It’s Wednesday and here’s an interlude between Christmas letters— we’re participating again in Five Favorites hosted by Hallie Lord over at Moxie Wife!!
For this week’s favorites we have:
It’s Wednesday and here’s an interlude between Christmas letters— we’re participating again in Five Favorites hosted by Hallie Lord over at Moxie Wife!!
For this week’s favorites we have:
I’m not going to ask how you are because I’m 1 1/2 and I really don’t care. I really don’t care about much of anything these days except eating waffles in the morning (THE MINUTE I WAKE UP) and flushing things down the toilet. That taco was pretty awesome on it’s way down. I wish Mom would’ve let me finish flushing her maxi pads, that was getting wild.
I’m kind of confused by what’s actually happening here. I was told by really bossy older siblings to ask for some things I want for Christmas. What Christmas is? I don’t know. Who you are? Don’t care. Presents, you say? I’m in.
A number of things have come to my mind already. It’s a really tough line to tow, being the third kid and all. The baby of the family. I could really use the gift of speaking English that way I don’t have to growl and punch the couch like the Incredible Hulk every time my parents can’t figure out that I want the blue sippy cup instead of the yellow one. Also. My parents. What is with them? Is there like an exchange policy or something on them? They are weird. Constantly washing my hands like I’m a hotbed of contagion. All the smooching my cheeks and hugging and tickling . I can’t breathe. And they are always asking me to “use your words” like I’m pantomiming to them for fun. Is there a Rosetta Stone or something for parents of toddlers? Get them that.
One other thing that would be so great are some edible markers. And chalk. I’m sick and tired of eating Goldfish. So colorless. So boring. Rainbow colored edible markers, so Mom will stop freaking out on me would be the bomb.
As for those two other weirdo kids I live with. Listen, you didn’t hear it from me but the boy….he peed his pants on purpose today. And that girl, you know the one that’s like mini-Mom on pixie sticks? Well, I totally heard her telling her friends how she thinks picking her nose is fun.
Just some food for thought, in case you wanted to check that list twice or anything. I have plenty of room in my crib for extra presents.
Ok. Thanks. I mean, no not thanks. I deserve this. I’m the baby.
Wow. This movie is fantastic. I’m actually going to say I like this more than Pride & Prejudice— yes, it’s THAT good! I am in love, with their love story. I’m also in love because Julian Fellowes wrote this movie! And with my (ahem) adoration of Downton Abbey and his clearly spectacular way of bringing history to life….I had an inkling I was going to like The Young Victoria. How I have not seen this movie until now is beyond me, but trust me….it’s going to be in my collection for good! Check this out from your library!
That being said, I of course ran right to library to gobble up the biography on Albert & Victoria by Gillian Gill. It’s called “We Two : Victoria and Albert, Rulers, Partners, Rivals” and it is delicious. I can’t put the thing down. I just can’t get over this rarity of true love (in the case of the royals), and to be emphasized chaste true love (even more rare)…which was that of Albert and Victoria. It’s a beautiful love story to read! Tragic family histories, of course, but incredibly passionate, chaste love. Highly recommend!
A video of Blessed Mother Teresa explaining the gospel in 5 fingers. This is so beautiful!!
That’s all, folks! Be sure to check out Moxie Wife for more Five Favorites!
Because well, I’ve got to put something here. It’s been a while, Lord knows it. I’ve just been so out of it I can’t even speak a coherent sentence let alone write one. I have fragments and run-on sentences bouncing around in my brain forming nothing truly worth saying to all of you. Just snippets of crazy, ridiculous happenings and moments when one shares a life with some weird kids and a goofy husband.
Well ok. So Princess and I kind of had our first tiff off ever. And it was because I yelled at her for pulling down her pants on my front lawn and “peeing” on my bush. Which ended up not being on the bush at all, but all down her legs, socks, and shoes. (Getting the smell of urine out of shoes = NOT FUN) Also, it’s not like she had on a dress or anything to cover her patootie. Nope. A t-shirt. Bare buns to the whole block. I started running towards her to shield her (and my) modesty, by flailing my arms shouting “PULL UP YOUR PANTS NOW!” and instead of , oh, I don’t know pulling up her pants …she began to run away from me shouting back “NO! IT’S NOT FAIR!” (A reference to younger brothers who get to pee standing up) Did I mention our house is on a corner? So we are pretty much in a fish bowl because we have 6 houses with their front windows facing my front lawn. Call Jerry Springer somebody because there goes that wacko home schooled kid running around on the front lawn without pants on again.
Something else! Yes. Well, Camera Guy has high cholesterol. Did you hear this one? He does. So I’m helping him lower it by dishing him out different vitamins and supplements each morning. Apple Cider vinegar, I hear, does wonders. On Friday morning, I handed him his fish oil and garlic pills. Then I explained to him how the vinegar would help, but it’s really tough to drink straight so I’ll dilute some in a glass of juice for him. He cuts me off, scoffing at my somehow rude accusation against his manliness.
“I think I’ll be fine” He says smugly to me from way up high in his Armani business shoes looking down at me in my ragged pink bathrobe “Give it to me in a glass straight, I’ll show you how a man takes his Apple Cider Vinegar”
Quite eager to accommodate my lord’s snooty request, I measured out two tablespoons of vinegar into a glass and tossed it to him. The kids stood by watching the debacle as it unfolded.
We all watched as he tipped his head back briskly and dumped the tonic in. And we all gasped as he just as quickly clutched his throat and ran for my sink, filled with dishes and began dry heaving. The amount of gagging, coughing, hocking, drooling and moaning that then ensued made me think inwardly “Oh yes please, do show me how a man takes his Apple Cider Vinegar” But instead I just started shouting at him that he better not puke all over those dishes because we don’t have a dishwasher and I am NOT cleaning up man barf today.
As I instructed him to the nearest toilet and how to vomit into one, I held the bottle of vinegar in my hand and scanned the directions for the tonic quickly, when all of a sudden I screeched
“Ah! I am so sorry! It was supposed to be TEASPOONS not TABLESPOONS!”
“WHAAAAAAT?” He was still clutching his throat and tears were streaming down his face “MY THROAT IS ON FIRE!”
Well, I justified it that his cholesterol was pretty bad, so his guardian angel must have known he needed that much of it. Also, I told him I would rather have him dry heaving in a sink instead of me throwing dirt on his casket. He was fine, in case your wondering. A little overly dramatic and humbled but fine. The kids however are scarred beyond repair. That was what I used to put on their tongues if they talked nasty. Can’t imagine them ever talking nasty again. Not after that display. Win for all of us? We’ll see.
Anything else? Not that I can think of. Because all I can think of right now is a cup of tea and Netflix. That’s about as much brain activity that I can handle at this hour. This blog post did me in for the month.
Until next post, buy Apple Cider Vinegar and make your kids pee inside the house!
This is Pin-able. Do you hear me? PIN THIS. Pin it now. And tweet it. Because I’m going to tell you everything you need to know about having an amazing, easy, germ-free trip with your family. This is of course, complete sarcasm. Because that of course is never, ever possible.
But, we traveled from Wisconsin to New York by plane, train, taxi, and car with three little kids, 7 pieces of luggage, no naps or baby wipes.
And we are still alive.
One child might have E.coli, but for now, we’re still alive.
Want to hear my awesomely easy secret? It’s this: Share your story. Laugh about it. Because if you can’t laugh about it you will be dead by the end of your trip.
That is if most of you have travel days like the one we did. Which if you have kids under 18 I’m going to guess you have. Or you will (heh heh heh)
Here’s what happened.
We were leaving for New York on Friday morning. At 6am. On Thurdsay, our mini-van was declared totally incapable of driving to the Milwaukee airport (3 hours away). So we rented a squishy full size car for the trip. Everyone woke up around 5:30 am central time.
Things were looking good on our morning drive to Milwaukee. No traffic. Squeaky clean kids in coordinating and very cute outfits. Everything packed into the car the night before. Banana’s and waffles in the car. Beatles music on.
At this point in our trip we were smiling and anticipating the train ride up to our hotel, and some New York pizza by the pool with the grandparents. The kids were almost chanting “Hotel! Pool! Pizza!”
We nailed our check-in at the airport, breezed through security, and enjoyed the sparkling clean play area while we waited for our plane.
The first thing that happened was a delay with the flight. By an hour. We laughed it off. A delay? Psh! At least no one is melting down.
Then we got on the very teeny, tiny, plane. The one with the super grumpy stewardess. The one that had extreme turbulence for almost 30 minutes. The turbulence was so bad in fact, that Princess starting getting motion sickness, I started weeping silently, Camera Guy was practically frozen in disbelief. Oh, and the LOST plane crash scene was running through my head on hyper-speed. Did I mention we were flying over a huge body of water at the time? It was easily the most scared I’ve ever been in my life. Aside from that time I found two spiders dancing in my hair.
Well, at least the plane ride came to an end on time. Er, sorry, it hovered over JFK Airport for an hour trying to land because there was so much air traffic. And we were the family trying to restrain our 18 month old who had pretty much lost all his patience with the “table in upright locked position” rule.
After we landed in glorious JFK airport, and we dismounted the plane on the tarmac, in the pouring rain. With all our carry-ons and children…we proceed to make our way over to Avis to pick up our rental car which only took 45 minutes of dragging suitcases, children and ourselves, up, down all around the airport terminal.
Necessary stops had been made at the filthy airport bathrooms. Hands had been sanitized. So far, we were a little tired but still nailed it. In two hours we’d be “Hotel! Pool! Pizza!”
After Camera Guy stood at the Avis counter for the better part of an hour. The kids began to get really tired, and really comfortable while waiting. So comfortable they starting chasing each other without their shoes on. Then I started chasing them. Then one of them knocked over a sign. Someone started screaming, the baby pooped his pants and I realized we had no wipes. Also, the baby with the poopy diaper suddenly realized that he had been restrained long enough all day and angrily refused to be held or coaxed to doing anything aside from running.
This is when the fun began. Apparently you can’t rent two cars in the same day on the same credit card from Avis. That was a big pickle. So next option was to call the grandparents. Ah, but then travel tradgey numero uno happened: the cell phone was dead. And you guessed it: someone forgot to pack the charger. (Ahem, I say someone because this part of the argument has yet to be solved who the guilty party is)
In any case. We only had $1 on us to use a payphone to make a quick call for help. When we waited for them to call us back, of course, each time we picked up we couldn’t be connected probably because we had run out of quarters.
Finally we gave up and decided to head back the 45 minute trek through the airport to hail a cab and somehow get to a train station.
By this time it was around 5pm eastern time. The time we were supposed to be having “Hotel! Pool! Pizza!”
Sooooo here’s what we did. We made our way to Penn Station where there were two trains heading our direction. By “made our way” let me be clear, it was more like trying to run a race with cinder blocks on our feet.
We had Little Guy on Camera Guy in a back pack. Then Camera Guy was wheeling two suitcases, and carrying a laptop.. Then followed Princess carrying her own backpack . Then Mr. Chubs had his guitar case on his back. I brought up the rear with a duffel, a backpack, a purse and a suitcase. We were like a tiny parade of sweaty people. Taking escalators, climbing on train shuttles, and getting in elevators (we even rode in one that someone peed in! Yum!) were excruciatingly panic-striken moments of “Hurry! Jump over the gap! DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING! Get over here or someone will grab you!”
So somehow, without having a child disappear, still hauling around a really stinky baby we found ourselves in Penn Station. With both trains we needed to be on completely sold out.
Hmm. Also, the hotel would not refund us our money so unless we wanted to loose $200, we had to make our way up to our destination somehow.
It was then 7pm and we needed to eat. So we got the best New York pizza ever and also thoroughly patroned their dirty bathrooms too. Little Guy let me change his diarrhea diaper in this bathroom which conveniently had nothing but a toilet, a sink and toilet paper. I’m not even going to describe to you what changing that diaper was like. Without wipes. Or a changing table. With diarrhea. Although we used 5 dirty bathrooms that day, I was proud that all of my kids did not have hand contact with anything in any of those bathrooms. Somehow, amidst all the annoyances of the day, that one little fact just made me so proud. At least we nailed that!
Since Penn Station was ruled out, Camera Guy announced we had to catch a cab to get to Grand Central. So we stood, all five of us, with our 7 pieces of luggage in the pouring, and I mean pouring rain for a good five minutes until a cabbie was kind enough to actually pick us up. (One did stop to pick us up, but then changed his mind and sped away leaving me utterly shocked and very wet)
Yay! At last we got to Grand central station. We had to fall out of the cab, grab our luggage fast, and the kids and practically RUN across the street into the station because of all the rain. I was really proud of the kids because of the way their survival instincts kicked in:
ME: Chubs! Get the backpack! Princess you take a suitcase! GO! GO! GO! FOLLOW DADDY!
I ran behind them, lugging the remaining luggage (omg. I just realized why they call it luggage). And through blaring horns, pouring rain, tons of people, we made in into the station.
Princess was sobbing loudly “I AM ALL WET!” This was definitely a far cry from “Hotel!Pool!Pizza!”
By the time we got on our train, the kids had been awake, nappless for 15 hours. Camera Guy was so soaked with rainwater and sweat he said that he couldn’t even stand the smell of himself. I thoroughly agreed.
Our seat on our train ride upstate was the one next to the bathroom. And if the stupid college girls who missed their stop and pulled the “Emergency” brake weren’t enough of a cherry on top of our day..(Because you see, you can’t pull the brake unless it’s an actual emergency. So we had to wait a half hour for the police to arrive. That means the train was at a standstill for 30 mins. Which in precious baby-needs-to-be-in-a-bed-now-time it feels like a hundred years) I probably should go to confession for wishing all those girls to have triplets someday.
So if that wasn’t enough of a cherry…and believe me, it was…Chubs announced in loudly stressing tones:
“Mom! I have to really, really go poop. It’s coming!”
Inwardly I screamed “You have GOT to be kidding me!!!”
For those of you who haven’t been in a Metro-North Train bathroom. Let me inform you, that my husband, who pees on my toilet seat daily, purposely avoids using those bathrooms because of how filthy they are. They have a stench. They have a reputation. You have to be either really wasted or really busting to use that bathroom. It’s kind of like that outside bathroom at a gas station, but dirtier.
So, very, very, reluctantly… I escorted my son to the train bathroom. Still tauting my record of clean hands in my head. Even though I was exhausted I knew I had to be on my game for this one to complete my day of no gross bathroom germs.
As soon as we stepped in the bathroom, I picked him up and was placing him on the seat instructing,
“Ok, so just make sure you don—“
He stuck his hands under the toilet seat to hold on. UNDER. As in the sweaty, slimy part where thousands of people’s festering urine has not been cleaned! It’s like a petri dish of E.coli under that!
I gasped and shouted “JACK! What are you nuts?!!! Get your han—“
His knee jerk reaction, for reasons I will never understand and he will certainly never live down was to yank his right hand out from underneath the seat
And stick three of those fingers in his mouth.
I think I blacked out after that.
But Camera Guy told me he heard me yelling in there.
Epic. Epic fail.
“At least we didn’t crash” we consoled each other around midnight, which is when we finally checked-in to our hotel…a whopping 19 hours after waking up.
Which is true. Considering the alternative of floating on a plane seat cushion in the middle of Lake Huron, I am easily glad to have had a disgruntled long day of mishaps and exposure to bacterial infections. At least we were all together and safe. Tired, sweaty, but able to hug each other at the end of the day. And sometime in the way far off future, when my middle child, my special son gets married- I cannot wait to give his lovely bride a piece of advice for traveling with kids.
“Forget the hand sanitizer, sweetie” I’m going to tell her, “Doesn’t do squat if they touch the train toilet seat then stick their hands in their mouth. The two most important things to bring with you on your trips are a sense of humor and extra quarters for a payphone.”
Happy Summer Vacationing!
Camera Guy is always whining to me that I don’t brag about him enough here. Well, the reason isn’t because I don’t want to it’s because I’m terrified (and adamantly against) turning into one of those gosh darn super annoying bloggers that is always going on and on about “their man”. I’ve read those blogs before and I know you have too. I totally judge those women, and I know you do too! So yes, I’ve tried very, very, hard to resist the temptation of gushing and mushing about my hubs. And trust me it has been tough because I affirm him a lot around here and he really is the man of my dreams, but every now and then I’ll get the pouty lipped
“Well, if that’s really how you feel why don’t you write it on your blog?”
That’s my super humble husband for you. Who loves public displays of affection. Ahem.
So, I got to thinking that Father’s Day is coming up. And those of you who know anything about me, know that I am an enormously huge fan of Dr. Gary Chapman’s The Five Love Languages. I think that it is a fitting gift to give my Camera Guy, the ever humble Mr. Tom Thimons, some much overdue words of affirmation…publicly here on my blog. I know some of you out there are going to roll your eyes and want me to keep it to myself. But cut me a little slack, ok? I keep it normal and un-sappy most of the time. If it’s really that big of deal, you are in control of your own browser—I aint keeping ya here!
Ok! Tom! Get a load of this, this is me, standing on my mountaintop telling the world what a lucky girl I am:
This guy that I married…… once ran all over our college campus leaving me love notes written in chalk on the pavement EVERYWHERE that I walked on a typical Tuesday.
This guy… CHASED MY CAR about a half mile down the road waving a sign that said “I Love You!”
He drove to New York from Pittsburgh in the middle of the night, just to see me for a few hours because he missed me. My sisters were squealing and jumping at their windows that Sunday morning around 7am “It’s TOMMMMM!!!!! Tom’s HERE!!!” . They woke up the whole house, and all of us, pajamas and all busted open our front door half in shock, and laughter at the sight of him. Then he drove home! And he left me this note under my pillow that day, that I still have on my refrigerator
He built me this beautiful memory box to hold all the notes and letters he would leave stuffed in my purses, coats, under my pillows, in my mailbox…there are so many I need him to build me a second box
My favorite memory is in the beginning of our relationship. I forgot to bring a VHS to our media class for a film project we were doing. Tom, unbeknownst to me or the rest of the class, snuck out of class and ran to the campus bookstore (in the pouring rain), purchased the tape and came dashing into the room just as I was my turn to film. I was explaining to our Professor why I couldn’t complete the project when lo and behold, he handed me a blank VHS tape….quite literally saving the day.
He makes pancakes and waffles every, single, morning. Because the kids demand it.
I went out for Mom’s Night and I came home to a closet re-organized by color..on his own initiative
He’s hooked on Downton Abbey. He’s obsessed with Carson, the Butler. At first I thought this was a phase, his introduction of “Downton Saturday”….but it’s getting worse each week. Last week he actually dressed up, too. That’s right, Tom noted that all the married women in Downton Abbey get breakfast in bed, because in high society it was looked down upon to come to the breakfast table…as a married woman. So yes, (I SWEAR ON MY LIFE I DID NOT ASK FOR THIS) he insists on this spiel every Saturday. He should watch out though, because I’m reallllyyyy starting to get used to this.
He agreed to take dance lessons with me. Here we are on our first day:
He gets up with me in the middle of the night to hold the flashlight so I can give this dude medicine for his molars:
For Mother’s Day, he baked boxes of his homemade scones, muffins, cookies & brownies to send out to some of our relatives. He lovingly calls his baking gifts “Daddy’s Diner Delivery”
This is the type of artwork he makes me, when he does painting with the kids.
For Mother’s Day, he got me a beautiful Italian musicbox that plays “Somewhere Beyond the Sea” a nod to when our relationship began…while he was in Austria and I was across the sea in Ohio.
He’s not perfect, ladies. He can’t put his clothes in the hamper, or wipe out the sink when he shaves. He frequently leaves the seat down and snores. He sings the Les Miserables soundtrack ( and millions of versions of it) consistently in most mornings at a horrifically loud volume. And I can always count on him to quote Aladdin every time I ask “So, how did it go?”.But he is a very thoughtful, sentimental man and I’m a hopeless romantic so I feel so incredibly blessed to be his wife. He is the man of my dreams, the man my parents always told me I was worthy of, and an incredible father. I hope in a tiny way, this shows him how grateful and honored I am to have him in my life!
The other day I went out for Mom’s night. Because with young children, you have to go out with other moms of young children and pat each other on the back so you don’t feel like a total flop. This needs to happen at least once a month.
How do you know if a Mom’s night is right for you? A few simple questions will help you determine if you would benefit from Mom’s night.
If you have answered yes to any of these questions, then you need a Mom’s night out. It might be that time of the month for you. Call some moms you know, go to a restaurant, get a glass of wine and let it out. We are all here for you, for us, for each other. Sometimes all its takes is hearing someone else say that they shove toys under the sofa to “clean up” or that you aren’t the only one spanking your kid in the vestibule of church.
Mom’s Night Out. Because it’s cheaper than therapy.
This message brought to you by Midol.