Random Holiday

Every year I swear that I will NOT find a reason to go to the store on December 24th. And every year it seems I end up at the store. This year it was Walmart.

We needed sprinkles and frosting for Santa's cookies. Because it wouldn't be good enough to leave Santa brownies. Made with the brownie mix that was ALREADY in my pantry. No siree. Santa had to have Christmas cookies. Meaning we had to go to Walmart.

Did I mention that we also needed to hit the photo department to print some pics for Diva Nana & Diva Papa's Christmas gift?

While I braved the retail world on Christmas Eve, I did manage to avoid it today until after church. The Tweenager got a couple of gift cards for Christmas and they were burning a hole in his pocket. It wasn't horrible, as all of the bargain-hunters were presumably home sleeping after hitting the stores at oh-dawn-thirty.

For our Christmas Eve dinner, we had homemade tamales and pulled barbecue chicken sandwiches. We had leftovers for Christmas dinner. I'm making a more traditional Christmas dinner tomorrow night. Diva Nana & Diva Papa are coming for a visit. I was very excited to find Butterball Turkeys on sale earlier this week at Target for 50 cents a pound. SCORE!

I'm glad DN & DP are coming for a visit. We missed being together for Christmas this year. Mom commented that it was the first Christmas since she and my dad got married that they weren't with family.

Did I mention they celebrated their FORTY-SECOND wedding anniversary on the 21st?

The boys seemed really happy with their Christmas gifts. DH was so thoughtful in his gift giving to me. I got a gift card to buy books for my Kindle and a big digital picture frame for my office. He loaded it with dozens of pictures from throughout the years.

We'll do gifts again tomorrow with the Grands. My favorite gift, though, is coming at the end of the week. My brother and his family, who have lived in Texas for almost ten years, are moving to the Windy City this week. They'll be living in a suburb not terribly far from us, and I'm so looking forward to having The Lawyer, Diva SIL, Tex, Sir Falls-A-Lot and The Bean close by!

I managed to get a decent picture of the three boys this Christmas. If I'd gotten around to sending Christmas cards, they would've had this on it. Hope you all had a very Merry Merry!

Unspeakable Joy!

Merry Christmas!

If Only In My Dreams

"I'm dreaming tonight

of a place I love
even more than I usually do
and although I know
it's a long road back
I promise you..."

Family has always been important to me. Growing up as an Air Force brat, we rarely lived near family. Driving 300 miles or more for the holidays was commonplace.

As I've grown older, I've come to value my family relationships more and more. I understand what my parent sacrificed to make sure that we knew our extended family and spent as much time with them as possible.

"I'll be home for Christmas.
You can count on me."

If you've been around here for a while, you know of my enormous respect for the men and women in uniform and their families. All of them sacrifice so much to help protect the gift of our freedoms. Families who "keep the home fires burning" while their loved ones are deployed, either domestically or internationally, hold a special place in my heart, because my mom had to do just that. While my dad never had to fight in a war, he served two remote deployments, each for a year, where he had to be away from us. He served several smaller temporary duty assignments through the years as well.

"Please have snow and mistletoe
and presents under the tree."

It's never easy to be away from family, but the holidays are exceptionally difficult. Whether the loved ones are serving across the country or halfway around the world, it's hard to be merry when someone is missing. E-mail, Skype and cell phones can help, but nothing takes the place of a real-time hug.

"Christmas Eve will find me
where the love light gleams."

So if you are of the belief that has you celebrating this season, hold your loved ones a little closer. Hug them a little tighter.

And if your loved ones are serving our country and can't share the holidays with you, know that many hearts are with you.

"I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams."

Merry Grinch-mas!

I love Christmas. I love the REAL meaning of Christmas. I love finding the perfect gifts for friends and family. I love Christmas decorations and Christmas music.

Now that I've made that clear, I'm hoping that you'll indulge my inner Grinch for just a moment.


I really don't like the Christmas song "Blue Christmas". Strongly dislike. Despise. Hate. Abhor.

I mean, really. Why in the world would someone take what is arguably the most joyous time of the year and write a song about being sad? And why in the world does Sirius XM feel the need to play it so.freaking.often?

When I was seven, my dad was away for a year in Alaska. An active duty Air Force man, he was given a remote duty assignment and couldn't take us along. My mom, brother and I moved to the small town where my grandparents lived. Being 1976/77, Skype didn't exist. Nor did e-mail or cell phones. Needless to say, we missed my dad a LOT. My memories of that year are fading, but I do remember a popular Christmas song that year.

I hated it then because my Dad wouldn't be home for Christmas. I wonder how many military families feel the same way now.

On a related topic, I took The Manimal and Little Darth with me grocery shopping last week. Little Darth is pretty much attached to my...well, you get the idea, and in a moment of insanity out of the kindness of my heart I offered to take The Manimal with me so Diva Husband could fix our non-functioning toilet have a few hours of peace and quiet.

After one minor Christmas gift related meltdown in Aldi (during which I may have, for the thirty-seven-eleventh time, used the Santa threat), we headed to the Evil Empire. Among other things, I had to pick up some gift bags for teacher gifts. I was planning to avoid the t-o-y aisle altogether, not wanting to have to take the name of the Big Elf in vain again. Quick and easy, we picked up what we needed and headed to the Christmas wrap and decorations in the Seasonal section of the store. For the record, this is on an opposite end of the store from the t-o-y section.

A few fa-la-la's later, and we were there. And what to my wondering eyes should appear right next to the gift bags?! Three, count them THREE aisles of T-O-Y-S. In seasonal. Really?! I'd love to say I was able to grab the gift bags and go, but noooooo. Another meltdown discussion ensued about why we would not be buying ANY t-o-y-s before Christmas, and if he didn't behave, I would have to contact the birthday fairy (not really, but you get the idea) about a certain little boy with a January birthday...

I was seriously ready to send a nasty-gram to the President of the Evil Empire begging him to NOT put T-O-Y sections throughout the store.

I settled for a glass of wine as a reward for surviving my outing with The Manimal.

Maybe I'll boycott all brick & mortar stores and become a complete hermit, doing ALL of my shopping online. At least then I could have a glass of wine WHILE I shop.

Here Comes Santa Claus

I love giving Christmas gifts. I love finding the "perfect" gift for someone, and the creativity of putting the gifts together. I think that's why I've participated in the Secret Santa Soiree for the past three years. Georgie always does such an amazing job administering the process and I've had a blast with it.

This year was no exception.

She organized it a bit differently this year. Instead of blogging about what we RECEIVED, this year we were to blog about what we GAVE. How fun! I hope my recipient enjoys what I chose for her! She should be getting it by Tuesday, if "neither rain, nor sleet, nor SNOW, nor dead of night..." well, you get the idea!

Like me, she's a lover of pink, so I decided to make pink the holiday color this year!


She's up in the northwest, so I'm sure she'll be needing so warm winter gloves, in lovely pink and white!


After a day in the cold, she'll love a hot shower with some vanilla shower gel and pink bath scrubbies!


After relaxing in the shower, who couldn't use a little chocolate pick-me-up. In this case, her fave is chocolate and peanut butter...M & M's to be specific!


When decorating for Christmas, everyone needs a little angel watching over her!


And finally, since we're so close to turning the last page on the calendar, I thought she'd like to ring in 2011 with a new year calendar!

Hope she enjoys my gift as much as I enjoyed putting it together! Thanks to Georgie for putting together another festive and fabulous Secret Santa Soiree! :)

The Road to...

Greetings from the Diva Household where Things 1, 2, and 3 (with a little help from Princess the Wonder Dog) have turned our normally semi-chaotic home into complete, utter madness.

While we were all still adjusting to the arrival of Little Darth (uhm, yeah, back in OCTOBER), the holidays decided to creep up on us and land firmly in our home, trampling our precious routines to bits.

I had every intention of blogging daily weekly semi-regularly while on my leisurely maternity leave. As you can tell by my PLETHORA of postings since October 1st, when Little Darth arrived, I have FAILED miserably at that!

I had every intention of organizing my closet while on my leisurely maternity leave. I am SO not showing you pictures of my closet. Let's just call that a big fat FAIL as well. The good news, however, for when I actually get around to doing that particular task, is that I've lost all of my baby weight and am down 10+ pounds from my pre-baby weight, which means I'll be ditching quite a bit of clothing weight as well. Woo-hoo!

I had every intention of taking lots of pictures of Little Darth and his big brothers while on my leisurely maternity leave. You know that theory about having progressively fewer pictures of the children as your family grows. True statement, that. And the whole taking more pics thing? FAIL. So much so that Diva Nana asked if she was EVER going to get a new picture of Little Darth.

So this mass chaos in the Diva Household? I'm blaming it on the big plans I had for my leisurely maternity leave. As the saying goes, "The road to you-know-where is paved with good intentions."

My advice for all of you new moms and soon-to-be new moms? Make no plans, large or small for your "leisurely maternity leave". Just watch your kiddo(s) grow, and enjoy the quiet.

Hopefully your road will end in a far less chaotic place! :)

My Three Sons

Well, it's an announcement that is two weeks overdue, but since Mr. Baby graced us with his presence a few days early (albeit with a bit of encouragement), I suppose I'm okay with the ANNOUNCEMENT being overdue instead of the baby! :)

Yes, it's true, I'm now outnumbered four to one in the Diva Household. Well, if you count Princess the Wonder Dog, I suppose it's only four to two, but as a former charge from my babysitting days commented, "We had her fixed and now we're not sure if she's a boy or a girl".

In light of my "advanced maternal age", my doctor recommended an induction a few days before my due date, so Mr. Baby made his appearance on 10/1/10. Pretty cool, huh? The brothers met for the first time on the 2nd.


The Tweenager is taking a very grown-up approach to his new baby brother. He's a huge help, being a very mature ten years old, and he loves holding Mr. Baby as long as he doesn't have to change diapers or deal with crying.


The Manimal feels the same way about crying babies, but he has been amazingly wonderful with his new "big brother" status. As an additional bonus, he's not called Mr. Baby "Darth Vader" even once!

Wait. Do you know about Darth Vader? I can't remember if I shared our naming dilemma with my bloggy friends. A few months ago, The Manimal, having a SERIOUS Star Wars obsession, decided that our baby should bear the name "Darth Vader". A few weeks before the birth, he even decided on middle names, and Mr. Baby was christened "Darth Vader Clonetrooper Stormtrooper Divalastname". He wouldn't even DISCUSS the name we'd chosen, simply dismissing us with a "I don't want to talk about that name, Mommy".

At any rate, our big/little brother seems to have forgotten that he ever wanted to name the little guy for the Dark Lord (AmenandthankyouJesus). The name may make a reappearance as Mr. Baby's blog moniker, but we'll see.

The force did seem to be with our little man, as he exhibited incredible head control only 36 hours after his birth.


I'm fortunate to be able to take maternity leave from my job until after Christmas. I'm fairly certain it's going to take me that long to get used to having three children: The Tweenager, The Manimal and Little Darth.

Hopefully the force will be with me!

Music Monday: I Will Survive

Yeah, just when you think things can't get any crazier, they usually do. :) Nothing big to report in the Diva Household, just trying to wrap up my work world so I can go on maternity leave with a clear conscience and trying (with my wonderful DH doing most of the home work) to prepare our house for the impending arrival of Mr. Baby.

I'm always amazed how such a small little creature can create so much havoc without even being present in the world yet!

After three weeks of "nothing yet" from the doctor, I spent the weekend squirming and waddling through contractions and backache pain, which leads me to believe that tomorrow's doctor's appointment will be different.

Of course, as I reminded DH, at this stage, I could have contractions for a week or two with no visible (or invisible, as the case may be) progress.

The Manimal has FINALLY relented (sort of) in his quest to name Mr. Baby "Darth Vader". More accurately, he wants to call him "Darth Vader Clonetrooper Stormtrooper DivaLastName".

He's nothing if not persistent. He "earned" a new Storm Trooper helmet by (FINALLY) sleeping in his own bed. Then he requested that I call him "Rex" (the name of the Storm Trooper in question). When I explained that Rex wasn't his name, he said "just call me that, Mommy." To which I replied that he could "just call" the baby Darth Vader, but Mommy & Daddy would call him by his given name. After a brief pause, he ACTUALLY agreed to that.

Then he said "But I don't want to hear anything more about that other name."

The Tweenager is probably ready for the Mr. Baby, but, being ten, he's too cool to really talk about it. Plus, he's ten.

Did I mention he's ten? Really, if I would've known that my sweet nine year-old would've turned into a moody, attitude-driven pre-teen, I'd've requested a skip right to 18.

Which would likely bring its own problems, I know.

Which brings me to today's Music Monday. Love the song and the video cracks me up every.freaking.time I see it.

Music Monday: In Memory

I've been feeling a bit sentimental lately. It could be attributed to any number of recent occurrences or events in my life...pending arrival of Mr. Baby, celebrating the 12th anniversary of my 29th birthday, my many friends who have lost loved ones recently, who knows?

At any rate, it seems that I've been more and more appreciative of life and those who have played an important role in my own.

Last Thursday, George Parks died unexpectedly.

To the general populace, that name probably doesn't jog any memories. But for those of us who actually have a personal story to tell that begins with the phrase "One time, at band camp...", that name may immediately bring forth emotions and memories of years gone by.

George Parks was the band director for the UMass Marching Minutemen, and a Professor of Music at UMass Amherst, teaching tuba and conducting. He was known across the marching band world for his drum major academy, teaching thousands of young people throughout the years.

I was in marching band throughout high school and for two years in college. I have an undergraduate degree in Music Education. "When I grew up" I wanted to be a high school band director, and for five years in the 1990's (seemingly a lifetime ago), I was just that.

I never met George Parks in person. George Parks never encountered me at a Drum Major Academy, in the UMass Band or in a class at UMass. My only experience, other than his textbook or stories from others, was seeing him in action a few times at his Drum Major Academy at the BOA Summer Symposium at Illinois State University.

He was amazing. The type of educator that is so in-tune with and adept in his chosen field, that a willing student learns by simply observing the master.

His passing brought forth not only fond, sweet memories of my musical history, but of mentors past. Those who have had a significant impact on my life, whether they realize it or not. Those men and women who, in casting their influence to the world, set in motion ripples that, to this day, far outside of my original involvement with them, impact who I am and what I do.

One of those mentors (whom so many others hold dear as well) once said "If you have had five people in your life who you can say have truly made a difference, you are blessed."

Some of my mentors are still around, doing what they do. Teaching others, leading by example.

Walking the walk, not just talking the talk.

Some are aware of the impact they had on my life. Some may never be aware.

Some have gone from this world, too soon, or in the right time. No longer with us here, but living in my heart and mind and everyday life.

One thing that all mentors have in common is their commitment to excellence, striving for success, and doing things THEIR way.

So to Tim, Mallory, Rita, Gary, Jeff...thanks for being in my five. Whether you know it or not, you made a difference.

And to George, you taught countless young people (and their teachers) about music, excellence, leadership, and pride.

Thanks for doing it "your way".

State of Confusion

It's no secret to any woman who's been pregnant that babies steal your brain.

Yes, it's true. I don't care what Discovery Health says, with ALL THREE of my pregnancies, I've been "dumbed down". I forget things, process thoughts way more slowly, the whole nine yards.

Unfortunately, in my experience, it often takes up to a year AFTER the baby comes to regain full mental capacity. I also figure there's some sort of direct correlation between the number of children a woman has and the number of brain cells lost to "baby brain".

As crazy as baby brain makes me, though, I do know that I've not completely lost my common sense.

One of the (many) things we had to replace for Mr. Baby was his crib mattress. While we hadn't yet gotten rid of the crib itself (AmenandthankyouJesus!), the mattress was reincarnated as a bed for Princess the Wonder Dog, and, while I'm all about recycling, there's just no way that it was going back into the crib.

So I went online to one of my new favorite shopping sites, Amazon.com. Yeah, yeah, yeah, so I'm late to the party. I've had baby brain for the past nine months.

Anyway, I discovered that there are about as many different types of crib mattresses as there are babies. And while I love my children, and want the best I can afford for them, I'm pretty confident that Mr. Baby doesn't need a $299.00 crib mattress.

So off to Walmart.com for me. Now, I'm not a big fan of the Evil Empire, but sadly, for us frugal moms, it works. I found a lovely, highly rated Kolcraft brand crib mattress for a mere $36 in their "Site to Store" program. I called my local Walmart to see if they had that particular model in stock. The associate was gone for a minute to check.

WM Associate: "Yes ma'am, we have that model in stock. It's $57."

Me: "FIFTY SEVEN DOLLARS?! For that model?"

WMA: "Yes ma'am."

Me: "Uhm...it's available on the Walmart.com website for $36. That's a $21 difference!"

WMA: "Yes ma'am. I understand that some things are priced differently on the website."

I don't know if you've used the Site to Store feature of Walmart.com, but it's pretty simple. You place your order and pay for it online, and they ship it directly to the store at no additional charge. We've purchased a few things through the site, and while we've noticed the occasional minor price difference, we've never purchased anything that is marked up more than 50%.

Here are the options as my baby-affected brain worked it out:

a) I can walk into Walmart today and pay $57 plus tax for the mattress.
b) I can order the mattress through Site to Store, pay $36 plus tax, and they will ship the mattress from the warehouse (even though they have them in-stock). In 1-2 weeks, pick it up at the store.
c) I can order the mattress through Site to Store, pay $36 plus tax, plus $3.97 shipping (all STILL $17 cheaper than option a), and they will deliver it TO MY DOOR in 1 week.

Can you guess which one I chose?

I realize that we, as a society, are more into immediate gratification than thinking through things and saving money, but I'm really confused as to the price difference in this situation.

And that's not my baby brain talking!

Random Dancing!

If you're the parent of a tweenager (or in my case The Tweenager), it's likely you'll know exactly WHO does random dancing. This post doesn't really have anything to do with her, but it was the first thing that popped into my head when I thought of creating a random blog post.

So here they are, in random order, the random thoughts that have been dancing through my head lately.

• Mr. Baby is perfectly content to stay where he is. Since his lease isn't technically up for another three weeks, that's just fine with me. I would, however, prefer if he would stop trying to dislocate my ribs.

• I'm pretty sure that if moms were in charge of the school district budget, we wouldn't have nearly the financial woes we do now.

• I'm fairly certain if The Tweenager was a girl, I'd've killed him by now.

• I clearly was mistaken when I assumed that boys don't develop "the attitude" as early as girls do.

• Diva Nana & Diva Papa are on a fabulous road trip with my globetrotting Diva Godmother. They were recently in NY State and stopped at Ft. Ticonderoga. I asked if they were bringing us back some pencils. They didn't get it.

• Diva Nana is very concerned that Mr. Baby might make his appearance early, ie: before they return. She was happy to hear my first random thought.

• The Manimal is quite taken by the small stash of teeny-tiny diapers that we have. He had to try one on for size, even though it would barely cover one of his preschool-sized butt cheeks. He was a bit upset when I told him that the baby could no longer use that diaper since the tape closure was torn from its side and attached somewhere else on the diaper.

• I just used the phrase "butt cheek" in my blog. I'm pretty sure it's the first time I ever used such a phrase, and the fact that it tickles me a bit only reinforces my "Oh Lord help me" thought that in less than a month I'll be the mother of THREE BOY CHILDREN.

And now, just in case you're not the parent of a tweenager and are still wondering about the title, I leave you with this:

Six Word Saturday

My return to Six Word Saturday comes on a day where few words are needed.

We remember the innocent souls and heroes .

Go to Show My Face for more SWS entries.

What we have here is a...

Our school district has an automatic notification system. It's one of those dealios where you provide every possible means of contact, and when the district wants to send information home or make some sort of emergency announcement, you'll receive fifty seven eleven hundred thousand auto-messages from the school district.

I really don't mind it. I just have to remember to provide only one or two lines of communication instead of every single phone number and email address I have.

But that's not the failure in this line of communication.

This morning at oh-dawn-thirty, we received an auto-message from the school robot voice system that said there would be no district transportation (in my day we called those "school buses") today due to an oil pipeline leak at the transportation center ("bus garage"). I didn't think too much about it, since The Tweenager rides his bike to school.

I didn't think too much of it, but you should remember this first message, as it plays prominently in the story.

About fifteen minutes after he left on said bike, he returned home and I received this (non-automated) phone call from Diva Husband.

DH: The Tweenager's home.
Me: Why?
DH: Apparently a "suspicious package" was found in the school parking lot and they sent all the kids home while the police investigate.

Uhm. Okay. Good to know that they're doing their jobs. Then I received another phone call, this time from auto-message. It confirmed what DH had told me, said that school would be cancelled for the day while the matter was investigated, and to please come get your children.

Later I heard again from DH that there was apparently a similar package found at another elementary school in our district. It was a canister duct taped to a light post, just like the one at our school, and the police were handling this as well, but a prankster was suspected.

I have to say that our district handled things VERY well. They were advised by the police and village officials to proceed with "highest caution", particularly in light of tomorrow's 9/11 anniversary. Children and school staffs were removed immediately to safe locations and parents were notified in an extremely timely manner.

Again, clearly not the failure.

The failure was discovered around 3 pm when I received ANOTHER auto-message. Apparently a total of five schools in our district found the mystery canisters taped to light poles in parking lots.

Five.

All placed by the Environmental Protection Agency to measure air quality at the schools due to...

Do you remember that first phone call?

...the early morning leak in the oil pipeline at the transportation center.

And here's the failure, folks. That wonderful governmental agency placed these unknown canisters on the grounds of FIVE schools in the district and neglected to notify a single village official, school district official, law enforcement officer or fire protection district.

School District Communication System: A
Environmental Protection Agency: F

FAIL!

Words to Live By

Two incidents have recently caught the eyes of the nation. Both are related to the upcoming anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. Both are completely permissible and legal. Initiators of both events are well within their rights to move forward with their plans.

And personally, I don't think either should take place.

I am, of course, talking about the proposed mosque/Muslim Community Center near Ground Zero and the Quran Burning planned by Terry Jones, a Christian pastor in Florida. Both have met with significant opposition, as well as support.

I find it interesting that both events share the common ground of 9/11. Both organizers have publicly decried the events of 9/11. Both are proposing events that, while legal in the strictest sense of the word, are causing great controversy among Americans. On the surface, it would seem that they would be on the "same side", so to speak.

And honestly, that's really what it comes down to. The fact that one wants to build a religious/community structure and one wants to burn holy books from that same religion is really irrelevant.

Both are legal.

But with such an emotionally charged event looming large in the background of both, organizers should pause before pursuing either project.

And while great historical thinkers and doers have not necessarily been stopped by public opinion or emotion, they have certainly considered it.

And perhaps remembered two things:

Just because you CAN, doesn't mean you SHOULD.

Being LEGAL doesn't make something RIGHT.

Works for Me Wednesday

They seem like such a normal, simple thing to me. Some even taste better the second time around. But apparently not everyone grew up with them. When we were first married, Diva Husband really didn't want anything to do with them.

Fortunately, he came to his senses when he realized that I have a problem "cooking for two".

Yes, my friends, I'm talking about LEFTOVERS.

Those delicious morsels that are, well, left over after the meal's done. The ones that make great lunches the next day, or if you're really lucky, dinner later in the week.

Now that we have human garbage disposals 2 boys and one on the way, I often cook so I have intentional leftovers. It's just as easy to cook twice as many chicken breasts as I need for a meal, then use the leftovers for chicken tacos the next night.

Of course that's assuming my oldest garbage disposal The Tweenager doesn't get hungry after dinner.

Intentional leftovers. It's what Works for Me!

For more WFMW posts, go see Kristen at We Are THAT Family.

The Early Bird

After two children, it shouldn't surprise me, and yet somehow, it does.

I don't like to do housework. I'm not a very good housekeeper. My Diva Grandma used to have a sign in her house that pretty much summed things up.

"My house is clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy."

I don't like to do laundry, primarily because it seems like it NEVER FREAKING ENDS. Just when I think I've conquered Mt. Laundry, I realize that my family is still clothed, meaning there's STILL laundry to be done.

I despise doing dishes for much the same reason as laundry, but I think that hatred is more deep-seeded, going back to my childhood, as it was my job growing up. I had a tendency to rush through my job and, well, let's just say that I didn't always get ALL of the food off the dishes. My punishment, which I remember having to do only twice, was to wash ALL of the dishes in the cupboard.

All of them.

In one sitting. Or standing, as it were.

But I digress.

One of the known side effects of late pregnancy is the nesting instinct. At 36 weeks, I shouldn't be surprised by my recent burning desires to wash all of those tiny clothes and seemingly endless supply of burp cloths.

And yet, much like this pregnancy itself, it was an enormous surprise when I spent the better part of an afternoon this past weekend doing just that. I went through all of The Manimal's clothes, packing away what no longer fit him, and organizing and arranging his closet and dresser in order to make room for the array of tiny things.

And then I cleaned the powder room downstairs.

And conquered Mt. Laundry and Mt. Dishes.

And cleaned the kitchen sink.

And made brownies.

And marinated steak.

And then sat down and explained to my family that, while this behavior might please them immensely, it was, most emphatically, a temporary, 36 weeks pregnant, situation.

Men (and Women) at Work (or not)

Labor Day has become one of those holidays that nobody really understands. Frankly, I don't think I was ever really TAUGHT the origins or history of the holiday. For most Americans, it's simply become a date that marks the symbolic end of summer, the time to close up summer homes, close down swimming pools, and pack the white shoes away for the winter.

I guess it's good that we have a long weekend to allow us to do all that, even though for those of us in the midwest, we're as likely to have an 85 degree day throughout September as we are to have 60 and 70 degree days.

Kids get a day off school, parents get a day off work. The federal government shuts down and the US Postal Service doesn't deliver or pick up mail.

I suppose if I'd grown up in a union family, I may have a better appreciation for the meaning of the holiday, but then again, who knows.

Clearly they're still not teaching kids the reason for the school holiday.

Yesterday The Tweenager asked if he had to empty the dishwasher on Monday, since it was Labor Day and nobody had to work.

Diva Nana told him "Sure! But then your mom doesn't have to work at all either. No cooking, no laundry, no cleaning."

I think I'd like a Labor Day like that.

The REAL Reason That Men Want Boy Children...

It has nothing to do with carrying on the legacy of the name and everything to do with the toys.

Yes, the toys.

When The Tweenager was born, Diva Husband was rightfully proud. He created custom cigar wrappers with the little man's picture on them. He bought the child a Fisher Price Power Wheels truck before the kid was even old enough to sit up on his own.

When we welcomed The Manimal, I have to admit, I was hoping for a girl. You know, the classic boy and girl family. The Tweenager would have a little sister to torture protect, and she would have a big brother to admire.

All was well, though, and having two boys turned out to be economically sound. With just over five years between them, bikes and toys were handed down with little wear. Now, looking at life with three boys (in just a little more than a month, if all goes as expected), I've come to realize that I will actually be the mother of FOUR boys.

The fact that I'm actually MARRIED to one of them is irrelevant.

This is the Power Wheels truck that was handed down from Big Brother to Little Brother (as driven by Little Brother, aka The Manimal).

I feel compelled to point out that this was LAST summer, and technically it's Power Wheels, Version 1.2 (AFTER the DH modified the engine and added a turbo setting).



Yes. He modified the engine. Of a Power Wheels truck

Apparently this is not an uncommon thing for big boys dads to do, as there is an entire website devoted to modifying the Power Wheels Vehicles. My DH discovered this site, and now? The red Silverado Power Wheels that served both The Tweenager and The Manimal so well?

Is now a Custom Police Interceptor. With real police stickers, flashing lights and a siren (none of which, sadly, are visible or audible in this video).



Of course the boys love the fact that their dad is not only a big kid at heart, but is pretty daggone handy.

And DH is fairly giddy with the knowledge that he can continue unashamedly playing with toys for one more child.

Dear Various News (and So-Called News) Outlets,

Tiger Woods was an amazing golfer (and still is, if you're the average hit-the-links-on-Sundays or don't-really-know-anything-about-the-sport kind of golfer). Bottom line, though, is that he's a celebrity and has about as much in common with your average readers/viewers as the Queen of England does with an Aboriginal tribesman living somewhere in Australia.

I care about Tiger's (finally) finalized divorce about as much as I care about...about...

Well, I guess I really just don't care. This is not news. Please stop pretending it is.

kthxbye.

Paperwork

Being 33 weeks pregnant, the most often used room in my house has got to be the bathroom. Being a woman in a houseful of men, I always have to be on my guard when I go to use the facilities, though. Stumbling into the bathroom in my stupor at o-dark-thirty is likely to end up with my nether regions taking an unexpected bath if I'm not aware of my surroundings. When I found out that Baby #3 was a boy, I lamented "Oh great, I have to teach ANOTHER one to put the seat down."

Potty training is all on Diva Husband, and he's excellent at that job. My rationale was that since I have girly bits, not boy bits, I can't really give my boys the full experience of standing, aiming, and doing the deed. He had The Manimal trained in nothing flat.

Pooping is another matter entirely. The art of wiping seems to escape children. Too much toilet paper, too little toilet paper, to flush a baby wipe, to not flush a baby wipe, to use kleenex in a pinch...

I'm sure those of you with small people in your homes understand.

I have to say though, that, the former on that list hasn't really been a terrible problem for us. We're not flying through toilet paper like crazy. I haven't had to wonder if my kids are storing up for an emergency. Occasionally, when doing laundry, I've actually discovered that I may need to have a discussion with them regarding *ahem* using too few of those precious squares.

Clearly I'm lucky in this regard. My fellow blogger, Spuds, is not so lucky. Spuds is a single dad raising 6 pygmies, the youngest 4 of whom have a penchant for paper. Go check out his blog "Carrying a Cat by the Tail" and read about it!

But be warned, you might need a roll of paper to wipe the tears or whatever may issue forth from various facial orifices as you snort with laughter.