Calgon take me away...

As I'm dropping my kids off at school my daughter asks me, "Are you going running today?" I look down at my t-shirt, shorts and tennis shoes and somehow resist the urge to reply, "duh!"

"My mom doesn't really go running," my son tells his friend in the backseat of the car. What? I listen closer to hear what he could possibly be saying. "Yeah," his friend agrees. "She probably goes home to sit in a bubble bath, eating chocolates and reads a book all day." They laugh at their joke. Actually, they are laughing at me.

"Why would I bother getting in my running clothes, if I'm only going to go home to eat chocolates in a bubble bath?" I challenge them, not amused at all, my voice bordering on hysterical. They are silent, they know enough to quit when I use that tone of voice.

I guess what makes me so mad isn't that they are teasing me about running. It's that my kids honestly think that I lie around all day and don't do anything. Do they ever wonder how their laundry somehow gets washed, folded and back into their rooms. How dinner is ready and waiting for them when they get home and someone---and it definitely isn't them---cleans the bathrooms and vacuums the carpets.

I know motherhood is a thankless job. But sometimes, it would be nice to feel a little appreciation every now and again...

Crazy is as crazy does...

I never sleep well before I travel. The night before my last trip, I dreamt my plane had crashed and strangers were in my house doing my laundry. The laundry basket was full of holey socks and ripped up underwear. I woke up in a panic. Feeling like a burglar in my own home, armed with a garbage bag, I crept into my daughter's room.

As I sat sorting through her sock drawer, I jumped at every noise. I knew that it wasn't normal to be going from room to room throwing away all the socks with holes in them at 3am. And if my husband saw me sitting there, he would cancel my travel plans for sure! In fact, I could hear him in my mind telling me that he had arranged a long stay for me somewhere with nice padded walls...

But I could never get back to sleep after those unsettling dreams. Realistically, I knew that if someone did have to come to help my family, chances are they wouldn't be analyzing my children's underwear as they did the laundry. Unfortunately, before I travel, instead of sweeping, mopping and doing general cleaning, my irrational cleaning sprees are limited to straightening out the silverware drawer, vacuuming under the couch cushions, and organizing everyones socks and underwear---you know, the important stuff.

A while ago, I decided that before I left on a trip, I could write notes to my kids and hide them in their sock drawer so they could find them later if something happened to me. When I came home safely, I could throw them away. At least they would know that their crazy mother loves them.

Why McCain is in my Bathroom

A friend walked by our bathroom yesterday and could only yell out, "Whoa!" as she pointed in shock, fear, or maybe concern. My son called out to her, "Oh, I forgot to warn you that McCain was in our bathroom."

You may be wondering why we have a life-sized cardboard cut-out of John McCain in our bathroom. There are a couple of reasons...the first one is obvious. He simply got in the way when we had him in the kitchen---finally after bumping into him for the third time on her way to the fridge, one of my kids put him in the bathroom.

The biggest reason we have McCain in our bathroom is because his neck has sagging skin and is unnaturally white. I know that sounds mean but I'm just being honest. I spent the better part of a day blowing up a picture of my friend's son's head (who is on a mission) to just the right size so that I can glue it on top of McCain's head but because of his NECK, I have not been able to finish my project.

And no one wants to finish up this project more than I do. Besides the fact that my friend has another son who is getting married and I'm sad her missionary will be missing the wedding (hence the cardboard cut-out, so her missionary son can be in all the wedding photos), I am stuck with McCain in my bathroom. It's bad enough that he is a presidential candidate that I don't even want to vote for, but he seems to be following me around...my kids think it's funny to hide him in various places throughout the house. Will he be in my daughter's closet with her robe draped around him, in the basement, around the corner, in the bathtub with a towel around his neck...

So as I ponder ways to fade in a young missionary face with a flabby neck, the clock ticks away. I get distracted too easily---maybe McCain could just sell a couple of his houses, get some plastic surgery and solve the problem for me! I guess it couldn't hurt to send him an e-mail...

Anyone want to buy a vowel?

I read the statistic that women use over 20,000 words a day and men only around 7,000 words. I could definitely see this. My husband comes home with about 100 or so words left for the day (once your word limit is gone, you can no longer talk, right?) and I am raring to go with 8 or 9,000 left.

I'm at home all day talking to the plants, the cats and let's face it, myself...with the kids at school and the cats not too chatty---some days I can get pretty desperate for conversation. It's no wonder I follow the kids and my husband around when they get home and want to know every little detail about their day. They have used up most of their word allotment and are pretty stingy, but I am just getting started.

And I do, I talk and talk. They will usually nod and grunt when necessary, or I will kick and prod them to nod and grunt where appropriate, as needed. It works for us.

Then I read that this 20k/7K word ratio wasn't true. There is no data to support these claims. It seemed to make perfect sense to me. Now I have to rethink everything. Maybe my family isn't talking to me, not because they have simply used up their daily word allotment, but because they don't want to...I'll stick to my original theory, it makes me feel better. At least until the cats can make better conversation, anyway.

First day of school,
Smile for the camera!!!













The great escape.

Honesty is the best policy

We went to visit my sister-in-law Molly and she reminded me of one of her favorite "McKibben Kids" stories. It was one that I had forgotten! I am writing it down so it will live on forever.

Several years ago, my husband gave a talk in church. He was giving an example about being honest in our everyday dealings. We had rented a car when we went to the Caribbean. It was a small island and we ended up walking almost everywhere we went. In order to catch our early morning flight home, we returned our rental car, key, and paperwork into a drop box before the office opened. There weren't any gas stations open yet either but as we checked the mileage on the car we saw that we had driven less than 10 miles and the tank was still on the full mark. I wasn't bothered at all by checking the box saying we had filled the car with gas. My husband, however, was not as easily convinced to leave the car, but in the end we didn't want to miss our flight. Finally to ease his guilty conscience, he paid for another day rental for the car and let it sit unused in the parking lot in exchange for not topping off the gas tank.

Anyway, during this talk, Anna, our youngest daughter, who was about 5 at the time, turned to her older, wiser brother Nicholas and asked in a loud whisper, "What exactly did dad do?"

Nicholas at age 8, was definitely wise beyond his years and didn't disappoint. He said loud enough for me to hear on the other side of the bench, "Dad stole a car and he feels really bad about it."

So, this one is for you Molly! I hope your baby will have many brilliant, insightful interpretations and revelations during church and that they will be loud enough for all to hear!

"Thinking outside of the box(ers)"

We were driving home from church on Sunday when we saw 2 teenage boys walking on the sidewalk. You know who I'm talking about---the boys with the jeans hanging so far down on their hips that they look like they are going to fall down...Well, right as we were driving by, his pants fell down. I was shocked realizing that my car full of kids had just seen this boy lose his pants!

But what was even more amazing, was that he didn't even hesitate or miss a step. In one continuous fluid motion he pulled his pants up. This could only mean one thing---this happened a lot and he was an expert by this time. (Too bad no one had taught him to pull them up a little bit higher...) In fact, he was so used to them falling down, I don't even think he noticed he'd lost them in the first place.

Sadly enough, this wasn't the first time I've seen a teenage boy lose his pants (and trust me, I don't drive around looking for this...) I can only think that it has become an epidemic...Maybe teenage boys could start wearing their underwear on top of their pants. Obviously, they want us to see their underwear. This would solve that problem, and it would also help to keep their jeans up. It sounds like a win-win solution to me...of course belts are the obvious answer, but that's just me...