Sandwich

Look, Mom! Daddy and Megan are the bread and I am the meat! It's a Jake Sandwich!

Our little starfish

Megan finished up a session of swimming lessons and has really done great. According to Megan, yesterday's class was her "gradulations".

Our little soccer star

Jake has just finished up his soccer season and what a season he had! He scored a goal in his first game back in September, a goal here and there throughout the next few weeks and he finished up the season with a bang! 2 goals ("ALL the goals for my team!") in his game on Tuesday and 1 goal in his final game, last night. After his spectacular performance on Tuesday, I brought the camera on Thursday in an attempt to capture his greatness on film and he did not disappoint! Jake is #6:

His teammate, Brandon, went on to score the next two goals and after each goal, Jake told him "Brandon, I was open. You should have passed it to me so I could have scored the goal". I guess they don't learn the whole There's-no-I-in-team thing until next year!

A few more pictures:

36

Yes...I am 36 years old. But that's not what I'm talking about.

36 pairs of jeans. That is how many pairs of jeans I tried on today in my quest to find a pair of jeans that is both comfy and doesn't make me look like a total slob. I started in the misses department of a department store and tried on about 10 pairs from there. Nope...not one that was right. Most were just too long and I've never come across a tailor who can alter jeans without them coming out dorky. Some were just too matronly. Why don't jean manufacturers (or at least one's that make affordable jeans for regular people like me) make stylish jeans for people my age that don't have the words "tummy control" on the label. I want to be comfortable in my jeans....not have my mid-section wrapped in industrial strength spandex.

So off I went to the juniors department. First question - are there really people that wear size 0, long? Who the heck are these ridiculously skinny people with legs the length of your average giraffe? Oh - they are 12 year olds that haven't "filled out" yet. But still. Size 0? That's just wrong. Needless to say, I was not successful here, either, despite trying on 8 more pairs of jeans. So I was off to the next store.

9 more pairs later, I was still no closer to finding some that I liked. Too long, too tight, too flared (really - on a short girl, flared legs are just goofy looking!), fit the thighs but way too big on the waist, or fit the waist and way too tight on the thighs. Second question - why don't women's jeans come sized like men's jeans ... waist and length? That would make things so much easier! A pair with a 28 inch waist would have just that! None of the quesswork about what size of what brand will fit. And some brands' "short" are too short, but the "average" are too long, so an inseam measurement sure would make things easy!

So off to the third store I went, feeling a bit discouraged, but still determined to find something worth buying. I grabbed just about every style in my size and off to the super fabulous dressing room I went. On pair number 9 at this store, I finally struck gold! I pulled them on, zipped and buttoned without sucking it in, and checked myself in the mirror. They looked like they were made for me! Just the right length, not too tight anywhere, and a little bit of spandex to make everything more comfy. YEEEHAAAAA! After dumping the ridiculously large pile of discards at the fitting room entrance (I felt a little guilty about this, but I only had 15 more minutes before I had to go pick up Megan. I had been trying jeans on for 2 hours!), I noticed a sign that advertised a 15% discount for all military ID holders. BONUS! So off I go to the register, hand over my jeans and present my military ID and am promptly informed "the discount don't apply to jeans" (nice grammar, babe) to which I replied "well that is just asinine" and the lady looked at me with horror in her eyes. I guess she didn't know that word and probably thought I had just called her an ass. I no longer felt guilty for leaving the pile of discarded jeans in the fitting room!

Next on my to-do list: look up the customer service number for the store where I bought my great jeans, and tell them their so-called military discount rules are asinine.

You know it's gonna be a long day when....

1) your three year old - who normally sleeps until 8 - wakes up at 6:15

2) same three year old begins whining immediately upon waking

3) the lame-os at the school system call for a one hour delay for FOG that was gone by 6:45

4) five year old spends extra hour at home bouncing off the walls and winding up the dog

5) three year old resumes tantrum from previous night over drinking 3 whole ounces of non-chocolate milk and carries on for 90 minutes (hmmmm...imagine if she had just slept until her normal time?)

UGH.

Luckily, the rest of the day has gone fairly smoothly. So far.

NOT an invitation

Why is it that complete strangers see my Alaska license plate and take it as an invitation to tell me their political views, their opinions on Sarah Palin and then ask me mine? Two people stopped me in two different parking lots today after seeing the Alaska plates. One of them even went on and on about how horrible Obama is. The other was more polite about things, but still....

I hate politics. I never discuss them with anyone, except maybe Eric. And even we don't agree all the time. So why would I want to discuss politics with complete strangers? And why did these strangers assume that since I once lived in Alaska I must me a Palin supporter? (Never mind the fact that she was elected AFTER I left Alaska) Didn't their mothers teach them never to assume ("it makes an ass out of u and me") anything? Whether the assumptions are true or not is not important. People need to learn some manners.

Hey - and isn't there some saying about not discussing politics or religion? What is that saying? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Note to self:

Don't use the word EXPLODE when talking about your soda bottle spraying soda all over the kitchen. It will make your 3 year old daughter afraid of diet coke.

P.S. Also...stop letting children watch TV shows with explosions.

It's Official

It's official. I have turned into my father. Not my mother (although there are many things that I have -- ehem -- learned from her that I never thought I would do, say, or think...but that is a whole 'nother post!), but my father.

I distinctly remember a time when I was about 8 or 9 and my sisters and I were playing outside while my father did some yardwork or something and a teenager, driving a beat up old car of some kind, went tearing down my street. I looked at my dad and I swear I saw steam coming out of his ears. The kid must have driven by our house again and somehow my dad got him to stop to share a few words. My dad was fuming...a few bad words may have been said (nah...not my dad!)...bodily harm or legal action may have been threatened...and the kid finally drove off - very slowly - quaking in his boots. I couldn't understand why my dad got so mad at this kid. After all, isn't that what teenagers are supposed to do? Drive fast and try to look cool?

I understand now.

This afternoon, Megan and I took off on our bikes in search of Jake who was not answering my call over the walkie-talkie. During our ride, I noticed a white SUV driving VERY fast down the neighborhood street and running a stop sign. The driver pulled into a driveway, got out and disappeared into the house. After locating Jake, I noticed Mr. McSpeedalot pulling out of the driveway. I parked Megan on the sidewalk, told her not to move, and raced into the middle of the street to flag the little bugger down. He actually stopped instead of running me over and I gave him more than a piece of my mind. I ripped him a new one. I really let him have it. I was FURIOUS! And then I called him an idiot (seriously, I called him an idiot...and I only one bad word came flying out of my mouth...and it isn't such a bad word anymore...they say it on TV all the time). I memorized his license plate as he slowly drove off. I don't think he was exactly quaking in his boots (my father, at 6'3", is a tad bit more imposing than me at 5'2"), but I'm quite sure he got the message...even if he was wondering where the heck the crazed lady came from!

So you see....I have become my dad. There sure are worse people I could become. So thanks, Dad, for loving me and my sisters enough to scream at an irresponsible teenage driver that could have brought us harm.

So how have YOU turned into your mom or dad? Or what have you recently done or said that, as a kid, you NEVER thought would happen?

Slacker - *Updated with photos*

OK...OK...OK...here I am writing something. I hadn't given up on this here blog. I just didn't have anything exciting or interesting to write about. Still don't, really, but I'll give it a whirl.

Germophobes Beware!
Anyone who knows me knows that I am a bit of a germophobe. I carry Purell with me in my purse. I have a bottle in the car. And one in my gym bag. Anyway. While getting Megan ready for her swimming lesson the other day we observed another young girl (maybe 4? or 5?) walking toward the toilets with the top of her bathing suit on and the bottoms in her hand. After using the toilet - are you ready for this? - she sat down, bare-assed, on the slimy, wet, hair-infested, dirty tile floor to pull her bathing suit bottoms on. And then I puked. Not really. But I sure felt like I was going to. I'm not sure what is the grosser part of this story: the germs from the floor getting all over the girl's parts...or the germs from the girl's parts getting all over the floor where they will flourish and fester in the warm, wet environment of the lovely locker room. Bleck...Yuck....Ewwww...Ick...and every other sound you can make when something is disgusting.

On a much less gross note, Eric, the kids and I went up to Norfolk on Sunday to see one of our favorite bands ever, Eddie From Ohio (or EFO), play at an acoustic music festival. Both Eric and I play their songs in the car with the kids and we've even downloaded some of their songs on to the kids' iPod, so the kids were familiar with the music. It was a great show. We hadn't seen them in years and they managed to play the kids' two favorite songs, "Hey Little Man" and "Fly". If you aren't familiar with EFO you should get to know them. They are great. Check out their website: http://www.efohio.com/. You can also find them on iTunes and listen to some clips! I have some pictures on my camera...but putting them here requires ...yadda, yadda, yadda....here they are:

...waiting for EFO to start playing

more goofing off before the show

Eddie From Ohio

"no, mom, I will NOT dance....cheeeese"