Bad Day 219--The Red Party

So we had our annual Red Party today. No, we are not communist. It is called The Red Party because Child 2 could not for the life of her pronounce Valentine's Day. But it has evolved into being a party where we wear red clothes and eat red food and give red presents. I used to give the children Valentine T-shirts, but they are now all too cool to wear them so this year I just gave them all chocolates which I think Child 2 has already eaten. Because someone should enjoy chocolate on Valentine's Day and it's not going to be me.

Husband sent flowers which are beautiful and sweet and sooo much better than the print out mustache disguise kit that he gave me last year. OK, I admit that the mustache thing was funny, but is the most unromantic gift ever. The ironic thing is that I actually want a cross-cut shredder for my birthday and Husband refuses to purchase it for me even though I can't think of anything else I want because he says that is not something you buy your wife when you are in Afghanistan. He is probably right, but I still want a shredder.



If I had this cute shredder, I would decorate it with stickers to look like a robot.

The people who went on this cruise to Mexico are all having a worse day than me. I had a very happy time on our cruise in the Mediterranean which Husband calls the Best Week of His Life. But these people did not have a good time after a fire ruined their engine room so they have no power which means no hot water, no air conditioning, no hot food, and apparently no working toilets. They had to tow them to Alabama and it took days.



So thank you, Carnival Cruise line, for reminding me to be grateful that I sailed on Royal Caribbean. Although, I have to say, even if we had run out of power and had no food, I would have still enjoyed being with Husband for 24 hours a day. But I hope the passengers get their money back because who on earth would want to pay for camping on a ship where there were not even any trees or animals? And also, I hate camping so I definitely would not pay for that.

Bad day 218--sisterly love

Sister 1 arrived tonight for a long awaited visit. We have been talking nonstop since she got here like we always do when we get together. It is late and I am tired, so of course my computer stopped working and I have to blog on my phone.

I sometimes forget how amazing Sister 1 is, but tonight I remember. She has been here only a few hours and already she has helped Child 3 with homework, gone grocery shopping with me and helped make valentines for the 5th grade. I went to bed and she is still going even after flying all day to get here. I love her.

I have been torturing myself by reading Richard III on the train and there are lots of people in that play who had a worse day than me. But mostly Richard himself. He killed practically everyone he knew to get the crown and he only managed to hold onto it for two years and ended up with his skull bashed in buried under a parking lot. So thank you, King Richard, for reminding me to be much nicer to my siblings than you were to yours. I hope you learned your lesson in the end. I guess you never found that horse.

Bad Day 217--This is not normal.

I can see up Child 1's nose. I know you are wondering why I would ever want to look up her nose and I assure you it was a complete accident. It's not like she is 3 and put a bead up there which she totally did and made this funny wheezing sound when she breathed. It's that now she is so much taller than me that when we are both standing close together, I can see up her nose. I couldn't be prouder because I always wanted my children to be taller than me and now my wish is fulfilled. Someday, I will have to stand in the front of the family photos which I am completely not ready for. Even though I am two sizes smaller than I used to be, I am still not photo ready. I'll have to do the Cosby Show thing where you hold something big and ridiculous in front of the camera to hide your stomach. To be fair, Phylicia Rashad was pregnant and they wouldn't write it into the script. But still, it would be handy to have a basket of laundry, or a box, or a big stuffed animal to hide behind if the children are all taller than me and make me stand in front. I hate standing in front.



I was thinking just the other day that being apart is now normal and we are all getting used to the separation and I don't like that. I don't like that it is normal because I don't like this normal. It still stinks. Sometimes I don't care that Husband is serving our country. I don't care that he is making the world a better place. I just want him to come home and make my world a better place. OK. Done ranting.

Here is something that would make my world a better place--new boots. I know, you are thinking that I just bought a pair of new boots and they gave me blisters and you would be right. But I am not talking about those boots. I am talking about replacing a pair of boots I bought 9 years ago. 9! And I wore them a lot, but they have heels and they are stretchy and look like patent leather, and I discovered today that not only is the "patent leather" peeling off, they are now too small and kept sliding down my legs all day which totally ruined the look because I had to keep tugging them up. It could be that they are just old, but I think this is another side effect of losing weight and why on earth is all the weight coming off my feet and calves! Honestly. Who knew you could lose weight in your feet? I spend all my time now clomping around in shoes that are too big and it is infuriating because I love my shoes. I swear, if I ever get too skinny to wear my purses, I will be really angry.

Speaking of angry, the fact that this honors student in Utah is having a worse day than me just makes me furious. And that it's because her middle school principal is clueless about both fashion and red hair makes me seethe even more. Look at the picture of this lovely girl and see if you can tell what is wrong enough about her hair that she was suspended.



See? Nothing, right? Well, apparently she was suspended because her hair was too red. Yes, she dyes it, but it looks beautiful on her and I happen to know people who have that color in real life. But the principal decided it was too unnatural and she needed to dye it back brown and couldn't return to class until she did. So thank you, Principal Clueless, for reminding me to be grateful that we don't really have a dress code in the Department and if we did, this lovely girl's hair would totally be OK, despite that other federal agency that said red hair is unprofessional which I can assure you it totally is not. And thank you also for reminding me to hug my children and tell them they are beautiful, especially their red hair. And to the student--you are truly beautiful and (to borrow a phrase) it gets better, and if I lived in your town, I would dye my hair Katy Perry blue. Just because it would freak out your principal. Seriously, Principal Clueless, don't you have bigger things to worry about besides hair?

Bad Day 216--What did you just say?

Phrases that strike fear into every mother's heart:

1. I didn't mean to!
2. You know that vase you loved that was your Grandma's?
3. Where is the carpet cleaner?
4. Does carpet cleaner work on crayon?
5. What if the crayon is melted?
6. Where are the sharpies?
7. So there's this boy. . .

These are phrases that make steam come out of my ears.

1. You said I could!
2. I don't want to.
3. Nobody told me.

OK, we have to talk about that last one because that one is the absolute worst. I cannot stand it when the children won't take responsibility when they've done something wrong and trying to blame me by implying that it is my fault they didn't know they couldn't watch TV until 3 am on a school night/eat the pie I made for a dinner party/borrow my sewing scissors to cut glue sticks. Some things should not have to be said out loud.

Now, I have to say that my children have learned over time not to use that excuse and I hardly ever hear it anymore. Except at work. Not in my current job where most people are grown-ups, but you would not believe how many "adults" use that as an excuse and actually think it is going to work! I am telling you right now that if you call up customer service to complain that your computer is broken because nobody told you not to wash your keyboard in the dishwasher, they are going to mute the phone because they are laughing at you and then they aren't going to help you. Not even a little bit, unless you consider e-mailing your conversation to everyone in the entire company so they can also laugh is helpful.

Everyone in Sao Paulo Brazil is having a worse day than me because they are living with this.

See those black dots? Those are not specks of dirt or water on the lens. They are spider. Seriously. Millions of spiders hanging from telephone wires. Apparently, they are "social spiders" and they like to get together in the evening and hang out and spin webs collectively. Locals say it's a common sight. So thank you, Brazilians, for making me grateful that there weren't any positions in Brazil to bid on this last time. And I will definitely think twice before bidding there ever because spiders, more than anything else on earth, give me the willies. I'm shivering just thinking about them.

Bad Day 215--Double the effort for nothing

I made two dinners tonight. Two! And I only got to eat one. It's not that the other was inedible or ruined, it's that I didn't realize when I was making it that I wouldn't be able to eat it. See, as I have mentioned before, I love my crock pot. Love. It. It is the one appliance I could not survive without because nothing is better than dumping ingredients into a pot and turning it on and forgetting about it and then when it's dinner time, all you have to do is set the table and eat it. It's amazing and in the winter, I use it to make the most delicious stew which everyone loves and is the perfect thing for a cold winter Sunday evening. And today, I was making it and Child 3 told me to stop immediately so I wouldn't get sick because the stew was poisoned. OK, not really poisoned, but full of wheat which I didn't know and this is the culprit.



Yep. Condensed tomato soup has wheat flour in it which would have negated all the trouble I went to avoid getting sick by bringing my own sacrament bread. I was upset and told the children they could just eat it and I would find something else and they all said why didn't I make improvised soup instead which they all love. Improvised soup is named thusly because Child 1 invented it from ingredients she found in the cupboard and it is very yummy and includes sliced black olives. Odd, I know, but we all love it, so I made it, and some cornbread with gluten-free flour which turned out a little dry so I will need to find a better recipe but it was good with honey on it. And also ants-on-a-log which is one of Child 3's specialties and will most certainly be on our restaurant menu when she and I open our country/home cooking restaurant/candy store in Guam at which I will have to do most of the cooking. It will be an interesting retirement for sure. I asked her what Husband was supposed to do in the restaurant since she will run it and she has appointed me head chef and she had completely no idea but then thought maybe he could work the register in the candy store. So there you go, Husband! You can sell the candy which will all be gluten-free.

Quote of the month goes to Child 3 who when we saw a woman wearing at least 8 sombreros along with purple velvet pants with green flowered chiffon bell bottoms said the following: "Well, let's just pretend we didn't see that!" I am still laughing.

Husband gets the credit for alerting me to this neighborhood of people in Virginia who are all having a worse day than me. The homeowner's association has been in a fight with some residents that started out over a campaign sign they decided was too big and descended into general nastiness on both sides. And I have to say that after reading the article, all the people involved were petty in the extreme and should be ashamed of themselves. The HOA fought so long and hard that they are now bankrupt and the bankruptcy court is selling the square of parkland that their homes surround. It's a shame when anyone at the beginning could have been the bigger person and dropped the whole thing. But since they all had to be right, the lawyers are the only winners. So thank you, Olde Belhaven HOA for reminding me to be grateful that my HOA doesn't care about campaign signs in the yard. Or green energy ones which is what we have there now. And also, to be thankful for my neighbors who despite the occasional loud party and stealing of trash cans have never sued me or complained to the HOA. And I hope they never will because I certainly wouldn't. Good fences make good neighbors and so does forgiveness.

Bad Day 214--恭贺新禧!

Happy Chinese New Year! It's the year of the Snake, but apparently snakes are bad luck, so in China they are still celebrating, but people are trying to forget it is about snakes so they are just pretending it has nothing to do with snakes. To celebrate the new year, we had some friends over to eat western red things with fried eggs. In English, that would be scrambled eggs with tomatoes, but it's much more fun to call the dish by its literal English translation. We also had fried rice, which must have tasted pretty good because I made a lot and there was not very much left.

I had a lot of fun, but someone please remind me not to schedule a dinner party on the same day as a Girl Scout sleepover ever again because I am so exhausted I can hardly see straight. I got about 2 hours of sleep at the sleepover, not because the ghosts kept me awake, because they were all nice and quiet, but because I don't sleep well anywhere besides my bed and also there were 30 laughing, giggling girls getting up to go to the bathroom every five minutes and the floors creaked. Other than that, it was fun, but I hated the not sleeping part. So to ensure that the children keep me up all night because they are having nightmares, we are watching The Witches. In my defense, it was completely their idea because they loved the Roald Dahl book, but I had forgotten just how scary this movie is.



I also forgot that the first part was filmed in Norway. In Bergen, to be exact. Someday I have to get back to Norway. In the summer, though. I don't think I could take another winter there--cold and dark is not my thing. The northern lights are amazing and perhaps the most beautiful thing I have ever seen which you cannot capture on film, but all things considered, I prefer palm trees and the beach. For my next post, I'd like somewhere tropical.

Speaking of freezing weather, these people in Sweden are all having a worse day than me.



Those are pillars of ice they are sitting on. On purpose. For fun. For 48 hours. OK, it's really to win a contest, but apparently they are not allowed to read and they can only get down to use the facilities every two hours. I'm not sure what they win if they make it the whole 48 hours, but whatever it is, it is completely not worth it. Unless it involves Husband coming back from Afghanistan early. That is the only thing I would endure 48 hours of sitting on ice for.

Bad Day 213--We ride at dawn!

I'm preparing for battle. OK, not exactly battle--just a Girl Scout overnight with about 50 girls plus their leaders. And it's not at dawn, but I imagine when dawn arrives there will be many girls who will still be awake. The overnight is in an old tavern which may or may not be haunted. I'm not afraid of ghosts. If there are any, I fully expect my grandfather (who haunts my dreams on a regular basis) to give them a good dressing down and tell them they are wasting their existence and they should have studied finance and could they please tell his granddaughter to buy some stocks because she never listens to him. (If you know anything about my maternal grandfather, then that last part was really, really funny and I bet you are laughing out loud.)



But I am not expecting any sleep despite whatever ghosts may or may not appear, or any internet access, thus I am blogging at lunch. I have to go on this GS overnight so that Child 2 can qualify for her Silver Award which I'm told is the GS equivalent of an Eagle Scout and is totally cool and Child 2 has to get. So I had to give away send Child 1 and Child 3 to sleepovers tonight. I bribed Genevieve with pizza to take Child 3. The GS are providing "healthy snacks" whatever that means which will probably mean they are not gluten free. If you have food allergies, you are allowed to bring your own food, so I will be bringing Cheetos and gluten-free cookies. Don't judge. You might eat more cheetos, too, if you could never, ever have a brownie again for the rest of your life. Also, Child 2 likes them and I am all about bribing the children to like me because even though Husband left us for Afghanistan, somehow he is still the favorite parent. I have to use whatever I can to win!

These students in Ohio are having a worse day than me. They decided to stage a huge waterballoon fight over lunch which sounds like a lot of fun. For those of you who live in a cave and have never seen such a fight, it looks like this.



It is probably better to have such fights outside in warm weather, but since it's winter in Ohio, they did it in the cafeteria and the school officials who had warned them not to do it because slippery, wet floors are a safety issue, canceled their prom. Yep. They decided to punish the entire school instead of just the kids who participated. So no prom. I didn't get to go to my prom because I was sick and I have always regretted missing it. So to the seniors of Cincinnati who will get no prom, I'm sorry your administrators are no fun. And to the prinicpal of the high school whose brilliant idea it was to threaten them with canceling prom, thank you for making me look like a really relaxed parent. And remember, never threaten children with something you don't want to do, because now you can't back out or they will never trust you again. But I bet some parents will get together to throw an unofficial prom. Or show the kids Footloose during class. That could give them ideas.