Am I A Mother? Yes. A Genius? I think so.

Today my naughty children did not want to eat their breakfast. First, they wanted a bowl of strawberries with brown sugar on top. So I provided the fruit with just a smidge of brown sugar because it was too early to fight them and they ganged up on me. Then, they wanted rice candy from our Japanese food last night. Nope. No candy, was my reply. Whining ensued. I offered cereal, toast, eggs, bacon, waffles...all sort of breakfast items were available. They wanted rice candy. No. Please? No. Back and forth.

The morning went on and frankly, I was just tired of trying to convince them to eat something healthy-ish. But I knew if they ate nothing they would be cranky and hungry earlier for lunch which would just screw up the whole day. They say necessity is the mother of all invention.

I am the mother and this was my invention. "Girls, pretend one of you is a duckie at the park. I'll give the other person bread and you can feed it to the little sister duck." Cheers and celebratory jumping. So I gave each of them a slice of high fiber wheat bread and they tore it up in little squares and threw it on the ground while the other flapped their wings and bent their head down and ate it off the ground. They both ate two slices of high fiber bread along with a glass of water. Strawberries, bread and water. Not a bad breakfast and I didn't have to toast, pour or cook it in any way. I am a genius. And yes I will be trying the same trick the next morning I am just too tired to cook.

Quack quack.

If I Could Write You a Love Song...

Mike and I noticed something strange when we had the girls. It was something so unexpected. We had prepared for parenthood you guys. After 13 years we had our plan in hand. There wasn't any tidbit of info we thought would catch us off guard. We knew what to Expect When We Were Expecting while we were both Baby Wise and full of Love & Logic if you know what I mean. So in comes these two little lives and all of a sudden, all the cheesy, the most gushy, syrupy love songs on the radio were no longer about each other. They had been written specifically as beautiful ballads for our girls.

I'm about ready to date myself and by date myself I don't mean I'm about ready to take myself out for dinner & a movie. Badah - Bing! All the 80's love songs we had thought were about each other were instead completely re-written on our hearts and seemed to sum up exactly how we felt as we fell in love with these two little ladies. "You're the Inspiration", "Waiting For a Star To Fall", "After All", "Wind Beneath My Wings" and "Always & Forever". All cheese. All about my daughters. All causing these strange lumps to swell in our throats and moisture to leak from our eyes. What the hell was happening here? It must be the lack of sleep? Nope. Turns out it was true love.

So today, we were coming home from swim lessons and the famous ballad "The Rose" came on the radio by the amazing Bette Midler. Katie asked what this beautiful sound was? So I cranked it up and sang it for her and Jessica at the top of my lungs. And by the third verse I couldn't sing anymore because I could not stop crying. Tears and squeaking. That's all I had. And I realized that there has never been a song or words that sums up what I feel about my journey to and through motherhood quite like The Rose.

"Just remember in the winter, far beneath the bitter snow. Lies the seed that with the sun's love, in the Spring becomes the rose."

Wam, Bam I hate SPAM

You know what I am really sick of? As in come ON already! SPAM. I mean, how do those people KNOW that I have a tiny little penis and might be interested in enlarging it? Who told? It's ridiculous. Does anyone really trust the cleansing of your colon to someone who sent you an email? And if the people who send this are listening...no I'm really not a horny housewife, but thanks for asking.

I'll admit it. I've had my email address for a long time. As in a long long long time. I had it before I learned about internet privacy laws and how to protect myself by never opting in to anything. I shop a lot and use my email address. I didn't pay attention at first to all the boxes you need to check and being careful they weren't sharing my information...just send me the freakin' book/clothes/make-up already! I was in a hurry. So I probably made some errors. But in the past three days, I have received three personal emails. (I know, sad huh) But I have received over 250 emails from companies wanting me to buy something. Most of these have received my business in the past, but some of these companies peddling vitamins, penis enlargement surgery, colon cleansing and porn have not been patronized by yours truly. Hey, I just caught a correlation. Follow my logic here. Maybe if I took the vitamins they are selling, my colon would be clean and my penis would grow opening up a career in the porn industry? Maybe it's a conspiracy and these are all from the same person and they secretly love me and think following this path in my life will lead to enlightenment and fulfillment? Yeah, maybe not.

Be careful out there...it's a big world wide web.

Men Men Men...Manly Men

The men in my life have taught me some great things. How to multi-task, hunt for a sale, love of shoes and goat cheese....ha ha HA! Just joking. But yesterday was Father's Day and it would be just down right rude to let it pass without a tribute. So here are some real things the men in my life have taught me.

Mike Meeker, the husband: How to properly load a dishwasher, how to scramble the best eggs on the planet earth, how to not tip my hand too soon (in both Risk and life) and how to do laundry. (in theory...it's never been put into actual practice by me. He does ALL the washing. I KNOW!)

John Santos, the Papa: that Hawaii is the best place on the planet earth, to be proud of your heritage and that I was pretty just how I was. I didn't need to change one bit.

Tom Oliver Sr., the Papa #2: a garden is a peaceful place to spend time, how to shoot concord grapes in my mouth, what mint, anise and rosemary smelled like and that you can have as much fun with a hose and a bucket and you can in an entire swimming pool.

Bill Meeker, the father in law: baseball players might be almost as talented as softball players (I'm still not sure), people can change a lot about themselves if they are willing to look hard in the mirror and if somebody talks too loudly during a television show, you can just keep turning up the volume until they get the hint and shut up.

Ron, Ken, Rick, Chuck and Steve Meeker, the brothers: Being the big sister is the best job on the planet. You get to boss around a bunch of boys and they laugh instead of get mad.

and finally...the most important boy...

Thom Oliver Jr. , the FATHER: you can not learn anything with your mouth moving, do a good job and don't expect freebies or to get rich quickly - just work hard and it will work out, boring is between your ears, do NOT drink at a high school party when your dad is scheduled to pick you and your friends up, be honest, be calm, help family and look forward to having grandbabies.

Thanks guys and Happy Father's Day!

A Study In Contradiction...

Mike and I were talking the other night and we decided we are very conflicted individuals. Seriously, you laugh, but we are. We fall into certain stereo types for sure, but dig a little deeper into our gooey caramel centers and we are totally conflicted about stuff. Here's what I mean.

I have always been a Democrat. I used to say I was morally a conservative but fiscally I was pretty liberal. My parents assured me that as I got older I would grow more conservative as I made more money, because I would want to keep it. But the opposite is happening. I am getting more liberal. And then Mike, OH MIKE...he told me on the way home from Medford the other day that he wants to retire in Ashland, Oregon instead of Central Point because Ashland is a hippie town and he'd rather live by liberals than conservatives. What? Umm...excuse me MAJOR Meeker, Eagle Scout, Mormon guy...aren't you supposed to be conservative? He still considers himself conservative on most issues but he's gotten about 99 times more liberal since he became a doctor. So why are we conflicted about this? Because of our religion, our families and most of our friends are totally the opposite. We are surrounded on all sides by conservative republicans for the most part. We even know people who think republicans are too liberal! And I know lots of people don't understand how in the world we could even get near the label of liberal. But at least for me, I think it's time I quit making excuses and own my identity. And part of it is a person who is more to the left than I feel comfortable admitting. I am a card carrying liberal, except they don't give out cards. I am a tree huggin, peace lovin, live and let live, big government, free speech, gun controlling liberal. I'm sure I will get a comment or two about how conservatives are the real "live and let live" folks. But I'm sorry you guys, I just don't see it. I told my Grandma that I think I might be a socialist and she laughed so hard because she was sure I was kidding. *** See post-edit at the bottom ***

Here's another conflicted area of our lives. We believe strongly that we should spend our life in the service of others. Mike's whole career is service based. Service to country and service to his patients. I am a stay at home Mom and I believe in giving time to helping others. It's just... well, it's just...how do I explain it? Well, see, we'd rather, um, watch TV. There I said it. We'd rather snuggle up on the couch and watch something we have recorded on the DVR instead of serving anybody. We feel guilty about it because this love of couch potato-ness flies in the face of what we believe.

Additionally, the fact is we are old. Yet, our souls feel so young. I still feel about 17 years old emotionally. I still get nervous if I have to go into a new social situation. I still crave popularity and want to please people. Shouldn't I have outgrown that? I am a mother and almost 40 for crying out loud. I shouldn't care about people liking me or whether someone sits by me at the next social event. But I do. I really do. Sometimes I just want to tell my old wrinkled self to grow up and put on my big girl panties. But inside, I'm still that kid at the roller rink praying that I have friends to skate with on a Friday night.

I miss working. But I don't want to go back to work. I still identify myself as someone with a career yet I have not had one for 2 1/2 years. I always said I would go back to work when the girls go to 1st grade. But won't they need me even more once they start to encounter mean girls, peer pressure, sports, activities, lunches to pack and spelling tests? I mean, how did I ever learn to spell with two working parents? How did my lunch get packed? But do I really want to be out of the work place for so long that by the time I go back people look at me as a sad, pathetic empty nester who is trying to fill time with her little jobby job? That was a rhetorical question. The answer is no. So basically I go back in 18 months or I don't go back ever? See why all the conflict? It's maddening.

Diet Coke. Need I say more?

Mike and I both feel conflicted about whether we are strict enough with the girls. On one hand, we are old school. (probably because we are old) We were raised when kids still got spanked and you told your mother to shut up if you had indeed decided that you were ready for death. We were both a little bit scared of our parents and it kept us in line. But in today's world, we are supposed to know that spanking doesn't work and that we need to empower our kids to stand up for themselves and question things. Apparently there is scientific evidence that this kinder, gentler parenting produces better kids. But we just aren't sure we buy it. Can you imagine how much our conflictedness (not a word) is screwing up our kids? Are we strict or permissive? Are we old school or new school? Poor little cherubs. They are probably so confused. I know we are.

And oh boy, this next one is the big one. I am conflicted about religion. I'm not conflicted about God. Totally do not have conflicts with doctrine. However, I feel like a cafeteria Mormon. I show up with my empty tray and I take servings of what looks good to me, instead of what is being served. Hmmm, lets see...I'll start off with an appetizer of family prayer, then I'll take a serving of love one another, a main course of Jesus and a side of forever families please. I'll take a big slice of warm fuzzy feelings topped with honesty and sprinkled with integrity for dessert. Oh, nothing to drink for me. (Because you don't serve Diet Coke anyway) As I fill up my tray with stuff that feels good and goes down easily, I wonder what I am missing out on. I steer clear of the hard work, working through trials, missionary work, temple work. Well let's just be honest, I steer clear of anything with "work" in the title. I don't discuss religion with anyone really because it makes me feel like a phony fake fraud. But here it is. For all the Internet to see. I am conflicted. I used to not be conflicted. I used to want to do the work. I used to love the work. I also used to love entertaining and my job and putting on make up and artichokes. Now, I just feel tired. So overwhelmed and so tired. I know the answer. Pick up the ball, quit whining and run with it already. I know this is the truth. I know because I have prayed about it. And I got an answer. The answer came to my heart. It said, "you need to work harder". It said "you'll be happier if you work harder." But I remain conflicted, on my couch watching Modern Family. See the problem?

And finally, I am conflicted about diets. Do they really not work? But what about all those people who lose weight on a diet? Is it really about maintaining choices you can keep up for a life time? Or should you hunker down with the celery and diet? I hate celery you guys. But I have these last stinking 40 pounds to lose. I want to lose it. But then I think...do you REALLY want to? If you REALLY wanted to, wouldn't you just go on a diet already? I've been either on a diet, going on a diet, cheating on a diet or out of control stuffing my face since I was 10. I can recite the nutritional labels of most foods and could write my own diet manual. I have gained and lost my body weight several times over. And yet here I sit, stuck and conflicted. Should I make sensible choices tomorrow but not stress super hard about the weight? If I keep that up over the long run, the weight will eventually come off right? Or I could just take a deep breath and charge into the land of food journals and portion measuring. I'm just not sure.

Feel free to comment if you have any wisdom to impart. I'll take all I can get at this point. Also, please don't worry about us. We may be conflicted but we are gold medal champions at blocking stuff out and are currently serving our second term as the co-chairs of the denial committee. So I really don't think about how my life is a big fat sham all that often. What do you feel conflicted about? Please, to share? (and if you get that movie reference you know how old I am).


POST-EDIT:
Regarding "socialism"... Mike and my dad got their panties in a wad at this part of the post. Mike is in the Air Force, so, for the record (and for big brother, if he is reading), no, I am not a member of any socialist party and I'm not a pinko-commie. And apparently, I'm not aware of all the past horrors and future ramifications of socialist regimes. Stalin, Lenin...bad dudes,agreed. Communism sucks. All I am saying is that what's going on here with the big business/special interest isn't all too cool either? Capice? And no I have not joined the Italians.

Like a Froggy Ferny Cabbage...

This past weekend, Mike Meeker and I got away for a little romantic stay in San Francisco. Say what you will about San Francisco...I know it can be a bit much for those with a more conservative palette. But for me, San Francisco is my kind of town. The food, the architecture, the water, the Golden Gate Bridge, the food, the theatre, the wackadoo people, the food, the shopping, the topography, Alcatraz and oh, did I mention the food? We stayed at the very impressive and cool J.W Marriott not to be confused with the plain ol' regular Marriott. Our room overlooked Union Square and was just steps from Nordstroms which was having their half yearly sale thank you very much. Funny story. Mike could not for the life of him remember where we were staying. Upon arriving in the city he googled our location on his iPhone only to lead us to a spot halfway across the golden gate bridge. It showed our hotel in the middle of the San Francisco Bay. So there was much yelling and male/female oriented arguing about maps vs. asking for effing directions already!!! I turned down several one way streets going the wrong way all the while screaming "I feel like I am in a canyon and getting chlaustro (my abbreviation for claustrophobia)." Mike was just sticking to his guns and kept giving me the directions from his phone. His trust in technology over common sense was driving me bazerk. Finally, we arrived at our ultra mod and fancy hotel and thanks to an ex Navy guy at the reservation desk, we got upgraded to a fancier room on the 17th floor with a view of the city and the bay. And every time Mike got in a cab for the next 2 days he would freeze up and give the name of the wrong hotel. First cab driver asked him "Where to?" His response, "The Hilton". My response "ummm No. The JW Marriott." Second cab driver asked him "Where to?" His response, "The C.W. Hilton." My response, "That's not even a hotel!!! ha ha ha The ha ha J. ha ha W. ha ha Marriott ha ha ha hee hee hee!" The third cab driver asked him "Where to?" His response "I have no idea ask her grumble grumble." My response "The JW Marriott please. (Under my breath) or we could try the C.W. Hilton ha ha ha haaaa!"

Anyhoo, we dined at Roy's of Hawaii Friday night. We had been dreaming of this miso crusted butter fish we had in Hawaii several years ago and they had it on the menu at the San Fran location so off we went. It was just as delightful as I remembered. We started off with a wagu beef and lobster sushi roll, then we had shrimp curry and mango salads and finished with the misoyaki butter fish. The best thing about dinner was at the table next to us Mr. and Mrs. Perfect were having a very awkward anniversary dinner. They had perfect hair, perfect teeth, perfect clothes and she had a lot of perfect jewelry. Upon their pineapple martinis arriving, Mr. hands Mrs. a velvet pouch. Now my ears and eyes perked right up because this velvet pouch was robins egg blue and I knew exactly where it had come from. Tiffany's baby! So I'm all excited for Mrs. to see what treasure the pouch held. I held my breath. Mrs. pulls out a big ol' sparkly diamond anniversary band. In the dullest voice possible Mr. says "happy anniversary". Mrs. puts the band on her hand. She looks at it. She has said nothing. All of a sudden she blurts out "It's really sparkly, I don't think it matches." Mr. says "It matches. I made sure it was the one that went with your ring." And then Mrs. goes on and on about how she's not sure and it seems too sparkly and it might be okay. Mr. says nothing during her rambling. Then the oddest thing happens. She stuffs the velvet pouch in her coach clutch bag and they begin eating their appetizers for which she makes yummy noises and gets all excited. And I'm sitting there thinking "she is seriously getting more excited by the lobster dumplings that at least a $7,000 ring! Is she crazy?" And midway through the canoe appetizer platter Mr. goes "maybe it looks different than you thought because your fingers have gotten all fat." And then I got sad for Mr. and Mrs. Perfect. Here they were in one of the greatest restaurants in the world. They had been blessed with amazing looks and obvious wealth and they had each other. But they were miserable! And here I was with my iPhone toting husband, in our military rate hotel room, eating at a place we can only afford every 5 years or so with him making up the names of imaginary hotels and I couldn't love him more or be happier with my life. It was one of those life defining moments that makes you realize to shut your trap and just be in love and grateful. But I'd take the ring from Tiffany's if somebody wanted to give it to me. I'm just saying. It was A LOT of diamonds for pete's sake.

We hopped in our cab and sped to the Orpheum Theatre to see my absolute favorite musical of all time...Wicked. I can't explain to you how much I love this musical. I get emotional when I hand the dude my ticket and I don't stop blubbering until I leave the theatre. Here's the story without giving anything away. The play opens with the celebration in the Emerald City that the Wicked Witch of the West is dead. And then some citizen of Oz yells up to Glinda in her bubble "wasn't she your friend?" And then we go back in time to the origins and childhoods of Glinda the Good Witch of the North and Elphaba the Wicked Witch of the West. It turns out they knew each other in boarding school and the play follows their lives. Many truths we had always assumed about all the characters are turned upside down as the play explores how rumor, politics and circumstances can twist and turn the truth about events and people. Are we born wicked or do we have wickedness thrust upon us? And here's why I feel so emotional about this play. Most people think it's because it's based on The Wizard of Oz which is my favorite movie of all time. But that's only about 2% of why I love this play. Here's the real reason.

There was a time in my life several years ago when some people I loved believed me to be a certain type of person. They believed me to be hateful, mean, dishonest, sneaky, hurtful and that I purposely tried to destroy relationships. It was awful to have people think these things about you. It made me angry and it hurt deep in a place that I had never hurt before. As time went on and I felt exposed, raw and misrepresented to a host of other people, I began to change. I started to become what they thought I was. For the first time in my life, someone I loved was suffering and instead of feeling badly I was glad. I thought they deserved what they got. I had lost my way. I became horribly and totally lost. I did things that still shock me when I remember them. I allowed everything about my life to spiral out of control. My heart was broken and my compassion was gone. I was deeply depressed both situationaly and chemically. I was heavier than I ever had been. I was angry with everyone in my life and my marriage was in crisis. I felt as though everyone in the world hated me and who could blame them? Look what I had become! A monster.

There are moments in this musical that take me back to that time and remind me of exactly how I felt. I like to see this play and listen to the music often because it reminds me that every person in this world has goodness inside of them. It reminds me not to listen to mean gossip about people and that there are two sides to every story. It makes me look at every person in my life differently. For example, there are people that I grew up with thinking were flawed in certain ways. I wonder sometimes what the real story is with that person. What pain am I not aware of or what is the whole truth behind their heart? We have to be so careful how we think and judge others. We must always remember that every person has some measure of goodness inside of them, even if they have lost their way. I know there are murderers and child molesters and people that do horrible things and I'm not really speaking of them. I am more speaking of that girl you knew in high school that you thought was such a bitch. Maybe she's not. Maybe she was really insecure and had a mother who told her worth could be found only in her looks. And that lady at church who is just so hard to like...maybe she is sad and lonely and is protecting her heart by being mean and nasty so no one sees how hurt she is inside. This musical, in an amazingly wonderful way, strips down a story that I grew up loving above all others and reminds me that people are complex and we all have it inside of us to be both wicked and good. It is just my favorite story in the world and the music is wonderful.

After I sobbed my eyes out and picked through fries and a cherry diet Coke with Mike and his chocolate malt at a 50's style diner near our hotel, we stumbled back to our room feeling drunk on food and Broadway and salty fries and chocolate but mostly, we were drunk on FREEDOM. We were out in an actual big city, past midnight! We put on fluffy bathrobes, jumped up and down on the bed like...well - five year olds. Then we thought about our adorable five year olds at home that weren't with us. And then we fell on the bed in evil diabolical laughter that we were freeeeeeeeee! ha haaaaaaaaa...suck it losers!!!! And then we felt badly for about two seconds and promised to buy our angel baby girls something sparkly in the morning before we left town.

The morning greeted us unlike 99% of mornings in San Francisco. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Not a single cloud. And a gentle cool breeze made your hair flutter but didn't whip it around so it lashed at your face. It was a perfectly glorious day. We headed to the ferry building where they hold a Saturday farmers market and perused the food stalls for gourmet treats. Mike even went without his beloved breakfast foods so he could be ready to sample all that was offered. Luckily he found a gourmet ham, egg and cheese sandwich at the gourmet meat shop and fresh squeezed blood orange juice iced down perfectly at the Farmers market so he was in Heaven! After walking around for a long while, we found ourselves waiting on line for a table at Ferry Island Seafood. We snagged an outdoor table right on the water where we promptly ordered our standard San Francisco treats to share: dungeness crab louie, big bowl of clam chowder and a grilled artichoke with garlic aioli. We had our books and we sat and basked in the sun and deliciousness and freedom. We wanted to read but kept on talking and talking to each other. It's amazing how much talking we did! You would think after almost 18 years of marriage we would be pretty much talked out. But no. We just couldn't shut up. It was wonderful.

We wandered aimlessly for about an hour. We found the sparkly gifts we had been thinking of for the girls. Swavorski crystals on a necklace of ribbon. Hot pink for Katie and sky blue for Jessica. We took pictures and allowed the sun to begin to crisp our faces. We hopped in a cab. Mike was appropriately silent as I gave the instructions to the driver. We picked up our stowed luggage and car and headed slowly out of the city.

Mom and Dad gave us an extra surprise by announcing that we did not need to rush over and pick up the girls Saturday night but could pick them up Sunday morning after breakfast and before church. We did not wait on the phone for them to change their minds. We said "thankyouveryverymuch" and promptly hung up. I got to do grocery shopping for the next two days festivities and got to bed early.

After attending church at the Marshallese branch on Sunday we had Mike's mom and dad over for Sunday dinner. Inspired by our trip, we dined al fresco on steak, shrimp, grilled corn, grilled potatoes and a simple but delicious salad of tomatoes and cucumbers. Berries, home made angel food cake and ice cream sundaes were the dessert selections and were enjoyed as the last of the days light slipped away.

Again, inspired by our trip, we invited my parents and both of my grandmas over on Monday for my attempt to recreate the miso glazed butter fish that we had dined on Friday night at Roy's. I got the recipe from a website long ago, but have never had the courage to attempt making it myself. The ingredient list is odd and intimidating in the number of items that go into the dish. I wasn't sure I could pull it off. Thanks to my sous chef Dad and my line cooks Mike and Mom, it was an enormous success. The plates were beautiful and the dish was a very very close replica of the dish we had in the restaurant. I served it with steamed calrose rice and spinach sauteed with apples, pine nuts, golden raisins and shallots. We had my Grandma's sour cream lemon pie (heaven) and berries with honeyed Greek yogurt for dessert. I was thrilled and shocked that I had recreated this dish. And now that I've done it once, it will be much less intimidating to try again.

All in all, it was a fantastic weekend full of time spent reconnecting with those that I love. All of these people rallied around me while I was down and out with the recent iron infusions I underwent. I wanted to cook for them to show them I am thankful for them and that I love them. And for Mike, I wanted to reconnect with my best friend and let him know I was so grateful he held us all together when I could not. He worked his butt off to keep all of our balls in the air over the past month. He is too good to me. Even if he is directionally and hotel name challenged, I couldn't be luckier in the person I share my life with.

My Mother, My Mentor, My Friend - My First Interview of the new Getting To Know You Series

Beginning TODAY, I am turning the tables on my family and friends. Periodically, I will be posting interviews that I have conducted with various individuals important to me in my life. And given that my Mother's Day post was nonexistent because my Mother's Day was THAT bad, I thought the best person I could think of to start with is my Mom.

Now my Mom may or may not read this blog. She won't admit it to me directly but she seems to know stuff before I have the chance to tell her. She was surprisingly very candid and happy to be interviewed. My Mom is private, thoughtful and introspective. Just like me. Ha! Sometimes I don't think it's possible for a mother and daughter to be more different but then just when I think that, I find myself doing or saying something exactly like her. So without further adieu... here is the interview I did with my Mom.
Me: Hi Mom. What are you doing?
Mom: Trying to figure out this paperwork.
Me: You know my blog?
Mom: yeah
Me: Well, I want to interview you for it. I'm going to interview people cool huh? Can I interview you?
Mom: Sure!
Me: Really?
Mom: Sure! Yeah...go ahead!
Me: Oh okay, okay, let's start with this. Are you glad to talk to me on my blog?
Mom: Oh Sure.
Me: What do you think people would want to know about the mother of Amy Meeker?
Mom: How she [the mother] survived!
Me: Good one Mom! You mean how you survived?
Mom: Yep
Me: What do you think people that know you would be surprised about you?
Mom: That I hoard socks. I can't ever throw them away.
Me: Ha ha...even the ones that you can't wear because they have seams?
Mom: Yep, I can't throw them away.
Me: Who is your favorite person in the whole world?
Mom: Jessica and Katie. They are tied for first place.
Me: Why didn't you say me?
Mom: Because they make my heart sing and don't criticize me.
Me: When I was in junior high/high school and I used to steal your clothes and wear them were you really mad or just trying to teach me a good lesson?
Mom: Both. I was trying to teach you a lesson about respecting other people's property because you weren't very good at that and I was mad because you stained them.
Me: Do you think I wasn't good at respecting other people's property because I was an only child and I never had to share?
Mom: No, absolutely not. I just think you weren't good at it.
Me: I think it was because I didn't have a sibling to borrow stuff from.
Mom: I don't think so.
Me: When you were a Mom and I was 5 and starting kindergarten,what were your hopes for me for when I was a Mom and my kids were getting ready to start kindergarten?
Mom: That you would become a good reader. That's why I read to you a lot. I hoped you would stay sweet because you were really sweet. That you would learn to speak more quietly because I couldn't figure out how to teach you that. (laughing) But reading was the most important.
Me: Do you think I'm a good reader?
Mom: Yes, I think you are a very good reader.
Me: What's your favorite movie of all time?
Mom: Casablanca
Me: Why?
Mom: It's just such a great story. I laugh and cry no matter how many times I've seen it.
Me: Would you have gone with Humphrey Bogart at the end?
Mom: Oh yes. For sure.
Me: What is something that you hate doing in your every day life?
Mom: Combing my hair. I hate combing my hair.
Me: Do you like your son in law?
Mom: Yes. I love him.
Me: Why?
Mom: Because he’s a decent person, a good man, he understands commitment, doing a good job and he puts up with you and I really don’t want you back. (Laughs again)
Me: Do you like me better than Mike?
Mom: Yes of course. You are mine.
Me: Since your mother is 90, has Alzheimer's and has no chance of ever reading this blog, I'd like to ask you some questions about what it's like to be a primary care giver to a parent. I have some friends and people who have mentioned they read this blog that are getting ready to begin that phase of life and I think they would be interested in what it is like to be a care giver to a parent.
Mom: Well, it’s a pleasure, it’s a heartache, it’s hard work, it’s emotional. It is something that I don’t take lightly. I made a commitment to my Dad to take care of my Mom and it is something I take seriously. More times than not it is a pleasure. I feel lucky.
Me: What have you found to be the biggest challenge?
Mom: To be patient and understanding and realize that she is changing so rapidly. Her mind is getting worse and she’s getting worse quickly.
Me: What is the greatest joy about being Grammie's care giver?
Mom: The time I get to spend with her. That I can do things she did for us. She was a good Mom and I can do those things for her.
Me: What advice would you give someone who is getting ready to take on this role? What do you wish someone would have told you or what do you wish you would have known?
Mom: I wish I would have paid more attention and learned more about the aging process. Because if I had I would have been more patient. Sometimes I wasn't patient with Papa and I wish I would have known more and been more patient. The whole thing is, it is a joy. When I can make her life a little bit easier I feel good about it.
Me: What can extended family members like me, Mike, your sisters and Grammie's other grandchildren do to help you in your role as the primary person? Do you think it should be a whole family effort or do you think it works best when there's one person as the primary caregiver?
Mom: I think every person can take an interest in what's going on and what is being done. People can help out when they are available. My two sisters live far away and they always help when they can. Family members and friends should try and contact the older person as much as they are able. The older person lives for the phone calls and visits and they mean a lot to them. Share your family successes and happy news and don't share your troubles and problems. Their minds can't take it anymore. Remind them of happy times they can remember. It cheers them up a lot. If you can call or visit them on a regular schedule (like once per week) so that they get used to looking forward to the call or visit coming at the same time. That sort of consistency is important to them. They really enjoy the contact. I don't think people can call or visit an older person too much, because they forget so much of what has just happened.
Me: Do you think that is universal for all old people?
Mom: Absolutely. I see a whole bunch of people just like Grandma at the Meadows. (Grammie's assisted living community) They all are just looking forward to the next visit or phone call from their family members. I'm really lucky I have a couple of sisters who really understand and call her everyday or often times even more than once per day.
Me: I think that's really good advice. I think it can really help people. I have been surprised about email that I get or when I run into people and they mention this blog. You'd be surprised that you just probably helped somebody think about or pick up the phone and call their Grandma or have more patience with their mother. Okay moving on. Who is the best band of all time?
Mom: The best band?
Me: Yeah, band.
Mom: Journey. Probably Journey. Followed by Chicago and Styx.
Me: What is your biggest vice or bad habit?
Mom: That I waste time in the mornings. I should be more rushy.
Me: Because you are playing computer backgammon against the Russians?
Mom: No, not because I am playing computer backgammon against a Russian. I just waste too much time. Like I think about all this stuff I have to do and before I know it the morning is gone. Me: But isn't that a perk of being retired? That you don't have to rush anymore?
Mom: Well yeah, but you can really over do it. You can take retirement over the top and to new heights and sometimes I take it over the top. (laughing)
Me: Do you have plans to quit and start rushing?
Mom: No. (ha ha)
Me: Okay, thanks Mom. Is there anything else you'd like us to know or that you'd like to say on my blog.
Mom: No. Oh yeah there is. I don't like how you sometimes say words like "crap" and words that make it look like you don't have use of expanded grammar.
Me: You mean like bad words?
Mom: No, just stupid words. You use them too much. And you over share.
Me: But Mom, sometimes crap is the only word that describes my day. Sometimes certain words just fit into how I'm feeling.
Mom: Oh!!! And you talk too much about yourself. I think they call it narcissistic or something. You always write about yourself and not enough about other stuff.
Me: (laughing) Like what should I write about?
Mom: Like when you read a good book or do something with the girls you should talk more about the book instead of yourself and how you don't read this in June but you read that in September.
Me: (laughing harder) Do you read any other blogs?
Mom: No
Me: Do you see in my profile where I admit that I am narcissistic and bored and too engrossed in myself and that's why I even have a blog.
Mom: Yes I've seen that.
Me: Did you know I like talking about myself so much?
Mom: You sure do. (whew...with an exhausted voice)
Me: Well thanks Mom. I think this was a good first interview.
Mom: Oh one more thing.
Me: Yes?
Mom: On May 26th I will have been sober for 20 years.
Me: Really?
Mom: Yes, 20 years.
Me: And you quit cold turkey?
Mom: I haven't touched a drink in 20 years.
Me: Do you miss it?
Mom: Not a bit.
Me: That's really awesome.
Mom: May 26th. Twenty years.
Me: Hmmmm....that's about the same time I graduated from high school and was on my way out of the house.
Mom: Yep, my stress went away. (laughing) No you didn't have a thing to do with it.
Me: Well, good job. Lot's of people have tried to quit something they are addicted to and very few succeed over the long run. That's pretty awesome.
Mom: Thanks.
Me: Okay, bye.
Mom: Bye.

If you know my Mom, you are probably as surprised as me about how candid and open she was. It was awesome! In keeping with the narcissistic nature of my blog, I think it was my superior interviewing skills. I really think I could replace Oprah. Just joking. Thanks Mom for talking to me today. Sorry I called you ten other times and forced you and Dad to meet me and the girls and Grammie Bea for Thai food and that I chose all the dishes we ordered. It was soooo good though. I'll do a review of the restaurant on my food blog and will try to talk about the food and the place instead of me okay?

Last Night At Target

It's been like two months since I've done any shopping at all. We were out of everything. $500 later at Target, the girls had HAD IT. They were bored and wanted a million toys and I was tired of fighting them and saying no. It was one of those moments you know?

So pretty soon I see Katie crying. And I'm all "now what?" And she goes "Jessica wants to play the game where we smell each other's feet and then taste them. And I just don't feeeeeel like tasting feeeeet".

Tasting feet? Really Jessica?

Just when you think they are smart, you find out they are foot tasters.

A Slide Show of My Life

I haven't posted pictures in a long time. It takes so much dang time. So tonight as I watched Lee make American Idol history, I thought I'd put up a few reasons that I sing Hallelujah on a daily basis.

New Chapter of Bossy & The Geek

Alison, thanks for the FB message and encouragement! I posted the next chapter today after almost a year hiatus from my other stupid little blog about my silly little love story with my silly little husband. I didn't know if I would continue to tell our story but I'm so glad I did. If you are checking it out for the first time, please go back to Chapter One or you will just think I am crazy and not get anything.

you can check out the latest installment at www.bossyandthegeek.blogspot.com

Have fun and I stroll down memory lane. And expect that it will not take a year for another post.

The Help

Just finished the book The Help which has been sitting on the Best Seller's List since before Christmas. My Mom got it for me as a Christmas gift and one thing lead to another, like me rereading the Twilight Saga, new books by my favorites like David Baldacci and John Grisham and the great Nora Roberts (don't judge me because I am a romantic). See I have this rule, it's a great rule really if you really think about it. From Labor Day until Memorial Day I don't read ANYTHING that has literary acclaim or value. I am all about romance novels and murder mysteries and spy thrillers and People Magazine. I mean of course I read the scriptures EVERY DAY for hours and hours but other than that, I keep it 100% superficial. The reason is that I am trying to avoid seasonal depression. You heard me. Seasonal depression, look it up. When it's winter and gray outside and raining and cold I find that reading fluff makes me feel happier. I don't have to think too hard about world hunger, racism, war and sadness. My brain hardly ever hurts and I find it lessons the winter blues. During the spring and summer I am by nature a happier creature so I have room in my heart and head for the classics and more difficult pieces. I try and read contemporary literature that has won literary awards. You don't find these books in the romance or mystery shelves at Borders. They are found in the literature racks. I have to force myself to stay out of the thriller aisle and pick up John Updike and Victor Hugo and Louisa May Alcott. Edith Wharton, ugh. It's painful sometimes but like lifting weights, it's supposedly good for you.

Anyhow, a couple of books that technically would have been part of my summer reading slipped in before Labor Day. I read the Thorn Birds this winter for the first time. meh. I don't see what all the fuss was about. Meggie is maybe the most annoying character in any book and Justine possibly the most sociopathic. And Ralph is just sad and might be the greatest argument for Priests being able to marry that there ever was. But then during these infusions I was out of fluff so I turned to the only book on my shelf that was unread. It was The Help by Kathryn Stockett. It was one of the best books I have ever read. It is in my top 10 you guys. And that says a lot. It's not my normal genre, it's not the normal type of story I devour. But it was such an amazingly funny and heart warming and sad story that I could not put it down. I literally had to set the book down because I was laughing so hard. When does that happen? If you happen to pick it up, please don't be scared off by the subject matter the setting or time it is set in. Please just buy it, check it out from the library, borrow it from me and read it.

Summary: Read The Help. Please. You won't regret it. Email me and let me know what you thought about it or leave a comment here. I'd love to know if you enjoyed it.

Forgive me Internet, I have sinned.... Friday Confessions

• Let's just get this fire ball from hell rolling by stating that it has been forever since my last Friday confession. I'm not quite sure what happened. I still sinned, big time. I just stopped typing up my sins. I think I stopped doing my visualization of how this whole thing is supposed to go down. Scene: Argentina, it is a hot summer day. A woman enters a small Catholic church. The sun is streaming lights through the stained glass windows casting a stream of dust lights into the front pew. She is dressed in a black satin wrap around dress with a crinoline slip underneath. Black pumps. Her hair is curled at a silky bun at the nape of her neck. She has on pearls, a black pill box hat with a short black fishnet veil that shrouds her face in mystery. Her black satin purse is draped over her forearm and the lace from a white handkerchief is peeking out. She genuflects at the end of the center aisle and kneels in the pew. The sun streaming from the window swaths her image in an ethereal light as she begins her prayers. Soon, an older lady comes out of the confessional. The woman in black, stands, crosses herself again, removes her lace handkerchief and enters the dark wooden confessional. The other parishioners wonder about the lady. They wonder what she will tell the Priest this day. Will she confess unkind thoughts and disobedience to her husband or something far more sinister. Like ....wait for it....murrrrrder! Key dramatic music and end of scene. Oh I feel so much better about these confessions. I am the mysterious lady by the way. And for those of you who are new, I am neither Argentinean, Catholic, have a black dress like that, able to walk in high heels, don't own a handkerchief, can't kneel due to knee surgery and my hair is not long enough to form a bun at the nape of my neck. And I think my neck might be to chubby to even HAVE a nape. Okay, I feel like I can really let it all out now.


• I have only eaten Thai and Japanese food for like two weeks. And pickles. These infusions make me so nauseous and yellow curry stew with coconut milk or beef sukiyaki are the only things that sound even remotely good to my digestive parts. It's been expensive and my family has had miso soup and teriyaki chicken like every single night.


• I have started to ask my kids to fetch things for me. I hate and I mean hate when Moms do this. I imagine myself in a double wide sitting on a couch with an afghan like they had on the TV show Roseanne saying things like "junior! JUNIOR! Go on an fetch mama a Dr. Pepper baby. Go on now." And I never want to be that lady. But Katie got the stool the other day and opened the fridge and began climbing for something. I said "Katie, honey, what are you after?" She replied "Mama, I am getting you a fresh and icy cold Diet Coke in the gold can because caffeine isn't good for your head and I know you will enjoy this!" And then before I could say, "hooo doggie" a cold can of DC appeared in my hand. And I thought, this is RAD. And then I got the visual of the lady in the double wide. I am conflicted.


• We told the girls they could have one chocolate chip for each area they cleaned up this morning and to surprise us. We did this because Gray's Anatomy was having a rather racy story line with some sexual dialogue and we wanted the cherubs outta the room. So we heard nothing from them for about 20 minutes then they came jumping in announcing they were done and could we "pause the TV so you can come on our tour!" I grabbed the chocolate chips and Mike and we started on the tour. In the past, they clean up their drawing/art area, bedroom, playroom etc. Today however, they brought us into our bedroom where they had made our king sized bed. "Why thank you very much girls, here is a chocolate chip." Then, we were taken over to our walk in closet. No joke you guys. They had put all of our shoes that were on the floor of the closet away and even hung up some of our clothes. Mike and I sheepishly looked at each other as I doled out the chips but our eyes spoke to each other in harmony. "This freakin rocks!" Mike's eyes said to me. "We should feel guilty for sucking so badly as parents..." my eyes replied. And then we high fived and said out loud "no way, this is too cool for school!" It was as though Santa had sent his out of work elves to our little hamlet this summer and instead of working for cookies and hot chocolate, they were happy to work for one chocolate chip per geographic area. We feel badly enough about what lazy losers we must seem that I included this in confessions but I don't feel all that guilty about it. Right now I would totally be trying to make my case with the Priest.
• Even though I have been nauseous and have been taking Motrin on an empty stomach which could cause things like a stomach bleed and stuff that's bad, the Diet Coke is still flowing in full force. When will the day come when I will be free of the silver/gold can of celestial nectar? Damn you Coca Cola! You made me love you.
• I have been feeling so tired, pukey, tired and weak since the whole infusion thing began that I just have accomplished next to nothing. My hair is greasy and things aren't pretty when it comes to any part of me. And I just don't care. But I should.
• My children are going to have identity/seasonal crisis's (is that a word? I am looking for the plural for crisis...crisi?crisises? I have no idea) Anyway, if they look in their closet or drawers they will be given mixed signals about their age, size and what season it is. There are shirts ranging from 4T to 6. Long sleeves, short it's all there. Because I just haven't had the time to clean everything out and organize it all with current selections. I just keep shoving the bigger clothes into the drawers and hope they figure it out. Same with our shoe box. They are in size 11 and 12 shoes and I think there are a pair of red clogs in there that are size 7. I really suck at this part of parenting.
• When I clean out the girl's ears I stick the Q-tip beyond the part of the ear that they say is safe. Because there are ear boogers in there. Yellow waxy gross ear boogers. Especially in Katie's left ear. Gross. And I just can't leave them in there. Even if you can't see them. I know they are there and I have to get them out. It's not safe and not necessary. If I damage her ear drum you will have the evidence to convict me right here.
• I have been so lazy that I have texted Mike from the bedroom to come in from the family room to talk to me. If you look at the last three texts from me on his phone they are these: "I feel like you aren't even trying to listen to meeeeeee" "Can't you just come in here for a liiiiittttleeeeee?" "Come innnnnnnn" These were sent within ten minutes of each other last night.
• I was glad that Aaron kid got kicked off American Idol. He allowed Big Mike to curl him like a bar with weights on it. I think if you want to be the American Idol and you want people to vote for you that you shouldn't allow the competition to curl you. It doesn't say "winner" if you know what I mean. As long as Crystal or Lee wins I'm cool.
• My relationship with Jake from the Bachelor got to an unhealthy level. I fell in love with him (for realz) on the Bachelorette. I was so excited he was going to be the next Bachelor and was positive he was going to be different than all the other Bachelors and was going to have morals and a backbone and really wanted to find love. But no. He chose that hussy Vienna and broke my heart. Then, he went on Dancing With The Stars and every week I was like "what did I EVER see in you?" He just seemed so fake and gross and such a nerdy sell out. So when he got kicked off I actually got up and did a touchdown dance in my living room including cheers and whooping. Totally unhealthy. I was supposed to break up with my TV this summer but I wasn't strong enough. Especially not with the whole Owen, Christina, Teddy thing heating up. And Dell dying? I watch too much TV. I have no plans to stop.
• I accidentally made my Grammie Bea cry on Mother's Day. She's 90 and lives in Assisted Living. She is the awesomest and I guess I scolded her when I was just trying to mediate a misunderstanding. If you ever want a self esteem boost to feel awesome about yourself...get some iron infusions so you are puking and achy, have it be Mother's Day and scold your Grammie who has Alzheimer's so she cries then try and explain and make it okay and make her cry harder. It is a recipe to feel awesome. It's better than a spa.
• I haven't written thank you notes yet for Katie and Jessica's birthday presents. I swear I will do it. I swear. But in case I don't and you got them something, thank you. They love it.
• Don't even get me started on how my house looks. If cleanliness is next to Godliness I am a stinky demon.
• Actually, I've been reading the Old Testament lately and there's A LOT of infertility in Genesis as well as all through the entire thing and every time a new person who is really righteous is infertile I am like all "ooooo, I rock just like Rachael!!" Instead of learning I am high fiving Hannah and Sara and Elizabeth through the pages. I don't think God had celebratory high fives of my righteousness in mind when He gave these wonderful women these challenges nor do I have anything in common with them except my lady parts don't work. Just because Mike owns a football and can throw it with his arm does not make him just like the Manning brothers. It would be like if Mike threw me a pass and I missed it and he thought he was just like Steve Young because sometimes he threw passes and people missed it. It's so not the same. I need to stop high fiving the women in the scriptures because they are obedient and walking through the desert and stuff and I am having my kids pick up my shoes for payment in chocolate chips. We are not the same!

I feel ever so much better!!! Until next week when I'm sure my sin will be as scarlet and I will need to unload it all again.

To Brag or Not To Brag? A question.

Whenever I have something happy to report, something delightful to my soul that has happened within the blah white colored walls of our abode, I hesitate. The pause I take is enormous and accompanied by sweaty hands and angst. Heartfelt angst. Because so many, and by so many I mean almost all and by almost all I mean all Mommy Blogs run heavy on the whole tooting of the own horn thing that the bragfest seems never ending. Mine included. Did you hear the funny thing Katie said? Did I mention how many lives Mike saved today? Did you guys know Jessica is a freakin genius? It's gross right? And I love the Mom's that are all...I'm not bragging, it's just this blog is my journal and I want to document how cute it was that McKenzie went poo poo for the first time while singing her ABC's and talking to Obama on the cell about the problems in Chechnya. Chechnya. Chechnyaaaaah. (name that movie) Anyhoo, it gets a little bit thick out there. There are only certain blogs of my friends and family that I post over on the side. These blogs are not what I'm referring to. These people don't really brag in that braggy braggerson sort of way you know? They share their lives yes. But they share the good, the beautiful, the embarrassing and the ugly. They are real. Well maybe not all of them. ha ha. Are you wondering if it's you? It's not. Or is IT? wahahahamehaha. (that's an evil laugh)

The whole point of this senseless rambling is I think I am getting to the point in my blogging where it's okay if I feel like bragging one day. It's okay if I want to shout my joy from the rooftops of the Internet. I'm getting more comfortable sharing my successes in life and not just my confessions. Although Friday confessions....? What the HELL happened to you? You are coming back this week. I promise.

So on that note I would like to tell you of the kick-A Mother's Day Mike provided that I got to enjoy this past Sunday. I'm trying out a new nickname for the husband by the by. Mikey, Meeks, Meeker, Miguline and Major Mike Meeker Mormon Missionary have all been tried and seem well old. I'm thinking of using Meek and then a word that describes what I'm describing. Like if we go see Iron Man this weekend I might say Meekdowneyjunior or if we are watching TV (Grays) I might say I watched it sitting next to meekgeeky. Get it? I don't think it's going to catch on. I'll just still call him Mike Meeker like I have since seventh grade.

On to Mother's Day! So Mike Meeker asked me what I wanted for Mother's Day. Since I am iron poor these days I responded in these exact words. "Mike Meeker. Pay Attention. Are you paying attention? Okay. I want one thing only. I want a big thick bone in rib eye steak cooked on the grill, seasoned by me. It needs to be rare to medium rare. MIKE. Quit playing the computer and pay attention. Okay. Steak. Get the butcher to cut it. You don't need to do any vegetables, no potatoes, no salad. Just a big rare steak. Cut the horns off and wipe it's butt and send it in. ( ha ha. I really didn't say that part. ) " But I continued..."Seriously Mike. I don't want anything else. Just a steak. Please, you know how you get ADD and you burn the steak if you try to do vegetables and multiple cuts of meat. Just the steak man." Did he listen? Well. He is awesomer than that. He got the girls up and did breakfast in bed with oven cooked bacon just like I like it. Then he dressed the girls in their fancy dresses and took them to the Meadows so my Grammie Bea would have cards and a visit to go with her flowers I sent her. Then he took the girls to church with his parents so his mom could get cards to go with the flowers I got her. Then he came home and we all took a long nap. Then they got up and he cooked my steak perfectly...along with roasted potatoes and asparagus. Dinner was ready at 9:25 p.m. But it was perfect. Soooooo....that Mike Meeker. He might not be quick and it may take him a long time to get something done but here's the point...he can go all day, he listens to what I want, he exceeds expectations and he delivers it perfectly. If you know what I mean ladies. And in case you don't know what I mean I am referring to Mother's Day. What were you thinking about you dirty dirty dirty girls.

So today, I am bragging about my super star husband who has been being Mr. Mom these days as well as doing his normal job and he still tells me he appreciates me for all I do and am and all I can think is today I took a nap, puked, took some zofran and percocet and took another nap then watched American Idol and went to bed. I'm thinking nobody is worried about whether or not to brag about me or not. You can't brag about a non moving object that sleeps and eats Thai food.

Tomorrow, I will be bragging about what my sister in law Amber did on Mother's Day because I'm sorry it just needs to be shared.

Seacrest Out.

Yesteryear

I remember the Spring of my childhood,
when I was the one in the Easter bonnet.
I liked Now & Laters and Laverne and Shirley.
There was no car to clean out or floor to sweep.
Just tin foil baseball in Grandma and Papa's backyard with Bo.
And my barbies and playing school, always being the teacher.
I should have known pretending to be a grown up was a waste of time.
I'd have plenty of time to be a grown up, why was I in such a hurry?
Now I wish I could pretend to be a kid. I wish I could pretend to be Snow White,
and attend a tea party and eat cookies with pink frosting and sprinkles.
I wish I could watch Strawberry Shortcake and laugh over made up songs about rainbows.
Oh wait a minute...I did all that tonight.
Because I am a mother. I live with five year olds. They are girls.
And life is sweeter this Spring than any Spring of my childhood.
It is good even though it's not sometimes.
I just wanted anyone who cares to know that.

Are You Ready For Some Naughty?

At preschool there is a chair. It's called the ready chair. It's for kids who are being naughty. The girl's teacher gives them a warning and if they continue being naughty they have to sit in the chair until they are "ready" to join the class. Get it?

So. Miss Jessica went her whole three year old and four year old time at preschool with zero sits in the ready chair. All of a sudden she was ready to turn five and it was ready chair visit after ready chair visit. We have heard of marbles being spit at the boys, giggling when told to be quiet, laying on Katie and other children and dancing when it is not time to dance. We have been talking our heads off about following directions and listening and the sort of behavior we used to brag about. We thought she was nervous about Mike going to Afghanistan and we thought his announcement last week would cure our household of the plague of the ready chair. It is not so.

Today, we had another ready chair visit. For dancing when it was not time to dance. And the continuation of said dance when told to please stop.

When we asked Katie if she had to sit in the ready chair (as Jessica was shouting all her reasons and explanations why she shouldn't have had to sit there) Katie said that indeed, she had NOT had to sit in the chair. "Nope. Only Jessica" was the answer we received.

We continued to "talk" to Jessica about all the reasons it was not fair to her teacher to take up class time by being naughty.

We then heard a little voice from across the room where Katie had been playing. "Well see, Miss Hannah ASKED me if I wanted to sit in the ready chair but I said NO THANK YOU."

So basically I have two juvenile delinquents as children when I thought I only had one.