By KIMBERLY BROUGHAM KANE

Did you hear the one …

Posted November 3, 2009 at 9:38 pm
Filed Under Humor, My life | 1 Comment

About the woman that cooks everyday and bakes every week and loves to feed her family? Yeah, her oven is not working.

That would be me.

Where is the umbrella? It’s pouring here.

Oh, and I have a killer new recipe I’m dying to try out … but I can’t BECAUSE MY OVEN ISN’T WORKING.

And then …

Posted November 2, 2009 at 12:36 pm
Filed Under Motherhood | 1 Comment

Did your 3 y.o. totally fall apart by 10 am? And really need a nap, but it is too early? So you and all your kids had to deal with it until you realized you could hang on until noon and then it could be naptime?

This is me today.

Anyone else?

Posted November 2, 2009 at 8:44 am
Filed Under Motherhood | 1 Comment

Have a 3 y.o. up at 5:40 this morning? Time changes … sigh. It’ll be a few weeks before we get used to this one.

Day 2 of “That” Week

Posted October 31, 2009 at 10:54 pm
Filed Under Humor, My life | 3 Comments

I know I am late in completing my review of my crazy week. It has been busy around here. As always.

You heard about my Monday morning. Let’s pick up from there, shall we?

We make it to the ortho appointment and they take Little Man back immediately. As expected, he needs MORE teeth pulled. My children have incredibly small palates and could never fit all their teeth into their mouths. We’ve already been through this with my eldest, so it isn’t new, just unfortunate.

From the ortho, we head to the mall to have #3’s birthday picture taken. I’m only 4 weeks late! I have a love/hate relationship with the studio we use. (Please don’t tell my kids I said hate. That is a bad word in our house. I will be severely reprimanded by my 3 year old.)

I am always very pleased with their photos and I feel I get my money’s worth because I am in there no less than 4 times a year. I have faithfully photographed my children every year for their birthdays. Four kids—oldest is 15—yeah, they’ve made some money off of me. That’s okay. I’ve made peace with that.

The not-so-much love part of it is directly related to the laissez-faire attitude they seem to breed there among the employees. There are two photographers there that I request. If one is out, I’ll take the other. They are consistent in their photos; they let me do whatever I want for props, poses, clothes changes, etc. I’ve been going there for a VERY LONG TIME and they really do seem to enjoy seeing how the kids are growing. I also LOVE that they do not put the pressure on me. You know what I mean. I know they get some kind of perk for the sales they make. However, I don’t like being pushed. In fact, don’t push me. Just don’t. That’s how much I don’t like it.

These two ladies understand that. They have learned that they don’t have to sell me anything. I am there to buy pictures. I will buy pictures. Plenty of pictures. I know what my budget is. I will not waste their time. They don’t have to convince me of anything. I know my children are gorgeous and handsome. I know that they take unbelievable pictures. I know they are all models in the making. And I am extremely humble about it all.

This is my humble look.

So there are all the pros in my list.

However, there are almost never pros without the cons. Kind of like peanut butter is just lonely without the jelly. Or the chocolate, depending on your preference.

So, we get there on time. #3 looks fabulous. Her hair is perfect. We have our poses planned. It is going to be a lovely little photo shoot. Oh, wait. Where is my photographer? My #1 choice is clocking out as I arrive. She assures me #2 choice is “in the building” and will be there momentarily. Really?

We wait. And wait. Now, in my book, 5 minutes late is late. Ten minutes late is really late. 15 minutes late, we need to talk. After about 7 minutes, I start to pace. I roam the store a little. I pass the photographer. Oh look, there she is. Hello Ms. Photographer. We are here for our appointment. She smiles. Yes, I saw you were on the books. Are you ready for us, Ms. Photographer. We were told you had already clocked in from your lunch break. She smiles again, no, not yet. I need to go to the restroom.

WHAT?

Okay, don’t get me wrong here. I don’t want her to have an accident or anything. In fact, I visit the ladies’ room often. I understand that nature calls. BUT YOU JUST CLOCKED IN FROM YOUR LUNCH BREAK for crying out loud. I guess it’s the mom in me … I automatically think, what? You always go potty before you leave to somewhere. Her somewhere was WORK!

I am not positive about this, but, I think that when you clock in, that means you are ready to work. Right?

Can someone explain to me why she has not gone to the ladies’ room BEFORE she clocks in and places her purse behind the counter? Isn’t that like cheating? Really, she knows what time her first appointment after lunch was. And she knows it is me! And she knows how freaky I am about appointment times. I know she does. She knows I am a little neurotic and somewhat prone to silent, stiff smiles when I am not pleased with a situation. Remember, I am there often.

To say I am a little aggravated is not a false statement. Especially after my whole there-is-no-fire-in-my-house episode.

So, I wait some more. I don’t complain. I just wait. I want my children to see their mommy as patient and understanding. That is what they see on the outside. Good thing they don’t see me pacing like a caged animal on the inside. Constantly looking at the time and mentally clicking down my list of things-to-do-after-this.

Potty girl returns and we get the photos taken. They are lovely. #3 looks like the beautiful little princess that she is. I make my selection. I pay. I leave. And we head back home to start the evening routine. And I am solo. And tired.

We leave the mall and head across town to get Little Man’s allergy shots. It is quickly approaching dinner time. I don’t know if you recall, but it is happily bubbling in the crockpot. However, my mom has invited us to join them for dinner…and I’m bringing what is in the crockpot. Homemade chili. I must now go home, let Cujo, Jr. out to potty…(before she clocks back in, I might add), then bring my bubbling pot of goodness to my mom’s for dinner. And remind #3 to change out of her beautiful dress and put on play clothes. No chili for you! until you change. (a little Seinfeld for you)

We drive. We arrive. We disembark with chili. We eat. We visit. We return home to Cujo and the red-eyed smoke detector. I talk to Grand Poobah several times and he assures me that all will be well when he returns.

I do not sleep much that night. I never do when Grand Poobah is gone. I hear every noise and imagine others. But I know he will be home the next day. That would be Tuesday, right?

Oh my, the next day…a whole ‘nother story.

Wordless Wednesday

Posted October 28, 2009 at 7:10 pm
Filed Under Motherhood | 1 Comment

Okay, give your 10 y.o. son the camera and Wordless Wednesday becomes very interesting! Happy Wednesday!

yeah, what she said!

Dont' forget me!

Mama Said There’d Be Days Like This…but WEEKS???

Posted October 24, 2009 at 12:19 pm
Filed Under Humor, My life, Sharing | 5 Comments

What a week we’ve had. I won’t bore you with ALL the details. However, I will share how our week started. You are given permission to laugh. I laughed about it later. Not on Monday. I promise you, not on Monday.

Grand Poobah has been gone all week. I don’t know why, but there almost always seems to be a crisis when he is gone. Remember the money in the carseat fiasco? This week proved true to that pattern. Monday morning arrived and I hit the pavement with one of my walking buddies while it was still dark outside. I walked my four miles and (thankfully) took my shower early instead of waiting like I sometimes do. I needed to meet someone at 10:45 and hand over TONS of baby clothes that I am passing along. So, when looking for the silver lining to my dark, cloudy day, there is a peek. I was up, showered and dressed.

In between my walk and bringing the clothes, we all started our day with gusto because we had to leave for an ortho appointment right after lunch. I had planned everything out and we were rolling right along. I had chili in the crockpot and all was right with my little world. Or so I thought.

Around 11:30, our security system sounded a fire alarm. I was standing right under the detector when it went off. I knew we did not have a fire. The system had given a false alarm a few weeks prior. Research showed that it was either an old sensor or, get this, dust on the sensor. Dust? In my house? You must be joking! There is no, cough, cough, dust in my house. That is almost insulting.

Back to said alarm.

It is screaming and “ALERT”ing much like the robot “DANGER”ing Will Robinson. I type in my code and immediately cease its wailing while I begin to dial the number on the system. I want to get them to call off the emergency personnel. The phone rings a few times before a voice answers and asks if this is an emergency OR COULD I HOLD?!

Hm. Well, I quickly weigh the situation. There is no fire, thus no emergency in my mind. I decide I can hold a few seconds. Unfortunately, I weighed the situation incorrectly. When the voice returns, I explain that I just had a false alarm and I would like them to call off the emergency personnel. Her response?

“Oh my, that IS an emergency. YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME. I’ll do my best to call them off, but it is probably too late.”

Remember that Grand Poobah is out of town, right? I email him and ask him to call. Now. He does. I oh-so-sweetly remind him of the canned air I tried to buy the other night at Sam’s. Does he remember? Yes, he does. Do you remember why I wanted to buy canned air? Um, yes…yes he does. (Do any Dickens’ fans recognize this? “It is so.”) I remind him anyway. TO BLOW OFF THE SENSOR IN THE DETECTOR!! Well, too late now. There will be sirens and uniforms arriving any minute now and I have to feed four kids and get everyone ready to leave in just a few minutes to head to town for our appointment. Just thought he should be kept abreast of the goings on in our house.

I start watching out the front window. Lunch preparations are going on in the kitchen. Little Man decides to make himself a toasted ham and cheese sandwich. Of course, there must be lots of cheese. That will be important in just a minute.

Time ticks by…seems like hours…but in fact it is just a few minutes. Sure enough, here comes a very large red vehicle down our road. Yep, the hugest fire truck our little station has. It was clean and shiny and very red. Thankfully, no lights or sirens. As I am stepping out on my front porch to thank them profusely and send them on their way, I am greeted by, I AM SURE OF THIS, two handsome teenage firemen. Really, how old do you have to be? These guys looked like little boys playing firemen. Okay, I know they were old enough to be firemen, I just suddenly felt very old. And very flustered. And very embarrassed. And very lonely.

The two little girls are super hyped by all the ALERTs and phone calls and Mommy freaking out. The seven-pound fluff ball we own has turned into Cujo. Little Man is humming through his day and fixing his lunch. And I am standing on my porch, feeling very old, talking to the nice firemen. They explain that yes, they did get the call to cancel, but once dispatched, someone must respond and verify that there is no fire. That means they must come inside and verify exactly that. Oh, and by the way, the numbers on my house are too small and not clearly visible from the road. Had this been an actual emergency or at night, it would have been very difficult to find the house.

Um, okay. I now feel totally stupid. Note to self: buy new house numbers, preferably neon, flashing and three feet tall.

Anybody want to guess how my house looked Monday morning? It is my laundry/cleaning day. We are decluttering. We have moved all the little girls’ toys out of their shared room to declutter and make more space for them. Wanna guess where the toys are? Yes, in my normally unused foyer that I must now invite the visiting firemen into so that they can verify my lack of fire.

I now feel not only lonely and old, but humiliated. I am a person that does not have company over unless my house is spotless. Monday, not so much.

Sure brave firemen, come into my house where the closets have all vomited their contents into my foyer and garage. Really, it’s okay.

The aforementioned firemen look around the den and ask which sensor sounded the alarm. I point to the one high up on our very tall ceiling that is blinking rapidly like a red-eyed fiend from the Hounds of the Baskervilles.

Oh my, what is that smell?????

Both firemen look at each other and say that they don’t see a fire…but what is that smell? I laugh nervously and confess that my son is making his lunch. In the kitchen. In the toaster oven. It is cheese toast, heavy on the cheese. And it is now sending a pleasant aroma of burned cheese wafting our way as it travels through my happy NOT-ON-FIRE house.

Knock. Knock. Cujo goes wild and tries to break down the utility room door.

Oh, hello Deputy. Now look at that, there are TWO Sheriff Deputies’ cars outside. Thank you for coming. I am so sorry it is a false alarm. Yes sir. I am on the repair schedule for Friday. Yes sir, I am sure that it is a false alarm. Oh sure, come on in and join the firemen in verifying that MY HOUSE IS NOT ON FIRE. Don’t mind the piles of toys and clothes you are having to skirt. Oh, that smell. It’s just lunch. And yes, my children are home with me. All four of them.

I know you are laughing now. I was almost in tears. The very best part of the entire fiasco was the heat-sensing camera the youngest fireman brought into the house. He checked the sensor on the ceiling in case there was heat surrounding it. He checked the rafters abovehead. He explained all the details to my science-nerd son that was burning cheese toast in the toaster oven. He showed the kids their footprints on the floor that all of a sudden seemed like a beach of sand to me. Even though I had just vacuumed that morning.

I give the other fireman my contact info. My name, my phone number, the street address. And then guess what he asks? MY DATE OF BIRTH! Yes, I guess it is important to find out how old I am to make sure I’m not too old or something.

I thank them for coming. I thank them for not being upset that it was a false alarm. I truly do know that their jobs are all very important and I would never want to take time away from them responding to a real emergency.

As I shut the door and put my face into my hands, I fight the urge to weep loudly and profusely. Funny as it may seem now, I can promise you that I DID NOT LAUGH. Instead, I look at the clock and realize that my day is only about 1/3 of the way done.

(All kidding aside, I am very thankful for the fire department and the deputies that came to my house to make sure we were safe. I did feel well-cared for and I am forever grateful for the technology we have that allows for things like this to happen.)

Life Goes On …

Posted October 18, 2009 at 6:25 pm
Filed Under General, My life | 2 Comments

Things are moving along and I am having such a hard time believing that this year is quickly coming to an end.

I’ve been in serious declutter mode … but I feel like I still haven’t made much progress. With six people living in the house, we have a lot of STUFF. I have been giving away clothes, shoes, toys … everything I can get rid of without the wailing and gnashing of teeth.

It has been kind of comical as I’ve gone through clothes to decide what to give and what to keep. My first two children were born five years apart and of different genders. I never had hand-me-downs for them. However, I am now seeing some of #1’s pretty dresses come out of storage for #3 to wear. And now #4 can wear some of the things I have from #3. I gave away alot of #3’s stuff because I didn’t think we’d be able to have another baby. When I had my youngest girl, I started keeping stuff again. Of course, seasons don’t always line up, but I have been able to use quite a bit of stuff from her.

The funnies come in when #3 and #4 get their “new” stuff from the attic. You really would think it was Christmas and birthday rolled into one. They love wearing things they know was a sister’s. And now, #4 is getting to the point where she ONLY wants to wear the stuff that was #3’s.

“Um, honey, let’s wear the NEW dress.”

“ No Mommy, I want to wear LaLa’s dress.”

Little Man always gets the new stuff. And unfortunately for me but great for my friends with boys, he rarely wears things long enough to actually wear them out. He has been growing so fast and furiously that most of the stuff I am giving away from him is practically new. His church clothes truly looks brand new. Good thing I like to shop clearance and ebay!

We had a great day on Friday visiting my Granny. She is in her mid-80s now and only slowing down a little bit. She made us lunch and it took me back to my childhood. For all her Cajun roots, she makes the best Granny’s Spaghetti in the world. We had a fantastic time visiting and laughing. I know she probably fell asleep in her chair the minute we drove away. I’m just so thankful she is still in my life and in my children’s lives.

On a sadder note, Grand Poobah lost his grandmother last week. She was his last living grandparent and was 90. She was a fiesty little lady and we will miss her. We are very thankful we got to visit with her last year when we made the trip up to PA.

All of our school activities are keeping us very busy and I must say, we are enjoying them all and living through the chaos.

I’ve been baking as usual. We did make some KILLER pumpkin muffins the other day and I thought the little girls would turn orange from eating them everyday for breakfast. I’ll definitely be making those again.

So, there is the update. I’m sure something interesting will happen and I’ll have more to blog about soon. There is never a dull moment here!

Maria, uber cool artist that made my new banner, this is for you!

Posted October 14, 2009 at 2:48 pm
Filed Under Celebrations, Humor | 4 Comments

How do you thank an artist like Maria?
How do you say you like the work she’s done?
How do you praise an artist like Maria?
She’s amazing and cool, super and great, NUMBER ONE.
BIG FINISH NOW:
How do you bow to the talent in her hands?

Do you ever wonder?

Posted October 9, 2009 at 9:56 pm
Filed Under Humor, My life | 1 Comment

I just bought a brand new, sealed up tight, never opened bag of socks for #3.

I open said bag to mark her socks. Old idea but first time I’ve done it. Now that #3 and #4 like to have many many things alike, including socks, it is hard for our folders to figure out which socks belong to whom. Therefore, #3 now has 3 dots on her socks, #4 has 4. When (and if) socks are handed down to #4, she gets a dot added to the 3 that are already there.

Back to dotting socks. I open the bag, pull out the pairs of socks, of which there are 10. That means there should be 20 socks.

However, there are NOT 20 socks. There are 19 socks. 19.s.o.c.k.s. Not 20.

My washing machine doesn’t eat them … I never had them in my possession.

Sigh.

What do I do with one lonely yellow-trimmed fold-over scalloped bobby sock? I guess I’ll keep it to go with its matching twins … that’s it. I have triplets. Guess it will come in handy when the washing machine eats one of the other socks. Hopefully one of the yellow-trimmed ones. Not the pink, or purple, or even the white ones.