*Insert Catchy Title Here*

Yeah, I’m over here now.

That is all.

Free Fallin’

Having three boys it goes without saying that we’ve had our fair share of bumps and bruises, mostly due to the fact that our garage is littered with rollerblades, skateboards, scooters, bicycles, and skateboard ramps. Even something as innocent as a tricycle can become a weapon of mass destruction when Ryerson is behind the wheel, and just last week I was cleaning the kitchen when he came at me out of nowhere and ran over my big toe.

“Ryerson, would you watch where you’re going!”

“But Mom, I didn’t see you! My eyes were closed!”

With that said, I don’t know why Mark and I ever thought that putting the bunk beds back together in Carter and Ryerson’s bedroom was a good idea- but we did- and we’ve come to regret it every day since. We had thought that by putting them back together it would give them a little more room to play, but little did we know that by putting the bunk beds together again was actually giving them another tool in which to hurt themselves.

The other day I was folding laundry and Carter asked me if I would mind if him and Ryerson used the blankets I have stored in the basement to make a fort in their bedroom. I didn’t see the harm in the two of them making a fort, so I told him “yes” and finished folding laundry while I watched The Bachelor (I love, love, LOVE The Bachelor… I’ll be the first to admit that I can be sort of a ditz sometimes, but the girls on The Bachelor make me feel like a freakin’ rocket scientist) (”Um… I like bears… um… what was I saying?”) (while it’s true I may also occasionally lose my train of thought during a conversation, the difference between Natalie and I- other than a substantial degree of hotness and three cup sizes- is that I’ve never done so on national television) (where was I?).

Anyway, it wasn’t long after I had folded three loads of laundry that I heard the cries of “GERONIMO!!!” and a loud *THUD* coming from Carter and Ryerson’s bedroom… I ran into their bedroom, expecting to find Ryerson lying in a crumpled heap on the floor and thinking, “SHIT! Not AGAIN!”, and instead I found Carter staring at the door in anticipation and Ryerson rolling around on the floor, laughing his butt off.

“That was FUN! Let’s do that AGAIN!”

It seems that the fort was a clever ruse and the blankets were actually there to be used as a soft landing for when the two of them jumped from the top bunk.

“Have you lost your MIND!”

After threatening them with Eternal Groundation if I ever caught them using their bed as a launching pad again, I went into the living room to finish folding laundry and it wasn’t long after I folded the last pair of socks that Carter came into the living room complaining that I “suck the fun out of everything” and wanting to know if there was any rope he could use.

I didn’t even bother asking why it was he needed rope (I can only imagine), instead I reprised my role as “Funsucker” and told him “no”… but only after I wondered how many blankets I would need to cushion my fall.

Because, dammit, that did look fun.

Happy Birthday, Carter…

The other day I was going through Carter’s closet and tossing shirts that no longer fit, were missing buttons (I’m ashamed to admit I throw away shirts that are missing buttons) (stop judging me), and were covered with grass stains, and as I was going through the shirts lying on the floor of his closet and shaking them free of dust and dog hair (again, stop judging me) and attempting to hang them up again, I realized that the shirts that littered the floor of his closet were not there as a result of his laziness, but because his clothes no longer fit the small hangers I had been using for years. I spent the rest of the afternoon feeling as though time had hit me over the head with a frying pan as I folded outgrown t-shirts and carefully packed them in a cardboard box to be taken to the nearest consignment shop.

I find it hard to believe that it was ten years ago today that I called my mom in the middle of the night in a panic because I wasn’t sure if my water had broken or I had peed my pants.

“What if I wake up Mark and tell him I’m in labor and it turns out I HAD WET MY PANTS! I would DIE!”

The years since that day have passed by in a blur, and I often find myself wondering what happened to the little boy who would crawl into my lap asking me to read him a story and fall asleep before I had even finished the book. It seems like only yesterday that Carter, after watching me do a back handspring on the trampoline, stared at me with a look of awe and facination and spent the rest of the summer telling his friends, “Dude, my mom’s a Power Ranger!”.
It takes a lot more than a back handspring to impress him nowadays and unless I set myself on fire and baked brownies in the flames, I don’t think he’ll ever look at me again with such amazement the way he did that day in the backyard… he’s growing up, and even though I sometimes miss the little boy who used to empty his toybox and crawl inside to take a nap, I love the young man he’s becoming just as much as I loved the little boy he used to be.

Happy Birthday, Carter.

Oprah Can Suck It

The other day I was going through my email account and I happened to see an email that I hadn’t noticed before.

Subject: Interview Questions.

WHOA!!! I was pretty excited because I’ve never been interviewed before and I called Mark at work to share the good news.

“Dude, I’m gonna be on OPRAH!!!”

He wasn’t impressed and after putting me on hold for ten minutes, he reminded me to call the cable company and buy milk. Whatever.

I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for my 15 minutes of shame fame, such as practicing throwing my hair back while looking coyly into the mirror, sidestepping potentially embarrassing questions (”Sam, is it true you said nothing when Ryerson asked Mark to smell his hand, knowing he had just shat in his hand?”), and jumping up and down on the couch (it isn’t nearly as easy as Tom Cruise made it seem and requires a great deal more coordination than I possess), and shortly after deciding on a t-shirt to wear during my television debut and making an appointment with a plastic surgeon (”ginormous knockers” may be a flat out lie stretching the truth a bit and I would hate to be found out on national television… how humiliating), I thought I should read the email to see just what is was that America wanted to know. It wasn’t long before I realized that the email wasn’t in fact from Oprah, but Heinous over at Irregularly Periodic Ruminations.

Awesome!

I don’t even like Oprah, I do however adore Heinous… I have him to thank for giving me hope after the presidential election and I’m not ashamed to admit I fell a little bit in love with him after the following post.

Another good thing about having a new president? I won’t have to read any more damnable posts about which candidate I should choose and why. Some bloggers got downright rabid about this; I felt like I was at a tent revival and not at a thinking person’s blog. Seriously, I had thoughts about unsubscribing from people’s blogs over some of the posts. So at least that’s over…except I’m sure there will be some craptastic, weepy blogs about how America will be able to grow fields of unicorns and the rivers will flow with nectar now that we have a new President.

Heinous is also a friend of mine on Twitter and just to prove how good of a friend he is, he chose to remain faithful even after finding out I was unfollowed by porn because seriously, who gets unfollowed by porn? Me, that’s who. He also gave my confidence a desperately needed boost after telling me that I “rocked pasty”. Even if it was a lie, I appreciated the effort.

Thank you, Heinous, for restoring my faith in humanity. You have my sincerest gratitude for staying with me when others have failed (I’m looking at you, BigTitties) (I still can’t believe I was unfollowed BY PORN), and for lying to me when I needed it most… you’re good people, and to return the favor I’m going to answer the following questions and hopefully I won’t make you sorry you sent them to me in the first place.

What is the bravest thing you feel you’ve ever done. Physically, emotionally, or whatever.

I was only twenty when I found out I was pregnant with Gage… Mark was still going to college and working part-time and I was working full-time. We weren’t married and when he asked me to marry him I told him no, not because I didn’t love him, but because I didn’t want to wonder for the rest of my life if he would have asked had I not gotten pregnant (I like to think Mark and I would have eventually gotten married, with or without a blue line). I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be a mother and, to be honest, I was terrified at the idea of being responsible for someone other than myself considering it wasn’t as if I had done a stellar job with myself over the years. I eventually said “yes” and I thank God every day that I did. My family is the best thing that ever happened to me.

What is one talent you wish you had that you don’t.

I wish I could play the violin that still sits on the shelf in my closet… I had been taking private lessons for over a year and stopped when I was six months pregnant with Ryerson. I had every intention of getting back into the string of things after Ryerson was born but I never did. Nine months after Ryerson was born we moved to Kentucky and I haven’t been able to find someone who offers private lessons.

We all have our reasons for blogging but what would be your ultimate goal for your blog or as a blogger?

Ask me again in a year or two… maybe by then I will have figured it out.

You can trade lives with anyone for a month. Who would it be and why?

Believe it or not, this question was the hardest for me to answer. I knew right away with every other question just what my answer would be, but this one made me stop and think because the possibilities were endless. Britney Spears? Queen Elizabeth? Jennifer Aniston? In the end I decided that being Britney is way overrated (”I’m sad”… anyone who wasn’t moved to tears after her confessing her unhappiness on national television has no soul), having to live the life of Queen Elizabeth also means having to deal with Prince Philip (although it may be worth it just to wear a tiara), and Jennifer Aniston is no longer sleeping with Brad Pitt (at least she can say she was with him when he was young and hot Brad Pitt, not old and mustachioed Brad Pitt) (sucks to be Angelina Jolie), so I’m going to go with JK Rowling because I think it would be awesome to trade lives with the person who is responsible for teaching an entire generation of children to learn the love of reading. I think she’s brilliant.

There’s a fire and your family is safe but you have the chance to save any one item from your house. What would it be and why?

I’m going to assume that pets fall under the definition of “family” and say I would save the photo albums that fill the closet shelf in the basement. It isn’t very often that I go through them, but I know I’ll appreciate the hours I’ve spent putting them together when the kids have grown up and moved away to start families of their own.

You have the chance to go back in time and warn yourself before making a bad choice. What choice would it be and what would you tell yourself?

After graduating high school I went on to Central University in Mount Pleasant, Michigan with a major in journalism. The New York Times wasn’t ready for someone like me, and after one semester I realized that I was wasting my time and my parents money so I dropped out (but not before learning my social security number and recieving an A+ in Bong Making: 101… you’d be surprised at what can be done with a piece of tin foil and a tin can) (it was the only time in my life I could ever consider myself crafty). I don’t regret leaving when I did… I have no idea of where I might have ended up had I not (I’m going to go with either “jail” or “rehab”) and if I hadn’t I never would have met Mark, but I do regret not taking college more seriously than what I did.

Okay, that’s it… an entire interview finished and I didn’t have breast implants or give myself whiplash to finish it (I did, however, jump up and down on the couch just for fun) and I was surprised to find being interviewed was virtually painless… for me, anyway.

Heinous, I’m so sorry.

Merry (Belated) Christmas

I wanted to post sooner- if for no other reason than to bury the post beneath this- but life has been a bit hectic lately. Mark and I and the kids celebrated Christmas early this year and three days later we left for Michigan to spend the holidays with family.

The kids had a lot of fun opening presents (I know, it’s crazy… who knew?) and were happy with everything that Santa Claus brought them. I think they were only being polite because Santa Claus brought them educational toys, books, and underwear (geez, Santa’s such a downer), but fortunately Mark and I came through with video games, remote controlled airplanes, a wooden train track, Play-Doh, and Airsoft guns (something I bought for them in a moment of weakness, forgetting the time my dad was young and aimed a BB gun at my aunt’s foot and told her to dance… she wasn’t quick enough and he shot her point blank in the foot) (I give Gage and Carter six months before one of them pulls the same stunt).

Carter has wanted an Air Hog remote controlled helicopter forever (translation: six months), so Mark and I finally (I have no idea where Carter has inherited his dramatic personality… heh) bought him one… his Havoc Heli is easily his favorite present and even though he had a hard time in the beginning (Macy still hasn’t come out from underneath our bed), he’s gotten a lot better and can now fly his helicopter through the house and land on the ceiling fan. We also bought him Guitar Hero so let me know if you’d like tickets when Aerosmith kicks off their next tour (he’ll be the one in the back telling the groupies to stop calling him and trying to give Steven Tyler a wedgie)… I have connections.

Gage wanted to be an only child for Christmas, but that ship has sailed so he had no other choice than to settle for Spore (a computer game) and Brisingr (the third and final book in the Inheritance trilogy. I buy each of the boys at least one book every year for Christmas because I’m hoping to pass on my love of reading to at least one of my kids, if not all three… it would be nice if they would inherit something of myself other than my height and biting sarcasm)… Gage loves to read (score!) so he finished reading the book before we pulled into the driveway after driving home from Michigan.

Ryerson has wanted everything he’s seen on tv for the past three months (seriously, Ryerson… the Sham Wow?) but Mark and I needed to draw the line somewhere so we went with the Leapster thinking he would love being able to play something along the lines of the Nintendo DS but age appropriate. It isn’t that he doesn’t have fun playing Go, Diego, Go: Animal Rescue and Finding Nemo, but I think he’s more impressed with the $4 tube of Play-Doh that I bought as an afterthought as opposed to the $60 educational video game system I searched one month and two stores to find.

Mark and I wanted the kids to have a few days to play with their new toys before we left to drive to Michigan, so we left early Tuesday morning. I had thought Mark and I had an understanding that if driving conditions looked to be at all life threatening, we wouldn’t leave until Wednesday morning. Apparently deals were made to be broken and what is usually a 7 1/2-8 hour drive took us 12 hours (yes, count them… TWELVE) (I’m very bitter… nearly losing my life in a head on collision tends to make me irritable). You would have thought that seeing as we were driving in freezing rain before we even made it out of town would have made Mark stop and think, “Hmmm… maybe we shouldn’t leave today”, but he insisted that it wouldn’t last long.

I’m not normally one to pass up the opportunity to say “I told you so”, but I managed to restrain myself only because Mark was feeling guilty enough as it was without me saying “I told you so” every time we passed some poor sucker in a ditch (instead I suggested to Mark that we count the number of times we used the anti-lock brake system to pass the time- ya’ know… FOR FUN- and wondered out loud if I was going to be banned at the gates of Heaven for the time I closed the door in the face of a Jehovah’s Witness), and I like to think I’m a good person.

I’m not sure it was worth risking our lives for, but we did have a great time in Michigan. It had snowed a lot the week before so the kids were able to play in “real” snow (as opposed the “fake” snow in Kentucky) and as much as I hate the snow, it was great watching them make a snow fort and being able to make a decent snowball without having to scrape off a layer of ice first. We spent Christmas Eve with Mark’s family playing games and taking bets on whether or not Rick would fall asleep (Rick is Mark’s brother and has spent a lot of time behind a snowplow lately). The kids were thrilled to finally see their cousins Jordan, Torie, and Jakob, and we were able to see family we hadn’t seen in a long time (hi, Aunt Karen… your Strawberry Pecan Salad was just as good as I remembered). We went to my dad and stepmom’s house on Christmas day and the kids spent the afternoon sledding… Gage and Carter lasted for quite a while but Ryerson only lasted fifteen minutes until he lost his boot in the snow (he wasn’t nearly as impressed with snow after that). They spent the night that night and had fun playing in the hot tub and peeing in the snow (something Grandpa always lets them do when I’m not around). Friday we spent the afternoon with my mom and her fiancee opening presents and making wedding plans (I have a feeling she’s going to make me wear something fuschia and covered in bows just to pay me back for all the times I snuck out of the house when I was in high school).

In spite of the wonderful time, it’s good to be home… we came home after spending a week in Michigan and we haven’t done much of anything since then. As much as I love the holidays, I wish Mark and I would have taken the season into consideration when planning our wedding… our anniversary was December 30th, but the two of us were too exhausted to celebrate. We had talked about hiring a babysitter and going out to dinner, but because of everything going on, neither one of us remembered to call our neighbor to babysit. Mark has been nothing but a fantastic husband and father and deserves more than a Marie Callendar’s chicken pot pie and two prerecorded episodes of the television series’ Fringe to commemorate the day we were married thirteen years ago, so this weekend I’m going to make it up to him by serving him a romantic dinner by candlelight and wrapping myself up with a bow and some glitter.

Because I’m a good wife. Wink.