Hi Everybody!

Thank you so much for reading my blog. Really. Writing this blog is really fun for me, but it's also a privilege that I don't take lightly. In a lot of ways, blog posts are modern day messages in a bottle: you toss them into the ocean that is the Internet without knowing who will find them and where they will end up. One of the things I like best about my blog is learning about its readers and, specifically, who they are and where they live. More often than not, the answers are not at all what I expect. You are grandmothers, sorority girls, high school students, and newlyweds. You live all over the United States, as well as in India, Japan, Africa, and the Middle East. One of you walked up to me in Target last week and introduced yourself; another sent me an email asking me where I lived in Orlando. As it turned out, our kids go to the same school!

I don't say this nearly enough, but THANK YOU. I love getting your emails; they brighten my day, make me laugh, and more than once, have said things that I needed to hear at exactly that moment in my life. How do you always know?

In other news, I'm leaving later today for a research trip to Peru. I won't have Internet access while I'm away, so sadly, I won't be posting for the next few days. See y'all in a week!

Infirmities

My kids have been surprisingly healthy this winter. I knew that it was a matter of time until one of them got sick.

As fate would have it, my daughter woke up with a fever and sore throat on the same day that we noticed that our cat had chewed off all the hair on its ears.

"Have a fun day," my husband smirked as he left for work.

We went to the vet first. The vet tech who collected our information became very excited when she saw our address.

"You live right by Samantha and Louie and Veronica!" she cried.

The names didn't ring a bell.

"I love those little snoogums," she continued. "They were just in last week for their shots."

That's when I realized that the neighbors to which she was referring were cats.

The vet could tell right away that our cat had an ear infection. "Poor kitty cat," she purred as she rubbed her face against my cat's cheek. "We're going to make you all better. Yes we are."

The vet tech practically started crying when she went to take the cat's temperature. "This hurts me as much as it hurts you," she told her new furry friend. She visibly cringed as the thermometer went in.

Next up was the pediatrician.

The doctor barely looked at us when she walked in. "Open your mouth," she said. My daughter complied. After swabbing Camber's mouth, the doctor left the room. And never returned.

Fifteen minutes later, I poked my head out the door. "Hello?" I called. Eventually a nurse acknowledged my presence.

I asked her about the results of the culture. She looked at me like I was stupid. "It was positive," she said. "There's a prescription for you at the check out desk."

While I was swiping my credit card, Camber asked the receptionist for a sticker.

The woman stared at me blankly. "We're out," she replied.

Soccer Shoes: Episode 254

My daughter does a really good job of keeping track of her stuff. Her brothers? Not so much.

There isn't a day that goes by that at least one pair of shoes goes missing.

At 4:45pm, I leave for soccer practice. My kids leave the house at that time too, regardless of what they are wearing.

Here's what we had today:



Two "left foot" soccer cleats and a pair of church shoes.

The coach doesn't even bat an eye anymore.

Herpetology 101

Why are online degrees offered for every major except the one I want?

I've decided that I going to be herpetologist and/or a snake wrangler.

This is a natural career choice given that my back yard appears to be a snake sanctuary...or a breeding ground...or some nightmarish combination of the two.

My husband spent a significant portion of Easter Sunday trying to catch a four foot black snake that had somehow slithered its way into our pool enclosure. After the snake lunged at him, my husband opened the screen door and directed it towards our neighbor's yard.

Yesterday afternoon I came home to find another slightly smaller black snake swimming in our pool. I called my husband at work and made him come home and catch it. He let all the kids show their friends before letting the snake loose in the woods about a mile from our house.

Today I glanced out the window and saw the biggest one yet dangling from one of our newly planted bushes. By the time my husband responded to the second emergency phone call in as many days, it was gone.

"I feel like Indiana Jones," I told him. "And not in a good way."


This afternoon, I interrogated everyone at the bus stop. No one has had as many snakes as me, but everyone in my neighborhood has had at least one encounter with a Black Racer in the past two weeks. One lady's husband ran over two while mowing his lawn last weekend. Another woman found one curled up on her front porch. The poor man across the street (who is probably more afraid of snakes than me, if that's possible), went out for a morning swim the other day and had one lunge at him from inside the jacuzzi. I seriously would have died.

When it comes to scary reptiles, I've decided to count my blessings. And never go outside again.

Easter

Easter is always a magical holiday. This year it was made even more special by the loud scream that startled me and my husband out of bed at 5:45 am.

"It's all gone!" my daughter cried as she flung herself onto our bed.

"He ate everything!" one of my older sons wailed. He held up an Easter basket that was largely empty.

These statements proved to be an exaggeration. While everyone else in the house was sleeping, my toddler hadn't eaten everything in everyone's Easter baskets. He had, however, taken at least one bite out of most things.

When we found him, the perpetrator was sitting in the middle of the family room floor...in the dark. His mouth was full of chocolate (and foil wrappers). His siblings' Easter baskets were all around him. Needless to say, he was very happy.

When my husband turned the lights on, Kellen collapsed on the floor in a heap. "Arghhhhhhhh!" he cried.

"What's up?" I asked. You would have thought that it was the Apocalypse.

That's when I saw the white chocolate bunny protruding from his basket.

It had been decapitated.

Ashmarlin Layering Shirt Giveaway!

Several years ago, all of the women's clothing designers in the world got together and came up with a plan.

Specifically, they unanimously decided to pretend that all women have the same body shape and wear D cups. They also agreed that all of the cute blouses that they manufactured would be a) completely see through or b) would be cut so low that they only look good on women with implants and c) would pooch attractively in the stomach and underarm regions.

As much as I hate to layer, it is a fact of life. I've searched high and low for the perfect (under) shirt and have yet to find anything that meets all my needs: durable, fitted, breathable, stylish, and, since I practically live on the Equator, lightweight.

Last week, I got a package in the mail from Ashmarlin, a new clothing company started by a clothing designer at Nike. Having tried everything on the market, I was skeptical of their claims. However, I can honestly say that the shirt that they sent me has far exceeded my expectations. The quality is superb. The fabric is super soft. It doesn't bunch or do anything weird. It provides full coverage, but you can wear it by itself as well (ie. the white shirt is not sheer). It's long enough to tuck into your pants, but not so long that you feel like you're wearing a dress. Me like.



Check out their website at ashmarlin.com

And then enter their giveaway on their Facebook page for a chance to win a free layering shirt:
http://www.facebook.com/ashmarlin

Stealing from Walmart

Yesterday, one of my kids stole a pack of gum from Walmart. I didn't figure it out until today, when I was putting away laundry and found a pile of wrappers underneath a pillow. I confronted the suspect when he/she came home from school. He/she confessed to the deed, but only after telling me a series of tall tales that pushed my patience to the max.

The truth is pretty astounding: he/she took a loaf of sandwich bread out of the shopping cart, inserted the pack of gum between the two slices, and then sealed the bread back up again.

Yikes, I know.

Back at Walmart, the child who did not seem as remorseful as I would like, started to bite his/her fingernails and cling to my leg. When he/she handed the money to the woman at the customer service desk, he/she whispered, "I'm sorry." The woman smiled softly and told him/her not to do it again.

Once we were back home, the child asked if he/she could have a sandwich.

I made him/her one...after I was sure that there wasn't any more contraband stuffed inside the bag of bread.

****
Tell me your stories. Please.

The Cat's Towel

The other day, our cat got outside. She came back with fleas.

Last night, I forced my husband to help me give the cat a flea bath in our bathtub.

Guess which towel I happened to grab this morning after I got out of the shower?

The worst thing about using the cat's towel is that I didn't realize what I had done until I was sitting in a doctor's office several hours later. Something smelled in the waiting room. Unfortunately, that something turned out to be me.

School Pictures

For only $20.00, Package B (1 3x5, 1 5x7, and one refrigerator magnet) can be mine:

I wonder if Life Touch takes family photos. If they do, I'm definitely asking for this background.

The Gun

Just when I thought that my life was officially boring, someone pulled a gun at my kids' soccer game.

The incident happened toward the end of the game in the parking lot. My toddler was being beastly and I decided to drive him around for a few minutes. The parking lot was crowded and it was hot. One car waited patiently--with his blinker on--for my parking spot. When I pulled out, however, another car came from the opposite direction and stole the spot.

To make a long story short, a verbal altercation transpired between the drivers of both cars (both sports dads) which resulted in the guy who stole the parking spot pulling out a Magnum from under his seat and threatening to kill the other guy.

All of this happened directly in front of me, not more than 10 feet away.

The lady in the car behind me screamed. The man with the gun ran onto one of the adjacent soccer fields. I snatched Cameron out of the car and sprinted toward my husband and kids. By that point, several people had called the police. Parents were freaking out. Two squad cars arrived within two minutes. My husband shoved the kids in the car while I watched from behind a tree and through a chain-link fence as four police officers chased the guy and tackled him to the ground. They found the gun in a nearby trash can.

It took an hour for the police to talk to all the witnesses and for each of us to write up statements. The guy was arrested and charged with Assault with a Deadly Weapon.

It's been two days and I still get goosebumps thinking about it. Lots of thoughts are running through my mind, but the one that always lingers longest is the reminder of the fragility of life, and how quickly and unexpectedly things can change.

I'm grateful that Saturday wasn't my day. Or anyone else's on that field.

My First Time (Drinking Alcohol)

Last night, I attended a little get together in my friend's back yard. By the time that I arrived, it was late, dark, and I was super thirsty.

One of the other guests pointed to a table in the corner. On the table was a cooler filled with wine and beer. Next to the table was a pitcher of lemonade.

At the same time as I saw the lemonade, I started talking to a very interesting man who has the coolest job on the planet. Since one of my favorite hobbies is living through other people, we made a good match. While I was talking to my new friend, I poured a tall glass for myself and poured it down the hatch.

Midway through the guzzle, I realized, to my total horror, that the lemonade wasn't lemonade.

My friends at the party had a field day when they saw what I had done.

"Do you need a ride home? Feeling tipsy Can I hold your hair back?" You get the idea.

I confessed my sin to my husband when I got home. He laughed so hard that he fell off the sofa.

As I try to come to terms with my defilement, I have realized that what is worse than actually consuming a few ounces of alcohol (alcohol consumption is a big no-no in my religion) is not being able to tell people anymore that I've never tasted it.

More than that, I worry that all of my non-Mormon friends will desert me now as they will no longer be able to say that they have a friend who has never consumed alcohol. I have lost all my coolness.

As you can see, the ramifications of this accident are significant and far-reaching.

The Night of Friends and Fashion

I thought that the women in my neighborhood didn't like me. I've never been invited on one of their morning power walks, nor has anyone offered me a puff of the cigarette that they all share after their walk is done.

As it turns out, I had it all wrong. Today I found an invitation in my mailbox for "a night of friends and fashion."

The only thing in the world that I imagine being more enjoyable than shopping for clothes is shopping for clothes in a stranger's living room. The invitation describes it as "the ultimate shopping experience." I can see why.

"What are you going to tell them?" my husband wanted to know. If he had it his way, we would role play the conversation that I'm going to have with the ladies tomorrow. My husband is worried (unnecessarily) that I might say something insensitive and rude.

"It's funny how they suddenly want to be my friend when they have something to sell," I observed.

One of the ladies smiled encouragingly at me at the bus stop this afternoon.

"Don't say that," my husband advised.

I'm half tempted to go to the party. Perhaps in sweat pants. I would seriously consider it if I felt confident in my ability to talk my neighbors into buying matching outfits.

That is pretty much my dream.

The Snake Capture

It's highly unlikely that you care about the anaconda/cobra/non-venomous rat snake in my back yard as much I do...but I'm going to tell you about it anyway.

We never found the snake last night.

After inspecting every inch of my bedroom, I agreed to sleep in it. I did not sleep well. All I could think about was the Sherlock Holmes short story, "The Adventure of the Speckled Band."

This morning, there was no sign of the snake. When I got back from the bus stop this afternoon, the snake was by the pool again.

My husband was not pleased about being pulled out of a meeting at work. "The snake is back," I told him. "You have to come home right now."

Not wanting to spend another night moving dressers and wall units, he agreed. By the time he arrived, half of the neighborhood was assembled behind the child safety fence. My kids thoroughly enjoyed their popularity.

Not the best angle on my husband, but what can you do?

"Do you guys want an ice cream sandwich or something?" Cortlen asked. "My mom will get you one if you want."

I shook my head furiously. I wasn't prepared for all the party guests.

The snake did not go quietly. It took my husband several minutes to corral it into a plastic bucket. At one point, the snake struck at him. The little boy next to me tapped me on the arm.

"Does he need any help?" he asked, pointing at my husband. "Because I'm a boy scout."

Eventually the snake was captured, inspected, and then released into a wooded preserve by my husband's work.

Everyone is happy. Except for my kids.

"How are we going to get that many kids over to our house ever again?" Kellen whined.

I reminded him about the alligators.

The Snake

Of all of the things that I want inside my screened-in porch, a big black snake is tops on my list.

Patio furniture comes in a distant second.

My kids noticed the snake while I was making dinner. "There's a big snake outside," Camber said, pointing through the window.

"That's great," I said instinctively. A few minutes earlier, she told me that she thought she had seen a grizzly bear nibbling the leaves off the palm tree in front of our house. "Or maybe it was a big dog."

I finally took my kids seriously when they produced an empty pillowcase and pair of kitchen tongs.

"I've always wanted a pet snake," Cortlen slobbered.

It took some convincing, but I agreed to let them keep the reptile. But only after it earned its keep.

My children liked my idea of putting the snake up in the attic. The rat (s) that were up there two months ago are still there.

My husband was not supportive of my plan.

The boys had a baseball game and we were running late, so sadly, we decided to postpone catching the snake until afterward.

The minute the game was over, we raced home. No snake.

My kids were heartbroken until I pointed out that there was limited access to the lanai from the outside. There is, however, a smallish hole in the screen door leading from the lanai to the inside of the house that I hadn't noticed before. They looked at me blankly when I told them this.

"That means that the snake is probably somewhere inside the house already!" I could barely contain my excitement.

My husband and I have spent the past three hours looking for the snake. I refuse to go to sleep until it is found. If we don't find it by midnight, I'm checking into the hotel down the street.

Urinalysis

My in-laws have an indoor cat who urinates all over their stuff whenever they go on vacation.

Clearly my toddler and the cat have been talking.

I just got back from a conference in Tennessee. On the first day I was gone, Cameron, who is potty-trained, wet his pants three times.

"How's it going?" I asked my husband by phone.

"Not the best" was his reply. In addition to the unexplained accidents, Kellen came home from school with an ear infection, one of the sprinkler heads in our yard blew up (turning our yard into a geyser), and someone had kicked four soccer balls down the storm drain.

By the time I got home, my husband had run three loads of toddler underwear through the washing machine. There was also no cold cereal in the house. Evidently that was all that they ate in my absence.

"What's up dude?" I asked the little guy. Cameron was wearing a pair of his brother's underpants, rolled up three times, and nothing else.

Cameron didn't say anything. Instead, he let his bodily function do the talking. Since I've been home, there haven't been any more accidents.

It's good to be home.

Do You Have Alive Hair?

Last night, I got my hair cut and colored. The stylist (the same one as last time) restrained herself from commenting on my grooming habits until she pulled out the hairdryer.

"How often do you wash your hair?" she asked.

"Every day," I chirped. Experience has taught me that this is the answer that most health professionals want to hear. I say the same thing whenever I am asked how often I a) exercise b) brush my teeth c) perform breast self-exams d) drink 8 glasses of water.

The hair stylist stopped teasing my hair into a beehive. "You are going to wash this out in eight hours?" she asked incredulously.

"Probably less," I thought.
"Uh, no," I said.

Eventually I confessed and told the hair stylist about what my hair looks like when I don't wash it every twenty-four hours. The words I used are the same used to describe corpses: dead, lifeless, limp, and stinky.

The hair stylist did not buy any of it. She told me about a keratin treatment that was endowed with the power to resurrect with minimal washings. Like heroin, it would "wake my hair up" and keep it awake for up to three months. It only cost $300.

Although tempting, I turned the bargain down. The stylist was visibly disappointed and seemed a little offended that having alive hair wasn't as important to me as it was to her. I made it all better, however, by offering to set up her daughter with one of my husband's coworkers.

When I told my husband about the arrangement, he said, "Absolutely not."

The Sandcastle Surprise

This weekend, our family went to the beach. The weather was fantastic, everyone remembered to bring their swimsuits, and we only lost one DVD that we had rented from the local library and brought with us to watch on our trip.

My kids dedicated most of the morning to digging holes the size of mine shafts in the sand. We spent the afternoon building a sand castle the size of Australia.

All of the manual labor made everybody hungry. While my kids were eating a snack, their attention turned to a man walking by us with his dog.

"Oh, look, a cute dog!" chirped Camber. Everyone was very excited.

The man did not acknowledge our presence. He did, however, pause long enough to let his dog urinate on our sand castle.

The perpetrators

It took a full five seconds for the shock to wear off, at which point my kids started crying.

"Why did he do that?" wailed Cortlen.

Eventually, we all went over the inspect the damage.

"I wish that he would have gone in the moat," my son said wistfully.

This Pretty Much Sums Up My Life