It's all a matter of perspective.

Last night's phone conversation with my husband:


Hubs: So, what did you do today?

Me: Not a whole lot. I was pretty lazy. But I had fun playing with the kids and I taught Bug a new game.

Hubs: Then you did get something done today, something really important. I bet the kids loved it!

Gardasil

I have the feeling that this is not going to be a popular statement, but I feel the need to point out one risk factor that parents simply can't control, no matter how we'd like to.

I have HPV. I was not loose. My first husband cheated on me. Repeatedly. I now have to have a pap every six months for the rest of my life, and I'm grateful that I can take this preventive step.

Can you raise your daughter with the knowledge it takes to makes sure she marries a faithful man? Can you guarantee that she won't be victimized? If so, please tell me how.

There are some aspects of our lives, of our children's lives that no amount of good parenting can control. No matter how well we instill in our children our morals, no matter how much we say they are not of this world because of our faith, they are still in this world, and that means that bad things can happen. But this vaccine may give us the power to lessen the severity by a fraction.

I'm not saying that it's right for this vaccine to be mandatory. But I am saying that it could prevent some women from being victimized for the rest of their lives because of an unfaithful husband, or worse, a rapist, giving this disease to her. I hope nothing like that ever happens to my sweet little girl, but I can't control that.

A random thought

Am I the only one who does this? I cannot bring myself to throw away a box. Big ones, little baby shoe ones, weird long ones...... I am compelled to keep them because there just must be some brilliant use for them that I just haven't discovered yet. I think I need help with this one. Why oh why do I do this?

TGIF

What a Friday it is, too! We got our tax return, so I'm off to (finally!) replace the washer and dryer. I wonder if the new one will have a "normal" setting? Can you tell I'm excited? The old washer leaks all over the floor everytime I use it, so it's going to the dump. But I think the dryer is still ok to donate. Before and after pics should be lots of fun!

WFMW

In keeping with my general new attitude towards life, I decided this week to finally get off the couch and excercise. I figure, the healthier my body is before I get pregnant again, the healthier a pregnancy I will have. I truly thought it would be a piece of cake to get back in shape, as I was a very active and fit kid, teen, and young adult. I played soccer all through high school until a knee injury sidelined me, and skiied until that point too. My old "career" was also a very active one, all other downsides put aside. So I really didn't aticipate how completely and totally flabby I had become since becoming a stay at home mom.

I noticed about a month ago that Lifetime TV has various fitness shows on during weekday mornings, and set the dvr to record a few of them. I finally tried one a three days ago. (No, I don't procrastinate!) I love it, but man, oh, man! I hurt in places I didn't realise I could hurt. All of this is just aching muscles, no injuries.

The upside of all of this pain is that I was able to wear a pair of pre- Kat jeans yesterday, and I didn't have to hop and stretch and contort to put on today's jeans. I have resisted buying new, larger jeans, because, let's face it, I'm just that cheap. Yay!

So my works for me wednesday is that the DVR doesn't have to help you get fat. It can help you get in shape and healthy, too!

Visit Rocks in My Dryer for more Works For Me Wednesday!

The Project is completed!

Thanks for the encouragement ladies. I really appreciate it.

Lynn Marie, I'm laughing my butt off right now! I got that chore done in record time- precisely because I didn't want to sleep on the couch! No after picture, mainly because everything is back in my closet again. But now it's organized so whenever a kid grows into the next size, I just take down the appropriate box.

I even went through each of the kids' dressers and purged them of outgrown clothes, and sorted through a lot of my own. I'm letting go of some jeans from high school, because (as my hubs so kindly pointed out) I might get back to that weight someday but my body simply has a new shape since having kids. Time to accept, and maybe even embrace it. Which is also why some of those tops that my mother tried to keep me from wearing in high school are going on ebay. If I don't want my daughter wearing it, I certainly shouldn't!

We didn't give away as much as I thought we would, mainly because we're trying for another baby, so I'm hanging on to a lot for hand me downs. We'll add to the donation box by getting rid of some of those stuffed animals that seem to multiply like a fungus every time you leave the room. F.I.S.H. is going to loooove me tomorrow!

My Project

You are looking at a California King size bed covered in a three foot tall pile of clothes that various children in my family have worn and outgrown. Today, I am going to attempt the herculean task of sorting, tossing, donating, and organizing this mess. I plan to sort by size, not season, and actually label the containers (hopefully something better than cardboard boxes). Wish me luck and motivation! Hopefully by this time next week I'll have a nice "after" photo to show you.

Lessons Learned- Part 2

Lynn Marie asked for the rest of the story, and all the kids are zonked on flue meds, so here goes.... I just hope you don't regret asking!

Friday, it rained. Friday night, it snowed. Saturday, it rained. Saturday night, it snowed. Sunday, same pattern. Monday rolls around, and I decide that I cannot put off cleaning the kids' bathroom anylonger. They stink, and bathing them in a filthy tub last used by the dogs would be somewhat counter-productive. Oh, indeed, I can so put it off longer!

There are pieces of the ceiling in the tub. Not, the popcorn ceiling decided to shed its' winter coat, pieces. Chunks of plaster and drywall. I calmly mention this in an "oh, by the way could you look at this for me" kind of way to my husband when he gets home from work. "Is it safe for me to bathe the kids?", I ask him, " I mean, chunks of ceiling aren't going to fall on their heads, are they?"

Very same day. Different room. Same "oh-by-the-way-could-you-please-look-at-this". Except this time, there is a puddle on the floor of the laundry room. And I'm certain I can't blame it on the puppy, as it's muddy water. The washing machine is leaking, and molding the floor underneath. This gets me looking at other spots in the place that look curiously similar.

Hubs asks what's going on with the treasure hunt that has me saying "dammit dammit dammit" under my breath. I tell him I think there's mold in our house. He freaks, packs the entire family, including dogs into the minivan and truck and insists we drive into town to stay with his parents. I call the one company that answers the phone out of the three listed under "fire and water damage" in the phone book. Hubs calls the insurance company and starts filing a claim.

"DO NOT call your insurance company until you know exactly what is wrong with your house and how bad it really is." Those were the words of the water damage control/mold remediation/carpet cleaning/duct cleaning man who inspected our home. This man happens to be brilliant, by the way, and also proof that the Lord does answer prayers. He attends our church, and I had no idea he was who I'd called for help. He instructed me on how best to handle the insurance company, how to clean the mold myself that the insurance company said was my fault.

And he brought the news that it wasn't near as bad as I thought it was. The mold, that is. The financial ramifications, we're still assessing. We have to replace all of the windows, and the skylight in the kids' bathroom, and patch the roof, all on our own dime. Not to mention replacing the leaky washer.

"And DO NOT EVER let your real estate agent talk you out of a home inspection no matter how bad you want to be in the place yesterday. " Last May, our pellet stove backdrafted into my husband's face while he was lighting it. He has recovered, but that's how we learned that the fire safety inspection of our home previous to the sale had failed. Now, as a result of the catastrophe that has been this February, we've learned that every single window is not only leaking, but also molding. This probably began before we ever laid eyes on the place, but how were we to know without that inspection?

However, we have certainly learned A LOT. And that is good.

Lessons learned

In case anyone ever wondered, DO NOT call your insurance company until you know exactly what is wrong with your house and how bad it really is. DO NOT tell your husband there is mold, until it is taken care of. And DO NOT EVER let your real estate agent talk you out of a home inspection no matter how bad you want to be in the place yesterday.

And now, I'm off to join the legions of blogging mamas cleaning walmart out of their supplies of nyquil and dayquil. Here's hoping there's enough left to get me through.

Firsts

Bug slept over at a friends' house last night. It was his first sleepover, excluding two stays at Grandma and Grandpa's. We all missed him, and it got me thinking about what it will feel like as he continues to grow older and spend less time with those who love him the most. It made me want to go and get him and refuse to let him leave the house again, and I'm sure the family would have backed me up on it. Monkey-boy didn't want to sleep without his goodnight hugs from big brother. Kat didn't know what to do without somebody to annoy. She focused on me instead. Hubs kept waking up and asking me in a sleep dazed slur, "where'sh Bug? Oh, yeah, he's at whatshisbutt's house, ok-- sssnnnnnkkkkk".

Heaven help us when he grows up and wants to move out or go away to college. We'll be lost. Positively lost without him. I so hate these reminders that he's growing up. All of his firsts are my firsts too, and some of them are so much more bittersweet than others.

I didn't cry at his first day of kindergarten, but boy you should have seen me on the first day of 1st grade! I was a complete mess. Not only was it his first day of 1st grade, at a new school because we'd moved, it was his first time riding a bus to and from school. All week I had been drilling him on those all important details:
"What's your teacher's name?" "What's your classroom number?" "What bus do you take?" "What bus stop do you get off at?" "What's my cell phone number?" "What's your address?"

He had them all down pat. He was ready. I was not. I had to let him go anyway. We learned later that day that I had forgotten one all important question: "What's your name? first and last" His bus driver didn't recognize him when it was time to go home, and asked his name. He got scared, and only mumbled his first name. Apparently there is another Bug at that school, who just happened to be staying at school to wait for his mom. So my Bug got sent to the other Bug's babysitter's bus stop. Meanwhile, I'm watching all the kids but mine file off of the bus, getting more and more panicked. When I realized that Bug was not getting off that bus, I got on. Want to see a scared bus driver? Just get on her bus and ask her where your kid is. Needless to say, she got on her radio, tracked him down, and brought him back to me while I waited with my younger two. And now he is not allowed to get off the bus unless someone is waiting for him at the stop. They don't want to lose him again, after the talking to the office and the bus depot got from me.

Did I mention I don't always like many of Bug's firsts? They tend to be learning experiences for me as much as for him. Wonder what I'm going to learn when I go to pick him up?

Fight Against Hunger!

For this entire month, you can download the Celebrity Pasta Lovers Cookbook for free! The best part is, just for downloading these yummy recipes, Barilla will donate $1 to America's Second Harvest. So go have italian for dinner tonight!