step away from the seeds...

is it wrong that i want to grow a pumpkin patch next year? OK, but is it wrong if I only want to do it so I can hatchet them open and remove their seeds for roasting? Because, I do **so** love me some pumpkin seeds. In fact there is only one downside to the puking punkin' (also stolen from Janet) (notice a pattern?) (feel free to ask me if I have an original idea floating in my head) (I'll have to ask Janet and get back to you)




it is of course the BLATANT waste and misuse of pumpkin seeds. I have an addiction that only gets fed at the end of October every year. And don't EVEN tell me to try to ones in the grocery store. Not even close.



Happy Halloween!!

color my world...

theiving again from janet. I did it just out of curiousity. Not only is it an accurate description of my me-ness, it's also one of my favorite colors! Go figure!

Click on the link at the bottom and try it your ownself!

you are orchid #DA70D6

Your dominant hues are red and blue. You're confident and like showing people new ideas. You play well with others and can be very influential if you want to be. Your saturation level is lower than average - You don't stress out over things and don't understand people who do. Finishing projects may sometimes be a challenge, but you schedule time as you see fit and the important things all happen in the end, even if not everyone sees your grand master plan. Your outlook on life is bright. You see good things in situations where others may not be able to, and it frustrates you to see them get down on everything.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

i no speaka you language...

i had a light bulb moment this weekend. I was at a mommy-type conference that has tons of great workshops on how to parent. I needed it. I lack parenting skills right now. When I signed up for the conference months ago I noticed they also had a workshop of 'Redefining romance after children'. I signed up for it, not because my sex life sucks, but because after 12+ yrs, who can't use a little re-definition? During the workshop she talked about all the different love languages there are (there are 5 different ones) and how if you don't recognize your own and that of your husband, you're in for disappointment. She started talking about one of her daughters being a "gift-giver". Not meaning that so much that she wants to receive gifts in order to feel loved, but that is how she shows her love. This sort of sounds like buying love at first but then she explained it more or less means when she gives a gift it is her way of saying "I was thinking of you while I was out". To her daughter, that is like saying "I love you" and when she doesn't get the same from other people she gets miffed. LIGHT BULBS GOING OFF. That is SO ME! I absolutely love giving gifts. I am always picking up little things here and there for my mom, for my friends, etc. My feelings get hurt easily though if say...my mom buys a super cute coffee mug somewhere and doesn't get me one. Sounds sort of spoiled rotten-ish, but in my mind I am thinking, "geez, I'd have picked her up a mug if I saw it. I can't believe she didn't think of me!" Believe it or not, I never recognized this about myself. I helps to know that everyone in your life has a different language and to know what it is. I got a lot of other stuff out of that particular workshop, but when it was over I made myself sit down and figure out what each of my kids is, and what Matt is. It really shines a light on a lot of things when you look at it like that. Matt is someone who shows love by touch. This is usually a sticking point for us because, when I am dealing with him, touch often = sex. Plus, since I am home all day with my kids many days are spent with one or more chiclets touching me all day. I can say with 100% certainty that my love language is NOT touch. Sometimes Matt will hug me and I just shake him off. Like if one more person touches me, I'm going to blow. Knowing now that he shows love through touch (and not every touch=sex in his brain) I know now that I need to be a lot more forgiving about it.
I know it sort of sounds a lot like new-age bullshit at first but just think about it.
What are you? What is your husband? Your kids? This is from my notes so it is probably explained better elsewhere. I was told that there is a book on these called Love Languages.
- acts of service (doing good deeds for others)
- words of encouragement
- gift giving
- quality time
- physical touch and closeness- not necessarily sexual.

Just some food for thought :)

new look...

thanks to the almighty and powerful janet...i have a real blog banner!!
How exciting!!!
Back to your regularly scheduled lives.
Oh and **JEN** listen up...
NO CHASING DOGS. SIT DOWN. OR ELSE.

making a dent...

the other day, one of my neighbors made a bizarre comment to me. I had instructed one of my kids to throw their empty pop (soda, whatever) can into the recycle bin in the garage. My neighbor looked at me and asked why we bothered. I'll admit, when we first started recycling, it was because we had to. In Michigan, everyone does it. It isn't like jumping off a bridge because everyone else does it, it's environmentally friendly, and not so hard once you start. And who wants to be the only bozo on the street without a heaping full recycling bin every week? Not me. After spending 6 years in the state up North, we recycle more now out of habit than obligation. Not that we are fantastic about it, but we always fill our collection bin weekly.
Anyway, back to my neighbor. I explained to her that we got into the habit and now it's second-nature for us. I also told her she'd be shocked at how much room it saves in the trash bags. The 4-5 gallons of milk we drink a week take up a lot of space in the trash bags, but crunch down nicely in the recycling bins. She just laughed and said it seems silly. Like my little pile of recyclables are going to make a dent in the overall trash consumption. I was, at that point, almost cross-eyed over her logic but figured there are some people you just can't figure out. Of the 30+ people on our street, we are one of 4 families that recycles. It's sort of sad. We are now the oddballs. Well...in some ways we always have been :) My neighbor asked if we got some kind of discount on our garbage bill because we recycle. Figuring, I guess, that there could be no other reason to do such an ignorant thing. I told her that no, we do not get a discount, but 30 years from now when we are tripping over pop (soda, whatever) cans in the city parks, I'll feel better knowing it isn't MY PERSONAL pop (soda, whatever) can. Mine all got recycled.

fun with global warming....

we are harvesting tomatoes today. Yes, you read that correctly. We are barely a week away from Halloween and we can still grab cherry tomatoes ripe from the vine. Global warming doesn't HAVE to suck. It can be a little fun. I guess.
It will probably be snowing next week for trick-or-treat. And we'll be questioning whether the globe actually is getting warmer or if it's just a big cosmic joke. Welcome to the Midwest.

the girl child turns six...

i cannot wrap my head around the fact that my middle child turned six today. I know I say it every time a child has a milestone in my world, but ACK (!!) where has the time gone???

Hannah is the child who I butt heads with the most. Surprise!! She is my only daughter and my reincarnation (according to my mother). She talks too much. She is dramatic beyond reason. She rolls her eyes at (dramatic eye roll) **EVERYTHING** ( I don't know where she gets it). She is always right. Her brothers are always wrong and always beating her up. You see how abused she is???

And yes, I know, it only gets worse. My mom will tell anyone who will listen that she despised me from age 12 through 19 or so. It's all good. I was an ass. But I could have been worse. I could have acted like my siblings do now. But this is about Hannah, not me and my issues. What issues??

So, the girl child is six, which half way to 12, which is when my own mother officially despised me. I figure we've only got six more good years, and I feel like all we do now is butt heads. This does not bode well for the years of PMS, eh? Hers, not mine (of course- because I am totally normal when I have PMS. I never turn into a raging lunatic. Never.).

She went to bed tonight a bonefide six year old, but not before telling me she was "almost seven". I started to tell her not to wish away her childhood, but then I stopped. It's a waste of breathe, because we all wish away our childhood. We can't wait to hit the next milestone. The double digits of 10, then teenager-hood at 13, then driving at 16, then LEGAL (to do nothing but vote, get married, and serve in the military) at 18, then actual legality at 21. It's all downhill from there. But it's hard to explain that to a six year old. I see so much of myself in her it's almost painful at times. I love her to pieces and I hope she realizes that. Even though I yell a lot. Because I do yell, a lot. I try not to, but I do. It' s hard to parent a child that you know is eventually going to do the same stupid shit that you did. But I always try to remember she is her own person and that she'll do the same stupid shit, and some stupid shit of her own, and she'll also do some really amazing things. She already has.

Happy birthday to my banana. Hope all your wishes come true...

who screwed up my calendar....

how did october creep up so fast? No really, someone at the bus stop said something about Christmas shopping yesterday and it was all I could do to stop myself from plugging my ears and "lalalalalaican'thearyoulalalalala". Because...Christmas shopping???? I don't think I've even completed school clothes shopping yet. I'm so behiiiiiiind. And yes, I'd like some cheese with that whine.
I sat last weekend thinking I had all the time in the world to get Hannah's birthday invites together and then it hit me like a Mack truck that her birthday is a mere 2 weeks away and the invite clock was already ticking. I had to get those suckers in the mail and wait by the phone for RSVPs to start rolling in. Ha. Not that anyone will RSVP. No one does. Not even sure why I put it on the invite. Just for giggles I guess. But really, it turned into October before I was ready for September to be complete. And from previous experience I know that it will be Halloween in approximately 5 minutes, 10 minutes later it is Thanksgiving, then about 2 minutes after that it's Christmas. CHRISTMAS.
Plugging ears, running around in circles, lalalalalalalalaididn'thearthatlalalalalalala.....

me, me, pick me, i can do it!

the last week of my life will forever be known as "the week in which amy-couldn't-stop-raising-her-hand-and-volunteering-for-shit-she'll-never-have-time-for" Did you get all of that?
The third-fourth weeks of school must be the week that the teachers think we have weeded through all of the paperwork they threw at us the first 2 weeks, and so they can begin asking us for spare time.
I volunteered. And I volunteered. And I volunteered. And then because I was bored, I volunteered some more.
I am now doing about 6 jobs for Justin's school PTO throughout the year, volunteering in Hannah's class bi-weekly, am serving on the board for the preschool, am also the assistant/question answerer during the Monday night dance classes. This is a sampling. There's more. We've previously discussed my lack of ability in the saying "no" department. I obviously lack a time management skill somewhere also. I think I have a problem with sitting still. ADHD anyone? If I am continuously volunteering for something, I'm never just sitting on my hands with nothing to do. Sadly, at least once a week I am spinning in circles trying to figure out how I am going to get it all done. And then my head explodes and I have that to clean that mess up. But, boredom? No, not dealing with that much these days.

all in the name...

totally thieving from janet. I saw this and laughed my ass off :)

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car), John Wayne Uplander- sounds all cool Bon Jovi, yes?

2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie), Coffee Oatmeal Chocolate Chip. It's all good, yo. That's how I roll

3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name), A-MOH Hmmm... I gots to think on that one.

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal), Lavender Manatee. That one is going to make it into the next Stephanie Plum story line. I just KNOW it!

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born), Joy Columbus. Not one you'll be seeing on Days Of Our Lives anytime soon methinks

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first), Moham. I believe that makes me one of the desert sand dwellers that wears a hood??

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (”The” + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink), The Lime Green Margarita. Oh yes...she's my hero.

8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers), Robert Jack. But I think he'd be Bobby Jack in the Nascar world.

9. STRIPPER NAME: ( the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy), Chance Kit Kat. This would also double as my porn star name I do believe.

10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother’s & father’s middle names ), Joy Lynn. You didn't see me here....

11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter), Hood Houston. Wasn't he in the Anchorman movie? I'm sure he was Vince Vaughn's character's weatherman.

12. SPY NAME: (your favorite season/holiday, flower). Autumn Lilac. Oh yeah...great spy name. It's Lilac, Autumn Lilac. I'll have my margarita on the rocks. Shaken, but not so hard that the ice melts.

13. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + “ie” or “y”) Apple Pantsie. I think she was in the collection of recalled Chinese made Mattel dolls.

14. HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree), Nothing Buckeye. Groovy man, totally groovy.

15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: (”The” + Your fave hobby/craft, fave weather element + “Tour”), The Scrapping Rain Tour. Makes me want to go stand in line for tickets right now. This one is SURE to sell out quick-like.

holy filth, batman...

i cleaned the van out today. Some scary shit, I tell ya. I did it because I was out with a friend this weekend who was apologizing PROFUSELY for how filthy her van was. Except my van was way filthier than hers. I figured if she was so horrified about the condition of her van, she would die a thousand deaths if she was ever forced to sit in my van. So I guess that means it's time to clean it out.
Here's a small sampling of what I found:
3 empty french fry bags.
2 empty Happy Meal bags
186 (only a small exaggeration) Happy Meal toys
12 french fries
4 chicken nuggets in various states of decomposition (that's for you Jen)
1 realization that we eat too much McDonald's
8 stuffed animals
3 bags to carry stuffed animals to the van and then leave them there
4 water bottles
5 clean pairs of socks (??? do we keep them in the van???))
2 dirty pairs of socks
3 pairs of Ryan's underwear (clean thankyouverymuch)
9 broken crayons
6098 hot wheels
9 million Pokemon cards
8 books
2 empty DVD boxes
5 empty M&M bags- all next to Hannah's seat- can you say chocoholic?
12 pony tail holders- no wonder I can never find them in the house.
enough loose change to make a dent in the national debt-but curiously not our own debt.

And that's just a sample. It was seriously trashed. It's amazing how stuff can pile up. I generally let Hannah have the back row of seats to herself because she's somewhat of a slob and I hate for the boys to have to clear a space to sit down every time among her stuffed animal collection and M&M wrappers. So I tend to let the back row get pretty bad before I notice something has to be done. I think I may have let it go a smidge too long this time :)

only me...

i have never wanted to do pilates or yoga in a class environment. Not because I don't think I can do it. I'm pretty athletic. I'm also pretty stretchy. No, the reason I have always shyed away from doing them in a class environment is because both of these classes cause you to twist like a pretzel and in doing so, I'm pretty sure I'll fart. But me, being the brave soul that I am thought to myself, "self...if you can get through the Winsor pilates video at home without expressing gas, you'll be fine in the class!" Silly girl! And I CAN make it through the video. Well, for the most part. Except for that one part in the advanced video- the rollover- where you lay on your back with your legs straight out in front of you. You pick them up and roll them up and over your head, so that you lying there with your ass straight up in the air and your feet are suspended over your head. While in this position, you have to have enough control to open your legs to a "V" and and then close them and then roll back down so that you're laying flat again. People, I fart EVERY TIME I try it. But, alas, my friend assures me there is nothing that advanced in this class. She assures me. Except today we had a different teacher. Our other teacher doesn't do the Wed. class and we didn't know that having never made it in on a Wed. This new teacher does advanced moves. Ones like say...the rollover. And oh yes, Amy farted. Amy farted LOUD. What else can one do, when one farts obnoxiously loud while one lies ass up in the air? Laugh. Hysterically, until there are tears rolling down thine face.
I don't know if I'll ever be able to show my face in the Wed class again, but I'm going to work on controlling sphincter as well as core muscles while doing the rollover at home until next week.

live vicariously through me...at your own risk...

so yesterday, during my 2 hours of PEACE (!!) and QUIET (!!) while ryan was at school i cleaned. Yes... that's right. I cleaned. A friend of mine, who was at work, called me sometime in the middle to ask what I was doing. She told me she was living vicariously through me. She has to work, I do not. I am ever so lucky. She was disappointed when I told her I had just finished mopping the kitchen floor and was off to clean toilets in a moment. It's a sad statement of my life. But since I'm so lucky and I don't have to work (catch the dripping sarcasm) this is what I do in my "free" time. But really, I got to mop the floor and I got to actually see it all the way clean. Most of the time as I am mopping someone is tracking grass, dirt, mud, etc behind me as I go. Same with the toilets. It was a solid hour before someone peed in them and ruined their pristine clean-ness. It was a thing of beauty, but apparently not worthy of living vicariously and all that madness. She'd rather be at work than cleaning toilets. Who knew? I also cleaned my eldest son's fish tank. The fish thanks me because the algae was thick and he wasn't sure he'd ever see the light of day again. Justin, however, did not notice the clean tank. He instead noticed that I failed to clean the ceramic shark that lives in the tank. Like, it sounded sort of like this...good job mom. It looks pretty good I guess, but next time do it properly and see the job through to completion. Clean the ceramic shark too.
I'm allowing him to live because it will now and forever be his job to clean his fish tank. Ceramic shark and all.

sadness...

You will be so very missed.

and then there were none...

do you hear the hallelujah chorus? Listen closely... no wait a second, what is that again? Oh...it's SILENCE...

Ryan is off to preschool today. I'm a little choked up about it. Not because he's going to school because, please, the silence? Yes...I am enjoying the silence. No, it's more that it seems like it was mere days ago that he was this...

Now he's all light sabers, catching crickets bare-handed, picking boogers, farting bubbles in the bathtub, mouthing off, and this...

At the risk of sounding like a 90 year old granny, where has the time gone???

kindergarten, baby...

so hannah had her first day of kindergarten on friday. Because she is the oft forgotten middle child, and I am 'that mom' I am posting her pictures two days later instead of the day of, like I did for my first born. What can I say? I had to squeeze in two nights of my high school reunion this weekend, and there were margaritas involved, and well Jose and I.... Anyway, I am getting caught up on life today. And sobering up for the coming week. The week in which my youngest offspring goes to PRESCHOOL. My grandma said to me last week that I wouldn't know what to do with myself during those precious hours when all of my children are GONE. AT SCHOOL. But I think a high calorie Starbucks beverage is calling my name this Tuesday morning. A coffee that I can drink in solitude. With no one asking me to put a different movie in the DVD, or asking to do art projects involving scissors, playdoh, or paint.
Anyway...back to Hannah...

I offer a pictorial of her bus stop experience...

Before leaving the house... pose...Ms. Diva First-Day-of-School-Girl

At the bus stop...telling all of the other kids to BACK OFF, because this is my 'get on the bus moment' and didn't anyone tell you to get in a line and wait your turn? I already know how to do EVERYTHING the right way, because I already know how to do EVERYTHING. I probably don't even NEED to go to school today because, really, what can they teach me that I don't ALREADY KNOW??...

On the bus...pose again...did you get that shot mom? Bus driver do NOT roll your eyes at me. I need this documented in my scrapbook.

I had another shot of the bus pulling away but blogger won't let me upload more than 3 pictures and really there is no way to illustrate the silence that surrounded us all when my sweet little know-it-all got on the bus finally and the driver closed the door. I won't lie. I was a little misty eyed. Which is more than I thought I would be. I was worried I would look like the only heart-less, cold parent standing at the bus stop not boo-hooing over my child heading off to kindergarten. I love Hannah, but you know how silence is golden at the movie theaters? It's platinum at this house. And because Hannah likes to see how many words she can squeeze into every day, there is not much platinum around here. Now there are 3 solid hours of platinum every weekday morning. Ryan doesn't quite have the need to fill every moment with words the way his sister does.

Next up...Ryan first day of school pictures and then it will back to posts filled with toilet cleaning stories and musings on my love of swiffer.

it's all good....

for the first time in justin's school career, there were no tears on the first day. The only waterworks we saw was the pouring rain that threatened to ruin any chance of good bus stop pictures. No more jitters. Like, WHATEVER mom. It's not a big deal. Put the camera away already. There was much eyerolling at the bus stop when I whipped out my camera. Because GAWD....you're so embarrassing mom! I guess that means you won't kiss me good bye then? He's a grown up. No need for the kiss and hugs and definitely no need for the ol' good luck on your first day sweetie!!

Geez mom....

a year of nonsense...

so i just realized i've been at this blog thing for a year now. Happy Blog-iversary to me :) Most of what I have written over the last year is boring, ho-hum, just life in general stuff. I'm still glad I've kept it up regardless of how many times I've written something truly yawn inducing. I never keep up with the real-life journaling thing, for some reason this is easier to me. I can still go back and look at, and laugh at some of the stuff my family has done over the last year. Things I may have forgotten about already. In the end it's good to get a comment now and then about something I write that says "hey...yeah...me too!" Or have Matt come home from work and tell me he laughed at whatever I wrote that day. So I'll keep on sharing the ho-hum. At least for now!

trading spaces challenged.....

there are people in this world who should be blocked from having TLC or DIY networks on their TVs. The woman who is the former owner of this house, Nimrod*, was a lover of these channels. I don't know that for a fact, but as we delve deeper into living in this house day-to-day, it is the only rational explanation for the things we find. I think she spent her days watching episodes of Trading Spaces on the DVR and thinking to herself, "hey, I can do THAT! I'm going to try it right now!" I wish I could've shouted at her then. "NOOOO! STOP!" The designers on Trading Spaces are DESIGNERS. Not stay at home moms who are bored, but have a spare paint roller in the basement and money to burn on the Home Depot credit card. She was a huge fan of 'decorative' painting styles. She talked at our closing last year about being so sad to leave all of her hard work in tastefully painted rooms behind. I wish I could've gift wrapped her warped sense of painting style and sent it Priority Mail to her new home. Because for a year I have been looking at the walls and cursing them. Knowing what a huge pain in the ass it was going to be to try to fix what Nimrod had done. Every wall needing new paint has to be primed. Why? Because she favors HIGH GLOSS ENAMEL. Favors it, but doesn't think to prime between the layers and layers of different colors of high gloss on the walls. End result? Peeling chunks of paints in fabulous shades of neon pink, urine yellow, and army green. And that's just Hannah's room. Her room is the worst so we're starting there. Why anyone puts high gloss on their walls is beyond me. Maybe she wanted to be able to see her reflection when she walked in the room and couldn't afford a mirror. I'm not sure.
Just add it to the list of reasons why I can't look them in the face anymore when they come and visit their friends in the old 'hood. I wave and quickly walk in the house to avoid eye contact. I fear should I ever be forced to speak to either of the former owners, I'll start spewing venom. In reality I just want to tell her that she is neither Hildi, Doug, Or Laurie, and that Frank would cry if he could see what she's done to the walls of this house. Because the next walls I will tackle involve CRACKLE FINISH. Seriously. It's on the walls. Isn't crackle finish for furniture only? Or is that just what I've heard? I think I want to invite Frank over just so I can see him roll his eyes. And then he can personally tell her that she should child lock TLC on her cable box.

*Not her real name. I wanted to protect her true identity so that the 3 people who read this blog don't know the asshat's real name.

so this is normal...

you just have to laugh. When someone calls you to chat and starts talking about how psycho her kids have been lately. So you pepper her stories with some of your own psycho kid babble. And then you both share an Oprah style lightbulb moment. Wait...so it's normal? The stuff my psycho kids are doing is NORMAL? Hmmm.... I'll save that thought for later when I'm ready to list Hannah on e-bay.