Welcome to the Circus, otherwise known as, "My Life"

As I drove back from the car dealership this afternoon, I wondered to myself, "are other people's lives like this?? I never really hear of other people's lives being this wacky."

As I glanced around my van, which three of my family members refer to as, "the crap mobile" I thought of my friend's van, (Ill keep this anonymous, and call her "Jane".) Jane's van looks like she just bought it an hour before, everyday. It is shiney and clean and smells like new car. Im pretty sure Jane has never tossed Happy Meal boxes to kidlets in the back row, never had anyone throw up on the van carpet, or lost sippy cups full of milk under her seats, Im certain of it. And, how do I know? Because, Jane, was kind enough to drive my kids and I to swim team yesterday, due to my key-less-ness, and I was able to experience the beauty that is her van.

Jane's house, is much like everyone else's house I know; you feel like you have walked into a page from "pottery barn", in a good way. Kids dont leave their toys on the floor, no, they are all put away into decorative storage baskets. No finger prints or graffitti on the walls, just matted pictures of the perfect children. The kitchen sink and counter tops? Aside from the Williams Sonoma, fragrant hand soap and coordinating lotion, they're clear!

But anyways, I thought of how everyone else's life seems so in-sync, and I sighed.

I was determined to stop comparing myself and just to be grateful for my crap-mobile, I had even missed it after the days of keylessness. So,I drove home from the car dealership, thankful for my new keys, and relieved that the saga was over.

The whole thing began, at 8am on Wednesday morning. We were all planning on picking My Honey up at the airport. He was returning from a business trip, and had taken Super Shuttle, leaving his car at home. Everyone was ready to leave, except for Little One, who thought to herself, "No sense getting out the door on time THIS morning, I think Ill poop myself and give my mom something to do." So she did.

As I went to change her, I realized that I was out of diapers, but thankfully, there was a big box of Huggies in the car. (note to dad's, it's not possible to carry everything out of the car, including kids, and all their gear, and groceries, unless you are Jane.)

Pooper, my responsible 7 year old, offered (was threatened with no Webkinz time if he didnt comply) to get the box out of the car... he took my key, unlocked the car door, brought the box into the house....and......????

I changed Little One's diaper, and we all got into the car. I asked Pooper for the key, and he didnt know where it was.

Just so you know, Pooper takes my key to get into the car often, usually in the morning, when he is running around looking for his shoes, which are typically in my car, because he changes in the van for swim team after school. He always puts the key on the driver's seat for me, after opening the car. But not today.

We searched the car, searched the house, and before you know it, nearly an hour had passed, and My Honey called wondering where we were, as he was standing outside of baggage claim at the airport, the airport that was 30 minutes away.

I loaded the kids into My Honey's car, transferring all the car seats, and we were good to go.

Over the course of the next couple of days, I searched high and low for that darned key.

Part of searching "high and low" means, searching IN the car. Unfortunately, after taking out the car seats and putting them into My Honey's car, I mistakenly locked the van. great!

So, I called a towing service, who came out and opened up the car, only with a lot of fanfare.

I should point out, that, due to the misfiring of brain cells in my head, our gas was turned off on Wednesday evening, and by the time I got home, it was too late to get it turned back on. Now, just so you dont think Im a complete nincompoop, the notice even pointed out, that I last paid them IN FULL on February 19th. So, it wasnt like I had just gone forever without paying, it's just that the gas company has a grace period of like, negative days.

So, Thursday morning, I paid the bill, and the chipper gal told me they could, "come out Saturday to turn it back on." Um, Saturday? That's not really working for me. So, she put me on hold, and told me they could have someone out within 4 hours. (So glad I didnt accept the Saturday thing!)

Because the moon and the stars and the tides seem to be in perfect alignment with the rhythms of my life. The tow truck driver and the gas man showed up at exacly the same time. and for good measure, I had just put Little One down for a nap.

As soon as the gas man went into the house to do his thing, the tow truck dude unlocked my van, and the car alarm began to sound.

I looked at the tow truck driver and he stared at me blankly. I asked him if he could turn off the alarm, and he said I would need the key.

Suddenly, my eyes rolled back into my head, and it was as if I could hear circus music, and there was confetti and a trapeze artist, and a bunch of smelly elephants and a big banner in front of my house that said;

"Hey look over here! The gas man is here because we forgot to pay our bill, and we also have a giant tow truck out front, maybe our car is getting repossessed, and, oh, we cant turn this alarm off either!"

I felt like such a spectacle on my quiet street.

and the alarm didnt stop!

I played under the hood, looking for the alarm (to pull the wires) and was tempted to just yank the entire battery out of the car, but the alarm stopped. That is, until Pooper opened up the passenger side door, and it set the whole thing off again! Suddenly (or not!) the tow truck driver told me if I open up all the doors, the alarm will go off, and it did. and the baby was crying.

Too end this long story, we woke up at the crack of dawn to take My Honey to work this morning, and afterwards went to the car dealer to get new keys made. And then, we came back home with the new keys.

They had given me directions to use this emergency key, complete with punching in a secret code, using my foot to pump the gas pedal a certain amount of times. The guy in the parts department wished me luck, as he can never get the secret-brake-pumping code thing to work. I went home, tried it, and it worked.

This was only half the process, as I now needed to drive my van back to the dealership (another transfering of all car seats) so that they could reprogram my van with a new code or something fancy.

While back at the dealership, the kids were playing nicely in the playroom, and I noticed a little dog trotting by. Apparently, one of the employees brings the puppy to work each day. Little One got a lot of laughs at the puppy, it was cute.

A bit later, while on the ground picking up some of the playroom Legos, Pooper said, "Ewwww! This floor is wet" and followed with, "It's pee!!" as he sniffed his dampened hand.

For a fraction of a split-second, I thought, "that darned dog shouldnt be allowed......" but before I could even begin to think it, my head turned, and I was staring at Beauty.

If you have read this blog, you know that Beauty ...well, I dont know how to say it, except that she is unwilling to listen to the "I have to pee" warning that goes off in her body.

I knew it was Beauty. About 10 minutes before, she has asked to use the bathroom, and I should have known, that it was an "after" use, probably to wipe the dribble on her leg or something.

I called her over, and while her dress was dry, the Disney Princess panties were soaked.

So, for the next 15 minutes, while waiting for the car to be ready, I cringed everytime that little dog came over to us. I was pretty sure that he would start sniffing the pee spot on the carpet, and lights and sirens would go off, and everyone would know, that the MOTHER OF THE YEAR was in the building, the mother who's five year old daughter peed in the playroom. And the mother who didnt notify anyone, or try to soak up any of the moisture. No, the mother that just prayed to God that the car would be ready soon, so she and her kidlets could just go back home and hibernate.

And all the way home, I wondered, if anyone else ever has days, or years, or lifetimes like mine.

so much to say.....

Sorry for the long delay,

I had started to write a little series on visits to the Easter Bunny to get our picture taken, but ran into a problem sizing this years photo. And trust me, I need to post this years photo for you to get the gist of things.

In the meantime, so much going on here, not the least of which is the fact that Pooper lost the key to my car, and the hunt includes having the car alarm go off, over and over again, without being able to turn it off.

And, speaking of cars, about an hour ago, I BARELY TAPPED a car as I was backing out of a parking spot (driving My Honey's car, since, I cant find my key), going a whopping 3.2 miles per hour. There were no marks or scratches on either car, but rather than be a "hit and runner" I went and looked for the owner, to say, "I backed into your car, but I wanted you to see there are no marks."..and instead of being met with any sense of sanity, the 19 year old lexus (or was it an infinity or bmw??) owner (I think mom co-signed) absolutely went nutzo, with lots of drama and cussing..she even had the nerve to ask me, "Do you even know how much this car cost??" I all but called the cops for my own protection...but Ill leave that story (along with the Easter Bunny photo saga) to be done after I get a nights rest.

And, oh, tomorrow will be day 3 without a car key, so you know there will be something to blog about there too.

Is it just me?

Something has been on my mind lately. It's one of those odd things that I keep mulling over in my mind, wondering the answers to a quizzical situation, and, well, Im just wondering if Im alone.

Im a news junkie, you already know that. So, Ive read, ad nauseum, about Spitzer's affair, about Obama's pastor, the housing market, all of it. It's interesting the first time around, maybe even the first few times, but then I move on.

But one news story has stuck in my brain like a dead rat behind a stove, and I havent been able to move on. I think there are a few things that are still unclear to me, that I need to have answered, before I can put this news story behind me.

It has to do with that lady that sat on the toilet seat for two years. Did you read about her? She sat on the toilet seat, and fter awhile she began to get sores, and then those sores healed or grew or SOMETHING, and adhered to the toilet seat. When her boyfriend finally called 911, TWO YEARS LATER, to say, "hey, somethings wrong with my girlfriend, she wont/cant get off the toilet" the rescue crew arrived, and they couldnt get her off the toilet either, so they BROKE THE TOILET SEAT OFF THE TOILET, and took her to the hospital with the SEAT STILL ATTACHED TO HER REAR and then the ER doctors PRIED THE SEAT OFF HER.

Um, my head hurts when I try to process this. The progression of events is not being accepted into my brain. Im not understanding a few things, and I need some clarity before I can move on to the next odd news story.

First of all, what prompted her to go to the toilet? Was she just going potty, or was she mad at her boyfriend and in a fit of tantrum, went and sat on the toilet? My neural transmiters NEED to know this before they can start trying to understand what happened.

If she was just going potty, then what happened? Why couldnt she get up? Was she, like, constipated, and sat there for hours? or, what???

If she was having a tantrum, maybe she was just refusing to come out of the bathroom because she didnt want to talk to her boyfriend, and 15 minutes turned into a few hours and maybe he said mean things through the bathroom door, and so, she stayed a while. But, it's important to know, how they heck did this weird situation get started??

And then, there is the issue with the sores. I know it's gross, but I need to understand this. Did she already have sores? Did the sores come about because she sat there for so long that her skin got sore? How long before she got the sores?

The reason the sores matter, is because, apparently, it was the eventual skin growing over the sores that caused her to get stuck, I THINK?????

Let's back track...when did it come to be, that she couldnt get up? Did she ever try to get up? When? Was she refusing to get up or she couldnt get up? That's important to know.

And, how long had she been there before he skin started GROWING AND ATTACHING to the toilet seat?

I almost need a picture of this, I know, it's disgusting to even read about. In fact, if you are still reading, you are either gagging, and/or a true news junkie like myself.

We news junkies dont shy away from the disturbing things in life, we are drawn to them. Like pre-teen girls to Hannah Montanah, we are drawn to those things that display the bizarre of humanity.

Back to this gal, I think If I could see a picture, it would help. Was she really obese, and her rear is actually stuck in the seat? or, is it like the news seems to explain, that her skin had grown on/over the toilet seat itself? I think if I could see a picture of this, a lot *might* be cleared up for me.

To make matters even more complicated, her boyfriend is now being charged with some sort of abuse, because he didnt help her sooner.

That in itself raises a whole host of new ponderings; at what point did his lack of intervention become abuse? did he try to get her off of the seat? I mean, if the firemen couldnt get her off, and they doctors had to use a crow bar or something, what did we expect this guy to do, and when? And, maybe instead of getting in trouble, he should get a reward. I mean, I dont know too many boyfriends that would stick around with a girl on a toilet for two years, especially when her skin had grown onto the seat...Im just guessing, but that might be a "deal breaker" for a lot of guys.

Did he go in and talk to her each day? Was he nice? What did they talk about? Did he bring her meals? Did they play checkers or backgammon? Did he put a tv in there for her? Did he bring her a toothbrush so that she could have fresh breath, even though her backside was stuck to the toilet? Did she flush the toilet so the water wouldnt go stale? Did she keep going potty? How many rolls of toilet paper did she use?

Really, the questions could go on forever, and I know I will never get them all answered, and that's ok, but, I really do need to just have a tad more information, so that I can get some sort of understanding on this odd scenario, enough to file it away in my minds "weird news" filing cabinet.

Anyone else with me on this? Anyone else left wondering what in the world happened here?

With a cherry on top!

Well, the weekend was so much fun, that it seemed a shame for it to all come to an end.....

Tomorrow, Ill need to call the orthopedic doctor, first thing, to get in to have Pooper's cast made. His arm is not very secure in the ace bandage/splint, and with two bones broken in there, it doesnt take much movement to send him shreiking in pain. But, that doesnt seem like *quite* enough excitment, does it? I mean, broken arm - smoken farm, that's just too ordinary. So, to spice things up a bit, Pooper decided to lose the silver crown on his tooth. Not that he actually "decided", as in planned it, it just happened, 'cause that's the kind of kid he is.

So, I called the dentist, to tell him that the crown that was on the "root canal" tooth, has fallen off, and did he think we needed to fix it today, or could we wait a day. He said, "no problem, I can just put it right back on today."

Oh, but wait, we have lost it, most likely, Pooper swallowed it. And while most kids would probably poop it out, my guess, if I were a bettin' woman, is that Pooper's silver crown, will probably snag on his intestines, or something fun like that, just for the heck of it. So, we will make a point of going on a treasure hunt, each time he goes potty, to make sure it is accounted for.

Now the dentist will have to make a new crown. He said if Pooper isnt too uncomfortable, we can do it tomorrow.

Bonus prize for us, Pooper is already loaded up on pain meds, and they will probably cross over and cover his tooth (even though they arent quite taking away the arm pain, at least now, the meds will be good for SOMETHING.) I told him that Im gonna try to get his arm cast done first thing in the morning, and then we will pop on over for the new crown. So, tomorrow should be like having Christmas on the 4th of July.


But wait, something is missing here....I mean, we are a family that needs things to be hopping with drama. It doesnt seem like we have enough going on....hmmmm, how about we fall back on our old stand-by, the vacation home we call the Emergency Room, naaaw! that's old hat.

I know, how about if My Honey and Little One, who were in Atlanta, Georgia, have some plane mishaps, yeah, that should keep us on our toes. Let's just say that when they got to the airport in Atlanta, My Honey noticed that the plane was delayed, and expressed his concerns to the ticket gal;

My Honey: It looks like the plane delay is gonna make me miss our connector in North Carolina.

Customer-service-agent-from-Hades: Oh, dont worry, we value YOU as a customer, and we will make sure you dont miss your connecting flight.

My Honey: But, it's pretty impossible for us to make it, because the flight from here to NC is late, and Im gonna miss the flight, and Im travelling with a ONE YEAR OLD CHILD, so can you please switch me now to another flight, so that I get to Los Angeles TONIGHT?

Customer-service-agent-who-should-be-fired: Oh, but you are customer, so you are KING, I will make sure we hold your connecting flight, so that you and your sweet baby get back home to Los Angeles tonight.

So, My Honey and my baby board the flight from Atlanta to Charlotte, and when they arrive in North Carolina, they are instructed to RUN to their connecting flight, but, silly them, that flight had already left.

So, running, huffing, puffing, all for naught, they are out of luck and STUCK IN NORTH CAROLINA FOR THE NIGHT.

There are no other planes that can get them home tonight.

And, because US Airlines is itching to lose all of their customers and go bankrupt, the customer service agent in North Carolina refuses to give My Honey any kind of compensation. It took climbing the ladder, complaining to the manager's manager, to get them to finally spring for a cheap motel and a $10 food voucher. Whoa!

So, now they are in a roach motel, with no room service, or transporation, or any place to get milk for my Little One. And they will rise and shine early in the morning, so that they can start all over again and pray to get home tomorrow afternoon.

And, I think that might hold us over for a bit, a little bit, until the next fun thing happens in our household.

Paddy Murphy's Law

I cant tell if it's the 'Luck of the Irish' upon us, or just that I'm living out Murphy's Law, but things have not been dull around these parts.

If you've ever wondered some creative ways to put a damper on a good time, here are some ideas for ya:

1. If you and your oldest daughter are at Disney's California Adventure, having the *best time ever* (truly) watching repeat shows of the High School Musical street show, and going on Tower of Terror, and enjoying yourself more than you ever have, even though you have been there 31,806 times, then it would be Murphy's Law, to have said time interrupted with a call from your son's school. The call would be all staticky, because the lack of clarity re: what happened is necessary to increase any worries you might have, but you know he is hurt and to hurry to get him.

2. If your husband and baby ever fly across the country to visit his parents, for a wonderful SURPRISE birthday, because it is both parent's birthday, and the baby is great on the plane, and having a wonderful time with her grandparents, then it would be Murphy's Law, if that town across the country had a record breaking storm, complete with tornadoes that suck windows and furniture out of high rise buildings and softball sized hail, because, nothing says, "I miss my baby" quite like having her across the country in harms way. And, Happy Birthday to the grandparents!

3. If you have ever tried all year to do something, like, skip a bar on the monkey bars at school, and you finally do it, it would be Murphy's Law, that when you finally achieve this feat, that you fall and break two bones in your arm. And, make sure it's on the weekend that your dad and sister are on a vacation, and your mom has promised to take you to the community Spring carnival (games, bounce houses, and other things boys with broken arms cant do), and also, you have a Little League game.

4. If your husband and baby go away for the weekend, and you are excited to do some fun, non-baby stuff with your big kids, it would be Murphy's Law that one of your big kids breaks his arm, so that all of your plans are pretty much squashed, oh, and your baby and husband are in the midst of tornadoes, just to make sure your fun-time mood is thoroughly dampened.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

It's time for that schizophrenia we call, "Daylight Savings"

It's hard to believe that making a one hour adjustment to our clocks could cause such discombobulation, but somehow it does.

When I was in high school, my English teacher mentioned a tribe of people that had no concept of time, they only thought in the present. Well, I couldnt quite get that, and perseverated on it for quite some time, like, it's been 27 years and hear I am talking about it.

The group was Indian, and I dont remember if they were, "Native American" or from India, but they had little resources or technology. I remember my teacher talking about them walking miles to get water to boil for dinner, and pretty much that is where my incessant need to understand this concept set in, and my ears turned off.

"If they never thought of the future, they wouldnt go get water? right? I mean, it took hours, and a long walk to get the water, but if they werent thinking ahead to dinner (and boiling the water) they wouldnt have ever gone to get it in the first place? right?"

Im sure I drove her crazy, as I just couldnt wrap my head around people that never considered time, ever, at all. It just didnt seem possible.

Then we have our tightly wound culture, which is a bit nit picky in the time department.

For example, when I was in high school, we had 7 minutes to get from class to class. Not 6 or 8 minutes, but 7. As you can imagine, this caused the start time for all classes to be things like; 10:42 and 1:34...nothing rounded to the nearest 5, nope, everything was down to the nearest 60 seconds. Detentions awaited those that didnt have their watches synchronized.

When I worked for the county orphanage, it was like a black comedy on the insaneness of time. We had to check in at a desk to get our keys, and up above the desk was a giant digital clock which counted down to the SECOND!

Getting to work was no easy task. Forget about the horrendous freeways we deal with in Southern California, getting to the "control desk" was a feat in itself.

Once you found a parking spot, which was not easy, as there was always construction from the neighboring jail and courts which seemed to have continual remodeling, you then had to get into the building. You would buzz a bell at the door, wait for someone to let you in, buzz at another door, then go to your mailbox and get a tag, which you would bring up to the control desk under the gigantor clock.


It was ridiculous. It was like a maze or scavenger hunt, and God help you if the people that should open the doors (when buzzed) were busy, and took an extra few seconds.

The county was very strict, and if you were 1 second late, you were late. And it didnt matter when you actually entered the building, the time was counted when you were at the desk with your tag. AND, if you had 3 tardies (throughout your employment, it didnt start over each year) you would be SUSPENDED.

I was suspended once. I had worked there for 5 years, and had never been more than 2.5 minutes late, and was suspended.

I see I've gotten off on a tangent about the ridiculousness of time, but can you imagine the folks in that Indian tribe, getting all bent out of shape if they got to the water hole 3 seconds too late?

So now, we have gone and changed our clocks an hour. We have shifted in space, a whole 60 minutes, and for some, it's hard to function under the new order.

When I was single, I liked daylight savings, because it would stay dark longer in the morning...which allowed me to sleep in without the sun waking me.

Now that Im older, Im not such a fan of this feature. I havent been able to "sleep in" in over 8 years, so there is no benefit to the sun rising later. No, now that I wake up early, it helps me to have the sun there to prod at my eyeballs and get me moving, and with daylight savings I dont get that assistance. Im forced to stumble around, in the dark, and turn on lights, and grumble that if God wanted us to be up that early he would have given us an earlier sunrise. And bemoan the ridiculousness of schools starting so early, how are we supposed to feed and dress our kids and get them to school at such an unreasonable hour?

Im of the mindset that you should wake up naturally, when your body is ready, like you see them doing in those mattress commercials, silky jammies, soft curls in their hair, smiles on their dewey faces as they greet the morning sunshine, which filters in through their window sheers.

But now, with daylight savings, we dont get that opportunity. It's gonna be dark in the mornings, DARK. Im not looking forward to our first Monday (ie. school day) under the new time, Ill let you know how it goes.

As for the second half of daylight savings, the savings part, where it gets to stay dark longer. Well, that has some benefits, of course.

In our house, the biggest benefit is that when Pooper gets out of the pool at 5:15pm each day, it will still be sunny and warm. This winter, it was often getting dark, and very cold, and that made practice dreary. I know he is happier about the time change, so that he doesnt feel as if he, "swam so long, until nighttime."


I know the late night sun is great for those whose parents let them run around like helions until it gets dark, but my kids arent in that group, their mom is not that nice.

The downer, is that my kids go to bed at 8pm. Actually, they go pick out their bedtime story at 7:35, and are in bed with their books by 7:45, so that lights are out and bedtime is over by 8pm.

Thanks to daylight savings time, that would be the same 8pm when it's still sunny outside.

It's gonna be hard enough to convince my kids to get in bed when the sun is saying, "hey, Im still here, it's too early for bed!", and even harder when they hear the screams and laughter of the neighbor children, frolicking outside beneath their windows, singing high school musical songs and riding their bikes.

It's just a darned hour. Why do things change so drastically over 60 little minutes?

I meant it when I said I still obsess about that Indian tribe. Im pretty sure they are a relaxed bunch. No bedtimes, no alarm clocks, and no daylight savings time.

Researchers have discovered that peeing in public is a genetic disorder

I dont know when this all began.

I have two early memories of peeing in public, or, shall I say, thinking about peeing in public.

Number one, about three or four years old, playing with my brother (2 years my junior) and some neighborhood boys. One or some of them stopped to pee in the bushes and the world stopped turning, and I realized that they had a really cool trick, and I wished I could do it too. But I couldnt. And I didnt.

Number two, around the same time period, some of us kids in the neighborhood would run through the sprinklers in our underwear.....but only one of us (that would be me, the GIRL) would have to go inside to use the restroom.

Those are them....perhaps the moments in my life when the seeds were planted.

I've always been modest, so, it's not like you would ever actually see me peeing in public, at least not with my pants down.

However, from 7th to 12th grade, I have countless recollections of doing crazy things with my friends, we would end up laughing so hard that the end result would be me peeing in my pants.

One such incident happened when my mom sent me to the grocery store. I must have been 16, cause I could drive, and so we went to Albertsons to gather what my mom had told me to buy. Something happened in the produce department. I think my friend was goofing around, flipping her feather bangs back and forth, dramatically, which made us both laugh, laughing so har we were crying, and before you know it, it was as if Niagra Falls had sprung a leak, and try as I might, there was no stopping it. So, still in hysterics, we left the store, I went home to change, and we returned 20 minutes later to resume shopping.

So, it was pretty well ingrained by my teens.

Im gonna have to say my mother (the notorious Grandma J) was definitely to blame. I still remember driving home from *somewhere* in her Nissan 200SX, when she announced that she had to go to the restroom. Realizing we were nowhere near a bathroom stop, she decided she would just pee her pants, in the car, rather than try to hold it and risk an accident. I was disgusted, but Im sure this totally damaged my senses and is one of the reasons that I continue with this concept of urinating out in the open.

Fast forward to today. Im a mother, 3 small children, at the little league fields. Pooper is warming up, the team is ready to take the field, and Beauty comes up wiggling, "I have to pee!".

As it is with Beauty, her "I-have-to-pee-body-alarm-system" often malfunctions, and does not alert her to the need until it is far too late. As she does the fancy footwork, which clearly says, "I cant hold it any longer" I look far off into the distance, over at the public bathrooms about 1/2 a mile away, and realize, we wont ever make it. Not to mention I have Little One to carry. So, the switch in my brain went on and I told her we would find a place to go outside.

Right near our field, was a small hill. I gave Beauty a science lesson, and taught her to sit at the top of the hill, so that the pee would run downward....a very easy way to sit and pee in public, without anyone noticing, and relatively hygenic, RELATIVELY.

I was sort of ashamed to have initiated my daughter into this terrible behavior, but I convinced myself that there are worse things, and besides, nobody saw a thing.

A couple of innings into the game, and Pooper is on third base, ready to run home, while holding his crotch. Not just holding it, in that baseball player way, but really HOLDING IT, making it known to all that he has to pee.

Again, my option is the public bathrooms a million steps away....I would have to take him, and the girls, and he'd likely miss most of the game, and then I thought, since Beauty did it, and she is a girl, surely I could get away with Pooper peeing outside. So, I grabbed him, dragged him over to a tree, and told him to quickly go.

I turned away, watching his team get their gloves and hats and race out into the field, and I turned back, and there was Mr. Discreet, pants down around his ankles, shoulders back, making a giant golden arch up agains a tree. He might as well have put up a neon sign that said, "hey look! Im peeing in front of everyone!" After what seemed like forever, and some snickers from the stands, he pulled up his uniform, grabbed his glove and headed out to the field.

Ok, the season has just started, and Ive clearly identified myself as the world's most horrible mom. but at least nobody wet their pants.

The game is almost over, and Beauty comes up, no lie, and has to go again.

The game is only an 75 minutes long, for goodness sakes, did my kids save up a day's worth of pee for this particular outting?????

Id have told her to hold it, but, Im telling you, this girl is no one to mess with when she says she has to go. Same dilemna faces me, we just arent close enough to the bathrooms to get their in time, so, yep, she went and did her sit-at-the-top-of-the-hill routine, and did it pretty well, I might add.

Im pretty sure, to those that noticed, we were the topic of conversation later in the evening; "did you see that one mom and her kids? they all kept peeing outside, buns out in the open, and she let them!!!"

I wouldnt feel so bad if other parents did the same thing, but they dont. They miss innings to walk to the bathrooms, and some have even driven home to go!

Lots of families have their issues; skeletons in the closet, family secrets, and it seems that ours is just out in the open.

Words that cant be spoken

Sometimes this blog is just a fun hobby, and sometimes I really need to get things out.

This past weekend, tonight included, has been a time when I would love nothing more than to vent and ramble on this blog, and to even ask for your advice and input. But, I cant.

Sometimes, I blog about myself, or my family, and, really, there is nothing they can say or do about it, because...well, because they dont read my blog, so they dont know what I say about them (evil laugh!)

There are times that I blog about others, but I try to do so anonymously, like, by calling them, "Jane" or something, so you dont know who they are.....or, by showing pictures but making sure you cant actually identify the person.

Oh sure, Ive danced on the edge a few times, like when I posted an actual picture, face and all, of the frisky man in the neighborhood that kept hitting on all the women joggers , or when I posted pictures of my soon-to-be-adopted-daughter-Sondra (although Im doubtful that was her real name.)

But this time, the situation is too sensitive. It involves children. It involves behaviors that havent been proven. It involves something that I hope can be resolved in a way that brings healing and restoration, and I think sharing it on this blog could risk that outcome.

I will say that my son has been complaining that he is being bullied at school. I will say that I have heard him sobbing, painful sobs that reveal a heart that has been hurt.

As a counselor with teens for many years, including at the Jr. High and High School level, where there was a "zero tolerance" for bullying, I have taken steps to insure that children were not harassed or harmed while at school. I know the damage that can be done when, to both parties, when people set out to hurt someone. I know that I will not allow my kids to treat others in a hurtful way, and if I find out they are doing so, I will do everything necessary to rectify the situation.

But it's different now that I am on the other end, when it is my child that is being bullied.

I will say that there are times that our children must face painful situations, and there is nothing anyone can do about it, except pray. Thanks to God, I have seen those situations turn out well.

With this current dilemna, we can and are doing something about it, including praying about it, and I hope that God shows us once again, that He is the Great Counselor, Great Healer of hearts, and that everyone involved will feel encouraged when things are over. It is God's nature to take what the devil tries to tear apart, and turn it into something good, and that is my hope for this situation.

and the winner is...............

Sorry Im late, as Im sure you can all appreciate, I wanted to take the time to savor each and every vacation story. And, to write all the names down, fold up the pieces of paper, and conduct the drawing, well, all things take time.

But I've got a winner.....it's Bossy! Bossy, please send me your address and Ill get your $10 Starbucks card in the mail.

Thanks to all of you for taking part in the contest, I hope you had fun!

and to those still waiting for the reply from the landlord.....well, me too!