Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
-Father Kevin Keaney1st Marine Division Chaplain, Korean War
To think these are the same men who orchestrate Toys For Tots....
This is Day 17.
It sounds like there's another maid in town and she can have the title.
Other reports are also sharing the news that, just a year ago, the woman had to file for bankruptcy and that is why she was initially living with her parents.
So, now this goes from a funny/absurd story to something more. How does someone who has such limited resources actively seek out another pregnancy when she already has six children she has difficulty supporting?
By the way....she became pregnant via sperm donor and is currently listed as a professional student.
With that news, I think I would have immediately asked for an alcohol drip.
Today, however, reports are coming out with more details about the birth and the mother; all of which makes me more appreciative of my own current status even if it doesn't involve meeting political big wigs and flying stuff.
The woman who gave birth to octuplets this week already has six children, including 2-year-old twins, according to family members.
The woman, who has not been identified, received fertility treatment and was given the option of reducing the number of embryos but declined, according to her mother, Angela Suleman.
The babies were delivered over five minutes on Monday morning, with the eighth baby a surprise for the mother and the medical team. All eight babies were understood to be breathing unaided, and were expected to stay in hospital for at least two months.
The parents of the 33-year-old mother answered reporters' questions outside their home in a quiet cul-de-sac. The babies' grandfather, who is shortly to return to Iraq where he works as a contractor, said that the other six children were excited to have eight new siblings.
The single mother is understood to live with her parents and her six children, aged 7, 6, 5, 3, and 2-year-old twins.
I just don't know where to begin. If I had six children, I would be hesitant to share soap with a male let alone be seeking fertility treatment for another child. Moreover, if I was flying solo in the parent department, I would also rethink a 7th (or 8th, or 9th, etc) as I would have no one to blame for the finger paint on the walls, the wasted tampons used as missiles, and the poop on the ceiling. A parenting partner is as much about shared responsibility as it is someone to blame when things go wrong. Finally, I would really question her father's recent call to duty in Iraq as a contractor....which sounds more likely to be a convenient flight from infantile insanity.
I'm not sure if this mystery woman has a case of the crazies, or simply a calling that would cause me to cut my ears off.
In any event, it inspired my delayed poll of the week.
And special thanks to Samantha for prompting this one....after a day at Ikea where we got tangled up with a horde in search of some great deal on goose down pillows (hello $9!), I was about to hang up blogging for the day.
So, yesterday, after my mother and I spent the day entertaining our own troops, we placed a call to Big Mike to see what he was doing. With a day of snow and another day of ice, we were climbing the walls with cabin fever and hoping he might have something to tell us for the purpose of distraction.
After we filled him in on a very exciting and dramatic story about running out of batteries just as we were about to play Ele-fun, he had to curtly end the call....Barak walked into his office.
At moments like this, when I look down at my apple sauce stained shirt (Joseph loves to fling) and I try to remember the last time I was able to go to the bathroom by myself, I have to repeat my brother's favorite refrain:
Thursday, January 29, 2009
First, no one chose early adolesence and the 'tweens. I'm guessing this has a lot to with the sunshine and rainbows that decorate childhood and the naivete of the pre-teen years...minus the awkwardness. I was actually tempted to go with the early years, just so I could be the playground phenom for a few years.
The Not So Early years and Middle Age also failed to garner any votes, which is also not surprising since most of us are either there, or new better when we were.
This leaves two choices: the teens and young adulthood with the former getting 75% of the votes, and the latter getting the remaining 25%.
I chose the teens simply because I would know not to care about so much of the stuff I was preoccupied with. I wouldn't care about what other people thought, or waste anytime acting a certain way with that in mind. As for my young adulthood, I would just go back to that since it was so much fun and I finally figured out how meaningless my teenage worries were.
So there it is......and on to this week's.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Completely rumor, no confirmation, but so much fun to spread.....
And, for the record, my mother called it...I said it was just the cut of the dress.
Movies were also an instrument of confrontation, with gems like Conan: The Barbarian, Rambo, and every war movie ever made (chiefly The Magnificent Seven, The Caine Mutiny, and The Dirty Dozen).
Since then we've matured greatly and rarely argue over such petty things.
Instead we just debate over who mom loves more (isn't it obvious?)
So, because I love them so much...the following clip is dedicated to both my soldier siblings as it reflects the pivotal moment in cinema during our own war movie, airing daily in our family room.
This is Day 15.
Chaos, as usual, but always greeted with hugs and kisses and a sigh of relief from one of the older greeters.
Dinner unfolded in its usual fashion as well, with talk turning to the day's events and plans for the next. It was during clean-up when things got interesting.
John: So, I couldn't remember the type of paint we had and so I had the guy look it up.
Christine: Uh huh (half listening)
John: And, yeah, so he pulled up our computer file and said, "Oh, yeah, it says you were just in for Lounge Green."
Christine: Uh huh, Joseph stop standing on the kitchen table.
John: So I said to him, "No, that was my wife who bought that paint."
Christine: Yeah, Olivia, did you hide chicken in your napkin???
John: And he says to me, "Oh, that was your wife."
Christine: What? (nervous giggle accompanied by a smirk).
John: You heard me. Why are you smiling?
Christine: Am I smiling? No, it's just, I don't know (I giggle again as I twirl to the trashcan to deposit a chicken filled napkin before sashaying to the table to retrieve my sweet son who was reaching for the light fixture).
John: What's wrong with you? (staring intently)
Christine: Who me? (again, another giggle and a flip of the hair) Nothing.
John: Well, what did the guy who sold you the paint look like?
Christine: Um, he was tall and skinny....kind of like a basketball player....not the usual guy.
John: Yep, that's the guy --expletive, expletive, expletive-- and he better watch his --expletive expletive--- or I'll tell him what to --expletive, expletive. AND why are you still smiling?
Christine: Oh, it's just nice to hear (as I closed the dishwasher and did a cartwheel across the floor).
John: I'll take care of the paint from now on.
Christine: Right, okay (I sang back, as I performed a triple luxe into the family room).
Here's the thing: I couldn't tell you anything about the guy at the paint store, but when you are a full time Mommy and you put yourself last most of the time, this is always true:
"No matter how happily a woman may be married, it always please her to discover there is a nice man who wishes she were not." -H.L. Mencken
However, this time my own personal problem needs to be addressed:
The smartest thing my husband ever did was get me into Fantasy Football. As the only girl in a very active, athletic family, I have always appreciated some sports and followed some teams; that's not to say that I spend a lot of time on them, I just cheer for the Yankees, and more recently the Eagles and Phillies (my national league team). So, when my husband and I were married I didn't at all mind his Sunday ceremony of watching football and losing any semblance of the man I'd come to know: his reactions to Phillies' and Eagles' wins are really something I should put up on You Tube.
I would also join in the cheers, but when it comes to basketball, hockey, or anything college, I could not be less interested. The same is true for any football that is not the Eagles. What do I care if Seattle is playing Arizona? I don't know anyone on the teams, or any of their respective histories.
That is, I didn't care. Now, I find myself patting my back for picking up Fitzgerald and screaming at Hightower to get in the endzone because that's all he's good for.
What's happened to me???
I scoff when I hear Marvin Harrison's career is on its way out, I'll be the first to boast of my late season pick up of Thigpin, and I stand true to my belief that the Ravens are always a defensive sure-thing (even if my husband still yells, "Murderer!" every time Ray Lewis' mug is splashed across the screen).
But here's the true sign that my extreme interest has crossed over into obsession.
My parents live on a corner lot that is intersected by a street named "Mendelmore".
Why is that significant?
Every time I catch sight of the street sign, I can't help but wonder what the Steelers will come up with for their running game this Sunday.
What is even more thrilling is that the mother had been told she was pregnant with septuplets....the eighth was a surprise.
I'm sure there's some really funny comment to make about this, but I'm at a loss. I guess the idea of feeding eight children, laundry for eight children, and a nap schedule for eight children really makes me feel completely inferior.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
1) A little red headed girl who has sandwhich bags secured by rubber bands over her sneakers (the ones unfit for the snow, but will have to do since her mother didn't pack the boots for a Virginia blizzard).
2) A little red haired boy who is trying with difficulty to eat the snow since his socks for mittens are proving to be a bad replacement for his actual pair; of which, one is missing.
3) A mother who is out of breath from pulling the sled up and down the hill while not trying to flip it over....again.
4) A snow man that is really just a head with M&Ms for eyes, a carrot for a nose, and leaves for hair.
5) Two grandparents trying to watch from an upstairs window in between trips to the bathroom....the grip of a stomach virus crippling them both.
6) A red haired husband flying overhead in an airplane on his way to Chicago (because that's a fabulous winter destination) for a weeklong work conference. He's also probably smiling broadly since he's nearly escaped the Virginia home's contagion.
7) A band of thieves making their way to the Beltway to rob a house, in Jersey that they just learned will be vacant for an entire week since some idiot blogger divulged such information.
And the point of this post, aside from a little whining?
It could always be worse.....my husband's trip could be a year and not a week, to Iraq and not Chicago, and set amid certain danger instead of certain suspect brokers.
I just have to keep reminding myself of that one......
This is DAY 14.
Pink and white tissue paper, cut into 1” squares
White craft glue
Piece of card stock or construction paper
Pencil with an eraser
- Cut out a heart shape from the construction paper or card stock.
- Put white craft glue into the center of the heart, shaped like a heart.
- Using the eraser end of a pencil, place the eraser into the center of a white tissue paper square. Twist the tissue paper square around the eraser and dot it onto the glue. Continue this process until entire middle of the heart is covered with white tissue paper. See photo.
Repeat the process from step #3 with pink tissue paper for the border of the heart.
Glue a hanger to the back if you like.
For younger kids who have trouble working the pencil steps, allow them to wad up the tissue paper squares and press them directly onto the glue with their fingers.
Instead of a hanger, try gluing a magnet strip to the back and hang on your fridge!
Always saved the tissue paper from birthday gifts for craft projects like these.
Anyway, as the plane landed on a runway amid the barren desert-scape, I was filled with anticipation over fun, a little gambling, dining, dancing, imbibing, and, of course, taking a break from the Philadelphia weather. Unfortunately, one expectation would be unfulfilled.
IT WAS FREEZING!
A quick tutorial from our cabby learned me in the actual, more seasonal climate of Las Vegas and I was not happy about it at all.
So now, when I head south to Florida, the Old Dominion, even the Shop Rite (which is technically 2.3 miles southeast of my home)...it better be warmer. And, based on this rule I have put upon Mother Nature, I also need to ask:
Why the HELL is it snowing in Virginia!!!!!!!
And of course I didn't bring snowsuits. That's right: cold weather, lots of snow, and children who are dying to get out and play in it.
Monday, January 26, 2009
She loves her Uncle Paul, she loves to chat away, and, of course, she loves herself.
And he loved it a little bit too......and the brief breaks he gets from "fighting the bad guys."
This is Day 13.
When's the last time you heard a man say, "Whoa, check out the freckles on that one!..."
And I can't remember the last time anyone made me blush in that regard, unless you count that guy at Ott's who told me I was beautiful during last week's Girls Night Out. His eyes were closed as he barely balanced a glass of whiskey in his palm, and only the wall deterred him from falling to the floor. And I stilled skipped off to tell my friends all about it.
Like I said, it doesn't happen often. Which is why the next little story still has me smiling and my husband fuming:
My husband is a virtuoso painter. Sincerely.
He uses no tape, few expletives, and rarely does anyone believe that someone other than a professional painted our rooms. So, excluding some of the really high ceilinged (yes, it's a word) rooms, he has slowly painted each room in our house.
Good as he is, he is not a paint snob. If it goes on clean and its color appeals to me, then that is just fine. For that reason, our last few rooms have been painted with colors care of a local Sherwin Williams that just opened nearby. They keep all the colors and coating in the computer for a ready reference and the guys that work there are very helpful and considerate. (Remember THIS story??).
So, I recently decided to paint my laundry room in hopes that a cheery color may compel me to spend more time there. I positioned the kiddies with books at a table, and began the process of selecting the perfect color: Lounge Green.
Once again, the guys were helpful, even offering to carry the paint out to my car since my arms were pretty full with a large, well fed toddler. I left feeling enthused by a mission successfully completed and waited to share the next project with my man.
When my man came home, he reminded me that we also need more paint to finish the tray ceiling in our bedroom. No matter, he would swing by the store the next day to pick it up.
- Escalade headlights flanked by Caddy's corporate grille and a set of taillights pulled from the STS,
- 8in thick armor-plated doors (each weighing the same as a cabin door on a Boeing 757)
- an independent oxygen supply
- advanced fire-fighting system located in the boot, pump-action shotguns, night-vision cameras and tear-gas cannons,
- Obama’s own personal storage of blood
- Kevlar-reinforced tires that are puncture and shred-resistant (in other words, airless)
- special steel wheels that can drive without the tire attached.
The car cannot go above 60 miles an hour, large in part to the fact that it weighs 22,000 pounds (the average mid-sized sedan weighs around 3,000).
Now, aside from the fact that the limo cost a measley $500,000, I've been campaigning pretty hard to wrangle one of these little machines for myself. My husband has always been concerned with driver safety and I'd be willing to bet he can't find anything quite comparable. Also, to make it more family friendly, we could replace the shot guns, tear gas, and other arms with things like an automatic Purell squirt sanitizer, a bubble blower (to keep them awake), and maybe even circus peanut maker (but that is just a personal preference).
I could also do without the blood supply and would instead replace the liquid storage ammenity with with Motts for Tots or alcohol (depending on how effective the bubble blower was). Yes, I would have my own driver.
SO, feel free to shoot my husband an email in support of my campaign, I know he'd love to hear from you.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Having said that, I think a bit of unapologetic, offensive humor is in order to put a smile on his face. This is a classic family favorite....and not at all for the easily offended.
And this is Day 12.