On the verge of understanding, innuendo

When I was in fourth grade my class incubated chicken eggs as a class project. I obviously lived in a very small town in the Midwest, anyway. We turned the eggs and made sure the heat was always just right for them. We took flash lights to them so we could see the growing chick inside. We got very attached to these chicken eggs. Then the time came and chicks started to hatch. It was a gloriously magical day that I still remember fondly. Seeing those little beaks break through the shells, then they so ungracefully fall out of the shell and into the world. It was incredible. A week earlier permission slips had gone home asking parents if the kids could bring their beloved chicks home. I was one of the lucky ones I had permission to bring my chick home. The next day I brought an empty peanut butter jar with holes in the top to school with me I was Ready to become a chicken mother. 

I got my chick home and my mom helped me to make a home for it out of a cardboard box with the top cut off. We had a towel in it and a little tray of bird seed and some water, it was a chickens dream. I was sitting on the floor holding my little baby chick in the palm of my hand and my mom asked me what I wanted to name the chick. I thought about it for some time and decided that because when I held onto my chick in my open palm it would peck around looking for food that the logical name for this little chick was Pecker. My mom as you might imagine was a bit taken back and asked if I was sure I wanted to go with the name Pecker. I was very sure; it just made so much sense. So my Pecker and I were best friends I played with Pecker pretty much constantly.

A couple of weeks past and Pecker and I were getting along great but sadly a friend of mine from my class had been told by her dad that her baby chick had to go. They didn't live on a farm and to make matters worse they had a cat and the cat didn't appreciate the warm and fuzzy baby chick in quit the same way we did. So she asked me if I would adopt her chick for her and raise it with my chick. Well of course I wanted to! So I asked my mom and sure enough she said as long as they stayed in their box I could have two baby chicks. So my friend brought over her chick and its remaining bird seed, we introduced the two chicks to each other and it was a beautiful thing. Now this is the 90's and if you know anything about the 90's you know that Saved by the Bell was one of the biggest shows of the time. My friend and I defiantly loved the show and she loved it so much that she named her chick Screech. So now if you are keeping track I have Pecker and Screech. 

Another couple of weeks went by and my mom was sending me to stay the weekend at my Grandma's, so of course I couldn't leave my babies at home alone.  I packed up Pecker and I packed up Screech and we set off to Grandma's. When I arrived I brought the chicks in, got their box all set up, I refilled their waters and they were all good. My family started to show up shortly after and they were all sitting at my Grandma's table drinking coffee when my uncle asked why there were chickens in the house. I didn't understand at the time why my mom was so adamant that I told the story to my family but I get it now. I said Pecker and Screech to my whole family about a dozen times. I was even baited into saying it. My cousin would say “OK now which one was that I forgot?" and of course I would say Pecker. In retrospect my family must have gotten quit a kick out of the whole thing. I had no idea what was so funny. I just thought they shared my chicken love.

Well eventually Pecker and Screech got so big that the box wasn't keeping them contained anymore and my mom broke the news to me that it was time for the chickens to move outside. It was a very sad day but Pecker and Screech were loaded up into a cage and taken to my uncle's farm. I thought I would never recover from the loss of my beloved Pecker but I knew it was for the best. I visited my chickens every couple of weeks when we would go to the farm and then one day I couldn't find them. I asked my aunt, uncle and cousins if anyone knew where my chickens were. No one would answer me. I kept pestering my family for weeks over the fact that Pecker and Screech were missing. I was moments away from making up "Lost" posters for my chickens when finally my uncle put it to rest. The last word I heard on the matter was "Sarah, your Pecker is gone." That was that the end of my beloved Pecker. 

I tell you this story for a few reasons 1. It's therapeutic I don't know that I ever fully recovered over the loss of my Pecker and poor Screech. 2. It's pretty funny now that I'm old enough to understand why my family made me say the chickens names 400 times, and still do to this day actually. I’m almost 30 years old and my family still gets a kick out of it and 3. If your kid is walking around innocently saying Pecker and Screech to everyone they meet, stop them. I don't know how old I was when it finally hit me why this story was so funny but I think I was about 15 and the realization made me want to bury myself alive. I can laugh about it now but think to yourself how would you feel if you realized that you had said Pecker to your grandma dozens of times? Think about that.  Be kind to your kids. 

On the Verge of understanding, the holidays

My kids came home from school yesterday and they were extremely excited that they had learned what a cornucopia was. I have never heard the word cornucopia so many times in my life and now the word is rattling around in my head and it has me thinking, oh no, the holidays are coming. Run for the hills it's The Holidays! Actually I've given it some more thought and all holidays are pretty nutty actually.  It's not just Thanksgiving and Christmas that get all the credit for being ridiculous if you ask me all of our holidays have their own little quirks, allow me to explain. 

New Year’s Day. It's the start to a brand new year and everyone is highly motivated to finally scratch off all that stuff on their “to do” lists and drop those pesky 50 lbs. It's just funny to me that usually by June most people are back to not caring anymore. I have a love hate relationship with New Years. To me it's like that jocky kid in high school who you hated because he was so full of himself, constantly working out and flashing his bright white smile there by making you feel like you are the laziest person on earth. Then you find out he bottle feeds stray kittens and does needle point with his grandma in the nursing home. Crap. It reminds me that even though New Year’s sucks because it points out my flaws it's not actually the holidays fault. I don't know whose fault it is but I don't think it's the holidays. 

Valentine's Day. I swear I'm not a cynic it's just that no one needs a card the size of their windshield and a stuffed puppy the size of a Buick  What do you do with the Buick puppy after the holiday? You will have to have a closet dedicated to this monstrous pink beagle and you can't in good conscience get rid of it because then you are insensitive. Then there are Valentine's Day pressures if you don't have performance anxiety before Valentine's Day you will during it. All those diamond commercials want you to think that if you don't get your girlfriend a giant diamond today she will hate you forever and your life is ruined. That is just dumb, calm down relax, she won’t hate you Forever and your life's not over. She will only hate you for a month or so and life, although now complicated, will go on. Geez, lighten up.

St. Patrick's Day. Who doesn't need a holiday that gives you an excuse to drink whiskey and make bad choices? I know I do. Ok no I don't but I like watching those people from a safe distance. "But officer it's St. Patrick's Day, I Have to streak naked through the streets. My great, great, great grandfather was Irish, it's my Birth Right!" Yeah that will probably work. If there is anything I have learned from my Irish heritage it's that my people don't need a day to allow them to get wasted. We don't need your stinking holiday to give us permission; we were given beer at birth so we could build up our tolerance. St. Patrick's Day is for young college students who wear green beer steins sun glasses and young gals who wake up with cold sores because they put their mouth on everyone who wore a “Kiss me I’m Irish” button. It’s a button girlie not a contract you can say no. 

Easter. Where did this go wrong? What happened to celebrating the resurrection of Christ? Somehow it became much more appropriate to chase after a mythical rabbit that leaves you glittery candy filled eggs. I would say that you could ask most kids what Easter is about and they will say candy. Nothing quit says resurrection of our Lord and Savior like a Reese’s shaped like an egg. Oh man those are good. Considering that one of the number one shows in the whole country right now is called The Walking Dead it can't be that hard to market Jesus raising from the dead right? We would have to cut out the whole zombie thing but I'm just saying it's possible for youth to understand. I think the bunny is replaceable. However I vote we keep the Reese’s eggs.

Independence Day. On one hand this is an amazing day in American history and I'm very proud of that. However on the other hand it has really become a hillbillies dream. What could be better than hot dogs, beer and blowing things up? Admit it you've noticed that around the Fourth of July beer commercial get patriotic and become more frequent. Beer manufactures know that it will be a requirement for entry at most Independence Day celebrations. If you want to gain entry to a buddy’s campsite on the fourth of July, you’re going to have to meet a few criteria 1. Show up with cheap beer and lots of it 2. You must intend to consume meat prepared on a grill and 3. You had better expect for things to be set on fire. End of story. Happy Birthday ‘Merica.

Halloween. I could go on for days about Halloween but I will try to make it brief. Halloween is probably one of the most controversial holidays because some people think it is glorifying a demonic holiday. Some people think it is just a fun night for little kids to have an excuse to go into public dressed as a power ranger or a princess, and then there are those who use the holiday to be as slutty as they can possibly manage without being arrested. So depending on your place in life Halloween can mean lots of different things to you. There is no way to describe the feeling this year when my son turned around to me and informed me that he could see the butt of the girl in front of him. That was an uncomfortable life lesson that I didn't want to teach while pushing an M&M in a stroller and screaming at a little pink monster to "keep up” while we were trick-or-treating. Sure enough the girl in front of him who was roughly 16 years old was dressed as the sluttiest bumble bee on the planet and low and behold underneath that child's barely there yellow tutu was her rear end out on display. Dear slutty Bumble Bee, A. Put some Tights on underneath your tutu. B. You are 16 stop trick-or-treating C. Were your parents drunk when you walked out of the house? I have a love hate relationship with Halloween, but unlike New Years it doesn't ultimately give me a sense of optimism instead it fills me with the fear that eventually it's going to be socially acceptable to walk around in public on October 31st completely nude wearing ears and a tail and people will think nothing of it. I'm just say'in it's not looking good. 

Thanksgiving. This much like Independence Day is one of our most important days for our country and so in true American spirit we spend too much money on food we won't eat, force ourselves to pretend we like our families, and over eat on carbs and sweets until we feel we can no longer move and pray for some gestural intestinal relief. Good to be an American where I have the freedom to eat until I puke and watch football until my eyes hurt. We are celebrating a day that we shared a meal with the Native Americans. These Native Americans made it possible for boobs like us to survive in this foreign land and then we killed them, yep practically killed them all. Thanks for the yummy food, now get out we are stealing your land! So now I feel it's only right that we celebrate it every year by treating ourselves so poorly. It’s a little bit of Native American’s revenge.

Christmas is for lunatics. I think almost everyone can say that Christmas makes people crazy. Considering this season starts with a day called Black Friday it doesn't bode well for the whole spirit of the day. I went black Friday shopping one time and never again. I had a woman ram her cart into the back of my ankles and then before I could turn around and say "watch where you're going please" she had whipped around me and gave me the finger. Nothing says love thy neighbor quit like flipping them the bird on your way to by discount batteries. People get consumed with greed around Christmas and forget what it's all about. This year as Christmas approaches sit back, relax and focus on what’s really important about Christmas...cookies.

Now having said all of this let me say. I love the holidays. All of the holidays are equally great they all cater to a different part of my personality. Sometimes I'm feeling a little off my rocker and I want to blow stuff up. Sometimes I'm feeling sensitive and have a great desire for a fluffy Pomeranian the size of a jungle gym and sometimes I want a good excuse to be drunk in public so I start screaming "It's OK I'm Irish!" Alright I don't do those things but I like knowing that if I ever wanted to I could.  All holidays have their draw backs and their wonders. Like on Halloween it's a wonder to me how more women don't end up roofied. Holidays can make people crazy but just remember this may not be your favorite holiday but someone somewhere is having the time of their life so grin, bare it, and cornucopia. I still can't get that word out of my head. Happy Holiday! 

On the verge of cool

I was in my van the other day singing away to the radio. I was drumming on the steering wheel and I had all the windows down so the wind was in my face. I was getting down and feeling cool. Then I heard “Mom!” from the back seat. When I turned around to see what the problem was, I found both of my kids with annoyed looks on their faces and their hands on their ears. My son said to me “Mom you’re a nice singer but can you do that at home later and not now please? People can see you.” Ouch. I’m officially uncool. I knew this day would come. I was cool once upon a time, or at least I thought I was. The birth of my kids made me lose my cool like it does for so many parents but God willing I will regain my cool someday as a grandparent. Parents aren't supossed to be cool anyway right?

My parents were definatly no exception, they were very uncool. Our parents were uncool and their parents were uncool, it has been like this for generations I bet for a while even Hercules thought Zeus was a stick in the mud, or clouds I guess it would be. I can just picture it "Dad really? Do you have to throw lightning Every time my friends are over? We get it your powerful could you go inside now your embarrassing me." In the beginning my parents embarrassed me by giving me terrible haircuts. You see, I had a bowl cut, and not just your ordinary bowl cut either, I had a permed bowl cut. Not only was it the same length all the way around my head but it was fluffy too. That actually takes a side seat though to my haircut when I was 2. I had what looked like a Jheri curl mullet. I take no responsibility for that uncoolness that was all my mother’s fault. As I got older I was finally able to take over and I finally became cool. It started with a passion for high top sneakers and neon headbands and then escalated to a love for Zubaz. Zubaz were the pants of the era, they were my hammer pants and I wore them everywhere. When I wasn't in my zubaz I wore my splatter paint jeans. It looked like someone had taken a pair of high waist, pleated, acid washed denim jeans and splattered paint all over them. It was neon and fabulous and I loved them. Yes, I rolled and pinned my jeans at the bottom and yes I rocked slouch socks. I was incredibly cool. By the time I got to high school I was holding my own in the awesome department. I’d say most people wouldn’t have considered me one of the “cool kids" but by that time I Felt cool so I didn’t care what people thought. I think all the aqua net in the 90's affected my judgment though. I wore giant bell bottoms, I shaved my head and I even wore a purple ball gown to school for absolutely no reason. Now you might be thinking to yourself, I don't know if any of that makes a person cool. Trust me it does, I was awesome. I sang loudly to terrible music in my car, I proudly drove a giant white station wagon that I named “The Stinger” and I became a high school cheerleader. The cheerleader thing makes me a little cool right? I got out of high school and moved to Texas and I lived an awesome life. I had a cool apartment in the city, I had a cool car that was all paid off, and I had a cool job that let me meet lots of awesome people. I was in the prime of my awesomeness, who could possibly stifle that ultra-high level of cool?

A baby that’s who. A baby will suck the cool right out of you. I traded in my cool for a baby and in the grand scheme of things I say it was a fair trade. Managing both probably would have killed me. I traded my Zubaz for mom jeans but that’s ok I’ve made my peace with that for now. I held onto a little cool for a few months because I made milk, I provide comfort, and I had an unmatched ability to make my baby sleep. Before he was able to walk I was very cool. But then his little feet hit the ground and he was off and from that point forward he was too cool to be held anymore especially by mom. The next two kids followed suit. I was cool to them for about 10 months then they were mobile and the cool was gone. Now the older my kids get the less cool I become. I'm pretty sure my kids think that I have never done a cool thing in my life and I am the nerdiest person on the planet. I guess it’s fair though, I thought all my dad did for fun was watch golf and listen to Crosby Stiles and Nash, he was the most boring uncool person on earth. That is until his best friend came to stay with us for a week when I was 15. I listened to stories about my dad and this friend sneaking into a bell tower in the middle of the night and ringing the bells. They put a lot of sleepy nuns into a frenzy that night. It was at that moment I thought maybe in another life he wasn't such a dad and perhaps at some point, just for a moment, he was pretty cool after all. My parents embarrassed me and now it's my right to embarrass my kids. I’m still cool but they won’t realize it until they are much older and they hear my version of a bell tower story.

I’m optimistic for the future. I know when my kids become teens their embarrassment will go way up and my cool will go way down. I also know though that when my kids are adults and eventually parents themselves they will do the same things to their kids that I did to them. What goes around comes around. From my understanding as soon as my kids become parents I get my cool back X10 because grandparents are about the coolest people on the planet. My cool hasn’t actually left it’s just on hold until I become a grandma someday. I can handle being the uncoolest person alive as long as I know that getting my cool back is always on the horizon. Some day while I am traveling around the country in my giant white RV named Stinger 2 and wearing my zubaz and high tops one of my kids will call me and say “Mom, my son just said I wasn’t cool and told me to stop singing in the van.” I will just smile and break out in a celebratory running man dance and I will know my cool has come full circle. Until that day I am an uncool mom and proud of it.

On the verge of dating

How do you meet a man whom you have interest in dating? I think in a perfect world he would walk right into my church and have a manly intoxicating fragrance that follows him in. He will have a halo of bright white light that matches is gorgeous white teeth and as he walks flowers ascend from him and onto the floor. Hey, it could happen! I’m not saying I’m holding out for it but it could happen. I don’t plan to get married again, so dating seems unnecessary. It’s like training for a marathon you never intend to run. It just doesn’t make sense. That's also why I don't run actually, running doesn’t make sense either. I’m currently coming off of my second divorce in 4 years, that’s right I’m 2 and 2 on marriage and divorce and I’m not even 30 yet. Oh yeah, Right on Track. My friends and family seem to think that eventually I will “get back out there” and I will connect with someone again. I say they are crazy and start to question my taste in friends. However, sometimes just for kicks I think to myself what will dating be like now after 3 kids and 2 divorces? How will I even meet someone? Maybe the guy in Chuck E. Cheeses costume is single. Then how will I figure out if they are a waste of time or not? I guess Chuck E. is out. Realistically it’s going to be a co-worker, a person from the internet or a blind date.

Truthfully I hope to heaven it’s not a co-worker. I work at a machine shop with a bunch of welders and although that grimy look does have some appeal a requirement for dating any of them would be they aren't allowed to open their mouths. It’s not that welders aren't smart, it’s a hard skill to master and a lot of them are very smart. It’s more the swearing every third word, smoking like a chimney and spitting on the floor while grabbing their pants for emphasis stuff that gets to me. “Stupid” and “No” are bad words in my house so Mr. Welder and his mostly 4 letter word vocabulary aren’t going to work around my house. Our four letter words are usually love, milk, and Ma Ma I do hear those words at work however they are usually in a whole different context. These guys super glue wounds shut and I bandage things with princess Band-Aids and kisses. The guys eat beef jerky and slam monster energy drinks that they buy at the gas station on break; I have my salad and apple pre-packed in my Tupperware the night before. These are the men I have to pick from at work? No thanks I’m good.

Maybe I will meet Mr. Right on-line? That takes some of the work out for me. They give a picture and a bio I wouldn’t get that in real life. I can just imagine it. I meet someone for the first time and demand to see their driver’s license photo, credit history report, a criminal background check and insist on hearing their life story, but then all of a sudden I’m the weirdo. No way, it’s much easier to just Google them before you meet them and don’t act like I’m the only one who does that, you’ve Googled someone before. On-line dating has its disadvantages too though. Now maybe I’m too cynical but I will read into everything they type. If he uses too many smiley faces he's a dork. If he can't spell he's a moron. If he knows way too many lyrics to Broadway shows he is now in “the friend zone.” I need body language to figure a person out. You can't tell from an online chat if he has a weird facial tick, or a tail. These are deal breakers people; I need to know these things before I waste my time. Not to mention that the person you are "dating" could also be a serial killer just waiting to find out your address to come and cut off your fingers and stick them in your refrigerator. You’re happily instant messaging away and Mr. Fridge-Fingers is cutting out magazine pictures trying to assemble your likeness so he can sleep with it and pet you like cat.  I don’t think on-line dating is the way to go for me.

Maybe if my guard was down one day a friend could convince me to go on a blind date with their friend who is "perfect for me." I've never really done a blind date before but I don't think it would work out. I'm a lot to take in the first time you meet me. I have had countless encounters with people who say the first time they met me they didn't like me. I'm sort of like a bull at the rodeo. When they are penned in things are fine but as soon as that gate opens and the pressure is on they’re all over the place. I can behave myself for the first 30 minutes but after that I can't fake it anymore and I have to put my foot in my mouth at least once. I ramble when I'm nervous and just in case the rambling wasn't a clear sign of nerves my skin will seal the deal. My cheeks, chest and neck will turn bright red. There’s nothing like a little rosacea to really impress the opposite sex. I’m also naturally uncomfortable when I am out in public without my kids. I keep feeling like I’m forgetting something. I’m just not very good and switching out of Mom mode and into Woman mode. Knowing me, at dinner I would probably lean over and take his butter knife away or put his straw in his water. I couldn’t go to the movies either. Two hours in a dark cool room with no one talking to me, yeah right buddy 10 minutes into that movie and I’m going to be fast asleep. I only dance when I have a kid standing on my feet, I only bowl with bumpers and carnival rides make me nauseous. Mr. Blind date is in for a rough night.

So as far as dating goes I have 3 real basic choices, Mr. Welder with the spitting and pants grabbing, Mr. Fridge Fingers, and poor Mr. Blind date that had no idea what he was in for. I am much more content to go to work do my job and go home to my amazing kids. I’m very happy to keep my on-line time dedicated to “liking” pictures of my friends and watching silly YouTube videos of babies falling asleep into their spaghetti and I’m perfectly content to stay home on a Saturday night and watch my Friends reruns in my sweat pants. It’s not a life that some people would choose but I love it. So I think I will stick the original plan and just not date. I’m really very busy sustaining my other relationships and I don’t have time for dating shenanigans anyway, oh and I really like my fingers and I don’t want them in my fridge.

Are you on the verge of reincarnation?

 If I were to believe in reincarnation I would think that coming back as my 4 year old daughters clothes would be the worst possible punishment ever. You think coming back as a bug is bad that’s nothing compared to the life you will have as a future Broadway stars wardrobe.

You will never be with your mate or match ever again.

My daughter’s clothes haven't matched in 3 years. After the age of about 18 months my daughter stopped wearing her outfits as an intended set. I was delighted to buy outfit sets with a sailing theme, a kitten theme or a cute little strawberry pattern, but before I knew it there were kittens on the top, sailboats on the bottom, and strawberries on the socks. I quit trying to correct it when she would stick her hand on her hip and exclaim "I do it Mom, I do it!" Okie dokie sailboats and kittens it is then. Frankly as long as she would leave it on her body I didn't try to fight it. My daughter went through a pretty serious naked phase that lasted way too long. I'm talking duct tape on the diaper to make sure she couldn't get Totally nude in public. The second we would hit the front door for home she was down to a diaper (because she couldn't get the tape off or that would be gone too). So as I said, I would have let her wear army fatigues and neon pink zebra print as long as she kept it on her body. I have claimed for many years that she is merely expressing herself through her mismatched wardrobe. However now that she is 4 I'm wondering if it's less expression and more just being lazy.

You will be easily replaced.

The thought of counting how many wardrobe changes my daughter makes in a day makes me shudder. I have actually taken away her clothes before and rationed out how many clothes she got in a day. On the weekends she doesn’t even play with toys this girl changes outfits for fun. The best part is when she changes outfits she changes personalities. When she wears her boots and a poofy dress she’s a cowgirl. When she wears her leotard and dance shoes she’s a cross between Bella Ballerina and Alex from Flash Dance. When she wears her ball gown she is Queen of the Universe, get the picture? As her mood changes her clothes change, when she is tired the outfits get simpler like a pull over dress and leg warmers. When she is off school on a Saturday the outfits are wild and fun and frequent and usually involve every accessory she owns. No outfit is sacred, you will be easily replaced and eventually you will end up on the floor.

You will never be where you belong ever again and you will be trampled regularly.

Generally the condition of that girls closet can best be described as a disaster. I know the clothes go in the closet clean, sorted and some are neatly hung on hangers. I know this because I put them in there that way. It only takes a matter of a few minutes and the clothes will be all over the floor and half pulled off the hangers. I'm convinced that my daughter has a little sensor that goes off in her head that tells her when clothes have been laundered and neatly put in her room. That sensor goes off and she must immediately go straight to her room and try on every outfit she owns. This wouldn't be so bad if she didn't throw the first clean outfit on the floor so as to put on the next clean outfit. She will then repeat this process until she has worked her way all the way through her clean clothes and they are all back on the floor, which is where I picked them up from to begin with. Perhaps from now on I will launder the clothes and then walk into her room and just thrown them in every which direction. They will end up there anyway. The clothes were clean for roughly 30 minutes then they are just trampled and kicked around until the next laundry day.

You will come home from school permanently disfigured.

I cannot for the life of me figure out what my daughter manages to get into but sometimes she comes home from school looking like she just did a Navy Seal qualifying obstacle course and not preschool. She will have rips and tars in weird places. How she got a hole in her shirt right in the middle of her back is beyond me. My guess is crawling on her belly underneath barbed wire. She will have major stains that make no sense. I have looked at a stain on my daughter’s shirt and then consulted the school lunch menu paper to see if I can figure out the stain. Don't judge me I need to know! The shirt will appear to be covered in baked beans and looking at the menu it says cream corn. Where did the beans come from?! How she covers herself in ketchup on macaroni and cheese day baffles me too. Her stains do not make sense. I used to try and battle the stain now if I treat it and it doesn't budge, the stain wins and I throw it out. There are just too many mystery stains and rips she must be getting out of preschool early and working part time as a farm hand somewhere.

You will not be used for your proper purpose.

My little girl is very creative when it comes to dressing. To us we see a pair of regular old tights. You remember the ones, the hot itchy wool tights that you swore you would never make your kid where. Those would be the ones. We see tights my daughter sees pigtails. This girl will wear a pair of wool tights on her head All Day Long and happily play Rapunzel. She will "brush" her tights, she will "braid" her tights she will even use ribbon to tie her tights back while she brushes her teeth. It doesn't stop at tights either she will also put on a shirt and then pull it up over her head as if to take it off, but she won't pull it all the way off and then she has a glorious full mane of beautiful T-shirt hair. To me she looks more like a nun in a habit but to her it is more like Tina Turner hair. It won't stop at shirts either my little dear has been known to tie leggings around her waist and use them as a belt, Socks on her hands as gloves, and once I even found her tying her clothes together to make a fort.

So if you believe in reincarnation it is in your best interests to get right with this world because you Do Not want to come back as my daughter’s clothes, you will be in for a rough existence.

Verge of a melt down

A day in my life could either be so boring and ordinary that it would make a chess match look like a high intensity blood sport or so completely chaotic that I am on the edge of a meltdown. Today was a meltdown kind of day. Right out of the gate this morning the universe was out to get me. I survived melt down free but it was touch and go there for a while, let me explain.

I slept great and thought I would wake up to a glorious Sunday morning. I became quickly aware that was not in my morning forecast because at 4:45 a.m. My baby got up and decided that his morning had started and so therefore my morning was going to start too. I disagreed with my baby and did every trick in the “Please Baby Give Me Just One More Hour of Sleep” handbook. We walked, we sang, we rocked and finally he gave in. After a bottle and some dry pants he was back out and so was I. Good right? Well unfortunately I failed to remember that I had unset the alarm when I got up. I over slept. So I picked up my morning pace and managed to catch up with the things I needed to do, I was back on track. Then there was a setback. My six year old son comes in looking like a deer in headlights and tells me there is something wrong with my toilet. Two words I never want to hear in the same sentence again are Wrong and Toilet. I did a mental head slap and went to investigate. It turns out that an entire new roll of toilet paper had fallen into the toilet and had sucked up most of the water. So there I was at 7:30 in the morning digging a half dissolved roll of toilet paper out of the toilet with the end of the plunger. I even had an audience of two kids behind me making gagging noises and adding helpful advice like “just use your hands it’s faster.” Boy what a way to start the day, playing in the toilet before 8 a.m. After the toilet was back in working condition and I disinfected myself from head to toe I decided to cut breakfast fruit for church. After I got all the fruit cut and put in a fancy carrying dish I had my son take it to the van. He comes in from outside a few minutes later in tears and explains he dropped the fruit and now it’s on the driveway. So there was another mental head slap and lots of consoling for my son who unjustly blamed himself. I go outside to find that half the fruit is actually still savable the container landed upright so only the fruit that fell out midair was bad. Win. I brought the dish in, cleaned off the bottom and put the remaining fruits neatly back in their own compartments. Then I set it on the table. Approximately 30 seconds later my baby decided he didn't want the fruit on the table any longer and pulled it down on himself. He covered himself in fruit juice and I lost more or my precious church fruit. After a quick bath for the baby, a lightning fast floor mop of the floor and some new additions to the fruit tray from my personal stash we got out the door.

We didn’t make it very far. When I got to the van I found the automatic sliding door was on the fritz.  You see the door will stop closing itself if it senses an obstacle in the way. It’s a great safety feature that I used to love. I say used to because now the sensor seems to think there is an obstacle in the path of the door and there isn't. This causes two problems 1. The door won’t close and 2. It makes a terrible dinging noise. It’s about 3 dings a second. Do that in your head it’s maddening. I had no time to mess with it so I put it in manual and slammed it closed. This has taken care of the door being open problem and only seems to have angered the dinging. By now I’m very late so I turned up the DVD for the kids to stifle the ding and we took off.I made it to church and while I was printing my morning papers I was thinking maybe finally I will get some peace now that I am in my beloved church. No such luck I ran out of copy paper. By now even mental head slaps are hurting so I went with an eye roll. I loaded everyone back up in the dinging van and we set out for Wal-Mart. I got to the store grabbed the copy paper, quick and painless. I got to the checkout, with no waiting. I went to pay and realized, I had forgotten my wallet at home. We all got back in the van and drove home. I grabbed the wallet from the house, jumped over the fruit in the driveway, back into the dinging van and sped off to get my copy paper. I got back to church with copy paper in tow and thankfully the whole time I was at church it was nothing but lovely. It was like burn cream on my third degree morning. It helped that they had coffee and lots of it. Did I mention that through all of this first part of the adventure I hadn't had one cup of coffee yet? I drank my coffee at church and life was good again for a little while anyway.

After I was done visiting at church I loaded the kids up in the van, I had forgotten about the ding until I turned the van on, lovely. By now I'm crazy enough that I'm justifying the ding. The van is dinging because she really cares about the safety of her family. She apparently doesn't care at all about my mental state but she is very concerned that there is an obstacle in the path of the door. My Van needs a Valium it worries too much. "There’s no obstacle! Relax and just be quiet van. We are all safe and the door is closed!" Yes, yes I did actually say this out loud to my van. Are you getting a mental picture? I was losing my marbles a little by now. So we got home and the baby went down for a nap so I decide now was the time to investigate the door problem. I monkeyed around with everything I could think of. I Googled ways other people had made the ding stop, I cleaned tracks, I lubricated prongs, I used CLR on the contacts I tried everything within my capabilities. In my efforts I managed to accidentally flip the lock down. No big deal, just flip it back up and pull on the handle right? Not so much. It was stuck. Genuinely, not going to budge stuck. So now I can’t close the door manually or automatically and there is rain on its way. Of course there was rain coming. Why wouldn't there be rain coming with my door is wide open? I made some phone calls to the men in my life hoping they had tools I could use. My tool kit is usually a high heeled shoe and a butter knife and neither of these things were helping me at the moment. Just when I had gotten my dad to come help the darn thing let go and I was able to close my door. It was really a “Gotcha!” from the universe, but at least the door was closed before it rained. It still dings but it’s closed. It’s a small victory but a victory none the less.

I got into the house and was disappointing to see that the cleaning fairy hadn't shown up while I was outside. I'm not surprised though I don't even know that magic would have been able to clean my house in the state it was in. The good thing is that I clean when I’m stressed out and my house is super clean now. The last time I cleaned more than I did today I started vacuuming off my vacuum but I was 39 weeks pregnant and preparing for baby. In my cleaning/distressing frenzy I was filling the bathtub up with water and put some bleach in the water to get some of the stains off the bottom of the tub. I left it filling to go around the wall and tell my son not to go near the water in the tub because it had bleach in it. I walked back around the wall to find my daughter sitting in the water. This girl hears water running in the tub while she is outside and she is naked before she hits the door. She was stone cold asleep when I turned on that faucet and in the 45 seconds it took me to go around the wall to talk to her brother she was up outta bed, disrobed, and is in the tub. I don't even know if she was awake yet. I've heard of sleep walking but sleep bathing? I panicked and ripped her from the tub and took her to my bathroom where I give her a thorough cleaning. As a mom I immediately jump to “Did you drink it, did you touch your eyes, and does anything hurt?” I was moments away from dialing poison control when reality set in and I actually looked at her face (which was bone dry) and realized she was looking at me like a lunatic. She was fine. So the good news is my daughter is about as germ free as she can possible be right now, the bad news is I’m not sure my heart rate came down from attack level for about 2 hours afterwards.

Now finally, like crazy sprinkles on an insane sundae add into this equation a 10 1/2 month old baby who has teething induced diarrhea and a diaper rash to match. There were lots of dirty diapers and tears. Poor baby, he wanted to be held non-stop due to the teething and the sore bottom so he followed me around all day crying and undoing all of the things I cleaned. I think he was tailing me and making messes as pay back for not constantly carrying him. Every book I put on the book shelf he would take off. Everything I set on the coffee table he would tear down. Every bit of dust I swept into a pile he crawled right through the middle. Every dish in a low cabinet had to be out of the floor. I didn't dare correct him either because that was asking for a full-fledged, throw himself on the ground feet kicking, arm flailing, temper tantrum, which actually makes perfect sense because in total honesty that is exactly what I wanted to do yesterday too.

So tomorrow is a new day and in comparison to today it Has to be better. I will get my coffee first thing the morning, I will get my beautiful kids up for school and we will get into the dinging van and go to school and work. All will be right in the world and things are going to be better today, and if they aren’t then I will get sent home from work for throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of the floor and I will go home and take a nap. It's all about your perspective. I say, Win win.

A woman on the verge

I am a woman on the verge. I am on the verge of just about everything in my life. It’s an uncomfortable yet amusing place to be most of the time. I am on the verge of insanity for sure. I have three kids, two ex-husbands, two jobs, a wonderful church, virtually no social life and a partridge in a pear tree. OK I have no partridge and no tree. I am on the verge of change in my career. I’m finding it hard to keep up with the daily grind of an office. However I will continue to make my copies and refill coffees until a career move arises. Lastly I am on the verge of a better Christian life. I am a proud Christian right now but man do I have some work to do. Follow me if you will through my journey of Life on the Verge to fully crossed over life…Eventually.

As I mentioned I have three kids and they are absolutely wonderful however they do in fact drive me to the verge of insanity, for example when I am finally in the shower after a very long day all I want to do is stand underneath a glorious stream of warm water and let the days worries wash off of me. What actually happens is I have to go through a 5 minute spiel to the kids about not answering the door and keeping it locked, staying away from the oven, why they shouldn't punch each other, be quiet and don't wake up the baby and so on and so on. Then when I finally get to the bathroom and turn the water on everyone in the whole house needs me. They didn’t need me before but that water sets off some kind of a flare in their minds and suddenly all of life’s questions need to be answered right now. The last time I was in the shower my six year old came in and sat on the toilet seat and asked me things like “Does God use Google?” and “What do kittens dream about?” I love those kids more than life itself but boy would it be nice to have one shower that didn’t involve a Philosophy lesson.

I also mentioned my jobs. I have one job that pays most of my bills and I don’t like it, the job that is, not paying the bills although to be honest that stinks too. The job itself is perfectly fine and I’m very grateful to even have a job. It’s just not the job I hope to have forever. At this job I answer the phone in my best forced chipper voice, I say forced because nothing about me is chipper before 8:00 a.m. I would dare say before 8:00 a.m. I verge on surly. I’m usually pleasant after about 2 cups of coffee and granola bar. However for best mood results I must consume coffee and donuts, granola will only get you so far. I also copy things, I file things and I fax things. It’s pretty boring job but I've found that it does give me some motivation to get out of my ratted old T-shirts and flip flops and actually take some pride in my appearance, not much but a little and that can't be all bad. I'm now taking enough care that people don't think I'm homeless but not enough that I have any kind of standard to uphold. For example my legs will get shaved but only on days that I'm wearing shorts, or I will always wear clean clothes but I probably picked it up out of a pile of clean clothes so it's probably wrinkled. I like to not set the bar too high when it comes to personal up keep, past always being clean it's any ones guess what I will look like day to day.

My weekend job is wonderful. I teach a class of Kindergarten through 5th grade kids the joys of being a Christian and growing up with the glory of God to support them. I’m the children’s director at my church. It’s incredible. My church puts me on the verge of exploding with joy. You will find that for the most part my week is just in an effort to get to Sunday. Monday through Saturday is a marathon and Sunday is my finish line. I am terribly out of shape so to call my week a marathon is really saying something. I think one of these Sundays when I walk through the double doors in the front of church I will run through with my arms in the air and break through some imaginary finish line tape. I bet that would get people talking. “Did you see that Sarah girl run into church this morning? She looked like Marion Jones only pail and chubby.” I live for my Sundays and for my Sunday family no matter what happened during my week I always have my church and the people in it.

I am not a perfect person and I will never be one but I am striving to do better especially in my Christian life. I love the Lord and I love learning about him and being in his presence although it's a little hard to hear the Lord talking to you when there is always a 10 month old baby hanging off your hip screaming in your face and biting your shoulder. It's hard to find quiet time to read my bible because usually by the time I am through reading Fancy Nancy for the 400th time I'm pretty sick of reading for the night. I intend to make strides in my Christian life and got off the verge of a big change and actually into it. This should be pretty entertaining; I hope God has a sense of humor.

So this is all just the introduction to my verge lifestyle. My kids put me on the verge of insanity and I wouldn't have it any other way. My first job puts me on the verge of dying of boredom but I'm very grateful to have the job and the things it provides for me, like contact with people who don’t scream in my face and bite my shoulder. I may kick and scream and hiss when I have to get up and go to work every day but for now it’s how I'm making the money so I will continue to shave and force nice before 8:00 a.m. My second job puts me on the verge of exploding with joy every Sunday when I get in the doors and break through that finish line tape. I hope to continue my walk with Christ and hope that he will reveal to me more opportunities in my life to serve him, I'm also kind of hoping he will reveal the answer to whether or not God has Google so I can answer my son's question the next time I'm in the shower.