Blech. . .

For the third day in a row, I'm home sick. I don't care for this at all, but at least today I can rest peacefully.

Snow days for school and sick days for mommy do not mix especially when daddy is on second shift. No rest for the weary.

I've taken a hot shower, pumped myself full of meds, and eaten as much as possible to send myself into hybernation.

But now all I can think about is all the things that I could putter around the house and get done. Boo for thinking I should be constructive with my day off even if I feel like I'm on my deathbed.

Anyone want to brave the snowy, icky streets to come do my dishes and vacuum?

The birth of a nightmare

I know, I KNOW! I'm terrible at this blogging thing. But I'm sick, and cold, and trying to put a happy face on for my beautiful girls who are enjoying a fun day home from daycare with crabby/cold mommy.

So here's a fun entry that I've been working on for a while.

Hopefully Sleeping Beauty was lying when she said if you have a dream more than once it is supposed to come true, because there are a couple dreams that I have repeatedly.

The worst one is a dream that I have dubbed "Uncomfortable/Stress dream."

After a stressful day where I have been in an uncomfortable situation or the night before what is guaranteed to be a stressful day, I have a dream like this:

I'm back in High School (As if that wasn't enough to classify this as a nightmare . . .)

I walk through the big double doors into the school and everyone is standing around waiting for the first bell to ring. (This is always the biggest clue that I am dreaming, because in real life I was never at school in time to hear the first bell ring.)

Everyone is staring at me and I can't figure out why. My confusion continues for usually one to two class periods, then I usually figure out what everyone is looking at. . .

Do you see where this is heading?

Yep . .. I'm only half dresses.

Yep, that's right, every time I get too stressed out, I have my own version of the naked at school dream. I'm never really naked, I always seem to have forgotten to put my shirt on or forgotten my pants. In my dream I will usually try to brazen through the day without the missing garment while my saner self is desperately trying to wake up.

Sometimes, just to shake things up, my stress dream would take on a different tone after school dances, large social gatherings or large hectic meetings. I would dream that everyone who was at the big gathering had come back to my house to party. Actually, it is always my parents house because my nightmares love to put me back in high school. Everyone shows up after I'm in bed and I'm trying to brazen out the fact that I'm in my bed, wearing my pjs (a ratty tshirt) and trying to convince them to all to get the heck out of my room.

The worst case was the time my brother had invited all of his fraternity brothers out to our parents house for a bonfire party. I was still in high school at the time. That night, I was having the previously mentioned dream of trying to convince my brother's friends that they needed to go have their party somewhere other than in my room when I woke up to find that 2 of his frat brothers were standing in my doorway hissing my brother's name.

They were a little shocked that they had the wrong room (My brother's room was the next door down), but were glad that I was kind enough to give them directions on how to get back to the interstate.

Or course what makes the dream even more frustrating is that I know exactly when and why I started having it.

Imagine being a young lady in the 80s and totally rocking the sweater and stirrup pants look. Then imagine having a really nice elementary teacher who looks out for her students.

One day, this lovely teacher stops by your desk and leans over to ask you to come with her. She leads you to the small bathroom attached to the classroom, and tells you that there is a hole in the crotch of your rockin stirrup/stretch pants.

Teacher is so nice she has brought her needle and thread and instructs you to go into the bathroom, hand your stretch pants to her and she will stitch up the hole.

She was cool about the whole event, but I was mortified.

I can still remember exactly how I felt standing sans pants in the small prison cell like bathroom.

And that, apparently, is how a reoccurring nightmare is born.

Thanks FedEx guys!

I decided on a whim to come in the front door the other day because I left the garage remote in the truck and was too lazy to use the key to unlock it to get the remote. I'm spoiled by my van's automatic locks.

And sitting on the porch was this box . . .



I was a little giddy at the thought of flowers for me . . but I knew that Jeff wouldn't have gotten me any flowers, because I asked him not to since I'd rather have gifts that don't die in a week.

Upon closer inspection, the name on the box wasn't mine. I called the flower company, they accidentally hung up on me TWICE during my good Samaritan phone call. I called the number listed under the ship too address and left a message for the woman who was supposed to receive them. Called the flower company again and informed them of their error. They told me the would resend more flowers to the rightful owner, but meanwhile I could enjoy the ones that came to me.
Alaina and I immediately opened the box and found . . .

Yay for the bear . . .because the roses were frozen. Apparently the box had been sitting on my porch for 2 nights. Oops. I guess I'll have to check my porch everyday now to see if I get more flowers.

The next day the rightful owner called and asked if she could pick them up. The flower company said they had sent them three times and she still hadn't gotten any flowers. I told her that I would love to give her her flowers, except that they were dead. I told her I called the company and they were sending more. Plus I didn't want to take the bear from my daughter who already loved it to bits.

And before you think that I lied . . .check out the rose on the right that is falling off the stem already. Darn me for not getting to them before they were frozen.

So big question of the day:

Do I call the flower company to complain about the fact that the delivery person left a box of fresh flowers on my porch in the middle of winter, when they were guaranteed to be frozen? Or do I keep my mouth shut because I didn't order them anyway? They have a policy that they leave flowers in a 'safe place if no one is there to receive them.' Is out in the freezing cold a safe place for flowers? Its kind of like leaving a steak in your pet's food dish for safe keeping isn't it?

Forget the Weatherman, asked the Weathered Man

So apparently last week there was a magnificent Sun Dog around the sun at sunset.

But since I live in the middle of the city . . .I didn't get to see it. Rats.

Last night my dad told me that seeing a sun dog means that there will be an abrupt change in the weather. A.K.A. our little 'heat wave' we are experiencing today of 30+ degrees.

I've decided that I'm not going to listed to the weather man anymore . . .I'm just going to buy myself a Farmer's Almanac. Did you know the old saying that 90 days after a fog there will be bad weather? I didn't, but My dad made the announcement in church one foggy Sunday that they would have no church on Christmas because it was foggy out. I really wish he wouldn't have been right about the weather on that particular item.

I'll trust a farmer who can lose his money over not watching the weather over the meteorologist that makes money to take guesses any day of the week.

And a thought for the day . . .
When you park beside a vehicle that is really, really close to the line in the parking stall beside you . . .do you adjust your vehicle around their position? Or do you park as straight as you can ni your stall and take a quick inventory of any dings on your car and memorize their make and model for the possible police report that could follow?

To sleep or not to sleep

Last night Alaina, Jeff, and Kayla were all asleep by 8:30.

I started some laundry, then sat down with a book and the cat came to join me on the couch.

It was heaven.

No TV, no talking, no phone calls.

Just me, the cat, a couch, and a good book.

Of course I sat there is the quiet until 10:30 pm and then I made myself a Husker shirt.

Yep, I put the 'fan' in fanatic.

But the more important question is, why does it feel so much better to have stayed up late in a quiet house versus getting three extra hours of sleep?

Boys!

Alaina, Kayla and I went to the mall Sunday morning. She was such a good girl, we went down and got her a small ice cream cone at Runza. We sat down beside a table with six older high school boys sitting at it and I had two trains of thought run screaming through my head at the same time.

the first train was . . .

I'm too old to tell if they are good looking anymore. The only phrase that comes to mind involves the evil adult phrase "What a nice looking boy!" (Blech!)

And the second train . . .

Its going to be so much fun when Alaina is old enough to be embarrassed by her mother in front of the opposite sex.

But for right now she just chatted happily while the boys tried to ignore the lady with two little girls at the table next to them.

Is it hard?

Everyone who has finally noticed that I'm back at work asks the same question.

"Is it hard leaving your girls everyday?"

There is no easy answer because

1) Yes is is hard to leave my girls at daycare instead of getting to watch them everyday.

2) It is nice to know that Alaina is getting good social exposure to other kids and learning in a structured manner that it would take me months to plan out let alone execute.

3) It is nice to challenge my brain with things at work and interact with adults during the day

But most of all, my working allows us to continue to live in our big house. Jeff and I sat down before we had Kayla to look at our finances and see if I could stay at home.

You know how everyone says there is always a way? Well there was a way for me to quit working full time. We could . . . .

a) have me work part time when Jeff is at home 20 hours a week, but Jeff and I would never see each other and the girls would only ever be with one parent at a time. Not to mention I would never get to do anything on the weekends.

Or

b) move out of our house back into a very small apartment with barely enough room to sneeze without running into each other. And doesn't that sound fun?

Anyway, Kayla will be two months this thursday which will be very exciting except when I have to take her for her immunization shots.

Yuck.

Tattle-Tale

Dear Ishmael,

Last night I just needed someone to talk to about how things had progressed with Alaina. Jeff decided to allow her to get up, put on pjs, and read a bedtime story . . .but didn't enforce my original point of brushing her teeth.

So I called female family members for emotional support.

Jeff heard me talking to Mimi about the situation . . .and I truly wasn't being a tattle-tale, I just needed someone with two XX chromosomes to hear and respond to my situation. Preferably someone who's 'been there and done that.'

But Jeff doesn't quite get that about the females of the species.

That's been a constant area of unhappy mention in our relationship since day one and frankly I don't see it changing.

So how do we reach a happy medium?

Anyway, this day can't get any rougher . . . I've been up since 4 am unable to sleep.

And by the time I made it to work I realized I had:
- Forgotten to put on deodorant
- Have the smell of Runza oozing out of every pore thanks to a stupid meal choice for last night.
- Forgot to change my broken glasses for contacts
- Forgot to bring shoes to wear other than my sneakers

Don't I sound like a pleasant person to be around today?

Big Weekend leads to big weekday . . .

This was supposed to be my weekend to be the big event planner for Alumni . . .but I didn't get near as much completed as I wanted too . . . but I did get three more addresses.

I now only need 3 addresses, 2 of which are probably one call away . . .

I need to send out an announcement letter by Monday Jan 19th as a save the date.

I need to remember to bring home tylenol from work.

It was an aches and pains weekend. I can't seem to shake the nasty backache and headache that are plagueing me this pregnancy. It may just be rose colored glasses and all that, but I don't remember having this many aches and pains last time.

At least not this early, ANYWAY . . .

We have a great potty training weekend! Lots of trips to the toilet, not a single poopy pull-up. And we were rewarded with many treats and MPH pieces.

And to top it all off . . . we watched Snow White for the first time. It wasn't as scary as I remembered it for a 2-going-on-14-year-old I guess, but a few questions were brought up that I had to ponder before I answered.

Asked after the Queen transforms into the old hag-
Q: Where's the queen?
A: She's dressed up as the old lady to be sneaky.

Asked after the Queen falls off the cliff-
Q: Where did the queen go?
A: She went away. The dwarves made her go away because she wasn't being nice.

How did I do?

Oh and today is the big baby day. ULTRASOUND! Hopefully the little one cooperates and we get a good picture. If I can I'll update this post later today . . .

Christmas Letters

So we received a few Christmas cards and letter from friends, but nothing big this year. I'm always excited to see everyone's pictures of their families and how they've grown.

I was reading a blog the other day about someone's pet peeve's for Christmas cards. To sum up it basically said if you aren't going to include a picture or family update/letter . . why do you bother? Apparently a signature with "Happy Holidays" isn't cutting the mustard anymore. You can send the cards with just the signature to me, I won't complain, but I have one pet peeve about Christmas Letters . . .

The resume style letter.

Do you know what I'm talking about? Its the letter that just as well be written in a bulleted list with all the family stats at the top because its almost as impersonal as a resume.

Child 1 participated in list A-F this year in school and received awards G-I for their efforts,
Child 2 participated in list J-M this year and received awards . . . . .

You get the idea.
I'm not complaining about what they put in the letter, but about how they present it. At least tell me which club they enjoy the most or the fact that they were benched for most of the volleyball season, but made the winning dig to help get them to finals!Give me something to smile about! I made Jeff laugh as I read one letter in a snootie voice just to illustrate how "structured" I felt it was.

But to complete my holiday, I am simply waiting for the Christmas letter from the best writter of all.

Papa!

Be prepared for the Dangler X-Mas letter! In fact, I may even blog it with the permission of the author! (The co-author/wife will do as well!) These are the kinds of years that make me a little antsy about what went into the letter because Papa didn't call for "ideas" about what we've done . . . which means my siblings and I provided him with enough unforgettable fodder throughout the year so he didn't need to strech his imagination for the 'good stuff.'

What will make the x-mas letter cut?
Papa Elvis and Mommy Marilyn?
Potty Training?
Trips to Colorado?
Trips to Florida?
The ever rotating car cycle of life for our family?
New jobs?

There is just too much to choose from! I have no idea how Papa narrows it down!

But I do know a few things that should make the cut next year . . . and may appear in my own "not-as-awesome-as-Papa's" letter.
- The 10 year high school reunion for me which is also Papa's 40 year reunion!
- Baby number 2
- Potty training and anything that Alaina does silly (everything)

Anyway, I had better not start counting chicks before they hatch.

Memories I would have lost . .

Here are a few of the pics from the old camera . . .
Alaina's first haircut.

Grams on her "farewell tour" with cousin Bill and his wife Zola (rhymes with Lola). If you read this, have fun with that name Subspace. . . ; )

Alaina playing with Mimi and Papa at Uncle Brett's 30th b-day bash.

Sharing window space with Lucy.

Having fun with Mommy . . . .One of the few pictures of Alain and myself at this point.

Would I really have missed these that much? Probably not, but now I won't have the regret of losing them.

For the love of soup!

I can't sleep . . .

I can't eat . . .

All I can think about is Aunt Marilyn's homemade chicken noodle soup.


Okay so maybe that's an exageration, I 'm not losing sleep over this . . but it does make it hard to find something that sounds good for meals when I have this craving.

Does anyone have a copy of the recipe? Is it in the Rosedale cookbook, Mimi? I'm seriously desperate here, I must have it! Knowing my luck its a guarded secret that she won't share. Ack!

There is just nowhere that I can think of that serves delicious, tastes like homemade chicken soup around here! Everything has sugar in it or something because the broth and noodles are practically sweet. Sweet I tell you!

They lack that savory, salty goodness that makes homemade soup the perfect comfort food.

And with the thought of a holiday food, comes the thought of Holiday plans . . . Jeff and I hate trying to plan what to do every holiday season, but we aren't yet to that point in life, where we cam make concrete plans.

Or maybe I should say we don't have enough Grandkids on either side to push the matter.

Heck, we can't even remember what we did last year for Thanksgiving.

Mimi? Do you recall? I think we tried to make it to see the Shafers after lunch last year, but Jeff says that was two years ago and that there wasn't a Shafer Thanksgiving last year. Does anyone else remember?

At any rate, we are stuck between a rock and a hard place, because neither of the two other married siblings (cousin in his case) are going to be in attendance to sway the vote. I'm leaning toward the Shafers, but I may delay the decision by waiting to see who confirms attendance with Mimi to see if this is a "big" Shafer year.

That discussion directly links to Christmas plans. The married cousins are going to Brazil for the holiday on Jeff's side which has led to the direct hope that we can get his Grandmother to try to have the holiday on the weekend before (they leave the 27th so they don't want to travel away from home and raise the risk of missing their flight).

That would free us up to attend the Shafer Christmas Eve which my Brother and his wife said they were planning to attend, and my sister as well from Florida. the next question is . . . what are my Brother and his Wife's plans for the day of Christmas and how will that shape the immediate siblings holiday plans? Yikes!!

How does everyone do it these days without going nuts!

Sorry that was a long ramble . . . but I had to get it out there!

One more for the day . . .

I had thought that needed to be recorded. It is in response to Omaha Mama's blogging about her house being not as clean as she thinks it should be and not staying absolutely true to her schedule.

Growing up, Mama was big on routines, she cleaned like clock work, snacks and meals were always on schedule, and the laundry was always done.

Then when we were old enought she went back to school to work on herself and the rest of us let the immaculate condition of the house slide into oblivion.

But when I look back at the time after Mom went back to school and I hit hight school, do I think about cluttered counters and laundry piles?

Nope.

The stories I told my coworkers last night as we hung out were about my great parents, whom everyone voluteered to chaparone the dances because they were so cool they would disco with up and they would tease everyone by doing "pencil" tests during slow dances.

And how even the troubled kids (in a previously life they were called Bad Boys) would stop on my mother's porch, apologize, and turn the tshirt they were wearing insideout because it has cuss words or a dirty message written on the front. They knew she didn't like them in her house and they all respected my parents.

I tell the stories about how we didn't get the latest and greatest game stations growing up, but we knew how to play a great game of make believe and our friends enjoyed that more that the latest Nintendo game.

But when I want to make them laugh I tell the Saturday Night story . . .

I sat at home at 9 pm on a Saturday. I just wanted to sit at home and read my new book. But Mom had other ideas. She stopped down at my room a few times to mention that I should go out and meet some friends or go into the coffee shop (my usual hangout). I didn't want to but she finally pushed me enough that I got up and headed for the door. She stopped me in a bit of a panic because I was about to go out wearing one of my brothers old flannel shirts, jeans, sneakers and a ball cap. She said I shoud at least put earrings on . . . and maybe a little makeup and fix my hair. So I told her nevermind, I'd just stay home - this was said in the snotty tone that children perfect the day they turn 13. She pretty much begged so I conceeded to the point that I put on make up and fluffed my hair a bit (I was not putting in earrings!) And when I went to leave, she told me to be home by midnight. Now the problem with that is, it takes about 30 minutes to get to town from our house, and 30 minutes to get home of course. By the time we got to this point, it was 10:30 pm, giving me about 30 minutes to "hang out." I can't actually remember if I went out or not that night . . . but it was the start of a beautiful tradition with my mother.

Typically when I go home, before I leave the house, I turn to my mother and hold out my hand, kind of in a "TA-DA" kind of gesture. At this point she will mention if I need a little more blush, or a belt (I don't usually get that one anymore) or some jewelry. Now to be honest, this habit of ours has fallen a bit to the wayside, but it was around long enough for my husband to comment, because he noticed the big "TA-DA" move one time when we were leaving to go visit some friends in town. I said, "Sometimes its just easier to play along."

Frankly I think Mom and I were just stuck in a rut. After I got married she even confessed that she was just trying to help me look pretty for a boy. Which didn't explain the fact that by that time I was already seriously invovled with Jeff.

I love you, Mom and all the quirks that come with being your daughter.

And p.s. Why didn't Stacey ever get the royal treatment? I must have looked truly hopeless to you. : )

Finally! She blogged!

Yes I did see I was tagged by you, OM!

Yes Sisi I'm going to blog it!

Here is it, my life in ten bullets, or at least the last fifteen years, lets get a visual to start, okay?

1. I was one of two people, the other being my sister, who chose (maternally forced) to walk for a graduation in a school building that was no longer a high school . . .and created a memory that I will never forget because of said force, I MEAN CHOICE!!! ; )

2. I made and lost some friends along the way, but the good ones are still around and were promoted to family members a long time ago . . .

3. I didn't work as hard as I should have, but I managed to graduate from college with a degree, and met some pretty amazing people along the way.

4. While journeying through college, I found two things, my love of sewing, which I find many clever ways to share with everyone. . .

5. And my husband, who I skipped sorority recruitment to hear play his guitar, and found out months later that he sold me his cd's both for the price of one. (you flirt!)

6. Together, we have one beautiful child. And she amazes me everyday . . and much to my parent's delight, seems to be all the best qualities of my siblings and my husband all rolled into one. (Check it out! Her and me, isn't it scary?)

7. Family begins to take a higher priority in life the further they move . . . only two of the four left in state, and it is heartbreaking to think that we aren't all a phone call and 2 hours driving time away.

8. We bought a house the 70s threw up in and we are getting closer to having our own bedroom, we are still sharing the basement with the adorable toddler.

9. I work at a local insurance place, setting up the technical devices for the techies . . .wait, wasn't my degree in English? I still can't figure that one out . . .

10. And The most interesting part of my life, is the discovery that one can have more than one soulmate. I don't know how else to explain being a twin. You grow up having to share everything, which when people thought it sounded cool I would always say, "Imagine that you have twice as much stuff . . but you have to share all of it with someone everyday." So, I get to have two soulmates, but unfortunately they have to share me. Somedays, it was maddening, somedays it was bliss. But no matter what, I couldn't imagine life without either one!

And I'm not tagging anyone! This is fun to do, but its pretty much a chain letter so I can't forward it on principle! (However, I'll blog them, so feel free to keep sending them to me to perish!)

What we learn today . . .

Does anyone remember that Laura Engall Wilder had to memorize the last half of our nations history for her semester project? Do you think that there are many people this day and age who can remember even the names of all of the presidents?

My husband, who was home schooled is appalled at what I learned in history classes during my public school education. "What do you mean you don't know much about the assasination at Serajevo? How can you not be able to give me a general outline of the Versaille Treaty?"

And heaven forbid I ask him to explain something from a historical war.



Holy (pause for emphasis) cow.



Now I'm not saying that our public education system is a bad thing, but, then again, I am. Can they take a little fo the blame for our lack of desire to seek more knowledge about history? I love history, and while I may not be able to give you dates, names and figures, I have enough knowledge to not flounder by saying silly things like the pilgrims were the first travelers who arrived at North America and that Native American tribes stayed in nice little tracts of land called reservations.



Our kids these days instead fill their heads with the names of every character known to man on TV, they know the cheater codes for all their games and what buttons to push to make their interactive puppy chase its own tail. Is this bad? I would love to say that we should start making cartoons about historical events, but they've tried that and given us such wonderful movies as Pocahontas and . . . . well maybe that was it.



What can we do to get our kids more involved with history? I hope I can instill in my daughter the thought that history is cool and she should learn as much about it as she can.



And when she wins Jeopardy, I hope she shares her winnings.

Had to be done.

They were screaming at me.

There they sat under my desk, yelling as loud as can be . . . Fix Me!

So I did.

I finally yanked off my black pumps and took a sharpie to the nicks and scratches that couldn't be ignored. I am no fashion plate and I am rather proud of that fact.
I have worn the same pair of shoes everyday for two years. I don't like having to trudge through snow in high heels and walk through puddles, and if I want to take a quick couple of laps around the building for a little exercise, I don't want to do in in pumps.

So there they sit, every evening, every weekend. Alone.

But to make this fashion crime even worse, no shoe polish will ever touch these babies, Nope! Not even a swipe with one of those handy shine sponges. They get sharpie marker touch-ups.

So does this make me thrifty? Or just cheap?

Is there even a difference?

My beloved Pride

What is it about Pride and Prejudice (with Kera Knightley) that makes me love it so much?

Is it that the heroine is nothing short of boyish in figure and a has a tomboyish attitude to boot that makes me love Elizabeth so much?

Is it that fact that Mr. Darcy can say "I love you . . . most ardently" to her and you can feel the desperate passion in the statement or the moment after Lizzie cuts his proposal down in honor of her family that he finds lacking and they each glance towards the others lips with longing and lean in slightly before Mr Darcy quickly retreats? (I love that moment!!!)

The only thing that I dislike about the movie, is the length of the scene in which Mr Darcy walks across the field toward Lizzie to again propose and be accepted?

I must admit that this movie almost makes me love Donald Sutherland more that Keifer because of his outstanding performance as a father. (Almost mind you!)

Its on again, and Jeff is rolling his eyes as a sneak in to watch it when he doesn't need me to help hang dry wall.

I can't help it, I love Jane Austin on film.