Such A Fraud

As I've mentioned a zillion times before, Caroline's neighborhood playmates of choice are sisters, Rachel and Sarah. They are really nice, polite girls and I'm very happy that they get along so well with Caroline. To me and Craig, seeing Caroline play with girls is really quite bizarre; previously she solely played with boys. Lots of boys. We'd have to drag her out of neighborhood football games, kicking and screaming, with a dirty face and scratches up and down her legs. She'd get right in the mix, even though the other participants were older, bigger and stronger. She simply did not care, believing she had every right to be there.
Thankfully Rachel and Sarah aren't "girly" or TOO girly, which suits Caroline just fine.

Caroline is out right now with the girls, having lunch at McDonalds and accompanying them to Toys R Us so they can get their own Lego sets. We currently supply the majority of the Legos to the neighborhood, but Sarah and Rachel are eager to have a set of their own. When I spoke with their mom, Cindy, on the phone about lunch, she was hesitant to admit that she was taking the girls to McDonalds. She's not a huge fan of cooking so their family eats out quite a bit and from what I gather, they eat a lot of quick fix meals when they are home. Nothing wrong with that. I'm not judging. When I'm perfect, I'll judge. That's what I tell Caroline when she and her friends are feeling morally superior to the other kids in the neighborhood.

I just find it slightly amusing that Cindy thinks we're so health minded that we wouldn't dream of feeding our child McDonalds. Au contraire. It's our overall goal to eat a healthful diet and I do make sure that Caroline eats a serving or two of fruits and/or veggies with each meal. Thankfully she's compliant and enjoys them, however, I've yet to drill into her head that fruity flavored yogurt does not constitute a fresh fruit serving.
I'd like for Caroline to eat fewer Happy Meals, but we don't shun them. I'm not sure how in the world I've managed to deceive my neighbor into thinking *I* am the epitome of healthy living. Sure I exercise and drink green smoothies. I also eat handfuls of chocolate chips with scoops of peanut butter straight from the jar. I'm not perfect and I don't have any desire to try and sell myself that way; that would take way too much effort. Besides, I'm a terrible liar. I'd like to pretend my faults away, but that wouldn't be very real, would it? Everyday is a struggle to avoid stuffing my face with snacks in an effort to eat away my problems. Mindless, unsatisfying boredom induced snacking.


A few months ago I stumbled on a whole web of healthy living blogs. I read them daily, gleaning lots of information and inspiration, but I find a few to be heavy on the condescension. Sure high fructose corn syrup isn't the ideal sweetener, but you know, a little bit now and then won't completely defile your body. People who eat JIF peanut butter aren't bad because their peanut butter has added salt and sugar and "fully" hydrogenated oil, which is NOT the same as "partially" hydrogenated oil, AKA trans fat.

I would hate to come off as that kind of person; on this blog or in real life.

I find comfort in reading about the struggles other people face. Misery loves company.

The further along I go in this life, I've committed myself to the fact that I am only responsible for me and my family. What I do, what I say, how I live my life, what I feed my family. I haven't a right in this world to tell people how they should live, how many kids they should have, what kind of car they should drive, what they should feed their families. As this country moves closer and closer to that "big brother" mentality, the idea of libertarianism really appeals to me. It's your life....live it how you see fit (being mindful of those around you and within the parameters of the law, of course).
With that being said, it's hard not to feel insecure and pathetic when reading the self righteous words of a blogger I don't even know. I'm not a confident enough person to keep other's words from bothering me. By the end of the day I'm usually defeated and pretty annoyed with myself for the poor food choices I've made. Especially when I've read the blog entry of a thin beautiful woman with immaculate self control. I excel at self loathing, in case you were wondering.

That's the thing about the blogosphere. While I find the act of blogging cathartic, reading some other blogs leave me feeling like a big dumb chump. Expressing my thoughts with spoken words is difficult for me; I think better with my fingers. Heck, sometimes my fingers even do a hack job of my thoughts, but it's still far better than anything that could possibly come out of my mouth. Sitting here blabbing my inner most thoughts to the internet at large seems completely normal and acceptable. Even though I remain on the outside, writing, reading faithfully, but not getting truly involved, I'm thankful for the blog community.

After Caroline left for her outing, I got to thinking about my conversation with Cindy and let out a good chuckle. I'm an unintentional fraud. Somehow, through no effort of my own, I've managed to dupe my neighbor. I keep telling her otherwise, in my charming self deprecating manner, but it's yet to register. I think all moms have a sore spot where they feel most vulnerable in their mothering ability. Discipline, food, sleep habits, health, behavior. I'm such a truly exceptional mother that I can't even think of one area where I'd most like to improve!

Ha, just kidding.

That's not very real now, is it?

As you know, as well as I do self loathing, I do mom guilt even better.

Smoothie Queen

To the neighborhood girls, I'm not only Caroline's mom, giver of drinks and snacks and keeper of all their junk until I finally remember to make them bring it home, but I'm also known as the "Smoothie Queen." They actually don't call me the Smoothie Queen, but every time I make them a smoothie they tell me I should open my own shop. With such a glowing critique of my work, it would only be natural to start calling myself the "Smoothie Queen."
It all started when Caroline busted her front teeth at her very first slumber party and found herself limited to a soft foods diet for several weeks while her teeth healed. Smoothies are soft; they're also a great vehicle for incorporating healthy foods into the diet of a Dorito loving seven year old. I've told you about my love for green smoothies and while I'd love to stuff some spinach into Caroline's smoothie, I'm not sure how well that would go over. Actually, Caroline is a veggie lover and would probably enjoy a green monster. Her friends, however, wouldn't be down with that, whatsoever. They're a bit more typical in their veggie hating kid ways.

So instead, they discuss the combination of flavors they're fancying on any particular day, and place their order. It's quite hot out today, so I wasn't surprised when Caroline and her friends trudged up the stairs muttering something about "peach, banana, strawberry....chocolate chip." I put the kibosh on chocolate chip smoothies; that sort of defeats the purpose of a "healthy" drink. Strawberry was out, as well. Can't make a strawberry smoothie without strawberries. It came down to banana/peach. And that's what we made. The girls tried to convince me that chocolate would taste really great in their smoothies. I told them they were nuts, but allowed them to put a squirt of chocolate syrup in their drink. Caroline, in her usual first taste fashion, grimaced but said "mmm, it's really good." I didn't quite believe her, but she's drinking it, so it couldn't be all bad.

I could really use a green smoothie right now, but the blender is dirty and I'm not really feeling like washing it out. Besides, it's almost lunch time; I'll eat my greens then.

I played hooky from the gym again this morning. My favorite instructor is out of town; her substitute is adequate, but it's hard to get motivated when you're not sure what the workout will entail. Instead, I woke early and went for a 4+ mile run. Hills and all.
It has been another productive morning: run, water plants, shower, library, bake cookie bars for Craig's work, laundry, smoothie making.

As I sit in my favorite chair, sharing the minute, mind numbing details of my life, Caroline and her friends are laying on the living room carpet intently building their Lego ships. Let me tell you, they take this constructing business quite seriously. I can't help but chuckle on the inside when they have serious conversations in which they weigh the merits of rocket launchers and power boosters. Many tears have been shed over Legos. Territory disputes. Destruction of property. The proper amount of weaponry. Emergency attack mode strategies.

No one plays house anymore.

If they did, mom and dad would surely be packing some sort of ammo while they push their baby in a jet propelled rocket launcher/baby carriage.

And continuing on with this random post of everyday happenings, I made myself an iced coffee this morning, saving myself time, money and gas. I don't get iced coffees all that regularly, due to the expense, but I've been craving them like mad lately. Must be the heat.
I went to the library this morning while Caroline stayed and played with her pals, Sarah and Rachel. If there had been a coffee shop in close proximity to the library, I would have stopped and purchased one to calm my craving. However, my options were limited; there is a bbq restaurant and a senior citizens center next to the library. Neither sell iced coffee.
I mulled over the idea of driving to the nearest Starbucks, but opted to go home and make some at home. I had baking to do and didn't want to waste any extra time.

I have a love hate relationship with coffee; I'll love it for awhile and then suddenly find myself repulsed by it. Therefore, I do not own a coffee maker. I do, however, have a package of instant coffee that I purchased to use in a recipe. Even though instant coffee isn't the greatest stuff on earth, I'm happy to report that iced instant coffee is indeed quite tasty.

I sat down to write this post before 11 and it's now 12:12. Needless to say I've been interrupted by phone calls, cookie bars in need of attention, dishes in the sink and smoothie craving kids.
But, all is well. Caroline will be having lunch with her partners in crime this afternoon, leaving me ample time to finish the laundry and wash the floors.

22 days!

But I Don't Want To Sharpen 72 Pencils

Things sure have changed since I was a soon-to-be second grader at JC Crumpton Elementary school. I'm not sure that we even had a school supply list. If we did, it probably listed two things: lunch box and back pack. And if you bought lunches in the cafeteria, you could scratch the lunch box from the list.
Caroline's list isn't unreasonable, but it is a tad bit lengthy and oh so specific. When it comes to food and household products, I'm not brand loyal. However, when it comes to crayons and markers, I am Crayola's number one fan. So for that I can understand the specificity of the school supply list. Elmer's glue and glue sticks, name brand tissues, Crayola crayons, markers and colored pencils, Fiskars scissors, Ticonderoga #2 pencils, sharpened.

Three boxes of Ticonderoga #2 pencils sharpened.

Sharpened.

I don't want to sharpen three boxes of pencils.

Last year, the list also specified sharpened pencils, but did not list a specific brand. No problem, they actually sell pre-sharpened pencils. Those evil geniuses at the pencil factory.
While at Wal Mart today, home of the overly crowded school supply section, with a zillion navy blue folders with prongs, but NONE WITH POCKETS, they had sharpened pencils. However, the sharpened pencils were some lame brand that was not Ticonderoga. They had Ticonderoga pencils, 24 to a package, all with blunt bottoms. Now here's the deal: 24 times 3 is 72. Does each child really need 72 pre sharpened pencils? If all 20+ kids bring in 72 pencils, that's a whole lot of pencils.
I wish they would have specified a number instead of the generic "3 boxes."

I didn't buy three boxes of Ticonderoga pencils, which incidentally are protected by Microban. I'm all for germ killing, but antibacterial pencils? That might even be a little to crazy for me. Well, not really, because in all honesty, when I saw the Microban label, my heart skipped a beat.

Hoping to avoid carpal tunnel syndrome from sharpening 72 pencils, we're going to check Staples before making a final purchase. Besides, those three boxes of pencils would have cost nearly $12.

$12.

For pencils.

I'm not one to make waves, so I'll do as the list commands, but I'm not giving in without an honorable fight. I'll search high and low for pre-sharpened Ticonderoga #2
pencils, before caving and consequently subjecting myself to a wrist injury from pencil sharpener over use.

The list is *almost* complete. We have pencils, a green ball point pen and a large container of antibacterial wipes to purchase. I'll also buy the industrial size bottle of hand sanitizer to present to the teacher. It's my own personal tradition.

Heck, with copious amounts of hand sanitizer and pencils with Microban protection at Caroline's disposal, perhaps she'll remain illness free this year. As much as I adore sending Caroline to school, not a day goes by without me wondering what type of germs she's picking up in her sess pool classroom. Thankfully she's been made fully aware, by her ever vigilant mother, the merits of proper hand washing and keeping pencils out of her mouth. I wish I had been so informed at her age. I clearly remember chewing on pencils, biting my filthy germy fingernails and placing my sandwich on the dirty cafeteria tables. Ew, just thinking about all of the gross things I did as a kid makes me feel a little squirmy on the inside.

Suddenly I find myself motivated to have a sit down with Caroline in order to reiterate the importance of hand washing and keeping your mouth far away from foreign (and dirty) objects. Especially, communal objects in which classmates, with unknown hygiene practices, also have access to.

It's a list of rules that warrants repeating.

And hands-on practical exercises.

And a Power Point presentation.

Lazy Saturday

Aren't they all?

Well, mine are.

I've always been a hermit, but the busy Saturday traffic around here really brings out the homebody in me. I go to the gym on Saturday mornings when many are still asleep, but look forward to staying far away from the always-in-a-hurry crowd out shopping on weekend afternoons. I realize I sound like I'm 65, but I just really, really dislike traffic and crowds.

Caroline and I need to finish up her school shopping, but we'll go sometime during the week when the store aisles aren't filled to the brim.
I think we only need, a navy blue folder (I can find royal blue and baby blue, but no navy), a pink eraser and a green ball point pen. Oh, and a back pack, lunch box and new shoes.

Only 25 days to go!

I was talking to a lady at the gym this morning who has three kids enrolled in Catholic school. They start on August 31st. Do you think it's too late to convert to Catholicism?

So, not only is today a lazy day, but it's kinda quiet, as well.

I got home from the gym at 10:20 and still haven't seen Caroline. I spoke with her on the phone, and I know she's alive, but she hasn't been home. She's down the street eating lunch with her pals, Sarah and Rachel and no doubt plotting evil. Craig left for a quick run as soon as I drove up and now he's at the movies.

So it's just me. In my favorite reading/nap chair, with my laptop and the glorious service that is wireless internet.
I did some housekeepery things, ate some lunch and now plan to relax in my cozy chair.

I'm sure Caroline will eventually come barreling in, not using her inside voice, asking if we can go to the pool, but until then, I'll enjoy the silence.

One of the newer girls in the neighborhood came by with her cute little black and white puppy, named Oreo. I bent down to greet Oreo and Kayleigh said, be careful, he's a pit bull and he bites.
Great. Just what we need around here.

Kayleigh came by wondering if Caroline and the girls wanted to have a hot dog/chip/kool aid stand. Evidently they've all been scheming to do this, with the hopes of charging $3 a pop, since there are three items. Such lofty ideas from these budding capitalists.
Since spring time the girls have been planning a big lemonade stand to be held in front of the pool. They secured permission from the HOA board, since two of the girl's mom is on the board. The lemonade stand has been postponed due to inclement weather, illness, vacation and various kids being grounded. Last week I crushed their hopes and plans because it was 95 degrees and I didn't want to sit in front of the pool, baking and then melting into a puddle of sweat, while they tried to sell lemonade. Also, I felt very uncomfortable with the idea and not solely because the idea of selling things makes me nauseous. I know they received special permission, but in reality people are not supposed to solicit in front of the pool house. I didn't want to be in a position where I'd have to explain ourselves, when in actuality, we're not even members of the HOA. We're renters; our landlords pay the fees so we can use the pool.
My timidity over ruled the demands of the girls with dollar signs in their eyes. I really had a bad feeling about it, so I put the kibosh on the plans. They were crushed, but moved the stand to our street and were just fine.

I asked Craig if he thought I was being unreasonable. He said yes.
He was probably right; atleast partially. But, I can't imagine him supervising the event, so who knows.
I carried around a lot of guilt that day.
Heh, what else is new.

As of now, the street remains quiet, so I'm not sure if the hot dog stand idea will be a winner today. I hope not; we don't have any hot dogs, chips or kool aid.

Speaking of hot dogs, Caroline ate her first one about a month ago. Craig and I aren't particularly fond of them. We'll eat them, but don't crave them. I can't think of the last time I bought hot dogs; five years, maybe. Caroline, a definite picky eater, has always seemed slightly afraid of them. Unless the meat she is ingesting is chicken, and ONLY in the form of a nugget, she's not interested. She went to a neighborhood party and tried a hot dog. And liked it.
Or so she says. She hasn't asked for another one, but she ate it and didn't die. I guess that's a victory of sorts. Not that I really want her to include hot dogs as one of her favorite foods.

It's just nice to see her have some variety in her diet. You know, I can't complain too much because, sure she won't eat a hamburger, but she'll eat cauliflower and broccoli without complaint. And then ask for seconds.

OK, I think it's time to close the computer, open my book and promptly fall asleep.

I really do love my napping chair.

Blisters, Cookies and Blogging From A New Location

Usually I blog from our desktop in the basement/cave. It's a dark room, with green walls and one window looking out to a shaded patio. Hardly light and airy. Honestly, the room suits me just fine because I don't like to have a lot of natural light. I'm part vampire, you know. Also, copious amounts of natural light does nothing to hide dust. I'm a proficient duster; I love the smell of furniture polish (especially the new Swiffer kind) and therefore dust often. However, this house's dust collection to my dust removal ratio is overwhelming. Therefore, the darker the room, the less evident the dust is. I don't understand how dust collects so quickly. Especially since it's summer time and with the air conditioning working it's tail off to cool this place off, the windows haven't been opened in quite a while. Where does the dust come from? When we lived in Hawaii, we lived on the second floor of a three story apartment complex. We did not have air conditioning, but due to the trade winds blowing, we stayed pretty cool. Well, I did. Craig, who often worked nights, found sleeping in a stuffy, un airconditioned apartment during the day to be less than ideal. With the windows open almost exclusively, we had a LOT of dust. Dark reddish dust. Much like the red clay that stained EVERYTHING. Cars, shoes, PT clothing. Yuck. I hated that dirt. LOVED Hawaii, but despised that dirt.

Have I typed enough about dust yet? Somehow I've lost my train of thought.

Oh yes, a new location.... We've had a laptop for over a year now. In fact we bought it with the last round of stimulus money President Bush sent out last year. We felt it was our patriotic duty to stimulate the economy. And stimulate we did. Somehow I don't think our measly purchase was all that helpful. Go figure.

So anyway, we bought the laptop before we moved here to Virginia and anticipated installing wireless internet in our new place ASAP. I'm not sure what ASAP means in your house, but in ours, ASAP means 13 months.
So 13 months later, we have wireless internet and here I sit in the kitchen, typing away.
Too bad a wild herd of children, obviously not minding their manners, keep pummeling their way through the kitchen. Maybe I should go downstairs. Nah, if I do, they'll decided it's time to play the wii and then proceed to make lots of noise. I've pretty much resolved myself to the fact that I won't get any decent peace and quiet until September 8th. 26 days!!!

The wild herd of children, six of them today, are especially rambunctious this afternoon. They convinced me to bake cookies. Baking I like; baking with six pairs of hands trying to "help" I don't like so much. I had a pre-packaged, preservative laden cookie mix in the pantry that I bought on super sale with triple coupons sometime last year. Sometimes sanity preservation trumps nutritive quality. They wanted to do the roll out kind so they could sprinkle the cookies (and the floor and cabinets) with colored sugar and sprinkles, but thankfully, all I had was chocolate chip. So while the punks practiced their wrestling skills in the living room, I made the dough. I *should* have had them help, but really, a cookie mix where you add some butter and an egg really is a one person job. Well, a anal retentive, orderly minded person's job. If I didn't care about having little people standing behind me, peering over my shoulder, I would have asked for helpers. But you all know me better than that.

So, I baked the cookies; summoned the rugrats when the cookies were cool enough to eat; and watched them devour the cookies like they'd never eaten before. But, they had just eaten lunch. There are Doritos crumbs all over the floor to prove my point. Two of the girls brought their lunches from home (with the aforementioned Doritos) and I made Caroline her lunch. At the time there were only four girls over. The fourth girl asked if she could eat lunch here too. "Sure, I said, just go get your lunch." "No, I meant, can you fix me lunch?" She said. "I want the same as Caroline." I wouldn't have minded so much if I hadn't already fixed Caroline's lunch, put away all the ingredients and did the dishes. I find that I'm more likely to say yes to things if I'm asked at an appropriate time. I still said yes, and made lunch for the girl. She ended up wasting half of it, but then ate three cookies.

Oh man, they just ran through the house screaming. I hate screaming. Girly screams are the worst.

Maybe I should go hide in the cave.

I have so much to say today.

Let's see, what's next.

Oh yes, blisters. I think it may be time for new running shoes. I'm getting blisters on the balls of my feet, which is a good indicator. Craig got a coupon in the mail, which I'll be putting to good use shortly. He single handedly keeps Road Runner Sports in business so they're generous with the VIP coupons. I hate buying new running shoes. They're expensive, make my feet look huge and it's hard to find the perfect pair. I'd rather buy flip flops.

Or ice cream.

I miss ice cream. I've been good about not buying any after I crafted my self imposed ban on ice cream. However, a popsicle, while tasty, is not a satisfying dessert alternative.

When I was a kid and had better self control, I remember eating my dessert, usually a popsicle or push up, at exactly 7:37 pm every night. I have a very vague memory of watching "Too Close For Comfort" at 7:30 and rushing to the freezer at exactly 7:37 for a frozen treat. I was am a genuine head case.
Every now and then, I think about reinstating that odd ritual. Perhaps it could keep me from shoveling a handful of chocolate chips in my mouth or eating way too many graham crackers; grazing throughout the night.
I had impeccable self control as a child. What happened?

I could really use some of it right now.

Ok, time to shepherd the wild punks to the pool. I think they need to swim off the cookies they just ate. Especially since they've been laying around in cool house like cows under the shade tree.

Off we go....

Yep, They Really Do Hate Me

The words "mom, can we build a tent" induce a myriad of emotions within me; none of which are all that pleasant. I half heartedly say yes, knowing that I don't have a legitimate reason to say no, but on the inside I feel like running, hiding, screaming and throwing up. Sure, that seems a bit dramatic, but, well.... you'll just have to see for yourself. Once tent building commenced, I fled the basement area, retreating to the kitchen for some tent-free solitude.


It had been three hours since I found myself leaving the basement in search of a quieter, less messy space in the house, forgetting the web of blankets and chairs being constructed downstairs. The kids went outside a few minutes ago, allowing me the perfect opportunity to come downstairs and sit at the computer.


Guess what I stumbled upon?

Weren't they so kind to leave me with this......

Oh, and I miss counted. Yesterday I thought they had 27 days until school starts, turns out it was 28.

So today I can correctly say, "27 days!"

27.

That seems like such a large number.

Productivity

I'm feeling quite productive this morning. On a normal weekday morning I wake up, make the bed, make breakfast for Caroline and me and then go to the gym. By the time I've worked out, showered and come home, it's already lunch time. Half the day gone, with not much accomplished on the home front. And then by the time lunch has been eaten, I'm hardly in the mood to do my housewifery upkeep. Instead, the computer calls my name, or the demands of a kid wanting to go to the pool derail my good intentions.

This morning I woke up early, put the hunk of pork for tonight's pot luck in the crock pot, ran 4+ miles, pulled weeds, cleaned the garden dirt from beneath my nails, ate breakfast, showered, vacuumed my car and most of the house, cut up the baked goods I made yesterday and did laundry. I have a full day of cooking, and the accompanying dishes, ahead of me, so it's nice to have so many things already crossed off my imaginary to-do list.

Days like this, where I'm pleased with my productivity and recharged by the satisfaction of not being a schlub, I start to feel bad for spending so much time at the gym. But, then again, I really crave that time. I need to get out of the house. I want to chat with people who are over the age of 10. Otherwise, there would be an even greater chance of me actually losing my marbles.

I don't want to lose my marbles. I don't want marbles (literal or figurative) all over my floor. Because even though I will have lost said marbles, I'll still have to clean them up. Marbles are kind of sneaky and one may roll away, leaving the possibility that I might step on one in the middle of the night. Have you ever stepped on a marble? Or a Lego? I have a tendency to allow obscene words to escape from my lips when I've stepped on one. Hey, wasn't there a study recently that said if you curse when you're hurt, the pain will subside more quickly? I'll have to keep that in mind. So long as there aren't any children present. That's one thing you never want to explain to another kid's parent.

It's quite clear that this productive morning has done nothing to squash my ability to babble about ridiculous things no one cares about..