

ARMPIT! Yes you read that correctly. Well, I raced home, and the bleeding has stopped, and no lead broke off in the wound...but it is a nice round puncture wound in his armpit.

I do feel badly for Travis. Not because he somehow (still not adequately explained how) stabbed himself in the armpit. But because someday he'll have a wife/girlfriend/lover of some sort that will ask about the stories behind the scars on his body. His list of scars will include the following:

1. Playing with a bungee cord and somehow through the magic of a giant rubber band with a hook on the end he managed to stab himself in the forehead with the hook. The ER doc super glued it back together, but he's left with a dot scar on his forehead.

2. Bowling he once tripped and instinctively through the bowling ball in the air... he managed to fall to the ground just moments before gravity returned the bowling ball to his hand. This resulted in a broken thumb.

3. And now... he was doing my homework while my mom was at Target... somehow a pencil spontaneously flew into his armpit and stabbed him.


I don't know that any of these qualify as manly accidents that will be considered macho.... but they will certainly bring a laugh to whoever the lucky lady is to hear the tales

Land Like a Couch Potato

Are rock-n-roll musicians on drugs? We debated through the 60's, 70's, 80's, and even 90's the meaning of the Beatles Strawberry Fields Forever, or Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, or the Eagles Hotel California and countless others I'm sure. But I have to say, looking at the lyrics that pop stars are writing in the 21st century, they MUST be doing SOMETHING!






Ke$ha says "DJ Turn it up up up up..." in a voice that has to at a minimum be inhaling helium... she even says "It's Making my Brain Delerious.... "we R Who We R"

Wow that's profound! But not as much as Lady Gaga who is "Bluffin with my muffin..." and aparantly with her stuttery "p-p-p-poker Face".

And, finally, I'm not sure exactly what Far East movement took to get "Slizzard"

or how "Slizzard" you have to be before you "Fly like a G6", but I think I'll stick with my Chips Ahoy chocolate chip cookies and milk that just make me Land like a Couch Potato!

What's in your crapper?

I live in a nice house.  My husband works hard to provide for our family.  We have a bedroom for each kid, a couple of bathrooms, a room labled as a "living room" that we absolutely never let anyone "live" in, and there  is a Dining room (which I almost never let anyone Dine in), and a breakfast room which is piled high with homework, folded laundry, groceries waiting to be unpacked and a general hodge podge of stuff that seems to just land there.  We have a powder room, which I have never powdered or displayed powder in.  But as puzzling as the titles of the myriad of rooms is, the one that puzzles me the most is the garage.

I know the garage is supposed to house cars, or so I'm told.  Since mine doesn't, so I am tempted to rename it.  It has lawn equipment, power tools, gardening supplies, Christmas decorations, sporting goods, temporarily unused furniture, camping supplies, an air hockey table, a ping pong table, boxes of college and high school memorabilia, empty moving boxes (in case I move again), and a couple of old appliances.    With all that crap, I don't know why we don't just call it the crapper.  Crude yes, but somewhat accurate.  Although it might be a great source of confusion when the kids ask "Mom, where is my baseball glove?"  and I reply, "go look in the crapper".

My family is quite accustomed to the condition of our garage.  I am however embarrassed when the kids want a bike or some such thing from the garage, and they stand there with a collection of neighborhood kids and press the button that causes that big metal door to slowly creek open. On these occassions, I hide in the shadows hoping none of the adult neighbors see just how much junk we actually have in our crapper.  Then one day I realized, none of my neighbors are getting their cars in the garage either.  Night after night, tens of thousands of dollars worth of cars sit on driveways while tens of thousands of dollars in construction costs for a garage are used to house tens of dollars of miscellaneous crap from our lives we just can't seem to part with.  This is an American phenomenon.  We are all junked to the hilt.  Some people have their garage full and then rent additional space.

And just when I thought I had come to grips with the normalcy of my crapper,  I drove by and saw the one house... where the garage door almost always stays open.

Inside there is not only one car, but two shiny cars.  Hooks on the wall hold a rake and a garden hose, and tidy cabinets that hint maybe they have a little crap at least... until I saw them open the cabinet and it displayed neatly organized  tools.  There are sockets in size order and power tools in their original boxes with warranty information securely stored inside.  For a brief moment I thought I can clean my garage out and make it look like that.  I just need a weekend, or twelve, and a really successful garage sale...  But in all reality, I'll never have that garage.

But there is still hope, even for those of us with crappers instead of garages.  You too can still impress (rather than shock) your neighbors with your garage.  A company in Germany called Style Your Garage  is printing these fabulous decals for your garage door.

 Imagine what your neighbros will think when they drive by and see this...

Now this one is a Garage....

Wanna Make them jealous of your landscaping???

How about just making them say "hmmmm"

This one will really make them scratch their heads...

And perhaps my favorite... just in case you have Wylie Coyote on your tail....

They will even customize a garage decal for you from a family photo or a favorite vacation destination.  I think I'll just take a picture of that neighbor with the dream garage... and then maybe I can at least convince a few people that I have a garage instead of a crapper.  

Hair Hair Everywhere

The cave woman had life easy. Sure she lived without airconditioining, self cleaning ovens, dishwashers or wunderbras, but everything was cooked over an open fire that was supposed to be a dirty mess, and there were no dirty dishes, wasted napkins or water spots on her glass ware. Her cave floor was made of dirt, and everyone thought that was just fine.

Since my vacuum has been on the fritz and is in the shop being repaired under warranty, my floor is beginning to resemble the cave floor of dirt more and more. Except instead of a wooly mamoth skin rug, I have a nice layer of Golden Retriever hair accumulating. I finally ran the broom over the carpet, and I got a few large fluffy balls of golden fur up. I've heard some women save their dogs fur and have it spun into a doggy version of cashmere. 

Pictures of people wearing Dog Fur clothing

Apparently there is a market to even sell the fur to people who specialize in spinning it into yarn and then fabric.  You can have clothes made for yourself or your four footed friend. Long gone are the days of Cruella DeVille when it was considered a witchy thing to want to wear puppy dog fur. Now this is touted as an animal lover thing to do. And becuase the dog hair is so renewable (check the black slacks of any pet owner for verification of this data), it is touted as being eco-friendly as well. But as lovely as the samples look, I'm not sure I could bring myself to participate in this new Eco-friendly form of fur.

Although I am hoping the trend catches on. When that day comes, and people visit my home and leave covered in dog fur, I'll quit apologizing and tell them they may keep the parting gift at no charge!

Enjoy your Day - Enjoy your Life
Kelley

P.S.  There are few cleaning gadgets I truly love love.  But my Dyson Animal Vacuum (model DC17) is definitely one of them.  I highly recommend this for pet owners even if you don't plan to knit a sweater from the contents.

Tooth be or not Tooth be!

There are 72 steps to growing up.  How do I know?  Well because I said so, and in this house I’m always right!  Right?  How did I come to this conclusion?  Well because the tooth fairy didn’t come last night.

Two weeks ago my 11 year old son lost a tooth.  He was pleased ot have lost the tooth, but announced there was really no need to put it under his pillow for the tooth fairy.  Great! This makes my life so much easier as he sleeps in a full sized loft bed which is 8 feet off the ground.  I don’t know that I could get to his pillow if I tried.  I certainly couldn’t find a tiny tooth under his pillow without waking him up.

Fast forward to today.  I was expecting a woman from church to come by to visit and get acquainted better.  When I awoke this morning and looked around my house, I realized there might be a little too much of me on display in the form of discarded shoes, dirty dishes, and wadded Snuggies on the couch.  Add to that a serious need for a good vacuum and a floor mopping, and I was in panic mode cleaning the house this morning.  Suddenly my cleaning rhythm was disturbed by the cutest darned 11 year old boy on the planet earth.   His large blue eyes were moist and his eyelashes were clumped with the moisture of tears. 

“Momma,” he whined, “I finally put my tooth under my pillow last night, and this morning my tooth is gone and there is no money.  The tooth fairy robbed me!”

My mind was racing.  Why hadn’t I been doing a check under the pillow every night just in case?    Where could the tooth be?    Can I get away with sneaking a dollar under the bed and accusing him of knocking it off in the night?  Is a someone really going to come over and stick to my kitchen floor because I was worrying about the tooth fairy business?  Why did I walk around all day yesterday sticking to the floor and not caring?  Why hasn’t my 11 year old figured this tooth fairy thing out yet?  Do I really want him believing forever?  How much will wisdom teeth cost?  And finally I blurted….

“ Look,” I explained, “ There are 72 steps to growing up and today it’s time for you to take step 23.  There is no tooth fairy… but you can get a dollar out of my purse”  OMG  What did I just say?!?!  Why is he looking even more distressed?  Could I have been any less sensitive?  Why did I say there are 72 steps and he was on 23?  Please don’t let him ask me to name the first 22 steps.  Or the last 50!   

My son choked back disappointment and tears for what seemed like an eternity.  He hugged me for dear life as though his best friend in the world had died.  And just when my heart couldn’t take it anymore, and my self loathing was reaching a peak, he cracked the faintest smile and looked up at me and said, “It’s OK I guess.  At least I KNOW Santa is real!”

I  did the only thing any self respecting mother would do in my shoes…. I smiled and said, “yep… you got that right!”

Over The Shoulder Boulder Holders

My poor children.  I absolutely hate to go bra shopping.  But today I could no longer avoid the process.  One of my daughters (who has asked to remain anonymous) has needed new bras for an embarrassingly long period of time.  Unfortunately for her she has inherited a very healthy bosom, and cannot shop at Victoria's Secret or get the cute polka dot and zebra striped bras that so many of her peers have.  She was stuck shopping in the section of bras that truly earn the title "over the shoulder boulder holders".  Full coverage with thick padded straps and under-wires made of reinforced steel that would challenge even superman.  Unfortunately for me, all that reinforced engineering doesn't come cheap.

There was a brief window of time where my anonymous daughter was desperatly looking through pretty lacy bras hoping to find one that had a size she could wear, and I was shocked to see just how much padding almost every bra had.  Some advertised that they would increase you a full two cup sizes.  I only wish there were equally effective tools for altering other body measurements.  I  have owned a girdle or two, but none that took me down two full sizes.  Imagine if you could shrink from a 16 to a 12 by just wearing the right undergarment!  Of course, anything that would squish, stuff, and shape you that well would probably make it impossible to breathe or eat while wearing.    Maybe I'll just by a padded bra for the top and some padding for my tush, and then my waist will look tiny by comparison?   Throw on some 6 inch heels, and I might pass for tall and skinny!

Enjoy your Day, Enjoy your Life
K

P.S.  I had to add some obscure internet reference.  So for those of you who thought that the Weird Science movie idea of wearing a bra on your head was almost a good idea, here is the product for you!

Over The Should Bolder Holder Shower Cap

Technology

It's Friday.  A working Friday for my husband, and school of course for the kids, except for the one who managed to convince me he was sick, although, he's acting awfully spry right now.  As Travis was coming into the room for the 18th time to tell me he really felt sick this morning... but now he's hungry and bored, my golden retriever was doing a fancy dance with a high pitched whining sound track.  I thought the perfect solution was to send the restless "sick" kid out in the yard with the whining dancing dog.  Travis was under strict instructions to watch the dog and keep her from digging.  (we have a gopher she loves to try to dig up... but that's another story for another day)  Enough time passed, and I thought I needed to check on them.  I wandered across the patio and looked over the landing down to the grassy portion of our yard.  There I see the dog desperately trying to dig up a gopher, and Travis swinging the oddest tool I've ever seen.    The tool was about 3 feet long and looked a flat metal end with fluted edges.  When I asked Travis what he was holding, he told me it's an old fashioned lawn mower.  He began swinging it like a pendulum from his shoulder height on the left to the ground and back up to the shoulder height on the right.  Back and forth... and sure enough the darned thing was cutting the grass!  Who'd have thunk?  I don't know if I'm more stunned that it did cut the grass, or that my 11 year old knew what this obviously outdated tool was for.

Well, of course something like this sends me to search the web.  I love the Internet!  Can you believe there is actually an  Old Lawn Mowers Club and an annual rally for owners?  If you missed the 2010 rally, fear not.  A new one is bound to come up in 2011.  The site claims people come from all over the world with their antique mowers.  It sounds like all the excuse I need for a trip to Europe.  Maybe I'll take a cruise to get there... can you bring a lawn mower on a cruise ship?  This is apparently the year for European cruises.  There are tons of deals and steals going that way.  Check out this site. Kelley's Friend Debbie's Cruise web site   My dear, close friend Debbie is a cruise broker, and she will get you a great deal.  But if you're going to the Old Lawn Mowers Club Annual Rally, be sure to let me know.  Maybe we can get a group rate.

Enjoy your day - Enjoy your Life
K

Ripping off the Band-Aid

 I'm not very experienced at blogging, but I'm very experienced at yammering.  So hopefully, it translates to this medium.  Time will tell I suppose.  I have been debating what would make the ideal first post.  And as I do, life is passing by.  Finally I decided it's like ripping off a band-aid.  So in an effort to get it over with, here is the first post.

I am a married mother of three, a stay at home mom, school volunteer, chief chef in the family, and master launderer.  OK...  there are a couple of lies buried in there.  I outsource the chef duties as often as possible.  And the laundry is primarily an opportunity waiting to be explored.  It is now standing in small mountains and hills strategically placed in each room.   I have many times subscribed to the FlyLady method of working through things, but clearly, with one look around my home, you can see I'm off the wagon now.

So what am I spending my day doing?  I should be packing away Christmas decorations, taking the vacuum cleaner to the repair shop, beginning my 2011 get in shape plan, or tackling any one of the mountains of laundry.  But the reality is I'm sitting here blogging in the hopes that enough people will click on the ads inserted on this page that someday I can pay a maid, a trainer, and maybe a decorator.  At this rate, I may need a whole team of maids, so please click generously on ads!

I'm not only blogging though.  In the back ground I've stumbled on a show called RuPaul's Drag U.  They are taking women and letting them work with Drag Queens to become fabulous!  I need to find out how to get on this show!  Do you think my children would faint if I showed up at the school dressed like a drag queen?    I'm thinking that would leave me looking something like Dolly Parton...  I can only wish at least!

I found a program that will morph your photo into celebrity photos  (www.morphthing.com).  Sadly they didn't have Dolly Parton.  I had to settle for Pamela Anderson..  I know you're dying to see...  So here it is...

 So this is me.... exciting right?

And this is me morphed with Pamela Anderson... I kind of look like a slutty Sarah Palin.  I'll bet Slutty Sarah doesn't have mountains of laundry to do.