Rant by Room

For over 700 days, my house has suffered. Neglect, abuse, and at times, abandonment. Because I just didn't have the time or energy to give it the care it deserved or needed. And I wasn't getting any help.

I begged, pleaded, threatened my boys to please, please help me. I even lowered myself to a level I didn't want to come to, "You just must not care about me." Worked for maybe 2 hours. I wasn't asking much, just that they all clean up their OWN things...

Anyway, now that I'm done with school. Here's my pent up rantings in blog form:

Lets start in the bathroom, because that's so easy:
I don't care how accessible, how fresh, or how cold the water is in the dog dish, they insist on drinking out of the toilet. For our larger dog, it doesn't matter if the seat is down, he manages to stick his beak-y nose beneath the seat, lift it, drink and then lets the seat slam down when he's done. Usually at 2 in the morning. The smaller dog has very large lips. He dribbles everywhere.

We call him "Rip-Alot-Of-Lips"

 And honestly, I think Kamrin gets in trouble more often than not for not aiming when it's actually Ripley leaving little puddles from the reservoir he calls lips. Bo will actually follow you into the bathroom and stare at the opposite wall, while you use 'his' water bowl! If he could hum and tap his paw, he would. The minute you're done, he rushes over like he's been stranded in the desert for a week!

There is a cup FULL of kid-sized toothbrushes. Each with bristles as hard as a pumice stone because each child refuses to rinse the brush after brushing.

We have an empty toilet paper holder, and 3 rolls of toilet paper sitting on the bathroom counter. But you only notice after you've started peeing that it's just far enough out of each that you have to lift you butt off the toilet and risk being a part of the Ripley statistic.

When you get out of the shower, the fogged mirror has each boy's name written on it along with several zombie faces (and hearts...go figure).

While in the shower, the towel you so carefully hung on the hook to use when you got out, is now lying on the edge of the counter...used to wipe up the millions of small beard hairs in the sink. And it wasn't replaced. And the towel closet is over two soggy steps away.

Along that same line...every time I give the bathroom I deep scrubbing, there is some sort of siren song that compels my husband to shave, or clip nose hair, or give himself a haircut. A small poodle ends up in the sink.

On to the bedroom:
My husband's dirty clothes always end up right. next. to the bed. I imagine my husband as some sort of Frankenstein, with arms outstretch grumbling, "urmmmm, bed..." and the shorts just end up right there. I've tried putting a laundry hamper in there. Doesn't work. I tried 3 laundry baskets, maybe thinking he was just a bad aim. Still, they end up draped over the fan, or become a fire hazard over our TV hook-up box on the dresser.

I'm one of those weird people who have to have their sheets straightened before I can climb into bed. Kind of a "princess and the pea" concept. We have a deep mattress and special sheets with pockets. Those have to be tugged all the way down or I will be awake all night.

I don't care how hot it is, I have to at least have a sheet on me. All of me. No feet poking out, no diagonal sheets, and enough that it goes over the edge of the mattress. My husband will be satisfied if 30% of his calf is covered and the top blanket is 3/4 on the floor. I have, several times, come in, retrieved the ball of sheet (haha) from underneath his right leg and completely remade the bed while he slept.

My husband feels the need to sleep with 4 pillows. There might as well be a 3rd person in our bed. Hate it.

Kitchen:
Oh kitchen, there is so much I could say here. I like my kitchen clean, but it's a never ending battle. Like the tiny top edge of the long freezie pop that was cut off and abandoned, and then left to melt and stain my counter. Not to mention the 5 sticky knives that are laying next to it, because lord forbid you use the same knife for each Popsicle!

Or when I'm sitting at the kitchen table, dislodging my elbow from a nearly invisible syrup stain, and my heart jumps to my throat because I saw something scurry across the floor out of the corner of my eye. Then I realize it's just a tumbleweed of dog hair caught in the breeze.

There should be a "minute to win it" sort of contest that test how much garbage you can stuff in to a swing top garbage can before it will get thrown out. When the dogs are able to treat themselves to a trash buffet and I come home to licked-clean pot pie holders, ice cream sandwich wrappers, and chewed up dirty napkins...PLEASE, someone take out the damn garbage!

Why do I find empty pop cans, half-filled pudding cups with the spoon still in them, and a partially eaten rock-hard sandwich in the refrigerator? Why?! Just throw it away or eat the dang thing. Really? Do you think you're going to re-heat and eat ketchup covered fries?

My garbage disposal never smells right. I've used baking soda, ice cubes...and even reached my hand down in to those gloomy depths, even though every scary movie has told me not to, to find the source of the stench. Only to follow my nose to the sponge that was not rinsed of the salsa it was used to wipe up. I squeeze it into the overflowing garbage and hope the dogs don't eat it.

I have to soak the glass microwave tray for an entire day before melted cheese will scrape off of it. Use a freakin' plate people! Not to mention the Chef-Boy-Ardee splatter all over top, bottom and sides of the microwave (Are you getting an idea of our family's diet here?)

Dishes put in the dishwasher with half a meal on them? Why are you surprised when they're not clean after the dishwasher's run?

Living Room:
Why is it that the dogs feel the need to puke on the living room carpet? Even if the hardwood floors of the kitchen is 6 inches away? And why is the puke bright yellow or red? There is nothing that takes this out. And if it does, the carpet is 'rougher' than the rest of the room. Or green from whatever I used to spray on it.

There is a multitude of socks thrown in frustration everywhere. They end up over couch arms, across piano keys, and just lying in the middle of the floor because in our morning rush out the door, I must go through 6 pairs that are "lumpy" or "don't feel right." Thrown, because by the time I've told them 7 times to get their socks in on in the morning, we're all frustrated that I need to LEAVE NOW!

Weird that I need to vacuum at least 13 fly carcasses off of the floor, because no one knows how to shut the screen door!

Family room downstairs:
It stinks like pigs. Literally. Because my son promised me he would clean the guinea pig cage...and he doesn't. All they do is eat, pee and poop. I hate them. I fantasize about releasing them in our yard and letting them fend for themselves. Ungrateful pigs. I bought you a GLASS drinking bottle for Pete's sake!

When I clean, I have to deal with empty Xbox game holders laying open like an unread book and disks stacked in the middle of the floor. I pain-stakingly put them all in their rightful holders, and then am screamed at because the boys can't find them. (What's wrong with that picture?)

There is a pile of dad's socks to the left of his chair. He settles in to watch TV, and off the socks go, to be gently dropped in an ever rising pile of sock puppets.

The Boy's Room:
Scares the hell out of me. Enough said.

Of course all of this is coming from someone who vacuums backwards so that I can have the satisfaction of not leaving any footprints. I enjoy the vacuum streaks. It gives me a sense of accomplishment.

I like a clean house. Some day, I hope I know what that feels like.

New Year...umm, Let's Just Call Them Toughts

New Year's. The guilt trip they've labeled as a holiday. Forcing a person to take a look at the past year and decide where some improvements can be made. I fail at this. Every year. I think because I tend to make resolutions that are beyond my reach. Losing 30 lbs, not yelling at the kids. Ever. (that one lasts about a day and a half), etc.

So this year, I've decided to set my standards a bit lower. This way I can at least feel like I haven't failed and will not feel the need to lock myself in my bedroom with the covers over my head until, oh...June.

1. I will wash my car more than twice a year.
Although this may be problematic when trying to find my car in the Wal-Mart parking lot. It was always so easy to identify it with its randomly written letters in the salt/slush solution that had adhered to my door. I always felt confident putting my key in the door that had the hand AND nose prints (go figure) on the windows.

2. I will dust my ceiling fans more often.
Preferably BEFORE the dust has had time to clump into balls suitable for knitting and BEFORE they are whipped off by centripetal force, hitting someone on the head and causing a concussion.

3. I will reduce my road rage.
To inside my head. IF my kids are in the car with me. That's as good as it gets. If I'm alone in the car, drive at your own risk.

4. I will use lotion more often.
And I mean on my legs, elbows, heels and feet. Get your head out of the gutter, you perv!

5. I will try to relax more.
This one will require me to work at it. Seems like an oxymoron, doesn't it?

6. I will allow myself to accept compliments.
I'm horrible at this. I never know what to say when someone compliments me, my work, or whatever. Then my silence can seem like arrogance, which I'm sure defeats the purpose of the compliment.

7. I'm going to stop being so nice.
No really. This allows me to be walked all over by other people. It allows too many people to cut in front of me from the 'on' ramp. It also is not helping me in my education. Explanation: A lot of the Vet Tech program at this point is 'hands on.' By standing aside to let other people have a chance, I feel like I'm missing opportunities and experience. No more I say!

8. I'm going to vacuum under my couch cushions more often.
When you start find things like socks, half a sandwich and the plate and fork that came with it, beneath your couch cushions, it's time to re-evaluate your cleaning habits.

9. I will not skimp on light bulbs.
Even as I write this, my kitchen light (which takes 4 bulbs) is down to two, and the Hollywood lights in my bathroom are at about 30%. Several of our "less used" rooms require flashlights as we have already stolen the light bulbs from them.

10. I will not store anything in Tupperware for more than two weeks in the refrigerator. 
If I have to smell it, scrape something off it, don't remember when it was made, or can't even identify it, it should have been thrown a long time ago. I lose more Tupperware that way. At some point I have to decide whether I don gloves and a mask or just throw the whole damn thing away. Waste of precious time.

Well, that's about it. I think I can handle that. Definitely obtainable. Check with me next year.

15 Things Moms Need to Teach Their Sons (and then there's reality)

Ever since my sons were born, I have read numerous blogs on parenting. Particularly ones concerning life lessons that need to be taught, just in case I'm missing something. And while these blogs tend to be heartwarming, I am met with the reality of those lessons on a daily basis. So I've created my own list based on these wonderful blogs, and what REALLY happens in my household:

1. Teach him to express how he feels with words.

Unless these words include, "You big jerk!" or "Quit being a butt face!" I am failing miserably at this one. If I calmly interject and try to suggest other words, I am met with, "Leave me alone!" hands over ears, stomping to a bedroom and a slammed door.

2. Teach him to do laundry.

Riiiggghht. Dirty shirts, socks, pants and underwear are my breadcrumbs to the bathtub. Towels, barely used once, are dragged along my wood floors picking up every piece of dirt and strand of dog hair and deposited in the middle of the living room. Even CLEAN laundry that's been folded, sits on the dang chair until it's all considered dirty again...having never found its way to its proper drawer or hanger.

3. Read to him and read with him.

Every book they bring home from school contains zombies, world's grossest records, superheros who wear underpants and nearly every line contains a fart joke. Not to mention there's a fight over who can and can't see the page and where mom sits to read.

4. Encourage him to dance.

We do a lot of this at home. My oldest has "moves." They're something between break dancing and jitterbug. When we were invited to a wedding, he spent hours perfecting these 'moves'. He constantly asked me when we were going. The wedding took forever (roll eyes and drag arms), and the big moment came. He wouldn't budge from the sidelines. The bride grabbed him and he nearly crawled out of his skin to get away from her. For some reason, he didn't understand that there would be a crowd! I pulled him to the dance floor, got a couple of hip shakes and we were done. *sigh* I bought him dress clothes for this!

Dress clothes AND tie!

5.Make sure he has examples of men who are powerful because of their brains, integrity and determination.

In my kids minds, this includes the soldiers in Halo, any superhero whose name ends in "man," and James Bond. Hell, I only got my oldest interested in history and Abraham Lincoln when old Abe was seen wielding a silver axe and killing vampires.

6. Be their superhero.

I've cleaned house in a single bound, kissed away ouches, used x-ray vision to find the elusive blankie every. single. time., hurdled every obstacle from a dead sleep...in the dark...to rush a kid to the bathroom when I hear him about to throw up, am able to carry a 50 lb rag doll to bed under one arm and 3 stuffed animals in the other. I've used super sonic hearing to know that the kids are up to something even though they are in the backyard 'playing.' THAT'S the superhero I am.

7. Teach him manners.

Okay, my kids are pretty good at this one...until we're in public.

8. Teach him to be gentle.

I've rescued guinea pigs, dogs, precious electronic equipment and newborn babies from their 'gentle' on many, many occasions. 'Gentle' is about as familiar to them as 'quiet.'

One of our two guinea pigs...still breathing.

9. Teach him to be a good loser.

If "good" means how far you can throw the dice across the room, quitting when you're behind, or suddenly thinking this game is boring...I got this one.

10. Teach him to aim when he pees, someone has to clean this up.

Yeah, and it's usually me...because some of the places I have to clean, they can't even reach! I cringe when they walk into the bathroom in the early hours of the AM, eyes half open, blanket on their head and whip it out in the near vicinity of the toilet.

11. Teach them it's okay to ruin their clothes once in awhile.

Finally! I have this one down pat. And it's usually socks. Why do boys believe it's okay to wear socks outside...rain, shine or snow, without shoes?! I've had to ask their dad that same question more than 100 times.

That's about 1" of mud coating.

12. Teach them to hold the door for women.

They are also fairly good at this. Except that I stand at the entrance of a restaurant as they hold the door for EVERYONE. And at what point do you pull them away without being rude to the people still coming in?

13. Let their dad teach them things.

Does this include belching, farting, drinking out of the milk jug and slapping their mother on the butt every time she bends over?

Notice any similarities?

 14. Teach him that sometimes people will break their promises.

I'm pretty sure that kid on the bus isn't going to pay you $5 for the comic strip you drew. Just know, that if I promise you something, it won't be broken. (But I have to say the word "promise," pinky swear AND do the elaborate secret handshake, THEN it's a promise.)

15. Teach him to be independent.

As sweet as it is to hear that my youngest is going to, "grow up, get married and live with mom and dad," it's not going to happen. You WILL go to college, you WILL get a job, and you WILL move out. Not only for my sanity, but because if you're old enough to get married, you're old enough to provide for your family by whatever means it takes...nothing should be "beneath" you when it come to putting food on your table to feed your kids. But hopefully, with all these life lessons, you will be successful enough to not only take care of yourself, but also your elderly parents. 'Cause honey, I'm going to live with YOU.

I think these lists provide a rose-colored vision of everything we can pass down to our children. Sometimes, my life-lessons are shouted, or learned because I'm "mean," but my best way of teaching my children is going to be through example. People aren't perfect, I'm not perfect. But I try, I do my best, and if I'm not home enough, it's because I work hard to provide for you. I can only hope that as much as my kids may seem to take me for granted right now, they will look back and say, "You know, my mom always..." and hopefully that sentence will end with something that makes them a better person.

Garage Sale Personalities

We're moving in the next 3 to 6 months. I decided to have a garage sale...like 4 months ago.

I started early, because there was clearly a lot of crap that I didn't want to move. I sorted, discarded and priced room by room. I came across a lot of stuff where I questioned my sanity as to why I chose to hang on to a particular item in the first place. (i.e. a fake feathered bird, a spider Christmas ornament...what the heck was I thinking?!)

There was stuff that I knew had to go, but couldn't part with...my electronic keyboard reminiscent of the 80s (hey, it's exactly like the one Van Halen used to play "Jump"!), tons of arts and craft stuff (I can always use beads shaped like dragonflies, right?) and stuff that I just knew I wouldn't get the price I wanted (like genuine lead crystal bowls, a model train from the 60s, still in the box).

Anyway, I worked my ass off for 3 months. I didn't have much spare time, so had to do it little by little. There were times I actually cried because of items that brought resounding memories...baby blankets that I swear I could still smell sour milk on (but not true because I washed EVERY piece of clothing and every toy...anal. I know.) I forced myself to get rid of anything in my closet that I hadn't worn in the last 3 years, no matter how much I tried to convince myself I could still fit in it if I just put in a little effort. And all that stealthy work I did behind the kids's back to price toys that they don't even remember they had, and to avoid the protest, "HEY! You can't sell this, I play with it ALL. THE. TIME."

Anyway, I gradually put everything in my basement, and when the day before the big day came, I put everything in the garage.

My husband FINALLY commented, "You did this all by yourself?!" Really? You didn't pick up on all the pot shots I took at you for NOT helping? Did you not see me popping Ibuprofin like they were Skittles?

We had 40 mph winds the first day, and every time a big gust blew through, I was racing after my perfectly folded clothes, and double checking that nothing fragile broke. I nearly cried when several boxes of puzzles went flying. What do you do then? Put together a 1000 piece puzzle to make sure all the pieces are there when the box top landed in your neighbor's yard...two doors down? Trash it. No other option.

My youngest was hilarious. He greeted everyone. Took them to every table to introduce them to items HE thought they should have. But the people watching? That made everything worth while. I have shoved them into categories:

The Early Birds. Usually couples that are 60+ and show up a half hour before we are open. I don't know if they assume my sale is going as popular as Best Buy on Black Friday, but they're there early to stake their claim. They usually don't buy anything, but they feel better that they were there first.

The Slummers. I don't mind them. They have money, but they're always looking for a bargain. They don't haggle you on the price if they find something they want, because they're used to paying twice that much without blinking. They are also the people who paid a $1 for my son's 50¢ glass of lemonade at his lemonade stand (who am I to stand in the way of entrepreneurship?), even though it was only 50º outside. Love them. And thank you.

The Drive By's. Do all their shopping from their car at 15 mph. But don't stop.

The Barginer's. It doesn't matter what price you have on that sticker, they're going to offer half. "Hey, you willing to take 15¢ on this?" and the sticker says 25¢. Hell, I made it a bargain in the first place...fine. You need to win? You win.

The Groupies. Usually women who shop in groups of three or more. They compliment each other on their "find" but are secretly jealous they didn't find it first.

The Unexpected. Like the guy who looked like a former member of ZZ Top band member or roadie and showed up on his Harley, yet bought my entire cat figurine collection without batting an eye.

The Double-Take. They show up, offer you a ridiculously low price on something. You refuse. They leave. They return the next day and if the item is still there, they pay the full price. No questions asked.

The OMG, I Can't Believe That Just Happened. A guy who shows up, looking like someone you'd search on sight at an airport. He tries on all of my husband's sweatshirts, right there on the driveway, exposing his pot belly and extra hairy back before buying. At that point dude, just take them! I'm not touching them any more.

The Ripley's Believe It Or Not. Won't buy anything until you run a 50 ft extension cord from the back of your house, through the garage, to the item he wants to buy, just to make sure it turns on.

The Wish I Knew You. People who wanted to buy items and told me stories about themselves and I felt like I could have sat and listened for hours. We had a guy show up, he knew what he wanted. Deer antlers, old ammo, or anything to do with hunting. He told me his wife died not too long ago. He seemed to just want to hang out and talk. Before he left, he gave each of my sons a $2 bill and a 50¢ piece. I loved him.

And last but not least, the Random Act of Kindness. I had a couple of brothers ride up on their bicycles. They were nice, polite (and without being racist) ethnic. They looked over the toys and asked if we had anything for free. At the same time, a petite woman examined my clothes, looking for her daughter. To be honest, I focused my attention on her. What size do you need? What type of clothing? Thy boys played in the background with some of the toys. Finally having her fill, the lady came up to my table and asked, "How much for the wrestling ring and action figures?" I told her $5 for all. She walked back, near where the boys were playing, plucked the items out of the box and laid them before me. She handed me a $5 bill and I thanked her for her business. As she left with the toys, she stopped by the boys. "Here guys." She said as she handed over the items to the two boys, "Have fun." And she left. The boys came up to me and said, "Did that lady pay for these?" I smiled. "Yes." I said. They grabbed their bikes and left.

Honestly, I felt humbled. I wish I would have said something to her. I wish I would have given them something "free." But I inwardly promised myself, I would pay it forward.

And I did. Everything I didn't sell, I donated to a group at school who were trying to raise money by having a garage sale. I borrowed a dear friend and her pick up. We boxed everything up, acquired more bruises. And felt entirely great about the whole thing.

What Every Waitress Wants You To Know

As you may or may not know, I have had to find some sort of employment that is part-time, is flexible enough to bend around my school schedule and random moments of childhood puke-fests that force me to stay home and kill bacteria with Lysol, and allows me to make some money. And when I say money, I mean at least more than panhandling the corner of I-94 and 32nd. If I owned a puppy, I might make more on the street corner.

Not me...but could be...

Anywho...there are some things, that as a waitress, I believe you should know before you decide to eat out. (Just because it turns out, that what I thought should be common public knowledge, obviously is not.)

1) We may be considered a "casual" restaurant, but that does NOT mean you show up in your pajama bottoms and flip-flops. For Pete's sake, if you're going to take the time to drive somewhere and actually pay to EAT...take a moment and at least slip some real pants on. Hell, we don't even serve breakfast.

2) If you're 23 years old, you have no right to be offended when I card you when you order an alcoholic drink. And if you're over 30 and I card you? You should be grateful. If I don't card you, serve you alcohol, I get fined...the restaurant gets fined...and they won't let me work for 2 weeks to make money to pay the fine. So naturally, I'm going to err on the side of caution.

3) If you're coming to sit in the bar to catch a buzz...leave the kids at home. We are not your babysitter. Just because we have a game room does not mean you can let your kids run wild, annoy the crap outta everyone else that's there for a quiet dinner, and potentially have your child suffer 2nd degree burns when the 20 lb. tray I'm holding on my shoulder with one hand (and tray jack in the other) comes crashing down because he's running in the aisles between tables. I have my own children, and it's parents like you who are forcing some restaurants to not allow children...and I can't say I blame them.

4) And since we're on the subjects of kids...(and remember...I have two...and this is what happens when WE go out...restaurant hell). There are certain behaviors that need to be corrected IMMEDIATELY...do NOT continue to let your kid scream. Do your best to calm them. I will help you if I can with crackers, or getting their food out first. (Helpful hint: if I suggest these options to you, I'm not only doing my job, I'm telling you your kid is TOO LOUD.) And if they are inconsolable, take them outside...or home. If you're sitting in a booth, it is inconsiderate for them to drop spaghetti onto the head of the person sitting behind you. Also, I will clean up the table and floors and high chair when you leave, but this doesn't mean that you can let your kid throw his crayons, pizza crusts, napkins and silverware on the floor. If you don't allow it at home, why is it okay in public???

5) It is UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES okay for you to change your baby's diaper on the table. (Seriously?!! I even have to tell you this?) We have changing tables in the bathroom. And after studying parasitology, I now have to bleach that table. Not to mention I will personally avoid ever touching it again, let alone eat off of it.

6) I will do everything within my power to cater to whatever food allergy you may have. But may I suggest that if you're allergic to garlic...you choose somewhere other than an Italian restaurant? Just a thought.

7) There are 30 in your party? Why in the hell do you think we will be able to seat you immediately? This is especially for those parents who travel with their children to various sporting events and cater to their every whim. First of all, call first and give us a heads up. If you say there are 15 of you in your party, I am NOT going to assume that 40+ will show up. We only have so many servers on that night even IF the banquet room is open. It doesn't help that all the parents sit at one table, you have one son waaayyy over there (jersey #14) and your daughter is somewhere in the middle of that table and your husband is at the end of the table with the guys. If this is you, you now have the following rights automatically taken from you....NO RIGHT to complain if the bill isn't correct, NO RIGHT to complain if we can't fit you all in the same area, and NO RIGHT to complain if your food take more than 20 minutes. (By the way...it takes every ounce of my strength not to slap your child silly when he says, "How much longer for my food?!" while not even bothering to look up from his iPAD). How long would it take you to prepare appetizers and entrees for 40+ people on a moment's notice? Not to mention the other 100 people in the restaurant...and you're allergic to garlic.)

8) When I ask the table, "Is there anything else I can get you?" I am speaking to everyone at the table. Each individual does not need a special trip.

9) If there's something wrong with your food, I will do everything within my power to remedy the situation...it's just harder for me to believe you are of pure intention when all that's left is two bites and you ask for a box. Also, it would have been nice for you to have mentioned that when I asked you how everything was tasting 3 minutes after you received your food.

10) The restaurant I work at has 110 beers on tap...forgive me if I haven't tasted them all (but believe me, I'm working on it!)

11) When I was just old enough to drink, we had maybe 2 kinds of shots...whiskey and Everclear..that's it. So if YOU don't know what's in a "Wonder Woman" or a "German Chocolate Cake" don't expect me to.

What the heck are these?!

12) I work for $4.86 and hour. No lie. The kitchen is 90º F, I'm on my feet for anywhere from 5 to 13 hours at a stretch and I'm pretty sure I could compete in the Olympics as a speed walker...carrying an extra 30 lbs on my shoulders. I don't get to sit down and I don't get to eat. I depend on tips to feed my children. If you can't afford to tip me when I give you the best possible service...you can't afford to eat out.

13) If you'd like to linger and talk after your meal...please feel free to do so. But take in to consideration that I only have so many tables in my section and if you and your friends are taking up two of them to drink water for 3 hours...remember that when you tip me.

14) If you're looking for a manager...it's going to take about 15 minutes, because he's probably 15 years younger than me and is hanging out in the bar talking to the "cute chicks."

15) Here's something totally truthful, and it's not really common knowledge...if you pay with a card...try to tip in cash. Here's why...the restaurant is charged a fee every time we swipe a card on our machines. That fee comes out of my tip at the end of the night. So if you mean to tip me $5, it's actually less after I run your card.

16) It should be required that before you are actually considered an adult, you have to wait tables for one week. Because that's all it would take.

I actually love being a waitress. I enjoy meeting new people, and I come from a generation who knows what customer service is. I generally make good money (and good tips) but I think it's because I enjoy what I do and it shows. Unfortunately, my body is not young any more and waiting tables is a cardio workout and weight lifting all in one. I can actually feel my heartbeat in my feet by the time I get to sit. And if I sit for more than 5 minutes at a time when I get home, I can barely stand back up. But just remember, this is a taxing job, a draining job, and entirely dependent on you for what kind of money I make. And believe me, I totally get the people who are pissed off when they don't get good service. I work with a lot of "kids" who come to work hung-over, are in a hurry to get you out of there so they can go party, or who may not show up at all. In a nutshell, if you have a good experience, let your waitress/waiter know...and even though the verbal compliment is always welcome, tip them too. You never know what their story is.

*All of these stories are true and witnessed by other waitstaff...just so you know.

Had a good or bad experience? I'd like to know...

And Now on the Lighter Side

I thought that as my boys grew older, the cute things they say would diminish. But as it turns out, they just have an understanding of a wider range of subjects. For example:

One early morning, I was having a private conversation with my husband about a woman's...um...monthly "friend" for lack of a better word. I didn't realize that my oldest was within earshot and suddenly, he had all kinds of questions. If you tell him, "Never mind Kaiden." It only fuels the fire, and he will pepper you with questions until you are brow beaten and worn down. So I handled it the best way I saw fit, I left the room. In my absence, my husband explained in gentle 8-year-old terminology what it was. It causes pain, makes mommy tired (and Lord knows what else!) After the short lecture, my son found me and sat next to me. He put his arm around me, and with genuine concern, looked me straight in the eye and said, "Mom. I'm really sorry about your spin cycle."

Well, that's one way to look at it.

My youngest was an early talker and hasn't quit since. He starts conversations with complete strangers. He usually will introduce himself and then add a little tidbit about him that he thinks you'd like to know.

"Hi, I'm Kamrin Schweitzer, and I can whistle!" or "Hi, I'm Kamrin Schweitzer and I like guns." (Which goes over great with authorities and concerned parents.)

Look for this picture on the news someday.

He has a slight lisp where "s" sounds like "th" and "th" sounds are pronounced as "d's". So when he's talking a mile a minute, you can see everyone just nicely nod their head.

He IS obsessed with any sort of weapon of destruction. We visited the museum in Pierre while at Grammie's and Papa's. After having lengthy conversations with both the greeter AND the gift shop lady, he was all over the place. He didn't seem to be listening to anything. But when we got home, he was able to tell his dad that he saw an "AK47, a REAL grenade and a purple heart medal from WWII." That's what's amazing about him, he doesn't seem to be paying attention at all, but he is actually absorbing everything you say.

He has his own language. A doorbell is a "ring bell." So he will tell you to, "ring the ring bell."

If you sneezed, you "bless you-ed". So he may tell me, "Mom I bless you-ed 3 times!"

Along the same lines, if he 'accidently' did something, he oopsied. As in, "Momma, I oopsied peed the bed."

He looks for his swimming 'gobbles.'

He asked me if he dressed up as Santa Claus on Halloween, could he get presents AND candy?

When dad takes him fishing, he brings his "fishing hooker." (Umm, is there something I should know about?)

Anyone who waves to him is an instant "best friend." Which I find disturbing and endearing at the same time.

He is concerned about Kaiden's 'love life.' He told Kaiden that he should be ready for a girlfriend, because he will have 45 of them when he turns 10.

He randomly visits our neighbors and chats with them until we discover him missing and have to go look for him. (That earns us a 'parent of the year' award.)

The dynamics between the two is, for the most part, sweet. Yeah, Kaiden will hip-check him into a wall and then immediately ask if he's okay like he had NO IDEA how that happened!

Kaiden mothers him. Holds his hand at the dentist, even if they're just showing him how to floss. He holds him back at the curb when crossing the street to make sure he's safe. Reads to him.

A quiet moment.

But he manipulates him as well. There have been several occasions when I've told Kaiden, "No. He can't do (something)" and it won't be 2 minutes later that Kamrin is there asking again.

They have common interests, usually concerning the size, shape and smell of poop, which they feel the need to discuss in the bathroom at the same time. They care about their hygiene, especially the way they smell, "for the ladies" (Kaiden's term), which involves a cloud of dad's Axe body spray. And they are constantly perfecting their dance moves.

No matter how trying the day has been between the two of them, how many verbal and physical injuries have occurred, or one is considered a "butt cheek" by the other, they absolutely CANNOT be separated at bedtime. I love that time. I often check on them to find them sleeping soundly, but snuggling one another.

I swear those are NOT the only PJs Kam owns.

They're a perfect match. A yin for one's yang. I hope someday when they are older and they read this or are reminiscing together, they are still this humorous, this connected, and still best friends.

Peace out.

How My Kids Murdered My Type A Personality

I have reluctantly resigned myself to the fact that I am a type “A” personality. I get it from my mom. Both of us are planners, or at least that’s a nice way of putting it. We’re in control. Not because we necessarily WANT to be be, it’s because we feel we HAVE to be and no one else it capable of running things. If we don’t do it ourselves, no one will. We worry not only about ourselves, but everyone close to us. We’re “involved” in our families lives and do whatever it takes to make sure that everyone receives the best outcome. We are full of advice. We don’t always volunteer this advice, but if you ask our opinion...watch out...you’ve just opened a whole can of worms that you hadn’t anticipated. We fret. We worry. We toss and turn in our beds. We plan every outcome to every scenario possible.

It’s hell for us. And probably hell on our loved ones. But only because we care, and because we want what’s best and we just love you so much! At least that’s what we tell ourselves.

Not entirely, but for the most part, my kids have done what they can to demolish that side of me. And I don’t mean they’re like water and have gently eroded away my control...they have taken a 50 lb. sledge hammer and shattered it to bits.

So now comes the week that I look forward to every year. I relish it more than Christmas and Halloween rolled together. It’s the week my parents take the kids. It means the world to me. A week without interrupted conversations with my husband. A week where my house stays clean for more than 5 minutes. A week of not working around schedules. A week of being spontaneous! But not for my mom.

She adores this week and does everything within her power to plan a fun-filled week with Grammie and Papa that would revile Disney World. But in so doing, she fills her schedule with allotted times, cleans her house, and worries about what isn’t going to get done.

Here’s some things I have reluctantly realized:

1) EVERYTHING takes more time than you allow for it to take. A 15 minute trip to the grocery store? Plan on 45. You need to consider the time it takes them to get their shoes on, the time it takes you to tell them 7 times to find their shoes, and the time you spend looking for them in the grocery store after you turned your back on them in the produce aisle.

2) All that time you spent making your house look so nice? Gone. In less then 10 minutes. Guaranteed. And picking up? Yeah, they’ll help...for about 5 minutes and then they get distracted and you end up doing it yourself.

3) The most awesome thing on your agenda for them...a plane ride. The thing they will tell mom and dad about when they call...the time they spent at the City Pool. With a slide.

4) You have to tell them it’s time for bed an hour before their bedtime. Not kidding. Because there will be glasses of water, having to pee, and someone needing, “just one more thing” before they actually hit the bed. And it doesn’t end there. Count on 20 more minutes of giggling and laughing, farting, burping, and “it was his fault” before they actually fall asleep. On top of you. In a king sized bed.

5) Something will get broken, scratched, or lost and it will be nobody’s fault. And there is NO WAY you can prove it.

6) Nice clothes for public, washed faces, and combed hair...will be stained or messy 2 seconds after you’re in the car.

7) You think you can “wear them out” so they will go to sleep early (and so can you!) HA! They somehow find an adrenaline shot of energy 6 seconds before bedtime, even if they were asleep on the car ride home.

8) The reward you said you would give them if they ‘promised’ to be good? You will end up giving it to them first because of all the begging and pleading and they will disappoint you. I tell myself over and over again that I won’t do that the next time, and yet...inexplicably, I do. (Grammie has more self control on this one than I do.)

9) All the parenting advice you have given me over the years? Don’t yell. Don’t threaten. Don’t take your frustration out on them. Be patient. You will find yourself doing within the first few days if not hours. It’s okay. It happens. If you don’t’ sometimes raise your voice to them, you end up taking it out on your spouse, then everyone’s mad at you.

10) I don’t care if you paint the worse case scenario of being bitten by the dog...stitches, a trip to the doctor with shots, losing a limb...they will still tease the dog. And not understand when he bites them. Maybe they need to be bitten so they stop (not hard, mind you.)

They will leave every light on in the house, they will feed the dog “people food”, better check your hoses at night to make sure they’re not running, you will retrieve items of clothing from you backyard at 10 o’clock at night, your refrigerator will be sticky and have hand prints all over it’s stainless steel surface, they will want to play your computer 10 hours a day, they will “surf” in your bathtub and “accidentally” miss the toilet when they pee.

So just remember...sit back...enjoy the time they spend with you even if it doesn’t coincide with your schedule. Because when they come home, they talk about are how Grammie read them bedtime stories, or how Papa played the Wii with them. Go with the flow, and if it isn’t what you planned, and you still enjoy what you’re doing, then so be it.

I have to admit, I get a little jealous. Because you have taken this time out of your busy life and dedicated it all to them. You are able to sacrifice a busy work schedule to cater to their every whim. Something I can’t do...yet. I have school, I have work, I have to get up early, I have to study. I have laundry. I have to clean the house. They anticipate this week probably more than I do because they realize that they are going to be the center of attention. And they are so lucky to have you in their lives. Able to do the things you do together. What a wonderful opportunity for them to have the relationship they do with you, since there are a lot of grandchildren who don’t.

And I am lucky too. Because the week allows me not only time for myself, but also allows me to realize how empty my life would be without them.

You Better Hope Nothing Happens to Me...

How many moms have said that? To their husbands, kids...usually in the heat of the moment. Of course we're implying that there is no possible way that life as they know it could continue to be as good as it is for them without us there.

Now, I'm not saying that I am more the grease that keeps this family running as smoothly as it does (okay, I'm lying, that's exactly what I'm saying). And Shawn will quickly point out that I pamper the boys. I don't see it like that. I see it as utilizing every available minute with as little drama as possible. I have often considered writing down my "tricks" in a tiny spiral-bound notebook and placing it somewhere that Shawn would be sure to find it, if for some reason, (ahem), ANYTHING SHOULD HAPPEN TO ME. It just makes everyday a little simpler, a little less tantrum filled, a little less stressful for everyone. If that's pampering, I guess I'm guilty.

Some of the things I'm talking about...

1) Lumpy socks. Instead of putting on boots/shoes and taking them off over and over again, with tempers rising, causing a boot/shoe to be shot across the room (by parent or child) because a sock, "just doesn't feel right," turn them inside out. Use ones that don't match. Or if you're just going to the store, or somewhere they won't be taking the boots/shoes off...let them go without. If you decide to be the dictator in this situation, you may win the battle, but trust me my friend, you will NOT win the war. On your way to school, the bus stop, wherever, your son will calmly take his boots/shoes off, which you will only discover when you have stopped the car to get them out and only have 2 minutes left on your timetable. They will REFUSE to put them back on with the willpower that only a child has, and you will end up carrying said child into whichever facility you're at. And if this place needs shoes, good luck to you. One other thing I've learned...if you put their socks on them when they are still half awake in bed, you're chances of lumpy socks decreases by about 80%. Not sure why.

2) Waffle presentation. Trust me, I know it sounds ridiculous, but you must fill EVERY square of the frozen waffle with syrup. And honey, you can't take the shortcut of ripping the waffle into pieces and pouring syrup over it...they know. It may take a couple of seconds longer than random strings of syrup over the dang thing, but this method as been proven time and time again to prevent spontaneous explosion of our youngest one and wasted waffle. Do not listen to what the dogs are telling you, they just want the waffle after it's been rejected.

3) Bedtime is actually 30 minutes earlier than you think it is. Don't worry, it doesn't mean that you're sending the kids to bed at 7:00, because I guarantee it will take you AT LEAST 30 minutes before they even reach the bedroom. Also, you can't say, "Time for bed!" and expect them to jump up and race one another to be the first under the sheets. Oh no. I know it defies explanation, since you're ready to be asleep by 9, but they don't actually want to go to bed. In fact, it is best to give them some sort of warning that you will be telling them it's bedtime. For example, "10 more minutes, then bed." Also, don't expect them to think to themselves, "Hmmm, only 10 minutes? Well, sheesh, I better get that glass of water/go to the bathroom/read that book/get that snack, because I'm almost out of time." Nope. Those excuses are saved for when you think you've actually won and have the covers tucked around their chins.

4) Even though you think it takes 10 minutes, it takes 20. Keep this in mind. I don't care if you're not due to be somewhere for another 20-25 minutes. Get out the door. It's amazing what will catch you're child's undivided attention in that mere 7 ft from door to car. It will also prepare you for that last minute realization, "I gotta go to the bathroom. NO I can't hold it!" (Refer to #3)

5) Everything is your fault. I don't care if you've told them to look for their shoes and put them on 50 times, in the end, if you yell at them for being late because they didn't get their shoes on, it's YOUR FAULT because you didn't tell them where to look. Just so you know. Oh, and if you throw your hands up and go to look for the aforementioned shoes, DO NOT expect one to be in the same relative vicinity as the other. In fact, they may not be in the same room. If you have exhausted all possibilities, it is not considered out of the ordinary to look in the backyard. Again, I have no idea why this happens.

6) Dum-dum suckers are a secret weapon. Anywhere they are given away free, and you're alone. Stock up. They make great bribes if you're in a pinch. A good place to store them is in the car.

7) Watch your language. I don't care if you're on the phone in the bathroom or out in the garage, one slip of the tongue and it will come out of your kids' mouth at the worst possible time. If you scold them, they will say, "But YOU say it!"

8) What happens in the house, does not necessarily stay in the house. So if you're thinking anything pertaining to pooping, farting, picking your nose, the word "butt," "penis," or anything similar in nature will be "just between you and the boys," think again. It will make it's way out of the house and come back to bite you in the butt. Ahem. I mean behind.

9) Eats and drinks stay in the kitchen. It doesn't matter how 'spillproof' you think you've made something, or how 'safe' you'll think they'll be, they will manage to slop kool-aid on the carpet, make a mark on the couch with ink, or leave chocolate fingerprints on the remote. Oh, and it will be YOUR FAULT.

10) You are responsible. I don't care how much you hate to go places, attend activities, or may not enjoy the same things your kids do. You will have to suck it up and go. YOU NEED TO BE INVOLVED. I know it takes up your time, I know it's hard to keep one kid occupied when the other is playing baseball, I know you don't like to dress nice for concerts, but at some point, it needs to stop being about you and you need to remember it's about them, even if it's out of your comfort zone. If you don't take an interest in what is important to them, they will stop trying new things. And who knows what wonderful possibilities that could rob them of. Oh, and also, make an effort to introduce them to some of those new things...like outdoor concerts, art in the park, bike trails, etc. Remember, if you're involved in what they do, then you know what they're doing. (that sounded profound for a moment).

11) At some point, you will have to push. I think our biggest hope for our children is that we want them to be better people than we are. So there may be times where you won't be their friend. But that's okay, you're the parent. And it will mean probably pushing yourself as well. It's our job to be hated at moments.

Anyway, I know you think I'm morbid when I say, "If anything ever happens to me..." but just in case...I'll leave you a constantly updated spiral notebook. Look for it.

Kohl's, King Kong and Canines

I've spent nearly a month at my part-time position at Kohl's. The jury is still out on whether or not I like it. It's about 50/50 on the things I enjoy and the things I don't. Remember those "10 Things Your Doctor Doesn't Tell You" type stories in Reader's Digest? Here's my own, involving retail:

• Obviously, making minimum wage is far from enticing. It's right next to making $3.50 an hour bartending, but at least while slinging drinks I could make tips.
• Standing on my feet for eight or more hours at a time not only effects my feet, but at my age, includes my knees, back, and neck.
• Why are you out shopping if you're so unhappy about it? Come back when you're in a better mood.
• I know you don't want to apply for the Kohl's credit card. I really hate having to ask you, but I have someone watching to make sure I do, so try to understand my position. (And on the same note, I know marketing, and let me tell you, I don't believe pushing people to apply for credit or giving me their email address after the first polite "no" is a good policy. The check-out is the last impression of the store, and if it's a bad one, it won't matter how good the rest of their shopping experience was, they'll remember the end.)
• Throwing all the items in a huge pile with interlocking hangers is NOT going to help me check your items at breakneck speed. Trust me on this one.
• I would rather take your clothes off the hangers and fold them nicely, but I've been told if it's busy, I'm supposed to leave them on the clothes and throw them in the bag. Oh, and if you want the hangers, especially the small ones for kids' clothes, I'll give them to you, just ask.
• If you have an item without a tag, it will save you time to bring another one up just to scan. I will love you for this.
• If you think I'm doing a good job, have a pleasant personality, or provided you with exceptional service, please go online or take a comment card and let my manager know. It's about the only way I can get a small bonus (like a "tennis shoe day" or "front parking spot").

I do love meeting all the different types of people. There are people who are so willing to share their life with me while we stand there for 3 minutes, that I feel like I know them and we should have drinks sometime. I also met one lady who talked so fast, I didn't understand one tenth of what she said, and I'm from North Dakota for Pete's sake! We normally talk fast.

And for a quick laugh...I was a bit nervous when I was on my own, wondering if I was going to screw up or have to page a manager when a young woman came up with a basket of stuff. I carefully scanned each item, folded and made small talk. Then I attempted to look for the UPC code to scan on the basket when I realized it was one the store provided to its shoppers. Brilliant.

We had our family night a couple of Fridays ago, and Kaiden insisted on watching "King Kong," the newest one with Jack Black and I don't know who else (I'm horrible at actor/actresses names).

How can you not love that face?

The reason he picked this one is because he plays a video game based on this movie. I've seen the original, the one in 3-D when I was younger and we only had one pair red eye/blue eye glasses between 4 of us, and now this one. I cry. Every. Time. I think it's the whole idea that humans just don't know when to leave well enough alone. Every one of those planes knocked out of the sky deserved it.

This past week, I also toured a college and met with a recruiter. When I was a kid, I had always dreamed about being a veterinarian. I had adopted every stray animal that crossed my path. When I finally graduated high school, I chose the art field. I think this was mostly due to the fact that I had heard a rumor that you had to attend more school to be a vet than to be a 'real' doctor. Obviously, the Graphic Design field isn't doing much for me, and surprisingly, the whole idea of animal doctor is quite appealing to me. The thought of having to deal with vomit, poop, pee and horrible smells does not terrify me like it did in my early 20s. After all, I AM a mom. I read the list of classes I would have to take, and I didn't flinch once. I was actually excited. My problem is, would we be able to survive financially if I went back to school? If not, it can't even be an option. I don't think I will qualify for any grants, as I currently have a BA, but I'm looking into it. Since I currently have a degree, it would only take me...at the longest...18 months, not Vet though, Vet Tech.

I nearly cried when Far Side retired.

A few other highlights this week:

Again, no shirt.

•  My oldest now has three teeth missing on top in front. Lisp-city.
• After detecting a faint odor in my downstairs office, and after my version of the Spanish Inquisition, I learned that my youngest had peed in my garbage can because the light was off in the downstairs bathroom.
• The aforementioned child also told his Grammie that he, "thought she was dead" because my husband's phone does not have her on speed dial, and when he tried to call, it only continued to ring.
• He also called his older brother a "freak show." Not common terminology in our home.
• I found no less than 3 empty boxes in my cupboard at the exact same moment that I had a craving for what had been in those boxes. Add that to a bowl of mini-wheats that sat in the frig overnight because I have been adamant about not wasting ANYTHING. (I will never eat those again.)
• The vitamin packs that I had been taking to help stave off heart disease, clogged arteries, high blood pressure and low energy caused me to gain weight. Yeah, I'd rather be skinny(er).
• Kamrin's excuse for not going to sleep tonight? "My tummy wants something to watch and there isn't a TV in my room." Hmmm.
• My husband has never been the romantic type by any means, but after being down in the dumps for two days and an 8.5 hour shift at work, I came home to a bottle of wine...and he hasn't had a drink of alcohol since October 2009.
• I had a huge 30 pageview spike on my blog, several days AFTER I had written. I can't help obsessing about why that is.
• I overheard my son tell his friend that his mom is, "sorta famous, because she writes things that a LOT of people read."
• I'm worried about my dog. He has always hated spending a lot of time outdoors. He has no undercoat (he's a Shar Pei), so he gets too hot or too cold easily. Suddenly, all he wants to do is lay outside. He's been a bit clingy lately. One day I went to look for him, and he's sprawled out on the patio. I seriously thought he was dead. He didn't respond right away when I said his name. He is a bit deaf and has vision problems, but it scared the living crap out of me when he finally jumped up.
• Why is it that a man can drop his clothes right next to the bed and crawl in while a woman has to shut off the TV, lights, lock doors and start the dishwasher before going to bed?
• I've said it a million times...if you put the remote back in the same spot, we wouldn't have to spend 20 minutes looking for it so we can see what the weather is going to be like!

And finally, this is what happens when it snows in the middle of April and the boys can't play outside.

Yes, he did this himself.