I know I am going to screw this all up... I think I got the banner up, but I want to center it. I have no idea what all the <'s and /'s mean... is there a For Dummies book on Templates?

new banner in works...


Playing with Publisher... the problem is that now I have no idea how to get it to show as my banner. Help!?!

people suck sometimes not all people just some and not all the time just some of the time need something of mine i will go out of my way to meet you bring it to you no problem but i may need something of yours and day after day after day i cant get it dont worry i can wait cause my shits not important no problem i will get in my car and get it myself are you sorry i had to noooooo and its not the first time either always your need something yesterday and i need something sorry and the emotional stuff forget about it your upset hurt feel unappreciated call me ill cheer you up meet you for lunch dinner drinks tell you what a great person you are be there for you if not physically definately mentally i feel emotional and nada nothing zilch you may pretend like you are listening but i know better you have things in your life that are important i show genuine interest are you interested in anything in my life that does not directly involve you nope do you ask about those things na sometimes i want to shake these people and tell them to pay attention do things for others ok me i want to feel every once in a while that i am important to you make me feel like i make you feel at least sometimes now i am not talking about these select few like i want to not be there for them or not do things but now and then i would like to feel appreciated and there are a lot of people in my life that do pick me up or thank me or appreciate what i do and i know that these few do appreciate me but it is nice to hear it makes me feel good and everyone needs that sometimes right cause i am busy too and my life can get hectic and i try.... carrot, there's always a carrot.... i am so sick of hearing about how busy and tired and overstressed this goes for parents at school oh my another rant cant volunteer because you dont have time like i have nothing to do nothing but keep activities going for your kids and you dont have time give me a break the parents that bitch and complain and the ones that dont lift a finger are the first ones to enjoy what the handfull of us work our asses off for months to put together and i wouldnt trade what i do the work is hard but the end result is making those kids happy and the friends i wouldnt trade either because i get a lot of positive stuff from them but it gets frustrating very frustrating

Deep breath... can't go back pick at it, that's gross... just have to flush it and move on.

I have been thinking about parenting a lot lately. The how to's, the what if's - all the do you, could you, should you. In the post below, Anna Quindlen says we don't LIVE IN THE MOMENT. We don't sit and enjoy where are kids are, always wanting them to get to the next stage. As much as I believe her, I wonder if it is possible to be any other way. Parents dating back hundreds of years have said that. My mother, my grandmother and probably generations before have said the same thing. Every parent I know says they wished they did things different or that they could have enjoyed the time more or read more books, played more, laughed more. No matter if they spend 100% of their time with their kids or 10%. Whether they sat on the floor and played board games or not. They have always looked back at their kids saying how it went by so fast, how they can't believe their kids are 3 or 5 or 10 or 21.
I look forward to my kids getting older, to the times when they are adults and have children of their own. Sometimes I feel that I want to rush the process. Sometimes I feel like I want them to grow up for selfish reasons. I look at them and wonder how it happened so fast, I remember them with chubby cheeks gazing up at me. Suddenly, I am the one looking up at them. But I don't wish them to be babies again. Not them, maybe another... maybe a niece or nephew, friend's... but not them. I enjoy the fact that they are all in school, that they are self-sufficient and independent. It is scary and I worry about them and I stress over the future, but I don't want time to stand still or go in reverse. Does that make sense? I don't feel like I didn't live in the moment, because I am not sure it is possible. We live and learn... sometimes we learn to live. One moment to the next.

This was written by Anna Quindlen. It is well worth taking a minute to read. Thanks Tertia for sharing.

If not for the photographs, I might have a hard time believing they ever existed. The pensive infant with the swipe of dark bangs and the black button eyes of a Raggedy Andy doll. The placid baby with the yellow ringlets and the high piping voice The sturdy toddler with the lower lip that curled into an apostrophe above her chin. ALL MY BABIES are gone now.
I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber duckie at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past. Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach. T. Berry Brazleton. Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early- childhood education, all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories.
What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations -- what they taught me was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all. Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One boy is toilet trained at 3, his brother at 2. When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. First science said environment was the great shaper of human nature. But it certainly seemed as though those babies had distinct personalities, some contemplative, some gregarious, some crabby. And eventually science said that was right, and that they were hard-wired exactly as we had suspected.
Still, the temptation to defer to the experts was huge. The literate parent, who approaches everything; cooking, decorating, life as though there were a paper due or an exam scheduled, is in particular peril when the kids arrive.
How silly it all seems now, the obsessing about language acquisition and physical milestones, the riding the waves of normal, gifted, hyperactive, all those labels that reduced individuality to a series of cubbyholes. But I could not help myself. I had watched my mother casually raise five children born over 10 years, but by watching her I intuitively knew that I was engaged in the greatest and potentially most catastrophic task of my life. I knew that there were mothers who had worried with good reason, that there were children who would have great challenges to meet. We were lucky; ours were not among them. Nothing horrible or astonishing happened: there was hernia surgery, some stitches, a broken arm and a fuchsia cast to go with it. Mostly ours were the ordinary everyday terrors and miracles of raising a child, and our children's challenges the old familiar ones of learning to live as themselves in the world. The trick was to get past my fears, my ego and my inadequacies to help them do that.
I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub- quiet codicil for an 18-month-old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.
Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the Remember-When-Mom-Did Hall of Fame. The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, What did you get wrong? (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?
But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did NOT LIVE IN THE MOMENT ENOUGH. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.
Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity.
That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.

Behind door number one


Behind door number two

You may have to read this first to understand.
The other night we went out to dinner with my parents and my sister, T. My mom asked T and I if we saw the newspaper. She was very excited that my sister, J, (the new States Attorney for Champaign County) was quoted. T and I rolled our eyes and did the Marcia, Marcia, Marcia chant. Then I told my mom the I was quoted in EPregnancy magazine. (An article written by Toni, a fabuloso writer... and a great friend.) T is pregnant, so I had to get something worthwhile in the conversation. When I got home I faxed my mother a copy... next day, nothing. Next day, nothing. Today she called... "got the fax, sorry it got mixed up in a bunch of papers.""I'd put it on the fridge, but there isn't enough room" I know she was talking about the front of her fridge covered with stuff the grandkids made, but I couldn't resist...
Me: "Sure, when J was running, there was plenty of room for magnets saying JR for States Attorney""That will go next to the 'mother of the year' story of when you told me to clean up my own barf" (She did)
My mother: "You got over that"
Me: "Sure, with a lot of therapy and good drugs"
My mother: "Yea I know... its all my fault"
I know my parents are proud of all of us, but it is fun messing with them. This will give me pleasure for awhile.

This post is absolutely brilliant.

Milkmaid got me thinking with this post.
This could really get weird, but what the hell...

Underwear, bra, pants, shirt? or
Underwear, pants, bra, shirt? or
Bra, underwear, shirt, pants? or

you get the idea!

My neighbor is one of those people who always complain, who is always sicker than you, who's kids always have something worse than your kids have, who never understands that you have been right where she is now, who never takes your advice but asks all the time... you know, one of those. She has 2 girls, ages 5 and 3. Her husband is NEVER home (he is actually home more than mine), she does EVERYTHING (because she lets him get away with doing nothing), she NEVER gets out (yea right)... She is always broke, always stressed and always so busy. BUT she means well. That is just who she is and we can choose to let it drive us nuts or take it in stride. I have finally learned to take her as she is, in small doses, and to not get too deep in all of her "troubles".

There is a constant flow of kids in my house... all the time. Mostly I don't mind especially now that they are pretty self-sufficient. But a few years ago, when I had to watch them, feed them, take them to the potty, I told her I was done. I remember saying I felt like a daycare worker. She was all about how fun it was, how she loved watching kids, how she would play Duck, duck, goose and how she wanted to open a daycare. I told her she was nuts. And I love kids... babies, toddlers... hand 'em over, but not in quantity. Bravo to those who can not only take care of their kids, but others too. For a short time, I watched other kids. It just got too much. I started to dread them coming over. I was happy for her that she loved it so much, but she could not understand why I felt the way I did. Until now...

Today she called and was telling me that she is sick of having kids over all the time. That she is happy when her kids go to a friends house. That she can't be the one who entertains all the time. That she can finally understand what I have been talking about. WHAT? YOU WHAT? DID I HEAR YOU RIGHT? OH.MY.GOD! So she does hear me. She just needs to figure it out on her own. Too bad, I could have saved her a lot of juice boxes and fishy crackers.

I have been very forgetful lately... well, actually since my first child was born - each one proving my theory that the placenta is part of the mothers brain. Anyway, I have decided to keep a pen and sticky-notes in my car so I could jot something down. A song I like, to do lists, who called when I check messages. etc. So I bring my little note in last night and I not only forgot all of the things that were on there, but now I am sitting here with a note and I can't read my handwriting on the sticky that is supposed to remind me what it was that I forgot.

I would buy one of those little recorders, (oh wait my phone has one... I forgot) but I hate the sound of my voice. I could keep my laptop in my car, but that would be dangerous. I could call my machine and leave myself messages. That may work.

Any suggestions?

There are different kinds of busy. When you are scheduled up the ass with appointments, kid activities and functions is one kind of busy. If you are on vacation (ha) and have a lot of things to do or see is another kind of busy. When you have loads of laundry to do or household chores... then you are busy. Or if you say you are busy, but you are really have nothing to do (double ha).

Then there is the self-induced kind of busy. It is when you don't keep your mouth shut and volunteer for everything in the universe. The "I am such an idiot" kind of busy. "Don't worry, I'll do it" "Sure, drop it off" "No problem, I've go time" "It will only take a minute" That would be me right now. Fun Fair, sure... I'll organize the whole damn thing. Make name badges... that will be a quick one. Drop this off for me... I wasn't planning on going in, but it will only take a sec. And don't forget about the raffle that I have been working on for a month now. On top of the laundry, chores, appointments, kids activities.... and my clients. I need to tape my mouth shut.

What kind of "busy" are you?

There seems to be a new trend on TV... reunion shows. Airing tonight is the cast of One Day at a Time. I have to admit, I am a bit excited. One step down, from Kristy McNichol, on my "favorite actress" list as a teen was Valerie Bertinelli. I have seen almost every episode of One Day, all the afterschool specials and made-for TV movies. I even sat front row at a VanHalen concert and watched her sit by the side of the stage more than I watched the band. (My dad was in the record/concert biz... so please don't think I bought tickets in hopes of her being there) I've got it set on TiVo... just in case I miss it.

I am going to be an auntie again! Isn't it cute?!? 

Baked beans but not refried beans
Caramel Frap from Starbucks and coffee ice creme but not coffee
Pina Colada but not coconut
Hot tea but not iced tea
Pink Lemonade but not yellow lemonade
Milk with chocolate cake but not milk by itself
Tomatoes but not when they are warm
Watching surgery on TV but not when it is animals

I am having problems with my computer... it's brain never stops. It is always making noise, never allowing itself peace and quiet. I have tried to delete some of the programs that are running, but it keeps adding different ones to worry about. It tries to sleep, but there is always something to do or a task that needs to be pondered. After careful consideration, we put it out of it's misery. All important documents were put in another computers brain for storage and my poor, tired puter was wiped out. A few days off and it is ready to start new. Slowly we are adding things back... as not to overload it. I am talking gently to it, giving it some love and attention and wishing that we do not have to send it off to rehab for someone who does not care to fix it. I am hoping it will be 100% very, very soon.

This is the anniversary of the worst day of my life.... the day you died. I remember it like it was yesterday. Sometimes it seems like it has been forever since I have heard your voice; sometimes it seems like I talked to you an hour ago. It has been three years since I got the phone call. Dad called me in the morning. You had just been transferred to rehab a day before to recover from your second heart surgery in 2 years. Dad said you collapsed in the bathroom and was taken to the hospital last night. Why he did not call me, I don't know. I still hold anger about that. I could have been there to hold your hand. I immediately went to the hospital... dad had said you were OK but I knew I needed to go. As soon as I got there I knew. When I entered the waiting room the lady at the desk, you know the one who answers the phone with that "so sorry" voice, asked if anyone was with me. I knew. I called dad and mom and waited. I knew. I sat in the chair and sobbed uncontrollably. I felt so incredibly guilty that I went to the healthclub the day before instead of coming to see you. My parents came and they took us to "the" room. They said they were sorry. They went in again. "Her heart was like paper"... I remember the doctor saying. I wanted to see you. Dad went with. You looked so peaceful, so rested. You were cold- I held your hand and kissed you goodbye. I can still see the puffiness in your hands... Swollen from years of arthritis. I was thinking of Papa seeing you and saying "Shit, it has been so quiet up here", and you saying, "Shut up Marty". I was also thinking of how to tell my kids.

I see you in me everyday. Sometimes I look at my hands and see your hands. I see your love of babies in me- your love of the color purple. Not the movie- the color. You did not like that movie. You also did not like "All in the Family"- the sound of Edith's voice made you crindge. You spoke your mind with love and support as I do. I want to call you all the time. Ben still says he misses you. When he is sad he curls up on the couch with your blanket. Just the other day he said, "I wish grandma didn't die". It breaks my heart but I am so thankful he remembers you. He may only remember you bringing him candy, but that is OK. I miss you everytime my kids loose a tooth... you should be sending a silver dollar. I miss you every holiday... you would be proud as I have duplicated your Sweet & Sour Meatballs. My birthdays are not the same... you would always wait to go to Florida so you did not miss it. I have tried to keep up with your traditions, but it is not the same. I wish I had asked you more questions. I wish I knew more about you. I have asked Aunt M to tell me about you and Papa. To jot little thoughts down and send them to me. I know your best friend Mary is with you now. I was the one who told her. She sobbed too... she cried "no, I just talked to her yesterday".

I want you to know I am healing. It has taken me a long time. It still hurts but I am doing better. Day by day. I know you would not want me to be sad. I know you want me to celebrate what we shared and not morn your death. I know you couldn't fight anymore. I believe you held out as long as you could... for your family. You will live forever in my heart because you are a large part of it.



On a cruise for my 16th birthday.

• Soft "Blankie" from Restoration Hardware
• Flannel sheets from JC Penney
• Nikon
• Partylite candles
• Laminate floors
• Oreck vacuum
• Puffy coat from Eddie Bauer

What do you love? Besides your family, friends etc... that's too easy!

Just before the holidays my wonderful cleaning lady quit. She moved on to bigger and better things... finishing up nursing school. Since then I have been on the hunt. I absolutely suck at house cleaning... day to day picking up, dusting, sweeping are not a problem. My house is clean on the surface - but the toilet cleaning, shower scrubbing, floor mopping... well, I am a bit challenged. Before everyone thinks I am a brat... I'm not. It is just something I really appreciate help with. My mother sucks at cleaning... so do my sisters. Maybe there is a deficient gene. Anyway, since she left, I have tried 2 services. One totally blew me off and the other did not show because of the weather. That would normally be a good excuse, but it was foggy and she called 15 minutes after she was supposed to arrive. Then I found someone who cleaned on the side. She was OK, but made excuses about everything. I am not picky... anyone can clean better than me, but the little things were not getting done. Now I am using someone my neighbor recommended. So far, so good. If I could only find someone to do all my cooking! I wish!

Dillon got a guitar for his birthday. He would never admit it, but he wants to be like his brother, Justin. And Ben wants to be like Dillon... "When can I get a guitar?" "I want one". Then there's Nick. Marching to his own tune. He wants different things, his mannerisms are different, his likes and dislikes, the way he reacts to things... all different than his brothers. He will be the one backstage managing the money as his brothers are on stage. He will be the one doing the schedules, planning the meetings and organizing the events. Nick is more like me. He saves every penny... whereas Justin spends it quicker than he gets it. Nick's your buddy, he's your pal. Nick would rather sit in front of the computer all day than go out skateboarding. Yet he loves going to Wisconsin with his friends to snowboard. Unlike Dillon, Nick is not the "funny one"... he is quiet and sweet (with a temper that explodes occasionally). Unlike Ben, Nick is not a social butterfly. He plays (hangs out) with a select group. He doesn't go looking for people, he is content being by himself. Nick is his own person and I dig that. I think I want to be just like him when I grow up.

My kids have a 5 day weekend. Ben comes up to me this morning...
Ben: Mom, are you sad?
Me: No, why?
Ben: Because we are off school for five whole days.

Just take a knife and stab me in the heart.
On Monday my reply to that will be, "Yes I am sad... go back to school already!"

Dillon's class wrote about eachother for a Valentine's Day project. I thought I'd share some of the comments to honor his first "double digit" birthday.

"I think you are great athletic"
"Yo, you are a very smart and bright student"
"You are good at art"
"Your a good guitar player even though you don't play it"
"Your funny"
"You are very funny and kind"
"You are great with others"
"I like your art, its always funny"
"I think you are cool because your funny"
"I like you because you are funny"
"You're great with nature"
"I think you are good at sports"
"You're the funniest person I know"

I think I have a future comedian brewing.
Happy Birthday Funny Boy!

10 years old... already!?!

Jerry and I ran away for the first time in a bizillion years. On Thursday I made last minute reservations at the Cove in Lake Geneva. I called Jer and told him to be home by 1pm Friday (he got home at 2) and to make sure he was not working on Saturday. Then called my mom to pick up the boys after school. We had a great time... no computer, no phone ringing and no kids- not once did anyone yell "MOM!". We walked around the town and took a drive around the lake... among other things. Hotel sex rocks!

I asked Jerry if the Ice Fishermen bring in their little "houses" at night... what if there is a sudden thaw and the next morning their house is gone. That would be a bummer. 

No boats... but a car on the lake 

Bubble bath in a jacuzzi... hours of fun 

rock - water - ice 

They put up a parking lot. 

Lonely Ice Fisherman 

Obviously the sign means nothing. 

Farm country- not too far from me.

I met up with Toni this morning and snapped some pics of her adorable boys (minus Jackson).

Look at those lashes... not fair!


Head to head... heart to heart


I wuv my brother

We have Jello in a martini glass, beer glass, coffee mug, plastic cups, bowl, dessert cup... blue jello, red jello, purple jello... cherry, strawberry, grape and berry... layered with two flavors, cher-berry or str-ape... single serving or super-sized... cool whip or whipped cream available... fruit available if in season.






My kids think I am insane.

Today, my girlfriend K and I went for a Day of Pampering. A new place opened in our "downtown" area and we decided to give it a try. K has been bugging me since her wonderful husband got her a gift certificate for a manicure and pedicure for Christmas. I told her we had to wait until my toenails grew out enough for someone to file them... I am a winter nail picker. I think people either love a good foot rub or hate it... I am not a fan. I think it is kindof gross. But being the trooper I am, I let my toenails grow and put my best foot first...

This little shop is on a street in need of help. It is getting better, but the past few years have been rough for our little downtown area. A coffee shop, bank and bakery are the staples... new to the street are a florist and the nail salon. Walking into this store front is like walking into luxury hotel salon. It is beautifully decorated with relaxing colors, sitting areas and good music. You are greeted friendly, not snobby. We were escorted, not directed, to a leather couch to wait and pick our colors. Then were were offered baked fruit or chocolate-raspberry brownie... hmmmm, which one to choose... and tea.




Pedicures were first... K couldn't stop giggling as her feet were getting rubbed. I was enjoying the massaging chair.


Can't stop... can't stop... snort


My salt scrubbed foot

With painted toes and little black sandal on our feet, we headed toward the manicure spot. They were running a special for Valentine's Day so we got ourselves a free (OK included) paraffin dip.


Sexy huh?!?




At the drying table we were given a little gift box and on our way out, a rose.




The whole experience cost me $50... that included tip. Not bad. I would probably save the pedicure for summer, but it was a nice break. The best part of the day was when I told Jerry... he said, "Good, you deserve it!"... what a guy.
If you live in the area and want information on the salon, let me know.
K- Did I forget anything???