Webster's says...

(an oldy but goody...reposted) 

shin·gle [shĭng'g*l]n. - a thin oblong piece of material, such as wood or slate, that is laid in overlapping rows to cover the roof or sides of a house or other building.

Our house has them. They protect us from water damage. Our children have a play house that has them. Keeps them dry as they are saving the world (or the cat, depending on the day). If our dog was an outside dog, I am sure my dear hubby would have adorned her dogbox with shingles.

None of these are the kind of shingles I have. And mine are not on my roof....they are closer to my basement if you know where I mean...

Tonight was the night I was looking forward to for 2 months. A while ago I was teasing my husband that HOME DEPOT does not a date make. I hinted that I would like to have a reason to buy some nice clothes and a reason to wear them.

Me: "Ya know, I have never been anywhere that has an actual dress code. Like, NO JEANS."
Him: "Yes, you have!"
Me: "Name one."
Him: I can think of a lot of them. What about the DuPont Mansion?"
Me: "OK, if I had to be in a bride's maids dress, that doesn't count. You get a re-do."
Him: "Um."
Me: "Yep. My point exactly."
Him: "Well, we will have to change that now won't we?"

Two days later I get an email from my usually-to-busy-to-email hubby. The subject said, "get a babysitter." It's an e-invitation to a corporate event at a VERY posh country club. The body of his email said, "NO JEANS! I love you."

The event is tonight. For the last week he has been telling me I am too sick to go. That I will never feel like going.

mar·bles [mahr-buhls]n. - metamorphosed limestones, consisting chiefly of recrystallized calcite or dolomite, capable of taking a high polish, occurring in a wide range of colors and variegations and used in sculpture and architecture.

These were NOT the marbles I told him he had lost. "Honey, I have been chasing a 2-year old all day, done the grocery shopping in torrential down-pours, helped with homework and got all 3 kids to bed single-handedly while you were in Chicago, all while feeling like death was looming. What in the world makes you think sitting and eating with other couples while listening to live dinner music and sipping expensive wine would bring out the CODE paddles?"

When I had him take a look at my "rash" yesterday and told him I thought it was Shingles, he said, once again..."See. We are not going!"

Last night I went to the spa, got my hair done and shopped for a new outfit (shoes and jewelry, too)! Came home and did the fashion show....I get, "Listen to your voice, we are NOT going."

So, why do I need to talk? I am very talkative, as you all know, but I would be thrilled to just sit, look pretty and be waited on without saying a word. The mere possibility of a dinner where no food gets spit, spilled or spewed, no one fights over the last piece of garlic bread or whines about having to eat just two more bites brings a smile to my face.

I head off to the doctor this morning, leaving my toddler with the neighbor (you ask why the need for a babysitter? See my previous post).

Dr: "Yes, my dear. I believe you have Shingles."
Me: "Oh no. We have huge dinner plans tonight. Should I not go?"
Dr: "Well, you can only spread them if someone touches them."
(pertinent information - they are on my backside)
Me: "Oh, no worries. It's not THAT kind of party!"
Nurse: "GAAFFAAAWWWW!" and trips over herself as she leaves the room.

I pick up the baby, get home and call my hubby.

Me: "YEAH! We can go. The doctor said."
Him: "Um. I feel like crap. I finally caught the cold you have."
Me: ((sniffle, sniffle)) "OK, hope you feel better!"


defeated [de*feet*ed]adj. - 1. beaten or overcome; not victorious; 2. disappointingly unsuccessful

God's MIGHTY 2 x 4...

So, I owe you an explanation for the last post. Just so we are clear, that post was a small peek inside my brain. (I know, it's a scary place!) But God is good and when I slow down and put MOMMY first, He makes sense of all of the GIBBERISH!

It's hard to put yourself first when so much of your life is dealing with/helping/doing for other people. Some of those people are helpless little creatures but some of those people who rely on us are adults and sometimes we just need to learn to say "WHEN."

So, a lot happened this week and my brain was having trouble keeping up. Emotionally I was a wreck. Have you had those days? You know the kind, when you can hear your brain boiling, the hair on your neck stands up at the smallest of annoyances and you draw blood from your own palms as your fists are frozen in the clenched position. I know, that's a little dramatic...but I think I would be right on the mark if I said we have all had at least ONE of those days.

When you are having one of those days, do you let yourself slow down? I don't know about you, but when I am in "a funk" like this - I don't want to slow down. I think it's my 'fight or flight' nature - I just want to get through the day so I can start over tomorrow. But this is usually when God raises one of his Heavenly 2 x 4's and slams me on the back of the cranium and says..."Let me!"

It sounds pretty easy. Letting someone else deal with your stress. Throwing your hands up and walking away is what we sometimes WISH we could do. But we don't. And in the moment it's NOT easy to do. But let me tell ya, if you don't heed that first 2 x 4, the second one will come harder...and I think that's what happened this week in the Brownlow house...well, at least in my head.

So, you all know the illnesses that we were dealing with in my house...if you need a recap you can LAUGH your way to oblivion HERE and HERE and HERE!

Prayer was huge in our house...."Please let them get better!" "Please help me live through it!"

Here is the groundwork: I am an artist. Therefore, I have always been a quirky person. I have weird quirks, things people don't "get." It's just who I am and thankfully I have the BEST husband in the world to walk this wacky walk with me.

Maybe it's my age. Maybe it is my current stress level. But those little quirks have become amplified over the past couple years and, at times, are literally paralyzing. This week, b/c of one of these quirks, I let down my BFFs and they were angry. There is nothing I hate more than disappointing someone...let alone 3 of the greatest women on the face of the earth. But, all is good. I told you they are the greatest.

I let go of a couple writing gigs after a conversation I had with God.

So, God and I were chatting about my "gifts." How did I know God was talking to me, you ask? Well, everything I read, heard or thought was related to spiritual gifts, talents and children's authors. An interesting mix, huh?

Well, this is the SENSE I made of it.

I have always been passionate about children. I have taught them since I was a VBS volunteer in elementary school. I was a public school teacher. I ran my own art summer school for HS kids. I have done writing and arts activities in local schools. I have taught private lessons in my home. I am that mom that always has kids in the house (most of which are not mine). I have taught homeschool kids. And I currently teach the most amazing group of 4th & 5th grade girls every Sunday morning...they are my passion...they will someday change the world...each and every one of them. I could blog JUST about them!

Anyway, you get my point. God laid at my feet all these examples of where my passion lies. And then he asked me, "And who are you currently writing for?"

I answered sheepishly, "Ummm. Adults."

He came back with a resounding, "DUHHHHHH!"

No. He was a bit more graceful with his nudge after He knew I "got it."

So, I have gotten my act together. I wrote my LAST column... *sniff, sniff* I got some "stop freaking out on your friends" pills from my doctor. And I am trying to slow down and listen for His wisdom more often.

So, this week I am re-focusing and putting my efforts into my kids writing, ONLY. I have 30+ picture books all in various stages of completion. About 10 of them have been tweaked and critiqued by the best SCBWI critique group...MINE! I have an editor who has asked me to send some manuscripts (will send her Macy-Sue LaRue series probably), I have an agent looking at Old Mutt's Saloon, and a couple other opportunities that could make that all-important connection.

So, I am back on track. Our house has been Cloroxed. The sickies are on the mend. My niece is OK. The girls have forgiven me. My mind is racing with new and innovative kids' book ideas.

God is good.

But don't forget to DUCK if you choose to ignore Him!

The Circus is HERE...a CONTEST!

"Ladies and gentleman, children of all ages...."

I don't know about you but my house is like a FRIPPIN CIRCUS on most days! Somehow, probably because no one else wanted the job, I became the ringmaster. It's kind of like that phenomenon in gym class when the two popular kids get to pick teams and you are the last one picked. Well, apparently I am the least popular person in my house and I ended up with the proverbial shortest straw!

So, on any given day I wipe butts which I think is similar to the guy with the shovel that follows the elephants around. I try NOT to feed my kids as much fiber as an elephant so I can stay on top of that job. And only one is still in diapers so I think I am good. I think I got this down.

Because I can wipe a butt, make a sandwich, clean the toilet, feed the dog, do a craft, sing a song and talk on the phone all at the same time...I think I qualify for the resident ACROBAT as well. Oh, that's just great...RINGMASTER AND ACROBAT...is NO ONE ELSE qualified for either of these jobs? Let me gather their resumes...

kid #1 - um, no...

kid #2 - nope...

kid #3 - yeah, right...

my dear hubby - BWAAAA HAAAA snort giggle giggle! Crap! It really IS all on me!

So, I was left to deal with the following things (and the reason I have not been blogging) just this week.

We had an injury...

the alligator was wrestling with the kids and my youngest tried to feed him the Polly Pockets and "he bite bite!" At least that's the story I got.

It's a more exciting story than what really happened which was simply a 3 year-old finding the tape in the junk drawer and pulling the end for all he was worth. While chasing him around the island in the kitchen and around the table and into the living room the tape wrapped itself around his flailing arms! Not funny. If it wouldn't have been cutting off the circulation to his hand I would have made him keep it on to show him it was a silly idea. And, it may have kept him still as he would have STUCK to something and I could have finished dinner.

Then there was the flood... In the kitchen. While I was otheriwse occupied and only a few steps away my son decided to play Noah without his ark. He was innocently playing in the sink which keeps him occupied and he loves it and is usually good about NOT making a mess (except for that one time when he realized the faucet is actually a hose you can pull out and aim). Today, he chose a coffee mug as his weapon and he filled and dumped. Apparently he dumped a couple times but because I had a towel on the floor I didn't hear the splat. I didn't hear until the WAVE came!

Apple Coring 101... was, I thought, my breaking point this day (did I mention this all happened within 30 minutes? *twitch twitch*). I was a cool mom and made craft/drawing supplies available so that after I finished "parting the SEA" I could get dinner on the table. I had also supplied a healthy snack. His favorite. "Bapple!"

Then I had to make the birthday cake for my oldest's (still scarred by the sex talk - scroll down to read that) 11th birthday.

Sweet success...

Wait...where did that extra piece come from?

You have GOT the be kidding me! Nice. Perfect ending to a perfect day! NOT!

---------o0o---------------

CONTEST:

Tell me about your life IN THE CIRCUS and what position at the circus you feel you are most worthy of...tightrope walker, the lion tamer, sideshow freak, trapeze artist, clown, the audience...did I miss anything?

The best "quote" or scenario will win this book.

Sidewalk Circus is a gorgeous wordless book about the anticipation of the coming circus. It is a Blue Ribbon Picture Book Award winner. By Paul Fleischman (Author), Kevin Hawkes (Illustrator)

Good LUCK!

And as always...refer, link, post! Everyone is welcome!

Cocktails in the morning...

cock·tail /ˈkɒkˌteɪl/ –noun ~ an eclectic mixture or miscellaneous collection. (see, I was not referring to alcohol!) This morning I was longing for something; an IV of something that would just take me away...like one of those CALGON MOMENTS! (I am dating myself with that old commercial reference). I never found it but it wasn't for lack of trying. So, since I look to Kate Gosselin (my BFF!) from Jon & Kate + 8 to entertain me with her chaotic life, I will PAY IT FORWARD and entertain you with a gaze into a typical morning in the Brownlow house! It's 7:30 am and as I grab the first ingredient to my cocktail, I can hear a motor kind of sound. A faint, distant, "nnnnnrrrrrrrrrrrrr." For lack of a better idea, I yell to the baby, "What are you doing?" He replies, "mow. me mow." I scratch my head as I scoop the coffee grounds into the filter. Mow? He's mowing? "Shaving! He is shaving!" I screech as I run passed my other kids to meet him at the bottom of the stairs. Holding his "weapon of choice" my 3-year olf showed me how Daddy "mowed" with the electric razor. Promptly confiscated. I dump the 2nd cocktail ingreds (creamer and sweet & low) into the cup and kneel down onto his level. "Please, stop mowing your face. That is Daddy's mower. Only Daddy is old enough to mow his face." As I tapped my finger, waiting for the third ingredient for my cocktail, drip...drip...drip... he proceeded to quickly complete the following tasks: ~ whacked the Wii remote against the pantry doors 43 times ~ turned off the TV ~ dialed 8-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3 on the phone ~ stole dirty dishes while I was emptying the dishwasher and hid them under the coffee table ~ figured out how to dismantle the child lock on the pantry and how to get out of the patio door ~ tried to snag camera off the counter As I am chasing him from corner to corner, clearing my scalp hair by hair, I try to empty the dishwasher, make coffee and simultaneously get the other two ready for camp while they sit and veg on the couch. As if there was nothing chaotic happening, my daughter whines, "Mom, what does foundation mean?" I say, "Give me a sentence." She replies with a puzzled look on her face, "I don't have one." I flash the puzzled look right back at her! Did brain matter ooze out of my ear while I was wrestling the dog's tail away from the baby? I have no idea what she is saying. Then my oldest starts spouting, " Mom! I get to be Lucario!" (Pokemon Wii game) Faking interest, I squawk, "Wow, bud! Great!" "Come look. He is not usually this color. He is usually blue with white but I made him this sort of gray." "Fun!" "Come on, look!" I grumble, shove some brain back into my head, burn my lips on my caffeine cocktail as I stop making their camp snacks to go look at some Wii beast that appears to have the DNA of a trashcan; he's all metally-looking. woo-freakin-hoo. "Wow. He's cool bud. Why is he doing th....Woah, what is th....ugh, I just don't get video games." "Mooooooom!" Then it hits me! I have to "go"! You know, the bathroom! Those of you who read my blog regularly, you may remember THIS POST! Going number 2 is usually NOT an option for me except for during naptime...but something about caffeine on an empty stomach does it to me every time! So, much to my chagrin, I take his little hand and we head into the torture chamber powder room together. It wasn't more than 3 minutes later...you know that time frame...let's just say the magazine was opened to the article I had been trying to read for like 5 years was finally being read and... he lets himself out. He closes the door behind him which, of course, locks with the baby lock. Fat feet flap across the kitchen floor. I try to hurry. I strained to hear where he was, how close he was to the bathroom door and what he was doing. I heard a lot of crinkling. I needed to see what he was into but I wasn't "done," *smash!* OK, now I had to be done. I walked out of the bathroom and find the dog fully surrounded by ice cubes and popsicles. A sort of toddler altar to all things cold, I suppose! Silly me, I thought I might get a shower before taking the kids to camp. I am tired of looking like I just rolled out of bed when I drop the kids off. My youngest is usually up sometime after 6am, so by the time I get to camp, I have been up for over 3 hours! I am sure the make-up-wearing-ready-for-a-date teen counsellors are thinking, "What does she do all morning? Why can't she at least fit a shower in before she gets here? Gag me." (Yep, dating myself again) So, this morning my cocktail consisted of 'coffee and chaos'...just a little more than I bargained for. TGIF! The CONTEST (see post below) will run through 10 pm EST Sunday, so it is not too late to spread the word and join in the fun!

Would it be a sin to...

So, I am just wondering if you could answer a few questions for me. We're all friends, right? So, I can lay it all out there, be truthful, honest, maybe a little "off" - ya know, in need of medication? You'll support me, right? I have been having a lot of stress lately, mostly related to my toddler. So, I am trying to think of things to lighten my load. Clearing my plate of things that could cause me more stress would seem the easiest remedy. Yes?

So, that is why I need to run a few things by you...

Would it be a sin to just throw away the disobedient plants in my house? How is it that I can keep 3 children, 2 adults and 1 dog and cat alive but anything green is DOOMED once it enters my life? The sad plant on the right is actually a piece of a plant that was my husband's grandmothers, it was carefully harvested and replanted by my mother-in-law and given to me...that day I felt the stress of the world sitting on my shoulders. "Really? Thanks. You are entrusting me with a plant that is older than any human I know. Wow. I don't know what to say...(whispering: except, 'where can I buy one when this one bites it?') Now, in my mother-in-law's defense, she KNOWS that I missed the 'green thumb' give-a-ways so, I feel complimented that she had more faith in my abilities than I did.

Can I shave the dog, throw away 1/2 the toys, bleach my rug, or paint the linoleum when no one is looking? If I had a dollar for every minute that I vacuum (or even hand pluck) the dog hair from the floors, stepped on pointy toys, tried to clean spewed purple Tylenol liquid from my white carpets or 'magically erase' the skid marks on my white linoleum from a mini-stunt triker, I wouldn't have needed the trip to AC with my dad yesterday!!

.

Would it be a sin to donate all the towels in my house to charity and put an extra roll of TP in each bathroom for the kids to dry off with so I don't walk around each morning gathering piles like this.

.

Would it be a sin to have a freezer that looked like this

but when the Spring Fundraisers are delivered, turn to this?

(notice the empty spaces?)

.

Would it be a sin to just stuff some garbage bags full of TP (or old towels) and put them on the couch for the family's enjoyment so I am not constantly picking up my $20 pillows of the dog-hairy, Tylenol-stained carpet?

.

How about serving only water so when the self-taught lesson in toddler surface tension are complete, the mess I have to clean up is not sticky...apparently the older two just moved their left-over breakfast to the counter and not the dishwasher...a toddler's dream.

. And after you help me decide what to do about these conundrums, you can get to work on these...

.

How do I keep 40,000 crayons from being thrown around the room? Isn't coloring supposed to hold a child's attention? The actual adding of color to the pictures? Why does it end up being a "let's see how many I can fit in my fat little hand and how far I can get them to fly" game?

.

How do I squelch the passion for putting stuff in his hair? Three days ago he had his hair plastered to his head - Elvis-fashion - with CUREL (yeah, the lotion). On this day, I walked in to bathroom and he was primping with orange anti-bacterial soap!

Why??

Jesus in the pan...

I teach 4th & 5th grade girls Sunday mornings at our church. Each month children K-5th grade learn about a different virtue through worship, Bible skits and life application ideas. My girls have charm bracelets that they wear each Sunday and I give them a charm each month if they can share an example of how they put that month's virtue to good use. Since September we have done Initiative, Respect, Uniqueness and this month we are learning PEACE. This morning in the hectic chaos of a Monday-let's-get-back-into-the-sync-of-the-school-week, I was not feeling so PEACEful. The baby is sick, our older two were moving slower than usual and everyone requested a different breakfast (I shouldn't have asked). I had totally forgotten what I had taught my 4th & 5th girls less than 24 hours earlier. But Jesus has a funny way of just showing up to remind me to "get with the program!" ...my day has been peaceful ever since His gentle nudge. Thank you, Lord!

A "Home" for the Holidays...

My husband is a NEAT FREAK, a self-proclaimed minimalist, a person who gets rid of everything that he has not worn/used/looked at or thought about in the last 6 months. He is also the person who appears a little OCD when it comes to organization. The man's closet looks like a department store. Everything needs to have a home. A FRIPPIN' HOME FOR EVERYTHING! It's a rule. It's how he functions. I am an ARTIST, a self-proclaimed pack-rat, a person who saves anything that is in any way connected to a "story," a person who can explain why the petrified piece of chewed gum smooshed into a used tissue qualifies as a memento, a person who saved her skinny clothes from college "just in case." A person who knows she would look like a freak walking into the grocery store with her wide-striped GAP rugby and her pegged, acid-washed jeans but she'd have the satisfaction of being in her skinny clothes. I have a bulimic closet that is constantly in the purge phase. It's a fun ride. It's how I function. When we moved into our current home 6 1/2 years ago, my husband and I were unpacking the boxes in the Master Bathroom...our first home with OUR OWN bathroom! Of course, he had purchased drawer organizers for every stinkin' drawer in the whole house and had even found one he "thought was perfect for cosmetics as the compartments are varying shapes and sizes." (ain't he cute?!) He stood over my shoulder as I put away my make-up into the little compartments. I tried to smile as he tried to give EVERYTHING A HOME with his back-seat organizing...Lord, help me! "Ooooo, uh, don't you think the mascara fits better in that tray?" "What if you put the eye shadow...is that what that is?...what if you put that over there?" "Hmmm...don't ya think it would make more sense to put everything in the order that you use it? That'd be cool, right?" ((insert gritting teeth behind pursed lips here!)) And then he took it a bit too far, "What if you put your tampons in the closet since they don't really go with your make up?" My eyes turned RED, my head spun around 3 or maybe 4 times and I actually thought about throwing away the sacred piece of petrified gum! I stood up, shook my super-absorbent box at him and yelled, " DO YOU WEAR THESE?" ((insert his deer in the headlight stare)) "I SAID, DO YOU WEAR THESE??!" "ummm, no." "Well, until you DO, how about you let me decide where to put them! Got it?!" "yep." I was digging through the black hole that is my purse this week..."I know my phone is in here somewhere...where the heck is my phone?"

This is when I realized that my purse is my ONLY sacred place. NO ONE goes in my purse but me...and an occasional child looking for gum.

My husband would go into fits if he know what my purse was HOME to...

Let's see:

• Besides lipstick, cell phone, wallet, gum, etc.... there is a whole slew of UNACCEPTABLE items in here...
• 2 bags of completely crushed cereal - in case I bump into the witch from Hansel and Gretel and I need to leave a trail...a very long trail
• the between-the-toe thingies from my daughters pedicure...because I could always scrapbook them
• a horrifically UGLY bracelet one of the kids "won" for me at the WalMart crane game...how can I throw that away?
• many, many writing utensils
• a "favor" from my writer's conference
• a baggie filled with cough drops from when I was sick
• a book of stamps...THAT'S where they are!
• 23 receipts that I have yet to enter in my checkbook - yikes!
• hand sanitizer...it is snot-dribbled grocery cart season - eeewww!
• my alli compact filled with the promise to make me skinny again...oh, I have to take them?
• a Barnes & Noble membership application...I suppose I need to do more than carry it in my purse to save the 10%, huh?
• a napkin
• a Cabella's coupon...because of how often I choose to see taxidermied animals in fake habitats, yuck! I have a hunter hubby...I, however, LOVE BAMBI!
• a prison ministry pamphlet from the bell-ringer outside of WalMart who made my feel bad for having a hot coffee while he was freezing his 'bells' off.
• court paperwork from our last court hearing...we are foster parents so we are in court almost as much as we visit my in-laws.
• Oooooo, M&M minis, I didn't know these were in here...ya think anyone would notice if I finished them off?
• earrings
• Benadryl...which I carry ever since my 10-year old decided to be SEVERELY allergic to Buckwheat...I also have to carry an epiPen, too...UGH!
• 2 packets of Splenda...just in case my sweet tooth gets the best of me I can have a quick shot or two
• my stack of "calling cards" just in case I ever bump into a leading editor from a huge publishing house who overhears my conversation and thinks I am so rip-roarin' funny that I need a book deal!
• random gum and candy wrappers

That's it...not so crazy...whats the craziest thing in YOUR purse? Should you be finding a HOME for those things? Would you like to borrow my husband to get your house in shape for the Holidays?

Tell me about it...

"Poison Control, how can I help you?"

I sat with my coffee yesterday morning and made a Monday - Friday calendar that lays out what chores I would need to complete each day so my house does not ALWAYS look like it threw up on itself. It is on my fridge as a reminder and I jumped out of the gates running this morning after getting the older kids to school and taking the baby to Nana's.

My house is not one of those houses you see on the news. No bags of garbage, no piles of stuff taller than me. I am just tired of wading through a high tide of legos, hot wheels, Thomas trains while searching through dirty plates and bowls of squishy cereal for the ringing phone that always seems to hide beneath the muck. I am nauseated by the amount of dust that lays in a blanket over my entertainment center and the many case-less DVDs, box-less movies and hidden food wrappers.

Really. It's not that bad but I tend to write more than I clean lately and with a VERY anal husband, it makes me feel bad that he works so hard to allow me to stay home and I can't even keep the house clean. 3 kids and almost 3,000 square feet is just ridiculously out of control sometimes!

So, today I planned to vacuum and dust and if time allowed I was going to start a project as I have declared Wednesday 'Project Day.' I vacuumed while the baby was at Nana's and when he came home I popped in his favorite movie -Stuart Little 2 - 5 minutes later, I called POISON CONTROL!

While I was getting rid of that petrified layer of dust with my spackling knife, my Stuart Little fan decided this product (although put on the counter, where I thought it was out of his reach - with NO lid on) looked a little like lemonade. When I turned around, his little mouth was hiding the opening of the spout. I didn't know if he had kicked his head back and gotten a mouthful or if this glimpse was the first touch...I SCREAMED, "NOOOOOO!"

I grabbed the bottle and looked at the label: KEEP AWAY FROM CHILDREN. FATAL IF SWALLOWED. ALWAYS REPLACE LID WHEN NOT IN USE.

Now, you must know, the spout on this bottle is sort of like a red wine vinegar spout, only one drop comes out at a time - you have to shake it to get a significant amount of fluid out.

Hello, Poison Control (1-800-222-1222) this is Mimi.

Mimi, the nurse I spoke to, asked if he coughed at all after I took it away from him. "Sob, sob, sob, snort - NO - sob, sob." She then told me that they have to put that on the bottle but the actual danger isn't in the swallowing but in actually breathing the liquid into the lungs. This will cause chemical pneumonia which is fatal b/c there is no way to clean the lungs of the oily substance. She said protocol is to call back in 1 hour, then 6 hours, then 24 hours. She reassured me that since he did not sputter and cough - there was most likely nothing to worry about.

He is fine. And he continued his rampage through my house while I tried to finish my dusting.

Mimi told me to give him some yogurt to keep the inside of his mouth from getting irritated from the oil...he thought he needed to make a 2-year old statement instead.

Oh, sorry, NOW he's done making his statement. The chicken nuggets is his piece de resistence.

Soon after this yogurt incident, a friend stopped by (Hi, Janet) and as we chatted just inside the front door, the baby ran past and into the office. A mere 3 seconds later, Janet says, "Ummm, do you want him to be doing that?" I glance in the office thinking, "What is he drinking, now?' only to find him standing on my swivel chair aiming the Febreze at my open laptop. All of this ridiculous chaos for this...

...a dusted, organized entertainment center. Why do I even try? UGH!

As if a subliminal reminder, I found my dust cloth under this book. Really. If you should read this book, you probably don't have the time to.

What are you wearing?...

So, it's time to get personal. Those of you who actually get a shower everyday and dress in a career-like fashion, I guess this post won't apply to you. It's not that I am trying to segregate my readers...I would NEVER do that. I like all the different "hats" that share on my site, this is just something I go back and forth about once or twice a week. That's why I ask...What time is it and what are you wearing? I will go first... It is 3:19 in the afternoon and I am wearing the same cut-off sweats and T-shirt I wore to bed last night with an stretched-out, inside out sweatshirt thrown over. No socks or shoes. I do have my make-up and my trendy glasses on but that is simply because I need my glasses to post and if I have my glasses on I MAY catch a glimpse of myself in the monitor - so, I would like to think I look hot from the neck up... Now, I guess I have been brain-washed by my mom who will not walk out to get the mail without spending an hour and a half primping. But, if I thought my husband was coming home for lunch today, I would have probably at least gotten dressed in real clothes - jeans and a sweater. I may have even showered. Is that wrong? I ask you, where does this come from? My sweet hubby has ALWAYS told me that I am beautiful without makeup - he is of 'the lower maintenance, the better' - he loves the unmade beauty, like Halle Berry, Faith Hill, Sandra Bullock. The ones who aren't afraid to be in front of the camera in jeans and a baseball cap. So, what in my brain makes me think I need to get "all gussied up" to be "acceptable" for anyone? "Gussied"? That is a word, right? Anyway, have you ever run into someone at the store who is in baggy sweats, a baseball cap and no make up and they look adorable? Have you ever waited at their car to beat them up later? I have. (j/k) When I go out looking like that someone inevitably asks me, "Are you sick?" or they lovingly comment, "You look tired." I smile and nod and then excuse myself to the parking lot hoping they are parked next to my friend in the baseball cap. Where are my brass knuckles? I have a meeting to go to tonight in which I know should put a bra on for - because that's the grown-up thing to do but I really feel like just throwing on a pair of jeans with my 18 hour t-shirt and calling it an outfit. Who knows what I will wear...we'll see. Guess I will see what my ego feels like around 5:30 - will I feel beautiful or frumpy? How do you feel today? Of course, then I have those days...like last week when I had a babysitter for 5 hours while I ran errands. I was dressed to fit my personality - little bit funky but all put together. Hair, make-up, mani/pedi, cute outfit, perfume and lip gloss. I felt so good! My extra 15 pounds didn't even bother me, I felt good! Until I treated myself to a WHOMPIN' bowl of Germanchocolatecake ice cream at Cold Stone Creamery. Then, I didn't feel so purty. But, here's my thing... When I see a woman all put together, I assume she looks like that ALL day, EVERY day. Do you think she could possibly be bra-less in her 18 hour t-shirt right now? Do you?

Thankful the gorging is over...

What is it about holidays that makes us think we have been given a "License to Eat...EVERY*frippin*THING"? This weekend I ate mashed potatoes, fried onions and green beans, a couple bowls of squash-apple soup, stuffing, a couple helpings of toast with cherry jelly, spiral cut ham and cheese on fresh bread, fresh guacamole with lots of chips, more ham, more cheese, a big ole bacon cheeseburger and giant fries, 4 or 5 chocolate/peanut butter buckeyes, 2 carmel macchiatos, pumpkin pie cake, pumpkin cheesecake and...I think that's it...for Wed - Sat at my in-laws. Today, we had a wonderful 2nd Thanksgiving at home with my parents and I think I thought I was supposed to out-do myself in one meal...HOLY COW, can you say glutton? Every holiday season I usually decide to do something healthy for myself. My way of giving something back to God for all the blessings I have been given. Two years ago, I gave up soda...and haven't touched it since...except once I mistakenly drank out of a stranger's WENDY'S cup at a huge event. I sat mine down and picked hers up...eeewwww. So, that sip doesn't count! Yuk! This year, I think, I am just going to make a big change in habits. Instead of nachos and beer while I veg on the couch with you all via my blog, I will opt for a bottle of water. Instead of seeing how many chocolate chip cookies I can shove in my mouth before my kids see me I will have a half of one and sip on a bottle of water. Instead of ordering a giant, juicy cheeseburger, I will order a big salad and a bottle of water. Instead of eating the country's quota of chocolate in one day, I will choose to take a walk (water bottle in hand- gurgle, gurgle). Instead of going back for seconds of pizza, I will (gripe and) have a (FRIPPIN') bottle of water! Instead of licking the cheese off my nachos so I can fit more sour cream on them, I will reach for the (stupid-freakin'!) carrots and (resentfully) sip on my (glug, glug) bottled water! NEWSFLASH...if I drank this much water, I would be quite cranky because we all know it is very difficult to parent three children (one being two years old) from the TOILET! Anyway...I just needed to put this out there so you all would have evidence of my plans and it would hold me accountable. I really do love being healthy and feel great (like a diff person) when I am paying attention to eating right and drinking more water but it is just SOOO hard when someone causes your DVD player to puke, two kids forget to do their homework until they are headed for the bus, the phone rings off the hook, you deal with 135 temper tantrums and the dog begs to go out ALL day and you can't find her electric fence collar. A box of bon bons and Oprah (or Ross's Talky Blog) looks PURTY good right about then!

Who needs 'em...

Saturday morning cartoons? Not at "Chez Brownlow"...We decorate fruit in the early morning light!

Meet Bob Banana and the Clementines!

(notice Bart Banana (far left) got kicked out of the band after a braul during last night's gig)

I think I have COMPLETELY lost it people!

Mama Drama...

Magnum of NyQuil for Mommy- $13.49 Box of travel tissues - $1.79 Bag of "bribe" sweets for toddler- $1.99 Taking a 2-yr old to the Walk-In clinic when Mommy is sick - INSANITY! (This is going to be a long post - so grab your favorite libation and a cushion for your bum and Depends if you pee when you laugh, because you WILL laugh!) It all started Friday night when the mini-cold I had turned into a horrible sore throat. You know that kind that you want to take something for it but you can't even swallow your own spit, let alone a couple of Advil. That retching pain that makes you actually consider putting a spittoon next to your bed so you don't HAVE to swallow. That off-the-charts pain that would cause you to say "yes" to anything your children asked for because a nod would be easier than the ensuing amount of begging you would have to endure if you said "no." Quite honestly, I barely remember the weekend. My husband took over and I merely existed. I am not the lay in bed kind of patient. I would rather be in the mix than off in a room away from the family. And, I rarely go to the doctors. I think I had tonsillitis about 4 or 5 years ago and that got me in pronto, but other than throwing my back out, I haven't been back. Until yesterday. I stuck it out as long as I could. But my mom once told me of an untreated strep-throat case gone bad...she's a hairdresser so she gets all the gory details of things like this...so I decided to go...but NOT alone, unfortunately. I had to have my older two children at school an hour early for a field trip so, I literally rolled out of bed, fed everyone and jumped in the car to drop off my field-trippers and head to the walk-in clinic. I hadn't changed my sweats, washed my face, brushed my teeth or even looked in a mirror for that matter. I was promptly greeted by a career-dressed, obviously-showered and very-well-put-together former high school acquaintance who apparently did not recognize me behind my mascara-raccoon eyes, stained sweat shirt and wiggling toddler. So, what do I do? I say, "Deb? Right? Michelle. How are you?" I couldn't leave there having her think that I not only had lost my cheerleader looks but my memory, too. She was sweet and handed the baby a ball to keep him occupied until I got called in. Well, that ball touched every human in the waiting room. Mostly their feet, thank goodness! I chased him from the handy push-button water fountain to the exit door about a thousand times. Apparently, when travelling at the height of toddler speed a wee one can throw his whole 27 lbs hard enough to open the exit door. Each time this happened, the door would make the annoying "ding-dong" sound. The desk receptionist would come with her "how are you?" smile posed and ready. I smile back with my "Oh gosh, I am so sorry, again!" half-smile, half-grimace. She would return a "read that baby a book" grin and I was off toward the water fountain. "MICHELLE BROWNLOW?" I scooped up the baby and walked toward the woman who had just called my name. I think my lips were actually puckering because I was so excited to not have to run, chase, scold and whimper in public. Send me to a little room where I can control my child a little easier. Close the door behind you and I will be just fine. Who the heck was I kidding?! The next 45 minutes consisted of hands in the trashcan, back in the mouth, playing the chase game while I frantically tried to get hand-sanitizer on his clenched little fists. There was screaming and whining as I tried to convince him we should read (he cried a little, too). A child who spent 13 months trying to walk now decides he MUST crawl ALL THE HECK over the floors that have probably been peed and pooped on...oh gosh, I gag at the thought. As soon as I pick him up to wash his hands....they go IN HIS MOUTH! Why is this? OK, so about 20 minutes into this chaos ensuing behind Door#3, I decide to use one of his fears against him. I know, mean, but I was desperate, people! He is fearful of heights. So, I grab a book and plop him on the L-shaped exam table so my aching body could stand still for more than 2.5 seconds. Because the L-shape was a little reclined, the fear fled and his voice jumped 3 octaves into a squealing "Wwwhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" He thinks it is a SLIDE. God help me! He turns toward the reclining back, throws his hands to the top and starts to run, trying to get to the top. You know that white roll of paper that covers the table? The actual roll is hung from the back of the table, his hands are on either side of the top of the strip running to the end of the table and his little sneakers are going WARP SPEED flinging the white strip behind him as though it is the smoke from his super shoes. I think we killed a full acre of rain forest in 6 seconds. But I got to stand still. The other 25 minutes were less than enjoyable so I put on our coats and left the building. "But, ma'am, the doctor will see you in two minutes." "Suuuuuuure, he will! Not falling for it nurse-lady!" I have a babysitter and an appointment for tomorrow. Which is a good thing considering I now have red blistery patches along my back that I think are SHINGLES! Lord, help me!

A day in the life...

"Please don't pour your orange juice in your....(sigh) cereal." "No. No. No. Grapes are not good for dogs!" "Let Mommy wipe your nose...aaaaahhhhh NOT ON YOUR SLEEVE!" "Toys need to stay out of the toilet!" "Mommy really doesn't like it when you fill the VCR with DVDs!" "Let's go get the mail." "DO NOT eat the...(sigh) bird poop!" "Let's go back inside." "Do NOT touch that plug again!" "I said, NO more touching the buttons on the TV." "Noooooooo! Do NOT stick your finger in...(sigh) the dog's butt!" "Honey, we can't go outside again, now it's raining." "How about a lollipop...will that help?" "What's that sme....oh, come here. We need to change your diaper." "Come here." "Don't run from me." "OK..nevermind, I don't want to change your diaper anyway." "Please, come here." "Don't make me chase you. DON'T RUN WITH A LOLLIPOP IN YOUR MOUTH!" "Keep your hands up! Don't reach inside the...(sigh) poopy diaper!!!!" "No, you can't have THAT lollipop back (gag)!" "Want to make bubbles in the sink?" "Oh dear, that's glass. Here, play with these cups." ((ring, ring)) "Hello? Hi. Nothing. Sure, I have a sec. Wait, hold on." "Not in your mouth. Do not drink the soapy water." "O.K. I'm back. What were you saying? Oh, geez, hang on!" "Not the dirty dishes. Just play with the cups." "K. So, how did your thing go? Really? Wow. Crap, hang on!" "The muffins do NOT need to be washed, honey. Please!" "Sure, I can hold on." "Let's be done with bubbles. Can you hold the phone for mommy while I dry you off?" "NOOOOOOOOOO! Not in the...(sigh) ((gurgle, gurgle)) sink!" "Look, let's be done playing in the sink and tell blankie how much fun you had on our way up to bed." "Please don't headbutt Mommy. That hurts. Ow. Stop!" (mumbled) "What is on my sock? ARGH! Lollipop stick." ((in the background from under the water in the sink)) "Hellooooo? Shel??? You there????"

Take a deep breath and count to...

Ten? Isn't that what you are supposed to count to when you are frustrated? . Well, what about when you have reached new heights of frustration? The heights that make you want to pull your eyelids off just to make a statement? Then what do you count to? Or do you not count at all? Maybe there is a new level of frustration elimination for those of us with no eyelids. . I think my 2-year old is trying to break me. He is either a shape-shifter and is actually a 45-year old man hired by the CIA to do torture testing on middle American moms or I have simply hit my limit with #3. . This little dude stretches me like no other child has. I have taught all ages of children - I was a HS art teacher for goodness sake! I have two older children who are only 15 months apart - I thought that was stretching it...nope...not even close. . My precious little blond-haired, blue-eyed cupid can now unlock locked doors. While I am trying to relieve myself in peace (see previous post about being constipated) and my older ones have friends over so there is a need to have the door closed AND LOCKED. He now, uses his little tiny fingers and gently turns the lock and out he goes leaving me quite vulnerable on my Throne. And, no, of course I can't reach the door to shut it without getting up and walking...ummm, yeah, not so pretty! . This sweet little chubby-cheeked babe has grown a fraction of an inch and can now reach OVER the baby gates and release them whenever he darn-well pleases. His first inclination is to run up the stairs to his brother's room, scale the bedspread and jump under the covers on a too-tall-for-him bed. He got farther ahead of me this time and by the time I jogged to the top of the stairs (thinking I had collapsed a lung, of course) and there he was...under the covers, head on the pillow, iPod ear buds in place and Nintendo DS in hand. See, shape-shifter, I just know it! . My 27.5 pound little guy could win a medal in "keep away." You know the game...half-way around the kitchen island with a cupcake in each hand...peek, sees Mommy headed his way...half-way the OTHER way around the kitchen island with icing on his nose and squeezing the bejeebies out of what used to be cupcakes from the sheer excitement of seeing my face start to twitch. Can you have a stroke just from toddler-induced stress? . A quite imaginative little one, he has now decided that every air conditioning/heating vent in the house is a slide for all of his toys. He carefully and quietly rounds the corner with toy/car/small family pet in hand, squeezes his puny fingers between the fins of the grate and removes it only to squeal, "WWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" as he sends his little friend down for the ride of its life! . His newest obsession? The DVD player. He knows exactly which of his toy totes when turned upside down makes him just tall enough to reach the open/close button and what fun that is. Dinosaur in..."close"...grind, grind...nope, doesn't fit Bob the Builder vehicle?..."close"...crunch, squeal...nope. Pacifier?..."close"...lurch, crank...LADIES AND GENTLEMEN WE HAVE A WINNER!! Of course, now his beloved "Boo," as he calls it, is in there for life because the $#@#$% thing won't open again...and it's an all out temper tantrum while shrieking "BOO! BOO!" at 47 decibels above human hearing level!! . You are thinking, "Just chill, lady. It's just what toddlers do!" . But, is it typical for this to take place inside a 30 minute time frame?!! . Has anyone see my eyelids?

Did you ever wanna just BITE THE DOG?

Did you ever have one of those days that EVERYTHING got under your skin? Take the simple process of getting the baby to stop pouring his smoothie all over the highchair tray. I take the cup away and he starts slapping the puddles of strawberry yogurt for all he's worth... The dog was a poop fest all day and it was raining, we have no fence so I must accompany her on these jaunts- what the heck did she eat yesterday b/c it keeps coming out... My carefully stacked pyramid of groceries goes flying the minute I hit the edge of the parking lot...diapers, a case of spring water and pizzas declare lift-off as a nice woman comes to my rescue... The baby dislodged the gate at the bottom of the stairs a mere 4,000 times and before I could retreive him, he ransacked his brother's room every single time... The same person called me 5 times... A neurology nurse took a "stupid patient" attitude with me while I was trying to change an appointment... I have always been PRO-animals...was a vegetarian more than once, I abhor hunting and would like to be left alone with Michael Vick but today I just wanted to bite the dog!

Woooaaahhhh Nelly!

My day started on the couch. This is where I woke up. My husband was in Canada overnight so there was no reason for me to make the trek upstairs when the last of the Friends re-runs was over last night. It was 6-ish am and still pretty dark outside when I heard “MAA!” the baby’s request to get up. My neck had a bad left-sided kink and I am not really sure what my hair was doing but it looked a little bit like a ski slope. I tried to at least smooth it down on the way up the stairs so I wouldn’t startle my wee one still in a dark room. I am not a morning person. Actually, I am quite sure my heart does not start beating until about 7:30 or so. So I always pray that the older two will sleep until I at least have ½ a cup of coffee down. This morning I was not so lucky. All three of them were up by 6:30. Soon after the stories of the alien dreams had died down I drug myself into the kitchen to start my coffee. I am a huge coffee fan but I can not make the stuff to save my life. So, I opt for the ease of instant (yuck) just to give me the jolt I need to come up with the latest girlie hairstyle, stuff lunchboxes and blow kisses as the bus pulls away. I filled the mug with water and hit 1 minute, 20 seconds on my microwave. By now, all three children have the jolt they get from I don’t know where but I wish they would share the secret with me and it is obvious they have started their day. I was still hitting the accelerator but it appeared I was out of gas. Simultaneously, my 12 year old made his packed lunch request, my 11 year old asked if I could hold up four fingers on each hand while hiding my thumbs completely – and I MUST show her how I think I would accomplish this while the baby decided I needed to watch him gallop. Not just watch out of the corner of my eye – there is NO fooling him. I had to watch him like I was M. Night Shyamalan filming his next blockbuster. BEEP! That’s my coffee, my morning elixir, the drug that will get me through the mental contortion I am in right now but with my hands tangled and my eyes fixed on Hillbilly Baby, I can’t get to it. My daughter scoffs at my attempt and shows me her hand-wrangling secret, I get to the pantry for the PB&J and the baby is off racing his cars. I glance in the living room with a smile as I have three happy kids when… PICK-UP IN AISLE 5! The dog had made it her job this morning to chew up the plastic bottles that had filled the tipped over mini-shopping cart. I scooped up the slimy plastic as my two-year old scolds our dog with his pointer finger and a resounding, “Na na!” He has heard that before. BEEP! Ahhh, my coffee… “Mom! Come look!” I am jolted out of my java jones by my daughter’s obvious and immediate need. She was pointing to the TV with such urgency I was certain I would soon be having a discussion about a school shooting, a tsunami, the wounded soldiers in Iraq… “Do you like Karla’s purple outfit or Jen’s pink outfit better?” she asked about the singing kid group on The Learning Channel. “Ummm, I think I like the pink, honey.” BEEP! I sprinted (not really) to the kitchen and opened the microwave. I carefully grasped the handle of my mug as my hands are not all that steady before my first swig. BARK! I almost spill the whole gosh-darned thing all over myself when the dog greets the lucky (albeit running) soul who escaped her house this morning to briskly jaunt passed my front windows. The warm sensation of caffeine was calming as it was hastily delivered to my bloodstream. I leaned against the counter taking a few more sips, breathing deeply and preparing to finally start my day. I admired the neatly displayed birthday cards on the half-wall between the kitchen and living room maybe because they were the only semblance of order on the first floor. They are not only a sign that my oldest child is now double digits; they are also a celebration of how long I have been an at-home mom. I take another sip and pretend my coffee tastes like Starbuck’s. Enter the Dog vs.Baby Balloon Volleyball World Championships and my half-wall became the net. One spike by the baby and a failed return by the pooch shoots my celebratory card display straight to… “HELLO” I mouth to Rick, my neighbor, dropping off his daughter at the back door. Crap! I don’t have a bra on and I am walking to greet him at the door. Like a scene from The Matrix and in one fell swoop, I put my ‘mug of life’ down on the table and pick up the sweatshirt I wore the day before from the chair. Like a quick change artist my braless torso is covered and I smile and chat a bit at the door. It’s barely 7:30 am and I feel like I have run a marathon already. I need a shower badly but somehow I don’t think that will give me the boost I need today. After a saxophone concert in the living room and the talents of Morgan the balloon-popping dog, I watched my older two hug their baby brother at the bus stop. This gave me just the boost I needed to get me back in the house and ready to deal with the rest of my morning. 2 ½ minutes later….the first tantrum of the day. Gotta love it!