It’s only a matter of days now.  My kids are going back to school one week from Monday!  I can hardly contain the excitement.

I am so ready for some quiet time — some time when I can clean my house and it will actually stay clean for at least a few hours.  Do you know what I mean, girls?

Now I’m not looking forward to the driving, the homework, the beasts they are when they first get home.  When school is in I always want a break from all of that, plus a chance to sleep in.  But until I’m rich enough to hire drivers, homework tutors and lion tamers, that’s how it will be.  Unfortunately I have to trade one freedom for the other…but I’m ready!

Lindsay loves to cook.  She spent most of her day in the kitchen today, experimenting, and she made dinner and dessert tonight.  Cooking has been a passion for her for several years, and now she has a couple of original receipes that are really very good.

Tonight she put a new twist on her Triscuit appetizer and gave it an Asian flare.  After we finished our sandwiches she set out dessert – four variations on puffy rice treats.  One of the choices was quite interesting, in that it had some sort of blue frosting with crushed peppermints on top.  David was about to try it, but first he asked what the blue stuff was.  She said it was food coloring sprayed on marshmallow cream.  Now, I don’t claim to be the queen of any kitchen, but I am familiar enough with the contents of our cupboards to know that we are fresh out of blue food coloring.

As it turns out, what my daughter considers a totally acceptable substutite for food coloring is what the rest of the world knows as bath fizzers, a fun treat for anyone who wants to soak in fizzy, pastel water.  Apparently the fact that she found them in the bathroom was not enough of a clue.

David and I keep telling Lindsay that she could totally be a chef someday, even a finalist on a reality cooking show.  I do recommend that you try her original Triscuit appetizer; it’s my favorite.  And nowdays I’ll try almost anything she makes, although from now on I’ll probably ask if all of the ingredients came from the kitchen cabinets.  She’s never going to live that one down!

I didn’t go on a lot of dates as a teen, but I want to tell you about my worst date ever.

There were a couple of new guys at church, and the older called around 6:30 one night to see if I wanted to go bowling.  I asked my parents, who said “fine” and gave me a time to be back.  The guy said he needed to do a couple of things, some time went by, his younger brother called then and asked if Lisa, my little sister wanted to go too.  They finally arrived to pick us up (I think it was 8:00 by now), and the 4 of us loaded into their family station wagon and went to the bowling alley.  While we were there I asked my date to get me a drink, and after he avoided me several times I finally got out some money, handed it to him and asked him, again, to get me a drink.  He left and came back eating candy, which he had purchased with the money I gave him for my drink.

Later we went to Village Inn and as we were leaving my sister and the 2 boys got into the car and locked the doors teasingly.  By now I had figured out this guy might just drive away, so I got onto the hood of the car to keep him from leaving me.  He took off and drove around (in the dark) with me plastered to the hood of the car, grasping for windshield wipers and radio antenna just have something to hold on to.  He finally stopped in a residential area, where I got off the hood.  Then he drove away, leaving me on the corner.  He did come back…eventually.

I should have invited him in when we got home, so that he could witness me telling my dad what he had done, but when we got there he pulled up in front of the house and said “okay, get out”.

Looking back on that experience, I wish I had had enough self respect to just walk away from that street corner, find a phone and call for help, rather than getting back into the car with that p!&*#.  I’m saving up that revenge energy just in case anyone ever treats my daughter that way.  Warn your sons.  It won’t be pretty.

This is one of my little soap boxes, so if you don’t like that sort of thing, stop reading now.  Bub-bye.  For those of you still with me here, I’m sick of free stuff.  Sounds crazy, I know.  Don’t get me wrong, I like coupons that give me 1 meal free when I purchase one.  I really like to “try it for free”.  And I really REALLY like free shoes!  What I don’t like is the message my children get when everything seems to be free.  Go to a restaurant, you get free crayons.  Buy a kids meal, get a free toy (that’s worth less than that).  Have your parents go pay $80 for school supplies, then dump all of them into this drawer with everyone else’s and when you need something, come and get it.  Feels like it’s free.  Free Tibet (what exactly is tibet, and do I need some?)

The problem isn’t that I hate free crayons (I like to have my kids un-bored in restaurants).  The problem is that through all of these small, seemingly insignificant messages, we’re teaching our children to expect a bunch of free stuff while they are unaware that someone actually had to pay for that stuff.  Last year Lindsay brought home a message from school that they needed more pencils.  Now, I specifically remember buying enough pencils at the beginning of the school year for her to use or lose 2 EVERY week and have enough to last to the end of the year.  Yes, I complained about it through gritted teeth as I was looking for them in the store.  But apparently the majority of the kids in her class have been conditioned to believe that there’s no down side to losing pencils or throwing them away, because there is obviously an endless supply of free stuff.

Kyle will often wish outloud that everything was free, being too young to realize that’s impossible.  I try to make it a teachable moment and explain that “free” really isn’t.  But it’s an uphill battle.  My kids are still very young, and for the most part they all have yet to experience the joy that comes from saving up for a long time to get something (that’s my fault).  Remember how much more you appreciate what you have to work for?

So I think this school year I might modify the supply lists a little.  I’ll buy what MY kids actually need, keep most of the extras at home, and let them buy their own replacements if they run out or lose stuff.  Then, if they can make it through the year with what they started with, I’ll buy back what’s left, and they will have some incentive to take care of their supplies.  I’ll save money.  They’ll start to learn about taking care of things.  We’ll take the first couple of steps up that big hill.  Maybe you should try it, too (just a little free advice).

This morning I woke up to the Dom and Jane show on Mix 100.  It was just time for the “mind bender”, which was “31% of women wash this every day”.  Well, I knew what that was, so I started calling.  After about the 50th time hitting redial, the phone rang!  I couldn’t believe I got through.  I waited, patiently, hoping nobody else waiting got the right answer before me.  Right after the commercial break they answered my line.  Dom asked what I thought the answer was, and I said “belly button”.  He asked if I wash mine (yes), with what (q-tips), and what I was washing out (water, sweat, lint).  We talked a little more (all on the air!), they dragged out the process, and eventually said my answer was right.  It was fun, my mouth was dry, I replayed it in my mind a thousand times think of what I could’ve said that would have been funnier.  I won some coffee and free meals.  Good way to start what turned out to be a pretty normal day.  So, what about you — do you wash yours?

When I first quit working and became a full-time mom, I began to realize how much I am motivated by seeing the results of my work right away.  When I worked I could look at my calendar for the day, see 15 items that needed to be addressed, and at the end of the day when my plate was empty I knew I had conquered.  I’d always wanted be home with my kids full time, but it was really hard to get to the end of a day and have more work than I’d started with and see absolutely no reward for my efforts.  The adjustment was not easy and many times it had me wishing I could trade a day here and there with someone who slipped into a cute pair of shoes and proved herself to a few significant adults.  I still miss that, especially when I have to pass by cute outfits I could see myself wearing to a fun and challenging job.  Once in a while I actually buy the outfit, then I have to create a situation where I’ll need to wear it.  Separating the “woman” from the “mom” isn’t the toughest job in mothering, but it’s one of the most neglected.

But there have been a few jewels along the road that confirm to me that if I keep doing what I’m doing I’ll do my kids more good than harm.  The other day I took Lindsay shopping for some school clothes and while I was in the dressing room (you understand) she wandered over to the shoes.  I found her there, giddy, trying on all kinds of shoes that didn’t fit and she didn’t need, but they were too cute to walk away from without first seeing them on her feet (after all, it’s a shame to waste a good french pedicure).  She made all kinds of cute girl noises (high pitched exclaimations and gasps) as she found the next pair she would try.  I’m so proud of that girl.  Of course, she is also doing very well in school and is making responsible choices much of the time, but still.  Logan was in the Brighton store with me yesterday and he showed me several items he knew I’d like and the sales lady informed him that he had chosen the most expensive item in each category.  A little tear came to my eye…he also passed on a movie the other day that he didn’t feel right watching, so apparently he’s developing a conscience.  Character AND impeccable taste.  Sweet.  Kyle picked out espresso cups and saucers, little stirring spoons and a capuccino mug for me for Christmas with no prompting.  All his idea.  He loves coffee too, something he inherited from the Weaver side of the family (David’s mom).  He brings me white rocks and dandelions and lets me nibble his neck.  He can’t hardly go to sleep without me first tickling him so much he can’t breathe (one of my few real talents).  If he survives childhood he will be a strong and confident man.  In the mean time I’m going to keep forcing the snuggles out of him until he gets old enough to smell bad.

So some day I’ll probably go back to work and I’ll remember all of the things I hated about having a job.  For now I’ll keep getting paid in giggles, rocks and proud moments.

Well, here it goes.  A while ago David offered to set up a blog for me, and to be honest, I was bored with the idea at first.  But once I realized it could be an outlet to express my passions (cute shoes, jewelry, purses to die for) as well as to tell some of the stories I know that make people laugh, I decided to jump.  Just 8 short months after he offered, David delivered.  Here it is.  What do you think?

I don’t understand the difference yet between tags and categories or know how to include video clips, etc., so bear with me.  I’ll eventually figure it out (which is code for “I’ll make David do it”).

I’ve decided several of my more humorous experiences can easily be used as literal examples of cliche, so I have a category for that.  For instance, the phrase “the little woman” in this web address used to take me quickly to a point of indignation.  I needed to be my own woman, not be identified as “little” in relation to the significance of my spouse.  My disdain for the phrase (and all old-fashioned female sterotypes) was all the fuel my dad needed to tease and laugh at me.  No, it didn’t hurt my feelings; it was his way of saying “I love you”.  Come to think of it, maybe that’s why I like to tease so much.  Anyway, Gary Larson changed my opinion of that particular phrase with one of my favorite comics (by the funniest comic of all time), below:

After several years of marriage I don’t mind being thought of as David’s wife and many incredible things about him make it a priviledge to be his “little woman”.  Lots of girls would love to be in my shoes (see how I mentioned shoes there!  Gotta love shoes!).  It is a treasure beyond description to have someone know you as well as he knows me.  One night while I was about 7 months pregnant we were visiting my parents and I was helping my mother cook.  Now, normally my feet are ice cold, but you could have baked bread on them in those days, so needless to say I spent a lot of time out of my shoes then.  My tummy was sticking out so far that I was getting my shirt dirty, so my mother put an apron on me, which of course had to be tied above my baby pooch, making it look even bigger.  I walked into the living room where my dad and David were watching TV and waiting for dinner (a cliche in itself) and when David looked up and saw my big belly covered in that apron and bare feet below, he burst into laughter.  No words necessary; I was the incarnation of one of those sterotypes I hated so much.  I tried to defend myself and explain that my feet were unbearably hot, but the laughter was too loud.  And it was funny.

Sometimes we’ll see something ironic and just look at eachother, knowing we’re both thinking the same thing.  Every once in a while I’ll consider the side of me he nourishes and think what a different person I would be now if I had married someone who’s sense of humor was not so much like mine.  I used to have a “holier than thou” side (no, really, it used to be much worse!)  That doesn’t sound like any fun, so I think I’ll stick around.  Life is pretty good.  There are shoes to buy, purses to carry…a woman’s work is never done.