Burgled.

The other night our minivan was ransacked.  We were EXTREMELY lucky or blessed or whatever you want to call it, because the thieves somehow overlooked my wallet (which I NEVER EVER EVER leave in my car) and a house key.  Our loss was limited to the large handful of change they grabbed from the ashtray, which is fine because since I've been working out, I really don't need that McDonald's-vanilla-cone fund anymore.

I miss these.

I don't want to over dramatize and say I am traumatized or feel excessively violated.  I mean, I'm more kinda pissed off and perplexed.  Our neighborhood is very blue-collar and not well-to-do by ANY stretch of the imagination.  But I guess anyone might leave some cash in an unlocked car--which IS common around here because we live on the outskirts of a small town where people are trusting and unbelieving that this type of thing would happen to them.  We have lived here for nearly eight years and people laughed at us when we installed deadbolts on our doors when we moved in.

The vandals hit several dozen cars in our neighborhood.  No one in our neighborhood is laughing.  What is even less funny is the fact that the State Police (who are the responders where we live) flat out told us they weren't coming out.  My husband and a neighbor waited for two hours after initially calling them, thinking that someone would be out to take statements or at least write up a report, but when they called again they were told that that wasn't going to happen and that basically it could be chalked up to "we shouldn't have left our cars unlocked."  Our tax dollars at work.  Thanks for that.

More useful and zero tax dollars spent.
flickr.com ©Mark Turnauckas2012

One piece of information we did get from the police was that they had over 100 calls about vehicle break-ins that morning.  I'm not sure if the police were implying that they were all committed by the same people, but if it was a group and they were moving that fast and there were enough of them, its not inconceivable,I guess. There were at least 15 incidents that we know of in our neighborhood alone.  And that was just people The Sarge spoke to that morning.  I later found out about a few more from others.

I found it strange that a lot of people in our neighborhood didn't seem to be troubled by it whatsoever.  One lady had her driver's license, insurance card, registration and a debit card taken and yet she did not want to wait with my husband and the neighbor for the police. I mean, personal information was stolen and she begged off because she had to be at work.

Like I said, I'm not seriously traumatized.  Obviously it was dark and whatnot but you could tell they were moving fast and just looking for cash.  They actually missed a ten dollar bill in our visor because they likely never took the time to look up and around there.  They swept out all the low cubbies in the dashboard (where my wallet and the key were) and dumped the drawer under the passenger seat and the glove box, grabbed the change in the "ashtray" and that's it.  But if I'd had personal information stolen?  You better believe I'd want to talk to the cops.  It's hard to imagine that I'd be so worried about missing work that I'd ignore that kind of violation.

The other thing I question is that is this just "Shit Happens" to them?  Because "Shit Happens" to me is NOT burglary. "Shit Happens" is like, the game was rained out, or I forgot to bring my coupons to the grocery store, or the toddler crapped in her diaper 17 seconds after I changed her.  Burglary is NOT the shit I want happening around here.

flickr.com ©rick2008

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Flashback Friday

Yes, it's that time of year again.  So I thought it would be best to post a reminder about some basic skills necessary to navigate the drop-off/pick-up routine at school this year.  Read up.  Take notes.  

PULL UP!

Rules for Drop-off/Pick-up at school:

1.  Pull up.

2.  Pull ALL THE WAY up.  To the front of the line, the beginning of the cones, the end of the curb, wherever is the farthest point at which you can pull up.

3.  If your child needs more help than a few encouraging words; park your car, help your kid out and walk him/her up to the door.  Getting out of your car and running around to the other side and giving me some exasperated eye roll as if little Jimmy never needs this much help at home, does not make me feel sorry for you.  It only stokes my drop-off rage.  I know my kids well enough to know how much help they need getting in and out of a car.  Slim is called Slim for a reason, and car doors are not his specialty.  (Thank God for the automatic minivan side doors.  I used to scoff at people who had these--back when I owned a minivan that didn't even have a driver's side slider or automatic anything.  I scoffed.  Until Slim started Kindergarten.)

4.  Don't get out of your vehicle.  See above.  If you are out of your vehicle, you cannot possibly pull up.  Do not ask the drop-off/pick-up adult where your kid is.  The other day some lady (who didn't even pull all the way up!) got out of her vehicle with a note in her hand and was trying to flag down the lone adult out there, saying something about she was a friend of Joey's mom and she was supposed to pick him up.  This was wrong on SO many levels.  First of all, whoever sent her obviously didn't give her the lowdown on procedure, but that is minor considering the rest of her transgressions.  Why would you jump out of your car (one in a long line) in the middle of school dismissal and try and introduce yourself to your coworker/friend's son and the random adult supervising pick-up that day (who may or may not know Joey any better than you do)?  From the way she was trying to introduce herself to "Joey" it didn't seem he knew her very well.  Why wouldn't she go into the office and explain the situation to school staff?  Or hopefully the kid's mother had the sense to call the school and the kid had the sense to get proof before traipsing off with a stranger.  Of course this prompted a grilling session with Moo on the way home:  What would you have done if someone approached you and said that?  Would you go with them?  Would you go back into the school?.........

5.  If you think you've pulled up enough, try another car-length or two.  I'm not sure I can say it better than I did in September on my Facebook status:

Wow! Even at intermediate school people can't handle the drop-off. Here's a few clues for you: 1. Those things dangling from your kid's butt? They're called legs, and they are meant to be walked on. So, you can 2. PULL UP! In case you haven't noticed you are not the only person dropping off your child. If you pull up, several of us can let our kids out at the same time and keep the line moving. I know these are radical ideas for some of you, but change can be good. Keep an open mind. Thanks. 

I just get totally bent by people who think their kids are too good to walk a few extra steps.  Junior does not need to get out exactly in front of the doors, or exactly at the dip in the curb.  And if you think Sally shouldn't have to walk a little more to get inside, she probably needs to walk a little more.  More likely, you should park your car and walk her up because I'm sure you could use the exercise too.  (God forbid if it's raining.)  And it just seems that so many people do not understand the concept that they are not the only ones dropping their kids off.  The more you pull up, the more of us that can let our kids out and the less time this whole process takes. There is a great big world around you with other people in it.  We, too, are trying to get to work, drop off our other kid, get to the grocery store, hurry home and Facebook, etc.

6.  Follow the line.  Don't drive around anyone for obvious safety reasons.  Slim's school (the elementary) recently changed the drop-off route.  We have to drive around the little back parking lot before turning into the actual drop-off lane.  Basically it's like a giant figure eight on acid.  It really is helpful in relieving traffic on the street which was the intention in changing it, but some people can't seem to handle the change or they are just too good to wait in the line before they can peel wheels out of the lot and be on their way.  They park their cars, walk up to get their kid and then rush back to their cars and try and get out before the line backs up.  Hurry up and wait.  Makes sense to me.
(Of course the exception to this rule is at the Intermediate drop-off lane which is a huge "U" that is super wide.  Here they have a few cones arranged in a bottleneck at the inside curve to prevent assholes from jumping the line and running anyone over, but past the bottleneck you have to PULL UP [tada!] so that any cars behind you CAN go around.  Especially at pick-up, since even though you may be near the front of the line, your child may not be the first one out of the school and into your car.)

7.  PULL THE HELL UP!   Every day I marvel that we are so much closer to the end of the year and yet still so far from smoothing the wrinkles out.  At the Intermediate school (4th and 5th grades in our town) haven't most of us been doing this for five or six years now?  People spend less time than this getting college degrees and we can't master a giant left turn with traffic cones and a complete stop in the middle.


So if you haven't surmised, I have a secret desire to be the drop-off/pick-up nazi, yelling at everyone to pull up and making sure nobody pulls into the lane without driving around first.  And heaven help you if you send Grandma to pick the kids up.  You better send her in with a diagram, a map, a GPS and a copy of these rules.

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My First Baby - Ketchup With Us #24

Baby girl, so BIG.  Is it appropriate to say that I gave birth to a toddler? 

Nine pounds, two ounces.  Solid and strong.  No newborn sizes for this girl.

My best sleeper.  (Still is.)  

Snuggly baby.  

Shy little girl.

Outgoing preteen--now so tall.  

My beautiful Lovey.  My freckly Feckle. 

My first baby.  Always, my first baby.  

'KETCHUP WITH US' - PROMPT 24

In 57 words or less, tell us about a significant first day in your life … of school, work, parenthood, rehab, veganism, prison, whatever you want.

If you want to "Ketchup" with Old Dog New Tits and According to Mags click on over.  The hilarious pictures alone are worth it!  

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The Most Wonderful time of the Year....

If you just thought of the old Staples commercial with the in-your-face dad skipping through the aisles shopping for back-to-school items and the miserable kids, good job, that was exactly my intention. I'm SO ready.  I mean, I'm kinda not, but I am.  On the "why I am so ready" list?  Today:

Actually last week's list, but this one looked
much more productive.

I had big plans for today. Nothing too crazy, just wanted to get some crap DONE.  First on the list was to get to the lab early because Moo needed bloodwork and anyone worth their salt knows that your have to get there early lest you sit and wallow with the blue-hairs, waiting an eon for the pleasure of meeting the phlebotomic vampires in scrubs. The only thing about that was The Geel wasn't being particularly cooperative this morning and nothing would "shy" her up faster than being surrounded by a bunch of geriatrics smiling and wiggling their fingers trying to get her attention.  In this way, the lab did not disappoint.  But I'm getting ahead of myself....

Before the day even got that good we're at home "getting ready to go" and by that I mean, sitting around like lumps while I repeat myself ad nauseum that we need to "get going" and "get there early" and "get this over with" all the while trying to feed myself, The Geel and Slim and get some measure of coffee ingested before we go, and scrounging in my purse to make sure the lab orders were still where I shoved them three weeks ago at her pediatric endocrinologist appointment.  It was probably a good thing that Moo needed to fast for this labwork because while I'm trying to feed the rest of us, she's laying on the couch moaning that her stomach hurt.

Now I am not unsympathetic, but sometimes Moo has a flair for the dramatic.  And sometimes, she simply has symptoms of high or low blood sugar that are explainable.  This was not either of those times.  She came out of the bathroom and informed me that she needed help since she had thrown up.  I go in armed to the teeth with paper towels, bleach cleaner and the like, only to see that she (TURN AWAY, YE SQUEAMISH) horked up great gobs of mucus--likely due to a persistent post-nasal drip and her apparent inability to blow that crap down and OUT of her nose.  That cleaned up and everyone suitably dressed and shoe'd, off we go--a mere hour and a half later than my originally intended departure time.

We get there at a good time because only two people were waiting ahead of us, but it quickly filled up behind us and we still waited forever.  Plenty of time for The Geel to begin her daily epic battle with me for my cell phone.  When we are finally called up we go in the back and while one tech is tapping Moo's vein the other one asks us if anyone explained the 24 hour creatine test. Um, that would be no.

Apparently, we have to collect Moo's urine for a full 24 hours and, AND KEEP IT COLD.  Yes, that's right, refrigerate.  Yeah, so, the watermelon I just cleared space for in the fridge?  Might need to move him over and make room for that specimen container.  I don't get skeeved too easily, but I really do not want my daughter's urine taking up space next to my fresh fruit and my leftovers.  Thankfully the tech suggested that some people just set it in a bucket of ice in a cool area.  I'll take Option 2, thankyouverymuch.

Don't be jealous of this swank set-up.

"Lucky" for us we get these massive ice packs when Moo's insulin comes in the mail and I have an insulated reusable grocery bag that is ripped at the top and missing the zipper.  Won't miss that one a bit, because it definitely will NOT be going back in the reusable bag rotation after being on specimen duty.

One of the other things I wanted to accomplish today was working out.  I've been pretty dedicated this whole past week despite my haphazard attempt a couple of weeks ago.  I've been doing Focus T25 and so far so good.  Trying to stay on that wagon.  One of the things I like about it is the countdown clock on the screen. Except today my workout went something like this:

     25:00 Start

     24:34 Stop. Change Geel's diaper    

     24:11 Stop. Get Geel juice.

     23:26 Pause while The Geel crawls under me.

     21:23 Stop because something went wrong with my laptop and it skipped 10 whole minutes.

     Restart, etc, etc.

For me, T25 is really T45-50, depending on how many "breaks" I get.  How many extra calories do I burn changing diapers and making juice runs?  I may have to contact Shaun T so that he can modify the workouts properly for moms of toddlers.  

No matter what I have on my  TO DO list, I'll always have to stop and feed the animals. While I'm griddling up two grilled cheese for the girls, Slim was entertaining The Geel.  As was explained to me later, she was on a mission to destroy some lego creation of his and so he went running with it.  She chased him back to his room where he turned and attempted to shut the door so that she wouldn't see where he hid it.  Only she was faster than he anticipated because she got to the door and even got her hand on the door jamb, before he slammed the door shut and crushed her pinky in it.  Screaming from both ensued.  

I can say without a doubt that Slim was crying louder and harder than The Geel.  He was so upset that he hurt her.  I ran back, saw her little mangled finger and I almost started crying myself.  It looked much worse than it was.  She seemed to be able to bend it just fine.  Mostly it was getting swollen with bruising and the skin was torn on either side, but it didn't seem broken.  I held my baby while my big boy was wracked with sobs next to us on the couch and the "excitement" gave way to exhaustion....

You don't want to see what's under the bandage.

 ...and the grilled cheeses sandwiches were burning in the kitchen.  Thankfully Moo was able to stop the house from burning down with them, but since The Geel was asleep on me, my ability to get much of anything else done was pretty limited.  Naps all around!  I fell asleep on the couch with The Geel, Moo fell asleep on the chair and Slim was chillin' like a villain with the TV all to himself.  

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Why I DON'T workout.

See, I could have written why I CAN'T workout, but I don't want to sound like I'm carrying around 10 pounds of baby weight AND 5 pounds of excuses.  I DON'T workout because when I do, this shit happens....

I have been pretty motivated (for me, that is--everything's relative, you know) about working out lately.

• I have been inspired by Sue Diamond-Philips at Diapers or Wine?.  Mama is rockin' a hot bod after crap tons of HARD WORK and she is not shy about the before-and-afters.  I want to say "unbelievable" but they are totally not unbelievable for all the effort.  UH-mazing!  
• I also have a neighbor who is working her butt off, too.  She runs, so naturally I don't ask if I can workout with her, but she works up a sweat regularly.  She's done some runs and one of those muddy run things which is just combining two things that don't appeal to me in the least bit--getting covered with muck, and running.  No need to make room on the bucket list for that one.
• Then there's my sister-in-law who does triathalons and stuff.  She works her butt off too and I'm sure she'd give me a great kick in the ass if we lived closer than 4 hours apart.

Anyway, I keep actually WANTING to workout, but honestly haven't had time.  Any normal week has it's own challenges, but this past week was pretty cray-cray with the local fair. We're not major fair-going folk, but I had to represent at our booth for work two nights and Slim had two shifts at his Cub Scouts smoothie stand.  This made for three nights in a row of 10 pm bedtime (and my crew is usually in bed by 8) and subsequent days of lost naps by The Geel, which made the next bedtime painfully long and drug out, etc. etc. etc.  

Twilight at the fair

Anyway, was I writing about working out? Oh yeah.  So today I actually had TIME.  TIME to workout. Now of course, since I haven't done it in, well honestly probably almost or maybe more than a year, I was kinda lost.  I mean, I've been thinking about it A LOT, but I was thinking about, like, how good I could look, and how I was kinda wanting to feel that after-workout soreness I haven't felt in longer than I can remember, and about how much better my clothes will fit.  (The wardrobe is in protest.)  I hadn't actually got around to the logistics of doing it.

Fashion first, baby!

Thank goodness for Xfinity on Demand.  The Sports & Fitness section has a metric crap-ton of choices. Almost too many--I kind froze up for a few seconds before I found something quick I could start out with while Slim helped The Geel finish up lunch.  I ran back to my bedroom, threw on some almost-too-"fitted" workout pants and dialed up some fitness On Demand.  So my first choice was an 8 minute butt number.

This chick promises me that I will feel all of this tomorrow.  I was feeling it after the second rep, but I'm an overachiever like that, so....  The thing you really want to pay attention to is the little extras I threw in just to challenge myself.  First Slim comes in in half a pirate outfit that needed the belt untied.  Now if you're gonna add this step, PLEASE be sure that the belt is knotted in at least 6 (yes, 6!) places.  Otherwise, what's the point?  Oh, and be sure that your child times it perfectly so that you are in a sideways facing lunge and that you untie the last two knots in a low isometric hold while your knee is hovering millimeters from the floor and you can no longer feel your left butt cheek.  That's when you're doing it right. 

On your next move make sure your toddler yells for you incessantly from the kitchen with increasing volume and intensity, until you are no longer able to not respond.  It is certain that Slim would not let any harm come to her, but she could care less about that because I'm not in the room so everything is an emergency that requires screaming for mommy.  Be sure that when you yell at the top of your lungs to answer her that you lose track of your reps and then miss switching sides so that one side gets WAY more worked out than the other. (And I'll probably be walking with a limp tomorrow.)  And also, it really amps up your intensity, when your two-year-old is, in fact, yelling, "MOMMY, I POOPED!!!!" so timing is really critical.

After adding a jog to the kitchen to rescue the toddler and change a diaper, I decided to try a second short workout.  Why not?  Everything was going great so far.  I opted for 10-minute basic Pilates.  This is best accomplished by keeping the toddler with you in the room, because after you lose the first 40 of the Pilates 100 to correcting your toddlers's positioning (they are the best workout partners--ALWAYS challenging you) you can make up that lost sweat trying to maintain your position and your breathing while having the toddler climb all over you like a human jungle gym.  Then to top it all off, (AGAIN, the timing!) be sure that the toddler leaves the room from boredom, then returns just as you are lowering you leg in a single leg circle that clocks her in the noggin.  Then you get to end your workout, snuggling with your crying baby and apologizing for trying to fit back into your pre-baby body jeans.

Oh well. Maybe next time.

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The Laws Of Laundry

I'm no expert at a lot of things, but I've done a load of laundry or two or 1,000 in my day.  In fact, I've done no less than 7 in the last 18 hours.  And although I couldn't possibly hope to ever be finished the laundry (ever.) I have definitely learned much along the way and feel obligated to share with you my knowledge on the subject.

1. The one piece of clothing that you missed grabbing out of the hamper is the exact thing that your preteen daughter NEEDS to wear today. 

2. The moment you remember to throw a load in to wash that blouse/work shirt/pair of jeans you need, is exactly the same moment three people in your household will need to take a shower, and precisely the same moment you remember that you loaded the dishwasher and forgot to start it.

3. You can never buy too much detergent. Maybe this is just my own personal hoarding issue, but when detergent goes on sale, I stock up.  When Sharknado hits or the zombie apocalypse comes, you may have plenty of water and canned goods stowed away, but how are you going to wash those blood-stained clothes?

4. If and when it ever so happens that you "finish" all of your laundry (finished laundry--does that qualify as an oxymoron?) and by "finish" I mean the 11 seconds of peace you have when......

• all of the laundry in the laundry room is actually laundered 
• you take a breath before you start folding all of it and
• not quite enough time has passed that the hampers are full again

....that is when your toddler will smear and spill strawberries, ketchup and/or chocolate down the front of her shirt, and you will actually wish you had laundry to do.  Instead you cross your fingers and Spray n' Wash the shirt like Al Pacino in Scarface.

5. The day you come home from vacation with all of your souvenir knick-knacks, t-shirts (more laundry?) and dirty clothes is the day your washer will break.  Hopefully you won't have to wait 10 days for the repairman.  Hopefully.

6. Your washer will go wildly and loudly off balance right about the time your toddler drifts off to sleep for her 37 minute nap after 45 minutes spent reading, singing and laying down with her.

7. Never forget to check your own pockets. I am usually good at checking the kids clothes for the usual detritus that could end up going the distance in the washer and dryer, including but not limited to: jewelry, coins, Legos, rocks,  barrettes, wrappers, wads of paper, paper clips, lip balm and/or gloss (my biggest peeve), pens (usually The Sarge), keys, erasers, and money.  There may or may not have recently been a still-wrapped-but-very-bloated "emergency" maxi pad I vaguely recall stashing in my pocket the other day that, upon it's removal from the dryer, inspired this post.

And while I was writing this (for reals) The Sarge found his "lost" debit card.

I can't make this crap up.....

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A Monday Montage

Last week I turned 40.  For the past several years The Sarge and I have gone out to an expensive dinner for my birthday.  And really, that's about all we could have managed the last two years anyway, with a clingy infant on our hands.

This year I wanted to do something a little different and so we made plans to go to New York City with some good friends, bum around the Lower East Side and get dinner and drinks. It was a ton of fun and a success on other levels as well (childcare, to name one.)

A gorgeous day in the city.  A view from The New Museum.

Views from the streets.

          

This place.  Like a walk down memory lane, and a place to buy a new favorite t-shirt.

The downside.

Despite the blisters (there was a matching one on the other pinky toe), I am already thinking about next year.  Happy Birthday to me!

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