Dreaming What Ifs...

You Are Not As Anonymous As You Think You Are

Something happened to my family last week that made headline news. 

The event was horrifying and completely changed our life.

To make the situation worse, the Associated Press found a blog.  A supposedly anonymous blog made by a family member.  She's never used names, but she did include pictures and bits and pieces of personal information that the majority of bloggers write about. 

A reporter found her blog, took the information she'd written and used it for their Front Page news story.  There was no need to confirm the information.  It cited her blog.

My mother immediately privatized her blog.  I was out of town without internet access, but I contemplated doing the same until the media blitz calmed down....but finally decided my blog was really inconsequential to the situation.  There was nothing written here they could use.  

But it taught me a valuable lesson.   Anonymous blogs don't exist.  If the Associated Press can find my sister's blog and use it for their news story (how did they even know she had one?) then they will do the same to anyone.

The written word is a powerful tool.  And for the first time, I've seen, first hand how dangerous it can be for the writer. 

And this is NOT an April Fool's Joke.  I'm dead serious.

 

An Early Spring Break

Due to snow?

Yesterday was an adventure.  It involved snow, wood stoves, burns, and more snow.

First, we woke to snow with cancelled school.  The kids eagerly decided to build a snowman:

But, after creating HUGE balls of snow, they realized just how heavy wet snow is so made snow forts instead:

Then, they realized how wet and cold they were so ran inside for hot chocolate.

Just as the water heated up - we lost power.  No surprises there.  For some reason we lose power ALL the time.  Whenever the sky turns stormy we're done for. 

Dave was home so he started up a fire in the wood stove.  Lunch time rolled around and it was decided to make grilled cheese sandwiches on the wood stove.  (with a pan, of course).

Disaster struck - Dave tripped over his own feet.  He managed to twist his body and avoid the majority of the stove, but his hand and arm came up burnt.

After one glance at his burn, I sent him to Urgent Care (along with a pain pill left over from last-years surgery).

2nd degree burns, ointment, bandages to be replaced 2x a day, and pain pills - all under the cover of candle light.

And throughout it all, the snow kept falling.

This morning, school was cancelled again.  We are officially on Spring Break.  The power came back on and the kids have decided to work on their snow forts again.  That is - if they can find them:

The Problem with Projects

Imagine a flourescent light with a weird Light-box underneath it.  This hung over our bathroom sink.  It was quite ugly and outdated.   Imagine this "Before" picture, which I somehow forgot to take at the start of the project.  After  searching through all my digital photos of the last 8 years, I never took a picture of my bathroom.

Our realtor employs a Home Stager:  An outside source who decides how horribly outdated a home is and what should be fixed and changed before placing the house on the market.

So one of the many projects was to remove the early-80's wallpaper and the weird Light-box thing in our bathroom.  But, these projects can never just be easy.

This is the scenario:

 

The flourscent light was attached via the ceiling.  Thus, to put in a Sconce Light, we had to cut a huge hole in the ceiling to gain access to the wiring.  (When I say, 'we' - I mean 'Dave')

 

Then, after carefully finding the Center of the wall, Dave cut a hole to pull the wiring through.

We were ASTONISHED to find a random pipe.  Dave figured it was a ventilation pipe annoyingly placed in the exact spot we wanted to put our light.

Thus, we measured again and found our light would be 1" off center.  We decided that since we had gone this far, 1" was not very noticeable.

After much discussion, it was decided the light should be raised a bit higher, so Dave cut another time, only to hit a cross beam of solid wood.

At this point, I was ready to declare the project off.  I could live lightless with a hole in the ceiling.  Dave pushed onward.

I left the room and he pushed the wiring down into the wall. 

I've rarely heard Dave yell with any urgency in his voice.  He is a pretty calm dude. 

"Karmyn...Hurry, turn the power off".   I did.

His wire end-cap popped off while he was pushing the wire through.  Fortunately, he only saw sparks and not electrocution stars. 

So, after much patching, sanding, more patching, re-texturizing, priming, and painting, we ended up with a pretty cool new bathroom light fixture.

 

Laundry Statistics

This morning I looked at the laundry hampers and was astonished to see them full again.  All the clothes were washed last weekend.  Why does the dirty laundry pile grow so quickly?  I sat down and tried to figure the facts:

Week of Laundry for This Family of Five

A:  Underwear:  7 pieces per family member per week (plus a few exta for bath nights and accidents) = ~ 40 pieces of Undies

B: Bras:  I am the only one.  I wear them more than one day except when I work out.  I own 5 bras but they get washed more than once so it is almost like having ~10 Bras

C: Socks: 7 pairs per family member per week plus extra for bath nights and stepping in wet things = 45 pairs of socks = 90 socks.

D: Shirts: 7 shirts per family member per week, PLUS, David's 5 work shirts = 40 shirts.

E: Jeans:  I try and get everyone to wear their jeans more than one day.  But the kids are really bad about this rule = 20 Jeans

F: Pants: Same as above for the jeans except for Dave's work pants which come home filthy. = 25 Pants

G: Pajamas:  I wear mine more than once.  The kids are suppose to wear theirs more than once but that doesn't happen.  Dave won't own up to wearing pajamas so that means 4 people wearing pj's x 3 changes a week - 12 Pajamas

H: Work-out clothes:  They are stinky after a work-out so need to be cleaned = 10 sweat pants, 10 shirts

I: Towels: These have their own sub-categories:

    1 - swim towels - The kids take lessons and after they've showered, they use the towels to stand on the ground and get dressed.  These towels must be washed after each lesson.  Two lessons a week - 3 kids = 6 Towels

    2 - Bath Towels - We reuse our bath towels for several days so this a rough estimate = 10 towels. 10 Washcloths

    3 - Kitchen Towels - Drying dishes, wiping down counters, cleaning up spills, the table, and other items = 10 kitchen rags

J - Bedding:  I change sheets once a week...but having children, sometimes that means more than once a week depending on accidents (which also means washing blankets and comforters.) = 4 beds x 2 sheets +5 pillowcases = 13 bedding items (on a good day)

K- Miscellaneous.  When guests come to visit  just add in a whole bunch of more towels, sheets, and other stuff.  Also, dog beds, cat beds, towels when the dog gets bathed, rags for cleaning....oh the list goes on. = 50 extra things to wash just because I know they end up in the hamper.

So basically, adding all the numbers up = A never ending supply of laundry to wash.  I need a drink.

 

We Survived.....

My week went something like this:

Monday Morning:  8 year old Buttercup complained of a stomach ache.  I heard a bug was being passed around the school, so I kept  her home.  By noon, she was running around crazy.  I should have sent her to school. 

Tuesday Morning:  3 year old Caboose complained of a stomach ache.  I was not going to be fooled again.  Thirty minutes into preschool, I received a call.  He puked all over the coloring table.  (by noon - he was running around crazy feeling fine).

Wednesday Afternoon:  3 year old Caboose did a Face Plant on the wood floor.  I spent the rest of the day in Urgent Care and just plain worrying about him.

Thursday Morning: A dentist trip relieved my mind - nothing too serious with the Face Plant.  His permanent teeth appear to be fine.  However, his other baby tooth will probably turn dark. 

Friday Night: The Caboose woke up crying.  His bed, pillow, and other items were covered in puke.

Saturday Morning:  Spent the day running errands, selling Girl Scout Cookies, freaking out because I didn't have enough Thin Mints.  Came home to kids with diahrrea.

Sunday Morning:  More diahrrea

Sunday Afternoon:  The Caboose has an outbreak of hives. 

Monday Morning:  All seems clear.  No hives, no sickies.  I think I'm home free so make a trip to IKEA with my sister-in-law (it's only my 2nd trip there EVER).

Monday Afternoon:  My mother-in-law calls to say The Caboose is covered in hives again.  She doses him up with more Benadryl - doubling the dose I had given him before.  I come home to a spotty, but sleepy kid.

Tuesday Morning:  All clear again - no hives, no diarrhea, no puking, no more missing teeth.  I think we survived, barely.

Face Plant

He ran from the living room to the family room, tripped on his own two feet (we think), and face-planted into the hardwood floors.  We're looking at the next 3-4 years of this:

Yes, we rushed him to Urgent Care.  He sees the dentist tomorrow to evaluate the other baby teeth and to check on those developing permanent teeth.  The tooth came out - root and all.  My poor little baby.

Reason #47 Why Moms Lose Their Mind: Miscommunication Skills

Sunday morning I decided to start laundry since every hamper was bulging over with dirty clothes.  My children have been sorting their own laundry for several years now.  They are old enough to know their colors and can decide for themselves if socks are white or black.

I informed my 10 year old first.  "Jammin', sort your laundry.  I've made piles in my bedroom."

A few minutes later, I walked into my bedroom to see a startling sight.  Jammin' was grabbing the freshly folded clean clothes, sorted on my bed, and dropping them onto the dirty clothes piles on the floor.  His hamper was nowhere in sight.

"What are you doing?"  I asked.

"Sorting your laundry,"  He said, "like you asked me to."

"Um....no.  I said to sort YOUR laundry."

"No."  He retorted.  "You told me to sort YOUR laundry.  You said there were piles on the bed."

I don't know whether to laugh, cry, or just pull my hair out.

A Whole Lotta Cookies

For some reason, I volunteered to serve as Cookie Chair for my daughter's Girl Scout troop. When I drove to the pick-up spot, I stuffed 119 cases of cookies in my car.  That is a lot of Thin Mints.

It was a stretch to fit 1428 boxes of cookies into my minivan.  My 3 year old, Caboose, was literally wedged in on all sides.  The passenger seatbelt alarm activated because the cookies weighed as much as an adult.

I couldn't see out my back window, use the rearview window, OR check my blind spots.  Thus, I drove a little slower and managed to never change a lane.  I pissed a lot of people off while driving home.

I could only lift three boxes at a time, so it took 40 trips to unload the van to my living room.  I tried to convince The Caboose to help me, but he said the boxes were too heavy.  Finally, I bribed him with cookies.  Enticed, he staggered into the house with a small load. 

When he wanted more cookies for his work, I told him a story about a boy who ate too many cookies and blew up like a balloon and floated away.  He laughed.

Then, I sorted cookies into twelve piles; Eleven girls had pre-orders and the tweflth pile is for up-coming booth sales.

Afterwards, Buttercup and I recounted the piles to make sure everyone had the correct number of cookies and types.  I cross-checked the left-overs and was shocked to discover I had two extra Samoas.  I left them off to the side.  Whoever I short-changed will let me know.

Finally, I sat down on the couch and breathed in, hoping to smell cookies.  But the only odor is stale cardboard.  So, I just sighed with relief that it was finished...

Until next week when I make another order and do the whole process again.   

Rock on, Caboose

A few nights ago, my husband streamed Pandora to the television while we were eating dinner.  He chose a Rock genre music station.  Between bites of Stir-fry, Dave and I sang along with some old 70's and 80's hits. 

When Queen's We will Rock You came on, we might have been a little over enthusiastic, jumping out of our chairs to belt out the words.  None of our kids seemed that impressed.

So it came as a surprise today when I heard my daughter, Buttercup, singing Queen.  As I listened closer, I realized she sang the right tune, but was adding her own words.  My oldest, Jammin', sang along with her. 

It was my three year old who forced them to stop.  "You are not singing the wight wods."  He cried.  "It goes wike dis....We Will, We Will, WOCK YOU."

Oh yea little man.  Rock on.

 

I'm a Feminist and Lego is not.

And I've been sucked into Lego's marketing.  Did I buy my daughter any Legos when she wanted some?  No.  Does she play Lego's with her brothers?  Yes.   Why didn't I?  Because Legos are marketed to boys.  With that said - I'm gonig to go buy her the Harry Potter set like she wanted. 

It's ten minutes long - but worth the watch.