Happy Birthday Dad!

Thanks for always being there, Dad. I appreciate your advice, support and wonderful sense of humor. I know I got my knack for writing from you. You have always inspired me and the boys to do our best and to be considerate of others along the way. Thank you.

Dad, circa 1976

I love you!!

Jess

What's making me nuts?

Scale:

1 - not nuts at all

2 - a little nuts

3 - moderately nuts

4 - pretty damn nuts

5 - totally &*%# nuts

So the big winner in terms of what's driving me the most nuts is that the kids have been screwing around in my room quite a bit. Sometimes I let them watch TV in there, and I'm thinking that this privilege is going to be revoked shortly.

It started with the mysterious overturning of my big coin jar, which fell behind my dresser. The dresser is a mammoth piece of furniture that I am unable to move unassisted. I can't wait to clean up that mess.

The next incident happened one evening as I crawled into bed after a refreshing shower. I pulled back my blankets, slipped in and realized my bedding was full of sand. GRRRR!

And finally, whenever I turned on my TV this week, the volume was up on max and the channel was set to my least favorite station of all - Cartoon Network. So, each time I flicked on the TV, I was startled by ear-piercing greetings from Squirrel Boy, Chowder, or Naruto.

You'll notice that Mark did not drive me nuts at all. Way to go, baby!

As seen on TV

TV ads have such a powerful affect on my kids it’s scary. They’re constantly asking me to get them things – not because they really want or need them, but because they were programmed to ask for them. Seriously. It’s like they don’t even give a second thought to what they’re even asking for sometimes. They’ll just see a flashy ad and blurt out, “Can we get that?!”

They’re suckers for the gimmick. One time at the store, the girls begged and begged me to buy them these Fruit Gusher things. I hadn’t gotten them a treat in a while so I obliged.

When we got home, they tore the box open, sat down face to face and popped the gummy candies into their mouths. They chewed a bit, but never blinked, totally transfixed on each others’ faces.

After a few seconds…

“Hey, nothing happened!” whined Mad Dog, “On the commercial, the kid’s head turned into a giant raspberry. What a rip off!”


~ ~ ~

Last week as The Deuce was watching TV, a commercial for The Girl Crush Streak & Style Hair Studio came on.

“Mom! I HAVE TO HAVE THAT! Can you get it for me, please??”

I studied the commercial. This kiddie hair-color kit, complete with bright pink and purple "hair dyes" should actually be called The Girl Crush Look-Like-a-Hooker Studio. Knowing there's no way in hell I'd buy it, I asked if she could buy it herself with her allowance.

“It costs $29.95.”

“How much do you have?”

“$6.”

Silence.

~ ~ ~

A few days after that, I walked into the living room to find The Deuce sitting in front of the TV with a clip board.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Making out my Christmas list."

"It's August."

"I know."

Checking out the list, I noticed several items fell into the "As Seen on TV" category, which is somewhat disturbing, though equally troubling is all of the high-end electronics (but that's fodder for another post).

Here's her list (spelling errors and all):

• girl crush streic and style
• a camra
• a lap top
• a cell phone
• pixos
• a tigir bild-a-bear with cute cloths
• hana montana hevey covers, pilows, posters and lamp and cloths
• a DS with some DS games
• Wii with Sonic at the Olypix games
• a hot tub
• a cable box with a plasma scrin TV and a ramote and recording stuff
• pankak puffs pan with pankak flipping stix

I don't know what half of this stuff is and frankly, I got lost somewhere between the pixos (huh?) and the hot tub (double huh?). But, when I stumbled onto the Pancake Puff kit, I was really stumped -- until I saw the commercial myself:




To be perfectly honest, I seriously considered buying it for a half a second. I guess I'm a sucker for a gimmick too.

The summer than never was

Okay, so the high today was 72 degrees. In August. In the Midwest. Where did my summer go? We maybe got two days over 90 degrees -- it was barely warm enough to swim half of the time.

Alright, maybe I'm just sore because school starts next week. And while the kids are excited to see their friends, I'm dreading the school year routine. Staying organized and on top of homework, permission slips and school activities is a full time job. A job that would be perfect for a wife, if I had one.

Even though I complain A LOT, I'm actually kind of proud of how organized I've become during the school year. My tools: a planner, a three-bin office inbox and a kid-friendly to do list.

The planner is for me to try to stay on top of picture days, teachers' conventions and days off. As soon as the school publishes its calendar, I'm transferring important dates and deadlines into mine, making sure to plan my vacation days to coincide with the kids' scheduled days off. I hate surprises and if I'm disciplined enough, my planner eliminates most monkey wrenches.

The office inbox is to manage all the paper. HOLY SHIT, THERE'S SO MUCH PAPER! So to keep on top of it all, each kid has a bin and so do I. Each one of us is responsible for taking care of the stuff in our own bin. The kids' bins have assignments and mine is typically full of permission slips and book orders. The kids know that if they don't put it in my bin, mom won't see/do it.

"Sorry, honey. Didn't you put the book order in my bin? No? Guess we'll have to wait for the next one."

While the inbox is actually a pretty sweet system that makes my kids accountable for their own activities and school work, it's got one tiny drawback. I HAVE A DAMN OFFICE INBOX ON MY KITCHEN COUNTER.

I've never seen an office inbox on any of the kitchen counters in Real Simple. I only see beautiful vases filled with limes. Anyhoo, back to organization...

The morning to do list is the most brilliant thing I've developed since my Three House Rules. Ever since the twins could read, they've been responsible for completing a very basic, but super-awesomely comprehensive list each morning. (Yes, in my world, "super-awesomely" is so a word.)

It reads:

• Get up.
• Get dressed.
• Brush teeth.
• Brush hair.
• Load backpacks.

They can read. They know what to do. And most importantly, they know I'm leaving promptly at 7 a.m., no matter if they've finished the list or not.

Well, those are three major elements to my back-to-school organization. There's actually a fourth: Meal Planning. But I'll save that for another post.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, my Three House Rules are as follows:

1) No lying.
2) Treat others like you want to be treated.
3) Take care of your things.

These rules were developed when The Deuce, who was five at the time, complained that we had too many rules. When I thought about it, I realized she was right. Simplicity is key. And these three rules, pretty much cover everything.

Cool like that

"My friend Rose's mom is really cool."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. She has bright red hair and lots of black makeup on her eyes."

"Wow, that is pretty cool."

"Yeah... I wish you were cool like that."

"Well, we don't all look good with bright red hair."

"Mom?"

"Yeah."

"Everyone looks good with bright red hair."

Practical Parenting Tip #55

Teach your kids useful life skills: like how to negotiate effective trades to create a bag lunch that they'll actually eat.

My kids have gotten very picky lately. They're springing up all kinds of new dislikes so quickly, I can't hardly keep up.

"I don't like chunky peanut butter anymore," says one.

"Those juice boxes are gross," says the other.

"Since when don't you like BBQ chips?" I ask.

Out of desperation, I taught them how to trade away undesirable lunch components to fashion a lunch they'll actually eat.

I know... you parents of older kids are probably are shaking your heads and wagging your fingers. I know lunchtime trading is discouraged at most schools.

But come on! When you've got a pantry full of perfectly good food that you've gotta unload, what's the alternative?

My Crack

I have very few vices. I have never smoked or done drugs and drink only moderately. While my vices are few, I seem to have several addictions. These are things I simply can't live without.

I call these items/rituals, "My Crack".

#1 Coffeemate Hazelnut creamer (fat free)

I go through way too much of this non-dairy, synthetically smooth creamer than can possibly be good for me. Even though it's fat free, I go through so much of it, that on the few occasions that I've gone without for more than a week, I've instantly dropped 5 lbs. I've now decided that the extra poundage is totally worth it.

#2 Real Simple Magazine

I believe that my addiction to Real Simple has a psychological explanation. In crazy times, we struggle to control our environment. And for sickos like me, you want your out-of-control life to be tidy and lemon scented.

#3 & 4 Journals and pens

I am the master of writing to-do lists and as such, demand proper writing implements. I love writing journals and good pens.

Even though I have scores of journals, I ALWAYS stop in the stationery aisle to browse. I'm ridiculously picky about the cover design, spacing of the lines and overall size of the journal. It takes me WAY TOO LONG to pick one out.

I'm super picky about pens, but my thriftiness (okay, I'm really cheap) prevents me from spending more than $3 per pen. It's kind of like how I am with sunglasses. I like them and they're important to me, but they're ultimately a disposable resource. I have lost too many expensive pens to continue buying more.

It could just be sour grapes, but I honestly think that the cheap old Write Bros. ballpoints are the smoothest, darkest, best pens around.

I believe we all have addictions. These funny, quirky little things are what makes us who we are and without them, our lives are somehow incomplete.

What's yours? Do you dare to share?

Talk of the town

When I was a kid, our house was located near a rather large apartment complex. I remember my mom wasn't jazzed when kids from the apartments would venture out into our neighborhood.

She'd watch them walk down our street with her arms folded across her chest and an eyebrow cocked with suspicion. Perhaps she thought they were going to clean the bikes out of our garage, beat up my little brother or teach us all dirty jokes.

After my divorce, I moved from a single-family house into a townhouse rental in a nice neighborhood. My townhouse is one of a few on the cul de sac -- the rest are single family residences. My mom's bias toward the apartment kids makes me wonder and worry a bit if my neighbors have the same concern about my family.

I'm not dumb, I get it. Most rental properties are full of transient people. The single family folks see many people come and go -- and they're not all wonderful, upstanding citizens like me.

So, since moving in, I've tried to demonstrate that I'm "good people." I keep my yard neat and tidy. I planted pretty flowers in the planters that were once full of weeds and cigarette butts and I've instructed the kids to address neighbors by "Mr." and "Mrs.", not by first names. And, I ALWAYS give a friendly wave when I see one of my neighbors.

Despite my best efforts, I've got a couple of neighbors who refuse to acknowledge me. I wave and they turn their heads, if they look up at all. Maybe they think they're better than me. Maybe the women think I'm going to try to steal their husbands. Maybe they think they'll turn to stone if they look directly in my eyes - I don't know. But either way, it pisses me off.

So, for the past 2 years, I've just kept my friendly "howdy, neighbor" attitude and have tried to not let it bother me too much.

Luckily, despite my concerns the girls have made friends with a couple of neighborhood girls who live across the street. One Saturday, they asked if they could all sleep over at my house. It was fine with me, but I wondered if these girls' parents, who do wave to me, but ONLY if I do it first, would be okay with it.

At any rate, I walked across the cul de sac to have a chat with the other parents. One dad didn't bother to roll out from under his truck to make eye contact with me. He grunted a, "yeah, sure," and kept on working.

The other parent, a mom, greeted me warmly and gave her permission for the sleepover. Then, as I began to turn and leave, she stepped out on the porch.

"So, I heard your son was at that daycare where they had that measles case - was that scary? Oh, and I hear congratulations are in order - I heard you're engaged!"

The longer we chatted, the more I realized she knew more about me than I thought she did. Here I thought I was invisible on my street, when apparently, the neighborhood gossips are all a twitter over my goings-on.

Kinda makes me want to give them something juicier to work with. Maybe I should take up nude sunbathing or trade in my minivan for a sassy, red sportscar. I could ask various friends and family members to rotate leaving their cars in my driveway overnight, making it appear that I have a new "visitor" every other night.

I could have some serious fun with this.

Really, really, really freaking out

Okay, so last night my next-door neighbor asked me if I got the flier.

I vaguely recalled that the mailboxes in my neighborhood had bright blue fliers stuck to them a few weeks ago. Figuring they were political campaign fliers, I wasn't heartbroken that my mailbox didn't have one.

"Nope. What was it about?"

"It was a safety alert -- about the pedophile that lives two doors down."

~ ~ ~

If that wasn't shock enough, the guy that lives two doors down is my landlord. MY FREAKING LANDLORD! THE GUY... WITH KEYS...TO...MY...HOUSE!

I looked on a couple of those watchdog websites (I have them all bookmarked and had even checked them BEFORE I rented my townhouse), but didn't see his name or address on any of the listings.

After locking my screen doors (he doesn't have keys for those), plus my deadbolts, and checking on the kids at least ten times each, I tried, but failed, to sleep. I didn't want to jump to conclusions based on second-hand info, but at this point, in my head, I was already packed and outta here.

So today I called my local police department and learned that he's not actually a pedophile - he hasn't done anything to kids. But he is a sex offender. The Sergeant told me that this guy's victims (OH. MY. GOD. He has victims!) were older - they were women (NOTE: PLURAL) in their early 20's.

This point of clarification makes me feel a little better, but not much. I'm feeling okay about my own safety, though my sweetie, Mark, isn't jazzed. Is offending young women a stepping stone to worse crimes like the way pot is a stepping stone to harder drugs?

Trying to not scare the hell out of the girls, I reminded them that they should NEVER go into any one's house without telling me first - even neighbors. And that if anyone ever told them to do something they knew was wrong (and I used the example of showing their underwear), even if that person told them not to tell me - that they should tell me right away. And I tried to, as earnestly as possible, assure them that they would NEVER get in trouble for telling me so.

It's all a little much to process. Mark told me we could move into his apartment building, that he'd even priced some 3-bedrooms. I don't know what to do. I don't want to overreact, but the thought of under-reacting - and having something happen...

Well, I just can't let my head go there.

You gotta have balls

Okay, so a while back, my fiance and my kids were talking about sports. Kidding around, he told them that in order to qualify as a "real sport" there has to be a ball involved.

Basketball, baseball, tennis - all have balls - so they're all sports. Anything without a ball is just horsing around.

Of course, everyone started spouting off different types of activities and he would, depending on if there's a ball involved would say, "Sport" or "Not a sport."

According to his rule, the children's game of four-square is a real sport, but NASCAR, the #1 spectator sport in the world, didn't make the cut. (Sorry, Grandpa.)

So fast forward a few months to the present. The other night, we were watching the Olympic games, and commenting on a distinct lack of ball-required sports. Swimming, gymnastics and most track-and-field events are largely ball-free. [Insert Speedo-swim-suit-ball joke here.]

In fact, Ball/No Ball Rule aside, some of the Olympic events seem like they're barely sports at all. Shooting? Badminton? Synchronized swimming? If you wear a costume that lights up, you can't possibly try to pass yourself off as a serious athlete in a competitive sport.

Then we saw the promo for the next event: Olympic Trampoline.

Seriously? Bouncing is an event? We nearly wet ourselves, laughing so hard. What's next? Olympic Jump Ropists?

We were nearly in tears, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all -- that is, until the trampoline competition began.



While the clip above is from the 2004 games, it proves a point. The Ball/No Ball Rule needed to be amended:

If the activity requires a gigantic set of balls, it's definitely a sport.

Life, seriously

Yesterday, our beloved pet butterfly, Fuzzy Airplane, passed away. We raised it, along with its four brothers and sisters, and watched it grow from a tiny caterpillar, into a chrysalis, and ultimately into a beautiful butterfly.




Fuzzy Airplane, as named by The Deuce (one of my eight-year old daughters) was a birthday present. He entered our lives via The Butterfly Treehouse, a children's science kit. We watched him as a young caterpillar triple in size, then attach himself to the lid of his container, where he spun his cocoon.


For the next week and a half, Fuzzy Airplane and his brothers and sisters, metamorphosed into beautiful, Painted Lady butterflies. One by one they emerged from their cocoons and fanned their beautiful wings, drying them.

When Fuzzy Airplane made his exit, he got tangled in the silk that held his cocoon firmly to the side of his enclosure. As he fanned his wings, the silk wound tighter and tighter. His wing didn't dry correctly. It dried crumpled up and remained tethered to his cocoon. With a pair of manicure scissors, I carefully cut the silk to free him, but it was too late. His wing was deformed and he would never be able to fly.

Per the instructions on the box, we fed our butterflies a diet of carnations soaked in sugar water and mandarin orange slices. We marveled as they all, Fuzzy Airplane included, gobbled up the sugary nectar with their long proboscises.

The day came to release our butterflies into the wild. We took them outside and held them on outstretched palms until they flew off, one by one into the big, wide world.

Despite several failed attempts, Fuzzy Airplane never took flight. He simply couldn't lift off with his gimpy wing. So, instead of releasing him into the wild, to face a certain (and most likely unpleasant) demise, we brought him back into our home and cared for him as our pet.

Fuzzy Airplane lived in his enclosure in the kitchen, but often spent time with The Deuce, watching TV. He gobbled up what we fed him and appeared to not miss his brothers and sisters too badly.

Yesterday, as The Deuce reached in to give him a fresh orange slice, she noticed he had died. According to the science-kit instructions, butterflies typically live two weeks after emerging from their cocoons. But under our care, Fuzzy Airplane lived an impressive three.

My daughter's nonchalant reaction to Fuzzy Airplane's death surprised me. She told me of his passing in a matter-of-fact tone of voice and never shed a tear. I think it's because she'd already learned about the life cycle of butterflies in the 2nd grade and knew that butterflies didn't live forever.

She buried him in the backyard under a big tree, came into the house and asked if we could send away for a new batch of caterpillars.

~ ~ ~ ~

Less than 24 hours later, I learned that a friend of mine had died after a two-year battle with brain cancer.

My feelings range from deep sadness to a sense of relief that his suffering is over and that he's finally found peace. But mostly, I think of his wife and three-year old son.

My heart is breaking for them.

I wish that death could be overcome as easily and effortlessly as sending away for another chance at life. But, I know deep down that unlimited chances would diminish the importance of our time on this planet. We wouldn't hug our loved ones as tightly if we didn't appreciate how precious and limited our time together really is.

I've decided that we're going to pass on ordering new caterpillars.

Practical Parenting Tip #203

Even if you're sure all the pockets are empty, dry everything on the lowest setting possible. You never know when someone's stashed a couple hundred fuse beads somewhere.



Luckily, I didn't open the dryer to find these brightly colored beauties fused to the metal drum. But I consider it a close call.

So, what else am I finding in my laundry these days?

• Wood chips
• Pea gravel by the truck load
• Crayons
• Lip gloss
• Polly Pocket accessories
• Change
• Marbles (who plays with marbles anymore?!)

I can't complain too much though. Now that the kids are older and earning allowance, I'm finding cash. Found a $10 bill last weekend.

Quirk #458

Admittedly, I have a lot of quirks. Some might think they're weird, but I think they're endearing -- and my sweetie pie thinks so too. (Right, honey?)

Quirk #458 Choose bedtime attire carefully because it could be on the morning news.

When I get dressed for bed, a little voice inside my head warns that, God forbid, there's a fire, and a news crew is going to film me standing on the curb, clutching my kids, watching my home and all my possessions burn -- do I really want to be seen on the Daybreak News wearing that Beer of the Month Club t-shirt?

We're rolling our jeans again?!

Last time I did the pinch-n-roll was in 1991.

Seriously?

I'm speechless.

...and that's when Mom seriously lost it.

I just had a moment that will probably go down in my family's history as The Time When Mom Seriously Lost It.



It actually started out as a Mary Poppins moment. I'd just plated up fresh, hot pancakes for the kids. Everyone was smiling and laughing. The kids were ooohing and aaahing over how delicious the pancakes looked. I was basking in the moment, pleased with the delightful scene.

Then, in an instant, things quickly deteriorated.

A fight broke out over who got more milk. It escalated over who would get to put the Mrs. Buttersworth on their flapjacks first. Arguing turned into yelling. Yelling turned into shrieking. Then someone threw a punch.

And that's when Mom seriously lost it.

I'd just flipped the last batch of pancakes when I turned to see the punch land on its intended target. The victim retaliated, while screaming an ear-piercing, "MOMMMM!"

It was a split second, hair-trigger reaction, but it was honest, genuine and came from my gut.

I slammed the plastic spatula down on the counter with a hard, "THWAK," not once, not twice, but about 15 times, while yelling, "E--NOUGH!"

The kids sat in silence, staring at the madwoman who was splattering pancake batter all over the kitchen. Without a word, I stormed out of the kitchen, into other room to cool off. I could hear their forks scraping their plates, feverishly, as they gobbled up their breakfasts in a panicky, scared silence.

When I returned a minute or two later, calm and composed, the kids' plates were clean and the table had been cleared. (This never happens without my asking.)



My tantrum had been dramatic, and had yielded a dramatic effect. The shock and awe of the moment snapped them out of their frenzy.

My flip out was unplanned, but knowing the powerful effect it had makes me wonder if I shouldn't be afraid to do it more. Thought...thing is, moments like that have to be used sparingly, otherwise the effect is lost.

Instead of realizing their behavior pushed me over the edge, they'll just think I'm nuts in general.

Seriously brilliant

My first reaction to these pictures was, "Seriously?" But then, upon reading about the hotel workers union dispute, my next reaction was, "That's seriously genius."

What better way to get national (and international) exposure for their cause? This protest was the greatest PR move ever. The photo op of photo ops.

This story, which I first saw on Yahoo News, has now been covered by global news outlets.

Bravo, Tinkerbell.

F---ing cable company

$140? Seriously?

Give me a break. Every time I write a check to my local cable company, I feel like I've made a deal with the devil.

I hate the cable company. I hate their service (spotty at best), I hate their customer service department (the not-at-all helpful help desk) and I hate their commercials promoting low, introductory deals that are 75% less than what I paid last month.

Trouble is, I love cable TV. I don't know what I'd do without it.

I love shows like Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List and It's Me or the Dog. I love The Weather Channel (weather anytime!) and TLC, the Discovery Channel and Food Network. (I could do with a little less Rachel Ray, but still...)

I feel like I'm over a barrel, taking it up the a$$ while enjoying a 24-hour marathon of What Not to Wear. ("Come on, Amy! Let's hoist the girls back up into place with a new bra!")

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. To upgrade my package or file assault charges.

Maybe I just need to pay my bill while watching my favorite shows. That might ease the pain. Maybe I'll be so high from watching back-to-back episodes of VH1 Classic's 120 Minutes, that I won't care. I'll be too busy, absorbed by the drama of Miami Ink or Kat Von D's spin off: LA Ink.

Oh, screw it. I'm tired of complaining. I wonder what's on TV...

Farmer Jess

Look at this tomato. Seriously. Look at it. Admire it. Covet it.

I grew this tomato. Can you believe it? From the gal that kills houseplants - all in the name of managing to keep 3 young kids alive and well.

Seriously...my mom comes over and waters my plants. She says it's cruel and unusual punishment, the way I let them wither and wilt, then upon suddenly remembering to water them, bring them back from the edge of the great abyss.

So this tomato is a big, effing deal.

Random musings

Okay, so this is my first blog as a real, live blogger.

This is my collection of thoughts, rants, likes/dislikes, turn ons and turn offs. This is a diary of life as a single mom, then a dating mom - and now, a soon-to-be remarried mom. This is a chronicle of my journey.

So, I'm a divorced, single mom with three amazing kids and I'm engaged to this incredible guy. He's never been married and has no kids of his own - but somehow, he's the ultimate family guy and I can't wait to start our new life together.

He's incredible with my little guy. Somehow he's coaxed him into eating broccoli, going to bed on time (most nights) and is able to maintain a conversation over the screams and cries of a full-blown tantrum. I swear, he's been sent from heaven.

A few years ago, I cried on the phone to a friend that I couldn't imagine meeting a guy who would be as jazzed as I am about my kids. I wanted to find someone who would love them unconditionally - and not just tolerate them to hang with me.

"Don't worry," he said, reassuringly. "He's out there."

And he was. Oh, thank God, he was.

Seriously.

My DVR

There's an ongoing battle at my house - over the DVR.

Somehow the kids learned how to use it. I never taught them how, so those little boogers figured it out on their own.

I've got a handful of shows I like to record, and while it hasn't happened yet, so help me, if The Office or 30 Rock get deleted or fails to record because of them, heads are going to roll.

Here's what I've got set in my series manager:

• The Office (can't wait for 9/25!!)
• Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List
• Inside the Actor's Studio
• 30 Rock (I wish Tina Fey was my friend.)
• Clean House (always makes me feel better about my place)
• It's Me or the Dog (a dog obedience training show - did I mention I don't have a dog?)

Here's the crap they record:

• iCarly (and they want to do their own web cast because of it)
• Pucca (too painful to watch)
• Kappa Mikey (you actually get dumber watching it)
• Time Warp Trio (not bad, it's at least semi-educational)

50 things

1. Nobody calls me Jessie - ever.
2. I tend to swear too much.
3. But never around kids. (Mine included.)
4. I have 3 kids.
5. Two of them are twins.
6. No, it doesn't run in the family.
7. Yes, we knew.
8. No, no fertility drugs.
9. In addition to his own name, my son responds to "Bacon" or "Crow Bar".
10. He really does love bacon. (But then again, who doesn't?)
11. He also loves broccoli. (No shit.)
12. I'm 50% anal retentive and 50% OCD. But, I'm also pretty busy and have low standards. (Go figure.)
13. I'm in love.
14. With an awesome guy.
15. We're engaged. (6/20/2009 - woo hoo!)
16. I have an irrational fear of bugs crawling into my ears.
17. I blame my mom and grandma, both of whom had bugs crawl into their ears.
18. I also blame the Star Trek where they put the bug in Chekhov's ear.
19. I drive a minivan.
20. I hate saying those words out loud.
21. I bought the SE (Sport Edition) trying to convince myself it was the coolest option available.
22. I get along with my ex-husband. (Again...no shit.)
23. I also believe you catch more flies with honey.
24. I hate most Julia Roberts movies - except Steel Magnolias and Pretty Woman.
25. My guilty pleasure TV show is Judge Judy. (She doesn't take any crap.)
26. I would like to loose 15 lbs.
27. But I really like food - a lot.
28. I don't understand how some people can miss a meal by "forgetting to eat."
29. I used to DVR Oprah, but stopped because she's gotten a little "high and mighty" for my taste.
30. My mom uses phrases like "high and mighty" and "up on your high horse."
31. Shouldn't it be "up high on your horse"?
32. I have "twin skin" and it's kind of gross.
33. If you don't know what "twin skin" is, look it up.
34. I bought something on HSN one time.
35. I was up alone at 4 a.m.
36. I bought an indoor grill and it rocked.
37. Except that it was really big and didn't fit in any of my cabinets.
38. So I sold it at a garage sale.
39. I didn't tell the lady that bought it that it probably wouldn't fit in her cabinets either because I didn't want to kill the sale.
40. I have a gigantic family.
41. I have 2 brothers,
42. 1 step brother,
43. 2 step moms,
44. 1 step dad,
45. and 5 step sisters.
46. Don't even get me started on all the grandparents.
47. The only nightmares I ever have are about tornadoes.
48. I leave myself messages on my home and work voice mails to remember to do things.
49. In addition to the thing I need to remember to do, I always tell myself, "You look really pretty today."
50. And I always laugh out loud when I get the message.

Weekly menu: Nov. 23-28

All of us can use a little inspiration from time to time. Preparing meals that are healthy, inexpensive and easy can be tough. And making sure you've got variety can be damn near impossible. So, for this reason, I share my menus to try to help you solve your own what's-for-dinner dilemma.

~~~

Click to enlarge.

Okay, so last week's bacon-wrapped meaty goodness (hamburger and rice paties, wrapped with a slice of bacon and baked) wasn't well received by the kids. Operation Mommie Dearest was put into effect and it took her two sittings to finish her plate.

Yeah, I'm surprised too. It was really good!

The Cold Cereal Chronicles

Last January, I made a New Year's resolution to begin writing creatively. I decided to write about a topic I knew well - single parenting.

It was important for me to show the often humorous and rewarding side of single parenting. So much of what I've read on the topic is depressing. While becoming a single parent wasn't my choice, I'm very proud of my accomplishments as a single mom.

So, for the past year, I wrote essays about my experiences. I have kept these essays in a blog called The Cold Cereal Chronicles. My intent has been to shop them around someday to editors/publishers. And I'm proud to report that I had one essay published in Metroparent magazine in May 2008.

Since Mark and I have grown closer, I now no longer feel like I'm alone in parenting my children. Mark has delicately and gracefully stepped into a co-parent role and has an amazing way with the kids. So, to continue writing essays about solo parenting doesn't exactly feel right anymore.

I don't know if I'll add to The Cold Cereal Chronicles again. The thought of closing that chapter on my life feels cathartic. I'm proud of where I've been and what I've accomplished and I'll always have The Cold Cereal Chronicles to remember.

My story

In a nutshell, I'm a storyteller.

I always have a weird/funny story to share about me and my kids and routinely keep my friends and family rolling. Often my stories end with the recipient asking, "Seriously?"

Seriously. I couldn't make up this stuff.

As a divorced, single mom to 8 year-old twin girls and a 3 1/2 year-old boy who's about to get married to Mr. Wonderful, I'm just full of material.

People always say, "I hope you're writing this down." And I am. Here. On this blog.

~ ~ ~

In case you're looking for more, here's my background story. I'll try to spare you details and just give you highlights:

I grew up in the Midwest in a huge family. My parents are divorced and remarried to wonderful people. My view on divorce isn't sad or tragic. Instead it's been very positive. My parents' marriage wasn't a happy one, so when I saw each of them fall in love again, I was thrilled.

Ours was a noisy, boisterous household where if you didn't speak up (or hide your pack of Pop Tarts under the kitchen sink ASAP), you'd be out of luck. As one of five kids, it was a bit of a survival of the fittest household. As a result, I've become resourceful, plucky and quick. I think fast and move fast. I'm a doer. If something needs to be done -- anything -- I roll up my sleeves and do it.

One of my past bosses told me I had "moxie," which to me, is a huge compliment.

After graduating college with a Mass Communication major and an English minor, I got married and immediately found myself pregnant with twins. Five years later, we welcomed our son. A few months after the baby was born and after 6 years of marriage, my husband left. He was suffering from depression and literally checked out of our marriage, our home and our life.

After the initial blow, I focused on piecing together a whole new life as a single mom. I'm a list maker, so I sat down with pen and paper and drew up a plan:

1. Find a new job where I...
• Won't have to travel.
• Earn more money.
• Have a good work/home balance.
2. Find a new home near good schools, where the kids can run, play and ride bikes.
3. Focus on taking care of myself.

I'm immensely proud to have checked off each item one by one. I cried for joy when I got the checkbook for my new, post-marriage bank account.

So, after nearly three years of being a successful, single mom, I met and fell in love with Mark. I never thought someone would love me (damaged goods) and my kids (baggage) again. But I was wrong. Mark has a big heart. He loves us because we're who we are. Every day since meeting Mark has been a gift. We're getting married next June.

Careerwise, I have always worked full time in the marketing/communications field. I have been fortunate to find a profession I love that allows me to do what I enjoy most: writing. It's been two years since I changed jobs and every day I'm thankful I did. My new employer is wonderful and my new boss is a dream. I work hard and am rewarded well for it. I'm very, very thankful.

Managing a demanding job and a busy home life has its tough times, but I think I'm doing pretty well. I believe in being the best-possible role model I can be. I want to teach my kids the value of good, honest hard work. I want to show them how to enjoy life's little treasures, instead of focusing on superficial, unnecessary fluff. And now, I'm going to show them what a wonderful, warm marriage is like.

So... that's where we're at. Mark and I have recently moved in together to save money for the wedding and a house. We've got 2 adults, 3 kids, 1 dog, 1 gerbil and 3 fish crammed into a 3-bedroom townhouse. (Not to mention a whole house's worth of furniture in storage.) This is going to give me even more material, I'm sure.

If I had to describe my life right now at this moment, I'd say it's "full." We're full of love and full of laughter.

Life is good. Seriously.

My man

** Update **
If you want to learn more about Mark in his own words (400 or less, to be exact), check out his blog.

- - -

I've always been drawn to the tall, dark and handsome types -- and lucky me... I landed one.

Mark and I met at work. We were both pretty new to the company and worked on several projects together. He was in the process of relocating to my town and began (innocently enough) asking me about things to do and places to live here.

Having a very limited social life, I could only give him advice for activities that would entertain small children. (Hey... we have a great Zoo!) And instead of pointing out the hip and trendy clubs, I could only point him to other, cooler people for assistance. (Though, I did tell him which restaurants had the best kids menus and coloring materials.)

I am, however, not totally useless -- I was able to point him toward a great apartment complex (pool, gym, in-unit laundry, huge yard) that would accept his two dogs -- not a small feat in this area.

I was not looking for a boyfriend. As a single mom of about 2 years with 3 young kids, I totally had my hands full. I dated casually a bit, but had made my mind up to just accept being single and focus 100% on me and the kids. So...a romantic connection was the farthest thing from my mind.

Then, he asked me out.

For some reason, he took me totally off guard and despite my stammering and stuttering ("Uh...you know I have kids, right? Like A LOT of them."), we managed to make a very fun first date happen. We hit it off and have been inseparable ever since.

He's amazing with the kids and has a way with Crow Bar that nobody else does (not even me). I liken it to Cesar Millan of The Dog Whisperer. Mark is totally The Kid Whisperer - though thankfully he doesn't do that "PSSHHHTT!" sound all the time.

Another incredible thing about Mark is that he goes out of his way to make me happy. Nobody's ever done that for me before ... EVER. He's quick to ask me about my day, to pull me close for a hug, and to try to make me laugh.

I guess he's also a kind of Jess Whisperer too.

My posse

I swore I wouldn't be one of those moms who talks incessantly about her kids. Well, sorry -- but just look at them!!

So, meet the crew. Their names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Left to right: The Deuce, Mad Dog and Crow Bar.