Wanted...

WANTED

Baklava

Buckeyes (Peanut Butter Balls)

These two desserts have committed serious crimes against proper nutrition. If you see them, please do not approach. They are armed and dangerous with empty calories and the lure of deliciousness. Once you have interacted with them you will be under their power, unable to make rational and appropriate fueling decisions. If you see them, please report it to me and I will digest (I mean arrest) them immediately!


Hope your holiday celebrations were as "full-filling" as mine.

Here's to much success, many adventures, and a myriad of joy in the new year!

Merry Chaos-mas

I love Christmas. The giving of gifts especially to the kids. I love their excitement about the day and enthusiasm about every present they get. This year should be good because Santa was really listening!

The house is still in chaos from the remodel. The stove, microwave, and dishwasher are still in the living room. We do have the tree up although it is quite naked. This does make it a better fort. I have yet to unearth the stockings, but they eventually will make it up!

We are looking forward to one set of grandparents joining us for a low key Christmas (I serve pizza, salad, and cookies. Christmas for me is about family and not spending time slaving in the kitchen!). Mr. Spie's brother may join us as well. Then on Friday we take off to spend the weekend Christmasing with the other set of grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. Mr. Spie and I are hoping to get a date night (free babysitting) and connect with our long time friends who will be visiting the area as well. I am hoping to be able to run outside as it will not be dark, below zero, and covered in 17+ inches of snow! (That will be a present to me!)

Wishing all of you a restful holiday, a Merry Christmas, and a blessed New Year.

You think you've got a package...

Mortification.



Every parent has experienced it and every parent pays it back when their child is a teenager.



I have had many mortification moments. Here are some of my most memorable ones:



We were on vacation in Branson, MO with my two oldest children. At the time, they were 3 and 1. During the middle of the night the fire alarm kept going off. The resort sent a security guard to assess the problem. My son (the three year old) looked at the security guard and said quite loudly to his father. "Dad, that is a big, fat, black man." Embarrassed, we ignored the comment. He repeated the same offense during a trip to a restaurant as he described the waitress, who was within earshot, as really fat. (She got a really fat tip for that meal.) To my son, those words were no less offensive than describing a cheese cracker as orange and square. BIG, FAT, and BLACK were descriptors. Nothing more. Unfortunately, as we get older, words are connected to feelings.



My oldest son is not the only one who has given me a "mortification moment". My oldest daughter, once when we were shopping, upon seeing a person in a wheelchair, asked quite loudly what was wrong with that person's legs. I quietly explained that their legs didn't work and it could happen for a variety of reasons. We talked about abilities/disabilities at length, turning the "mortification moment" into a "teaching moment".



I am not the only one that has experienced mortification. My friend recently had her children at the pediatrician for their "Well Child" check. At the check up the doctor always states the same questions year to year. "Does any one in the house smoke? Do you always wear a helmet when you ride a bike or scooter?... Do you have any firearms in the house?" I am not sure about the origin of the last question. I attribute it to the fact that we live in Wisconsin and as you may or may not know deer hunting is quite popular here. My friend answered all of the questions appropriately. "No, no one smokes. Yes, they always wear their helmets. No, we do not have any firearms in the house." Then, her 8 year old daughter called her out. "Mom, what about the BB gun?" Busted and embarrassed, she sheepishly admitted that she had forgotten about her husband's firearm purchase.



On Wednesday, I was mortified once again. This time it was my youngest, Captain Destruction. I was upstairs when the doorbell rang. My son beat me to the door, opening it for the Fed Ex delivery man. As I rush down the stairs, CD is standing in front of the storm door (which is only glass and screen) in his BIRTHDAY SUIT. As I pushed CD out of view, I opened the door and really did not know what to say other than sorry. My jaw was hanging open. I was completely speechless. I collected my package, CD and his package, and quickly shut the door.



Note to Self: I eventually will be able to pay him back... and it will be a doozie.

Fighting Dragons

A dragon has appeared during my workouts.

I don't think it is coincidental that he appeared during our descent into the middle ages while we are remodelling our kitchen. I think that they travel hand in hand.

The first time the dragon appeared was during a swim work out. I planned to do a main set of 3 sets of 5 x100s on descending intervals. The dragon started lurking in the pool during the drills prior to the main set. Doubt that I could conquer the beast started to grow. As the dragon grew larger, my resolve grew weaker and the main set began to change. As I changed the number of repeats and swam recovery 50s (backstroke) between sets, I had to talk myself into completing my "modified on the fly" workout. I finished all but 200. The dragon did not win entirely, but it was a fierce battle which left my confidence shaken and gave me some battle scars.

Exhausted from battle, I did not workout for the next two days. On Monday, I jumped back into the deep end to do battle again. I choose to do a workout that I successfully battled before. The main set was 24x50s on a constant interval. Even though I have had success with this workout before, I saw the shadow of the dragon lurking on the bottom of the pool. This time I kept my resolve, he was held at bay, and victory was mine.

On Tuesday, the dragon reared his ugly head again. I had to run on the treadmill due to darkness and my fear of black ice. I planned to run a 10 minute warm up and four 1 mile sprint repeats with 3 minutes recovery followed by a 5- 10 minute cool down. The warm up and the first repeat went well. There was no dragon in sight. During the second mile repeat, the dragon nudged me in the side. Then, he stomped on my foot. I was caught off guard and not prepared to battle. Once again my strategy was to modify my workout and drop the pace. The dragon was relentless and soon I was running at a recovery pace for the duration of the workout. I completed my run defeated. The dragon definitely won this battle.

Today, I decided I was going to take the battle back to the pool. I had a win against my mighty foe on Monday and feeling a bit cocky, I pulled out the workout in which the dragon first appeared. Armed with knowledge with that my attitude was my greatest strength or weakness, I resolved to do battle and take down the beast once and for all. My battle strategy was to look at the sets individually and tackle each group of five like it was my only set for the swim. My plan worked. I did see the dragon lurking at the bottom of the pool. However, my determination made it undesirable for him to approach.

Soon, I will need to do battle again on the treadmill, but I think that I will bask in the glory of my pool victory for a little while longer.

Mid-evil times

What could be so difficult about remodelling a kitchen? (insert ominous laughter).

We are about midway through the remodel and it has not been rainbows and ponies. Every single one of our remodelling projects has come back and bit us in the ....., but like childbirth, we seemingly forget the pain and jump into the home improvement deep end again and again. (Remember, we do have four children. Apparently, we have the collective memory of a gnat.)

Construction began on Friday. I loaded up the kids and left for a friend's house for a three day Wii fest. My father and the husband of the friend arrived at my house for the construction. We were gone from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. When I returned home, they were still working and they had only placed TWO cabinets. (deep cleansing breath -- perhaps most of the time was spend planning. They have a system now....The rest will be a cake walk.... I will not panic) In placing the one cabinet, the stove was removed from the kitchen and joined the new refrigerator and old dishwasher in the living room. Our kitchen's amenities were slowly moving towards the middle ages. No running water, no storage, no heat (to cook).

My disappointment was apparent in my face. Mr. Spie said, "I bet you thought that we would have more done" (No duh!) Then he proceeded to tell me that his parents were coming up for the day to help. I thought that he was joking. I looked on the faces on my father and friend for a twinkle, a smirk, something. There was nothing. It wasn't a joke. His parents had told us that they were coming. Then, they told us that they weren't coming. Apparently, now they were coming for just the day. My thoughts wandered to our food situation (my MIL and FIL are sit down 4 course meal types of people). I had bought only enough take and bake pizza for 3 possibly4 men and there were no sides. Mr. Spie indicated that they were bringing food and I needed to come up with jobs for his mom to do while the men, including Mr. Spie's brother worked on the kitchen. I came up with a list of jobs and we went to bed.

The next morning we awoke and decided on doughnuts for breakfast (no cook, no mess, plates are optional). I left with the kids once again for Wii fest and eagerly anticipated a kitchen to materialize when I returned that evening. During the morning at my friend's, I was watching the little ones while she took the bigger ones to her kid's bowling league. This is when it all started going wrong. My daughter first complained of a stomach ache, then a headache, then she threw up all over my friends living room carpet. I cleaned up the mess and tried to keep all the other littles away from her while I waited for the others to return from bowling. The true friend that she is she did not kick us out upon her return and my daughter said that she "felt better." As lunch was being prepared, my daughter threw up again. This time all over my pants. This sealed my decision to come home. I brought my littles home and left the biggers there for the festival to be brought home at some later time by some undetermined person.

As I walked into my home carrying the ill one (who urped in the car on the way home as well!), I am met by a house abuzz with activity. The refrigerator wall of cabinetry was almost up and my BIL and FIL were working on the plumbing for the new dishwasher. I dropped the ill one into my room and brought in Captain Destruction to complete his nap. (He fell asleep in the car).
I walk into the kitchen to have a bomb dropped by Mr. Spie. The water has been turned off in the entire house. Our descent into the Middle Ages is now complete!!!! The Cheese (my ill daughter) who desperately wants a glass of water cannot have one. No working toilets. I am covered in urp and I cannot shower or wash the offending clothes.

Dinner is a problem. There is still no stove. Drinking is a problem. There is only soda and milk. There is work problems. Too many opinions. (A word of advice to those who are remodelling with friends and/or family. Go to the bank and get a couple of Visa gift cards. Then, when a worker on a project needs an item. HE can go to get the item rather than sending someone who doesn't exactly know what is needed and consequently will have to take three trips to the store to purchase the correct item.) Things are not going well. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.

At 7:30 p.m. the Cheese is feeling better. I look at the opinions, the lack of progress, and the chaos and decide that I am going to be the undetermined person who is going to pick up the biggers at a later time seeking refuge in my van for the hour long round trip. When I arrive at my friend's house to save her from my kids, I am informed that we now have water at our house... just not hot water. GREAT. I pick up the kids and drive home. As I am ordering the kids to bed, I pull my dad aside and state that the priority tomorrow is to put in the cabinets that are needed to be placed so a stove can be in the kitchen. I don't care about water, the dishwasher, the peninsula. I NEED A STOVE. I hated to pull out the "Daddy's Little Girl" card, but desperate times require desperate measures.

On Sunday, I take the stinky family to church and Mr. Spie stays home with my dad to tackle the kitchen. After church, we drive home quickly change and return to my friends for the final day of the festival. During the brief layover, I discover (joy of joys) that the stove is IN!!! We are slowly returning to the world of the modern living. We returned early afternoon to find all but three cabinets installed. My BIL was also returning to the house to retrieve a forgotten camera which we decided to hold hostage for hot water. Things finally were looking up. We had the take and bake pizza for dinner. The hostage negotiations went well as hot water was returned to the household.

Despite three solid (?) days of work, we still need to place three cabinets. Two are imperative as they need to be in place in order to have the kitchen measured for the countertop. We have to redo some electrical work in order for the micro hood to be hung and the drainage for the new dishwasher is a complex problem that needs some serious attention. This weekend, we are imposing on another friend to help. Hopefully we will continue to progress forward and not regress back into the middle ages.