Happy Birthday to me . . .

**first off, I survived covid and we were able to host my side on Christmas day. Everyone masked in order to be cautious around my folks. It was honestly a wonderful party that my dad hasn't stopped raving about**

I don't usually post on Fridays, but it's my birthday, damn it, and I always enjoy a good birthday post followed by comments from all of you (wink, wink). I'm drafting this on the 29th. My house needs a good cleaning and I'm refusing - explanation forthcoming. 

Kari likes to celebrate by shouting IT'S MY BIRTHDAY MONTH, BITCHES. Hi Kari, hope you don't mind that I'm quoting you here. 

I can't really celebrate that way, because I don't think it would be right to steal baby Jesus' thunder and all. This year I'm hosting Coach's side on my birthday. I'm not thrilled about it, but it's a party so I'm rolling with it. 

I was supposed to host his side Dec. 23rd and then my side on Dec. 25th. December 23rd promised to be crazy cold here. There were blizzard conditions on the 22nd, but the 23rd was just going to be freakishly cold. My brother in law asked us to move our party. 

Well, that didn't appeal to me, but I took one for the team. We rescheduled to Dec. 30th - my birthday.

My high school kids start back to school on Monday and I start babysitting again, after a VERY short break, so hosting  Sunday, Jan. 1st didn't feel relaxing. We had basketball tournaments all week, and those schedules are determined depending on how the team does the day before - not conducive to party planning, or life in general. Finally, we couldn't ask our kids to give up NYE. As a result, my family might need to deal with me quoting Kari for the next month. If I give up my birth-DAY, then I think month long celebrations are in order. 

I doubled much of the food before Christmas when I was baking for my side's Christmas gathering. I froze whatever I could freeze and I made the fresh food Wed. evening. I was dreading it as I knew it would be exhausting. 

I announced that I would be writing Thursday prior to attending Reg's last tournament game at 4:30, and I stuck to my guns. Coach texted me Thursday morning to let me know that he was bringing me my favorite Portillos salad for lunch. 'Happy Birthday Eve.'

Perhaps he reads Kari's blog and he knows about the month long celebration. The yummy salad was much appreciated. I felt seen, and full. 

On Thursday, I decided not to care what the house looked like. I left a list of chores that needed to be done, which the kids managed to ignore. The 3 oldest boys were at work. The other kids watched a movie and sorted laundry, allegedly. It looked more likely that they tossed some laundry around the family room, shrugged, and walked away. 

There was much that should've been done. I promise you this - after I toss the dinner in the crockpot in the morning (when you read this), I'll be holed up in my study  while they all figure out how to make the place presentable. 

The kids hate it when I get panicked and I start ordering them around with a specific 'voice', so I  won't. Fingers crossed that they figure it out. Coach comes home around 1 pm. Maybe he can utilize a voice before the guests arrive at 3:30.

MOTHER OF THE YEAR?:

Notre Dame prepares a huge feast of a meal for the students right before exams. Mini texted me a photo of her meal:

A moment later she texted me this: 

*** is it wrong that I was more concerned that she might miss out on the excellent meal, if her first plate was 'tossed'?

A DISCOUNT WITH AN INSULT:  I think I forgot to tell you this . . .  in late August, our local pool was closed and Curly and I really wanted to go to the pool. I agreed to take her and a friend to a nearby water park/pool. The fee to enter is a tad steep unless you're a resident of that town. We could only go for a few hours.

Delilah is a resident of that town, so I had Curly memorize Delilah's address. Curly is young enough to not have a drivers license, so I figured she could rattle off an address if asked, and be charged the resident rate. 

I dropped Curly and her friend off at the entrance and I parked the car. When I walked up to pay for myself, I was surprised that I was only charged $5. When I entered, I asked Curly for my changed. She said I didn't get any, because it was $7 a person. 

Me:  HOW WAS IT ONLY $5 FOR ME THEN? 

** then it dawned on me, I'D BEEN CHARGED A SENIOR RATE. Curly's friend insisted that I don't look elderly, if you can believe a 14 year old's idea of old. That's what I get for looking for a deal. 

THAT'S YOU NOW:  At the end of summer, I saw a grandma pushing a stroller at a very slow jog near our house. Curly and I were driving by.

Me:  THAT'LL BE ME SOMEDAY. 

Curly:  WHAT DO YOU MEAN? THAT'S YOU NOW. 

The two of us proceeded to cackle for several minutes in the car. She wasn't wrong. 

*** I jog crazy slow. I push strollers. Apparently, I sometimes look like an old woman. 

Hoping you all had a wonderful, peace filled Christmas/or whatever it is that you celebrate - with much laughter, cherished family, and beautiful memories. I have a post ready for Monday . . . back to regular posts. This one is called ON THE 18TH OF DECEMBER, MY TRUE LOVES DID THESE THINGS  . . . I'd ask you to guess, but it wouldn't be fair. It's be like asking the impossible. 

Happy New Year - and I am aware that it is going to be 2023, not 2024 - as I previously reported. 

ho, ho, who has covid? garage stuff as a resource & happy curly b-day

Super grateful that I
managed to whip up two
batches of Rocky Road Fudge Bars in
advance. They are in the freezer
 - ready for our parties.

It's 3:00 am on Friday the 16th. My to-do list to prep for my two Christmas parties is lengthy, and my sinuses are aching. On Dec. 23rd, I'm officially hosting Coach's side, which is only his 2 local siblings and their families plus us, so 18 people - which includes a few young kids. Then my side of 33 mostly adults on the 25th. 

**EDITED TO ADD:  I tested positive for covid Saturday after feeling progressively worse on Friday and ending up with a 101.6 fever Friday night. I'm leaving the next part of the post mostly as is - except for the '**', but 'doable '- well, lets' just say that getting it all done was gonna be a struggle with me in full-power mode. Now? Eek. 

College kids will agree to do a few things, expect high praise,  and then feel exhausted or irritated when I ask for more. Most of their time will be spent sleeping till noon and racing off to hang with friends. Mini is babysitting for me, but most of my families cancelled. I don't blame them, but I'm out some serious income this week. Ouch. **

These 5 little guys hung out in the kitchen
 because one of them is not quite done
 potty training and hard wood is more
 forgiving than the family
room carpet. While they played,
 I made my Rocky Road bars. 

DOABLE, IT'S ALL DOABLE. At least this is what I'm telling myself. Long story would explain how I managed to agree to both parties, but that's more boring than tree trunk fixes and family drama, so let's move on. 

Reg and Curly have colds. I assume that's the path I'm heading down with the sinus pressure that's interfering with my sleep. **I  now wonder if Curly and Reg had covid during the week and their symptoms were disguised as cold symptoms.**

Since it would be too loud for me to bake or tackle any household cleaning chores at this hour,  I thought I'd visit here with you a bit in this, my last post before Christmas. I might take the week off after Christmas too, because my break from babies is VERY short this year. I get tots back Jan. 2nd. Please check back in case I decide to post updates. One never knows when family drama might dictate that I post something to my support crew.

**Exhibit A:  I texted Ann today, Sunday, inquiring about gift ideas for her daughter, B, Coach's goddaughter. She texted back asking if she and B are invited to my house for Christmas.  (B has severed ties with her dad so she won't be joining her other 3 sibs to spend Christmas with him) 

Invited? What now? 

Weeks ago, Ann texted the sisters/SILs and asked if anyone would come to her place for Christmas, if she decided to host. I responded, saying that I'd already offered to host our side of the family, and that our folks had agreed. This marks the first year that our folks aren't hosting and my home can accommodate the large group, thanks to seating for 18 in the kitchen and another 10 in the dining room. We can add in a folding table somewhere. 

My SIL chimed in on that group text saying GREAT, LET ME KNOW WHAT I CAN BRING. So, the message was clear, right? Why would Ann need a separate invite? 

On Sunday, I responded that I was hosting our side, so yes. 

I suppose the fact that she doesn't speak to me leaves her to wonder whether or not I would tolerate her presence. I've done nothing to deserve the silent treatment, and I've also never excluded anyone.**

CHRISTMAS FAILS:  I suppose this isn't a fail so much as it is a demonstration of thinking outside the box. I mentioned that we scraped the bottom of the barrel when we bought our tree, for mucho dinero. Driving to another place would've added time to our tree-procuring mission. We called uncle, and I may or may not have called out other things under my breath, frustrated that I'd tried to get us there a million times and this was the best/earliest we could do.

Anyway, Sunday night Coach set up our tree that makes Charlie Brown's tree look full and lovely. A bit later, I was confused about why Mini's yellow graduation yard sign was in the kitchen. The sign was in bad shape, not bent - but with missing chunks. I was like OH, NO. WHAT HAPPENED HERE?

When they were at mass,
I put lights on the tree. 

Coach:  Oh, the trunk was too narrow to fit in the stand, so I used pieces of that to build up the trunk. 

Proof that just because something is 'saved' in our garage, it doesn't mean that we are collectors of memorable things. I doubt that Mini will care, even though Coach was careful not to hack into the sign's words. That struck me as funny, because it makes me wonder:  did he really think she was going to want to save the sign with jagged pieces missing - why take care to avoid destroying her name? Her grad sign is dispensable, and Coach was just being resourceful. It's fine, entertaining even. 

**I'm gonna share the pic I took when I came out of my cave room Sat. night while the rest of the family was at mass. What on earth? **

And with that, my sinus meds are making me drowsy, per my request. I will sign off and hope to sleep a few more house before my alarm **I did sleep a bit more, but felt like I was in a fog all day.** 

I wish all of you the most relaxing and enjoyable Christmas, or whatever it is you might celebrate, with plenty of family time - but not too much. 

My baby.

If I don't return before the New Year, I wish you good health and much happiness in 2024. And, if you feel so compelled and I hope that you do, then may your resolution include commenting on blogs more regularly . . . starting a resolution early is never a bad thing. 

Also, today, Dec. 19th is Curly's 15th birthday. Last year, we cancelled her b-day with friends because Mini tested positive. She has a game tonight. I can't go but I've commissioned Mini to make brownies and bring them to the team after the game. I cleaned out my study last week - oh, the things I found. It was a long overdue undertaking. I came across this photo and this birth announcement, which offers a glimpse of the tail end of the first Christmas poem that I wrote. 

********

What is your favorite entrée to serve for Christmas? Do you still gift god-children gifts at Christmas, or do you stop at a certain age? Can you think of a post I've promised to write or a topic you'd like me to cover or re-visit? Has anyone taken Paxlovid that is supposed to help with covid? If so, how did you cope with the awful metallic taste? 

SHORT RANT: wrong reactions to the death of exotic frogs, & other issues, plus FAVORITE TEA TOWELS

I have a post ready, but I'm bumping it. I feel like writing and venting will help me land in a more jovial mood. Here's hoping. 

My not-funny slump that I'm trying to dig myself out of:  

*  Reg needs his epilepsy meds bumped up AGAIN. He seems to be OK with one dose and then he gets more and more deja vous moments (his term for the mini seizures) and we increase. We really thought this current dose was the answer. He's been good since mid-October, but alas - he's struggling again, having deja vous more and more frequently. He can drive again Feb. 1st so long as he doesn't have another major seizure, please God - let him be able to drive. These little ones are indicators of a bigger storm, which is why we need to keep them at bay. 

Reg got knocked to the floor mid-shot in a game Sat night. He had deja vous and went to the line a little dazed - which spectators would not realize.  He uncharacteristically missed both free throws. 

He did play well, but his standards are CRAZY high. He's very hard on himself and it's exhausting. When he hit a 3-pt. shot my dad yelled out:  THAT'S MY GRANDSON. 

The fact that my parents have had me pick them up and take them to some of Curly and Reg's home games has been very sweet.

Anyway  - the new dosage is as high as it goes. What if he needs more? He'll need to add another medication. Dang, that sucks. 

*  Lad showered his dog this morning and as a result, there was no hot water for me. Trust me, it's rare that we run out of hot water even when all 8 of us are home. In other words, he used  A SHIT TON of hot water to bathe his pet. I pointed out to him afterwards that this was unacceptable. 

In order to live here, he must see a therapist. This is a recent requirement. I thought he was blowing off the therapist because he was at the dog park, but the appointment was pushed back an hour. He was upset that I was hounding him/requiring a screen-shot of the appointment change as evidence. 

I reminded him that this situation isn't one that his father and I created. He made choices that caused us to lose trust in him. Now we are living with the aftermath.

Let's just say he didn't take any of this very well and I ended up calling Coach insisting that he drop his patients and come home to discuss things with Lad, who conveniently left by the time Coach arrived. They spoke via phone at least. 

Also, two of Lad's pet exotic frogs died, and I kid you not- I was accused of not being sympathetic enough. How is this my life? 

I'm a prisoner in my own home, and it just so happens to also be the place where I work. It also happens to be a place where my offspring, struggling with mental health or not, fail to pitch in and regularly leave their crap everywhere. Coach suggests we update the kitchen clean up list. I say this runs much deeper than kitchen help. 

****************

(keep scrolling to see all of them)

I should own this. 

The second half of this, my not-so-funny day at the office . . .  that's funny-in-hindsight, is too lengthy to add at the end of this rant - so instead I'll share with you the funny towels that I stumbled upon last night when I was doing online shopping. 

I wanted to see if I could find a towel for my sisters that they'd find funny. I didn't succeed in that, because most of the towels are geared towards people who can laugh at themselves.

SO FUNNY!

Instead I came across so many funny towels that I now wish I was expected to buy a towel for everyone that I know. Plus there's a t-shirt that had me in stitches. 

The Three Wise Women towel at the bottom? How funny? I found most of these at altardstate.com, gifts, kitchen. The t-shirt is from Red Bubble.

What's the funniest towel you've seen?  Do you own any funny towels?

How would you have reacted to two frogs dying in your home?

Maybe this one would work for my sisters? 

 I want this on a t-shirt for our next block party.

welcome to our mess, censored poem lines, helper elves, & begging for gift ideas

I'm not in panic mode . . . yet. I'm hosting my side for Christmas. That's 33 people, if anyone's counting. At this point, the 22 grandkids can all basically be counted as adults minus the 3 kids in junior high. I haven't decided what I'm serving yet. 

I took photos of the mess we are surrounded by currently, but I've lost my nerve to share them. It's fine. Well, it will be fine. 

OK, I'm gonna go ahead and share: 
the current situation of my island.

My excuse for the mess? We were out of town last weekend and Reg and Curly had games the two nights prior to us being out of town. More on our trip later. 

The snack bar between
 the kitchen and the
 family room. My card
assemble station.
 Reg needs to find somewhere else
to do his homework.

Plus I've been very busy with my cards - mostly the poem part. This tradition started when Curly was born 12/19/07. I incorporated her birth announcement into our card with a rhyme. Part of is was borrowed:  ON DEC 19TH OUR 5 KIDS WERE STIRRING IN OUR HOUSE, WE SURE HOPE WE DON'T HAVE A MOUSE, etc. I go on to describe Coach bringing the older 5 kids to meet Curly and how I sent them away, NOW DASH AWAY, DASH AWAY . . . you get the idea. That poem got rave reviews, and now I write one to update everyone on our adventures and goofiness. Mini's lines do not disappoint. 

It's the earliest that I've sent my poem to the printer. Long story, but apparently the plant near me closed. The one they sent it to is running behind. Of course.

Lad requested that I remove lines that referenced his frog collection. If only he was embarrassed enough by his frog friends to get rid of them. *sigh* 

 The censored lines: 

An unusual event occurred when I was cutting fruit for smoothies in May, 

Reg spotted perhaps a raspberry on the floor, I bent to grab it, but it hopped away. 

 An escaped exotic red frog from Lad’s collection made my blood pressure soar, 

Just when you thought life at the Shenanigan house had become a tedious bore. 

If you're interested in receiving my Christmas card/ poem, let me know. Email me your mailing address at:  (my actual last name - not Shenanigan . . . if you haven't figured out my real last name, let me know and I'll email it to you)clan7@yahoo.com. 

Is it me? Do people not send out change of address cards/notices anymore? I've had to track down new addresses, poking around on the internet. I want to tell people who move:  tell me where you live unless you're in the witness protection plan - or maybe they're in hiding, not wanting to be subjected to my poem. 

My view from the crawl space. Nothing says creepy
 like a group of kids with their faces erased.

SHAMED INTO DECORATING:  We drove home from Omaha on Monday, Dec. 5th so I didn't babysit. On Tuesday, one of my charges shamed me for not having any Christmas decorations up. I wish I had a recording of her little voice, complete with cute lisp. On Thursday, I crawled into the crawl space and pulled out all of my bins while the small crowd of young'uns watched from the basement in awe. "What's up there?" 

Faceless helper elves carefully passing
around my favorite, stained glass ornament. 

A 2.5 year old boy cried about EVERYTHING that day. I joked with him that the crawlspace was where I put little boys who did nothing but cry. He got the joke and laughed, so I'm hoping not to be hit with his future therapy bills. 

The littles assisted me in opening bins, and excitedly waiting for a turn to deliver something to maybe the kitchen table or the island or the fireplace. I handed them unbreakables like a small wooden Santa the stockings or my Christmas oven mitts. Nothing like having wee
helpers motivate me to decorate. 

We bought a tree yesterday. There were only 3 trees left by the time we got there, so our tree is a tad Charlie-Bownish. A woman arrived minutes ahead of us and took the last decent tree.  I was a bit bummed but not bummed enough to drive to another tree place, since this place is already out of the way and supports a good cause.

SUGGESTIONS, PLEASE:  I've done most of  my Christmas shopping. We're buying flights for Ed and Mini to visit Tank in Ireland over their spring break. In theory this means less shopping. It's just a theory, no clue if I can follow my own instructions there. This morning I made a list of the 8 godchildren combined that Coach and I need to shop for. Ideas for teenage boys in the $25-50 range. One side has a higher spending cap. 

Last year I bought a nice scented candle for each of my sisters/SILs. We don't exchange anymore (well, Ann and Marie exchange while we all sit there, having agreed not to exchange), but I try to give them a little something. 

I'd  appreciate ideas. I considered a self-help book entitled HOW-TO-STOP-BEING-A-PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE-SISTER, but I've ruled that out.

My sisters are not into makeup, lotions, exercise,  or fine wine. They both like to read. One cooks and bakes, the other pretends she can. Ann travels. Marie tailgates. One's a nurse. One's a financial consultant, or something. I'd rather not give them gift cards. Hit me with your ideas, please. Pretty notecards? Some obscure or cute kitchen gadget? Funny kitchen towels? Look at me - the ideas are suddenly pouring out of me, maybe I don't need your help. Seriously, I'd love ideas. 

Are all of your decorations up? Do you dread decorating, because in no time it's time to take it all down? Maybe that's just me. Do you decorate alone? I do, not counting the tiny I-BREAK-THINGS helpers I had this year. 

Speaking of address updates:  do people send birth announcements anymore? Our former sitter and his wife had a baby mid-November. I finally texted him. I was worried something had gone wrong. Happily, all is well and they have a beautiful baby boy. Maybe people just post stuff on their pages and think everyone sees it. 

SHORT POST: not a total shock, & a recipe

*by 'short post:  not a total shock' I meant that the content had info that isn't a total shock, not that me drafting a short post should be a shock. 

*************

On Dec. 1st, my sister, Ann, texted in the sibling group chat. We don't use this group chat often. The last time was in early August when I texted an update about Reg's epilepsy. Ann had taken my folks to my mom's follow up appt for her cognitive test. I didn't even know that my mom had this appointment. Not like my mom would remember to mention it. I'm out of the loop is what I'm saying.

Anyway, Ann texted the cognitive test results:  Mom has Alzheimer's.  

This isn't a total shock, since her memory has been fading. Still, it bites. There's an earth-shattering shift from 'Mom's memory is failing' to 'Mom has Alzheimer's.' How long will she know us? I believe she's taking meds to slow the pace of the disease. How much will that help? No clue.

Will they stay in their house? Will they move to a community for seniors? If I have a vote, and you better believe that I don't, I'd vote they stay in their house for as long as possible. Remember, I can walk there. 

My sisters took my folks to look at a retirement community in August. I wasn't informed. This ticked Mini off. My grandparents lived in this place. It's very nice. Dinners are prepared in the dining room. Activities are available for the residents. Everyone lives in their own little apartments. 

I asked Mom afterwards what she thought about it. "I feel like I'd miss my house too much." I agree. They live in a ranch house. It's updated and decorated with very nice touches. 

I feel like she'd be more confused after a move. Wouldn't that cause her to lose more ground? 

I haven't really gotten to talk to Mom about her diagnosis. I called her that night, but she didn't feel like talking and passed the phone to my dad. I asked him if they wanted to go with me to Reg's game the next night. Yes, they would. I picked the two of them up. Marie was in town, so she hopped in the car too. Not exactly ideal  for a heart to heart. 

Then Coach and I took Reg and Curly to see Tank at school and watch a b-ball game over the weekend. Silly me, I thought I'd squeeze the road trip story into this post too. 

I get a little weepy thinking about what I'll say. I want to know if she's scared. I also don't want to know. I cry thinking about what it would be like to know that you are gradually slipping away and that one day you won't know anyone or anything that was once so familiar. 

Overall, I want to reassure her that we'll all be there regardless of whether or not she knows us. We'll do whatever is possible to make her feel comfortable and loved. 

I keep thinking that I wish we had a safe word. Like, what if there was a word that I could whisper to her to let her know that I'm there. What would you tell someone if you were going to travel through time and you planned to meet up again and you wanted to be sure they knew that you were indeed you - just in a different time? 

So, I'm crying now and I need to stop crying because we aren't telling the kids this news until the college kids are home after final exams. To keep things light, I've decided that my safe word, which is really more of a safe phrase is this:  

GF version of the dinner- left
off the stuffing topping. 

I'M YOUR FAVORITE DAUGHTER. 

We're laughing now, right? Not sure about you, but I needed a good laugh. 

Of course a safe word won't work, but it's kind of how my mind is operating. I'm also thinking about making her a pillow with a photo of all of us, or most of us. Kidding. Maybe a pillow with a family photo on it would bring her comfort. Who knows? I'm not sure how to proceed. Hoping the kids don't crumble. Maybe they've already assumed that she has Alzheimer's. 

The gluten version. I skimped on
 the stuffing - I doubled the
 recipe, but not the stuffing mix.
 I figure they're lucky I'm
making a gluten version at all.

I promise you this. I'm grateful. (Well, I'm frustrated and mad too, but more about that another time). Super grateful that this didn't strike years ago. She's 80, and she still knows us. There are still memories to be made. 

Here's a photo of cacciatore-style chicken bake. I made it for dinner tonight. Mini isn't crazy about this, but it's really good. I reached back into the archives since Mini's not home. Plus, I had no photos of sadness. 

concert going & evidence of the aging process

Mom's recent downward spiral has drawn my attention to the inevitable. Our time  is limited. Certainly not new information, but it has sort of smacked me upside the head in the last few months. There've been signs, but I think I was often turning a (wrinkled) cheek. Kidding, my cheeks aren't wrinkled . . . yet.  

Concert:  On New Year's Eve '21 (I know, this incident is aging right along with me), Coach's sister Lana invited Coach and I to a concert. We were thrilled to be invited to do something. She said they had tickets to see the BoDeans. 

Coach:  We love the BoDeans, but we're gonna take a pass.

Lana:  Oh, is it the company then? You don't want to hang with us. 

Lana is a hoot. She and her hubby live near O'Hare, so about 35 minutes from us. They have 2 kids same ages as Mini and Tank. We took their kids with us to visit Coach's other sister in KC in '20. The daughter was there for the memorable tampon misplacement incident. (one of my fav all time posts) Anyway, we don't get together with them that often - you know how it is, once the kids get busy - you get busy, but when we are together - always a blast.

I called Lana to explain our lameness. We didn't really see ourselves at a concert. Where would we put our coats (winter in Chicago)? We weren't hip on standing all night,

WHAT JUST HAPPENED? WE BECAME OLD LIKE OVERNIGHT. 

Lana assured us it wasn't that kind of concert. It was in a refurbished theater and everyone had a chair. Coats could be brought in. I looked at Coach and I said, let's do this. 

Our kid teased us endlessly for considering skipping the concert. We decided to go to the concert, and it was very fun. Mostly. 

An hour before we left, I chose to override Coach and allow Reg and Tank to drive to Indiana to Tank's best bud's lake house. This is the lake house where Tank got to know Jay's cousin Jake who was killed in that tragic concert in Texas in the fall, remember? 

Tank had been there a million times. Reg was invited to hang out with Jay's younger brother- a year younger than Reg. They'd played on the HS golf team together, and Reg was our only kid with no plans, so this was perfect. We were managing to have no kid left home alone on NYE. There was supposed to be a snowstorm the next day, and Coach was wigged out about them driving home in bad conditions. They could've driven with Jay, but Coach didn't like that option. 

I finally made Tank agree to wake up and drive home at 9 am, so he would miss the impending noon snowstorm. Done. Coach wasn't on board. He has taken to fussing over weather apps like his aged mother, who in all honesty really needs to be medicated. His parents have missed so many of our kids' events because it might rain and they don't want to drive the 50 minutes in possible rain. Often it doesn't even sprinkle. 

Seriously, it really has become challenging. I'm all for safety, but we can't keep our kids home forever. 

I texted Lana on our way there. We were late and Coach was very upset with me and I wanted her to know that we had a tense thing happening. At one point I suggested to Coach that I just stay home. I was like:  we came up with a compromise. They will miss the snow. Move on. 

Lana pulled me aside when we got to their house, which wasn't difficult because I was fine leaving enough distance between Coach and I. She was like IS THIS A NEW THING? HIS WORRYING? (like her mother, implied). Lana has kids who drive. She gets it. I told her it's getting progressively worse as we get more and more kids old enough to go places. 

It never snowed. Not one flake. Ever. Tank was furious that they hadn't gotten to hang out with friends for the day, but I pointed out that he got to be there for NYE and that he owed me. I'd taken one for the team. 

The concert was a lot of fun. I love their music. We had their CD back in the day. Lana and husband sat between Coach and I, and as the night went on Coach loosened up. The lead singer offered to go back stage and wait for us to demand an encore, but since he was older - he preferred that we just applaud if we wanted the encore and save him the steps. We got the encore, and he never left the stage. 

16 second clip of BoDeans concert - not great sound as it's from my phone, wait for the couple getting down in the aisle at the end

Looking around during the concert, I was like HANG ON, THESE PEOPLE, OUR FELLOW CONCERT GOERS, ARE ALSO OLD. Hello, captain obvious. There were men with receding hair lines, or bald heads, wearing button down shirts, tucked into their khakis. Energetic wives wearing cardigans and sensible shoes (like me) who were pulling their husbands up out of their seats to dance in place, swinging their arms to the music while holding hands (not me). 

BoDeans - Hold Me Tonight

For days afterwards, I marveled at the fact that while we are not really the concert going type (never really were) - our time as the hip, young demographic has faded. Ouch. 

Were you/are you big concert going people? Favorite concert/last concert you've attended? What makes you feel old? Are you and your spouse often on opposite sides of letting a kid go somewhere? 

who needs TV when my folks are this entertaining?

See that white part?
That's where the quilt
 ripped. Some of the squares
 needed attention too.

I recently cleaned the kids' bedroom quilts. Mini's quilt partially fell apart in the process. Honestly, the girls' quilts are so old that they were threadbare in places. The boys' quilts aren't in great shape either, but for the most part theirs just have the edging falling off.

What to do? The quilts match the girls' room SO WELL. I'm the first to admit that the room is a tad juvenile for them. They still sleep in a doll house bunkbed- something my sister, Ann, sneered about a few months ago, but hey - the girls aren't complaining. I decided it was silly to buy new quilts in the same pastel colors and tough to choose new quilts until a new color scheme is selected. So, I decided to repair this one in places where it was really falling apart. I'm hoping the twin version that is on the top bunk, a bunk that isn't used when Mini is away at school, isn't going to need to be repaired. 

*editing to add - I just washed the twin one and it is in near perfect condition. It doesn't really see the light of day being up in the doll house part of the bunk. Also, no one really sits on that bed as it isn't as accessible. Plus, the lower bunk belonged to Mini, nuf said? 

I had some of this
 flowered fabric. It wasn't
an exact match, but not sure
 anyone is going to care. 

My quilt patching project was spread out on the family room floor one night. While I rarely watch TV, I decided to put something on that I didn't have to pay compete attention to. I remember women from my book club saying that they enjoyed Derry Girls. Reg found it for me, and I watched several entertaining episodes while I sewed. 

The next day was Coach's birthday. He had to work late. I made one of our favorite dinners, which takes hours - in part because I'm programmed to feed an army. The recipe is typed up the way I usually make it. I like leftovers, so I made my usual mountain of it. It was exhausting. 

It doesn't look so bad.

Later, I picked up my mom and took her to Curly's basketball game. When I dropped Mom back off at home, I delivered some of the dinner to my dad. It isn't that I didn't want to feed my mom. She would never eat peppers or onions or beans or tomatoes, so this dinner was not her thing. 

I went inside and explained the meal to Dad. He'd be heating it up the next night, since he'd already eaten. Technically, Mom would probably be heating it up for him, but she wouldn't remember my instructions anyway. 

Me:  This is Cuban Sheet Pan Chicken and Black Bean Rice Bowls. You can add the amount of black beans, tomatoes, corn, and avocado you want. (I brought all of the add-ins in separate containers from the chicken, veggies, and rice.) Get ready, this meal is gonna change your life. 

Delish. Before all the components
are mixed together. 

This made him chuckle, because he is 82 after all. Dad is a more adventurous eater than my mother. Well, let me rephrase that EVERYONE is a more adventurous eater than my mother. In my folks' traditional home, my dad has never made a meal - at least not that I'm aware of. I'm not 100% sure he can make his own sandwich.  

While I was 'splaining the meal, they were fumbling around trying to turn down the TV. They were unsuccessful, but I just talked loud. I asked them what they were watching. It's a show they really like called FBI. 

Mom had told me earlier that they'd gone to the Catholic high school that three of my nephews attend for grandparents' day. On the way home, Ann wanted them to come to her place to watch a movie on her day off. Mom wasn't interested, so Dad dropped her at home and then he went to Ann's to watch this movie. 

Me:  as they told me about how much they enjoy this FBI show I chimed in with: I watched a show last  night. One that I'd never seen. It was called Derry Girls.

I hadn't quite uttered the entire title of the show when Dad shouted: I SAW THAT TODAY. 

Me:  Um, I don't think so, Dad. This wasn't a movie. It's just a show. It's on TV.

Dad:  Huh? No. I saw that movie.

Me:  This was kind of old. What movie did you watch? 

Mixing up the goodness. Yum.

Dad:  No, that was it. What season did you watch?

Me:  Oh, wait. Maybe you did see Derry Girls. I watched season 1.

Dad:  Yep, me too. Did you see the part when they think the statue of Mary is crying? But it's cuz the dog peed on it? (howls with laughter).

Me:  Yes, I did see that same episode. 

What are the chances that my dad and I watched the same older season series within 24 hours of each other? 

The next day when I talked to Mom, I asked her how Dad liked the dinner. 

Mom:  Yeah. He liked it. I tried and I tried to squeeze that thing that you brought over. I couldn't get anything to come out of it. 

Me:  Wait, what? There was nothing to squeeze. Um, the avocado?

Mom:  Yeah, is that the green thing?

Well, there you have it. A few years ago when my mom watched me make my salad, she asked me what the avocado was. I think it's somewhat remarkable that I eat the foods that I eat, and if anyone is handing out gold stars for overcoming this family trait - I will take one. Friends in college used to sit around the table in the dining hall and ask me if I'd ever eaten _____. Things like cottage cheese, peppers, most fresh fruits, tacos, sour cream all were on my never-eaten list. 

If you've learned nothing else today, you now know that I do not exaggerate when I say that Mom is very limited in what she will eat. Needless to say, I got a good chuckle out of my mom trying to squeeze the avocado into Dad's dinner. 

Are there foods that you've never tried, or foods you were shielded from as a child and only discovered in adulthood? Have you seen Derry Girls?  Have you ever squeezed an avocado, or been confused how to prepare/eat some other food?

updates: my riddle explained, GW, the history of our mess, a new meal, etc.

Great news:  Curly did NOT get sick. In fact, no one got the 'plague' from Mini. Phew. 

"Just remember that you love me":  (this was my riddle, but that post was so long ago, you might not remember) I said this to Coach when we were on a walk. This was a week or two ago when the weather here was still freakishly summer-like. Then it became Januray, like overnight. Ugh.

Anyway, I reminded him of this before revealing that I've been looking online at cute little houses in South Bend, near Notre Dame. I'm in a FB group for parents and sometimes another parent will let everyone know the availability of their rental property. 

How great would that be? Imagine, we could stay there whenever we wanted. Walk to our own tailgate. Attempt to rent it out the majority of the time. Come graduation, we'd have a place to stay. When I want to visit Mini, I'd be all set. 

Ed's college is in Bloomington, IN and he pays $800/month. The place is a dump. There are 5 of them living there. The landlord is rolling in dough. I told Coach we ought to buy a house there. He said that would be a headache, and he's probably right. 

I'm sure you will be shocked to know that Coach still thinks I'm crazy loves me after all these years. I enjoy looking at houses online from time to time. 

No hostages were taken here:  Remember back when we were trying to figure out if we should buy a newish van to replace good ole GW? (Great White). I suggested we just pay to fix it, because buying cars are so pricey. Well, everyone poo-poo'd my idea . . . until suddenly it made sense. 

Lad's dealership uses a repair place around the corner to fix cars that they don't have time for, etc. Lad hooked us up with them over the summer. It was expensive, but not as expensive as initially thought. I think it was $3,000 and our mechanic had guessed around $5K. Look at that. A bargain to spend on a van with like 150K miles on it.  

We got a bit of a discount if we paid in cash, so I went to the bank and withdrew 3,000 big ones. I was careful not to twitch my face or use any sideways glances lest the teller think I'd been kidnapped and had come into the bank under duress to withdraw this large sum out of fear for my life. Someone watches too much TV. 

Well, I don't watch too much TV currently, but over the course of my life I've seen a show or two. 

Speaking of TV. There's a new documentary out about ADHD. It's called Disruptors. We bought it, because I want Tank and Lad to be able to watch it at some point, if  interested. It was very good. Our boys didn't have the hyperactivity component. They sure had impulse control issues, well mostly Lad.

One day when he was about 12, Lad caught a bird. Like a real live bird. No idea how. He took the screen off of a window in the girls' room to make a cage for it. The same day Reg (who was just little at the time, so behaving like a 4 year old) crawled out into the attic from a tiny, hidden door in my walk in closet. He found pool toys and brought them into the house. He and Tank (I think) filled the noodle water-shooters with water and started a water fight in the upstairs. It was someone's birthday, so my sister Marie called and whoever answered put the phone down to come get me, but then never came back. She said it sounded like a circus. Well, not far off. 

Did you know that Coach worked late A LOT? To say that I was outnumbered is an understatement. Coach worked until 9 pm or later three nights a week. The kids also liked to pull mattresses off of beds and pull them into one bedroom. It was their early version of a trampoline room. When we moved here the living room had horrid vertical blinds. The kids figured out that if they yanked a blind off of the window it made a great road for their matchbox cars. They'd drag furniture around and create little hills and loops, then send their cars down them. 

I've decided this is why my kids are OK living in a messy house. I couldn't keep up with the messes they made. We just lived with stuff EVERYWHERE. Let's not talk about the giant bullfrog that got loose in the basement once. I refused to go down there to get a gallon of milk from the fridge until he was found.

If only I could whisper in my younger self's ear:  STICK A FRIDGE IN THE CORNER OF THE DINING ROOM. It would've solved so many problems. 

One pot spaghetti

All that to say, I made a chore schedule and hung it on the fridge. Coach's name is included along with Lad, Curly, and Reg. I almost fell over Wednesday when Coach started dusting the light fixtures in the kitchen without warning. We weren't having a party. 

Not everyone is staying on top of their assigned duties, but there's progress.

I made a great new meal a few weeks ago. This was the Sunday before Coach's birthday, when we could actually celebrate since he was working late on the 15th. My gluten-eaters are very excited about it. Tank caught wind and wants me to make this one-pot spaghetti meal when he's home. 

Me:  YOU WILL EAT NOTHING BUT OLD MOLDY LEFTOVERS UNTIL YOU'VE SPENT A GOOD FEW HOURS WITH ME GOING THRU THE CRAP IN YOUR ROOM THAT YOU'VE LEFT BEHIND. *Tank hates leftovers and always asks Is this fresh?

Kids:  don't try this at home.
Not a GF compatible recipe.

He tried to say I was expecting too much. How could he leave home and have his at-home possessions ordered? Um, Ed manages. 

Here is the link to the dinner that I made. Sadly, I tried to make it GF for me and it turned into a congealed GF pasta clump with almost no flavor. I laughed out loud as I tried to eat it. It was THAT bad.

I'm avoiding red meat at the moment, so I made it with ground turkey vs ground Italian sausage, which didn't help its cause. 

More soon on other updates like pinkies, medical bills, cholesterol, etc. Gosh, this sounds exciting. 

What dinner have you made that turned out super gross because of your own substitutions?  Have you put off buying a car during this crappy-time-to-buy-a-car?

BRIEFLY pre-turkey day update: a germ sharing fiasco

I had a post ready for today, but realizing that many of you might be stuffing your birds and baking your pies, I switched gears with a very brief update. Not my strong suit, but I'm gonna try. 

Mini had classes Monday and Tuesday. With MANY students from our area heading home from South Bend for Thanksgiving, I told her to try to sort something out. I had to babysat Tuesday. 

Mini:  Dad can't take the day off?

Someone must've been crowned a princess since she left home. Um, have you met your father? Days off are about as common as people hoisting Gumby atop their cars at tailgates. 

**********

Mini went back to her room Saturday before halftime of the ND game. She was INSANELY cold. Thought she'd never be warm again. A few hours later:  chills. Sunday morning:  miserable. Sore throat. Congestion. Fever. Some terrible virus was going around the school. 

I hadn't slept much Sat night and feared I'd be too tired to drive and get her, but she was in no shape for her M/Tu classes. 

Honestly, I was an emotional wreck Sunday. It's Lad. Coach and I are beside ourselves with worry. Over the weekend we'd sat him down. Shared our concerns. 

In Coach's words:  Well, that could not have gone worse. 

Everything is basically fine. He's living here. He's upset with us. It's unpleasant. Beyond that - I vote for tough love. Let him move out. Hit rock bottom. Seek help. Coach worries he'll harm himself. He hasn't given us any indication that he'd do this, but one never knows. How would we live with ourselves? 

*********

(In my mind, I'm saying:  BRIEF, BRIEF,  . . . I'm trying)

Anyway, no one wanted Mini to bring her germs home. Then my sister, Marie, texted:  I can bring Mini home when I pick up 'cousin.' 

I called Mini:  You'll need to lay low at school and wait till Tuesday when Aunt Marie can bring you home. 

Mini threw up a few times due to
 coughing. Have you heard
 of this? The ER people
 recommended it. I was
 glad to have it on hand.

My mind was muddled and I wasn't sure I was thinking straight. Mini sobbed. Then I sobbed after I'd just stopped sobbing about Lad.

Me (to Coach):  I'm going to get her. 

Coach:  You're being irrational. 

I agreed, but I was powerless to my emotions and I needed something to feel right. Leaving her in a dorm felt awful. I swapped my contact lenses for glasses and drove with puffy eyes. Mini sat in the back of the minivan. Both of us masked. 

Curly moved out of their room and slept in Tank's vacant bed (he was due home Tuesday). We ordered Mini to stay in her room and barred the other kids from using that bathroom. 

Will it surprise anyone that Mini
couldn't find a kleenex box behind
 the laundry room door? There
 were 5 boxes on top of this stack,
 but I brought them to the first floor
 to replenish. How does one
 miss that? Maybe the fever
 is impacting her vision.

Ed cooked an amazing dinner Monday. Curly had a small plate before her game. She planned to have more afterwards, so she left her plate out. *this is a thing here, if you're having more in a bit - set your plate aside* We all went to her game. Ed brought a plate up to the patient before we left. 

After the game, Ed and I drove to the grocery store. He'd done all of my shopping on Sunday, then went back Monday when he decided to cook. No one had noticed how low we were on fruit. Ed came home Thursday night - he eats a lot of fruit. I ran in and bought fruit. 

Curly had 4 tests the next day, so Coach wisked her home in his car to study. When I got home, she was eating more dinner. Her plate, that I'd told her to put in front of Violet's picture on the island was still there. A minute later we put two and two together. Coach had grabbed a plate next to the kitchen sink, believing it was Curly's. 

MINI HAD COME DOWNSTAIRS WHILE WE WERE GONE. SHE LEFT HER PLATE NEXT TO THE SINK. CURLY, FORGETTING TO REUSE HER PLATE, GOT OUT A NEW ONE. THEN COACH POINTED OUT THAT SHE HAD SOME FOOD LEFTEVER AND HE ADDED THAT TO HER PLATE - BUT IT WASN'T HERS. 

Fingers crossed this worked.

Curly sobbed after realizing she'd eaten a plate full of food mixed with Mini's leftover bits of rice and veggies. The HORROR. Curly sobbed. We had her drink a packet of Emergen-C. 

Not as brief as I'd envisioned, sorry. Mini's still a mess. She could NOT have gotten into Marie's car Tuesday. Can you imagine? 

Did the microwave kill off any germs? Thankfully, the retired Curly doesn't Irish dance this weekend. 

Hope you have a wonderful, non-germy Thanksgiving, or regular weekend if you aren't from the States . . . if you've learned nothing else here, remember to keep track of your plate.

Thankful for all of you.