Diary of Mad Woman

I was driving down the road yesterday on my way to take Nick to karate practice. I tuned out the loud chatter of the kids in the seats behind me and was in my own little reverie, thinking about the events of the day:

"Kids, it's time for breakfast."
"I don't want breakfast."
"Nick, please get off the computer."
"I don't want to get off the computer."
"Ashlee, please go to the potty."
"I don't need to go to the potty."
"Nick, please vacuum the family room."
"I'm too tired."
"Ashlee, please pick up your Barbies."
"But I'm going to play with them later."
"Please get dressed guys."
"But I'm watching a show."
"Go outside and play."
"But there's nothing to do."
"Let's walk up to the park."
"I don't want to go to the park."
"Nick, come and see these tiny baby frogs I found!"
"I don't care about frogs . . . I want to go home. This is boring."
"Nick, it's time for karate."
"I hate karate."

I'm leaving out the length of these conversations for brevity's sake (along with the foot stomping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth), but hopefully I've drawn a partial picture of the absurdity of my days since summer began. You know in those prison movies where the inmates are sent to solitary confinement for huge amounts of time and how it basically drives them mad? I was thinking that instead, they should just sentence each inmate to a summer alone with two children. The end result would be the same and I could get some free babysitting out of it. Coincidentally, it was right at this moment that I was coming up to a red light. The car in front of me had a single bumper sticker that read, "Some Days I Wish I Was A Missing Person."
I wonder where I can get me one of those . . .

Beggars Can't Be Choosers

My latest "project" lately, now that I'm finally down to one class, is to procure a trampoline for my two beloved children (ok, and for me, too.) In theory, this should be a relatively simple task: go to Sam's Club, put giant trampoline box in cart, put the safety net enclosure box in another cart, check out, go home, set up said trampoline, jump with silly grin on face, etc. But this simple life has been tainted by a thing called "Craig's List," where one can find pretty much anything at all at really, really, really discounted prices and sometimes even for free. You see, that simple life I was just talking about made no mention of the money I would have to part with to obtain the brand-new, blissful bounciness--$340 including tax. While this really isn't a huge amount of money, knowing that if I hold out long enough my chances of finding a decent free or really cheap trampoline prevents me from whipping out my credit card.

You would think this would give me great cause to jump on any trampoline listing (no pun intended) that comes up cheaper than $340. But strangely enough, I have the nerve to be picky. I don't want the giant 15 foot trampoline because then it will kill too much of my lawn and will be too heavy to move around to keep the lawn growing. Maybe I want the 12 foot trampoline or maybe that will be too small. Perhaps I should go with a 13 foot, right in the middle. I don't want the trampoline that doesn't include the safety net because I want the kids to be able to jump without me peering out the back every 2 seconds. I don't want the one that has rust on the legs because that will just plain look bad or it might fall apart. And when I finally find the right combination of things I am looking for, I back out because the drive to go get it is an hour or more and I'll have to take it apart and load it into my car. I'm so annoyed with myself. What is wrong with me?? I guess what I basically want is a decent used trampoline with a safety enclosure for free. Or a small amount of cash. Come on Craig's List! Help a girl out!

Peonies Season!

These gorgeous flowers have become my new favorite. They bloom along a big stretch of our fence every late Spring. I just can't get over how fantastic they are!

The kids and I couldn't believe how perfectly fragrant they were!

It's too bad they're only in bloom for a couple of weeks. As of today, they are still growing, but it won't be for too much longer.

It's this kind of scenery in the Spring that almost makes the long Michigan winters worthwhile. Almost.

Spicy Tomato Soup

I just tried a tomato soup recipe from my South Beach Quick & Easy Cookbook and it was so good (and healthy) that I had to share. This only takes about 20 minutes to make. I made a few adjustments and a substitution, but I thought it was fantastic! It's low in fat and calories (about 90 cal. per 1 cup serving) so you can eat til you're full. Give it a go and tell me what you think!

1 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
3 garlic cloves, coursely chopped (I used 3/4 tsp. dried garlic)
1/4 tsp. red pepper flakes (this is what makes it spicy so don't go overboard!)
2 (14.5-oz) cans unsalted diced tomatoes
2 Tbsp. chopped fresh basil (I used 1 Tbsp. dried basil)
2 (5.5-ounce) cans low-sodium vegetable juice (I substituted 1 can fat free chicken broth instead)
2-3 tsp. Splenda to taste (optional)

Heat oil in medium saucepan over medium-low heat. Add garlic and red pepper flakes. Cook for 3 minutes if using garlic cloves and 30 seconds if using the dried. Add tomatoes with juice, basil, and chicken broth. Increase heat to medium and simmer for 15 minutes. Serve hot and top with shredded mozzerella cheese and a dollop of reduced fat sour cream. The sour cream can be substituted with 1 Tbsp. of plain low-fat yogurt. (I took the sour cream route because I had no yogurt on hand.)

Enjoy!

Sweet Little Pettiskirt

I have wanted one of these skirts for Ashlee for many, many years but they are so expensive that I could never justify the cost. I even went on ebay, hoping in desperation to luck out and get one really cheap. After weeks of checking all the auctions, I ended up buying something that I thought could work as a substitute. After getting it in the mail, I was sorely disappointed. It was so bad that Ashlee never even wore it. Now it just hangs from her closet door. Today I got a tiny little spark of hope! I was directed to this link after visiting a friend's blog. I am not one to enter things like this, in fact, this is my first one, but believe me when I say I will be down on my knees praying that I win it before I go to bed tonight. And if not, there are instructions on how to make it. However, I can tell you right now that by the time I get around to making it, Ashlee will probably have her own daughter.

Blushing Buttercream Pettiskirt GIVEAWAY!!!!

Here's a Phone Message Every Mom Wants to Get . . .

"Hi Becky. This is Susan Smith (names changed here for obvious reasons), Sue Jr.'s mom. I was just calling because I wanted to let you know that Sue Jr. has head lice and she sits at the same table as Nicholas at school. I'm hoping it hasn't spread, but you might want to check Nick just in case."

Guess what I did as soon as Nick got home from school? Don't worry. There's no sign of it, but please pray for us as a preventative measure.

I Must Be Getting Old

I can't believe it is already 2009. What's funny about that is when I was little, all the futuristic shows would take place in some year like 2019 and that seemed sooooooo so so so so far away. . .um, yeah, that's only 10 years from now. Shouldn't we be wearing our space gear and flying around the universe by now? Geez.

I just celebrated (a bit begrudgingly) my 34th birthday. It was a weird birthday because 34 seems so much closer to 40 than 33 did. In fact, 33 just doesn't sound old to me. But 34, that's a different story with a whole different feel. Plus, I'm sure my metabolism has just completely shut down altogether and if I gain another pound, I'm going to scream! Or, I could start exercising again, but I'm lazy and like to blame it on the fact that I'm older now.

But I digress. The other day I was sitting in my chemistry lecture. There is a girl who sits on my left who is fresh out of high school. (And yes, that also makes me feel old.) Anyway, on this particular day, she sat on my right. She pulled out the next assigned lab and asked me if I had gotten everything put in order. I could tell from all the times she had crossed out her answers that she'd been struggling with it. I showed her the order I got and we compared our answers. She got hers all straightened out and then she left for her lab session.

At the following lecture two days later, I sat in my usual place with high school girl on my left and one of my lab partners on my right (who has sat there since the semester began, except for the scenario above). My lab partner pulls out her lab and asks me what order I got on it. I said, "I thought you got it all straightened out last time." She said, "Um...I don't think so because I just printed this off last night so I wouldn't have had it with me last time." I said, "Don't you remember that we compared our answers and you had gotten a few out of order, so you crossed them out and fixed them?" She looked at me like I was crazy. Then she said, "I sat on the end of this row last time because I was late, remember?" (I'm pausing here while I'm trying to figure out this extremely confusing situation and I honestly believe that she is the one who's got it all wrong!) Plus, to make things even more annoying she's looking at me all tenderly like someone trying to explain a simple concept to a sweet little old senior citizen suffering from Alzheimer's. Suddenly it dawned on me that I had somehow gotten her confused with high school girl. If she had said, "Awww. That's OK," and patted my head, I would have popped a vein out of frustration. With that came the horrible realization that I was the idiotic one. No, not just the idiotic one--the OLD idiotic one suffering from a bad case of BrainTissueSlowlyOozingOutOfHeadDueToOldAge Syndrome. Not one of my better moments.

To top it off, I had to give the opening prayer in sacrament meeting today. Now if you know me, you know how much I HATE any form of public speaking, including praying in front of a gigantic crowd. Honestly, I would rather die than talk in church. But I thought I would do the right thing and give the bloody prayer because it would give me good practice and help me with my public speaking issues--the more you do it, the better you get, right? Plus, I can't deal with the guilt of saying no to the bishop. It's just one teeny tiny prayer. I will live.

So, I'm singing the opening hymn and as it gets closer to the last line of the song, I feel myself getting a little nervous. Not more than anyone else would be. Cool. I can do this. No problem. But by the time I make it from my seat near the back up to the stand, my breathing rate has increased. Yes, nervous equals faster breathing. Whatever. That's fine. However, since I was nervous, I didn't take a second to judge how close my mouth was to the microphone before closing my eyes. I don't think I could have gotten any closer to it without putting the whole thing in my mouth. But as you probably know, this just means that any sound you make is magnified about 10,000 times. Including my breathing. This resulted in every pause being filled up with one big, very loud exhalation. But since I'm still nervous, I am somehow frozen in place. I cannot force my back muscles to pull my face back a couple of inches from the microphone. Until I say, "Amen," and then my muscles are conveniently operational again. They always fail me at the most inconvenient times. Must be a result of my SpasticNervousSystemThatIsDeterioratingDueToOldAge Syndrome. Yes, that's definitely it.

After I sit back down, I lean over and ask Jere if I sounded like I was going to wet my pants. He says, "No. You actually did really well." I think, "Phew. It was all in my head." Then he adds, "Except that you were breathing really loud."