Grateful

A few weeks ago Alyssa asked me what I’d buy here if we won the lottery.

I thought for a minute before telling her that honestly, her life wouldn’t change all that much if we won the lottery.

(For the record, we don’t even play the lottery, so winning is not an option. The girl just likes to imagine a scenario where we could/would buy her a horse.)

She asked me why her life wouldn’t change.

I explained that she’s got a pretty good life right now. Sure, we refuse to buy her a cell phone or a lap top but that’s because she’s eleven years old, not because we don’t have the money for it.

I told her that we’re incredibly lucky to be living a life that allows us to provide her and her sister with all their basic needs and still have a little left over to occasionally buy them the things they want.

She started to argue that we never buy her anything she wants when I pointed to the combat boots she was wearing. She didn’t need those boots. She wanted them and I was able to get them for her.

I’m so incredibly thankful for this life we’re living. I never want to take for granted the privilege we live with. I know how lucky I am that I don’t worry about which bill to pay this week. I don’t have to put all the bills in a hat and draw to see whether we’ll have electricity or gas money this month.

Tom and I work hard but more than that, we’re very lucky to live in the place and time in which we live. We’re lucky to have the means to provide for our children while hopefully instilling in them the need to continue to better ourselves, to work harder for an even better life.

I did tell Alyssa that if we ever did win the lottery (really do need to start playing) her life wouldn’t change much but mine probably would. If we won the lottery, I could stop working. I could volunteer at her school and embarrass her every single day.

She stopped asking for a horse at that point and left the room in a huff.

I wonder if it was something I said.

A Birthday Party

Olivia’s birthday happens to fall on Thanksgiving this year so we decided to throw her birthday party on Sunday, the 23rd just to avoid all the confusion of a party disguised as a Thanksgiving dinner.

We had it at Jungle George’s again this year. It was such a success last year that we couldn’t justify not doing it again.

There are so many great things about having a party somewhere that is not our house.

One: We don’t have to clean. Right now our house is a disaster because Tom put in new floors in the entry, hallway, kitchen and dining area. All the trim is currently off the walls in those areas because yes, I’m going to paint. I really, truly am. And so there is dust and crap everywhere and the door to the pantry is in the living room and the table is covered in the stuff that usually sits on the pantry floor and so yes, it would not have made sense to have a party at our house at this time.

Two: The location of JG’s is much closer to Tom’s sons’ houses than our house is. It’s about a half hour away from J and D as opposed to an hour and fifteen minutes, which means they can bring their kids to the party and we all get to see each other for a couple of hours.

Three: I don’t have to clean up after the party. I pay JG to pay people to do that. Everyone wins.

Four: The kids can run around like maniacs for a couple of hours and no one is worried about anything breaking. Again, everyone wins.

This year we invited sisters who are in A’s and O’s class, so they’d both have a friend there as well as their niece, nephews and cousins. It was great fun.

Olivia was in Frozen heaven with a new Elsa Barbie, a Kristoff doll, a pair of Frozen pajamas and a blanket with a scene from Frozen on it. So much Frozen!!

Do you want to build a snowman?

Ahem…

Of course we’ll still make a big deal of Miss O on her actual birthday but I think her party was a big success. She slept well that night, after all the driving to and from West Lafayette and then the enormous fun that is being the guest of honor at a birthday party.

Eight is going to be awesome!

That Time Mapquest Sucked

There’s this road in Indiana called the Hoosier Heartland Highway. It was created to take the place of Old 25. Whatever. That road sucks.

It sucks almost as much as mapquest sucks.

Those two things, the Hoosier Heartland Highway and mapquest conspired to turn what should have been a three hour drive into a four and a half hour drive for me and the girls this past Saturday. There are some funky roads in Indiana down around the Logansport area. Just saying.

And about that damned Hoosier Heartland Highway; would it kill the person in charge of roads to put up a few signs on that road? There is nothing there. Seriously…nothing. No signs telling you where you’re going and how far you have to go to get there. There are no gas stations, not signs of life whatsoever. It’s a horrible road. Well, except that it’s new and so the actual act of driving on it is fairly pleasant. But if you need to pee or ask for directions, forget about it.

It was just a really long day.

Thankfully, we left for the PUDM (Purdue University Dance Marathon) with plenty of time to spare so we made it to the opening ceremony and all was well but we were frazzled.

When we left the building the dance marathon was being held it was dark. I’ve driven from this particular building to the hotel quite a few times over the last few years but this time…was different.

I got turned around, I made a wrong turn, there was a freaking car that wouldn’t get off my tail and I’d had it.

I finally turned into a parking lot just to get away from the car behind me and get my bearing and that damned car turned in too! I parked so they could go around and guess what? The car that had been behind me parked right next to me. I was starting to freak the hell out when two women got out of the car and pranced away, obviously heading out for a night out. Ugh!!

So I still didn’t know where I was but needed to not be in that parking lot.

Alyssa and Olivia were trying to be helpful but yeah, they’re eleven and eight, so not so much navigators.

I found Grant Street, headed the way I thought the hotel would be, found a parking garage, started to pull in, realized I was trying to enter the exit, stopped myself from doing that, might have sworn and Olivia laughed at my attempt to enter the exit.

I found an alley. AN ALLEY with a road sign that said I was about to turn on to Grant Street. Yes! That’s where I needed to be. But which way did I need to go?

I rolled down my window (much to Alyssa’s discomfort) and called out to a male/female couple walking past. I asked them if they could tell me which direction I need to go to get to The Union. They pointed and told me it was a block away.

I turned in the direction they pointed and found myself at the intersection of State and Grant. Somehow, I’d gotten on the other side of State Street. I still don’t know how that happened. Ugh!

But alas, we made it to the hotel, Olivia took a bath and ate some cheddar bunnies, Alyssa took a shower and ate some blueberries.

I declared I should never, ever be allowed to drive again and watched a little Property Brothers before we all fell asleep.

Sadly, my self-imposed driving ban lasted about twelve hours before I had to get back in the car and go back to the dance marathon.

After two hours there, we got in the car AGAIN to drive back to Fort Wayne where we held Olivia’s birthday party at Jungle George’s. Great fun was had by all and there were no more driving mishaps.

We even managed to navigate the Hoosier Heartland Highway with no more frustrations. But that doesn’t make up for the fact that there are no road signs on that road. That needs to be addressed. For reals.

Inked

A few nights ago we were all sitting at the kitchen table finishing dinner when Tom noticed some ink on the table.

He glowered at me and the girls, wanting to know who’d written on the table.

Olivia said, “I didn’t. I was writing on paper and it went through the paper to the table.”

I assured him, “It will come off. It always does.”

He rolled his eyes at the implication that there is often ink on the table.

Whatever. I finished dinner and cleared the table.

The next night as I was washing dishes, Tom called from across the room, “You were right, the ink came right off the table.”

“Awesome,” I replied.

He continued, “I cleaned it off this morning.”

Ahhh. Okay. I got it. “I forgot to wipe it off last night, didn’t I?”

He nodded, “I kind of thought you wiped off the table every night.”

Ha! I actually did laugh at this. I asked him, “What gave you the idea that I did that?”

I looked around the house. Right now it’s pretty cluttered due to some home improvement stuff going on. We don’t live in filth but I could definitely be a better housekeeper.

My comment actually got a smile out of him.

We do our best but there are always places we could improve.

I keep telling him that if we don’t laugh at how similar we are to the Hecks from the tv show The Middle, we’ll cry.

I mean, we don’t have a hole where our kitchen sink should be, but there is definitely room for improvement when it comes to clutter. I’d say our house looks ‘lived in’ but that implies a sense of comfort and really, there are just piles of crap that need to be cleaned up more often than they are.

Soon. I promise. Right after I paint the family room, dining area, kitchen and entry way.

Please

Can someone please save this little boy?

His name is Devine.



He needs a home. He's only seven years old. He needs the therapies that Olivia needed, he needs someone to take him home, to love him and to let him show them what he can do. Just like Olivia needed that.

I wish we were a family for whom adoption was an option. But we're not. But I know there are people out there, amazing people who are looking for an amazing child to bless them and their home. Do you know where his mommy is? Are you his mommy?

The Potatoes

Ahh yes, the potatoes. Julie mentioned the giant mounds of shredded potatoes from our breakfast at Denny’s last Sunday. It was insane how many potatoes they piled onto each plate.

See, I don’t really eat potatoes, especially not for breakfast but Alyssa likes hash browns, thanks to my mom, who convinced Miss Picky Eater to try them a few months ago while at McD’s.

‘Hash browns’ are on the Denny’s menu. They come with almost everything on the breakfast menu. I don’t usually get them but I did this time because I figured Alyssa could eat them. I got her a side of bacon, one scrambled egg and a ‘hash brown’ of her own. Except Denny’s hash browns are not an oval of potatoes that come in a handy paper envelop the way McD’s hash browns do.

Denny’s hash browns are an enormous pile of shredded potatoes. Yes. Enormous.

So there were several piles of shredded potatoes among the six of us eating breakfast. Some of those piles did not get eaten because there were just so many.

Another thing I forgot to mention in the original post about our big, amazing weekend at IU was the cookie.

It was an enormous chocolate chip cookie with purple frosting spelling out Happy Birthday Olivia.

She loved it.

We decided to save the cookie for Tom. Olivia declared, “Daddy would love to eat this cookie with me.”

And she was right. He most certainly has loved eating that cookie with her. In fact, they’ve been eating that cookie for the last three nights.

Last night, Olivia got the piece of the cookie with the O. She was so excited. She looked at the cookie after Tom cut her portion out of it and told us, “Now it’s just Happy Birthday Livia.”

I asked her when she got so smart. She rolled her eyes and ate her O.

We're All Tired

So, the last two nights have had Olivia sleeping all night long; in her own bed. I know! Wonders never cease.

Anyway, travel exhausts her and so she’s been sleeping well. But during our awake times, everyone in our house is cranky these days.

Tom is laying new flooring in our kitchen/dining/entry areas. He’s cranky.

The girls and I have traveled almost 500 miles in the past four days. We’re tired and cranky.

When we got home last night from my mom’s (I have to go there to watch the latest episode of The Walking Dead every Monday evening; Olivia takes a bath there while I watch, it keeps her from seeing the zombies and other crap an eight year old shouldn’t see) Tom was almost done with the floor for the night.

We both said a few things and he said, “Don’t get mad. Remember that we’re all tired.”

We said a few more things and I reminded him, “You can’t get mad. Remember, we’re all tired.”

And then we kissed and made up.

See, we’re lucky we are self-aware enough to be able to actually say things like that. Of course, there are times when we aren’t aware of how cranky we are and we just get pissy with each other.

But last night the tiredness wasn’t so great that we were overly mean to each other. Sometimes, reminding each other that we’re both tired is our way of saying, “I love you.” That and sometimes taking the girls from one room to the other so one of us can have a moment of peace and quiet. It’s the little things, I tell you.

Another sign I was tired was that I couldn’t even stay awake long enough to watch Scorpion last night.

It appears from this post alone that I watch a lot of television. It’s true. I do watch a lot and we don’t even have cable.

But even I, television addict that I am, can decide that I’m just too tired to watch. That’s when we know that it’s time for a time out for me. Or, you know, bed.