June Cleaver Nirvana

This is my tissue box:



Which is fine except really nothing in my entire house is that tealish-jewel-tone-80s-prom-dress-that-has-been-collecting-dust-in-my-closet-for-20-years-fading-and-slowly-rotting-away-greenish color. Lucky for me it also comes in this color:



Which is fine except really nothing in my entire house is that pepto-pinkish-chewed-up-bubble-gum-that-was-spit-on-the-sidewalk-and-trapped-into-the-crevices-of-your-shoe-only-to-be-deposited-on-your-new-beige-carpet-where-the-dog-licked-it-until-you-put-her-outside-to-clean-up-the-mess-while-your-children-created-a-river-in-the-extra-bath-by-building-a-sink-damn-washed-out-rosish color. Lucky for me it also comes in this color:



Which is fine except really nothing in my entire house is that greyish-skies-so-dark-it-could-be-a-storm-brewing-or-it-could-just-be-those-blue-feelings-that-you-consider-committing-yourself-to-a-mental-institution-for-a-48-hour-watch-and-really-blue-is-much-prettier-then-this-so-you-are-insulting-blue-when-you-call-it-blue-bluish color.

What is with "decorative" tissue boxes?

There is really no excuse for this. The companies that produce these spend millions of dollars in product research. They employ thousands of employees dedicated to bringing me a box of tissue. Why couldn't they employ an artist or interior designer in JUST ONE of those positions?

Let's go shopping! I obviously missed the "really good stuff" on the paper products aisle:



What is THAT color? And for the record I have never ever seen a rose look so gloomy.



Alright! Finally something with some sort of style. But this only was made in bright fuschia because everyone's kitchens, bathrooms and bedrooms are bright fuschia!



Here is a simple design 4 pack. With a grey sunflower, an weird orangish sunflower and two purple sunflowers. So, let me get this straight...they are selling this in a 4 pack because they expected that these 3 colors will fit right into my house?

Before you start re-painting your walls grey sunflower, weird orangish and too purple, you might want this information:



Yes, my dear reader, you will have to ACT QUICKLY because this set is for a limited time ONLY!

So then I saw this three pack:



I liked the top box:



Despite it being in a color scheme of pink and orange. I was going to look beyond that just because it was cute. Well, in context of the world of "decorative" tissue boxes it was cute.

It was packaged with this soccer-themed box (which sports that same weird green color):



And this perky box:


Which required closer inspection. I then noticed they all have this label:



Yes, this is Puff's "anything but old-school" series. Finally, a tissue company puts the EDGY back in blowing your nose. This is what I have been waiting for.



Graffiti art tissue boxes...



decorated with skulls.

Perfect for my yellow painted GRUNGE themed masterbath...

I have a shoe problem.

It is more of a shoe management problem.

Then I have a solution.

A shoe management solution.

Which causes a problem.

A shoe management problem...

Here in lies the shoe management problem: a child is born with TWO feet and society expects that they will be wearing shoes on BOTH feet. Oh, and they should match. Thanks society. Way to up the parent pressure.

This was an issue when I had just one child because quite honestly he just had too many shoes. Let's just admit that baby shoes are the cutest thing ever and a first time mom is powerless in its clutches. I bought cute baby shoes. I received cute baby shoes as gifts. I received cute baby shoes as hand-me-downs. My baby was continuously dressed in cute baby shoes that coordinated with cute baby outfits for exactly 3 seconds...

My baby hated wearing shoes. I hate wearing shoes. Genetics was working against my treasure trove of cute baby shoes. After losing one shoe in the house, in the car, in the grocery store and in the mall I noticed a trend. I was leaving a cute baby shoe trail around town. I gave up. No more shoes (or socks for that matter) for baby. Yeah for Texas weather.

I put all the cute baby shoes into the closet. There they stayed until I pulled them out to transfer them to baby #2 closet where they stayed until I transferred them to baby #3 closet until I gave them away to a friend who was having a baby because they were in perfect condition, unused.

As the boys grew into an age where shoes are expected, I started developing a shoe management system. This shoe management system is based on the basic philosophy that shoes are overpriced and boys' feet grow quickly.

Here is Holly's shoe management system for boys (H.S.M.S.F.B.):

1. In winter each boy should have one pair of tennis shoes and one pair of dress shoes.
2. In summer each boy should have one pair of crocs and one pair of dress shoes.
3. Dress shoes should be chosen for their ability to be used in both summer and winter and should be handed down from one boy to the next.
4. Every fall each boy goes shopping to get their tennis shoes (Ryan's also double as his school uniform shoes).
5. Every spring each boy chooses his croc color off the crocs.com website and Holly makes one giant crocs order that qualifies for free shipping.

Before the advent of crocs I had tested sandals (they break and/or stink after a month), summer use of tennis shoes (don't get me started...they are ALWAYS muddy) and flip-flops (*nightmare* boys can't walk in flip-flops!). I am just going to say it:

I love crocs. I love crocs on boys because they are sturdy, they don't stink, they are easily rinsed if muddy and they stay on boys' feet.



Yeah crocs! Yeah for motherhood in the age of crocs.

A HSMSFB tip is a nearly daily cleaning of crocs. I either dump them in the washer when I am starting a load or throw them into the used bathwater for a little scrubbing. They dry so quickly that either works really well.

Another HSMSFB tip is that all shoes are kept at the back door. At the back door is a bucket for crocs deposits.

So last year the HSMSFB worked beautifully. Rhett (then 1) and Ryan (then 6) chose silver crocs and Reid (then 3) chose blue (of course). I spent last summer confident that I had this shoe management thing down. I spent last summer feeling like a genius. Last summer...good.

This summer...

It all started with the color selection. All three boys chose the same color. No big deal? They all want the same toys. They all want the same kid's meal prize. To them same equals fair. So I ordered the 3 pairs of blue crocs in sizes 8/9, 10/11 and 12/13.

I noticed my error on DAY ONE. Size 8/9 doesn't look much different then size 10/11 and size 10/11 doesn't look much different then size 12/13. In fact, size 8/9 doesn't really look that different from size 12/13 when you are in a rush.

I have been at the park with one or two children and noticed that they are wearing two different size crocs. Unfortunately it never involved just the two sizes of the children represented at the park.

So thinking myself a genius I stopped by a store that sold jibbitz. I know! I will just buy their initial letters to add to the shoes.

First mistake was naming all my children with the same first initial.

Second mistake was expecting a store to carry their first and second initials.

I know! I will just buy some symbol that would make each shoe different.

First mistake is to assume that I could find BOY themed jibbitz.

Second mistake is to assume I am willing to pay money for the super random, ugly and dumb BOY themed jibbitz I found.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't throw another $18 down this hole.

Until I got home and went to the website, chose things they would actually like and threw another $21 down this hole...

And so my dear reader(s), I am still frantically searching for same size crocs every time we leave the house until I get a shipment from jibbitz.

Oh, and add this into the mix:



According to Rhett, ELEPHANT can't leave the house without wearing his last summer's size 6/7 crocs. Thank God they aren't blue and don't require another $6 worth of adornment...

*Disclaimer: This potluck is heavily laden with idle chatter about blogs. If you don't have a blog, (Fred) get one this may not interest you. You are excused from today's potluck. Here at the Nirvana no one is contractually obligated to read on...*


*skipping into frame* Hi! It is Potluck day. Welcome to a super duper fun filled potluck in honor of all the blogs I love beginning with the letter "M". It'll be MMMMM'mmmmm. good.

Today I am contributing a yummy "M" food, mini muffins. I can make the mini muffins from a mix at home, but I am not on speaking terms with my oven right now. So a little trip to Central Market was in order.

Why the letter "M"? There are some awesome blogs in my reader starting with that letter. In fact, look at this very impressive list:

Madness, Madness, I say
Make it a Double
Manic Mommy
Marlee's Rant
Marriage Hacks
Memories and Musings
Momisodes
Mommy Cracked
Momo Fali
Motherscribe
Mrs. Flinger
My Little Drummer Boys
My Semblance of Sanity

The M's are a who's who of the blogsphere. A list of blogs I would want on a deserted island. BUT there is one problem. M is in the middle. M is in the middle of the alphabet. M is in the middle of my reader list.

I have a system. I alternate between reading my reader from the top (A down...) and the bottom (Z up...). Poor M's. Poor neglected M's. Inevitably, something distracts me midway through the list. I can usually make it down to L or up to N, but M just gets left in the middle.

I was so relieved when Madge's Mad, Madge World started with an "I" for "It's a". I am so thankful that Mad Marriage starts with a "B" for "Blog Confessions of". I can keep up with Mrs. Fussypants because she starts with an "F" for simply "Fussy".

I think Mom Two Boys is on to something with that "A"...

I suggest taking note of what has been happening in the Yellow Pages for years. If it works for plumbers, locksmiths and personal injury lawyers, it could work for your blog!

Why not add an "A" in front of your blog name? Why stop at just one? In fact, 3 sounds good! Suddenly, Motherscribe becomes AAA Motherscribe and Momisodes becomes ZZZ Momisodes. I don't want to imply that Sandy's blog would put anyone to sleep, she could use YYY or XXX, but that might categorize her out of the mommyblogging realm. I have noticed that punctuation also works as in the case of the OMG blog whose "!!" before and after elevate it to before "A" reader status.

Just a little suggestion so that Yes, and so my heart and
A Mom Two Boys don't get all the attention around here.

*deep announcer voice* And now it's time to play Holly's favorite game...

Holly: Thank you. Thank you. Today I have a winner! A winner for best Google search that brought you to the Nirvana. What makes me giddy is that after googling this...it brought you to me. It was fate. The winner is...*drum roll*...the dear reader who arrived after the search "Googling my life away"! *wild applause*

Reid(4) randomly announced "I hope the good guys win". It was without context. It was out of the blue. It is a better 6 word memoir meme then mine.

Alright, I am off to ??? Mommy Cracked??? and
!!! Momo Fali!!!...

Fig. A:*Do as I say, not as I do.*

I have been a big believer in something I came across while pregnant with Ryan. I read every parenting book ever written during that time so please don't make me tell you which one it was, but I think it was in the "Baby Whisperer". The quote is lost on me, but it said something to the point that you need to START as you plan to PROCEED.

The technique is really successful. Most things in this house have been parented in this way...naps, bedtime, sitting at mealtime, snacks only in the kitchen, etc. The kids are too young to argue when you implement it and then when they reach arguing age it is the way it has always been done so the debate doesn't surface.

One area has NOT received this technique. Breakfast. It started out innocent enough. Breakfast seemed to be the time that I had the most time. Breakfast seemed to be the time I could break a few rules. Breakfast became the time the kids could choose what they wanted to eat. Breakfast is now spiraling out of control. Breakfast is now a crazy train and I want off.

Let's take a look at Fig. A (above):
Our subject is a 2 y/o who woke mommy up at 6 am. saying, "EAT!". His patient mother held off that demand for 30 minutes because it is SATURDAY. At 6:31 am the subject ate 1 1/2 bowls of instant oatmeal and 1/2 cup of soymilk. He then yelled, "DONE!"

Approximately 23 minutes later he returns to the kitchen, pulls the Quaker oat box out of the pantry and demands "OATMEAL". His patient and attractive mother quietly explains how he already had oatmeal. "THIS OATMEAL!" he screams. His patient, attractive and loving mother thinks to herself, "well at least he is screaming for something healthy...I guess I can't turn that down". PAUSE

*Do as I say, not as I do.*

7 minutes later the oatmeal is made. The oatmeal is portioned and set in front of subject. Subject screams, "FRIDGE! HOT!" His patient, attractive, loving and helpful mother delivers the child size oatmeal portion to the freezer to cool down. PAUSE

*Do as I say, not as I do.*

Subject continues to be a royal pain in the butt while the oatmeal is in the fridge. His patient, attractive, loving, helpful and opportunistic mother then grabs the camera to take the Fig. A picture of this tyranny. PAUSE

*You can do this. If you are suffering at the hands of your children and losing control, it can at least give you a blog subject for the day. It is kind of a lemonade out of lemons thing.*

His patient, attractive, loving, helpful, opportunistic and harried mother takes the child size oatmeal portion out of the freezer and gives it back to the subject. The subject takes 5 bites and yells, "TOAST!" PAUSE

*Do as I say, not as I do.*

Ya, the freaking crazy mother made toast while Figs. B and C entered the kitchen.

*Let's just leave it at do as I say, not as I do...

*Please, please act normal when you enter. DO NOT mention what went down here two days ago. I am going to carry on as if nothing happened. You know how Mondays can get...*
Happy Monday. You know what that means...(electronic drum roll from Rock Band creating oodles of points needed to unlock better songs)...POTLUCK! Yeah! Today I am contributing Herb Sliders featured on this week's menu plan at Blissfully Domestic. I am on my way to Target to get the supplies and if the kids all take 4 hour naps this afternoon I might be able to pull this off. The 4 hour time frame is in no way a reflection of the recipe author, it is more about user error. I love the IDEA of cooking, it is the EXOCUTION that worries me. The word "exocution" is a perfect fit in that sentence. So, if you are hungry now and need snacks there are a few leftover goldfi...shhhhhh.

There are several handwritten home made signs on posts (the kind that you would see for garage sale advertisement) at busy intersections nearby that read "2 Cool 4 Skool Home Daycare" followed by a phone number that is a cell number. Let me just make these bold statements: If you are selecting your child's daycare off of homemade signs sporting cell numbers at busy intersections, childcare may be the least of your problems. And to the "2 Cool" people...LOOK UP! There is a Kinkos right there! Go get a real sign!

This made me laugh very hard from Watch Me Christine. Which brings up the fancy new widget I am displaying to the right. It is my top ten most favoite recent posts and it is updated minutely regularly. Most these things are very, very funny because really, who can't use a good chuckle? So if you are bored and looking for a laugh, I have done all the work for you and searched out the most current giggles off my reader.

Speaking of work, my blogroll is currently under construction because it was the blogroll I designed when I had one non-relative reader. Please be distracted by the fancy new widget!

Thanks to Frog Ponds Rock for this sweet bouquet. I love visiting her site for the scenery. It is like a mini vacation.I would like to pass it on to everyone who made a comment on this post. I nearly fainted dead away...47 people! Thank you soooooo much. You have no idea how cool that is (Ok, some of you know how cool that is on a regular basis, but not me). And, if you go comment now to put me over 50 there is a bouquet of flowers in it for ya (is that too greedy?) So here I am again exceeding my blog spending limit, but no one carted me off to blogjail last time...can I say repeat offender? Someone should really write a manual so I know the rules.

These are works from Hans Jean, Jean Dubuffet and Meret Oppenheim that I borrowed from MoMA. They have inspired me. If people are willing to pay a lot of money for art that looks like this, why am I not capitalizing on what I have at home? I have budding Picassos whose art I can hang on the wall for a fraction of the price.

The big question is how to get children's art onto the wall without it looking like the front of the fridge. I have found a solution which translates kid's art stuffed in kitchen junk drawers to amazing wall hangings. No need to shop for posters and art for your home when you have birthed a factory for such things.

This is what creates the magic:

A floating frame. They can be purchased almost anywhere that sells frames. The prices range from under $10 for two pieces of plastic clenched by metal strips to $30+ for glass surrounded by wood. They are extremely easy to use. They look modern/contemporary (which I LOVE, but my house is not) in the store, but on my wall with my wall color matting my kid's art it is almost style-neutral.
Part of the brilliance of this is that kid's art is usually irregular in size and shape. They don't seem to crank out 8x10s, 11x13s or 14x16s. Their medium usually starts with a 8 1/2 x 11 piece of paper and then gets bigger with tape and glue or smaller with scissors. But with the floating frame you can frame the strange sizes and irregular borders with ease.
The other thing that I am not afraid to do (anymore) is alter the size and shape of the origianal art (gasp!). If you are altering it to frame it and display it proudly vs. not altering it to save it for eternity "just as it is" the loss of artistic integrity will be forgiven.
I also group like artwork together just like I would if I was arranging "fine" art on the dining room wall. Above is a grouping of Reid's "Blue Period" he painted when he was three. I think if I had just displayed one it wouldn't have the impact that the three together have. I also have space under this grouping to add 3-6 more paintings since his blue period seems to be in perpetual continuation.
Another thing I watch out for are things to frame that aren't traditional children's art. This is a paper that Ryan (then 5) wrote numbers and pretend multiplication tables. Not all his math is perfect, but I think framed it is pretty artistic.
I love placing the art in non-traditional places. I don't keep the children's art to just kid's rooms and playrooms. This grouping is hung in the kitchen. It is the first thing you see when you come in from the garage. The zebra above sits on a shelf in the masterbedroom.

My current to-do list includes picking up a few more floating frames because Ryan just brought this home from school:

Is MoMA in HIS future?

I am contributing the food to the potluck that I wish I had made for dinner--chicken quesadillas with homemade salsa, a light salad and that chocolate cake that is still liquidy in the middle and served warm.

The above picture is what I saw in my rear view mirror today while driving around town. Have I mentioned that my 4 y/o is a blue power ranger?

In the minivan war 2008, the score is now minivan-2, Holly-0. I really had no intention of going to war with my minivan, but that minivan is really getting aggressive. I am going to have to start defending myself soon:

The first point was scored when my minivan door attacked me resulting in an unknown number of stitches. Unknown? On Friday when I went in to have them removed I casually asked, "so how many stitches did you put up there?" I have a blogpublic that needs to know these things! "I don't know..." was the plastic surgeon's reply. You don't know? You don't know! I have a blog to write, come on...make something up. So, I took a peek and it looked like there were 4 regular stitches (2 on each end) and then the 1 1/2 inches in the middle was stitched together with one long thread underneath the skin. That's all I know. And when he was done removing them he again slathered my forehead with steri-strips so no picture will be very informative until those fall off. Don't worry, you know me, I'll post 'em if I have 'em.

The second point was scored today when I took my minivan in to the dealer for tire issues. Let me just start by saying that I have the Honda Odyssey with the run-flat tires. I am not a fan of the run-flat tires. They can only be serviced by a dealer, they are obscenely expensive, the tire pressure warning light goes on with any 10 degree shift in outdoor temperature and in my experience have not run when flat. I was expecting to replace 2 worn out tires and have a third fixed (one of the tires I replaced 8,000 miles ago had a nail in it). It was then discovered the nail tire couldn't be repaired and would need to be replaced. Thankfully, it was under warranty but this is the second tire replaced under warranty since I have owned the minivan. The grand total of tires replaced on my minivan before 50,000 miles is 6. CRAZY!

Speaking of cars, if you drive a white scion with Oklahoma plates, please note that the left hand lane is for passing only.

Yesterday afternoon we had a fun time fishing at grandma and grandpa's house. It was really windy, but the boys really wanted to go fishing so grandpa obliged. 3 hours later we gave up. The fish were jumping all around us. Taunting our poles. Scoffing our bait. Teasing our skills. Mean old fish. I would have had better luck getting a photograph.

Dear Toy Manufacturer that is a 3 letter word that starts with "C" and is not "DOG",

Reid has been your biggest fan since birth. I have been on board until this Christmas. Until recently, your toys have been relatively tough with a decent price. This year Reid spotted your remote control excavator at Target with a price tag in the $60 range. I spotted that it looked like a piece of total plastic crap (the remote wasn't even wireless...which would have made it a very expensive pull toy in my house). Blog-Stedman researched it because it was all Reid could talk about and found that yes, it is a piece of total plastic crap according to parents all over the country. I felt so blessed by Costco when I walked in to their store in November and found the exact same excavator sans the wired remote for $30. I figure if you are going to buy total plastic crap, price matters. I went home victorious with the knowledge that this toy would be out of commission by New Years, but that the money saved would be put into another toy that might make it into 2008.

On faux-Christmas morning (3 days prior to the real thing if you aren't keeping up with my riveting blog), Reid opened the excavator with great joy proclaiming, "I knew Santa was going to bring this!" and I set about the process of removing it from the box. I know parents across the country would gladly join me in a protest march against PWPTTRACSTRT (People Who Package Toys That Require A ChainsSaw To Remove Them), but this was a new one for me: I had to unscrew 8 phillips headed screws to get into the box and when I turned the toy over to remove 4 additional phillips headed screws to release it from a cardboard platform something on the excavator arm broke. Great. It didn't even make it out of the box, let alone until REAL Christmas. On the hellishly annoying bright side, all the very loud sounds and non-melodic music still work perfectly.

It is my plea that next year you produce something that is sturdier then the cardboard box that contains it. Just a suggestion, but maybe you could get your crack PWPTTRACSTRT team on that.

Fervently,
Holly

In honor of the holiday, I will take-out my favorite meal and share it with you. We will be feasting on vegetable samosas, paneer pakora with carrot chutney, kachumber salad, palak paneer over steamed rice with extra naan, chai tea and gulab jumun.

Yesterday, we went to my in-laws house for Christmas celebration #3. Dinner was yummy and the Christmas tree was set up in the dining room which created a distraction for the boys who collectively ate 5 bites. They had used the big (most fantastic thing ever created) "trash" bag-style wrapping which was a bit translucent. We were teasing Ryan about the present on the end which could be clearly made out to be a battery-powered 4 wheeler exactly his size but didn't have a name tag on it. He made compelling arguments why it should be for him (it was) due to size, power, etc. I suggested that maybe it was a trick and that it was a box shaped like a 4 wheeler and inside was something else. He responded, "Mom, it SMELLS like a 4 wheeler".

Blog-Stedman's sister and our niece are in town staying with the in-laws so they suggested another huge Christmas present to us...they kept the boys overnight and aren't bringing them back until this afternoon. So last night we lallygagged, lounged and vegetated. What bliss. This morning blog-Stedman is already off to work. I slept in to....7:15! I took a shower (unaccompanied and no one was banging on the door the whole time). I am quietly at the computer with my coffee writing...truly a Christmas miracle. I am planning on getting productive this morning, but right now I am reveling in my solitude.

I finished reading "The Great Gatsby" this weekend. I was reading it for the first time (which is wrong on so many levels, but I will save that tirade for another day) and I absolutely loved it. It is such an amazing tale compounded by incredible writing. It is hard to even comment on such a masterpiece. What I loved about the book is the way I cared what happened in the story, but didn't like ANY of the characters. How is this possible?

In a 180 degree shift, I also watched "The Nanny Diaries" last night. I had read the book several years ago and really enjoyed it. What happened to the book bears so little resemblance to the movie I have no idea why they even bothered slapping the same name on it. The movie was sad and contrived. As is often the case, read the book and skip the movie.

I will leave you with some words from "The Great Gatsby":
"Reserving judgements is a matter of infinite hope."

"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter--to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther...And one fine morning----
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

Here is an approved pictures from the carriage ride party . Thanks to Little Faces Photography, my eyes are not fully closed in this one. I even have one of the carriage and horses that looks like a carriage and horses that I would totally post if I could figure out how to post more than one picture at a time without having crazy spatial problems. By the way, blog-Stedman had to work that night and was not just being paparazzi-shy.

So, Jodi volunteered cottage cheese loaf for the potluck and I am bringing my grandma's famous garbanzo taffy. I just have a little advice that you might want to skip the food and head right for the beverages.

I have decided to stop living on the edge. As a declaration to the world to that effect, I filled up my gas tank on Monday when the gauge wasn't even within 3/16 of the "E" position. It occurred to me that it wouldn't be much fun, very safe or even super responsible of me to run out of gas with a minivan full of kids. It is not that I chose to be this way. I was born and reared this way. I feel fully confident throwing my dad under the bus for this one, especially since he was the hero of my last story. My dad, and I am not exaggerating in this area, has never filled up a gas tank that is not already running on fumes. I remember car trips across the country (these stories will be saved for other blogs when I have ALOT more time) in which my mom lead us in fervent prayer that a gas station could miraculously appear in the middle of West Texas, West Nebraska, Southern Oregon, anywhere in Utah or seriously northern California. The only time in my whole life that I have run out of gas was when I borrowed my dad's car and COULDN'T EVEN MAKE IT THE 2 MILES TO THE GAS STATION! I don't even need a big bill and a couch to figure this one out...it is not my fault! Fast forward to blog-Stedman's side of the story. Blog-Stedman fills up the car any time that it is around the 1/2 full mark (which prior to kids I just felt was the hugest waste of time). So whenever he drives my car he ends up filling it up because of course it is 1/2 full or lower, much lower. This drives him literally insane and while that is entertaining (and I save myself a trip to the pump) it isn't nice or responsible. I have figured out with this simple step toward adulthood I get a bonus of improving my marriage. Here's to spending less then $50 every time I fill up!

I have been working on my Christmas cards for 132 days now (that may be a slight exaggeration in physical time, but not mental time which totally counts!)...it is NEVER going to end. The problem is that I am trying to coordinate/consolidate/collate/perpetuate/ridiculate my list to one concise and comprehensive list. When this is completed angels will sing, nutcrackers will dance and hell will have frozen over. I know enough about creating printed label lists to be doing my cards by hand from 4 different lists and the envelopes of cards I receive. Hint, hint: get your card to me early and receive your card in time for Christmas! In my dreams, after the holiday season I will have entered everyone's complete information, including email address and phone number into my phone which can be sync'd for label prep. I know it sounds crazy, but I'm hanging onto the dream...

I don't live on the edge of dirt. I don't live in the vicinity of dirt. I live right, smack in the middle of dirt. I have 3 boys. Boys love dirt. When boys clean themselves up it results in an exponential amount of additional dirt. I have learned to take deep, cleansing breaths and look to manage dirt. Dirt cannot be controlled. Dirt has a mind of its own. Don't mess with dirt! But with the proper planning and tools, dirt can be encouraged in the right direction. My advice for anyone fighting dirt is STOP. Dirt will win. Wave the white (fully bleached) flag and go get some spray and wash.

Greg, who is now calling himself my blog-Stedman, purchased a plug in vaporizor thing to help with stuffy noses. When he plugged it in last night we found that it also had a blue nightlight which cannot be turned off independently. This is where I go all high-maintenance...a bedroom should be completely dark. No nightlight. No light from electronic devicesssss. No light from security system key pads. No light from the moon coming in through the blackout shades. No light whatsoever! So the vaporizer cast a blue light throughout the room causing dreams that I was sleeping on aisle 3 of K-Mart.

Please note the slide show at the bottom of my blog. It was quite the learning experience for me and quite a lofty achievement from my non-tech brain. I am finding that in order to keep up with my creative side in 2007, I must continue in tech training. People who call my cell phone just realize that they will be likely hung up on at some point in time. I have accepted that I can't run my fancy phone (even with Kelby & White's 219 page "The iPhone Book" which I have carefully studied and I should have posted on my reading list). It is my opinion that this whole computer thing has gotten out of control. I think that originally things were done a certain way because of primitive computers and now that things COULD be easier they are now more complicated because they have to do it the way people are used to doing it PLUS adding a bunch of new features with new ways to control them and together it all doesn't make sense. Give me a break--start from scratch and then give me a call (and I will try not to hang up on you).

I am calling for a class action law suit against the inventor of the snow globe. I have now cleaned up the remains of TWO broken snow globes in the last 15 minutes (yes, you read that correctly). The whole idea is flawed. Who thought it would be a good idea to place water and glitter inside a very flimsy and slick piece of spherical glass, put the musicbox winder under the base and then encourage shaking? Kids cannot keep their hands off these things and obviously mine don't have the coordination to handle it. You will be able to see the residual glitter stuck permanently into my distressed wood floors for years to come. The good news is that there are only 2 more snow globes to go...

I want to publicly announce that my yoga teacher is trying to kill me--just in case anything happens...I started yoga about 4 years ago for the childcare at the gym. I chose yoga because I don't like to sweat (OK, that is 2 of my high-maintenance tendencies in one blog which seems a bit much for one morning...). I continued it because I always feel better when I leave then when I came in. I like the fun and chatty yoga classes, not the militant zen ones. Unfortunately for me, the further you get into yoga the harder it becomes. And the whole sweating thing...I am now going to hot yoga (not the crazy Bikram kind) but it is hot and well you can fill in the rest.

Last night was good TV night. We watched The Amazing Race--my team is still in it, but last at this point and blog-Stedman's was eliminated last night which was awesome for me, but undeserved for them. I then had this week's Project Runway on RePlay and watched that as well. I still don't have a favorite on that show, but would wear the top two designs last night in a minute (WHOA...high-maintenance tendency #3...I better just stop here).

I am on your catalog list because I found your website and ordered something over the internet. I can get online, I can search, I can find, I can purchase. You can stop sending me the catalogs TODAY. Save your time, save the paper! Because of you I need to use my kid's wagon to bring in the mail. STOP SENDING ME YOUR CATALOG! I found you once, I can find you again when I need you. Thanks for listening since the "Do not send" list takes months to activate!

Greg suffered a poker party injury. Let me back up just a bit. We had a chili-bar hosted by friends that included jalepenos from their garden. They had warned us that the late-year peppers are very strong, but Greg loves hot things and was very excited. They were hot, but yummy and everyone enjoyed them. An hour later, Greg must have rubbed his eyes because his eyes were burning very badly--even after washing them out. Jack, who is very well-read gave him milk to put into his eyes. We were all skeptical, but it worked immediately--REALLY! So the game went on....thankfully, since I then went on to win all Greg's money.

I think I should inform moms of the world of a very simple, yet effective way to gauge whether your new babysitter will be returning on a regular basis. What does she drive? If the car is nicer then yours, just forget it. The job you have is too much hassle for the money which is most likely being supplemented by her parents. If her car looks like it is about to fall apart, then rejoice and welcome her into your family for years to come. A new sitter for us is coming on Friday--how will she get here??