It's better than Botox and it didn't hurt a bit!

After hours and hours spent trying to create my special look for my blog, I decided my time could be better spent doing other things - like taking care of my family, sleeping, and getting to places on time. Everything I did looked amateurish because, well, I'm an amateur.



I found the super nice and fabulous Katherine through Bloggy Moms and while checking out her blog I discovered that she does design work for blogs and websites. I loved her work and she was WAY affordable, so I contacted her and before I knew it BAM! I had a button, a banner, and a header.



So check out her sites - she's a superwoman of entrepreneurship!



Start here: http://madeitforyou.com/

but also go here: http://goaskkatie.blogspot.com/





Thanks, Katherine!!!!!!

It wasn't really about the trash

Earlier this week, the trash can was full. It was full when we went to bed and it was still full the next morning when I straggled downstairs. By lunch time it was officially, non debatably, really shouldn't add anything else to it in case the bag bursts full. And every time I went to throw something else away, I'd sigh and think to myself, 'Jeez. The trash sure is getting full. Be nice if someone would take it out...."


Obviously, by someone, I did not mean myself.


I freely admit I'm no Martha Stewart/Bree Van de Camp/Monica Geller. My pictures are dusty (even after I have just dusted them), there is always laundry needing to be done, and clutter in the form of mail to be sorted and T's 20 pages a day of Kindergarten classwork sitting around.

Also? I don't really enjoy housework. Ever. I like to have a clean house, I just don't love to be the one to clean it. However, I'm too cheap (even if we could afford it) to hire a maid for something I could do and should do, but just don't want to do. Especially since it will need to be done again almost immediately after I finish doing it. Pointless.

I get annoyed when there is pee not in the toilet (and by this I mean more than a drop or eight), annoyed when S uses the soap that should be cleaning her hands to finger paint on the mirrors, annoyed when someone spills something on the counter, the floor, in the fridge and doesn't even attempt to wipe it up. I don't think it's too much to expect R and the kids to just help me maintain - put dirty clothes in the laundry basket, take your dishes to the sink when you are finished eating, wipe up any mess you make (from spilling your drink to missing the potty) or at least tell me about said mess before I realize there are apple juice (or worse) footprints on the floor.

All this was going through my mind as I stood there looking at the over full trash can, all annoyed that it hadn't been emptied.

Right then, it hit me.

If I expect my family to take action when they see something that needs to be done, shouldn't I lead by example? If I start keeping score about what I did or someone else didn't do, what kind of home environment is that creating? Not a pleasant one, as my level of annoyance proved.

I'm home the most, so obviously I'm going to see the most of what needs to be done. And there are things I want done that R and the kids wouldn't think of anyway - wiping down baseboards, anyone? Tracking down Cheetoh prints on the doors and walls?

If I expect to raise helpful, considerate kids then I think I need to be a helpful considerate person. And pointing out - even once - how and what a helpful, considerate person I am being would completely negate it all. Right? Right!

So I took out the trash. I didn't say a word about taking out the trash when R got home. He didn't notice. I didn't get annoyed. Why? Beats the hell out of me. Maybe because every now and then I take the time to pay attention to all the things R does that I take for granted. Shame on me for taking him for granted, and shame on me for doing the exact same thing to him that I get annoyed if he does to me.

So ever since then, I'm looking more often for things I can do rather than things that haven't been done by someone else.

And you know what? I'm way less annoyed. Although in all fairness, I'm also a lot busier. heehehe!

You know what else? Most of the things I was all annoyed about earlier in the week? Are being done now without my having to say a word.

How about those apples?!?

Now, where was that edge again?

I think I'm losing my edge.

Oh hush, I did too have an edge.

In posting (okay, fine - in trying to post) everyday, I am often more focused on getting something written and clicking on the 'publish' button rather than paying attention to the story I'm trying to tell. I start off somewhere and end up somewhere else entirely. And then I'm too tired/lazy/distracted/out of ideas to go back and redo it, provided the story makes any sense at all. Since I'm more of a storyteller than a writer, this is a slippery slope on which to try and perch.

I went back and re-read some of my older posts. I miss my snark. Lately, I've kept it out of the blog (mostly) and saved it for annoying shows my kids watch, redundant stories on the evening news (really? you are going to stretch a story of the school board over three days? oy!), and people that I run into that leave me mentally scratching my head.

The downside to that? The TV doesn't appreciate my snark or my tendency to give people and things nicknames. Although I have to admit that lately my comments have made R laugh a lot. Since we don't really have the same sense of humor, I don't know if he finally 'gets' me or if I've adjusted my comments to suit his sense of humor. I don't guess it really matters, since I'm cheap and just after the laugh anyway.

So, starting on Monday, I'm going to bring my snarky back at least once a week. Bear with me, I'm planning my first post about how Ni Hao Kai Lan needs to mind her own business every once in awhile. ::Snort::

Workout Wednesday

The sub title of this post should be "the slacker edition".

This summer, I was at the Y every day during the week and at least once, usually twice, during the weekends. Granted, that was helped by the fact that the kids had gymnastics on Saturday, so I had to be there anyway. Potato, patahto.

One of the reasons I really prefer to have a workout partner is that it keeps me motivated to show up. Once I show up, the hardest part is over for me. It's just the getting there that can be hard for me, especially if I don't feel well or am really, really tired. And, most mornings on my way to the gym, I'm thinking - oh, I need to do this and this and this and this and this. And rarely does that train of thought include what I need to be doing while at the gym.

My morning workout partner has kids too, so we've been missing at least one morning a week the past month or so. I've gotten a lot of running around done, but ironically, I miss going to the gym. Missing it doesn't seem to make it any easier to get me there some mornings, oddly enough, but I miss it just the same.

Last week, we didn't meet Tuesday or Thursday mornings, I didn't go to the gym on Saturday (but I cleaned my entire house from top to bottom, so there was a lot of non gym exercise going on for me) and then my usually vigorous Sunday workout got totally derailed by an ailing child. Being 100% honest, I could have taken the kids back home and gone back to the gym or gone for a walk, or done something movement oriented, but I didn't.

Even though this week didn't get off to a great start, either, there's always tomorrow. S wasn't feeling well on Monday, we didn't meet on Tuesday, and we got a late start on Wednesday. So, not my best week. The bright side is that I bench pressed 105 pounds today, and when R and I go on Saturday, we are going to see how heavy I can go. I'm excited to test myself. I can also already tell a difference in my cardio ability, even though the last 10 days have been wishy washy workout wise. Say that six times fast. Wishy washy workout wise. HA!

Sometimes I just have weeks like this. If I start beating myself up about it, though, it just makes it that much harder to get back into the swing of things. So I'm not going to sweat it. ::snort!:: For the most part, I've been working out regularly for a solid year and a half (minus PCS season last year). Not too shabby. I'm almost halfway to my weight loss goal.

Tomorrow I have the appointment I thought I had last Thursday, so my workout will be later in the day. Since it's Veteran's Day and the kids don't have school and R is off work, maybe we can all do something fun and active as a family. I think it's time to get creative up in here.

Salsa Chicken Pictures

Recipe: 1 bottle Bull's-Eye Carolina barbecue sauce

1 small jar salsa or picante sauce (whatever level of hotness you prefer)

4-6 boneless skinless chicken breasts

Mix barbecue sauce and about 1/2 the jar of salsa together in a 9X13 baking dish

Add chicken, spooning mixture over top

Bake at 375 for about 35 minutes until chicken is done (cooking times will vary based on size and number of chicken breasts)

I served ours with steamed brown rice and steamed broccoli sprinkled with Parmesan cheese.

YUM!

You just never know what you are going to find

Sometime in the mid 90's, my friend Angie introduced me to a...different....sounding chicken recipe. When she described it, I wrinkled up my nose and thought to myself, 'No WAY am I eating that!'

Which, of course, I did.

Hey, someone goes to the trouble of making you dinner, the least you can do is try it, right?

And, of course, I loved it. Angie has an awesome ability to find easy, quick, delicious recipes.

I'm sure she told me the name of the recipe, but it was henceforth referred to as 'salsa chicken'.

You need one bottle of honey mustard barbecue sauce, one bottle of salsa, and four to six chicken breasts. I use the boneless skinless ones because I'm lazy like that. You mix the sauces together, put the chicken breasts in, bake it at 375 until done (about 35-45 minutes depending on how thick the chicken breasts are). Serve it over rice.

Sooooooo good. I made this at least once a week for years.

And then they stopped selling/making honey mustard barbecue sauce.

It was a sad, sad day in menuville.

I tried a variety of combinations - honey barbecue sauce with Dijon mustard and salsa, barbecue sauce with honey, mustard, and salsa, tangy barbecue sauce with honey mustard salad dressing and salsa...you get the idea.

Some of them were okay, but none of them were as good as the original. After we moved to South Dakota, I stopped looking for a replacement combination.

Today, I was at the commissary and for some reason I walked up the sauce/condiment aisle. Something caught my eye. In the barbecue sauce section was a funny color of barbecue sauce. Could it be? Seriously? Could it be? I swooped in for a closer look and discovered that Bull's-eye now makes a sauce they call Carolina Style, but is described and looks just like the honey mustard stuff I've been missing. I bought a bottle, went to find some salsa and chicken and made it for dinner tonight.

YUMMY!

So good.

So, so, so good.

And it wasn't just me...R asked me if we could have it for dinner again tomorrow night. And the answer is totally yes! I wish I'd thought to take a picture and post it. I'll do that when I make it again tomorrow.

Oh bla de, oh bla da, life goes ooooonnnnnn, la la la la life goes on

This morning, R had guard duty and left the house around 5 am. Once again, I am thankful that he's in the Air Force now because the schedule is a bazillion times better than the Army schedule was. But I'm also grateful that he was in the Army, because I don't think I'd appreciate the benefits of AF life the way I do if I hadn't had a taste of Army life first.

A little bit later, T comes into our bedroom, climbs into bed with me, kisses me on the forehead, and says "good morning Mommy!" There is nothing sweeter. Nothing. We get up and have about half an hour together before S wakes up. I love it when I can spend one on one time with the kids. S gets more of it now than T does since he's in Kindergarten all day, so it's even sweeter when he and I get some unexpected quality time.


We were even all up, dressed, breakfast eaten, and teeth brushed in plenty of time to walk to the bus stop before the bus was rumbling down the street. Already this week is off to a better start than last week. And for the first time in ages, S didn't give me any lip about getting dressed this morning -- all thanks to some mint condition hand me downs from T's friend Allyson.

Once T was off to school, S and I headed to the Y. 40 minutes into my workout, one of the childcare workers came to get me saying that S was in the bathroom saying she thought she was going to throw up. Oh no! I dashed in there to check on her. She hadn't thrown up, but was crying and asking to go home. And that's what we did. Poor thing. She had started coughing and was coughing so hard that she gagged. And there is nothing I can do but hold her until she feels better.

After we got home, she seemed to be much better. The only problem was that she wanted to play with T's DSi. No way, Jose! There is no way she's going to touch that thing without T's express permission. I'm all for the kids sharing toys and whatnot, and I often have to enforce the practice. However, every now and then I fully support the right not to share. Being a parent is terribly hard sometimes, what with all the concern about how my decisions will affect, scar, or warp them for life. I mean, really, who needs that kind of constant pressure?!? I kid, I kid.

But my refusal to let her have access to the DSi started a massive tantrum. First she cried, all pitiful like, and when that didn't work she turned to tearfully demanding that I give her what she wanted. Umm...no. Then she got really mad and you could just see that she was trying to figure out what she could do that would cause me to react. She's a smart cookie, that one, and she picked up something to throw. Unfortunately for her, she chose a blanket. The thing about throwing a blanket is that there is rarely a satisfying whack involved. Especially when the blanket is 6 times bigger than you are and all you really manage to do is dump half of it on yourself and the other half on the floor right beside you. Naturally this only added to the anger at hand, so she went for the shoes lying on the floor beside the couch. In a dramatic show of defiance and an impressive attempt to show me who's boss, she held up the shoe over her head for a few seconds and then flung it as hard as she could towards the wall. The only problem with that? She let go too early and so the shoe landed about a foot (no pun intended) away from her.

Well. That just did it. She flung herself to the ground and just screamed while she rolled around and flailed about. She wasn't really even screaming any words, just trying to achieve her window rattling decibel level that usually gets a rise out of me.

In case you were wondering what I was doing during this impressive display of toddler fireworks? I was sitting calmly on the couch giving her my full attention but not reacting in any way. I was also trying not to laugh, because while there was certainly humor to be found, I have been that frustrated myself and there's nothing worse than being upset and having someone laugh at you. Well, at least in my book. After a minute, she stopped screaming and looked at me with a tear stained face, red eyes, and more than a hint of defiance in the set of her jaw.

Me: Want to go water the flowers with me?
S: (nods)

We put on shoes and jackets and went out to water the flowers. As I was showing her how to position the sprinkler so that as many of the flowers were reached by the water as possible, S puts her hand on my face and says, "I sorry, Mommy."

I scoop up the puddle my heart has melted into and pour it back into my chest. I give her a big hug and tell her I understand what it's like to be that mad, and that no matter how mad she ever gets I will love her just the same. She nods her head a couple times looking so much older than her three years. Somehow, I don't think being the kid is entirely a piece of cake either.