Finally in the OBX

I've been trying to write a quick update for a couple days now, but every time I start, I get kicked offline. Not much of a signal here in the OBX.

The kids and I left at 9:00 on Friday, headed for North Carolina. We ran to Dunkin Donuts for coffee, then we ran back home because Jackson left his camera in the backyard, then we started for real at about 9:45. I had pulled up a Mapquest which had me going east and then curving through Pennsylvania and heading south to North Carolina. That was fine by me since I didn't really want to drive through the Smoky Mountains. So, on Friday, I drove through Chicago, across Indiana (yes, there is more than corn in Indiana; there are also soybeans), across Ohio (70 mph speed limit, nice roads, and great rest stops like every 50 yards). I drove through Pennsylvania. (Holy cow the hills! The winding hills! The kids kept complaining that their ears were popping and I was gripping the steering wheel like a crazy woman because of the winding hills and the rain and the rush hour traffic. Pennsylvania really slowed me down.) I also drove through Maryland, stopping in Clear Spring for the night at 10:00.

We got up, had breakfast, spilled maple syrup all over the place, locked ourselves out of our room, and got back on the road by 9:00 Eastern time (lost an hour there!) We drove through the entire state of Virginia at the whopping speed of 10 mph. There were two accidents that we ran into. We sat there in temps over 100 degrees while the car started to overheat necessitating the use of the heater. In 100 degree weather. Fun.

Then we inched along in traffic and rain the entire way to our rental house. Literally. We didn't get there until 9:00 at night. Twelve hours to drive through Virginia and into North Carolina. That sucked.

Yesterday, I followed some cars onto a beach because I'm stupid. I don't have four wheel drive. I don't have any business trying to drive a huge van in sand. Several yards down the beach, I realized my mistake and tried to turn around so I could go back. I got stuck. The nice beach sheriff helped us dig out and told me to let air out of my tires. He led me over the more packed areas of sand and we almost made it off the beach. Until I stuck again. This time, it was really bad. The sheriff suggested I call a tow truck. I bet he goes out with his buddies after his shift and tells tales of the stupid tourists who get stuck every day. Anyway, a nice guy from Virgina with a big ole truck and a tow rope took pity on me as I was lying in the sand, digging away like an armadillo, and he pulled us out.

Three of my kids have been stung by jellyfish. Yes, there was peeing going on.

I lost 200 pictures that I took when I tried to transfer them to my computer. I'm still really sad about that.

But, on the bright side, we've been having a really great time! We all love the ocean! The house we're renting is fabulous! I cooked a bunch of shrimp yesterday and we ate our weight in shellfish. I'll share a few of the pictures I didn't lose...

Do You Want a Spanking? (and other absurdities)

While I was at the store, I overheard a dad tell his sobbing daughter, "Be quiet or I'll give you something to cry about!"

I snickered to myself at the absurdity of such a statement, and I remembered making a smart-aleck comment in response to my dad after he said that to me as a child. "So, do you want me to stop crying? Or do you want me to cry more? I'm confused." (In case you're wondering, he gave me something to cry about.)

My parents didn't just spank me and my sister when we were bad. Nope, they'd tell us to go upstairs and wait. We knew what was coming and that waiting was the worst. One day, my sister and I came up with a great idea to save our aching butts. Books! It was fool proof! I grabbed my trusty copy of One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish and stuffed it down my pants. A spanking won't hurt now! I've got protection! I thought triumphantly. Apparently I wasn't a very bright kid because it never occurred to me that my mom would notice that my butt had taken on a rectangular shape, or a hard, cardboard-like quality. Yeah.

But that dad telling his daughter he'd give her something to cry about got me thinking. I don't know about you, but my parents said a lot of stupid things when I was a kid. Sometimes they'd ask me, "Do you want a spanking?"

"Umm, is this a trick question?"

Or (here's another good one!) "This is going to hurt me than it does you." Uh no. It most definitely does not hurt the parent more. I've been in both positions and it does not hurt the spanker as much as the spankee. Just sayin'.

I was a picky eater as a kid. I would never touch the crust of my bread. My mom would tell me, "Eat the crust! It'll put hair on your chest!" Yeah. You know, because that's what every five-year-old girl wants - a hairy chest. "Hair on my chest??? Really? Awesome! Can I eat yours too, Mom?"

Here's another one that picky eaters across America heard on a regular basis. "Finish that! Don't you know there are starving kids in Africa?" I'm not sure how finishing my Brussels sprouts was going to help hungry kids on the other side of the world, but it seemed to make sense to parents everywhere.

A good one my dad said was, "Don't make me turn this car around!" You know how many times he actually turned the car around? Never. It was an empty threat designed to make us quiet down and stop fighting. And it worked every time. For 90 seconds. Really though, in the history of mankind, has anyone ever actually turned the car around? Why would you do that? You'd still have to listen to the fighting on the way back home. And then, eventually, you'd have to go back out and complete your trip anyway.

My sister and I didn't fight much as kids. We didn't go around punching each other or anything like that. (We're girls after all.) But we did make faces at each other. That was the ultimate insult. "Mom, Deb's sticking her tongue out at me! Mom, Dawn's making a face at me!" And you know what our mom said? Say it with me, everyone. "Your face is going to freeze like that." And she'd say it all serious-like, as if she actually believed it herself. Have you ever seen a person with their face frozen with their eyelids pulled up, their fingers stuck in their nostrils, and their tongue hanging out? Yeah, I didn't think so.

And finally, there was the famous, "If your friends jumped off a bridge, would you follow them?"
"Possibly. How long are you going to stay with this line of questioning? Kidding! Just kidding, Mom. I wouldn't jump off a bridge to get away from you. I mean, I wouldn't jump off a bridge just because my friends do. So, does that mean no, I can't go to the concert that everyone else is going to?"

Yeah, in fact, I did get in trouble a lot. Why do you ask?

Be the Crane

Yesterday, the kids and I went to a birthday party for a family friend, Sean. He had his party at a laser tag place so the kids were all excited. Brooklyn dressed in her finest striped tank top, purple plaid shorts, and pink cowboy boots. Between games of laser tag and pizza and cake, the kids played games. Brooklyn played Skee-Ball. Actually, I'm not sure "played" is the correct word. She rolled the same ball up about 20 times. She rolled it up. It rolled back down. She rolled it up. It rolled back down. Her little friend, Emma, was doing the same drill right next to Brooklyn. Up, down, up, down, up, down. Emma's dad, Chris, stepped in to help her out. He whipped the ball up the slope, it hit a metal guard and ricocheted off, nearly taking out seven small kids in its path. Emma's mom, Jen, and I may or may not have laughed until we wet ourselves. Brooklyn gave up rolling the ball and threw it overhand with similar results. Okay, kids, enough Skee-Ball! Let's try Whack-a-Mole!

Clay got his tokens and headed straight to "The Claw". You know this game? Think Toy Story. You're supposed to maneuver this claw to pick up a toy and drop it into the slot where you can get it. How it works in reality, however, is that you put about $500 dollars worth of tokens in the thing and get nothing but a headache from it. Well, Clay walked over to the game and before I could stop him and redirect him to something else, he'd put his tokens in the machine.

I started to warn him. "Clayton, no one ever wins anything from that machine. It never works. Don't be disappointed when you, what the heck???" I stopped mid-sentence as he dropped a stuffed doll into the slot, grabbed it, and ran off.

I called after him, "Clayton! How did you do that?! He shrugged, giggled, and said, "I dunno. I did it like SpongeBob. BE the crane!"

When Brooklyn saw the doll that Clay had won, she dropped to the floor and started wailing that she wanted one too. Being ever compassionate, I told her, "Get a grip or I'm taking you home." She screamed even louder. I grabbed her hand to drag escort her to the car, but before I could move toward the door, Clay came running by and tossed the doll to Brooklyn, saying, "You can have it, Oata!" then he ran off giggling again.

Now what do you do with that? I try to be firm with Brooklyn. I try not to give in to her tantrums. But she has FIVE siblings who get sick of hearing her. They'll give her anything to shut her up and I don't blame them! And really, that was very sweet of Clay. He can be such a good big brother. So, once again, she got her way and the monster we're creating got a little bit worse.

To fully appreciate this, you have to hear Clay's infectious giggle. Here's an old video of Clay scaling the fridge to steal a cookie. Yes, the first several seconds are sideways. I know. Sorry about that. But listen to this kid laugh. You can't be sad listening to this.

The One in Which Lexi Pukes & Can't Flush It

I woke up (sorta) this morning when Brooklyn crawled into my bed, crying. I couldn't force my eyes open, so I just sorta blindly reached over, patted Brooklyn, and promptly fell back into a deep sleep wherein I resumed my dream of chasing after a cute little black girl who was about five-years-old and had adorable pink bows in her hair. I was trying to catch her so I could give her the earrings I'd gotten for her. She and her mom got on a water taxi. I just missed it, so I walked on the water, really fast (the only way it works is if you go really fast) to catch them. I heard more crying. Who was crying? Oh, it must be Brooklyn. She's still crying about her dream. Poor baby. I reached over once again and made patting motions in her general vicinity while murmuring something about it being okay and it's just a bad dream. I cracked open an eye and Brooklyn came into focus. Brooklyn wasn't Brooklyn at all. She was Lexi.

"Lexi?" I croaked. "What's wrong?"

"I have a headache," she sobbed.

Uh-oh, I thought. Lexi gets migraines. If I catch them early enough, I can give her medicine, she'll go to sleep, and the headache will go away. Judging by her crying, it was too late for that. When I don't catch it soon enough, she throws up. Every time.

"Why didn't you wake me up and tell me, honey?" I asked as I hopped up to get her some Motrin. Too late. She was on her way to the bathroom to barf. Good morning.

Oh but it gets better. As I stayed far away from the bathroom poured Lexi some medicine, she flushed the toilet. Nothing. The barf just swirled around the bowl a bit, refusing to go wherever nasty toilet-stuff goes.

Lexi cried some more as another bout of nausea hit her. I told her to use the other bathroom while I quickly slammed the toilet lid closed. The lid fell off the toilet and clattered to the floor. I had just fixed the lid last night by smacking it a few times with my hammer. It seemed to be staying on, so I thought I'd done well. In fact, I fixed my slow-draining sink too! I was all, "Look at me! Oh yeah! Just call me Handy Manny! I rock! Woo hoo!" Until I tried to put the trap thing back in and may possibly, perhaps have snapped the whole darn closing mechanism thingy (that's the technical term) causing a projectile piece of errant plastic while doing it. But that's another story. Back to the barf.

I carefully, plopped the broken lid on the toilet and lifted the top off the tank. There was no water in it. Hmmm. I wiggled some pieces and hit it a few times. I bent down and made sure the water was turned on. Puzzling. Then I heard Lexi cry some more so I grabbed a diaper wipe, headed to the other bathroom and, without looking, threw the wipe towards her. "There, gag, you go, gag, sweetie, gag, gag." She grabbed the wipe and cried that that toilet wouldn't flush either.

I tried the faucet. Drip drip. No water anywhere. What the heck! I paid my water bill. I'm pretty sure I paid it. I had to have paid it! I left barfy-girl and ran to my desk where I pulled out my water bill. Yep, it had been paid. I called the city and left a message, inquiring as to what their problem was and why my child had no water with which to flush her vomit. (They never did call back.)

By this time, everyone was waking up. Well, everyone but Austin who I'm beginning to believe is a vampire. And, of course, everyone had to go to the bathroom.

"Hang on," I insisted. "Just let me throw on some clothes and I'll take you to the store so you can pee."

"Can I just go outside?" asked Jackson.

"I guess so," I relented, all the while cringing at the thought of him peeing outside in front of all the neighbors. As if they don't think we're weird enough already. I don't understand the attraction of peeing outside. I don't understand boys.

As I took a quick Polish shower (diaper wipes, perfume, and gum), Savannah dumped a bunch of ice into a bowl. "This will melt and then we'll have water," she beamed.

"Uh yeah. Or, ya know, we could just get some water while we're at the store," I countered. She wasn't amused.

So I headed outside to the car with the kids (except Lexi who was sleeping off her headache, and Austin who was avoiding sunlight so he didn't sparkle). On my door was this notice...

Yeah, thanks for the notice, guys!

But the good news is that the water came back on while I was out getting turtle supplies and telling Brooklyn that she couldn't have a pink dog. Lexi woke up headacheless. And someone was nice enough to flush all evidence of vomit before I got back home.

Sunday Sound Out

From Chicago, which is exactly 7 hours and 37 minutes away from Nashville, it's your host, the woman who drank WAY too much caffeine today and couldn't sit still if her life depended on it, Dawn Meehan!


Some fabulous bloggers and I are participating in Do Good Day with 77 Kids by American Eagle on the 14th. We're all bringing our kids and going to a local Ronald McDonald house to cook lunch for the families staying there. On the way home, the kids and I are going to be making stops here and there to pass out $77 dollars and do random acts of kindness for people. I encourage all of you to get involved on the 14th too! Blog about the cool, pay-it-forward things you and your kids do and let me know so I can link to it here!


And now, answers to this week's burning questions.


You don't have to have a camper to go camping! Don't you have tents and sleeping bags??
Yeah, I'm gonna go out and buy a tent and sleeping bags. NOT! I didn't even like camping in an air-conditioned camper with a bathtub, a microwave, and actual beds.

What's lower than dork? You now, just so I know how far I have to fall.
I asked Savannah, "What's lower than a dork?" She said, "Austin." Ahhh, sibling love.

My daughter bought those kind of shoes too and I tried them on but felt like I was going to tip over.LOL. Do yours feel like that too ?
Only when I've had a couple cocktails before my walk.

Umm, you did read that you should only wear them [Shape-Up shoes] a couple of hours a day until you get used to them right? You will be SORE if you dont.
I don't read instructions. That's cheating.

We the People would like before and after shots of your derriere. :) Actually I just wanted to see how brave you are....brave enough to post pics of your butt?!?! LOL!
Heck no! But it has nothing to do with bravery. I just don't want to lose my entire readership in one fell swoop.

Just an FYI. Not sure if the same is true with the Sketchers but my sister-in-law had the Reeboks similar to these and she now has to have foot surgery! Apparently this is a big problem for a lot of people who wear shoes like these. You may want to check into it a little before getting a lot of use out of them and then needing surgery!
Really? Cool! That would be awesome! I imagine I'd get out of running errands and cooking and cleaning for a while.

You got demoted to dork because of the shoes?
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

The dad of 6 kids lives in the southeastern part of the USA. You are thinking of moving to North Carolina? Coincidence? Maybe?!?!
Actually, where I'm considering moving is about 4 hours farther away. Not that I've looked into it or anything.

ok Dawn I already commented but then I went over to Spuds blog and do you know that that man loves to go camping and anything outdoorsy?!?
Yeah well, no one's perfect.

Oh no, no, no, you're not going to hide the GINORMOUS piece of information about your having dinner with Spuds in a blog post about past mistakes. Oh no. Details! We need details! When? Where?
For some of us, this is like a daily soap opera. We must keep up with the latest in Dawn's world! And if you are a part of it, well congrats but we must get to know you too.

Sigh. Okay, I guess I can't avoid this or I'll have an uprising on my blog. Spuds and I have been talking daily for a month or so. Here are a dozen things I know...

1. He's not the person you see in a lot of his blog posts.
2. He loves being a dad. I mean, he really loves it! When his kids are gone (like they were for the past couple weeks), he feels like part of him is missing. I can relate. When they got home last night, he didn't even have to tell me. I could hear the happiness. He was once again complete.
3. He's seen more than most of us ever will. He's been shot, stabbed, and blown up. More than once. But the scars you don't see are the worst and although it's nice talking to someone who has the same scars you do, it's sad at the same time.
4. He swears too much.
5. He does crazy things like make homemade donuts for his kids when there are perfectly good donut stores around.
6. He's read the Bible. The whole Bible. Multiple times. But unlike most of us, he doesn't just go with the flow and do what everyone else does and believe what everyone else does just because that's what he's been told to do. He searches for answers. And to those of you who find it necessary to email him about his heathenness, I just have to laugh. You have no clue. And the fact that you judge without knowing anything makes you the heathens in my book.
7. He has an amazing group of close friends who love and respect him, chah!
8. He's got a chest circumference that's bigger than mine. Not sure about the butt.
9. He has motorcycles! And a whole zoo worth of animals that this city girl can't fathom.
10. He has a whole triage thing with his kids. Imaginary owies or small scratches only get wet toilet paper and not bandaids. I know! Maybe I should send them some bandaids.
11. He's not entirely uncute. ;)
12. And finally, we may, possibly, be meeting in person soon...

The Birds, the Bees, and Chicken Lo Mein

Warning: This blog contains scenes that some viewers may find disturbing. Intended for mature audiences only.

The Talk. How many of you have had The Talk with your kids? I've got two kids in high school and one going into junior high now. Obviously, I've had a few talks. I'm lucky though. My kids' school does the whole birds and the bees talk in fifth grade. I have to admit that I pretty much let the school handle telling my kids the basics. When they came home, thoroughly grossed out by the lesson at school, I stepped up to the plate and played the part of the involved, concerned parent very well. I believe my exact words were, "DoYouHaveAnyQuestionsAboutWhatYouLearnedToday?No?Good!Dinner'sReady!" Yep, I said it all together like that. You know why? So they couldn't actually ask me any questions!

The best part was when Austin was in fifth and took the special fifth grade field trip to the health museum for The Talk, I was nine months pregnant with Brooklyn. I can still remember the look on his face when he got home and eyed my bulging belly. It was a total, "Ewwww! I know what you did! Gross!" look. Because no one wants to think about their parents doing, um, things that made them parents in the first place.

I admit, I really tried to avoid the whole subject with my first two kids. I mean, I let them know that I was there to answer questions, but I was really never comfortable bringing up the subject. Poor Austin and Savannah. They're like my trial kids. I try stuff on them and see if it works. I screw up on them and then learn and do better with the next set of kids. I'm doing much better with talking to my oldest four kids now. It doesn't phase me much anymore. I talk frankly with them because I totally believe that's a huge key to raising happy, confident, responsible kids. I want my kids to be able to come to me with questions and get honest, non-annoying-parent answers. I want to continually reinforce what behavior I expect of them and why. I'm praying they turn out to be well-adjusted, happy, charitible, kind, responsible, productive members of society.

Anyway, you'd think that I'd continue to learn and improve and that I'd do a stellar job on the last set of kids. I mean, after practicing and perfecting my skills on the first four, how could I be anything less than awesome with the last two kids? But nope. Actually, I think I employ the "I'm Too Tired and Worn Down to Care Anymore" method with the last two. For example,
"Hey Mom, can I have Cheetos and sugar for dinner?"
"Sure. Whatever. Enjoy."
That's how the "I'm Too Tired and Worn Down to Care Anymore" method works.

Which might explain the following scene. I was giving Clay and Brooklyn a bath tonight because Austin had a baseball game this evening. Baseball game = playing in the sand until their skin is the color of orange chalk. So, I threw them in the tub and washed their hair. I handed Brooklyn a washcloth and told her to wash her tummy and arms while I rinsed Clay's hair. Brooklyn washed her tummy and moved to her private area. She announced, "I have to wash my noodle!"

Clay looked at her like she was stupid and said, in the exasperated tone of a parent talking to a simple-minded child (or of a brother talking to his little sister), "You don't have a noodle, Brooklyn! Only boys have noodles," he stated confidently.

"Oh," she replied. Then what do I have?"

Without missing a beat, he informed her in his all-knowing way, "You have a Chinese recipe, Brooklyn."

I may have peed a little from laughing so hard. "A Chinese recipe??? Where on earth did you come up with that, Clayton?"

"That's what it is," he instructed me because obviously I had no clue about these things.

"I see. Okay, it's a Chinese recipe," I agreed. No need to start calling body parts by their real names, thankyouverymuch. Chinese recipes and noodles work just fine. And when a man's noodle comes together with a woman's Chinese recipe, you get lo mein. Poor Clayton and Brooklyn are going to have a hard time when they get to the fifth grade.

Jimmy Couldn't Jump At All Before He Got These Shoes

Awhile back, Savannah made a comment about wanting to get in shape. Of course, I want my kids to have healthy body images (even if I don't so much), so I assured her that she wasn't fat in any way, but at the same time, told her that if she wanted to exercise or get in better shape, that it would be fine and I'd be happy to join her for an evening power walk. I still feel bad that she missed out on softball season and really hasn't been able to exercise since May. But now that she has the go-ahead to officially ditch her crutches, I thought walking would be a good idea.

So, for a few weeks, we've been walking together. The first time we went out, we each used an ear bud and listened to her iPod. It was a bonding experience. I like her music and she likes mine. It's all good. But we haven't shared an iPod since that first evening. Not because we can't agree on music. Nope. It's because Savannah's idea of walking is running much faster than mine. Seriously, she walked the mile to the store and then turned around and headed back home. She met up with me like 2 blocks from the house. "Is this as far as you've gotten?" she asked incredulously.

"Who me? No. Noooo. Oh heck no! No, I ah, passed you on the way there. Didn't you see me? No? I um, took a different route. Yeah, I uh, met up with a friend and stopped to talk. Um, stopped to tie my shoe? Oh okay, YES! Fine! This is as far as I've gotten! You have longer legs than I do! I'm old! I'm out of shape! I've had six kids! In fact, I gained 35 pounds with you alone! So, I think it's technically your fault I can't keep up!" I shouted to the wind because Savannah had long since jogged home, taken a shower, made a snack, and was presently watching iCarly.

Anyway, in an effort to maximize my walk, I bought those Skecher Shape-Up shoes. A bunch of my friends were talking about how awesome these were, so I thought I'd give them a try. Actually, the reason I bought them was because I'd been walking in my sandals and I think I had tripped at least twice during every walk. I knew it was only a matter of time before my face met the sidewalk up close and personal and I didn't want to have to explain to anyone why my nose was smashed in. That would be embarrassing and I'd have to make up a story about how I thwarted a would-be attacker or something like that, but knowing my kids, they'd spill the beans and blurt out the truth as I was telling my heroic tale and then I'd look like even more of a fool. See? I think these things through!

So, since I didn't own any tennis shoes, I decided to give these a try. The booklet that came with the shoes claims:

3 Reasons you NEED Shape-Ups

1. Stronger You - Shape-Ups are designed to help you tone your muscles - from your back and abdomen to your buttocks and calves.

2. Healthier You - Shape-Ups will help you lose weight and improve your circulation, creating a healthier you.

3. Easy Exercise Routine - It's easy to shape up with Shape-Ups. Wear your Shape-Ups everywhere and anywhere you walk (or stand), and your body will feel the benefits.

That's awesome! I thought. So, I set the box down on the floor by my bed and went about my day, knowing I was going to lose weight and look like a super-model overnight. After a week, I weighed myself. I hadn't lost a pound. Apparently you have to put the shoes on and actually work out while wearing them.

So I wore them during my walk tonight. I learned a couple things while walking.

1. It wasn't my sandals making me trip. Apparently I just do that.

2. These shoes make it feel like you're walking in sand. Have you ever walked through sand? It's hard! Why would you do it on purpose???

3. I have Matthew Wilder's Break My Stride on my iPod! Who knew?

4. These shoes make you look taller not because they improve your posture, but because they have a 20 inch heel.

5. I'm pretty sure these shoes made me walk like Kramer with his plyometric training shoes from Jimmy.

6. I'm going to keep wearing them anyway because I'm sure super-model butt muscles are just around the corner!

7. Oh yeah, and Savannah will no longer walk with me. I was demoted to "dork".

I've Done Things That Have Made Less Sense...

I'm not sure how this came about, but apparently I was challenged by Carrying a Cat by the Tail to write a blog post with this title. I don't generally come up with a title until I'm done writing a post, but I'm not one to turn away from a challenge either. After all, I've done things that have made less sense than working on a blog post from the title down (which is completely BACKWARDS! Just sayin'.)

Like the time I drove my white Mustang downtown with my friend Heather. I was probably seventeen at the time. I couldn't parallel park, so I rolled down my window, asked a complete stranger to park for me, got out of the car, and trusted them to not drive off.

Or then there was the time I got a tattoo. Just because.

Oh and let's not forget about the time I said, "I do."

Most recently, I hid my chocolate that was a gift from Julia in Sweden so my kids wouldn't find it. I can't remember where I put it.

Or giving Clayton a pair of scissors.

Of course, there was the time I tried to get tan. Fast. I used a bottle of baby oil and stayed outside all. day. long.

Or the time I might have accidentally, a little bit, hit myself in the face while doing Tae Bo.

Or letting Clayton use the markers.

Dying my hair any number of times. Or getting that perm way back when. Or cutting my bangs every time they get in my face. Basically, any decision I've ever made concerning my hair.

And there was the time I drank way too much Sambuca on the fourth of July, about 20 years ago.

Letting Clayton see where I put the lighter away.

Not jumping up to investigate immediately when I heard the deafening silence from the family room. Neon red, white, and blue frosting comes out of fabric, right?

Taking my six kids grocery shopping.

Not hiding my car keys away from Clayton.

And finally, there was the time I agreed to have dinner with a man who has six kids and lives three states away.

Of course, I learned lessons from each of these things. I learned that licorice does NOT taste good the second time around. I learned that sautéing one's skin in oil is a great idea (you know, if you want skin cancer and pain!) I learned that Clayton can turn pretty much anything into a weapon of mass destruction. I learned that neon red, white, and blue frosting does not, in fact, come out of fabric, but if you smear it around, it turns a lovely shade of purple. I learned that chocolate should be eaten immediately and not hidden away, and that exercise is highly overrated (curse you, Billy Blanks!) And I learned that there's a reason why hair stylists go to school to learn how to do hair.

But the cool thing is that God can take even the dumbest things you do and turn them around and use them for good. He took the time I said, "I do" and gave me six awesome kids. I learned from my mistake and won't be making the same one again. Taking my kids to the grocery store resulted in a successful auction of Pokemon cards and a book deal for me. I know I'll do more stupid things. I'll make mistakes. I'll stay at my computer when I really should be running to see why the kids are dragging the sprinkler into their bedrooms. But it's okay. Things have a way of working out. Life's pretty "groovy" that way.

Sunday Sound Out

From Chicago, home of moths the size of bats, it's your host, the woman who may, possibly, have slight entomophobia, Dawn Meehan!

I have a lot to say since I skipped last week's Sunday Sound Out while I was dying of a sore throat and achy back. But first, answers to your questions...

I was just wondering if you will be doing any camping this summer. It always seems to be quite an adventure for you.
Heck no! Joe got the camper in the divorce which means I no longer have to go camping. I am going to be taking my kids to the beach by myself for a little vacation, however.

With Brooklyn in preschool, what will you do with those precious three hours twice a week?
I plan to work out for an hour, shower, clean for an hour or so, put my buckets of pictures into albums, go to the grocery store, write for at least 2 hours, do a couple loads of laundry, get a start on dinner, mow the lawn, finish crocheting a couple projects, and apparently invent a time machine since that's more than even I can do in three hours.

Just wondering what the two oldest think of a possible move?
Surprisingly, they're open to it. We'll see what the future brings. If it works out to move, then great. If it works out to stay here, then great. Either way, things will happen the way they're supposed to.

I'm SOOOO jealous!!! Think my husband and kids would notice if I tagged along w/ you to NC?
When they ran out of clean underwear, they'd probably have a clue that something wasn't quite right.

Don't you just love getting pulled over?
Ummmm. I'm going to assume this is rhetorical.

so how did Austin know you had gotten stopped?
Because Savannah was with me and she texted Austin who told Jackson who texted me, asking if I was going to jail. Yeah. Apparently, one of Savannah's friends was driving by at the time I was pulled over by the cop. She texted Savannah, asking if I was getting busted. That's the thing about having a van the size of a bus - everyone recognizes you wherever you go. And that's the thing about texting - everyone knows what's going on the minute it happens.

Okay, seriously, it is KILLING me--Where did you (or were planning to) go the day of the "Get Ready!" post?!?! I GET the point of the post, but you can't just leave us with a cliffhanger like that! Please? =]
Nowhere. It was a story. But if it makes you feel better, ummm, let's see here, how about the zoo? We were getting ready to go to the zoo. Happy?

Is it wrong that I think Billy Crystal is cuter than D.J.? Probably.
Hmmm, let's see...





Ummm, beauty is in the eye of the beholder?

Julia in Sweden said...
Get well soon, sweetie! Who knows, there might be something to cheer you up in the mail this week? At least I hope so.
Lots of hugs!
THANK YOU, JULIA!!! Julia sent me a ton of chocolate from Sweden! And it is delicious! I totally hid it from my kids and haven't shared at all. I can't believe they haven't sniffed it out! Thank you so much! It really did cheer me up! :)

And thank you to everyone who sent cards and treats to Savannah while she was recovering from her knee surgery. She started writing thank you notes to everyone, but I screwed up and accidentally threw out all the envelopes with the return addresses. I'm sorry, but wanted everyone to know how much their thoughtfulness and generosity was appreciated!

I sure do hope that magic fairies come and clean up your house overnight so that you don't have to deal with it when you feel better.
I do too. It would certainly be nice to, Wait! There are magic cleaning fairies??? How is it that I never knew about them? How can I get them to come here?

I love Jackson. Seems like a great kid. (They all do, but I always especially enjoy your Jackson references.) Did he successfully make a cherry pie?
Define "successful".

Oh Dawn! That's one of the big things that sucks about being a single parent - nobody to take care of you when you are sick or the rest of the household.
It works that way when you're married too oftentimes.

Possible SSO: Dawn, I have seen in a couple of your Facebook pictures that you have a tattoo on your ankle. So do I. Would you mind telling us what it is and/or posting a picture??? :)
Wow, you guys sure scrutinize pictures! Yeah, I've got a tattoo of a fish on my ankle. It seemed like a good idea when I was 18 and knew everything. I can't even say that it's a Jesus symbol or a Pisces symbol. It's just a stupid looking fish.



Why, by the way, didn't Savannah's friend's parents pick them up? Just curious.
Because it's the single mom of six's job to do all the driving, apparently. I could tell Savannah felt bad about that. I told her it was okay because I want her to know that she can always call me and count on me.

Hey, Dawn... A moth? REALLY? Minus Dawn, a moth is the wimpiest creature on the face of the planet. (That is, of course, if you don't count Mothra from the GODZILLA movies!) I mean, they are like butterfly wannabes that are so ashamed of their wimptitude that they only come out at night. I guess you get to keep the supercape but you have to get a different kryptonite. It simply can NOT be a moth!
Okay, this comment was from Que who writes a hilarious blog, Dad by Trade. You need to take a minute and go over there. He's a great writer (even if he makes fun of my bugaphobia and watches Godzilla movies). Read his post about Stay-at-home parents HERE! Trust me. He's FUNNY!

Dawn, you really should be writing sitcoms
Funny you should mention this...

Wow. Did you offend a gypsy or something? Tick of the moth gods?
I googled "gypsy curse" just so I could come up with a smart-aleck response, but was too shocked to find websites dedicated to this very topic. Apparently there are a lot of wackadoos people who believe in this kind of thing out there.

And... I am 100% ASHAMED to admit this, but the teen-mag pinup isn't of Justin Bieber. I recognize the kid - I think he was on Jack and Bobby on the CW... but it's definitely not Bieber. (Why do I know this?!?!??!!)
My kids pointed out my error the next day. Oops. I guess it's some guy named Logan something or other. They all look the same to me. Sorry, Justin.

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I'm writing some articles for Goodnites these days. You can read them HERE. You can also get some really GREAT information about bedwetting and I know some of you have kids who wet the bed because between 5 - 7 million kids in the United States do.

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I'm also writing articles for parents of tweens at Don't Fret the Sweat HERE. Go read my latest article and offer me lavish praise there. I mean, read my latest article and read the other articles by writers more talented than me and get some great insight into common tween issues.

And for your tween girls, enter to win a trip to NYC in the Cool and Confident Girl contest by Dove go fresh deodorant! For more information, go HERE to AllyKatzz.com!

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The winner of the purity ring from Cornerstone Jewelry is HERE.

For a chance to win a 4 pack of tickets to The Emperor's New Clothes at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater on Navy Pier, go HERE!

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I'm going to be a guest on Suburban Wow this Friday at 11:00 AM Central time. The show is hosted by Weaselmomma from World of Weasels and Melisa from Suburban Scrawl. Two funny, talented ladies! Check them out and tune in on Friday when I make a fool of myself on their show.

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And finally, seventy-seven fantastic mom bloggers in 11 cities across the country are participating in 77kids Do Good Day on July 14th by doing good in their local communities in pay-it-forward kinds of ways. All in support of the new 77kids by American Eagle stores. I'm part of the fabulous Chicago team and we're going to be supporting a Ronald McDonald house in Chicago by preparing a meal for the families staying there, providing some craft projects for the kids, and bringing them donations. I encourage you to get out in your local communities and pay if forward on July 14th as well! You can find out more about this project on The Motherhood.

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Whew! I think that's it. Have a grand week, everyone!

Photo of fireworks from dcjohn's photostream

Photo of Dwayne Johnson from david_shankbone's photostream

Killer Moth: The Sequel (BatMoth's Revenge)

OK, first of all, I think some (a freaking LOT) of you missed the humor and sarcasm in my last post. Although I appreciate those of you who took the time to send me information on bats and rabies, the moth in my room was simply a moth. I was joking when I said it was a bat. And for the sake of complete clarity, it was also not really the size of a Buick. Nor was it an alien or a zombie. That was humor. It's what I do. It makes some people laugh. Apparently, it makes others freak out and send me information on bats, rabies, how to catch a bat, and how they make medication for this sort of mental disorder.

Now, to continue my bat (MOTH!) story...

Part Two

Jackson and I stopped off at home after his hockey game to quickly change clothes before going to Austin's baseball game. We were the only ones in the house at the time. Or so we thought. While Jax went to his room to take off his hockey gear, I went to the bathroom to change into jeans so the mosquitoes wouldn't eat my ankles at the game. So, I'm pulling my jeans on when out of nowhere, BAM! The moth flies by! I was very calm, cool, and collected as I screamed and tried to run away. But you can't really run when your pants are around your knees. I fell in a heap on the floor like a huge, half-dressed dork who's afraid of a batmoth. Because, pretty much, I am a huge dork who's afraid of any flying creature.

Since I was too busy trying to pull up my pants, I didn't notice where he went. "NOOOooooooo! I lost him!" I cried. hands outstretched to the heavens. He had waited two days to make a sneak attack on me and it had worked! He caught me with my pants down, so to speak. No, really. And, just as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared without a trace. Again.

"Ok moth, you win this round, but the war isn't over yet. Just you wait!" I threatened out loud to no one in particular while Jackson, who'd just walked into the room, looked at me like I needed psychiatric help.

We went to the baseball game, came home, and resumed our quest for the moth who'd obviously had advanced tactical training.

Aha! Kitchen cabinets! Get the paper towels!!!



I flung a wad of paper towels up toward the ceiling. But when you're 5' 3" and your ceilings are, umm, much taller than that, it's probably not going to be the most effective moth removal system. He flew toward Jackson's head. Jackson, who assures me he did not freak out, did some sort of Matrix-like, bending-over-backwards maneuver as the moth missed grazing his forehead by mere millimeters.



He landed on the wall, stuck out his tongue, and looking me directly in the eye, said, "Bring it!" More crazy paper towel flinging ensued. The moth laughed, mocking me, and took off down the hallway toward the girls' room where he landed...



...right on Justin Bieber's face! "Hi girls. I'm pop sensation, Justin Bieber. Sure you can take a picture of me. I'll just look over my shoulder like this and toss my hair back in a sexy way and smile like what the heck?!!! There's a bug on my face! Eek! Get it off! Get it off! Oh for the love of all that is holy, get this satanic batbug OFF MY FACE!"



Lexi, my sweet little nine-year-old, fed up with all of us at this point, grabs a paper towel and squishes the bug right on Justin's face. SMACK!



"Do you have him? Is he dead? Are you sure? Look again? Okay, now squish him again for good measure. Whew!" It's nice I have a sweet princess of a nine-year-old girl to take care of big manly jobs like this for me, huh?

So, all is well, that ends well. The moth was dead. Jackson could stop hiding under the couch, er um, I mean, looking for his drumsticks under the couch. I could stop sleeping under the covers for fear of bat droppings, and Lexi, well, I'm not sure she'll look at Justin Bieber the same way again. A couple hours later, I went to my room to chat with a friend online. A few minutes into our chat, Savannah whipped open my bedroom door, letting it slam into the wall. "I thought you said the moth was dead! He's in my room!" she said disgustedly.

"He is dead! I saw him! Or he was dead anyway... Oh! My! Gosh! There really is such a thing as a zombie bat-moth! Run for your lives, kids! He'll eat your brains!"

Okay, I didn't really say that. Everyone knows zombies don't eat brains.

Savannah caught the moth in a cup.



She put another glass on top of the first one. I thought she was going to make a martini out of the moth, but she explained it was just so I could get a better picture to show you so you'll all know what an idiot I am for freaking out over an average sized moth. (I still say it's huge. These pictures are deceiving.)



Then she did the unthinkable. She relocated him outside! As I sit here typing, I hear him knocking on my window in a menacing way. He'll be back. He'll be back and he won't be taking any prisoners.

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Edited to add - Yes, yes, I know. I've been told that the bat didn't, in fact, land on Justin Bieber's face. I guess it was Logan Lerman, whoever that is. All those teen stars look alike to me. Sorry.

Fevers, Flame Throwers, and Bat Attacks

After lying around sick and dying for days, I should have gone to bed early last night and gotten some much needed sleep. But that wasn't to be. Savannah had begged me to let her go to the midnight showing of Twilight when it first came out. I was a mean mom and didn't let her go. Then she begged me to let her go to the midnight showing of New Moon when it first came out, but again, I was mean and wouldn't let her go. Last night, Savannah begged me to let her see the midnight showing of Eclipse, and knowing how important it is to be firm and consistent in all parenting matters, I said, "Sure, whatever, knock yourself out. Just please tell me you have a ride home because I may be dead from this sore throat by 2:00 AM." She gave me that look. Not the look that says, "But Moooom, I have to go! All my friends are going! I'll just die if I don't get to go!" Nope, I'm immune to that look. When I receive that look from one of my kids, I just respond with, "Hey, we didn't have CELL PHONES when I was your age! Do you really wanna tell me how your life will end if you don't get this?" That usually shuts them up.

But no, she didn't give me that look. She gave me the sad, resigned, "I know you work hard and you're tired and you really try to do everything for us, Mom" look. Ugh. I'm not immune to that look. I hate that look! I hate feeling like I've let someone down. If she'd just fought me and talked back, I would've been okay, but noooo, she had to accept that I was too tired and too sick to pick her up so late. And I couldn't accept that.

Sooo, being the total pushover dedicated parent I am, I stayed awake until it was time to pick her up at 2:15 AM. You know who stays up until 2:00AM when they're running a fever and feeling like the stuff floating in my fire pit of soot-water (aka Ye Ole Fishing Hole)? Crazy people, that's who! Well, and vampires and werewolves, of course. And the undead. And every mother of a newborn. And that "Time to Make the Donuts" guy. But mostly crazy people. Like me.

When 2:15 rolled around, I hadn't died of a sore throat or achy back yet, so I got Savannah and her friend and dropped everyone off at the correct house and didn't fall asleep at the wheel. I returned home, locked up, and shuffled back into my bedroom where I felt something brush my arm. Since I shed approximately 350,000 hairs a day (I have no idea how I'm not bald) and since I learned my lesson after my spider freak-out, I naturally thought a hair was tickling my arm. I brushed at it and it flew. IT FLEW! Hair doesn't fly! What the??? It was a bat! Holy cow, there was a stinking BAT in my bedroom!

Okay, it might have possibly just been a moth. But it looked like a bat. I'm pretty sure it had fangs and it was the size of a Buick. So, I did what any sane, rational, quick-thinking person would do. I grabbed my bottle of Philosophy Inner Grace perfume and I sprayed it to death! Except it didn't work. I didn't, in fact, spray it to death. I only got it drunk on the fumes. And then it started flitting around in a crazed pattern, circling me. I saw him give me the evil eye right before he dive-bombed my head. I did the classic, evasive, Duck-and-Cover maneuver as I ran screaming from the room like a little girl. It's okay. I can do that. I am a girl.

Clearly, this is an alien bat programmed to destroy me. This calls for Plan B. I grabbed a paper towel and a shoe. The plan was to throw the shoe at him, knock him unconscious, then pick him up with several layers of paper towel so I couldn't feel him through the paper, then stomp him to death with the shoe. It's fool-proof! It's brilliant! It's...okay, it's late and I'm sick and this is an alien bat, so even while I was certain Plan B would work, in the back of my mind I was toying with Plan C wherein I'd wake up Clayton, give him some hairspray and a lighter and let him go to town with a homemade blowtorch. Did I mention I was feverish?

Anyway, I returned to my room only to find the moth killer zombie bat gone. Missing. Totally vanished. I was seriously freaking out at this point. I stood there with eighteen feet of paper towels dangling from my hand. I spun around, eyes darting here and there, scoping every corner of my bedroom. He's got to be in here somewhere! All ninja-like, I quietly tiptoed a couple steps to the side, then whirled around to face death head-on! He wasn't there. I sneaked over to my curtains and quick-as-a-whip, ripped them back from the window! Nothing. "Ohhhh, he's good," I thought to myself. This went on for a good half hour while I made little surprise attacks on unsuspecting pieces of furniture, bedding, and stacks of laundry around my room. Nothing.

I decided that perhaps my fever was getting the best of me, so I decided to take a shower to cool off while I turned off all the lights in my room, and turned on all the lights in the kitchen. That'll draw him out, I convinced myself as I showered.

When I got out of the bathroom, I made my way to the kitchen, positive I'd see the moth flitting around the light. Nope. Which just solidified my belief that it was indeed a bat. He was perfectly content staying in my darkened room. By this time it was 4:00 AM and extreme tiredness had overcome me, so I finally gave up. I quickly dove under the covers and pulled them up over my head. In my sleep deprived state, I was somehow okay about dying from lack of oxygen under the covers all night, but I really didn't want guano in my hair. It made sense to me at the time.

Thankfully, I woke up this morning and the bat had not eaten my face off, so I think my burrowing under the covers worked. Either that or he's just making me wait. He's making me sweat it out. And just when I forget about him, that's when he'll attack!

Oh and look at the time! It's after 2:00 again. Sigh. I'd better get to bed before I start thinking my pillow is an alligator.

When Mom is Sick

I'm sorry I've been MIA again. I'm sick. Every last inch of my body hurts. My head, neck, throat, back, hips, legs all ache. If you've been reading my blog for any amount of time, you know my theory is - If you ignore it long enough, it'll go away. I don't go to the doctor unless I absolutely have to. Well, I went to the doctor this time. Yeah. I feel that bad. And you know what? The doctor did a strep screen and it came back negative. She then told me, "Drink plenty of fluids and go home and rest." I laughed in her face. And really, all my trip to the doctor did was reinforce my theory that if you ignore it long enough, it'll go away.

So I came home, lay down, and immediately fell asleep. I didn't wake up until 5:00. Well, except for all the times, the kids came in my room. Like when Brooklyn came in and stole the gum from my purse. And the time she came in and pilfered an AMC gift card from my purse. She told me she was going to ride her tricycle to the store and use the movie theater gift card to buy a cell phone so she could call her friend, Emma. Austin told her, "Emma doesn't have a cell phone." Brooklyn said it was okay because Emma could use her home phone. Austin pointed out that Brooklyn, also, could use the home phone. This was the point, she started wailing like someone had branded her with a hot poker.

Then there were the times that Clay and Jackson ran through my room chasing each other with the intention to do bodily harm. I did what any responsible parent would do. I closed my eyes and rolled over in bed.

There was the time Savannah came in my room and said, "That is SO gross! You're soaking wet! Your pillow is wet! Gross!" Like I didn't know I was sitting in a pool of sweat as my fever finally went down.

There was the time, I mumbled to Austin to please change the laundry so I could have clean, dry sheets tonight. Austin's fifteen.

"So, I just put the sheets in the washing machine?"

"Yes."

"That's it?"

"Well you have to put detergent in with them."

"Is this detergent?" he asked, holding up a bottle.

"Ummm yes."

"What should I set it to?"

"Really?"

"Oh, I think I've got it. Oh wait. It won't turn on. How do you turn it on?"

Yep, his future wife is going to love me.

Oh and let's not forget the time I heard the little kids in the bathroom. The water was running and they were talking about fishing. I was scared. I dragged myself from bed and kinda leaned against the wall so I wouldn't fall over from the dizziness, and made my way to the bathroom. By the time I got there, they'd already left the bathroom and were playing outside. They were fishing, all right. In the fire pit. Filled with water. Their poles were the roasting sticks for the fire pit. Their fish were latex gloves filled with water. Once again, I closed my eyes and made my way back to bed.

And most recently, Jackson decided to make a cherry pie. It looks like there was an explosion at a grain mill in my kitchen.

And on that note, I'm lying back down, closing my eyes, and hoping my fever stays under 104 tonight.