www.quietsoldseparately.blogspot.com

A dear, sweet friend recently started a new blog. A blog for moms, by moms. A place for moms to come for a simple answer to the every day questions we encounter. Like the little ones we raise, this blog is beginning in infancy. It needs readers. It needs comments. It needs questions. Swing on over. I promise laughs. I promise good ideas. I promise a plethora of ah-ha's. I had a few just today. One of the first questions she chose to tackle was about pacifiers, to use or not to use. The following is a sneak peak of one of the comments posted by yours truly...

Once we were home (from the hospital), she cried 21 hours each day, hours calculated on a non-magical, no-extra-hours-added-to-a-day, non wish-granting clock. Life could not continue like this. I made it, she made it, my beloved husband who had no idea what the heck to do made it to Day 5. On this day, while unpacking from the hospital, a tiny rubber and plastic composition of pink, blue, and yellow fell to the bed. It was a God send, an answered prayer, a shining mirror ball hanging from my ceiling sparking rays of light as a chorus sang. I can still remember the secluded discussion my husband and I had behind the closed doors of our bedroom during the few moments that followed. "Should we let her have it?"..."we said we never would."..."Jenn, something's got to give." More like someone or, more accurately, two someones because this was a decision I refused to make on my own. So with heavy hearts and an increasing amount of self doubt (it was that big of a deal) we decided to give a child, one of OUR children, a pacifier. Honestly, at that point, the binkie was the alternative to a small room with padded walls and a nurse named Barb that dispensed medication according to her own clock. It was what came next that was harder than the decision itself. We had to announce the decision to the crowded rooms of family on the other side of our door. After all, no matter how much I love and adore my husband, I couldn't (he probably could...well, maybe he couldn't) stay in our bedroom forever. Mark's solution to my dreaded judgment was very matter of fact. "Jenn, just give her the thing and walk out. If anyone says anything, simply offer them to live in our shoes for the next 24 hours and see how long they last. We lasted 5 days and it was far from how I imagined Heaven." So in a nutshell, he was saying the last 3 days at home with a screaming, crying newborn have mirrored his assumption of Hell juxtaposed with 7 weary days and an equal amount of sleepless nights (remember my labor was long) if confronted, my often quiet and well-mannered husband would have told the offenders where they could have stuck a binkie of their own. We walked out of our room, Jillian held in our arms, the binkie displayed between her lips...

What happened on the either side of the door? Check out Quiet Sold Separately to find out the answer to this and how to get a picky eater to expand his pallet and is it okay to lie to your husband by omission and many more topics as they arise.

Click, Clack, Ahh!

Sometime in the wee hours of the night, I drifted out of a dream in which I was grocery shopping while being followed by my parents and a small chorus of other people performing Handel’s Messiah. They were really doing a fantastic job and I appreciated that they understood how much it meant to me being able to attend their performance and shop for my cow for the week aka milk at the same time. But then I was called out the performance, and out of sleep entirely, because I could hear someone tapping the computer keys outside our bedroom door. I listened for several minutes until I was quite sure that my ears were not deceiving me and I was not dreaming. Yep, there it was……someone slowly typing away. A clicking, a clacking of the keys being pecked in no particular spellings inched into our room. Kind of sinister, don’t you think? An axe murderer who wakes his unsuspecting victims by striking eerie and ominous letters on the keyboard. {{Shudder}} Finally, I called for backup. I nudged Mark and said, “Is someone on the computer?” He paused for a listen. “No,” he said confidently. I think he was happy to hear something insane come out of my mouth in the middle of the night, instead of his (he has been known to fight dinosaurs in his sleep.) “I’m not dreaming,” I said. “Oh, okay,” he said and rolled back over. He learned that trick from me. “Can’t you hear it? It’s like someone’s hunting and pecking.” “Nobody is in the house,” he said, “typing on the computer.” “Well is it Brendan or Jillian? Or maybe a mouse is on the desk? That's it, it is a mouse!” We sat in the quiet dark and listened. No typing. After a few more seconds, I rested my head back on my pillow and tried to go back to sleep. Mark readjusted his pillow and refolded the covers (he is very particular about this, even in his sleep.) Several minutes later, as I was trying to get back to my grocery shopping and personal mobile performance of Handel’s Messiah, I heard Mark muttering. “It does sound like the keyboard,” he said. “You hear it?” I paused. I couldn’t hear it. “I don’t hear it anymore,” I said. “I can hear it,” he said. “Do you think it’s a mouse?” I asked. “Or a murderer?” “Neither.” “OK. What is it?”

"I don't know. I am sure it is nothing. Maybe something outside." he said, not quite convinced. But much to my extreme pleasure, we woke up this morning un-murdered. The kids still in bed and there are no mouse droppings anywhere in the house. I guess it was outside —Mr. Windy in the office with the candlestick. Whew! That was a close one.

Off to the Store...

...to buy cereal

and maybe a few other things.

High-Ho, High-Ho

This week has been all about opposites. Megan and Bailey went home yesterday. So hopefully a little calmness will find its way back into our lives. One day the weather was sunny and gorgeous and warm. The next it was raining and absolutely freezing. FREEZING, I tell ya! Which left Megan in an angst. She wanted more than anything for the weather to be cold and just plain dreary while she was here. For me it just emphasizes that I am not ready for winter, but that's Ohio for you! One week we were all healthy and happy-go-lucky. Fast forward to later in the week and we're all sick and miserable. Mark was gone most of last week. Working craaazzzy hours, and I thought summer, aka golfing weather, was over. But now, (thank goodness!!!) he's back and full of quality family time. And I'm thinking at some point, once upon a time, my house was clean. I may be imagining that. Something about that third child just makes all things only possible for about 5 minutes. And in the back of my head I am remembering how my mom told me having a third child is just another baked potato in the microwave. I would share my potato if only I could have a clean house. However, it's a disaster today. Perhaps I can muster some motivation and scrub a toilet or two. Too bad those scrubbing bubbles really don't do the scrubbing for you. Wish list: a maid. If only 4 times a year. Ya know to get those nooks and crannies I have been neglecting. Oh and to dust, I despise dusting! Something about all those knick knacks my mom had when I was a child. And what was my chore. The dusting. My mom says it was because I did it so well. Well, now - I can't stand it. Anyway, I am wasting precious time I could be cleaning. High-Ho! High-Ho!

PreK Eve

Jillian starts preschool tomorrow. I remember what the first day of school was always like for me - laying out the perfect outfit, having everything ready, lying awake for hours. I was always, always, always super-dee-duper excited. However, I didn't want my own anxieties to transfer to her, but I did ask several times the today if she was ready. The last time (and there is a reason it was the last) I asked, this conversation followed.

Me: Jilli, are you ready for school tomorrow?

J: I'm not going to school. I only want to go to PRRREEEEeee-school.

Me: It is PRRRREEEEeeee-school. (yes, I mocked her)

J: Well, I'm not going.

Me: Jilli, why do you not want to go to preschool?

J: Because, I just don't want to go.

Me: Jilli, you will have fun. You will make new friends. You will play new games and sing new songs.

J: So! (Holy wow, where did that attitude come from? Oh, yeah - me. Shucks!)

Me: I am sure you will change your mind in the morning when it is time to go.

J: We'll just see about that!!! (as she marched upstairs)

Karigan has Wings

The poor girl doesn't have much hair. She hasn't since the day she was born. Brendan and Jillian were both born with more hair than she has now. But, boy the hair she does have is just blond, blond, blond and curly, curly, curly. I am lovin' it. Even when it does stick out no matter how hard I try to comb it down. Her hair, just like her, definitely has a mind of its own.

Chili Pepper Apothecary

Bite into a chili pepper and you are likely to feel an intense burning sensation - as if your mouth is on fire. So it would make perfect sense to apply a compound cream consisting of cortisone, lidocaine, and capsaicin to very sensitive, extremely irritated skin, right?

Well, that is just what the doctor ordered. I thought the whole battle with shingles was over and I escaped with mild neuropathy and only one spot. Ha Ha Ha! I woke up last Thursday with another "spot" on my neck, this one twice the size as the one on my abdomen. And, like an outbreak, by Monday I was covered from earlobe to knee cap. And with the pox came the pain! I followed up with the doctor on Tuesday, only to be told "yep, still shingles." He prescribed a higher dose of pain medication and a cream made at the compound pharmacy down the street. I adore the science behind holistic apothecary, but user discretion be advised. I picked up the cream, and then had a few errands to run while I was out. I used a dab of the cream in a small spot just to see how beneficial it was. And It. was. great! The lidocaine numbed the pain, and about 15 minutes later, the heat from the capsaicin soothed the chaos beneath my skin. I was so excited when I arrived home because it was time for the next application. I lathered every affected area, keeping in mind "a little goes a long way." And then it happened. I WAS ON FIRE! Crazy fire! Errupting from the tissues beneath my skin. A shower was the logical solution, right? Oh no, no, no. The warm water made the "fire" worse, and cold water made me shiver and my skin pucker.

I guess I will chalk this one up to "one of those things I am meant to experience in life." And I dare ask, "What's next?"

The Super Hero Inside Mark?

Mark's superpower would be (is!) super speed.

You're quick witted and fast to act. You're mind works at warp speed. From your perspective, everyone else is living in slow motion. You get so much done, people have accused you of not sleeping. Definitely not a couch potato, you feel a bit crazy if you're not busy doing something. Why you would be a good superhero? You would be the first on the scene, and likely to finish the job before anyone else shows up. Your biggest problem as a superhero is being bored by everyone else, including other superheroes!

The Super Hero Inside Me?

My superpower would be manipulating fire.

You are intense, internally driven, and passionate. Your emotions are unpredictable - and they often get the better of you. Both radiant and terrifying, people are drawn to you. At your most powerful, you feel like the world belongs to you. Why you would be a good superhero: You are obsessive enough to give it your all. Your biggest problem as a superhero: Your moodiness would make it difficult to control your powers.

What Should Your Superpower Be?

Really! It could not be any more true!

Droppin' the L.B.'s

We can tease all we want, but seriously the numbers do not lie. As of tonight, Mark is officially weighing in at T-minus 21 pounds and I have lost a whopping 26 pounds (unfortunately, it shows more on him.) Lets be clear, I do not. Absolutely, DO NOT! encourage weight loss to be achieved in such a manner, however, it is one fan-freakin'-tastic consolation to being this sick. Especially when I have been toting around about twenty stubborn pounds left from my last pregnancy over. a. year. ago. Mark has been dragging the same amount of sympathy pounds around, too, might I add. At this rate, I am one stomach flu away from my goal weight. Really, I don't actually weigh myself for the sake of day to day tallying or diet control - that would be torture! - and I never even kept a scale in our house until I was pregnant with Jillian and was forced to weigh myself twice a day and then call my home health care nurse with the digits. But how great would the one above be - at least it would show me some love before the bad news was magnified to the world!

A Hurricane in Ohio?

Mark's Aunt Veda lives in Florida, and upon hearing that Ohio was struck by a remnants of Hurricane Ike, this is what she had to say...

Dear Ohioans,

It is with great pleasure (and much laughter) to tell ya'll to "HUNKER DOWN"!!!!!!!!! I hope you storm chasers are safe and can easily get the knots and tangles out of your windblown hair! Just one of the many hazards of a hurricane!! Just remember...if you need new windows, you have to poke the window from the outside in! the glass has to be inside to make it look real! It does not hurt to throw in a few leaves and branches too! Have fun with this! I never heard of a cat. 1 hurricane so far inland!!!! I wonder if the tide will rise on Lake Erie!!?? Remember...get in water, duck tape, bleach, rx's, 4 day food supply, important papers, photos, flash light, batteries, you get the idea. If you are interested in attending classes on "HOW TO HUNKER DOWN" just call me. Love and prayers to each and every one of you.

Love, V.

If there is one thing our church does well, it is food. Tonight, Bishop Hay brought our family dinner, courtesy of Sister Hay, that is. And well, Karigan's face says it all. It was so super-dee-lic-ious! He said that it was a new recipe that she had seen on TV that day. Well, if anyone out there ever questions whether or not to give one of those celebrity chef recipes a stab (no pun intended) I say go for it. If it turns out anything like what we had for dinner tonight, the payoff will be unimaginable. Have I told you how delicious it was?

To Hide or Not to Hide???

Perhaps this is just pure laziness at work, but I haven't been able to subscribe to the big "hide the veggies" trend. In fact, no perhaps about it. I feel a great sense of accomplishment if dinner makes it on to the table, period. Pureeing veggies to hide in that dinner is just not on the agenda. But I have tons o' friends who love, love, love this method. In fact, they swear by it. And my hat is off to them, because there is nothing wrong with more veggies, and heaven knows we could use 'em around here. So anyway, I was thrilled to read this article, Stealth-Vegetable Smackdown by one of my favorite Mommy writers, Catherine Newman. Come to find out, she's in my camp! Her kids, like mine, are required to eat actual carrots and broccoli, etc. etc. She cooks 'em up all sorts of appetizing ways and gives them lots o' fun things for dipping, but broccoli is broccoli is broccoli - none of this hiding the broccoli in the mac 'n cheese. So if you're looking for some great ways to serve up veggies to your kiddies, click here and check out the recipe links at the top of the page. And feel better about yourself if you just can't bring yourself to put pureed veggies in your brownies like some amazing people I know!

Just What the Doctor Ordered

Well, not exactly. But at least I now know what is the source of all my issues, no not the neurotic mental ones, the bathroom ones. Two words. Intestinal. Obstruction. And yes, I will spare you the details, but just imagine a slow draining sink. I know, I know, already T.M.I. So if you need me, I will be at home, in the bathroom, consuming several trees worth of TP, and hopefully, just hopefully, I will drain normally once again.

Got any missing money?

Who couldn't use a stumble upon a big pile of money they never knew they had. Well, take a trip on over to Missing Money and see if any of it could be yours. PS - I charge a 10% finders fee.

Rock On!

~~~ Brendan decided he wants to be in a band. Leave a comment with potential rocker names. The winner gets a copy of his first demo. ~~~

How did I spend my Saturday?

Want to find out.

Click here.

That Time

Only in India would you actually find a sign like this, although, we could probably use one at our house today. Oh, the hormones - out of control, I tell ya, out of control.

See the whole collection, click here.

80s Housewife

You Belong in 1980

Wild, over the top, and just a little bit cheesy. You're colorful at night - and successful during the day.

What Year Do You Belong In?

Rub-a-Dub-Dub-K-Dub-in-the-Tub

They say a picture is worth a thousand words - How about two letters.