tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14887773204910259552024-03-13T10:50:26.855-07:00ChitChatMoms Blog Pagechitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-3251437694460016772008-10-20T19:42:00.001-07:002008-10-20T20:23:41.054-07:00They Really DO Love Each Other!<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Now that I have my own children, I am truly grateful for my parents' ability to raise highly independent people. My siblings and I are all great problem solvers, go-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">getters</span>, and have the ability to make confident decisions. In an attempt to follow in their footsteps, I made a decision to give my daughter a dollar on the days I drop her off at dance class. I used to send a snack with her since she has two classes in a row, but I decided some early financial lessons would be good.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">The first day I gave her two dollars. I told her she could use one dollar in the juice machine and the other in the snack machine. After class she was excited to tell me about her healthy choices! She also moved to give me her change. I told her she could keep the change. I got an excited thank-you-mommy, and we went home. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">The next week I only gave her one dollar. It was cute to watch her try and figure out why she was only given one. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"I don't get two dollars? I can't get a snack with my drink?"</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"You can choose to get a drink out of the machine, but the dance studio does have a water fountain. If you drink water you can save your money and get a snack. You get to decide."</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"If I get a drink I won't have any change, but sometimes I am thirsty for something better than water."</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"You decide. It's okay to pick the drink if you want it. It is one of those decisions that is just a choice."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">She wasn't thrilled with the idea of a choice, but she said thank you and off she went. I was excited to find she was choosing to buy snacks. I was even MORE proud the day she came back to the car after class with both a juice and a granola bar. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"Both? How did you manage to get both?"</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"When I get pop tarts I only get 15 cents in change. When I get granola bars I get 40 cents change. I have been saving my change and today I had enough for both a drink AND a snack. Granola bars are healthier anyway."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">My 8 year old is a genius!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">But the best day ever? Hip hop class. Normally I don't send snack money on Hip hop day. Ryan makes breakfast on Saturdays so their tummies are usually plenty full. However one day we were rushed through breakfast to get out the door. I sent one dollar with each kid and went to run an errand. As I pulled away I could hear my daughter teaching her brother - " . . . but if you choose to drink water from the fountain . . . "</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">When the kids got back in the car I got a full report - my daughter picked her granola bar; my son picked what he thought were peanut butter crackers. What he ended up with - cheese on cheese crackers. He loathes cheese on cheese. I can only imagine the melt down that could have happened. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"I told him not to be upset. I gave him my change and told him to use his change and he would have enough to pick something else."</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"Yeah mom, she gave me her change and so I got a chocolate bar."</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"And since I gave him my change, he shared his candy with me mom!"</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"Don't worry, I didn't waste the crackers. I kept them. Do you want me to give them to the babies?"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">THEY DO LOVE EACH OTHER! THEY EVEN LOVE THEIR LITTLE SIBLINGS!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">It was such a great mommy moment. I should call and tell my mom . . . </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-23362832719387580072008-10-03T13:00:00.000-07:002008-10-06T19:55:22.585-07:00Lesson in Politics<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Wow. I didn't think I would be having these conversations so early. My third grade daughter is running for student council. I have never seen my child work this hard at anything. She spent hours writing a speech, transferring it to note cards, editing, and reciting it. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">She has had the following realizations:</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"It's not fair! Everyone is going to vote for their friends! They should be voting for the best person for the job! I would listen to every one's ideas, not just my friends." -- aww, an idealist just like her mommy!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"All of the boys are going to vote for 'A.' The girls are going to vote for me and 'S.' That means 'A' is going to win. That isn't really fair!" -- yay, my baby girl is a stats geek like mommy too!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"Wouldn't it be more polite to vote for someone other than yourself? 'A' and 'S' said they are going to vote for themselves. What should I do? It seems selfish to vote for yourself." -- and she has heart! Man I love my kid.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Wow, it's going to suck when she loses . . . </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">She asked me what happens if she wins - I told her I would be happy for her.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">She asked me what happens if she loses - I told her I would be proud of her for working so hard.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">She asked me what happens if she ties - I told her I would say, "now what?"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">She cracks me up!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-78218660046511639262008-09-22T14:23:00.000-07:002008-10-03T08:08:32.589-07:00A Pirate Says ARRRRRRRRGH!<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">My poor baby! Not only is he blind - farsighted with a prescription of +3 and +4 - now he needs to wear a patch over his right eye for two weeks. It seems if you are extremely farsighted and refuse to wear your glasses because you have hit the terrible twos, AND you hide them in the recliner where they break and you go without glasses for two weeks waiting for them to be repaired, you develop a lazy eye. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">It seems his brain shut off his weak eye in order to see better out of the dominate eye. The solution - patch the good eye. Sounds simple enough, unless you are the pregnant mother of said child. I was traumatized! </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">My kids are usually fighters in the doctor offices. If someone is messing with them in some fashion in which they don't approve, they cry, scream, kick, wiggle, and my oldest even bit one of her nurses attempting to administer a vaccination. Now that a few of them are older and can ask questions before freaking out, I am not so embarrassed by the younger ones. I even slightly admire their strong wills. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">When the patch hit my son's eye, however, he didn't fit or fuss or fight. He was confused. After two or three minutes of silence he began to whimper. He was blind. His brain had no idea what was happening. It was the worst mommy moment ever. I was helpless. I couldn't fix it for him.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">The next step was zombie mode. It was almost like his brain was rebooting, trying to figure out how to turn on the lazy eye. When we finally got home he began to wander around. He helped me pick up the giant checkers and put them away. Whew, I knew he was okay. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">The only fun part of the event - seeing first hand how completely different two parents handle the same situation. Being the parent with eyeglasses, Ryan went with me to the appointment.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">I am in the office near tears. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Ryan is joking with the doctor and asking important questions.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Ryan pulls him out of the car and expects him to walk by himself.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">I yell, "HE'S BLIND!! PICK MY BABY UP!!!"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">I gently coax him into picking up big, bright objects off the floor.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Ryan starts throwing WEEBLES at him to catch! </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">I understand why there is a balance of two parents, but man alive those guys are weird.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-34031724693071733432008-09-20T14:26:00.000-07:002008-09-21T18:25:25.930-07:00Hubby made a Funny<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">My three year old was trying very hard to snuggle with me tonight on the couch but she couldn't get comfy. Anytime she did settle into one spot I had to move her. I was trying to explain there is a baby in my tummy which is why my lap is shrinking.<br /><br />She said, "Oh, I sorry mommy."<br /><br />My husband shouts from the other room, "That is how I felt when I heard about it too darling."<br /><br />Men . . .<br /><br />-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-59730256931308889092008-09-16T12:49:00.000-07:002008-09-16T20:58:36.795-07:00We're Back!! More Lessons from Sara!!<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">I won't go into boring, whining details about downed servers, misaligned schedules or who had morning sickness because the important issue at hand . . . We are back :)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">My very first blog on the Chit Chat Moms' site was "Lessons." I thought it would be fitting if I wrote some more of them.</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Once again, the following is completely factual with no exaggeration needed. With a household of four biological kids, three babysitting kids, and a niece, things tend to get crazy at times~!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Lessons From Summer 2008 -</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Eyeglasses for your 2yr old with scratch resistant lenses and "bounce back" frames will still break in half if they fall into the recliner and someone slams the footrest down. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Full warranties on child eyeglasses are WONDERFUL.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Don't always assume the water at the base of your refrigerator came from three 3yr olds playing with the water dispenser. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Don't always assume the light in the refrigerator working means the entire appliance is working.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If your SingleBFF yells the phrase, "Why is your ice cream the consistency of soup?" don't assume she is a moron (even if she usually is).</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Some refrigerators have a cold-colder-coldest dial with the option to TURN THE FRIDGE OFF!!! No really, some do.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Don't assume the dial, which might be located above the highest shelf inside the fridge, is high enough to be out of the reach of 3yr olds.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If your fridge has been turned off without you noticing for FOUR DAYS, don't try to save anything.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If your fridge has been turned off without you noticing for four days, maybe you feed your kids fast food too often when the hubby is out of town on business.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Before kids go to preschool it IS a good idea to let them practice their cutting skills.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Before kids go to preschool it IS NOT a good idea to let them practice their cutting skills on their twin sister's hair.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">A blunt-bob to the chin is a SUPER cute look on a three year old even if her mother had never cut her hair before.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">It might seem like a good idea to tell a preschooler to run if anyone ever tries to cut her hair again, but it might come back to bite you when you take her into a hair salon to get her hair fixed.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If you have already told a preschooler to run if anyone ever tries to cut their hair again, bring a camera to catch the look on the preschooler's face when the stylist asks if she can cut her hair.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Three year olds who insist on being naked nearly 80% of the time ARE capable of keeping their clothes on to attend preschool.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Three year olds who keep their clothing on to attend preschool might, to the disappointment of their mother, still insist on being naked 80% of the time they are home.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Some eight year olds still believe in the tooth fairy. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">It is hard to believe in the tooth fairy if the tooth fairy forgets to pick up your tooth three days in a row.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If the tooth fairy forgets to pick up a tooth three days in a row, writing a letter to go along with the tooth helps.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Seven year old boys make really interesting faces when you ask them if they want to take ballet.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Some seven year old boys don't mind taking hip hop class with 18 other girls.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Eight year old girls do not need help changing their dance shoes.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Eight year old girls get mortified when their mother assumes they need help changing their dance shoes.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Mothers of eight year old girls might cry when they aren't needed for shoe help anymore.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">It doesn't matter how many years of experience you have teaching dance, even if you have countless trophies, choreography awards, and numerous national titles, once you become the mother of a dancer you know NOTHING!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If your 2nd grader son brings home district "Priority Spelling Words" the first week of school after having aced these lists in previous years, don't assume they are 2nd grader words. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If you have already abrasively interrogated your 2nd grader about why he didn't get his Priority Spelling Word correct, and he enlightens you they are from the 3rd and 4th grade Priority lists, the polite thing to do is apologize immediately.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If you have to apologize for getting worked up over spelling words, mellow out.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If you find the same list of Priority Spelling Words the second week of school, don't assume your 2nd grader missed them all on his previous test.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If you assume these are your 2nd grader's words, and they are actually your 3rd grader's words, they figure out the younger one is a more talented speller.<br />It might be an issue for a few days, so simply r</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">emind your kids they are all different and special in their own ways :)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If you have to apologize twice in two weeks for getting worked up over spelling words, it might be a good idea to take a chill pill.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If you are asked to water your MomBFFs flowers while they are out of town for nine days, and it rains every other day, it is a good idea to go water them anyway.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If you don't go water them until the seventh day of their vacation, and you can't get the hose to work, but you hear water running somewhere, it might be a bigger problem than your first instincts indicate.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If you decide to skip the hose and go inside the house to get a watering can, and when you do the house smells like a swimming pool - this is bad.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If you find your MomBFF's basement under 10 inches of water with their pipes GUSHING water, don't call the utilities company - they aren't much help - first call your husband (or any other handy sort of man you know) instead.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">If you try to turn the water off by yourself because you simply cannot stand to sit and wait without doing anything, not only are you going to get soaked to the bone, but you probably won't be able to get the shut off valve to budge.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">A flooded basement isn't ALL bad - you might get a newly organized craft room out of the deal.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Make sure to stay on your MomBFFs good side so you can go sew in her newly organized craft room :)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">And finally - </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Don't make blanket statements, they truly bite you in the buns.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"I don't care how much money you make, I won't let you travel anymore!"<br />Your husband might step down from traveling only to get an amazing offer to travel with a new company.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"I will never threaten punishment to toilet train my kids!"<br />One small moment of frustration and the words - one more accident and you will have to have a time out - might eliminate accidents from stubborn child to date.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">AND</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">"I will not get pregnant! I can feel when I ovulate" </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">That is all I've got to say about that.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-33039048252401201442008-04-30T07:30:00.000-07:002008-04-30T07:32:29.969-07:00GUESS WHO!!!!!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOuc6TGREXM-hlG5yz74mYCGAwHtUqp4UeQtQ7Bvde61ftshBkZZyM_9XpGeQOcv5peh73rH4M-OInrSYlK9fSg8G08114wROpO8Q_5qvB-_8Bq4yyzwFP4g6EFHtiSHN8SBeKco16GtlU/s1600-h/newbie2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195045783136853442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOuc6TGREXM-hlG5yz74mYCGAwHtUqp4UeQtQ7Bvde61ftshBkZZyM_9XpGeQOcv5peh73rH4M-OInrSYlK9fSg8G08114wROpO8Q_5qvB-_8Bq4yyzwFP4g6EFHtiSHN8SBeKco16GtlU/s320/newbie2.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-77809883836995899202008-04-09T09:14:00.000-07:002008-04-09T16:09:03.588-07:00Random Blog-by<span style="color:#000099;">SO much to say, SO little time. I'll hit a few of them, save the bigger ones . . . </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">My kids are on spring break which means at any given moment I have 4 - 8 kids roaming my house. It has been going good. Today the MomBFF and I are attempting to take everyone to a movie. I'll let you know how that goes!</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">My youngest has an eye doctor appointment. Lately I have been noticing his left eye turns in at times. I thought for sure it was a lazy eye until the family doctor said sometimes kids who are near sighted will go cross-eyed in an attempt to focus. Does anyone know how they test eye sight in kids that young? He is almost twenty months old. I am sure I will find out soon enough.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">We rented a dumpster for spring cleaning. It is entirely full and I still have one more room to go through - my craft room. It feels nice not to be a pack rat anymore! It was the best $120 bucks I ever spent! </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-85087252939802162832008-04-04T08:01:00.000-07:002008-04-04T12:35:51.778-07:00Tips on Broken Fingers<span style="color:#000099;">It is a bit scary when your 8 year old daughter has had a broken arm, stitches in her knee, and most recently, a broken pinkie finger, and still isn't the record holder for ER/Urgent care visits in the family. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">My 6 year old son is the winner in that category with staples to the head, stitches to the head, a massive sliver, and a crushed hand in a minivan sliding door. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">These kids . . . </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">My oldest two were picking up the family room and as they got close to finishing, some horsing around began. While running across the room, she tripped over her own feet and landed on her hand. Her fingers were bent way back when she fell. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I knew by her cry she was really hurt, but she was able to move each finger, nothing was swollen and all her knuckles seemed to be in place. I sent her to sit down on the couch with some ice and reminded her, "This is why moms tell kids not to run in the house!" Two hours later, and as dinner was nearly ready, she was still sniffling. I asked to see her hand again and this time her pinkie was getting fat. She refused to bend her fingers so I told her to get in the car.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I didn't really think it was broken, but I had flashback of my sister's broken arm. It was four days before they took her to see a doctor. My poor mom, "But it never swelled up!" My sister is still bitter . . . okay not really, but it is a great one to bring up when you want to jab a tad at Mom.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">We get there and sure enough - hairline fracture of the middle joint in her right hand pinkie. It was splinted, taped, wrapped to the other two fingers diagnosed as severely strained, and sent home. I was even given a "good job mom" compliment from the doctor who showed my daughter her crooked finger and told her, "My mom wasn't as nice as yours. She didn't bring me to a doctor." I am thankful my inner mom voice spoke up or I might not have. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Broken Finger Advice -</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">1 - Buy extra tape and sticky wrap stuff. The nurse told me we could reuse the wrap until it gets "nasty," but honestly, if your child was active enough to break their finger, they are probably active enough to need a new wrap almost everyday.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">2 - If the broken digit is on their dominate hand, unwrap it at dinner time. If the fracture is near a growth plate and you are told to "be cautious" and keep it splinted, having it wrapped becomes a false sense of security for a young child. With the hand still taped to the split, but the wrap taken off, it forced my daughter to eat left handed instead of struggling with her wrapped hand and risking further injury.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">3 - Remember to take both motrin and tylenol to the school nurse. I sent motrin to be taken at 11:00 AM, but by the time 3:30 PM rolled around she was in pain and couldn't have more. If I had brought tylenol, she could have had some of it later in the day. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">4 - If your child tends to get warm at night, turn on a fan. I checked on her hand before I went to bed. She had yanked off the wrap in her sleep. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">5 - Send them to school in elastic waist band pants. It will save them some embarrassment when using the restroom.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">and finally - Don't laugh Mom! It's NOT funny! </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-39744997555412458292008-04-03T19:26:00.000-07:002008-04-03T20:24:25.875-07:00PMS or Overreaction?<span style="color:#000099;">Blog has been neglected long enough. Life tends to get busy this time of year, but <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">sheesh</span>!<br /><br />We have had a death in the extended family, a broken finger, the jeep died, the van finally came back after a month in the shop and has to go right back in for more work, not to mention our attempts at spring cleaning. We got a dumpster and everything!<br /><br />Life has been crazy and it is time to vent it out.<br /><br />Ryan and I had our first public fight. It has been four years; I guess we were due.<br /><br />We were at the funeral for his step-grandma who lost her battle with cancer. It was a very hard on Ryan's family, but since she was someone my kids had only met a handful of times, I didn't pull the older two out of school for the funeral. In hindsight, it was probably not the best decision, but one we made as a couple.<br /><br />At the luncheon after the funeral, Ryan came up to me and told me I was wanted for a family picture. He made the comment, "Now that we are officially married you are expected to be in it." He was kidding, but immediately I went into mama bear mode and told him I was going to sit this one out.<br /><br />He calmly explained it was his great-aunt who wanted the pictures and it would be no big deal, but I just smiled and said, "Since half my family isn't here, I will not be in the picture. I don't mind if you and the babies join."<br /><br />I am ultra sensitive to my blended family. There is a divide in kids, but I want to acknowledge it as little as possible. An extended family picture that is possibly going to end up on the mantle at Grandma's house is not something I want my older kids to see and wonder why they aren't in the extended-family photo.<br /><br />He tried to make it better and say it wasn't a real family picture. The woman simply wanted photos of the family members at the luncheon. I snapped back, "That is easily fixed. I can leave."<br /><br />Ryan got a big snippy with me and said, "It is no big deal, just get in the picture."<br /><br />Here is where I started to get back in his face. You can't have it both ways. Either it really is no big deal - in which case no one will mind if I sit out - OR it IS a big deal - in which case I am definitely not getting in the picture without my other two kids. I asked him, "Which is it?"<br /><br />He started to walk off . . . INFURIATING . . . I yelled after him and made him talk to me. In the end, he promised the only one with a copy would be a woman in another state and "please just get in the photo, play nice this once."<br /><br />I was really upset for a few days. It wasn't about the photo anymore. He wasn't sticking up for me. Most of the time he is WONDERFUL at having my back on my idiosyncrasies, but this time I felt thrown under the bus. When I was calm enough to hear his side, I began to understand. He was already on the $h1t list with his mother for other silly issues. He had said we would be in the photo before he asked me and didn't want to make a scene after agreeing. Ryan promises it won't happen again.<br /><br />I need some opinions. Was this a serious case of PMS or was I justified in flipping out?<br /><br />-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">SaraMae</span></span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-47661680908848665922008-03-21T07:11:00.000-07:002008-03-21T07:20:53.998-07:00Think People Think<span style="color:#000099;">I don't understand restaurants. A local restaurant, and a favorite in our family, includes a bite sized rice crispie treat with the children's dinner. It is nice to have a dessert included with your meal, but why in the world would you bring it out on the plate along side the kid's meal.<br /><br />The extra touch is enjoyable - not a huge dessert, not an overload of sugar - but it annoys the beejeebees out of me! While six and eight year olds are capable of understanding the dessert-is-last concept, two and a half year olds aren't as mentally equipped. They know what is inside the metallic blue wrapper. True, mom can grab them off the plates, but sometimes mom's arms aren't fast enough especially when reaching for two. It seems eighteen month olds also whine for the packages that crinkle. Only good stuff comes in packages that crinkle.<br /><br />Dessert on the meal plate is a recipe for tantrums. Next time I have to remember to ask the waitress to skip the treats. Funniest part? They also have suckers in a fishbowl at the front door. One treat is sufficient in my book.<br /><br />-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-80891603031472546242008-03-20T15:47:00.001-07:002008-03-20T17:44:00.260-07:00La La La Laundry<span style="color:#000099;">It only took me four years of living with Ryan to come up with an efficient method of doing laundry. We are very excited! </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I am not one to be good about remembering when to switch the loads. Anytime I get started I wind up getting sidetracked. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I can't stand it when Ryan does the laundry. He simply grabs whatever he finds and throws it in all together<gasp>. I freak out!</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I do enjoy folding and hanging up clothes, but I LOATHE putting it away. It winds up sitting on my formal dining room table until a baby or four show up and yank it onto the floor.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Not anymore!! We figured it out. I sort. Ryan runs and cycles it in the machines. I fold and hang. Kids and Ryan are in charge of hanging up and putting away in drawers. Ahhhhh. It sounds simple and obvious enough, but I was too much of a control freak to ever split up the chore.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Now that I am finally on top of the laundry, I can focus on switching out the clothes to match the season and start consigning! </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-69666863439897756752008-03-18T05:57:00.000-07:002008-03-18T07:10:27.666-07:00Good Morning Sunshine<span style="color:#000099;">I am finally awakening from my blog slumber. It wasn't a fun few weeks. I thought I was doing pretty well by blogging through the four weeks of nearly full time training, but the end of the whole process threw me for a loop.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">It all started with a few incidents between my children and the MomBFFs children. It sparked a . . . I wouldn't call it a fight, because we didn't yell or argue . . . I would say it was a few discussions that ended by having to agree to disagree. Feelings were hurt. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">The end result was a decision to take a week off from each other until we could figure out the next step. I didn't realize how that would affect me. I am assuming most friends taking a break wouldn't be a major ordeal, but we are extremely close families. Many people think we are polygamists we are together so often. For us, a break meant no school carpool, no twins over on Monday and Tuesday, no trips to the gym, no thrift shopping, no sewing, no crafting, and no hanging out to watch our Wednesday shows. I was truly heartbroken even though it was I who suggested the break.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I felt like a failure as a mother and a friend. Thank the Lord the break was just what we needed. The following Sunday MomBFF said, "Can my kids come back tomorrow or should I find actual daycare." I immediately told her to bring them over. I was elated. I missed them terribly. Crazy right? Missing Twin B - or Elle as she is called after the fabulous movie Legally Blonde - was understandable. Who wouldn't miss a prissy toddler who puts her toys away and looks oh so adorable doing so with her pink purse slung over her shoulder? Missing Twin A - or Jack as we call him . . . after a donkey - was the surprising part. He is a mischievous monkey who starts all the trouble. Okay, not all, but he is a handful. I missed him the most! He is so sweet and lovable you forget all his antics.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">After getting the other half of my family back, I went into a slight depression of other sorts. I wasn't feeling like a woman. I was so engrossed in motherhood, stepping it up as a babysitter, and repairing a wounded friendship I began to feel like I was letting myself go again.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">A night at work changed my perception. If you have never heard of the five love languages, go check it out. If you are a personality quiz junkie, this one is a good one. Anyhow, my top love language is words of affirmation. I need to hear how amazing people think I am. I know, big shocker. Two customers I dealt with last weekend were able to pull me out of my depression with a few phrases. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">The first customer was a big flirt. We played the game well, including an exchange of such phrases as "If you weren't married I would totally hit on you" and "If I wasn't married I would totally take you up on it." He validated me as a woman! </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">The second customer was an older gentleman. I love old guys, especially ones that carry themselves with pride. He asked me, "Are you new here?" When I told him it was my third day he said, "Your knowledge and accuracy is spot on." I went home on cloud nine.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">They were both being polite customers, but I doubt they know the full extent of what they did. They pulled a middle aged woman out of a sluggish mood. Here is a shout out to John and Patrick. You made my night :)</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-17857477425884913972008-03-17T09:43:00.000-07:002008-03-17T09:46:43.445-07:00New results<span style="color:#000099;">Poll Results!</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">When is bed time for the little ones?<br /></span><br /><a class="quickedit" title="Edit" onclick="'return" href="http://www.blogger.com/rearrange?blogID=1488777320491025955&widgetType=Poll&widgetId=Poll1&action=editWidget" target="configPoll1"></a><span style="color:#000099;">18% - before 7:30</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">45% - 8:00</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">18% - 8:30</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">18% - 9:00</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"> </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I have to admit, I was surprised no one picked the "It varies" choice. My oldest daughter was a night owl who woke up at the crack of dawn no matter how late she went down. It took me three years of school to finally get her down before 9:00 on a consistant basis!</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-82704172500613694322008-03-04T11:22:00.001-08:002008-03-04T11:34:25.586-08:00Little Eavesdropping Moment<span style="font-family:arial;color:#330099;">So I was at Taco Bell today, having lunch with a co-worker when I heard the most amazing thing come out of the mouth of a little boy that was having lunch with his mom a couple of tables away. Now, I don't make it a habit to listen in to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">every one's</span> conversations, but since becoming a mother, I seem to have this knack of being able to hear and understand the words of children more now than I used to...at least I seem to catch myself noticing kids more in public than I used to. Anyway, as I was taking a bite of my soft taco (<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">delicious</span>...<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">btw</span>) I hear this boy of approximately 6 years of age say to his mom, "Mom, this is the best day of my life!" He said it with such gusto and excitement. It really got my attention. The mom asked him what made this day so great, and he replied with yet another attention grabbing statement that I think would grab the heart of any mother. "Because you made it the best day, mom." I'm not kidding. That's what he said. I then caught the two of them sharing a quick peck. It's those little moments that make parenting worth all the work. How many of us get the pleasure of hearing our children tell us that <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">their</span> day is the best just because we're in it with them? My warm fuzzy "mom" moment was shattered when I realized that she probably didn't have many more years left where simply taking her son to Taco Bell for lunch would qualify as one of the "best days of his life". How soon is he going to want to stop kissing her in public, yet alone talk to her when there are other people around. Kids, they grow so fast. I hope all of us can have a special "Taco Bell" moment before our kids find something or someone else to give them the "best day of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">their</span> lives".</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#330099;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#330099;">-Marie</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-19010764033819803932008-03-02T21:04:00.000-08:002008-03-02T21:11:58.021-08:00February Fall Outs<span style="color:#000099;">Sorry I haven't blogged in awhile. Karma has been kicking my pants. I am hoping with the arrival of March things will turn around again. I really never thought I would come across a February as horrible as the last year, but this year came damn close. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">The job stuff is going great, just busy. Everyone is relatively fine. Just stuff. Will have to get back to everyone when I have more time to let the thoughts dribble out. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-45695173120382181082008-02-27T07:39:00.001-08:002008-02-27T10:49:04.127-08:00Ford Minivan Vs. Jeep Wrangler<span style="color:#000099;">Yeah, my minivan lost that battle. On my way home from work I was hit. I was waiting in the turn lane for my green arrow. I always watch for cars trying to beat a yellow light, or ones that look like they aren't going to stop. Last night was no different, everyone was stopped when the light changed. I was almost through the eight laned intersection when I saw the jeep out of the corner of my eye. He rammed right into me. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I was the only one in my car, and was fine. The driver of the jeep was fine. A wonderful woman waited to be a witness. Jeep driver was cited. </span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">He said he was a bit distracted and when he looked up, he saw a green light and assumed it was his. Unfortunately the light he saw was the one for the turn lanes, not his. He had to have gunned it because he hit me pretty hard. I didn't even see him until it was too late. I was too busy keeping my eye on the PT Cruiser that was in the right hand turn lane across from me. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Here comes the funny part. His jeep was fine. Barely a scratch on it. My car? </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Head light gone</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">One third of the bumper gone</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Windshield wiper fluid container ripped in half</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Front corner panel all messed up</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Dent near the rear of the van where the jeep landed after he bounced off of me</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">And don't get me wrong, when I say gone, I don't mean crunched. I mean it is no longer attached to my car. It was sitting in the middle of the road. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Why did this have to happen the one week I took a swing shift for training and Ryan is out of town? I will tell you why, because we just paid it off. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">When I told Ryan I was able to drive it home he response was, "Oh bummer, I was hoping for a new one." men . . . </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-73065113851173046462008-02-26T11:14:00.000-08:002008-02-26T11:48:19.591-08:00Oh Brother<span style="color:#000099;">Oh man, my poor brother. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I put him down as a reference on my job application. I am not a full time employee, but I do get paid to do data entry for him as well as monthly reports. Normally I don't list the work I do for the family businessses on my employment history (I have always been the number/computer geek for both my mother's and my brother's salons since they opened), but I threw one of them on anyway to avoid the two year gap in my job history - which is a whole other topic I shouldn't get on my soap box about. Staying at home with your kids for a few years shouldn't make you unemployable. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">The job I almost have involves a few different steps in the application process. Yesterday I filled out yet another job history. This form didn't have a spot for what my position was, just what type of business. I didn't call him to give him a heads up because it wasn't like I made up a story and needed to fill him in on everything. I was confident he would tell them the truth. Yes, she's my sister, she runs my reports.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">My new employer calls my brother (keep in mind we share a very uncommon last name) and asks him to verify my employment. He says yes, she works for me. Then he was asked to verify I was working as a hair stylist. No, no, no, no. Me as a cosmetologist is absurd. Instead of saying, no, she does data entry, he froze up. He knew it was unlikely I was claiming to be a full time stylist, but he didn't want to rat me out if for some reason I had. He told my employer that he would need to call the manager of the salon because he couldn't verify that part. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">ACK!!!!! </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">He calls and yells at me! No dude, I simply said it was a hair salon, not that I was a stylist. Sheesh. If I just went through three weeks of unpaid training and I get denied over my brother trying to cover me, I am going to FREAK OUT! I guess it is my karma getting me gain for asking my baby brother to be my alibi all those teenage years.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Another lesson learned. Give the guy a heads up.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-88545247913345631842008-02-25T07:43:00.001-08:002008-02-25T08:38:00.453-08:00Traveling Man<span style="color:#000099;">How you know your man travels too much.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">In the beginning you asked for detailed itineraries including flight numbers, hotel information, and nightly activities. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">After awhile you simply marked trips on the calendar by writing the destination city and a thick arrow through the week.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Now you find yourself asking questions such as "Oh, you are leaving tomorrow?" and instant messaging your spouse "Are you in Toledo? - No, I am in Toronto, Canada - Oh, I knew it started with T."</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">In the beginning the kids gave long goodbyes and well wishes. They asked to call Daddy at least once a night.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">After awhile a short hug became a sufficient farewell and phone calls were reserved for nights mommy said, "Do I need to call your father about this?"</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Now the kids wander the house spouting phrases such as "Wow, you are home still? Cool." </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">In the beginning you continued to cook fabulous meals from scratch and ended up with way too many leftovers because you forgot you only needed to make dinner for yourself and the small army of children who don't appreciate lemon pepper chicken with asparagus. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">After awhile you got the hang of preparing smaller more kid based meals (such as mac n cheese, spaghetti and hamburger surprise). You only ran out of the vegetable a few times on nights he was in town. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Now you get asked, "What are we having for dinner tonight? - Oh, the kids and I already ate cold cereal and hot dogs, you have to fend for yourself."</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">And finally</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">In the beginning you slept many nights downstairs on the couch because you couldn't bare to be all alone in your king sized bed.<br />After awhile you began to appreciate the extra stretching space.<br />Now you whine "Move OVER!" anytime he is occupying more than a quarter of the bed.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-2407695539168806732008-02-25T00:21:00.001-08:002008-02-25T00:45:03.337-08:00It Would Be Fun!<span style="color:#000099;">Last night I was in bed next to my wonderful husband. We started talking about our sweet kids. They only came up because we had spent the evening away from them. After picking them up from the sitter's we had the chore of carrying each sleeping child into the house. There is something completely adorable about sleeping kids. They are so warm and cuddly! </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">In the middle of our conversation, he started accusing me of having a favorite. I started smiling. My favorite is usually the one in my lap. This time, however, he was talking about my third child. It isn't that she is THE favorite, I have a different bond with each, but she is my child I never thought I would have the opportunity to have. I was a divorced woman for crying out loud. I didn't think I could find another man, let alone one who would marry me and produce MORE children.</span><span style="color:#000099;"> It sparked a conversation about the hospital stays for each pregnancy. That's when he said it. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">"It truly would be fun to do again." </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">My heart skipped a beat. Did he say what I think he said? Did he mean it would be fun to have another baby? He has always said no more babies. But he just said . . . then he clarified - </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">"It would be interesting to see if you freak out about the epidural again."</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">That is my man. Another baby? No. Guessing whether his strong, confident woman would LOSE it again? Yes, that would be fun times. Thanks babe. I love you too. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-172232726609588922008-02-22T09:55:00.000-08:002008-02-22T10:39:20.694-08:00Boys Being Boys<span style="color:#000099;">My son rummaged through his Valentines and was excited to find six temporary tatoos. One of them was an image of a Bratz doll. He handed it to me and said -</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">"Can you save this for me? I want to use it someday, but not right now, maybe this weekend." Then, he added in a whisper, "Because I like Bratz too, but please don't tell anyone."</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Gender rolls - looks like we are in the girl-stuff-is-icky phase. Poor thing. He lives in a family where you are allowed to like whatever you like. Ryan's favorite color is purple, Grandpa used to take dance lessons, and Uncle is a stylist/salon owner (I should probably add - straight). My son himself used to be in a competitive dance duo. Too bad the rest world isn't always as accepting. </span><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169875874347566098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIxBNygkKLCsl1WrmQcvIS64GbXXrh60bd2x4Q846p0OSKhLC1nMvZPE-z0KDQ0XhiTwciJ8UL65VgHF7C-uJXovYuSdbILc8OkihgB0BMsfMWWBs3-PuLyEBQfhXrmdhMYZaKiyJLo3uR/s320/Dance+Duo.jpg" border="0" /><span style="color:#000099;">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-35998381432708179602008-02-21T21:46:00.001-08:002008-02-22T09:53:52.974-08:00Lunar or Looney?<span style="color:#000099;">SingleBFF wants everyone to know that she isn't really a moron.</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Now that I have added the disclaimer I can tell you about last night.</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">SingleBFF came over to watch AIdol and the lunar eclipse. She was going on and on about having never seen one before. When I took her to grab some food (it was a non-cooking sorta night), she reminded me every ten minutes that we had to look outside at 8:28 PM.</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">In the middle of watching our shows, I decided I better find out exactly what time it was to start. Past experiences told me to verify her information. My instincts were right, she had seen the start time in Eastern - we are Central. I rushed outside to find the shadow was already halfway across the moon. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">"Hurry, get out here!" I called to her, but when she got outside her excitement deflated. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">"This isn't it. It is suppose to be really bright flashing lights."</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I gave her my standard what-are-you-talking-about looks. I frequently hand them out to her. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">"An eclipse isn't bright lights." </span><span style="color:#000099;">You would think after three years of hanging out she would come to realize I am always right, but no, she argued with me </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">"Yes, I saw it on the news. Flashing lights, it is supposed to flash."</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I couldn't contain myself. It was hard to laugh in zero degree weather. She immediately went into defense mode and launched into countless reasons how she knew what she was talking about. It took me three interruptions and a SHUT UP FOR A MINUTE before she would listen to me. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Eclipse - shadow - moon, earth, sun alignment - she looked like a deer in headlights. She didn't really care about a shadow. She sat at my window the rest of the night waiting for flashing. What a gooberhead. She still swears she saw flashing lights on the news. My best guess is they showed a clip of a time elapsed eclipse. When I approached her with the theory her flashing lights were merely glitches in a recording of an eclipse, she blew me off.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Teenagers! LOL, I wonder what her excuse will be when she hits twenty . . . </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-27096953307720834242008-02-20T07:40:00.000-08:002008-02-20T08:14:47.770-08:00Guilt be GoneThe vote is closed. 91% would rather have their husband out of town for a week on business than having them at home all week sick. <br /><br />When the doctor told Ryan it would take rest to get better or the next step would be a hospital visit and an IV, I got excited to keep him home for the week. Then reality set as I remembered how much of a pain in the buns a sick husband can be. I sorta felt quilty for wishing he was simply out of town. Nice to know I am not alone :)<br /><br />Check out the new poll on toilet paper.<br /><br />-Sarachitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-9646370581676553112008-02-19T19:45:00.000-08:002008-02-19T20:09:46.737-08:00Spoiled by Technology<span style="color:#000099;">I was leaving job training and clicked my unlock button for the car on my key ring. Nothing happened. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I clicked it again. The lock didn't pop up. Weird, maybe the battery in the remote is dead.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Now I start to panic . . . my car won't unlock . . . HOW AM I GOING TO GET IN MY CAR!!!! </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">After about three seconds I felt like a complete moron. I have a KEY on the key ring! For Pete's sake. As I jammed the key into my car, I realized it was a motion I haven't done in over eight years! No wonder I nearly freaked out. Thank the Lord above I didn't rush to someone for help. That could have been completely mortifying. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">I jumped in my car and went to start it.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Click, click, click. Great, battery was dead. The locks should have been the first clue. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">But . . . TA DA!!!! . . . technology to the rescue! Ryan bought me a portable car jumping kit. Okay, okay, maybe most people don't need one of these contraptions, but I do. Maybe I have a wee slight problem turning my lights off. Sure, they turn themselves off after a few minutes, but it adds up if you have kids in and out of the car looking for the crap they left in it. Then there is the teeny tiny problem with having a door cracked and the inside lights stay lit. Hey, if you had two babies in your arms in zero degree weather and you have to get behind the door and kick it on the far edge just right to get it to shut (most of the time it's impressive, you should see me do it on a thin layer of ice), you might have this problem too! </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">But back to my amazing contraption - I never knew these jumper thingers exsisted, but I am SO glad I had it. Totally worked. About the size of a kid's lunch box it fits under my seat (ooo, speaking of lunch boxes, I had the most ultra-knarly smurf one in second grade). It being extremely light, I just whipped it out, hooked it up, turned it on, and 60 seconds later my engine roared! Ahhh, I love being independent. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">What have we learned?</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">1. My next van needs automatic doors</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">2. I love technology, even if it spoils me rotten</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-49834612855351194842008-02-17T19:23:00.000-08:002008-02-17T20:14:27.121-08:00Seriously . . .<span style="color:#000099;">Completely true -</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">SingleBFF has never stepped foot in a public library. Her reason? Her mother told her it was expensive.</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">My mother named me and my sister after songs. When I did a search for the lyrics, we found out my sister's song was about a dog. She should listen to the words more often. </span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Before my oldest daughter could talk, she could sing the theme song to Star Wars using baby talk.</span><br /><br /><p><span style="color:#000099;">I have four children. I was adamant about getting to hold them first. Even with my position on the topic clear, I only got to hold one of my babies before anyone else. Each of them were held for the first time by a separate person. Those other three people are on my $h1t list.</span></p><p><span style="color:#000099;">I didn't drink until I was 21.</span></p><p><span style="color:#000099;">MomBFF had twins three weeks before I had my third child. Not only did each of her babies outweigh my singleton, but she had the nerve to show up in my hospital room looking skinny. I instantly hated her (this was before we started hanging out).</span></p><p><span style="color:#000099;">SingleBFF was my dance student years before we became friends. She was an eight year old on one of my first competitive dance teams. Later she became a coworker assisting me in choreography. One day I explained how to line up the dancers in order to hide the crappiest ones. A few </span><span style="color:#000099;">years later we had become true BFFs and were watching the old dance videos. Guess where SingleBFF was standing? In every single one of the spots I had mentioned . . . busted.</span></p><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488777320491025955.post-272705294728718402008-02-16T21:22:00.000-08:002008-02-16T21:53:18.445-08:00Family Fibs and Fun<span style="color:#000099;">I got chewed out yesterday for not having my phone charged. Seems everyone was trying to get a hold of me about a family get together planned for tonight. Here is the thing - today is the one year anniversary of my father's death. Call me crazy, but I am not that interested in turning the 16th into a holiday. As a huge number geek I usually notice, but I refuse to attach negative emotions with a day of the month. I was hoping for an uneventful day of cleaning and laundry. I can celebrate my dad on his birthday next month.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Here is how it went down - my sister caught me on instant messenger late last night. She was whining about my phone and then told me to call my brother. She claimed everyone was concerned about MomL, and we needed to have a hangout night to keep her from being alone. The hiccup was MomL didn't want to play hostess, and my brother didn't want it at his house unless I could come. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">WHAT? I mean I am AMAZING, but really? This whole plan hinges on me? Is anyone else buying this crap? I don't think so. I tried explaining I was not interested in having a tribute night, but if it was important to the rest of them, I would go. Lastly I had to tell my sister fourteenth times that I would call bro, and I knew she still didn't believe me, but I signed off the instant messenger anyway.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Not five minutes pass and my brother calls me via Ryan's cell phone. Either he is the smart one in the family, or my sister tag teamed and gave him the heads up I was home. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">He says the hangout night is all for my sister's sake. She is the one that gives us a call every 16th of the month making sure we realize what day it is. My brother confesses he told her it was about MomL so my sister would come, and fed her the line about it only being at his house if I go as a ploy to make sure someone contacted me since he wasn't having any luck. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Sheesh. Do all families work undercover?</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">In the end I went - kid free even, woohoo! - and had a good time. We talked so long about our bizarre idiosyncrasies, MomL was feeling normal and left out. My sister pointed out that anyone who would see the signs and still choose to marry into our world is crazy in their own right. She felt better. </span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">And it didn't end up being a tribute night. Dad only came up a few times and no tears were involved. If I had known it was going to be that simple I wouldn't have put up a fuss. Oh well, lesson learned. Make the fuss afterward, not beforehand :)</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">-Sara</span>chitchatmoms@yahoo.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01872144526699633593noreply@blogger.com3