Summer's coming
Better gear up.
Do jumping jacks,
Get a tummy tuck.
Enroll those kids
In swim team, now!
If you hesitate
You'll be left out.
Must, must, must
Go to EFY.
Everyone's going, Mom,
That's why.
Dance lessons, really?
It's such a joke.
My 3-yr-old plies,
While I go broke.
Horse riding, piano,
Gymnastics, bale hay.
Private cooking classes,
Make things out of clay.
We'll be bored, we must go,
My kids cry and sob!
What else can I do?
I get them all jobs!
Friday, April 3, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Give Your Laundry A Little TLC
I don't remember going on any $300 field trips when I was a kid. Actually, I don't remember going on any field trips, but that's probably because they weren't of the $300 variety, and so were not very memorable.
TLC has one of these absurdly expensive field trips coming up. His whole grade is going on some sort of oceanic exploration trip in San Diego. Of course, attendance is optional. But when you've been subjected to the nostril flare of total rejection by your 11-year-old child, it kind of takes the fun out of optional.
What to do? What to do? TLC, an entrepreneur at heart, decided to take matters into his own hands. He tried to get a little space at the Christmas shop at his school for some wooden bead bracelets he made, but he got shot down by the PTA. Strike one. His brother's had good success selling his homemade soft pretzels, so he set me to work trying to replicate the Krispy Kreme donut recipe. Three or four recipes and several pounds later, strike two. Finally, after reading a book called The Toothpaste Millionaire, about a boy who makes toothpaste that works and is way cheaper than the paste at the store and, natch, makes a million, he whipped up a batch of homemade laundry detergent.
I used it today on all my laundry. It was actually pretty great! It has a nice mild, clean smell and my clothes got just as clean as ever. It didn't get out the tar that somehow got on Lynnie's pant leg, but hey, it's detergent, not boric acid. The best part is, it's only $1.50 a gallon (that's enough for 32 loads in a top loading washer or 64 loads in a front loading washer). Leave me a comment if you want some, he's taking orders!
TLC has one of these absurdly expensive field trips coming up. His whole grade is going on some sort of oceanic exploration trip in San Diego. Of course, attendance is optional. But when you've been subjected to the nostril flare of total rejection by your 11-year-old child, it kind of takes the fun out of optional.
What to do? What to do? TLC, an entrepreneur at heart, decided to take matters into his own hands. He tried to get a little space at the Christmas shop at his school for some wooden bead bracelets he made, but he got shot down by the PTA. Strike one. His brother's had good success selling his homemade soft pretzels, so he set me to work trying to replicate the Krispy Kreme donut recipe. Three or four recipes and several pounds later, strike two. Finally, after reading a book called The Toothpaste Millionaire, about a boy who makes toothpaste that works and is way cheaper than the paste at the store and, natch, makes a million, he whipped up a batch of homemade laundry detergent.
I used it today on all my laundry. It was actually pretty great! It has a nice mild, clean smell and my clothes got just as clean as ever. It didn't get out the tar that somehow got on Lynnie's pant leg, but hey, it's detergent, not boric acid. The best part is, it's only $1.50 a gallon (that's enough for 32 loads in a top loading washer or 64 loads in a front loading washer). Leave me a comment if you want some, he's taking orders!
Monday, March 16, 2009
The Design Diva in Me
I watch HGTV a lot at night. Last night I went to sleep with my little head full of designer drapes and complete kitchen remodels. As I rested, all those creative ideas percolated through my subconscious, and I woke up ready to revolutionize my house, design-wise at least.
One of the first things I did was organize. I put all my little hair elastics, sorted by color, into an empty egg carton. Then I closed the lid and put the whole thing in a small drawer in the bathroom vanity. It didn't fit. I tried to jam it in by pushing down on the top with one hand while I forced the drawer closed with the other, but it still wouldn't fit, plus it hurt my hand. Then I was inspired to cut the lid off. Now it fits, but every time I open or close the drawer, the little elastics go flying. I hate bending over to pick them all up. Luckily, I've found that a little bit of color on the tile looks really quite nice.
The second thing I did was to purge. Only our stuff, of course, although the hair elastic Incident did make me feel slightly nauseous. I put a box in the hallway labeled Charity and forced each of my children to contribute ten items. I probably should have specified that the items they contributed had to be their own. My unwitting 3-year-old has nothing left to play with.
Next I went to work on those curtains. Just so you know my background, my mom used to tie our curtains back with whichever hair ribbons her girls weren't using that day. I myself have tried to go a little classier, using a scarf rather than ribbons. Although I'll admit, when I'm feeling sassy, I sometimes steal the scarf and use it for a belt. My curtains stay closed on belt days, and also my pants don't sag. But if they did it would be okay because my curtains are closed, so no one would know.
Anyway, inspired by HGTV, I decided to sew a valance for the bare window over my kitchen sink. I was a little delayed in my sewing as I tried to figure out if it's pronounced vuh-lahns, or val-ince. Then I was further delayed when I couldn't find my sewing machine. Then I remembered that I don't have a sewing machine, plus I don't know how to sew. So, the vuh-lans or whatever will have to wait.
I thought I would play to my strengths next and refinish the table. This would involve stripping, sanding and staining it. I know that sounds like a lot of work, but if there's one thing I can do it's strip. I learned to strip in the workshop behind my house when I was just a little girl. My parents really encouraged me in this pursuit. I think they saw something of a future in it for me, but I haven't really done it much since I got married. I really planned on getting that table done too, but when it came down to it, I couldn't bring myself to touch it. It's a family heirloom, and I was afraid if I refinished it I would wipe out all the pencil scratchings dug into the wood surface during homework time, or the little specks of nail polish from beauty salon days, or even the glossy patch left there when I tried my hand at jewelry making one time and pretty much sheened up the whole room, instead of just the wooden beads I was working with.
By this time my day was pretty much gone. I know I'm no match for the design divas on TV, but I do feel pretty good about what I did with those hair elastics. Tomorrow I'm planning to tackle home repairs. Can someone please call that Phillip guy I've been hearing so much about?
One of the first things I did was organize. I put all my little hair elastics, sorted by color, into an empty egg carton. Then I closed the lid and put the whole thing in a small drawer in the bathroom vanity. It didn't fit. I tried to jam it in by pushing down on the top with one hand while I forced the drawer closed with the other, but it still wouldn't fit, plus it hurt my hand. Then I was inspired to cut the lid off. Now it fits, but every time I open or close the drawer, the little elastics go flying. I hate bending over to pick them all up. Luckily, I've found that a little bit of color on the tile looks really quite nice.
The second thing I did was to purge. Only our stuff, of course, although the hair elastic Incident did make me feel slightly nauseous. I put a box in the hallway labeled Charity and forced each of my children to contribute ten items. I probably should have specified that the items they contributed had to be their own. My unwitting 3-year-old has nothing left to play with.
Next I went to work on those curtains. Just so you know my background, my mom used to tie our curtains back with whichever hair ribbons her girls weren't using that day. I myself have tried to go a little classier, using a scarf rather than ribbons. Although I'll admit, when I'm feeling sassy, I sometimes steal the scarf and use it for a belt. My curtains stay closed on belt days, and also my pants don't sag. But if they did it would be okay because my curtains are closed, so no one would know.
Anyway, inspired by HGTV, I decided to sew a valance for the bare window over my kitchen sink. I was a little delayed in my sewing as I tried to figure out if it's pronounced vuh-lahns, or val-ince. Then I was further delayed when I couldn't find my sewing machine. Then I remembered that I don't have a sewing machine, plus I don't know how to sew. So, the vuh-lans or whatever will have to wait.
I thought I would play to my strengths next and refinish the table. This would involve stripping, sanding and staining it. I know that sounds like a lot of work, but if there's one thing I can do it's strip. I learned to strip in the workshop behind my house when I was just a little girl. My parents really encouraged me in this pursuit. I think they saw something of a future in it for me, but I haven't really done it much since I got married. I really planned on getting that table done too, but when it came down to it, I couldn't bring myself to touch it. It's a family heirloom, and I was afraid if I refinished it I would wipe out all the pencil scratchings dug into the wood surface during homework time, or the little specks of nail polish from beauty salon days, or even the glossy patch left there when I tried my hand at jewelry making one time and pretty much sheened up the whole room, instead of just the wooden beads I was working with.
By this time my day was pretty much gone. I know I'm no match for the design divas on TV, but I do feel pretty good about what I did with those hair elastics. Tomorrow I'm planning to tackle home repairs. Can someone please call that Phillip guy I've been hearing so much about?
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Making Money in the New Economy
Ways to make some extra cash while riding out these tough times:
1. Start a bank but refuse to lend money to anyone. I already do this at home and it's a pretty good business model. When my kids reach for my wallet I just say, "Sorry, the bank is closed for the day." I can't say my profits are that great, but no losses either.
2. Get together with three or four other families and move in together. Share the rent, grocery bill, utilities, lice and pneumonia.
3. Become a TV evangelist. Sort of a dying breed, but hey, you've always done your own thing.
4. 2 words - Potato Farm. If you grew just one really huge potato with 100 eyes, you could then plant the eyes and grow 100 new potatoes. Where else can you get that kind of return? On a related note, does anyone else think it's kind of spooky that potatoes have eyes?
5. Become president of the Human Fund. (That was for you, Connie, as a thank you for being one of my five loyal readers)
6. Turn this blog posting into a spiral bound mini-book and sell it on Craigslist.
7. Go door to door and....oh, wait, there's nobody living in any of those houses anymore.
1. Start a bank but refuse to lend money to anyone. I already do this at home and it's a pretty good business model. When my kids reach for my wallet I just say, "Sorry, the bank is closed for the day." I can't say my profits are that great, but no losses either.
2. Get together with three or four other families and move in together. Share the rent, grocery bill, utilities, lice and pneumonia.
3. Become a TV evangelist. Sort of a dying breed, but hey, you've always done your own thing.
4. 2 words - Potato Farm. If you grew just one really huge potato with 100 eyes, you could then plant the eyes and grow 100 new potatoes. Where else can you get that kind of return? On a related note, does anyone else think it's kind of spooky that potatoes have eyes?
5. Become president of the Human Fund. (That was for you, Connie, as a thank you for being one of my five loyal readers)
6. Turn this blog posting into a spiral bound mini-book and sell it on Craigslist.
7. Go door to door and....oh, wait, there's nobody living in any of those houses anymore.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
My Funny Valentine ('s Day)
Ever watch Jon & Kate Plus 8 on TV? Well, if not, it's a reality show that follows a couple who have a set of twins about 5 or 6 years old, and a set of sextuplets who are maybe 3. This is how they celebrated Valentine's Day:
Jon and Kate bought each other lovely, thoughtful gifts. They were beautifully wrapped. Kate took the extra time to cut out and paste little hearts all over her present to Jon.
Kate made heart shaped pancakes for breakfast. Then she made heart shaped sandwiches for lunch. I can't remember what she made for dinner, but I'm guessing it was spaghetti with all the little noodles tied together to make hearts.
The kids all had little backpacks on their chairs when they came down for breakfast. The bags (red and white, of course) were filled with V-Day goodies.
Jon and Kate put together a little treasure hunt for the children. They wrote and hid clues all over the house, with the treasure being this huge (and beautifully wrapped) box full of dollar store toys for them to choose from.
It was a wonderful day for them. Our clan also celebrated Valentine's Day. Here is what we did:
We waited for TLC to get home from his scout campout and then left immediately for his basketball game, where he was given a personal foul for smelling like smoke/day old clothes/dutch oven cobbler.
From there we went to Lynnie's basketball game, where she would have loved to get a foul, but she's still learning that you only stick to your "man" like glue when you're on DEFENSE!
Mom realized she forgot to give AJ any breakfast and that might account for her crankiness at said basketball games, so we all went home for some festive peanut butter sandwiches, not cut into hearts, but made with almost no complaining by mom.
Mom took D-Dawg to buy some running shorts for track. These shorts had to be a particular shade of maroon. VERY particular. In a fit of rage, Mom cut the shorts D-Dawg was wearing into little heart shaped scraps while he was in the changing room.
Mom went to a baptism, where she thought about the shorts incident with regret. Dad forced the kids to do chores while she was gone.
Mom picked up Mexican food, our Valentine's Day tradition, took it home, and served it on a table that she decorated with a little red votive candle left by a concerned visiting teacher, who noted Mom's lack of holiday decorating back at Thanksgiving.
Dad and Mom gave everyone a chocolate bar that said I Love You on it and we all made s'mores in the fireplace, which I've heard can be toxic and maybe even deadly.
I'm really glad no TV crews were following us.
Jon and Kate bought each other lovely, thoughtful gifts. They were beautifully wrapped. Kate took the extra time to cut out and paste little hearts all over her present to Jon.
Kate made heart shaped pancakes for breakfast. Then she made heart shaped sandwiches for lunch. I can't remember what she made for dinner, but I'm guessing it was spaghetti with all the little noodles tied together to make hearts.
The kids all had little backpacks on their chairs when they came down for breakfast. The bags (red and white, of course) were filled with V-Day goodies.
Jon and Kate put together a little treasure hunt for the children. They wrote and hid clues all over the house, with the treasure being this huge (and beautifully wrapped) box full of dollar store toys for them to choose from.
It was a wonderful day for them. Our clan also celebrated Valentine's Day. Here is what we did:
We waited for TLC to get home from his scout campout and then left immediately for his basketball game, where he was given a personal foul for smelling like smoke/day old clothes/dutch oven cobbler.
From there we went to Lynnie's basketball game, where she would have loved to get a foul, but she's still learning that you only stick to your "man" like glue when you're on DEFENSE!
Mom realized she forgot to give AJ any breakfast and that might account for her crankiness at said basketball games, so we all went home for some festive peanut butter sandwiches, not cut into hearts, but made with almost no complaining by mom.
Mom took D-Dawg to buy some running shorts for track. These shorts had to be a particular shade of maroon. VERY particular. In a fit of rage, Mom cut the shorts D-Dawg was wearing into little heart shaped scraps while he was in the changing room.
Mom went to a baptism, where she thought about the shorts incident with regret. Dad forced the kids to do chores while she was gone.
Mom picked up Mexican food, our Valentine's Day tradition, took it home, and served it on a table that she decorated with a little red votive candle left by a concerned visiting teacher, who noted Mom's lack of holiday decorating back at Thanksgiving.
Dad and Mom gave everyone a chocolate bar that said I Love You on it and we all made s'mores in the fireplace, which I've heard can be toxic and maybe even deadly.
I'm really glad no TV crews were following us.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
The Dreaded Moment
It comes without fail every weekday, and sometimes on weekends too. The dreaded moment. "Mom, I need help with my math."
I have a little routine I use to deal with this alarming situation. Whenever someone asks me to help with their math, I immediately break into a mournful rendition of "Greensleeves". I don't actually know any of the words to Greensleeves except for, well, greensleeves. So my version goes like this:
"Greensleeves was all she wore,
From head to toe, it was quite a bore."
Although well-rhymed and most likely publishable, I sing this song for one reason and one reason only: to try to distract my hapless child from his appointed task. I'm always hoping he'll get that vacant look in his eyes and suddenly say, "I forgot what I came in here for."
Yes, it's true. I would rather have my children turn in blank math pages than have to reveal to them what a hopeless math-o-phobe I am. It's not even so much about doing the math, it's about remembering math that I learned several to many years ago. I can never remember the difference between Least Common Multiple and Greatest Common Factor, among other things. So in order to help, I either need to read the whole chapter in the math book first, look it up online, or call the homework helpline.
One time I tried the homework helpline. It went a little something like this:
Me: When I multiply fractions, do I multiply straight across or cross across?
Helpful Homework Person (HHP): Huh?
Me: I need to multiply 1 and 7/8 by 2 and 3/4. I'm just wondering if I should add the fractions to themselves first and then multiply in a diagonal way...
HHP: You mean cross multiply?
Me: Ummm....yes?
HHP: Okay, to cross multiply you simply multiply the top of the first fraction with the bottom of the second fraction, and vice versa.
Me: Right. That much I know. But is that what I'm supposed to do here? I'm just not sure if I use the multiplying when I'm adding or if I should skip the adding and go straight to the multiplying across or if I should multiply straight and then add and simplify.
HHP: Could I speak to your child?
Child: Hello?
HHP: I've been on the phone with your mom for the last ten minutes and I still haven't figured out what the question is. Can you help me with that?
Child: That's okay, I figured it out while you guys were on the phone.
The next day I got a letter from the Homework Helpline directing me to call the new Remedial Homework Helpline at 1-800-IMSTUPD next time I had a question. Unfortunately, I'm very good at English and so I was quickly able to decipher that phone number as a cleverly disguised insult. (It's short for I'm Stupid. Don't worry if you didn't get it, a lot of people don't.)
I'll never sink to that level though. I won't call the Remedial Homework Helpline as long as I've got ten good fingers to count on. And the internet.
I have a little routine I use to deal with this alarming situation. Whenever someone asks me to help with their math, I immediately break into a mournful rendition of "Greensleeves". I don't actually know any of the words to Greensleeves except for, well, greensleeves. So my version goes like this:
"Greensleeves was all she wore,
From head to toe, it was quite a bore."
Although well-rhymed and most likely publishable, I sing this song for one reason and one reason only: to try to distract my hapless child from his appointed task. I'm always hoping he'll get that vacant look in his eyes and suddenly say, "I forgot what I came in here for."
Yes, it's true. I would rather have my children turn in blank math pages than have to reveal to them what a hopeless math-o-phobe I am. It's not even so much about doing the math, it's about remembering math that I learned several to many years ago. I can never remember the difference between Least Common Multiple and Greatest Common Factor, among other things. So in order to help, I either need to read the whole chapter in the math book first, look it up online, or call the homework helpline.
One time I tried the homework helpline. It went a little something like this:
Me: When I multiply fractions, do I multiply straight across or cross across?
Helpful Homework Person (HHP): Huh?
Me: I need to multiply 1 and 7/8 by 2 and 3/4. I'm just wondering if I should add the fractions to themselves first and then multiply in a diagonal way...
HHP: You mean cross multiply?
Me: Ummm....yes?
HHP: Okay, to cross multiply you simply multiply the top of the first fraction with the bottom of the second fraction, and vice versa.
Me: Right. That much I know. But is that what I'm supposed to do here? I'm just not sure if I use the multiplying when I'm adding or if I should skip the adding and go straight to the multiplying across or if I should multiply straight and then add and simplify.
HHP: Could I speak to your child?
Child: Hello?
HHP: I've been on the phone with your mom for the last ten minutes and I still haven't figured out what the question is. Can you help me with that?
Child: That's okay, I figured it out while you guys were on the phone.
The next day I got a letter from the Homework Helpline directing me to call the new Remedial Homework Helpline at 1-800-IMSTUPD next time I had a question. Unfortunately, I'm very good at English and so I was quickly able to decipher that phone number as a cleverly disguised insult. (It's short for I'm Stupid. Don't worry if you didn't get it, a lot of people don't.)
I'll never sink to that level though. I won't call the Remedial Homework Helpline as long as I've got ten good fingers to count on. And the internet.
Friday, January 23, 2009
High Crime
In the interest of self-reliance, I planted a garden in October. It was very easy. I went to Home Depot and bought 5 already half-grown tomato plants and a few packets of seeds, including peas, corn, carrots and lettuce. My garden bed is only about 6x4, so the corn was a bit of a stretch, but you never know.
I also bought one bag of mulch. I'm not really sure what mulch is, but it sounds very healthy for vegetables. After I lugged it home, I read on the back that one bag of mulch only covers 1 sq ft of garden, so only about 3 of my seeds got any benefit from that. I chose which seeds got to go in the mulched section of the garden by playing Bubblegum, Bubblegum, In a Dish with them. That took kind of a long time.
Another thing I got at Home Depot was a tomato cage. When you put your tomato plants inside one of these cages, it's supposed to help them grow tall and straight. Even though I had 5 tomato plants, I only got one cage, because I stand up for freedom when I can. The plant that I put in the cage is tall, but sort of depressed. The rest are short, but free and, I believe, quite happy. Like my short friends.
I planted on a windy day. This was not a problem when I planted the peas and tomatoes, but I guess I didn't realize how small lettuce seeds are. Yesterday I saw a random head of lettuce growing in the retention basin across the street, and I'm pretty sure it's mine. When it gets a little bigger, I'm going to pick it at midnight so nobody will know how careless I was with my seeds.
After a while my peas blossomed and the lettuce seeds that made it into my garden grew. I even had a few tiny green tomatoes. It was shaping up to be just about the best garden ever. Then it got cold. I think my plants didn't like the cold, because their development was suddenly arrested. So I made a super cute quilt to cover my garden bed. Then I forgot about my garden for a few days (or maybe weeks), and when I finally uncovered it again, my plants were all dead.
My sister is a scientist and she says that plants are living organisms. As most of you know, I have a deep fear of going to prison. So let's just keep this incident to ourselves.
I also bought one bag of mulch. I'm not really sure what mulch is, but it sounds very healthy for vegetables. After I lugged it home, I read on the back that one bag of mulch only covers 1 sq ft of garden, so only about 3 of my seeds got any benefit from that. I chose which seeds got to go in the mulched section of the garden by playing Bubblegum, Bubblegum, In a Dish with them. That took kind of a long time.
Another thing I got at Home Depot was a tomato cage. When you put your tomato plants inside one of these cages, it's supposed to help them grow tall and straight. Even though I had 5 tomato plants, I only got one cage, because I stand up for freedom when I can. The plant that I put in the cage is tall, but sort of depressed. The rest are short, but free and, I believe, quite happy. Like my short friends.
I planted on a windy day. This was not a problem when I planted the peas and tomatoes, but I guess I didn't realize how small lettuce seeds are. Yesterday I saw a random head of lettuce growing in the retention basin across the street, and I'm pretty sure it's mine. When it gets a little bigger, I'm going to pick it at midnight so nobody will know how careless I was with my seeds.
After a while my peas blossomed and the lettuce seeds that made it into my garden grew. I even had a few tiny green tomatoes. It was shaping up to be just about the best garden ever. Then it got cold. I think my plants didn't like the cold, because their development was suddenly arrested. So I made a super cute quilt to cover my garden bed. Then I forgot about my garden for a few days (or maybe weeks), and when I finally uncovered it again, my plants were all dead.
My sister is a scientist and she says that plants are living organisms. As most of you know, I have a deep fear of going to prison. So let's just keep this incident to ourselves.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Winning is Everything
I really want to win something. And I don’t mean I want to win a big promotion or win the heart of my true love (no offense, honey). I mean I want to win some money, or a new car, or the NCAA bracket picks at work.
I think my urge to win stems from the fact that I am a very competitive person, and yet I have no talents. So, I have spent my whole life wanting to win but never actually doing so. I never win at sports, I wasn’t even close to being my high school valedictorian, and the jokes I submit to Reader’s Digest are repeatedly rejected. And just so you know, their rejection letters aren’t that nice, either. How would you feel if you got a letter that said:
“Sending us the same joke 53 times will not change our answer. It is not a funny joke. It did not make us laugh. Stop sending us jokes. In fact, don’t send us anything. In fact, we are canceling your subscription and purging your entire history from our files.”
I recently decided that if I can’t be good at winning, I can at least be good at entering. With that in mind, I made a New Year’s resolution to practice my contest-entering skills for 10 minutes per day. After only 9 days of practice, I can already see measurable results. For example, I took my redial speed for calling in to radio contests down from 3.9 seconds to 2.7. I also created a Word template that allows me to quickly print out contest-entering postcards in a flash. When I went to my contest-entering support group, I couldn’t stop the tears when I was recognized as the most improved raffle ticket crumpler.
It’s equally important to be prepared with a plan in case you actually do win something. The other day I told my husband that we needed new pajamas. Not to spice up our love life, because really, how much spicier could we get, but in case Publisher’s Clearinghouse rings our doorbell early in the morning before we are dressed. It would never do to be wearing a Hello Kitty t-shirt with paint stains all over it on national TV. And my pajamas aren’t so hot, either.
With all of my obsession for winning something, you may be surprised to learn that I never play the lottery. I just feel that handing a dollar to a corner store clerk lacks the challenge that a true competitor needs. At least with a radio contest you have to remember the phrase of the day, or the last 800 songs they played, or where Beth hid the bottle on the station's website. Plus, I only enter free contests. I mean, come on, I can’t just be throwing dollar bills around willy nilly. I’ve got postcards to buy!
I think my urge to win stems from the fact that I am a very competitive person, and yet I have no talents. So, I have spent my whole life wanting to win but never actually doing so. I never win at sports, I wasn’t even close to being my high school valedictorian, and the jokes I submit to Reader’s Digest are repeatedly rejected. And just so you know, their rejection letters aren’t that nice, either. How would you feel if you got a letter that said:
“Sending us the same joke 53 times will not change our answer. It is not a funny joke. It did not make us laugh. Stop sending us jokes. In fact, don’t send us anything. In fact, we are canceling your subscription and purging your entire history from our files.”
I recently decided that if I can’t be good at winning, I can at least be good at entering. With that in mind, I made a New Year’s resolution to practice my contest-entering skills for 10 minutes per day. After only 9 days of practice, I can already see measurable results. For example, I took my redial speed for calling in to radio contests down from 3.9 seconds to 2.7. I also created a Word template that allows me to quickly print out contest-entering postcards in a flash. When I went to my contest-entering support group, I couldn’t stop the tears when I was recognized as the most improved raffle ticket crumpler.
It’s equally important to be prepared with a plan in case you actually do win something. The other day I told my husband that we needed new pajamas. Not to spice up our love life, because really, how much spicier could we get, but in case Publisher’s Clearinghouse rings our doorbell early in the morning before we are dressed. It would never do to be wearing a Hello Kitty t-shirt with paint stains all over it on national TV. And my pajamas aren’t so hot, either.
With all of my obsession for winning something, you may be surprised to learn that I never play the lottery. I just feel that handing a dollar to a corner store clerk lacks the challenge that a true competitor needs. At least with a radio contest you have to remember the phrase of the day, or the last 800 songs they played, or where Beth hid the bottle on the station's website. Plus, I only enter free contests. I mean, come on, I can’t just be throwing dollar bills around willy nilly. I’ve got postcards to buy!
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
My Older Brother
Once when I was about 10 years old, living in Michigan, I went on a bike ride with my older brother and one of my sisters. To get to our destination we had to cross a two-lane highway that had no median. Since there was nowhere to stop halfway across the road, crossing it required careful timing. We had to watch for cars coming both ways, and dart across when there was a semi-lengthy break in the action.
This particular afternoon my brother and sister were watching the cars, and when there was a break they both yelled, "Okay! Now!" and took off across the highway. I also looked both ways, but hesitated a little because I could see cars in the distance, then finally took off after them. My hesitation cost me, though, because while they made it safely across, by the time I got to the middle of the road the cars were nearly upon me and I couldn't complete the crossing. I could only turn my bike sideways so that I was straddling the middle line, and then I sat, pretty much paralyzed with fear, while the traffic whizzed by me on both sides.
Every time there was a break in the traffic, my siblings would yell, "Cross, Lecia! Come on!" But I was too scared to move, so I just sat there, tears running down my face.
Then, like I knew he would, my brother came for me. He left his bike on the side of the road and ran out to the middle, where he took my handle bars and guided me safely to the other side.
How grateful I was that day to have an older brother to save me. I was hopelessly stuck, unable to move, afraid, crying, but my brother made it all okay again.
Today my older brother is the one hurting, and I would run head-on into ten tons of traffic to save him if I could, but I can't. I just hope he knows how much I love him, and that I'm on the lookout for our Older Brother to come and save him...I'm pretty sure He's on His way, or maybe that He's already here.
This particular afternoon my brother and sister were watching the cars, and when there was a break they both yelled, "Okay! Now!" and took off across the highway. I also looked both ways, but hesitated a little because I could see cars in the distance, then finally took off after them. My hesitation cost me, though, because while they made it safely across, by the time I got to the middle of the road the cars were nearly upon me and I couldn't complete the crossing. I could only turn my bike sideways so that I was straddling the middle line, and then I sat, pretty much paralyzed with fear, while the traffic whizzed by me on both sides.
Every time there was a break in the traffic, my siblings would yell, "Cross, Lecia! Come on!" But I was too scared to move, so I just sat there, tears running down my face.
Then, like I knew he would, my brother came for me. He left his bike on the side of the road and ran out to the middle, where he took my handle bars and guided me safely to the other side.
How grateful I was that day to have an older brother to save me. I was hopelessly stuck, unable to move, afraid, crying, but my brother made it all okay again.
Today my older brother is the one hurting, and I would run head-on into ten tons of traffic to save him if I could, but I can't. I just hope he knows how much I love him, and that I'm on the lookout for our Older Brother to come and save him...I'm pretty sure He's on His way, or maybe that He's already here.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
In Defense of Saying Yes
I should be in a bubble bath commercial. I know I could pull off the look of the frazzled woman who’s been run ragged all day. The one whose life is chaos until the magic of Calgon blissfully takes her away.
Truly, I’m the poster child for all of those magazine articles you read entitled, “Feeling Overwhelmed? Learn to Take Time for Yourself.” With two jobs, four kids, and involvement with church, school, community and extended family, you could say that I’m busy. Add to that a husband with chronic health issues, which is one way of saying that not only am I chief cook and bottle washer, but also head tree trimmer, spider squasher and pinewood derby car carver - roles I’ve learned to handle, if not well.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m no supermom. I know supermom, she’s my neighbor around the corner, and trust me, I’m not her. My kids pack their own lunches and accept bribes to splash in the tub with the little one so I won’t have to bathe her. Sunday dinner is pancakes and eggs, not roast and potatoes. Would supermom serve breakfast for dinner every Sunday? Not likely.
Still, I do think that putting yourself first is a little overrated. Not because I think I should be alphabetizing my cupboards instead of reading a magazine, but for reasons that are more about old-fashioned values.
You’ve heard the advice that to forget your own troubles you should help someone else? That actually works. When you’re helping others, you get the feeling that what you’re doing in that moment is exactly right. That you’re doing just what you were meant to do that day, which is a wonderful, freeing kind of feeling.
I learned this lesson again early one Saturday morning. My littlest one sometimes sleeps in, but never on Saturday. It drives me crazy! Anyway, one Saturday she’d gotten out of bed around 6:30 a.m. and come into my room. I pulled her up into bed with me and tried to get her to go back to sleep, but she wasn’t interested. I felt myself getting frustrated and upset with her, and finally I decided to quit fighting it and just get up with her.
We went out to the family room and sat together in the rocking chair. She was smiley and happy as we sang quiet songs and talked about things that are important to her, like dolls and cereal. We had the house to ourselves, and that quiet time with her turned out to be a very precious experience. Putting my daughter first turned out to be the best thing for me, way better than a bubble bath, and a tiny bit better than sleeping in.
Not to say I don’t take the occasional sanity break. In fact, I just gave my two-weeks’ notice at my second job, precisely in the name of sanity. You can’t say yes to everything, but when you do, it sometimes works out just right. Does anyone want to put up my Christmas lights for me? (say yes)
Truly, I’m the poster child for all of those magazine articles you read entitled, “Feeling Overwhelmed? Learn to Take Time for Yourself.” With two jobs, four kids, and involvement with church, school, community and extended family, you could say that I’m busy. Add to that a husband with chronic health issues, which is one way of saying that not only am I chief cook and bottle washer, but also head tree trimmer, spider squasher and pinewood derby car carver - roles I’ve learned to handle, if not well.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m no supermom. I know supermom, she’s my neighbor around the corner, and trust me, I’m not her. My kids pack their own lunches and accept bribes to splash in the tub with the little one so I won’t have to bathe her. Sunday dinner is pancakes and eggs, not roast and potatoes. Would supermom serve breakfast for dinner every Sunday? Not likely.
Still, I do think that putting yourself first is a little overrated. Not because I think I should be alphabetizing my cupboards instead of reading a magazine, but for reasons that are more about old-fashioned values.
You’ve heard the advice that to forget your own troubles you should help someone else? That actually works. When you’re helping others, you get the feeling that what you’re doing in that moment is exactly right. That you’re doing just what you were meant to do that day, which is a wonderful, freeing kind of feeling.
I learned this lesson again early one Saturday morning. My littlest one sometimes sleeps in, but never on Saturday. It drives me crazy! Anyway, one Saturday she’d gotten out of bed around 6:30 a.m. and come into my room. I pulled her up into bed with me and tried to get her to go back to sleep, but she wasn’t interested. I felt myself getting frustrated and upset with her, and finally I decided to quit fighting it and just get up with her.
We went out to the family room and sat together in the rocking chair. She was smiley and happy as we sang quiet songs and talked about things that are important to her, like dolls and cereal. We had the house to ourselves, and that quiet time with her turned out to be a very precious experience. Putting my daughter first turned out to be the best thing for me, way better than a bubble bath, and a tiny bit better than sleeping in.
Not to say I don’t take the occasional sanity break. In fact, I just gave my two-weeks’ notice at my second job, precisely in the name of sanity. You can’t say yes to everything, but when you do, it sometimes works out just right. Does anyone want to put up my Christmas lights for me? (say yes)
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