McSwanky

For three tragic months late last year, the McDonalds near our house closed down for renovations. By "renovations" they meant "tear the whole thing down to the ground and start over from scratch." Though I'm not a huge McDonalds eater, I do appreciate a good Big Mac now and then; their grilled chicken sandwiches are especially tasty; and, let's face it, nothing beats fresh, hot McDonalds fries. But the biggest draw for me at McDonalds is the play land. All winter long when my kids are going stir crazy, and even in the summer when it's too hot to be outside at a park, the possibility of letting my kids scream and run and slide and socialize in a climate controlled environment with Coke refills for me is nearly irresistible. So I was a bit sad when our McDonalds closed down. Well, except for the fact that that particular location was A GIANT PIECE OF CRAP. The whole concept of climate control was in theory only. Because in summer there was no a/c in the play land. It was easily 100+ degrees in there. Not that my kids minded. But I had to move my sweaty self out to the main restaurant area in order to keep from melting. In the winter they somehow failed to heat the play land, so it was only slightly warmer than outdoors. And what did they say when I complained, numerous times, about the heating/air conditioning situation? Every time it was, "Well, the climate control box is locked and we don't have a key," or "The owners don't let us adjust the temperature." This was coming from the manager! After a while I simply stopped going to that location.

But I am pleased to announce that as of a couple of months ago, they finished the renovations and the new Micky D's is up and running. And, boy, did they go all out! You almost feel like you are in the lobby of a posh Manhattan hotel. Well, IF you hold your nose so that you can't smell the odor of hot grease. Well, AND if you plug your ears from the constant sounds of children screaming. But anyway, it's pretty nice. Not like any McDonalds I've ever been in, for sure. The walls are covered in neutral colored pebbles against an espresso-stained wood background. Sleek stools with trendy colored cushions sit around cherry wood (laminate, this is McDonalds) high-tables. Smoked glass pendant light fixtures in a modern shape dangle above the booths. Really, it is pretty fancy. For a Mcdonalds.

And the play land, ahhh...heat AND a/c! So luxurious!

Now if only they could manage to get your food out to you in less than 10 minutes. I mean, this is FAST food still, right? But I guess you can't have everything. I have thought about complaining, but I'm afraid they'll just say, "It's the kidney bean shaped tables or a hot Big Mac, lady. You choose." Well, I guess I choose a luke warm Big Mac. Just keep the Coke refills coming, and it's all good.

Compromise

We have had a few warmish days over the last few weeks. Not many. And not VERY warm, but you could feel the hint of spring in the air. You could go outside without a jacket. I even wore flip flops one day because I was overheating! But then it turned cold again. Yesterday was REALLY cold. A nice "haha" from Mother Nature. But I'll tell you what, when I'm longing for spring, and I'm so sick of cold, and I really just want it all to be over with already, there is one way to still make me happy about a lingering winter...



A giant snowstorm!.


Ironic, I know.





Nothing tastes as good as fresh snow...





Someone has to protect these little (dead) plants from the blizzard!


Mom, I'm ready to come in for some hot chocolate now...

The Princess And The Pea

Today Daphne suddenly decided, after five years of wearing them, that socks were absolutely, positively, and in every other way, intolerable. She simply could not handle wearing them. As I was getting her ready for school, she burst into tears and tore them from her feet screaming, "I hate socks! I really hate them!"

This isn't the first time she has exhibited sock issues. She has inherited a little bit of her sock OCD from me--I do have some rather strong preferences concerning my socks, starting with what they are made of (predominantly cotton with 5-10% Lycra to keep them snug. No wool, no polyester, and definitely NO animal fibers like cashmere or angora. Yes, the actually make socks out of angora!), how high they go on my leg (I don't like ankle socks unless I'm wearing athletic clothes or golf shorts or something. And knee-highs make me batty. Also socks that are meant to me mid-calf but slide down around my ankle go straight into the garbage.), and also if they are on correctly (doesn't everyone feel like pulling their eyeballs out if the seam of their socks across the toes is askew???). But Daphne takes it to a whole new level. I feel like getting her socks and shoes on exactly how she likes them is about the same as dressing a medieval knight for battle. With only two socks, and two shoes, you'd think it would take 30 seconds. But there is so much adjusting and fidgeting and whining and changing that it feels like I have personally carried and tied on a full 100 lb suit of armor by the time I am done.

And then, still, on some days like today everything is still not right. She couldn't possibly wear THOSE socks in THAT position with THOSE shoes AND wear her glasses AND deal with the tag on her pants touching her skin and STILL go to school. So in the end, the socks come off, the shoes get changed into her favorite boots (sans socks...EW!!), her shirt gets tucked in to provide a buffer between the pants' tag and Her Majesty's skin, and only the glasses remain as they started before this battle began. She looks like a cross between a major geek and a street urchin. AND ALL THIS FOR 2 1/2 HOURS OF SCHOOL!

At least the girl in the fairy tail turned out to be a real princess after all that pea-under-the-mattresses drama. But Daphne? She seems to be more from the story of Beauty and The Beast. And I don't mean Beauty. Where is my fairy godmother when I need her? I don't ask much. Just a little spell to bring on summer. Or an early spring. Some situation in which socks are no longer required...
Bibbity-bobbity-flip flops!

Wearing Funny

My husband showed me this funny website with these funny t-shirt slogans on it. FUNNY.

And finally, a few dedications:

For Daphne...

For Mindi...

For Beck...

For Big Daddy...



For Jennie (Although I'm sure Big Daddy would say this one is for me.)

For Mr. Jennie...


This website makes me wish I actually wore t-shirts!

How To Make A Victorian Whiteboard

Step 1) Collect :

1 Small Cookie Sheet

1/2 Cup Sugar (or so)

1 Chop Stick (or finger)


Step 2) Start Drawing in the Sugar.


Step 3) Give the cookie sheet a little shake to clear the image.


Step 4) Begin again! This is a great way to get reluctant students to work on their letters, numbers, name, or spelling words.



Step 5) Reward the artist with a little lick before you clean up.

Total Freaking IDIOT

I am referring to myself here. Because who else makes it through the majority of a year thinking they're a different age than they are? AND NOT A YOUNGER AGE. I would at least call myself pleasantly delusional if I'd spent the last year thinking I was a year younger than I am. But no, I spent the last year thinking I was 37 when, in fact, I was 36. It was only today that I realized my mistake. My birthday is coming up in a few weeks, so I was thinking about what it was going to be like to be 38, so dangerously close to 40. And then I realized, WAIT. Big Daddy is turning 40 this year, and I'm 3 years younger than him. That means I am only 36 going on 37. WTF? How did I spend a whole year thinking I was older than I was?? I don't remember the exact moment after my last birthday when this dementia kicked in, but lets just say I can't actually remember thinking I was 36. EVER. What an idiot!

Well, at least I get to have another year before facing that awful 38. And I can still refer to myself as Mid-Thirties. Without lying about it. (Small consolation to what is evidently the early onset of Alzheimers.)

Me And Him

My mother called today to wish me a happy anniversary. "What were you doing at this time exactly nine years ago?" she asked.

Well, let's see. It's 10am, so that means the mall was just opening. The wedding was at 1pm, so by now I was at the mall trying to find some shoes to go with my wedding dress. And some jewelry to go with my wedding dress. And some little gifts for my flower girls. If you think that is last minute, my husband wasn't even going to leave to get his hair cut for another 2 hours! He showed up about 10 minutes before the ceremony began.

It was a pretty thrown together wedding. But that's what happens when you're the last of all your friends to get married and they've all moved away and your husband is on his second marriage and wants to make the whole thing as low-key as possible and your mother just isn't the fussing-over-wedding-details type and you have a pretty limited budget for your wedding and you didn't even get engaged (officially at least) until a couple of weeks before the the big day, and you aren't the type of girl who has been planning every last detail of her wedding since she was five--a lot can go wrong.

I should have had a rehearsal (then I would have realized that there was no one to start the music when I began walking down the aisle, that the flower girls had no idea how to throw petals and walk at the same time, that my mother and I could not fit side by side down the aisle because it was too narrow, you know, those types of little details). I should have spent the bulk of my money on a photographer instead of cheaping out and asking a relative to do the pictures. I should have researched honeymoon spots more. I should have hired some kids to serve at the reception. I should have bought my shoes, jewelry, and flower girl gifts weeks before. I should have gone to a salon to get my hair done professionally. I should have gotten to my reception early to take formal pictures (which I have NONE of). I should have requested samples of my flower arrangements to see how they'd look. I should have stopped being so emotional so I could smile normally in my pictures. I should have practiced my "You may now kiss the bride" kiss. I should have invited more people to the ceremony. I should have gotten married in June!

But the cake was delicious. And the reception hall looked great. And the food was good. And we made it through the wedding and reception without any MAJOR disasters. And except for the fact that I threw up that whole night and was sure I had given all my guests food poisoning (nope, it was just me), I guess everything worked out fine.

Most notably, I got to marry the most wonderful, fantastic, caring, hard-working, funny, smart, creative, sweet, generous, ingenious, amazing man ever. He is the best father I could imagine. He makes me laugh every single day, sometimes until I fall on the floor, gasping for breath, tears streaming down my face. He gets up with the kids in the night and gets their breakfast in the morning because he knows how much I love to sleep. He brings me flowers on special occasions even though he thinks flowers are dumb. He has great taste in shoes. He always gives me the last bite of his dessert. He gave up the big closet to me when we moved to this house even though he has 3x the clothes. He is an excellent driver. He works incredibly hard to provide for our family. He cries at movies. He can fix anything. He tries really hard to make sure I'm always happy. And you know what? It works. I am happy. Terribly, hopelessly, wonderfully happy.

Thanks for the best nine years of my life, Sweetie. Here's to 90 more. (Wait....)