Thursday, March 31, 2005

Oh You Sweet Temptress, Santa Ana

It's March. Okay, so it's the last day in March but still... Usually it's cold and yucky. Don't be fooled by visions of palm trees and clear blue skies that Hollywood portrays. We still have our "cold" days with gloom and rain and other non-perfect things. Who would have thought that weather needed to be airbrushed? As I started to open the blinds around the house I noticed that it was super windy outside. This could mean one of two things: cold storm off the ocean if it was blowing from the west or Santa Ana's if it was blowing from the east. The trees are waving emphatically toward the west so Santa Ana it is! Oh how I love thee. You bring me nice, warm, sunny days. Promises of fresh air and messy hair. Yet you disappoint me by leaving me and I'm subject to normal weather patterns once again. Drat! This will happen periodically throughout the year. My mom and I have referred to Sept/Oct as Shake & Bake season since we tend to get the Santa Ana weather patterns and earthquakes simultaneously during this time. Yes, it's great being so close to the beach. However, that really means lots of grey days. It really doesn't start to become 'Jen' weather until July. I went to college in Orange County, now known as "the OC" (whatever) and the city I was in was just south of the infamous Huntington Beach. One of the girls I attended with started to pack away her winter clothes one February day when we were experiencing our first Santa Ana of the year. Winter clothes? You mean people actually have seasonal clothes? Oh come on! It's going to be cold again in a week! Wait a few more weeks and it will be 80 degrees again! But only for a few days. You can't pack away anything except maybe your heaviest jacket and the gloves you bring out when you decide you want to drive up to Big Bear to play in the snow after your morning of surfing. Yes, the rumors are true, you can do both in one day. You'll be really tired and really broke since gas is $2.35 a gallon, but gosh darn it! Think of how impressed your friends will be!

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Mr. Clean

My son has the gift of being a Cleanie. I don't know where it stems from, surely not his parents. Before I begin my little story let me remind you that the child is 3 1/2. I've always taught him to put his stuff away, put a toy back before bringing out another one, put your clothes in your hamper, take your dishes to the sink and that sort of thing, but I'm not really consistent with it. My control issues make it so it's easier and more satisfying if I do it myself. I know that it's better for everyone if he does these things even if it's not up to my standards. I get that. I'm workin' on it! I do make sure he takes care of these things most of the time. If you were to see my room you would think that some thief came into my room and stole all of my hangers. It doesn't make sense, I know, to have high standards and then have my room look like the aftermath of the Macy's semi-annual sale. My whole point is that my child is bizarre!

He's been waking up around 6:30am which is way too early for me. Last night I put his sippy cup of milk in the fridge and set the tv to Disney so that when he decided to get up and wake me I could tell him to go downstairs and get his milk and turn the tv on and hopefully catch an extra hour of sleep. My evil plan worked! Except for the occasional interruption of requests for Easter candy and trying to put a rubber band in my hair I was able to stay in bed until 10:30!! I don't remember the last time I was able to do that. When I came downstairs I noticed that the cat food bowls weren't on the floor anymore and their dry food dish was. The bowls were in the sink. I also noticed that the dishes that I'd left in the sink had been rinsed and placed in the other side of the sink where I have a drying rack for them to sit in before I place them in the dishwasher. I promise I have never made this child do dishes! He loves to stand on his little chair and watch me give the dishes a "bath" but that's the extent of his dish-pan-hands.

Trey is now officially available for hire. Just call 1-800-rentakid. Rates vary and nap time is 2pm.

Friday, March 25, 2005

24 Hour Job

The boss called me this morning. Early. Called at 3:30am. Can you believe that? She said I needed to meet her immediately or there would be problems with the others in the office. I met her precisely at 3:31am and she kept me until nearly 5:00am. I should get some kind of bonus for this, I mean, shouldn't we be past these early calls? We haven't had to have an urgent meeting of this kind in months. She was having some issues with pain and apparently (rolling my eyes) I was the only one who could do anything about it. So after spending nearly 30 minutes trying to get her to the point where our meeting could end I had to take her on a trip to the southern part of the building to dope her up with some fruit flavored, lavender elixir. She said something about her teeth. I don't know. It was 4:30 in the morning people! Anyway, in order not to wake her assistant, the much louder more verbal man in the building, we had to hang out in my office until she decided she would be fine on her own. Thankfully she let me have the rest of the early morning off and I didn't have to report back in until 8:30. Thank you ma'am!

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Aren't You Jealous?

I haven't posted in a while because we've been having way too much fun here! Oh wait, no that's not it. We haven't been having any fun at all. There's just something about a deploying daddy that invites the stomach flu into our house. That's the last time it visited and it thought it should come back and pay us a visit this year as well. No sense in breaking tradition. We went to church on Wednesday and everything was fine. I put the kids to bed about 9 and around midnight I headed upstairs myself when I heard "The Cry". I went in and changed Trey and put on fresh sheets only to have to do it again 10 minutes later. I thought I was having sympathy pangs but no. No sense in leaving the mommy out of the equation, right? It was a fun night. All I could hope for was that Leah didn't come down with it. It's hard enough having one sick kid, then add me, then add the fact that daddy's not home. I don't need the baby to join the party. I honestly think that she stayed healthy because she's still nursing and got all my antibodies. I called my mom and begged her to stay home from work so she could take care of me and the kids. Since my mom is cooler than yours, she did. How would I have managed to get through this without her? What do single moms with no family nearby do? Hopefully I never have to find out.

Trey fully recovered within 24 hours. The only nice thing about his illness is that when he was tired, he trekked himself upstairs and put himself to bed. Usually I have to fight with him to get him to go and stay in bed. I, on the other hand, had a few days of vertigo? dimentia? electrolyte imbalance? I don't know. All I know is that by Sunday I was going insane by being inside and having the kids cooped up and it was all I could do to get myself presentable and drive to church so the kids could be socialized and I could be somewhere other than my house. I prayed that I'd be able to drive the car without running it off the road or into another car. I would describe the feeling I had as being a little tipsy without the fun part. I think the fresh air and being outside of our four little walls did a lot of good and thankfully the kids got to play with other kids which made them much nicer to be around.

Now, I need to try and figure out a routine since I still don't have one. Wait a minute, it's all going to change in a week or two when Trey starts school (woohoo!) so why start a routine now. If I haven't had one in three years, what's the rush? I am incredibly thankful that we own our own washer and dryer for the 30,000 loads that await cleaning*. Can you imagine trying to deal with illness and having to take your stuff to the coin-op? I'm sure there are worse things in life, but not in my book!

*Before you get grossed out, I did wash the "sick" laundry. It's the regular stuff that I was behind on in the first place that's been patiently waiting for me, so leave me alone!

Monday, March 21, 2005

It's All About Me

Advanced Global Personality Test Results
Work ethic56%
Self absorbed83%
Conflict seeking23%
Need to dominate43%
Change averse76%
Peter pan complex63%
Physical security90%
Food indulgent10%
Female cliche90%
Take Free Advanced Global Personality Test
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Tuesday, March 15, 2005

The Choice of a New Generation

This morning I had on one of my very favorite sweaters. It's a little worn so I save it for the very special occasion of schlepping around my house. Trey looks at me and points out the colors, "Wed, white, baloo!" Very good, I tell him. I know he's going to tell me it looks like something else. He tends to compare EVERYTHING. When I say everything, I mean everything. Since we're talking about the colors of Olde Glory and the child has a fascination with flags, his daddy's in the Marine Corps and I wear a red, white and blue pin every day to signify that a loved one is serving in a war one would think he'd make that connection. What does he actually say. "It's like a Pet-si". In other words, eat your heart out Coca-Cola, this is a Pepsi kid.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

It Skipped a Generation

The bedtime ritual consists of:
Putting both kids in pajamas
Brushing Trey's teeth and washing his hands and face
Putting Trey into bed and reading to him while holding Leah
Singing three silly songs to Trey
Get situated (the stuffed animals must always be in their correct position)
Lights out
Nurse Leah
Put Leah to bed

While I was bringing Leah back upstairs I could hear Trey moving around in his room. Since Bill left, he's been turning his light on and when I check on the kids before I go to bed I have to turn it off before I place Trey's blankets back on him and remove any toys he's managed to stow away that I wasn't aware of. I stood quietly outside his door for a moment to see if I could tell what he was doing. Honestly, it sounded like he was emptying his toy box. It was already an hour past his bedtime. I quietly opened the door and peeked inside to find him lying quietly in his bed playing with a borrowed toy helicopter he's been sleeping with. As I looked at him, he declares, "I put my toys away." May I ask what child gets out of bed to put his toys away without being asked? Mine. He put away his two toy trucks and his blocks and I didn't say ANYTHING to him about them being in the middle of the floor. Where does he get this from? Certainly not me. Sorry, mom, that this is the child you always wanted and I got him!

Here's a picture I snapped of him when he decided he wanted to sweep up the cat food that had managed to get on the kitchen floor.

He's going to tell me, "Mommy, we're not going anywhere until you clean up your room!"

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Rest Peacefully

We love and miss you Grandma B. Rejoice and sing out with the angels. Know that we're thinking about you. See you on the other side.

Mildred Louisa Beschman-Burton

Thursday, March 03, 2005


I had a small window of opportunity to watch one of my favorite shows that I'd taped on Tuesday. It's Thursday morning, and I'm just now getting to a Tuesday night show. The kids are both asleep. Perfect timing, right? The phone rings. It's a customer who hasn't bought from me in over two years but keeps my phone number handy whenever she has a PartyLite product question. Okay, fine. After she identifies herself she asks if she woke me up since I don't sound awake. "No," I tell her "I'm just watching a Gilmore Girls episode from Tuesday that I haven't been able to watch yet." she then proceeds to tell me about a piece of product that broke that she didn't even order from ME and this is after telling me two years ago that she would never buy from anyone else. She wants to know what she can do about it. I ask her who she bought it from. She doesn't remember. She remembers the hostess (who I also did a show for previously) but can't remember when it was. She has no idea where her receipt is. How am I supposed to help this woman? I give her PartyLite's number and tell her to talk to them since I can't personally do anything since I had nothing to do with the purchase. After that is done she proceeds to tell me that it must be nice to be able to stay at home and watch tv. WHAT?! Like that's all I do with two little kids is sit down and watch ma' storays and eat bon bons. Remember that I said it was a taped show? From two days ago? Wouldn't that indicate that I'm not able to watch tv whenever I'd like? Nickelodeon and Disney get way more airplay than what I'd like to watch. Oh, and by the way, my husband is in the middle of Iraq fighting for your sorry butt. Thanks so much for your call.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

The Epitome of LAME

I worked as a bank teller for 2 1/2 years. It was a very evil corporation. My dad served as Vice President for a couple of different banks during my entire childhood. First at a Savings & Loan until the big crash in the 80's and then at a normal bank until the early 90's. My mom is currently working as an officer in a bank and has been a bank employee since 1982 or something like that. So basically, my life has consisted of thinking that normal dads wore 3-piece suits and moms wore pantyhose and uncomfortable shoes. No one ever got dirty at work, except for their fingers (if you work with money, please, for the love of God, DON'T LICK YOUR FINGERS!!) and you were out of the office by 5:30 Monday through Thursday and 6:30 on Fridays. I've always been fiscally responsible. My friends...not so much. It's rubbed off. I just balanced my checkbook. The last time it was balanced? January 15th!!!

Okay, that may be lame to you, but for me it's a crime. I was the type of person who balanced my checkbook weekly and knew where every cent in my possesion was. I aspire to be her again. It wasn't fun but I was never late on anything and I always knew if I had the money to do something or not. I thought you were supposed to become more responsible with age, not less.