The JENN Voodoo Doll

Ok, ok, now you can get off the floor. I actually am posting twice in one week and not post dating. I would have actually posted the day after my last post but I wanted to give everyone a chance to read my last one. If you haven't read it, you need to do so before you read this one or you won't get the significance.

I really believe that the gods in heaven are holding a Jenn voodoo doll and have been poking it religiously over the past few weeks. And then they decided to hit it with a rock the day after my last post. Remember my last line, "Tomorrow will be a better day."??? I went to bed that night motivated to change my behavior regarding my children. I woke up the next morning and boy did I have the best situation to try it out on. I was on my own that day and started my routine of getting the kids up and ready for school. I was helping my youngest get her bed made and get dressed. After she was dressed, I was getting her hair brushed and had planned on doing French braids for her. My daughters love braids and what they love even more is sleeping in them and then waking up the next day and having curly hair - since both my genes and my husbands genes mix to make poker straight hair, curly hair is a treat. French braiding also takes a little time, which I don't have much of in the morning. So, this was a special treat for them and a way for me to feel good about mothering. As I was brushing her hair, and you probably know what is coming, I noticed a chunk missing on one side. I honestly didn't think anything of it. The last person that had cut her hair had angled it on the sides to help blend in the shorter, thinner hairs on the side of her face. I also was the one that had given Gabi her bath the night before, brushed her hair and then had put her to bed and noticed nothing with her hair. As I sat their brushing, I couldn't believe that the last person who had cut her hair had botched up her sides so bad. So, just out of curiosity, I asked Gabi if she had cut her hair to which she replied, 'no'. I also called her brother and sister in and asked them the same question to which I received adamant no's from both of them. I am very good about noticing when my kids are lying and I was pretty sure that the older two weren't but not so sure about my youngest. I kept badgering her with the question until she finally hung her head low and admitted her wrongdoing. You would be proud of me internet friends because I didn't yell, I didn't scream and believe it or not, I didn't smack her. Yes, I am a smacking kind of mom. What flashed before my eyes was when my oldest daughter had done the exact same thing but only worse. She had taken a chunk off right at her scalp. I was so furious with her that my husband had to hold her back from me because he thought I was going to kill her. That is figuratively, of course. For Gabi, I was very shocked and was trying to place when she had done it. I decided to ask which she proudly shared that she had done it while she was watching her movie before bed. And where was I? Taking a well deserved 15 minute computer break. Yes, this happened basically right under my nose. So, "why?" I asked her to which she replied even more proudly, "I wanted my hair short like Oee's (which is Gabispeak for Olivia).". The last time she had gotten her hair cut she had told the lady that she wanted her hair short like Olivia's to which I had said no way. Apparently, she took matters into her own hands. I told her that I wasn't happy with her and now I couldn't do braids in her hair. I just put it back in a barrette and had her finish her bedroom chores for the morning. She was upset and crying just a tad. I told her that she was on scissor restriction for an unlimited amount of time and that would mean that she can't cut and paste in school. This is her favorite pastime. When she came downstairs, I had her turn in her scissors which she gladly handed over. You must realize that this is my daughter, very relaxed and laid back. She knew she was in trouble and that I wasn't happy with her and quite honestly, just didn't care. I could have smacked her but what was the point. I had to find another way to make her realize that what she did was wrong.

She had story time at the library that day and right after that I took her to get her hair chopped off to try and make it even with the chunk she had removed. As she was sitting in the barber chair, she was smiling. She continued to tell the lady that she had cut off her hair because she wanted it short. She was very proud of herself. As I watched her long locks come flying off and the length of the hair that was left continue to get shorter, I became furious with her. I was so angry at that point. She noticed my scowls and started to pout. Finally, I thought, she might understand my frustration. When she was done, I put her hair back in her bow and went to pay for her haircut. She stood next to me and her brother and sister grabbed the Dum Dum sucker basket that haircuttery gives to good kids and asked if they could have a sucker. I told them they could. And then, it happened, I found my currency for Gabi. "Mommy, can I have one too", she asked. And like my response came straight from God with the proper tones and incantations, "No, you may not. These suckers are for good girls who come to get their hair trimmed, not cut off because they were naughty and used scissors to do it themselves. I am not happy with you." And lo and behold, my daughter started crying. And she cried the rest of the way home. Not for any reason except that she was denied food. But that was enough for me. Even though the rest of the day she was gloriously showing off her new haircut to anyone that would listen, I had my moment where she felt bad for what she had done. That was enough for me.

This is Gabi right before we went into the haircuttery. Notice she glowing smile and proud face. The missing piece is on the right side.

Another shot of the missing piece.

And this, my friends, is my daughter after she was denied her sucker.

Later that evening, over the sucker incident and happy as can be.

It is taking a long time to get used to her new haircut. For some reason, it makes her look a year older. And considering this could be my last child, letting go of anything that turns your baby into a big girl is very hard. But for her, maybe she looks older because she feels older. Because she took control and did something she wanted to do regardless of what her parents thought about it. I am definitely going to have to be more careful about trying to control harmless wants/needs in the future. I wanted her hair long because I liked it that way and for no other reason. She wanted it short and she prevailed. I am a control freak and I admit that. As I said in that last post, each child is different with their own needs and their own wants. I have to respond to each one of them differently. Gabi, even at 4 1/2 yrs, has taught me that as much as I want to control everything about her, I can't. She has her own mind and her own wants. And when it comes to harmless wants, like the length of her hair, I need to let go of some of that control and learn to compromise. And not only with her but with all of them. The only difference with her is that if she wants it bad enough, she's going to go get it on her own. That could prove fatal when she hits those teenage years so I need to start that pattern of compromising now. Pray for me friends, pray for me.

Three Strikes, I'm Out!!!

STRIKE ONE. . . . .

A few weeks ago, my son was having a problem with his Math. On an average day, I spend about 15 minutes with him actually teaching the new concept in Math. The time is so little mostly because he gets the concepts so fast. After my teaching time, he has 30 Math problems that he completes on his own. Most days, he gets about 5 or so wrong and we go over the reason for his mistakes and fix them together. That day a few weeks ago, he was having what my husband and I have come to call 'a bonehead day'. This is the kind of day that we as teachers feel like beating our heads up against a brick wall because it would be much easier than teaching our son. This is the kind of day where he makes Math much harder than it is and can't compute simple problems. On that day, when I checked those 30 independent problems, he got at least 15 of them wrong. I could tell even before I looked over them that the problem wasn't comprehension, it was his computation, it was his desire to speed through his work just to get it done. Sounds like someone else I knew during her school years. Yes, I was the same way and it drove my dad nuts. I still remember the looks of disappointment he would give me after having 'bonehead days' myself. So, I do have sympathy for my boy but it still didn't excuse his sloppy Math work. His lack of concentration infuriated me that day. As I checked each one wrong, I could feel my anger rising with each new mark on his paper. And what bothered me the most was that I couldn't control it. I have a temper, I always have. My father is Italian, go figure. But ever since Jake was born, I have had daily lessons in patience. And I think I'm doing very well, thank you very much. But I do have days and that day was one of them. Not only could I not control my boiling frustration, I also verbalized it to him. Verbalized it to the point that I made him cry. And you would think that watching him get that upset would stop me - it didn't. That little voice inside kept telling me to stop but I kept going until he was bawling. Yes, I admit that was awful to do to him. And there is no excuse for that. It came to a point that my maternal instinct took over my anger and I regained composure, apologize for making him cry and gave him a big embrace.

STRIKE TWO. . . . .

Last week, my youngest daughter came to me complaining of a toothache. It started at breakfast while she was eating her meal. Since waffle sticks and syrup were on the menu, I was pretty confident that she was trying to get out of eating her breakfast. Why she doesn't like that meal, I just don't know. So, as usual, we started school without her. She participated in our family devotions from the breakfast table and we went along our merry way doing our schoolwork. Once she actually did finish, she still complained about her tooth. I told her to go upstairs and brush her teeth and that should take care of it. I didn't hear anything more until after lunch. I did actually look in her mouth and saw nothing amidst the peanut butter and jelly sandwich that she had just consumed. I told myself that I would brush her teeth and actually take a good look later. Later didn't happen until bedtime when I actually took the time to brush her teeth and take a look at the lower back molar that she had been complaining about. When I looked I was shocked and ashamed, overwhelming feelings of guilt washed over me. Her tooth had looked like it had pieces that had cracked off and also had big brown spots on it. Not only did I feel guilty because I had brushed it off (Did I make a puny??) but also because at least one teeth brushing out of the day (we do it after breakfast and before bed) was either performed by one of the older kids or by my youngest daughter herself. And there are even days that I don't brush her teeth and she does it both times all by herself!!! Could this rotten tooth be because of neglect on my part?? All I could do was shake my head. And, of course, this was Friday. If I had taken the time early in the morning to actually look or even brush her teeth after her peanut butter and jelly lunch, I could have brought her to the dentist that day. But now, to make my guilty complex worse, she had to wait until the weekend was over. First thing Monday, I called the dentist for her to be seen. They squeezed her in and off we went. Her diagnosis: her enamel on her tooth didn't form correctly causing the tooth to become extra sensitive and soft making it more susceptible to cavities, which she did have. Culprit: most likely my illnesses during my pregnancy with her or just the simple fact that she is a third child and made of spare parts (know how that feels Em??). So, the dentists reminded me that this was beyond my control. It made me feel a little better but if I had taken the time to brush her teeth twice a day, we might have avoided the cavities. They didn't say that - I formed that hypothesis on my own. But the story gets worse. They had to drill her tooth down to get rid of the soft spots and also get rid of the cavity. In order to do this - nitrous oxide - laughing gas - make my daughter loopy gas- however you want to say it, had to be administered. I had to sign a consent form for them to do that and I started to tear up with memories of her going into surgery to have her adenoids removed. I watched as they put her under and will never forget the look in her eyes before she fell asleep. Talk about guilt. The dentists assured me that she would still be awake just a little sleepy. I signed the consent for her because I knew it would make her more comfortable. I told her what was going to happen and she said, "Just as long as my tooth stops hurting, I don't care momma." And so that attitude followed her to the dentists chair as they reclined her back, gave her some cool sunglasses to shade the bright light they were shining in her face, gave her a big fuzzy pillow to sit on, put what they referred to as her elephant nose on (the continuous nitrous) and drilled for 20-30 minutes as she lay back with her feet crossed at the ankles. No crying, no fussing, no talking, no squirming. She just didn't care. Me on the other hand, watching her go through that, I'm surprised I sat upright through the entire thing.

STRIKE THREE. . . . .

And to top of all those guilty mommy moments of late, here is another one. This morning was a typical school morning by myself. I get up, get ready, get the kids up, help my youngest get dressed and make her bed, do my middle daughters hair, yell at my son to actually get out of bed and then go downstairs to make breakfast. I call them when it's ready, they all come bounding down the steps, we eat breakfast, brush our teeth (now I brush Gab's teeth twice a day) and start school. We start with a devotional, prayer and the pledge to the flag. Then the teaching begins. Today, Jake had a test in Math. I went over the test and left him to take it. During that time, I start with Olivia on Math. For some reason she was having one of Jake's 'bonehead days' and couldn't for the life of her add nickels and dimes together, something she had mastered months ago. Instead, she started complaining, out of the blue, that her ear was hurting. Not only was she complaining, she started crying. Here we go again. You would think that after the last two incidents with my other two children that I would have learned my lesson. Apparently not. I told her she was fine and we kept on working on her money problems to which she continued to get all her problems wrong and continued to cry about her ear. I guess it's because of my daughters' tendency to overexaggerate and overdramatize most anything that I really didn't give a second thought to her behavior. I did touch her head to make sure she wasn't running a fever and she wasn't. Once again, I had that little voice in the back of my head telling me to slow down and evaluate what was happening here but me being me and my ability to 'shoot from the hip', I continued to press on with her Math and ignore the tears, the puffy eyes and that look that Olivia gets only when she really is sick. Finally, I had had enough and sent her to her room. If she wasn't feeling well, then she should just lay down. And I didn't send her up there to feel better, I sent her up there to punish her for being overly dramatic. I sent her up there because I couldn't control what was going on and get her to concentrate on her studies and ignore whatever imaginary ear pain that was bothering her. Yeah, I know, by now I sound like a real awful mom. After about another 30 minutes of the bawling, I gave her a dose of Tylenol just in case there really was something wrong. And after another 20 minutes after that, my maternal instinct voice took over and I called the doctor who would be able to see her immediately. We rushed over there, got right in, and within another 20 minutes found out that she indeed did have an ear infection. And right then at that very moment, I returned to motherhood as I evaluated all the signs that were right in front of my face - she had had a bad runny nose and cough just days before that I know full well has the potential, if it lingers, to put pressure on the ears causing an infection. And that is just a medical sign. I should have been able to look in her eyes and know her sick eyes, to know that she only gets that upset when she really is sick. I could have kicked myself again.

I'M OUT!!

These guilty mommy moments have not knocked me down. They have only reminded me that I am not perfect. It try to be, I really do but sometimes the stress of life just gets to me and I can't think straight. If anything, these incidents over the last few weeks have kept me in check. To control my temper because now my son is old enough to really be hurt by my outbursts and to remember them. To take a moment during my busy day to take care of the reason I exist at this time in my life - to be everything for my kids. And to listen to the signs - to realize that each child is different, with their own needs and their own way of handling them. Tomorrow will be a better day.

Fun in the Sun

Another fun filled February in Florida. Hey, is that a tongue twister!! We had so much fun and to make it even better, my sister and her family shared it with us. Of course, the funniest part about her family is my Little Prissy niece. How could I resist her big smiles, slimy wet kisses, sleepy eyes and all around chubbiness?? I was privileged to be able to witness some of her firsts - swimming in the pool, sticking her little chubby toes in the ocean (Gulf of Mexico), feeling the sand on her face for the first time, looking at her little chubby legs in all her summer outfits, her first ride on a boat. And if you think this is all about Camille, I also enjoyed watching my kids be free and turn into water rats. They live in the pool and my little Gabi learned to swim half the length of the pool to her Pop Pop. My dad has taught all three of them to swim and had them swimming by the time they were 4 or 5. Gabi is right on target. Our days at the beach have also become much longer than in the past. I actually have to drag them all off these days after 3-4 hours or digging, throwing, constructing and now they've learned to also enjoy my most favorite part, just sitting and watching life go by. Of course, it's only for about 5 minutes but it's the thought that counts. The pictures speak better than this post.

Watching Life Go By

Sisters and Cousins

The Fam on Captiva Island

Photo Taken by Gabi

Bathing Beauties

Gabi Finally Gets to Touch a Manatee

Don't you just wanna kiss those chubby cheeks??

So that's what being tagged means!!

Ok, so I actually had to ask my sister what being tagged means. Yes, she called me a "blogger dummy" or something mean and awful like that.

But anyway, my dear sweet cousin-in-law has tagged me. Here we go!

Four jobs I've had:
1. Gymnastics coach
2. Seasonal at the Honeybaked Ham Company (yummy!)
3. Nurse on an Alzheimer's Unit (now, when was that??)
4. Mommy

Four movies I can watch over and over:
1. Oceans 11/12
2. Mummy/Mummy Returns
3. Beaches
4. Anything with Harrison Ford in it (yummy!)

Four places I've lived:
1. Northern Virginia
2. Beaver Falls, PA
3. Bay Village, OH
4. Pencil Yuckey

Four TV shows I love:
1. Amazing Race
2. Baby Story
3. any Lifetime movie
4. I don't watch any others.

Four places I've vacationed:
1. Lake Erie Island
2. Nags Head
3. Jamaica
4. Cape Coral, Florida (where I vacation often)

Four of my favorite dishes:
1. anything out of my mom's kitchen
2. Chicken & Peanuts
3. Sun dried tomato chicken
4. Dill Pork Chops

Four sites I visit daily:
1. eBay
2. Hotmail
3. Fertility Friend.com
4. gymboree.com

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. no where, I'm in Florida soaking in the rays
2. shopping in Washington DC
3. sitting on the beach watching the sunset
4. on a boat

Four bloggers I am tagging:
1. Nobody - I don't know anyone else to tag!!!

Disconnected

At the request of my daughter, we took a trip back to Cleveland last weekend. Maybe I should clarify that - my daughter wouldn't stop "beaking" about how she missed her old room, her Sunday school class, her old house, her old friends and most of all her best bud in the world, J.J. When I say "beaking", I am referring to the high pitched, fast talking, chitter chatter that my daughter seems to emulate at most times. She wouldn't stop "beaking" about Cleveland. Since we've moved I have encouraged the kids to talk about the things they miss and then to start focusing on the new things we have here. I've encouraged them to keep in contact with their old friends but to leave room to make new ones here. It got to a point weeks ago with my Olivia that I actually yelled at her, during one of her missing home times, that we weren't going back to our old house, get used to this one and move on. I felt awful for it but felt that I was at my wits end at trying to get her to accept our move and move on. That's when I realized that maybe a trip back to our old territory might be what she needed. I had made a trip back in the fall but for just a day and made an effort to stay away from driving down our old street and looking at our old house. It wasn't to bad and didn't hurt to much. For some reason, this time I was a little more concerned about the effect a trip back might have on me.

Since the holidays, this move has become much harder than I thought. It's not so much that I miss my friends but more the familiarity and connectedness of OH. I miss going to the grocery store and knowing the ladies at the deli counter, knowing where the post boxes are, knowing the backroads well enough to maneuver around an accident, the coziness of our home and how our house looks as the seasons change. I know what I need to do here in order to establish those feelings and I'm pretty proud of myself for stepping right in and doing the things I need to do to make this place home. I guess it's just not happening fast enough. It's that type A personality coming out, I want it my way in my time. Not this time though. It's been 5 months and although life isn't horrible, it still isn't perfect.

I figured that going back to OH might be a good hurdle to jump over. As we got closer and closer to those familiar highways, I had an overwhelming sense of sadness. My heart just ached. Ached for what used to be, for that familiarity of those 10 years of my life. The kids were elated to be able to recognize where we were and where we were going. Our first stop was to see our J.J. at her school. To see the girls in her arms again brought a great sense of relief to me and I'm sure brought overwhelming peace to the girls hearts. She had been the one that they missed the most and the one that they really needed to see. It seemed that Olivia had formed this sense that OH had just fallen off the face of the earth. That we had taken her from her only home and now it didn't exist. I guess that is the reality that is formed in a 6 year old child's mind. Being there, in J.J.'s arms, being held by her hero, I knew that her reality would be changed now. That she would know that even though we moved away, OH and the things she knew, still existed.

For me, I had some people to visit and places to see (mostly shopping places). All I can say after my experience, is that life goes on. Things change, regardless of the fact that I have moved on and I want things to stay the same, people and things move on. A few new buildings went up in our old town, they finished working on the bridge and opened both lanes up, a new restaurant was built in the mall parking lot. But not only physical things, relationships move on and change. Those that I was so proud of and so connected too became something I don't want to be a part of anymore. Places of fellowship become more of a social breeding ground and miss the purpose of their existence. I was surprised to feel these things. I didn't expect them. It's funny how sometimes your own expectations of a situation can change your whole reality. I'm glad I did it. I'm glad I was able to see these friendships and situations in a new light. It makes me realize that maybe there isn't as much to come back to as I thought. I still don't feel connected in our new home or even very familiar with this place but at least I'm trying and putting myself out there in new situations and relationships. It's weird because I'm not connected to anything now. In time that will change but what a weird place to be in my life - disconnected.

Here are some pictures of the kids and some of their old friends.

The kids and their J.J.

Kara and Kyle

Olivia and Catherine

Spencer and William

Gabi and her future husband

Lawsuit Brewing

Is there a place where I can turn in the genes that have been distributed to me and replace them for newer better ones?? If there is such a place, would someone please tell me?? There is a gene that has been part of my genetic makeup since I was born that I'd like to trade in for a new one. And it really doesn't have to be new, it can just be different.

Last month, when I was in NY taking care of my newborn niece, I stubbed my toe on the foot of my sisters bed. I stub my toes often. As a matter of fact, I had stubbed that exact same toe over the summer. And it wasn't any place dramatic or a cramped space where my big ole flippers wouldn't fit, it was the back of my daughters foot because I was following to close behind her and she stopped suddenly. This time, it hurt really bad. My brother-in-law felt responsible because it was his house and I stubbed my foot on his bed. Yeah, like I'm going to sue you or something. As usual, that toe became really swollen and black and blue. The bruising even extended part way down my foot. I had a hard time walking for days and unlike the summer time when I can go barefoot, I had an even harder time wearing shoes. Well, this little situation went on for several weeks. Some of the swelling went down and some of the bruising went away but after 3 weeks, it still looked pretty nasty. It still hurt to bend it and I was still having a hard time finding shoes that didn't hurt it.

This week, I went to my gymnastics class without thinking twice about the condition of my toe. As we started increasing the intensity of our tumbling, I noticed immediately that my toe was extremely painful. One of the girls that I work out with is an athletic trainer and I had her look at it. She took one look at it and immediately knew that it was broken. "BROKEN!! YOU"VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!", I yelled at her. From my own medical background, I know there isn't much, if anything you can do for a broken toe. My friend suggested that I tape the broken toe together with his stronger buddy next to him and give it another 3-5 weeks to heal. Maybe I might act on my first impulse and sue my brother-in-law after all.

But after much discussion with my sister, she pointed out something very enlightening about my ensuing lawsuit. It wasn't my brother-in-law that I should sue, it was my father. After all, he is the one that passed on that horrid KLUTZ Gene to me. Ask any of my kids and they will tell you that their Pop Pop is the Master Klutz. And the sad thing is that that gene has been passed down to my kids. How sad. It is evidenced when my younger daughter is walking out of my room talking to me and runs into the door or when my son is walking to Ft. Myers Beach (he was about 3) not paying a darn bit of attention and runs into a lightpost. Yes, a lighpost. And to this day, whenever we pass that lightpost on Ft. Myers Beach, we pay homage to it. My son, now at 8, doesn't appreciate the humor. But what he will remind you of and will say to you is this, "Hey, don't blame me, it's Pop Pop's fault. He's the one that gave us the Klutz Gene." I can't argue with him on that one. And whenever they do do something klutzy, they feed me that same line. And most of the time, I just can't fault them for it because it is true. We all have the dreaded Klutz Gene. So, now I think I'm going to switch my focus to my father.. So, watch out, expect to be served.

THE EVIDENCE

Just in case it's hard to see . . .

Studying, Are We??

One of the joys of homeschooling is being able to do what you want, when you want and how you want! Ahh, total autonomy (besides the guidelines set forth by the state)! And anyone who knows me knows that I don't like being told what to do. During my formidable years, their was many a complaint about me stating, "She has a problem with authority." Well, duh, I am the authority and I should be telling YOU what to do. So when it came time to make the decision about my son's education, we chose to homeschool so we wouldn't have a school system having the authority over our lives. That we could teach him the best way for his learning syle and that we could continue to enjoy our travel benefits even during "school days". That he could learn on his own pace without being held back by slower kids or kids who were just in school to goof off.

Since we are schooling our son, now at a 4th grade level, and our middle daughter, now at a 1st grade level, our school day has become much longer and busier. One of our focuses in teaching our middle daugher is to make her reading skills as strong as possible. Now six years old, she has been reading since she was 4 1/2, she is almost finished with a second grade reading program. A majority of the time, I sit with her and listen to her read to help her sound out words or point our mispronounced words. But sometimes, I need to to switch the laundry real fast, make a quick phone call, or put our youngest daughter down for a nap (yes, at 4 1/2 years she still naps). So, I will put our son in charge of listening to our daughter read for a few minutes while I complete my task. When I got back to the two of them today, this is how I found them . . .

I wasn't sure if I needed to reprimand them for goofing off or congratulate them on multi-tasking two subjects, reading and gymnastics (or what I would consider in school P.E. - Physical Education). Instead, I just laughed and took a picture.

Grocery Store Snob

I would say that one of my happier memories of my childhood (there aren't many) was the smell of my mom's kitchen. That woman knows how to cook. I should be ashamed of myself for not taking the time when I was growing up to learn all I could from her about cooking. Now instead, I have to pay the long distance phone bill for sometimes weekly phone calls for cooking questions. I've even followed her around the country via phone, pulling her off of loading docks to ask questions about cooking. I liked watching her cook, I liked eating the food and I even enjoyed helping her shop for the ingredients. I learned very quickly that she only used certain name brands for certain products that she used in her recipes. And that those name brands sometimes made a difference in the quality. I also gained an appreciation for the grocery stores that we shopped and the grocery stores that we just didn't set foot in.

When I lived in Ohio, we had several different grocery stores to choose from. I mainly did my shopping at one certain one because of the price, cleanliness, coupons they offered and special incentive programs they ran. They also carried the name brands that I had grown up with as a child and recognized as safe. As our ten years went by in Ohio and we continued to move closer and closer to Lake Erie, I continued to shop at that store. The main one I went to had several face lifts and additions through the years. It soon had it's own video store, sushi bar, and Chinese buffet. I spent so much time in that one location that the people at the deli counter and seafood counter knew me by name and always gave the kids special treats. One lady at the deli counter had even looked at my youngest daughter and said, "My, she sure does look like your husband.". That location felt like home to me. Every once and a while, when time was of the essence or we weren't anywhere close to that store, we would stop in the "higher end" grocery store. You know the kind - prices are higher, you don't recognize half the brands in the store or sometimes even the products, they actually count the number of items you have in the speedy checkout lane and frown upon you if you've tried to sneak in that extra item or two. And then, there was the grocery store that after my 10 years in OH, I stepped foot in only one time. I would consider this the "lower end" on the grocery store chain. They rarely had good sales, the store was dirty and you were afraid to approach the deli counter because of the smell.

When we started talking about moving to Pennsyltuckey, one of the first questions I had asked my mother-in-law and my hubby's uncle (who both already live in the area), was the names of the different grocery stores. What I really meant to ask but didn't want to come across as a snob was, "Which ones are the 'higher end'?". I soon became familiar with what I would call your every day grocery store. This would be the one that I would do all of my main shopping for the month - for their sales, convenience of location and so on. And then, I was reintroduced to a grocery store that would make my "higher end" store in OH look like a "lower end" store. This store has been my saving grace. I know it seems silly but in the first few weeks, I went there about 2-3 times a week. Just to walk around, enjoy the ambiance, pick up some sushi for dinner but most of all to enjoy my most favorite treat at the bakery counter, chocolate mousse. I still get one of these every Wednesday night as a treat when my kids are at church. For me, it's the little things that count. This place has everything you could think of - it's own cafe with fresh made exotic sandwiches every day at lunchtime, fabulous fresh seafood and the best cuts of meats at the meat counter, it has a train track in the ceiling in the dairy department (my kids enjoy getting milk and yogurt), a place to weigh and label your own produce, an olive bar and a hummus bar, fresh made sushi - I could go on and on.

But the point of this post, isn't to make you hungry, it is to give you more of a glimpse into what makes me, me. This last week, I made the fatal mistake of stopping into one of those "lower end" stores just to pick up a few quick things. Oh, my. Never will I set foot in that store again. I was greeted with memories of the store back in OH. The odd brands, the dirt and grime on the floor, that strange smell coming from the deli department, the weird color of the meats in the meat department. Yes, I would save about 20-30 cents per item at this store but I have to tell you that I would gladly spend the extra money at my "higher end" store just to walk on clean floors, play with the weight machine in the produce section and stand and look up at the train going by in the dairy section. I like the ambiance.

I am my mother's daughter. There are just some grocery stores you don't set foot in. I am proud to state and admit that yes, I am a grocery store snob.

A New Cousin to Love

WELCOME CAMILLE EILEEN!!

Finally, on Tuesday, December 27 at 4:50 something in the morning, little Miss Camille "Miss Priss" Eileen was born. She weighed in at a healthy 9 pounds 7 ounces and was 21 inches long. What an experience her birth was.

I got the phone call Christmas Day evening. I was at my in-laws house for dinner. I had been on the phone with my mom the entire drive down in the car. When we got to my in-laws and I hung up, I looked at my phone and thought, "I don't need to bring it in". My cell phone had been "on call" for weeks just in case she went into labor and I wasn't at home. And of course, the one time I don't have it on me, she goes into labor. Maybe because I didn't have my cell phone with me and she had to search frantically for my in-laws number, she went in to labor. Now that I think about it, I think I deserve a thank you for that.

We left the next morning, no, she still hadn't had the baby and arrived about 1:30p.m. When I say we, I mean myself and the 3 kids. When we got there, she was asleep and very exhausted. Now I can appreciate what she went through when she watched me labor. And I can appreciate why my mom chose to stay away during the time her daughter was laboring - it was really hard to see her like that and brought tears to my eyes just looking at her in so much discomfort. But once I got over the initial emotions, I knew I had a job to do, not only for her and her husband but for my kids. They were ecstatic to find out that there favorite aunt would be having a baby. If I could have gotten a dollar for every time one of them asked me, "Did she have the baby yet?", I would be very rich. The process was a great experience for them. We had several child lead discussions about where babies come from and how babies come out. They can all appreciate now that babies just don't show up one day at your doorstep being held by a stork. They've been through the hours and hours and waiting and waiting of labor. I helped the kids prepare for what was ahead by having them watch Baby Story on TLC, so I felt confident that they were aware of what kind of pain and discomfort my sister would be going through and that when the baby came out, she wouldn't be dressed and all cute but would be covered in blood and guck and probably screaming her head off.

To make a long story a tad bit shorter, my sister labored for 36 hours. And yes, we stayed there through most of it. The kids started to get impatient late Monday nite and I explained to them that if they wanted to be there as soon as the baby came out, we just had to wait. I also made them understand that if I missed the baby's birth, that I was going to be really upset because I had Em wanted me there and she wanted my help. So, about 10 p.m. on Monday nite, I went to the car, got their blankets and pillows, Princy's and RockAByes, and bedded them down in the waiting room for the nite. My son slept under a table on a bunch of blankets and each of the girls slept on a couch in the waiting room. And for those of you that think it can't be done, yes, you can look at your child at 11pm and force them to go to sleep. It takes a little time, perserverance and patience but it can be done. At 3:50 a.m. on Tuesday morning, Emmys' husband came to get me to tell me that she was fully dilated and ready to push. Since the kids were asleep and the waiting room was only a few doors away from Em's room, I left them and went to help Em labor. What an experience that was. Between her contractions and strong pushing efforts, I would run to check on the kids. It didn't surprise me that my 6 yr old was the only one awake and asking if the baby had been born yet. I told her no and asked if she wanted to come see Em push her out. She said she did and I picked her up and walked her just a few steps into the room. I had the nurse point out where the baby's head was coming out and my daughter was amazed. She clung to me tight and said that was enough, she had seen what she wanted and now would wait a little more patiently in the waiting room. Em's nurse was a homeschooling mom. I was very thankful for that because she could appreciate my kids desire to be part of this great learning experience. She could also understand that my kids could handle sitting in the waiting room without constant supervision and wouldn't rip the room apart. That is just how they are. I won't go into the details of the rest of Em's labor and postpartum experience, you can read that at her blog. I do have to say that I am extremely proud of my kids for their outstanding behavior and drive to be part of Camille's birth. They got to see her and hold her within 20 minutes of her birth. They slept in the waiting room to await the birth of a baby. And during Em's postpartum period, they spent 9 hours a day for 2 days playing in the family waiting room. It was normal to find one of my kids walking the halls of the mother and baby unit to get themselves a drink, go to the bathroom or just come down to Em's room to see what was going on. One of the nurses said to me, "It looks like they know their way around this unit." And yes, after being there basically from Monday to Thursday nite, they had made themselves at home.

I say thank you to them. For once again, showing me that the minutes, hours, weeks, months and years that I have dedicated to making them well rounded, open minded, flexible, learning experience seeking children have paid off. That I can expect so much of them and they are always up to meet that challenge. I wish the same mentality on my newborn niece. I am confident that she will be raised to see the world with open eyes and an open mind. That she too will be able to experience so much of life before she is even two!

Just born

Just born

Just born

Our newest cousin

First bath

Baby Lulu girls

Another niece for me (she was sleeping and didn't want to be disturbed)

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

. . . . to all and to all a good night.

What an interesting Christmas season this has been! From the first moment that Thanksgiving was over and all the turkey paraphenalia was put away, my kids were a flutter about Christmas. We went to a Christmas tree farm to get our Christmas tree with high hopes and grand images of the perfect outing. After almost an hour of trudging and tripping over sticks, thorns and branches, me carrying a very hefty and tired Gabi on my back, we left empty handed. Nothing there fit my image of what our Christmas tree in our new house was supposed to look like. Where else could we go in this state that we now call home?? I could name 5 places right off the bat that I could go to back in Cleveland if all else failed and we couldn't find that "Griswold Family Christmas Tree". Heck, if we were in Cleveland, it would have been over with by now. We go to one place, they always have the tree we want, we pick it out, pay for it and strap it to the inside of our car and drive the 7 minutes back to our home. But here we were leaving empty handed from the one place that I knew that sold Christmas trees. I had just happened to see the sign for Aunt Mary's Christmas Tree Farm as I was traveling these Pennsylvania country roads on my way to a destination. That's it, that's all I had. Now what?? We happened to remember a trailer that sold Christmas trees and tried there. No luck. I was just about ready to give up when I remembered a nursery that was across from my favorite grocery store. And just like in Cleveland, we walked in, found that perfect tree within 5 minutes, strapped it to the inside of our car, and drove the 15 minutes home. CHECK. One more thing to add to my list of new traditions and memories. I hate that list.

Once we got our tree home, and followed in the traditions of what we had always done the day we get our tree and decorate it, I just had this overwhelming sense of sadness. I wanted to cry and if I remember correctly, I did. I was cranky and b**chy and mean and yelling at the kids. It took me a moment to figure out but I just didn't want to be there. I didn't want to make new traditions and memories. I wanted my old house. I knew exactly where all my decorations went there and I had the hardest time even deciding where to put the decorations here. Hello - I had at least 2 extra rooms to spread my boxes of goodies out, it should have been fun to do that. But it wasn't. I wanted our old cramped living room where we crammed most of our festive items. I hated every minute of decorating this year. I thought I would look forward to decorating our oak banister in our open foyer. I had visions of real lighted garland wrapped in between the spindles with a big bow at the end of the banister. I saw white lights on our little bushes outside and real pine garland outlining our new doorway. That was my vision of decorating this season and I found it so hard to even want to do it. But, I finally dragged myself out to the store and picked out a very petite princess pine and carefully wrapped it in lights and threaded it through our banister. It took me 2 weeks to even bring myself to do it. How beautiful it was though. I could take joy in that. I tried my best to take joy in watching my kids eyes light up when we took them to see Santa and to ride the Christmas train at the mall. CHECK. Another 2 traditions we had established in our old life and now could continue on in our new life. I really did try. We even made a few new traditions - we went to an old Moravian candlelight church service in downtown Bethlehem. How magical that was. And for Christmas Eve, we had shrimp and Alaskan King crab claws. How delectable that was. So, I did try. And I did it, I got through it. I smiled and gritted my teeth for my kids and my husband. This is their most enjoyable season and I tried for them. But now, I'm so glad it's over. Now I can sit peacefully and wait for the real owners of this house to come and claim it. I think the reality just hit me that this is home now. Whether I like it or not, I live here. In a state that I have always made fun of and swore I would never live in. Now it's time to stop using "the holidays" as an excuse. Maybe that's why I wanted to get this season over with. So I could stop using "the holidays" as an excuse and make every effort to get acclimated to my new home. My new years resolution is more like a list of To Do's. Get involved in the church that we have found - volunteer for the nursery like I have done since I was a teenager at the various churches I have attended. Find a homeschooling group in this area. Get my kids involved in some kind of fine arts program. Get together with some of the girls at work that have young children and have been begging me to set up a playdate. And probably at the top of this list - GET THIS DARN HOUSE PAINTED. NO MORE WHITE WALLS!!

So, I hope your season was more enjoyable than mine. I look forward to next year when I will at least will know where I can get my Christmas trees and that decorating my banister in real garland brings me great joy. And now, I leave you with pictures from our holiday season.

Opening the Christmas tree

Making Christmas cookies

Lighting the kids

Our pretty house

Our Christmas Open House

Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve feast

Christmas Day Mess

Gabi wears her Christmas present

You beat me to it

You should be glad you posted when you did otherwise, I would have yelled, "No, fair!!". But it is all good. So for everyone who doesn't link your blog to mine, let me share and show off what I did for you.

To hear that no one would throw a baby shower for my baby sister and the birth of her first child was heartbreaking. I couldn't let that go or else I'd never hear the end of it - especially since you played a big role in throwing my MY baby shower. So on the phone I went with the master of planners and schemers. We devised a way to make sure that you would have your day and Camille would be showered with gifts. Luckily, to my surprise, a very good friend of yours decided to take on that daunting task. I merely became the puppet and cake puppet at that. You're worth it though. All the pain and family struggles and organizing that I couldn't share with my best friend for 6 weeks. I could only vent to my hubby. He just listened as he always does. But, like I said, you're worth it. And the best part was, you had no clue. I loved every moment of that charade. I especially enjoyed planning a fabulous cake for you and Miss Priss. It took hours of planning and ebaying, hours of coloring icing and even a full hour to bake a cake that big. But once again, you were worth all of it. For everything you have done for me, I can only begin to show you by being your "surrogate mother" during this new chapter in your life. So . . . without further ado . . . here it is . . .

And you believed me when I said that I bought it at the store?? Ha! I'm crushed! Would anybody else write her name so princesslike and even on top of that, spell her name wrong (the middle name that is)??

I love this picture of all the Princesses at the party.

So, happy shower. I'm so glad I could do it for you. I hope you had fun and enjoyed munching your daughters name in clouds!

Sugar and Spice

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

What a whirlwind weekend! Our lovely new home was host to the family this season due to the pregnant one's inability to travel in her very pregnant state. My mom and granny made the trek from down south, the Prego and her D (and also her kitty kat) made the trek from up north and my brave brother-in-law and nephew and nieces made the trek from WAY down south!! I would have to say that this one of the best Thanksgiving's yet. Yes, I did say that. One would think after reading my posts over the last few weeks that family drama would seep into this thankful holiday. But, hark, notice who wasn't listed in my list of "trekees". Exactly. It was peaceful (as peaceful as it can be with 15 people in the house), there was no tension, we were all eager to be with each other, there were no children yelled at (except my little Foo - poor Foo), there was no degrading of spouses but most of all we all just got along so harmoniously. So, without further ado - here is our holiday in pictures!

The Cousins

By the way, if anyone wants the outfits that my nieces are wearing in this picture, they are up for auction on ebay!

Me and Prego

Robbie and Anthony

Three of the Four Princesses

Which one is the turkey?

Mutt and Jeff

So, there it is. I hope you enjoyed and had a great holiday!

Waving the white flag

Yes, believe it or not, I am not post dating nor am I changing the time that I am writing this. If I am up at 4 a.m., it isn't because I can't sleep, it's because the Mexican I had for dinner is kicking me in the butt. And, on top of that, some little birdie told me I might as well just write and then maybe I can go back to bed.

I'm not exactly sure what color flag that I need to be waving. The proverbial "white flag" is for surrendering and I'm not sure that is what I'm doing. What flag do you wave when you refuse to have your boundaries crossed. Maybe it's the proverbial "drawing the line in the sand". Maybe that's what I'm doing. You see, I've done this in the past. I took her poor soul into my house after my mother drew her line in the sand. But I didn't do it for you, I did it for the innocent child you were dragging around in your lifestyle. You knew the conditions of our agreement and yet, you still insisted on crossing that line. And to your surprise, at that moment, I drew MY line in the sand. Maybe you've never forgiven me for that. I feel like I continue to pay for it and you just have added things over the last 11 years to your "Look What Jenn Did To Me" little black book that you carry around with you. And it's happened again. What entry did you put in your book this time??

786. Jenn convinced my husband that committing welfare fraud wasn't in our best interest.

OR

787. Jenn told my husband to run after me the night that I wanted to commit suicide.

OR

788. Jenn is trying to control me (see entry #1,35,84,193,375,399,478,600).

OR

789. Jenn is treating me like a child (see entry #4,78,123,364,587,690).

You might as well put your black book away because I'm not going to give you anymore reasons to use it. DING You're wish has come true. I'll leave you alone. I'll stay out of your life. I will stop caring and worrying and wondering why it is you make the choices that you do. Talk about controlling - how about you stop controlling my emotions by making me worry half to death each time you take a trip off the deep end. I mean, if we are all being fair here, if I'm not controlling you, you can no longer control me either. What you fail to realize is how much I love you. While you've been fervently adding those entries to your black book, I still sit here and take the anger and resentment you hand out. I still bend over and take it and still love you. But that doesn't matter to you. You still add those entries and for some reason, it always gets turned around and ends up being my fault. Can you tell me why? When did it become my fault?? I don't remember making those destructive life choices for you.

And here we are again, right around the corner from another holiday. Do you have a Holiday Clock that goes off around this time and you insist on making sure the limelite is on you?? It sure seems that way. It is sort of amusing how the stars lined up this year. I mean, if Turkey Day had been at mom's house, she surely would have continued to put up with what you dish out. But it looks like you drew the short straw this year. Turkey Day is at my house. And dearie, here is where I draw the line. I don't want your drama here. I don't want you waltzing into my house all wrapped up in your attitude and have to pretend like that is okay. Not this time. I did that once over the summer. Not again. Isn't the definition of insanity, "Doing the same thing over and over again and each time expecting a different result."? I'm not insane. And yes, any other time, I would gladly accept your husband and children into my home but not this time. I don't want to look into the eyes of the sad refugees of the war you have created in your home. I'm done picking up your pieces. I can't do it anymore.

790. Jenn says she doesn't want my drama at her house for Thanksgiving.

Maybe some day, I'll stop being blamed for everything that goes wrong in your life. But for now, I'm taking a leave of absence from being your scapegoat. I'm walking away, I'm drawing the line in the sand, I'm waving my little white flag. I'm through. You will never understand what you do to me, how much you hurt me, how each time you go off the deep end, you add another rift in our sisterhood. Don't' worry, there are family members out there who will continue to take what you dish out and continue on with the wool pulled over their eyes. For they bore you. I didn't. Apparently, I'm just your sister. And that doesn't mean anything to you. That's fine. I will cling to the other branch of our sisterhood and we will become strong waiting for our weaker branch to get strong again and realize the truth.

Happy Birthday to the two of you!!

Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Olivia and Gabi, happy birthday to you!!

What a great idea!! Move to Pennsylvania and have a dual birthday party for the girls. It would save the family lots of time by having both their parties on the same day. I mean, heck, all of Tom's family is right here and my family is just hours (3-4 to be exact) away. Ah, yes, this is why we moved to PA, to be closer to family.

NOT!

What a wake up call. After all we had been through with our moving adventure to this new house, I was sure the reason was to be close to family. And just as fast as I thought I had it all figured out, it was just that fast that I was proven wrong. Don't get me wrong, it's great that we are so close to everyone now but it just figures that the first "family" event that I have in my new location, only half the family showed up. It doesn't matter who showed up and who didn't, they all had their valid excuses and there are absolutely NO hard feelings on this end. It just makes me wonder, is there another reason that we are here, in this stuck in the 80's state?? And if there is, what is it??

Anyway, I wanted to share a picture of my darling princesses on their birthday.

I bought those dresses off ebay. Aren't they just adorable?? I also tried my hand at making a birthday cake for them. I had intended on making this cake for Olivia's 5th birthday and because of the events of last October, was lucky she even had a birthday party. So, I hunted all over this area, at every craft store and baking store to find this recipe and "how to" for this castle cake that I had seen over a year ago. Turns out, nobody here had the book I was looking for. I just happened to be going back to Cleveland for a visit with a good friend that next day and I had her take me to the craft store that I had originally seen the recipe at. Sure enough, they had it. Here is a picture of it. Drum roll please . . . .

Thank you, thank you. I think it's gorgeous too!! So, Happy 4th Birthday my little Gabi and Happy 6th Birthday my Princess Olivia!! And no, they weren't born on the same day, Gabi is September 14th and Olivia is October 19th. Just to clarify that.

I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner

One of the things that I really wanted when Tom and I were considering floor plans when we built our house, was an open foyer. I have always thought that they were just the most elegant things in the world. We narrowed our floor plan search only to models that had an open foyer and ended building our home with one. We also added hardwood floors, banister, steps and stained french doors at the entry to our study. Isn't it pretty??

I also secretly wanted an open foyer to be able to throw things down from the second floor and conversely to throw things up from the first floor. I had visions of sliding down the banister and nailing the kids on the head with their stuffed kitty cats. Besides the aesthetics of an open foyer, it just sounded like fun.

My daughter came to me one morning, beaking and beaking (that's what we call it when she's talking so fast and in her high pitched voice - she sounds like Beaker from the Muppets) about the fact that Jake had put one of her stuffed kitty cats in a window. I was a little intrigued because she seemed so upset. When she brought me to the window that her little cat was in, I just had to shake my head.

Yes, what you are witnessing is poor Olivia's little kitty stuck in the second story window of our open foyer. As the title of this post suggests, I'm surprised it took THIS long to happen. So, I decided to have some fun with it and put together a team of the strongest, most qualified members or our family that I could find.

Jake chose Pepee, Gold, Am and Snowball. Gabi chose Midnight, Baby and some other orange cat that I can't remember it's name. Olivia chose Sami, Punkins and Rascal. We nominated Pepee as the team captian because she is the stinkiest and meanest. We tied all of their paws together with elastic bands and then sent them through rigorous training to prepare them for the task ahead of them.

We put Gabi in charge of recovery during the attempts at rescue.

The rest of the pictures tell the rest of this story.

SUCCESS!!!!!!

Apparently, my son had his own agenda for our new open foyer. Maybe this time, he'll land one in the foyer chandelier!!