I May Never Give Them Their Stuff Back

My mother was an obsessive compulsive cleaner. I grew up in a house so clean, I was barely allowed to live in it. My mother loved to clean. She lived to clean. Her whole life was about organizing and cleaning. She ironed my jeans, for crying out loud.

Despite being raised with cleaning influences thrust upon me from infancy, I have to really work at being clean and tidy. I really don't enjoy cleaning. I find it mundane and boring. I've had to really work at keeping a clean house because it doesn't come naturally to me. I have to make myself do chores.

Gregory needs absolutely no prompting from me to be clean. It comes naturally to him. He likes to be organized and tidy. Watch him in this video. He just invents ways to clean.



He seems to find great joy in watching stuff get clean. I get great joy out of sitting and watching him clean.



My girls are natural pigs. They get absolutely NO joy out of cleaning. They are the POLAR opposites of Gregory. It's like the Odd Triplets, starring Felix and two Oscars. So getting them to do anything regarding chores or cleaning is met with extreme opposition.

I feel you girls, but someday you'll thank me for my persistence.

When I emptied their room out, you've never seen such hysteria and crying. They were bawling and pleading and crying. Fortunately, I am immune to crying and tantrums, so I just ignored them and bagged their stuff up. Three days later, I think I did them a favor. Honestly.

They just don't seem to have the ability to keep that much stuff organized. They need a lot of work. It doesn't come naturally to them.

So we are starting small and we are going to work our way back up. The first day, Amanda earned back a purse with beads in it. We designated a space for it and she managed to get it back into it's spot. Sarah got nothing the first day. She threw a fit when it was time to make her bed. Oh, so sad, you get nothing if you do that.

Yesterday, they took showers, got dressed, and brought their sheets into the laundry room to be washed without any fussing. So Sarah earned back her favorite stuffed animal and Amanda earned back her Hannah Montana dress-up outfit, which she wore all day, as if I might rip it off her body and take it away from her.

Even though Sarah professes to love that Blackie dog more than life itself, it was no where to be found at bedtime last night.

Oh, so sad. That's not staying very organized, now is it?

I have no idea how this experiment will play out since I'm just winging it, but I can tell you this, having the girls room clean and not having all their crap all over my house has brought my stress level WAY WAY WAY down.

So maybe they'll never get all their stuff back. Stay tuned.

Nobody In Las Vegas Is Using Their Indian Fireworks, We Swear

It's illegal in Clark County to own or possess fireworks that twirl, explode, or fly in the air. However, 30 minutes away, there's a sovereign nation called the Moapa Indian Reservation, where you can load up on all sorts of explosives.

I had to crack up when I read this article in the paper yesterday, where the hundreds of people waiting in line at the reservation claimed they were buying the fireworks, but they weren't going to use them.

Nope. Nobody in Las Vegas is using those fireworks. Scout's honor. You won't see anyone in our neighborhood using the ones that twirl.

Or explode.

Or fly in the air.

So we headed over to Mrs. Z's annual backyard extravaganza, where the kids swam in the big pool. Look how tan Amanda has gotten. All the kids get dark and don't burn. They definitely inherited my father's complexion.

Hung out with Mrs. Z's twin grandchildren and all their friends in the jacuzzi. They wanted me to get in there with them, but I was afraid the urine content might of been above my threshhold, so I declined the invitation.

They exploded poppers and ran through smoke bombs.

Played with sparklers and had the time of their lives.

We didn't get them into bed until 11pm, which is the latest they have ever been up in their entire lives. So we all slept in this morning and that's why I'm late blogging. I also had to enforce my new rules, which I will update on tomorrow.

People are either laughing or crying here. There's no in between. These kids have it really rough, let me tell you.

There's No Independence Day For My Girls

Every morning, I tell the kids to scrape their plates, put them on the counter, go make their beds, pick their rooms up, and get dressed.

Every morning, Gregory and Austin run off, get dressed, make their beds, pick up their toys, and then Gregory gets the vacuum out and vacuums his room, and then he vacuums the whole house. Swear to God. I gave birth to my mother. He definitely doesn't get this from ME.

Every morning, the girls act like they're deaf, totally ignore me, and their room is a disgusting, horrible rat's nest. It is so bad, there aren't even words for it.

Yesterday, I told everyone what to do, and I started cleaning the kitchen and bathrooms, and 45 minutes later, I saw the girls out in the backyard in their pajamas. I went in their room and I couldn't even see the carpeting. Their room was TRASHED ---- like it is every day.

Meanwhile, Gregory had vacuumed the den and was Windexing the glass door.

Now the girls get to earn their toys back. One toy a day.

OR if they don't listen today, they get to earn back their sheets and blankets.

I'm cracking down. I don't care if it's the Fourth of July. There's a new sheriff in town, girls. You thought it was Independence Day? HA! There won't be any tea party, because you have to earn that back! Welcome to my dictatorship.

ROAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We Have 45 Children. Where's Your Drink Menu?

We had our monthly triplet mom dinner last night and had 10 triplet moms and one quad mom show up at the Elephant Bar in Henderson.

Our server asked, "Is this a mom's night out?"

To which we responded, "Yes. It's a triplet mom night out."

"You deserve a week out!!!"

So true, but we'll take our night.

"Gosh, I can't even handle two kids and they are 18 months apart. I don't even have to work for money, I just come here to get away! Does anyone here have other kids besides the triplets?", our server asked in amazement.

Ha. Funny you should ask! Michele P has two older boys for a grand total of five boys. Tamara has two older girls and triplet boys. I have Austin. Courtney had an oopsie baby after her triplets too. Jen, who came to dinner 33 weeks pregnant with spontaneous g/g/b triplets has an older 4 year old daughter. Eva, who is 24 weeks pregnant with spontaneous identical triplet girls, has four older kids.

Our dinner party had 45 children.

So speaking of coming to dinner 33 weeks pregnant, you can't tell in the picture, but Jen was so insanely gigantic, people's eyes were popping right out of their heads when she was walking by. I mean their jaws were dropping down to their chests, and then their eyes were bugging out, and then if they could manage to regain their composure at all, they would lean over and whisper to whoever was sitting next to them, and even POINT.

We even tried to surround her to get her to the table without gawking, but 10 women can't hide a 33 week triplet mom's stomach.

Our new quad mom, Dafna, has 6 month old g/b/b/b quads. Her story is awesome and you can read about it here. Her and her husband are originally from Israel. When she found out she was pregnant with quads, she decided to go to Arizona to have them with Dr. Elliot, the world renowned Quad God. Her husband moved their RV down to Phoenix and put it right in the parking lot at Good Samaritan hospital, and she lived in the hospital parking, where they have five spots with full hook-ups, for the duration of her entire pregnancy. She gave birth to her babies at 33 weeks, 4 days, and all of them are extremely healthy and thriving.

That just gives me goosebumps.

Then our server asked if our children were "natural"?

And we all know how well high order multiple moms like that question.

Of course the alternative is "spontaneous" and I've yet to figure out how that word is appropriate either.

I was walking along and POOF!, I was pregnant with triplets.

But it was pretty freaky to have two spontaneously pregnant triplet moms at dinner at the same time.

Don't move to Vegas. We've got something weird in the water here.

Then our server asked us to raise our hands if we sleep more than six hours at night. Three quarters of us get way more than 6 hours. Even Dafna has a night nanny and she's sleeping all night.

Our server said she still gets up several times a night with her 5 year old.

Okay, huh? WHY?

As with all my monthly dinners, there is always someone getting a tummy tuck, or showing off their new flat abs. So we got to oooohhh and awwwww over the new flatness of one of our gals new waistline.

Bitch. Not that I'm jealous or anything.

It was a fun, fun, fun night. I can't wait to see how the pregnant moms are next month or who has a new body!

EDITED TO ADD: My original title said we had 41 children, but we have 45 children. I need another drink.

Days Of Our Life: Part One

We spent the evening yesterday counting bats and watching our neighbors light illegal fireworks. In years past, they've caught the desert on fire, traumatized our neighbor Jo's horse, and sent missiles into our 40 foot pine trees.

I've called the cops on them so many times, I've lost count. When the kids were babies, and our neighborhood sounded like Beirut, I was FURIOUS.

Now that the kids are five, the neighbors have gotten sort of fun.

"Ooooooooohhhhh.....Awwwwwwwwww. That was a LOUD one."

(Sorry, Jo. I will totally call the cops if you want me too. Just as soon as the kids go to bed.)

Soooooooooooo, about yesterday's post............

I got an email shortly after I published my post yesterday with a very hot lead on a guy for Raggedy Ann's Mom. I have to tell you, when you are old and married like me, the idea of setting someone up is suddenly really fun.

So here are the stats.

The guy is a professional and owns his own successful company. Educated. He has four kids, ages 5-13, which he has custody of. No huge child support payments. He's very active in the church and teaches Sunday School for 14-15 year olds. Nice. He's super cute and muscular. Total bonus.

(Stop me if you've heard this one before, Denise.) His wife discovered she was gay and left him for another woman.

So the way I see it, that means it's not really anyone's fault. Since I think people are born gay, the wife probably had no idea she was gay, and obviously the man didn't know he married a lesbian, so OOPS.

Now I'm sure it's slightly more complicated than that, but it just so happens that Amanda's Mormon boyfriend's mom knows Raggedy Ann and the Guy With The Gay Ex Wife and she is arranging a set up. The wheels are in motion.

Stay tuned. I may have a weekly Days Of Our Life update on this. My friend Misti called me yesterday just because she missed gym, and she said she was having withdrawals without hearing about the latest dating fiascos.

I tried to relay this story to Greg, and he said, "Oh, I'm sure he's a real catch. He's obviously so bad, he turned his wife gay."

Don't worry. I hit him.

But what if it works out and I'm responsible for bringing two people together and it's totally TRUE LOVE?

Sigh.

I better be invited to the wedding!

And if it doesn't work out, I'll just slink back to my non-Mormon world and act like I don't know anything.

I'm Looking For A Mormon Guy Who Doesn't Have VD

For the past three weeks, I've had conversations during gym class that have left me almost psychologically damaged. I am not even kidding. I haven't dated in 20 years, so I've just forgotten how creepy guys can be.

Does anyone remember Raggedy Ann, the little girl who sat next to my friend Laura's triplets and Austin in class?

The one who was hitting our boys all the time and we didn't know it?

Remember how everyone that goes to my community center is Mormon? Raggedy Ann is in gym class with my four kids on Tuesdays now. So for the past three weeks, Raggedy Ann's mom has been giving us the low down about being divorced and trying to date within the Mormon church once you are way past your prime. Which would be 31, in LDS years.

She is in Mormon dating HELL.

And after the stories I've heard, it exists. Trust me.

Her family is like way old school Mormon, her mom teaches seminary, and she married a "good" Mormon guy, and she got pregnant like she was supposed to, and you know what he did? He up and left her when she was pregnant with Raggedy Ann and divorced her.

So for the past four years, she has been trying to find another Mormon guy to marry, because she is a hundred percent committed to the church and all she's finding is Super Creepy Mormon Guys who pretend like their Mormon, but aren't.

Or they have four or five kids and $5000 child and alimony support payments. Literally.

Or they claim they did NOTHING wrong in their marriages, and it was ALL their wife's fault. That's a big red flag.

Or guys in their thirties who have never married and have no kids who will say, "Why is your child making all that noise? Shouldn't you spank her?"

Uh, those are HAPPY noises. That's how children sound.

She's had dates so bad, I was actually speechless.

Her worst date ever was after she joined several Mormon online dating services and invited one guy over to her house, before she became a "professional dater" and learned you don't ever let someone in your house.

His profile had said he was in "health care", so she was hoping for another educated person, like herself. She has her masters in opera singing and teaches chorus in middle school.

After arriving, Creepy Guy tells her that he took a class and just got a job cutting up dead bodies that people have donated for science. So he's not in health care after all, he's actually a Cadaver Butcher.

C.R.E.E.P.Y.

Raggedy Ann's mom has been abstaining all these years, in hopes of finding another husband. In fact, she's only had sex for eleven months of her thirty one years alive, and she is seriously reached her LIMIT and said if she doesn't find a guy soon, she's just going to give it all up and find a boy toy.

So despite the assumption her date is also abstaining, Creepy Guy tells her that he spent a few years "away from the church" and caught genital herpes, and would that be a problem?

She told him that she knew there was medication he could take, and she was sure it wouldn't be a problem for someone, at which point he excused himself and asked to use her bathroom.

Thirty minutes passed by and Creepy Guy hadn't come out. What was he doing in there? Did he need some TP? What should she do? Should she call someone?

Finally, she knocked on the door and asked him if he needed help, or maybe a plunger.

She opened the door and he had his pants down around his knees and he says, "I can't come out. I think I'm having an outbreak. Is this an outbreak?"

I couldn't even make this stuff up. If you are sitting here with your mouth open, imagine the other Mormon moms sitting on the bench with us during gym class. She's an opera singer. Her voice carries.

So Herpes Guy got scratched off the list, which if you are Mormon and 31, grows increasingly smaller by the day. She didn't even care so much about the herpes, as she did about the hiding in the bathroom. Oh, and the cutting up dead people.

So I'm writing of Raggedy Ann's Mom today, in hopes that in my vast network of internet friends, SOMEONE might know SOMEONE who is single, Mormon, and not CREEPY.

Raggedy Ann's Mom is about 5'2 inches. She's a size zero. She's super cute and she's willing to take on kids, and no number is too great. She is looking for someone who is educated, nice, and preferably without an STD. If I were a Mormon man, I would totally marry her.

Let's get this poor woman some sex already. C'mon guys. Email me some names. I. can't. take. the. stories. And if you are still dating, what was your worst date? Can you top that one?

I'm Nearly Normal

I was off my game yesterday and lost the battle. I started feeling nauseous on Monday night and when I woke up yesterday morning, I was unable to do anything. Greg had too much going on to help me, so I had no choice but to let the kids fend for themselves.

I was so sick, I had PBS on until almost 10am before I realized it was in Spanish.

At one point, I heard the kids in the kitchen and thought they were getting a snack. I was able to get up and check on them, when I discovered they had taken an entire loaf of bread, the chocolate chips, an entire container of honey, lettuce, and my friend Laura's homegrown tomatoes, and made sandwiches for the garbage men.

The kids have learned from their father that you must "grease"the garbage men, which Greg does on a regular basis to take things like entire trees and used hot water heaters and who knows what else. I try not to get involved in these transactions, but the kids like to make sure our sanitation workers are fed and watered.

Unfortunately, our trash pickup is on Tuesdays and Fridays, not on Mondays. So I did what any deathly ill mother would do. I threatened them with bodily harm when their father discovered they wasted an entire loaf of bread. So rather than risk the Wrath of Dad, they ate the sandwiches.

Put those on your menu.

I went and laid down again and tried to convince the kids to watch PBS in English, but they weren't interested. I think I may have dozed off.

I discovered yesterday that my kids are much more creative without me, than with me. While I convalesced, Sarah and Amanda got out all my felt, then hooked them all together with stickers and bamboo shish-ka-bob skewers.

Amanda taped her library books to the window and traced My Little Pony on to paper and then colored them.

Gregory and Austin took a UPS box and made it into a dog house, complete with felt carpeting.

My house is in shambles. It's THAT bad.

The only good thing that came out of yesteday, besides knowing my kids can entertain themselves at the risk of my flooring, is my phone informed me, while I was laying on the couch, that UPS had dropped off a box.

Inside was four pounds of gluten free flour my friend Helene had sent me to try out. Buying gluten free flour is super expensive, so I've been thinking about getting a 50 pound bag to offset the cost. But I didn't want to invest that kind of money in a flour I wouldn't be happy with, and so far, I haven't been that thrilled with the gluten free stuff I'd been using.

Helene emailed me back and said she has her own flour co-op, and she sent me four pounds to try out of Jules Nearly Normal Gluten Free Flour.

Of course, Greg walked in right as I was inspecting my new item and said, "What did you order now? Cocaine?", right before he said, "What in the hell happened to this house?"

Amazingly, I started feeling better immediately and made chocolate chip cookies, which was a staple in our house before I stopped eating gluten.

The kids literally ate every single cookie in less than five minutes. They were a HIT! I'm really impressed with the lack of aftertaste. This flour has almost no taste of tapioca flour at all.

The cookies had a good flavor. They did seem to crumble more than regular flour, but that could have been because they weren't completely cooled when we devoured them. I am very pleased with the flour. I'm going to try pancakes tomorrow and see how that works out. This flour comes completely ready to use. You don't have to add any xantham gum to your baked goods.

I don't know what was wrong with me, but it must have been a 24 hour thing, because I'm okay today. I'm Nearly Normal again.

How Many Rules Can We Break In July?

After discovering we might get fined for lacking small bushes in our rental property front yard, Greg flew over to the Communist Community, where our house is located, with his truck and a shovel....



where he replaced the small bush with a big tree.

"Do you have the rules anywhere, so I can check to see if this is a regulation tree?", I asked.

They wanted $300 for a copy of the CC&Rs at closing, so Greg told them to forget it.

Oh, okay. So until we reach $300 in fines, we're even. But that seems like extortion. How much can copies really cost?

In other news, I talked to Greg's mom yesterday and she bought the condo. They took 10 thousand less than the asking price. I spent two hours trying to figure out if she got taken, and I think she got a good deal. I don't think she can lose money on it. Even the property taxes are reasonable for Michigan.

So she wants us there on the 15th of July for the closing. Greg needs to help her get it furnished and we are going to stay in it for a week or so. It's a two bedroom, 1 bath and her association only allows 3 residents in a 2 bedroom, and 4 residents in a three bedroom. So we couldn't even live there if we wanted to.

But we'll get her off on the right foot there, I'M SURE.

I'm thinking we need to be out of here by 07/10th to get there on time.

Can we do it this year without the septic backing up or the SWAT team arriving because Greg is walking down the street with semi-automatic rifles?

We shall see. I wonder how many Compliance Letters we'll get while we're gone. I wonder how many Greg's mom will get when we're there? Just how many HOAs can we make mad in the month of July?

I could be wrong, but I'm thinking that having oodles and oodles of kids and HOAs just don't mesh.

The Ped Egg Ruined My Life

Remember when I complained about my nasty heel skin and you guys were all, "Go get the Ped Egg???!!!!!

Well that was in March. The day after I wrote about it, thanking you for the hot tip, I cheese grated off my entire heel and it's been split and bleeding ever since. It will heal just enough to where I think it's going to FINALLY be gone forever, and then I'll do something stupid, like WALK, and it will split wide open again.

Sometimes it will split so deeply and be so painful, I will walk around on my tip toes just from the intense pain.

The Ped Egg ruined my life.

Sure. Maybe I got a little overzealous with watching the dead skin come off like parmesan cheese, but this is not a tool for people like me. It's dangerous in the wrong hands.

I cannot use it again or may end up in a wheelchair.

Not one to waste $10, I've found a new use for it.

Spaghetti anyone?

Having Rules Really Sucks

We get our mail at a P.O. Box for reasons that escape me, except Greg is all undercover and always has been. I never go get the mail, because it's against the law in Nevada to leave your children unattended in a vehicle for any reason.

So to get the mail, I have to take all four kids in with me. It takes 20 seconds to get it, which isn't really long enough if I have to bring them in, because we walk in, and then walk out, and they are like, "I don't want to get back in the car ALREADY."

I only get the mail about twice a month.

Yesterday, I dropped them off at their art/game/cooking class and flew to the P.O. Box, and found that we had three notices from our new homeowner's association on the first house we bought and rented a couple months ago.

First, I should say we have never, in all of our lives, lived in a home with a homeowner's association. We live in a world without rules, except the one where I can't check the mail without all my children.

Sure, we have to put up with this and this, but nobody was mad at us when we had two motorhomes in our driveway for two years, or when Greg came home with a front end loader and accidentally hit the electrical lines and blew the transformer in our backyard, which knocked out all the electricity to our neighbors.

It's a carefree life. It's why we have three swingsets and five slides, a trampoline, and why are house is known as the Daycare House.

So when I opened the three letters and discovered they were Compliance Notices because we are breaking the rules, I was sort of dumbfounded. What rules?

Greg cleaned that whole place up. What could be wrong?

When he cleaned up the property, he had removed a very small hedge. It was about 1.5 feet tall. I have weeds in my garden that are bigger. It was dead, so Greg ripped it out. The front "yard" is like 5ft by 5ft, so he didn't replace it because the other sage bush is so big, it's engulfed the small space.



But we're breaking the RULES. See? The association manager came by and actually noticed that the little itty bitty dead plant was gone.



And look, we got a second Compliance Letter because there is another mystery bush gone.

GASP!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Why didn't you guys warn me about this stuff?

Our third Compliance Letter was because our tenant parked in the driveway with his tires on the rocks.



Look at that would you? How COULD HE? Did he think he lived in AMERICA? FOOL!

If I was the association manager, I would have sent us a letter because his truck has a different colored hood. Talk about an eyesore.

When Greg got home, I asked him, "Did you really rent our house to a guy with an ugly truck?"

So we had ten days to get new plants in our front yard or get fined. Since I never check the mail, that was yesterday.

I may have to run for the association board. Why not? I'm sure they LOVE us absentee landlords.

How do you guys manage having someone telling you what to do all the time? Doesn't it just SUCK?

Wait till we start getting stuff on the second house. Greg replaced all the windows with different sizes and never even talked to anyone about it.

We're going to lose all our money. I can see it now.

Being A Stay-At-Home Mom Can Be THAT Boring

I was so bored yesterday, I could have beaten my own skull against the wall for entertainment. So when my sister called and told me that TMZ was reporting that Michael Jackson had died, it was pretty much the most exciting thing I'd heard all day. Who is winning in Candyland will only take you so far.

On a scale of 1 to 1,000,000, the importance of Michael Jackon in my life was like maybe a 4, and that's because I can moonwalk.

But sitting at home can be so mind-numbingly boring that I spent the better part of 30 minutes trying to break the news to people.

Ring. Ring.

"No way. OMG. Michael Jackson's dead."

"I already know."

Damn it.

Despite my vast network of phone, texting, and email buddies, and the fact he was only dead for 29 seconds and no major news networks had even confirmed it, I could not break the news to ANYONE.

Yawn.

Seriously, I cannot even explain how bored I was yesterday.

So I grabbed a hold of some family gossip over who is the favored child in my father's family. My father has four siblings who were taught by their parents to compete with each other for love.

Have you ever read the book Siblings Without Rivalry?

If you took all the information and recommendations in that book to foster genuinely loving sibling relationships, void of jealousy, competition, and delight over each other's failings, and then you completely disregarded that and did the exact opposite, and made your children compete with each other to be your favorite and in your good graces, that would be my father's family.

On a scale of 1 to 1,000,000, the importance of this in my life today would be probably a two, maybe a three.

Yet, I grabbed a hold of the latest news of who is loved more like it was a lifeline out of the abyss of domestic tedium. The alternative was sweeping the kitchen floor yet again, or trying to figure out who I hadn't called to inform that Michael Jackson was dead.

From what I can tell, my father has wrangled in to be the number one child du jour.

How delightful!!!!

Sadly, I couldn't even discuss any of this with the children, because they haven't a clue who Michael Jackson OR my father is. Although I might have been able to explain Michael Jackson more easily.

"Once upon a time, there was a man who could sing and dance. Then he was abducted by aliens and started sleeping with little boys, so he became a super creepy recluse, but all these shows today are depicting him as the greatest icon who ever lived, so this story must be fiction, which means make-believe. The End."

Yawn.

Is this how you know it's time to get a job again? Because I am soooooo bored, I'm going to see if I can still moonwalk.

I See A Roadtrip Coming

The girls have been packing suitcases to go to Michigan. Which means that I have bags and purses and backpacks filled with their clothes, Barbies, horses, crayons, hairbands, etc. You know, the necessities.

We have no actual plans to go to Michigan yet. I figured we'd possibly go around the middle of July, once Austin got his next MRI to check on his brain tumor.

I finally got the referral to get his MRI and called to make an appointment yesterday and they told me their next opening is August 17th. Thank God this isn't an emergency situation. Isn't that ridiculous?

But that opens up the whole summer.

Greg's mom left on June 17th, the saddest day of the year, and went back to Traverse City to spend the summer.

So the girls have been packing suitcases to get to Grammy. Which is so cute, except I have to unpack them all and sort everything back to where it belongs, which has been driving me crazy.

Grammy has been renting a place in Michigan for the past few summers. She called yesterday and said she put an offer on a condo and she might have it right away. But she is already obligated to continue renting the place she's in, so that means there will be a perfectly empty condo sitting in Traverse City, with Greg's name written all over it. Free Lodging.

But that also means she's going to be gone a lot more of the year, because she'll have a second home, and I'm fairly certain instead of coming back here in August like she normally does, she'll stay for the changing of the seasons.

Which means the girls will keep packing suitcases to get to her.

And I'll have to keep emptying them.

And Greg will know he can go stay with his mom anytime he wants. Free Lodging.

Good grief, I may have to buy a second condo next to hers to get this all back on track. I checked the school zoned for her condo and it's rated a 9 at greatschools.net. Maybe we'll just move there.

You can run, Grammy. But you can't hide.

I see a roadtrip coming.

***************************************************

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What Are You Telling Your Kids About The Recession?

For participating in the public library's summer reading program, we got four free tickets to the Lied's Discovery Museum, which is featuring the exhibit, Grossology.

So we went downtown to check it out, and the kids learned everything gross about the human body, like vomit, burps, flatulence, boogers, etc.

They got to climb a wall of skin blemishes and learn about moles, warts, skin tags, and pimples.

I have delicate sensibilities which are not even compatible with having four children, five and under, so I was slightly nauseous by the whole theme, but the kids seemed to enjoy it.

What struck me even more than the disgusting exhibit, was how bad things have gotten downtown since I was last there. There has always been homeless around the Lied Discovery Museum because of it's proximity to some large charities, but the sheer number this time was startling. The building that houses the museum is also a library, which has become like a makeshift shelter. The parking lot was teeming with homeless men and security guards. The library has a designated spot for them to gather now and watch television.

I spent almost a decade dealing with the homeless when we owned our insurance agency, since we were adjacent to a park where they lived, and we spent day after day after day trying to live in peace and harmony with people who defecated on our doorstep and panhandled our clients and left trash with needles and bottles in front of our entrance, so it was quite shocking to see how the face of the homeless has changed.

I have to wonder how many have become homeless now because of the recession? They didn't have the typical mentally ill, drug addict homeless look for the most part. How many have lost their jobs and just have no where to go?

The kids have started watching the evening news with me, and we have been having an open dialogue about the recession and it's impact on families in America, along with other current event topics. We watched a very poignant piece about children of the recession last week and how many families are going without food. We talked about it in very simple terms, and they get it.

So when we saw all the homeless at the museum, I was able to reference back to the talk we had before about the recession, and people losing their jobs and homes, and put what they were seeing into a context I think they understood.

I'm curious if you are talking to your kids about it? If you are personally impacted by the recession, how are you explaining it to your kids? If you aren't personally effected, are you talking about it?

It seems like it's too important to skip for this next generation and I don't want to miss the significance.

I could totally skip the vomit, burps, and flatulence though. They don't need to know about that stuff ever. Yuck.

When Your Friends Come For Vacation

We spent 7 hours hanging out at the Cancun pool yesterday, where we broke in, (Greg reached over the gate and opened it), to meet more friends visiting from Michigan. The Cancun you ask? Is that a casino? No. It's a timeshare with it's own replica of a Mayan pyramid at the pool.

So you go up the stairs in the middle of the Mayan "ruins" and go down the slides into the pool.


Can you imagine how confused these kids will be if we ever start traveling abroad and they start seeing some of the REAL versions of the cheesy Las Vegas replicas?


Wait. Mom. Where's the eyeliner on the Sphinx? What do you mean there isn't a roller coaster around the Manhattan skyline?

They had an absolute blast on the slides though. We had an absolute blast with our friends. The two girls there were both named Michele, with one L. They went to college with Greg.

"If I went into the cafeteria alone and I saw Greg there with the other football players, I used to be afraid.", one of the Micheles told me.

Greg eating? It's scary. Trust me.


We were there five minutes and Amanda had a boyfriend. That's the two lovebirds on the raft, with Gregory, their chaperone. I'm fairly certain the poor kid would have taken a bullet for her, and I heard him almost crying when his father said it was time to go.

Note to self: I'm making a list. So far Amanda likes Mormon boys and older Asian dudes. CHECK. Keep her away from them. I wonder how long this list is going to get?

We have our original Michigan friends making a comeback from a short jaunt to Southern California today. Which means more pool time.

If we ever move away from Vegas, we will die of boredom. I'm almost sure of it. When you live here, everyone you ever knew in your life will come and visit and look you up. Do you live in a tourist trap? Do you see your friends and family all the time?

Greg's famous words when we are out with people here in town?

"We're not actually on vacation, Michele. You aren't getting that $32 martini."

I Love You Because You Take Me To The Dump

I know you thought it was Father's Day yesterday, and it was, but it was also Halloween here because our pumpkins are ripe.

When it wasn't pumpkin decorating time, the children picked out and gave their own gifts to Greg for Father's Day. They got him a flashlight, bungee cords, a measuring tape, and a CD of Country Wedding Songs.

Do they know their father, or what?

Then we did our annual list of what they love about their father.

Gregory's five reasons for loving his Daddy.

1. Takes me to the dump.

2. Takes me to the store.

3. Puts the pool up.

4. Takes me to the park.

5. We work on the house together.

Sarah's reasons.

1. He helps me get back on my bike.

2. If I get hurt, Daddy helps me.

3. Throws me in the pool.

4. When Daddy hugs me goodnight.

5. Takes me to Michigan.

Austin's reasons.

1. Takes me to the dump.

2. You call me Pumpkin Pie.

3. Takes me to the park.

4. Watches TV with me.

5. Jumps me in the pool.

Amanda's reasons.

1. He takes me to a restaurant.

2. He checks my batteries. (Okay, this is where he tries to rip a pretend battery out of their backs. You kinda have to be here to get this one.)

3. When Daddy buys me new clothes.

4. Takes me to Sam's Club.

5. I like when Daddy smooshes me when he hugs me goodnight.

Can you imagine how much they would be missing if they didn't have a father? I can pretty much guarantee you with a hundred percent certainty, if they only had me as their parent, the highlight of the boys' year would not have been a trip to the dump.

Thank God for fathers. The world wouldn't be the same without them.