So what do you call a female dog?

Life.  You know that good ole' creaky roller coaster that just keeps chugging along?  My family upgraded. We are on the super duper twisty turvy one, buckled in, upside down, by the ear lobes.  This past march my family (husband, toddler, baby, and sanity) moved to Wisconsin for new jobs and to be  near family.  We all made it except my sanity, she death rolled out of the moving vehicle.  I thought it would be hard. Yes.  I thought I was prepared with my emergency kit packed with extra patience, good intentions, and La Croix.  Oh how I underestimated.  We need a full time medical team, physiatrist included.

Let me summarize...

1.  Trying to sell the Tucson house...drama
2.  Living with the parents...eh, a daytime soap, it's special
3.  Trying to buy our East Troy house...could be a serious federal conspiracy

4. All the other $*#%!...epic blockbuster

Here is just a scenario of the insanity (over dramatized for additional entertainment value and more sympathy votes).  In one beautiful summer day in Wisconsin, we get a call that we can't close on our house due to Fannie and Freddie's shenanigans, my husband drowned his phone in the lake, my daughter put coins into the DVD slot in our car (don't ask), my son learned how to climb out of his high chair (and thinks it's funny), Tucson called and wants our wallet, someone fraudulently charged $800 to our credit card in Seattle, and I can't sit on the potty alone.  I usually have at least two companions, sometimes three.  That's just one day...and it's not really that far from the truth.

Now in all seriousness, it's been hard, but I need to quit my whining.  We had the opportunity to move back, it's all good in the long run.  I met someone today who lost her father when she was 17 to diabetes and who can't have children because of a tumor.  I met someone yesterday who couldn't sell their house for over a year.  I met  someone a week ago who lost his job while building a house with his pregnant wife.  I know there is much much much worse than even that.  Life ain’t easy and we all poop.  It's just really hard to imagine Sandra Lee pooping.

I often times forget how completely and utterly worth it this all will be.  I have never ever felt this immense anxiety.  It's like we broke a mirror the size of Texas right after we accepted our job offers.  BUT our kids are in hog heaven.  They are our numero uno and if they are happy, amen.  Grandmas and Grandpas and Aunts and Uncles and Cousins showering love.  Wisconsin in all its beauty acting as the best playground a kid could want.  Little ET with the town square and kids playing football in the street.  It’s like stepping into a photograph.  Did I really grow up in such a homey place?  Gosh, PUKE!  It's so damn cute!  The grass is green.  I know this all sounds sappy, but I'm declaring release of my inner canine.  I'm putting my hands in the air and say…Weeeeeeeeeee!!!! (followed with a giggle).



Whisking Away to Wisco--The Calling

Picture this…A beautiful sunny 75 degree day, a cool breeze floating through open windows, birds chirping, flowers blooming, a small child sitting at a table eating mac n’cheese while singing the ABCs, another baby crawling on the floor--covered in saw dust, playing amidst a dirty shop vac, piles of splintered wood, and various power tools and toys. BAM, pause, BAM, pause, BAM! A nail gun is repeatedly interrupting the peaceful weekend morning. VROOM goes the air compressor. The wood floor of our beautiful kitchen is completely torn up so that my get-it-done-right husband can “fix” it before we move to Wisconsin in, oh, ten days. I’m standing in the corner watching all this ensue, praying CPS is not in the neighborhood. “Arlan, don’t chew on the extension cord!”

My husband and I have been living in beautiful Tucson, Arizona for almost six years. While the never ending sunny days are awesome, we really wanted to move back to our home state to be near both of our families. We want our kids to grow up knowing their grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins (a luxury I never really had as a child). Plus despite the horrible, bone searing cold winters, we love the state. It’s beautiful. So job opportunities came for both Jason and I to move our family and we jumped on it. We sang from the Rincon Mountains. WE DID IT! We’re moving back! Our wish was granted! We are so grateful! Then we realized the load of work to accomplish before we could say goodbye to the desert. Be careful what you wish for I guess because with any big change, there are hurtles. But boo-hoo, we got amazing jobs and have the luxury to move our whole family. So instead of pouting over our great fortune, I am going to laugh while jumping hurtles, instead of crying from the pain of falling flat on my face. So let’s have a good belly laugh shall we?

I got a call from Harley-Davidson to interview! This was during a time when my current work situation was extremely crazy, traveling all over and working multiple proposal efforts, we had major drama at our daycare (a whole other story), and a broken water heater. But no way was I going to turn down an interview with Harley! So during a trip to a supplier in Utah (with my Director) I had to take a personal deviation to Wisconsin to interview.
“Megan, why can’t you stay and participate on this work trip?”
“Ah, it’s ah…personal.”
Ugh, that’s hard for someone who tells everyone everything from how I got poop on my hands that morning to the latest gossip about my friend’s friend's cousin on facebook.

ANYWHO…Off to Wisconsin I went. And I left having absolutely no idea how I did during the four hours of interviews until the next day when I got a job offer and the words “we’d like you to start as soon as possible”. Then, voila, my husband interviewed with Baxter and had the same outcome. YAY!

Then we looked at the house we bought three years ago and sighed (a very very big sigh). Our YAY! turned into yay?. We are in the middle of a remodel and need to get it listed on the market in three weeks. The entry way is a concrete slab, the courtyard is dirt, the upstairs bathroom is ripped out, and other odds and ends need to be fixed. Oh, and my husband needs to “fix” the kitchen floor because it was uneven. Working full time, handling two babies, and finishing a remodel in three weeks equals AWESOME-NESS!

Of course Murphy’s Law kicked in as well and decided to deliver the nasty Hand, Foot, Mouth virus to my family. Arlan got it, and then I got it. Please keep in mind that this is a childhood virus, most adults have immunity. But since I think my state of mind was more like that of a two-year old toddler, the virus decided to make itself cozy. So Arlan and I looked like movie extras for Contagion for a week or so.

During all this craziness, my husband and I have had many lessons learned. I will share.

1. Baby rice cereal looks an awful lot like saw dust. Do not mix these two things up or use a saw blade in vicinity while mixing up your infant’s rice cereal.

2. While putting babies down for an afternoon nap, do not use a concrete nail gun in the house…only regular nail guns should be used during nap time. They are much quieter.

3. Crawling around in sawdust can make skin itch. Make sure to put extra layers of clothing on children for playtime in a construction zone.

4. Remember that your husband is wearing ear plugs to protect his eardrums so when you yell his name over and OVER he can’t hear you…or can he?

5. Try to remember where you put your baby among packing paper and boxes. He/She can easily get lost, or packed with the family photo albums.

6. Pizza is your best friend.

7. Craigslist might not be the best place to sell all your unwanted items. There are many many scammers out there that take innocent naïve women, usually with two children who live in Tucson, Arizona and drive a Honda Pilate, for granted because “these women” believe the con-artists are legit. THE NERVE!

8. You think kids go through a lot of outfits on a normal day? Take that number and triple it.

9. Hammers are not toys.

10. Please do not call CPS. I did exaggerate…or did I? (Insert evil laugh here)

To be continued…

Paranormal Activity--The Real Thing

My heart is still racing. Last night I experienced the real thing, paranormal activity in my own home. THIS IS A TRUE STORY. I have witnesses.

My husband and I sleep downstairs in our guest bedroom to be near to my almost two year old daughter who is in an adjacent bedroom. We also just had a baby boy, now three months old, that sleeps in a portable crib at the foot of our bed. Arlan, our son, still does not sleep through the night. I always keep my cell phone next to my bed to look at the time whenever he wakes. Last night, he started crying around 2:30am. I was so tired that I just brought him into bed with me and nursed him lying down. I must have dozed off.

Suddenly, I heard a loud scrapping, crashing sound. I immediately jumped out of bed and shook my husband. "Jason, JASON what was that? It sounded like someone banged against the window."

He was already awake. "No, No, the door just slammed shut."
I grabbed the phone on the bedstand. 3:00am it read, exactly.

"Seriously, it was the door?"
"Yes, go back to bed"
"Seriously?"
"YES."
"But Jason, how did the door slam? There are no windows open. There is no reason. It happened at exactly 3:00am!"
"So, what does that mean. Who cares?"
"Isn't that the "witching hour", the time for demonic activity?"
"I don't know. GO BACK TO SLEEP!"

I know my husband was just too scared to admit it. He was, of course, only trying to be macho.

Our bedroom is lit by an eerie blue glow from the nightlight in the corner. I put on my glasses, hugged my son, and sat staring at the, now ominous, illuminated bedroom furniture and shadows. My eyes registered something strange at the foot of my bed. I reluctantly got up to look. A long piece of skinny wooden trim that must have been propped up behind our door lay across the crib. I couldn't figure out how it could have fallen and land in the angle it did...it had to have fallen straight forward!

I righted the board and crawled back into bed. My daughter, Cadence, started babbling over the baby monitor. Oh yeah, creepy baby monitor stuff. I fell asleep reciting "Hail Mary's" and "Our Father's" only to find myself in a horrible dream, one of those dreams where you still think you are awake. I dreamt I was in my bedroom, same night, I knew Cadence was in trouble. I tried to run to her room, but couldn't, it was like I was moving through quick-sand. Once I got to her, she was standing in the crib talking to someone, but no one was there. All the lights were on, and scratch marks adorned her walls surrounding her crib. I grabbed her and rushed back into bed only to find Jason missing.

I woke from the nightmare sweating and shaking to find a black cloud, shadow in front of my face. It slowly moved across the room and disappeared. Totally frightened, I buried my face into my pillow only to find something hard underneath. Feeling around under the pillow, I touched skin and then it slipped away. I rolled over to see if it was Jason. He was fast asleep on the other side of the king and facing the other direction.

I again shook him awake. "Jason, please go check on Cadence. I'm too scared."
"Ugh, fine."

While he was gone, I heard Cadence babbling over the monitor again. When Jason came back he said she was fast asleep.
"Well I just heard her talking."
"No, she's out. Maybe she was talking in her sleep."

Needless to say, I didn't really sleep the rest of the night. AND I sure am glad Jason and I decided to watch the Disney movie "Tangled" instead of "Paranormal Activity 2" that night. I would have had a heart attack.

Things That Go Bump in the Night...in Tucson

Let me set the stage for what will surely be a phenomenal story and will eventually be made into a "made for TV movie" with actors like Neil Patrick Harris and Heather Graham playing my husband and me...

'Twas a stormy evening. The monsoon rain rattled the windows with such force that it sounded like millions of tiny fists pounding against the warmth of our Tucson home. The thunder shook the foundation and the lightening streaked silver along our living room floor. I went to bed with the monstrous sounds echoing inside my head. Curling up with my husband did not bring the usual calming effect. Dreams did not come easy. Instead I seemed to drift into a black, remote world of sleep. At exactly 1:00 am, I woke abruptly, sitting straight up in bed like some corpse coming to life in a horror flick. I rushed out the bedroom door, and was alarmed by what greeted me. I heard a strange noise. At first I thought it was my innocent little girl crying in the bedroom next door. I rushed by her side and realized she was fast asleep. As I tip-toed back out into the living room with trepidation, I realized the noise was coming from only a few feet away from where I was standing. "Jason! Jason!" I urgently whispered to my husband. No need, he was awake listening to the creepy, foreign sounds that filled the room as well. He dutifully searched our darkened living room for the culprit, tripping over our daughter's toys in the process. Soon we realized it was coming from right outside the window next to the pool. I ran to grab a flashlight. A vision of a baby bobcat being tortured by a ten foot rattle snake flew through my mind. Or maybe it was the ghost of a young child come to torment and possess my baby girl! I ran back into the living room grabbing the video camera on the way. By now, the storm had passed, leaving the air outside thick and heavy. Jason and I peered out the window and this is what we heard.

Note: These are true events not dramatized or manufactured for TV purposes in any way (but will eventually be a TV movie with Neil and Heather).





Jason and I must have stood by that window for at least fifteen minutes until we finally got a glimpse of the fiendish imp. It was grotesque, swollen and puffy around the jowls. Its greenish skin glistened in the moonlight. Bulging eyes stared at us. I could feel the evil in its gaze. It was terrifying. Jason soon realized the nature of the beast. It was a...




little itty bitty...






:-)

Survivor Story: A Tale of the Youngest Sibling

I'm part of the Grubi Clan, a sub species of race that are half martian and half human, at least that's what my family told me when I was maybe six or seven years old. To this day, at 28 years of age, I still believe that to be true. How else could I explain the unique nature of the family that raised me, the youngest, with two much older and wiser brothers? The Griswolds and the Kardashians are also descendants of this special breed of people recognizable by bubbly derrieres or fake wood-detailed station wagons. So what was it like growing up with such a family you ask? Well, I survived.

"The Goo-Goo Drop" was just the beginning...

As a parent myself, I cringe at the thought of my kids performing "The Goo Goo Drop" without nets. Here is how it's performed. Subject A (older brother) would hold Subject B (little sister) as high as he could in the air. The little toddler girl would scream "Goo GOOOOOO!" Subject A would then let go of Subject B, catching her the last second before Subject B became floor splatter. This death defying trick was lovingly nicknamed "The Goo Goo Drop". My oldest brother, Matt, never dropped me (as far as I know). Thankfully I survived my toddler years, well besides the time I almost got eaten by an iguana, but that's another story.

Thus, I grew from being the adorable little girl to the annoying little "princess" as my brothers lovingly referred to me. From six to twelve, I survived the "The Dark Years". This part of my life is comparable to the fith and sixth Harry Potter novels. Instead of Voldemort, I had my second to oldest brother, Mark. Instead of a kindly old wizard, there was the school janitor who always gave me candy (which kind of creeps me out thinking back on it).

Mark used to practice for his school sports with me. I know you're thinking, how sweet. No, no, no. It was torture. First was wrestling. I nicknamed our practice sessions "Big Foot". Really I don't know why. Neither of us were hairy or had big feet. Anywho, Mark would practice his wrestling moves with me and instead of simply pinning me...well, he'd toot on my face. That was a blast, or should I say, a gas! Ba Ha! Then he joined hockey. I'd get to wear all of Mark's sweaty smelly hockey gear and stand in front of the staircase while he shot pucks at my head. That was great fun. Good times. My only saving grace was my oldest brother, Matt. Screaming "Maaaatttt" at the top of my lungs always brought him charging into the room where he'd headlock Mark and administer an awesome noogie.

Don't let the below pictures fool you. When the camera was on, we were all smiles and hugs. Off camera...whew. Torturer #1 on the left: Matt Torturer #2 on the right: Mark

I'm really working with my therapist to unlock more early childhood memories. The trauma was just too great that I've buried the memories deep within my subconscious. "Princess" they called me. HA!

The Toddler Mullet

Wizened, war-beaten mothers of the world love to give advice to inexperienced, aspiring young mothers. I received this "welcomed" advice daily when I was pregnant the first time around with my daughter Cadence. This advice ranged from the best boob accessories to chants to say in my baby's room to ward off evil spirits (I'm not kidding). Well why oh why didn't anybody tell me about the toddler mullet? My poor baby girl no longer looks like a baby girl but more like a baby boy from the hills of the Ozarks or one of Gwen Stefani's kids. Thankfully the other kids at school don't know how to bully yet so she is safe from public scorn. Plus she is so darn cute that she can pull off any look at this age! So jealous. Another bonus--I'll have pictures to embarrass her later in life, hopefully during her wedding day slide show. Here is one of those classic pics.

Awe JUST KIDDING! That's not my daughter silly. I just wanted to share this picture because it really is the epitome of baby mullets. I mean, this kid has some pretty rad parents. Heck, it's probably a picture of Zumba, Gwen's kid! My daughter isn't that lucky in the hair department. The picture below is my adorable little girl.

See! She is beautiful no matter her hair style and will always be beautiful. I was too late to save her from her little blond mullet though. She's just going to have to endure a few more haircuts from Daddy*. I have recently come upon some tribal knowledge on how to avoid the toddler mullet stage of development! Why did I not receive this little golden nugget of advice earlier? Why wasn't it in What to Expect When Your Expecting? I will share this little super duper secret with new moms out there in hopes they can save their little munchkins from Mulletville.

When your baby girl's hair really starts to come in, give'em a crew cut! Seriously! Shave those little perfect heads. Then the hair grows in at the same length!

Shaving those innocent noggins seems just plain cruel, right? But the Underground Society of Meddling Mothers swears by it. They say, "Don't worry! Your daughter will be ready for those cheesy Christmas cards and Pantene Pro V commercials by her second birthday."

*Daddy is the better stylist. Mommy actually cut baby's hair to look more mullet-esque.

Proud of My Pee

I know, I know...gross, but I can't help it. I'm proud of my pee. More specifically the color of my pee. So I'm 34 weeks pregnant today and had my weekly gyno appointment this morning. Every time I see the doctor I have to leave a urine sample. Pretty routine stuff here. Well the amazingly chic 80's decor clinic I frequent is quite high tech in my standards. Here's how it goes. I sign in at the front desk and go wait by the only bathroom available. You would think an obstetrics clinic with a bazillion pregnant women all having squashed bladders could factor in another bathroom somewhere in the building, but that would take away all the fun! Once I get into the bathroom, there is a nice plastic tupperware bin with plastic cups, lids, and wipes. I always swipe extra of the latter for future emergency use caused by my 1 1/2 year old daughter. Anyways, there's also one nice deliable marker to write your name on the pee cup. I always hesitate before picking up that one shiny black marker. Thoughts of the previous ownership and adventures of toliet land flash through my mind. But I've got pregnancy brain so I forget about all those images after a couple seconds and write my name as legiably and quickly as humanly possible. Then, of course, I pee in the cup. I won't go into the step by step process on how to pee in a cup. It's written on the bathroom wall in English and Spanish so...just follow instructions. But let me tell you it's always harder than it looks in the instructional pictorials. Inevitably you get peed on. No biggie. Now the part where I get a huge surge of pride. There is this nice metal rotator shelf built into the wall. You just slide that baby around and slip your pee cup inside. AND there is always one or two other pee cups to keep yours company! I judge those pee cups like a group of eighteen year old girls judge each other's tans on spring break. Mine is almost always the lightest of the bunch, almost transparent like Nicole Kidman's skin! It's breathtaking really. I'd like to thank the 64 ounces of water that find their way into my system daily which is no easy feat considering my pancake-like bladder. I just wish my docotor would acknowlegde the wonders and hard work of my off-white pee.