Dinner Impossible

I stole dinner.  There I said it.  No, it is not because things are so bad here in at house that I have resorted to shop lifting.  No, I am not dumpster diving.  But I did steal dinner.

You see, our backyard neighbors planted a tomato plant in the back of their yard.  Right next to our fence.  Right next to the rabbit hole.  You can not see the tomato plant from their house.  It is totally hidden from view by a big tree.  We can see the tomato plant from our house.

I have watched this tomato plant grow.  I have watched the tomatoes blossom and go from flowers to green globes to red ripe tomatoes, bursting with flavor.  I then watch them fall to the ground to be eaten by the rabbits.  I decided, if our neighbor was not going to pick the tomatoes I would.  But, that is stealing.  They aren't my tomatoes to eat.  But, our neighbor isn't going to eat them either.  So here we are, in the gray moral ground of stealing tomatoes.  Bob does point out that they did say that we could take what ever we wanted when we were discussing the tomatoes last year, he thinks we are still operating on that invitation.

I could not stand it any longer.  I watched these delicious tomatoes fall to the ground.  I decided, this was a travesty.  I had basil in my house, I had a loaf of freshly baked basil/beer bread.  All I needed was some tomatoes to make bruschetta, and we would be good to go.  When no one was looking I marched outside and stole some tomatoes.  I bought some fresh mozzarella to go with my ill gotten gains and Bob and I had a delicious dinner.

What I did was wrong, but I don't feel bad about it.  I ate a yummy dinner and my tummy is full.  I think I will put some jammies on and snuggle up, knit and relax.  If they want their tomatoes, they better pick them before the fall to the ground or to my hands!

Piece/Peace

My in-laws left.  The house is back to it's original state, just a stiff wind from crumbling under the clutter.  All 3 kids are at school.  Bob is out doing what ever it is he does during the day.  I am home, in the peace and quiet.

The problem is that there is not one but two cakes in this house.  One vanilla with chocolate fudge frosting and the other apple spice with cream cheese frosting. There is also fresh basil/cheese bread.  So many yummy left overs that seem to be screaming my name.  Come just have one piece.

We all know how that story ends, one piece turns into no more cake or bread in the house.  I am hosting our neighborhood luncheon today, so the people coming will enjoy the cake and bread.  Hopefully take it out of my house so I can sit here and enjoy the peace, without needing a piece.

I also have no intention of cleaning up for these people.  Nope.  Let the dog hair bunnies answer the doors and chase the kids around.  I am pooped!

Gmar Chatimah Tova

Pop quiz.  I know, those words render me to a quivering mass of hysteria too... but still, I am going to do it anyway, so pop quiz:

What does Gmar Chatimah Tova mean?

That is it, simple, easy peasey, all I want is a definition.  Oh, you want some multiple choice action.  NOPE.  I will not use it in a sentence, it is a sentence.  I just want to know if you know what it means.  All this questioning, is the entire reason, I am not a teacher.  

I will give you a couple of minutes to think about it, and most likely to google it, and then to come back with the text book definition.  Heck, I guess I could save you the trouble and get the definition from google myself.

Gmar Chatimah Tova translation;  Literally: A good final sealing   Idiomatically: May you be inscribed (in the Book of Life) for Good

 Who knew.  Certainly not me, which is why I was all excited about the pop quiz.  I have never heard that one, not in my 15 years of celebrating this holiday of Yom Kippur.  I like the whole idea of being inscribed for good.  Last year, I think we may have slipped out of the Book of Good.  It wasn't such a good year.  This year, I am optimistic.  Bob won his fantasy baseball league, more on that tomorrow, and I would say that generally, thing seem more sunny here than last year.

So, I hope you are inscribed for good today.

Typical Day in the Life

Yesterday, was an average ordinary day. 

• We went to soccer, and watched Sammy's team score on themselves.

• Came home had lunch

• Played games with Grandma (that part isn't so typical, because she isn't usually here.)

• Went to a birthday party

• Went to the ER, because Hannah fell off her scooter and dislocated her elbow.

• Told everyone 500 times that she really fell off her scooter, her injury is not because we beat her.  Really, she did fall off her scooter, and yes, no one saw it.  I was at a birthday party, Bob was turned the other way playing soccer and Grandma was walking down the street.
  

• Waited for them to take x-rays, loose the x-rays, use the x-rays they gave me, decide they need to find the x-rays, x-rays located.

• Got moved to the hallway, because the Adult ER was over flowing and they needed room.  Got to see some really sick people get wheeled by... great, is there enough purell in the world?

• Finally, got the Dr, who looked like he was 16, to put her elbow back in place.

• Left the ER, Hannah trips on the curb and falls again.

• Rinse and repeat.

Just an average day in the life of a stay at home mom.  Thank you for reading.

Soccer

It is fall, so that means soccer.  Of course, I could say, it is winter, that means soccer.  It is spring, that means soccer.  The only time we don't play soccer is in the summer, when Sam might do a soccer camp.  Sam loves soccer.  He is very serious about soccer.  He is engaged in the game 100%.  When he is waiting to be put in, he is practicing on the sidelines.  Some highlights:

A heard of wildebeests is seen moving in a cluster on the field.  No, wait that is the kids trying to get the ball.  Screams of spread out can be heard from coaches. 

Sam is in the goal, the ball enters the goal box.  Sam picks up the ball and tosses it out, right in the middle, right to the opposing team.  SCORE.

#28 is out running hard, he gets the ball.  He runs towards the goal.  No one is trying to take the ball away, the kids are screaming at him.  He runs like the wind.  Dodging all the attempts to take the ball, he shoots.... SCORE.  (It is important to note that the goalie in this case had the same color shirt as the child who scored.  As you can not see the action, I thought I would share that bit of information.)

In the final quarter of the game, #15 is in the goal.  He dances to the left, he dances to the right, he crouches down to get the ball.  The opposing team kicks on our goal, the ball dribbles off the players foot, and lazily rolls towards the goal.  #15, spreads his legs real wide and sinks down to get the ball.  The ball, rolls through his legs.  SCORE

A bunch of 6 and 7 year olds playing soccer.  It is a good thing they don't keep score.

Forgot About the Van

I was so focused on cleaning my house, I totally forgot that we might leave the house when my in-laws were here.  This means that we have to get in the van.  My van.

Let me digress for a moment, I used to date this guy when I was in college, and we were going to get married.  I used to tell him how I would NEVER drive a mini-van.  NEVER.  I was going to drive something cooler.  I used to tease people for buying mini vans.  I would never, ever, in a million gillion years buy a mini van.

We all know how that story ends.  Anyway, back to the tale at hand.  If we leave my house, which I imagine, given its current state will be top of mind for everyone involved, we have to do that by getting into my van.  How do I put this delicately.  A couple of minutes in the van, and you will long for the sanitary environment of my house.  You will have a whole new perspective on filth.

So, basically, this realization washes over me, while I am playing on the computer.  Beds still unmade.  I decide that since the dog hair rabbits are chasing Hannah, it might be a good idea to just leave the van.  Forget about it.  Concede the fact that I am a filthy pig to my MIL.  I find this...Mom My Ride.

That is it, my story.  I had my ride Mom'ed.  I am no longer lazy and sloppy, but hip and cool.  I am current.  YouTube does not lie.  This video leaves me strangely thankful for the fact that the kids have kicked soccer balls at my car, scratch and damaged the paint with their bikes/scooters/rocks/toy cars/finger nails/keys/chalk/paint/glitter/stickers, left juice boxes in the van so we now attract fruit flys/ants/mice/moles/zebra, and that there are so many toys that we are never bored on the road.  Did I mention that if you feel hungry, just reach down, there are enough crackers/french fries/chicken nuggets/chips/candy/fruit snacks/PB&Js on the floor to nibble on for months.  I feel empowered.

Of course, I left out the fact that my van does not will not ever play kid CDs.  See I am not completely THAT mom, I am cooler.  Sure my mini van is a garbage can on wheels, but dang it we rock out.  Yup, I pimped my mom'ed ride.  You may have my autograph.

Bottom line, my house is a mess and my van smells funny.  Next stop, the kids won't behave I promise you that.

Edit:  After I wrote this, I took Hannah to gymnastics.  I had 45 minutes and needed to pick up some yarn for a baby blanket, and the yarn I wanted was at a store that is in a semi-rural area.  While driving there, no less than 5 skunks were dead on the road.  I hit one, already dead, but still stinky.  Now my van smells like skunk too.  ::shakes fist at gods of mini-vans:: it never ends!

Don't shovel during the snow storm

Monday, I cleaned.  I cleaned the bathrooms. I cleaned the kids rooms.  I cleaned the downstairs.  I cleaned from the time the kids left for school until the time they got home.  Then the kids got home.

Wednesday, I cleaned.  I cleaned the bathrooms.  I cleaned the kids rooms.  I cleaned the playroom and the basement.  I vacuumed.  I cleaned from the time the kids left for school until the time they got home.  When I was done, my house was Mother-in-Law coming to visit clean.  Then the kids got home.

Thursday, I was to busy to clean.  So I didn't.  Of course, the kids came home from school.

Friday, my mother-in-law comes to visit.  My house was clean enough for her to walk into it on Wednesday.  But she didn't come on Wednesday, she comes Friday.  So, here I sit.  I have gymnastics, a playgroup, a book sale and sunshine reading on Friday.  I do not have time to clean.  This would be why the house was clean on Wednesday.

She will show up and the beds may or may not be made.  The towels may or may not be clean.  The laundry may or may not be done.  Keeping in mind, I have cleaned for 2 days.  I have done 7 loads of laundry.  But the kids keep coming home.  I left my house, mother-in-law clean on Wednesday night.  I left for 3 hours.  By the time I returned, it looked like I didn't own a broom.  That my Dyson was in the shop.  I do not really understand how they do it.  It is like a force of nature, the speed at which they trash my house.

So, my mother-in-law will show up.  My house won't be clean, it was clean, but it isn't anymore.  The laundry will become a topographical feature, looming inside my laundry room.  The dog hair dust bunnies will hop around like no one knows the meaning of vacuum.  The kids will have left dirty hand prints on the walls.  There will most likely be toys on the floor that my father-in-law will step on, and break.  There will be untold bio-hazards in my bathrooms.  There will be dead ants in the corner, better a dead ant than an alive one, but I digress.  My house will have returned to its state of nature. 

But I go on the record by saying you could have eaten off the floors on Wednesday.