Thursday, December 31, 2009







Thursday, December 24, 2009





I myself, am going with the family on a little getaway.

TTYL Y'all.

Monday, December 21, 2009

If Inflection Wasn't The Right Word, It Is Now

I went to the mall today just to get some information at the Verizon store about when I am eligible for a new phone so I can buy that sweeeeeeeet looking "Droid".

Before I entered the building, I stopped short to adjust the strap on my purse over my shoulder and at that exact moment, a chunk of ice fell from the overhang and landed right in front of my toes.

This makes one go,

If I had not stopped in that exact split second to adjust my strap, surely that ice would have hit me in the head. That may not have been such a pleasant experience, I gather.

Yet, I continued on without more thought and went to find the Verizon store. I spent some time there wishing it was February (my earliest date of upgrade eligibility) while I mulled over that
sweeeeeeeeeeet "Droid", that I don't TRULY need. Unless you take into account that the world is moving into IMMEDIATE wireless communication and so little human interaction, that without data plans at your side you would be lost pretty much anywhere, including your own house.

I stopped for a few minutes at one other store and then left the building the same way I entered. I was in the building for no more than 20 minutes. When I left, there was now yellow "caution" taped tied up all over the forward facing entrance of the mall, causing me to take a side door.

I think it hit me (no pun intended) more when I left the building, than it did when the ice actually dropped at my foot. This was obviously serious enough for the mall to take action and keep patrons safe. I mean, on the way in, it did not even occur to me to visit the mall office and report the falling ice, but thank G-d someone had more forethought than I.

When I got into my car, I just sat there for a moment. I thought about my husband's recent car accident, and just missing a hit on the noggin by falling ice and the fact that I am a seemingly healthy, breathing, walking human being who probably could not tell you where all my time has been going these past weeks, because to some degree, I like most people am living my life on "AUTO PILOT".

I feel like (and I will only speak for myself now) this technologically advancing world keeps me in this uncomfortable state of disconnection. My car gets me from point A to point B without much thought. My computer gets merchandise to my door without any direct human interaction required. I run with my
Zune blasting readily available music and before I know it, I have run nine miles. I can compare and dissect different car features, prices, specifications and options BEFORE ever getting to the showroom. And when adjusting my purse strap is the only thing that prevents falling ice from impaling me, I walk right over the mess and head into a mall to look at a phone I barely need.

I used to be a person who prided myself on my clear and concise focus of everything around me. I was always an extremely insightful, introspective person and would never let an event like a serious car accident involving a beloved family member, just pass by without any personal
inflection (I know that is not the correct usage of the word, but it makes more sense than reflection). And yet, lately, I feel like I have no time to inflect or reflect or do any kind of flection, because I just move on to the next thing in life - supper, laundry, dishes, this child's needs and that child's needs and all the STUFF - the STUFF that just clutters your life and your world .... literally and figuratively.

Am I alone in this? Am I the only one who feels I need SOMETHING to connect me back to this world in which I live? And sometimes, I think - those near misses, like car accidents and falling ice, those ARE the things that are supposed to open my eyes and reconnect me to this life I am living and my purpose in it. But I miss the calling, because it's a vicious cycle. This overstimulating world keeps me too busy to focus on my purpose, and then some crazy overstimulating event occurs to TRY to get me to focus on my purpose, but I can't because I have to get to my son's school to pick him up and on and on and on...

Now I am just rambling on like a crazy woman.

Now I get those, gurus and "whole health" Doctors that emphasize the importance of taking time, even just 15 minutes to go into a private space and "meditate" or "breath" and truly focus on your "breathing" and "meditation". How I miss even 15 minutes of available time. Who has 15 minutes? I am lucky if I can shut the bathroom door and count to more than 120 before someone is banging on it.

So if I would not have gone to the mall and spent 20 minutes at the Verizon store looking at a phone I hardly need, well then, I would have had 20 minutes to meditate and breathe. But then, if I did not go to the Verizon store to look at a phone I really, really want, I would not have had my eye opening encounter with falling ice. And frankly, this whole post is a testament to my current
inflection, so all is good then. I guess I have reconnected after all.

And what have I learned???


Watch out for falling ice, that's for sure.


Life is short, make the most out of it and focus on what is TRULY important.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

It's Not About The Camry (But It Sort Of Is)

pre-post message:

Anonymous commenter of my last post - I responded to you in the comment section of the last post.

Donna - I appreciate your input/compliment as well.


Well, last night did not really go as planned.

Every Tuesday evening, So has gymnastics at a community center not too far from my house. I was fortunate to make a carpool with a friend. She takes So there, because Hun is not home when gymnastics begins, and this saves me from needing to load my car with 3 other non-compliant, overtired, children in noxious weather. Hun typically leaves work at 5 pm or so on Tuesdays, just so he can be home to allow me to retrieve So and her friend from gymnastics, so that aforementioned extraneous activity does not have to take place. Other nights, he leaves work when he sees fit, certainly no where near 5 pm.

Last night at 6 something, Hun was kind enough to call me (and I am certainly grateful it was Hun on the phone and NOT a cop at my door) to let me know he had been in an accident and would not be getting home anytime soon.

Of course, I FIRST verified that he was okay, and Hun was being called away to answer questions, so I did not get details at the time. I then had to make a call to see if my carpool friend would be so kind to retrieve the girls, and of course she IS so kind. Then I called Hun back.

Apparently, the accident was significant enough to total the car. Hun was coming straight East down D. street and had just gone through a green turning yellow and entered the intersection. A 16 year old girl who was facing West and waiting to turn left, later said to police, that the guy behind her honked and it made her nervous and she accelerated to make her left turn. This is when she hit the front driver's side of Hun's car, deploying the airbags and hurling him around into a car to the South waiting at the red.

The police verified all the information from the three drivers involved as well as other witnesses who all corroborated, the sequence of events. The police referred to it as a "no fault" accident, and issued no tickets. An ambulance was on scene and Hun was offered to go to the hospital, which he refused at the time. The woman in the car, that Hun's car subsequently hit did go to the hospital, but my understanding is that no one suffered any serious injuries.

I did not share with the kids the details of what was keeping Hun, but they were inquiring about his whereabouts because while they would normally be going to sleep, they wanted to wait up to light the Menorah with him. I told them his car broke down and he would be late, and they of course, insisted on waiting up. This made for a very productive night on my part. They were hyped up on Chanukah treats and overtired and I was still concerned about Hun who had not arrived home yet.

When the initial shock of the accident had passed and Hun arrived home, he was a bit shaken and started to feel some soreness. We agreed that he would go to the Doctor today, just to document any possible injuries in case it becomes a problem later.

Mostly, it is a headache that Hun did not need right now. He has to deal with insurance and shop for a new car which was not in the immediate plans, although....

Recently I would mention here and there that at some point Hun would need a more presentable car. (Nothing fancy, Hun and I are not into that, just slightly more appropriate for a respectable business man who goes out on the road for business often.)

But the car had a lot of sentimental value to me...

No one (6 siblings) in my family had their own car growing up. My parents did not feel that a 16 or 17 year old needed their own 20 - 30,000 dollar piece of machinery, and I actually agree. I think teenagers can become spoiled if they just have a car handed to them. Even though license age in Illinois is 16, my parents would not let us get our license until we were 17. But once we were licensed, my parents were pretty fair and generous about lending us their car for our personal and social use.

In '94 I started College. While Chicago has a pretty decent public transportation system, it did not cover surrounding suburbs very well. Somehow, I was able to function at first by borrowing my parent's car or getting dropped off and picked up for classes. On the way to college, I saw a car with a "for sale" sign on it. I did not immediately know what make of car it was, but the body looked totally perfect and new and it had a sunroof, which really attracted my 19 year old self.

I told my father about this car and asked if he could come with me to the owners to negotiate a price. I had money saved from various jobs I had and I was also currently working at a restaurant. When we arrived at the owner's house, the door opened, and an older European woman looked at my father and said,
"Oh - maaaa Got"
in her thick European accent.

My father looked at her closely, and then gave a little giggle and said,
"Oh, look who it is..."

I was just dumbfounded really.

Apparently, they went way back and then she sat my father down and offered him coffee and mandel bread (cookies).

I just wanted to buy a car, but I was sitting there for 40 minutes and listening to "old" talk.

The car belonged to her daughter, who had actually moved to the suburbs, but she thought she could sell it quicker near my neighborhood. It was an '89 Mercury Sable (so 5 years old) and in GREAT condition. I was all prepared to haggle and negotiate and have my Dad get all business man like on her European tushik, but then my Dad said,
"just tell me what is a fair price.."



Huh, what, that's it? You just give her what she asks for. I was paying my father back for this car. I wanted to push for something lower. But what could I do? I mean, she gave him mandel bread for "Bubby" sake.

So, that was it. I became the "paying" owner of a Mercury Sable with sunroof. Little did I know at the time that American cars suck it and Mercury Sables suck it the most.

I will say that my parents did pay for the insurance, but I paid gas and maintenance.

The car was only good to me for so long (because it was a friggin' Mercury Sable). Then it started to nickel and dime me. And then one morning I walked out of the house to take my car on one of its many trips to College and it was bleeding. Seriously, there was red liquid all over the ground under the car. And my incredible savvy car knowledge told me ..... uh, that can't be good. Something died in my car. Turns out my transmission died and transmissions bleed red when they kick the bucket. 1200.00 and a new transmission later (WTF - I paid 5000.00 for this piece of crap) I was getting into the nitty gritty of nursing school. I had to wake up really early in the morning and take various highways to get to my clinicals at various hospitals. I needed a car I could depend on.

I sold the piece of crap for 3,000.00 and decided to actually learn a bit about cars. And in '98 I fell in love with a car called "Camry". I love you number one selling Japanese car in America. You get great mileage. You are considered low maintenance and have the potential for looooooong life. I am a practical person. I don't need me a perty, cool piece of crap. I want me the car that will last forever and not cost me more after I make the final purchase.

But I could not afford a brand spankin' new Camry. And my parents do not buy cars for their children. So my parents and I worked something out. Interest was really low in '98. We would finance the car. My dad would pay the bills to the dealership in full, and I would pay my father, monthly what I could until the car was paid for. My parents also still paid the insurance.

So I got me my sweet, brand spankin' new '98 Toyota Camry in blue and .... YES, it had a sunroof.

It was paid for, in full, by me in two years time, just in time for me to get married and bring it into the marriage.

Hun came into the marriage with a Ford Crown Victoria. He was always under the impression that if Police and taxi drivers drove Ford Crown Victorias then they must be great cars because police and taxi drivers drive HARD. To which I explained that Police cars and probably taxi cars were souped up vehicles and he was not privy to the souped up version of the Ford Crown Victoria, and also, nothing good could come from an American car. I furthered my point, just a few years ago when it came out that the gas tank of the Ford Crown Victoria was easy to explode upon a rear end collision, but the only recall Ford made was to the Police cars, a category my husband's car did not fall into. This was obviously the beginning of Ford's demise.

So, when I was pregnant with Ate and we obviously needed to upgrade from my lovely sedan and his gas guzzling boat, he reluctantly conceded we agreed to sell the Ford and Hun would drive my Camry and I would get the "mom" van.

And that brings us to today...

'98 Toyota Camry

survived (with gratitude to G-d) by Hun and Orah.
You were good to me my friend. And I stand by your safety, as my Husband walked into the door in one piece. You gave me 11 good years, and now you have gone to Camry heaven. Say hello to my Sable although, come to think of it, the Sable is probably in Hell. I will never forget you.

So, does anyone have any ideas for a new car. Hun wants an all wheel drive at this point. (Frankly, he would drive a big rig if I let him, but where would we park it?)

I want him to have something safe, that does not eat gas and hybrid would probably not be a bad idea these days...



Tuesday, December 15, 2009



It's about time, right?

I never even blogged about our apple picking back in October, but that is the origins of the new picture.

Well - I am pooped from my recent blog construction, so I'll give you a new post tomorrow (hopefully).

In the meantime, let me know what you think please.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

More To Love

I have a confession to make.

This may make some people uncomfortable to hear.

I have no regrets about this secret.






And he gets to put his hands on me.

I won't even bother to tell you who know me, to not share this little tidbit with my husband.

Why should I bother?

Not only does Hun know about this other man in m
y life, he encourages it.

This man is great at giving therapeutic massage.

He is also great at adjusting my spine,
applying ultrasonic therapy to my messed up neck and upper back,
and applying a 3 pound weight to my head as it lays extended over a heated roll on the edge of a table so I can regain th
e proper curvature that G-d intended for me.

I saw on digital x-ray just how misaligned my cervical and upper thoracic spinal areas are, and it is pitiful.

But Dr. Mctouchy is doing his magic and things are shifting and angels are singing and stars are twinkling and...
well, you get the point.

I will add here - he is not just some dude I found on "Craigslist". He is actually a licensed Doctor of Chiropractic Medicine.
So it's legit and I am not a slut.

Want to know what does not really help my wayward spinal issues???

This little freakishly huge dude -

I just took him for his 6 month checkup and found out what kind of load I am carrying around on a semi-regular basis.

20 pounds, 8 ounces - 87th percentile for weight.

28 inches long - 92 percentile for height.

He is the weight of some one year olds...

Hey - chunky monkey - some one year olds walk!!!

Just more to love, I guess.

Monday, December 7, 2009

Blankets Do Not Always = Security

You know how






Well apparently, so does




(By the way, can you believe Bam is already over 6 months old? Me neither, but back to that in a later post.)

After 3 slightly more docile children at bedtime, I now have a child who just can not be trusted with a blanket of any kind in his crib.

I love my night vision baby monitor. But a baby monitor is supposed to give Mommy peace of mind and a good nights sleep. Instead I have found myself glued to the many all night productions, entitled:

"How Many Ways Can Bam Kill Himself With His Blanket?"

Well, he can magically turn his blanket into a Boa Constrictor as he tosses and turns and strangle himself.

He is also pretty good at playing "peek a boo" with his blanket, only he sometimes forgets to "peek" and "boo" and the blanket lingers a bit too long over any breathable orifice. So that would be suffocation.

And of course, why stop there when a blanket can also act as a perfect teething device. Only I don't remember swollen gums being that far back in the throat. So lets throw in, choking hazard.

And now Bam is being punished for his usually quite appealing playful manner and he will be sans blanket.


(I am like the "blanket" Nazi.)

Wanna play a game?

It's called:


Where's Bam? Where's Bam? Where's Bam?

Oh, thank G-d. There he is. In all his "gassy" glory.

I felt really guilty for taking away all his crib "entertainment". So I ran out and got him this...

... a mini blanket with the head of a decapitated bear attached.

I think we have at least eliminated strangulation with the mini blanket, but how long he chooses to keep it on his face or how far he decides to stuff it down his throat is yet to be determined.

So I will probably still be awake watching the joy he gets from doing things in the privacy of his crib that happen to give his mother a near heart attack.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Gone But Not Forgotten

This will probably not be the most pleasant of my posts, especially after taking a hiatus for a while. I had a bummer of a day and it is only 1:30 in the afternoon. This post will come in two parts - two parts of my day that coincide.

The first part of my day came in the form of a funeral. There was nothing extremely extraordinary about this particular funeral. The good friend of my parents who passed away had been ill with terminal cancer for quite some time and most recently had been in a coma for weeks, but the quality this person encompassed is what makes the loss all too sad.

Mrs. M. was full of life. She must have been in her early 80's, but these days, so long as your safe and blessed with good health, 80 does not have to mean your demise. In the past couple years, Mrs. M. was no longer blessed with good health, but you would never know it by looking at her. She always had a smile on her face. She always had something delightfully humorous and spirited to say. She lived life as if it truly meant something. And for her, it meant an enormous amount because she was also a Holocaust survivor. For her, everything about life was luxury, because the way she saw it, she was fortunate just to have life.

On a more personal level, she was a woman I have beautiful memories of from the time I was a small child. She was such a close friend to my parents, that we shared many weekend meals, celebrations and events together. It has become blatantly obvious to me, that at my age of only 34 I am personally sharing in the loss of her and many of my parents' other friends. And this is the part that is painful for me.

Most of my friends are the oldest in their families, and their parents are only in their 50's, maybe early 60's. My oldest sister is already 51, so the all too real truth of where the cycle of life leads is becoming ever present in my life, and it scares the sh$# out of me.

I pray that my parents will forever have good health and longevity, but we all know that life is fleeting and one day it will be the end for all of us. I am just not ready at my age to even bear the thought of what could be lurking around the corner. And for all those my age or younger who lost parents way before their time, my heart goes out to them. I don't know how they make it without the parental advice and pearls of wisdom that should have been available to them for many more years.

I left the funeral and watched as my parents joined the procession (taking the body to the airport to be buried in Israel). They were probably the only non-family members who joined the procession to the airport, that is how close they felt to this wonderful woman.

Mrs. M. - I will try to take and pass on a valuable lesson from you so your life will continue to have meaning even though you are no longer with us. When I heard your daughter speak her eulogy of you, she mentioned a few times how you did not let things bother you for much time. You did not bear a grudge. You let things go quickly. When your daughter once became upset with you for letting a pot of fish boil over on her new stove, and subsequently felt bad for her unnecessary anger, she came to you to apologize and you said,

"for what... I don't know what you are talking about...


So this is my new motto.


I will learn to let things slide. Because after all, life is fleeting, why should I waste so much time being upset over things.

But who knew I would be able to actually put this motto into place just a few hours after the funeral?

And so the second part of my day took place at my local grocery store.

Although I am a savvy couponer, (my mother taught me this art when I was quite young) I am not one for blogging about my couponing experiences. I enjoy reading about other peoples incredible coupon domination, but I personally do not find excitement in talking about my own coupon prowess. But today, I will share one coupon moment which began to go bad.

I would have gone straight to the grocery store from the funeral, but I specifically drove home first just to retrieve my coupons. I knew exactly what I needed, many things already discounted and I had a plethora of coupons and Catalinas. Many of my items were actually "Proctor and Gamble" products, such as Pampers diapers and wipes, and I was looking forward to making my "P&G" purchases because when spending over 20 dollars on these products I would receive a coupon for 5 dollars off my next shopping order and 5 free Redbox videos. That is pretty much like handing me 10.00 in addition to the 50.00 I saved with coupons on products I was already spending less on because they were the specials this week at Jewel.

In addition, I was smart enough to separate out two piles of "P&G" products to be rung up separately, because it was over 40 dollars all together and would have given me two Catalinas worth 10 dollars each.

Both my grocery orders were rung up and I watched all the Catalinas coming out of the Catalina machine (Catalinas are the coupons that are printed at the store and given to you at the end of your purchase). After I signed for the second order, was when the cashier grabbed the Catalinas and looked at them before turning to me cautiously and announcing,

"Uhhhh, it seems that these Catalinas all came out blank."

"What did you say? Ha ha - for a second I thought you said that all those Catalinas are blank and useless."

"Yeah, that is kind of what I am saying .... blank and useless."

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! What about all my coupons for future shopping? Aggggh - WHAT ABOUT MY 2 CATALINAS WORTH 10 DOLLARS EACH????

I was feeling very upset and angry. As the cashier and another Jewel employee tried to reset the Catalina machine and switched out the ink cartridge, all which did not help, I tried to think of Mrs. M.



It was hard, I will be honest. I was willing to just walk away from it all and let it go.

They did send me to customer service to see if they could help me. I was offered to have my entire transaction (a lot of stuff) voided and re-rung at another register. But life is short, and I did not want to spend that much time of my valuable life waiting to re-ring my groceries when I could just say,


I did, however pull out the two most available "P&G" products, diapers and wipes and have them voided and re-rung with my original coupons to at least get me one Catalina for the future 5 dollars towards purchase and 5 free Redbox videos. And guess what? Although this register had a working Catalina machine, that particular coupon still did not show up.

Oh gosh -




But the customer service representative actually got on the phone and called the Catalina company and was given a code to manually print me out the damn coupon.

And in the end, I did walk away with at least one coupon worth ten dollars and the rest ....

....uhh, I forget.

Mrs. M. you may be gone, but YOU will never be forgotten.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Some Carpool Entertainment

Have pigs been flying and I just have not noticed?

Is it just me, or are our small impressionable children having conversations that we, as children never ever had?

I am not even referring to anything inappropriate (although there is plenty of that), just conversation that is rather surprising from 2, seven year old girls.

Carpool just becomes more and more entertaining for me, though. I have no need to turn the radio on for mindless entertainment, I can count on absurd chit chat from little girls.

This past week, the 2nd grade girls were given an interesting assignment. They were required to cut out a tracing of a turkey and then "disguise" it as something else by decorating it. Their one rule was, no coloring. They had to utilize materials to "disguise" their turkeys.

Of course, So finished her project within five minutes of walking in the house, the first day she could. Because, frankly, she is nuts like that.

Her friend Z. brought hers into carpool the Monday it was due.

She chose to "disguise" her turkey as a Pittsburgh "Steelers" football player. And because I am good friends with Z.'s parents, I know exactly where this idea of hers came from.

If her turkey was not a Steelers player, it would have been any Republican politician, more specifically, Ronald Reagan. But her father's other obsession - the Steelers, of course.

And then the conversation began...

Z. "Look at my Turkey. I made a helmet out of tin foil, and used so much yellow and black construction paper, gave him googly eyes and if I was not Jewish, I would have made the football out of actual pig skin. And it says "Ben" on the back."
(because a seven year old can not spell "Roethlisberger" of course. Sheesh - I can hardly spell it.)

So. "Cool, but I think the Bears are a good team."
(seriously, whose daughter is she?)

Z. "Well the Bears have been doing awful this year, I really like the Steelers."

So. "The Bears are going to pick it up in the end season, but it may be too late."

Z. "Last night the "Steelers" played the Cincinnati Bungolz. It was a good game, but the Steelers lost."

It was at this point that I almost hit the car in front of me.


I am sure she meant Bengals, but then I could be mistaken. I would not put it past her father to have referred to them as
"Bung Holes".

And the conversation went on, but alas, we reached school and I would have to find myself another form of entertainment for the ride home.

What happened to conversations about "My Little Ponies" and "Cabbage Patch Kids"?

(OK, I realize now it would be "Zhu Zhu Pets" and "American Girl Dolls")

But certainly NOT Bears, Steelers and Bungolz.

If you remember, last year my carpool day was Tuesday. And I may have kvetched about Tuesdays from time to time.

Is it weird that I now look forward to my Monday Carpool day?

Can't wait to see what goes on in next week's carpool "episode".

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Not Me Monday - Competitive Style

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was originally created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing to their backs this week.

It was not me who has not written a "Not Me! Monday" in

I certainly did not avoid writing the "Not Me! Mondays" because I am not around to post early enough to make top ten and therefore pathetically decide to just not post NMM altogether.

I would never be THAT pathetic competitive.

Speaking of competitive, I did not run 6.2 miles yesterday as part of training for an upcoming half marathon.

I did not run those 6.2 miles after not running at all for two weeks because I was so not busy taking care of a bunch of sickies in my house.

I did not run 6.2 miles two weeks after last running only 5 miles.

I do not, in any sort of way, consider myself a STUPID person.

But, it is not the same BRILLIANT person who ran 6.2 miles yesterday, whose last run two weeks ago was 5 miles, who is now walking like she just got off a horse and will not be able to be in the top ten this week because she will be laying prone on a Chiropractors table when NMM posts


It is not me who is rethinking this whole "gotta run a half marathon to prove something to myself" thing, because it is not me who thinks people should only be running when being chased.

I am not now wondering if I can RUN home quick enough from the Chiropractor's office so that I can make the NMM top ten.

Like I did not mention before, I am so not pathetic.

And my back and hips are certainly not in agony.

How is your Monday, NOT going?

Wednesday, November 11, 2009


Life is so fragile.

We all know this concept. It mostly dwells deep in the crevices of our mind. But every so often, something concrete happens and we are reminded, at the bitter surface, just how fragile life is.

And yet, when this reminder surfaces and forces us to face a harsh reality, we are not supposed to carry it with us every minute of every waking hour. We are supposed to bury this idea of the tenderness of life, back into the depths of our brains, so that we do not live our lives constantly concerned about what is lurking around the corner for ourselves and our loved ones.

I personally have a hard time with this, with the part of reburying it. I tend to dwell on the fragility of life and consume my time deathly afraid of whether or not something tragic can or will unexpectedly happen in my family. Then I just pray. I pray that G-d does not touch my friends and family with any tragedy or sorrow, and I try to move on. And I am fine, until the next reminder of the fragility of life, and ..... well, its a vicious cycle really.

A day ago, a 61 year old man in my community,a husband, father, grandfather - seemingly healthy, unexpectedly lost his life.

I grew up across the street from this man. He and his wife were still living in the same home right across from my parents home. Their house was the one I went to, when I got home from school and realized I was a latchkey child that day. I played baseball with their sons in front of our house. But now that I am married, with kids, living blocks away, I only see him on an extremely random basis. Frankly, I think whole years have gone by and I do not really see them.

But this past weekend - I saw him twice.

I was at the grocery store Saturday night, when a friend of my parents approached me to ask me about a kosher symbol on a box of ice cream. When I did not have the answer, he looked down the aisle and spotted someone else who may have the answer.

"Rabbi P."

he called...

And Rabbi P. looked up with a smile.

On Sunday, it was a beautiful November day here in Chicago. It was a delicious 70 degrees. I decided to take Bam for a walk, from my house to Target. It is quite a distance from my house, but I have been jogging 5 miles lately, so this walk on this gorgeous day would be nothing.

On the way, I stopped at my parents home for a visit. When I left, there was Rabbi P., across the street in front of his home. He was taking advantage of the surprisingly mild temperatures and was raking leaves into a black garbage bag. When our eyes met, I nodded as if to say hello and he returned the nod. He looked his usual slim and healthy self.

That was Sunday morning. Monday evening, he was playing racquetball with his son at a local community center, where he collapsed, never to return home.

To see someone, so alive and vibrant and healthy looking one day, and hear of their sudden demise, the next, is quite a shock. But no one could be more shocked then his wife and sons. My heart goes out to them. It is a testament to the fragility of life.

And yet, for the rest of us -

Life goes on.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

If Only Orah Had A "P" In It

Whenever I have to make calls to the credit card company, or the cable company, or my parents, they ask me how my name is spelled.
(So my parents don't really ask me how to spell my name, but they do ask me who I am about five ti

No matter how hard I try to enunciate, it see
ms people do not hear the correct lettering. Maybe it is because I do not speak "Punjab", I don't know. In the phone book, I can be found under "Olah". When does the letter "L" sound anything like an "R"?

So years ago I came up with a quicker way to convey the correct spelling of my name. It seems that this revelation of mine came when I realized how some names are just so Universally recognized, that NO letter spelling is necessary.

"Hi, I would like you to lower my interest rate".

"May I have your name please"?

"Sure, just write down OPRAH, then remove the "P".

"Oh my G-d, I can't believe I am speak
ing to Oprah".

"Seriously, if I was Oprah would I friggin' care how high my interest rate was? IT'S OPRAH


Speaking of Oprah...

I was just at her show today.
Not standing outside, desperate.
No, I was an actual audience member. And guess what? Third time is so NOT a charm. I totally thought that I would be blogging about how I was jumping up and down and shrieking like a little gi
rl because I just found out I made it on Oprah's "Most Favorite Things" show. I was all ready to post pictures of all the incredible loot I came home with to make y'all jealous. But this is the third time I sat through the most uninteresting, depressing topic ever. And we did not even get to sit through a whole show. Half of this show was already taped and we sat through two segments and spent the rest of the hour listening to some Oprah stalkers fans try to get Oprah to realize it would benefit her to become their new best friend.

And I woke up at 4 friggin' 30 in the morning to subject myself to this.

The process was still fun and exciting. I went with my friend, Miss S. and my friend/ blogger Rayli

The topic - Addiction and Inter

When the Oprah employee who was warming up the audience asked if anyone in the audience had any addictions they wanted to share, I wanted to raise my hand and stand up and proudly and bravely announce,

"Yes, I am addicted to THE crappy Oprah top
ics, since those are the only shows I end up getting reservations for."

Don't get me wrong. I actually do not take it
for granted that I had my reservation request granted altogether, and for the third time. There was a couple in the audience who claimed to have been trying for 24 years (the entire time Oprah has been in production) to get tickets.

But, do I need to sit in a row, bookended by an o
ld lady who was snoring. I mean, that is how boring this show was. But it became funny when Rayli was totally accused of being the snorer by an Oprah staff member, HA HA.

The only thing that could have made the show more exciting would have been if the pregnant woman in the row behind me who is due this coming Monday would have gone into labor. And I the experienced labor and delivery, and Neonatal Intesive Care nurse could have jumped in and saved the day. But alas, the boring topic was just not enough to put her into labor.

I do have to say, one thing consistent every time I have been to Oprah's show (besides the lame ass topic), Oprah is very personable and friendly with the audience and loves to interact with audience members before and after the taping. But she did let that one stalker fan go on and on and on and on.... Maybe Oprah is a bit TOO nice and could not bring herself to shut the woman up. I would have shut the woman up.

By the time the taping ended, I was feeling the beginnings of a migraine. But we had to stop at the "O" store and NOT buy anything, (even though I really could use that pink key chain with the "O" on it, ahem, ahem ... Rayli ... it's almost Chanukah...)

And then we had to stop at the "HARPO" sign and take some pictures with Jason - heroine addict and whatever his name wa
s - food addict. Well Rayli did, anyway. I just wanted a picture with Rayli and Miss S., but made the mistake of asking Jason - heroine addict's girlfriend to take the pictures and she kept getting all "artistic" with my camera and taking shots at weird angles. Either she is a photography addict or she is smoking something as well.

In the meantime, my head was beginning to throb so terrible, that we cancled our lunch plans so we could al
l go home and crash in bed.

But at this point, I am thinking I may just have the flu.

So I will cut this short and leave you with some pictures
(because I know Rayli is patiently wa
iting for me to make my Oprah post first, so she can finally post hers.)

This is the best picture we could get with Miss O.
Can you see her in the middle? There is some glare coming off her face.

This is across from Harpo studios right outside the O store. The guy who took this picture is so gonna get fired. His only job was to watch people exit the O store and relay via walkie talkie (to someone) how many have just exited. He missed five people as he took this picture, but I was kind and filled him in.

Well, obviously us in front of THE sign.

These were the two guests on the show. That is Jason- heroine addict on the left, and whatever his name is - food addict on the right (in case you could not guess which was which). Food addict is actually half the size he used to be. He and Jason seem to have become fast friends, cuz
apparently all addicts become friends. However, food addict may like Jason more than we know, for it seems he also purged himself of a secret while in rehab and has come out as a gay man.

And the two of them have made one other fast friend...


Even though I just could not get into the topic of today's show, I still love me some Oprah. And we still had fun.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

I Have The Right To Remain Silent (but then I would have no post)


By reading ahead you may unwillingly become an accessory to a crime.

I am officially a delinquent. And I have taken my husband down with me.

I am a miscreant,
law breaker.

I am ashamed to admit that I have contributed to the pervasiveness of some criminal activity.

But even worse, I have no regrets.

Two Saturday nights ago, my husband generously offered to take me out. We were considering many options, but by the time we actually made it out of the house, many of those options had become obsolete. So we settled on seeing a movie.

I wanted to see the action packed manly movie "Law Abiding Citizen", but my overworked, stressed out hubby wanted something lighter and amusing. Only, there were no comedies that I really thought, appealing.

So I looked through the newspaper and told him of the few comedies that were playing and then he said,
"I would see "Motherhood".


I want to see Gerard Butler kick the faulty judicial process in the A$$ and Hun wants to see Uma Thurman kvetch about life as a mother.

If my husband has FORGOTTEN what it looks like when a woman kvetches about her motherly duties, then we REALLY have not been spending enough time together. Thank G-d for date night.

So I agreed to see it .... with a warning.

There would be a Q & A session at the end, a discussion if you will. Hun would have to share his thoughts as the movies depiction of "Motherhood" relates to his real life placement married to a woman who is, well, a Mother.

Of course, I was totally joking. But Hun was agreeable. I think he would have written me a 500 word essay critique on the movie had I asked him. He was obviously in a work coma, and was not digesting anything I was saying anyway. He just wanted to see a movie that he did not have to put much thought into.

And with that, we were off.

Before the movie started, we had time to go to a near by "Barnes and Nobles" where I got a much needed Venti fix of caffeine at "Starbucks" and Hun purchased some sought after "Political" magazines. (NO, that is not a euphemism for some sort of dirty magazine, they WERE actually Political Magazines.)

Then, back to the theater...

So for two hours I sat there and pretty much watched my life unfold right before my eyes. I mean, I seriously could have stared at myself in a mirror for two hours and would have seen the same sacrifices, stress, frustration, commitment, joy, pride... Uma's character was even a "Mommy" blogger. Her blogging was pretty much the main premise. Hun laughed when Uma kept calling her husband on his cell phone and he would never answer.
Why is that funny to him? It is so NOT funny when it happens in MY life.

When the movie was finished, I sort of felt as if I had never left my home that evening. It was not satisfying to me. There was no new wisdom to be had from that movie.

Hun grabbed his bag of highly entertaining Political magazines and we left the theater, and I still wanted my date night.

I looked ahead of me, and asked Hun,
"What time is it"?

"It's 10:50, why"?

"Great, perfect, let's go".

"Go where"?

"Right there, started at 10:40".

Next thing you know, we went from theater 11 to theater 13 and just in time (missed previews) for "Law Abiding Citizen".

At first we sat down in one of the head craning front row seats because, even I did not think I would stay the entire time. Certainly, Hun would never...

After two minutes of a most disturbing opening scene, we were riveted. And we were also disturbed by the cricks in our necks, so we decided to move up to locate better seats. But this was not your "Motherhood" for a few lame couples, this place was packed.

I found a row, one guy sitting at the aisle, an empty seat, a couple and another empty seat. So I kindly asked the couple if they wouldn't mind moving down a seat so we can create two seats together. Then it occurred to me as we were entering the row, that I never asked the guy on the aisle if the seat next to him was actually occupied. But we all know the lonely guy who has to see the manly movie alone, and thus the seat was available.

At about 20 minutes into the movie, I had already forgotten about my wayward ways and my bad influence on Hun. (If you know my husband, he is as straight as an arrow. I would have loved to just send him into a 7/11 to shoplift a Hershey bar just for the sake of it, but I would have to settle for movie thievery.) But just as I was getting comfortable, I could see out of the corner of my left eye, a huge, burly usher with a flashlight walking up the aisle stairway towards my row.

Please pass my row
Please pass my row
Please pass my row

No such luck.

He stood exactly AT my row and his flashlight shone across my lap. I felt like the Gestapo had arrived and my heart was racing.

Do not make eye contact
Do not make eye contact
Do not make eye contact

I was sure there were security cameras all throughout that building that watched us as we made our nefarious walk out one theater into the next and the usher was trying desperately to identify the culprits in the dark. I was expecting that we would be taking a walk of shame any minute.

But after what felt like an eternity, although probably less than a minute, he turned and walked away.

And we sat, and watched the entire movie. This movie was, suspenseful, riveting, a roller coaster ride of thrills and spills, nothing like my life the movie "Motherhood".

And at the end, Hun remarked,
"That was better than I expected."


But I will tell ya something, Karma is a bitch.

It seems that while watching the movie, Hun's very desirable Political magazines went missing. We looked everywhere. In the original seats and the current seats, under and over, no where to be found.

I didn't lose anything though, so what does that mean?

So who is the "Law Abiding Citizen"?


And it felt soooo good.

Monday, November 2, 2009

Something's Got To Give -


Are women really as multifunctional as we claim to be? We pride ourselves on our exceptional multitasking abilities. But is this phenomenon really truthful?

Yes, I can have a conversation on the phone, update my Facebook status, hold a 5 month old on my left hip and mix a mean bottle of formula with my right hand all at the same time, but I am not referring to those moments we women become a "Cirque du Soleil" juggling act.

I am referring to the grander picture.

That picture that captures us in our true light, as we take way to much on our plates.

Some of us work outside the home, some of us don't. Either way, beyond office work or housework, we are always working on something. We chauffeur our children to extracurricular activities. We join "PTA" and "Sisterhoods", because "Motherhood" is not enough. We volunteer to coordinate something or another for one organization or another. We join gyms or run marathons or try "Bollywood" dance classes. We become botonists and landscapers and furniture refurbishers and professional couponers and savvy shoppers, and at some point we may just want to sit down and watch "Grey's Anatomy" uninterrupted.

But in order to do it ALL, something has to give.

The laundry piles up a bit longer than we hoped. Our dining room table becomes a petri dish of bacteria-like growth called "clutter". We don't wash the dinner dishes until after breakfast the next day. Instead of home cooked meals, we resort to carry out.

The truth is, we CAN NOT do it ALL, ALL of the time.

Because to do that, we would not be human. We would be androids who look just like ourselves built by a very wise and wealthy woman.

And I imagine, those women who are not fortunate to have a partner in their life to help them avoid spreading themselves too thin, are not faring any better.

And so, these past two weeks, what I chose to let go -

my blog.

In order to be an appropriate functioning mother, who felt very much like a single parent while Hun was working extraordinarily to provide for his family, I LET GO OF MY BLOG.

I did not want to. I did not completely do so by choice. I figured it would behoove me to continue with the laundry so my family members would not have to go naked. I kept up with the dish washing so my house would not reek of dried on gravy bits. I prevented my dining room table from growing anything funky. And I am pretty sure my children were sent off to school hygienically acceptable, with completed homework and lunch in their bags.

But my blog ..... given a large dose of tranquilizing meds, enough to last two weeks.

I am very proud of my husband who has created a whole new line in his business as well as new product, but the busier he becomes, the busier I become. And it was grueling.

He has been extremely busy for way more than two weeks, working on his latest projects, but two weeks ago, he was preparing to debut a new line at a food show, and this past week he wast out of town at THAT food show.

I digress to make a public plea.

My husband loves me and supports me and the things I choose to do, but does not care for the world of blogging. I do not refer to him too much in my posts and I do not talk too much about his work. However, he knows he will come up from time to time, because he chose to marry me. And with that comes .... my blog and all who are in my life. For those of you who know my husband IRL, please to not approach him and chit chat about all the things you know of him via my blog. He does not care to hear it. And what he does not know can not hurt him.

He was so busy, that out of guilt complete and utter love and devotion, he took me out the Saturday night before he went out of town. (But more on that in the next post.)

Would his hard work have been enough to cause me to take a blogcation?

Probably not.

But here is how it works in my household.

When Hun is not around, that is when Murphy and his crappy law shows up.

I don't even know how long it would take me right now to link to my previous post about the time I got some bizarre phone calls in middle of the night when Hun was away. It was 3 in the morning and the same call and hang up came repeatedly, leaving me to believe I was about to be murdered in my sleep. So that left me with no choice, but to NOT fall asleep.

But I will link to this one, which is aptly titled

Murphy's Law Can Suck It!!! .

And I link to that one, because it was Deja friggin' vu all over again.

And why is 3 in the morning the magic number?

On top of one teething five month old, who has me up all night "Catering" to his bizarre needs, Ro decided that vomit is a necessity when Hun is away.

First, just call me Emeril Lagasse.
My baby has learned to roll from his stomach to his back. That is fine enough. But he has, since birth, been sleeping on his belly. He does not care to sleep on his back. But he does care to constantly, roll from his belly to his back throughout the night, waking himself up unnecessarily, causing me to flip him over, pretty much on the hour, like he is a flapjack.
Yes, I am Emeril Lagasse, all .... night .... long.

And on Tuesday night, oh the joys of vomit. Not once, twice to be exact. But when there was no more vomit, uh, well, there is always that other end of the body.

And Ro did me the great service of NOT making it to the bathroom. So there I was, flipping babies and scrubbing puke out of carpet at 3 in the morning, and... what is that?

Is someone barking?

Are you friggin' kidding me?

Does Ate have croup, AGAIN?

Flipping babies, scrubbing vomit, setting up humidifiers,
thank you So for being an obliging child this past week.

Oh, wait, So is my child who likes to wake up at 5 AM and drag chairs and slam cabinet doors looking for anything she can turn into a project.

I love my kids. I love being a mother. But it is much more enjoyable when I can share these unexpected "duties" with my partner in life. Although I typically can't. Because these are special "duties" which only arise when my partner in life is happily tucked away in some child free hotel room somewhere.

So sue me for taking a blogcation. Something had to give. And there was no way it was going to be "Grey's Anatomy".

Monday, October 26, 2009

My Excuse





Sunday, October 18, 2009

I Am On a High!

Hi! I'm Orah. Welcome to my blog.

Where I watch the news so you don't have to.

I will not give the Henne family one more minute of attention.
(Well, after this one more minute of course)

Let me just say, like many others


In my last post, which was written and posted within an hour and a half of discovering Falcon safely at home where he claimed to be hiding in a cardboard box in the attic,

I called it a HOAX.

Before balloon boy vomited twice the next day, on two separate morning shows when asked why he was hiding, before he stated on Larry King,
"We did it for the show..."

I said, that his whack job of a father hid him and CONVENIENTLY called a TV station helicopter instead of a Police or Fire rescue chopper to track his son "flying" in a balloon, to get himself some

I also saw some of his video scripted movie footage of the "mistaken" balloon launch, and let me just say,
his wife is not a very good actress, and his timing was off.

He yelled,
"Didn't I tell you not to let go of the (expletive) tethers."

At which point, she THEN let go of the (expletive) tethers and said, in a tiny voice,
"oh no."

They were already on a reality TV show called "Wife Swap" twice - where this "Bad Dad" displays much more questionable behavior for the cameras.

He met his wife in "acting" class.

He has been shopping around his own
"Reality TV Show" idea about the "Wacky and Crazy Henne Scientists", which was nixed by TLC.

And then he claims this was not a Hoax, because what would he gain from it...

Uh, I'm gonna go out on a limb here.....


I'll give you some attention FREAK.

And my attention comes in the form of a wiffle stick beating your A$$ for stealing hours of my life as I worried sincerely about a child who was not even my own.

I am on my way to Colorado and I want those hours back...
Oh, you better run.
And now I move on to this guy!

How ironic that he is referred to as a "Justice of the PEACE".

Where is the peace? Where is the love? Where is the lack of racism?

You claim not to be a racist, because, according to you racism implies,
"hating blacks"
"not treating everyone equally"

How is it treating everyone equally, if you choose to marry only same race couples and not mixed couples?

I mean, am I the retard here?

Because I watched the video, and I think you may have some wires crossed in that small brain of yours.

(I do not mean to offend any developmentally disabled people)

But, how slow are you? Are you drinking water from the Louisiana Bayou? Because, I hear that water can cause you to have some gnarly "offspring".

Oh, now I get it. Your parents drank from the Louisiana Bayou, and thus - you would be their "offspring".


Seriously, I do need to stop watching so much news. But the media makes it sooo much fun, because they never report on anything "seriously important" anymore. So, if it's not really "news worthy" news, that means I get to make fun of it. And I love making fun of people like Keith Bardwell.

"Everyone hates [you] and [you] don't know why."



Well, at least you love yourself.



Thursday, October 15, 2009

"Balloon" Boy Turns Out To Be "Cardboard Box" Boy

Did I just waste hours of my life, or did I just waste hours of my life?

My affinity to being a "News" whore has gotten out of hand.

Unfolding Hostage crisis?

I am there.

High School killing spree?

I am glued.

Plane crash in Hudson?

Where's the remote at?

Hour long car chase on the "94"?

Uhhh , I don't do car chases. Time to take a potty break.

Balloon Boy?

Who saw this one coming?

I had a long night last night. Bam was not cooperating and chose to wake every two hours. And while he was actually sleeping , he would whimper in his sleep, causing me that sudden jolt of heart arrhythmia just as I was falling into blissful sleep. Hun was out of town the past two days. I had plenty to do today, but not much desire, strength or will to do it.

I spent the better part of the morning working on a fund raising letter, jogging on a treadmill, taking care of a gassy baby and chauffeuring Ate to and from school. I was so consumed by my morning activities, I did not really sit down and eat. So after I brought Ate home and got him into bed for a nap, followed by an overtired sleeping baby, at about 1:45 I decided to sit down in front of MSNBC with my Ceareekamole salad. (That is what I call it when it encompasses Caesar, Greek and Guacamole on account of the Caesar croutons and dressing, Feta cheese and avocado.)

Before I knew it, I was watching an oversized, helium filled Mylar balloon, cascading through the sky boarded by the words "Breaking News".

Ooh - what is that? Orah's entertainment for the next FEW minutes?

I am a bit embarrassed to admit, I did not get up from my seat until 4:20. And furthermore, I was giving a play by play account on Facebook to my friend who was at work and therefore not in the vicinity of televised news.

Who am I kidding? She could care less. I was "status updating" to anyone who could hear my cries of astonishment and nausea.

I was LITERALLY sick to my stomach. I was so scared for a six year old boy who was thought to be flying at least 1000 feet up in an escaped, family "science project" over Colorado.

Was he going to freeze up there in the colder air? Was he unconscious from the change in atmosphere. Did he pass out from lack of Oxygen? Was he crying for his Mommy in a funny chipmunk voice due to Helium inhalation? Did he have altitude sickness? Was he sitting in a pile of vomit from motion sickness?
(All kidding aside, it was less than funny at the time. I would not have referred to him as "Balloon Boy" at the time.)

I was beside myself. I was a nervous wreck. It was as if I was watching my own 6 year old child floating away through a time/space continuum.

My friends were telling me to get a life. They were cajoling me to divert my attention to something else. We tried to refer to "Coffee Talk" with Linda Richmond...

A peanut is neither a pea or a nut...


A shoetree is neither a shoe or a tree...


But all I could think of ......... a balloon is neither a ball or a loon,

at which point, via DISCUSSION, my friend did refer to me as a loon.

I was even offered an on the spot intervention (which I do need).

My children were all accounted for, asleep or in school. At least I hoped this was the case. I mean, I had no tethered, helium filled balloons in my backyard for anyone to crawl into.

So I was free and clear to keep my eyes affixed to a flying ......... uh wait .....I mean, slowly spinning ............ uh, now softly dropping ......... silvery deflating balloon.

And the news channel had warned that if the balloon looked as if it would crash, they would cut the feed until they were assured of the boy's safety. But they lied.

I saw it drop. I saw authority figures walk over to this odd looking apparatus. I saw one guy hacking at it with a shovel. I saw NO child emerging, unscathed.

WHERE IS THE BOY??? Oh My G-d, did the poor thing fall out somewhere? I can not rest until they find the child.

But alas, I had to shut the TV (which I do not have on while my children are at home, awake and in need of attention). But the Internet became my new drug of choice. The Internet became my best friend. In the midst of supper making and homework doing .... the news came in -


In a cardboard box ..... in his garage.

After half a second of gratefulness for his health and well being, I was sort of disappointed. (Admit it - you all were too.)

I mean, I certainly wanted him to be okay, but where was this mysterious bottom compartment that he "climbed" into?

Where was the "piece" of balloon that witnesses (including a Deputy Sheriff) claim to have seen fall from the balloon?

And the background of this family........

Dad was a storm chaser. They are an "adventurous" family. They are Science geeks lovers. They were on an episode of "Wife Swap"?

Could they have swapped their son, (who for a flying boy had the most perfect name, Falcon) and covered it up with the ol' "oversized balloon distraction"? I mean, a woman recently swapped two children for a cockatoo, so anything is possible (seriously, I have to lay off the news).

Dad WAS the one who called "KUSA" news station as soon as the balloon took flight and asked them to track it. Did he do this because he was, like the rest of us, under the false impression that his son was in flight? Or did he do this just after he hid his son in a cardboard box in the garage so he could gain attention for his wonderful family science project? I mean, why a "news" station? Don't the Colorado Police and Fire Rescue dispatch their own helicopters?

I still think there are a lot of unanswered questions. And when all the kids are back in bed, I expect MSNBC to have the answers.

I do not blame the child, though. Poor thing. If I untethered the object that my father was working on for months while neglecting me and paying me no attention, and watched it float away - I would hide too if I thought that my father then called the cops on me.

Speaking of neglecting children and paying them no attention, I better go now. There is no telling where my kids would hide if they "accidentally" deleted this post.

I mean, I am not THAT neglectful and inattentive, even if I DID miss Bam roll over for the first time while watching "Balloon Boy".

"Ballon Boy"?

More like "Cardboard Box" Boy.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Love Me Some Fat Babies

Baby Alex Lange with Mother Kelli Lange

This baby is 4 months old and weighs 18 pounds.

He was (originally) denied medical insurance coverage due to his "fat" tushy. I think they referred to baby fat as a "pre-existing condition"

Is the inability to distinguish between obesity and baby fat a pre-existing condition? Because if it is, then the folks at Rocky Mountain Health Plans should be denied coverage as well.

This baby is ALSO 4 months old and ALSO weighs 18 pounds.

He is also 27 inches long and in the 97th percentile for size of babies at this age.

Funny thing - we also call him "chunky monkey" just like the parents of FAT baby Alex do.

I think the insurance company should thank me and offer me a reduced rate for toting around 18 pounds on a regular basis. This causes my biceps to become more accentuated and allows me to burn calories as I build muscle, making me a much healthier individual, almost guaranteeing that Insurance company I call my own will NEVER have to pay out for my growing (or shrinking) healthy physique.

Fat babies really = a win win situation for the Insurance companies, the way I see it.

I guess they saw it too, which is why they changed their policies to include fat HEALTHY babies.

I mean, my 18 pound is very health conscious -

What is that saying?

"An apple a day keeps the Doctor away."

Monday, October 12, 2009

Death Be Not Proud.

"They found her limp and lifeless body under a heap of clothing..."

That may be how my obituary begins.

"She keenly decided that pre, during, and post a significant Holiday while her children were off of school, would be an ideal time to embark on a major overhaul of her upstairs sleeping quarters. That decision may have led to her sudden and unexpected demise due to the tornado of apparel that threw her over and suffocated her..."

Oooh, who wrote this obituary? It is excellent, if I do say so myself.

"She is survived by her loving husband, now and forever adorned in wrinkled shirts and tattered pants. She is also survived by three children between the ages of 7 and 3 who do not know where to sleep because they can not locate their beds, and is also survived by one naked baby."

I will not break. The kids will be back in school tomorrow. I will complete my mission. I will be able to see my upstairs floor again. I will be able to walk through the hallway without setting off one of the many "clothing" mines. I do not have an assistant. I do not have a secretary. I am one person, taking on a mission meant for an army. Wow, the idea of polygamy and taking on more wives suddenly became appealing. Have I gone insane? Maybe! I mean, I am rambling on and on.

Let me backtrack.

I have five bedrooms upstairs. One is the master bedroom, leaving four more. A small bedroom next to mine has a crib in it that is not being used. Next to this much needed crib is a mattress on the floor that Ate calls his bed.

Diagonally across from this small bedroom is a modest sized room with a lovely white bunk bed that I purchased shortly after Ro was born with the idea that two sisters could share a room. Ro calls the bottom bunk hers and the top bunk has remained empty. There is also a lovely pull out trundle for prospective overnight visitors. The joint living did not come to fruition because So wakes up at the crack of dawn and Ro would like NOT to wake up at the crack of dawn. But So is bored and needs a playmate at the crack of dawn they now go to the same school and have to wake at the same time anyway, so may as well open up this new can of worms.

Through another door from this room, is a connected bathroom which is referred to as a "Jack and Jill" bathroom, because it has another doorway to a bedroom further down the hall. That bedroom would be So's room until now.

Across from So's bedroom is one final bedroom that is decorated nicely and is off limits to children. It has it's own bathroom and is currently reserved for guests. However, all my guests become relegated to one of two guest bedrooms in the basement because my upstairs guest room seems to have become a HUGE walk in storage closet.

To further confuse you, I also have bedroom furniture in my garage. It is a dresser to be more precise. I have been refurbishing it for two years. More accurately, I sanded off the ugly brown shade from the dresser two years ago and then got caught up in this thing called "LIFE" and have yet to return to sand the drawers, the frame around the mirror, prime and paint white and find some lovely/girly hardware to finish it off. If I would only do that, my garage would not look like it wants to be an eighth bedroom and the girls would have more appropriate storage so my hall would not look like a minefield.

Partly, I blame my parent's 16 months of living here with half of their home's contents taking up space in my home, for all the mess that I am inundated with, but that is because I pretty much blame my parents for EVERYTHING. (Who doesn't?)

Anyway, if you did your math, you would realize that I have four children and in addition to the master bedroom, I have four more bedrooms upstairs that have the ability to restrain house each of the aforementioned children. But, I do not want my children to take the gift of "space" for granted. I do not want them to be spoiled by the freedom that comes with unshared space.

And so, to punish myself indefinitely teach my children what it means to live cordially amongst others, So and Ro will now move in together. Ate will move into So's former room. And Bam will move into the very empty and available crib in Ate's former room so that Hun and I could live cordially amongst ourselves.

And by punishing myself, I refer to the resurrection of an old sitcom called "The Odd Couple" which I expect to be playing every night and every morning in the bedroom that will officially be shared by my Felix (aka. Ro) and my Oscar (aka. So), and I suspect this sitcom will not be as funny.

Ro probably has some obsessive compulsive personality traits. She lines her shoes up and makes her bed in the morning ...... and makes it again.......... at night, before she gets in it. And then she attempts to make it while she is actually IN IT. She does not like things in middle of her floor, and she has a tissue box on her bed at all times (just in case) and an empty one next to it where she may dispose of her used tissues.

So is ..... how can I say this mildly about a child who I LOVE ...... a slob. This trait of So's is probably directly related to her creative mind. She has a mind that never shuts off. It is all over the place. It is always coming up with exceptional ideas and amazing projects. This includes, but is not limited to a closet project that caused her closet door to miraculously come off its track, when she thought hangers could be arranged to liken a robot.

I decided to pair up this "odd" couple, just this last week, because I wanted the novelty of it to wear off before school resumed. My original timeline was to pair them up during the weeks between camp and school, but if you remember, I was dealing with a nasty
plague infesting So's head, and although I do try to teach my children to share ..... there are some exceptions.

Besides for the actual room they are now sharing, they are going from two closets to just one closet. This is where I really have my work cut out for me. Especially since THAT dresser is still sitting in the garage.

In addition to just changing over their rooms and habits, I also have to set Ate up in So's old room and set Ate's old room up to accommodate a baby. I am still changing over Summer to Winter (please tell me I am NOT the only one still doing this). I still have maternity clothing to put away (which my mother has voiced, should NOT be put away and SHOULD be utilized real soon. So I asked my 70 something year old mother if she was trying to give me another sibling and was looking to borrow some maternity clothing. She was not amused. Neither was I.)

I just returned from "The Container Store" where I burned a hole through my credit card. And my overhaul is in full gear. When I am done and everything is in it's proper place, I will then lock up every closet and drawer and prevent every person in this home from living like a normal functioning human being so that NO new mess can be made. Because the idea that my family may never notice the recognizable smell of a decaying corpse and not even notice that their wife and mother has been missing for some time under a mess of clutter and clothing is just too ghastly to consider, even for me. That Death, be not proud.