First World Problems

So, over the Christmas break, I was hanging out with my sister's sixteen-year-old step-daughter-to-be. (Is that a thing? Well, it's the best description I've got. Let's go with it.) And we started laughing about this website called First World Problems.

Some of our favorites:

• They wouldn't serve from the bar menu in the restaurant area, so I had to eat my turkey avocado wrap without appetizers like some sort of bronze age hunter gatherer.
• The seat heaters don't keep the pizza warm enough for the 10 minute ride home.
• I have no idea how to reheat my leftover omelette, so I guess I’ll just have to drive to the restaurant and order another one.
• 'Family Guy’ is on two different channels at the same time and I can’t figure which one has the most potential.
• I wish I hadn’t used all my pain pills for non-pain-related purposes.
• I have caviar stuck in my braces.
• The guy who cleans my yard barely seemed to be listening when I told him about all the stuff I got for Christmas.
• I’ve run out of obscure ethnic cuisines to impress my friends with.
• I have over 20,000 songs in my iTunes library. Why can I never find the one that exactly matches my mood of wistful melancholy?
• I can't wash my dirty hands because the water is freezing.
• My shoelaces are kinda short.

I mean, you can see why we love this site, right? But, now. When I'm bitching about something in my own head (it happens a lot), I've started following it with the words, "First World Problem!" Because, truth be told, it usually is.

And, then. My friend Kelly Rodgers posted some pictures from Nicaragua. Nicaragua, where she lives with her husband and three kids while they are on a two-year mission trip. Now, the Rodgers have done some amazing things with Teeth Savers International. But, these particular pictures were of Kelly and her girls handing out dresses made by Dress A Girl Around the World women. Little girls getting dresses - some of them, the only dress they may ever own.

And, as the mom to one sassy little dress wearer, well... you know.

Then there was this picture:

As I posted on Kelly's FB page, "That is just... a mother's face. We are all the same no matter the country." And, it crushes me to think that, had I merely been born in another place, I might not be able to give my precious girl a dress.

So, now. When I follow the thoughts in my head with "First World Problem," I'm just a little bit ashamed of myself.

No.

I'm a lot ashamed.

The Liquor Store - Bring Your Kids!

The man working at the liquor store gave my kids lollipops.

a) Yes. I had my kids with me at the liquor store. Just a continuation of the Klassy theme for 2012. (Actually, I was buying brandy for a recipe. But, I don't know why I'm bothering to tell you that. I hardly believe me, and I was there.)

b) Now I'm afraid the liquor store is going to be my kids' new favorite place to go. They'll probably ask to go there when we're at school... or church.

c) Why does the liquor store man have candy for the kids?!

And, on a completely unrelated note: No one carded me. Again. I mean, I could have had Spencer when I was *doing the math...* 12. Or I could have been their babysitter. (Note to self: I have got to get them to stop calling me "Mom" when I'm trying to look underage.) Anyway. The liquor store hurts my self-esteem.

*clink, clink* Coins in the therapy fund.

source
This is not my baby.
This is, however, hysterical... and disturbing...

Halloween Costumes... Halloween Treats... And, it wasn't even Halloween yet!

Today is Halloween, but our past four days have already been packed full of festivities.

There was this:

One of Lulu's classmates had a costume party at her house. Remember how our dancer-to-the-beat-of-her-own-drummer was a Donut last year? Well, this year?

A DANCING SKELETON!

When we got to the party, there was a face painter. All the other little girls had beautiful fairy eyes. And princess glitter. Some butterflies.

Lulu? "I want to be a skeleton face!"

She went from "Dancing Skeleton" to "Día de los Muertos!"

(Not a single one of you better give me a moment's grief about Día de los Muertos or I will sic Señora Cowden, the kids' Spanish teacher, on you to explain to you that it is a joyful day of celebration in many hispanic cultures wherein they remember all the loved ones who have passed before them.)

That said. Our beautiful, darling, baby girl... was horrifying.

And, it took two days to get all of the black off of her eyes. She went from Día de los Muertos to Courtney Love. Equally horrifying.

There was also this:

All of my children (including the 39-year-old one), needed treats today. Spence wanted the Mummy Oreos that Sister took to her class on Friday - as she was Snack Helper:

Found on Pinterest! I *heart* Pinterest.

Sister needed something different since, as I mentioned, she already treated her class to the Oreo Mummies. So, between Google, Shawn and me, we came up with these:

BONES!

They're just snipped marshmallows...

jammed on pretzel rods...

and dipped in white candy coating.

And, Shawn? He got to take both to the party that his office is hosting for the kids of the firm (because his little friends haven't seen either ;)!

And, finally. There will be this:

This afternoon. We get to go to Daddy's office party and Trick or Treating. After we get the flu vaccinations. That I scheduled. For today. After school. Because sometimes I don't have a lick of sense in my head.

P.S. We should all be glad the Oreo Mummies and Bones worked out. Because I had a Plan B. In a moment of frustration, when I wasn't sure I could master the Oreo Mummies, I tried to make a ghost.

It looked like this:

And, his eyes kept falling out.

Fortunately for everyone involved, it never came to this.

Random Thoughts: the Byproduct of a Long Summer

As I told a friend when I forgot to respond to his text for a week... and then forgot to send the text telling him I forgot to respond to his text for another week, I haven't had a single, complete, coherent thought in weeks. Being a mom 24/7 is an ass-kicking job^★. And, this summer, save Spence's week-long stint at camp, was Me and The Kids day in and day out for three months. (Yeah. I just made that into the title of a movie. Most boring movie. ever. But, very loud. With occasional cameo appearances by Shawn Johnson.) No. Seriously. They are getting old enough that we were (mostly) happy. And our road trips and vacations were fun. But, enough was enough.

Thank God for school and teachers. Spence started 2nd grade and Lulu Pre-K. They're both loving it. And my thoughts are slowly starting to form completely again (and the laundry is starting to get done again... and dinner cooked... and I'm bathing more regularly...)

So, as we wait for full-capacity thoughts that might equal one whole blog post, here's what's been rattling around in my brain in the meantime:

• I did indeed make the candy pencil back-to-school treats for Lulu's class. I told you Mommy Guilt would make me do it.
• I took a hot yoga class* and left it smelling like... an airline passenger plane. This is disturbing to me on so very many levels.
• *I stopped going to the Class of Torture because I was starting to get thighs like those of a 14-year-old Olympic gymnast. FYI, this is only a good look on a 14-year-old Olympic gymnast - and, even then, it's questionable.
• Sometimes I look at my flat iron when it's on and think, "Did I already turn that on?"^✰
• Can you put plates in the oven? 'Cause I do. And, I think I'm pretty darn brilliant for thinking of it.
• Evidently my family doesn't eat bananas fast enough. I always have to figure out what to do with overripe bananas. Well, AllRecipes.com has done it again. With a five-star rating after 6,413 reviews, this Banana Crumb Muffin recipe was bound to be good GREAT. And, it was^♥.
• And, finally. It has been said that Princess Eugenie bares a striking resemblance to her great-great-great-great grandmother Queen Victoria. Yeah. If Queen Victoria smeared a lot of $#!t around her eyes and wore bizarre crap on her head.

^★And, yeah, yeah, yeah. Working moms. I know the grass isn't greener. I'm just saying sometimes you get to turn on your "grown-up brain" and have coherent thoughts sometimes. (And, I'm not even going to correct the fact that I used "sometimes" twice in that sentence. I think it proves my point quite nicely.)

^✰It's not a flat iron. It's a cookie. And, I don't think "turn that on;" I think "eat that."

^♥The Pre-K teachers at Elizabeth's school do "Home Visits" the week before school. (oh. the horror.) I whipped these up because a) I'm an unbearable suck-up and b) I was trying to distract the teacher from the fact that our daughter doesn't know her own name and c) who calls Children's Protective Services on someone who makes muffins?

My Ride's Been Pimped (I don't really even know what that means.)

So, I've made no secret of the fact that Shawn hated my old car. I'm not sure what he hated about it... the glovebox that wouldn't close; the overhead lights that were burned out; the volume button that would get stuck while increasing the volume (that was pleasant); the cigarette lighter that hung out of the dashboard by the wires; the exterior that had a ding in every. single. panel (one of which was on the trim that surrounded the driver window like someone had tried to break in with a crowbar - FYI, you can't fix that without replacing the door panel); the three-foot key scratch that someone gave it while it sat in the driveway last Halloween (I wish I knew who that was... I'd take back their candy); the scratched bumper where I misjudged the side of the garage (I don't want to talk about that anymore). And, I know having a DVD player in the car is a luxury, but notsomuch when it has the same VeggieTale movie stuck in it for six months. Or maybe he just hated the layer of goldfish/cheerios crust that the kids had cemented into the interior over the past five and a half years. I mean, seriously. What's not to love?

Shawn tried to show me other people's pretty new cars. But, ehhhh. Whatever. Mine still "worked."

Then.

Finally. He thought of it. The convincing argument. He drives two-hours down the road. A lot. And, his ginormous SUV gets terrible gas mileage. And, he couldn't drive mine comfortably.

So. I let him buy me a new car.

I know. I give and give.

Blah, blah, blah... All the different options. Blah, blah, blah... I got a Buick Enclave. It is beautiful. I will let my children die of starvation and dehydration before I let them eat or drink in it.

Also?

I got an OnStar app. It will unlock my doors for me. from. my. phone. I will never have to climb through my own sunroof again! But, even better? It will start the car for me. From anywhere. I have to be honest. I took the kids to run errands just so I could remote start the car from inside the stores. It's like I'm freakin' Knight Rider!

The one problem?

I can't say "Buick" without making a barfing noise. Like this*:

I'm pretty classy like that.

*Things that occurred to me as I made this video clip:

1) One should not wear a strapless shirt while filming footage of oneself if one does not want to appear naked.

2) I may have gotten a little carried away with my editing abilities on Mac iMovie.

3) I make some really weird faces while pretending to barf. This is terrifyingly obvious when viewed frame by frame. Please don't view this frame by frame.

Truth in Advertising

I got an email about an end-of-season swimsuit sale. It included this little gem:

Um? Really? I don't think it's this girl's swim top that's doing the enhancing. I think it's her plastic surgeon.

(And, to all my heterosexual male readers out there: You're welcome.)

Did You Stick Something In Your Ear?

"Did you stick something in your ear?" the doctor asks sweetly with a smile.

To which Lulu smiles back and coyly answers, "Yeeeeees."

We are at the pediatrician's office for Elizabeth's 5-year-old well-check. Everything looks perfect, until... I'm sorry. Did you just say there's something in her ear?!

The doctor continues in her loving manner. "What did you put in your ear?"

But, by now Elizabeth has sensed that it isn't really an okay thing for one to have something in one's ear. So, she doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

The doctor tells me it looks like a rock or a pebble. But, it is really crammed in there. She says she can't believe Lulu can even hear out of that ear. She is going to send the nurse in to try to flush it out, but she doesn't know if it will work. And, the "hook" she has to try to get it out would hurt because the ear is so sensitive and the "thing" is so wedged in there. So, if the flushing doesn't work, we're going to have to go see an ENT.

Awesome.

The nurse comes in. She covers Lulu to keep her from getting wet. She starts flushing. Lulu is a trooper, but even this hurts.

But, it works!

This comes out of my child's head.

Again. A quarter for size reference because I'm all scientific like that.

By the time we're leaving Lulu's story is somewhere along the lines of "I think I was lying on the ground and a rock fell in my ear."

I'm not buying it, Little Girl.

And... the bills start coming in...

This thing?

This thing cost $324.

Ya'll? I could make something very similar to this with some Ziploc baggies, shoe horns and a couple of strips of velcro.

I think this just became the most expensive pair of shoes that I've ever owned.

Driving While Dumb

I turned right at the intersection. Just your average, everyday right turn. But, I clipped the curb with my back right tire - because I'm a dork to the dumb-ass degree.*

As I continued down the road, I thought, "Is the car making a weird noise?" just as I noticed my right rear tire indicator light had come on. Great.

I pulled into the first parking lot I saw. I got out, walked around the back of the car and, sure enough, my back right tire was as flat as flat could be.

As I raise my eyes to heaven wondering how in the world I was going to take care of this (because, let's face it, while me changing a tire is theoretically possible, there is very little chance it would end well if actually implemented... and because I just know Shawn told me he was driving out of town for a meeting all day today - I have really got to start paying more attention...), my eyes lit upon the sign for the parking lot in which I stood. Well hello, Firestone. It has never been so good to see you. Please forgive the 27 other times I've driven past you and never noticed how beautiful you were.

It. was. awesome.

Never mind that I had to wait an hour - it was still awesome. Never mind that a Bosley Hair Solutions infomercial played for half the time I sat there - still awesome. And, never mind that it was followed by an episode of the Steve Wilkos Show - still didn't stop being awesome. (But, y'all? If you are in any way trashy enough to be on the Steve Wilkos Show? You need to stop being that way. And, start being another way. Immediately.) Never mind that I "cut the sidewall" of my tire and had to spend $129 for a new tire. Well, that part kinda raised the "suck" factor.

But, overall? Awesome.

*How glad am I that I wasn't on my mobile phone? That would have been embarrassing.

Yes! That CAN be my next tweet

OK. So, I don't think I've made much of a secret of the fact that I just can't get into Twitter. I can't. Unless I'm staring at it 24/7, I feel like I'm missing everything that's going on. And, I don't like trying to figure out what people have responded to me about which tweet. It's just all so very exhausting. Facebook puts it all so neatly in its own little comment thread, with pretty little notices to tell you who commented about what. So pretty. So OCD. I don't care if it means I'm not young and hip. I'm a Facebook girl.

But, I do feel Twitter guilt. Like, if I just tried harder, I could make my relationship with Twitter work. (Wait. Am I in an abusive relationship with Twitter?!) So, when I saw the link to "Yes. That can be my next tweet." I was sold. Please, all-knowing website, tell me what to tweet. Then Twitter won't feel so used by me just putting links to my blog posts up there.

It told me this:

Ahhh. shucks. thanks so much! AND being scolded. by my car. i've opened the house. i hate that!

(Ummm. Should this all be one tweet? If so, I hope I've learned my lesson about opening the house to the self-righteous car. But, then. It looks like I have. And, I wonder what I'm so humbly thankful for? Not the car. That's for sure.)

So, that can't be right. I tried again:

Well that's a Snowman That Keep Me Up at the radio. hope you should move.

(This isn't getting any better. Now it seems English has become my second language.)

Again:

The what a warning. sorry. my car make me it's more fun with me it's more fun with the full face = the.

(And, now I've suffered a full break with reality. Or a stroke. But, at least it seems to be "fun." But, the car again. Why does Twitter want to keep talking about my car? It's a five-year-old Hond Pilot, Twitter. Let it go.)

And, finally:

Oh. My compulsion is 11 days before Halloween. Is this "twitter" thing EVER on?! Who Taught Her - The Johnsons.

(I believe that about sums it up. But, might I warn everyone to steer clear of me on October 20th. Compulsions are not to be taken lightly, people.)

Or this:

Well. I don't know which direction to talk about it up here?! wait. there's PIZZA.

(That's always my reaction to pizza.)

Anyway. What were we talking about? Did someone say, "pizza?"

An Epic Quest for Car Keys

"Does anyone see Mommy's keys?"

"No." "I don't!"

"Well. Let's go out to the car and see if Mommy left them there. Surely, Mommy didn't leave them there."

"What? Why wouldn't you leave them there?"

"Because that would mean I locked them in the car and that would be bad. Then Daddy would have to leave work and go home for the spare key and drive all the way to bring it to us...

There are the keys."

Locked in the car.

Spencer: "Mom, the top window is open; we can climb in there."

Sure enough. The sunroof was open.

"Spence? Can you climb in there and open the car?"

"Yes!"

He got one foot on the front wheel and one knee on the hood and he froze. And, I mean, froze. I was behind him trying to help him up and he almost knocked me over coming back down off that car.

"Come on, Spence, you can do it! I won't let you fall."

One more attempt. One more "flight response."

It is moments like this that convince me this cautious boy is an old soul. I mean, what seven-year-old doesn't dream of the day that he is given permission to climb up the car and through the sunroof?

Mine. That's which one.

I looked at Lulu. I considered that for about half a millisecond before concluding that that would just compound the problem. I was pretty sure that she wouldn't know how to unlock the doors; and then the keys and my daughter would be locked in the car. And, as my sister pointed out, it probably would have ended much worse than that. She probably would have started the car and driven off yelling, "See ya, suckas!"

So. That left me.

As quickly as I could, I put a foot on the front wheel, a knee on the hood, and tried to get my foot up to the roof so I could completely bypass the windshield (because that's all I needed - to go through the windshield). This pretty much resulted in me doing the splits over the windshield of the car. I hoisted myself up. Then, holding the edge of the sunroof, I swung my feet under me and into the opening so I could go in feet first  (because that's also all I needed - my feet kicking out the top of my sunroof while I gracelessly flopped into my car).

But, then I was in. I got the keys. I opened the driver's-side door. And, the car alarm went off.

Did I mention that all of this happened in front of the kids' school? At pickup.

I'm waiting to hear the word around school that the new family is a bunch of car-climbing hillbillies.

Random Thoughts (because they rattle around in my brain so you have to listen to them, too)

ON PUBLIC APPEARANCES:
This girl was wearing this at the zoo when we went there last week.

This girl should not have been wearing this at the zoo.
(Also? I was pretending to take a picture of the lion when I took this picture. As soon as I snapped the picture, Shawn said, "I know exactly what you just did.")

ON CLEANING:

I just cleaned the kids' bathroom. Wouldn't you think I would have been aware, before this moment, that I sprung forth livestock from my loins?

I bet I've sucked enough Legos to build a city into the vacuum cleaner over the course of my motherhood.

My grandma used to drink a six-pack of beer while she cleaned the house. My grandma loved to clean house.

ON PARENTHOOD:

You know what people never tell you about before you have a baby? What it will do to your body. I never dreamed there would come a day when I would have to choose between coughing and peeing.

My child told me this: "Mama. I need to go potty, but I don't want to get up." Um. Seriously? I was baffled into silence. I had no idea what was being asked of me.

It's a little disconcerting to be driving in the car while your four-year-old plays on her iPod and hear Lady Gaga start to play. What happened to The Wiggles?

A conversation between Shawn and me about children's gifts:

Me: "Do you want to go to Target? We could get some Bakugans and Zoobles while we're at it."

Him: "I don't know what any of that means. But, we can go to Target."

ON CANTALOUPES:

Are cantaloupes related to pumpkins? Seriously. They have to be. They're both orange. They both have seeds you have to scoop out... Actually, that's all the similarities I can think of. But, I still think they're related.

Seriously. Am I the only one who sees these things?!

We live on the Plains of Texas. What's with the lumberjack?! They can't be offering to take people away from lumberjacking (we have no trees), so they must be offering the dream of lumberjacking. Who knew?

(Someone call that number and report back, please.

Or call from the lumberjack camp!)

This is why you should never put your keys in your mouth.

(That's an unidentifiable "parking lot puddle.")

This should be filed under "True Confessions."

Confession #1: I went to put away the kids' tote bags from a camp they attended this summer. (Yes. It's December. They were hidden on the coat tree. Don't judge me.)

Confession #2: Elizabeth's bathing suit was still in there. And still wet.

I was attacked by my own wedding ring. See how there's blood smeared all over the band? And, this picture doesn't even do justice to the bloody chunk that was missing from my finger.

I hope I'm never DNA tested in connection with a crime. But, wait. That crime would have to involve my own blood... Now I really hope it never happens.

Am I the only one that thinks it's a little hysterical that there's a donut shop a few doors down from the Weight Watchers office? And, it has a drive-thru!

 This happened in the middle of the football season:

I feel like it might have been God's way of suggesting our team just scrap the season and take up swimming.

Serious overuse of quotation marks:

This seems like some fairly intense take-home reading for a 1st grader. I was expecting a Dr. Seuss character. Cesar Chavez? Notsomuch.

(Honestly, it was a cute little book from the "Rookie Biographies" series. I just did not expect a solemn Chavez to emerge from the bookbag last night.)

So, do you see hysterical ridiculousness everywhere you look? Or is it just me?

Hysterical Ridiculousness

Don't worry. All of my trials yesterday (seriously. where is that "sarcasm font" when you need it?) did not blind me to the hysterical ridiculousness wonder in the world. Here are some observations for you:

• I found a freaky, skinny match in the matchbox (when I was getting a match to light a candle to cover the stink from the clogged sink... wait... getting sidetracked...forgetting about "the wonder"...). I even included a normal match so you could compare (because I'm all scientific like that).

I call that one "Laurel" and the other one "Hardy."

• I heard the song "Papa Don't Preach" followed by "You're the One that I Want" from Grease. Yeah. I was listening to the oldies station, but what of it?! What part of "Papa Don't Preach" and Grease did you not understand? The oldies station is awesome now.

• I found a big fork and spoon! Just like Frank and Marie's from Everybody Loves Raymond. My life is complete. I'm going to make my new catchphrase, "Don't let a suitcase full of cheese become your big fork and spoon."

That's a pencil next to it for size reference
(again: I'm all scientific like that).

• You may rest easy, the term "Bark Nuggets" is in common, everyday usage.

Bark. Nuggets. These two words were always meant to be together.