It's a Dog Eat Dog World

Unless you live at my house where it's a dog eat everything world. I am beyond frustrated with my doberman lab mix, Zeus. He is the sweetest damn dog, great with kids and very lovable.


Zeus 

But, and this is a big but, this is the kind of stuff he does when we leave him home alone.


Couch 

Were this an isolated incident, I could have let it go, but the reality is that he destroyed two additional cushions to that sofa (we'd flipped them so as not to immediately have to buy another) as well as the sofa from my old apt that had been in the basement. He destroys every dog bed we ever buy him, including two in the last two weeks. Today I came home to two shredded pillows that we'd been using under a quilt to pad the fireplace hearth. ARGH!

Zeus doesn't reserve his destruction for soft stuff, he's also destroyed three crates. We nicknamed him Zeusdini because he is such an effective escape artist. We're not talking plastic crates, we're talking steel crates, he can bend them like pipe cleaners--even after we reinforce them with pipe fittings and various other metal clamps. We haven't found anything to hold him yet.

Why do we still have him you ask? Because we are not of the mindset that you dump a pet when it gets hard--and, the guilt, damn, I can't send him back to the shelter (a no kill shelter at that). We adopted him and his sister (they were 1.5 yrs old) from there 4 yrs ago, (his sis died of distemper while still under quarrantine in our basement, that was horrid and a whole nother entry) and I can't bare to send him back. Sigh.

So, I don't know what to do now. I'm growing to hate this sweet dog. I dread coming home and wondering what destructo dog shredded today.

Be Careful What You Wish For, You Just Might Get It

Remember a few weeks back when I was bemoaning the loss of my wild spontaneous days, staying up late, capturing the attention of the male gender... Last night, I got just that. A fever ridden DB decided that he had to have mommy's attentions from 11pm to 1am, and that as soon as I got him to STAY in bed, another boy decided it was time to eat, then at 3:45am more crying from DB and then at 6:45am someone wanted breakfast... Oh my God, I'm so tired, and not in that good I partied my ass off kind of way. I think i'll take a little less late night action and a little less male attention in the future thank you.

Cooking with AcK
 
Now that I'm a SAHM and feel somewhat obligated to make a hot meal more nights than not, I've been spending a lot more time in the kitchen.   Don't get me wrong, I actually like to cook, I just never made a lot of time for it when I was working and when BWB was coming home at a different time every night (usually after 6:30).  So while making dinner last night (Keema Alu), I was thinking about my favorite tips, tricks and tools.  I figured I would share:

Buy meat in bulk and freeze--a membership to Sam's Club is a blessing and a curse.  Great for stocking up, bad because i can never get out of there without spending over $200.  Or buy whatever is on sale at the grocer and freeze.  Just don't forget it's out there!  Here is a website with guidelines for how long meat/poultry keeps in the freezer.

When I buy ground beef, I separate it in to 1lb increments and put into ziplock bags, I smash the meat flat to the shape of the bag and squeeze all the air out before sealing.  These stack neatly in the freezer, take up minimal room and thaw quickly.  Don't forget to date the bag.

Always read an entire recipe and prepare everything before you start.  This will save so much time and keep you from possibly overcooking a dish because you forgot to chop the onion.  Also, if you have time between steps, use it to start cleaning up so there won't be so much to do after dinner.

Meal planning will save you money from wasted food.  Also, using what you already have on hand is a good way to try new recipes and experiment with something different.  I often do this when I have food that will go bad if not used in the next day or so.

Here are the kitchen tools I can not live without (we'll forgo the obvious like a microwave/oven/diswaher):

My santoku knife, if you chop, you must have one of these.

Tongs, I don't care what kind, they are a musthave for any kitchen.

Silicone spatulas--they don't melt or stain, great for using with telflon pans.

A high edged saute pan like this, a big one, I use it for making everything.

My Le Crueset Dutch Oven:  they cost a shitload, but you'll own it for 30 yrs.

My 6 qt crockpot--it's your best friend in the wintertime.

My KitchenAid Artisan mixer--it beats the shit of of whisking egg whites by hand and you can make you some damn fine cookies.

These nested bowls from Williams Sonoma, I use them pretty much every time I cook.

This multilevel steamer/stock pot, love it.


Things I've also found particularly handy:
3 cup food processor--I bought it when I was making my own baby food, but use it for everything.
A set of wire mesh strainers
A griddle-I have electric, but stovetops are nice too.
The thin flexible cutting boards, great for chopping veggies and transferring right into pot, plus no contamination from the meat.
All sorts of thermometers, I have a digital meat, candy/oil and grill fork.
Microplaner--so much nicer than a grater for zesting.
A small counter top scale, great for ingredients listed in weight rather than amt.

Please share any of your favorite tricks/gadgets.

Bouncing Baby Boy

So, I'm on my way to the airport to drop off VG & SC after a fun but whine filled weekend (apparently our kids will not be getting married anytime soon since SC can't stand for DB to be within five feet of her), and the phone rings.  It's the BWB, my first thought, what did Veeg forget?  You know a conversation is NOT going to go well that starts with "Don't worry, he's ok..."  nope, nosiree bob, not a good start to any chat  "...GB fell."  Um, fell?  He's 3 mos, he doesn't fall, DB falls all the time, but GB, no no, he doesn't fall.  "From where?"  "From his carseat...on the kitchen counter."  "WHAT?! He wasn't strapped in?  Where were you?  How do you know he's ok?" "He stopped crying, he's alert, blahty blahty..." to avoid saying something horrible I reply, "I've got to go."

Now, poor Veeg, because here I am dead silent and white knuckled from gripping the steering wheel so hard.  And a silent AK is a bad AK.  See when AK is mad, she usually yells, and when she's yelling, you know what she's thinking, but when she's quiet?  You know she plotting homicide.  After a few minutes of this white-knuckled silence pass, VG asks if I'm ok.  I sputter and mutter and really am not capable of comprehensible speech at the moment as I'm formulating my plan to kill the  BWB while remaining out of prison to care for a toddler and newly handicapped infant.  Then the phone rings.  "Just wanted you to know that I called the ped and I have all the things to look out for."  "uh huh, bye" 

Talk to VG some, apologize for not talking, but that the string of explatives that would fly out of my mouth at the moment would make a sailor blush.  Start to relax a little.  Phone rings.  "Nurse called back, they said any kid under 4 months needs to go to the ER to be evaluated."  "Meet you there." Click.

I manage to get to the airport in one piece, bid farewell to my good friend and SC and start back for the hospital which is conveniently on the way home.  Now that I'm alone, it all sets in, the panic, the what ifs, the 'how will I ever forgive my husband if something is wrong?'  My stomach is eating itself, the back of my eyes are burning, I have to call someone.  I call my friend A who I can talk to about anything because I really don't want to panic my mother, because she WILL NOT SLEEP knowing something might be wrong with any of us.  A's not home, I call her cell.  She answers and I can tell she's out somewhere.  "Where are you?"  "That One Place" "Is everything OK, you sound funny."  "Is this A.K.?  Hold on" some rustling, then suddenly I'm talking to her husband.  "um hi, "  So, I get off the phone, wondering WTF that was about.  I assume she's pissed at me because I asked to call her back when she called earlier because I was watching a movie and she was the fourth person in five minutes to call.  Long story short, she couldn't hear, thought I was her mom with whom she was pissed--found that out this morning.

Anyway, so now I'm upset and pissed, and have to call my mom.  "So, how do I not kill my husband?"  I think I asked this ten or twenty times.  Mom is awesome, calms me down, but now she's obviously upset and worried.  I enter the parking garage and lose signal, figure I'll call later.  I walk into the hospital repeating to myself that the BWB is punishing himself right now, worse that I ever could, so just be calm.  I find them immediately in the waiting room and the look on BWB's face says I was totally right about beating himself up.  I scoop up GB and hold him close to me, then hold him away long enough to look him over, then cuddle him back to my chest.  He really did seem fine, no obvious marks, he was alert, smiling and pretty much my happy baby.  I manage to give BWB the littlest smile--you know the one that says 'I'm pissed but i don't hate you'.  Then we wait. 

It's never fun entertaining a toddler in an ER at 8pm (bedtime), but thankfully, this ER has a great pediatric ER and thus has toys and a fish tank.  We drive trucks around, find Nemo and Dorie in the tank, and try not to bother everyone else there.  Then, we wait and wait some more,  I've forgiven BWB already because I know it was an accident and how would I feel if the situation was reversed?  We wait some more, pass the time with vended snacks and finally get into the room around 9:30pm.  The dread has set in now, the dread of 'the lecture'.  I know it's going to come, I know it will.  "So, the baby was where?  mmhmm.  And he wasn't strapped in?  mmhmm  And he was sitting on the counter?  mhhmm  And where were you?  Mmmmm..."  I was making myself sick thinking about it.  I didn't want to wear the "I'm a suck parent" tshirt, because you know, I wasn't there!  I wanted a neon sign above my head "NOT MY FAULT!"  I wanted big red arrows pointed at the BWB saying "HE DID IT!"  But not me, no, because I'd never do that (untrue), and I'm always responsible (yeah right) and it could never have happened on my watch (bullshit).  But I wanted all those things anyway because no one wants to be the idiot that ignored the blatant  WARNING: Do not leave child in carseat unattended.  FALL HAZZARD: Infant movents can cause seat to rock, never place at the edge of counter or table...

When the nurse finally came in to do weights and measurements and ask what happened, I let BWB do the talking--surely they'd know that if i'm not talking, I didn't do it, right?  She kept looking at me for answers and finally when she asked "Did you see it happen?", I squeaked out "I wasn't home" before I could stop myself.  Then I felt bad, so bad, because BWB feels bad enough and we're both GBs parents and we've both played Russian Roulette with the saftey warnings,  and it just happens that the chamber wasn't empty when BWB pulled the trigger.  When the dr came in, I recognized him from the times that DB had to go to the ER when he was having all the breathing problems.  He's a nice man, very soft spoken, but I felt the lecture coming, and after he looked over GB and determined he did in fact "look perfect", he started asking the questions about what happened.  I saw him taking notes, and I was sure he writing things like "incompetent parents"  "total idiots" "don't deserve such beautiful boys" and otherwise marring our permanent record with comments about substandard parenting practices.  Then came the "I see this all the time, it's amazing GB didn't suffer any injuries with a fall from that height.  You really need to be more careful in the future."  And though he wasn't talking down to us, you know we both walked out of the ER with "Stupid Parents" stamped on our forehead.  We drove home, I called my mom to report everything was fine (it was 11:30pm her time and she was obviously still awake), and finally got to bed.

All in all, not a fun night.  But, in the end the most important thing is that GB is ok, well except for that twitch. ;)

My Career Path

I was blog hopping and came across this site.  From there, I followed this link and found my destiny, I have no idea why I didn't think of it before:

A.K. , Your ideal job is a Suicide Bomber.

So, leave a comment, or else.

Blogged Down
 
People, I know you're out there...I know you at least stop here for a visit...would it kill you to leave a comment?  Even if you're just telling me I'm a nutbag, that's fine, just not feeling the love lately. Sigh.  Take pity on me, I don't get out much.

Crack Yer Bones
 
I love Eddie Izzard, he does a great skit about chiropractors, so as I laid on the table today and was contorted by my doc, that was what I was thinking of.  After stressing myself out about the whole shrinking thing, I decided it was time to get my back examined.  I'm lucky enough to have a primary care physician that is also a back cracker.  I called this morning and happily got a same day appt.  Aside from a much too long wait with a toddler and infant, and a brief moment when I was sure that my coccyx was going to fly out of my mouth, things went well.   I have a scrip for some anti-inflammatories and my neck, she is loosey-goosey.  I have a follow up appt next week to work my upper back after the drugs have done their thing, and I'm hopeful that this will help with the fairly constant backache I've been having.   Now, I'm off to go measure myself because I'm sure I'm at least an 1/8 th inch taller...

A Horrible Mind
 
I have no idea why I do this, but have done it as long as I can remember.  I start thinking about something totally innocuous and it leads to something horrible and tragic.  For instance, at 5:30 this morning I was nursing GB, and ticking through my mental list of things I need to get done: check email to see when playgroup meets this morning, unload the dishwasher, call daycare to tell them that DB won't be attending anymore--but it would be nice if I could have daycare as an option if something were to spring up and I needed to drop DB off--like an emergency--like something happening to the BWB--like he was in the hospital or something from a car wreck--but if he were really hurt I should take DB along just in case--I mean I wouldn't want him to miss out seeing his dad one last time--like if BWB was in a coma and we had to pull the plug and I'd have to walk DB in there to say goodbye to his father--and what if he didn't want to and I had to make him because otherwise he might regret it and hate me--and could I handle that--God no, I'd be an awful sobbing wreck....

Good freakin' God, why do I do that to myself?  Needless to say, I didn't go back to sleep afterward.  These tangential strains of thought usually occur when I'm trying to get to sleep which of course is the worst time, because who can sleep when the death of your children or spouse is running through you head?  BWB knows my propensity to do this, because I'll roll over and cuddle up to him (I generally don't cuddle while trying to sleep, I like being free of limbs and body heat).  He'll say something like, "bad thoughts?"  and I'll mutter "uh huh" and he'll kiss me on the forehead and hold me until I find myself uncomfortable and drowsy and roll back to my side of the bed.

Please tell me I'm not a lone freak for doing this?  Please tell me that others of you out there allow the unthinkable to creep into your mind, that occasionally you get so disturbed by them that you end up on the verge of tears.  JUST FROM STUPID THOUGHTS.  If it's just me, than I'm thinking I need a good combo of tranquilizers and happy pills, oooh or a frontal lobotomy, yeah that would do the trick.

I'm Shrinking
 
Seriously, I am, and not a good part like my ass, thighs or boobs.  I went in for my annual well woman exam and in addition to BP, weight, and Pap, I got measured.  My OB said, "Hey, you're short."  AM NOT!  OK, I'm not tall but I always thought that 5' 6.5" was respectable if not a little above average.  Only I wasn't 5'6.5", I was barely over 5'5".  Damn.   There are three possibilities: 1)  They've increased the size of an inch (and this would be my theory were I a man).  2)  My OB forgot how to read a ruler because his wife is pregnant with triplets and his brain has imploded.  3)  My scoliosis is getting worse.
 
Unfortunately, an inch is still and inch (unless you have a Y chrome) and despite my OB having 3 feti gestating, I'm pretty sure I can blame this on my own damn spine.  My spine has always betrayed me.  When I was a kid it started getting all curvy--unlike my chest which was dead flat until I was 18--I was diagnosed with scoliosis, an "S curve" at about 12.  Here started a fun journey, how to fix A.K.'s spine in the most horrible torturous way.
 
Let's start with the Scolitron.  This (medieval torture) device used a battery to power four electrodes that were stuck to specific spots on your back with either tape or gel pads.  To know where to put the electrodes an orthopede measured your spine and drew, yes drew, four squares on your back with a marker.  You had to keep outlining these squares to make sure they didn't fade or wash off.  Then every night at bed time you applied the electrodes with your chosen method of adhesive and turned it on.  There was a dial that went from Off to 10 which controlled how strong the CURRENT OF ELECTRICITY that stimulated your muscles would be.  It pulsed on for 6 seconds and off for 6 seconds.  And you were supposed to sleep with this on, did I mention the wires?  Did you know if you are a restless sleeper and roll over and peel off the electrode and it sticks on to another part of your body-it really fucking hurts?  So, you get the gist of this, small plastic box with dial, wires, electrodes, shock therapy...we won't even talk about the time I accidentally turned it up to 10 when I thought I was turning it off.  Wrong on so many levels.  And can I tell you that my doctor and (asshole) father colluded to keep me using this thing when I knew I couldn't do it?  They showed me the most horrible awful (OLD) back brace with big metal bars and straps, God the straps, to scare me back into trying again.  Which I did, and I subsequently failed again.  And now I'm terrified because I have to wear some sort of Frankensteinian device 23 hours a day.
 
Next, the Boston Brace.  A new doctor, a new treatment.  By this time the curvature of my spine was 45 degrees and 49 degrees.  I'm in the waiting room thinking I'm going to end up like Joan Cusak in Sixteen Candles and bawling my eyes out.  It's not good to be a freak when you're 13, well, freakier anyway.  Thankfully, a molded plastic body brace was what I walked out with--the prescription for it anyway.  It was hot and caused many a rash in the summer, but it was good protection from a punch in the gut too.  Now, this new orthopede was ALL ABOUT SURGERY.  Not the old rod in the spine surgery, no no, he had him some cool new-fangled operations.  There was this one, where they removed one of your ribs and somehow positioned it to straighten your spine--yeah, sign me up for that one.  And another where they attached this jointed bracket to your spine so you could actually still bend forward, but dude robot back, no thank you.  My mom was adamantly against surgery, so thankfully I never had to spend 7 months in traction while waiting for my vertebrae to get straightened out, literally.
 
Eventually there was a new doc, bigger braces for my growing body (three in all) and the eventual graduation from the brace which aptly came when I was a senior in HS.  Aside from the obvious positive side effects like reducing my curvature to 12 & 20 degrees, I also had a 23 inch waste. :)  I did get this cursed FUPA though, that haunts me still today.
 
Speaking of today, did you know that I was shrinking?  Oh yeah, that's what started this whole thing.  So, now I have to go get an xray, see what's going on in there.  I'm sure that lugging around two babies in utero and out of utero along with DDD boobs is the culprit.  I'm not sure what if any treatment there is, so if I suddenly drop off the face of Blogger, it's probably because I can no longer reach my keyboard.

My Weekend in Pictures  
 
We did our own personal episode of Clean Sweep, this is all the stuff we are donating to charity:
 

 

GB caught a butterfly:

DB started wearing underwear. :)

Take This Job and Shove It
 
I ain't workin' there no more.  I cleaned out my office today, not even the teeniest iota of sorrow.  It felt much better than I thought closing that chapter of my life.  My boss was nothing but friendly, the VP who said they survived without me didn't speak a word, very interesting.  I think he'll have a few words to say when he realizes that they have no idea what I did. :)
 
I still have to do an exit interview, that should be fun, no really it should.  There was more office politics and backstabbing bullshit in our office of 10 then in a major corporation.  I wonder if I'll be kind or honest, I guess that depends on if I feel like doing any consulting work for them or alternately, want a decent reference should I return to work in the much distant future.
 
All in all, I know in my heart that I made the right decision, that the two beautiful boys I call my own are more precious than any money and more satisfying than any career.  They can also be more work, more aggravating and definitely more disgusting.
 
Happy Friday--not that it matters to me anymore!

Things Have a Way of Balancing Out

After having a pretty low period, I'm being buoyed back up into a happy time. I just got a call from a girlfriend I had lost touch with almost 4 years ago. She's doing so well and getting married in September. And to top that off, a certain friend is coming for a visit--YAY!

In work-related news, I was offered future work as a consultant for my company at $45/hr (1099 status), but I'm not sure I'll take it. It might be more fun to leave them hanging. I am also helping a friend with a potential job opportunity so she can get out of a very ugly work environment.

Lastly, the contractors were here this morning installing the hardware for our bar cabinetry--only three months behind schedule. The carpet guy was also here looking at the seams that popped up and will be back to repair them next week.

Oh, almost forgot, booked tickets yesterday to visit my mom in Tampa over Labor Day weekend--$143/ea!

Down, Doobie Do, Down Down

I was just reading 007's post, and earlier this week, Dooce's post about feeling down and they resonated with me. I haven't been at my happiest the last few weeks, despite have quite a lot to be happy about.

It started on vacation, the BWB and I had our first date night since before GB was born thanks to my ILs. We went to a local bar, ate some greasy bar food, shot some pool and talked, a lot. Not exactly the cheery happy conversation of a couple who finds themselves free of offspring for an entire night either. I'm not sure why I had the first of several mini episodes there, but I was overcome by emotion, apparently I'd been penning things up for a while, and it finally broke free. It wasn't anything serious, or even that interesting, I was getting O-L-D. Blah blah blah, I know 33 isn't old, but also, it is. It's not 20-something young anymore, I'm not turning-heads attractive anymore, I'm a somewhat dumpy-looking mom type person. I exude motherhood, not sure if it's the heftier figure or the short hair cut or the spit up that resides on my shoulder, but here I am, MOM.

To clarify, I don't at all dislike being a mom, I love it. My boys mean more to me than I could ever describe in words. Some days I get misty thinking about how awesome they are and how lucky I am. It's just that I've finally been struck by the reality that I now lead a mom's life. One void of fancy vacations, one free of crazy nights on the town, one where I bear the brunt of childcare responsibility, because 'I'm the Mommy'.

The silliest thing is what started this spiral. I was doing something--don't remember what--and looked down at my hands. You know what I saw? My mother's hands. Not just a similarity, beause that's always been there, but the more wrinkled mature look of an older person's hands. Why did this bother me? I never batted and eyelash at turning 30 or 31, 32, 33... Maybe because I was pregnant half that time, and excited and scared and then occupied with one child and now two. I don't know, the woman's mind is strange and mysterious thing.

As typical with my nature, I started looking for all the things that were wrong in my life instead of focusing on what was right. This is a very bad flaw I've had as long as I can remember. While on vacation, I started comparing myself to my sis-in-laws, who are in their 20s and childless. They are both in great shape and beautiful. That's never a good thing to do. :P At least a commitment between the BWB and I came out of this, we were going to exercise because we both really need to.

I did start feeling a bit better, and had a great time in Pennsylvania, but last week after I returned i got a call from the office. If you don't remember, I'd told them long ago I wasn't planning to return, but would happily work from home PT--which I did over most of my maternity leave. Well, plans had changed, my boss wanted me in the office one day a week to focus on IT issues rather than marketing. Um, ok, I'll have to get back to you. This opened up a whole new path, one that was both interesting and unappealing. The thought of pumping--ugh, putting kids back in the illness ridden daycare, yuck. Getting out of the house one day a week? intriguing. Making some extra cheese, desirable. So, I did the cost analysis, sent in some terms, and was pretty sure they'd be met because my boss likes having a personal IT person. Just as we were sitting down to dinner, my coworker/friend calls. Long story short, it's a no go. I haven't gotten the official reply yet, but apparently, the VP (not my boss) said "we survived without her over maternity leave"--Oh, really? Funny, since I was working a lot of that time.

This hit me a lot harder than I anticipated considering I never planned to go back anyway. Maybe it's that the choice wasn't officially mine, or that I'm now truly a SAHM. Maybe it's that I never really found wanted I wanted to do, I just did things to earn a living and now the time for discovery has passed. Now is the time for me to raise my kids and relegate thoughts of career to a place in the back of my brain. Damn, I'm good at feeling sorry for myself, no? Gah, I just can't believe that I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.

I guess my declarations of SAHMhood not being so bad, were really only in the external sense: My kids are doing fine and the house is in good shape. Mentally and emotionally I have a little catching up to do.

Why I'm Smiling

My toddler has been on a kick lately where he runs around the house with arms overhead yelling, "I am SuperDB!"

The small child smiles, all the time, especially when you bench press him.

The BWB and I spent the past weekend installing the new built-in desk, and we didn't have to call a carpenter to fix it.

I've lost 3 pounds since I got back from Pennsylvania.

Despite it being in the 90s, my basement remains pleasantly cool.

WooHoo!

Reporting to you live from my newly installed desk in the basement office. I have reclaimed my bedroom for sleeping! I'm off, lots of fun stuff to set up and new toys to buy....

What I Learned on my Summer Vacation, Part III

Arriving Home

The whole 'calories don't count while you are on vacation' spiel--LIE.

Once you are used to splitting the child duty workload with 7 other people, doing it solo again sucks.

Nothing is as good as sleeping in your own bed.

Forgetting to empty the baby pool means gross green water and lots of dead grass.

We get a lot of mail.

You will have to remind the BWB not to pull into the garage with the roof carrier in place, again.

Cleaning the house before we left was a freakin' fantastic idea.

Forgetting to clean out the refridgerator before you left was a big mistake, ewww.

Doing laundry at the inlaws before we came home, brilliant!

Coming home on a Wednesday makes the transition back into real life much easier, yay weekend!

St. Louis summers, suck.

People tend to stop reading your blog when you don't write anything new for a week. :P

What I Learned on my Summer Vacation, Part II

At the Inlaws

I am totally out of shape and shouldn't go hiking with my younger and much fitter SILs.

I suck at Texas Hold 'em.

My MIL makes the best cookies ever.

Even on a great vacation, you can still find something to be unhappy about, but that's a discussion for another entry.

Discovering that Captain and Diet Coke with Lime is as good as you thought, sucks when you kid decides tonight he will not sleep through.

You can get stung by a wasp, on your ass, while sitting in a pool.

Toddlers do not nap while on vacation.

Throwing horseshoes makes your butt hurt the next day.

The smell of clams still makes me want to hurl.

Getting my future brother-in-law drunk is always good for some laughs.

I still hate Utz's potato chips, even the BBQ ones.

I am a mediocre pool player, but I rule at pop-a-shot.

We drink an inordinate amount of Yuengling over the fourth of july weekend.

When everyone eats cabbage for dinner, don't expect the nightly card game to be pleasant.

You can never play too much washers.

I get to plan my younger SILs wedding next October. :)

We never stop eating.

I am a very lucky girl to have married into such a great family.

What I Learned on my Summer Vacation Part I

In the Car

We need a minivan.

My kids' tolerance for riding in a carseat (with several hiatuses) is about 15 hours--the trip to PA is 16.

Satellite radio and portable DVD players are my new best friends.

Shrek is the DBs favorite movie, ask me how I know.

Poop smeared into a carseat smells for a very long time.

There is no such thing as a quick stop when you have two kids.

Ohio drivers...SUCK BALLS.

Dogs can whine for a long long long time.

I can handle GB crying non stop while strapped in his carseat for about 20 minutes before my heart reaches it's breaking point.

The socks required to play in the McDonalds Playplace are in the worst possible place; they are in the big suitcase strapped in the carrier on the roof of the SUV.

Going ten miles in 2.5 hours will bring a person to the brink of insanity.

Did I mention the poop smell?

That I was not going to get to meet HG, Puck and Tink due to the plague. :(

Wheeling, WV has a frightening amount of little girls that are underdressed.

During a stop, DB would rather sit in the driver's seat and pretend to drive than get out of the car.

Wipes are your friend, bring plenty.

That daytime roadtripping is waaaaaay better than overnight roadtripping when you have small children.

Being the driver is much easier than passenger when you have small children.

When both kids are finally asleep at the same time, you'll need to stop for gas.

There is no better feeling than pulling into your driveway at the end of a roadtrip.

I am ALIVE!

So, all you sticklers can add me back into your links now. ;) I'll write about the Cartrip Chronicles when I have a little more time. Needless to say, we're home and in one piece.