I had a highly disturbing dream last night where we were at the new house and out of the woods and onto our deck slithered/crawled a disgusting looking creature that was a cross between a large lizard, with a snake-like neck and a round mouth filled with sharp teeth. I flipped myself up onto the railing (like a ninja – it was amazing) and someone else grabbed the thing and threw it into the woods while I shrieked, “What in the h*ll is that!?” And then I died… no, then I decided that we made a grave mistake and that we would have to move or else never, ever go on the deck again without a pitchfork.
Whatever you do, do not Google, “lizard snake head teeth” and look at the resulting images. You will be scarred for life. Shudder.
Why does it drive me crazy when Jack refers to his bodily functions as poopie and peepee? And why does he always have to announce that he needs to do these things at top volume? And more importantly, why did he decide to pee on the tire of Liam’s bike while it was parked in our garage (yes, that happened).
You know when you try a new food you’ve never had before and it is unlike anything you’ve ever had at all and it is so good? I had that happen at lunch yesterday. We tried a new-to-us Mediterranean place (Sheshco for the locals) and they give you these fresh-made mini pitas served with what they call garlic sauce. It’s roasted garlic whipped with olive oil and some other things and is the consistency of butter. I am in love. How did I never know you could whip olive oil into a butter-like form? I will not go as far as the server and say is is nearly healthy, but it is definitely delicious.
I reeked of garlic all day yesterday – my apologies to anyone I saw.
We opened a new checking account yesterday and I was adamant that my SSN was a certain number but it came back as close but not quite right when she entered it in. I ended up calling our payroll company to verify the number (I was one digit off) but I don’t think Simon will let me live it down that I got it wrong. Too many numbers. I can still tell you my 16-digit credit card number from when I lived in Chicago and worked for Einstein Bros. Bagels [I traveled a lot for work and had to enter it so many times online that I memorized it and still know it – at least I think I do, I guess I can’t be too certain]
Can I rant for a moment… our current house is in my name (because I bought it by myself) and on our current bank accounts, I am the primary account holder (because they were established long before I met Simon) yet, when setting up our new mortgage and bank accounts, the bank listed Simon as the primary person for everything. What the what? I’m not wrong to question why he was the automatic primary person when I’m the one who made contact, set everything up and had everything in my name. It’s not ridiculous that this ruffles my feathers a little, right? Fer dumb. I cannot talk about it at all without getting worked up. It just makes Simon laugh because he could care less if they listed me as the primary for everything (and yes, I know that it really doesn’t matter and actually his credit score is slightly better than mine – ironic since when we met he had ZERO credit score being that he was from out of the country; but it is the principle of it all).
Simon’s trying to figure out the companies we’re going to go with at the new house for cable/satellite and Internet and each evening he details to me the options and I make interested noises but really, it doesn’t matter so long as I don’t have to take care of it, it doesn’t cost worlds more than what we are currently paying and when I turn on the TV, it works and my stuff connects to the Internet. This must be how he feels when I tell him about menu options and grocery lists.
My calm parenting class must be working (aside from this morning when I shouted at the kids to be quiet on the way to school since they were both crying because the other one wasn’t listening to them) because the kids are actually excited to go and ask a few times a week if that night is the night for the class (or, the “be a better parent” class as they call it). In this week’s class I learned to really fear the teenage years. I joke, but the class is pretty great and it is showing me how we really need to get things right so that when we do have teenagers, they won’t be a couple years away from jail time due to poor parenting now.
I’ve been paying the children to pull dandelions – best idea I’ve had in a while. I can’t wait until they are better at other things like folding laundry and putting dishes in the dishwasher (the right away because you know there is a right way).
Last Thursday the men from our small group all went out to dinner and when they got home, each were asked by their respective wives what they talked about and each of them responded with something along the lines of, “I don’t know… stuff.” Conversely, the ladies got together at our house on Friday night and it was my turn to tell my “life story” the tidbits of what makes me who I am. Our husbands all laughed at this and said something along the lines of, “That will never happen with men.” So true.
Did you Google that phrase and see those images? I told you not to do it.
Hi, I'm Michelle, married mother of two active boys (plus one 9-pound poodle). I'm a proud Michigander, having lived here all my life (besides the 10 months I lived in Chicago during/after college). I love family, friends, God, food, enjoying life and continually striving for improvement.