Weekend Favorites

I am so very sad. You see, my computer is still very ill. In fact, it may be gasping its very last breath. And my husband? He has the nerve to travel! 'I have to!' he says. 'For work!' he says. Hmph. Who needs a paycheck?!

Right. I do. Because my children, they keep asking for stuff like food and clothing. Of all the nerve!

So I am stuck using the library computer. Which means that until my computer gets fixed or replaced, my posts here will be irregular. It also means that I cannot post pictures. (I am so sad!!) Please don't leave me. Don't go away. I promise that I'll get back to regular posts soon. Really! (Insecure much there, Sara?)

For now, I will fill you in on Easter and some of the things that made my weekend.

Favorite sights:
Watching my children and my nieces and nephew hunt for eggs that their siblings and cousins had hidden. For some of these children, this was a very difficult task, indeed. In fact, James couldn't find his last egg and gave up the hunt. Three hours after the hunt, someone discovered it. I guess you could say the moral of this little story is "Be nice to your siblings for you never know when they will be in charge of hiding your eggs." Yeah, it's no Aesop, but I think it's still good.

Seeing my new nephew Thomas for the first time. Cute, yummy baby-ness!

Watching my 17 year old nephew Jack try to kill the pinata.

Seeing my father beg and roll over while pretending to be a dog to my mother's dog trainer during a very loud and raucous game of Quelf.

Looking around the church I grew up in on Easter Sunday and seeing so many faces that I love.

Favorite sounds:
Thomas' little squeaks and squeals.

The church choir and congregation lifting their voices in praise on Easter Sunday morning.

The yells and cheers of my family as we watched the Final Four. (Way to go Butler!!)

Hearing my 17 year old nephew's answer of 'Zebra' to the question "Name an animal that could rip your arm off" during yet another very loud and raucous game of Quelf. Yep. Gotta watch out for those zebras. They are so very dangerous.

Listening and laughing as everyone told their favorite Knock-Knock joke.

Favorite tastes:
My mother's potato salad. Thanks for the delicious surprise mom!

Ham! I never make ham and so only eat it about once a year and it was so very worth the wait.

Deviled eggs. Ditto the explanation for the ham.

Peanut butter chocolate pie. So yummy mommy!

Chocolate bunny. Do I really need to explain this one?

Favorite touches:
The fuzzy head of my new nephew against my cheek as I held him.

The hugs of my family upon seeing each other for the first time since Christmas.

Holding my daughters' hands in church on Easter Sunday.

Best line of the weekend, spoken by my 10 year old niece, Jill:
After pitching a fit about being the only one really dressed up (she was wearing a dress and looking very cute, while others looked casually nice in polos, khaki shorts, or capris) for church on Friday night she said, "Oh well. At least I look nice. The rest of you look like you're going to a truck auction!"

I am still laughing at that one. Good one, Jilly.

It was a wonderful weekend, but it's good to be home. Now it's back to life, back to work, back to reality. And, um, back to posting when my husband returns.

How did you spend your Easter weekend? What were some of your favorite things?

It's Friday, But Sunday's Comin'!

So here's the thing: some days you fail. Some days you drop the ball; you forget to call the kennel for the dog, your computer doesn't work right, you've cleaned everything in sight and your children drop 423 metric tons of crap in every possible nook and cranny. You are wishing for June and it's only April. You are overwhelmed and at the end of your tether. It's bleak. It's black. The veil in the temple has been ripped. You are having a hard time seeing the 'good' in Good Friday.

But.

Some days you remember that it's not about how clean your house is. Some days you find another kennel with room for your dog even though it is Spring Break and Easter weekend. Some days you have access to another computer. Some days you spend the morning at the zoo with your husband and child and revel in being with them and sharing the time together. Some days you fold 423 metric tons of laundry and you know that you will someday soon have to do 423 metric tons of laundry again, but you don't care, because these are the clothes of the people who have taken residence in your heart. Some days you sip wine on the patio and listen to the birds and watch your children play in the golden rays of the springtime sun. Some days your vacation is already planned for June and it's only April and you are so happy and anticipating the fun.

Some days you remember that "It's Friday, but Sunday's comin'!" You remember that Friday can be bleak and dark and it may seem you've reached the end of your tether, but you know that Things didn't end on Friday. You know that it's all about Sunday. You know that it's all about beauty from ashes. You know that it's all about a vacant tomb and abandoned grave clothes.

And that knowledge makes all those days when it's April and you are wishing for June worth it.

Happy Easter, everyone!

He is risen! He is risen, indeed!

Is It June Yet?

How to know when you should take a vacation:

1. You spend over two hours in your sons' bedroom helping them sort through their crap stuff junk treasures and wind up with three garbage bags and a box of stuff to send to Goodwill and a bag and a half of pure, unadulterated trash to send to the dump.*

2. You spend an hour with your youngest daughter culling through her stuff and come up with two bags and a couple of things that don't fit in bags to send to Goodwill.

3. It has rained every other day and you have read through both books by Sunday evening that you checked out from the library on Thursday.

4. A trip to the library is not on your current schedule because the last time you went, the two children you left in charge got into a fight and wound up with horrible bruises on their bodies.

5. Your husband arrives home from skiing in one piece (thanks be to God) but looking windswept and tanned and full of enthusiasm for the trip he wants the family to take to Lake Tahoe next spring and the only thing you can think is "How much laundry will I have to do after such a trip?"

6. You spend waaaaaay too much time lugging your father-in-law's seen-better-days chair downstairs because you absolutely, positively need something to fill that empty corner in the family room.

7. Then you spend waaaaaaay too much time imagining your husband's sweetly surprised reaction when he discovers his dad's old chair sitting in the family room where God and everyone can see it. You then spend waaaaay too much time patting yourself on the back for getting over yourself and figuring out a way for this thing heirloom to take a place of honor in your family room. You further spend waaaaay too much time daydreaming about how friends will question the piece of furniture and how you will defend it's place and how they will think you are awesome for allowing it where the public can see it.

8. After your husband's non-reaction when he sees the chair that you spent waaaaay too much time on, you will spend waaaaaaay too much time plotting ways to make sure that your mother lives at your house in her dotage.

9. You will forget that Easter weekend is coming up and the Easter bunny needs to hit the stores to fill the Easter baskets.

10. You will forget that Easter weekend and Spring Break are coinciding and you will forget to book a place at the boarder's for the dumb dog. Hence, the dumb, carsick dog will be coming with you for Easter weekend. Way to go, jerkface!

11. You will watch "500 Days of Summer" and "The Blindside" in one weekend and will declare them both the best movies you've seen in a while. Then you will forget and mention it to your husband who abandoned was gone on business for a week and you will feel guilty when you mention that you rented the movies "On Demand" rather than hitting the Red Box.

12. You will drink wine on weeknights. (Slainte!)

13. You will inform your children that times they are a-changin' and that they should be prepared to pull their weight when you go back to work in the fall. Your children will not bat an eye before they say "Okay, mom" with no further discussion.

14. Then your 13 year old will inform you that she would rather clean her room when she feels like it, because then she is more motivated than when you ask her to clean it. She declares that when you ask her to clean it, it feels as if she lives in a totalitarian society.

15. You curse your public school system for the social studies curriculum that is teaching your child things like "democracy" and "totalitarianism."

16. You inform your child, with only a small stream of smoke coming out of your ears, that she may make the decision to clean her room when she feels like it when she is paying the mortgage. Your further state that since she is only asked approximately quarterly to do a thorough cleaning of her room, that perhaps she should figure out a way to, in the words of the fabulous Tim Gunn, "make it work," unless she wants to discover what it feels like to live in a tent.

17. You will drink more wine on weeknights. (Salut!)

18. You will take your children to a park and cringe when your 5 year old says that people have been writing inside the slide tunnels. You will cringe and blush when she starts to read the letters of the words that have been written. You will look be ashamed of yourself for thinking the worst when the letters she reads out spell "I- L-O-V-E-Y-O-U." (Get your mind out of the gutter, Sara!)

19. You get down on the floor with the dumb dog and pet her and tell her sweetly that if she barfs in the car on the way to your parents' home that you will clean up the mess and find the nearest Humane Society and drop her off there.

20. You hate that your computer doesn't work, but delight in the fact that your husband is home so that you can use his without leaving the comforts of your own home (there's wine here!).

21. You snuggle in bed with your beloved and your beloved's computer and plan your summer vacation and then you dream that it is already summer.

*To be fair, there were a couple of boxes in the boys' room that needed going through after we moved in and due to my lack of will, were never gone through until now. It is to their credit that they were able to go through so much stuff and decrapify and donate so much to others.

Also, my husband arrived home safely and without injury. Thanks for your prayers. He is on fire for Lake Tahoe. I may need your prayers next spring.

Here I Am With My Lysol

If you guessed that I am typing this from the library again, you are correct. I know that I make my library sound nasty but it's really a beautiful facility. It is always very clean and neat and the staff is helpful. (Sounds like I'm writing on a hotel comment card doesn't it?) But, germophobe that I am, I still get kinda squicked out typing on keyboards that LOTS of other people have used. Oh, don't get me wrong, I am certain that if you cleaned my home keyboard it would be full of noseeums and nasty viruses, but they are the noseeums and viruses of my beloveds, not random strangers. That makes all the difference you know. Look, I know that doesn't make any sense, but I won't ridicule your neuroses if you don't ridicule mine.

Anyway, apparently my computer and sewing machine have been whispering to each other and now they both hate me. They are the spawn of the devil and they are trying to inflict their evil upon me. So here I am, trying to get this written before my time on the computer expires.

What's that? It's ironic you say? Oh, yes. Now I see. Given that my last post was about procrastinating and I was all "Hey I work great under a deadline! Give me a deadline and watch me be creative and productive!" So now I have a deadline. And the creativity?

Bwahahaha! Theory exploded!!

So. Let's see. Some of you dear readers have asked me whether or not James did indeed have strep. Apparently I had a cliffhanger in that post. Sorry. Didn't mean to leave you hanging. I was just so excited about my little 6 degrees of separation thing with the doctor that it must have slipped my mind. So the answer is, yes. Yes he did have strep. They put him on a stronger antibiotic and hopefully it will completely go away this time.

Hmmm. What else? Oh! Sean had a music program Wednesday night and it was all about pirate songs. Have you ever seen a bunch of second graders dressed up all piratey? Well, besides Halloween? It was so stinkin' cute. And Seannie boy blushed to the roots of his curly hair when it was his turn to step up to the microphone and sing. I just love it. The best part is, I took my Flip and recorded it, so now I have blackmail material. Bonus!

And today, well, I spent today cleaning the Pit of Despair that was my house. Only I didn't even get it all done. I only did the main floor. But it is spotless. Or at least it was. Then my children came home and now I am here, so who knows what it will look like when I return? I am hoping to start on the upstairs after work tomorrow and finish Saturday so that when my husband comes home on Sunday, he'll come home to a clean house. Friends, you do not want to see the upstairs of my house right now. I have just shut all the doors so I don't have to look at any of the mess. Well, I also shut the doors to keep the dumb dog from chewing up Barbies and blankets and anything else she can put in her slobbery mouth. Seriously. My upstairs is positively gross. And my children? They don't know it yet, but their Saturday is booked solid. For their sakes I hope it's not nice out.

I fully expect for us to all be cranky and sullen on Saturday night. In fact, I think after I leave the library, I'll just run by the store and get some wine so that I'll have a little something to look forward to when all the whining starts.

And if you wouldn't mind, say a little prayer for my husband. He has been at a business meeting for most of the week. The meeting culminates in a ski weekend. I know. Poor baby. I waver between being a little annoyed with his whole 'I think it would be a good idea if I stayed to ski this time. You know, politically. The boss will be there.' and being terrified that he is going to ski into something. He hasn't been skiing since he was in his twenties. He's a long way from his twenties now, if you know what I'm sayin'. I predict that at the very least, he will come home sore from discovering muscles he hasn't used in a long time and that he will need to rest. Whereas if it were me, I would be on duty the minute I walked in the door.

Sigh. Bitter much, Sara?

Okay. So there it is. My least-creative-under-a-deadline-post EVER. Sorry. I totally jinxed myself. Oh well. At least it wasn't a grocery list.

Procrastinators Anonymous

Hello, my name is Sara and I'm a procrastinator. I don't know why I put things off. Oh, okay. Yes I do. I put things off because they either:
a. are gross, like cleaning toilets
b. are boring, like folding laundry
c. are someone else's job, like picking up their own crap, and I'm waiting for them to do it but they never do and I wait to see how long it takes before someone picks it up before I do it in a huff
d. involve math and measuring and math is haaaaaaaaard (Kidding. Sort of.)
e. aren't as appealing to me as other things, like surfing the net or eating my weight in mint chocolate chip ice cream while watching HGTV
f. don't hold my interest. Oh look! Something shiny!

My point is, I suppose, that I have the attention span of an ADD gnat and given the choice between a task that I don't really want to do and something else, I'll choose something else almost every time. Which is why there are piles of paper and other crap on just about any flat surface in my kitchen. It's also why my laundry is never done. (Although I could argue that with six of us wearing clothes daily, why and how would it ever be completely done?) My fabulous powers of procrastination are why there are things that are meant to be hung on my wall sitting in a pile in a corner of the family room. They have been sitting there since the end of February. Apparently finishing that task was once of interest to me, but now? Meh. Not so much.

I think that procrastination is genetically passed from parent to child. At least in this family. And I think that both my husband and I carry the gene. That's why my children have been known to tell me as they head out the door to play or as they stare at the shiny, talking box "I'll do ____ a little later, 'kay?" And being a procrastinator myself, telling them to get right on ____ is like the pot calling the kettle black.

This putting off of the less enjoyable is all well and good until I am under the gun. Then I curse my procrastinating tendencies. Because then I am left trying to do all the things that I put off in a short amount of time. And really, I'm not so much fun to be around when that happens. Suddenly everything is urgent and anyone who doesn't share my sense of urgency, well, they suddenly find themselves wishing they lived anywhere else but here. Yes, I am a joy.

So why do I do it? Knowing everything that I know, why do I keep on putting things off? My theories are thus:
Theory the first: I do better work when I am under a deadline. When I am feeling the pressure I believe that I work harder, more efficiently, and more creatively. Whether this is actually true, I do not know, but it is something I tell myself to justify my procrastination.

Theory the second: I think that perhaps if I put off a task that I don't really want to do, a task that could just as easily be completed by someone else, perhaps someone else will actually do the task. And perhaps they will do it without me asking! Perhaps they will see what needs to be done and do it. And perhaps monkeys will fly out of my butt and sing "Jingle Bells." (Obviously, this theory has received quite a bit of testing and is actually moving toward being refuted.)

Theory the third: I'll think about this one later. This subject just doesn't interest me any longer. Oh look! Something shiny!

Tempt Your Tastebuds Tuesday

My brain is mush. I had a major alarm clock/brain malfunction and am suffering the adverse effects of not enough sleep. So I figured while I go to my favorite place and snuggle under the covers to stare at the back of my eyelids, you could look over this recipe and contemplate its yumminess.

Or, I could just tell you about it yumminess. Um, it's well, yummy. (Would you like me to review your product and give it a resounding endorsement? I am totally qualified. Take note of those sentences back there.)

A week ago I was given some wonderfully fresh, deliciously sweet blueberries and I had to figure out what to do with them. Now, I recognize that in most homes this would not be a dilemma, and here I must just say: "Um, have you met me? I am all about the hand wringing and dilemma-making."

You see, I love blueberries, but when I eat them fresh (read: uncooked) they make my mouth itch. My family, weird as they are, only like to eat them frozen (read: not thawed at all, but frozen) or cooked in something like a muffin or pastry of some sort. Not wanting to have an itchy mouth or to waste such a wonderfully delicious treat, I looked for a muffin recipe that sounded good enough for the bounty in my possession. And I found it! And now I am going to share it with you. And then you are going to look at it. And then you are going to make it. And then you are going to love me forever. The end.

Delicious Just Like In A Bakery Blueberry Muffins With Crumb Topping **
1 1/2 cup flour
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 t. salt
2 t. baking powder
1/3 cup oil
1 egg
1/3 cup milk
1 cup blueberries

Crumb Topping
1/2 cup sugar
1/3 cup flour
1/4 cup butter, cubed
1 1/2 t. cinnamon

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Grease muffin pan or use liners.
Combine flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder. Place vegetable oil into a 1 cup measuring cup and add egg and enough milk to fill the cup. Mix into the flour mixture. (It will be thick.) Fold in berries. Fill cups to top and sprinkle with crumb topping. Bake for 20-25 minutes. Makes 8-10 muffins.

**Obviously this is not the name of the recipe. It is one that I made up. (Thank you, Captain Obvious!) While not being especially creative, it does aptly describe the muffins. So there. I did not create this recipe, I found it and because my printer wasn't working, copied it out by hand. Therefore, I cannot tell you where I found it, because I don't remember. If this is your recipe, I am sorry for not giving you credit. Also? Will you marry me?

I apologize for not having pictures of the absolutely mouthwatering muffins that were made using this recipe, but they were eaten too quickly. Seriously. I was like,"hmmm, I bet I could take some pictures and post that recipe let me just grab my camera" and then I turned around and was all "what the...?" because the muffins had done a disappearing act. They are that good.

I realize that the recipe doesn't make all that many muffins, but they are large. So you know, if you want more, double the recipe! Then you can make some for yourself and send the extras to me.

In fact, I can't think of anything nicer to wake from a nap to than warm and delicious blueberry muffins. So, you can just go get busy making some and I'll just be over here asleep on my keyboard.

Degrees Of S(trep)aration

James and Mary have been trying to kill me by degrees. They have been taking turns with their illnesses. Rather than bring on the sickness in one fell swoop, they have been in sibling collusion and decided that it would be really fun to watch mama slowly go insane by alternating who is on the Amoxicillin each week. For the last six weeks I have had to double check who I am giving the antibiotic to. That person curled up in a fetal position and sucking her thumb in the corner? ME.

Today, while I was at work, my cell phone started ringing. Normally, I keep my phone tucked away in my purse in the closet of my classroom. As luck would have it, I was in the closet digging for some crayons and paintbrushes when my phone started ringing. People who know me well enough to have my cell phone number also know my working hours and don't call me when I'm at work. So the fact that my phone was ringing sent a little jolt of adrenaline coursing through my body. The same little jolt you get when your phone rings at 2 a.m. and your body says "Hey, this isn't right! Nobody calls here at 2 a.m. Who died?!"

Upon answering, I discovered that it was the school nurse at my son James' middle school. She was calling to cover me in guilt let me know that James was complaining of a sore throat and that she had looked down his throat and that it looked really bad. She said he didn't have a fever but had mentioned that he'd had strep a few weeks ago. She further mentioned that she thought it might be making an unwelcome comeback. I knew, of course about the sore throat. I knew that he didn't feel good when I woke him for school. But I did what any mother of multiple children over the age of 5 do; namely, I stated that I was sorry his throat hurt, but he was either going to have to be on fire with a fever or barf up a week's worth of meals to stay home. He didn't have a fever and he didn't produce said barf, so I sent him to school. A mere two hours later, the nurse was calling me to come pick him up because he was miserable and she thought he might be getting strep. Why, yes, I am the World's Meanest Mother, why do you ask? (I believe we have had this discussion before. Today's behavior of sending a sick child to school cements my status, thankyouverymuch.)

After scrambling to get a sub and picking a teary-eyed and pale James up from school, I made a doctor's appointment for him. As we were driving home, James was very chipper and cracking jokes. I gave him the stink eye. This is not the behavior I expect out of someone with Strep. The boy child even had the nerve to say that he thought he had Strep. I told him that I had my doubts--especially since he was cracking jokes and eating French fries. (Yes, I did make a stop by CrackDonald's for a Diet Coke on my way home. What?!?!) I should have known right then that my capacity for wrongness was being enlarged. I myself have joked with medical-type people about pain as I have had stroke level blood pressure brought on by migraine pain or been facing an emergency C-section, so I should have known. I mentioned that Usual Strep Behavior involved fever, headaches, sore throat, and inability to get into a standing position. Other than sore throat, he didn't have any of the Usual Strep Behavior. He maintained his position. "I really think that the Strep has come back," he said.

We drove to the doctor's office and I may or may not have told him that he better test positive for Strep as I was missing work because of his shenanigans. (I also may or may not have actually used the word 'shenanigans.' After all, it was St. Patrick's day!)

After checking in, we were called back and we got settled into an examination room. I should mention here as well that James was wearing shorts. Also, the high temperature was forecast to be about 63 degrees. Hey, I pick my battles, people. Anyway! The doctor came in and high fived James for wearing shorts. This led to a conversation about shorts and professionalism and geographic/temperature appropriateness for shorts. This conversation somehow led to the doctor telling me where he was from. He was a small town in northern Illinois that I am familiar with for a couple of reasons, one of which is that I had a college roommate that was from the same town. When I mentioned this, he asked me her name. When I told him, he laughed and said that not only did he know them (his dad was a veterinarian and doctored the animals on my roommate's family farm) but that he had played high school football with my roommate's brother.

Small world, eh?

Wait. It gets better.

I mentioned that I had family in some other towns in the area and he knew all the places of which I spoke. Even tiny little Tampico, Illinois. And that's saying something, folks. Supposedly it is known as the birthplace of Ronald Reagan, but I'm not sure who knows that except for people who live there and people like me who have had to explain exactly where and what Tampico is.
We had a good time talking about places we were both familiar with while James reclined on the examination table and tried to stay awake. Then I mentioned that while northern Illinois was where my family was from, it wasn't where I grew up. After a few more questions and answers, it was discovered that not only did this doctor know the town in which I grew up, he went to med school with the good friend of my best friend's younger brother! (Didja follow that? Basically, we know some the same guy.) They went skydiving together after they took their boards. (He joked that they said that if they passed, they decided they'd even use the chute. I might have a little crush on his sense of humor.)

While James tried to stay awake and not drool on the examination table paper, the doc and I played 6 degrees of separation. It was awesome. It's about time one of my children's illnesses wasn't all about them.

So when somebody says "It's a small world," don't roll your eyes. Because you never know when you'll run into your college roommate's brother's football teammate or your best friend's younger brother's good friend. Right?

Turns out that this episode of Strep (strepisode?) was much more fun than I thought it would be. Go figure!