There are reasons for staying married. My current number one reason? Chili Rellenos.

Delicious chili peppers, stuffed with cheese, breaded and fried.

When my husband took his first job after law school and we moved to a new place where I didn't know anyone, I was in a bit of a slump. I actually really like moving, but it always takes me a little while to warm up to a place-- hence the slump. After we had lived in this new town for a little while, my husband, knowing how I love Mexican food, took me to a little restaurant named Mama Inez. My first bite of chili relleno was heaven. Seriously, it was the perfect taste. "Oh, now I can be glad we moved here!" I said between bites. Somehow, it became the turning point, where I began to love our new home.

So, my husband went on a business trip last weekend, back to this town. It was a quick trip. He had a couple of meetings, lunch with his old boss, and he was back on the road. He called me when he was about half way home. To tell me he had something for me in the car.

Chili Rellenos. From Mama Inez. Ohhhh, Yummy!

And that is why we are married.

My Super Powers

Every one has a Super Power. Not everyone can fly or deflect bullets or jump over a speeding building, but we all have something. For example, I have a sister in law who can catch barf. Seriously. If one of her kids barfs, she can catch it BEFORE it hits the floor. Wow. I have another sister in law who can stretch a dollar so far, there is no metaphor for the phenomena. My mom could make a meal, any meal, out of a pound of hamburger. Pizza, tacos, spagetti, fried chicken...ok, i'm kidding about the pizza...:) My friend Leslie's kid is so smart, I'm actually considering sending her my kids... And if you think these things aren't powers, go ahead and try them. For myself, I have never been able to stop my kids from throwing up on carpet, my dollars do whatever the heck they want and while I'm good with hamburger, I'm not 'fried chicken' good.

But I do have a Super Power. Two, actually. The one I'm going to tell you about is my ability to clean anything off of anything. No freaking kidding. If I can't get it off, it's not coming off. Ink? I know 3 ways to get it out of clothing, and 2 more ways to get it off the wall. Blood. For beginners. Grease? Child's play. Crayons? Lipstick in the dryer? Gum? I can get them all. Out. Of whatever you got them on. I've removed gum from hair (without cutting), carpet, and clothes. I've gotten  lipstick-in-the-dryer stains out of khaki pants. I can get bodily function stains out of ANYTHING. Poop, barf, blood, you name it, I can remove it.

Just yesterday, I removed 3 quarts of cooking oil from the floor, two chairs, a cabinet door and a skirt. I once removed a gallon of white paint from dark brown carpet. As in, you cannot tell where it happened.

I appreciate this power, for the obvious reasons, but I don't love this power. I wish mine was the Power of Prevention. How much nicer would it be to have stopped the oil spill, or the paint disaster.  Or the great Poop Catastrophe of '05. (I thought we would have to move....) But if you can't be the ounce of Prevention, you can be the pound of Cure. That's me.

Just think for a minute, what is your Power? You know you have one. Maybe you are a skilled organizer of drawers and closets or an expert iron-er. (I have never, and I mean never, ironed without burning myself) Maybe you keep your temper or you never go shopping looking homeless. These are powers, people. Own them, use them, brag about them. And tell me so I can be jealous:)

How to Take Kids To Scrapbook Club

This is the first in what I expect will be a series of "how-to's" involving ridiculous amounts of children. If you don't have children, or ridiculous amounts of children, you may consider me a warning. Of what? I'm not sure yet....

So, step 1. Announce in a loud and excited voice that you will all be 'going for a ride!' Children will promptly race out the front door into the freezing cold sans shoes and coats.

Step 2. Herd all children back into the house, hoping that your neighbors do not see you.

Step 3. Start putting on shoes. Start with the baby. She is 18 months old and apparently just learned how to take off shoes. Put her shoes on again. and again. and again.

Step 4. Switch the shoes on all the 4 yr olds feet. They are all on the wrong feet. No one is wearing socks.  Put their socks on, then their shoes. Put shoes back on the baby.

Step 5. Find keys. Good luck.

Step 6. Take the baby, and her shoes out to the van. Open the van with the spare set of keys. Buckle the baby into her carseat and put on her shoes.

Step 7. Go back into the house. Tell 4 yr olds it's time to go. Start out to the van. Stop boy from throwing 'missiles' (aka expensive landscape rocks) at passing neighbors. Stop girl from filling mailbox with grass, dirt, flowers, snow, whatever. Put 4 yr olds into the van, Buckle. Put shoes back on the baby.

Step 8. Go back to house. Start out to van with 2 yr old, but  there's a smell. Change 2 yr old, head out to van. Buckle 2 yr old. Unbuckle 4 yr old who needs to use potty. Crap. They ALL need to go potty. Unbuckle. Back to house.

Step 9. Go potty.

Step 10. Back to van. Buckle everyone, put shoes on baby. Realize you don't have your purse. Back to house.

Step 11. Get purse. Back out to van.

Step 12. Smell a smell. Unbuckle baby and take her in for diaper change. Back out to van.

Step 13. Wonder if you might be in the wrong profession. I mean, how hard can rocket science BE? And it's GOT to be less stressful.

Step 14. How can there even be 14 steps? Even recovery programs for ADDICTIONS only have 12. And you're not even to the stupid Scrapbook club yet. AND you haven't gotten a Pepsi yet.

Step 15. Serve as a warning to others. Eat a donut.

I want to post about my new van- but I have to say I hate to update my sis's last post because it is the most hilarious thing I've ever read. So, go ahead and read my post- but check out my sis's last post about mood swings, too. Because, like I said, *hilarious*!

That said, about the van.
Sometimes you have to get a new van before you want to.
I am a huge fan of the 'get an old car and drive the wheels off' philosophy. But sometimes, accidents happen and philosophies change. ahem. Like when you kill your old 93 Astro van that you love. I recently and unintentionally totalled my dear Astro van.
Wrecked. Gone. Adios. Vaya con Dios.
So, Saturday, my not-even-angry-though-I-wrecked-the-van husband and I went shopping for another van. Let me just say that if you are not ready for an SUV, a Suburban, or a van the size of a small school bus, a mini-van that seats 8 passengers can be hard to find. There are only a few out there. We are expecting baby 5 and plan to drive carpools of children, so there is no way we can go less than 8. We could go more, but I am not quite ready for the size of the above mentioned behemoths.
We started out optimistic in the morning, following a good lead, not understanding the elusive nature of the 8-passenger minivan. At the first dealership, we were told the van sold the night before. Rats.
Eight hours later, after a marathon search across our state, we found one and only one used 8-seater Toyota Sienna. We lifted our weary heads in joy and bought that van immediately.
Thank you, thank you, Toyota for making a minivan that seats 8. Keep up the good work.
And please, please, new van, don't be a lemon and die before we pay for you.

Define: Mood Swing

As a woman with hormones, I have found that I often hop on a fun ride called the 'Mood Swing'. I probably ride this ride because it is free.

I can tell when I'm on this interesting ride when I look lovingly at my family, and I'm thinking, 'I love these people!' And I'm full of good will and happiness. And then I look again and I think, 'Idiots.'  This is a swing. You go up up up and there is sweetness and light and happiness and good will and we ♥love♥ one another and people pitch in to work together for family unity. And then there is down, down, down where people are stupid, messy, goofy, dum-heads who wreck my house and eat my food and never appreciate one stupid thing I do and I do it all and they never even say thank-you....oh, they said thank you. This is because they are wonderful, loving, helpful, cute smart, good children, and I have a wonderful husband....who just ATE THE LAST COOKIE and didn't even ask if I wanted it and he knows how much I love those things and if he really loved me he would care for one minute about my feelings and I'm just a slave to him. I don't even know why I married this dork in the first place, when it's obvious he's a greedy pig....who just offered to go get pizza. How I love him. Just when I'm ready to go mad, there he is, offering to get pizza and get me a diet Pepsi and he is so good looking. I 'm so lucky to have this wonderful man in my life, My life rocks!:)

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a fun ride.

Science Project Week

Two kids had Science Projects due this week. Which means that I had two science Projects due this week. We all know when a teacher sends home a "Project" that what they really mean is, "Here's a test of your abilities as a Parent. You will be graded and then made to feel guilty based on that grade".

If my "Project gets an 'A', I can feel guilty about doing the Project FOR my child, thereby depriving him or her of valuble learning opportunities. If they get a 'B' I'm obviously not that smart AND I've deprived them of an opportunity to be mediocre. A 'C' means not only am I not the brightest bulb in the box, but I didn't find out about the project until the night before. A 'D' means I did not even know there WAS a Project due, and when I did discover the crumpled assignment stuffed into my child's laundry as I was frantically washing clothes for the following day, I had no idea what the teacher was talking about. An 'F' means I sent a cup of dirt and hid in my room with Pepsi and Chocolate until the child advanced to the next grade level.

I have done Bug Collections at midnight, Science Projects, Sewing Projects, Cooking Projects, Book Reports, News Reports. My diorama skills are legendary. I have diorama-ed every ecosystem on Earth, every food chain, every time period, most of outer space and filled enough posterboard to wallpaper a large house. AND I know most of you have been there.

I can't wait to see how we did:)

Makeover night

So, last night, my girls and I went to a 'makeover' party with a woman selling a popular brand of skin care/makeup (I'm not going to mention it was Mary Kay). I wasn't too excited about the whole thing, I had my name given to her by a 'friend' who actually is not my friend exactly, but someone I do daycare for. I may not have a business degree, but I know the difference between a business acquaintance and a friend. Anyway, I'm thinking I have a pretty good defense against salespeople and how it might be fun to see some of the new trends in makeup. Also, sometimes it's good to have a person-not-their-mom tell your girls how to wear makeup appropriately:)

We went, and it started fine. The woman was friendly and funny. She's been in the business for a long time and knows the product well. BUT. Right away, she makes an error, in my opinion. I wanted my girls, especially the two who wear makeup, to sit closest to her so they would feel pampered and have her attention. When I made the appointment on the phone, I had mentioned how I would appreciate her giving them some good makeup advice. But she had set up so that I was closest. Well, I am the one with the money, so I could see her point, but  Jessica (12 years old) was farthest away and not by me, which I was irritated about.

THEN, she starts in on my age. Now, I'm 40, but I don't need it mentioned every 5 minutes for an hour and a half. And she couldn't stop bringing up Rachel's acne. Now tell me what teen ager isn't sensitive about her face? So, for an hour and a half, she went on and on and on about my age and Rachel's acne and how to fix them both.

Finally, we went home. Melinda (17) cried, because she had felt ignored and passed over. She is a beautiful girl and has thankfully not had any acne, but wears makeup and had been looking forward to a makeover. Jessica cried, because she had been looking forward to a makeup lesson and instead had been told she's too young to wear any. Rachel (14) cried because she has acne and had to discuss it for an hour and a half. I should have cried, I mean, who likes to be told their skin is going downhill in a fast car?

Now, you are maybe thinking I should have said something. I feel like I did say, and kept saying things all evening to redirect her, but she was a go-er. And everyone knows I talk a lot, so if there's someone I can't talk under the table, that person is a TALKER. There was basically no stopping her. So, live and learn. I told the girls to ignore her. They are beautiful and we don't need her to tell us how old we are or what's wrong with us.

 We are going try some of the acne stuff MK puts out. I do like their stuff, just not this particular salesperson. I love Oil of Olay, and will probably have to go buy some kind of anti-aging-facial age-reversal goop to shore up my fallen face and ego, but other than that....

I had this weird dream...about a house that kept falling down and I kept tryin to brace it with crazy household items...whatever could it mean?