A Letter To My Son

My Dearest Potter,

Although you are still too young to read this letter, I promise to keep it in a safe place for when your old enough to understand.

Its hard to believe that five years have already gone by. Your early arrival into this world was both a surprise and delight for our entire family. Although we were expecting you to arrive with the fall of the leaves you made the sole decision to jump with only three pushes during a beautiful July afternoon. Your Daddy, and Mom Mom held my hands as I watched the doctor hold you for a short display then quickly whisk you away to the NICU.

I didn't even know what those initials stood for until the day you were born. When I held you in my arms for the first time, everything felt so perfect. It wasn't until years later that I would look back on the pictures and fully understand the look of fear that showed on some of our family members faces.

At just 3lbs. 13 ozs. you took no prisoners. Your shakey start was easily foreshadowed by your endearing smile and sure will to stay with the family who fell in love with you immediately. During the times when your progress fell short; you reassured us with a hug and kiss, as if to say: "The mountain was too steep today, but it isn't going anywhere, and either am I! I just need a little more time." And by the next try, you did indeed climb the mountain.

You continue to be my inspiration and teacher every day of your life. You have never met a person you didn't like. (May that always be true).

Today was truly fulfilling. As we walked the halls of your soon to be new school, there was a look of wonderment on your face. I saw the explorer, the inventor, the artist and the friend wanting dearly to emerge. And in time, they will all get their turn.

Today, Mommy and Daddy have decided to give you something you seldom ask for, but so gratefully accept.....time.

Your day is coming Potter.You may have entered the world small, but you will leave a big impression. I thank God every day that you were sent to me.

I love you with all my heart.

Mommy

On The Menu: Germs, Ashes, and American Idol

Wednesday has nearly come and gone and I've come to the conclusion that I may have little to report for the day. However, around 10pm last night I realized that I just might have become infected with the mystery illness that has been shutting down all life as I know it including blogger friends for the past month.

Making a doctor's appointment was a waste of time. I called around 3pm today and their voice mail stated they were on lunch. Must have been some feast. I ate around 11 am and was already planning dinner at that time.

The lovely hubby that I adore offered me his prescriptions which I thought was loving (if not a bit illegal). So I'll call again tomorrow.

Little Potter came home from school happy to report he got his ashes today. Potter attends Catholic Kindergarten, and of course today is Ash Wednesday. He pointed right to the spot on his forehead where his ashes supposedly were. I gave him a smile, but honestly, I couldn't even find a speck. I'm sure they were there at some point today, just not now. I did however spot the jelly left over from his lunch that his teacher allowed him to wear the rest of the afternoon. I don't exactly understand this no matter how hard I try. When I taught Kindergarten I never left a child leave the day with a dirty face. Dirty clothes, perhaps, but not a dirty face.

On the upside, the siding on the house was repaired after it blew off during that wind storm last week. Hopefully it will last a little longer than the first (we've been here for 6 years).

I hate to admit it, but while writing this post, I'm also watching American Idol. It's not really my thing, but Hubby seems to enjoy it (Like most reality shows). It's like a train wreck: I don't want to watch, but I find myself peeking over the computer. I'm afraid I'll get sucked in. Just like I did that last seven seasons (Oops, did I just admit that?) Text Vote 5704 Nick Mitchell.

The Great Doubloon Story

Happy Mardi Gras/Fat Tuesday! I don't know what it is about this day, but ever since I taught Kindergarten I felt the need to celebrate it like only a Mom can. Since my kids are still fairly young, I can get away with this silliness. But before I go into one of my tangents, I decided that I would share how we celebrated Mardi Gras last year (which by the way, shall go down in history).

Potter was in Pre-school, and thank goodness his teacher was just as crazy as his Mom. Anyway, he spent the day doing Mardi Gras crafts, then was super excited when he was sent home with beads and doubloons (Which he swore were actual gold coins). Who was I to tell him differently?

We were having a great afternoon, until I heard a scream coming from the bathroom. What could possibly be going on? I opened the door only to find Potter with his pants down leaning over the toilet. "Are you sick," I asked.

"Mommy, my gold coins are all gone," he said.

"Well where did you put them?" I asked.

"Mommy, the toilet took them. When I flushed, they slipped out of my hand, and now they're all gone. You got to get them Mommy. Use the plunger."

On one hand it's nice to think that you're children believe that you are capable of anything. On the other hand it can really suck when your children think you're capable of anything.

I looked at the toilet, then looked at Potter (face still streaming with tears).

I grabbed the plunger, and went to work. Ten minutes later, with perspiration running down my back, I decided to quit. (No doubloons).

Hence, the Great Doubloon Story created and told to Potter, Mardi Gras 2008:

Once Upon a Time there lived in the deep ocean a very poor fish named Marty Graz. He wasn't able to afford all the nice things that his other fishy friends had, but he was still a very happy fish.

On the other side of the world there lived a very happy boy named Potter. Potter lived a very rich life, so much so that he carried his gold coins wherever he went. One day by mistake, Potter left go of his gold coins while using the bathroom. They were flushed and never seen again.

The coins traveled through pipes, streams, rivers, and finally to the deepest depths of the ocean. It was there that a little fish by the name of Marty Graz found the gold coins.

"What to do, what to do,"he thought. "I know, I'll have a parade and call it Marty Graz. And I'll share my new found fortune with my friends.

The smile on Potter's face was priceless.

Being a storyteller has it's perks. Being a poor fish at sea has it's rewards. But being a Mommy is the best job in the world!

It Should Have Been Sunday!

So the kids have been on an antibiotic for a week now. I was figuring that I could start this week off fresh and germ free, but instead I was startled at 6:45 am by blood curdling screams. I ran upstairs only to find I had gone into the wrong child's room. The screams were coming from Scooter.

I assumed that it would be Potter since he had missed 3 days of school last week. His only problem it turns out was he thought it was Sunday (bummer). So it took a little longer than normal to get that school uniform on him.

When I finally made it to Scooter's room, he was screaming he needed me, and that he had to go to the bathroom. OK I thought, not too much of an emergency. But as I picked him out of his bed, I could feel the fever right through his pajamas. Poor guy was burning up. I skipped the morning routine, and instead wrapped him in a blanket and brought him down to the couch. Every good mother knows that most cooties can be dissolved with a dose of cartoons.

As I took care of problem #1(Scooter), Problem #2(Hubby) called on the phone. Turns out he came to his senses half way to work when he began sweating at a red light. He was not ready to return. Maybe next time he'll listen when I say not everything can be cured with a pack of Halls and a bottle of Mucinex.

I tried my best at completing my normal Monday routine (4 loads of laundry, vacuum, and register Scooter for Pre-school (sob!) I will need another post to discuss the four years that seem to have flown by, and yet another post to discuss the amount I plan to spend on psychologist bills so that I may get through the process of letting someone else take care of my baby for the day.

Seems I'm done here for now. I have not lost my sense of humor, just my sense of direction, and my mind! Warmer days are coming!

I Won! I Won!

So I returned from a day of doing taxes and occupying children while my husband tried recuperating from this awful cold. Of course first on my agenda was to check email. I had 27 new ones waiting for me. As I'm deleting one by one, something catches my eye.... the word Congratulations!

Despite the many scams that are usually associated with this word, one can not help but pause just to see if there is a slight chance of good fortune. Lucky me, my pause was worth every bit of time.

See, about a month ago, I entered a writing contest on HumorPress.com. Turns out I was named a semi-finalist. Also turns out, someone thinks I'm funny besides my kids. Well, that's good news all around. If you would like to check out my article titled "Soap Opera: A Reality Show" please go to HumorPress.com. Click on winners and scroll down to Semi-Finalist.

I'm stoked! I didn't even have a speech planned. Well, this blog will have to do. Of all weekends for this to happen: Oscar Weekend! I feel like a star. I should have picked out a dress, or had my hair done. Who am I kidding? I think I'll just settle for a hot bath, and a tall glass of wine. Cheers!

Pay It Forward Friday

Welcome to Pay It Forward Friday. I was looking for something special to get us in the mood for the weekend (as if the word Friday doesn't do it for us already!)

If you don't already understand the premise of Pay It Forward, here it is: The idea is to do something nice for someone, but with no strings attached. Basically, you won't be waiting for a payment, a pat on the back, or any recognition what so ever. The only thing you ask of that person is to be kind to someone else. And yes, your children count. What a great lesson to teach them to be kind just for the sake of it.

Since I'm quarantined today with a sick family, I'll do my best at this task. In other words, I'm calling on the troops. Send me your best Pay It Forward favor, compliment or whatever you may have in mind. I'm looking Forward to reading. Good Luck!

Is That My Husband?

Oh no, whoever that is, please don't tell me it's my husband. I take a closer look. Crap, Crap, Crap! It is, it really is my husband!

How dare you, you darn cootie bug. How dare you attack him. I've been taking care of sick children for over ten days. I'm finished, I'm tired. Wait a minute....I'm healthy!

How can this be? Usually by now I have a fever of 101, my body feels like it was used as a pinata, and I'm attached to an I.V. drip of Sangria (just to help keep my sense of humor).

I know it's my destiny. I'm counting down the days. I actually thought I would wake up this morning like my younger son involuntarily dripping nose sauce. Especially when I went to kiss him last night and he blew a cough right into my mouth. That's right, I said a cough.

Well the only true plans I have this weekend are to get my taxes done. And let's face it, by the time I walk out of there, I'll feel like I'm dying anyway.

So I'm peeking over my computer at Hubby who I believe should be tightly wrapped in a bubble. He just reached for the remote. Looks like I'm going to miss Grey's Anatomy tonight because I am not touching that thing. (I mean the remote, not my husband).

Signing off now, bloggies. May your nights be filled with germ free dreams!

Warning: Kids May Cause Drowsiness!

Day two of keeping Very Sick Kid home is half way through; though not without excitement/turmoil.

The morning began when a cup of chocolate milk shot straight into the air at the breakfast table. Both kids placed blame on Dino (A stuffed gray dinosaur which sleeps with Scooter every night and joins us for breakfast every morning). Unlike the favorite children's book series Danny and the Dinosaur, Dino does not walk, talk, smile or drink chocolate milk. So imagine my dismay when both children swore all blame fell on this inanimate object.

A small scolding and a roll of paper towels later, I resumed the roll of Happy/Super Mom. I managed to vacuum, do two loads of laundry, take down some Valentine's Day decorations, and save my home from perishing in a fire ball. (My coffee maker shorted out....of all things!)

And by 1:30 I collapsed. Yes, I snuck in a cat nap. A nearly impossible task to achieve while catering to sick children, but Oh how grateful I am. That is, until I woke up. Only in PA can it go from 70 degrees one week to a brisk 40 degrees with falling snow the next week. I suddenly felt like Dorthy in The Wizard of Oz when she fell asleep in a bed of poppies only to awaken in a flurry of snow. I'm still hoping the Wizard has time to grant one last wish: A hot meal for my kids and self that I don't have to cook. Maybe I should just ask for some courage.

Turns out, I made dinner for kids and self without the help of a Wizard, and it wasn't half bad. Of course only I can manage to pull off a Chicken Marsala dish without mushrooms. (Should have checked the pantry before beginning that adventure).

And so I realize now that we have finished baths, dinner and snack. Hubby has still not come in from work. Apparently I begun this whole blog adventure around noon, and it only took seven hours to write it. (A Record!)

Soon enough Very Sick Kid and Slightly Sick Kid will be heading to bed and I will begin this entire adventure all over again. But I will be doing it with a new coffee pot!

Attention Mommies,

I just received such a nice complement from a fellow Mommy that I felt compelled to return the favor. Calista Quinn of "Two Be a Mom" http://twobeamom.blogspot.com/ runs a lovely website. Take some time to visit. Oh, and don't forget to send her a congrats....she's expecting!

Man Down!

In every war there's going to be casualties. The same holds true for the front lines of Mommy Hood. I've noticed a slight similarity in most of the Mommy Blogs I've read this past month...your children are all sick. Some have husbands and even yourselves praying to the porcelain Gods for mercy. And like the compassionate reader I am I had one thing to say: "Thank God, it's not me.

But then about 10 days ago I noticed a fine stream of nose sauce flowing from Potter. "A sign of things to come," I thought? My suspicions were finally confirmed today after our doctors visit. Looks like both kids caught a cold, then Potter may have caught the flu on top of that. Scooter is still milking nose sauce with a side of hacking cough.

It was one of those days where so much was planned but nothing was accomplished. Every time I tried, I failed. My Very Sick Child spent most of the day laying on our couch, while my Slightly Sick Child spent most of the day trying to annoy my Very Sick Child. After being woken up by shrieking wails coming from Very Sick Child in the middle of the night, my body was having a hard time dealing with Slightly Sick Child. I haven't figured out yet if it's his age or the order in which he was born. He has an amount of energy that is unexplainable.

It's almost 8pm here in PA. The kids are in bed, and although elated at that fact, I feel I will soon be heading to the same place. I have already decided to keep Potter home from school another day. His fever didn't break until 2 hours ago. I'm praying both kids wake up feeling better than today. I pray harder that I just simply....wake up!

BlogVertise Test Run

To My Fellow Bloggers,

I'm adding a new advertising adventure to my blog. It's titled Blogvertise. You can find it at http://www.blogsvertise.com/ It works like this: You simply sign up. Once your blog is approved you're given product assignments to write a review about. Simply follow the instructions on the Blogvertise website http://www.blogsvertise.com/ then send your post to them. If it is approved you will be paid through your Pay Pal account. Amounts vary.

Nothing comes easy, but I'll be reporting back to let you all know how it works out. If it's a success, I may try my luck again in Ceramic Hell (Read post below for explanation)! Have a great night!

A Holiday in Ceramic Hell

So what do you do when both kids and hubby have off three days in a row? (Said to self: scream, cry, roll into fetal position, find closest spa/resort and sign up for a 4 hour massage).

All right, I'll try to act like an adult now. It's so much easier during the summer months. We can walk, swim, go to the playground. All of which by the way do not put a dent in our wallet.

The winter months are less forgiven. Sure there are things to do, but when everyone is trying to cut back, I begin to run out of ideas. No one wants to spend the entire day in the house; especially me.

So last night while sitting in my office/bathroom I decided to look through that cool coupon book we bought from Potter's school for only $25. Since I rarely go anywhere without a coupon in hand, I figured I could look through this book for some ideas.

Interestingly enough, I found this ceramic shop not too far from us. It had a great website that showed a wall of ceramics from which your child could choose. The ceramics were an additional cost, but really, how much could that be?

Holy Fort Knox Batman! Let me just tell you how expensive this can be. Apparently there is a sitting fee. (You know, the pleasure of allowing your butt to rest upon a piece of furniture which they supply...what?) Since it was a holiday, the sitting fees were cut in half. This sounded like good news until they informed me that since I was already getting a special I could no longer use my coupon. (This was a sign from God that I ignored...Shame!)

The kids, Hubby and myself all picked a ceramic and got down to business. Need I not mention what a three year old does with paint. It truly is priceless.

The whole experience took about an hour (way too long) but I had to finish painting that darn bunny that Scooter picked out for me. Hubby got away with painting a mug which required one shade. Except when he realized Wifey would be taking a bit longer, he added polka dots (Freaky)

So Hubby took the kids to the potty while I headed to the register. "That will be $74. for today," the woman said politely. Needless to say,I should have been the one in the potty, because I think I just crapped myself. I gave the nice lady my credit card. At least I earn rewards toward the new car that by the way I can't afford either. (Only 15,000 more trips to ceramic hell and it could be mine.)

Once upon a time ceramic classes were for the poor kids. At least that is how it worked in my neighborhood. It was the one activity that most parents could afford. Every Saturday my brother and I would head to ceramic class for our weekly dose of toxins (no longer a worry due to all the tree huggers; myself included). Boy, have times changed!

We decided against heading into Philadelphia to visit a museum for fear we would spend too much money. So the plan failed, but it was worth every penny!

Sorry, there is no A La Carte Menu!

Despite being Valentines Day, Saturday blended into the rest of the week quite normally. I had a list of things I needed to accomplish, and no sappy holiday was going to stop me. Don't get me wrong, I like Valentine's Day, but somehow after the "I Do" was said, the "I'll try," "I'll be late tonight honey," "Sorry, I have a headache," and of course "The kids!!" often take precedence.

We had swimming lessons, a haircut, and a photo shoot (which I forgot to schedule) that day. Here was the plan: Hubby would take Potter to swimming then get his hair cut for school pictures later this week. I would call the studio and schedule birthday photos for Scooter. Brilliant!

I tried a new studio this year (mistake #1). I should have gone to reliable Kiddie Kandid's, but they were a little out of the way for everything that needed to be done. The studio had an opening for 10am. They mentioned on the phone something about bringing a few pair of clothes. That's weird I thought. I don't usually change my kids for birthday photos. Besides, I didn't have the time to even look for another outfit. I just realized Scooter had grown out of his dress shoes and would need to borrow his brother's school shoes for said "photo shoot."

So we arrived at the studio, or should I say "Sport's Illustrated?" I could add up on my fingers the number of photos hanging on our wall of Scooter, I was not prepared for this craziness. The photographer just kept clicking and clicking. After she finished we were brought to a big screen T.V. to view our photos. Literally, there were over 60 pictures to view. I was overwhelmed.

I was asked to narrow down my favorites by choosing one picture out of every three. When we had finished, the photographer showed us the package they offered. And for only four hundred dollars it could all be mine.

"Four what?" I asked. "I came here for a birthday photo, I don't want all these pictures!" (Although they were of my child and incredibly cute)

The photographer explained to me that they only sold custom packages.

"Can I see your price sheet for a la carte packages," I sweetly asked.

I guess that wasn't the question to ask this woman because she then replied by saying: "We do not do A La Carte Packages. We only do custom packages!"

So I was trying to make a deal with the devil. It wasn't the first time, and certainly won't be my last. It literally took another half an hour to get my my total down to $99. They were finally singing my tune. The truth was though, I wasn't sure who was wearing who down first.

"Ninety nine dollars...SOLD," I yelled. The studio was silent. Apparently they do not appreciate stimulus package humor. The photographer rang up my order then told me it would take about 30 minutes for my pictures to be done. "Dear Lord," I thought. I needed to come back.

On the drive home I thought about the many ways I could explain this fiasco to my husband. Luckily, cupid stepped in and reminded everyone that it was Valentine's Day. Hubby was very forgiven even sympathetic. (Boy do I have a good guy).

We finished the day by going out to dinner with Potter and our new Sport's Illustrated cover model. There's never a dull moment on the Brennan Ranch. Hope all your Valentine's Days were just as exciting as ours!

Huff, Puff, Blow My House Down!

Well yesterday started out quite normal. Actually, that's a bit of a lie. The weatherman predicted heavy winds, and boy was he right on the money. I was up most of the night wondering just how strong this house of mine really is. Turns out, I would find the answer to that question later that day.

It began in the shower around 6 am when half way through washing suds out of my hair my lights began to dim. No way I thought "I'm not getting stuck in here with no light." Hubby had just left for work, and I could just imagine the horror in my little boys eyes when they saw their mother running through the house dripping wet, naked, a pound of bubble in her hair and frantically searching for a candle. I quickly rinsed, jumped out, and lit that candle. Luckily daylight soon rescued us from that close call.

The winds were suppose to be around 40 miles an hour but the news said that at times it reached 60. But seriously, unless there's a funnel, little will stop this Mommy from her daily running. (Not my brightest moment).

So Scooter and I headed out only to find a woman just leaving the Party store with a dozen balloons. (Not her brightest moment). Needless to say she attempted to put the whole batch of balloons in her trunk; yes in her trunk. She obviously didn't watch the same weatherman as I had.

And there they went. Up, Up, Up. Hilarious! Maybe I shouldn't of laughed at this woman, but I couldn't help it. Especially with a three year old in the back yelling "Hey Mom, the tree caught that one."

I soon realized that we would probably be safer at home; so that's where we headed.

A wind storm is a remarkable thing. As I sat on my couch blogging as usual I took notice to this giant piece of plastic that was rolling past my neighbor's yard. I have no idea where it came from. Judging at the size, I imagined it was used on rainy days to cover Wrigley Field. For whatever reason the wind picked it up and threw it over my fence. Great, now it's my problem! Well, that will just have to wait until this storm blows over.

Again, I return to blogging.

I take a quick moment to glance back at the window. Let's just say good thing I did. I couldn't exactly make out what flew by, I just knew it was big. I get up to look out only to find a giant mess of white board broken into a million pieces scattered on my neighbor's driveway. What the heck is going on? Now I'm forced to put my coat on.

I'm sure when I open the door everything will be in vivid color and I'll be met by a village of munchkins and a beautiful witch. If my luck continues I may even get a cool pair of ruby slippers out of this deal. (No such luck).

I head down to said crime scene. I can't believe my eyes. Yes, a piece of my house was ripped right off my house? This is criminal. I can and have fixed many things that have broken in this home, but all bets are off when it's 30 feet in the air. Not to mention, no glue (or duck tape) will ever be able to fix this damage.

I begin to pick up the scraps, being ever so careful no to impale myself with one of the many three inch nails protruding from the boards. Mind you, this is all being done during a wind storm.

I return back inside my home, only to become hysterical. Not crying, but laughing. You know, like I did at the balloon lady earlier that day.

It seems what goes around comes around. This day has been a true test to Karma, my patience and above all, my funny bone.

My Valentines Day Wish: An Elevator

With only two days left, I thought it was time to announce my Valentines Day wish. Yes Hubby, I would like an elevator.

I have put a great amount of thought into this years request, so please try to consider it a bit before throwing it into the slush pile with the other bright ideas that have not exactly made the drawing board. i.e.- a front load washer with matching dryer, a bathroom in the basement, a Mommy Cadillac, and of course the coveted sauna.

You may ask why I need such a frivolous contraption; well here's your answer.

Although our house isn't very big, I've come to the conclusion that whenever I need something it is inevitably on another floor. Case in point: Potter's social security # was in the file upstairs. I needed to fill in registration paperwork for next school year. The wash needed to be folded downstairs, walked upstairs, then put away sideways (same floor, different room). The phantom Doodie (left by beloved poodle) needed to be cleaned from upstairs, then brought downstairs, then delivered outside to trashcans (yes, more stairs were involved). And the beat goes on.

Total floors climbed yesterday: 22

No lie. I should have the body of a Diva. Unfortunately, that secret addiction to Dunkin Doughnut Muffins has led everything to balance out.

I know my plan is falling on deaf ears since we agreed the next big project would be your Media Room (man cave). Even if it does take another ten years to break ground.

You have always been great at surprises, so here's hoping for just that. I will wake up Saturday morning to the smell of fresh coffee. The children will already have been fed. I go to my staircase only to find that it has been replaced by a glass elevator (like the ones at those fancy hotels). And the buttons work so well there is practically no wait. I reach the first floor in seconds. I head over to the couch and give you a big kiss. You're the best Hubby!

I understand that the construction process may run a little over the expected Valentine's date. So I will also be accepting surprises on President's Day this year as well. XOXO

No Honey, I Didn't Make National News!

You may have to revisit yesterdays post to completely understand what happened today. In a nutshell, while vacuuming my mini-van my scarf accidentally was sucked from my neck leaving me in a temporary panic.

Not to worry. Despite the lack of telephone booths, I was still able to go into Super Mommy Mode and save myself. Thanks to all who left comments. It's nice to know my pain is shared and laughed at by the rest of the world.

O.K. then. Fast forward 24 hours. Phone Rings. It's Hubby.

"Oh thank God you answered," he says.

"Our three year old is to short to reach the phone," I reply.

"I just read an article on CNN.com. It's about a girl who got stuck in the car wash when one of the machines grabbed the scarf from her neck."

"Shut Up," I say.

"Seriously, I thought about what happened to you yesterday, and..."

"You thought I went back for some more?" "My God, what's wrong with you?"

"Anyway, you're fine," he says with incredible admiration. (Made up that part)

"I'm O.K." "Wait a minute, if she was in her car, how did the machine grab her scarf?"

"She wasn't in her car, she works there."

"Oh, I thought I had a bad day yesterday." "Anyway, thanks for caring honey, luv ya!"

Note to self: Future car cleanings will take place in the driveway. Future phone calls from Hubby will be screened for sarcasm.

Warning: Do Not Vacuum Your Car While Wearing A Scarf!

I think my voice took off today. You know, that voice that whispers to you right before you dive into something stupid (with both feet).

So there I was this morning at the gas station with Scooter waiting patiently in his car seat. With all the bad weather we've had lately, the inside of our minivan was beginning to resemble the Rocky Mountains. The pebbles and rocks that had been stuck in the bottom of our shoes now found their way onto the carpet. I had put it off long enough, so I decided today would be the day I vacuumed the inside of my van.

I had forgotten that apparently there is some unwritten rule about dress code before you begin vacuuming the inside of your car. Let's just say, one should not be wearing a scarf.

You can probably guess where this story is going, although it happened so fast, my reaction time was a bit slow. I never saw my scarf go up into the vacuum. There was just a terrible sound, then a tight hold around my neck.

"Oh my God," I yelled.

"Mommy, the vacuum is eating your scarf," Scooter screamed.

"Mommy is O.K, Scooter," I yelled back. I quickly began to rescue myself from the possessed hose which had an obvious appetite for pretty accessories.

"Mommy, the vacuum is eating your Target bag now!"

"Dear Lord," I thought to myself. "Could you please help me out here?"

Just then a stranger pulled up. "Could you tell me where the Warminster Diner is?"

"Are you flipping kidding me," I thought. I just got done rescuing my scarf and purchases from a vacuum, and now you want me to give you directions?

"It's over there," I shouted.

Finally my five minutes had passed and the vacuum saga came to an end.

I have recently been thinking about reentering the work force. But let's be serious, my days won't be half as exciting as they are now.

The Letter

Well I'm unpacking Potter's book bag on Friday like I usually do after he returns from school. I find the normal stuff shoved inside: an art project (adorable), a worksheet (he is learning his numbers now), and a letter from the teacher.

Wait a darn minute! "A letter from the teacher," I say to myself. "What could this possibly be?" As I read the perfect penmanship I begin to feel the hairs on the back of my neck come to full attention. I'm in shock.

I'm silently counting backwards from ten. (Something I picked up from a yoga instructor...not my yoga instructor, just a yoga instructor). I gather my thoughts, then call Potter into the kitchen. I begin by reminding him that he already told me he was good in school that day. I also remind him the difference between telling the truth and not being completely honest with someone.

He spills his guts. (My Spidey Sense has worked again). The funny thing is, he doesn't realize that he is in trouble. It's almost as if his actions were part of some elaborate comedy show he decided to put on for his friends today; only the tickets were free.

I do my best at explaining how we are expected to act when we are at school verses when we are at home. Some parents may believe that there is no difference. I am not one of them.

Don't get me wrong, I teach manners and expect them to be used, but I do realize (especially with 2 boys) the occasional TOOT will be released at the dinner table. Belching is not encouraged, but when you see a 3 year old try with all their might to hold one in without exploding; it truly is a funny scene.

I am a huge fan of some of the greatest comedians ever. I often wonder what is was like in the home where Jerry Lewis grew up? Did Carol Burnett get a nod from her mother when she told her first joke at the dinner table?

"Laugh and the world laughs with you." Well son, that is not always true, especially when you try to see if your butt will fit in the play sink in Kitchen Center.

But remember this: If you use your manners and show respect, your biggest fan will always be your mother. "I love you Potter!" XOXO

The Notorious Button

Every now and again I go into that Mommy place of mine. The one where the world is still going on around me, but suddenly I get to pause for a moment. I would like to tell you that in these few moments that I do get for myself, I save space for only the greatest of thoughts. Right!

What's really going on in that head of mine you ask? Well, let me share a few nuggets from today:

1) How is it possible that everything made with peanut butter is being pulled off the shelves...except peanut butter?

2) Why is it when my dog is sick she suddenly mistakes my dining room carpet for grass?

3) If Cottenelles are really flushable, why doesn't the toilet flush after my 3 year old decides to use the whole box at once?

And that is just today folks!

So I'm wondering again. Not about peanut butter or dogs or even clogged toilets. This time it's about buttons.

Why buttons you ask? Well it's like this. Once upon a time buttons were those cute little things that held our sweaters together. They came in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes they would get tired and fall off, but our mom was right there to sew them back on.

There were other buttons of course. The famous belly button comes to mind. Some hang out, some stay in, some are sexy, and some should stay hidden by let's say, a sweater with lots of buttons.

Buttons in my house were typically forbidden. For whatever reason buttons are magnetic, but only attract one thing...children! Where there's a button, there's usually a child nearby with a finger ever so eager to push. Buttons are everywhere. From the elevator, to the remote, to the nurse call button....everywhere!

And now there seems to be the ever so famous blog button; a so called way of advertising yourself or a company you like by way of a cool logo usually found on the outskirts of your post. It's common now to "Grab" someones button. (Please do not try if it is actually sewn to their sweater) Grabbing involves a basic exchange of buttons so now your readers know "who" you read. (So Joan Rivers).

I'm not exactly sure where people learn to make buttons. Is it a God given gift? Must one attend classes? Is there a secret society? Seriously, I'm looking for an answer.

I proclaim to be a writer (maybe not the best) but a writer. I am not however techie in any way, shape or form. This blog only exist because I firmly believe it was a Mommy who wrote the step by step instructions that I so heavily relied on to get me through the process. I was a Girl Scout, but I must have missed the meeting on buttons. Who knew I would still be paying for that mistake.

So my dear Mommies, I am pleading, I would like to join the gang. I need your help. How did you make those cool buttons? Yes, I've googled, but nothing looks quite like some of the buttons that decorate your blogs. Anyone willing to help will get a huge shout-out, and of course a warm thank you.

A Mother's Stimulus Plan

If you have been paying attention to the news lately, you're probably breathing fire right about now. How many times just in this past month have we heard a story where companies who have received bail out money from the government are still spending like there's no tomorrow. It infuriates me to no end.

It usually takes a lot to get me upset, but I truly have an issue with irresponsibility; especially when we are in such a crisis. What is it going to take to get people to work as a group instead of an individual?

I figure it will be a while before the new administration is able to make a significant impact. (Although they are trying) In the time being, may I propose a few simple suggestions?

1) All Wall Street bonuses should be returned immediately. The money received will be evenly distributed among taxpayers to begin a college fund for your children. If you do not have children, you may make a donation in your name to a deserving child.

2) If your child becomes ill, and adequate medical care can not be found nearby, you and your child may have use of the Citi Group Corporate jet for your transportation needs. Free of charge of course! All expenses above and beyond your insurance coverage will be picked up by Sandy Weill.

3)John Thain, former chief executive of Merrill Lynch became famous for spending $1.2 million on decorating his office. Since he is out of a job and loves decorating so much, may I suggest he be put to work fixing some of our neighborhood playgrounds. (Sorry John, this is an unpaid position) Maybe Mr. Thain will have to learn to live on his savings (Like the rest of us).

4) Families who are generous enough to take in other families due to foreclosure will receive a discount on their taxes. (Good deeds should always be recognized).

5) Companies that distribute baby formula will have to follow the example of the automobile industry and begin to give discounts. I don't pretend to understand the ingredients in a can of formula. I just know that my instant ice tea mix is twice the size and 80% less the cost. (Something to ponder).

6) Finally, families who are having a tough time making ends meet are entitled to free financial classes. Your tickets will be distributed by former Chicago senator Rod Blagojevich. (See Rod, some seats aren't for sale!) Let's just call this one Karma.

As with most problems, when the going gets tough, the tough call their mothers. So it seems only fitting that this proposal be written by one. God Bless!

Crazy New Yorkers!

Well, I returned from New York City in one piece. I'm unsure how exactly I managed that close to impossible task, but all my body parts are attached, and I'm ready once again to dive into my writing.

As I mentioned in my last post, I attended the SCBWI conference this past weekend. Children's book writers and illustrators are among the greatest groups of people. From those of us who are trying to break into the business to those who have been in it for years; everyone has some advice. Although I have not quite met my goal of being published, I truly feel I am on my way. I always get that big burst of energy when I return from a conference (like the one I am experiencing now)! And who wouldn't be energized after leaving New York?

What a city! I say that with absolute admiration to the people who live there everyday. Busy is such an understatement, especially when you compare it to the busy out here in suburbia. Let me begin with our cab ride. I can only compare it to Disney World's Space Mountain. Once your in, your in until the ride stops. Despite any light which may exist outside, you are truly in the dark. And although you may not be going as fast as you believe, the force felt by the turns and sudden stops throws your heart into a certain unsafe rhythm.

The pace at which this city moves is unmeasurable. No matter where you look; everyone is in a hurry. God bless the window shopper. For if you try to stop midstream while on a sidewalk, you're sure to hear those few choice words we only hope never come from our children's mouth.

I've never seen so many people before in one place; and they just kept coming! Despite my anxiety issues, I look forward to returning for another visit. I should be ready to go back just in time for next years conference. Until then, I will enjoy the slow pace of suburbia. (You know: 5 loads of laundry, a meeting with the principal, pick dogie up from kennel, lunch, pick up child from Kindergarten, karate class, dinner, baths, snacks, story time, etc., etc., etc.) Slow my @#%!