Deserted Island

I have this island in my kitchen.

I love it. I hate it!

I love it because it serves many purposes.

It is the "desk" on which my children do their homework, on which my husband plays Mafia Wars does his article reading.

It is the place where all of  my children can help make a mess snacks.

It is the "tell-all" center, where we can just chitter-chatter away.

I hate it because it serves many purposes.

It seems to be a shelter for all "homeless" items...or so my children think.

It is a junk mail magnet.

It is never 100% clean.

If the island is a mess, the whole kitchen looks a mess.

I love it.

I hate it!!

That, that and the other

I am participating in Five Question Friday. It's fast, it's easy and it allows me to get back to my book. So without further ado....

 How many pets do you have?

Apparently there is a whole colony of ants that want to eat some of my Amish friendship bread. Only I don't want to be friends with them. Do they count?

What about all the roly polies that my kids bring in as pets but never live past supper?

Okay, we really only have one dog who likes to dig in flower and vegetable gardens. He also thinks about chasing sticks or toys all day. All day long. We love him!

 If you could switch places with anyone in the world for one day, who would it be?

First choice would be a toddler who is potty trained. You get to play all day, take a nap...the longer the better...eat food someone else has prepared for you, play some more. Then you get go to bed early.

What is your favorite money saving tip?

Avoid places like Target, Hobby Lobby, Barnes and Nobles, the grocery store. That seems to work for me. Only my kids do get hungry....

The other option is to hide the money in a safe place where you  are sure you will remember. You will then forget where you put it until about a year later. Voila! Saved money.

What do you want your kids to be when they grow up?

What! They are going to grow up??!! Next thing I know you are going to tell me that Santa isn't real!

What is your favorite quote?

We may not have it all together, but together we have it all.

If you know me, you know this fits be to a T.

Have a great weekend All!!

Simple

It all started when I washed my van's remote in the washing machine.

You would think that I would have learned my lesson about checking pockets after washing crayons, gum, lipstick, love notes and seeing the disastrous results. Nope. Not me. I just turn a blind eye, throw it in and turn it on.

And that is how it started. The remote, of course, doesn't work anymore. That means that if I want to open the sliding doors to my van I have to actually pull the handle...can you believe it. It is exhausting. Plus, if I want to lock and unlock the door, I have to do it manually...meaning I have to push the lock button. Oh the horror!!

Oh, yeah, and to get a new electronic remote costs $150.00. Yes, you read that right! No thanks!! My fingers are just fine with the exercise, thankyouverymuch!

Fast forward two months to yesterday. My son has soccer practice and so we all head to the field and watch him practice. After our practice, all the other teams in our part of town start showing up for their practice. Among them is one of my dear friends.

We get to talking while my kids have all loaded in the car. No worries, the windows are down so anyone who wanted to take them could so they were safe. Well, she decides that she wants to say hello to them and walks to one of the open windows. Of course they have locked the doors, for safety of course.

She reaches in and unlocks the door and opens it. This sets off the car alarm...the really loud, obnoxious, blaring alarm. And I don't know how to turn it off. Remember...broken remote.

In my mind, I know there is a simple solution to this dilemma, but for the life of me I can't remember what it is. So I hop in and turn on the engine, thinking that would do it. Nope. On it goes.

By this time, everyone is staring and my friend has walked away from the car. I am not sure if it is because it is hurting her ears or if it is because she doesn't want to be associated with me...even though it was she who set off the alarm. I don't blame her. I wanted to run away too.

So I open up the hood trying to look like I know what I am doing...but, no. I close the hood and it stops. Whew!

Yeah, whew until I open the door again to drive away. HONK HONK HONK HONK  Surely once the car is in drive it will stop screaming. Nope. It continues all through the parking lot, up to the exit and into the residential streets before it stops.

We pull into the driveway, open the door....yup, you guessed it. Oh, please. My husband is there...oblivious to the racket the car is making outside. The kids run in and tell him to come out and he is looking at us, covering our ears, with curiosity. He doesn't know what to do so he just laughs.

I walk inside, close the door, and pray that it will stop soon. And it does.

The next morning, when it goes off again, I call Honda, where they inform me if I simply unlock the door with my key it will stop.

Seriously? Seriously??

Can you relate??

Got some?

Unconditional love is...

...letting your brother give you a wedgy because it will make him happy.

...forgiving your mom for ripping your hair out from the root brushing your hair every morning.

...not being offended when your 10 year old ducks behind a bush when the school bus passes you while you are walking your kids to school.

...eating the burnt monkey bread that Daddy made because Mommy couldn't roll out of bed.

...cleaning off the crayon scribbles...again.

...cleaning up blowouts, spit-up, projectile vomit , bed wetting soaking flooding at all hours of the night.

...is loving Mommy, even when she is grouchy.

...looking past what they say and hearing what they mean.

...seeing who they are as opposed to how they act.


Unconditional love...

We all need some.

(Show Mama Kat some love too.)

To the torture chamber for you!

We say we would never hurt our children...and yet....

Lie down here, Little One. There is nothing to be scared of.

Just breath in...breath out...relax...

and enjoy the ride.

If you only knew, son. All too soon...

First they hypnotize you with that blinding, bright spotlight.

A dirty mirror...always a good sign.

(It was his dirt, rest assured.)

The suction tube of death; sure to suck the lungs right out of you chest. 

Pokers, and scrapers, and pickers, oh, my. Which one to use first....

The shot that will alter your mouth forever. Those pieces of gauze...

for your bleeding mouth.

No words needed....

You scream, "You're hurting me!! That hurts me! You're HURTING me!!!!!"

Why am I holding your legs and arms?

If I don't, you won't get one of these really cool hats for your tooth.

Yeah, I didn't buy that line either when I was a kid.

After 4 long days with pain in the mouth, one mortifying day in the chamber,

finally a little of this...

And that, my child, is why some torture is worth it.

Do I like hurting my children?

Only a little.

So I Married a Deaf Man: Who you gonna call??

At my work, there is usually a designated POC or Point of Contact. This is the person who is expected to be resposible for everything if something goes wrong. They are responsible to answer the phone if it rings, turn off the computers, and account for everyone in case of an emergency.

You are also paid an extra $1.50/hour if you are this person.

At home, I am the POC.

Meaning, I am the one who answers the phone...all the time.

"Yes, may I speak with Hubs?"
"This is his wife, can I help you?" (Great POC line.)
"Well, is there a better time that I can call when he would be available to speak with me?"
"Ummm...in the next life?"
....silence....
"He is Deaf. So unless you want to call through the relay, I am the best you got."
Click....

In case of an emergency with my kids...POC.

 I  always put Hub's email address down on a million different forms so that they could send him a message to his phone if there truly was an emergency. But I know that isn't going to happen.

"What? Kobe is bleeding from the head? We better call his mom."
**No answer**
"What about Dad? Let's call him...What does that say?  Email? What? Who's next on the list."

I know this, because it has happend before. Not the bleeding from the head part, but the skipping of the father.

I'm sure that this experience isn't uniquely mine. But sometimes, I don't want to be the responsible one. Let Hubs in on some of the action. Is that enough whining for you? No? Good.

Car breaks down, and a description of the problem is needed...POC.
Census woman comes to the door...again, POC.
Get in a car accident and an accident report is needed...POC. Wait, I am usually the one in the accident...which is even worse because who would they call if I was dead. Me???
Have a baby...POC. Who needs to sleep anyway.

Even Hubs puts me down as his POC. You know, when he places an order online and they need to call and verify information. They call me.

"Yes. Is this Stef? I am calling to verify some information. Can you tell me your address?"
"Excuse me? Who are you?"
"I'm Ted from Suck Your Bank Account Dry. You're husband told me to call this number and said you could answer some questions for me."
"Ummm, Ted. I'm gonna have Hubs get back with you."

I am it. It really isn't that bad...really. Just annoyng sometimes.

Now, if I could just get Hubs to pay me $1.50/hour things might just start looking up.

Who? Me??

I was told the other day that I was prolific. Seriously? Me? I know that it was a compliment...but being the simple-minded being that I am, I wasn't exactly sure what that meant.

So I did what I tell my kids to do when they don't know what something means, I googled it. (We live in the year 2010, people. Who needs a dictionary?!) This is what it said:

1. producing offspring, young, fruit, etc., abundantly; highly fruitful.

2. producing in large quantities or with great frequency; highly productive..

With a definition like that, I would say there are many parts of my life that are prolific.

* By society's standards, I produce offspring abundantly. We aren't the Duggars, but our house is full. Full and fulfilling.

* I am able to produce laundry in large quantities. That being said, I wouldn't say that I am highly productive by any stretch of the word. On the contrary. I have an extra large capacity washer and dryer that feels like zero capacity. What ever happened to clothes lines?

* Laughter is abundant in my house. And it happens quite frequently.

* Pancakes. I am really good at making large quantities of pancakes at a freakishly fast rate.

* Apparently I have been very productive at producing broken arms this summer, making our pediatrician quite fruitful.

* I am able to produce unmatched socks....in abundance...too much abundance.

* Cups...cups...and more cups. Did I mention cups?

* Not much success with the garden unless you count weeds....I can grow those with my eyes closed. I am that good!

So you see, though my dear friend was commenting on my ability to come up with things to blubber about on my blog, he helped me to see that I am living the abundant life!

Now, for those cups....