Search If You Will, But You Won't Find These Things On My Blog

"Hi, My name is Mary, and I've been blogging for six months now." (Hi, Mary!)

During the small time in which I've belonged to the so called blogosphere I've had a chance to visit hundreds of blogs. I have been inspired, entertained, educated, grossed-out, and at times disgusted. But that is all part of the game. Some days I'm truly amazed at what one will write. On other days, I wished they had revealed a little more.

This little bit of wonderment got me thinking the other day. For the handful of you that may have purposely or mistakenly pushed my Follow Me button; you probably already know what to expect from me. However, to make it fair for those who may just be passing by via a blog directory or a misdirection from a friendly search engine; I thought it would only be right to give you a list of things that you will most likely never find on my blog. I use the words most likely to indicate that I am a woman and due to the changes which we experience during our lives we sometimes feel the need to change our minds. So for the purpose of this post, most likely will be legal and binding.

Rule #1- No Bows. Despite being described as "girly girly," you will find no bows, lace, or doilies on this blog. I am the proud mother of 2 growing boys. I get to see them clean once a day (after their baths). Let's face it, they weren't even clean when they came out of me, so why start now. My blog is a reflection of me and my family. A girly blog would just represent me. One day all the testosterone will leave for college, and I will accept a blogging job with AARP. Until then, no bows.

Rule#2- No Potty Mouth. Once upon a time I worked in a male dominated field, and boy could I keep up with the best of them. As I got older, I have realized that Potty Mouth is not always an accepted custom. It does get ones attention, and if attention is what you seek, then by all means curse until you're blue in the face. Just remember, every potty needs to be cleaned once in a while. For best results: swish sweet words daily and flush those Freudian Slips. There will be no WTF'S?, C words, P words, or S words. Now that I've eliminated 5 letters, I have just 21 letters left. I'm sure I can find something to say. If your blog contains any of these words, not to worry, I will still visit. I just won't be reading aloud.

Rule#3- No Pictures of the Kiddies. As I continue the relentless job of trying to convince my children that there are no monsters under the bed, I have yet to convince myself that they don't exist in other places. The world is a scary place sometimes, and while I enjoy sharing daily essays; pictures of my children will stay securely in my wallet and my heart. You will just have to take my word for it...they are adorable!

Rule#4- No Grabbing My Button. Boy have times changed. If I tried to grab anything as a child, my hand was slapped. Now people are advertising Grabbing! What's next? Poking? Maybe prodding? I suppose everything has it's place. It's just not my blog. It's a cute concept, but if you want to know the honest truth, I have no idea how it is done. As you can tell, my blog is very home made. It's crossed my mind a few times to pay for a new design, but I have this fear that once I'm handed back the reigns, I will no longer know what to do. I will need to sign up for Super Blogger classes, and take extensive notes on tags, buttons, headers, blinkies, etc. etc. I'll save that job for you professionals out there.

Rule #5- No Negativity. Like everyone else, I have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. And on those very days I do you all a favor. I keep my computer shut off. I'm for the old saying: "If you can't say something nice, don't type." Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but once a word is spoken out loud, you can't take it back. Be careful what you write, and who you write about. I feel honored to have followers, and for that reason, I will never use this platform to degrade or undermine anyone.

Rule#6- A Word About Awards. Ten years of my childhood were spent as a cheerleader. At the end of every year we were awarded our trophies. The year we went to the championship, I came home with a trophy half the size of my leg. If you were to ask me where all these awards are today, I would honestly answer in the landfill. It was before "going green" was a trend, so unfortunately they were not recycled. I feel the same today as I did back then. Awards take up a lot of space. You have to constantly make room for them, and eventually that room runs out. I share these thoughts with a wonderful friend blogger Kathy B at The World According to Me, who wrote a terrific post on this very subject titled Secret Blogger Code. Please make sure to stop by. I am always excited when someone acknowledges my work, whether they agree or not. I think it's important to make an effort to say thank you. If you enjoy reading my blog, a simple comment is fine. I won't be waiting for an award.

Rule #7- Rambling. I do not, have not, nor do I ever want to consider my blog rambling. The very definition of the word means aimless, and that is hardly what I am about. I like having a point to every post. I try to be organized, concise and honest when I write. The other 22 hours is another story.

One Last Word. Now that you know all the things you won't find on this blog, I hope you found what you came for. Hopefully you'll stick around for a while. Don't forget to leave a comment. I'll drop by soon to see what you're talking about.

Ode To "The Landscaper"

My Dearest Landscaper:

You may have noticed me peeking from behind the curtain yesterday. I watched as you maneuvered that mower around the flower beds with ease. You sculpted those hedges in minutes flat with those large tools you carried on your back. The yard could have easily been mistaken for a tourist attraction where families gather during the weekends or vacation. You may have also noticed the tear running down my cheek for you were just a few feet beyond my property line. Sadly, you belong to my neighbor.

See Mr. Landscaper, my husband refuses to hire you. His DIY attitude may have saved us some fat cash, but just look what we've gained: calluses, dehydration, lower back pain, sunburn, just to name a few.

To be honest, I love the outside. Planting flowers really doesn't bother me either. But even with a small property, I find the upkeep is quite a battle. For every weed I pluck from the ground, three more pop through the soil the next day. I can feel them laughing at me.

For once I would love not to worry about sneaking out during the dawn to water the flowers and search for those pesky weeds that emerged overnight. For once I would love to have a manicure that is not being challenged by the mulch found under my fingernails. For once I would like not to worry about scary birds that dive-bomb my head because they have decided to take refuge in my new flower pots.

Today as my dear neighbor left for work I saw exactly what a life with a landscaper looks like. My neighbor brandished a beautiful manicure, as I tried to scrape the black dirt from beneath my nails. Not one hair was out of place on her head. A messy ponytail which resembled a bowl of uncooked spaghetti with a home dye job topped my mound. While the smell of fresh flowers poured from her car, a mixture of sweat and cow manure toppled from my frame.

Since I'm almost positive that coveting your neighbor's landscaper is breaking one of the ten commandments, we will have to go about this a different way. I've come up with plan. Let's call it: Operation Circumference. This is how it will work. Each time you circle around my neighbor's property you'll move five feet closer toward my property. Before anyone notices (except me of course) my yard will be a gorgeous oasis. Payment can be found two feet to the right of the pink rose bush and below the new Mickey Mouse statue in the front garden.

My Dearest Landscaper, may you hear my cries for help or at least acknowledge me as I push my wheelbarrow filled with mulch across my back yard. Until then, please excuse my manners and stares from afar.

Sincerely,

Mommy Maestro

All In A Weekends Work

Nothing says spring like landscaping. And nothing says exhausted like landscaping. I suppose we could have dished out a few hundred dollars to get our yard cleaned up in under an hour, but what fun would that really be? Wouldn't you rather it be 88 degrees with the sun beating on your neck, while running a wheel barrow back and forth and smelling the sweet fumes of baked manure? What's the matter? No sense of adventure?

Honestly, at this point, the idea of selling one's soul to get the best landscaping team here to perform their magic on my lawn sounds pretty tempting. I say this because I too smell like a petting zoo, and my husband has been snoring on the couch for the past half hour and the sun is still up. The kids are gnawing on some left over Easter candy because the thought of firing up the oven does not appeal to this Mommy. I have loaded a Scooby-Doo DVD for now hoping that buys me some extra time with the hunger issues.

The landscaping honestly started yesterday (like everything else). Five yards of mulch were being delivered while the man from Lowe's arrived to install our new screen door. The grandparents arrived to take the kids to Great Grandma's birthday while I took off to the car dealer in hopes of sealing the deal on a new van.....and boy did I ever!

I am the proud owner of a Volkswagon Routan. Love it, Love it! Dual DVD players, power doors, Sirius Radio, a backup camera, and new car smell. What else could a girl ask for?

I do have a send a special shout out to my parents who while visiting yesterday jumped in and helped with the landscaping. It's so nice to have parents who have green thumbs. My Dad took first place in the Philadelphia Flower Show once or twice a few years back. His keen eye and Mom's love for planting helped us complete this project.

Despite our greatest efforts, it looks like the landscaping may not be finished tonight. There is still a small pile left in the driveway to redo the kids play area. We could push ourselves a little harder, but once Hubby said the word "ice cream" out loud, he lost me. So off to Dairy Delight we go. Hope everyone had a great weekend as well and toasted all your efforts with a Hot Fudge Sundae!

Red Roses, Blue Violets, And A Bag of Rocks

Lately the weather in PA has been anything but predictable. Once Spring officially arrives, my internal clock begins to count down the days to summer. I have been stuck in the house way too long by March and I'm ready to get to all those Projects.

By Spring the list of "things to be accomplished" has surpassed the size of the weekly grocery needs. Flowers need to be planted, weeds pulled, beds mulched, porches sanded and repainted, and screen doors replaced (just to name a few things).

My husband and I did our annual walk through the yard today. As usual, we each have our own vision of what we would like our property to look like in a few weeks.

I was hoping we would open the pool Mid March. Hubby thinks that after Memorial Day will be just fine.

My plans to replace our gazebo were scrapped by Hubby today. He says our current Gazebo should last another 5 years. I'll have to remind him later that it's not made out of men's underwear (which is another thing he also likes to hold on to despite shape or appearances).

We discussed adding another bed on the side of the house to accommodate a pom pom tree. After fifteen minutes going back and forth with ideas, we collectively decided that there will be no new beds or pom pom trees....just rocks. Yes, when in doubt, add rocks. If it was up to Hubby, I suppose our property would eventually resemble something from the Flintstones. There is nothing wrong with that, everyone needs a dream.

While at Lowes today I picked up yet another Rhododendron. This will be number four (I think). There are a total of five hanging around the property, yet despite our best efforts one relieves itself from duty every season and steps into the light (apparently a much happier place than our little abode). Say a little prayer friends for our newest addition.

We are expecting sunny skies the next three days, so it's time to get busy. Thanks to all who left comments about our new mini-van shopping adventures. We are closing in on a decision. Hopefully by Monday we will have a new landscape, new wheels, and of course...new rocks!

Happy Earth Day: Are Kids Recyclable?

I got your attention with that title didn't I? No, I'm not looking to get rid of the children. They are loved and bring just as much love to me in return. But with all this Earth Day talk, it got me thinking. For those tough days with the children wouldn't it just be sweet if mother's had a switch or remote of some kind that could put their children's whining, complaining, screaming and fighting into an immediate Pause?

All of a sudden...complete silence. The remote would then recycle the noise and turn it into some melodic sound of Moms choosing. I know how funny this sounds, but just think back ten years ago when someone told you that one day your soda cans would be recycled into a purse, or your newspapers into a new shirt?

Hopefully you were lucky to catch some of the Earth Day specials on T.V. today. For instance, Oprah featured ways families could save over $1000. just by being energy conscious. There are no tricks, just very simple steps like replacing light bulbs, using weather strip on windows, and purchasing programmable thermostats. To get the low down make sure to visit http://www.oprah.com/

Ellen featured Waste Managements new recyclable kits. This is such a cool idea if you've ever wondered how to dispose of your batteries, fluorescent bulbs, computers, etc. Check it out at http://ellen.warnerbros.com/

Everywhere we go, people are talking about going green. The truth is that it is taking too much time to catch on. If we simply believe that every cause has an effect we may believe we can actually make a difference. Small steps now can lead to large movements. I learn a little each day, and I'm a far cry from calling myself green. Although I would settle for the title of Jade, Chartreuse, or Emerald.

Hopefully this post got you thinking. We all benefit if we all do our part.

Come on Get Happy

I'm a planner. I just can't help myself. I plan everything. For me, this lifestyle works well. I never seem to miss a date, appointment, birthday, etc. I'm sure some find this a very rigid way to go about their days, but it gives me a sense of calm to have planned things out in advance.

Like every good plan, there comes a time when one must realize that fate sometimes has a way of intercepting all good intentions. Case in point... the last two days.

I will not go on about problems since if you haven't noticed, the name of this post is Come On Get Happy. So in a nutshell, the synopsis goes a bit like this: Sunday 9am Karate Tournament, Potter brings home 2 Gold medals, off to soccer game where everyone is a "winner." Off to the firehouse to visit Potter and Scooters uncle. While running through the firehouse Potter misjudges, and plows head first into the front of a firetruck. Tears, meltdown, Ice, Ice, (Baby).

Dinner, baths, sleep, Desperate Housewives, ZZZZZZ! Next morning (today) wake Potter to find him covered in blood. (Nosebleed from hell). Flashback to yesterday sends me into Mommy panic and I bring Potter to hospital to have his head checked (concussion?). Potter turns out to be fine.

Make appointment for Scooter regarding thick slime that refuses to stay in his nose. Have mini-van appraised due to the promise of an "aggressive offer" letter that arrived a few days before chaos ensued. (SIDE NOTE: Please refer to post titled The Golden Crap Award to understand my true feelings toward that beaut of a car I drive). Take kids to Denny's to satisfy their starvation needs with a Grand Slam. Take Scooter to doctor. Give Nebulizer treatment to scare slime from Scooter's nose.

Scoff when I find out that the one time I have to watch Oprah she decides to do a show on child predators. Where is Tom Cruise when you need him?

And so there you have it, the last 24 hours in a nutshell. Nothing that has taken place remotely resembles what is written in my date book. Turns out when I reference said date book, today's page is blank. How could that be? Every other day has something written on it, yet today I'm free. Looks like fate took over again. Lesson learned: Roll with the punches, and do not leave blank pages in your date book.

As I mentioned earlier, I had the mini-van appraised, and the offer was quite nice. So I am currently in the market for a new car or van. I am looking for some help with this decision. Is there anyone out there carting around kids in something that has enough room for all your needs? Something that drives incredibly well, and requires no maintenance? It doesn't have to be too fancy, but a few bells and whistles are nice when the noise level inside the van continues to rise with the temperature outside. Here are some of my top picks: Chevy Traverse, Volkswagon Routon, Honda Odyssey, and Toyota Sienna. I would also like to add to the list anything from Cadillac. (Here's hoping that Powerball ticket in my purse is a winner!)

A sincere thank you to all who commented on my last post. I was kept in stitches all weekend. I am hoping to get around to everyone very soon. By the way, Hubby fixed the faucet. Can I get a whoot?

A Sea of Cooties

A few months back I began to notice an echoing of some type coming from our bathroom. It never bothered me nor did I recognize it during the day. Probably because as long as the sunshine is up, the volume in my home is comparable to most city zoos.

So while I laid there late one night listening to the echoing I decided to investigate the issue. I walked into my bathroom trying to sneak up on whatever was stalking the little sleep I managed to get that week. I took a seat on the toilet hoping to catch red-handed whatever was holding my bathroom hostage. Then...it happened!

The sound which I thought may somehow be coming from one of those creatures inhabiting the pages of my children's library books actually was coming from my bathtub faucet. "A flipping drip," I thought.

Like the good wife I am, I immediately reported the issue to Hubby. And like the good Hubby he is, he immediately took care of the problem......NOT!

I am in year six of a beautiful marriage. I love and adore my husband. I think my hardest lesson and something that takes constant practice is learning that men and women do not work on the same schedule. I get things done yesterday, while my husband will work up to the deadline. It seems the more chaos that ensues, the happier he is. He loves a challenge.

And so the dripping continued. As the time went on, the period between the drips closed in. It began to sound more like a popcorn machine than a dripping problem. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into into months. Then finally, two days ago, I couldn't turn the darn faucet off at all.

I was innocently cleaning the tub, and obviously I needed some water. When I was done I tried my hardest to turn that faucet off, but it wouldn't budge. After a minute of feeling totally hopeless and cursing the very existence of men that ignore their wives plea for help; I kicked it. That's right, I kicked it. It made a noise that I can even describe, but surprisingly the water had completely stopped dripping. "I fixed it, I fixed it," I yelled.

I knew that was far from the truth. In fact the cold water knob was now lying in the bathtub...CRAP!

A few words to my husband after he came home that night (believe me when I tell you I didn't ask how his day was) and we were finally in business. No he didn't fix it. But he got on the Delta faucet website. I offered to pick up the parts if he promised to fix my bathtub this weekend.

I told my boys I would be using their tub tonight. Potter looked shocked. "Mom, you'll catch boy germs," he said. (Obviously the reason I'm taking a bath in the first place). I calmed down immensely while sitting in their Sea of Cooties. (i.e. bathtub)

It's amazing just how much one can miss their own bathtub. As I sat soaking in Huggies Hypoallergenic bubbles, surrounded by Batman toys and Disney character wash clothes, I longed to be in a place where only Calgon could take me.

Tune in Monday to see: Did Hubby fix the faucet? Is there really popcorn in Mary's bathtub? And finally: will Mary finally find relaxation among scented candles or toy boats and action figures?