Wake Up Call.....

Well, the last couple of  years I have started having dreams that seemed real.  Not like scary real, but just every day real.  Sometimes after waking up, I have a hard time figuring out if something that happened in my dream really happened or not. 

I've even had to ask Hal some embarrassing questions like, "Did we invite your mom over for dinner tonight?", or "Did I really talk to my aunt on the phone yesterday?" 

Things that don't really matter, (well, I guess it would matter if I'd invited my mother-in-law over for dinner, but couldn't remember for sure and didn't make enough food!)  but I just wanted to verify what was real and what was not.

Well, Friday morning, my dreams crossed a line.  The line that kind of borders on sleepwalking, which (to my knowledge) I have never done.

I was awakened from a dead sleep by our neighbor, who drops his daughter off at our house in the mornings, about an hour and a half before she and my son need to leave for the bus.  He usually knocks 4 times, quite loud.  (He used to ring the bell, but we finally dared ask him NOT to ring the door bell at 6:50 in the morning.) 

This neighbor works at Pepperidge Farms and had picked up some cookies that we used for a community event that Morgan and I had helped with the night before.  I hadn't paid him yet for the cookies, but I had the money by the front door in an envelope and I was worried that if Hal answered the door he might forget to give him the money.  (Like it was a big deal - he lives next door.  I'm sure I would have seen him very soon - like even the next day.  But, I didn't want him to think that I had forgotten to pay him.  I hate it when people owe me money and conveniently forget.)

So, back to my story:  I heard the knock on the door, sprang out of bed and raced to the front door.  I hurried and turned on the porch light because it seemed darker than usual.  Something else seemed off, though I didn't figure it out for a while.  I threw the door open and they weren't there. 

Since it had taken me a minute to get to the door (like I said, I had been fast asleep) I figured they had gone back to their house, thinking we weren't home for some reason.  I quietly called out to them, calling them by name and saying, "Hey, we're home."  I walked halfway to their house, but they had already gone in, so I didn't catch them in time.

So the next logical thing to do would be to call them.  I knew their home phone number, so I found a phone and dialed the number.  About the time it started ringing, it started to dawn on me a little more what was wrong in my house.  Not only was it darker than usual for that time of day, there was nobody around.  Hal sometimes goes running in the morning so I figured that was where he was, but neither of my girls were up either.  It didn't make sense for them both to have slept in.  (Unless they were both sick, but I knew I would have known about it if that were the case.)

I finally glanced at the clock.  5:45.  As in  5:45 a.m., much too early for them to be coming over.  The phone had started ringing by then, so I quickly hung it up, still trying to figure out what was going on. 

I went back into my bedroom, where Hal had been in bed, fast asleep, the whole time.  I wondered how I had climbed over him (because it seemed like I had rolled across the bed and gotten out of his side) without noticing he was still in bed, and also without waking him up.  He did wake up when I got back in bed and asked me what in the world I was doing.  I said, "I thought I heard  Bruce knock on the door." and tried to go back to sleep, sorely needing that last hour of sleep.  Sadly, it never came.

When Bruce and Madelyn did show up (right on schedule) I asked him if I had awakened them when I called his house at 5:45.  He said he had heard something, but he didn't know what it was.

So, the only thing I can think is that I had dreamed up that knock on the door.  I must have been so worried about him getting the money I owed him that I had a dream about it.  I had also gotten some wasp spray in my face the day before, when I helped Bruce's son spray for wasps in the metal pipes of their basketball hoop.  They had a couple of big nests with lots of active wasps.  I didn't want him to spray it and get it all over himself and when I sprayed it, a wind kicked up the wrong way and it went right in my face.  I think the pesticide attacks the wasps' nervous systems, because that is exactly how it felt.  And I was already a nervous wreck to begin with.  The wasp spray certainly hasn't improved my situation any, that's for sure.

Anyway, my kids thought that was a very funny story.  Not sure how I feel about it quite yet, but I guess I'll get over it eventually. 

I always do.

The Day Our Printer Was Possessed

At one point we thought our printer was "possessed". 

One day Austin had a friend over to play.  They were on the computer and at one point Peter, his friend, fell against our printer.  It started making strange noises.

Now our printer has not worked well for quite a while, I think there is a short in something somewhere in it, so it has been known to turn on repeatedly by itself, and also make sounds like it is regenerating something on the  inside.  

So when Peter bumped into it, I thought that was probably the end of the printer, which frankly, isn't that old so I was a little annoyed (with the printer, not Peter).  I went over to check out what was going on.  That's when I noticed that the strange sounds were actual WORDS.  That's when it started to creep me out.  After a while I started deciphering what the printer was saying because it sounded vaguely familiar.  

It was saying "We love our bread, we love our butter, but most of all, we love each other!" in a low, slow and CREEPY voice - over and over.  At one point it started to get faster and higher, but it was definitely muffled as if someone was actually stuck in our printer.   I finally recognized the saying from the old Madeline shows my girls used to watch, but couldn't figure out why in the HECK my printer was saying it. 

I called the girls in from the other room to witness what was going on, so I wouldn't get hauled away and locked up if I told this story to anyone else who was half sane.

I FINALLY figured out that there was a toy in a bag on top of the printer.  Austin's friend had fallen onto the printer, jostling the bag and activating the toy.  It was a little Darth Vader head (borrowed from another friend)  that recorded sounds and then played them back either faster and higher, normally,  or lower and slower (and creepier).  Austin himself had recorded the phrase a while before and had forgotten about it.  (Because he was pretty creeped out too.)

I was glad when that particular mystery was solved, but I have to say, I was a little sad when we had to return the toy to his other friend.  It was kind of a fun one to play with.  (Not that I would know, wink wink.)

Let The Season Begin....

 Here are a couple photos from the Nativity scenes the kids at our church did for the Christmas party on Saturday.

Here is the cute little Joseph.   He looks kind of familiar, doesn't he?

Joseph, Mary and the donkey.

 A nice, quiet little Nativity. 

If only Christmas could go back to being that simple again.

Merry Christmas!

Worst Mom EVER (Christmas Edition)

Well, this holiday season has started off just like the last few..........with Austin being very, very NAUGHTY!

I have been trying to figure out when to take him to see Santa, but I really, really want him to be good, even if it is just for ONE day, before we go.

Here are just A FEW of the things he has been doing lately:

He has found - and eaten - more than his weight in candy, almost every single day.  I don't know how he always manages to sniff out where I have been hiding the treats, but he does.  Since he has been eating so much junk, he is not eating the healthy stuff, making him mean and very, very  unreasonable.

He won't clean his room, he won't do his homework, he won't go to bed on time, he won't brush his teeth, etc., etc.

And another thing, he has now earned the code name "raccoon" because of his penchant for "borrowing" things.  Little, shiny things.  (Remember the  jewelry incident from last spring?)  He actually came home from the live Nativity that our little town puts on with two little LED candles in his pockets.  He swiped them from the luminaries they had, lighting the pathway there.  I have also found many of the fake coins they use in school to learn how to count out money.  I don't dare take him anywhere, because I'm afraid of what he may pick up "accidently".

Austin has been so naughty that our elf,  Nutmeg Jim, has even come and gone home already.  Nutmeg Jim even brought Austin a lump of coal instead of a present, which Austin was able to trade in for a book when he got his room clean, with a LOT of help from yours truly.  Once Austin earned the book, he kept saying "A book.  I got a book."  (Like, what was he expecting, a million dollars?)  Funny thing, it was a book he had asked for (I think there was even some crying involved) a month or so ago.  I told him to give the book a chance for 10 minutes and he LOVES the book.  He was just being a pill.

Anyway, I have just had it with him.  I am so DONE with him and his attitude.  I THOUGHT I had it under control until last night.  Earlier in the day, I had found what was a brand new bag of marshmallows in the family room.  There was about a third of the bag left.  I'm pretty sure I could figure out who had eaten them.   Then last night Ally asked if she could have some marshmallows in her hot chocolate.  We found the bag, EMPTY.  Austin, of course, said "I didn't do it."

I blew my top and said those fateful words that I will NEVER, EVER be able to take back:


"When you see Santa I bet he will take you off his lap and throw you on  the ground and JUMP on you!


Yes, I actually said "jump".  Not  something llike "accidently step" or "tiptoe around".  Ally swears I threw the word "kick" in there too.  I didn't know I had such violent tendencies hidden so deep inside of me.  I wonder if I need counseling.  (Actually I wonder if AUSTIN will need counseling.)

In reply, Austin ran BAWLING from the room.  (Which is actually the same reaction he had when he got the lump of coal.)  I was HORRIFIED!  I didn't mean to say that at all.  I really am not a mean mom.  I'm probably in the situation that I am in with Austin being so naughty because I am too nice of a mom.

So, I've pretty much squashed any holiday spirit we were still hanging onto around here.  Austin seems to have forgiven me this morning, but I still feel terrible.

(On the upside, I'm pretty sure that he still believes in Santa Claus, because I didn't know for sure until he got so upset.)

Two Great Quotes:

I have recently run across a couple of worthwhile quotes.  They are too great not to copy and share:

1.    "What if you woke up today with only the things you thanked God for yesterday?" (from Sophia's blog.)

2.  “Real friends are those who, when you’ve made a fool of yourself, don’t feel that you’ve done a permanent job.”  Erwin T. Randall      (from Taffy's facebook page.)

One More Confession From My Life Of Crime, Newport Edition

I shoplifted.  Yep, I did it. I confess. 

I was an adult too.  I even made my 12 year old daughter act as lookout.

Now before you decide to "unfriend" me.  Let me explain:

I've mentioned before that one of my most brilliant ideas is the "12 year old trip".  It actually came about because around the time Morgan turned 12, I needed a vacation.  In a big way.  Austin was turning 2 and I had been home with one kid or another (or pregnant and too sick to do anything worthwhile) for 12 years straight. 

I needed a vacation that was REALLY a vacation.  Not a family trip.  Not a vacation that involved sippy cups in any way.   And, especially a vacation where I could call the shots;  eat where I wanted, do what I wanted and, most importantly, RELAX.  You get the idea.  (For the record, I don't think my husband knows the meaning of the word relax.  I've needed a vacation to recover from about every other vacation we've been on together.  I'm not complaining, we've gone on some pretty great trips together.  It's just that none of them involved hanging out and doing nothing for any stretch of time.)

I tried to figure out who might be the perfect candidate for my vacation and it dawned on me that Morgan was at a  pretty good age to travel.  She was old enough to be a fun companion, we liked to do lots of the same things AND was still young enough that I could sway her to like my ideas for what was fun.  And I was excited to get some quality one-on-one time together.

So, I proposed the idea of a 12 year old trip to the family.  Once each of the kids turned 12, I would take them on a trip, just the two of us.  Morgan was thrilled with the idea, Hal was nice enough to play along and Ally wasn't so thrilled, even though I promised her I'd take her on a similar trip in 3 years.  (She ended up going to New York City, lucky girl.)

For our trip, Morgan and I picked Newport, Rhode Island.   Well, to be totally honest, I picked Newport.  She went along with it and seemed pretty happy when I explained about the mansions we'd see, and everything else we would do. 

When Morgan was a baby, Hal and I had driven with some friends of ours, the Trettes, from Boston to Newport.  They showed us the mansions and Hal and I had walked along the cliff walk quite a ways and then back while the Trettes stayed in the car with Morgan.  We didn't get to actually go into any of the mansions, just look at them.  I had been dying to go back ever since then, but didn't think Hal would ever really want to go on a trip and do just that.  So it worked out great.

Morgan and I had a ball, staying in a fun bed and breakfast with the best food, touring the mansions, etc.  We also hung out at the beach one afternoon so she could swim in the ocean, which was a little chilly, but we were able to collect some shells for souvenirs.  We just had an all-around good time. 

The day before we left, Morgan and I checked out the little shopping area down by the wharf.  We bought some fun souvenirs and ended up at a t-shirt shop.  We found Morgan a Newport t-shirt and then we saw a navy blue hoodie that she liked.  I liked it too.  It only came in adult sizes, and the smallest one was a medium.  It was the only one that size.  The rest were large or bigger. We decided to buy it anyway, since it would fit me and she would grow into it in a year or two.

We picked up the hoodie and the only medium left didn't have a string.  I really didn't think it was a big deal because that's when all the news stories were coming out about taking the strings out of your little kids' hoodies so they wouldn't get hung up on them on the playground.  I can't remember Morgan being too upset about the string either, so I'm not sure why I decided that we needed to have a string in our hoodie.  I asked the girl at the counter if we could just take a string out of one of the other hoodies and she told me no.

I don't know why I was so surprised that she said no, but I guess it made me more determined that we needed that string.  I was  paying for a whole hoodie and by darn, that included a string.  She told me it was either buy that one without a string or buy a different size with a string.  No discout for the one without a string either.

Well, I guess I just needed that string more than I needed to be honest, so after talking to Morgan I decided that I was going to get a string for that hoodie, one way or another.  So, you guessed it, with Morgan acting as lookout, I stole a string out of one of the other hoodies. 

Now before you think I go around stealing things on a regular basis, let me assure you  that is not the case.  I'm so nervous about anyone even thinking I might shoplift that if I need to get something out of my purse in a store I will go right up to an employee and say "I need to get something out of my  purse, so I want you to watch me so you know I'm not putting something in it from the store."  Of course now that I think about it, that seems much more suspicious than just unzipping my purse to get my shopping list out of it.

Anyway, I felt so nervous the whole time I was paying for the hoodie and t-shirt.  I can't remember where exactly I stuffed the string, if I put it in a pocket or up my sleeve or just what I did.  I do know I was just sure they had a hidden camera watching and that they were going to follow me out of that store and arrest me with my impressionable 12 year old daughter watching the whole thing.  As soon as we were far enough away from the store, I stuffed that string in the hoodie as fast as I could, to hide the evidence. 

Let me just say if I were going to start committing any sort of crime, it wouldn't be shoplifting.  I don't know how people do it.  I just felt sick the whole time.  I had a boyfriend once, and it was a pretty long term relationship, that I caught shoplifting.  We were in Kmart  for some reason and I turned to say something and thumped him in the chest and my finger hit something hard and it rattled.  It took me a minute to realize that he had shoplifted a cassette tape.  That was pretty much the end of the relationship. 

So back to the hoodie.  Morgan wore it in good health for many years.  She finally gave it up,  probably because she is pretty much fully grown and it's still too big for her.  So now it belongs to me. 

String and all.



(On a much more positive note, I am going back to the scene of the crime in a month or so.  I am so excited!  This time I am going with one friend to visit another friend who lives in Connecticut.  AND we are going back to Newport one of the days.  After our family roadtrip a few weeks ago, I have sorely needed a real vacation.  Looks like I'll be getting one.  Yay, a girl trip!)

Quote From The Fridge

I tore this out of the newspaper a month or so ago and stuck it on the fridge. I keep thinking it's going to get lost in the shuffle (it's only about an inch big), so I thought I'd put it here.


"You are good. But it is not enough just to be good. You must be good for something. You must contribute good to the world. The world must be a better place for your presence. And the good that is in you must be spread to others." Gordon B. Hinckley


It's one more thing to think about as I go through the usual back-to-school assesment of my life and what I want to accomplish while the kids are in school. It seems like I'm always trying to make what I do matter. Deep cleaning the kitchen, clearing out clutter and re-arranging and organizing things are always first on my list each fall. Worthy goals, yes. But nothing that would be reported at my funeral as having long-term meaning to anyone else.

It's also a time I promise myself that I will start reading my scriptures regularly again, exercising and drinking more water. AND it's always a time that I swear that THIS is the year I will get into a real routine so I don't waste so much time trying to decide what to start with each day. I've never, ever considered myself a perfectionist, but I think I spend so much time trying to figure out the perfect routine (for me) that I just have never figured out any routine at all. Also, I guess if I take better care of myself, I will be in better shape to help take care of others.

So, here is the tentative routine, off the top of my head and definitely ready to change as I see fit:

Monday: laundry and deep cleaning day, clutter
Tuesday: floors and bathrooms
Wednesday:  errands and grocery shopping
Thursday:  volunteer at elementary school and  big cooking day
Friday: paperwork and special projects


I also need a basic daily schedule and I need to also schedule in some FREE time, so I don't feel guilty for sitting down and reading a book. Funny I don't feel guilty wasting time on the computer, but I don't feel like I can just sit down and read, which I honestly love more.

Ok, so that's a jumble of thought, but it's nice to get it out of my head and onto (virtual) paper at least. I'm also realizing that I forgot something very important, adding in what the kids will do to help each day. My friend Linda gave me her basic schedule last year and she included that, which was a great idea.

Anyone out there have a great schedule that works for them?

My New Motto

(Stolen from Katie, without even asking her permission.)

The Purse That Almost Got Me Arrested

It's cute though, right?

So the story is, that when I went to Italy I knew I wanted to get my sister-in-law a purse. The timing was convenient, since her birthday was about two weeks after I got home.

One of the first things our tour guide told us was to make sure and not buy purses from anyone who had them on the ground. Blanket or not, the ground was no good. On a table was ok, they were legitimate vendors, but the illegal ones apparently had them on the ground, ready to swoop them up and take off at a moment's notice. She also said that any buyers were subject to a $1,000 dollar (or euro, I can't remember which) fine AND - to add insult to injury - would have the purse confiscated.

No problem, we thought. We can live with those guidelines.

Our shopping got off to a slow start, so one of the first shopping days we went to an outdoor market. I didn't see anything that really grabbed me until right when we were leaving. On a table (thankfully) I found a cute bag that was mustard colored and looked like it was woven. It was cute, though you could tell it wasn't great quality. For the price though, 5 euros, I was pretty happy with it.

I wanted to get a purse for myself too, so I was going to try and buy two purses that I liked and would be happy with, in case I ended up with either one of them. I was going to let my sister-in-law pick.

Over the rest of the trip though, I didn't see any other purses that I particularly loved. (At least not ones that I could afford. I fell in love with a few in a shop in Venice. My friend Julie bought one that I absolutely loved. I'm glad that at least she got to have it, since I couldn't. See what a good friend I am.)

Anyway, it got down to the very last day, the very last couple of hours, stopping to look at purses everywhere we went. We were by the Pantheon and there it was, The Purse. The one I'd been looking for. The one I knew I was going to get for my sister-in-law. I went up to the guy and asked how much. He told me the price and I tried to decide in my head, converting euros to dollars, while also trying to remember exactly how many euros I still had, if I could afford it. It was the last day, after all and I was down to not much. It was definitely more than I had wanted to spend, especially for a knock off. I turned around, hoping he'd play the game.

As I walked away, he lowered the price a little. I turned and offered him less.

"Good quality." he assured me. "Very good price."

That wasn't the problem. It was the lack of funds at my disposal. After bargaining a little longer, we came to an agreement. I couldn't believe it! I had finally found what I hoped would be the perfect purse for my sister-in-law.

I walked around, happily clutching at my prize. We walked through the Pantheon, all the time I felt so happy and relieved that I had finally found what had eluded me for days.

When we walked back out, I was surprised that the purse sellers were no longer there. That should have been my first clue.

We walked back to Piazza Navonna and I was happy to find some women we had met and become friendly with on our tour. I was so excited to show them the purse. I eagerly got it out of the bag and was holding it up like a trophy to show them. They oohed and ahhed appropriately.

I couldn't figure out what the little Italian couple next to them started getting so agitated over. They started shushing me and making gestures. Finally one of the ladies from our tour said "I think you'd better put it away."

We then noticed the little "paddy wagon" that was parked in the square. Believe it or not, the back was full of confiscated purses!

I couldn't believe it! In my excitement of buying "the purse", I had forgotten our guide's warning of not buying one off of the ground. I didn't know what to do then. I was already carrying a purse and the one I had just bought was in a plastic bag. I tried to keep it hidden as well as I could, but I was definitely spooked. I walked around for the hour or so that we had left, looking over my shoulder. I swear there ended up being a policeman or two on every corner from then on. I forgot every once in a while to keep it hidden and would grab it by the handles and carry it like a purse. Luckily I had enough women around to remind me to keep in under my arm. I was actually glad to pay the money and hide out in a public restroom for a while.

Well, we did make it to the bus, where I breathed a sigh of relief.

I'll tell you what though, if that's what it feels like to be a criminal and have to constantly look over your shoulder I think my life of crime has come to an end. I do also feel sad for allegedly giving money to terrorists, so I guess I'm especially glad that they got Osama Bin Laden last month. (Not sure if the two situations are even remotely connected, but I'll take whatever means I can to make myself feel less guilty about the whole situation.)

Revisiting Italy - The Umbrella

I am finally at a point where I can think about my trip to Italy last fall. I don't know why, but this is one of my favorite memories. I am a little off-kilter, I know.

Airport security must have searched my bag before our flight to Italy. By searched, I mean RANSACKED. I didn't realize how bad the damage was until the very first day in Rome when I tried to open my umbrella because it was starting to rain. It looked a little mangled and when I opened it up it was severely broken.

Well, I didn't want to get wet, so I used it anyway. I got some strange looks, including from many people on our tour. I guess it was pretty embarrassing for people to be seen with me. I tried not to let it bother me because by darn, I did NOT want to buy another umbrella. I had brought mine from home and THEY broke it. It was the principle of the thing. At least that's what I told my cheap self.

I don't think we used our umbrellas again until we were in Florence and that day it rained pretty hard too. By then we knew all the people on our tour well enough for some of them to comment to me to throw the darn thing away. Again, I just figured I could make it through this one more day and it would be fine. I had lots of perfectly good umbrellas at home so I was not going to buy another one, especially when I needed to save my money for necessities, like gelato and scarves.

Anyway, by then even my mom was embarrassed to be seen with me. Actually, now that I think of it, she had probably been embarrassed from day one.

Our little group had been walking a while and were close to the Pitti Palace, so I said I'd run ahead and check on ticket prices and hours for tours so my mom and some of the others could rest a little.

As I was walking up by the line to read the sign that had the information posted on it I realized that people were looking at me and talking about me in Italian (at least I think it was Italian). I thought that they were thinking I was trying to get ahead of them in line, so I was going to try and explain, but then I figured out what was going on. They were making fun of my umbrella. All these little old Italian (I think) people were literally pointing and laughing at me. One even took a picture. I don't think I have EVER felt so self-conscious as an adult as I did right then. I was so embarrassed that I literally turned and ran away (yes, just like Napoleon Dynamite).

Well you can bet that my umbrella ended up in the first garbage can I could find. The sad thing is that that was the only day I took the time to do my hair and straighten it, so it was pretty much a waste of time. I should have just slept in a little longer. Oh well.

Note: This photo was NOT taken by the people who were laughing at me. It was taken by my friend Julie, who I met on our tour. Ironically, it is the best photo of me from the whole trip. I don't think the umbrella looks too bad here. You can't see the worst mangled metal spike thing that wasn't attached to any fabric and kept poking me in the head and catching my hair in it. I think by this time I'd either bent it up or broken it off completely.