My hamper floweth over

Yep, I celebrated my 33rd birthday on Thursday. The big 3 3. That doesn't count as mid-thirties, does it?
A friend of mine who is a little (a few months) older than me said she remembers watching "Thirty Something" when she was younger and thinking how old the characters were. I remember feeling exactly the same way. Not only that, but I also thought it was weird that they were all such older parents of young kids. Yep, that's proof I am from a small town in the mid west, ain't it?
There are some things I find interesting about being 33, some things that take me by surprise:
1. I feel much younger than my body looks. Who is that old lady in the mirror?
2. Music from my youth can make me forget what year it is. I'll be driving down the road
mini-van radio blaring some wonderful eighties tune when the "Mom! People are staring at us! Turn that down, gosh!" literally makes me jump. What? Who was that? I have kids? Five of them? When did this happen? And I totally feel like I aged from 16 to 33 in that very moment.
3. I still think farts are funny

Anyway, my birthday was nice. I am a big Coldplay fan, and since some people don't think that Coldplay changing their concert date is sufficient enough reason to change the date of their wedding*, and now I probably won't get to go to their concert, Chad managed to book them on the Daily Show for my birthday. Which was great, considering Jon Stewart and Chris Martin are the two men I would consider leaving my husband for. He even managed to have them play "Lost!" which is my favorite song from their new album. Impressive, huh?

*Just kidding, myself and the rest of the Keiths are all totally excited about the wedding. But I was wondering, have you asked about them playing at the reception? You never know...

I am in the office, which is right off the living room, and the kids are flipping through the channels. I hear Oprah, and ask the kids to wait a minute, I want to see what her show is about today.

Oprah: Today we have an idol, his millions of fans know him as J.T.

Me: oooh, leave it here, I want to see this.

Kids: loud sigh, and I think I can actually hear their eyes rolling in their heads.

Oprah:(I should mention here that there is some vaguely familiar pop music playing in the background) Here is is the one and only Justin Timberlake!

Me: loud sigh, I am pretty sure you can hear my eyes rolling in my head, "you can change it now"


Anyone care to guess who I mistakenly thought was Oprah's guest?.

I have had it up to here with blogger. It Took me about 10 tries to get that video of Jordan singing up, and each time I lost my whole post. There was initially witty text involved, something about my camera being broken because it didn't capture the cherubim sitting at my daughter's shoulder and the heavens opening and shining down upon her, but I was so fed up by the time my husband finally managed to get the video up that I couldn't look at my computer screen if that annoying blogger logo was in the corner.

Anyway, I guess I am over it. And I have great news! I just found out that a very good old friend of mine that I haven't seen in many years has finally seen the light and become a Presbyterian! That's right, another Presbyterian with hair that is neither a shade of blue or gray! And, she has more kids than me. Six. Five of them boys. Her house is probably as loud as mine! And maybe even as messy!


You know what that means, right? That I am by Presbyterian law required to recruit her for family camp. I have already mentioned the no cooking or dishes for seven whole meals in a row, which is all it takes for me, really, but I thought I might post some pictures as well in case she needs some extra convincing.

This is the camp in its entirety.

As a new Presby, I am guessing you have never seen so many walker free fellow Presbys, eh?






Okay, I know the pool pictures could have a negative recruiting effect on a mother. You want to put on a swimsuit how early in t he summer? But I will volunteer to sit next to you. I'll even put off that diet I've been talking about since Max was born for another whole year. The sacrifices I'll make for a friend....



This eight week old baby of a fellow class of 93 graduate from big Mac was there this year. I won't tell you who it is unless you come.

There's canoing!




There's fishing!



Processed meat!



And catfish skeletons!


I think that last picture would seal the deal for just about anyone.
they should hire me to make the brochures.

Every May, our lives become a whirlwind of activities. End of the year this, end of the season that, it seems like every evening there is some obligatory activity.

Usually, I become so overwhelmed by all of it that I forget that when it's all over, there will be a great void of organized activities. And that my kids need structure. They are so used to a full schedule that a switch to full days of free time leads to utter chaos.

This year, however, I am prepared. I have new books, computer games and arts and crafts up my sleeves. I know that I need to go over the days plans at breakfast. I am confident! I am woman! Hear me roar!


Here are a few pics of some of the things that have kept us on the go as of late:





A picture of all of the kids following the oldest girls' concert. They are getting better at this whole smiling for the camera, no?




Yet another "brainiac". Yep, that's Max holding a real human brain at math and science night at school.



Some soccer pics. I have to take a minute to give a shout out to Coach Tyler. Thank you for taking our team of misfits and turning them into a team that could hold their heads high (and us parents, too). Even Max got the hang of it by the end of the season, mostly. Notice the picture at the bottom where he is walking with the other team in the "good game" line. He's three, people. He went from laying face down on the field, to running with the ball to the other field (still need t o get some footage of that up, it was too funny), to stopping when the whistle was blown and kicking the ball in the general direction of the other teams goal. Can't ask for more than that.







We went to Kansas City a few weekends ago to visit my sister and I took the older two girls to see Wicked again. It was amazing again. The little kids and Chad had fun at Science City. It was a great trip.

AND... only TWO SLEEPS until family camp! AND.....I am almost done packing!!!!

Yep, I can feel an awesome summer on its way...

I mean it. I really want some feedback here. I need to know if I am just a crazy overprotective mom, or just a mildly crazy mom.

i don't let my preteens wear skimpy bikinis. I feel like they are more for laying out than for actually swimming. They can wear tankinis, or bikinis with a more sports bra like top, but there has to be more material up top than two tiny triangles of fabric.

I don't let my sixth grader pluck her eyebrows. she did it without permission, and I am making her let them grow back as punishment. I know, I know, I'll have to sit through a therapy session about it when she's older. It won't be as painful for me as the ones where she recounts how I made her drink dish soap when she had the stomach flu (mistaking it for Gatorade) or the one time she walked in on mommy and daddy wrestling. I will rethink the whole eyebrow thing next year.

Friday, I went to pick up my sixth grader from school, and she came to the van carrying 4 cans of Red Bull. She could tell by the look on my face I was not pleased, and she tried to reassure me that she was only drinking one of them, the rest were empty cans she had picked up to put in our recycling bin. I told her I was proud she thought to recycle them, but asked her where they came from. She told me a car with a big Red Bull can had driven up and handed them out to the students. For free! Wasn't that nice? I went on a rant about while I wasn't mad at her, I was pretty upset that the school hadn't stopped them, and how the person who did it found it okay to hand out a product not meant for children to children. I told her that caffeine, especially in that high amount, is a drug, and told her I feel about the same about them passing them out as I would if a big camel came to hand out cigarettes. Okay, I know that is a bit of an exaggeration, trust me, Jordan reminded me that I would be "way more mad" about that, but honestly? I'm still pretty mad. I am shocked that there isn't an age limit on any of the "energy" products, and also that they seem to be marketing them more and more towards children.

So, the meanest mom ever? Or just in the top ten. You be the judge.

One day, at work, I was talking to a few of the kids in my class, two year olds, about their younger siblings. One little girl walks up and says "I'm a big sister." knowing she's an only child, I called her silly and tickled her. The look of two year old I-will-make-myself-heard-you-will-understand-me determination crosses her face and she says "No, I'm going to be a big sister."

I mention it to her mom after school, and she tells me she is indeed going to be a big sister.

After she leaves, I remember that her daughter had fifths disease the week before, so on Monday I ask if her ob was aware that she was exposed. She tells me yes, they were mildly concerned, but everything is okay.

Today we found out a child who comes opposite days of her has hand foot and mouth. I mention it to her and that the info sheet they handed us says to call your doctor if you are exposed. I tell her that htey aren't ever in class together, he hasn't been there in a week, but I just wanted her to be aware.

That all sounds kosher, right?

Only today when I was talking to her she was standing next to another mother in my class, a friend of hers.

Yeah, and her friends looks very perplexed and says, "Is there something you haven't told me?"

I. SUCK.

I wanted to crawl in a hole.

She says "Didn't I tell you? I'm only 14 weeks."

If I thought it would make things better, I'd write her a letter...

Yep, it's moments like these that make a mother's heart sing with pride. And by the way, this was his contribution to the game in its entirety. There was another game this weekend, and the footage of it is equally entertaining. Look for him in his film debut "Nap it like Beckam".

Okay, I feel really bad leaving my previous post up so long. I promise I am not in a mental institution or rehab.

The tomorrow after my last post was not a good one. Nor the next. There had been mild work related drama, and a familiar anxiety filled knot was beginning to form in my stomach. However, unlike my previous job, where one drama filled situation led unresolved to the next, this situation was handled fabulously and resolved within a week. My directors worked together using logic, respect, and compassion for their staff to come up with a great solution. And I wonder how I managed to make it for six long, drama-filled years at such a negative, horrible place? Which, from what I hear, hasn't gotten any better with my departure, so there, former boss, you were wrong. Anyway, I already know t he answer to my question, I stayed because I hate change. Even good ones. Something to work on.

So after a veree bad week I decided to get away for the weekend. My friend Kristi and I took the kids down to Dwight for a nice relaxing weekend. And it was. Great weather, kids played outside and enjoyed the freedom of being able to explore a little, we saw a snake, good times.

And while I would love to type THE END. in giant letters, you should know by now that's not how my luck runs.

On the way back, my van died. DIED. Is still dead, about 120 miles away. Parked at a marina. Not the marina where my mom's boat is, by the way. That would be to easy. No, the nice man with the tow truck dropped it off at the wrong marina. About 20 miles away. And it's not by any city of any real size. And we now, and for the next several weeks, have one van and seven people with seven different schedules. And our tax rebate money is now spent on van repairs.

BUT:


The weekend produced this picture of my kids. Which makes it all come out about even in my book.

I found a note card that my son had written that phrase on this weekend. "Bad. Veree Bad". And I thought "Ain't that the truth?" It summed up my week.

Chad took the kids to visit his dad and grandma this weekend and I had twenty-four whole hours alone to do some spring cleaning. My initial plan was to hit the house hard until about 10:00 pm and then go have a few drinks with some friends.

But people? I. Was. On. A. Roll. I only slept for about 5 hours, and the rest of the time was spent in the trenches.

Not only did I scrub every surface in my house, I also "decrapified" a whole bunch. I watched part of this Oprah show last week about hoarding, and while on the surface I might not seem like a hoarder, the state of all the closets and drawers in my house hold dirty little secrets.

I threw away eight bags of lids that don't match, lidless containers, mismatched socks,holey t-shirts, broken hamster balls,kids art work (shhh) capless markers, broken crayons, etc.

I filled my husband's van with stuff to donate.

It. Felt. good. Clean, fresh, new.

This morning, however, the "veree bad" started all over again.

And guess who likes to show up at my doorstep ugly little head in times like these? That's right, my good ol' pal depression.

But I'm not opening the door. And I am screening my calls. I think I will write him a
Dear John letter. Because we are through.

And tomorrow? Just to let you know, tomorrow, I am expecting you to be Good. Veree Good.

What is the point of buying a new digital camera if your children won't stop make silly faces and protesting every time you try to take their picture? Max was actually screaming "No picture! No picture mommy!" whilst holding his hand up to the camera.

I see all the blogs with the children posing, smiling, enough for their moms to post pictures weekly, or more!

How do you other bloggers do it? Although I am pretty sure I mean that to be a rhetorical question, for fear the answer is somewhere along the lines of your children being better behaved, which could quite possibly be true.

Fortunately, they all redeemed themselves by standing still and smiling just long enough to take a semi-decent family picture.

Even if a certain someone had to be bribed with jelly beans.




HAPPY EASTER!