Favors and Flavor

Sorry, it's been a while. Best Namma Ever! came to stay for a few days. Since she doesn't know of this humble blog and stays in the same room as the computer, I bail out when she visits.

Before I go on: Uptown Girl -- I really did try to type out how to strike out a word. I thought that since I'd done it under the "Compose" tab that it would show exactly what I had typed out and not take as code. But it did take as code, which means that it looked like some sort of obnoxious blow-off when it published. And I didn't look very closely at the published post for a while. Sorry about that!

On another note, BNE! & I took the Urban Kids to the Nature Museum. Outings are always easier when you aren't outnumbered. But more on that tomorrow. Because it turned into blog material.

And with BNE! here, Urban Dad & I were able to go out for a long walk on one of the rare nice evenings here in Chicago. Yes, people, it's still cold here. I knew we were going to pay for that balmy, beautiful Halloween! But we managed to get an evening where we needed only one jacket to be warm, so off we went for a few hours.

And finally, Flavor of the Month. I know, I know. "Hey, Val, no time like whenever!" And to that I reply, "Better late than pregnant!" Besides, this is a Bad Guy Flavor of the Month. So I feel justified in being late for it since he's bad. He doesn't deserve a whole month. So there. I've rationalized the missing of my own deadline. Besides, what's the fun of creating your own deadline if you can't then blow it off?

As many of you know, I've been doing my dreaded arm work while making my way through Season 7 of "24." And that Jack was last month's Flavor of the Month.

This month, it's Tony. After the dreck that was Season 7, can you blame me? He was the most interesting character in the show! I mean, is he a bad man with a flicker of good left in him that's trying to stay alight? Is he a good man driven to the brink of all-out badness? Is he going to be seen in a towel again? And why can't I find that image anywhere on the internet?

In past seasons of "24," my opinion of Tony was.... meh. But he's lost the Breck girl hair, wears black all of the time and always looks like he smells something bad. And I am completely weirding myself out that he's grown on me over the last few weeks!

But I'm not entirely convinced about what team Tony plays on. No, I don't mean the "is he good or bad" question that was so carefully -- and repeatedly -- laid out of us. But living in Chicago's "Boys' Town" neighborhood, I've gotten to the point where I see things that may (or may not) be there. (notthatthere'sanythingwrongwiththat!)

For example:

Where exactly is Tony's left hand?

And then maybe this?



This kinda made me wonder:




And this:

And this finally gave me enough material to do this silly post:

So what can I say? It's 2009 in America, guys! Own it!

Can you tell that Season 7 aggravated me?

But it was interesting that it was much about Tony as any other character. And that he might be back. I was satisfied with how the story ended (for now) with him. But frankly, he looked like he might be fun to take for a spin first.

Weird.

It's Time To Turn OFF THE TV

As you know, I'm currently plowing my way through all of the episodes of "24" that I've stacked up on the DVR since "Redemption" was on last November. And that my arms hurt.

And I have a confession to make:

Every time I see this guy... which is often during this particular stretch...

All I can think is that he looks like this guy.

So this brings me to a few conclusions:

1. These two were possibly separated at birth.

2. I am watching too much "24."

3. I am watching too much "Blues Clues."

4. I need to get back to that book that I was reading (Crichton's "State of Fear")

5. My brain hurts.

6. My arms hurt.

Remember when I presented Jack Bauer as May's Flavor of the Month?

And my plan to do arm exercises as I worked my way through Season 7 of 24?

I enhanced the plan a bit. I have to give props -- I got a lot of this idea from Blogs4Bauer.com. Here's how I'm playing now:

I must do either a tricep dip or a (shudder) push-up (gag!) each and every time Jack Bauer does any of the following:

Says, "Dammit!"

Says, "We Don't Have Time," "There Isn't Time," or something to that effect

Kills someone.

Says, "Drop the weapon," "Put down the gun," or something to that effect

(remember that scene in the prequel Redemption where he pleaded with the little boy to put down the gun...? i was begging Jack to shutup already!)

Apologizes for anything.

Says, "NOW!"

Uses or threatens to use "enhanced interrogation."

Any product placement (but only the first time we see it per episode; i'm only human here)

Can I just add that if he headbutts someone that I will voluntarily do five extra??

I'm about 7 or 8 hours into this endeavor. And can I just say, "C'mon Jack... lighten up. Can't we all just get along? You're killin' me here!"

Do They Still Make Sun-In?

Oh Good Lord, have I been a lazy blogger! I can only do a fraction of the justice that the various this-and-that's actually deserve, but we'll just do a Cliff Notes of what's important.

Namely: I will not be as blonde as I should be this summer. And that's ok. I can white-knuckle it. (For now.) You see, I had a hair appointment on Saturday morning with Lee the Hair Whisperer. As such, I was hunting down videos for Urban Kid 1 that don't make my skull split for one reason or another (another post). And reminding Urban Dad over and over and over again that I would take U-Kid 1 off his hands for the morning, but he was on the hook with U-Kid 2.

Backstory time: Lee the Hair Whisperer has been preggers of late. This was quite a surprise to her since 1.) she's 46 and 2.) she wasn't actively trying to get preggers. In fact, when she missed a period, she thought she was starting menopause. The baby's father immediately started e-mailing her links to abortion clinics. When she made it clear that she was thrilled to have and raise this baby, with or without him, he became The Invisible Man. So she's been on her own. Not only has she handled this well, she's straight-up embraced the entire challenge. I'm in awe of this woman.

Knowing her due date, I made an appointment for a month before. And another for soon after her return. Starting on Wednesday, I was counting the hours until I could joyfully sit in her chair, drop some earphones onto U-K 1 and gossip heartily while Lee worked her magic.

But on Wednesday night, Lee went into sudden labor, as in massively hemorraging. Thirty minutes later, she was in emergency surgery, delivering a beautiful baby girl appropriately named Grace. They both nearly returned to their Creator as a package deal, but are doing much, much better now. Little Grace came in at 6 lbs, 2 oz and is doing a little time in an incubator to make sure that her lungs are good and ready for The Big World. If she's anything like her mom, she'll be good at working the chat, so let's get those lungs up for what's coming!

But yeah, Lee was a little tied up on Saturday a.m.

It's hair, people. Although I occasionally toy with the idea of renaming this blog Urbane Mom, I'll never be that bad.

BTW, meet Grace:

Gorgeous hair, of course.

Urban Mom Strikes Again!

I have an amazing talent. And if you & I should ever meet and hit it off IRL, it's one you should certainly know about.




I make people move. As in, far away.





Seriously, you want to connect sometime and have a drink? Great! But let me warn you that you will need to pick up moving boxes on the way home.





My most recent recipient of this talent is Urban Kid 1's little buddy "R." R's dad is a pilot for United; her mom is a pilot for UPS. I met R's mom at the playground one day as our daughters played together. She had a new baby boy in her arms, and the loneliness was radiating off of her like a painful sunburn -- they had moved here about 15 minutes after the new baby came. Since then, we've become friendly, able to chat away a workout at the gym or a few hours at the playground. U-Kid 1 loves going to R's for a playdate. She adores R and thinks that R has the coolest mom evah.





But R's dad is a pilot for United who knows that he will be furloughed (aka: downsized, right-sized, let-go, laid-off, shown the door, don't let the doorknob hitcha where The Good Lord splitcha, etc.) in September. However, he can get a free move out of United if he does it really, really soon. A $30,000 value! This led to R's mom and dad discussing various places they could live and raise the kids.





Did they settle on Chicago? No.





The outskirts of Denver.





And they've already bought a place and are looking to move soon.





So while U-Dad's brother and his two kids live near Denver, and so we may see R and her family again in the future, let's face it: we won't see them at the school playground, or the gym, or the park or anywhere else but on Facebook now and then.





About a year and a half ago, U-Kid 1's friend M moved to Las Vegas. Her very-cool mom met a very-cool man who lives in Las Vegas. So off they went to make a very-cool family. (details here)





U-Kid 1 still talks about M. And young M and her very-cool mom will visit this summer. (ohpleasegod be when we are in town and not during our annual road trip!!) But still. The day-to-day encounters continue to be missed.





Being a homeschool mom, I don't take connections like this lightly. I don't mess around with U-Kid 1's schedule so that she can have regular groups that she sees. If she hits it off with someone, I make sure to connect with that kid. For example, she has a best-buddy in Spanish class (backstory here), who also lives in the South Loop -- inconveniently located for someone between Wrigley Field & the Lake. But I plan to exchange info with her babysitter before summer comes and catch up. And hopefully the girls can be in Spanish together again come Fall.





Oh, and about me making people move.





One wonderful lady moved to Atlanta. Something about her doctor-husband getting a grand opportunity there or some blah-blah-blah.





Another went to St. Louis, via a stint in Portland, Oregon. (yeah, she's in St. Louis, so I can catch up to her now when I visit Best Namma Ever! and Pink Power Ranger, but still..... not local anymore)





Anne is heading back east.

She introduced me to an interesting fellow-mom once. But before I could even get the friendship off the ground, she was off to Utah. Something about her husband and his job. Blah-blah-blah.





Another friend went to San Diego.





Yet another went to Minneapolis.


George went back to New Jersey.





I even sent a doctor back home to Michigan!





Seriously, is it me?

'Cause I'm getting a complex here.

And the effect is rubbing off. Urban Dad found a rare jewel in the English Department at Great Big Urban High School -- a teacher who he actually likes and enjoys chatting with. Yep, she's applying to teach for a Department of Defense school in Japan and asked him to write a reference letter.

The poor Urban Kids. They don't stand a chance if this keeps up!

Oh, and I expect that U-Kid 1's Spanish Class Buddy will up and move to Melbourne or some other far-flung place. Call it Waiting for the Next Shoe To Drop.

*sigh* Throw some prayers and happy vibes this way. I'm going to need to tell U-Kid 1 about little R bailing out soon.

Cringe.

Flavor of the Month for May

Remember how I intro'd the Flavor of the Month feature by kicking out my former bad-ass spy, but now totally wussed-out Eurotrash ex-TV Boyfriend?

Time to move on to a new bad ass, this one All-American.

(Whatcha got there in your pocket, Jack? Probably your cell phone. Need help fishing around in there? I'm here to help. I like to help.)

Jack Bauer. Saving the world, once again.

(Tell me, Valerie, do you want me to bring you sushi? Spring rolls? A burrito from Chipotle? Tell me, I have to know, dammit! I live to make you happy!)

Now May is the perfect time for him to be Flavor of the Month here. You see, every year I record all of the episodes of "24" and then gorge myself on them, burning through them all in about two weeks. I just cannot wait a week between episodes. I'm like this with many things. Urban Dad has to hide Christmas presents that come in the mail because I can't wait until the 25th to open them. Any time of the year, I barely have the UPS package signed for and I'm tearing into it. Even if I'm the one who ordered it and know exactly what is in it.

(Once, someone tried to tell Jack Bauer a "knock knock" joke. Jack Bauer found out who was there, who they worked for, and where the goddamned bomb was.)

(Does something feel strangely Freudian about this picture? Or is it just me? Have I sunk to a new level of weirdness? Probably....)

The 8th season of "24" ends in May. I can finally start digging into my delicious TV treat!

(The city of Los Angeles once named a street after Jack Bauer in gratitude for his saving the city several times. They had to rename it after people kept dying when they tried to cross the street. No one crosses Jack Bauer and lives.)

Lest I feel too lazy lying on the floor or sprawled across the couch burning through the DVR, I have found yet another way for Jack Bauer to satisfy me. (no, i did not share a first way; you're an intelligent adult -- figure it out)

Don't misunderstand -- Jack Bauer is not TV Boyfriend material. Let's face it. It does not pay to be a woman in Jack Bauer's life. They seem to have very stressful and/or very short lives. However, a month-long fling once a year is a perfect fit.

(Jack Bauer doesn't speak any foreign languages, but he can make any foreigner speak English in a matter of minutes.)

Also, I hate doing arm exercises. I don't like to lift weights. I've always hated push-ups and refuse to do a single one more for as long as I live. As I result, even at 5'6'' and 120 lbs, I have the beginnings of Bingo Wings. And summer tank-top season will soon be underway.



Ok, Val, what in God's name does this have to do with Jack Bauer?




I plan to take a bench that is by our front door and move it in front of the TV set. Every time Jack Bauer either shoots someone or says, "Dammit!," I will do a tricep dip.



I figure that by the 24th hour, I will have arms like Linda Hamilton.

Urban Kid 2 & I are off to St. Louis tomorrow to collect Urban Kid 1, who has been at Grandma Camp at Best Namma Ever!'s house. After staying a few days, all three of us will return to Chicago. When I shall begin my new exercise regiment.



With Jack Bauer.



(Jack Bauer killed so many terrorists that at one point, the #5 CIA Most Wanted fugitive was an 18-year-old teenager in Malaysia who downloaded the movie Dodgeball.)


So while I'm "out of pocket," have a great week!

Dammit!

Dear Followers...

For those of you who flatter and honor me by actually Following this blog...

My apologies.

I've been figuring out how to go back and label things. And I've likely hit "Publish Post" a few too many times in that effort.

But I think I have it now.

Thanks for your patience!

Regularly scheduled post coming soon.....

Well, Virginia, since you've asked.....

From the back of the car a few days ago...

Long Pause, then:

Urban Kid 1: Mom, is there actually a Santa Claus?

Me: (ooooo boy, here we go...) Uhhmmmm, interesting question, honey. Do you like thinking there's a Santa?

U-Kid 1: Yeah, (deep breath) but I just don't think there is one.

Me: Does it just all seem too good to be true?

U-Kid 1: Yeah, it really does.

Me: Well, you're pretty smart about most things. Including this one. (she nods thoughtfully while I attempt a reassuring smile) But it's fun for a lot of the other kids to believe in, especially the smaller ones. So now that you know, you have to keep it special for the other kids, okay? Show how you can be a big kid and let the others have fun with the idea, right?

U-Kid 1: Ok, I won't give it away. But, Mom?

Me: Uh-huh?

U-Kid 1: How do all of the presents get delivered, then??

Growing up, figuring it out, but still kind of innocent about it all still, too. It's interesting to watch.

Wardrobe Malfunction

Some people.... you can tell they don't have kids.



Today was an unbelievably beautiful day. The day that all of Chicago has been waiting for and wondering if it was ever going to come around again. So we knocked out a bit of school -- enough to call it "school," but no more, -- and headed out. Today was Urban Kid 1's Piano Party, the last piano class of the session, sort of a mini-recital. This, of course, called for a trip to the nail salon, right? (ok, this may have been slightly self-serving)



U-Kid 1 and I have a ritual where we duck into the local Argo Tea right next door to the nail salon and get a drink -- chai for me, juice box for her -- before we go into the salon. And what is on the back of the t-shirt of the young woman in front of us? Go ahead, guess.



A t-shirt that in large, bright pink letters says,



"FUCK IT!"

*sigh* Thanks, "lady." My 5yo U-Kid 1 can read.

U-Kid 1 was distracted by her search for the perfect juicebox out of the fridge-y thing, which was a relief. Another mom with two kids in a stroller also came along behind us, which was another relief. While this other mom was just as annoyed as me, our older girls were at least chatting with each other enough to not notice the shirt too much.

I did see that U-Kid 1 saw the shirt, but she did not ask about it. If she did ask about it? My plan was to say, loudly enough for all involved to hear, "I don't know what it means, sweetie. Why not ask the gal wearing the shirt? Perhaps she can explain it to you."

To the young woman's slight credit, she clued into the families behind her. As she waited for her drink further down the counter, she turned around so that she was facing us. And once she got her drink, her first few steps back towards the door were kind of a sideways shuffle.

Now if it's 11:00pm on a Friday night in our neighborhood, and for some reason I take out the kids, then it's on me if they see something inappropriate for little eyes. But 11:00 AM??? In the tea store? It's not like I took the U-Kids for a walk past the various Adult stores on Halsted Street (also in our neighborhood -- we have to drive by them several times a week, but they have not yet caught U-Kid 1's attention; luckily, they keep the silly, cartoony stuff in the windows rather than the ... erm ... nitty-gritty stuff).

It reminds me of once when I took U-Kid 1 shopping downtown. We were standing at a stoplight waiting to cross Michigan Avenue when the twenty-something in front of us was emphatically telling a story to her friend, peppered with grown-up words. As soon as she laid eyes on U-Kid 1, she slapped her hand over her mouth, looked embarrassed and apologized over and over to me. Her reaction was so horrified that I couldn't be mad. In fact, it was pretty funny. But there also aren't that many little kids on Michigan Avenue on a weekday in the wintertime.

There are a lot of kids around in my neighborhood in the middle of a warm, beautiful, sunny Friday.

Don't get me wrong. I'm no prude. Put Pink Power Ranger and me alone in a car together discussing this relative or that in-law, and I could outdo what is on the federal wiretaps of our ex-Governor and his wife. But to wear that shirt anywhere but on Padre Island on Spring Break? I'd be convinved that Best Namma Ever! would pop out of somewhere and smack me on the back of the head so hard that I would come to my senses and yours. My as-yet-uncreated-grandchildren would have sense smacked into them by that particular smack from BNE!.

Perhaps I'll give F-IT girl a bit of credit and hope that she had her own "teachable moment" today. Maybe she had enough decency to feel awkward. Maybe she'll go through life without someone having to sarcastically ask, "gee honey, who's prouder of you? your mother or your father?"

Here's hoping for the best.

In the meantime, thanks for letting me vent a bit!

Teachable Moments for the U-Mom

Hey there! Guess what I learned this past weekend, solo with the Urban Kids?

First, don't let them know you're afraid. They can smell fear. Now, U-Kid 2 can't smell her own pull-up and will deny deny deny that she needs a fresh one. She also can sense her mom's exasperation and will not announce a need to use the potty no matter how many hours of Dora the Explorer you promise her. But the U-Kids, however, can definitely smell fear. So it was time to put on a brave face.

Second, I learned that cooking U-Kid 1's favorite meal and lightening the hell up helped too.

Third, I learned that a beautiful day on the school playground is nothing less than a Godsend. Friends who will meet you there with their kids? Ditto.

Fourth, rainy days bite. However, taking the U-Kids to the gym and maxing out the 2-hour limit at the awesome child care facility does not.

Fifth, extra computer time and a few extra vids help too. Not caring if school gets done or not does too.

Sixth, U-Dad's absence causes my previously undiscovered bionic hearing to kick in. Seriously, it was three nights of hearing every single flippin' sound in our house, plus our landlord's upstairs, plus the house across the street, as well as the whole next block.

Seventh, the first night of a nasty head cold is just so gross.

Eighth, Best Namma Ever! and the Pink Power Ranger are excellent listeners. And BNE! probably can't get enough of me saying, "Oh my gawd, I am so sorry for everything I ever said and did after your divorce 31 years ago!"

Finally, that I'm really quite capable! You could mistake me for an actual grown-up! I strictly enforced nap/quiet time and bedtime -- afterall, enough was enough already rest is always essential. But the three of us did fine. I chugged through it all without breaking a sweat (or even a nail!). I had to keep my sh*t together because I was the only grown-up here. The real grown-up was off dealing with his own freak-show relatives.

But seriously, can we have some perspective here? As we drove away from the airport after dropping off U-Dad, U-Kid 1 let loose with the most dramatic lamentations. You see, we've never done this before. I take the U-Kids down to St. Louis to see my family once in a while, but U-Dad is always here. Well, except when all four of us pile in for the annual summer road trip. So him being the one to go was a first for U-Kid 1. So for perspective, I assured her that we were coming right back on Sunday night to pick him up. And I reminded her that her friend R has parents who are both pilots. So one or the other are often gone for a week at at a time. Sometimes they're both gone and her Grandma has to come visit. Considering their crazy schedules, this particular family spends an admirable amount of time together. She likes this family a lot, so that quickly calmed her.

I hesitated to go too far into a discussion about military parents. She & U-Dad do prayers most nights, and he always makes it a point to include our soldiers and to explain to her why we do. He's much better and the why-why-why's that accompany that talk and can do it accurately,yet without scaring the daylights out of her. But wow, I'm including the spouses left back at home much, much more emphatically now.

So yeah, we're spoiled. I'm spoiled. And totally rotten too. Right down to my squishy core. (thankyougodthankyougodthankyougod)

Oh, and we only did Happy Meals one night -- the night we collected U-Dad from Midway Airport.

(taaa daaaaaa -- hee hee)

Yes, those of you who know me know that this is indeed proud news for the U-Mom.

So no, despite my fears, this weekend did not suck. Not one bit. (U-Dad's, however, did. But that's another post.)

Ok, stop reading now and go hug someone ya love!

Flying Solo

Well, sh*t. Sh*tsh*tsh*t.

Remember that MIL stuff that I sorta referred to in my last post about Spring Break? Well, the MIL is in the hospital recovering from surgery to fix two breaks in her hip. And -- I'm not kidding here -- she has been so abusive and ugly to the hospital staff (again!) that they have drugged her so that they do not have to deal with her. Yep, she's out cold.

Tomorrow she can leave AMA (Against Medical Advice). One place in a nearby town was prepped to take her so that she could recover from her injury. But then they got her records from the hospital and are saying, "no thanks!"

She may have a few other options, but is unlikely to take them. Y'see, they don't bring around Smirnoff and Ambien at these places, so she refuses to go.

BIL #1 has been dealing with all of this for about five straight months now and is at his breaking point. He called Urban Dad today and begged him to come out and have this confrontation with MIL tomorrow. BIL #1 just needs someone to have his back. And to come up for some freakin' air.

So U-Dad booked a ticket tonight for tomorrow.

Now, first and foremost, I feel bad for U-Dad. Here he has a ticket to Swanky Resort Town, Colorado, but is really going to be abused by Satan's Handmaiden. And because he lives in reality, he embraces this description of his mother. In fact, it's kinder than many he's used!

(remember that show Everybody Loves Raymond? I'd have divorced Raymond before the first year was up. U-Dad's acknowledgement of reality and correct priorities are big fat chunks of glue that hold this family together so tightly)

But also important here is how this affects Me. Afterall, it's my blog. So it gets to be about Me.

Remember that other part of my last post about how soft and cushy my life is because of U-Dad? How I stand in awe of divorcees, widows and military wives? Eeeeeeyuh. This weekend is gonna suck.

Up side? It's going to be warm for a while this weekend, so the U-Kids can run off some energy at a playground.

Will try to blog as I can. I've been bad about posting and even worse about coming around to everyone else's cyber-fences for a chat.

In the meantime, hoping that you have a great weekend!

(now, who wants a happy meal??????? and how many d'ya suppose one can feed her kids in one weekend and still be considered a normal woman???????)

Just Once

Just once I'd like to see The Wife NOT stand by her husband at the news conference after he's been busted doing something gross.

I'd like to see her have her own press conference. I'd like to see her stand before the mic and say something to the effect of:

I leave judgements about his professional performance to his (voters constituents employees shareholders whatever).

However, he has failed as a husband and father and will be held accountable. I will not stand with him today or at any time in the future. Today I take it as my responsibility to show our children that one does not take this kind of humiliation, that this is not how you treat those who you claim to love. It is not up to the person who has been wronged to be falsely charged with the responsibility of keeping the family intact. Today I take it upon myself to make it crystal clear that there is such a thing as right and wrong. And while my spouse has opted to do the wrong thing, today I am doing the right thing.

I will not be taking any questions. If my spouse or members of the media wish to contact me, they may do so though my attorney, WeDo, TakeIt, and More.

Just.
ONCE.

The Great Wallet Caper

By Friday night, I was resigned to having lost my wallet. Perhaps I had dropped it, maybe someone lifted it out of the car when I ran in for the kids at the gym (a bold move, indeed, but not unheard of), who knows. I had searched and re-searched my gym bag. Looked all around outside of the building. Looked over every inch of the car. Looked underneath the cars that were now parked where we were earlier in the day. Urban Dad and I searched likely spots that 13-month-old J likes to stash things (endtables, under furniture, lower drawers). I even donned rubber gloves and checked trash cans and dumpsters around the gym, in case someone had tossed it.

Nothing. 36 hours' worth of it.

On Friday night, the four of us were playing in the kids' room. Urban Dad was lounging on the floor when he said, "Hon, what's this?" He reached under C's bed and pulled out............ a wallet!

Now let's retrace just how far little J -- this is just her SOP -- had to take this wallet once she nabbed it:

From the entryway -- the picture may be too dark, but there's a purse underneath the painting...


Through the living room and down the hall............................

Through the kitchen and around the fridge....... there's our little bandit now..........!

Into the room that she shares with her older sister........................



Where she stashed it underneath her sister's bed. Perhaps she was saving it to pour over later, like a squirrel. Perhaps she was framing her sister for trouble...................



Either way, I'm a shoe-in for Mother Of The Year for not seeing the nab, the transport or the stash.

Lesson learned.......................

Hope all of you have a Happy Monday. I'm going downtown by myself all day to take care of things that I can't get done when the kids are with me. Urban Dad has the day off teaching, so he'll be Stay-At-Home Dad for the day. I've left simple little lessons for him and C to do together. And I've ordered a grocery delivery. Idle hands do the devil's work!

If in doubt, see above story.

=-)

Good News vs Bad News

The Bad News: My wallet is gone. Ugh. What a sick feeling. Whether I lost it or whether someone assisted me in losing it remains undetermined. Either way, I feel like I should have been more savvy. The search has been exhaustive and fruitless and left me feeling like a rube.

Best case scenario: Someone took the cash and tossed the rest. Perhaps the rest will come back to me, even.

Worst case scenarios: ID theft; someone has the names of everyone in our household, our address and pictures of our kids. Again.... UGH.

Credit card has been cancelled. ATM card too. Replacing the driver's license will be a pain in the tookus.

The Good News: Car Keys Have Returned! I always travel with both sets of keys, esp. with wanting to warm up the car while loading kiddies. One set has been missing for a few weeks now. A disaster waiting to happen!

Today while loading up the kiddies, an older gentleman pulled up behind us to wait for our space. After I loaded them, he honked and waved me over. In a very thick Russian accent he asked, "you lose keys? about two weeks ago?"

This man had found the keys in the snow right next to the car. He realized that they worked for our car, so he took them in and left a note on our car. (never saw it) He's been watching for our car and for us ever since.

I tried to give him $20 for his trouble, but he refused. I explained that it would have cost me $90 to replace the key, but he still refused.

Thank you Car Key Angel Man!

Thimple Thoughths

It sheemsh that I grind my teethhh. According to my dentisht over the lasht few yearsh, I need to get a mouthguard made to protect thhhem. Sheemsh that I'll grind them down to liddle nubth if I don't take acthon shoon. But a shtupid mouthguard ith expenthif! Finally, at my lasht vithit, the dentisht shed that I could pay 400-dollarsh for one now, or 800-dollarsh per tooth thoo crown them all lader. Tho here I am. It theemth a shtupid amount thoo pay for a shtupid peeth of plathtic. Bud the huthband athoores me that ith fine. Heeeth jusht fine with shnugglin up with a mouthguard-wearing shweetie. Gee, I feel shoooo shexsheee.

Yet more shnoe again yeshtherday. Ugh. Will Shpring ever come? Thime to go wake the kiddeeth. Thoon, I'll have to come ub with nicknameth for them for thith blog. Perhapth that will be my goal for Thurthday.

Happy Wednethday!

Here We Go...

60 million people have blogs. Yep, 60 million people yelling from their windows to anyone who might pass by. And now there's one more!

So what in the world could lil ole me offer? Here's hoping *something* interesting. I'm a stay-at-home mom here in the fantastic (ok, right now fantastically COLD) city of Chicago. My husband is a Chicago Public School teacher. Which school? For right now, let's call it Great Big Urban High School. And pre-kids, I did a stint there too. Which was enough to make us decide to homeschool our munchkins.

So there's the urban homeschool mom angle. The homeschool mom floating around the urban mommy circuit. Honestly, I've been happily accepted by most other moms on the Urban Kid Circuit -- the moms at the gym, the art class, the Spanish class, etc., mostly ladies searching for or settling in to private schools around town. In Illinois, you're considered your very own private school if you homeschool. Some people name them. Coming from St. Louis (Go Cards!), the Hoitiest of the Toitiest schools were places named "SomethingSomething Country Day Academy." So we "named" ours "B...... Country Day Academy." We figure that ours is really a VERY private school -- max occ: 2! I even got cards made. I'm the Director of Curriculum & Implementation. And the Director of Admissions. (pre-pre-kids, I was in the corporate world of commercial production for Great Big Ad Agency. i missed having a biz card........)

OK, let's see what this thing can do.