The Girl Who Came to Dinner

Lexi asked me if her friend, Brooke, could stay for dinner tonight. Ordinarily, my response is, "Sure! The more, the merrier." However, Brooke had never eaten over here before. She only has one brother who is twenty years old. I glanced at Clay who was supposed to be setting the table. He had a stack of plates on his head and he was purposely walking into the wall.

"Are you sure you want to have Brooke stay? Maybe she should leave now while she's still sane."

"What, Mom?"

"I said, maybe she should leave now before it rains."

Brooke ended up staying, but I don't think she was prepared for the insanity chaos lively dinner conversation that goes on in this house.

After taking a bite of his pizza, Clay jumped down from the table, ran to the garbage can, spit his mouthful of pizza in the trash and exclaimed, "This tastes like a raccoon!" I don't know where Clay's been eating lately, but I'm pretty sure raccoon's never been on the menu at my house.

This made Lexi's friend crack up. Because my kids had a captive audience (Really, we tied her up so she wouldn't run away, screaming.), they took this opportunity to act like barbarians show off um, entertain her.

Lexi's friend, Brooke, was talking, telling us how she scraped her arm. She'd been hiding behind a tree, waiting to jump out and scare Lex and Clay. When she jumped from behind the tree, she scratched her arm on the trunk. Brooke continued, "My mom says that's karma."

Clay asked, "What's karma?"

Brooke started to explain. "Karma is when you do good things and good things happen to you. And when you do something bad, bad things happen to you."

Austin knew what she was talking about, but feigned ignorance just to be a pain tease her. "What? You get caramel if you do something good?" he asked.

"Not caramel," Brooke corrected him, "karma!"

"Ohhhh," Austin said as if he understood her now. "Caramel. So, if I do something good, will you give me caramel?"

"No!" Brooke squealed.

Clay piped up. "What's caramel?"

"Have you ever had a Twix bar? It's what's inside. Caramel," she explained.

"I'm going to do something good so I can get some caramel!" Clay said excitedly.

I sat there, shaking my head at my sons who were purposely teasing Lexi's poor friend. "I'll tell you what karma is, boys. It's when you tease a little girl and you don't get to watch TV for a week."

"Ohhhh, that kind of karma!" they said, finally enlightened.

Meanwhile, Brooklyn was taking us on a trip to the zoo with assorted animal impressions. "Baaa baaaa."

I noticed that something was written on the inside of Savannah's wrist. It looked like a tattoo. "What's on your wrist?" I asked.

"It says love". Savannah held up her arm for me to see.

"Interesting. So, who do you love?" I asked.

"No one!" Savannah insisted.

"What? You don't even love me?" I inquired, all sad-like.

Lexi jumped up and said, "I love you, Mom! I love you more than hot chocolate!" (Everyone knows that's the highest honor, of course.)

Clay started singing. "Sail, sail, sail three ships, gently on the sea!"

Brooklyn interrupted. "We learned a song at school! There are witches in the air...

"...the Nina, the Pinta, the Santa Maria..."

"...on Halloween night..."

Lexi joined in the sing-along. "Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now I need..."

"...count them, one, two, three."

"...Boo!"

Brooke looked from person to person and declared, "Your family disturbs me."

I don't think she'll be coming back for a while.

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And for a chance to win $100 gift card from BlogHer, enter HERE!

First it's Balloons, Next Thing You Know They're Knocking Off a Liquor Store

I wrote this post for Chicago Moms Blog originally. It's a rerun, but it's been a really busy week and I'm so tired. I tried writing a blog post, but when I reread it, it didn't make any sense. It's not a good idea to blog when you're half-asleep. So here's a rerun, but unless you read Chicago Moms Blog, it'll probably be new to you.


I took two of my boys shopping yesterday. I'm pretty sure taking your sons shopping is considered torture by The Geneva Convention and Amnesty International. Anyway, I went to their store of choice, Sports Authority, because one can never have too many basketballs, hockey sticks, or baseball gloves. After spending a small fortune on the equipment that will one day land them a huge scholarship (hey, it's my fantasy!), I dragged them to a party store to get some decorations and tableware for their sisters' upcoming birthday parties.

As we walked in the party store, I noticed they were having a remodeling sale. Of course, I pushed my cart up and down every single aisle. I mean, things were on SALE after all! All the while my boys trudged behind me, complaining that they were bored. Looking at the glazed looks on my boys’ faces, I tore myself away from the shelves of items on clearance.

"I'm sorry, boys," I said as I set my mind to the task at hand. Decorations for the girls' parties. That's it. Let's go!

My six-year-old, Clay, saw some baskets of balloons you could buy deflated or have the store fill with helium for you.

"Can I have a balloon, Mom? Pleeeeease?"

"No, we're on a mission to get the decorations for the girls' birthday parties. We have no money for other things."

I finished my shopping, checked out, and went to three more stores. The last stop was at a shoe store so I could get Jackson his millionth pair of shoes for the year. (I don't know anyone as hard on shoes as that kid.) As I stood in line paying for the shoes, I realized that Clay was holding something in his hand.

"What do you have?"

Jackson pried Clay's fingers open and pulled out a balloon. The balloon I told him he couldn't get at the party store. A balloon he (gasp) STOLE! Oh great, my son's a thief. What to do? We were tired from running around all day. We were thirsty. We were finally done with our errands. I wanted to go home. The sensible part of me said It's JUST a balloon, for crying out loud. Tell him to never do it again and go home!

But the "Must Teach Kids Right From Wrong At All Costs" mom in me said You can't let this go. Yeah, it's just a balloon this time, but what's next? Where does it end? First it's a balloon, next it's a flat screen TV, then a Maserati. Next thing you know, he's knocking off a liquor store.

So, I drove back to the party store, made Clay return the balloon and tell the cashier that he'd stolen it and was very sorry. The cashier said something along the lines of, "That's great that you came back and told the truth! It's ok!" I wanted to slap her. It's not ok! Why couldn't she have given him a lecture on the evils of stealing and threaten to call the police and have him locked up? You know, to scare the snot out of him to make him remember the lesson.

Oh well, all's well that ends well. I just hope I never have to bake a cake with a file in it.

Sunday Sound Out

From Chicago, the city that smells lemony-fresh, it's your host, the woman who has her own wing at the local emergency room, Dawn Meehan

Ok, so I know it's not technically Sunday, but it was a holiday weekend so I'm excused. Hey, it's my blog so I make the rules. Besides, when I ordinarily would've been writing my blog post last night, I was in the ER with my son. Jackson had a couple friends sleep over last night. Or, that was the plan anyway. Since Chicago is having this crazy tropical heatwave and the kids didn't have school today, I let the boys stay up and play outside in the backyard last night. At about 10:00 when I was going to call the kids to come in and get ready for bed, Jackson came running inside, crying, and leaving a trail of blood on the floors I'd just washed. Don't worry, I only cried about my floors for a minute before trying to ascertain where the blood was originating from. Although I've shed a few more tears today because of all the leaves the kids have dragged inside. Really, is it necessary to go in and out twelve-hundred times a day? Grrr. Sorry, I digress.

So, I saw that Jackson's nose was gushing blood. I had him lean over the sink so the blood wouldn't go down his throat and make him puke. I can handle blood, but puke...notsomuch. Then he made some snotting sound and managed to kinda blow blood all over the sink, wall, and pretty much the entire bathroom. Pretty! I have a rust-colored faux finish now.

"What did you do?" I asked, although I was pretty sure he'd done some stupid thing that only a boy would think of doing.

Turns out I was right. He stomped on a corner of his skateboard while leaning over it. It flipped up and smacked him in the face.

I looked at his nose which was puffing up like a balloon. It was slightly crooked and he complained that he couldn't breathe out of the right side.

I'm not one to freak out over blood. Still, I thought there was a good chance his nose was broken and I wasn't sure what they did for a broken nose. I thought maybe they'd have to put a little nose cast on his schnoz. Or they might need to realign it or something. I was kinda hoping they would have to take a pair of pliers and yank it back into position just so that maybe he'd learn a lesson. Oh who am I kidding? He still wouldn't think twice about trying to jump the skateboard over a garbage can, or ride it down the side of a ladder, or ride it while being pulled behind a friend on a bike until achieving maximum velocity and jumping a 12 foot ramp. This is what boys do. So, I took him to the hospital to get it checked out.

After a quick reunion with hospital personnel we hadn't seen in a whole month, we were led back to our room. The xray confirmed that he had indeed fractured his nasal bone. I guess they don't really do anything for a broken nose until the swelling has gone down, however. I need to follow up with the ENT in a week who will then determine if his nose is healing fine or if it needs to be manipulated back into place. In the meantime, no football. Oh darn!

Guess what he did when he first woke up this morning. He jumped on his skateboard until I yelled at him to knock it off. Then he started playing football with his buddy until I yelled at him to knock it off. Then he rigged some Tarzan-rope-vine-thingy in the tree and jumped off the swingset and caught this rope in midair until I yelled at him to knock it off. Sensing a theme here?

Okay, moving right along to viewer mail. Here are the answers to this week's questions.

speaking of "rodents of unusual size", did you ever catch that mouse you heard scurrying around the house?
No, but I haven't heard anything since, thank God! I'm scared of what will happen when the weather turns cold again. I was thinking about getting a cat, but then I recalled all those Tom and Jerry cartoons and decided that probably wasn't the best course of action.

But out of curiosity, what is a blog of ink? LOL
It's like a blob of ink, but it's written by a blogger at 3:00 in the morning.

The fear of vomiting is called Emetophobia and there is an International Society of Emetophobia.
I don't have a fear of vomiting. I have a hatred of vomiting. Or seeing it. Or hearing it. Or smelling it. Or thinking about it. In fact, if I type one more word about it, I'll probably throw up.

Tell us Dawn, how does one get marker off the TV?
You use a whole buttload of wipes. (Hmmm, spellcheck doesn't like the word "buttload".)


This worked on the screen, thankfully. But I still have a lovely reminder of Brooklyn's artistic talents on the frame...


You've gotta check out my new purse! I found this site, Cover to Cover Purses, after googling something like unique purses. I fell in love with her very cute, totally unique purses. I especially loved this one made from a vintage, special edition record album put out by Mr. Boston. It features big band music and a cover blanketed with cocktails! Cocktails! All over it! I know! It's such a throwback from days gone by. I think of those awesome black and white movies where the men wore suits and the ladies, cocktail dresses with pearls. And they smoked their cigarettes in holders while sipping cocktails poured from crystal decanters that sat on a cart in the room.

I knew, from the pictures on her site, that I'd love the way the purse looked, but I was really impressed with how sturdy it is! I mean, I don't think it'll ever be my all-purpose, schlep everything around town, everyday purse, but I know it'll hold up and last a long time when I use it. It's made WELL! (Just don't leave it in the car on a hot day! It is a vinyl record after all!)







Dolores from Cover to Cover Purses not only makes awesome purses from records, but she makes them from classic books as well! How cool is that? This is the perfect gift for that hard-to-shop-for woman in your life! I cannot tell you how many comments and compliments I've gotten on this purse in the past week! I love it! In fact, I love it so much, I approached Dolores from Cover to Cover Purses and told her I have a blog and would love to do a giveaway of one of her purses if she was willing. I'm pretty sure she thought I was a kook at first, but then I sent her a couple links to my blog and she happily agreed. Sooo, I have a cool Fleetwood Mac purse to give away to one lucky random reader! Leave me a comment here and tell me what your favorite album is. Or tell me what your very first album was. (Mine was Michael Jackson's Thriller. Or maybe it was the soundtrack from Grease. Hmmm, I'm not sure. It was one of those.) Or tell me what your favorite classic novel is.


I'll choose a random winner from all the eligible entries on Friday, Oct. 15. Contest open to US residents age 18 and older. Good luck!




I was not paid or given free merchandise for this review. I just really love these purses!

Why is my Face SMOKING?

I love the sun. I spend many, many, many hours in the sun every summer. I never wear sunscreen. I know, I know! You don't have to yell at me. I know. I slather my kids with sunscreen and reapply and try my hardest to make sure they don't get burnt. But me? Well, yeah, um, :::hanging my head in shame:::

So, now that I'm thirty-ten and I know that death is just around the corner, I've been thinking about all the damage I've done to my skin from my years of unprotected sunbathing. So, I made an appointment with a dermatologist so I could be humiliated checked out head-to-toe to make sure I wasn't covered in skin cancer.

My appointment was at 1:45 on Monday. I dropped Brooklyn off at school and cruised over to the doctor's office. I checked in and filled out the required 482 forms.

"I need to make a copy of your insurance card and I need you to fill out these 4000 forms. Front AND back."

I took the clipboard and sat down to begin my novel. "Hmmm, my insurance information? How am I supposed to write down my insurance information when you have my card?" I asked the receptionist. "And better yet, WHY am I supposed to write down my insurance information when you have a copy of it right there? Is it really necessary to have it recorded on every single sheet of paper?"

She mumbled a sympathetic, "I know", but she was really thinking, I don't make the rules, lady. Just fill out the stupid forms so I can go to lunch. I know that's what she was thinking because I'd probably be thinking the same thing if I was in her place.

I finished the manuscript of information, returned the clipboard and sat back down to wait. And wait. And wait. I kept looking at the time, knowing I needed to leave by 2:45 to get Brooklyn. I really thought that allowing an hour for a skin check was enough time. Apparently not. Finally, at 2:30, I was called back into a room. I told the nurse that unless the doctor was ready to come in that second, that I couldn't wait around because I needed to get my daughter. She insisted the doctor would be with me in about 10 minutes. I told her that wasn't good enough and I'd have to reschedule. The nurse was very apologetic, so I spared her my wrath.

I walked to the front desk, informed the receptionist I'd have to reschedule and told her my 'missed appointment' bill would be in the mail. She looked at me and said, "Oh, we won't charge you for missing your appointment."

I laughed and said, "Oh, you misunderstand. I'M charging YOU for missing the appointment. Then, in a Seinfeld moment, said, "See, you know how to make an appointment, but you don't know how to keep an appointment. And really, the keeping of the appointment is the most important part of the appointment." She was less than amused.

So, I returned to the doctor today and only had to wait about a half an hour this time before the doctor walked in. She looked like a life-sized Barbie doll - super-tall, totally thin, swan-like neck, blond hair, perfect skin. I instantly hated her. Did I say that out loud? I meant, I instantly thought that she contained more plastic than Barbie. Oops, I did it again. What I really meant to say was that I instantly thought she was pretty and had been blessed by good genes and the ability to say "no" to cookies.

She did the all-over body check. That was fun. You know, if you like strangers scrutinizing every last inch of your less-than-perfect body. She found a couple of questionable spots and said she'd like to remove them for biopsy. Ok, no big deal. It didn't really surprise me or freak me out. The nurse gave me a couple shots to numb the areas, then the doctor came in with a knife and removed both spots in like 2 seconds. I was ready to hop up and get dressed when the doctor put something on my cheek where she'd just removed the questionable spot.

"Just a minute. I just want to smooth out the edges to make sure you won't have any scarring." I tried to see what she was doing, but couldn't make my old person eyes focus at such close range. And then I smelled burning flesh. I gently inquired as to what was going on. "What the crap are you doing and why I do I smell like I'm on fire?!!!" Apparently, this doctor likes to play with lasers.

I haven't been brave enough to remove the bandaid on my cheek for fear that it's covering a ginormous burned-out crater that will never heal. In all future pictures of me, I'll be leaning my cheek on my left hand and people will think it's just my casual pose, but in reality, I'll be hiding my huge facial deformity.

In the end, the moral of this story is - don't purposely go to the doctor unless you're dying or you may end up with a hole in your cheek.

And, in other news...

Could you use help in deciphering your teen's text lingo? Maybe you want to read some tips on how to talk to your teens about mobile meanness? Or do you want to hear other parents' takes on how they set limits for their teen's mobile phone usage? Well, look no further. You can find all of that at LG's Text Ed program HERE.

I have another chance to win a $100 Visa gift card from Kellogg's and BlogHer this week HERE.

And finally, you can read my latest post about teaching teens the difference between wants and needs HERE.

Fine Art (or something like that)

I love children's artwork! I really, really LOVE it! You wouldn't believe the boxes of drawings I've saved over the years. If you're new to this blog, you'll have to check out THIS POST and THIS POST. Really, to fully appreciate kids' art, you need to read these. I'll wait... (whistling.....) Done? See? I knew you wouldn't be disappointed!

Let me get you up-to-date on Brooklyn's artwork these days. This is a huge birthday cake with candles on top. There are hearts because Brooklyn's a girl and girls draw hearts. It's a rule. "I love you, Mom" was written by her sister, Lexi. Brooklyn added her own message at the bottom. And everyone knows that "PCPb" means, "I love you, Mama! Thank you for braiding my hair today!" It does! The artist told me herself!

This one is a drawing of me. I'm wearing a crown. You know, because all girls are princesses.


Here's Brooklyn painting entitled "Shapes". I know, I know what you're thinking! She's lightyears ahead of her time!

I've tried and tried to teach the kids that the ONLY medium they're allowed to use at home is paper. I've tried. But sometimes I find art on other surfaces...

Yep, I think it's pretty safe to say that was Brooklyn's masterpiece. What gave it away, you ask? She signed her name right below it! Yeah.


Now, let's take a look at some of Clay's drawings. This is a pig. With fangs. And scars on his face. And a hat. And crazy hair that explodes when he takes his hat off. Don't believe me? Ask Clay.

Here we have a lovely ocean scene. A girl is surfing. Below the surface of the waves, exists an assortment of aquatic wildlife. And, of course, a couple divers being eaten by sharks.

And talk about Rodents of Unusual Size! Here we have a giant mouse being shot at. Unfortunately the guys in the back don't have such great aim. Yeah, Clay's perfectly well adjusted. Really. It's a boy thing. Girls have to draw hearts and rainbows and boys have to draw stuff getting blown up. It's the rule. I don't make this stuff up.
>

Sunday Sound Out

From Chicago, home to rodents of unusual size, it's Sunday Sound Out with your host, the woman who invented chocolate, Dawn Meehan! (I didn't really invent it, but I do like to eat it. Just seeing who's paying attention.) And now, without further ado, here are the answers to this week's burning questions from you, the viewers.

so i've been wondering about this for awhile. lexi's in, what, 3rd grade? 4th? what does she cheer for? and since when do elementary schools have homecoming? i'm really confused by all of this. but perhaps we just do things differently here and i'm missing out.
Lexi's in 4th grade. She cheers for Jackson's football team. The homecoming I was talking about a couple weeks ago wasn't for the elementary school. It was for the football league. Each town celebrates homecoming one weekend during the fall football season. This past weekend was the high school's homecoming though.



Just out of curiosity, DO you know how many people read your blog on average, do you get web stats (or just those silly, um informative what-was-typed-to-get-you-here stuff)?
Yep, I know.

umm George Forman is a boxer [not a football player] :) I learned that from infomercials.
Really? Out of all those football definitions, this was the only one that seemed odd to you? Really? That's like when my kids say, "How can SpongeBob be at a beach when he lives underwater?" Hello? He's a sponge who walks, talks, wears square pants, and cooks crabby patties at a restaurant! All that makes sense to you, but you can't understand how he could rip his pants at the beach???"

You know, you really would enjoy it [football] more if you understood what was going on
Nope. I'd really enjoy it more if it were baseball.

Okay, I know this has nothing to do with your beautiful post...BUT. I just watched your Stay At Home Moms Are Never Home video and did you know you sound almost exactly like Kirstie Alley?
No, I don't. I hate my voice. I cringe when I hear it. But I don't think I ever shared this video.



I remember your horror of barf and the act of barfing but it's better for your body if you go ahead with the salad and fork tongs instead of the Split the Tauntaun and Shove Luke Inside Method. (testing Dawn's movie knowledge)
Snort. Everyone knows it's from Star Wars although, I'll admit, I wasn't sure which episode it was from. When I googled it, I found this...
http://starwarsblog.starwars.com/index.php/2009/10/23/tauntaun-grooms-cake/
You know, because nothing says "I love you" like spilled entrails.

You'll be fine. Throwing up is nothing compared to a long recovery time.
Maybe for weirdos who don't mind throwing up, it is.

Yep, totally HATE throwing up. My SIL had surgery recently and they were able to add something to her i.v. during the surgery. It helped a little. She was terribly nauseous, so I asked the nurse for some more help (because, I am ALSO a joiner) they gave her another shot and that helped, big time. Unless, you're afraid of needles like me (BLECH!) well, then, maybe I can convince my husband that I, you know, NEED to fly out to Chicago for six weeks ;)
Are you kidding? I couldn't care less about needles! I had to give myself two shots a day in the tummy throughout my pregnancy. No big deal. But I think you should totally convince Garth (not his real name) to let you come to Chicago, Liz! Can't wait to see you next week! :)

You're going to think I'm crazy but I consulted an anesthesiologist before one of my surgeries. I said the same thing. I don't want to throw up. He told me it was a mind set. If you feel yourself becoming sick don't panic. Try to calm yourself. Take deep breaths. Think happy thoughts. Dawn! It worked! It worked so well that it's my mantra. I say it all the time!Deep breaths. Happy thoughts. STOP! I can hear you laughing!
Oh no, that wasn't laughter you heard. It was the sound of my eyes rolling. "A mind set"! I HATE throwing up, so believe me when I say, I do anything and everything I possibly can to avoid it. Deep breaths, pretending I'm at the beach, calming thoughts. But when your body decides to throw its digestive system in reverse, there's not much you can do about it.

That said, if you do general and they make a big incision..you will have an "apron" of skin that never pops back...You will get this gelatinous pooch that never goes away.
And this is different from the way my tummy looks now? When I say I have a 6-pack, I'm referring to my children (and maybe sometimes beer); not my abs.

Do you really have a tattoo? If so...where and what of?
It's a big blob of ink which is why you should never get a tattoo anywhere on your tummy area if you're planning on getting pregnant.

Just Some Stuff

Remember to check out my review blog every week. Leave me a comment over there on THIS POST for a chance to win another $100 Visa gift card from Kellogg's and BlogHer!

Not sure how to deal with your teens and texting? A bunch of bloggers are contributing posts to this very subject HERE. Last week's topic was "Mobile Meanness". This week is "Decoding Your Teen's Texting Lingo" or as the teens would say "DYTTL". Ha, I just crack myself up!

And you have to check out my latest article at DontFretTheSweat.com. Well, I guess you don't have to, but I'd really, really, really like you to check it out. I have no comments over there and you know us writers with our fragile egos. We thrive on comments. So, pretty please! And while you're there, browse around and check out the other articles by the talented Denene Millner and Rosalind Wiseman.

But I Don't Wanna Throw Up!

I went to the doctor earlier this week to discuss my upcoming surgery. My doctor explained the whole laparoscopic procedure to me. They'll make a little incision under my belly button for the scope, and another small incision on each side of my abdomen for the steak knife and tongs. They'll pump my tummy full of gas so I'm uncomfortable and bloated for weeks to come. Honestly, she said something about having to fill my tummy with gas so they could move their instruments around and see everything, but I'm not sure I believe her. They'll use the kitchen implements to snip out my ovary and the nasty dermoid and then they'll pull it out of my abdomen alien-style. She told me I'd get to go home the same day and would have a one week recovery.

I asked her if she could do a little liposuction while she's in there. You know, suck out some fat, do a little tummy tuck, maybe remove my stupid tattoo... She laughed. I think she thought I was kidding.

Then I asked her my number one question. "Please tell me you can do this surgery without general anesthesia!" She told me, "No".

"What do you mean No?!", I asked. "You do c-sections without general anesthesia! Why is this any different?" I started hyper-ventilating at the thought of having to have general anesthesia.

She explained that during laparoscopic surgery, they'd be filling my abdomen with gas and they couldn't have me numbed from the diaphragm down or I wouldn't be able to breath properly. But she offered me some hope. "We can do the surgery without general anesthesia, but we can't do it laparoscopically. I'd have to make a larger incision across your abdomen and you'd have a two night stay in the hospital and a six week recovery."

Now most normal people wouldn't even consider having the surgery the old-fashioned way. But me? I thought that was the better alternative by far. I mean, six weeks of pain is nothing compared to six hours of throwing up from the anesthesia. I'll take the pain over the vomiting any day of the week! And a two night stay in the hospital? Hello? That's called a vacation! But unfortunately, I don't think I can get someone to help out with my kids for a couple weeks while I'm recovering.

Sooo, I have the number for the anesthesiologist. My doctor encouraged me to have a consult with him before my surgery. But I know what's going to happen. He'll promise to give me top-of-the-line, heavy-duty, anti-nausea drugs. He'll swear I won't get sick this time. He'll assure me he'll take care of me so I don't get violently ill. In other words, he'll lie. And after my surgery, when I'm forcefully expelling my intestines into the ridiculously small barf tray they give you, he'll ask if he can include me in his article about weird anesthesia reactions.

I really can't decide which way to go. That's how much I abhor throwing up. I detest it! It's the worst thing in the world. I would absolutely rather have more pain for longer than to vomit even once. I know that probably sounds crazy to 99.9% of you, but that's where I stand. :(

Makes a Mama Proud

My kids and I were invited to a media event at Legoland tonight. (It was a very cool place and we had a blast, but I'll write more about that later.) At one point, in the evening, there was a competition for anyone who wanted to participate. The goal was to build something from outer space with Legos. Jackson built a little green alien on a Mars rover. He won the competition and was awarded a Star Wars Lego set.

A little later, Jackson and I were hanging out, eating a piece of cake, when he off-handedly mentioned that he'd given his prize to a little boy who was crying. I looked at him and my heart swelled. My eyes filled with tears. Jackson is my kid who has precious little self-control. He's oftentimes belligerent and nasty. He inflicts his rotten moods on everyone around. He's put holes in his walls and floor. He's broken windows and doors. He has a horrible temper. I'm not saying this because he's a bad kid because he isn't. But the ADHD, temper, and impulsivity make it really hard to see the good sometimes.

Yet, paradoxically, he has the kindest, most compassionate heart. He loves to help other people and has real empathy for those who are suffering in any way. He didn't think that giving that little boy the building set was a big deal. He told me that the boy had been building a spaceship was really upset that he didn't win and he started crying. When Jackson saw how sad this little boy was, he handed him the prize he'd just won.

I told Jackson how very proud I was of him. And in that instant, I could see the kid that Jackson really is. Not the one who lacks self-control when his meds wear off. There wasn't a trace of Mr. Hyde in the kid hanging out with me, eating cake tonight.
One of the women who works at Legoland came by right then and asked, "Are you the one who gave that little boy your prize?" Jackson told her he had. She thanked him and told him he was a great kid. Then she went off and returned with an even cooler building set for Jackson!

It's time like these, when our kids surprise us with these amazing acts, that we know we're doing something right; that somehow, something is sinking in. That there's hope they'll turn out to be compassionate, well-adjusted, productive members of society.

I’m proud of you, Jax!

Football 101 - Supplemental Glossary

FOOTBALL TERMS

Audible - this is when you can hear the coach screaming at the players from the concession stand. His voice was audible all the way from the parking lot.

Automatic first down - when the referee drops his yellow hanky on the field and the boys run over it and fall down on it, the ref gets mad because his hanky gets muddy and that's gross. Then he moves the football away from the players as punishment and says, "automatic first down".

Blocking - This is when a couple guys smash into each other. Sometimes it looks like they're dancing with each other, but don't say that aloud because shirtless, beer-swilling guys with their stomachs painted blue would be offended if you implied the players were anything less than manly. Unless they're on the opposing team. Then you can say what you want.

Bomb - this is why security has to check your bags before entering the stadium - to make sure you don't have any.

Carry - One of the cheerleaders on Lexi's squad.

Chain gang - sometimes prisoners have to be chained to each other and clean up the side of the highway as punishment for their crimes. If their crimes were really bad, they're chained to each other and forced to endure a football game while walking up and down the side of the field holding flags.

Completion - Something I'm still waiting for Austin to do with his homework.

Dead ball - if the players step on the ball with their pointy-bottomed shoes and it deflates, it's dead.

Down - goose feathers

Drop Kick - What Lucy did to Charlie Brown show after show

Eligible receiver - this is the term for the single, available men who catch the ball. This term could also be used for single women who line up to catch the bouquet at a wedding.

End zone - the place where the players spike the ball and dance

Extra point - it's like a game show - if the players answer the question correctly, they get an extra point

False start - When you tell all your friends and family that the game's at 2:00, but when you all get there, you realize you wrote the time down incorrectly and it doesn't really start until 3:00.

Field goal - The goal of the field is to...hmmm, I'm not sure what it is. I think it has something to do with kicking the ball.

Formation - See all the players in a bunch on the field? It's not totally random. I know! I was surprised too! It's actually a specific formation.

Fumble - This is what causes major booing from the crowd. You don't have to know what a fumble is. Just groan and shake your head in disappointment if you hear the word.

Goal posts - this is the thing that Mork is standing on at the end of the intro for Mork and Mindy. No, I have no idea how I remember useless stuff like this.

Gridiron - It's another name for a George Foreman grill. I'm not sure why it's in my glossary of football terms other than because George Foreman is a famous football player.

Halfback - Who is Quasimodo, Alex?

Hand-off - What I'm telling Savannah's homecoming date. What? Homecoming is the day after the big football game. See? It relates to football.

Hike - This is when the players walk the length of the field because 100 yards is quite a hike.

Horse Collar -


Huddle - This is what the parents do while watching their kids play. It usually involves warm blankets and coffee.

Interception - When the fans start groaning and the other side jumps up and down and screams in excitement and you try to figure out why everyone's moving in the opposite direction suddenly. See reverse.

Kickoff - When a player kicks the ball and his shoe flies off.

Offensive - This is referring to the smell that comes from the players after a game.

Pass - When a player hits on a girl

Pass interference - When the other players make fun of the guy making the pass - see above

Play - I know it looks just like a bunch of guys running around and jumping on each other, but it's actually a highly organized plan of Xs and Os moving in precise, strategic maneuvers called plays.

Possession - This is what overcame me when I agreed to let Jackson play football.

Quarterback - the guy who throws the ball and gets paid the most

Referee - the guy on the field in the zebra costume who always makes bad calls against your team and fails to see all the fouls the other team makes.

Reverse - when everyone on the field suddenly starts running in the opposite direction for some reason.

Right Guard - men's deodorant

Sack - another word for bag

Safety - This is what they call it when a player with the ball is tackled in his own end zone. It really should be called a screw-up though.

Scrimmage - I don't know what it means, but it's fun to say. Repeat after me, scrimmage, scrimmage, scrimmage...

Shotgun formation - See formation definition above, but this time the players have guns

Sidelines - Where the coaches stand to block your view of the field

Snap - The fastening device that holds up the players' pants

Tackle - A box of fishing lures and such

Touchdown - This is what the players spend two+ hours trying to do

Yard - It's the thing that gets covered in toilet paper for homecoming

Yellow flag - This is the stuff we spray to keep the bees away. Oh wait, that's Black Flag. Hmmm, maybe this is what the refs call their yellow hankies because it sounds more manly.

Sunday Sound Out

From Chicago, home to the Gigglesnort Hotel (someone tell me you remember this!), it's your host, the woman with the turkey hat, Dawn Meehan!

And now for answers to this week's questions...


Why do they [kids] do these [stupid stuff like sticking Tic Tacs up their noses] things??!!
Much like how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, the world may never know.

Have you seen the new coconut M&M's? Saw them at Walgreens today and thought of you :)
Yeah, that was nice that you thought of me, but did you mail me a bag of 'em?

I am confused. You finally sent out a newsletter? I thought I had signed up, but went to sign up again, and it says that I have signed up. Yet- I still have never received one... what is going on?
It's one of my those mysterious computery things. But never fear because you can read a copy of my latest newsletter on my website DawnMeehan.com.

I feel your pain. We took our kids to our State Fair and took them to the DNR fishing pond on Grandparents Day when the Grandparents could fish with the kids.
Ok, there's probably a logical translation of what DNR means, but all I can think of is Do Not Resuscitate. I guess that makes sense because you probably wouldn't want to go to heroic measures to save a fish you just caught for dinner, but I'm pretty sure that's not what it means. My brain is already filled to overflowing with texting abbreviations so I can communicate with my teens. Someone help me out here.

Oh no she didn't!! And you do NOT look like a grandma!!I'm trying to decide if that's worse than when someone at my daughter's pre-school last week said, "So you're expecting another one...?" Ah, no... that would be the "baby weight" I put on five years ago!!
Ouch. Yep, I think that one is worse. I've gotten that one too. In fact, I wrote about it in my new book You'll Lose the Baby Weight (and other lies about pregnacy and childbirth).

Good for you, for sticking through it! At least you can watch Savannah cheer them on! (Right, you did say she was a cheerleader? I'm just guessing she cheers for the same team Jackson play on.)
Savannah would never be caught dead cheering. Lexi's my cheerleader.

just to correct you...the white lines on the field are every 10yards not 5 (sorry)
Just to correct you, the white lines on a football field are every 5 yards like I said. Remember, I'm the football EXPERT now!

You have BEER at your games?? I'm so jealous!!
I had like 20 comments and emails to this effect. See? This is what I'm talking about! Football fans feel strongly about their beer. And noooo, there's no beer at Jackson's games. But I was talking about football, in general. Kids games, professional games, games on TV... I mean, heck, the only reason I even glance at the TV during the superbowl is for the Budweiser commercials.


Hi Dawn- I love your website... It's so real... Is it just a coincidence that your kids have names that are cities or did you plan that???
My kids are named after cities??? Oh man, how did I miss that all these years?!
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My latest article about the new PASS card from American Express is on my review blog. I'll be writing posts about helping teens to learn about and manage money. Join in the conversation HERE!

Mobile Meanness

I'm participating in project with BlogHer called the LG TextEd Blogger Engagement Program! I've written a post about teens and texting HERE. Click the link, check it out and leave me a comment there. For every comment left on my post, DoSomething.org will receive a $0.50 donation. It'll just take a second to click over and it'll benefit a great organization! Leave me a comment over THERE and let me know if your kids have experienced "Mobile Meanness" and what you've done to help them overcome it.