My husband called me from work last week to inform me that my personal email had been hacked.
How did he know before me?
An old coworker of his (whose address was in my contact list because we had invited him to a pool party we threw several years ago) had emailed him that my email was hacked.
A few seconds later a friend of ours also emailed my husband at work to let him know that my email had been hacked.
That prompted a call to me to inform me that every single person in my contact list (we're talking almost 200 people) had been spammed by me. I haven't cleaned my contact list out in...well, I don't remember.
Those people who were spammed included former coworkers of mine and my husbands, our minister, our lawyer, the moms in the moms club I belong to, our travel agent who planned our honeymoon, and a myriad number of people who I hadn't spoken to in years.
I was mortified.
Apparently, I knew Max's secret, how to quit smoking, how to have fun, how to get rid of pain, and a site to get rid of your problems.
Needless to say I immediately went in and changed my passwords...
...and updated my contact list.
Have you ever been hacked?
Friday, September 23, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
It Never Compares to Mom's
My husband has a mom who is a good cook. Even those of you who don't cook probably have one or two things you can make and take to parties or gatherings. You know those things that you are known for bringing. When you RSVP, it is that dish that the host automatically replies with "can you bring your..."
Me, I make a mean veggie pasta salad.
With my MIL it's not one thing, it's several dishes that she is known for that are absolutely delicious. She makes a mean spinach dip, bean dip, and ranch pretzels (dubbed "Grammy's pretzels" and which my children could polish off in one sitting). After our hurricane party (it was supposed to be a pool party), she is also kown for the BEST ribs ever. Our guests polished off 8 or so pounds of ribs in no time. The recipe called for margarita mix. Anything with margarita mix is bound to be yummy.
She's also the one who is in charge of the Thanksgiving turkey and which turns out amazing year after year even though she doesn't measure the ingredients. According to her, its just a little of this and a little of that based on whatever is in our cupboard. If I did that it would turn into some nasty science experiment gone wrong. These are the people I envy since I am not a natural cook. I need a recipe and a little luck on my side when I cook.
My MIL is also known by her family for her hamburger gravy. Sausage gravy seems to be the norm here where we live and in the south but in the midwest where my husband's family is from, it is hamburger gravy. We occasionally gather at her place for breakfast when the whole family is together.
After Family Fun Magazine featured a recipe for biscuits and sausage gravy that looked almost exactly like my MIL's hamburger gravy, I decided to tackle this dish myself. My husband has been saying forever about how I need to learn how to make his mom's hamburger gravy. How hard could it be? (Asks the woman who still has issues using her bread maker). I had low expectations so I figured I wouldn't be disappointed when it didn't turn out well since I was deviating from the recipe.
When my husband saw the finished product, he gave me THE LOOK.
It was the dubious look that asks, "will this kill me if I eat it?" Actually, it was the "I have REALLY high expectations and this is so not going to live up to them" look since I have never sickened nor killed anyone with the food I've made. Of course there was that one time I mistakenly used cups instead of teaspoons of salt and instead of baking powder I used baking soda (or was it vice versa). I was making peanut butter cookies and they came out looking like bad tasting pancakes...Hey, I was only about 8 at the time. Yes, I was using a stove at that age. Of course, only when my dad was watching us.
I had been worried especially after my husband asked me if I wanted the truth or if I wanted him to be nice. Anyway, it came out good. Okay, at least the gravy did. My husband said I nailed it or at least came really close. *Insert me grinning wildly* I even have my grandparents as witnesses.
The biscuits were another matter. They were small. Apparently they were supposed to be large enough to break in half. The recipe said it would make 10. I had 12. On top of that they were a little "funky". They were dry. Some were flatter than others and some had multiple ring marks since I had some little hands helping roll and cut the biscuits with a glass. The girls had fun and really got into twisting the glass to cut out the biscuits. And if I'm truthful, I hate rolling dough so that could account for the different size biscuits since I rolled most of the dough. When I talked to my MIL and told her about my foray into cooking her signature family dish, she laughed and said she probably only gets about 5 or 6 biscuits out of a regular recipe.
I can never make my mom's casseroles taste just like her's either. So the lesson I learned is this: it will never live up to his mom's. Just like my casseroles and cookies will never taste quite like the casseroles my mom used to make and the cookies my grandmother used to make. And that is the way it is supposed to be. Maybe its because they put a little bit of their heart and soul, a little bit of them, into what they cook.
What is your signature dish?
Me, I make a mean veggie pasta salad.
With my MIL it's not one thing, it's several dishes that she is known for that are absolutely delicious. She makes a mean spinach dip, bean dip, and ranch pretzels (dubbed "Grammy's pretzels" and which my children could polish off in one sitting). After our hurricane party (it was supposed to be a pool party), she is also kown for the BEST ribs ever. Our guests polished off 8 or so pounds of ribs in no time. The recipe called for margarita mix. Anything with margarita mix is bound to be yummy.
She's also the one who is in charge of the Thanksgiving turkey and which turns out amazing year after year even though she doesn't measure the ingredients. According to her, its just a little of this and a little of that based on whatever is in our cupboard. If I did that it would turn into some nasty science experiment gone wrong. These are the people I envy since I am not a natural cook. I need a recipe and a little luck on my side when I cook.
My MIL is also known by her family for her hamburger gravy. Sausage gravy seems to be the norm here where we live and in the south but in the midwest where my husband's family is from, it is hamburger gravy. We occasionally gather at her place for breakfast when the whole family is together.
After Family Fun Magazine featured a recipe for biscuits and sausage gravy that looked almost exactly like my MIL's hamburger gravy, I decided to tackle this dish myself. My husband has been saying forever about how I need to learn how to make his mom's hamburger gravy. How hard could it be? (Asks the woman who still has issues using her bread maker). I had low expectations so I figured I wouldn't be disappointed when it didn't turn out well since I was deviating from the recipe.
When my husband saw the finished product, he gave me THE LOOK.
It was the dubious look that asks, "will this kill me if I eat it?" Actually, it was the "I have REALLY high expectations and this is so not going to live up to them" look since I have never sickened nor killed anyone with the food I've made. Of course there was that one time I mistakenly used cups instead of teaspoons of salt and instead of baking powder I used baking soda (or was it vice versa). I was making peanut butter cookies and they came out looking like bad tasting pancakes...Hey, I was only about 8 at the time. Yes, I was using a stove at that age. Of course, only when my dad was watching us.
I had been worried especially after my husband asked me if I wanted the truth or if I wanted him to be nice. Anyway, it came out good. Okay, at least the gravy did. My husband said I nailed it or at least came really close. *Insert me grinning wildly* I even have my grandparents as witnesses.
The biscuits were another matter. They were small. Apparently they were supposed to be large enough to break in half. The recipe said it would make 10. I had 12. On top of that they were a little "funky". They were dry. Some were flatter than others and some had multiple ring marks since I had some little hands helping roll and cut the biscuits with a glass. The girls had fun and really got into twisting the glass to cut out the biscuits. And if I'm truthful, I hate rolling dough so that could account for the different size biscuits since I rolled most of the dough. When I talked to my MIL and told her about my foray into cooking her signature family dish, she laughed and said she probably only gets about 5 or 6 biscuits out of a regular recipe.
My little helper & the finished product
I can never make my mom's casseroles taste just like her's either. So the lesson I learned is this: it will never live up to his mom's. Just like my casseroles and cookies will never taste quite like the casseroles my mom used to make and the cookies my grandmother used to make. And that is the way it is supposed to be. Maybe its because they put a little bit of their heart and soul, a little bit of them, into what they cook.
What is your signature dish?
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
A Mother's Best Friend
As a child, I remember getting gum in my hair thanks to my sister. My mom's solution was to rub peanut butter into my hair and then wash it. Even after two washings, I remember going to kindergarten smelling like peanut butter.
Recently, while friends were visiting, my daughters and my friend's son went into my daughters' room (they are young enough that I can say that without cringing) to play even though there is nothing in my daughters' room except stuffed animals.
I had forgotten that the nursery across the hall didn't have one of those door locks on it. I had removed it for some reason or another and forgotten to put it back on. It sat dismantled in a box with other odds and ends in my husbands office. As my mother would sarcastically say when I was young, "that's a good place for it, right?"
Of course my two year old who had followed her sister went inside the nursery and got into the petroleum jelly (a fresh jar that had not even really been used after Ry came home from the hospital) that was sitting in a portable organizer on the ottoman. When I went to check on them, I saw Madison in the hallway. She was covered in it from head to toe. When Madison saw me she grinned as though proud of her handiwork. In her hands was the jar with the lid stuck down in the jelly and about a quarter of the jelly gone.
I felt my stomach actually recoil at the site. The smell and the sight were horrifying and many expletives were racing through my mind. I would have much rather found my child with gum in her hair. I am sure it would have been easier to clean up after.
I handed the baby to my friend and picked Maddie up under the armpits away from my body and deposited her in front of the bathtub. All the while I kept repeating how we DO NOT play with petroleum jelly. Yuck. Yuck. Say it with me, "YUCK".
Even after wiping as much of the jelly off as possible and lathering her hair and body twice, her hair and skin were still oily.
That night she got another bath and after washing her down two more times, it seemed she was no longer an oily mess.
That night when I told my husband about her escapades, he laughed and asked me why I didn't just use Dawn.
Uhh...
He was right. If it works on oil coated animals, why not a petroleum jelly covered child?
It seems that Dawn and magic erasers are truly a mother's best friend.
Recently, while friends were visiting, my daughters and my friend's son went into my daughters' room (they are young enough that I can say that without cringing) to play even though there is nothing in my daughters' room except stuffed animals.
I had forgotten that the nursery across the hall didn't have one of those door locks on it. I had removed it for some reason or another and forgotten to put it back on. It sat dismantled in a box with other odds and ends in my husbands office. As my mother would sarcastically say when I was young, "that's a good place for it, right?"
Of course my two year old who had followed her sister went inside the nursery and got into the petroleum jelly (a fresh jar that had not even really been used after Ry came home from the hospital) that was sitting in a portable organizer on the ottoman. When I went to check on them, I saw Madison in the hallway. She was covered in it from head to toe. When Madison saw me she grinned as though proud of her handiwork. In her hands was the jar with the lid stuck down in the jelly and about a quarter of the jelly gone.
I felt my stomach actually recoil at the site. The smell and the sight were horrifying and many expletives were racing through my mind. I would have much rather found my child with gum in her hair. I am sure it would have been easier to clean up after.
I handed the baby to my friend and picked Maddie up under the armpits away from my body and deposited her in front of the bathtub. All the while I kept repeating how we DO NOT play with petroleum jelly. Yuck. Yuck. Say it with me, "YUCK".
Even after wiping as much of the jelly off as possible and lathering her hair and body twice, her hair and skin were still oily.
That night she got another bath and after washing her down two more times, it seemed she was no longer an oily mess.
That night when I told my husband about her escapades, he laughed and asked me why I didn't just use Dawn.
Uhh...
He was right. If it works on oil coated animals, why not a petroleum jelly covered child?
It seems that Dawn and magic erasers are truly a mother's best friend.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Printable To-Do List Just For You
It's no surprise to anyone who knows me that I am a list maker extraordinaire. I make lists for everything and somewhere along the way I began to depend on them so much that I swear I am incapable of remembering the simplest things like milk, eggs, and butter from the grocery store.
Anyway, I finally gave up my black book and my post-it note craziness. I came up with a to-do list that keeps me organized and that keeps me from pulling out my hair (and that my kids have no interest in). Post-it notes seem to beckon to my children, "come take me away and play with me" as does my little black book which says "come draw in me". I have lost count of the number of times my post-its have disappeared from my purse or the fridge and my little black book now boasts scribbles from the girls from when they've sneaked it from its spot in my bag. With all the apps and such for my Smartphone, I still haven't been able to bring myself to join the electronic age. I like writing things down the "old way". Call me old-fashioned.
I finally created my own to-do list to help keep me super organized. My weekly grocery list usually goes on the back but for those items that I forget to buy or that I run out of during the week, they go under the grocery list section. My daily chores include those chores such as laundry, dishes, watering plants, and filing (bills mainly). As silly as it sounds, I often forget to water my plants regularly and to do those chores I dislike (or am I the only one who conveniently forgets to do them). The daily chart keeps me from over scheduling my family. I fill in any appointments we have for the day and things I need to get done. The meal plan helps me plan ahead and reminds me when I need to pull meals from the freezer with just a glance. The "Odds and Ends" section is my wish list of sorts. This is for those things that I want to get done eventually such as scrapbooking or updating my iPod. It's things that are important only to me and that I want to get done but don't usually have time to get to them. I've found that writing them down has helped me make time to at least spend a few minutes working on getting them done.
Want to print your own copy?
Click here to print your own to-do list (minus the nifty graphic since it didn't appear in google docs). You can even punch holes in these sheets and keep them in a binder or if your like me you can recycle them or throw them away.
Are you a "to-do list" afficianado or do you avoid them at all costs?
Anyway, I finally gave up my black book and my post-it note craziness. I came up with a to-do list that keeps me organized and that keeps me from pulling out my hair (and that my kids have no interest in). Post-it notes seem to beckon to my children, "come take me away and play with me" as does my little black book which says "come draw in me". I have lost count of the number of times my post-its have disappeared from my purse or the fridge and my little black book now boasts scribbles from the girls from when they've sneaked it from its spot in my bag. With all the apps and such for my Smartphone, I still haven't been able to bring myself to join the electronic age. I like writing things down the "old way". Call me old-fashioned.
Want to print your own copy?
Click here to print your own to-do list (minus the nifty graphic since it didn't appear in google docs). You can even punch holes in these sheets and keep them in a binder or if your like me you can recycle them or throw them away.
Are you a "to-do list" afficianado or do you avoid them at all costs?
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
The #1 Question Parents Ask Their Kids
What do you think it is?
With little kids, their favorite question is "Why?" but what about the parents?
If you have a child just starting to talk, "can you say_________?" seems to be a common question even though the child in question is not likely to respond. A good friend who recently visited was lamenting how her two year old would refuse to say new words that they were trying to introduce. Instead, she would look at them, smile, and say "no". At least she had one word down.
If your potty training, it may be "Do you need to go potty?" Warning to new potty training parents: They are more likely to pee on the floor than to say yes (at least in the beginning).
"What did you do at school today?" is common if you have school-age children.
"What did you just say?" seemed to be a favorite when I was a teenager.
I was out with the girls and I had asked Emmy, "What do you say?" after someone had complimented her. The response I was looking for from her was "thank you" but she had hidden behind my leg and refused to say anything. Since the person was a stranger and we have been learning stranger safety I totally understood her reaction.
The person replied with a smile that that question is the most often asked question that parents ask their children. And the more I thought about it the more I thought that I had heard that before from someone or read it somewhere. Or maybe it was just because their statement had a hint of truth to it.
I've come to realize how astute that person was and that they were probably a parent themself. They were more right than even I imagined.
Since that conversation, I realized just how often I do say it. That prompt to get them to say "excuse me", "please", and "thank you" does in fact seem to be the most often asked question out of my mouth.
Close seconds are, "Do you need to go potty?" and "What are you doing?" The answer to the first is usually no and the answer to the latter is usually silence which usually signals that my children are up to no good (usually while I am in the bathroom or doing dishes).
What is the most asked question in your house?
With little kids, their favorite question is "Why?" but what about the parents?
If you have a child just starting to talk, "can you say_________?" seems to be a common question even though the child in question is not likely to respond. A good friend who recently visited was lamenting how her two year old would refuse to say new words that they were trying to introduce. Instead, she would look at them, smile, and say "no". At least she had one word down.
If your potty training, it may be "Do you need to go potty?" Warning to new potty training parents: They are more likely to pee on the floor than to say yes (at least in the beginning).
"What did you do at school today?" is common if you have school-age children.
"What did you just say?" seemed to be a favorite when I was a teenager.
I was out with the girls and I had asked Emmy, "What do you say?" after someone had complimented her. The response I was looking for from her was "thank you" but she had hidden behind my leg and refused to say anything. Since the person was a stranger and we have been learning stranger safety I totally understood her reaction.
The person replied with a smile that that question is the most often asked question that parents ask their children. And the more I thought about it the more I thought that I had heard that before from someone or read it somewhere. Or maybe it was just because their statement had a hint of truth to it.
I've come to realize how astute that person was and that they were probably a parent themself. They were more right than even I imagined.
Since that conversation, I realized just how often I do say it. That prompt to get them to say "excuse me", "please", and "thank you" does in fact seem to be the most often asked question out of my mouth.
Close seconds are, "Do you need to go potty?" and "What are you doing?" The answer to the first is usually no and the answer to the latter is usually silence which usually signals that my children are up to no good (usually while I am in the bathroom or doing dishes).
What is the most asked question in your house?
Friday, July 29, 2011
Mommy's Home
Whenever I leave my house, even for the simplest errand, when I return home and the girls or my husband hear the opening of the door leading to the garage heralding my return, I always hear "Mommy's home." This is usually followed by the pounding of running feet.
For over a month I have been MIA and have found myself for the first time in about a year and a half not thinking about my blog on a daily basis. When I did find myself thinking about my blog, I wondered if I would be able to find the words to tell more stories. At those moments, my mind felt as though it was a blank chalkboard with nothing written on it. A clean slate. Empty with only streaks from being wiped clean by an overly zealous hand. It was as though all my words had dried up along with the moisture on the chalkboard. Then, I found panic setting in. Where did all of my words go? What if I was away for to long and I couldn't get my groove back? What if no words came when I did sit back down to write?
In the last month I found myself to tired and exhausted to write regularly. Thank you cards have been the extent of my writing in that time.
For the last week I found myself putting "write a blog entry" on my to-do list. Yet, I found every excuse not to sit down at the computer to write. I felt anxious and worried. It was silly to almost be scared of my computer screen...
This morning I finally just did it. Once I sat down, the words just flowed...
Why have I been MIA for over a month?
A new bundle of joy has joined our family. His nickname is Ry. He arrived almost a week after his due date. He's met most of his family and many of our friends so it seemed fitting to finally let him "meet" you all.
Mommy's home again. Starting next week, I'll be writing on a regular basis again. In the short time I have settled in front of the computer this morning, I do feel as though I am home again. I've also realized how much I have missed sitting here in the early hours tapping on the keyboard while everyone else is asleep and with my ears straining to hear any sounds of stirring overhead.
Home sweet home.
For over a month I have been MIA and have found myself for the first time in about a year and a half not thinking about my blog on a daily basis. When I did find myself thinking about my blog, I wondered if I would be able to find the words to tell more stories. At those moments, my mind felt as though it was a blank chalkboard with nothing written on it. A clean slate. Empty with only streaks from being wiped clean by an overly zealous hand. It was as though all my words had dried up along with the moisture on the chalkboard. Then, I found panic setting in. Where did all of my words go? What if I was away for to long and I couldn't get my groove back? What if no words came when I did sit back down to write?
In the last month I found myself to tired and exhausted to write regularly. Thank you cards have been the extent of my writing in that time.
For the last week I found myself putting "write a blog entry" on my to-do list. Yet, I found every excuse not to sit down at the computer to write. I felt anxious and worried. It was silly to almost be scared of my computer screen...
This morning I finally just did it. Once I sat down, the words just flowed...
Why have I been MIA for over a month?
A new bundle of joy has joined our family. His nickname is Ry. He arrived almost a week after his due date. He's met most of his family and many of our friends so it seemed fitting to finally let him "meet" you all.
Mommy's home again. Starting next week, I'll be writing on a regular basis again. In the short time I have settled in front of the computer this morning, I do feel as though I am home again. I've also realized how much I have missed sitting here in the early hours tapping on the keyboard while everyone else is asleep and with my ears straining to hear any sounds of stirring overhead.
Home sweet home.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Rockin' The Bump
Shell over at Things I Can't Say is hosting Rockin' the Bump. Do you have fun pics of you rockin' your pregnancy bump?
Pics of me being pregnant with the kids?
Uh...there are not many. There are probably more of me from my pregnancy with Emily because of the prerequisite baby shower. I had to really search for some.
In all honesty in most pics I am usually the one behind the camera and being pregnant is no exception!
Pics of me being pregnant with the kids?
Uh...there are not many. There are probably more of me from my pregnancy with Emily because of the prerequisite baby shower. I had to really search for some.
In all honesty in most pics I am usually the one behind the camera and being pregnant is no exception!
The pic below is of me pregnant with Baby #1!
Pregnant w/ Baby #2 on our Babymoon to Mystic, CT
(I made a lot of people nervous including the owners of the B&B we stayed at even though I wasn't anywhere close to my due date.)
This was taken just a few weekends ago at our goddaughter's baptism in MA with my pregnancy bump with #3.
I have less than two weeks to go before #3 arrives (unless he makes an earlier entrance) which is why I have been writing so sporadically. Hopefully, within the next few weeks I'll get in the groove again but for now I am just enjoying my family, focusing on whats important, and relaxing before things get seriously crazy.
If you haven't yet, don't forget to link up with Shell over at Things I Can't Say!
If you haven't yet, don't forget to link up with Shell over at Things I Can't Say!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Men & Shots
"Why don't you ever believe me?"my husband always asks.
I could say the same.
While getting the girls ready for bed last night, my husband called up the stairs asking if I had any hydrogen peroxide. After searching both of the upstairs bathrooms and only coming up with a bottle of alcohol I had to tell him no. I went downstairs with the bottle in hand, asking my husband from the stairs why he needed it.
He didn't answer right away. I found him standing in the kitchen with one shoe on and bloody footprints leading into the downstairs bathroom.
Apparently he had stepped on a nail while working outside and it went through his shoe into his foot.
My husband refused to believe me that he needed a tetanus shot. With his manly bravado he humphed and sneered. I tried persuading him, harassing him, and then finally guilted him into going. My trump card was "if you don't go get a tetanus shot, I'm going to worry so much it will send me into labor."
His reply? "I'll ask Google."
For once Google and I agreed. Off he went to the emergicenter to get a tetanus shot. I couldn't even hold his hand since I had to stay with the girls who were already sound asleep.
Poor guy. All that hard work today and he ends up in the doctor's office needing a shot. I'm sure that wasn't the ending to his day that he was expecting.
Interested in finding a summer read for the kids? Don't forget to enter to win an autographed copy of Victoria Simcox's The Magic Warble.
I could say the same.
While getting the girls ready for bed last night, my husband called up the stairs asking if I had any hydrogen peroxide. After searching both of the upstairs bathrooms and only coming up with a bottle of alcohol I had to tell him no. I went downstairs with the bottle in hand, asking my husband from the stairs why he needed it.
He didn't answer right away. I found him standing in the kitchen with one shoe on and bloody footprints leading into the downstairs bathroom.
Apparently he had stepped on a nail while working outside and it went through his shoe into his foot.
My husband refused to believe me that he needed a tetanus shot. With his manly bravado he humphed and sneered. I tried persuading him, harassing him, and then finally guilted him into going. My trump card was "if you don't go get a tetanus shot, I'm going to worry so much it will send me into labor."
His reply? "I'll ask Google."
For once Google and I agreed. Off he went to the emergicenter to get a tetanus shot. I couldn't even hold his hand since I had to stay with the girls who were already sound asleep.
Poor guy. All that hard work today and he ends up in the doctor's office needing a shot. I'm sure that wasn't the ending to his day that he was expecting.
Interested in finding a summer read for the kids? Don't forget to enter to win an autographed copy of Victoria Simcox's The Magic Warble.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Running the Bases
Every summer I have a to-do list of places to visit or things to do as a family. Fun things. That hasn't changed even though it is a pretty short list since Baby #3 is due in about 4 weeks.
One of those things was to attend the local AAA minor league ball game with the kids and let Emmy run the bases afterward which they do at every Sunday home game.
Since both girls have a short attention span and we have season tickets, we arrived late, really late, in the 7th inning late. The girls were mesmerized by the people and the cheering and the action on the field. Emmy was upset that she forgot her pom-poms to cheer them on. I of course forgot to grab them from the table when we left. She kept reminding me throughout the rest of the game.
During the 9th inning, kids and their parents start lining up to run the bases after the game and when the game is over they are led down to the field itself.
Emmy was at the front of the line. The kids ran from first base to home plate.We weren't sure how well this was going to go. Emmy was a bit younger than most of the other kids. We debated whether my husband should go with her or try to let her do it on her own since each child went one by one. We decided we'd let her try it on her own and if she got scared we would run out to get her. We were standing between first base and home plate so we weren't far away.
We needn't have worried. When she was 4th in line, she bolted. The stadium worker who was high fiving the kids to give them their okay to run stood there bewildered and laughing as this little peanut started running towards second base. My husband stood next to me laughing and joking that this was going to end badly.
It didn't. She even stopped so she could tag the second base before running for third and she didn't stop until she made it to home plate where she ran to her dad.
She even wanted to do it again!
Do you ever find yourself underestimating your kids? And what's on your summer fun list?
One of those things was to attend the local AAA minor league ball game with the kids and let Emmy run the bases afterward which they do at every Sunday home game.
Since both girls have a short attention span and we have season tickets, we arrived late, really late, in the 7th inning late. The girls were mesmerized by the people and the cheering and the action on the field. Emmy was upset that she forgot her pom-poms to cheer them on. I of course forgot to grab them from the table when we left. She kept reminding me throughout the rest of the game.
During the 9th inning, kids and their parents start lining up to run the bases after the game and when the game is over they are led down to the field itself.
Emmy holding her dad's hand in the 90 degree heat
When Bob stepped out of line, Emmy was looking around for him to keep him in her sights.
We needn't have worried. When she was 4th in line, she bolted. The stadium worker who was high fiving the kids to give them their okay to run stood there bewildered and laughing as this little peanut started running towards second base. My husband stood next to me laughing and joking that this was going to end badly.
Emmy crossing home plate
It didn't. She even stopped so she could tag the second base before running for third and she didn't stop until she made it to home plate where she ran to her dad.
She even wanted to do it again!
Do you ever find yourself underestimating your kids? And what's on your summer fun list?
Monday, May 30, 2011
Autographed Copy of The Magic Warble Giveaway
The Magic Warble by Victoria Simcox is for ages 9-13 but it will also appeal to younger children if they are advanced readers or older fans of adventure and fantasy novels. Kristina Kinglsey is the heroine in the book and like most 12-year olds feels picked on and unappreciated by her peers. But thanks to an understanding teacher and a unique Christmas gift she is sent on an adventure where she learns a lot about herself and just what she is capable of.
Kristina finds herself in Bernovem, a land populated by fairies, gnomes, dwarfs, and animals that talk. With the help of Prince Werrien, her pet rat Raymond, the fairies Clover and Looper, and the raven Roage who isn't quite who she she thought he was, and some other friends she meets on the way, Kristina must save Bernovem from Queen Sentiz and her evil cohorts, the zelbocks. Her job as the chosen one is to make sure her gift, "the Magic Warble" is placed in its true home.
She must travel to save her new friends, face the scary zelbocks and the evil Queen Sentiz who are intent on keeping her from taking the Magic Warble to its true home, climb a dangerous mountain, and face the betrayal of someone she thought was an ally. Kristina learns just how strong she can be and just how large her heart is. She learns it takes courage to do what you think is right even though what you face may be scary.
Once your child starts reading, they'll have a hard time putting this book down as they get drawn into the adventure Kristina finds herself on especially as she finds things are not always as they appear. Simple drawings appear throughout the book helping younger readers envision the world of Bernovem. Kristina is a heroine that has qualities that many children can recognize in themselves and they'll find themselves immersed in her adventure experiencing it along with her.
Interested in reading this book for yourself or getting a copy for a young reader?
Victoria Simcox has offered one autographed copy of The Magic Warble to a lucky TPMG reader.
Can't wait to read it? You can also purchase a copy at Amazon for $13.22.
Interested in learning more about the book and Victoria Simcox? Visit her blog.
Enter to win an autographed copy of Victoria Simcox's book The Magic Warble
Mandatory Entry (Must be completed for all other entries to be valid): Who are you interested in having read this book?
To receive additional entries:
*Become a follower or a subscriber of The Practical Mom Guide and if you already do so just leave a comment stating that you already follow (1 entry)
*Become a fan of The Magic Warble and/or TPMG on Facebook (1 entry each)
*Follow VictoriaSimcox and/or TPMG on twitter (1 entry each)
*Tweet (maximum of once daily) about this giveaway and don't forget to leave your twitter name
Copy and paste: Autographed copy of The Magic Warble book #giveaway at #TPMG http://bit.ly/k1X7bY (Ends 6/12). (1 entry per tweet)
*Post about this giveaway on your blog (5 entries)
This giveaway will end on Sunday, June 12, 2011. I will announce the winner on June 13th here at The Practical Mom Guide. All winners are chosen randomly. If I am unable to contact the winner or they do not respond within 48 hours, another winner will be chosen.
Contest only open to U.S. residents.
Good luck and thank you for participating!
*I was provided with a copy of the book to review and all opinions are my own. Victoria Simcox has graciously offered a copy to one lucky TPMG reader.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Painted Toes & Puddle Jumping
I can't reach my toes. Heck, I can barely get my pants on in the morning at this point.
For Mother's Day my husband treated me to a pedicure. I had been complaining about how awful my feet looked and how I could only wear flip flops on my swollen sausages, er feet.
I had never had a pedicure before and I wasn't sure how I would feel getting one. There is something unnerving about having a complete stranger touching my feet, an awkwardness that I wasn't sure I could overcome. I'll admit feet kind of gross me out. I even have a hard time cutting my children's toe nails.
When the woman who was recommended to me from a friend who frequents the same salon came out with her little cart of implements (some looking like medieval torture devices), I started to wonder if I would really enjoy this. I never knew how much would go into getting a pedicure. When she asked if I wanted her to use the razor or the pumice stone, I'll admit I had a hard time not showing my desire to bolt as I shrugged and said it didn't matter. I thought I had misunderstood her when she asked. I hadn't.
The fact was I did enjoy it. Immensely. Having someone massaging my feet and rubbing lotion into them and painting them lifted my mood. Not to mention they were no longer rough and calloused but smooth to the touch. My feet have never looked so pretty with their bright pink colored nails-nails with no smudges on the sides or bumps from me putting to much nail polish on or fingerprints from me touching them in my clumsiness.
I left the salon in the middle of a rain storm and had to jump puddles in my flip flops along the way. That still didn't put a damper on my good mood. I felt pampered and I had enjoyed chatting with the woman who did my pedicure.
It is amazing how much you can learn about someone in so short a time. She was originally from New Orleans and had relocated locally after Hurricane Katrina. She was looking forward to returning home for a visit over the summer. We also chatted about our children (the universal topic of bonding between all mothers) and our addiction to the Real Housewives series. It was nice to have some adult conversation while my husband took over the bedtime routine with the girls at home. I returned home to a quiet house which was nice for a change.
What do you do when you need to be pampered?
For Mother's Day my husband treated me to a pedicure. I had been complaining about how awful my feet looked and how I could only wear flip flops on my swollen sausages, er feet.
I had never had a pedicure before and I wasn't sure how I would feel getting one. There is something unnerving about having a complete stranger touching my feet, an awkwardness that I wasn't sure I could overcome. I'll admit feet kind of gross me out. I even have a hard time cutting my children's toe nails.
When the woman who was recommended to me from a friend who frequents the same salon came out with her little cart of implements (some looking like medieval torture devices), I started to wonder if I would really enjoy this. I never knew how much would go into getting a pedicure. When she asked if I wanted her to use the razor or the pumice stone, I'll admit I had a hard time not showing my desire to bolt as I shrugged and said it didn't matter. I thought I had misunderstood her when she asked. I hadn't.
The fact was I did enjoy it. Immensely. Having someone massaging my feet and rubbing lotion into them and painting them lifted my mood. Not to mention they were no longer rough and calloused but smooth to the touch. My feet have never looked so pretty with their bright pink colored nails-nails with no smudges on the sides or bumps from me putting to much nail polish on or fingerprints from me touching them in my clumsiness.
I left the salon in the middle of a rain storm and had to jump puddles in my flip flops along the way. That still didn't put a damper on my good mood. I felt pampered and I had enjoyed chatting with the woman who did my pedicure.
It is amazing how much you can learn about someone in so short a time. She was originally from New Orleans and had relocated locally after Hurricane Katrina. She was looking forward to returning home for a visit over the summer. We also chatted about our children (the universal topic of bonding between all mothers) and our addiction to the Real Housewives series. It was nice to have some adult conversation while my husband took over the bedtime routine with the girls at home. I returned home to a quiet house which was nice for a change.
What do you do when you need to be pampered?
Monday, May 16, 2011
The Fears of Motherhood
Everyone talks about the joys of motherhood but so many gloss over the fears that come with the job.
Recently, in a conversation someone mentioned how scary motherhood is. We're talking ulcer inducing, sleep losing, wanting to cry scary. I never would have put it quite like that but there are moments when everything you are is tested. There are moments like that with any job or any relationship (or life in general). Motherhood is no exception.
Depending on your childhood you either want to emulate your mother or you want to be so unlike her that no one will ever question the likeness between you and her. That right there is enough to cause some sleepless nights.
There are so many demands on mothers today to do everything "right". Feeding our kids the "right" foods, going to the "right" schools, putting our kids in the "right" extracurricular activities, and on and on it goes-the merry-go-round of what "good mothers" should do.
On Thursday, during a conversation with friends around labor, I remembered sitting in our lamaze class reunion with all the other new moms regaling the class behind us of our birth stories. Many were not tales of easy labor but rather a litany of what could go wrong. If I had been one of those pregnant women listening I would have probably run from the room. Many of the moms had horror stories like the one mom whose epidural had not worked and she felt everything during her C-section. Luckily my labor was uneventful for the most part with both girls. Yet, hearing people's stories make me wonder could something go wrong this time. I hope not.
I know our family dynamic is going to shift more this time than with the birth of our other two. Alone time with my husband will be even harder to come by since we will outnumbered. Not to mention one more schedule being thrown into the mix. With each pregnancy the worry about the what-ifs causes me to toss and turn. What if something happens to one of the kids? What if something happens to one of us? Even though we've talked about these things and even taken steps in case something (God forbid) does happen, the fear is there under the surface waiting for a moment to rise.
These are the things we sometimes find we can't talk about or that people gloss over. My friend's mom used to say "don't borrow trouble" when she would bring up something negative. Recently, I witnessed a situation where a mom mentioned an awful story about something that happened to someone else and she mentioned that she worried about it happening to her and her family. Another mom attacked her for feeling that way calling it "ridiculous". She then went on to make a comment about the other mom's negativity.
Don't we all feel that way sometimes? We hear a horrible story and one of our first thoughts is "thank goodness that wasn't my family." Then, your heart hurts for the family that has to deal with the situation.
The fact is motherhood can be a scary place and we need to talk about it with close friends and family (including our spouses). If we talk about it, its not so scary a place especially when other moms tell you that they feel the same way.
In my husband's words the other day "we just need to survive the next year and a half". Could it really be that easy? Not a chance...
But I do know that I have good friends and family who I can lean on when it does get scary.
Does motherhood scare you at times?
Recently, in a conversation someone mentioned how scary motherhood is. We're talking ulcer inducing, sleep losing, wanting to cry scary. I never would have put it quite like that but there are moments when everything you are is tested. There are moments like that with any job or any relationship (or life in general). Motherhood is no exception.
Depending on your childhood you either want to emulate your mother or you want to be so unlike her that no one will ever question the likeness between you and her. That right there is enough to cause some sleepless nights.
There are so many demands on mothers today to do everything "right". Feeding our kids the "right" foods, going to the "right" schools, putting our kids in the "right" extracurricular activities, and on and on it goes-the merry-go-round of what "good mothers" should do.
On Thursday, during a conversation with friends around labor, I remembered sitting in our lamaze class reunion with all the other new moms regaling the class behind us of our birth stories. Many were not tales of easy labor but rather a litany of what could go wrong. If I had been one of those pregnant women listening I would have probably run from the room. Many of the moms had horror stories like the one mom whose epidural had not worked and she felt everything during her C-section. Luckily my labor was uneventful for the most part with both girls. Yet, hearing people's stories make me wonder could something go wrong this time. I hope not.
I know our family dynamic is going to shift more this time than with the birth of our other two. Alone time with my husband will be even harder to come by since we will outnumbered. Not to mention one more schedule being thrown into the mix. With each pregnancy the worry about the what-ifs causes me to toss and turn. What if something happens to one of the kids? What if something happens to one of us? Even though we've talked about these things and even taken steps in case something (God forbid) does happen, the fear is there under the surface waiting for a moment to rise.
These are the things we sometimes find we can't talk about or that people gloss over. My friend's mom used to say "don't borrow trouble" when she would bring up something negative. Recently, I witnessed a situation where a mom mentioned an awful story about something that happened to someone else and she mentioned that she worried about it happening to her and her family. Another mom attacked her for feeling that way calling it "ridiculous". She then went on to make a comment about the other mom's negativity.
Don't we all feel that way sometimes? We hear a horrible story and one of our first thoughts is "thank goodness that wasn't my family." Then, your heart hurts for the family that has to deal with the situation.
The fact is motherhood can be a scary place and we need to talk about it with close friends and family (including our spouses). If we talk about it, its not so scary a place especially when other moms tell you that they feel the same way.
In my husband's words the other day "we just need to survive the next year and a half". Could it really be that easy? Not a chance...
But I do know that I have good friends and family who I can lean on when it does get scary.
Does motherhood scare you at times?
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