How Do You Spell N.E.V.E.R. T.A.K.I.N.G. P.I.C.T.U.R.E.S. A.G.A.I.N.

About 4 years ago, my mother-in-law bought us a digital camera. She was explaining to us (the folks with the TiVo, high-tech computers, surround sound, Palm Pilots and latest in video game technology) that the day of physical photos was long gone. Welcome to the digital age! I couldn't believe we didn't already possess one of these amazing devices, but... okay, I wasn't that surprised.

I had already invested my time and energy into my video camera, and I loved it. Sure, there were plenty of moments I wished I had captured as a still, but for the most part, I preferred remembering all of the details of the day rather than having only one key moment from that day.

As I mentioned before, my mother-in-law got us a digital camera. When it arrived all shiny and new, I looked at it suspiciously - like it was the enemy about to destroy my precious world. But, I HAD to use it. I mean, my mother-in-law got us one so we could take pictures of the grandbabies and e-mail them to her.

The first problem I ran into was the inability to edit my photos. "Oh, here is the photo where LittleMan is looking right at us! Oh, here is the one where he is looking at his sister! Oh, here is the one where they are looking at each other! Oh, and now they are looking... well, their eyes are closed, but aren't they the CUTEST THINGS!!"

[Slight side note, I remember going to a mom's night out where I had the opportunity to put all of my photos into a photo album, and my sister-in-law, AllThingsBD, pointed out that I had put about 15 photos of my son doing roughly the exact same thing in every shot. I didn't notice that until she pointed it out. Why I felt compelled to take that many photographs of my son at that time, I will never know. The fact that I didn't notice until she pointed it out should indicate the depth of this problem.]

I was really getting into this digital thing. I still took video footage, but I would take shots of interesting moments. It was great! Then, we moved to our current house about 6 months later, and the cord needed to download your photos into your computer was packed into one of the 16 boxes labeled "Den". It is still sitting in there... somewhere.

About a week ago, seeing how much more compelling blogs are with digital photos, I decided I need to go through those boxes to find the cord, FINALLY. Before I found the cord, I showed my digital camera to MamaDB, who along with AllThingBD are photographing goddesses in my opinion. She noticed that my camera wasn't charged, so we couldn't see what pictures were still in the camera. I opened the battery area and VOILA! Battery corrosion...

I was able to get three of the four batteries out. Anyone have any solutions to removing corroded batteries from a digital camera?

Don't You Forget About Me

Recognize the song title of this blog? It is the theme of the movie "The Breakfast Club", and from 1985 to 1989, I could not get this song out of my head. I would be listening to the boring History professor, and in my head all I could hear was this theme song. I would be waiting for my turn to hit the ball, and BOOM! There it is again!

I read somewhere that when you get a song stuck in your head, you need to mentally finish the song in order to stop the cycle. Well, I can't tell you how many times I FINISHED that song. I don't know what song these so called "experts" were listening to because that did NOT work for me. So, I tried a different approach: I started thinking of other songs. I know - brilliant, huh?

Fast forward to going to college, to getting married, and now to having children. These songs got gradually better in taste (according to My Mukor) until the children came. When I was pregnant with my LittleMan, I babysat my niece for a couple of weeks. AllThingsBD assured me that her daughter would love the music playing in her van. Sure enough, she loved those cute kid songs, but I found myself dreaming "When I build my house... I need some wood..."

That song lasted about 6 months in my head. Then I was on to Baby Einstein music when my LittleMan was born. Soon I wished for that day back in 1985 when Simple Minds started in my head, now I had cutsy classical. About 4 years pass, and I finally got back to current music. I loved having Imogen Heap, Sarah McLachlan, and Coldplay... then I bought a 2-cd set of School House Rock.

Ugh, can someone please tell me how to remove "Interjections!" from MY MIND? PLEASE?!

"Interjections! For excitement! And emotion! Halleluja! Halleluja! Halleluja-YAY! Darn! That's the end."

A Day To Remember

One of the reasons I blog is to record events that I want to remember and be able to share with some clarity to my children.  Today was a day I want to remember...

Conversation with BoopaLoop:

[I gave the kids a water bottle to share.]

BoopaLoop: "[LittleMan] left his grossness on the drink. But I'm going to drink it anyway."

Me: "How about you not drink his grossness. That's gross."

Conversation LittleMan had with BoopaLoop:

[Rolling marbles on the wood-floor and watching them collide with a BANG!]

LittleMan: "Oh my gosh! Everyone's dead! Boy, it was a bad day."

[Hysterical laughter]

Amazing beginnings:

I received an amazing e-mail from the lady who is selling a product I designed. You can read about it at my business blog. But equally amazing is that the business My Mukor is a partner of received a huge boon today when they met with some very important people who are working at making things happen. I wish I didn't have to be so vague, but once every thing is finalized, I will be able to blog all of the specifics to the masses!! Just know that we both have been waiting for acknowledgement from the "experts" that what we have worked hard to create is in fact exciting to someone other than ourselves. What happens next is just icing on the cake.

These are moments that happened today that I wanted to record for our children.

Radiation, Lasagna and Astronauts

Every so often I am really proud of a dinner I put together for my family. Not just because it is good but because my kids will actually enjoy it. I made Lasagna with a secret family recipe for the cheese, a spring salad, garlic bread and peas. My kids actually ate the peas first. I don't watch them eat when they pick vegetables to eat first. I'm afraid any attention I give them will disrupt the molecules around them causing them to suddenly realize they are not behaving like normal children.

We were eating leftovers of this meal for dinner last night. After the first serving, My Mukor gave himself a second helping and put it into the microwave to heat.  He is one of those people who needs his food piping hot. Watching his father, LittleMan asked the following question:

LittleMan: "Why is Daddy doing that?"

Me: "He is heating it up to make it hot."

My Mukor: "How long should I put it in for, sweetie?"

Me: "I'd put it in 3 minutes."

My Mukor: "Really?  I did one."

Me: "Well, the outsides will get nice and hot, but the insides will still be cold. Or, you could smush it down."

My Mukor: "Yeah, I'll do that. I don't really mind it smushed down."

LittleMan: [Listening to the conversation with interest] "Why does smushing it down make it hotter?"

Me: "The thicker the food you are trying to heat, the longer it will take the microwave to heat the center. It has to go a lot further to get to the center than when it goes through a thin layer."

LittleMan: "So..."

My Mukor: "So if you are in a space ship, and the aliens are shooting at you with their radiation guns, make certain to surround yourself in a thick layer of lasagna."

Between My Mukor and I our children will never get a reasonable explanation for anything.

Family Fun the Geek Way

Even though BoopaLoop and LittleMan are old enough to appreciate simple games, they are very different in temperment and personality. Finding a game that appeals to both is very hard. Usually I solve this problem by creating a game that is tailored and shaped to their specific curiosities. For example, if we are playing outside, we usually do imaginary play. BoopaLoop is a princess, LittleMan is a soldier, and I'm the evil monster bent on destroying the princess. Fortunately, the princess is a mighty fighter too and can run away at light speed.

But this weekend, we wanted to play a game we could do as a family. It is hard to do imaginary play with two people trying to control everything, so either myself or My Mukor use these opportunities when the other is entertaining the children to play our own game, read books, take a nap get stuff done. However, this Saturday we wanted to do something together.

My Mukor develops video games, but ironically, we don't have any video games that are fun for our children. We don't own a Wii, we don't have the Lego game, nothing. Maybe we are afraid to share video game time with our children. After all, that day will probably get here soon enough. So, we looked in our boardgame cabinet to find something the kids might like.

I wish we had Yatzee. That would be the perfect game. BoopaLoop could roll dice to her heart's content, LittleMan could practice his counting skills, and My Mukor and I would silently compete against each other. But we don't have that game. Then, I noticed a beat up, old box with Heroes Quest written on it.

This was a game my big brother gave me as a birthday present years ago to keep me from crashing his Dungeon & Dragon games with his friends. The part he forgot was that I needed people to play Heroes Quest, so he ended up having to play with me - but he did get alone time with his friends without his stinky sister butting in.

Deciding it might be a good substitute for Yatzee, the four of us sat around the dining room table and played this game of heroes, quests, treasures and not-so-scary monsters waiting to be struck down. BoopaLoop's favorite part was finding treasures, LittleMan's favorite part was fighting the bad guys, My Mukor's favorite part was trying to keep his team from venturing too far apart from each other, and I loved coming up with fun and creative areas for the mighty team to explore. We had a blast.

Then we had lunch, an hour of relaxing time, and watched the kids play outside.

It was a wonderful Saturday.

Free-Enterprise Friday

(Continuing the sharing of my failed and successful experiences at getting a new product created.)

I finally had an idea of a product I wanted to create. Now, I had to gather information. What products were similar to it on the market? Who manufactured those products? And the big question: How much will it cost to make it? There are other questions regarding materials, labor and quantity, but first I needed the basic figures to see if I could make my product and then sell it at a reasonable price.

Some of my earlier ideas were immediately shot down due to the fact that in order to make them I would have to sell them at outrageous prices. But, man oh man, when the cost of laser technology ever drops, BAM! - my ideas are gonna soar! Okay, not really, but you get the idea.

I used two tools to find a manufacturer for my creation: the Internet and the Better Business Bureau. I found a ton of businesses (either through the Internet or on packages of similar materials) that could potentially manufacture my product, so I narrowed it down to businesses that were in my time zone to avoid any complications with telephone tag. That narrowed the list to a manageable amount. I went to Better Business Bureau and found a few that had "satisfactory" ratings. I checked out their websites to see if their Internet presence was impressive or not. Those that looked professional, I called, and the second one answered the phone. Winner!

I gave the manufacturing company my specifications and asked if they could do what I needed and give me an estimate. Done and done! Most manufacturers will give you a discount based on quantity. The more I ordered - the smaller the per unit price. If the manufacturer doesn't offer this, then as the Miracles sang, "You better shop around".

I called two other places, and I had all three send me samples of their materials to see if they were up to snuff. Again, if the manufacturer isn't willing to work with you on these requests, then you need to check elsewhere. I put those samples through the ringer. I had to make certain it would pass all possible tortures our family would put it through. I found the right manufacturer at the right price, so I needed to go to the next stage... to see if this product would sell.

Next week I'll talk about what happens after you think you have found a potential manufacturer.

Children Complications

On Thursday nights, my husband has church obligations which leaves the children and I alone for dinner. To take advantage of the situation assuage our loneliness, we take turns picking which restaurant we will eat at in honor of his absence. Tonight, it was BoopaLoop's turn, and she picked Islands.

As we walked into the restaurant, I was reminded of another time about 2 years ago I went to Islands with my kids alone. I hoped the same thing that happened then wouldn't happen tonight.

Two years ago, BoopaLoop wasn't yet potty trained, but LittleMan was. About 3/4 of the way through the meal, LittleMan told me that he had to go potty. I remember being irritated at the fact that he had gone potty before lunch, and now he had to go again. Sighing heavily, but trying to maintain calm, I told him okay. I took my purse, BoopaLoop and LittleMan.

Off we go to find the potty. This particular Islands was part of a hotel. So, in order to minimize the number of non-customer-potty-users (evidently), the restaurant in its infinite wisdom decided not to put any potties in their restaurant. Instead, you have to exit the restaurant through the double-doors that lead to the hotel lobby. Fine. We thanked the Islands employee for that information, and off we went.

For those of you familiar with children who are adept at potty usage but too young to understand the passage of time, will recall that it takes FOR. EVER. for a child this age to do... uh... number 2. I think we were in the bathroom a good 30 minutes before I asked LittleMan, "Are you sure you have to go poop?" The answer was a resounding yes. Sigh...

We returned to the restaurant, and as I approached our table I noticed the lack of mess. The seats were spotless. The floor under the table was spotless. That wasn't how we left the table. My moment of gratitude was immediately replaced with dawning dread: they bused our table. LittleMan had this expression on his face of controlled sadness. The rest of his precious hamburger was gone. My barely touched soft tacos were history. The busboy was very efficient - there was new tableware.

At that moment of realization, I happened to make eye contact with our waitress. She looked like a vindicated terror. She ran up to me and said, "I'm so, so sorry I told the busboy to stop cleaning the table I knew there was no way you would leave! You have two small children!!" She went on for about 30 seconds longer before BoopaLoop made her strongwill known by insisting I put her down.

The waitress asked me if there was anything she could do, and I said that I was so sorry they thought that I had "dined and ditched". I told her we were almost finished anyway, but that my son was disappointed at not having the rest of his hamburger. She offered to make us a new one; I said no since we had to get on the road, and cooking a new burger would take too much time for my 2-year old to sit for when she was done eating. So, the waitress brought out a Kona Pie on the house! This ice cream masterpiece was enough to shut down any further grumbling from me the children.

Fast-forward to tonight, and of course the same thing happened. This time BoopaLoop had to go potty. But, I was prepared thanks to our previous experience. I told the first server I saw that we were coming back and to please not clean our table.

When we returned, we found the table in exactly the same disaster we left it in with a beautiful little note on the edge of the table that said, "Don't clean me!"

Thanks to these two experiences I've learned a valuable lesson: always carry a pen so I can write the bloody sign myself!

Peter Pan STINKS!

Okay, Peter Pan doesn't completely stink, but it is really annoying. The Disney Store had this amazing sale some time ago, and Peter Pan was one of the movies that they'd only release every 40-thousand years (brilliant marketing strategy, by the way), so I decided to buy it. I figured it had pirates (but not scary ones like Pirates of the Caribbean), its main character was a boy (rather than a princess), and it had old fashioned values. What more could my 6-year old LittleMan and 4-year old BoopaLoop want?

Most of the movie is fairly benign, in my opinion. Three cute kids have an exciting adventure to the land they always dreamed to go. That part is fine. The part that I find completely annoying is that EVERY SINGLE female character (except the mother) exhibits intense jealousy over Peter Pan! Tinker Bell hates Wendy because of jealousy. The mermaids hate Wendy because of jealousy. Even Wendy hates Princess TigerLily because of jealousy! As I watch my daughter watch this movie, I wonder what she is gleaning from it.

The movie ends well enough with Wendy deciding that she wants to grow up after all, but I'm convinced that the only reason for that epiphany was due to Peter Pan's reaction to Wendy's jealousy. He didn't care. I think the moral of this story is that girls get jealous all the time, and we as women need to grow up and fend for ourselves. And, that boys will be boys, and you can't change them.

I agree that jealousy is something to avoid like the plague, but to have every female character act jealous was too much. So, once the movie was over, I decided next time to pick the movie. I picked Ratatouille.

No one gets jealous in that one.

Am I being unreasonable? Is there more to value in the movie Peter Pan that I'm being blind to?  Help me understand!

Just let it go

As a parent of young children, I find myself obsessed with their minds. Are they being challenged enough? Are they being sheltered enough? Am I harming them? And even those rare moments where I have the hubris to believe that I am the GREATEST PARENT EVER! Usually, those moments are quickly followed by the feeling that I'm the WORST PARENT EVER! Ah, such is life as a mom.

Something happened this morning that helped me see that I need to relax just a little bit.

LittleMan: [Reading a Kindergarten Open Court book called "At The Zoo" aloud.]

Me: [Listening to LittleMan but seeing an opportunity to challenge him.]

LittleMan: "What are you doing, Mom?"

Me: "I thought we could practice some of your Challenge Words."

LittleMan: "Okay."

I write words like "the", "an", "here", "if", "see", and other two to three-letter words. After about the 10th one...

LittleMan: "How many words are there?"

Me: "A lot. These are just some of the two to three-letter words, hon. There are also four, five all the way up to 10 or even 15-letter words."

LittleMan: [Looking at me with a mixture of awe and disbelief.]

Me: [I write the word "Exclamation".]

LittleMan: "Ex - ca - l - awe - mmm... This is a hard one."

Me: "Well, I didn't think you would try to read it. Good job! It is 'Exclamation'."

LittleMan: [Staring at the word]

Me: "It means to EXCLAIM or SHOUT. Like 'OUCH!' or 'BANG!' or 'STOP!'."

LittleMan: [Looking at me in that same expression]

I smile at him, and leave the table to get changed.

LittleMan comes into my bedroom where My Mukor and I are chatting before Mukor goes to work.

LittleMan: [Holds up the paper where the word "Exclamation" is written. Next to it is the word "Wow".]

I show the paper to My Mukor, but I'm thinking to myself, "Did LittleMan really understand the definition of Exclamation that quickly?" My thoughts are immediately shot down when I hear LittleMan say to My Mukor, "It is 'woe'."

Me: "No, that is w-o-e. You spelled 'wow'. Remember the rule about the long vowel sound if the word ends with 'e'?"

LittleMan: [Looking at the paper]

Me: "See, you spelled the word 'woe'. That means to feel sadness."

LittleMan: "No, it is what you say to a horse."

I took a deep breath and let it go. You see, I was beginning to think that my son was a genius for thinking of the word "Whoa!" which is an example of the "Exclamation" definition I gave. Did he write that because of my definition, or was it coincidence? It is this kind of obsessing that causes me to question whether or not I'm fit as a parent...

And why I can never home-school my children.

Of not-so-sound mind

Sickness Update: Yup, still sick. Sigh. It isn't even like a real sickness where I can juice the pity train or stay in bed for hours on end. Instead, it feels like I have a pillow jammed up my sinuses, and it is playing havoc with my ear canal, sinuses, and throat. I have a cold. And it sucks.

Thanks to all of you for your well wishes. I'm in pretty great spirits considering. I'm still able to take my kids to and from school, I can still help with homework, and I can still push the button on the dishwasher. Life is manageable. I just wish I could taste my food!

Anyway, I'm feeling a little guilty about going over to a friend's house for a playdate today. I was given permission to come over in my goopy state, but I believe if I were truly a selfless person, I would have declined the invitation. I was almost that person. Almost. I got as far as asking if my son could go over without me. I asked LittleMan if that was cool. I had everything lined up... but at the last second I couldn't bring myself to leave him in a home I had never checked out personally before.

Oh sure, I asked all of the obvious questions of the seemingly normal mom: do you have any guns, do you have any ferocious beasts, do you have any illegal drugs, or hypodermic needles lying around? I kid you not. I asked these questions of her verbatim. She laughed at me, and I was laughing at myself - but I still felt better. I don't know what I would expect from someone who actually would say "Yes" to any of these questions.  Would they say yes? Would an obvious LIAR button appear on their forehead if they didn't? Whatever. I asked the stupid questions, and infected a bunch of children with my germs anyway.

So, in order to make myself feel better, I infected small children.

Please send all complaints to my mother, for she raised me.

Halloween Aftermath

Halloween is a happily celebrated holiday for our family - as is evidenced by our front lawn. Every year I go to the local cheap-but-nice-decorations store to buy yet another thing to litter my home with. This year I bought a string of gleeful ghosts that make it only 1/2 way up our walkway. Next year, I'm certain I'll buy the other half.

I blame the children for this unnecessary expense. My husband and I were happily sitting in our homes on this fateful day for 8 years. We may have carved a pumpkin or two during that time, but that was just to compete in the ??-annual pumpkin carving contest AllThingsBD's family was hosting. I would buy some cheap-o candy to hand out that would later be seen in Grandma's crystal bowl for the next century.

Now I have it all: Milky Way, Snickers Bar, Smarties, M&M Packs, GumBlow, Skittles, Reece's, Hersheys, etc. And, like last year, I bought way too much candy for the few kids that actually come to our house for trick-or-treating. We have two mixing bowls worth of candy left over.

My kids are over the moon about this. In all likelihood this extra candy will end up in their buckets to prevent My Mukor and I from eating it all (especailly the Reece's Peanut Butter Cups... hmm... peanut butter...).

Anyway, I know the children are to blame, but I love it! LittleMan was a black Power Ranger, and BoopaLoop was "SuperGirl Man".  You can't buy this kind of entertainment and joy! My Mukor was Aragorn from LotR, and I was sick mommy in pajamas. I stayed home to hand out candy and spread my disease to the children. *Cough* If your child is sick, I apologize profusely... Want some candy?

Free-Enterprise Friday

(Continuing the sharing of my failed and successful experiences at getting a new product created.)

You know when you are at a restaurant and can't decide between the steak or the pasta, so you ask the person you are with, "Which one should I have?" They suggest one, and suddenly, the other one looks irresistible. Well, that is exactly how I felt when those I trusted told me that my Pick Up Palz idea was the idea I had to explore further. There were so many rejected ideas I had that I thought were so much more relevant and just plain cooler than this one! But this was the idea that had other people excited, so I knew I was on to something special.

The funny thing is you can immediately tell when a new product idea generates excitement in others versus apathy. But, it can be a subtle difference. Sure, you could have an idea that other people hear and say, "That's a terrible idea." But, that's not the most likely scenario. Here are a couple of conversations I had that illustrate the difference really well.

Apathetic audience:

Me - "So, I have this idea for a [insert new idea here]. I wanted to know your honest opinion of that."

Trusted Person - "Wow, that sounds like an interesting idea." After some thought, "How would you manufacture that?"

Excited audience:

Me - "So, I have this idea for a [insert new idea here]. I wanted to know your honest opinion of that."

Trusted Person - "Wow, that sounds like an interesting idea. You could do this with it or that. And, you could try this! OR better yet, you could do something like this!! How would you manufacture that?"

You can see the difference in the way they talk about the product. Do they try to change it to make it suit their needs? If so, pay attention. This is where you are hearing the possible flaws and uses of your product.

But, I knew I had a great idea when the majority of people I talked to could see themselves using it. Once I realized I had my idea, I had to look into the practicality of getting it created. In other words, how much would it cost to make. ooo. fun.

Cash or Trophies

I entered into a tennis tournament on Labor Day weekend a couple of months back, and I nearly killed myself playing in it. I'm not an outstanding player, but I play often enough to be considered competent. Over the last 5 years, I've been playing mostly doubles with a smattering of singles tennis thrown in. For those of you unfamiliar with tennis, the only important thing to note is that singles requires a lot more fitness than doubles does.

I signed up for the tournament a level lower than I normally play since I was going to try my hand at singles tennis. I mean, the ladies on TV make it look so easy! I pay my $35 USTA tournament fee, and eagerly await the day to play. Since I'm playing a level lower than my skill, I figured I'd win a match or two, but poop out from fatigue after that.

About 2 weeks after signing up for the tournament, I received an e-mail from the tournament director informing me that since there were not enough ladies signed up for the level I was at, they were going to bump me UP a level! So, now I will be playing at my skill level, but it will be singles rather than doubles. After the shock wore off, I decided that I would go out in a blaze of exhaustion that first match. Oh well.

To make a long story shorter, I ended up winning the tournament. Don't ask me how. I didn't think I was physically capable of it, but I surprised myself. The tournament director handed me an envelope and said congratulations. Now, in the past when I've placed in a tennis tournament, I received a generic trophy. I'm not a professional tennis player, so I wouldn't receive cash. LittleMan thinks I'm an athetic GOD since I have all of these trophies from tennis on our mantle. Okay, there are only 4 trophies, but still!

When I arrived home after winning the tournament, LittleMan ran up and asked me how I did.

Me - "I won!"

LittleMan - "Oh, wow! Where is your trophy?"

Me - "Uh, they gave me a check for $75."

LittleMan - [Staring at the check.]

Me - [Watching him stare at the check.]

LittleMan - "You didn't get a trophy? I thought you won."

Me - [Watching LittleMan walk away.]

How sad is it that I wished I had received a trophy too?

I ordered a canvas tennis bag online. It has a beautiful tennis racket embroidered on the front with the following words - "Singles Tennis Winner - Tiffany". How awesome am I?

DirectTV, TiVo, and other mysteries of electronics

I remember when I first saw TiVo in action. I don't remember which house I saw it in, but I vividly recall my astonishment at seeing live TV paused! It was like magic. Finally, we as consumers could control the TV show to allow us more time to use the bathroom!! (I'm ashamed to admit that there were several times in my past where I was sitting on the porcelain throne, yelling at my Mukor to tell me what was going on the TV show while my Mukor was trying to relay the pertinent plot information to me in conjuction with keeping track of said show so he wouldn't miss anything important. Ah, the good 'ole days.)

We've have had TiVo for some time now. As soon as I saw that I could pause live TV, I needed to have this electronic wonder in my home. Now, we can record all of our children's favorite shows and watch them when we want to. When my kids are done with homework, they can watch a pre-recorded program that I have already approved for their young minds.  (A personal favorite is "Between The Lions", especially since LittleMan is beginning to read.)

With the advent of High-Definition television, our TiVo is showing signs of age. Mukor called DirectTV and requested an upgraded DVR (or Digital Video Recorder, which is what TiVo apparently is). Yesterday, a bright, young man came into our home to switch out our aged TiVo to replace it with a new fandangled DirectTV DVR. Four hours later, the man leaves, and I'm holding this new remote that looks like it has enough buttons to control my children. (MUTE!  I'm pressing MUTE!!)

As I try to remember the 40 THOUSAND television shows we watch on a semi-regular basis, AllThingsBD notices that we are only receiving the High-Definition channels. Well, she's right. Something was wrong, and we will be receiving another bright, young man from DirectTV within 48 hours.

I only hope I'm able to record America's Next Top Model...

Tennis - Life - REALITY

First, I want you all to know that my gas tank is at the 1/2 way point, and I have already made plans to fill it up to the top (not just $10, Don - though I wish it only cost that much to fill 1/2 a tank) before I head out to my tennis match tomorrow.

Yes, I play tennis. No, I'm not a pro or even a semi-pro. Yes, I must be a spoiled brat that I can actually go play tennis for 2 hours 3-days a week in the beautiful Californian sunshine. No, I don't feel the least bit guilty about that.

Okay, that's not true, I feel a little guilty about that. After all, I could be doing blogging, reading, thinking my own thoughts dishes, laundry, dusting, vacuuming, etc. etc. etc. But, I just supress those unwanted, dark, MADDENING, responsible thoughts and blithely go play tennis. Don't ask what happens when someone pulls at that thread by asking about the state of my home.

As I was standing on the tennis court today thinking about the beautiful sunshine, the crisp air cooling me off, and the competitive juices surging through me (did I mention the water cooler on the sidelines? Yeah, they have that too.), I was high on life. It felt great to be alive!

...

Until I missed my overhead, and choked the following return. Boy oh boy how reality loves to send us crashing down to earth. Why am I as good as Steffi Graf in my head, but I play like that blonde girl from the movie Fletch?

Update on GAS

Update on my gas tank: It is happily full. We were going with my mom to church (and we were late) when I remembered the horror of two nights ago.

Me: "Mom, you remember when I told you that I was riding E the last 4 miles to your house?"

My Mom: Dawning realization, "Oh... yeah."

My mom hate, haTES, HATES to be late anywhere.  I know that Mama DB feels the same way, but she has a good excuse. I think my mom hates being late because she is a very reliable person.

So, now I'm anxious about the empty gas tank and the fact that my mom will arrive late to church. With two kids in tow, I have resigned myself to the fact that it is 50/50 whether we'll arrive on time. My mom was very gracious though.  She told me not to worry about it.

My Mom: "Honey, this kind of thing doesn't bother me. This is out of our control."

Thanks, Mom! But, now we had the other problem of getting the vapor-gas-tank to a station without forcing two well-dressed ladies to push it.

You know what my mother said? She told me that most gas tanks register BELOW THE E before being out of gas!! Here I though it was my dad who told me that, but it was my mother who lead me astray all those years ago. So, AllThingsBD you know who to really blame now. (What was the password again?)

I'm beginning to think my mother was right since we made it another 5 miles to the gas station on the way to church. No problem. So thank you all for your concern and advice. I fully plan to pay attention to my gas gauge from here on out!

E is for Empty

I have grown to dislike the letter "E". It wasn't the 40-THOUSAND times my children have sung the alphabet song that fostered this dislike. Actually, I barely tolerate all letters equally for that. No, my dislike grew about 4 miles away from my mother's house.

It was at that time that I realized my gas gauge was reading E.

I don't know why I didn't notice the annoying yellow light that had been well-lit for the last ~10 miles. I was too busy listening to Imogen Heap, perhaps. Or, my vision had been desensitized from the light coming from the dashboard. I don't know. All I know is that when I finally noticed the perfectly horizontal pointer aimed at E, I panicked.

All Things BD is probably shaking her head at me right now. You see, when we used to commute together to college, there was an out-of-gas incident that I will never live down. I have sworn her to secrecy (and, I swear my dad told me that the tank wasn't empty until the pointer was below the E).

Anyway, back to my panic. I had passed the last gas station about 4 miles back, and I didn't know how much gas I really had left. I wish gas tanks were reliable enough to show you how much distance you have left rather than this subjective pointer-thing. (It is on E. Do I have 10 miles or 1 mile? Do I have 10 feet?!)

I decided the best option was to just forge ahead and not look at the gas gauge. No matter how tempted I was, I was NOT going to give in and look at the gauge. I mean, there was nothing I could do, right? So... I looked down at the gauge again, and I swear the color of the light went from bright, happy yellow to a more doomed looking orange-yellow.

I kicked myself for not noticing the light earlier or at the very least for not filling up with gas before taking off for our 3-hour trip. "A three-hour tour..." Sorry. But you know thoughts like that were going through my head at 10 PM at night with two children blissfully unaware of the potential dilemma we may be in. Fortunately they were asleep.

It is moments like this that I regret not knowing more about cars. I turned off the radio thinking that was using less gas, but then I remembered that the radio probably used the battery. I turned off the A/C and relied on the night air to keep my kids from overheating... but that uses the battery too. But, I felt like I was using less gas. That counts!

I did not exceed 30 MPH those last 4 miles to my mom's house, but the speed limit there fluctuated between 45-25, so at times I was speeding. I didn't want to alter speed at all. I coasted when I could, and I tried not to push the gas pedal at all. In spite of my self-sabotage Against all odds, I arrived safely to my mom's.

Now, I need to get to a gas station.

The closest one is about 5 miles away.

Don't worry, I have a backup plan. Anyone want to over-night some gas to me?

Free-Enterprise Friday

As promised, every Friday I will share with you how I messed up, succeeded, flailed, failed, and triumphed to reach my goal as a Mom Entrepreneur.

My goal was simple. I wanted to create something, have it made, and be able to use it to solve my specific problem. I didn't go into this venture expecting riches, accolades, or reknown. Although, don't get me wrong. If those things should happen, I wouldn't shove them away. But I wasn't motivated by those things. I just had a need that I wanted filled. If I had to make it myself to get it, then so be it.

Sometimes the best ideas come from necessity (I think I read that somewhere from some guy). Anyway, the place to start is with what you know and what you know is lacking. Once you think you have hit upon an idea, share it with a couple of people you trust will give you the hard truth. Not someone who enjoys ripping you up, but a trusted friend who will lovingly point out where you might have erred and succeeded.

The first idea I had was rejected by the two people I trust more than anyone - my mother and my husband. It was hard to hear the truth about my original idea: it would be too expensive to make and therefore too expensive to buy. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.  Don't worry about cost, practicality or logistics of getting your idea made. Just let your mind open to the possibilities first. For those familiar with the concept, this is the "brainstorming" stage. Focus in on what you know and begin brainstorming ideas.

You see, it was because of my first failure that I was able to come up with my second and third failed ideas that lead me to the successful forth idea.

Not a friend to the environment

My children go to school. My children go to Sunday school. My children generate so much paper stuff that I have three bins dedicated to trying to contain it! I have graded school work.  I have completed craft items - most of which have unidentifiable other stuff falling from it. I have journals and workbooks and finger paintings.

I bought a schoolwork box to keep those items that hold a special place in my heart for the future.  The future of what?! When my son and daughter are 18 years old and looking at me from underneath this ever-growing pile of paperwork, asking why I saved the three scribbles written in magic marker (which ripped a hole in the paper) because it was the first time they used something other than a crayon?! Are you kidding me?!

I have tried to cull as much of this as I could. But as moms can probably related to, I am afraid of throwing away that one piece of paper that will hold some kind of emotional significance later, and I will deeply, DEEPLY regret tossing it out with the 11x14 paper with sand glued on it.  You know what I mean.

So, I've come up with a solution that allows me to breathe again, and it has deepened the relationships within our family. I mail all precious-yet-trashable masterpieces to every relative I can think of who might appreciate them. How awesome am I?

Favorite Beverage

Diet Pepsi is my beverage of choice. I recognize that there are more delicious drinking options out there, but my taste buds have acquired a taste for Diet Pepsi. I blame my mother. Back in the mid-80s, my mother stopped buying Coke in order to lose some weight. In a rare form of family solidarity (when it comes to food - that is), we all decided to support Mom by no longer demanding she buy Coke.

At the time, I was a growing teenager, so I made due with milk and juice. My mother, however, needed the extra caffeine that Coke provided. Plus, I think she just missed the soothing fizz of a carbonated beverage. So, she went to the grocery store to find the latest in caffeinated, fizzy, yet low calorie beverage. She discovered Tab. And I'm not even certain it was caffeinated then.

Now, I'm not one to knock the power that is Tab. It got my mom through a very tough time of Coke-withdrawal. But I seriously believe that my taste buds started to give out when I forced myself to try Tab. In my defense I believed my mother when she said that the drink tasted better than Coke. Maybe to her it did... but I seriously doubt it. It wasn't soon after that she discovered Pepsi-One.

I was in love with Pepsi-One. It was the first drink to taste something like a regular soda without being high in calorie. Back then the cola companies were using saccharine or something really unhealthy... as opposed to the drinks now which are just somewhat unhealthy.

Anyway, all this talk of taste is subjective since by the time Pepsi-One came around my taste buds had already been slowly chipped away from drinking Tab. For all I know, Pepsi-One tasted like dung, but compared to Tab - WOOWEE it was good.

Pepsi Corp developed Diet Pepsi and the rest is history. One of my favorite memories regarding Diet Pepsi (the fact that I have a memory around a beverage should be cause for concern, I'm sure) is when I went to Cheerleading Camp (that's another story), and I was invited to a party. We were all college students, but very few of us were of drinking age. I bought a 6-pack of Diet Pepsi, brought it to the party, and had a blast! I loved seeing the reactions of my friends when I told them that I didn't want a Bud since I had my Diet Pepsi.

Oh, beloved Diet Pepsi, what great times we've had.

Sigh...