Art As We Know It

I like to consider myself an artist. I doubt many people would put me in that category, but that is how I regard myself. That being said, I subscribe to the theory of "Free Art" which I may have made up. The basis of this theory is this: "It is mine and it may appear to you that I messed up but you can't prove that I didn't fully intend for it to look like that." Also, it is free art because no one has ever and likely will never pay me for any of my creations.

I did make a pretty rockin' painting for my dad for Christmas. It is one of my most favorite things I have ever made. While I was basking in the glory of my art (this is intended as a tongue in cheek comment), I started thinking about what it is to be an artist. I think it is creating something beautiful (in the eye of the beholder) out of nothing. I looked it up on the internet and the best definition that I could find for my specific use is this (courtesy of dictionary.com): a person who produces works in any of the arts that are primarily subject to aesthetic criteria.

This led me to another thought. (I have a lot of thoughts.) As a mother, I am an artist. All parants are artists. Our children are blank canvases. They are created out of a mess of cells and fluid and hopefully love, but let's face it, that's not always the case. They come out of the womb ready to be molded and shaped into beautiful creatures that can out in the world to create more beauty and wonder.

We parents, as artists, must do our due dilligence to mold and shape our children to be aesthetically pleasing. I don't mean to the eye; I am referring to shaping them to be beautiful human beings. Where it gets tricky is making sure they continue to be aesthetically pleasing as adults.

What we feed our children (metaphorically) is what they put out in the world. If you feed your children greed, anger and closed mindedness, why are you surprised that they are assholes? If you feed them schedules, rules and militant behavior, are you going to be shocked when they are uptight? Remember, children learn primarily by example. They do not subscribe to the "Do as I say, not as I do mentatlity." I like to feed my children laughter, music and glitter.

Being a artist (parent) is a huge responsibility. I am not sure the "Free Art" theory applies to parenting. You will know when my children grow up exactly the kind of parent I was. I sincerely hope I don't screw this up. I am sure that my children will not make it through their childhood with out a few metaphorical scars. I hope to keep them to a minimum though.

My children are the work of a lifetime. I still learn things from my parents today and even though my grandfather passed away, I am sure that he is still working on his art through my mother and even me. To me, there is nothing greater than looking at something beautiful that you have created and saying "I did that." That is how I feel when I look at my children.

Thanksgiving?

The story of the first Thanksgiving is a good one. People can't get enough of it. Who doesn't want hand towels in the bathroom depicting smiling blond haired, blue eyed Pilgrims with their arms around a Native American wearing nothing but a loin cloth and a headdress. (Never mind the fact that it was harvest time in frickin' New England...) Thanksgiving was to celebrate the fact that the Pilgrims had survived the first few years in the New World with the help of their new BFF's, the Wampanoag Tribe. The Native Americans taught the white man how to live off the land, fish and grow food. The Native Americans helped the white man learn how to survive. It is no wonder we invited them to dinner, all of the Pilgrims would have been dead without them. The Native Americans saved the Pilgrims lives. That commands some serious thanks.

Now let's think about how the Pilgrims showed their appreciation for all that was given so freely from their new friends:

1. Disease - we brought small pox, plague (bubonic and others), influenza, tuberculosis and, hello? SYPHILIS! Who can't get enough of that?
2. Modern weaponry - while this can be helpful when defending oneself and in hunting food, wasn't it just the beginning of weapons of mass destruction?
3. Thievery - Clearly, they were here first. We came in (looking for solace from religious persecution) and took their land. Then we decided to start bossing these INDIGENOUS people around. They had their own tribes with governing bodies. There was war between tribes, of course, as with all civilization. But I have heard some make the argument that these these HUMAN BEINGS were barbarians and needed us to come in and teach them how to behave civilly, which brings me to my next point...
4. The Trail of Tears - I realize that the tribes that walked the trail were not the Wampanoag, however, they were still the "owners" of this land that we call America, that we so rudely swooped in and stole, just because we could. Apparently, the irony was lost on Andrew Jackson, that we were only here because we wanted to be free so we decided to take away the rights and freedom of an entire race of people whose land we took from them.
5. Retribution - In 2000, the Bureau of Indian Affairs officially apologized for having taken part in ethnic cleansing (took us long enough, didn't it?) To make up for our atrocious behavior, we have allowed these native people to live in reservations (of our choosing), the right to own and operate casinos and declared them a minority to further their chances of getting an education and job (again with the irony of the fact that they are a minority because of genocide at the hands of the white man is lost on so many.)

There are a lot of arguments (mainly from white males) that THEY are now the most discriminated against race/gender because "we" make so many allowances for the minorities. I respectfully disagree. The white male is rarely discriminated against in the work place. They are the highest paid and generally speaking have had it pretty easy. (The majority of white males did not grow up on a reservation or in the ghetto.) There are a lot of arguments that today's generation of whites don't owe today's generation of minorities anything because "we" didn't do anything to "them." While I agree that "we" didn't, shouldn't "we" step up to the plate and help our fellow humans out for all of the injustice in the world, regardless of who was at the heart of it? If we don't stop saying "I didn't do anything, why should I have to pay?" then nothing will ever get better.

I, with my entire heart and being, believe that we should give thanks to ourselves, our friends, our families and to our gods (if you so choose) for all that we have in our lives. But let's face it, the "Story of Thanksgiving" is as much of a fairy tale as Cinderella or Pretty Woman. It would be awesome if life was like that but it is not. This world is an ugly place and unfortunately, the "greedy white man" is usually at the center of it. I will teach my children to be thankful for all that they have. I remind them every day that they have so much to be thankful for. They are loved, never go to bed hungry, have a warm place to sleep and clothes on their backs. This is more than a lot of people have and will ever have. But I refuse to take the one day that is supposed to be about appreciating what we have and spend the entire day running around, shopping, cooking, cleaning and stressing out to make sure my family and I have a picture perfect day in which to give thanks instead of actually spending time with them. Do you think that is what our friends, the Native Americans, are doing? Nope, I bet they are thinking about all they did for us and kicking themselves in the ass!

How Garry Marshall, Julia Roberts and Richard Gere Ruined My Life

***The following piece of writing is purely a work of satire. Although the views in this blog are 100% my true feelings, I do know the difference between fact and fiction. Pretty Woman did not, in fact, ruin my life. It has only succeeded in irritating me and exacerbating societal issues with young girls and women of lesser intelligence and more susceptibility to the power of suggestion.***

In 1990, the movie Pretty Woman opened in wide release. It was critically acclaimed and nominated for several awards. It won a Golden Globe for Best Comedy. Of course, since I was ten when the movie came out, and because my parents were "involved" in my life, I didn't get to see it until I was almost 12 at a friend's house. (Her mother was decidedly less involved than mine.)

Considering the director is a beloved and well respected member of Hollywood and the fact that the leading roles are played by none other than "America's Sweetheart" and an "American Gigolo" (I am pretty sure that Vick still won't let me watch that movie) the movie has done well for itself in the last 20 years. Just ask any woman over the age of 25. It is the modern day Cinderella story (don't get me started on Cinderella...) But here is the problem. Not only is the movie filled with gum drops and rainbows so to speak, it also says "Go ahead, be a whore. Your prince will come one day and there will be no judgement."

But, I am here to tell you, it is a load of crap. Power brokers may in fact pick up a hooker in downtown LA but they aren't going to let you drive their six figure price tag, BORROWED car. They will not take you to the Hilton. They will not ask you to leave when they think you are doing drugs (because they are more than likely snorting a line of coke off of your belly) and they certainly will not think you are cute when you a guffawing at "I Love Lucy."

Men who pick up hookers do not care that "kissing on the mouth is too personal." They won't give you thousands of dollars to buy a dress so that you can eat escargot with a whale of a client. They don't want you to spend the week with them.

There are so many lies and fabrications in this movie it has surpassed ridiculousness. Really ladies, this is our fantasy? Do we want to be hookers and have to sell our bodies to make rent cause our crackhead roommate Kit spent it on drugs (and really? we keep the rent money in the toilet tank?) No, I say, if you want to be a hooker, be a hooker! But let's be honest about it and not have false expectations that we will soon meet a man that will ride up to our apartment in a white limo and climb the fire escape to whisk us off to life of luxury after knowing us for a week (in the regular and biblical sense.)

If you are going to be a hooker, just say, "I don't want to get a real job." I want to have sex and get paid for it (even if you tell yourself and others it is to pay for law school....) But you should be prepared for the fact that any man that sleeps with you while you are a hooker (or even a stripper, for that matter) will never marry you. He will never take you to the opera or a polo match. He will never tell any of his friends exactly how you make a living. (He will, however, tell them you are in public relations. That is assuming he is ever inclined to introduce you to any one he has ever met.)

You have to own it, ladies. Don't buy into the fairy tale. It is called a fairy tale for a reason. Because it will never happen. Be strong, independent women. Don't be hookers. Unless that is what YOU choose to do, then by all means do it. But don't make excuses. I am not interested in excuses.

And to you Garry Marshall, Julia Roberts and Richard Gere- kudos to you for making one hell of a movie!

Ten Things I Learned from St. Louis

Last weekend my best friends and I took a long weekend in St. Louis. It was my first time in Missouri and while my mother was sure to inform me that there was "so much history" in St. Louis and there are tons of museums, I was bound and determined not to learn anything on my weekend away from responsibilities and being a grown up. Well, my mother will be happy to know that despite my best efforts, I did, in fact, learn a few things on my trip.



1. The arch is not as much of a gateway as it is a statue in the middle of a park.

No one told me that the arch crossed the Mississippi however, that is the way that I imagined it. I don't know why but since it is called the Gateway to the West, I figured you would go through it at some point to get somewhere else (and NOT to the other side of the park.) Although the arch was quite impressive and beautiful, I think it would have been more impressive if it went over the river or at least the road to welcome us to St. Louis.



2. When you can't find your suitcase, a laundry basket works just as well.

A wise woman (this is you Jess T. Berg) once stayed at my house and had packed in a laundry basket. So when I was trying to pack late Thursday night and could not for the life of me find anything to pack in, I thought "Hey! A laundry basket is better than a garbage bag." And not only was it better than a garbage bag, it may have worked out better than the suitcase. It would have been better if it had a handle and wheels, but I was able to fit all of my crap in it and fit well in the back of the Jeep. It was slightly embarrassing though to check in to the Millennium hotel while there was a reception going on carrying a laundry basket with a leopard print Snuggi on top.



3. Eemy Shinkle (one of "my girls" - that is her real name, I swear) cannot go down an escalator without a "free hand" to hold the rail.

So while I packed in a laundry basket, the other girls packed in duffel bags and suitcases. Between the four of us, there was a cooler, a laundry basket, a suitcase, 5 bags, 4 purses, tupperware filled with cupcakes and a lap top bag. That is a lot of stuff! We had to park in the garage across the street, ride an elevator down 8 floors, cross the parking garage, go down an escalator, cross the tunnel under the street and go back up 2 floors just to check in. We had everything situated and balanced precariously (the laundry basket was riding on top of the suitcase) and we weren't doing too bad until we came upon the escalator. I took the laundry basket and Eemy had the suitcase in one hand, the cooler in the other and her purse and possibly the cupcakes. She hesitated at the top because she didn't have a hand to put on the rail. There were several false starts when she decided to let go of the suitcase and then once she got on, she would grab the handle and go down. Except that didn't happen. What did happen was panic when she didn't grab the handle in time and started down the escalator. Not sure why but instead of just riding down and taking two trips, Eemy decided it was a better idea to run up the down escalator to get back to the top (while still holding all the stuff.) She reached the top but still couldn't grab the suitcase either from lack of coordination or laughing, I am not sure which. That time she gave up and just rode all the way down. And did I mention that during this time, the rest of us were laughing hysterically, another guest was watching and Jo was trying not too look because she hadn't gone to the bathroom in hours and almost had an accident.



4. Betty, the concierge, doesn't know crap about good food.

We needed a place to eat. We wanted fast and cheap. We asked Betty (although Jo renamed her Polly) how to get to the Metro but also, where to get something to eat. We were hungover and starving. She told us about the cafe at the hotel but since we didn't want to pay $12 for a chicken salad sandwich, we asked for her to direct us to the nearest fast food. She looked out the window, illustrated to us that we were on 4th St by holding up her four fingers and pointed us in the direction of Hardee's. She also stated, with authority in a strangely thick Jersey accent, that the "food is horrible." Well, Betty/Polly, you have obviously never eaten there after drinking an assortment of shots and dancing all night because I say it was "Delish!" Never has grease tasted so good.



5. All persons wearing boot cut jeans and Affliction T shirts are douche bags.

This is straight from the mouth of Lil Jay - our tattoo artist. While I am not positive that I completely agree (no one is immune from a few bad fashion decisions) I do notice that the majority of Affliction T wearing guys are not as awesome as they think they are.



6. If you are willing to loosen up your morals, you can ride the Metro for free.

S0, we buy a one way Metro ticket for $2.25. That is cool, it is cheaper and easier than driving, and we know we won't get lost. But here is the deal - no one took our ticket. No one looked at it or even noticed us at all. It sort of felt like a Metro free for all. So we did. We rode the entire weekend on that one ticket. We never lied about it and we were willing to buy another one, but since we didn't have to, we didn't. I know that technically it is stealing, but Jo was OK with it and she is VERY against stealing. Plus, it was like cash in our pocket and we are in an economic crisis, you know...



7. Not all cabbies know where they are going and they don't like their pictures taken.

Friday night we went to the Landing where all the tourists go. (We saw a lot of Affliction T shirts that night.) Saturday night we wanted to find "our people." We asked around and got the name of a couple of dive bars. We figured, "We'll tell the cabbie and he'll get us there." Well, the first cabbie took us to an Irish bar which wasn't too bad, but we didn't know any Irish jigs so we left there and tried to go somewhere else. Through a series of random events gone awry (thanks for the phrase, Jo!) we wind up in the middle of a residential street at 11 pm in a questionable neighborhood. Luckily, Eemy had the first cabbie's number (whose name was not Harris but did work for Harris Cab Co) so we called him. Eemy peed behind a tree and about 4 cops passed us without stopping to check on the four white girls chillin on the side walk in the middle of the night before he got there, but luckily he didn't take too long. We told him that we were ready to go back to the hotel and give up but on the way back he was nice enough to take us on a detour to show us the party street where "all the young people are drinking and dancing." That cost us at least five extra dollars but I can't be mad since he saved us from getting ass raped in the city. Oh yeah, and the cabbie on Friday night did NOT like it when I took his picture for my scrapbook. I guess the lighting wasn't good....



8. St Louis is filled with delicious food and free crap!

On Sunday, we were going to go to the Budweiser factory (I was willing to learn something about beer) but we couldn't figure out when the free shuttle was coming and since the free Metro didn't go there, we scrapped that idea. We decided instead to go to the "Taste of St. Louis." I gotta say, one of the best tasting cities I have ever been too. They had beer (always delicious), garlic Parmesan cheese fries (yum!), a gyro (Mel's first), crab Rangoon (never met one I didn't like), and best of all - pulled pork nachos!!! They were amazing. The best damn nachos I have ever had the pleasure of eating. Also, at the festival, if you give your email address out, you can get a free fleece blanket with a Cadillac logo and a bright green backpack from an internet provider. We also got a T shirt, a water bottle from the MO State Lottery, key chains and tiny lotto pencils. I LOVE FREE CRAP!!



9. Lose your parking ticket.

We parked on Friday night in the garage. We didn't move the car until Monday morning. The parking is $18 a day. That is a lot of burgers from Hardee's (yup, still thinking about it.) Anyway, we had budgeted to pay for it but when I got the car out Monday morning, my ticket wouldn't work. The cashier said it was expired and put it in as a lost ticket. We only had to pay $18 for the whole weekend!! It seemed like we had this city figured out! But when I told Trav he said that we could have gotten towed. I am really glad that didn't happen. It would have totally blown our budget. Oh well, live and learn.



And the most important thing I learned on my trip to St. Louis is -



10. No matter where you are or what you are doing, if you are surrounded by awesome people, you will have an awesome time.

I have the best girls in the world and I wouldn't trade them for anything. I love them. We always manage to have a good time and there is no one else I would rather hang out with. They are my best friends and if I am going to get ass raped and stabbed in downtown St. Louis, I want to do it with them.



Vick - we had fun and stuck together the whole time!!!

I'm Back!!

Between work, kids, a dog and kindergarten homework, I have had zero time to blog and less time to think. Since Hudson started school, I feel like I have been on autopilot. Get up, get ready, get kids ready, drop off kids, go to work, work, pick up kids, dinner, homework, bedtime. Then I wake up and do it all again. So here it is, I hope the anxiously awaited, latest blog from yours truly.

I used to have a soul. Now, I have a black, hollow cavity in my chest where that soul used to be. I am not sure of the exact date and time that my soul left me but I know the where and the how. It was sucked out of me by "the man" while I was diligently working long hard hours in my office which is actually a tiny cubicle surrounded by other poor, soulless shells of human beings in tiny cubicles. We sit, chained to our desks, only allowed to get up when nature calls (as long as it doesn't call too often.) We miss our children, our families and our sleep.

Why would we do this, ask? We ask ourselves the same question. We ask ourselves that question daily, some of us hourly. The answer is this: Gotta pay the bills. Of course, I am sure that I could probably find another job. Well, more than likely. Maybe. OK, maybe not. I do it because I have goals and aspirations. Not sure how my current job in the mortgage industry will help me become a rock star, but every one's gotta start somewhere. I think most of us are in the same boat - we got in the industry when the money was good, now it's not but we are stuck. The worst part is that I actually like my job. I just liked having a soul more.

Now I have to figure out how to get my soul back while keeping my job. I have never been a fan of Corporate America but the pay is decent and it has pretty good benefits. I am teaching my children that I am not afraid of hard work and that is how to make your way in the world. I am also teaching them that sometimes the means to an end is OK, which is OK with me.

Ideally, I wouldn't have to work for the man. I could spend my days teaching my children how to love and respect all people. I could create art all day. Someone would pay me good money and give me health insurance to write down all my random musings. I doubt this is ever going to happen, but I can hope can't I?

Oh wait, do I need a soul to have hope? Never mind then...

I Am Officially 30

Today I woke up and realized I was 30. So I rolled over and went back to sleep.

I have an appointment for Botox and collagen injections later today. And I have to go buy some anti aging cream and 100% gray coverage hair color. OK, enough of that.

I never thought I would be the girl that freaks out about turning 30. But it turns out I was wrong because I have only been 30 for 11 hours and I already don't like it. I don't feel any different. I don't look any different and Hudson already told me that I didn't get any bigger (thank goodness!) But now I feel like I have to be an adult and I really don't want to be.

A couple of weeks ago I went out with some friends from high school to celebrate turning the big 3-0. We had a great time, had some drinks and Mickey D's and in the morning we discussed our Health Savings Plans. Really??? This is what we have become? Of course, that being said, we are all healthy and happy in our respective relationships, have beautiful children (or none at all, by choice), but still. Thirteen years ago, if you had told us this was going to happen, we would have laughed at you. We would have said "Never." But it happened and while I don't love the fact that I am interested in HSA's, I am not disappointed either.

My first 30 years have been filled with love, laughter, heartache and bliss. I have loved, lost and loved again. I have created my life's work (my children) and met and married my life partner (that's you, Trav.) While I am not proud of all of my decisions in life, I wouldn't be who I am today without those decisions. I have learned to love me and be proud of me in a way that I don't think is possible when you are 19, 21 or even 27.

I am going to embrace my 30's with the same zealousness that I embraced my 20's. I am sure that I will learn more about life and love so that one day people may call me wise (without the sarcasm.) I will survive this decade and in 10 years there will be another blog about how I can't believe I am 40 and all that crap. of course by then I may actually need the Botox and the collagen. I sure hope not.

First Day of School

Yesterday my baby (who is obviously no longer a baby) started kindergarten. He was so excited. When I woke him up, he jumped out of bed and was ready in a flash. He is excited about everything! Buying lunch, packing lunch, recess, riding the bus... You name it, he wants to do it. His teacher seems very nice. She is young so she doesn't seem bitter or jaded (yet.) She was very excited about school starting and it was hard not to share her enthusiasm.

I have mixed emotions about Hudson starting school. On the "Pro" side are the following:

1. He loves to learn.
2. Helping him with homework and doing all the fun stuff that comes along with school.
3. He can make friends (outside of my friend's children and his cousins.)

The "Con" side:

1. Travis and I will no longer be the primary influences on his life and decisions.
2. I can no longer control what he learns, sees, hears, or says.
3. As one of my friends stated: "It is the first day of the rest of his life."

I am definitely not ready for him to move on with his life. As much as I am enjoying watching him grow up, I am not ready for it. Travis has assured me that Hudson is not moving on from us, but a part of me feels that way. I miss him already. Yesterday was the first time in his entire life that I couldn't talk to him whenever the feeling struck me. I know this is a part of life (especially his) but it is a little bittersweet for me. It is hard for me to put my feelings into words, a rare occasion for me so I will just leave it at this: I love my son more than life itself. He is growing into an awesome person. I could not be more proud of him if I tried. I am not ready to share him with the world, but to not share would be an amazingly selfish thing to do. I want him to go see the world and make it a better place, as he has done for my life. I don't want to be in a world without him. He will go on to do great things, even if it is only to share his smile with the strangers he will see everyday.

I love you Hudson Joe!

Things I Learned at the Beach Waterpark

We took the kids to the Beach Waterpark for Ellen Family Fun Day. We all had a great time and it was very educational. Here is a list of all the things that I learned today. (A few things I already knew but they were reinforced.)

**Disclaimer: The following is to be taken lightly. This is a humorous and honest blog with no offense intended. Any resemblance to yourself, your friends or family is most likely coincidental.**

1. A white tank top over a very tiny bathing suit does not hide anything. We can see everything you didn't want us to.

2. If you tell your granddaughter that you will not buy her Dippin Dots (the "ice cream of the future") because it's $4 and that is ridiculous and then you proceed to buy a $3 beer in your $9.50 refillable mug, you will be judged.

3. Getting paw prints tattooed on your breasts does NOT make you look like Eve.

4. If your bottom is less than rockin, you should not wear a bikini with the words "Apple Bottoms" written on the backside in gold glitter. (This was especially disturbing as it was the same girl that mistook herself for Eve.) FYI - even if you have a hot body, you should think twice about wearing anything with gold glitter on your ass. It doesn't say classy like you think it does.

5. Although functional, under no circumstances are water shoes attractive.

6. There seems to be a rumor spreading like wildfire that neck tattoos are hot.

7. Wearing heels to the waterpark is not a good idea. And it makes you look like a fool.

8. If you sit in a chair for 4 hours instead of spending time with your wife, she will get mad and you will have to leave. (And then the Ellen's will take your primo spot in the sand.)

9. Just because it is August and the last 2 months have been unbearably hot, do not think that it won't be freezing cold (well, too cold to swim anyway) and rainy on the one day you decide to take the whole fam to the waterpark.

10. There is nothing more attractive to a mother than watching a father brave the ice cold water to play with his children for 6 hours and enjoy every minute of it. (This is a direct reference to my wonderful husband.)

Who knew one could learn so much just by sitting, relaxing, and people watching? I feel very wise today. Thank you, Beach Waterpark, Mason, OH!

7/19/10

Today is my anniversary. My seven year anniversary to be exact. I am sitting at Dewey's Pizza waiting for Travis (I am early and he is late.) We have gone to Dewey's for 5 of our 7 anniversaries. It is "our place." As I patiently await the arrival of my man, I reflect on the last 7 years (8 if you count the year we dated) of my life - I mean, what else have I got to do?

Throughout our lives together, we have had the following - 1 house, 5 cars, 2 dogs, 3 pregnancies, 2 children, 1 room mate, 5 TV's, 3 computers, 9 DVD players (they keep breaking), 11 jobs and multitudes of fights. There have been bouts of unemployment (both of us but thankfully not at the same time), we have both been back to school (he is the only one that finished,) have been broke and at other times went through money like water (this, no doubt, had a direct effect on being broke the other times.) Right now, we are in a really good place. We don't get to see each other enough and I now have to use a day planner to keep up with every one's schedule, but we are really happy together.

I met Travis when I was only 21, was engaged 3 months later on my 22nd birthday and got married a month before I turned 23. It was a whirlwind romance and looking back, I realize how young I was. I knew that I loved him and that he loved me but I could not back then fathom the strength, patience and understanding that it takes to be married. I have grown up a lot since I got married and I think one of the things that make Trav and I work is that he has allowed (and I don't use that word in the "given permission" sense but the encouraged sense) me to find out who I am. He has never been jealous of my need for time to myself (something that I still struggle with) and has been supportive through out my career changes and art projects and numerous classes that take time and money so that I can learn how to be me.

There have been times when I wasn't sure if we were going to make it and a few when we almost gave up. I am sure there will be more times like that in the future. Travis and I have different political, religious, parental and environmental views. We have virtually nothing in common except one thing. We are committed to each other and our relationship. We are a team and we always will be.

When we first fell in love, we used to say "I love you, forever and always, even though and even if." That means that I love him "even though" he is a republican and "even if" he goes fishing for 10 days in Canada with no cell reception when we have a 4 month old baby and I almost have a nervous breakdown because I (irrationally) think he is abandoning me. It also means that he loves me "even though" I am a horrible pack rat that keeps every scrap of paper that the children ever scribbled on and "even if" I am physically incapable of walking out of Target without buying 10 additional items that I don't need and spending less than $100. We don't say that phrase much anymore. It has gotten lost in the chaos that is our lives, but we should. No matter what happens in the future (never say never and always expect the unexpected) I will always love Travis because I wouldn't be who I am today without him and more importantly, I wouldn't want to.

Seriously???

I am a smart, successful and strikingly beautiful woman. (OK, that last one is definitely an exaggeration, but the first two are true.) I am able to follow directions, read a map and while I would never be described as "domestic" I have prepared a few tasty dishes in my life time. That being said, I am physically incapable of making an omelet. I am not talking about making the world's best omelet. I am talking about an edible ham and cheese omelet that other people would actually recognize as an omelet.

Hudson's very favorite food on the entire planet is a ham and cheese omelet. He doesn't have a large repertoire of food, but there is a special place in his little heart for ham and cheese in omelet form. He eats them almost every day, sometimes several times a day. Travis makes them for him, Mammaw makes them for him, Vick makes them for him and he orders them at restaurants. I am the only one unable to provide for my little omelet lover. I understand the concept, it is the execution that gets me every time. I just cannot flip those damned eggs over in one piece. So when I make breakfast, my poor little boy has to eat an "inside out omelet." (This is what we call the mess of scrambled eggs with chunks of ham and cheese in it that I put on his plate because every time I try to flip it all hell breaks loose and I am forced to start scrambling.) I know he still likes it and it is basically the same thing, but I just can't understand how I can let some little $.99/dozen eggs get the best of me.

I feel this may be held against me later in life, when Hudson is in therapy. The therapist will say "Tell me about your mother." Hudson will reply, "She was a good mom, or at least she tried. She just couldn't give me the only thing that I wanted, a ham and cheese omelet. She gave me scrambled eggs instead." Then there will be tears and bills for thousands of dollars and Hudson will never be able to have a successful relationship with someone that can't make an omelet. OK, that may be a little over the top, but it could happen.

I will conquer an omelet. I cannot let my son down. His future depends on it. Do you think there is an omelet making class I can take? Preferably online because I have a very hectic schedule.

This Motherhood Thing is Hard

When our children are young, we teach them to listen to their parents, grandparents, babysitters, teachers, etc. We tell them to follow directions and stay inside the lines. When our children grow up, we want them to question authority.

If our children are mean or bully others, we tell them that it's not OK because it isn't nice and it can hurt others' feelings. But when our children are the ones being picked on, we tell them that words can't hurt them.

When a child is young, we call them "independent" and bull headed as if it is a bad thing. When they grow up, we expect them to never back down from a fight or take no for an answer and relish in their persistence.

If we don't keep score, then we are raising "wimps" that have no sense of healthy competition yet if we do, we are clearly defining the roles of winners and losers, creating self involved, egotistical maniacs and self loathing nerds.

With these contradictions (and this is the tip of the iceberg), how are we supposed to know how to raise our kids? What is the correct answer to all of their tough questions? In the last month Hudson has asked me why people that aren't white live in America, if he will go to Hell for breaking a pinkie promise, and "why are all these Chinese people in here" (we were in a nail salon.) I did my best to explain the answers to these ridiculously mature (and ill informed) questions to my 5 year old. I have no idea if I did a good job or not.

Of course, I want my children to share my views of the world (I obviously believe I am correct) but I don't want them to have my views because I told them it was true. I want more than anything for them to think for themselves and draw their own conclusions of the world. I am painfully aware that when Hudson starts kindergarten, the value of my opinion is going to plummet and the opinions of his friends, his friends parents, his teachers, and even his favorite bands will be soaring. The only way I can do this is to arm them with knowledge, listen to them with acceptance and live my life filled with love.

I refuse to lie to my children, even (or most importantly) when it is regarding an uncomfortable topic. I have already explained what tampons are, how babies come out (both ways), and about adoption. My parents never lied to me and instilled in me the importance of telling the truth. I can't even lie to telemarketers. My parents censored my world with a very liberal hand. I wasn't allowed to watch Dirty Dancing even though I knew what an abortion was in kindergarten) but my father forced us to watch Tommy (FYI, Rick - this is not an appropriate movie for a 6 year old, no matter how important to their musical education.) I read Kurt Vonnegut in the eighth grade - I didn't understand most of it but I could definitely tell that dude was crazy. I may put an age requirement on Kurt Vonnegut and John Irving. (Also, no matter how it is marketed, Labyrinth is not a kids movie. No one under the age of 17 should be exposed to David Bowie is gold spandex.)

This past winter, as well as celebrating Christmas, we read books on Hanukkah and Kwanzaa. When answering questions about God, I am careful to begin with "Some people believe..." When asked about the future, I try to keep it as generic as possible so not to impose any of my expectations on my children. That being said, this is so much harder than I thought it would be.

I remember very vividly taking Paige and Hudson to the ball field to watch Travis play. It was August. It was hot, so very hot. Paige was 3 months old and Hudson had turned 2 in June. I had Paige in the sling sleeping and Hudson was playing in the dirt. We were having a good time until Hudson said he had to go potty. Potty training was something that we were toying with, but not necessarily actively pursuing. (I thought Hudson was too young to start worrying about it - I was wrong.) So there I was, trying to keep Paige from waking up - if she was awake, she was screaming, and taking off Hudson's diaper and trying to get him to hover over the potty in a disgustingly dirty bathroom, telling him "Don't touch anything!" while covered in sweat and dirt. I remember thinking "I can't do this." That was a piece of cake to what I have on my hands now. Sure, that was physically demanding, but what am I supposed to say when my son tells me that only white people are from America? How do I teach them to know the difference between the truth and a lie? How do I keep from screwing my kids up?

This world is full of bad news. It is full of double standards and contradictions. I need to figure out how to filter (not censor) the bad while exposing all of the good. I would rather my children be wise than smart. I would rather them be loving and accepting than "important." I want them to be able to respect other's opinions without buying into them and I want them to believe in themselves and humanity always.

My Hero

My husband is my hero. I have never been more in awe of him than I was on Friday and every time I think about that day.

We were on vacation. This is a time of relaxation and us being off the grid. I hadn't thought about work in a week. Work was the furthest thing from my mind. Work should have been the furthest thing from Travis' mind but I guess when you are a Firefighter/EMT you are never truly off duty.


We were in the hotel pool, playing with our kids, having a beer when I hear a woman start screaming. I have to be honest, when I first heard the screaming, I thought "WTF? Why the hell is that woman screaming?" It turns out that a little boy was drowning. I don't know if the screaming woman was the little boy's mom or a stranger, but if she hadn't started screaming this story may not have such a happy ending. Apparently, the little boy had been playing with the diving sticks, or that is what I heard, when he started to drown. No one knows how long he was under but someone pulled him out and Travis preformed CPR. He was doing compressions and another pool goer who happened to be a nurse was doing mouth to mouth. All I could see was a small pair of feet and legs sticking out of the crowd.

I couldn't watch and I didn't want to. All around me people were crying. A lot of the people stood around and watched the drama. I grabbed the kids and walked to the beach. Hudson, who is very observant, kept asking me what was going on. I just told him that there was an emergency and Daddy had to help. I tried to keep them distracted but it was really hard, especially since I could barely stand up. When I heard the ambulance sirens, my knees almost buckled. I couldn't think straight and I was shaking. I wouldn't let go of Hudson and Paige's hands and they couldn't understand why. I could tell that word of the accident was spreading by watching the people on the beach. They were standing in clusters talking and kept looking back at our hotel. It seemed like an eternity before Travis came to find me and the kids.

He finally found us and it seemed like a full 5 minutes before he told me the boy was OK. I am sure it was only like 5 seconds but he couldn't tell me fast enough. It took six rounds of CPR but Travis finally got his pulse back. He was breathing on his own but was still unresponsive when the ambulance took him to the hospital. As soon as Trav told me he had a pulse, I started crying. I couldn't stand the thought of someone almost losing a child. The hotel confirmed that he was released the next day and he was perfectly fine. I don't know that boy or his parents but I am so glad that my husband saved their lives - all of theirs. I couldn't have done that. He was so calm and knew exactly what to do. That is his job, I get that, but I have never seen him do that before. My husband saved some one's life. That little boy has a future because of Travis. His parents will always be grateful to my husband. He is a hero to many, not just me.

We told the kids what happened, but they don't understand. This is something that they won't be able to understand until they have children of their own and I hope they never fully understand. My children are an extension of my being. I live inside them and they live inside me. I imagine all parents feel that way. My husband preserved that for complete strangers. He is amazing. He is and always will be my hero.

Best Vacation Ever!

We just got back from the best vacation ever! The four of us went down to Myrtle Beach, SC for 4 days of hot, sunny, sandy bliss. We left Wednesday night with all intentions of driving all night, which of course did not pan out as Travis was sleepy from being a hero all day (sans sarcasm) and I was tired from packing for 4 people, shuttling children and puppies all day being a working mom that was going on vacation (there is a lot to do to get ready for vacation!)


Anyway, I was very proud of my packing job. The last time I attempted to pack for Travis, I failed to pack him any shirts. I don't mean that I didn't pack him any clean shirts or dress shirts or T shirts. I mean that I didn't pack him anything to cover the upper half of his body. He was not a happy camper. But this time I packed for all of us and I did a pretty darn good job. I managed to pack everything that everyone needed but without packing too much which is my usual modus operandi. Oh wait, I did forget the adult toothpaste but I brought the kid toothpaste which, in case you were wondering, is absolutely disgusting. I also loaded the car completely by myself, hooked up the new DVD player (money very well spent), got waxed and pedicured (Paige also got a pedicure but passed on the waxing), took Hudson to get a haircut and went to my nephew's baseball game (but got rained out.) I was pooped. Travis started driving at 11:15 on Wednesday night and I woke up at 5:50 Thursday morning at a rest stop 50 miles outside of Knoxville, TN. Since Travis was exhausted (he is a hero for a living, you know) I decided to get the show on the road. I ran into the rest stop to pee without a bra on, "You're welcome Mr. All Night Rest Stop Security Guard" and downed a 5 hour energy (disgusting but works) and started hauling some vacation ass.



It should be noted that in the entire 8 years that Travis and I have been together, I have only driven a car in which he has been a passenger about 10 times. (This may be a slight exaggeration but seriously, he never lets me drive.) I tried to text (it was just 1 message, Mom!) and that wasn't allowed. When I was searching in my purse for my Chapstick, he grabbed the wheel and I don't think he even really wanted me to scan the radio stations. That being said, it wasn't long before I gave up the pilot's seat and opted to be the navigator instead. The kids were awesome on the trip (way better than I had imagined) and it was all totally worth it when the kids saw the ocean for the very first time.


The first thing we did after checking in was walk to the ocean. Paige immediately started rolling around in the sand looking suspiciously like a SI swimsuit model vying for the cover and Hudson was yelling "Come on, Ocean! You can't take me!" I loved watching them experience the sand - we built a sand castle; Travis is quite the sand castle engineer. We found a crab. We jumped in the waves. After we dragged them out of the water, we went to eat at Margaritaville - delicious! There was a funk band that Hudson loved and he did a little showcase of his dance moves. We also went to the old time amusement park and Hudson was quite the dare devil. He rode the Viking Ship and the Caterpillar (which made Mommy very nauseous.) Paige rode the mini Viking Ship and we all rode the carousel (which also made Mommy nauseous. I think I am getting old.)



The next day we did more beach and pool and then went out to dinner with Matt, Jess and Baby Gus. We did some souvenir shopping - Paige got a dress, shocker! and Hudson wanted a Hermit Crab cage (no crab, thank goodness, just the cage for his shells.) On Saturday we just hung out at the pool that day, no beach for us, but we did go to Pirate Mini Golf which Hudson loved and Paige didn't care for too much even though she got a hole in one. Travis got 6 hole in ones and I think he is contemplating a career change. We then ate pizza and played Boccie Ball in the yard. Krista joined us that day and the kids fell in love her. Hudson was doing great swimming with his water wings and Paige (Little Miss Sassy Pants) says she already knows how to swim but she loves jumping off the side of the pool into our arms. Paige also had a few new imaginary friends show up on vacation - Kenna, Wuska (I think she is Russian) and Cheryl. Hudson just hung out with Chain (he is a super hero.) I love those kids.


On the last full day of vacation we slept in and then ate breakfast with the Berg's and Krista. Then we headed to the beach but that was short lived because it was too windy. We went back to the pools - we got lazy in the Lazy River and Paige did lots of "swimming" in "her pool" (the mini Lazy River.) Jess, Krista and I went to get massages (awesome!) while the boys and Paige rested and then we hit the pool again. After that, we went to Joe's Crab Shack for dinner where they sang Happy Birthday to the kids and they got to paint crab shaped Rice Krispie Treats with strawberry, chocolate and caramel sauce - they loved it. It was the perfect ending to a perfect vacation.


I am sorry that our first official Ellen (Bergman and Cornehl included) family vacation is over but it couldn't have been more perfect. The children were wonderful and we had so much fun. Even the car ride home wasn't miserable. We went to Sonny's BBQ (a must whenever we go south of Corbin, KY) and it was delicious as always. Paige ate everything. The kids were not ready to come home and nor was I. It was the first vacation that no part of me was ready for it to be over because this was the first time that I had all the people I love on vacation with me. I can't wait to do it again next year!!!

My Baby Boy

My baby boy turned 5 today. And yes, I cried. I cried because he is growing up and I am not ready for it. Sometimes when I look at him, I can't believe how fast the last 5 years have gone by. He told me today that no matter what, he would always be my baby. I hope that is true.

Hudson is the sweetest child I have ever known. He loves to love. When he tells me I am beautiful (which is pretty often,) I feel like I have just won the Miss America contest. He is always ready to cuddle and always appreciative of gifts, no matter how big or small. I have never seen a kid get so excited about a plastic stool so he could reach the sink. When he's tired he likes to rub my ponytail and I love it. He is the reason I won't cut my hair.

Hudson loves to sing and listen to music. (He gets that from me.) Right now, his favorite is Jet - "Are You Gonna Be My Girl" but his recent playlist includes the Black Eyed Peas and The White Stripes. And of course, he loves Paul McCartney's Band on the Run. He knows the entire album. He plays a mean "air drum," just like his momma and don't tell anyone but he likes to dance with his sister. Hudson also loves to do crafts like me and has a new love of bedazzling. I love that he takes after me in some ways because other than these things (and a flair for the dramatics - we actually had to have a bedside vigil tonight when he scraped his leg; he is hoping he will be able to make a swift recovery so he can come on vacation with us tomorrow but as he stated "I can't control it!") he is all Travis.

He is a boy's boy. He loves sports and wants to play superhero (or as he calls it "action") all the time. He loves to fish and Travis is counting the days until he is old enough to take on the annual Alabama trip for the crappie run. He likes fart and poop jokes and when we wrestle he gives me a "butt face" which is exactly what it sounds like - he sits on my face until I tap out. It generally doesn't take me long.

Hudson is inquisitive (see my prior blog called Questions and Answers) and loves to know everything. He has asked me after I gotten home from work on more than one occasion, "So Mom, how much money did you make today?" He wants to know how everything is made and why your pinkie is called a pinkie and why I don't know a lot about space. He loves to do math and I am not positive but I am pretty sure he is starting learn how to read (I am not sure because neither Travis or I have taught him but he keeps "reading" things. He might be just guessing what the words are but if he is then he is a pretty good guesser.) He is always talking about what kind of school he should go to - fire school, chef school - he can't decide.

Right now, he thinks that I am pretty much the coolest thing ever. He loves to hang out with me and hates to stay anywhere overnight besides home. I fear that those days are quickly coming to a close. Hudson will soon be ditching me for sleepovers after basketball games and then shortly after that, he will be dating. He already loves the ladies so I am positive he will be quite the man around town. I hope that I will be able to teach him all the things he will need to know about girls and life in general because I don't want his future spouse to ever say "Didn't your mother ever teach you anything?"

Today, as we were talking about the future (he is so excited about starting school in the fall) he told me that he would always be my baby boy. He also told me that when the teacher said it was math time he would tell her that he already knew how to do "maf." (He is pretty good at math, though.)

I never knew how much you could love someone until I met him. Hudson stole my heart from the very beginning and I have never looked back. When I look at his face, it melts my heart every single time. I am excited for him that he is growing up; there are so many things that he wants to do. At the same time, though, I am scared and sad about all the things that he is about to experience.

Travis and I will no longer be the primary influences in his life, his friends will be. I won't be able to filter the things that he learns and hears from others. I don't want to lose him. I am dreading the day that he is too busy or embarrassed to give me a kiss before he runs off to play. I can only hope that he will always know how much I love him and support him. I will be proud of him no matter what and as long as he is happy in his life, I will consider my parenting a success.

Hudson Joseph Ellen (or Hudson Jophes, as he says) is my "best boy ever" and I hope he never forgets it. He is my smile, my heart and my love. He makes my world sparkle.

Alyson Paige Ellen

Today my baby girl turned 3. This is something that I have been looking forward to (I LOVE birthdays) and something that makes me sad. Paige is practically perfect in every way. She is loving (the majority of the time), imaginative (always), determined (sometimes a bad thing) and strikingly beautiful. I love watching my children grow up but at the same time, they are growing up way too fast.

Paige is also dramatic in every way. She has been dramatic from conception. First of all, she was conceived two weeks after I had a miscarriage. I should have paid attention in health class when they pounded it into our heads that you can get pregnant AT ANY MOMENT! Needless to say, I was not ready to be pregnant again. I wasn't even ready to not be pregnant anymore. I can't say how long it takes to get over a miscarriage but I can promise that it is definitely more than two weeks. Travis and I had decided that we wouldn't be trying again any time soon but Paige had different plans.

My pregnancy was anything but easy. It came at a time when we were trying to make it as owners of a mortgage company and money was tight. Hudson was only 15 months old and I was an emotional wreck. I yelled at Travis, a lot. Then to add to the drama, I had Placenta Previa, so I had to be super careful about everything. And there was no "mommy and daddy" time for 6 months.

During my "travelling baby shower," Paige decided that she wanted some more attention I started bleeding. Very awkward in the middle of Johnny Carino's. We had to cancel the rest of the shower (lunch, mall and makeovers) and go straight to the hospital. At least my hair and my toes looked good (the first stop of the shower was the salon where I got my hair done and a pedicure.) Anyway, the girls had to take me to the hospital where I had to be on bed rest for the whole weekend. Of course this happened on the weekend that Travis and his family was in Lake Cumberland and had to cut the trip short.

Even her delivery was fairly dramatic. It was a planned C section but there was an issue with the placenta, too much bleeding, etc. Then she didn't stop screaming for the first year of her life.

With all of the drama, it is fair to say that I had a hard time bonding with my beautiful baby girl. I just didn't feel the connection that I had the last time I had given birth. I am not sure when it started to change, I guess it was gradual. All I can say now is that I couldn't imagine my life without her.

Paige is still very dramatic but usually in a good way. She loves to dance and sing. Her favorite song to sing is "I love you, I don't hate you." She came up with that one herself. She wants to be an adult. She wears my heels and changes her clothes 5 times a day. She always wants to wear dresses and makeup and she has more purses than I do. She has never seen something shiny or glittery that she didn't like. Her favorite shows are Gilmore Girls and iCarly. She loves to pretend that she is a mommy and talks about her "boyfriend" which is Travis. If you cross her, she will make you pay. If she has her heart set on something, she won't take no for an answer.

I hope that my daughter dreams big and tries hard. I want her to be a strong, independent woman that will go after what she wants even if she will be disappointed in the end. I want her to change the world in her own way. She doesn't need to have a fancy job or title, as long as she is educated and fulfilled, I will feel like I have done my part in raising her. I don't ever want her to lose her sassiness or spunk because that is who she is. I want her to make good decisions and when she doesn't, I want her to take responsibility for them.

It makes my day when someone says she looks like me. We even have the same mole on our bellies in the exact same place and I smile every time I see it. She makes me laugh everyday and I can't get enough of her kisses. (Sometimes when I ask for one she tells me that she doesn't have any because a bad guy took them so I have to give her one of mine.) I love to fix her hair hair and play dress up with her. Today, for her birthday, we had a tea party (with lemonade) at the Bon Bonerie and got our nails done. (She decided at the last minute that she didn't want any one else to do it but she had fun anyway.) I can't even get mad at her when she writes on my walls 'cause she is so stinkin cute. She loves our new baby dog (that is what she calls puppies) more than anything and has a new fascination with worms.

Paige is my everything. My sun rises and sets with her. I am sad that I missed the bonding with her as an infant that I should have had. I don't want to miss any more of her life. If I could record everyday with her I would. I am grateful for the last three years of her life and if I could slow it down I would. I don't want her to grow up.

I Need To Get a Twinkie in the City

I think I am having a mid life crisis. Or to be more specific, since I hope to live past 60, I think I am having a 40% life crisis. (I am not positive I want to live past 75 as I am fairly sure that if I am going to be robbed of my dignity I would rather it be from a 3 day bender in Atlantic City which ends with a very dramatic high speed car chase in which no one gets hurt and me being hauled off to jail. In the Lifetime movie of my life, I will be played by the teen star turned adult C lister trying to eek out a living doing lame movies about lame people. Where was I? Oh yeah, I don't want to lose my dignity by becoming incontinent and having cats and being alone, since I am younger than almost all of my friends, I am sure everyone will have died before me.)

Apparently, turning 30 (in 3 1/2 months) has made me very dramatic, or at least exasperated the drama that was already inside of me. I am suddenly realizing all of the things that I haven't done in my life that now I may be too old to do. I never went on Spring Break. That was a bad decision or a really good decision because I probably would have made A LOT of bad decisions on Spring Break. It would probably be creepy if I went to Panama City now, huh? I have never been to a nude beach. I am not saying that I have any desire whatsoever to go to one but I am thinking that it would have been a good idea to do that prior to giving birth to and breast feeding two children - you know, when things were still taut and perky. I have never done a keg stand (which seems odd even to me 'cause I really seem like the type.) I have never been to Europe.

Am I still allowed to shop in the Juniors section? Will the other parents at Hudson's school (he starts kindergarten in the fall - yikes!) look at me funny if I get my nose pierced? Am I still allowed to sneak backstage at concerts and try to meet the band? Can I dye my hair blue?

When I was 15, I had a desire to dye my hair blue. I wanted to show my personality through my hair. I wanted to be different and I thought that would be a great way to do it. I told my dad and he said "Ok." All of a sudden, I was less interested. Which is lame and typical, I know, but without the shock value, the appeal of having blue hair plummeted. The other day, I decided "What the H. I am going to do it. It's only hair, right? So I made an appointment. It took 4 hours, 3 bleaches and 2 dye jobs (there was an issue with the timing of my brown hair turning the desired shade of blue) but by the time I left the salon, the lower portion of the left side of my hair was a beautiful navy blue.

I love it! It was totally worth the wait! (I am referring to the wait at the salon, not the 15 years since I told my dad.) It has only been a day, but I think I am going to keep it like this a while - especially since the timing is now all worked out and it won't take 4 hours next time. Maybe next time I will try purple. I am not concerned about what is said about me. I am pretty sure that everyone will say "Wow! That girl is awesome. She has blue hair and it really reflects her personality!" Travis hasn't said much yet. He is probably just trying to think of the right words to tell me how beautiful and awesome and rock star-ish I am now. The kids haven't even noticed yet; as far as blue hair goes, it is pretty subtle. I am really glad I did it now because 30 is too old to dye your hair blue, although I hear it is quite popular with the ladies, age 80 and up.

I, by no means, think that I now have to become a dowdy, overbearing soccer mom, but I also don't feel any older than 24. I am trying to navigate through my youth and into my thirties and while I am excited about who I have become in the last 10 years - a more confident, self assured mother of two with a loving and supportive husband, I am sad to be leaving my second decade. I have accomplished a lot, had tons o'fun and created the masterpieces of my life (my children.) I hope the next 10 years is as kind to me as the last have been. I also hope that I can get a grip on myself and don't end up with blue hair and a nose ring decked out in Miley Cyrus garb doing a keg stand in Panama City with a bunch of 19 year olds. We'll see...


P.S. It should be noted that blog was typed on my Mother's Day gift - a beautiful, blue notebook laptop. Thank you Travis, I love it!!

I WANT MY FOOD!

Yesterday when I got home I was a very happy woman. Travis had cleaned the house (the kitchen and living room anyway, which are the most important), cut the grass and gone to the grocery store. The kids were happily playing. I was thinking to myself "this is the best day ever!"

Since Travis had done all of that I figured the least I could do was make dinner. He wanted fish sticks and pasta. I told him "No problem!" Since we were almost out of laundry detergent I figured I could kill 2 birds with 1 stone and whip some up while I was cooking. Here is where it gets interesting.

I had to make 2 boxes of pasta because Sam was over as well and my kids LOVE Pasta Roni. But since I had to use the big pot to cook the laundry detergent in, I had to use two little pots to make the noodles. That means there were three burners going at once. Since the stove is rarely used at my house and when it is there are never three burners going at once, I failed to notice that something flammable was stuck on the back burner.

There I was, cooking away, happy as can be when I smelled something kinda funky. It smelled like something was burning. Then it started to smoke. I am sure you have heard the saying "Where there's smoke, there's fire." I can assure you that is true because before I could do anything the burner burst into flames! I didn't know what to do. If I got the fire extinguisher then I would ruin the noodles and the laundry detergent. If I tried to beat it with a towel then I would likely spread it. So I did what any logical thinking, capable woman would do. I started screaming. The kids came running into the kitchen. Paige started screaming and crying. Sam and Hudson were yelling "fire!" and running outside. I kept screaming for Travis but he was in the basement and thought I was yelling "Spider!" and figured I should be able to deal with that myself. By the time he ran upstairs, the house was filled with smoke and the pot had boiled over. The boiling over of the noodles actually doused the flames and saved the house. But Paige was still screaming.

She was crying with those giant crocodile tears and couldn't catch her breath. She was screaming "I want my food! I want my food!" Now, if you have never heard my daughter scream then you cannot possibly understand exactly what she sounds like. It sounds exactly like a high pitched fog horn filled with gravel while the Guinness Book of World's Records winner for the longest fingernails rubs them on a chalkboard. She locks her knees until they appear double jointed and clenches her fists while standing stick straight so she can barely be picked up. Sounds precious doesn't it?? She did this for what felt like a half an hour. Whenever I asked her why she was screaming all she would say was "I WANT MY FOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I had no idea that she felt so strongly about Pasta Roni but apparently she does. Either that or she was just scared. Either way, I managed to get her calmed down and was even able to finish cooking dinner. The laundry detergent was completely unharmed (as was the pot of pasta on the front burner.) I added some butter to the other pot and dumped them together. They ended up tasting OK. Dinner was salvaged and it still ended up being a pretty good night. We have decided, though, that the stove needs to be cleaned and I am not in charge of dinner anymore.

Side note: The other night when I took the kids on a walk, Hudson and I were talking about what he wanted to be when he grew up. He said maybe a fireman or policeman but he definitely didn't want to be a doctor. When I asked why he said because "they have to put their hands inside people." The next night when Paige and I were watching PBS (yes, my kids watch PBS) there was a commercial on that showed kids dressed up as different professionals. She said "I don't want to be a doctor." When I asked why she said (very seriously) "Because they have to put their hands inside people's butts!"

I Feel Like A Grown Up Today

I woke up late this morning as is my routine. Got to work on time though (completely out of the ordinary) and I thought to myself, "Today is going to be a good day." I remembered to pack my entire lunch and breakfast (awesome!), I remembered to put on deodorant (score!), I remembered to bring the diapers I was supposed to for a co worker (for her son, not her) and I had gotten all my work done yesterday so that I could start today with a clean slate.

At nine o'clock, my auspicious feeling started to wane. By ten, I was beginning to question my ability to make sound decisions. It seemed that every file I touched slowly but surely turned into a pile of dog crap in my once capable hands. By 11:00, I had completely lost confidence in my ability to be successful at my new job. I went to lunch and decided that when I got back, things were going to be different at my desk. But by 4:30 I was on the verge of a full fledged panic attack.

Still, I managed to keep myself together - this is no small feat and is proof that medication does work. I was in my car at 6:18 pm and decided that since no one was waiting on me, I would take some time for me. Travis had taken the kids to Sue's for the night and then he was off to the fire house. Tonight was the perfect night for me to try out the alternate route home that avoids highways (which will help me to get to work faster but will hinder my make-up-putting-on-in-traffic-abilities. Shhh, don't tell Vick!) and since it goes through Old Milford, I can check out some of those cute little shops and possibly get my haircut.

About halfway into my alternate route, I took a wrong turn. I know what you are thinking - "Lynsey is a logical thinker, that is what she gets paid to do. Surely she will turn around and back track." But as I have already stated, my logical thinking skills were a bit off today. I decided it was a better idea to keep going and "figure it out." Forty five minutes and 1 call to Travis later, I found my way back to familiar ground.

By the time I got there, almost all of the cool shops were closed and it was too late to get my haircut. I did however stumble upon an interesting little cafe/bar called Latitudes. At this point I figured, "What the hell! I am going to salvage my night." I went in and started relaxing.

This was my kind of place. It is locally owned, slightly weird food, wine list, jazzy vibe and mellow people. Now I really know what you're thinking - "That isn't Lynsey's kind of place! She likes bars with sticky floors, questionable people and places that only serve chili cheese fries and the only drinks you can order is beer or shots." Not tonight, my friends. Tonight, I decided I was an adult.

I sat at a corner table, ordered a glass of wine, and dined on a plate of hummus and pitas. I was writing, listening to jazz and people watching. The really skinny guy across from me drank 3 glasses of wine and ate an appetizer, a burger and fries and chicken skewers. There was a biker chick in camo pants outside and a group of mature women were on what looked like a girls night out. I was calling no attention to myself whatsoever. Again, I was being very un-Lynsey like. I was calm and cool. I was relaxed and quiet. I was not the stumbling, slurring karaoke singing fool that I usually am. I was classy and sophisticated and well mannered. (I did have my feet up on the chair in front of me though.) I was the youngest in the room but the waitress didn't card me (Bitch!) but I didn't feel out of place.

I am not sure how I feel about this new classy Lynsey, she doesn't seem as fun as the old, loud Lynsey. I am not sure how often she will show up (with my friends, I doubt she will make an appearance on a regular basis.) But I am glad that I found this new adult version of Lynsey - I never knew she existed before.

I would say that all in all, today was a good day. Tomorrow I will find my confidence again (it may be hiding with Karaoke Lynsey.) Now I know that I can be grown up and drink wine by myself in a bar (even if 1 glass cost as much as I normally spend on an entire bottle.) I may suppress this grown up Lynsey but she is in there, I promise.

And In The End...

Bill Ellen was a hard working man. He worked for 30 years, swing shift at a thankless job while raising four boys. He worked hard to provide them with food, clothing and shelter but most of all he worked hard to provide them with love and support. He loved his boys more than anything in this world. He sacrificed everything for his family and he gave his all into raising his boys. His boys are now grown men with families of their own and his legacy lives on through them.

William Carl Ellen died April 11, 2009 after a long battle with congestive heart failure and kidney failure. On that day, the light in the world dimmed for a lot of people and will never regain it's brilliance that once was. Bill never knew a stranger and would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. That phrase has been said about a lot of people but I have never seen it ring more true than with Bill. I saw him give freely to his friends and friends of friends and even people that he didn't know just because they needed it. When he saw someone in need he helped them even though he knew he would probably never be paid back. He would never turn his back on his family or friends or anyone he was in the position to help.

His smile could light up any room he was in and nothing made him smile more than his family. I have seen him tell complete strangers about his grandkids, all of the his pictures from his wallet laid out on the bar. I don't think he ever missed the birth of one of his grandkids and if one of his boys or their families needed help he would never think of turning them down.

I cannot say enough about Bill and the kind of person he was. My limitations as a writer are too great to convey exactly how his family felt about him. I can tell you this though - watching the pain on my husband's face in the days following Bill's death was almost too much for me to bear. I had no words to comfort him and I am still at a loss. My husband not only lost his father that day, but also his best friend and his hero. Bill was everything to Travis. He spent the entire week at the hospital by Bill's side, only leaving to go to his classes. The night Bill died was the only night I made Travis come home and for that I will never forgive myself.

You would be hard pressed to find someone that could say anything bad about Bill Ellen. He made some questionable decisions in his life (hey, who hasn't?) but at the core of his being, Bill was one of the most loving, caring and giving people I have ever met. As I looked around at his funeral service, I saw people from all walks of life, people that worked with him 3 decades ago, people that he had helped financially and touched in their hearts. I saw friends of his boys show up to show them support (one wonderful friend drove all the way from Michigan to pay his respects and then turned around and drove right back.) Say what you will about Bill Ellen, but no one can deny how many lives he touched, how many loved him and how many he loved. Take one look at his boys and you will see four loving, respectful, caring men that put family above all else. When I was watching all of those people try to put their feelings into words, trying to comfort each other and deal with the pain of thier loss all I could think was "And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make." That was proven to me that night in a way that was as painful as it was sweet.

I am saddened every day that my children and nieces and nephews will have limited memories of him and will never know personally just how wonderful their grandfather truly was. I am afraid that Travis and I won't be able to make them understand the kind of man Bill was. I only hope that by watching Travis and his brothers they will be able to see what kind of person he was and the kind of people they need to be to keep the Ellen legacy alive. Bill gave a lot of love and that is evident in the love his family feels and will always feel for him. We will do our best to make Bill proud and continue his family in the way that he would want. We will continue to love and support each other. We will continue to give freely of ourselves and help those in need. We will continue to raise our children to be proud of the Ellen name. We will teach them that respect and hard work is how you make your way in the world. And we will teach them that family, above all else, is the Ellen family legacy.

I Have A Dream...

Actually, I have lots of dreams. Not all of them are lofty dreams in which I better the world by curbing global warming or ending hunger. Some of my dreams are quite mundane, nonetheless, they are my dreams and I believe them to be valid and worth sharing.

1. I want to go to Greece with my girls. I want to lay on the deck of giant cruise ship, in a white bikini (showing off my six pack that doesn't presently exist) while being served margaritas (on the rocks, no salt) by a 23 year old waiter named Stavros. In this dream, all of the very handsome Greek men are named Stavros and they know how to make the perfect margarita (do they even serve margaritas in Greece?) and I get to eat hummus and olives (in this dream I like olives.) The aforementioned six pack was obtained by eating nothing but nachos and cupcakes and doing no sit ups what so ever. The cruise ship (a brilliant white) is floating in the sparkling blue water of the Meditteranean and when I look up all I can see is blue skies and white buildings with blue roofs on Santorini Island.

2. I want to be the best mom ever. I want to spend tons of time with my kids and be their best friend. I want to be the cool mom while still being respected by my children. I want them to come to me with their dreams and aspirations and I want to be able to be supportive even when I don't agree with them. I want to encourage them to explore all their options in all things that pertain to their lives and be OK with it if they choose something that I wouldn't. I want them to ask for my advice even though I don't have a great track record of making good decisions (especially when I was a teenager.) I want to be involved in their lives but not overbearing and I don't ever want to let them down.

3. I want to own a funky boutique and sell only one-of-a-kind things that I or other local artists make. The boutique would have hand painted floors and ceilings (by me) and it would be jammed pack full of electic pieces that didn't match but somehow looked great together. There would be bright colors and shapes every where and it would be over the top but in a very sophisticated, arty way. It wouldn't be pretentious so that young "would be"artists or people that aren't arty or creative wouldn't feel uncomfortable and like they didn't belong. The philosophy is "Free Art." There are no rules about what things should look like. You are just creative and however it turns out is that piece's destiny. It was designed by the Fates. I want to sell pottery and art made out of recycled stuff and beautiful clothes at reasonable prices. This boutique would be in a funky town (probably not Blanchester - it has never been described as funky in a good way) and all the local musicians would hang out there. I would have book club meetings and card games on Saturday nights. There would be a sign hanging in the window that said "We are only accepting positive feedback today. If you have anything negative to say, please come back tomorrow."

4. I want to become more organized and a better housekeeper. Or I want to have enough money to pay someone to organize my stuff and clean up after me and my family.

5. I want to read, read, read. I want a fabulous career, I want to be a super involved mom. I want to eat healthy (but I don't want to exercise.) I want do charity work, I want to recycle more. I want to have great hair. I want to be more independent. I want to be a better wife. I want to stick to my guns. I want to have more good actions instead of only having good intentions.

I am looking at this list and it seems that I have a lot of wants which was not my original intention of this post. I would describe myself as a pretty content person although the last little bit doesn't reflect that. I feel I should put in a few things that I like about myself so that it doesn't seem that this is a "Woe is Lynsey" post.

I am funny, I am smart. I am GREAT at karaoke. I have done well for myself so far in my career. I am a pretty good mom (my kids say I am the best ever but they may be a little biased.) I am a pretty decent wife although I don't cook or clean. I have VERY good intentions.

I am not sure I am going to be able to fulfill my dreams but I hope I never stop dreaming of things that I want to do. I don't ever want to be so content with my life that I stop my dreaming and hoping. I am at a very good place in my life - I have a wonderful and supportive husband, the most precious children ever, an incredible family, the best friends in the world, a nice home, a great job. I have pretty much everything a girl could ask for (although I do wish there were a few more hours in the day.) I am not sure what I have done to deserve all this, maybe I was a saint in my former life or am just very conscious of my karma, but I appreciate all of the little and the big things in my life. I don't ever want to take it for granted and stop appreciating it. I am going to continue to dream (I would also like to curb global warming and cure world hunger - wouldn't it be cool if we could do it at the same time?) while I take a little bit of time each day to really reflect on what I have and how awesome my life is.

Ellen Family Randomness

1. Hudson made his very first goal in soccer on Saturday. He was so excited! Afterwards he ran down the sidelines giving all the parents high five's. He also had two assists. When Uncle Dan asked him how soccer went he said "OK." I told him that he scored a goal and had two assists and when Dan asked him what that meant, he said "I don't know."

2. During Paige's dance class I was talking to a few of the other moms. Georgia's mom was talking about how Georgia loved classical music so much that she actually missed a gymnastic class because she wouldn't get out of the car until the piece was over. I wanted to say "Paige does that too, but only when Lady Gaga is on." (I didn't say that for fear of the looks of pure disdain I am positive that would be directed toward me.)

3. New Rule: No kissing girls until age 13. I had to make this rule because Hudson REALLY wants to kiss my sister in law's niece (don't worry - she is not actually related to us.) They were playing Saturday night and Hudson was frustrated because Paige and Little Lindsay wouldn't leave them alone. When I asked him why he wanted to be alone with her he said "So we can talk and stuff." What kind of stuff, you ask? When I asked him he said "You, know - kissing," I said that he was not allowed to kiss girls that he is not related to until he is 13. Guard your daughters! Hudson is on the prowl!

4. Today, Hudson got is very first bloody nose. His sister gave it to him. Apparently, she bopped him in the nose with her baby doll. When I asked her why she said "Cause he wouldn't shut he's mouth." Travis and I both giggled.

I am fairly sure that we will not be nominated for Parents of the Year in 2010. Oh well, there is always next year!

I'm Bringing Pale Back!

I bared my legs for the first time this year today. It wasn't a lot of skin but it was definitely enough to blind a few people. I wore a dress that came to just above my knees and my calf-high boots so I had a good 5 inches of gleaming white skin showing. My legs are so white they border on transparent.

For a brief stint in my early twenties (before I was wise like I am now - I am practically 30!) I was pretty much addicted to the tanning bed. I went about every other day. I would feel pale if I went more than 2 days without going. I bought unlimited packages at the tanning salon so I could go as often as possible. I was insanely tan for my wedding - I actually did go every single day for a couple of weeks. (Luckily I got married in July so I didn't look like one of those really creepy tan people that look like they live in Barbados in the middle of winter.) I read an article once about how something in the UV rays makes your brain release serotonin so that you actually get a high from tanning and therefore become addicted. Luckily, I was able to quit without the help of Promises Rehab Center (although I would have liked being in there with Britney and Lindsay - we could have shared some stories!) I think I was able to quit because we moved to Blanchester. We were about 25 minutes from the nearest tanning salon and that was just too far for me to drive. I am many things but at the top of the list is LAZY - even for a tanning bed high!

As with most things in the world, there are pros and cons to the tanning bed. The pros being: if you don't overdo it, you have a healthy glow about you and look darn good. (For some reason tan fat looks better than white fat. Pretty much everyone I know agrees to this but I have yet to find someone that can tell me why.) It is good for the economy - there is probably about a billion dollars a year spent on the tanning industry (that is not an exact amount.) It keeps oncologists and dermatologists unemployment rates down (all those tanning bed addicts will eventually have to have their cancer cured and their wrinkles ironed out and sun spots removed.) The cons of tanning are as follows: cancer and wrinkles (stating the obvious), a lot of wasted energy (sorry Al Gore), and confidence issues for the pale people (me excluded - I own it!)

Anyway, I say we start a revolution! Down with the tanning beds! Get out your SPF 80 and slather it on! Don't worry about your white fat because it has to stay covered up so you don't get cancer. Put on your sun safe clothes and hats and join me in the shade. Those tanners may look good now but in a few years their skin will look like leather. Plus, when they lose all their hair (from the chemo) they won't look better than us anymore! They will have to stop tanning and they will be frail and thin and pale. Even white fat looks better than white skin and bones. We can form a picket line (preferably inside, away from the sun) to warn of the dangers of tanning. We can have support groups for recovering tanaholics. It will be awesome! We will save energy and lives. Don't worry about the oncologists or the dermatologists. There is plenty of other cancers to cure and teenagers with skin problems to keep them in business. Pale is the new tan!