Loizeaux Links

How a 2 year-old views the nativity

2011-12-21T15:38:00.007-05:00

Every year we put out a nativity set. It's the Little People Nativity, and it's a little creepy.

But they're plastic, and when Rachel is sucking the head of the baby Jesus I feel much better that it's not some undetermined metal with the paint peeling off.

This year, however, a couple things happened to change our tradition:
1) Our friend Laurie gave us a "grown up" nativity set.
2) I received a "What God Wants For Christmas" nativity set from my MOPS group.
3) Rachel made a baby Jesus at her preschool, which looks suspiciously like a wooden chess piece wrapped in tissue lying in fresh straw.We now have 3 nativity sets, plus pawn-piece Jesus, all competing for space. Rachel always seems to find the sets excellent toys and with good reason... I mean, what else is a 2 year old supposed to do with them? She usually takes the angel and baby Jesus and hides them somewhere in the house. At first, I considered this a huge leap in her cognitive abilities as it isn't Christmas yet; therefore, Jesus and the angel shouldn't really BE at the manger until the 25th. That is, until I saw some of the other things Rachel did with the nativity....

Baby Jesus Goes for a Ride with the Donkey

... Mary and Joesph don't seem all that concerned, so I guess he's ok.

Mary Gets Kicked out of the Stable

Joseph kicks Mary to the roof. I'm not sure what's going on with him and the angel, but it doesn't look good...

Not Sure What They're All Looking At....

but it's enthralling, whatever it is. It can't be the angel because she's passed out behind the food basket on the right side of the stable.

No, Mary. You can't have the baby. We need to have a long talk about the whole 'God made me pregnant' thing...

This is the new, adult nativity from Laurie. It only has a few pieces. I think baby Jesus may need a readjustment in his manger. Either that, or Rachel's been sucking on his head.

What REALLY happens when an angel appears

Yes, that's Mary on top of Joseph. I'm just as confused as you are.

Anyway, Merry Christmas everyone. Hope you have a great holiday! :-)

On a related note, your kids can also come over and learn which beers are on sale at your local Giant

2011-12-14T14:37:00.005-05:00

I love pop music. I love singing popular songs around the house, which also means I'm singing these songs in front of my children. This can cause me to feel a little uncomfortable because in a lot of cases some lyrics are... not exactly words I want my kids repeating in preschool.*

And unfortunately for them (and me) the song "Red Solo Cup" has been going through my head for about 24 hours now (thank you, Glee). I can't stop singing the stupid chorus, so I decided to change the lyrics to fit the norms of my family. I do this for a lot of songs, actually. It's sad.

So the new version went something like this:
Red Solo cup
I fill you up
with lots of milkies...**

I'm singing as I give Rachel her snack. She slams down her cup and says, "No, Mommy! It's 'let's have a party!'"

Reason #15 why my kids don't get play-dates.

*No profanity, mind you. But would you want your 2 year old singing Lady Gaga instead of the Itsy Bitsy Spider?
**Rachel's pet name for milk... She may be using this word until high school.

Dear Alec Baldwin...

2011-12-08T20:14:00.004-05:00

... I just want you to know that I blame you for my new addiction to Words With Friends. I just had to know how a cell phone game could get anyone kicked off of an airline flight. Now I know. And I can't stop.

Damn you.

Love,
Jen

This proves that Target.com has one of the worst search engines on the internet.

2011-11-06T20:01:00.006-05:00

I remember when I started baby registries online. I decided to use Target for some of my maternal needs, mostly because it was a store that my relatives could walk into and buy something off of a registry. That, and I hate Wal-mart.

So tonight when John had trouble finding an HDMI cable through Best Buy, I suggested a store like... Target! I mean, Target had to have HDMI cables, right?

Unfortunately, John used Target's search engine before I could warn him that typing something specific could cause massive headaches. He started typing, and then he got very quiet.

"So..." John finally said. "I put 'male displayport to male HDMI' in the search bar for Target's web site..."

"That was probably your first mistake, honey..."

John starts laughing. "No, no! It gets better! The first two entries are 'An Introduction to Male Reproductive Medicine and 'The Family Jewels (A Guide to Male Genital Play And...'

"'And...?' 'And' what?"

John stares at the screen. "I have to know..."
He mouses over the title. And bursts out laughing. "'... And torment!'"
I chuckled. "You know, honey... A lot of bad things have come out of 'I have to know.' Just saying..."

"I think I'm scarred for life."

It turns out Target has a big martial/sexual aid section online. But no HDMI cables. Or prostate massagers for that matter... I mean... in case you were wondering.

But they are selling babies:

Post-script:
John: Just for the record, I only ran a search for that massager as a joke. I have absolutely zero interest in that sort of thing.
Me: Uh-oh. I just blogged about it. Maybe you'll get lucky and no one will read this post.
John: S**t.
Me: You're welcome.

They have the hang of how to get free candy

2011-11-01T14:02:00.006-04:00

Last year Eric decreed that the entire family would go as the Wiggles. Flashback photo:
This year Eric decided 5 days before Halloween to be a robot. And Rachel wanted to go as Winnie the Pooh.

Thankfully, costumes are cheap when they are bought a few days before Halloween.
Eric's was super cheap: used cardboard box + duct tape + aluminum foil + John's 3 hours of hard work = a robot costume.Rachel's was also super cheap (in more ways than one): Internet site + 50% off sale + cheap standard shipping = a Winnie the Pooh costume.I think John likes Rachel's way better (if his muttering "Next time, we BUY a robot costume!" is any indication).

But the kids looked adorable.
And trick or treating was a huge hit- there was free candy, constant ringing of doorbells, and glow sticks!

Rachel found a useful use for her glow stick: checking out the puking pumpkin.This last picture is by far my favorite. I love how Eric is looking curiously over her shoulder.

But the night was punctuated by a small accident, which allowed our children to learn the true meaning of Halloween:

About halfway through the trick or treating, we were going down a steep driveway when Rachel fell down and scraped her hand a little bit. After a few tears, she was fine.

But every single house we stopped at afterwards went something like this:

The door opens to a smiling person with candy.

Eric: Trick or treat!
Rachel: Owie!

The poor person holding the bowl of candy looks confused. Eric uses this opportunity to grab an extra piece which John or I must immediately put back.
John explains that Rachel fell down and hurt her hand 5 minutes (or 7, 10, 15, 20, 25 minutes) ago in a driveway.

The person holding the candy: Awww...

And then Rachel gets extra candy.

Repeat.

Happy Halloween everyone! :-)

Mother Nature's been hitting the sauce. Again.

2011-11-01T12:55:00.003-04:00

2 days before Halloween, and we got... snow.

We got 2 awesome videos of the kids going down the icy slide and getting airborne. Only youtube hates my Droid, so the chances of them getting uploaded are nil.

I'm not sure when I will ever have a chance to take pictures of the kids playing in snow with their Halloween buckets again. I only know that I miss fall. :-(

The one that got away (or more accurately: the one I threw away)

2011-10-28T23:24:00.007-04:00

Tonight I was messing around on Facebook trying to curb my insomnia (BTW- this does not work), and I decided to check out some pages of past friends from Hamamatsu. For those of you who stumbled upon this blog by accident or haven't known me for very long, I was once a missionary (I know it's hard to imagine but try). I taught English classes in a church just outside of Hamamatsu for a year. It was a dream come true for me, as I grew up in Japan and had desired to return for years. Through an organization called Grace International Ministries, I was able to continue teaching and also try and save souls (something I suck at doing here in the U.S. and pretty much sucked at over there too, but that's another post).

When you live overseas for any length of time, especially on your own, culture shock eventually hits you. I went through the phases, some lasting longer than others:

-the Honeymoon Phase
(You can buy hot canned drinks in vending machines??!! AWESOME!)

-the Anger Phase
(I would give my left ovary for a bloody clothes dryer so I don't have to wear my ONE PAIR of good jeans 20 times before washing the smell of weeks-old sweat, second-hand smoke, and dirt off and then waiting 3 days for them to dry [in vain, I might add] in my 55 degree room!)

-Denial
(What do you mean I will never fit in here? Just because I have blond hair, my size 8 body is considered a size "XL" in the women's department, and I sweat like a pig in this God-forsaken August humidity... ONE DAY I will become petite and Asian...
I'm sure. Won't I?)

and finally...
-Acceptance
(I honestly don't think I got this far)

Somewhere between the anger and the denial phase, most singles experience what Mariko and I lovingly called the "Going Native" phase. This is the phase where suddenly the opposite sex of the native culture looks REALLY enticing, and not just because they will help you become fluent for free (though this should not be underestimated). I can't explain why this happens. For me, it was a combination of loneliness and the long-term goal of wanting to live in Japan... well, forever. I saw myself never coming home.

There was only one problem with going native, at least for me: Japanese Christians do not date. (I KNOW, right???) I did not know this. I didn't know this because in Japan no one tells you anything outright or bluntly- they beat around the bush and expect you to figure out things for yourself (in case you were wondering, "the Anger Phase" lasted awhile). It wasn't until I had been serving at the church for about five months that I began to have an inkling of how things worked between Japanese Christians who want to date.

From the little I gathered, it worked something like this:
1) Any man (or woman) who is interested in a member of the opposite sex in the congregation goes to the Pastor of the church.
2) The pastor then asks both of them to take time and pray about moving forward. (At this point, I'm not sure if both parties met in the pastor's office together, or if they met the pastor separately. I bring this last point up because it becomes important later).
3) If both parties want to date, then they begin going out in public with a Christian chaperone.
4) They are not allowed to spend time together without a chaperone until they are at least engaged if not married.

So when I started having a crush on Tadashi, I had NO idea what I was getting into. But thankfully, no one knew I liked him except Miwa. Miwa was my Japanese liaison at the church. She was also Tadashi's good friend. These were fun conversations, by the way. I wish I had recorded them:

Me: So... do you think Tadashi likes me?

Miwa: Kamiya-kun? ("Kamiya" was his last name, and the ending "kun" is a term of affection for a close make friend; "chan" is the feminine equivalent) What do you mean 'like?'

Me: You know...

Miwa: Nooo...(you really have to listen to Japanese women talk to understand how that 'no' sounded) I don't know!

Me: [sigh] Do you think he LIKES me... like... you know...

Miwa: Like...?

Me: [in Japanese...] Miwa, I think I'm in love with this dude.
(In reality, I think I might have said something more unrefined like "Me love him like chocolate cake.")

Miwa: OH.... [LONG pause. A very, very long pause where all my hopes were dashed].

Me: So... ummm... do you think he likes me?

Miwa: He's nice to everybody.

But it was true. He WAS nice to everybody (I'm a sucker like that, always falling for nice guys for pete's sake!). He would talk to anyone and always had a kind word. But there was more to it than that. In a country where openness was verboten and being reserved was a virtue, Tadashi was, in a word, a flirt.

Ah, but so was I. And I was also direct. And unlike Japanese women who are coy and giggle softly while shyly covering their mouths with their petite, perfect hands, I made eye contact, smiled warmly, and had no trouble being myself. His English was far better than my Japanese, and we talked at length about family, music (we both played piano and sang in the Gospel and church choirs), and how our faith changed us. I think I intrigued him. I'd like to think it was the intrigue that one has when coming face-to-face with a rare and exotic animal- like a white tiger. But for him, it was probably more like encountering a water buffalo.

That's how I felt as a gaijin or foreigner in Japan. In all honesty though, I'm not being fair. The truth is that I am pretty darn good at reading men because, let's face it, men ain't that difficult to read in any culture. He was attracted to me, and I was attracted to him. When the gospel choir had to travel to perform, he would try and be in the same caravan as me. When Japanese women sought him out, his eyes would scan the room looking for me.

But something was wrong. Every time Tadashi or I would try and find a time to talk alone, someone would come in. Once he was literally booted from a van as he was getting in behind me in order to make room for another church member. I still remember the way he waved goodbye to me and the look on his face as we drove away.

I had no idea what was going on because no one told me. When it became painfully obvious that there might, in fact, be a mutual attraction going on, Miwa finally came to me.

"Jen... Kamiya-kun... Kamiya-kun... He is... in waiting time. Prayer season..."

Honestly, I wasn't sure what she said. I had no idea what she was trying to tell me. All I knew at this point was that I just wanted to get to know the freaking guy, I wasn't trying to marry him (yet). Maybe a dinner... Hell, I'd take a coffee...

"Jen... Kamiya-kun cannot date." And then Miwa explained why.

A woman from the church, and a fellow choir member, went to the pastor and had asked permission to pray for her and Tadashi's future together. Apparently, Tadashi was supposed to pray for an entire month to seek God's will and see if this woman and him were meant to be married. Miwa told me who she was. I could tell that Miwa wasn't supposed to tell me this, but felt that given the circumstances, she had no choice. I was basically ruining this poor woman's chance at marital bliss thanks to my gaijin ignorance of how Christian dating worked.

I knew he wasn't interested in this woman, though she was a very sweet. I told Miwa this. After a moment, Miwa looked me straight in the eye and said, "Would you marry a Japanese man?"

I honestly thought the answer was 'yes.' I was sure of it. I loved Japan. I had been trying to move back since I was fourteen years old, for God's sake! I told her 'yes.'

"So... would your Japanese husband move to the U.S?"

Oh. So that was the issue. "No... I mean, I would stay here."

Miwa looked totally dubious. "Really?"

OK... so I had about 50 pictures of family and friends taped to the walls of my room. I got mail every other day from home. My parents sent me a VHS tape of the rural drive to our house and 30 minutes of a pain-staking walk-through for their entire property that would have made the most HGTV fanatic envious. I was a bit home-sick. But this guy was cute! I liked being in Japan. I could see myself staying long-term. I wasn't ready to walk down the aisle or anything, but I was ready to dispense with the BS and actually hang out with him without Big Brother looking over my shoulder.

But was I? After a trip home between Christmas and New Years, I reintegrated into American culture. I traded Udon noodles for Subway sandwiches, and it felt good to be in a place where I wasn't judged by my appearance. I could laugh out loud without anyone staring as if I had defecated on the sidewalk. I could drink a soda while walking down the street without feeling like I was committing a crime against humanity (in Japan, you drink your soda while standing at the vending machine. Uh... hello? Doesn't that defeat the purpose?). In short, I felt at home.

After my hiatus in the States, things changed. On the surface, I continued talking to Tadashi as I had before. He even gave me a ride in his car (with one of his friends there as chaperone, of course). But something inside of me had changed. I was forced to look at the big picture. I had thought I could just date the guy, get to know him, and see what would happen. But instead I had to decide whether to pursue a long-term relationship and possible marriage, all before I even knew if he had bad breath. It was too much. I was angry. I shouldn't be bound to these archaic rules of courtship.

Yet I understood them even as I despised them: when you are a 1% minority religion in a culture that shuns you, you had better make darn sure that you marry someone who shares your worldview and will not lead you astray. The rules Christian churches impose are there to protect the faith.

But so many things in Japan were encased in standards of decorum that were anathema to me. In the mainstream Japanese (not the Japanese Christian) culture, they date as we do here in America, but they live very differently. Japanese almost always travel in tour groups (At one point I tried to plan a trip to LA, and my class didn't panic over the idea of the trip, but over the details: why wouldn't I buy the tickets through a travel agency? Wouldn't it be dangerous to travel without a tour group?). They do not apply for marriage certificates, or have to keep track of these things the way Americans are supposed to do. School children wear uniforms. Families sleep together in the same room. And in small towns outside of the big cities, loud chimes ring on the hour to signal when they get up, when they eat, and when they should go home from school or work. Everything is orderly, scripted.

In Japan there is a saying: The nail that sticks out gets hammered down. To the Japanese, rules are like a insulating barrier that shields them against the fearful unknown. But I realized that to me, they were a prison.

Thanks to health issues and a male friend from Virginia that I was constantly texting on my cell, I slowly turned away from Tadashi. I left Japan a year early due to those two things. The health issues got better once I came back; the relationship with the American male friend, not so much. But soon after returning to the States, I started dating another male friend that I had known for 6 years named John Loizeaux. And the rest is history.

Not a year goes by when I don't think about Tadashi and what my life could have been had I made different choices, if I had chosen to embrace a different culture instead of pulling away from it. As the only son, it was Tadashi's responsibility to take care of his family. I would have lived throughout our marriage in his family home. We would have cared for his parents in their old age. I would have been responsible for all domestic chores and for raising our children. My American ignorance at Japanese ways would have given me some leeway, but for how long? And would I have been happy? Or would I have felt trapped and longed for escape?

Knowing my personality and my need for independence (even by American standards), I think I would have been miserable. One look at my husband and children is enough to prove to me that I made the right choice.

But I always wondered what happened to Tadashi. I went back to Japan to visit Mariko in 2005, 10 months after I left my position at the church. One day I decided to visit the church. I was greeted warmly, and I loved seeing everyone again. But I wanted to see Tadashi especially, so I stayed for gospel choir practice that night. As people were filing into the cafeteria, I was talking in rapid English to the new English teacher and missionary, a woman I'll call Liz. Tadashi came over. I didn't slow down my speech. I didn't know why at the time, but now I realize that I was trying to highlight the gulf between us. When he and I finally started talking, Liz stayed around. At this point John and I had been dating for seven months. I knew he was going to propose. I knew I was going to say "yes."

I turned to Tadashi and told him, "You should get married." Just like that. Brutally honest. He laughed, though I could tell he was slightly taken aback. He wasn't interested in getting married anytime soon, he said. But he talked at length about the qualities he was looking for in a mate: "someone simple" topped the list. Once he finally moved away from the table, Liz turned to me. "Wow. He did like you, didn't he?" She said it so nonchalantly. At the time, that comment hurt more than I can even tell you, not because I regretted leaving, but because I had made a choice I couldn't undo and would never get back.

Years passed. I got married. Eric was born. Rachel was born. Miwa wrote every year or so. She never mentioned Tadashi, and I never asked.

Then last night as I was perusing Facebook, I say his name. "Tadashi Kamiya. Married to Mariko Kamiya." (No, not Mariko my friend. But the coincidence made me smile). And I felt... relief. It was as if there was finally an ending to that chapter in my life, and I had been anticipating the post-script all this time. I wondered if they wanted kids (he's 2 years older than I am, so they'd better get crackin'). I recognized this Mariko from gospel choir. I hoped she was "someone simple." Above all, I hoped they were happy. (BTW- in case you're wondering... Tadashi looks like this. The boy really needs to lock down his Facebook page).

This was a LONG post, but one I needed to write. It's still hard for me to write about my time in Japan, mostly because I feel like I failed as a missionary and as a teacher... Thanks for indulging me (Note to Eric and Rachel: you came this close to growing up with the coolest drink machines ever invented... you also would have had to conform in order to enjoy them).

********
Post-script:
John comes downstairs.

Me: Hey, I couldn't sleep and since you were asleep, I thought I would come down here...
John: I'm awake now.
Me: So, I'm waiting this blog post about a guy I could have ended up marrying in Japan, and I just realized he IS married. I've been waiting for the shoe to drop for... 7 years now.
John: Mmmm.... I'm going to watch t.v.
(And this is why my husband is so cool: utterly nonchalant about my capricious past. I've dated men who would have gone into a hour-long rampage for this kind-of stuff. Plus he's way hotter than Tadashi.) :-)

Oh Autumn... how I love thee... (and not just for hot toddies and kick-butt foliage)

2011-10-28T21:19:00.005-04:00

For the past 2 years it's been a family tradition to take the kids to a place called Cox Farms. Though there's a farmers marker on the property most of the year, this place goes all out for the fall. And for a small fortune you can pay to bring your family to enjoy about 15 slides, a corn maze, hay rides, live bands covering Indigo Girls albums, great food, and getting up close and personal with the farm animals. If you're Rachel, you'll spend your time kissing goats on the lips. If you're me, you'll spend your time trying to find the booze.

But we got some great pictures.

This was the first shot of the day. The kids looked so cute posing with the cow that I made it my facebook shot. Note: I am NOT dressed as the cow, contrary to popular belief.

John shows off his agility on a slide

There was a train set up for toddlers to romp around in. I actually got Rachel to pose in the caboose.

Eric didn't stay still much, but at least I got one picture of him enjoying a slide.
And it just wouldn't be a proper ending without Rachel contemplating which goat to lock lips with...

Enjoy the fall everyone (what's left of it)! :-)

He said WHAT??

2011-10-28T21:09:00.003-04:00

After dropping Rachel off at preschool this morning, Eric began babbling about his own preschool experiences. There are about 12 kids in Eric's class this year. Last year Eric at this time, Eric could barely speak coherently. After a few months, he started gushing about a girl named Katie. He called her "cute" and then giggled.*

This year it seems Eric is once again enjoying the company of the girls more than the boys. I was only half-tuned into what he was actually saying, as I was concentrating on the Northern Virginia idiots who cannot drive, when I heard Eric say this:

"Mom, I love Katie."

I was taken aback for about 3 seconds.

"Oh. Ummm... that's really nice, Eric. I'm sure she'll be happy to hear that."

Brief pause (probably for effect in order to give me a heart attack). Then:
"Today I'm going to tell Katie that I love her."

And that's when my heart stopped as I envisioned a sudden wedding proposal and booking reception halls for the rehearsal dinner (and I thought Gymboree was hard to book for birthdays!). Then I got a grip, smiled, and realized that Eric would probably forget all about declaring his undying love once he got pizza for lunch.

It's a fun age, three and a half. Except for the lack of naps, tantrums, and the God-awful whining...

In other news, Rachel is also speaking more fluently. Preschool has really sharpened her speech and increased her vocabulary. It's so much easier to understand what she's saying. She imitates her brother in everything. Even the high-pitched whining. Especially the high-pitched whining.

Ugh.

Repeat after me: It goes by quickly. It goes by quickly...

*Katie really is adorable BTW. She is called "Katie Bug" by her teachers, and Eric has adopted the name. The reason why? She is the most cuddly kid on the planet. When I visited his school last year, she came over and plopped down on my lap and stayed there until I literally had to walk out the door. I wish I had a picture...

Now if THIS song doesn't just sum up life after college, I don't know what does

2011-10-07T10:19:00.002-04:00

Eric loves to sing. And because of his language delays, it's sometimes hard to understand what he's saying. Couple that with the fact that his preschool teaches crazy songs like "Who let the "A" out?" (to the tune of "Who let the dogs out") where Eric repeats the chorus 26 times, once for each letter, and we have the makings of musical chaos.

Yesterday Eric starts singing a song that he must have learned at school.

Eric: 5 friends... sitting around... everything was easy then it weren't.

Me: What?

Eric: 4 friends... sitting around... everything was easy then it weren't.

Me: Did you learn that at school?

Eric: 3 friends... sitting around... everything was easy then it weren't.

Me: I hope the original lyrics included the word "wasn't..."

Eric: 2 friends... sitting around... everything was easy then it weren't.

I love how preschoolers just keep singing louder and louder with every new line of a song. Except when I'm driving.

I'm not sure what his music class focuses on, but this song has GOT to be taught to high school seniors and disaffected college students. I think my 3 and a half year old is ahead of the curve.

And this is why John should change all Rachel's diapers...

2011-10-01T14:45:00.010-04:00

5 days ago I accidentally on-purpose kicked a hole in the wall. This was an accident due to the fact that I thought a stud was on the other side and not a flimsy piece of drywall. It was also on purpose because I can sometimes get a bit... cross (as you can see, I've been watching too much "Thomas").

Long story short: I had just finished wiping my lovely almost-4-year-old's bottom because he decided it was way more fun if Mommy did it instead of doing it himself. My skin is literally peeling off my hands thanks to a new round of eczema, which is exacerbated by washing them repeatedly. Then Rachel decided to poop. Again. I begged John to take her. Rachel cried for Mommy, and John happily handed her off to me. As I was walking up the stairs to change her, I heard him telling Laurie how Rachel had asked for me, getting him off of diaper duty. Then he laughed.

And that's when I kicked in the wall.

You know those moments when you do something awful and you know you can't hide the evidence of your crime? That feeling in the pit of your stomach of total panic and dread at having to face the consequences of your actions? I honestly thought about blaming the kids, but there was no way something besides my foot could have made that giant hole. I wish I had taken a picture. It was impressive.

But I couldn't hide my guilt. Not even from my 2 year-old.

Rachel: Uh-oh.

Me: Yeah. [sigh] Big 'uh-oh.'

Rachel: Wall have boo boo?

Me: Yes, the wall has a boo-boo.

Rachel: Boom!

Me: [sigh] Yes, big boom.

John was surprising casual about the whole thing. This made me grateful because if the roles were reversed, *I* wouldn't have been nearly so casual about him causing interior damage to our home.

John even offered to fix the silly thing. But I told him no. One of the things I want my kids to learn is that you need to own up to your mistakes. At that moment I realized how unfortunate it was that I'm such a firm believer in individuals taking responsibility for their own stupidity, at least when that stupidity falls on me.

So I got online and found out how to repair a hole in drywall. It looked ridiculously easy. I felt motivated and self-assured. I could patch a hundred holes in drywall!

Then I noticed all of the material I needed to buy.
Which meant I needed to make a Home Depot run.
And I panicked.

I despise Home Depot. Every time I walk into that store, even if there's a thousand other people shopping, I can pretty much bet on the fact that I will be the only customer over the age of 10 with a vagina. This is compounded by the worst customer service on the planet with employees who barely speak English. I would rather get my wisdom teeth extracted. Again. With the 2 dry sockets, than head over to that cold warehouse to wander the aisles aimlessly for an hour.

It has also been in the 40's this week and rainy. But I sucked it up and headed over. As per usual, I had to beg a disgruntled male employee to make a small can of paint. I trooped up and down different sections before finding a nice man wearing orange who looked like he enjoyed helping people.

"Hey..." I started. "I'm looking for joint compound, drywall..."

"Oh, um... Robba! Robba!"

So, 'Robba' turned out to be "Robert," and my sweet knight in an orange vest turned out to speak about 50 English words, but between the 3 of us, I got everything I needed. I even found a self-adhesive 4" strip that had the instructions for patching a hole right on the box! Awesome!

I drove home feeling proud of myself... until I went upstairs and saw that the hole was just a bit larger than the patch.

Crap.

But, wait! I had bought meshing tape. Maybe I could put a little meshing tape over the part of the hole that was too big? It... worked. OK, it wasn't perfect, but unless you are really looking for the hole, you couldn't see it.
I learned a few lessons through all of this:
1) How to repair a hole in drywall. It's really a useful thing to know how to do. I rank it up there with changing oil in your car.
2) Find the stud BEFORE hitting/kicking anything out of anger. Or if the 'stud' happens to be 5'9" and cute, save yourself the trouble and just kick him. :-)
3) I also learned that I really need to be better about taking "Before" shots with my camera. It really was an impressive hole...

What can turn a sweet Christian girl into a violent, poison-wielding monster?

2011-09-30T18:51:00.006-04:00

I am usually a gentle person. Mostly. I never watched fights in middle and high school. I can't see horror flicks due to the profusion of blood. But tonight I went outside with my Terminix spray bottle of chemical doom and proceeded to kill the largest spider I've ever seen on this side of the Pacific. Of course, I did this from about 6 feet away. I had to be prepared to flee just in case it did something unpredictable, like fall off of its ginormous web during its death throes.

After spraying it repeatedly, it finally fell down on the edge of the porch. I quickly darted back inside just in case it was faking its own demise and decided to turn around and attack me.

When John came home, we had a little talk:

Me: Honey, we need to talk about this sick tendency you have to let spiders live.

John: They're outside. They're killing bugs! They're not hurting anyone.

Me: Wrong. [pointing to the giant web hanging from our porch swing]

John: [sighs and steps outside]

Me: Oh my God, what are you doing?? There are spiders out there!

John: [giving me a exasperated look] I'm taking down the web.

My wonderful husband continues to destroy the web. Then he looks down.

John: You know that the spider is still alive?

Me: I knew it! [pause] Did you kill it?

John: Yes.

Me: Good. You know, killing spiders makes me hot...

John: [smiles but shakes his head]

Laurie: You know... you have 4 minutes until you need to turn the steaks over.

I wish I could tell you that this story ended with a quickie and a nice medium-rare filet. Unfortunately, it ended instead with an episode of the Wiggles and late bedtimes for the kids. This is real life.

Real life sucks.

First fire of the year

2011-09-15T20:27:00.004-04:00

The weather in the state of Virginia has got to be the most screwed up in the U.S. Yesterday it was 90 degrees, and the kids were swimming in the kiddie pool. This morning it was 74. It's now 50 and dropping. It will probably be over 70 tomorrow.

But in the meantime... it's pretty cool and cozy to have a fire going. :-)

If I ever complain about how the teen years suck, please remind me of this post

2011-09-12T20:36:00.003-04:00

Eric and I were watching "The Berenstein Bears." About 90 seconds into putting my arm around him, Eric turns towards me and grins. He then pulls open the front of my shirt and proceeds to drop something small inside, which naturally catches in my bra.

I look at him, "Eric... what did you just do?"

"Ummm... I gave you a present."

The "present" turned out to be a booger.

So... if I ever complain about what jerks my kids are once they hit their teens, please refer me back to this post. :-(

It's amazing I haven't seen Noah's Ark floating by...

2011-09-08T17:33:00.005-04:00

So we now have flood conditions here since it has rained non-stop for days. We're not talking about a light rain. We're talking about such heavy rain that you could drive a yacht down my street. There are rescue boats going down the streets in my county. That's right- boats. Even the schools are closed tomorrow!

Eric takes a bus to and from school (when there's not a flood), so Rachel and I stand outside on the porch to wait. I took a couple of pictures of her holding an umbrella and looking utterly adorable without even trying (how do preschoolers do that??)
And despite the fact that Eric's bus has been 15 minutes late every day, and that he wasn't even on the roster yesterday afternoon (which no one would explain what happened there- that's a whole other post), it's peaceful to wait outside and watch the rain fall around us. I discovered that I love rainy days far more than sunny ones. I wonder if John would move to Portland or Seattle...

To my darling husband...

2011-09-07T13:03:00.002-04:00

Dear John,

Unfortunately, I spent another $150 on fall/winter clothes for the kids. On the plus side, at least they won't be naked.

Love,
Jen

In Pictures: Strange Things Happen in Threes...

2011-08-19T18:12:00.005-04:00

So I was cleaning up the playroom yesterday, and I had to take a picture of what I found:I think it's safe to say that my 2 year old is no longer a fan of Caillou. AWESOME!!!!!

In other news, the DC Metro area had one heck of a hail storm yesterday:

And to add to the strange events- my friend Mariko posted an update to her blog. She hasn't posted since January 5th. No real picture for that. Maybe she'll send me one.

So... if the world ends sometime soon, don't say I didn't warn you. :-)

Living with a self-proclaimed "geek"*

2011-08-17T11:57:00.012-04:00

When you live with an engineer, you get used to seeing things like this in prominent places throughout the house...

And after you have lived with an engineer for over five years, you glance at mathematical formulas like this for about two seconds before moving on to other tasks. Truthfully, I would ask John what this was, but I'm afraid he might answer the question. I'm also afraid to erase it for fear he might have solved the Riemann Hypothesis (don't ask) or created a formula for teleportation (both of which could pay off our mortgage, which leads me to believe it's more likely John found a formula that lessens the amount of lint in an average dryer).**

So despite the abuse taken by the white board, and that lack of understanding between a "geek" and a liberal arts gal like myself, there are some great things about marrying a geek:

1) They are amazingly loyal. I will never have to worry about John cheating (He puts it as "I'm brand-loyal"). sigh... Very romantic, honey...

2) John's spatial reasoning makes him an excellent candidate to load the dishwasher. EVERY night.

3) You learn some pretty cool things on shows like "Mythbusters." But if you're geek counter-part insists on watching the Mythbusters marathon, you don't need to resort to drastic measures like slitting your wrists. First of all, they won't notice in time to save you. Secondly, there's a solution that's much less messy:
Simply take the next opportunity to watch the HGTV equivalent. Make sure to complain loudly while they're on their computer about how stupid the people are on the show, and wonder aloud why your bathroom has yet to be redone. Problem solved. :-)

4) In most cases, the advice of engineers and other geeks is pretty darn good.

5) Geeks read books like "The Zombie Survival Guide" and other life-saving literature.

6) They may not be the most impulsive or romantic people on the planet, but as long as you are specific about what you want for Christmas (NEVER tell a geek "Surprise me!" because you will be surprised, and it usually isn't pretty...), you are guaranteed to get it.

Living with an engineer has it's ups and downs. A lot of times you feel like they don't get you at all. They, in turn, feel totally misunderstood by you and the world at large. But no one is truly compatible. The longer I live with John, the more I learn from him. Just please don't tell him that. I'll never hear the end of it...

*According to John, the word "geek" is not a bad word. "Nerd" is a bad word. I have no idea what the difference is, but I'll take his word for it.

**I know of at least 2 people reading my blog who will spend their time solving this equation and won't bother reading this post until it's solved. If less dryer lint equals big bucks, I'm totally suing!

I should write a book on how to convert kids to atheism...

2011-07-29T12:10:00.009-04:00

First of all, let me give you a little background. This is what a typical meal time is like at our house when everyone has finished eating:

Eric: Oh, no! We forgot to say grace!

Me: Ok. Well, do you want to pray, or do you want Mommy to pray?

Eric: I'll pray. [pause] dadaaddaa mamumum mummmm...

Me: In Jesus' name...

Eric: No! I'm not done yet. Mummma dadada baba. Amen.

Flashback to yesterday:
We're leaving the Chick-Fil-A and a nice employee is handing out balloons. After saying thank you, the kids each pick a color. Eric immediately picks yellow. He's gravitated to that color since infancy. Rachel chooses orange... no wait, green! No wait... So, yeah: orange it is.

Eric was proud of how he got the balloon string around his wrist and arm. I had no idea how well that would hold up, but when you have a diaper bag on your back, a kid in one arm (with balloon), and the other kid holding onto your hand while traversing a crazy parking lot, you can't watch everything. Sure enough...

Eric: Oh no! My balloon!

I look up and see a yellow oval slowly ascending into the sky. Crap.

Eric: I want another balloon!

Ok, so at this point I have a choice: drag everyone and everything back into the restaurant, beg for another bloody balloon and hope that they have enough, or simply use this as a teaching tool for how to hold onto your balloon for future outings. In short, I choose option 2. Yes, he'll tantrum for a few minutes, but he'll forget about it just as quick. Maybe.

Me: Eric, I'm sorry you lost your balloon. You did a good job of holding onto it, but sometimes balloons get away.

Eric: I want another balloon! Waaaaaaahhh!!!!

Me: [sigh] Honey, everyone only gets 1 balloon. I'm sorry...

So we get into the car, and I think this is the end of it because Rachel doesn't mind sharing hers. But no.

We get home, and Eric starts crying again. I get the kids inside the house, then I decide to tell Eric a story about how I lost a balloon when I was a child. He gets quiet, and asks where the balloon went.

Me: Well... [thinking fast] balloons fly up to heaven to be with Jesus and make children there happy.

Eric promptly bursts into tears.

Eric 1, Mommy 0.

Later at night when John gets home, Eric runs up to him and says, "Daddy, my balloon flew up to the sky."

John smiled empathetically at him. "I'm sorry, Eric."

"Jesus has my balloon." Then Eric got very quiet and said, "I just want Jesus to give it back..."

Great. Jesus: Messiah. Savior. Balloon Thief.
I can see Sunday school now:
"Class, does anyone know what Jesus did for us?"
"Yes. He steals my balloons!"

Eric 2, Mommy-0.

P.S. Laurie just translated Eric's prayer: "Dear Jesus, forget everything Mommy says. I want my balloon back. Amen."

I don't understand what the big deal is...

2011-07-27T17:54:00.006-04:00

Last night went something like this...
Me: I love cuddling.

John: I can't see my computer.

Me: Isn't this great? All this love and affection without having to put out?? It's like a dream come true!

John: [mumbling] More like a nightmare...

Me: [contented sigh] So... what are you thinking about?

John: Bear trap.

Me: ?

John: Bear trap. You know... trying to bite my arm off in order to escape...

Me: Too many pillows for that. Aren't throw pillows great? You know what we need?? Scented candles!

John: True. I could always light myself on fire...

Me: You have a bad attitude. Do all men think this way?

John: It's hot and uncomfortable. It's not like men get much out of it. Isn't there some scene in "When Harry Met Sally" about how men think about how long they have to cuddle without being rude?

Me: Huh. I didn't know you watched that movie...

John: My testicles had already shriveled up from having to sit in the same room while you watched "Titanic" last year.

Me: [sigh] I love that movie...

John: Can I go back to reading now?

P.S. I had no idea men were such pigs. This is why John gets anniversary gifts like this. As opposed to this. It's called priorities, honey. THAT is what you get out of cuddling. But if you ever get over your phobia of intimacy, the 45K is coming out of your pay-check as my current employer has me on call 24/7 and refuses to pay me. I also hear he hates cuddling. :-)

Having fun at the beach

2011-07-17T19:51:00.009-04:00

We just got back from our vacation in Myrtle Beach. By "vacation" I mean that the kids had a vacation. John, my parents, and myself are so worn out we need another vacation to get over the stress of our vacation. :-) Seriously, though.. it was great.

Here are some pics and highlights...

1) My parents graciously offered to take the kids off our hands for an entire day. It was Christmas in July. I think we read for a few hours without any interruptions before heading out to play mini-golf and going to an amusement park. On the way back, I noticed a thrill-ride next to the beach near the old Pavilion amusement park. You get strapped in and it sling-shots you 300 feet into the air at 3Gs during launch. You go straight up and flip several times (or even more if your husband decides to "get his money's worth" and fling his weight into the bloody device so many times that you don't get to enjoy the ocean view), but it was great fun. Here's a picture of the Sling Shot. The black dot is another soul being tossed into the air like fresh Fettuccine.
2) The kids are both fearless when it comes to riding rides. I will consider myself a successful mother is my kids love Jesus and roller coasters. (I showed Eric youtube footage of the Intimidator 305 and other roller coasters from Kings Dominion, to which he yells "I want to ride a roller coaster! Please??" Does my heart proud...) :-)Unfortunately, Eric... you've got a few years kiddo. And Rachel was a little too short (by like an inch and a half) to ride some of the rides that Eric could ride. It's hard to explain to a 2 year-old that she can't ride the same things that "Bubby" can. Thankfully, they both could ride together most of the time.

3) Both kids also played in the ocean a lot more this year. Last year Eric seemed to have a phobia of both water and carnival rides. This year both kids got a lot more out of the trip.
The aquarium at Broadway at the Beach was an even bigger hit this year as well, especially for Eric who would push adults out of his way in order to play with the hands-on exhibits.

It's a shame we only have a week down at the beach. It went by so fast, I swear we skipped a day or 2. So goodbye Myrtle Beach. We hope to see you again next year!

All dressed up...

2011-07-17T19:41:00.004-04:00

Day 52- A picture of me dressed up... and getting kissed
Four hours later I was over a toilet with the stomach virus from hell, but good news: I didn't puke on the dinner cruise. Or in John's mouth. I'm very considerate that way.

Happy 5th Anniversary, honey. We made it through five years, four of them with kids in diapers. I think we're doing pretty good! :-)

Day 51- Me... in shades, or A random beach picture because my imac sucks

2011-07-13T14:57:00.002-04:00

My computer is experiencing technical difficulties, which is nothing new in my ongoing saga of "How Jen Manages to Break Every Laptop She Has Ever Owned." This time the power cable isn't working. Or my computer is on strike and refuses to accept electricity. Maybe she wants to go green and run on solar energy.

At any rate, my battery is draining by the second, and I haven't uploaded all our pictures from Myrtle Beach. Plus I haven't had the time to write about our vacation, so predictably...

Day 51- A picture of me wearing sunglassesThis was our last day at the beach, and we took the kids to the water one last time before bed. Eric especially enjoyed the water this year.

I am bummed

2011-06-19T20:53:00.003-04:00

Tonight is the last episode of the Game of Thrones mini-series on HBO. If you haven't seen this, you're either
1) Not willing to be indebted to your inflation-flaunting cable provider to get HBO. And unless you watch a lot of movies, or really enjoy watching vampire soap operas on your flat-screen, I can't blame you.
2) You find fantasy to be tedious. Ahem... WHY do you read my blog???

It could also be that you have never read the books. I warn anyone who likes fantasy that A Song of Ice and Fire saga by George R R Martin is not your typical fantasy series, at least not any series I've ever read. Most fantasy books have cool creatures like dragons. There are dragons in these books... eventually. But honestly, where are the unicorns?? I mean, even Harry Potter had unicorns! Dead ones, but that's besides the point...

Nothing is left to the imagination in the Game of Thrones, the first book in the series. And you find out pretty quickly that Mr. Martin has a very twisted imagination: lots of rape, incest, murder. The HBO version, while quite graphic, doesn't show nearly as much as it should...

I didn't know what I was getting into when I started reading these books. In my defense, they are very well-written. I even fell in love with a few of the characters. Which brings me to my final and most dire warning: George kills characters cavalierly and without any discernible reason. If you enjoy books mainly for the character development, as I do, this will really piss you off!

The entire saga is supposed to be 7 (I think 8 at this point) books in length. And I was pregnant with ERIC when the next (5th?) book was supposed to be released. That's 3 years later than the original release date for those of you who stumbled here by accident and/or don't keep track of my kids' birthdays. 3 years. To wait. For. A. Sequel.

But I will miss this HBO mini-series. The actors did an amazing job with each and every character. The casting was phenomenal. Even the opening credits were amazing and helpful for newbies to keep track of the different characters and their houses. Most of the lines in the mini-series were taken verbatim from the book, which is very cool to a fan of the series. Lastly, anyone can follow the complex plot even if he/she had never read the book. If you enjoy fantasy, or just like watching a well-done story unfold, I hope you'll find the episodes and treat yourself.

[Sigh] Until the return of Castle in the fall... farewell T.V.

If my children end up alcoholics by the third grade, it will totally be my fault

2011-06-10T15:48:00.003-04:00

Today was "Water Day" at Eric's preschool. Parents and families were invited to watch their wildlings jump from kiddie pool to kiddie pool in 90+ degree heat. It was a lot of fun. Seriously.

Parents were given a list of items to bring including water shoes, a change of clothes, sunscreen, and a towel for the kids to sit on during snack time in addition to drying off.

These were the towels of the other kids in Eric's class...
And this was my son's towel:
Encouraging alcohol consumption, one preschooler at a time. I'm pretty sure this is why my kids don't get play dates.

I'm pretty sure I deserve a raise

2011-06-01T12:58:00.008-04:00

So I was thinking about being a stay at home mom, and how John gets a pay check every single day for working at a desk (with unlimited internet access) for only 8 hours. And I thought I really, really deserve a pay check for my 12-14 hour a day, physically and mentally-exhausting yet under-stimulating daily grind. I also thought John should pay for it since he technically got me into this mess. But when I carefully broached the subject (because you have to be careful about beginning a conversation with "I need a raise" let alone "I need a pay check"), John wasn't as receptive as I'd hoped.

Me: I need a pay check.

John: You want to go back to work?

Me: I AM at work. That's my point. I'm slave labor. I need a pay check for being a mom. Which means, I think you should pay me for my hours of servitude.

John: You want me to pay you?

Me: I was just thinking that it would be nice to have a pay check once a week that I could go to the bank and cash...

John: You want me to write a check out of our bank account, and then put it back into the same account?

Me: When you put it THAT way, you make it sound like I'm stealing family money. But really, it would be like stealing from the rich to give to the poor...

John: Who's the poor in this scenario?

Me: I was also calculating my Paid Time Off...

John: What about gas reimbursement?

Me: Excellent point! You should totally be reimbursing me for gas! After all, I drive the kids to appointments, pick Eric up from school... it's only fair.

John: I meant YOU reimburse ME!

Me: Whatever for? I don't even USE your car! So let's talk about PTO...

John: ??

Me: I think I deserve Paid Time Off for every dirty diaper changed. Let's say... an hour for every poopy diaper. So let's calculate this... Rachel is now 2...

John: I get PTO for every SIX HOURS WORKED!

Me: Ok, fine. Six poopy diapers for an hour of PTO. I can negotiate....

John: No PTO... this is your job. Suck it up.

Me: Fine. I quit.

John: You want to tell the kids that their Mommy is leaving?

Me: Eric, Mommy is leaving.

Eric: Umm... Can I have a popsicle?

Me: See? You could replace me tomorrow with a Bolivian house-keeper, and the kids totally wouldn't notice. I put up with a lot of crap, but do I complain?

John: YES!

Me: Standing up for my civil rights is not the same thing as complaining. You're The Man, and you're just trying to keep me down.

Laurie: Don't let 'The Man' keep you down!

Eric: Mommy, I need your help. I have to poop.

Me: I think wiping another person's behind is overtime!

Eric: Daddy, pay Mommy overtime!

Me: Did you hear that???

John: I'm ignoring you....

P.S. In hindsight, I should have hired a lawyer. I think I can get a lot more benefits with legal representation. Even my 3 year old knows I need to be paid for services rendered.

He needs to come home from work earlier more often...

2011-05-31T17:36:00.002-04:00

Actual conversation with John at 5:28pm today:

Me: Hey John! How was work? ["Hi Daddy!" Eric screams as he runs naked through the house. Rachel runs up to John in her diaper, says "hi" and runs back outside.]

John: Uh... hey.

Me: You just missed Rachel pooping in technicolor. I think she gets that from your side of the family.

John: [muttering] I doubt it...

Eric: Come downstairs!

John: Get some clothes on first.

Eric [after getting dressed with help from Mom] Come and play downstairs, Mommy!

Rachel: Outside!

Me: [looking at John] Which one do you want?

John: I'll take Rachel.

Hallelujah, because it's 95 degrees outside with humidity! I follow Eric downstairs to listen to the Belly Button song for the 418th time while finishing up laundry. As I take the laundry upstairs, Rachel shoots downstairs. John gets on my computer. The kids are happily playing in the basement. Peace and happiness. Which always lasts about .07 of a second before Rachel starts crying and/or Eric starts screaming.

Rachel: WHHHHAAAAAA!

Me: [looking at John] I will pay you a thousand dollars if you go downstairs with the kids right now.

John: What's this "Maids, not murder" thing on your computer??

Me: I haven't had a chance to actually read it yet. And the price just went down to $800...

John: [getting up] Alright...

Me: Thanks. Did I mention you get paid out of your paycheck? Since I don't actually have a paying job and all...

At this point, John said something I can't repeat here. But the kids played with Daddy for about 5 minutes before they tracked me down like a pack of crazed dogs in a fox hunt. And I learned that if I had a maid I would live 11 years longer and be less likely to poison John. But John would have to pay for that out of his check, too.

What's worse than fighting zombies?

2011-05-23T15:10:00.004-04:00

Besides fighting zombie-alien hybrids...??

The answer is: Potty-training a strong-willed child.

So much worse than fighting the undead. Especially if you have Vin Diesel to help you fight the undead.

If you haven't read the last couple of posts on this blog, you must be so confused...

I decided to start tackling potty-training with Rachel. She's almost 26 months old and is currently obsessed with potty books and videos. I reasoned that this would be the perfect time. I followed my friend Karen's advice and placed a potty next to the changing table so Rachel would begin to associate what goes on in her diaper with what should go on in the potty. After I change Rachel, I let her sit on the potty for as long as she wants.

Maybe one of these days she'll actually figure things out. Because right now, Rachel thinks having the potty next to the changing table is the best game EVER!! After changing her, she sits naked on the potty for about 0.08 seconds. Then she cries with delight and races into her brother's room. Before I can catch her, she is flailing around buck-naked on his bed while laughing hysterically.

While all this is going on, Eric has dropped trou and is actually using Rachel's potty. Which means I now have to clean that up and pray that Eric doesn't regress into only using little training potties again since he is also pretty strong-willed.

After I am finally done helping Eric dump his mess into the real toilet, Rachel usually decides that the carpeted floor is the perfect place to pee, clean potty be damned.

I totally get how some parents have their 7 year-old still in diapers. I am still having nightmares about starting bedtime training...

Fighting zombies? WAY easier...

P.S. Can I just say that seeing "zombies," "potty-training," and "Vin Diesel" all in ONE label for a blog post is totally awesome!

I am TOTALLY PSYCHIC!!!!!

2011-05-20T16:15:00.005-04:00

OMG you guys... So the DAY that I had the dream of the zombie/ alien invasion where Vin Diesel and I save humanity from certain disaster in the waters of the Pacific, the Center for Disease Control sends out their Emergency and Preparedness and Response for how to best survive a zombie apocalypse. I kid you not. It's right here.

It gives the run down on how to prepare for a zombie attack and what to have on hand: water, food, first aid kits... They mention nothing about having Vin Diesel. Nor do they mention 7-11, which my husband was certain would be headquarters for human resistance (HA, John!!!). The CDC says you should also have a change of clothes for each family member and important documents like your driver's license and birth certificate.

Ummm... OK. So maybe it's just me, but WHY would you need your birth certificate when fighting zombies? My dream took place towards the end of the apocalypse with humanity's final stand against the zombie-alien things, and NO ONE gave a rat's a** about their birth certificates. I remember cars being hard to come by though. Probably because we were all too busy running away from our starving zombie significant others to grab our driver's licenses on the way out the door.

The CDC wants to encourage all Americans that IF the zombie apocalypse comes, they were conduct a thorough investigation like any other disease. Even if that means going door-to-door. Which means those idiots will either all be dead or become zombies themselves walking door-to-door haphazardly like a bunch of well-dressed Jehovah's Witnesses.

Here's the Jen Plan for Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse:

1) Find Vin Diesel
2) Get weapons. That's right CDC. WEAPONS. Hello? You're fighting zombies, not meningitis.
3) Get a small group of well-armed humans to come with you and Vin Diesel to your nearest 7-11.
4) Steal a slurpee. Mostly because it's the end of the world and who gives a rip about stealing or the extra calories, but also because you will be really thirsty from fighting off zombies.

Then do whatever the heck you want because the Twinkies at 7-11 will probably outlive you. Although I would personally make sure you can run faster than most of the poor schmucks you picked up on the way to 7-11.

Really, finding Vin Diesel is the most important thing.

You're welcome.

Take that CDC!

When fighting zombies or aliens, make sure you make it to LA. With Vin Diesel. But don't mention the last part to your husband.

2011-05-19T22:01:00.008-04:00

Conversation with John:

Me: I had a weird dream last night. I was at a 7-11 with a bunch of people. One of them was Vin Diesel, but it totally wasn't some crazy fantasy dream because we were all busy running from zombies. Or aliens. They looked more like aliens.

John: [Typing on his computer, saying nothing]

Me: So anyway, it was night, but no one was supposed to be out at night... which is why I thought we were being chased by zombies. But strangely enough the 7-11 was open... Anyway, we were all trying to get a ride to Los Angeles... I wonder why Vin Diesel didn't have a car?

John: That's a good question...

Me: So the only truck available was carting GM cars heading west, so we all climbed in a car and fell asleep on the way. I think I saw that in a movie once... Anyway, I remember waking up and seeing the Hollywood sign. The rocky hills were especially vivid, I'm not sure why... But when we got there, somehow it was only Vin and myself. I think the others went sightseeing. Vin owned a shop in LA, and the zombies came to see him when I was in the back...

Laurie: You were probably going to the bathroom...

John: [looking at me, saying nothing]

Me: At any rate, they were definitely not human. Maybe they wanted his autograph, but the next thing I know, Vin and I have joined a ton of people in the Pacific ocean fighting the zombies, who somehow couldn't swim. So Vin was, like, throwing knives or something at them, while I was underwater retrieving more weapons... Then I woke up. I'm pretty sure it was humanity's last stand.

John: [grabs the computer, wondering what the hell his wife has been typing for the last ten minutes] ... [starts reading] ... [starts typing]
Zombies ... or aliens? How the hell don't you know the difference?! This is damn important!

Me: All I know is they weren't human... and I now have this strange urge to go see "Fast and Furious 5"...

John: [continues reading] 7-11 is always open. I fully expect it to be part of, if not the headquarters, of the human resistance in face of the Zombie Apocalypse.

Me: I think I want a slurpee...

John: [continuing] Wow ... your dream also comes with ad placements as well. That's ... kind of creepy.

Me: They could have been BMWs...

John: [finishes reading] You've got some effed up dreams.

Me: So it's perfectly OK to cheat on you during the alien apocalypse?

John: [shrugs] Well, if I'm already dead...

P.S. John was pretty understanding about the whole thing. The only thing he got the least bit upset about was my ignorance about whether it was a zombie or alien apocalypse.
I think John has issues.

[John] P.P.S. IT'S IMPORTANT!! I mean, if they're Zombies, then you know not to engage them in close range, which you could do with aliens. Well, at least some aliens. Aliens, on the other hand, might have salvageable equipment you can use against them in the war to retake our world. It makes all the difference!! Hell, if I'm dead, I hope you have a fighting chance to survive, but if you cannot tell the difference between a zombie and an alien ... well ... just make sure you shoot yourself before you infect Vin Diesel.

P.P.P.S. I knew John was mad about Vin Diesel...

What we have here is a failure to communicate...

2011-05-18T12:49:00.007-04:00

John and I subscribed to a lawn service last year for several reasons:
1) we're lazy
2) we have 2 preschoolers who make us even lazier whenever we have any down time
3) our neighbors both have immaculate lawns with no weeds, and our weeds were filtering into their lawns; except for the fact that we let our kids run around their property, we try and at least pretend we care about the quality of their yards.

The lawn service came out today in the pouring rain and left their "comments" about what they did. They are usual brief and to the point, but about 30% of the way through reading it this time, I was laughing so hard I couldn't help but post. These are the comments verbatim:

I TREATED YOUR LAWN WITH THE PREVENTATIVE GRUB CONTROL TREATMENT. AS WITH ALL GRUB CONTROL MATERIALS, THE BEST RESULTS ARE ACHIEVED IF THIS TREATMENT CAN BE THOROUGHLY WATERED IN. THIS TREATMENT CONSISTS OF DILUTE IMIDACLOPID. THANKS FOR LETTING ME SERVICE YOUR LAWN. LAWN LOOKS GREAT! KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK. IT WAS NICE SEEING YOU TODAY. IT WAS NICE VISITING WITH YOU TODAY. I AM GLAD WE WERE ABLE TO MEET TODAY. I WAS VERY CAREFUL AROUND YOUR PLANTS AND LANDSCAPING. WOW! THE LAWN LOOKS GREAT! YOU ARE DOING A SUPER JOB OF MOWING. THE LAWN LOOKS GREAT. YOUR GOOD WATERING AND MOWING PRACTICES ARE ENHANCING THE COLOR AND THICKNESS OF YOUR LAWN. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK. YOU LAWN WOULD BENEFIT FROM MOWING MORE FREQUENTLY. THE COMMON RULE OF THUMB IS TO MOW OFF NO MORE THAN 1/3 OF THE GRASS BLADE AT ANY ONE TIME DURING PERIODS OF PEAK GROWTH, THIS MAY REQUIRE MOWING EVERY FOUR OR FIVE DAYS. PLEASE HAVE YOUR MOWER SHARPENED (John just replaced the blade with a new one). A DULL MOWER BLADE SHREDS THE GLASS BLADES. A SHARP BLADE IS VERY IMPORTANT TO THE OVERALL HEALTH , COLOR, AND APPEARANCE OF THE LAWN. YOUR LAWN IS THICK AND FULL WITH NO BARE AREAS EVIDENT (we removed a crab-apple tree last fall and still have a huge hole in our front lawn). THIS MEANS YOU SHOULD EXPECT VERY NICE RESULTS FROM YOUR PROGRAM THIS YEAR. TODAY I TREATED YOUR LAWN FRONT SIDES AND BACK .THIS APPLICATION CONTROL GRUB INSECTS DISEASES . FOR THE BEST RESULTS THIS TREATMENT SHOULD BE THOROUGHLY WATERED IN TODAY IS THE RESULTS THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING US

I learned several things today:

1) We should mow every 3 days. Then stop for 5. Then mow again but not before measuring the grass. I'm so confused...
2) Our ex-crab-apple tree was hiding an Einstein-Rosen bridge into another dimension that closes whenever no one is looking. Everyone knows how unstable and unpredictable worm-holes are. Which is probably why...
3) Worms are taking over our lawn, and our grass will probably get the plague. I blame the worm hole, obviously.

If I were you, I'd stay away from our yard.

My place in this world

2011-05-08T21:49:00.006-04:00

Day 50- A picture of my favorite place in the world
No big surprise here... it's Tokyo, Japan. But there are two places in Tokyo that have a special place in my heart. One is the island of Odaiba. It's the largest artificial island in Japan and sits in Tokyo Bay. It's also damn near impossible to get to, unless you take a scenic boat tour from one port near Asakusa temple, or happen to find the monorail that only connects you to the island within certain specific subway stations. I only found Odaiba through the generous guiding of my friend Sonoko.

I remember Odaiba for the amazing restaurants, shopping, and the coolest indoor amusement park/ gaming area I've ever been to. And... of course, the Giant Sky Wheel where Mariko and I ~~made out~~ rode together.

And then there's Ueno Park at the peak of the Sakura or Cherry Blossom festival. Years ago, I dreamed of being proposed to under the cherry blossoms in Ueno Park. By day you can sit under the trees on the tarps provided and read a book while feasting on yakisoba and chugging Chu-Hi, which is fruit-flavored beer.

Chu-Hi tastes better than it sounds. Really.

At night, the red lanterns light up and create a communal excitement unparalleled in a country where everyone safely keeps to themselves. Ueno Park during this time is one of the few places where I have felt connected to the culture around me and not a gaijin outcast.

I dream of going back to Tokyo again in the spring during the Sakura festival. I want to introduce this astonishing and crazy city to John and my children. Everytime I travel back to Japan, I feel reborn.

P.S. John found out about the whole proposal thing because he wanted to know what Chu-Hi was, and I happened to inadvertently read the whole paragraph on the sakura festival. I reassured him that the Melting Pot was an awesome place to propose because it had chocolate fondue, which Ueno Park does NOT have. I wanted to make him feel even better so I explained that he could always make my dream come true by taking me to Ueno Park and giving me *another* ring under the cherry blossoms because our 5 year anniversary is coming up. He laughed. I'm pretty sure he was laughing about the fruit-flavored beer though and not at the idea of whisking me away to my favorite place on earth and lavishing me with diamonds. That would be cruel.

Ask and you shall receive...

2011-05-06T13:19:00.003-04:00

Day 49, Part II

Taken during my bachelorette party 2 days before my wedding. All of my best friends are in this shot, except for Kelly who graciously offered to take the picture.
Mariko is standing up giving the toast. Go figure!
Sitting down going clockwise are my amazing friends: Karen, KC (the other Kelly), Ayano, and myself.

Good times....

Thank you for the photo, Kelly! You are incredible. :-)

And just to rub more salt in the wound...

2011-05-05T19:51:00.004-04:00

Day 49- A picture of you and your friends...It didn't say the picture had to be recent. Guess who has no current pictures of her friends on her computer?

I may lose friends for posting this picture. But honestly, I look more ridiculous than anyone else. I believe that entitles me to post it here. I mean, good grief, people actually wore frayed jean shorts in public, people! Also, I'm pretty sure no one in this particular shot reads my blog. Probably because I blinded them the day I wore that shirt to school.

I'll find out soon enough.

P.S. Dear Karen and Kellys- Send me some photos that are uploaded onto your computer. Otherwise people will start to think I made you guys up. Thanks. Love, Jen :-)

How about 20 years, just to make me feel even older...

2011-05-03T17:31:00.004-04:00

Day 48- A picture of me more than 10 years ago...From this picture, we can discern that both youth AND perm solution are wasted on the young.

Can wolves and owls be soulmates?

2011-05-02T15:58:00.007-04:00

One day when I was a teacher I received one of those obnoxious forwards that I know I don't have time for and should immediately delete. It went something like this:

"Please don't delete!" This is where I should have instantly deleted the message and actually checked my professional inbox. "This will help you understand something critical about yourself!" because I'm incapable of doing this without electronic spam.

Then the email got down to business: "What's your favorite animal?"

I was bored. Very bored. So I wrote: Wolves

Then it asked in that all-knowing, patronizing way that only mass-produced email can: "Why do you like your favorite animal?"

Huh. I had never really thought about it before, but I typed: I like wolves because they are loyal to their family and those they trust, they are misunderstood, friendly, mysterious, strong and fierce yet gentle, intelligent, they mate for life, and I am attracted to them, but not in some sick, bestiality way. I thought that last point was particularly important.

Question #2: "What's your SECOND favorite animal?" (because apparently not putting "SECOND" in screaming, boldface type would make me forget that I had just answered the previous question)

I typed: Owls.

Once again I receive the question: "Why do you like your SECOND favorite animal?"

I typed: I like owls because they are intelligent, predatory animals. They can fly, and I can relate to them because they stay up at night and enjoy sleeping during the day. They are fierce even though they look cute. They can turn their heads 270 degrees to watch their prey and have cool eyes.

Then I had to scroll down to the very bottom of the email because scrolling down for 10 minutes to get to the point of these forwards somehow makes us happily eager for an answer to the mass stupidity we've indulged in.

It said: "The FIRST animal you listed as your favorite is the animal that is your soulmate. The traits you listed are ones that you desire in a mate. The SECOND animal is you. The traits you listed are ones that you see in yourself."

Unlike most forwards, I feel like this was an interesting observation and a good use of my time because I learned several things:

1) That I like hairy men who are intelligent, strong, friendly, and loyal.
2) I can fly and rotate my head around in order to capture rodents.

I can definitely say that I found my soul-mate, though the only mystery is why someone who gets paid to spend 8 hours programming on a computer can possibly want to spend all of his free time at home ON THE BLOODY COMPUTER.

I can also definitively attest to flying around at night when no one is looking. At least in my dreams. And I do have cool eyes.

(By the way, this is Day 47- A picture of my favorite animal. Done. If you want to read a much funnier post on Wolves, click here.)

Editing to create the perfect shot

2011-04-30T13:57:00.003-04:00

Day 46: A picture that I edited.Truth 46: I suck at taking pictures. Editing software is my friend.

This particular shot was taken in June of 2009. Rachel was only a couple months old; Eric was 17 months. It was the first time the kids had "played together." Rachel was under her baby Einstein mat, staring at Star. Eric started kicking at the poles, making Star sing for Rachel. Then Eric turned and wrapped his arms around his sister. I am so grateful I got the shot. It became our first family Christmas card (mostly because mom and dad are adverse to having our pictures taken while our kids have no choice in the matter). :-)

A favorite cartoon character

2011-04-29T18:04:00.006-04:00

I'll give you a hint: it's not Caillou! :-)Day 45: A picture of my favorite cartoon character. So my question is: do comic book characters count? I say "yes."

The reason why Nightcrawler of X-Men fame makes this cut over Boba Fett and Marvin the Martian is due to his faith. Nightcrawler is the only comic book/ cartoon character that I know of that is a devout Catholic. His Christian faith underlies everything he does. I like Boba Fett because he's just extremely cool. I like Marvin the Martian due to his wanting to obliterate Earth as it obstructs his view of Venus. But I love Nightcrawler as someone I can admire.

I hate spring

2011-04-27T13:39:00.001-04:00

Day 44- A picture that describes my life
Eczema sucks.

Celebrating Life and Love

2011-04-25T10:07:00.005-04:00

Day Whatever-the-heck-I'm-on... A picture of me celebrating.

Last weekend John and I traveled to San Antonio, Texas for Mariko's wedding. The weekend was amazing on several levels:

1) I got to see my best friend marry John's co-worker. We introduced them 5 years ago, but didn't think we had made a match. Turns out we were wrong. They just took FOREVER to finally tie the knot...
P.S. I'm 2 for 2 on the only matching-making I have ever purposefully done. Just in case anyone is looking to pay me to set them up... :-)

This picture is my favorite. Mariko is walking down the aisle. She and her father look so happy.
2) John and I got to travel without children. This is the first time I've been on a plane since before Rachel was born. Just thinking about flying with my kids terrifies me. They can't sit still at home. God only knows what horror they would inflict on passengers in a confined space. Rachel is perfectly capable of screaming for an hour straight on shopping trips. God help us when we actually take the plunge and fly with our children.
3) I finally got to visit San Antonio, home to Mariko and Karen. I have heard so much about the city through my friends. Mariko planned her wedding during Fiesta, so there was a ton of stuff to do. Unfortunately, we didn't have a lot of time, AND there were a ton of people. The ride from the airport to our hotel was crazy in and of itself. Either the cab driver had never driven downtown during Fiesta, or he was trying to run up the fare because what was supposed to be a $25 ride according to travel sites turned out to be $50. AND we had to walk to the hotel. But enough margaritas and roasted salsa makes everything rosy. That and businessmen with per diem who offer to pay your taxi fare. :-)

I got some great pictures of the wedding. Some of M's Georgetown buddies threw Fiesta confetti at her during the cocktail hour... She and John Lewis were married in a Spanish courtyard at the hotel. The weather was gorgeous, and with the parades and bands playing in the background, it was like the whole city was celebrating with us. Congratulations, M and Lewis!!

This is why the world needs more stay at home dads...

2011-04-14T13:29:00.000-04:00

Listening to music

2011-04-13T17:41:00.003-04:00

Today's challenge is a picture of me listening to music. And is it just me, or are these getting a bit silly?

I'm pretty sure I'm making pasta in this shot because it's all my kids eat.
As for what I'm listening to on my red ipod, I couldn't tell you. It could be anything from Michael W. Smith to Alice Cooper. I think my kids are just grateful I'm not singing...

The calm before the storm

2011-04-10T20:48:00.003-04:00

A picture of my favorite weather...There's something about a violent storm during the day... I simply love how the sky gets dark and everything becomes eerily quiet right before the rain hits. I love the thunder rumbling in the distance, gradually coming ever closer. I enjoy watching the flashes of lightning take over the sky, but the thunder is what I love.

And thunderstorms at night are even better... I rest in my bed, close my eyes, and listen to God kindly sing me to sleep... :-)

The Honey Bunny Homicides

2011-04-09T20:11:00.008-04:00

Rachel's second birthday party was today. There was good food, good friends... and one honey bunny...
A honey bunny is an edible bunny made of yummy bread from our local Great Harvest Bread company. Everyone seemed to enjoy it. We ate his eyes first (or rather Laurie ate his eyes). We then moved on to the ears, tail, and legs. By the time we were done and the party was over, the bunny looked something like this:

I decided to take a picture and text message it to a friend with the title "Mauled Bunny" I also included the tag line, "Thankfully he never saw it coming..."

Then I get an idea...

What if this were an episode of CSI, NCIS, or Castle?

It was after the party. I was bored. I was high on Benadryl (cursed pollen allergies!). I was so tired that I was punch-drunk.

Thus, the Honey Bunny Homicides were born....

Finally, Honey Bunny couldn't take it anymore...
Yes, I know I need professional help.

"Things do not change; we change"

2011-04-07T21:52:00.005-04:00

The title of today's challenge is a quote by Henry Thoreau. Which is ironic since I met my friends in this first picture in American Literature class my junior year of high school. We were a motley crew of dorks who found one another over our mutual hatred of morons, conformity, and required reading. Despite the poor teacher moving us all around to keep herself sane (at one point we were literally at the 4 corners of the room), we managed to reek havoc.
Day 40- A picture of my friends.... who are pretending to be dead at our after prom murder mystery party. Did we know how to live it up, or what?

We all went our separate ways after high school. We all went to college; some of us graduated, some of us didn't. Some of us married, and some didn't. Some of us keep in touch, and some have disappeared, not even surfacing on social networking sites. But I think about them a lot. The older you get, the more you need to have people in your life who knew you when you were young.

Today, my friends consist of people I met in college, friends of my husband, old friends from work. We meet in our kitchens, over good food and sour complaints about work, politics, and the craziness of life in general. We wonder how we ever got so old. We laugh about old stories. We create new ones. We still drink beer. So this post is dedicated to my friends: those who are still with me and those who have moved on. I'm glad I knew you. Thank you for sharing a part of your life with mine.

Maybe he's not quite ready to dress himself yet...

2011-04-06T14:32:00.001-04:00

...but when Mommy offered to help, he screamed his head off.

You can't find this family recipe anywhere else. Except that I just found it on google. I hate google.

2011-04-05T15:23:00.007-04:00

Every Saturday from April until September under the warm sun of the Shenandoah Valley in central Virginia, you can find it. The delicious smells will beckon you from Interstate 81 and secondary roads from Augusta to Rockingham county and on into Harrisonburg...

Day 39- A picture of my favorite food.BBQ chicken. More specifically, BBQ chicken from the Shenandoah valley in Virginia.

According to my father, the recipe is derived from Rockingham Poultry, INC in Timberville. Supposedly my great-uncle Sam Crider, Jr. who worked in the office there had something to do with developing the recipe. This is my claim to fame, and it's not even technically mine, but I'll take it.

Apparently if you google "BBQ chicken Shenandoah valley" the recipe will come up. The recipe I have is a little different, but as long as your base is oil, apple cider vinegar, and tomato sauce, it will taste amazing. Make it for your next barbeque, then tell everyone you got the recipe from some random blog you read, only be sure to give them the web address so I can feel good about myself when I see I have more followers. I love followers... almost as much as Jesus.

Jen Crider Loizeaux's Freakin' Fabulous Favorite BBQ Chicken Recipe:

1/2 pt Wesson Oil
1 pt apple cider vinegar
1/2 pt tomato sauce
4 tsp salt
1 tsp pepper
1/2 tsp onion powder
1/2 tsp garlic powder
2 tsp poultry seasoning
1/5th bottle Texas Pete

Note from my dad:
I place the raw chicken on the grill with the sides coated with sauce and keep it coated all the time. I think it might take about 1.5 hours to BBQ chicken legs and breasts, a bit less for wings. The fat in the skin really drips after a while and causes fire flare ups which can blacken and burn the chicken. Low temperature helps. Some folks boil the chicken first to get rid of the excess fat, but I've never tried that. A beer or two and a cigar helps pass the time.

Note from me:
Don't get the cigar butt in the chicken. The beer? No problem...

This post is dedicated to my high school sweetheart, not in a forlorn kind-of way, but because he has pictures of when I ACTUALLY looked cute!

2011-04-03T21:26:00.007-04:00

Day 37- A picture taken at school.

I had nada, people. Nothing to show you. Which is kind-of ironic considering I have spent pretty much my entire freaking life at school, either as a student or a teacher. I know I have one lousy shot of me actually teaching my first year at Massaponax. I was 23 and had red, inflamed skin thanks to being allergic to food. I looked like an emaciated lobster. I'm pretty sure the picture was taken by a student who was attempting to blackmail me for a better grade. To ensure I kept my high moral standards as a teacher (and also to keep it out of the school paper), I smiled politely and allowed him to take the shot. The student then mysteriously disappeared, and my "Ashes of Problem Students" vase got a little heavier.

And who takes picture of themselves when they're IN school? Teenagers. But those pictures are buried in albums deep in the closet of my old bedroom at home.

I know I have a few shots of me at drunken parties at college, but here's hoping that those never surface, or my dreams of becoming a rep for my homeowners' association will go out the window. That was sarcasm. Which I was supposed to have given up for Lent....

So I had nothing to show for my 25+ years of public education. Then I check the comment section on my last post. Wouldn't you know... my ex from high school has old pictures. I found one of my old dachshund Alex. Then I checked the album, and holy crap!
I... was... YOUNG!!! Really young. I don't remember ever being that young.
And while I didn't get his permission, I'm hoping that Patrick isn't too upset. I mean, he made the mistake of giving me the link... And look at our HAIR!
I have no idea who took this picture of us at school, in what I suspect is my junior year of high school. But God bless them for making me smile.

And God bless Patrick for keeping the pictures.

It's like having Edward Cullen as a pet, only prettier

2011-04-01T10:15:00.003-04:00

A conversation I had last night in my head with my 15 year-old former self when I was plagued by insomnia and obsessing over today's picture challenge:

Me: So today on my blog I'm supposed to post a picture of my favorite pet, only I don't have a pet...
15 Year-old Me: What's a blog?
Me: Nevermind that. I don't think I've had a pet in a decade, so I need your advice.
15 Year-old Me: Wiener dogs!
Me: [sigh] I almost forgot about my brief but expensive dachshund obsession... Alex the Wiener Dog. Dumbest animal on the planet. You do know she ate her own excretion, right?
15 Year-old Me: We also have the cleanest yard on the street.
Me: You have a point.
15 Year-old Me: They are so CUTE! And anyway, you can dress them like hot dogs on Halloween...
Me: Original. You do know we're, like, deathly allergic to fur, right?
15 Year-old Me: ?
Me: Oh... right. That's 8 years in your future. How do you feel about snakes?
15 Year-old Me: ?!!
If you've read previous posts, you're aware of how much I like snakes. But this came gradually, mostly because I'm allergic to fur, feathers, mold, cleaning cages, and work in general which really limits my choices of pets. Then in my twenties I found THE perfect pet for me: corn snakes. Why corn snakes?

First of all corn snakes are great snakes for beginners like me. They are docile and could care less about whether you pick them up to play or if you leave them to their own devices for months at a time. They only eat once every 7-10 days which also makes them economical. They scare the crap out of Jehovah's Witnesses who might come to your apartment door at 8am on a Saturday morning when all you want to do is sleep for goodness sakes. And they come in pretty colors. Like flowers with fangs, only without the annoying, sneeze-inducing pollen. Or a vampire that just swallows mice every now and then and sticks its tongue at you as opposed to drinking your blood.

I named Severus Snake after my favorite Harry Potter character. He was sweet, as far as snakes go, and extremely clever. Like crazy clever. A million times smarter than the s**t-eating dachshund I had as a teenager.

During one of my spring breaks when I was teaching I decided not to bring Severus with me to Charlottesville. So I fed him a big, juicy mouse and put him back in his cage while I packed my bags. It was a new cage- larger than his previous one, with lots of space for him to move around. As I was packing I noticed him slithering up the glass walls. I didn't pay any attention to him until I saw Severus use his body to unlock the lid and then lift the top off with his nose. He slithered down to the table in triumph.

When he glanced my way, I could swear he was gloating.

Time for plan B.

I put Severus back in the cage, locking the lid securely. I then put 2 World History textbooks on top of the lid. Anyone who has ever had to suffer through history in high school knows how ridiculously thick those books are. Now imagine teacher editions. I put one on each side next to the locks on top of the cage, smiled smugly at outsmarting my pet reptile, and left for my parents' house.

When I came back 5 days later, I found the lid wide open with the textbooks still on top. There was no snake to be seen. I was devastated. Snakes like dark, damp, warm places to hide. Places where they can get trapped and die. I figured I would find a snake corpse somewhere near my washing machine in a few months time and be utterly traumatized.

But being the eternal optimist, I went around the apartment looking for Severus. I stomped my feet loudly as I walked since snakes can only sense vibrations. I went to the study where I stored his extra snake stuff in the closet, including a little Christmas tree I bought him (we've been over that fact that I need therapy, right?). Sure enough, there he was right next to his tree. Guess he likes Christmas. He saw me and slithered into my hands. We went back to using the smaller cage after that.

When I moved to Japan I was forced to give him away to a science teacher at my high school. I heard from former students that Severus got a lot of attention and enjoyed living at the school, constantly on display. I also heard that he escaped quite frequently... :-)

Home is where the heart is...

2011-03-29T14:55:00.005-04:00

A picture of my hometown is today's challenge, but this seemingly simple task is not so simple for me. Trying to define where my home truly is tears at my heart. Is my hometown Fredericksburg, Virginia? Where I was born (and ultimately where I accepted my first teaching job of the first 4 wonderful years of my career)?
I suppose my hometown is technically where my parents now live, where I grew up and spent the majority of my life: Charlottesville, Virginia... or more specifically, western Albemarle county. Basically living near cows and trailer parks but with awesome views like this one:But even though I love central Virginia (and not just because of the Virginia wineries although it's a persuasive argument), I don't know if I would consider it my home.

When I was 10 years old, I moved to Japan. Even though I only lived outside of Tokyo for three and a half years, Japan became a part of me. I constantly feel this pull to return, so much so that I chose my career path around it and even broke up with a man I almost married in order to go back.

Tokyo isn't my hometown as cool as it would be to say so.

What about the happiest times of my life? Some people say home is where the heart is, and Frankfurt, Germany is where I left my heart years ago. For the longest time I thought that if I died I would want my ashes to be scattered there.
After years of college and teaching secondary social studies, to the point where I thought I would never get out of school, I was finally able to move back to Japan. Hamakita became my home, a sleepy little town outside of Hamamatsu. Every Saturday, which was my only day off from teaching English (school... again!), I would take a train into the city of Hamamatsu to meet friends and enjoy the adventures that only being young and carefree can bring. And I miss Hamamatsu every day...

Now my home is in Herndon, Virginia. It's a nice suburb of Washington, D.C. and I like the area. But compared with other suburbs around northern Virginia, Herndon is boringly similar. Most people live in the suburbs in order to have the quiet, family-friendly lifestyle yet still be convenient to the big city. But if you live in DC you understand that driving into DC is in no way convenient.
Still Herndon is home for now. It's nice, has an awesome homemade bread shop, and a quaint farmers' market on Thursdays. The irony is that it's the town I would have called home had I not gone back to Japan, had I continued my relationship with a man I almost married. At 26 years old the thought of living here in Herndon was such a suffocating thought that I was willing to move around the world in order to escape it.

Sometimes I feel that restless yearning for an adventurous life again. As a stay at home mom, freedom and escape stalk my thoughts whenever the daily grind threatens to overwhelm me. What would my life had been like had I chosen to stay in Japan?

If I'm being completely honest with myself, in those quiet moments of reflection that come so infrequently now, I have to admit that it wasn't until I was in Hamamatsu that I realized that I may love where I live, but to live somewhere without love is its own form of bondage. I think human beings cling to this hope that life is all about picking through imperfect people and unwanted experiences to find that one thing that will fulfill us. But the longer I live the more I have come to realize that there will never be a perfect life, a perfect job, a perfect place, a perfect love. The only way to truly be free is to find acceptance of the circumstances and people in your life. Because with acceptance, there is peace.

So I chose to come home. Truly home. And I chose to live in a place I sometimes enjoy and often times tolerate in order to marry someone I loved. I've come to understand that life isn't perfect, and love even less so, but it is all about acceptance. That knowledge is what keeps me free.

Still... I'm holding out on persuading John to move to the beach after retirement. :-)

Day 34- A picture of my favorite morning

2011-03-22T12:09:00.003-04:00

What I really needed here was a picture of me fast asleep and the clock reading something past 8am... Unfortunately, John wakes up after I do, and my preschooler still hasn't mastered the use of my digital camera. Amateur.
But this would be even better because it's at a hotel (which means someone is home watching the kids) AND I get my breakfast served to me.

I lead such an exciting life...

2011-03-21T10:46:00.003-04:00

Day 33- A picture of somewhere I went today. I also went to Quebec and spent some time with Caillou, but I'm too traumatized to talk about it...

I'm an aunt!

2011-03-20T22:14:00.004-04:00

Baby boy (maybe to be named Ian) Davisworth was born in Charlottesville, Virginia at 9:56am this morning, at the exact same time that John and I were arguing about driving to church late. :-)
Baby boy weighed in at 5 pounds, 8 ounces which isn't bad for being 5 weeks early...

Baby boy may be in the NICU for a week or so, but then he'll be home. My sister looks so happy...
Natural childbirth for 36 hours. I'm so proud of her, and I can't wait to meet my new nephew. I'm hoping to be down in Charlottesville later this week.

Congrats Christina!! You're a mama. :-)

Day 32- Favorite Quote

2011-03-19T19:47:00.003-04:00

Day 31- A picture of food I made

2011-03-18T09:06:00.003-04:00

Unless someone (and by "someone" I mean Laurie) happens to be here watching the kids, this is the extent of my culinary abilities with 2 screaming toddlers hanging onto my legs:

Someone I miss...

2011-03-17T12:13:00.007-04:00

Day 30- A picture of someone I miss. I miss my grandfathers, but have no digital pictures of them. I miss my friend and former college room-mate Jessica, who would be celebrating her 34th birthday this year. She was hit by a car while riding her bike in Fredericksburg.

I was thinking about all the friends I miss and rarely ever see. The one who stands out, mostly because I will more than likely never see him again, is Ky.
The last time I hung out with Ky was almost three years ago when he came to visit Mariko and I here in DC. He's a 6'3" Chinese guy who can put down 2 Big Macs in a sitting and never get fat. It's irritating. Ky is now engaged and getting married next year. He currently lives in the UK, which makes a visit expensive (and ridiculously difficult with 2 young kids), but when he moves to China in the coming year to be with his fiancee, visiting will be almost impossible.

I met Ky at the HICE in Hamamatsu while taking a Japanese class on Saturday mornings. He would sit stoic and drink his Royal Milk Tea. I could see he was Chinese, and I thought he didn't speak a lick of English. Turns out he moved to the UK when he was 7 years old and was fluent in British english. Once Mariko and I became friends, we felt it was imperative to pull Ky (and any other English-speaker we could wrangle) into our craziness. His dry wit always made us laugh. And we taught him valuable American cultural nuances such as "going postal" and "going commando," which really made him give pause and consider the weirdos he was choosing to spend his time with. We also said "dude" a lot, which he in turn started saying all the time. And there is nothing funnier than a Chinese guy saying "dude" with a British accent. :-)
Anyway, as you can see from the pictures, he's great with kids and such a nice guy on top of having the world's best sense of humor. Miss you, Ky!

A picture that can always make me smile...

2011-03-16T16:09:00.003-04:00

Rachel could make the best faces as a baby. And her hair stuck straight up... I wanted to weep when it finally fell flat.

Everytime I see this picture I can't help but smile...

The spirit of love always overcomes fear

2011-03-15T13:32:00.008-04:00

After posting about the upcoming excitement of meeting my future niece or nephew, here on day 28 I am supposed to find a picture of something I'm afraid of. I found a great picture of a wolf spider, but Laurie refused to read my blog ever again if there were any pictures or mention of spiders. It would only be a slight exaggeration to say she screamed and hid under my Snuggie while shaking in terror.

So because I have ample respect for the woman who helps me with the kids on a consistent basis, even on her days off, I thought I would write about something that is keeping me up at night since Friday. I haven't talked about my time in Japan much on this blog, mostly because I feel a lot of guilt at not keeping in close contact with my church in Hamakita. I was sent there for what I believe was a God-given purpose, and I feel as if I failed both as a missionary and as a Christian.
When I heard about the worst earthquake to hit Japan ever, I was devastated. My biggest fear is losing my friends without having any knowledge or any way to help. Since Hamamatsu is on the coast, I assumed the worst, especially in regards to the tsunami. Thankfully, it seems the Shizuoka Prefecture has been spared, although they did have a 6. earthquake today. I think everyone is most concerned about the nuclear reactor leaking radiation and possibly losing containment. The Japanese government is urging people to stay inside their homes, but many Japanese are weary of the corrupt government and some are not heeding the warnings.
Verizon is offering free calls to Japan until April 10th, but land lines are down and cell phones lines are busy, at least every time I've tried to call my friend Ayano-chan. If you are a praying person, please pray for Japan. Also, if you can spare even a few dollars, go to the Red Cross web site and donate. It does make a difference.

Please note: I do not own any of these pictures. They are owned and protected by law here from The Atlantic, which is also linked from the third paragraph above.

Day 27- Me, my sister, and ?

2011-03-14T22:32:00.002-04:00

This is my only sister. She's younger, but that doesn't completely explain the fact that she got all the gorgeous, youthful genes in the family. We don't know the name of the baby girl or boy who's crowding the shot, but we hope to meet him/her in April.

What means a lot to me....

2011-03-12T23:22:00.003-05:00

There are a ton of things that mean a lot, but here on day 26 of the challenge with two toddlers and no free time, there is one thing that stands out above all things...
When John takes the kids off my hands for a few hours means more to me at this time of my life than anything. I don't get opportunities to feel like an adult very often. I cherish any time I can get on my own: to read a book, to drive alone, to SHOWER for goodness sake (there's nothing like trying to wash your hair as your 3 year-old is staring at you and asking questions like "What's that hair down there for, mommy?")...

This picture was taken at a Wiggles concert, which as you can see, John thoroughly enjoyed. I'm just glad that he volunteered to go, and I got a nap. I can't believe there was a time in my life when I had too much free time on my hands. Just one more thing I will never again take for granted, at least not until the kids are in college... :-)

Day 25- A picture of my day

2011-03-11T20:52:00.002-05:00

Since day 24 was a bit depressing, I thought this would cheer people up a bit...
Not only does that picture sum up my day, it also pretty much sums up my daughter.
Thanks for coming over for a play-date, Pete. And thank you for coming over and eating my pancakes, Laurie and Valerie. ;->

Something I wish I could change.

2011-03-10T15:59:00.005-05:00

When I was in college I dated the best friend I ever had. We had been best friends for four years. We had so much fun together; we could laugh about everything and enjoyed common interests as friends often do. What I didn't realize throughout the 4 years of our friendship is that this young man had some serious issues, the kind that only come out once you get close. I'm not talking about "issues" like subscribing to Maxim or drinking cocktails and running half naked around your college campus in the middle of December (I'm pretty sure I was mostly clothed... the night is a little fuzzy). I'm talking about issues like believing fervently that his ex left him because she was cheating (she wasn't- she just wanted to get away from him), and screaming in your face when you decide to do something he doesn't agree with.

I begged him to get therapy. He wouldn't. So instead of nagging, begging, and threatening my best friend and lover to go, I went instead. And I learned something that changed my life: this man wasn't the problem. The problem was me. Because even though he had issues and needed to change, I needed to change too. I was attracted to men that I thought I could "save," men who I thought no one else understood, men who "needed me." The truth was I needed them to fill some void in my life that no one could fill.

After seeing a therapist I regained my courage and found the strength to leave the relationship. I tried to keep our friendship, but he couldn't handle that. It still hurts, but in the end he is the one who lost, not me.

I also did the best damn thing I ever did in my entire life: I took time between my relationships to start focusing on me. Who am I? What was I really looking for? Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to spend quality time with yourself, especially when you suffer from a low self-esteem and depression. I had confused relationship drama for passion. I had used books, fantasies, drinking, friends, and men to block my reflection; I was afraid of being alone and seeing myself for who I really was. But in the end EVERYONE will be forced to face themselves. I hated myself for a long time. However, once I spent time alone (and I mean I spent a year or 2 between dating at times), I realized I was a pretty cool person. I learned to love myself, and that is the greatest gift you can give. You can't love others in a healthy, whole way until you love yourself first.
I currently have a loved one who is suffering through similar emotional abuse. Only it's not some college romance she can easily walk away from. Children complicate everything. I remember in my situation how the young man used things that I loved in order to control me. I know there are millions of women and men who are trapped in similar circumstances. If I could change one thing, I would change my loved one's life. I would make her strong again. I would have her see herself the way healthy individuals see her: as a caring, beautiful, acceptable woman who is lovable just as she is.

In the end, there's nothing I can do for her just as there was nothing I could do for the young man who was once my best friend. I can only pray and hope they find their way- No one can do that for them.

How to annoy your spouse AND anonymous strangers AT THE SAME TIME!

2011-03-09T13:29:00.010-05:00

My husband John has several religions, the most notable being Christianity, politics, and Redskins football. Every night John worships at the feet of football forums, where he is a moderator. When we first got married, I was annoyed that this took up what I felt was WAY too much of his free time. Free time he should be spending with his new wife: rubbing her feet, cooking her dinner, taking her for shopping sprees at Swarovski...

After five years of marriage, I came to realize something that was probably painfully obvious to most singles but leads to divorce in most cases- if you can't beat him, join him.

Now I love football as much as the next couch potato, but I wasn't about to join a football forum where random people analyzed draft picks. Draft picks, for pete's sake... So I asked myself: What did I like enough to commit time and energy to...? Well, I like t.v. And I'm watching this show called Human Target, so maybe I'll look on the Fox community boards for the show and lurk a bit.

So I lurked for about a year until I finally got up the courage to type my opinions about characters and episodes. I decided to get really creative and go under the pseudonym "Jennifer."

What I found out was- Wow! Posting is fun! After awhile I started responding to more threads. Then I got up the courage to start my OWN thread. Then I got addicted, which I'm pretty sure John wasn't counting on (Note to couples- being on your computer as much as your husband will either lead to understanding or strife, but it will always be fun). :-)

I love the forums on Human Target, mostly because I find random strangers who AGREE with me which is so cool... Most of the board discussions revolve around the introduction of 2 new characters in the second season named Ilsa and Ames who happen to both be women. The majority of posters hate these new additional characters because it changed the entire dynamic of the show. And now the show is going to probably be canceled.

But every now and then some random schmuck will start a thread or join a discussion and be insulting. I'm all for using sardonic wit to make a point, but I get irritated when people make personal attacks, mostly because the posters to this forum write like prepubescent tweens that flunked eighth grade English and that brings out my natural teacher sense as well as my maternal instincts. Call me old-fashioned, but I have a problem with anyone who starts a battle of wits with an unarmed opponent.

Yesterday, I finally got an opportunity to use my contentious sarcasm on one of these schmucks named JP. I'm pretty sure JP is a disaffected college student on spring break because he has a lot of free time on his hands and writes like an eloquent prick. JP started a new thread, and this was also his first post. The transcript follows:

Men Become More Interesting When in the Company of Independent Women


JP Posts: 6	Keep everybody! The Ilsa-Chance angle is less about romance than it is about relationships. And the relationships are less predictable when you've got this mix of five people with different stories and sometimes different goals.These relationships (Winston + Guerrero, Guerrero + Ames, Guerrero + Chance, Ilsa + Ames, and Winston + Ilsa) take the stories and from basic comic book to something better. Perhaps if the guys who want to eliminate the women characters were more comfortable with independent women, they wouldn't be so hostile, like 8-year-olds protecting their treehouse from girls with cooties.

Jennifer Posts: 141	Dude... I'm so uncomfortable with independent women that everytime I pass a mirror I scream at my reflection, rip up my Roth IRA documents, and heave the stapler at my college diplomas. OR... how about this angle: maybe a majority of the people really enjoyed the show the first season and felt duped when it changed completely in the second.

JP Posts: 6	A majority? "Dude," what was the size of your survey sample and what was your methodology?
(Then a cool guy named Duncan jumps in and tries to keep the discussion civil and on topic. He fails.)
Duncan Posts: 71	JP go and look through the posts that remain on this forum and they will provide you with evidence to the fact that the majority including myself enjoyed season one because there were not whiney women but independent strong female characters.

JP Posts: 6	Ah--a self-selected sample. Not statistically relevant. As for the descriptor "whiney"--that fits Bridget Jones and Sarah Palin more than it fits the characters of Ilsa and Ames.





Jennifer Posts: 141	Mar 8, 2011 -- 5:04PM, JP wrote: A majority? "Dude," what was the size of your survey sample and what was your methodology? Dear JP, No formal methodology, but reviewing posts doesn't require a class on statistical analysis. I encourage you to read through the posts about the addition of the women. The majority of people who have posted were highly displeased to say the least. And not all of them were men, even if that surprises you. But if fans of the show on these boards isn't enough of a population sample, I would be happy to help you contact Gallup. P.S. Sarah Palin isn't whiney; she's belligerent. In that respect, you two have a bit in common...

JP Posts: 6	Of the two of us, you're the only one who chose made a personal attack. It's ironic that you called me "belligerent"--from the Latin word for war. You have demonstrated that the anonymity of these postings doesn't bring out the civility in everyone.

Jennifer Posts: 141	Dear JP, From your first post: "Perhaps if the guys who want to eliminate the women characters were more comfortable with independent women, they wouldn't be so hostile, like 8-year-olds protecting their treehouse from girls with cooties." You started this thread by making a personal attack to every man on this forum who happens to disagree with you on the addition of the female characters. Most of the people on these boards, and I've been on them for a year now, think they add nothing and take away from the original concept of the show. You can disagree, that's fine. But don't hide behind your thesaurus and be wounded when someone bites back after being attacked. If you want posters to be civil, then begin with a civilized discussion. You reap what you sow, my friend. As for anonymity, as you can see I have no problem using my real name.

JP Posts: 6	You seem to speak for a lot of people: Not only "the majority," but "every guy on this forum." Still, apology accepted.

Jennifer Posts: 141	Dear JP, I know you wanted the last word. Oops. Just out of curiosity, why did you join this forum? I ask, not because I object to you being here at all, but the only posts you rush to write are on this thread that you created, no doubt to add some drama to an otherwise dull day. You haven't bothered to check any of the other threads that would prove your theory incorrect, and yet you seem to have ample time to research as to whether the majority of people like or dislike the addition of the women to the show. I would really like to hear what you have to say on other topics. That being said, I'm quite sure I didn't apologize to you. Let me check. Because as a stay at home mom I could do this s**t ALL DAY... Nope, didn't apologize. But if you would like to apologize to me, that would be great. Could you throw in a million dollars? And a pony? Forget the pony. They poop a lot.

(At this point, a nice girl named Taryn tries to once again get back to the original topic. Then she mentioned she liked the pony comment.)



Jennifer Posts: 141	Thanks Taryn. But I'm afraid I'm giving up sarcasm for Lent. Of course, if JP continues to post on this thread (and we continue in this vein), I'll be forced to give up something more substantial like Triscuit Thin Crisps, which would suck because my local Giant just started carrying the Quattro Formaggio ones. As for the women... well, that debate has been so overdone on other threads (and discussed more efficiently) that I guess I just felt like hammering home more important things like the pony. I blame the fact that yesterday was Fat Tuesday. That and the fact that I really, really wanted a pony when I was a girl. I have emotional scars. I think the bottom line is this: people like what they like, but most people who have posted here seem to prefer the women be written out of future scripts. And for all the forum readers who had the misfortune of finding this thread, you can ignore everything I've written up this point, but remember this one thing: Quattro Formaggio Triscuits are delicious. You should go out and buy a box. But they are also highly addictive, like small triangles of crack cocaine. Don't say I didn't warn you...

I hope I was able to impart something to JP, mainly that no one likes a smart ass and that Triscuits taste better than sarcasm.

The Hiding Place

2011-03-08T13:22:00.003-05:00

Day 23- A picture of my favorite book.

I didn't read the Hiding Place until my twenties. It's an autobiographical account of Corrie Ten Boom and her family. Long story short- her family was a part of the Dutch resistance movement during World War 2 and provided a hiding place in their home to Jews escaping Nazi persecution. They were betrayed by a neighbor, and eventually ten Boom was sent to a concentration camp with her older sister. Throughout the entire ordeal, she and her sister never lost their faith. In college I read Night by Elie Wiesel, and I can't help comparing the two books. Both writers were victims of the concentration camps of the Holocaust and suffered unimaginable tragedy. But whereas Wiesel loses his faith in God, Corrie Ten Boom's faith grows stronger. Her faith in God makes mine look lackluster, even on my BEST days.

One part of the book that stands out for me is when the barracks the sisters are staying in becomes infested with lice. ten Boom urges them to thank God for the lice, which seems absurd, but the Scriptures say to give thanks for all things. So everyday during prayer they continue to thank God for the head lice. Later it was revealed that the lice actually kept the Nazis out of their barracks and saved the women from being raped.

I usually read science fiction, but when I reach for biographies, especially ones with so many tragedies, I can't help but think about how easy my life is in comparison to what so many have gone through. There are so many untold stories of hardships that millions suffer through everyday. While this book centers around the suffering of the Holocaust, it is actually a story of hope. It changed my life and helped me draw closer to God.

Just one of those days...

2011-03-07T11:36:00.007-05:00

I'm just going to step away from the whole 100 day challenge thing for today. It was one of those mornings where God had to gently remind me that I do not lead a charmed life. My 3 year-old has been skipping naps AND getting up at 6:30 in the morning. My daughter was a thug for the Russian mob in her past life and continues to bite, kick, and shove everyone who gets in the way of her toys. It was lovely to get clocked in the mouth with a guitar after lunch. But the highlight of my day was vomiting in the middle of the grocery store parking lot for no reason and getting it in my hair before going shopping (No, I'm not pregnant). One day, they say, I will look back on this time of my life and smile. Sure.

BUT I wanted to share a hilarious post I found from my blogging idol. I'm all for making my small cliche of readers have a good laugh. The entire post is a great read, but the part on the pros and cons of being a stay-at-home-mom was what I could TOTALLY relate to...

The PROS of being a stay-at-home mom: You don’t have to shower until noon. If your child is under 6 months old, you can watch zombie movies and The Big Lebowski all day and they totally won’t care. Pajamas are your new uniform. You’re always home to sign for packages. You get to see all the cool things your kid does all day. Your kid isn’t exposed to the petri-dish of germs that is daycare. You feel like Donna Reed. You don’t have to deal with that bitch at work anymore. Your partner thinks you’re amazing. You have the quiet satisfaction of doing what’s right for your children.

The CONS of being a stay-at-home mom: You don’t have time to shower ever. If your child is over 6 months old, you have to watch really shitty kids TV all the time and you have weird sex dreams about Thomas the Train. All of your pajamas have bodily fluids on them. And not the good kind. You accidentally show your boobs to the mailman/cable guy/next door neighbor.* You realize that your kid is boring and/or an asshole and you can never escape from them. You want to knife Donna Reed for making it look so easy. You irrationally shout, “STAY-AT-HOME MOMS ARE WORKING MOMS” every time you read an article like this and then you shake your head and wonder how you got like this. You feel so lonely that you actually start to miss that bitch at work. Your partner wants to rest after a long day of work and they don’t understand that you need to rest too and they say something like, “Why? What did you do all day? This house is a wreck” and then you have to go to jail for stabbing them in the shoulder. You find that prison is a pleasant break from being a stay-at-home mom. You secretly worry that you’re making the wrong decision.

And by the way, the pros and cons of being a working mom are just as hysterical. I had to share...

*The sad thing is my friend Laurie stayed with us for a summer when I was still breastfeeding Rachel, and she used to keep a daily tally on how many times she saw my breasts. Unfortunately, she kept it on her hand so every time she changed a dirty diaper, the lines were erased putting her back at square one. But she's pretty sure she got up to two dozen every day. Rachel ate a lot. :-)

Something I wish I was better at

2011-03-02T13:01:00.003-05:00

Nope, not bondage. I wish I were better at keeping my big mouth shut.

If it walks like a duck...

2011-03-01T13:26:00.006-05:00

Today's challenge is a picture of something I wish I could forget. What do I want to forget? I want to forget being sexually assaulted as a teen, the total douche I gave my whole heart to in Germany, the movie Howard the Duck...

This was a slam dunk... and not just because I can't imagine trying to find a picture of the first two.
If you've never seen Howard the Duck, the picture pretty much sums it up. This god-awful movie still haunts my nightmares. Ironically, it was highly-anticipated when it was released- kinda like Barbarella. It's about a sexually-depraved comic book character from outer space who lands on planet Earth... and wears a giant duck suit. Whoever green-lit this project should be dragged onto a busy street and shot. It was so bad that even at the tender age of 10, I left the theater and walked home (At the time I lived on an air force base and "home" was an apartment building literally ten yards away from the theater; don't want readers to think I hitchhiked across Washington, DC).

Did you know Tim Robbins was in this movie? And George Lucas was an executive producer?? Yeah, I didn't either until John went on IMDB. George Freakin' Lucas, people!!! It's my theory that the genius who created the original Star Wars trilogy and gave us Indiana Jones became so tainted by his association with this movie that horrid delusions produced Jar Jar Binks... and that God-awful Indiana Jones alien sequel.

I dedicate this post to you, George Lucas. Because thanks to you I can never look at ducks the same way again.

Dear God, Please let the third time be the charm...

2011-02-28T21:00:00.003-05:00

Day 20. A picture of somewhere I'd love to travel.

The irony of wanting to travel to Italy (Rome and Florence for the most part) isn't lost on me. Because of my father's job, my sister and I were fortunate enough to live overseas and travel to countries in Asia and Europe. One of the countries my parents wanted to take us to when we were living in Germany was Italy.

I wanted to go. But I was fifteen. I had a lead role in a theatre company production that was opening when I would be in Rome. And did I mention one of the guys in the theatre company was smoking hot? [Drool] I chose to stay in Germany with Kelly, go to school, and keep my role in the play instead of traveling with my parents. In my defense, I was fifteen. And teenagers are, well, stupid.

Fast forward 15 years. I'm getting married to John, and we're trying to figure out where to go on our honeymoon. Once again I have a chance to go to Italy for a week, but John and I think about the awful heat in Italy during the late summer and decide instead on 2 weeks in Hawaii. Not that I think we made the wrong choice: Kauai and the Big Island were amazing. But I wonder if I shouldn't have tempted fate. How many people are fortunate enough to have not one, but two opportunities to travel to a place you'd love to see? Who knows if I will ever have a chance to get to Italy again?

A picture and a letter

2011-02-27T20:13:00.010-05:00

Dear Bladder,

I know we've never been best friends. In fact, ever since I've been potty-trained you have made me a laughing-stock among my acquaintances with "normal" bladders ("normal" meaning not having to use the toilet every 2 hours). I have visited numerous doctors because of you. I was around 5 or 6 years old when you convinced my poor parents that I had diabetes because I was in the can so often. The doctors continually told me I didn't have a problem. But I do. The problem is you.

I could write a successful book (or blog for that matter) about the nuances of every women's room for amusement parks this side of the Mississippi. You have forced me to navigate the rest areas and fast foods joints at every exit of interstates 64, 95, and 81. My friends chuckle as I politely excuse myself multiple times through dinner. Aisle seats are a must-have on airplanes and in any seating arrangement, while sitting through Harry Potter movies has become a form of medieval torture.

And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, I had kids...

Now instead of being able to sleep for 8 hours straight, I am now forced to take 3 hour naps every night in order to appease your insatiable appetite. Even trips to the grocery store or mall must be planned out in case you sadistically decide to toy with me. So today I take a stand in writing this letter of formal protest. I would trade you in for a better model, but there are no refunds or exchanges. Even those stupid pills designed for women twice my age aren't an option. I know you are eagerly awaiting the day when I have to head through the "Incontinence" aisle at my local pharmacy and purchase numerous items for your amusement. And you are not allowed to lecture me about kegel exercises, which are simply just another one of your pathetic excuses to make me do ALL the work in this relationship.

You suck, bladder.

Resigned to suffer in silence like so many of my comrades,
Jen

Bad Mommy

2011-02-27T20:03:00.005-05:00

Today's challenge is my biggest insecurity. This wasn't tough at all. I am terrified that I'm a bad mother.

When the kids scream for ten minutes straight, when I yell at them, when I swat their butts in anger, when my friends tell me how fast their kids are progressing, when I read books by multi-millionaire mothers with 2.4 "gifted" kids who can play 5 instruments and are choosing which Ivy League college to attend... all these things make me wonder if I'm doing it right. I know there's technically no "right" way to parent, but that's not what all the best-selling parenting books tell me.

It's not hard to bring out a mother's insecurities.

He doesn't spend his ENTIRE day playing with baby toys...

2011-02-25T20:31:00.008-05:00

Today's challenge is a picture of something that made a huge impact on your life recently.

I really want to say it is the freedom fighters being executed in Libya, or my fellow civil servants protesting in Wisconsin. The problem is that those events haven't truly impacted my personal life, even if they have impacted my emotions. After much soul-searching, I finally realized the one thing that has had a huge impact on my life, even if the impact began last September...

I honestly believe that a parent simply knows when their child may not be like other children. With Eric it came early. I started to sense something was wrong when he wasn't babbling at 6 months. By a year, he could make some sounds, even say "yum yum" or "dada," but as soon as he would begin saying a certain sound, he would stop. It was almost as if he forgot and would lose language connections as quickly as they would begin. Eric walked at around one, but always on his toes. On play-dates, kids that were younger than him would use spoons with ease while Eric would use only his fingers. I didn't hear Eric say "mama" until he was 22 months old. Only a mother can understand what it feels like to wait so long to hear your name spoken. There were a lot of happy tears that day, let me tell you...

We finally had him tested when he was just over two years old. Eric was diagnosed with language delays, gross motor and fine motor delays. I beat myself up for this, as Rachel was a baby during critical windows of opportunity in Eric's development. Eric had therapists coming and going from our house, but it wasn't until he started a preschool for other children with delays that real progress was made.

In the first few weeks of starting school, Eric's speech became intelligible to John and I. Within a few months he was talking in 4 word phrases. And now he can speak in complete sentences. He gets verbs confused a lot, but it's so amazing to actually have a conversation with my child. Eric's school is paid for with my tax dollars, and another huge bonus is that Eric's preschool potty-trains, and Eric is now completely potty-trained except at night.

Eric catching up to his peers developmental... it's not as sensational as protests or remarkable as a revolution, but it means a heck of a lot to us.

Pass the bottle...

2011-02-23T11:46:00.008-05:00

Someone who inspires me...

My children inspire me to be a better mother every day. Their dirty diapers inspire me to ramp-up the potty-training.
The Holy Spirit inspires me to continue my spiritual growth and draw closer to God.
Reading novels and eloquent words on a page inspires me to become a better writer.

Today's post should be about all of them...
... but it's not.

It's about a bald 4 year-old named Caillou.

Caillou, as much as I love the 23 minutes you give me to do a load of laundry and unload the dishwasher on a daily basis, my children have become obsessed with your non-stop chatter. The soundtrack of some people's lives are the rock anthems of Pink Floyd or The Who. Mine is the incessant whines of a cartoon character. As such, you inspire me Caillou. To drink. Heavily.

Because 14 hours in coach is the 7th ring of hell...

2011-02-22T10:32:00.008-05:00

Today's challenge is something I want to do before I die. I could cover a lot of ground with this one. I would love to go ski-diving, parasailing, become a published author, eat lunch with a couple of choice celebrities, buy a condo and live on the beach...

But the one thing I would desperately love to do if I ever become independently wealthy: Fly first-class on United Arab Emirates to Tokyo. Why Tokyo? It's my favorite place on planet Earth. Why Emirates? It's the most amazing airline on the planet. I have pictures to prove it...
Now this is first-class, people. I grew up on Yokota Air Base, then moved back to Hamamatsu when I was 27. I have flown round-trip from Japan to Washington, D.C. so many times I have lost count. Flying was a novelty at first. Eventually it just sucked. I envy people who can pass out on airplanes, peacefully sleeping upright while layered in scratchy blankets, oblivious to the coughing, crying babies, roaring engines, and endless chatter...

So this is the plan: get John and my closest friends together, rob a bank, and buy tickets to Tokyo where we can live off the kindness of my contacts overseas (because we'll only have about 37 cents left over after buying the Emirates tickets). It's hard to case the joint with 2 cranky toddlers though, so I could use some help...

It just wouldn't be the same...

2011-02-21T21:05:00.004-05:00

Someone you can't imagine your life without... that's today's challenge. Well, I have a lot of "someones" who fit. But there are two who stick out. They turned my life upside down, and while I sometimes need a day (or 2... or 3...) away from the craziness just to mentally regroup, I have no idea what I would do without them. Seriously, What did I do before devoting 12 hours a day to raising two human beings? Someone remind me...
Aren't they cute? Eric and Rachel, Mommy loves you and never wants to live without you.

They Might Be Giants

2011-02-20T16:30:00.007-05:00

The title will leave some smiling and others perplexed. Today's challenge is a picture of your favorite band, and They Might Be Giants (or TMBG) is geek rock at its finest. Picture Bare Naked Ladies only less Canadian with a trumpet and accordion. I'm not exactly sure TMBG is my favorite band because my taste in musical genres and groups is so eclectic. This picture was taken from the TMBG fan site.

This band has stalked me throughout my teens and twenties, but in a pleasant, non-threatening way. I first heard their albums once I moved back to Virginia in 1992 (no MP3s back then, people). I discovered their music thanks to my group of friends in high school. Our welcoming cliche were quite a strange ensemble and by that I mean we sat around on weekends talking about Clinton's presidency instead of getting trashed like the majority of our classmates.

While I was in the Virginia pep band, "Road Movie To Berlin" became our anthem of sorts as one line says "Seek out this glass of bourbon..." University of Virginia students drink bourbon, except for people who make the mistake of dating certain drunks that decide to down their "4th-Year Fifth" of Jim Beam on an empty stomach. Those people drink tequila. :-) (Ugh. To this day I can't stomach the fumes without also smelling the accompanying bile, blood, and vomit that went with that particular sleepless night of hell).

In my twenties, I went to TMBG concerts with my boyfriend. Picture hundreds of mostly-sober white geeks who can't dance. Now picture them crowded together in dingy clubs, jumping up and down simultaneously all while singing off-key. Those were the days...

TMBG now does children's music in addition to the alternative rock that I love. They even won a Grammy award for their album "Here Come the 123s." I've never heard it, but it's kind-of comforting to think that my favorite band has gone through the same stages of life- marriage, kids- at the same time as me.

So thanks TMBG for all the great music and for all the memories.

Gone but not forgotten

2011-02-17T10:41:00.015-05:00

Today's challenge is your favorite memory. I have a lot of those, and most are from 20 years ago spanning the course of a full year. My favorite memories consist of the carefree life I had while living in Frankfurt, Germany. There was no particular day that stands out as being the best day of my life. I was in the ninth grade, usually a year filled with trauma for most teenagers. But I lived through all of my teenage trauma the year before, which is why I think my year in Germany stands out as being so wonderful. Maybe I should explain...

When I turned 13 I had two friends, whom I'll call Jackie and Sara. Friendships in threes almost never work out well, and this story is no exception. Jackie and I became close. I knew she had a lot of problems, but we also had a lot in common and genuinely enjoyed each other's company. Long story short, Sara became jealous. She would whisper little fables of Jackie's supposed betrayal in my ear. This went on for awhile until I had enough and finally stopped speaking to Sara. I never believed Sara's lies. However, it turned out that Jackie did.

I found out the hard way about what happens when a deeply insecure, disturbed, and angry girl becomes convinced her best friend is hurting her. Trying to physically fight me, calling the police, spreading vicious rumors... she made "Mean Girls" look like "Pollyanna." After ten months in the hell of middle school bullying, even captivity in a Siberian prison would have been heaven. But fortunately I found a safe haven in Frankfurt.

It was hard for me to find my place in high school. I'm a geek who looks like a cheerleader. I don't care about clothes, hate gossip, and aside from my Johnny Depp obsession, didn't really enjoy talking about boys for hours on end (I mean what 14 year-old boy can compare with Johnny Depp??) But for some reason I managed to gain a lot of friends while in Frankfurt. I finally started dating, fell in love, had the freedom to travel on public transportation anywhere I wanted. I joined the Frankfurt Galaxy band which introduced me to the wonders of American football.
The height of irony was that I made two best friends named Kelly and... Kelly (who thankfully wanted to be called Kaye) while in Frankfurt. No jealousy, no drama... and our friendship of 3 has lasted for over 20 years now. Our best times were spent at Rebstockbad, a swim park in Frankfurt. That picture is at the bottom.

So... thanks for the memories Frankfurt. Almost all the military bases are now closed. Our old hang-outs have been razed to the ground to make room for parking lots. Frankfurt American High School is now a German school. But I will never forget the freedom and love I found there. I've run into complete strangers who were wearing letter jackets from Germany, and we became instant friends. There was something about living there that just made you happy.

I'll never forget you, Germany. And we all miss you!

Note: I don't own any of these pictures (thank you, google). Some are courtesy of forgotten-frankfurt.blogspot.com. Others are owned by travel sites in English and German.

You'd think this one would be easy...

2011-02-15T12:42:00.001-05:00

Today I have to find a picture of something I hate. You can see why I held off from doing this for Valentine's Day yesterday (By the way, I got the most awesome Valentine's Day gift ever- a professional knife sharpening station, which is almost as cool as ninja stars and a DIY sodium thiopental chemistry set).

Back to today: I had a hard time narrowing this one down. My list is extensive. Things I hate include (but are not limited to):
bad drivers
willful ignorance
whining
morons
any animal with more than four legs
rapists
spiders (they deserve their own category of evil)
the Fox television network for canceling Firefly (among other things)
people not doing their fair share of work
insomnia
peoples who cant rite english 2 good
cheaters
allergies
natto
people who complain about all the things they hate... ;-)

I thought that natto deserved the picture of the day. I hate natto. Natto (pronounced naht-toe) is Japanese fermented soy beans with the consistency of sick snot and the smell of rotting garbage. It comes in convenient easy-open snack packs with hot mustard and soy sauce. I suppose putting spicy mustard and shoyu sauce on the foul stuff is meant to help your poor olfactory cavity drown out the assault on your taste buds, but the slick goo going down your throat will guarantee that successful consumption won't last long.

Japanese assume that foreigners can't do anything "Japanese" well. Just go to Japan and use chopsticks correctly, perhaps say "thank you" halfway decently, and you will almost certainly get a standing ovation. Try natto? You're an instant celebrity.

This happened to me in the church dorm I lived in. One of the women was eating natto and asked if I wanted to try some. Not one to back down from a challenge, I told her I was willing. I took a bite. It wasn't bad. Of course, I had no idea it was choked in mustard and shoyu. I even went to the grocery store and bought a 3-pack (mostly to eat it in the communal kitchen and show everyone that, yes, an American CAN eat and even enjoy Japanese food, even disgusting ones). There were serious flaws in my logic.

So I opened the first pack of natto one morning. I added the condiments and took a bite. Ugh. I smiled bravely, choked down most of it, and discretely threw the rest away when no one was looking.

Two mornings later I was ready to have another go. This time even the smell of the stuff made me retch. Into the trash it went. I gave the last pack to the woman who first introduced me to it.

The Japanese claim that natto keeps you looking young, kind of like Botox for your intestines. You want to skip the natto and stick to regular exercise and chemical injections. Trust me on this.

How do you take a picture of your brain?

2011-02-13T20:17:00.000-05:00

Today is a picture of my most treasured item. And my most treasured items are my memories. If a fire were to race through the house I wouldn't grab my passport or purse, I'd head straight for my scrapbooks and photo albums. I only wish I could take all of the pictures stored in my brain and transfer them into an album at will (any inventors out there up for the challenge?).
So this was the best picture I could come up with. This scrapbook was done for my mom for Mother's Day.

The Person Who's Gotten Me Through the Most

2011-02-12T16:10:00.000-05:00

I had trouble with today's challenge with the whole quality versus quantity debate again... Who has truly gotten me through the most?

There's Kelly Boettcher who got me through my entire high school career and a horrible break-up.
There's Karen who got me through my latter half of college and was by my side while I had cellulitis.
And then there's Mariko who got me through a year of loneliness and culture shock while we were living in Japan.

Today I decided that the quality of the moments should outweigh the quantity. And natural childbirth just tops everything. So here's a tribute to John, who still complains how I bit him repeatedly while I was in labor, and all he has had to put up with...

Thanks, John AKA Daddy. You're the best.

Let's Pretend to Be Polygamists and See How Open-Minded This Restaurant Really Is

2011-02-12T15:42:00.002-05:00

A picture of my night...
Last night was the Friday before Valentine's Day. With my folks in town to watch the kids, John and I decided to go out. Our talk about what to do for Valentine's Day went something like this:
Me: So... what should we do for Valentine's Day?
John: [on his computer] I don't know...
Me: We could go out...
John: OK...
Me: Or... we could go hang out with friends.
John: [looks up] We don't get to see our friends very often...

So it was decided. We made reservations for a romantic restaurant and then invited our good friend Laurie, who is usually babysitting our kids while we go out to romantic restaurants without her. Laurie is like a member of the family. She has lived with us two summers in a row and has watched the kids grow up.

As we walk through the door of The Melting Pot, I whisper to John "Put your arm around both of us." We sit down, and this other traditional couple ("traditional" meaning a man and a woman... how mundane...) looks a little nervous, which means I have to ask them to take our picture with the honest apology of "We don't get out much..."

And here we are:
Don't we sister wives look happy? I particularly like the s***-eating grin on John's face. Truthfully, I totally get where the fundamentalist Morons are coming from on this one. More wives means more help with cooking, more camaraderie, and less frustration. Of course I can say that because I don't have to share my husband...

Did I mention we were able to order the "couples' dinner" even though there were 3 of us? Maybe they were afraid of a religious discrimination law suit. I think we should get our own reality show, which would be spectacular because then we wouldn't have to worry about things like retirement, working, funding 529 college plans... We're like the Kardashians with less silicone...

Don't let the Masters degree from Georgetown fool you...

2011-02-10T13:53:00.001-05:00

I had a hard time with today's challenge "The person who've done the most messed up things with." First, I have the Kellys, whom I've been friends with for over 20 years now, and we've done some crazy things together in Germany... co-ed slumber parties, dodging drunks during our Frankfurt Galaxy months...

Then there's my college room-mate Karen who was with me through the evening of the special brownies and the infamous "9 shots of tequila" night when we ran into a cop and went into the steam tunnels under UVA... And Lisa... man. You don't even want to know the crazy things I've done with her (good thing I have no pictures).

And then there's Mariko... The picture is of me posing with her on the night she graduated with a Masters of Science in Foreign Service (Translation: she is a glorified humanitarian, and I mean that in a "I'm so jealous she gets to travel and help people" way).

Aside from walking into S & M clubs in our spare time, we have hunted for imported red wine at local 7-11s in Japan late at night. We've gone to the Tokyo fish market and eaten raw fish for breakfast. We've ridden the Ferris Wheel at Odaiba, which apparently is mostly ridden by overly affectionate couples (we were the only couple NOT making out). We decided to start singing "That's Amore!" at the top of our lungs, mostly to annoy the other riders, but also to distract ourselves from having to watch couples, um.... making out. We've played drunken Scrabble at our local ramen shop while oogling the Japanese Keanu Reeves look-alike who wore those tall, white rubber boots. Ah... the boots.

We also walked around the city of Kyoto in the dreadfully humid month of August for not one, not two, but three straight hours looking for what amounts to a bar. A bloody bar in a city, for goodness sake (OK, it was an izakaiya, which is a very COOL bar where you scream for the waiter to come for more drinks and food but I digress). And of course Mariko has to bring along these crazy pictures of her trip to Thailand, which were rocks in the form of intimate body parts and splash them all over the table like cheap perfume in front of my new boyfriend.... Our idea for the DIY Pap Smear never panned out (but if you ever see that in a drugstore, it was totally our idea... OK, mostly Mariko's idea, but I think I should get some percentage of royalties for having to put up with hearing about it). And the boyfriend didn't pan out either, but after the dirty rock pictures combined with the DIY idea, you would run for the hills too...

And then there were the Kit Kat innuendos that I saved Mariko from in Hamamatsu...

I guess what I'm trying to say is this: while the quality of messed up things might be higher with others, Mariko tops the list for quantity. I mean, if the craziness of the Tokyo and Kyoto trips alone weren't enough, I don't know what is...

John always gets to take a nap...

2011-02-09T22:26:00.000-05:00

Today's challenge is a picture that makes you laugh. I have several with Rachel and Eric that I love, but this one actually made me laugh when I was looking through my photos. It really requires no explanation, but I remember taking the shot because Rachel and John look so similar: the dark hair, the beautiful round face that looks so peaceful in sleep... and neither one has any trouble napping.

Something that I Love

2011-02-08T11:28:00.000-05:00

I can't believe I'm on day 5 and am still keeping this craziness up. I guess I just needed a list to complete. That's me- the adult, non-Muppet version of detail-oriented Prairie Dawn (who also likes pet snakes).
Today's picture is of something I love. I mentioned my addiction to roller coasters in a previous post. This picture was taken at Kings Dominion which has several amazing thrill rides. My sister took this picture and sent it to me during one of the summers when I was pregnant and separated from my beloved roller coasters. I have loved riding thrill rides since I was 7 or 8, pushing myself on my toes to make myself as tall as possible in order to reach the coveted "Tall enough to ride" marker at the entrance ramps. Thinking about why I love roller coasters (I know I'm not your typical adrenaline junkie), but I believe the reason is that my mind is always in motion- worrying about tomorrow, nostalgic for yesterday, fretting over the perfection of completing a huge number of daily tasks. The only time I am ever living completely in the moment, worry-free and happy, is on a roller coaster.

Something I'd Like to Do Again... Day 4

2011-02-07T12:46:00.000-05:00

Today's theme is something I would like to do again. Mariko (my crazy friend from Japan) and I are posing in front of the National Cathedral. This was two years ago in July. Our friend Ky, whom we also met while in Japan, was visiting. My folks came up for the weekend to help John with Eric, and I went to M's apartment near Georgetown to stay with Mariko, Ky, and friends for the whole weekend! Without kids! Just hanging out for the entire weekend. It was wonderful. I think I stayed up until 4am talking to everyone. It was like being back in college, only without the hangovers and term papers. Unbeknownst to me I was about 3 weeks pregnant with Rachel.

This was one of the few pictures I took that weekend, but every time I see it I am reminded of how free I felt. I would love to do something like that again. It's hard enough to get some time to yourself with one child; it's darn near impossible with two. But I hope one day when the kids get older to visit friends and maybe even travel again.

Favorite T.V. Show- Day 3

2011-02-06T17:46:00.000-05:00

Today's challenge is a picture of the cast of your favorite show. The picture is from the first season of Human Target, which used to be like watching an hour long James Bond movie on network television. Key words here are "used to be." [sigh] The second season has just gone so far from the initial vision that it's lost a ton of fans. Though the ratings have done well in the last two weeks, it's still almost certain to be canceled. Here's hoping it gets renewed and hopefully gets back to the original storylines though...

Jen, the eternal optimist.

(Photo courtesy of FilmReviewOnline.com)

The Person I've Been Closest to the Longest- Day 2

2011-02-05T22:10:00.000-05:00

Today is supposed to be a picture of the person who you've been closest with the longest. But since my mutant power is to destroy computer hardware (2 hard drives, one motherboard, and 3 separate machines in less than 3 years... what can I say, it's a gift), I have no pictures from 3 years ago on my computer. So this picture will have to do...
The baby is Eric, not me. But since my parents have been in my life the longest (and this is the only shot I have of them on my computer), I figured it would work. I was close to my mother before birth, so I figured it had to count for something. :-)

The 100 Day Challenge- Day 1: "15 Facts"

2011-02-04T20:10:00.002-05:00

My friend Laurie put me up to this. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Actually, my life is quite boring and don't have a lot to write about. Eric is still potty-trained during the day, and I'm not even ready to consider tackling the night-time battle yet. At any given time at least someone in this family is ill and has been since Thanksgiving. So unless anyone wants to read about poop or snot, I think I need to change tactics. :-)

The 100 day challenge is like this- every day has a theme and each theme is accompanied by a picture. [sigh] I know... I won't be able to keep this up. Can't hurt to try though.

Today's theme is a picture of myself with 15 facts. How mundane. Let me see if I can make this interesting...

1- I am the type of person people either love or hate because I'm brutally honest and tend to offend people easily. Just ask my ex-boyfriends' mothers. :-) Or my ex-boyfriends for that matter. OK, honestly? Anyone who knows me can vouch. See that picture up there? I pushed kids out of my way so I could ride the cool dragon instead of the lame horses (OK, maybe not pushed per se, but definitely wouldn't let the little buggers cut in front of me while waiting in line).

2- I am a roller coaster junkie. The higher and faster the better.

3- I have a mild form of OCD. My newest obsession? A show called Human Target that airs on Fox. Actually, the show sucks this season, but I love the character called Guerrero mostly because he's unapologetic, pragmatic, wonderfully sarcastic, and does things like casually electrocuting someone to make a point. Since the show probably won't get renewed for a third season, I wonder what new obsession I will find once it's done.

4- I have loved American football since I joined the pep band for the Frankfurt Galaxy in 1991- the first year of the "World Football League" later called the "NFL-Europe" which has now defunct.

5- I don't believe in soul mates. I think everyone can control who they fall in love with, it's simply a question of following your head over your heart and of will-power. If I had to be completely honest though, I think I've felt this way since finding and losing my "soul-mate" at a tender age (don't feel bad for me guys; he was a total dick).

6- My spiritual history is quite... unique. I was raised in a Baptist church, but studied Islam in college. In 1998 I went through RCIA and became a Roman Catholic. Two years later I joined an African-American evangelical church and became a "born-again" Christian.

7-I think I am the only born-again Christian in America who is also a strong democrat.

8- In the autumn of 2003 I moved to Japan to be a missionary. I sucked at it. I feel strongly about sharing God's love with people, but could never find it in myself to actively persuade them to adopt my beliefs. I came back to the States a year later, but met the best friend of my life while I was living in Hamamatsu. I even proposed to her. She didn't accept though. Thankfully, I follow #5 so it didn't hurt our friendship. Much. ;->

9- I met my husband while I was dating his best friend in college. Even though I thought John was hot, I also came to the conclusion that he was too immature to date... that is, until we reconnected after my return from Japan in 2004.

10-The happiest time of my life was when I was living in Frankfurt, Germany in 1991. If you think reading that was depressing, try writing it! :-)

11-My favorite pet is a pet snake. I've had 2 pet snakes since college and think they are low maintenance and cute.

12- My favorite place in the world is Tokyo, Japan with the exception of Roppongi after dark. My best friend from factoid #8 and I ended up accidentally walking into an S & M club while looking for food because my crazy, vegetarian best friend didn't want to eat Japanese food during the entire trip (??!!). Seeing a salary man collared and being led on a chain is permanently etched into my memory. Makes for a good story though.

13-I almost lost my left foot through amputation when I had cellulitis as a 22 year-old in college. I still have the purple scar tissue in my ankle. I've had similar infections three more times since then, though none quite as serious.

14-I have suffered from trichotillomania since I was about fourteen.

15-I sometimes have fantasies of getting in my car and just driving away from my crazy life for a few weeks, having no responsibilities and feeling free. I am such an Aquarius. :-)
Unfortunately, John would know exactly where to find me. :-)

Now you know more about me. And I feel like I've just emotionally flashed a multitude of strangers. Putting so much personal information on such a public forum? Guerrero would be displeased... ;-)

We don't believe in child labor laws

2011-01-12T15:20:00.001-05:00

Now shovel kid!

No snow???!!

2011-01-11T15:03:00.000-05:00

Blizzards to our north, south, east, and west.

I feel jipped.

Poop

2011-01-02T20:00:00.000-05:00

Anyone out there with babies, toddlers, or preschoolers? Do you fondly remember the days when you could have a conversation with your old college friends that didn't involve talking about your kid's poop? [sigh] Me neither. When you and your friends all decide to independently procreate at the same time, it's bound to happen.

Tonight my husband passed me in the hall. I had just finished putting down Rachel, and he was with Eric. We had come back from a friend's house only 30 minutes before. They have cats. I am allergic to cats. What I'm not allergic to is Benedryl. And what I found out tonight is you can take several Benedryl and not feel the effects while in an allergenic environment, but as soon as you leave said environment you are as high as a kite.

"There was poop in the tub, Jen."
"Huh?" I look at John with glazed eyes, drool pooling around my lips.
"Rachel must have pooped in the tub. There was only a little bit."
"OK. I'll bleach the tub." It's amazing how mellow I get about cleaning when doped up on medication.

John returned to Eric's room. I went to the laundry room and got the bleach. As I'm standing over the tub I do what any normal obsessive-compulsive parent would do: I look for signs of poop. Surely there must be some here. I don't see any. Well, whatever. I already have the bleach and the tub could use a cleaning. I clean the tub about once every vernal equinox. And the kids' toys could use a cleaning. I turn on the hot water, throw the toys in, scrub down the tub. I pass John in the hall afterwards.

"John, I didn't see any poop in the tub." John thinks anything remotely brown that's floating around in there must be poop. But I know how often I clean, so I'm betting on mold.
John replied, "I saw some on the mat so I wiped it up."*
"Oh."
So much for my mold theory. I'm too stoned on Benedryl to care about cleaning, but I can't help but think how different one's life is with toddlers. Before I had kids I never thought I would pick anyone's nose but my own, or willingly hold someone who was vomiting on me. 10 years ago I was celebrating New Year's in a bar. Now I'm lying in bed cursing the neighbors who bought fireworks. Ten years from now I'll have a teenager. Oh Lord... A teenager??!!

Life is going by way too fast for my taste.

*For those of you without kids yet, you don't want to know what he used to wipe it up with.

When it rains...

2011-01-02T13:44:00.000-05:00

I hope all of my 4 readers had a great holiday (Hi Mom!).

In case there are those of you out there who had a holiday like mine, I just want to say "2011 will be better!"

Two weeks before Christmas John's work had a lovely dinner cruise for their employees. We had our great friend Laurie babysit, and we went on the cruise. We saw our good friends and had a lovely three course meal. Then we returned home where I spent the next eight hours purging my stomach of said meal.

The next day John took the kids and I had a true day of rest. For those of you with two in diapers, you know how unheard of this is. It was almost worth getting violently ill... until my 20 month-old daughter decided to dump an entire roll of toilet paper down the commode downstairs and thus flood our basement. Ah the joys of home ownership and begging our insurance company to cut us a check so we didn't have to pay $1200 out of pocket right before Christmas.

For the next two weeks I passed the stomach bug from hell onto both kids and my husband, making for a lot of sleepless nights and laundry. During this we also hosted a baby shower for good friends from southwest Virginia who are expecting twins. I am thankful that no one got sick who attended the party.

When the week before Christmas finally came, I was looking forward to traveling to my parents' house where I hoped things would calm down a bit and feel more like the holidays. Unfortunately, my parents got sick two days before Christmas, and we once again spread holiday germs throughout the family.

Now it's January 2nd and things are finally quiet. The kids are healthy (really hoping that's the case because Eric hasn't been in preschool for three weeks), John and I are healthy and somewhat rested, and I'm hoping that 2011 will be a year of prosperity and blessing to you and yours. As for us I hope 2011 will be the year of successful potty-training. :-)

Cheers everyone, and Happy New Year.

Holiday Pictures

2010-12-02T09:06:00.001-05:00

Eric's elementary school had a photographer come to take pictures while giving all his proceeds to the school. I thought he did a great job and wanted to share a few here since I couldn't send them over email.

So happy holidays everyone! I hope you are further along on your shopping than I am and far less stressed! :-)

Halloween Pictures (finally)

2010-11-08T15:40:00.001-05:00

Trick or Treat!

It's the Wiggles!!! :-)

Hope everyone had a Happy Halloween!

KIds say the darndest things...

2010-10-26T12:37:00.000-04:00

As you can see, I haven't been keeping up with this blog very well. This is a season of my life where I feel like my faith is being tested and is growing, but I don't want to get into details. I do, however, want to write about the kids. If nothing else, I want to keep records of things they are saying and doing. Here is the latest:

1- Eric is now speaking in complete sentences. He has a cold today and a horrible croup cough. Rachel is now sick too. After cleaning up vomit and wiping noses, I go into the living room to discover poop on the carpet. I'm not pleased.
"Who did this?"
Eric looked at the spot on the carpet. "Uh oh..."
"Did Rachel do this?" I'm talking out loud as I keep the kids away from it.
Eric looked down. "No."
I look at him. "Did you do this, hon?" Seriously, I'm not mad, just afraid someone might have gotten some on their little hands and now I'll be dealing with rotavirus.
Eric smiles. "Caillou did it!"
I look right him. "Caillou did NOT come into the house and poop on our carpet!!!"

2- Rachel is very violent to her favorite stuffed animal, a little pink bear that we call Binky. Everytime she gets it, she makes the poor thing sniff her feet, then she bites it, hits it, and throws it on the floor before body slamming the little guy. The last few times she has gotten Binky and started abusing it, Eric has said "Help!" for Binky as she bites and hits it. Guess Eric is our pacifist.

3- Yesterday John got Eric up in the morning, and Eric wanted to bring his favorite stuffed animal "Cat" and his Blankie downstairs. So Eric hands Blankie to Daddy. Then Eric hands Cat to Daddy.
"Oh no," John says. "You need to hold something too."
Eric looked right at him and said, "Too heavy."

4- I know Rachel loves me, but whenever I get her up she calls for Daddy and sometimes Laurie, a friend of ours who sometimes stays the night. Today was no exception.
Rachel looked at me. "Daddy?"
"Daddy's at work honey."
"Laurie?" (Sounds like Wha-Ree)
"Laurie's at work too."
"Daddy?"
(I'm gritting my teeth now) "Daddy's at work."
"Laurie?"
"Laurie's at work."
She looks at me for a second. "Mommy?"
[sigh] "Yes, Mommy's at work too." (Though how many times do people ask me when I'm "going back to work" as if I'm on vacation!)

5- Rachel has started scratching her behind at the top of her diaper. I'm guessing the fabric is irritating her skin, poor thing. So today I notice her scratching and say, "Here Rachel, let me get some cream for you."
Eric looks interested. "Rachel has owie?"
"Yes, Rachel has an owie on her butt."
Eric looks thrilled. "Eric kiss and make better!"
So I look over my shoulder and see him kissing her butt.*

Ah... kids.

* This is nothing compared to when my mom was babysitting Eric and before his bath, he was sitting on the potty complaining that his penis hurt. He also asked her to "kiss and make better." My mom called me and said, "I did not sign up for this!"

Wordless Wednesday

2010-07-21T15:39:00.001-04:00

Yes, that's my kid...

2010-07-17T21:31:00.000-04:00

When I was single, B.C.* I would go into grocery stores and inevitably I'd hear toddlers screaming their heads off about something. I would think to myself I wonder why those moms can't control their children.

Karma was listening. Stupid karma can read your minds, so anyone who's ever judged a mom and is considering having babies... you have been warned.

The kids and I made a Wegman's run today with Daddy. Usually, when Daddy comes to the store with us, Eric and Rachel have a grand old time. Especially Eric. Because when Mommy goes shopping, ALL babies go into the cart. But Daddy lets Eric run around. And this is when we ran into trouble. Because Eric decided to run around like a manic mobile air raid siren

Eric: "Choo-choo?? Choo-CHOO??!!!"
Mom: [audible sigh] "We will see the train as soon as I buy some fruit."
Eric sees the produce scale: "1-2-3!!! 1-2-3!!! Eric want!!!"

He ran into carts, people, and then tried to single-handedly knock over the planted herb table. So Mom decided that it was time to put Eric into the cart.

Eric: SCREAM!!!!!!!!!!!!

Everyone stared. And I realize that karma sucks.

The only thing that stopped the crying was when we walked past the eggs. The eggs for goodness sakes. We never buy eggs because no one ever eats them.

Eric: "Eggs?"
Me: "What?"
John: "What?"
Eric: [sniffling at the injustice of riding in the cart] "Eggs?"
Me: "No, honey. We don't need..."
Eric: "WHAAAAAAAA!!!"

Then we finally got into line, and the woman in front of us was unloading groceries alone with her four young kids. God bless her. Someone always has it rougher than you.

*Before Children

The beach!

2010-06-16T16:07:00.000-04:00

I have been MIA for a while now. My lovely daughter has decided that she is ready for only one nap a day. Of course, she is a mess without that second nap, but don't tell her that. So now Mommy has no time to post to her blog. After the kids go down at night, I am officially "Off Duty," which includes a glass of wine and/or chocolate and my HGTV fix. 12-hour days really suck. I tell my husband, "At least you can use the bathroom when you need to."

But I digress. We just got back from Myrtle Beach. Note to other bunchers out there, especially those who can't use a portable DVD player to turn the screaming munchkins into zombies: 8 hour car rides = hell on earth. And I don't care how many diapers you pack, you WILL run out.

Anyway, here are some cute shots.

Eric couldn't get away from his numbers, even at the beach. The boy is obsessed!

Rachel thought the salt water was pretty tasty!

Eric liked the water, but wasn't the fan that Rachel was.

Eric loved the idea of riding rides, but freaked whenever he actually got inside. Rachel, it turns out, is our fearless child.

Rachel's Birthday Party

2010-04-16T15:15:00.001-04:00

Why I Chose Home Birth

2010-04-11T00:06:00.001-04:00

A year ago today I gave birth to my beautiful daughter Rachel. I chose home birth after such a traumatic hospital birth with Eric. I thought I would spend this day reflecting on my experience and sharing with everyone why I chose to do this.

If someone had told me I would have a child at home, without pain medication or the reassurance of doctors nearby, I would have said they were insane. I am not the granola-crunchy type, but I became intrigued by unmedicated child-birth, thanks to Karen. When I was pregnant with Eric, she asked me to read this book, and since she was waiting to adopt a child of her own, I figured I owed it to my best friend to read it. Before I read the book, I remember telling her, "You know the first words out of my mouth when I get to the hospital will be 'Get me an epidural, right?'"

The book changed the way I viewed labor, and I decided to try for a natural childbirth in the hospital. Unfortunately, it didn't work out well. Because I received pain medication during transition, Eric was born sideways and had to be vacuum-extracted with NICU intervention.
The nurses were surly and literally disappeared while I was pushing. John was the only one in the room when Eric crowned. The OB who delivered Eric was a complete stranger and butchered my episiotomy. I had severe postpartum depression and horrible infections, among other things that are far more unmentionable. I told myself I would rather give birth in a corn field than go back to that hospital.

When I found out I was pregnant with Rachel, I felt I owed it to her to do everything in my power to make sure she had a better start in life than her older brother. I wanted to allow my hormones to work with my body in order to bond with her and to help me heal after child-birth, something that epidurals can impede from happening, at least with me.

Rachel was born one week after her due date. At 41 weeks I was willing to do anything to get her out of me! The day before I went into labor, I made "start your labor" cookies (very spicy ginger cookies, which John devoured by the way), drank caster oil (this caused cramping all right... I don't recommend this), and walked as much as I could. I'm not sure what put me in labor, but at around 2 a.m. on April 11, 2009 my contractions had gotten increasingly stronger. After so many false alarms in the prior weeks, I finally knew I was in labor.

John called the mid-wife on call at the Birthing Center in Alexandria (an amazing place for anyone considering a natural childbirth in the DC Metro area. You can drive to their center or have home births; I highly recommend them) and to our birthing assistant. We then walked downstairs to the basement where my parents were sleeping and told them what was happening. We planned to have the baby in our finished basement- plenty of room and a bathroom nearby, and most importantly- we wouldn't wake up Eric. My parents traded places with us, but I barely noticed. I tried to concentrate on getting through each of the strong contractions on my birthing ball. After going through labor once, I knew there wasn't anything I could do to make the pain go away, I just had to work through each contraction. Some people can Hypnobirthing. I read the books. I even tried the methods while birthing. Didn't work for me. The only book that really helped with my labor was based on this philosophy. I read the book, but sadly, there were no classes near me at that time.

The mid-wife showed up around the same time as our birthing assistant, a woman I had never met, but the Birthing Center insists on having an extra set of experiences hands at the birth. At 5 a.m. I noticed that John and I were no longer alone. I honestly don't remember much though. One of the joys of natural childbirth is forgetting the pain and working with your body through labor.

I remember feeling empowered that I could do this. When I was in labor with Eric at the hospital I had felt helpless and alone. And since I had wanted to birth Eric naturally, I felt like a failure when I got the epidural. I realized after the fact how ridiculous that was, but that was how I felt. Something you should know- I think it doesn't matter how a child is born, what pain methods are utilized, as long as both the mother and child are healthy and happy. So please don't think that I'm preaching that natural childbirth is the only way to go. But I came to the decision to birth at home because neither Eric nor I WERE healthy or happy after his birth.

I remember going through transition. The first time with Eric it was insanely traumatic. I couldn't get on top of the contractions. I was screaming in pain, and no one knew what to do with me. This time I asked that everything be calm and that no one speak because I now knew that I could not work through the pain with any distractions. Some people want their back rubbed or need someone with them when they are ill or in pain. I hate having people near me, and I abhor being touched when I'm weak or in pain. And unlike my "birth plan" at the hospital, everyone in that room read and understood my needs and did everything I asked for in advance.

The labor wasn't about "rescuing" Rachel from my body. At the hospital I was a prop in a drama that starred my son and the doctor who delivered him. This time it was about respecting that this time was for both me and my baby.

After going through transition, there is a period of pure lucidity. In my case, the contractions also stopped for a brief time as well. I looked up at John (who still talks about how I bit him twice during labor- like I remember that!) who was sitting on the bed in front of me. I was unclothed and covered in sweat. I saw the candle and the water fountain behind him on a nightstand. I heard the soft trickle of the water flowing over the rocks. I looked John in the eye and said, "I don't think I can make it through transition." He chuckled and that's when I heard the two women behind me, my guardian angels through the whole process, softly laugh. John said, "Honey, you just went through transition." I turned around and saw the women both smile and nod. What a difference from being alone in a cold hospital room and having only John there when Eric crowned. This was a loving atmosphere, filled with competent and caring people who were not only there for Rachel but for me.

I don't know how much time elapsed between transition and the second stage of labor. It seemed like no time had passed at all before the time came to really push. I had begun pushing during transition because midwives encourage you to do what your body is telling you to do. With Eric I was told not to push and it put me in even more pain.

I didn't want to get off that birthing ball, and I remember it being painful and difficult to move from the squatting position to the bed. I thought I could push there, but it didn't feel right. I remember telling them "no" and everyone followed me to the floor. John sat in front of me and I simply held onto him and pushed Rachel out. It wasn't an easy process, but I don't want to get too graphic. She was a big baby- almost 9 pounds. The midwives had told me that women who birth naturally tend to have bigger babies. I remember gaining 5 pounds in that 41st week with no change to my diet or activity.

Rachel was born with a shock of black hair, dark eyes and dark skin. The first words out of my mouth were to John: "Honey, I swear she's yours." :-)

Hey, I would never cheat. But we did have our friend Ky stay with us for a few days when I was about 2 weeks pregnant. So... I thought I would reassure my husband. :-)

And since Ky looks like this...And Rachel looks like this...... you know. :-)

About 30 minutes after Rachel was born, I was taking a shower. Maybe it was too soon; I almost passed out, but it felt so good to be in control of my bodily functions! I felt great. It took weeks for me to feel that good after having Eric. All the horrible aftermath I had with him- the scarring and infection from the episiotomy, the hemorroids, not being able to rest... nothing like that happened with Rachel. And while I DO remember telling myself while in labor with her "Jen, you never want to go through natural childbirth again," I still don't remember the pain.

John and I will not be having any more children. Unless an act of God occurs, we made sure of that. :-) But I will always remember the night Rachel was born and what a beautiful experience it was. The female body is miraculous and women are capable of so much more than society gives us credit for. If there is anyone out there on the fence about having a home birth, I promise you will never regret your decision!

It's Tax Time...

2010-04-10T22:05:00.000-04:00

I really hate tax season. I guess I hate it the way everyone does- fear of audits, afraid of making a mistake on the return, getting pissed off that the freaking printer always decides to stop working right before we have to print out the stupid return.

I also hate it the way only a mother of 2 toddlers can- I am watching the kids without a break on a Saturday. Ugh. I mean, I love my kids but I really look forward to the weekends when I can actually talk to an adult. And possibly sleep in.

I hadn't posted about this before, but we had some serious problems for the past 2 weeks regarding a leak from our only bathtub. The home warranty covered a plumber coming out to repair the problem, but there is mold in the dry wall underneath the tub. We are praying that the plywood under the tub doesn't have to be replaced, or we could be without a bathroom for awhile. Eric had no problem bathing Japanese-style in our shower for 4 days, but Rachel flipped out. The contractor comes back on Monday, right after Eric's speech and motor therapy session at the God-awful hour of 8 a.m.*

Basically, if I'm not posting, life is good. Or really, really bad.

On a happier note, tomorrow is Rachel's 1st birthday. We're having a smallish party here at the house. Rachel is walking everywhere now. Her favorite word is "uh-oh" followed closely behind by "yeah" and "bye." It's so interesting to see how quickly she learns language. Maybe it's because Eric is delayed, but seeing her mimic and repeat phrases so fast... makes mommy want to clean up her profanity.**

I hope to post pictures soon. I spent any free time I had today pruning bushes, doing laundry, vacuuming, and cleaning the kitchen. I really miss the good old days of relaxing weekends.

*I think she judges me for answering the door in my bathrobe. If she had 2 kids in diapers she would realize that after awhile you just don't give a crap.
**I'm not that bad... well, maybe when driving. But if you live in D.C. you understand. John has already mentioned (repeatedly, I might add) that when we get the inevitable phone-call from a teacher about bad language, I will be the one to have to go there and explain. I think he's being a bit dramatic.