Herding singing cats--oops, I mean, kids...

There is nothing like watching 50 3- and 4-year-olds sing their hearts out. We adults are reserved and subtle in our singing most of the time, but not toddlers. These little stinkers gave it all they had...Jingle Bells, Feliz Navidad, Twinkle Twinkle complete with hand motions, intense facial expressions, and most of all, individual "character." It was hilarious. Every single child was doing something or saying something slightly different at all times--sort of like a giant toddler Cybil.

Take Landon. This mini-blue-tie wearing, adorable 3-year-old was seriously a caricature of himself--every jingle bell hand swing swung higher than the rest, every word was over-enunciated through his lips (I swear I saw his tonsils) for emphasis, and every "get loud, kids!" moment was just that much louder when it came from Landon. At one point the kids had to say the words "eat some turkey" to which Landon yelled, "I LOVE TURKEY!" Funny thing was that his dad was sitting right in front of me and could barely keep it together...he sort of waffled between covering his eyes and laughing, and throwing out a nervous "can you tell he's shy??"

Then there was poor Tyler. Normally an outgoing kid, this preschool holiday event was just too much for the little guy, so rather than sing, he proceeded to sit cross-armed on the end of a bleacher perfectly clad in his "reindeer jumper" (think: a toddler version of Colin Firth in Bridget Jones). He was like our little Xmas scrooge--not even a candy cane bribe worked with poor Tyler.

Then there was nameless wandering child. This crack-us-up kid decided midway through the program to get off the bleachers and walk to the middle of the stage and just stand there, smiling. He'd then wander around a little on stage, sing a line or two, then reappear mid-stage for the chorus. Gotta love it.

Finally, there were my two. Gotta admit, both looked darn cute in their matching red turtlenecks waving at mommy and smiling. Cole sang every word with gusto and full-body movements. Rhys sang most of the words, but seemed to forget he had hands for most of it. The best part, however, was about 5 minutes from the end when both boys decided they'd had enough and turned around on the bleacher and hung over it backwards. There were 48 kids singing and grinning from ear to ear, and my two MIA. We hear their teacher say "RHYS and COLE TURN AROUND!"...and of course, no reaction. Finally when they do sit up, it's with their backs to the crowd. I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt.

I can't believe those amazing teachers practiced with these munchkins for weeks--they're saints! I'd be willing to bet they're all drinking right now...Cheers!
M

RIP: The pre-kid, married-people bed

It is with much sadness (but much more laughter!) that I announce the passage of Mark and Melissa's four-poster, duvet-covered, thick-mattressed lovely respite. Their first-ever gorgeous, plush, non-hand-me-down bed has now joined the rest of the heavenly angel, once-saw-intimacy, twilight "homes" for smitten married people without children high up in the sky.

Mark and Melissa would like to welcome, however, their lovely respite's replacement--its ugly twin sister: the much-crunched-duvet-due-to-jumping, now-fits-four, land for "dark eyes," horizontal utility vehicle (HUV) with blue sheets.

Help us in fondly remembering its beautiful, once-crisp-and-lovely young twin today...Rest in Peace, oh sweet one.

I wish I could say that I was alone in losing "ownership" of my favorite place in the entire house, but in all honesty, this post was driven by a recent email from a friend of mine that just said it all.

Picture this: Being 8 months pregnant on semi-bed rest. Laying on the one thing that brings you peace and joy--and relaxation--and hearing this: "Toooot, tooooot!!!!! Chugga, chugga, chugga, chugga...tooot, tooot!! [CRASSSSHHHHHH.] Daddddyyyyy!!!" Need I say more? Yes, my poor friend's 2-year-old son had decided to use the perimeter of her bed as a train track for his wind-up-Thomas (full disclosure: we gave it to him...so sorry!). And as she put it: the train would go around and around until it took a wild turn and careened into one of the many things shoved under the bed...which then resulted in daddy (other former resident of lovely respite) coming into the room for a serious "Search and Rescue" mission.

Yep, sounds so familiar. Add to this picture two large, mouthy dogs who also reside in said bedroom at night and you've got our house.

As I lied in bed this morning and grinned from ear to ear that it was 7:30 and the boys were still sleeping, I lamented the days when we rolled over in quiet happiness after a long night of uninterrupted sleep. Then again, I can't help but laugh thinking about a story another friend shared with me the other day that proves our lovely respites are not necessarily "all that" even without kids...

Every time she and her husband retired to their king bed for intimate moments, their 8-pound pomeranian was kicked out of their bed. Needless to say, their then-child wasn't so thrilled with this and proceeded to poop in small piles all around the bed until they were "finished" and she was allowed back up on the bed.

Just imagine THAT experience...I think I'd pick the Thomas the Train search and rescue.

Will "peace and joy" please raise their hands??

We came back on Monday from a fantastic trip to visit some of our best friends and goddaughter in Kansas in a bit of a family-togetherness glow. You probably know what I'm talking about--the conversation on the way home that includes: "Our kids are so amazing," "Family time together is so terrific," "Who needs TV when you've got friends and family??" All of that great stuff. I found myself thinking about how work really gets in the way of life, how more time together would just be the best...etc.

And then it hit. Reality smacked me in the face. Yep, one morning later, while waking up with the lingering leftovers of our fantastic, relaxing Tday break, the day went from zero to 60 in about 2 minutes. Dogs barking, kids waking up needing a kleenex and "some orange medicine because their nose is stuffy," a sink full of dirty dishes...and the darn reality that none of my Christmas decorations were up yet! Where was my insta-mood changer when I needed it??

It may sound trivial, but I always put the decorations up the day after Thanksgiving. Why? Because the holidays are my absolute favorite time of the year. No day can go wrong if it starts with Andy Williams and ends with a dark house lit by Christmas lights. I want to soak in every moment. Especially this year, I want to watch as my little stinkers really get into the fun and true meaning of Christmas. (Translation: Spend an entire month watching Mark "teach" them about the special drink that Santa likes better than milk, but no one knows about except us--yes, Dr. Pepper is Santa's drink of choice. And his favorite food? Moon Pies, of course.)

So, there I was, longing for the holidays to have entered my home and nada--not a single thing to help me regain the peace and holiday "glee" that was our Tday break. Ugh. Fortunately, I can improvise, so the boys and I sang Christmas songs during breakfast--or, rather, we sang one verse of one song, "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," because it's their favorite...and I could feel my mood lightening.

I smiled as Rhys and Cole sang the chorus over and over with their little dimples popping out at me..."You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not..." and then suddenly it must have hit them that they didn't know the word "pout"--in fact, they didn't buy that it was "pout" and decided it was worth fighting about. I made a pouty face to show them what it meant and Cole proceeded to tell me that no, it "WAS NOT POUT" and "THERE WAS NO WORD LIKE POUT."

Well, so much for peace, joy and holiday glee! I guess I had my moment. So, that's my goal for this holiday season: savor the moments. You definitely won't see me pouting...then again, the word doesn't exist, so how could you? ;)

Missed birthdays and naked boy--this one takes the cake

It never ceases to amaze me how critical moments at work and at home always seem to coincide, leaving you in the ultimate juggle of priorities. Take this week: I had to go out of town somewhat unexpectedly on business...normally, this isn't a big deal, but this week? Mark's birthday--go figure.


But the kicker about being gone this week, though, was that it also just so happened to coincide with our newest kid challenge: getting them dressed. Sounds simple, right? Oh no...for those of you with 3 or 4-year-olds, you know what I'm talking about. And last weekend, we hit "tilt" on the can't-stand-the-fits-and-whining-o'meter with Rhys. I've gotten to the point where I dread the words: "Ok, time to get dressed boys!" because I know that the next words out of his mouth won't be words at all, they'll be this extended whine mixed with fits and spurts of cry-yelling...then he'll finally say "I don't WANNNAA wear JEAAANNSS!!!" or "I wanted STRIIIPPED socks, not WHIIITEE ones!!!" You get the picture.


Do you remember when Sigourney Weaver's character in Ghostbusters, Dana, becomes possessed and says in this fiery voice: "There is no more Dana, only Zoul!"?? Yep, that's my sweet Rhys in these moments...there is no more Rhysie, only Zoul.


It doesn't matter what we propose, he hates it--all he wants to wear are his "shiny clothes" from the summer (otherwise known as this cheapy sport outfit that a) would make him look like a little orphan in school because it's so worn out and b) is sleeveless...and it's 30+ degrees outside, so probably not a good idea warmth-wise. Oh, and add to this, he loathes wearing a coat...especially the heavy winter one. (Are we having fun yet??!)


Fast forward to this week. I wrote to my best friend--also my role model/guru mom of three kids--and asked her what the heck to do. Her advice was to let him pick his clothes out (ok, we agreed we could do this, we'd just have to remove the summer stuff and anything else truly ugly) and as for the coat, let him walk out without it and when he's cold, he'll come to his own decision that he needs it on. Smart stuff! And I'd heard that this approach had worked for many in the past, including her kids...but we knew it was still going to be hard.


So, I leave for my biz trip, and there is Mark at home trying Operation No-More-Whining without back up. And this is where it gets funny.


Day 1: He reports that neither boy wanted to wear coats, so off to school they went sans outerwear (coats were hidden in the trunk). This is the text I got and where the laughing began: "Drove to school w/o the heater on...and parked as far as possible from the door. Probably shouldn't have left the coats with them so they would be chilly on the playground, though... damn."

Day 2: This is the one I'll never forget. I don't get a report other than a text saying: "Rhys's clothes this morning" and this picture:

I can honestly say I haven't laughed that hard in months. Turns out that rather than wearing any of the clothes in his drawer, Rhys chose to go to my folks house (Thursdays they're with my folks) without any clothes or coat on. Yep, underwear and shoes...and it was 35+ degrees. So, you'd think he'd be freezing and want to immediately get dressed as soon as he stepped outside, right? Nope, he was happy as can be (as you can see) naked as a jaybird in his carseat.

Needless to say, my folks cracked up and told Mark that he still needs to dress the kids when I'm out of town...ha ha...and they forced Rhys into clothes. But seriously, what are the chances, right?


Time for Plan B, I guess. Regardless of how this turns out, though, this picture is going on his birthday cake at 18. :)

My hair is now kleenex

Just when you think you've heard your kids say "the darndest thing" they top it. Yesterday, it was Rhys telling us in the car that "Normally (yes, he really did say 'normally'), he would call Santa 'Santa' and Rudolph 'Rudolph'," but not this year. This year it appears my child is in tight with the Big S and Big R, so he'll be calling them "Santy" and "Rudy." So hilarious...

Then, tonight, just as we'd finally gotten the boys into their beds and all was decently quiet on the Flynn front--with the exception of whining dogs whose voice boxes must be removed!!--and I lay in bed with Rhys, he manages to top Santy and Rudy. As I'm cuddling with him and he's smoothing my hair with his hand (I was having a lovely mommy moment), he proceeds to take a piece of my hair and wipe his nose with it. Yes, wipe his nose with it. And as I'm laying there staring at him a bit stunned, he looks at me and says: "Mommy, I just used your hair as kleenex!!" and breaks into tons of shrill laughter. So much for the mommy moment! But waddya going to do in that situation except laugh? You can't help but laugh... (and get him a REAL kleenex)

I walk across the hall to Cole's room--they've been in separate rooms since about 1, because, go figure, they talk so much!--and sit on his bed to read him a few pages of "Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear?" He's always an intent listener, yet when I get to the page saying what the lion hears, he decides it's much funnier to lick straight across my face like an animal than hear me finish. Again, I'm a little taken aback, but break into laughter... It appears my cuddling and reading skills bring out the best in my kids!

So, I've decided that I may just use this same skill set at work...the next time someone bores me with their talking/reading, I'm going to either wipe my nose with their shirt or lick their face. Hey, it definitely gets the person's attention and is well worth the laugh, right?

Ok, back to reality.

We all need more play in our lives!

My boys are at this fantastic stage where they love to pretend. A piece from their train track is a sword. All-things-pink are from--and for--princesses. Cole is now Captain Cole of the Army and Rhys is Captain Rhys (or Princess Rhys depending on the day...) of the S.S. Flynn. It's a blast.

And just recently, we invented a new "game" that is certainly going to live on--at least in my mind, because it not only showcases the best parts of being a kid, but it also lets Mark and I remember how it feels to play, too!

The idea actually grew out of our desire to have the kids expend all excess energy before they go to bed, but it's turned into so much more. Now that it's dark so early, right around 6:30pm every night, we "go hunting" as "detectives." Translation: we take the dogs and run around the block, turn onto our grassy greenway and then head back home. The catch? We're not just running, we're hiding from every car that drives by...the moment we spot a car, the boys freeze behind a tree or one of us and we pretend they can't see us. (The boys, of course, are laughing the whole time.) Or, we tell them to look for bad guys that they can lasso and put in jail, which they do the entire time. In fact, last night it appears there was a bad guy on the stop sign, but no worries, Cole got him.

We run, we hide, we laugh, we race each other...it's the best 30 minutes we spend together because it's free of worries, free of agendas, free of rules (other than not yelling at the top of their lungs, which is downright hilarious: "MOMMMYYYY, DON'T MOOOVE, THERE'S A BAD GUY--I GOT 'EM!").

I feel like a kid again for 30 beautiful minutes, and they love each and every minute. I get to see my boys run hand-in-hand, dive on the grass, giggle like crazy...it's just what being a kid should be all about. Maybe it's what being an adult should be about, too.

(And did I mention they sleep like logs?) All in all, a win.

I'm going to Multitaskers Anonymous (MA)

In the last month or so, I've come across a bunch of articles and news stories about how multitasking is actually making us dumber, like this one from The Atlantic http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200711/multitasking talking about how we not only are losing brain cells but that it's actually dangerous (the writer crashes her car trying to see a picture on her phone while she's driving). Or this one from NPR http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=95524385, which talks about how it actually takes longer to get things done when you multitask rather than focusing on one thing at a time.

As a multitasking addict--I admit it!--I can't help but think they're right. Have I driven my car (a stickshift, I might add) while checking emails while eating my breakfast while rummaging around in my purse? Yep. Guilty. Was it safe? Probably not. Am I dumber for it? Hmmm... I'm not willing to go there. You know why? Because multitasking is my JOB, and I've honed my skills!

After reading all of these articles and hearing people talk about it, my single takeaway was this: You simply don't have the kind of crazy life many of us do! I'd love to have a leisurely, focused read of today's top headlines when I get to work, then walk and grab a cup of coffee and start checking off the many items on my to-do list one by one... Or, at home, I'd love to leave every morning fully rested with a stomach full of healthy breakfast foods and my hair perfectly coiffed, but let's be honest...it ain't gonna happen. If you are responsible for more than yourself and you're a woman, I guarantee you multitask to make life work.

I'm thrilled if I get 6 hours of sleep, remember to throw a Kashi bar and banana in my purse, wear matching shoes and socks (they're in a dark closet) and glance at the headlines all while getting my kids dressed and fed, shoving allergy pills into my dogs so they don't scratch their fur off, and turning off one of the seemingly hundreds of lights that have been left on in my house.

I am probably going to be one of those people who comes down with a case of Phone-and-Cheek disease b/c I spend so much time squeezing the damn thing between my shoulder and cheek while I carry bags or shift gears or whatever.

All kidding aside, multitasking can make you crazy and I've definitely tried to curb it so that I can stay more "in the moment," and really focus on the people and events going on, but it's hard. Juggling life is tough! Just now, I can think of 3 friends whose cell phones have had an early demise--like the phone falling into the toilet, hypothetically speaking, of course--because they were doing two things at once...

So, I may end up at Multitaskers Anonymous at some point when brain cells start pouring out of my ears, but until then, I'm going to laugh at the fact that I just noticed the acronym is MA. (All of you moms will certainly appreciate this!)

Sugar is the enemy of Christmas pictures

I had a grand plan today: get the kids' hair cut, get them a treat at the store to make them happy, then coerce them (gently, of course) into taking the picture for our Christmas card. I figured their hair would be freshly cut so they'd look cute and they'd be pleased as punch because they'd had a treat, so it wouldn't be that hard to get them into "picture clothes" for 10 minutes and then take the picture.

Let me back up and say that I've spent a bunch of time reading about ways to talk to kids in a way that's persuasive and positive, etc. etc. etc.--How to Talk So Your Kids Will Listen, Siblings Without Rivalry, 1-2-3 Magic...you get me--so I immediately put my student hat on and thought I could nail this situation before it elevated into "I don't LIIIKKKEE jeans!" and "Don't wet my hair!!"

The problem? Insert our good friend sugar. See, like all good parents, to get my kids to do many things, we bribe them. Hair cuts are no exception. And we bribe them with sugary goodness. Lollipops after, a "Brave Bag" of goodies before, etc. Well, it hasn't really mattered before...but that's because I wasn't trying to get them to take a Xmas picture before.

The getting them into picture clothes wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't horrible. The part that I could never have anticipated--and again, being the uber-achiever that I try to be so often, my life is anticipating...--the kind of hell that was the actual picture-taking. Mark and I tried EVERYTHING to get them to sit together without wiggling, moving, laying down. We had them sitting on our front steps, which are bordered by two iron posts covered in jasmine. Sounds pretty, right? After today, we might chop the whole porch off. Cole spent half of his time picking leaves off the jasmine, which in case you didn't know, drip white sticky stuff after you pick them, so he was covered in jasmine guck. Rhys might as well have been on uppers...he giggled and rolled around and spent most of his time trying to sit on Cole or lick his face. Love it.

After 50 minutes--I kid you not--we just gave up! We had threatened every possible punitive action (so much for all that proactive, positive reading!) from taking away their birthday to denying them Santa's visit and decided to call it a day. The pictures are OK--just OK. And we may try again, but on valium this time. So, my one piece of advice this lovely holiday season: remember, sugar is not our friend.

Mental note to self: to be well-read, read more than Curious George

I never have quite enough time to spend with girlfriends, and so often I feel pretty darn disconnected and craving "girl time." So, tonight, I went to the first meeting (translation: dinner with plenty of wine) of a book club a friend of mine just started--and it was awesome. Nothing in particular stood out, I just found that after a long, challenging day, being around a bunch of smart, fun women that I didn't know, but will get to in the coming months, was really fun. I guess this is guys version of watching a football game and drinking beer together. Granted, I like to do that, too, but you get where I was going...

What it also made me realize is how well-read I am not! I read whenever I can, but quite honestly, I'm much more likely to have read Curious George Rides a Bike or People magazine (my bible) than anything these days. I have about 10 books that I'm partway through because a)I regularly fall asleep about a dozen pages in and end up rereading the same page until the book drops out of my hands and onto the floor, b) I get so excited that I start reading a bunch at the same time but peter out a few chapters into each, or c) I feel the need to do something meaningful and substantive, so I start on some massive book but peter out about a few chapters in. (Wait, am I seeing a theme here?? ;)

But tonight, I decided that I'm going to commit! I'm reading a full book in the next 6 weeks and it's going to have more than just one sentence in 24-point type on each page. This good kind of peer pressure is just what I need to motivate me to stick with it, too--I can't wait to see these cool chicks again!

I do wish grown-up books had more pictures, though...

3-year-olds and the voting process

I guess making the decision to take 3-year-olds to any event where they have to wait in line is a lot like deciding to get pregnant with #2...once you do it the first time and some time has lapsed, you forget the un-fun parts of the process and somehow only remember the good stuff.

That must have been what happened this morning. I woke up with this oh-so-patriotic feeling and decided to take my twin 3-year-old boys to vote with me. In my mind, I thought: "They get up at the crack of dawn, so why not have a little fun with them before school while we wait to vote?" And in some ways, it was just that--we got there at 6:30am and the line was already hundreds of people long, so my kids were fascinated and asking lots of questions about why these adults were waiting in line to go to the "big kid school." I was smiling and laughing, thinking what inquisitive and funny kids I have... Well, an hour later, the excitement factor had definitely worn off, and thankfully, my husband had arrived and was helping me wrangle the boys into line every few minutes.

The problem? No kid at that age should be forced to stand in a line for an hour let alone two. You'd think I'd know this by now...instead, about an hour into it, the fun really began... One son found a golf ball and proceeded to hurl it at the "Don't Park Here" sign while he cracked up. Both boys saw one of their school teachers, Ms. Klauber, and spent 5-10 minutes calling out different variations of her name to try and get her attention ("Ms. Klau-Klau Head!" "Ms. KooKoo! "Ms. KaKa!") while those around us chuckled (sort of...). They then met a girl about their age who, and I kid you not, quizzed them about their candidate of choice while they crawled all over the ground looking for fire ants. And the piece de resistance: when Mark and I turned around to find both boys chewing on the wooden fence next to us...we spent the next few minutes picking woodchips out from between their teeth during which one of the boys commented: "Mommy, only beavers eat wood, I don't know why I did that." Good call, kiddo...but I had to laugh. It was damn funny. It just was.

Keep in mind, my poor kids were doing the best they could to stay sane while they waited and we hadn't even gotten into the school yet! Meanwhile, I'm hearing my Blackberry ding with messages and wondering if I'm ever going to be able to a) do my civic duty before b) having to get my kids to school before c) being ridiculously late to work.

Thankfully, I eventually voted, and my troopers were at least a little happy about getting "I Voted" stickers. Granted, I had to bribe them with fruit snacks, stickers and juice boxes to get them into the car afterwards to get them to school, but hey, all in a day's work, right?

The funniest part, I think, is when my quieter son, Rhys, walked into school and proceeded to flatly tell his teacher that his mommy had just voted for the Obaminable Snowman, which really scared him in the Rudolph movie and that he didn't like him at all.

Gotta love kids.

Post-its in my eyeglass case

Let me preface this post by saying that I'm in no-way a man basher--in fact, I love men, which is why I married a great one. BUT (and you knew there'd be a "but"), I realized today why it is that we women try to take on the world...it's because we're the ones that get s@#$ done!

I've made excuses forever why little post-its fall out of every glasses case I own, because frankly, it may seem a bit odd or even dishelved that pieces of paper trail behind me wherever I go...but my system works. Here's the deal: I know that in order to see, I have to open my glasses case and pull my glasses out, so if I stick a reminder post-it in my glasses case, I'm pretty darn sure that when I open it, I'll be holding my reminder. I know, brain surgery, eh? Granted, I've got a million little post-its following me around, but I figure who cares, at least I'll remember to bring the check to my kids' school for the wrapping paper or wreath I probably don't need (but will love, of course!) or remember to go to that 8am meeting instead of getting coffee first, etc.

So, long story before the punchline. I'm in a meeting today and every time something that hasn't had any progress made on it comes up--and all are connected to men, I might add--the comment is something like "they're so busy, they just haven't had time to work on that" and then they look to the women in the room to help "take action." Needless to say, I'm a little puzzled and find myself cocking my head sideways like a dog when they hear something high-pitched, and thinking: "Hmmm...yes, men, they are really, really busy, I don't know how they manage it all." Ok, I'll kill the sarcasm, but you have to admit, it's almost comical, right? They can be great dads and employees and friends, but guys' multi-tasking skills are for the birds. So rather than nudge them into learning the skill, people turn to women to help these poor creatures...

I can't help but want to call out: "All it takes are a few post-its and a little commitment, guys!" Seriously, I'm even considering giving all of the guys in my work and personal life a huge stack of post-its (with operating instructions) for Xmas this year...I'd even be willing to get them in red, green and white if that made it more festive and fun. Man, I sound cynical today--sorry...guess it's time for a reminder post-it not to be so cynical tomorrow!

Now I understand how a duck feels

Sometimes you just have to laugh. If not, you'd cry.

As I stand at my kitchen counter two minutes before the boys are supposed to go to bed trying to make a calendar to help them STAY in bed (the idea: stay in bed instead of ump-teen "I need to pee," "I've got a splinter in my toe, "I've got a pimple on my butt cheek," etc., and they get a sticker...and stickers equal treats), I realize I don't have a ruler to make the lines in the calendar, nor can I find a pen. Nice. But, I'm a resourceful woman, and rather than call it quits, I use the edge of my son's Superman coloring book and my other son's lizard pen. Ok, so it's not pretty, but it's done. I tell them how it's going to work and they're psyched. Success--at least for now. Yay, me!

So, I sit down--the first time in hours--and stare out of my kitchen window, still glowing about our new patio pavers that we put down in hyperspeed while the boys napped (I swore I'd never be one of those people who got excited about things like this). Anyway, I'm excited because for months, I've watched out of the window of our kitchen as our dogs dug holes to China and ate lava rocks (and whatever else yummy--and usually dead--they found). Now, for once, we're hole-free. Mory, however, our 14-year-old scruffy mutt, has decided that holes are no longer the game of choice...and as I gaze out the window, he proceeds to "drop big poopies out of his bum" (as the kids say) right onto our new pavers. You've got to be frickin' kidding me. I've got a whole yard with grass and he picks the new pavers??? I really don't need a dog. I'm serious...or the other one. Ok, yes, I am a huge animal lover, but I'm ready to set both of them free at this moment, because if one does it, I know the other (our 11-year-old Doberman) will follow. Whatever, it'll go away eventually, right? Rain, wind...

So much for glowing...except perhaps that I just realized I'm going to get a haircut in two weeks. Granted, I'll probably have to reschedule it 2 or 3 times because of my nutty schedule, but hey, the thought of getting a neck and head massage--if even just for 5 minutes--is just beautiful. Dash from work to the salon, let my stylist play with my hair and massage my head for a half hour, then rush to preschool and get the kids so I can rush home and make some semblance of dinner, so then I can get back onto my computer. Ahh...the joy of being a duck--calm on the surface and legs paddling madly beneath the water.