Spilt Milk & Sticky Kisses

Emmalie's Story

2012-01-31T01:52:00.000-05:00

My girls are blessed with a creative streak, as are many children. I'm blessed with a blog with which to subject you all to that creativity. Emmalie narrated a story to Bethanie today, after watching her sisters do stories for school. What follows is a keeper.

"I love all of my family", by Emmalie Kimball; age 5

Emmalie and Beth went on a walk with all my family. We got some ice cream and we found a garage sale to get a pillow. And we went on a sleepover with Uncle Jerry. Only two people, it was me and Delanie. We watched Sharkboy and Lavagirl and read a book and did a puzzle. And then all of us went ice skating and we watched the Grinch steal Christmas one more time before we leave. And we went to Florida to go on all the rides. And Alex came too. And all of us drew pictures and played a game (Sorry). We played Chutes and ladders and we slept with Casadie and Mom. Fynnlie was sleeping with us. We found spacemen in the sky. And we put the puzzle away. And then my pencil broke and Mommy fixed it. It was a pencil with an eraser. And we watched Ned's Declassified. And we draw pictures of anything we want. And then we all loved each other. And then we get a lollipop. And then Delanie got hurt. She got a papercut on a box. And Fynnlie was crying and she dumped all the pencils. Then we draw a car. Wait, I'm not done yet. Then we went on a field trip. It was Disney and Universal to get a milkshake. And then was a bird come onto our house to eat all of it. Then we got all our money to go to the theater. We saw a unicorn and Daddy went to a vampire movie. Daddy said "AAAH!" and went to our unicorn movie. Daddy got stuck and all our family was stuck and a girl was helping us. We got out. Our car got stuck in the mud. And the guy said "No drawing on the car!" and then he said "You can draw on the car whenever you want." It was a police officer. He said "Fine, you win." We said "Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah!" And we played Peanut Butter and Jelly together. We lived happily ever after and we made dresses for everyone. Daddy got a suit and a tie. We played chess.

The end.

Emmalie will provide signed autographs of this masterful compilation of memories for the low-low-price of 5.99.plus shipping and handling. No sales tax!

Motherhood: Addicted to Love

2012-01-28T02:16:00.001-05:00

There are so many moments that make up the experience we call motherhood. There are "awww" moments, where the little special snowflakes snuggle up and say something very sweet, like "Mommy, I love to snuggle witch you." Those make-your-heart-melt moments that we all live for, right?? I have a house of 5 girls, and I get plenty of those moments. Someone always wants a snuggle.

There are the "Doh!" moments, too, that translate into something like this: "Mommy, you have such pretty brown eyes..they are the same color as my poop!" or..."I love your big boobies Mommy, they're squishy!" which is usually accompanied by the speaker pounding on them mightily in order to achieve maximum bounce.

Also, there are the unfortunate and frequent "ARGH!" moments when you are so angry and frustrated at something the snowflake said or did that you are strongly considering reverse International adoption, and you're about to speed-dial Angelina Jolie. These are the moments when you wish Nebraska (?) or whatever state that was, hadn't repealed their ill-advised 'drop off your unwanted child' law that neglected to specify age, resulting in sullen teenagers from neighboring states being left at hospitals and police stations all across the state. Some of these moments include: "I'm sorry I gave Fynnlie a permanent marker to play with Mommy. She drew on the kitchen floor with it. Well, I kind of helped. Actually, it was all me, Fynnlie was sleeping. See how I drew a picture of YOU Mommy? I made you with some squishy boobies."

All of these ring familiar with Moms across the nation. But let's explore what happens when they all flash-bang together in the middle of the night. When Aww, Doh! and ARGH! collide. It's the trifecta of Mommy moments, and though rare, is a unique and special part of parenting, so you must be watchful.

The scene: It's 12:00 midnight. I was going to write 11:30, so I didn't look like such a horrific parent, but then I said, what the hell, I'm all in. So it's midnight (ok..1:00am, really..) and the girls had stayed up late (you think?) watching Prince Caspian. Casadie (8 years old) was bopping back and forth between the movie and the schoolroom, where she was trying to bang out some schoolwork that she had been working on all day. So the movie is over, the little girls stumble blindly toward bed, and Casadie is all smiles. She begs to sleep with me in my bed (Daddy works the night shift) and I decline, telling her Mommy needs a night without an elbow/foot/knee/4 fingers and a toe slamming into her side/back/face. Casadie's face falls. Then brightens. She decides to "clean up the living room" before she goes to bed. I decline, and point her toward the stairs. She heads up. She comes back down to hug me. (aww, moment). She goes back up. She comes back down to tell me I forgot her vitamin, again. (Doh! moment) She goes back up. She comes back down to ask me if tomorrow we can play Dad's electronic battleship game. (ARGH moment!) "GO TO BED!!!!" I scream. She deflates, and slowly...ever so slowly... plods her way up the stairs in dramatic fashion. Several long minutes later, I see her standing quietly on the landing....

I'm building up to a 'OMGIMAKILLYOU' moment, when she speaks softly. "Mommy..? I don't know what it is..I think I'm just..I don't know...addicted to you! I can't be away from you!" (aww, moment) I allow the hug, knowing that I'm being manipulated, but loving every second. After all, she's in that sweet spot of 8 years old, where for now, snuggling with Mom is still cool. It won't be long before BOP magazine (is that still in print??) and other such teenybopper things will consume her life and I'll be dropped like a limp piece of broccoli. She continues. "It's like..it's like..well, it's like you're a drug. Kind of like how, you know, you were addicted to Diet Coke, and now you're addicted to Spaghetti and you know, it kind of makes you fat..." (Doh! moment) "It's like that, and you're my..my..my sugar, I think. I'm addicted to your sugar, and I need to spend lots of time with you. (awww, moment) We snuggle and hug for a few minutes, and she looks slyly up at me, sees me tearing up a wee bit, and says: "That makes you feel good, right? NOW can I sleep in your bed??" (ARGH! Moment!!!) She got an "A" for effort, a not-as-gentle-as-it-should-have-been love pat on the butt, and a smiled admonishment to stay in bed. I went to bed, confused as usual. Motherhood. It's tagline could be: "This is your heart. This is your heart on crack."

So what are some of YOUR awww, Doh! and Argh! moments? Any "OMGIMAKILLYOU" moments you want to share? Anyone interested in a shared roadtrip to Nebraska, and see if they're still allowing the sullen teenager dropoffs?

Dream Interpretation

2011-10-31T04:55:00.000-04:00

It's become a running joke between my husband and I, that I have intensely bizarre dreams after eating a Walery's pizza. Something in that spicy pepperoni sets my imagination to whirling and I wake up in awe of myself, and usually sort of peeved that I'm missing out on the rest of the story. I will often try to go back to sleep in exactly the same position I was in, hoping to pick up where I left off.

Bill is often put in the unenviable position of having to listen to me rattle off these crazy adventures. Most of the time, he just mutters something like "We'd better lay off the Walery's..." or something completely unhelpful. If he's feeling chipper, he'll sometimes try to interpret them for me. "The barking dog signifies your irritation at bill collectors, and the blue diamond embedded in the tree symbolizes your angst about moving from our home on Blue Sapphire drive, as you felt like you had roots there..." blah blah blah. It's usually amusing, and sometimes, when the dream is really odd, and he gets to interpreting, I decide to leave out one or more of the weirdest details, for fear that he'll realize that I'm completely bonkers, and he'll run screaming into the night.

Here's one I'll share with you dear reader...and if you feel like you want a crack at getting inside my head, you just jot your interpretations below. Oh, and before I start, I should mention that we've introduced a new dream generator. This whopper was brought to us by hot, buttered popcorn. Munched with real butter, whilst watching an episode of Glee.

It begins with Bill, Casadie and I driving down Lancaster drive here in Salem. We are on a publicity tour for Casadie, as she has just finished being the voice of the girl in "Bolt." In the dream, I was describing her part as "she's the voice of Hannah Montana", so that's how I know it was the Bolt movie. Anyway....as we were driving, we turned onto Center street, and passed Roth's supermarket. Behind Roth's, I saw a HUGE grizzly bear. I pointed it out to Bill and Casadie, and then we saw the Papa grizzly, and two babies. Bill and I discussed that Salem's animal control was so abysmally underfunded that even Grizzlies got to walk around unimpeded. We weren't particularly worried, but more fascinated by seeing them up close. Our hotel was directly behind Roth's (whoo hoo..spectacular location, Disney..thanks! *rampant sarcasm alert*), and our room was on the 7th or 8th floor. While Bill napped on the bed (typical), Casadie and I looked out our window to see if we could still see the grizzlies. We noticed a huge menagerie of woodland-type animals; Moose, raccoons, skunks, etc...and a huge crowd was growing. Somehow, the random grizzly sighting had morphed into some sort of forest-themed petting zoo. Casadie and I wandered down, and got our pictures taken with the animals. They all appeared to be unrestrained, and when I voiced some concern to the manager, he pointed out the invisible fencing (very tron-like). This satisfied me, and we went back to the room. Here, my dream went from a vivid but fairly normal to completely wacky.

The next thing that happened was that I was looking out the side window (we had a corner room, ) and I could hear/feel something huge approaching (think Jurassic park-type tension) Out of the woods, came a HUGE animal/monster thing that was on two legs. It didn't walk, however, it sort of hopped. Like a kangaroo I guess.?? and it was approaching the other wing of the hotel. Everyone was in danger! I watched in horror as this huge creature made it way to eat us all. To describe it is difficult..I have a very clear picture in my mind, and if I had any drawing ability whatsoever, I'd upload something...but alas, you'll have to settle for my descriptive skills. Start with an image in your head of the abominable snowman from Monsters Inc. That was the approximate body/head proportions and the right shape...It was roughly 40 ft tall...and dark brown. Furry all over, but it's head had more hair, kind of like a big, spiky mane. It was wearing some sort of clothes, but there was no detail there. It looked awful. and mean. and hungry.

It hopped right up to the building, and glared inside at the -what I assumed to be-terrified occupants. I watched horror as he opened his mouth, teeth bared, and then proceeded to vomit all over the side of the building. He then turned and hopped his nasty self over to our building...his height put him mouth-nose to our window, and yes, he proceeded to vomit again, all down the side of our hotel. I was screaming for Bill and Casadie to wake up, because i was certain that once he emptied his stomach, he was going on a feeding frenzy and we were the targets.

It was at this terrifying, unfortunate moment......that I woke up. I woke up saying WHAT....THE....HELL...WAS .....THAT???????? I just laid there for the longest time, trying to figure out what had just happened. Here it is...over a week later, and I'm STILL trying to figure it out. Every night, I nervously go to bed, wondering if he'll make another appearance.

I'm flummoxed on this one, friends and readers. Help me out. Give me your wildest interpretation theories below. I'm looking forward to your input on my mental state. I think. *be gentle..I turn 40 on Friday..I'm fragile this week!* (that can't POSSIBLY fit into this dream, can it??)

Meeting Nowah Why-Lee *name changed to protect the innocent

2011-08-18T16:43:00.001-04:00

As many of you know, my daughter Casadie and I got to spend 3.5 weeks in California as part of her acting camp. During the day, I had errands and tasks galore to complete, but always kept a wary eye out for celebrities to report back to you with. I was closing in on the last days with nothing to share but a fuzzy distant shot of John Leguizamo at Universal. Discouragement was high, but then, a chance encounter with one of the great loves of my life salvaged the trip. This is my account of that day. 100% factual in every detail. Honestly.

(*editor’s note: we’ll see. *author’s note: seriously, it’s true!)

It was the first performance night for our kids. All of the parents were congregating outside, waiting for our cue to go in. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the chatting was pleasant. We were all eager to see our children do well. I was standing by the door of the small café that was attached to the theater. As I gazed toward Santa Monica Boulevard, a smartly-dressed man strode by.

(*editors note: He was NOT smartly dressed, he looked like a bum! *author’s note: shut up! It’s my story..let me tell it!)

I immediately recognized him as the famous doctor from that famous doctor show! My heart skipped a beat or two, even more so when our eyes met, and he winked at me seductively. As I drew a sharp breath in surprise, he chuckled, and turned into the café.

(*editor’s note: He did NOT wink! OR chuckle!)

I stood, frozen for a moment, while rapidly trying to decide what the etiquette would be in Hollywood. Would it be ok for me to ask for an autograph or photo? Would he turn me down flat? I wondered if anyone else recognized him...so far no one else was kicking up a fuss, so I followed him inside the café. He ordered his drink, a super-tall, mocha, double-light, half-fat, vege-chino, vanilla caramel strawberry frappe. He ordered a second drink..a hot chocolate. My heart skipped a beat…that was MY favorite drink…could it be? No, of course not.

He stepped back outside, and into the melee. The other moms were on to him. Flashbulbs were popping everywhere. Like the professional that he is, he graciously allowed a few photographs, including one with me. He chatted with me briefly while someone figured out my camera, asking us why we were there, crowding his favorite café. He made pleasant conversation with me, took our photograph together, and then he was gone. I very maturely and calmly

(*editor’s note: HA!)

walked about half a block away so that I could text my friends about this very nice moment.

(*Editor’s note: all of the following is a complete and utter fabrication. It simply didn’t happen. *Author’s Note: You’re not fun at all, you stupid editor. Shut up and stay out of my head!!)

All of a sudden, I heard “Hey…hey! Over here!” A loud stage whisper called my attention to a side alley. I walked over, and was surprised to find Nowah peeking out at me. He beckoned me to come closer and when I stepped into the alley, he relaxed and smiled. “I noticed you right away. I could tell you’re a big fan of mine, right?” Coquettishly, I replied “why, yes, I’ve watched you once or twice on that doctor show.” He laughed heartily..”Once or twice, yeah..that sounds right. Walk with me.” He handed me the second cup. I looked at him with wide eyes, and he just said “Hot chocolate, right?” We walked northbound for a block or two, through a cluster of small houses that seemed misplaced in such a dirty, industrial area.

We chatted lightly about the acting camp my daughter was a part of. He seemed interested and was very encouraging. He spoke of his new show, a post-apocolyptic alien type thing. He said he was enjoying it very much.

Suddenly, he stopped in front of a small bungalow. He said “This is my place”, and opened the small metal gate, and ushered me through. As we entered the house, I noticed it was definitely a bachelor pad. I expressed in the most polite way that I could, that it didn’t seem like the kind of place I would think he would live in, given his celebrity status. Chuckling, (I love how he chuckles), he said “this is just the place I stay in when I’m in Hollywood. It’s close to my studio.”

He set down his super-tall, mocha, double-light, half-fat, vege-chino, vanilla caramel strawberry frappe on the end table near the door. Taking two steps, he reached for my hot chocolate, and set it down as well. Then, he took me in his arms and kissed me passionately. Shocked..I didn’t respond for a moment, but then I stepped back and said “No, Nowah! I’m married!” Smiling, he said “But, Jennifer…you’re so beautiful. I love voluptuous women who are passionate and fiery. Be mine!” I remained firm, and reiterated my love for Bill. I said I was flattered by his attention, but that we would have to remain friends only. He looked sad, forlorn. He said “I’ve never been turned down before, you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met! Remember me if you ever change your mind!” I looked into his eyes, and put my finger to his lips. “No, Nowah, it can never happen. There can never be anything between us. You must forget me.” As he wiped away the single tear that coursed down his cheek, I grabbed my hot chocolate. No sense in letting it go to waste, after all. I looked at him again, and said my parting words. “Your new show is very good…can your post-apocolyptic band of alien fighters find a Walgreen’s to raid? Your character needs to find a razor. You’re much better looking when your cleanly shaven.”

I turned and stepped outside, closing the door behind me. I could hear Nowah sobbing softly inside. My heart melted for him, but my resolve didn’t waver. I marched down the steps, and back up the block, ready to sit and watch my darling daughter in her debut performance.

When it was over, I stepped outside to wait for Casadie to appear. The crowd was thick with parents and performers all greeting each other with kisses and flowers, agents walking around with thick sheaves of headshots, chatting with those they wanted to pursue. A few times, I noticed a tall, good-looking man with a beard peeking around trees and lightposts at me. Oh Nowah, how I hated to break your heart.

(*Editor’s note: does anyone here realize how DELUSIONAL the author is?? I mean SERIOUSLY. DE-LU-SION-AL. With a capital D.)

(*Author’s note: You’re just jealous, you ridiculous editor. Just sitting around editing people’s blogs. What kind of life is that? Just because Nowah falls in love with a voluptuous mother of six that he cannot be with, isn’t a good reason for you to go crazy in the editorial notes. Get a life. Really.)

(*Editor’s note part 2: Seriously. This blog is a complete fabrication. This did not happen. She saw him at the café, got a picture with him, chatted briefly, and then he left. She was a hot mess for 15 minutes afterwards, but the whole seduction thing did not happen. This blog takes no responsibility for this. Nowah, don’t sue. Author has nothing but her imagination.)

Our California Adventure Begins!!!

2011-07-18T23:14:00.000-04:00

The life of a compulsive planner is fraught with danger. If not danger, at least drama. If not drama, at least some irritating inconveniences. Today, Friday, we were supposed to get on the road by noon, according to my gloriously detailed timeline. But, after some last-minute primping appointments went long, we ended up deliriously late. I mean, when you’ve got an adorable 8 year old wannabe actress ready to hit Hollywood, you can’t skip the basics. So we got our nails done, had a spray-tan, got a weave to make her hair thicker, tattooed some eyeliner on so she always looks perky, a little seaweed/sea salt wrap for brighter skin, a bikini wax, and a couple of botox injections, and then we were ready to go!

Ok, I’m kidding. But do you REALLY want to read that I had to get gas, and the cheapest way for us is to go alllll the way down Lancaster to the Fred Meyer where we get three cents off a gallon, and that I had to pick up homemade chocolate chip cookies at Grandma’s, and battle the crowds at Winco to purchase 4 weeks worth of Spaghettios and Apple Jacks? Oh, wait..you WOULD rather know that I’m human?? Ok, suit yourself.

So anyway, some things we learned in 24 hours on the road, and in our first couple of days.

1. Two Kimballs with baby bladders can make a 15 hour drive into a 24 hour drive.

2. Expecting Casadie to entertain me and keep me awake was an exercise in futility. After an hour and a half of excited chatter, she was out like a light and snoring. This continued off and on throughout the day.

3. When you pull over to pee on the side of the road, and you painstakingly park the car at JUST the right angle so it’s less obvious that you’re illegally participating in public urination, and a trillion cars are passing you at 80mph, and next to the freeway is about 500 cows….at least 10 of those cows will stare. Uncomfortably so. When they get their fill of the peep show, they will immediately go moo to their friends, and it spreads like wildfire throughout the herd. 200 miles later, cows were seen ripping up the “Eat mor Chiken” signs, and posting new ones that said “Got bladder?” Damn gossipy bovines. At least I keep my udders covered, you bitches.

4. Some idiot, somewhere, at some time, decided that it would be a good business venture to take ACTUAL Scorpions and place them in lollipops. That you put in your mouth. They looked like the amber-covered mosquitos from Jurassic Park. I’d sooner battle a velociraptor than lick one of them damn pops… On a COMPLETELY UNRELATED NOTE,,..Bethanie..we got you a souvenir!

5. One hotel’s “kitchen package” is not necessarily like another’s. We have been temporarily bumped to another extended stay facility due to capacity, and the kitchen is stocked with exactly 2 forks, 2 knives, 1 spoon and a pan. My other place is supposed to have wine glasses, pot holders, artisian cheese slicers from Italy, a melon baller and a 214-piece Tupperware set among the more tepid offerings. These managers have no idea who they are dealing with. To downgrade a former Disney Manager who brought a block of Tillamook Cheddar cheese and now has NO GRATER TO GRATE IT WITH…heads are gonna roll, I tell you.

6. Do NOT pack your favorite jeans on the bottom of a 700-gallon suitcase. You will experience 10 minutes of extreme panic that you have no pants for a month, and WILL be experiencing every teenage nightmare of being pantsless. In Hollywood.

7. While I did find my pants and do not have to subject the greater Hollywood population to me being pantsless, they do have to deal with me being off my feed from not having my hair dryer. Yes, the hotel has a substitute...but you just don’t understand. I’ve had my trusted hair dryer for 20 years. Yes, 20 years. It’s a professional model, so the buttons are on the wrong side, and I’m used to it. Any old substitute won’t work...because if you know me, you know I have thick hair...these little crappy “squeeeeeeeeeeeeee” type motors won’t cut it. I need a reconditioned 747 jet engine strapped to a vent and an electrical cord. Seriously.

8. I CANNOT sleep in the same bed as Casadie for 3.5 weeks. I was looking forward to the snuggle time, because she’s such a good snuggler, but OMG, that girl flip flops like a trout slapped up on a beach. I swear she was kicking me on purpose. I have bruises that are in places I didn’t know could bruise. Yes I do. I lasted exactly 15 minutes after she fell asleep before I jumped to our other bed. When we are moved back to our studio apartment we’re supposed to have, that girl is relegated to an air mattress, which I very intelligently threw in the car, just in case.

9. Casadie is very astute. When trying to convince her to go on California Screamin’ when we were let into the parks by friends, I explained that “even Aunt Gina went on it, and she’s a chickenbutt!” Casadie retorted, VERY OFFENDED, “Aunt Gina’s not a chickenbutt!!! She’s just short!” As I nearly flipped my car on the freeway from laughing so hard, Casadie further mused “It’s true. She’s not as tall as real ladies, but I love her anyway.”

10. Do not allow yourself to get hungry and dehydrated before going on the giant fun wheel at Disney’s California Adventure. I’m not joking. I’m doing this trip on a severe budget, so while in the parks, I bought meals for the girl and just picked a little off her plate, figuring it would hold me over until we got back to the hotel. Casadie wanted the swinging cars, which are jaw-droppingly scary if you aren’t expecting it. If you board with a slight hunger headache, and the beginnings of heat exhaustion…fuggedabowdit. I learned I have a whole new capacity for “throwing up a lil’ bit in my mouth”. Who wants to puke in a cage with 3 strangers and sit there and stare at it for 20 more minutes? Not this chicka. “Gulp.” The last time I got motion sickness was a whale-watching cruise 17 years ago when I was pregnant with Bethanie. I don’t GET motion sickness. Totally ruined the ride, and my very nice chat with my very nice friend Erick who met me there since we haven’t seen each other for several years.

11. On a much nicer note, I learned that Casadie is a sharp and keen observer of details. She THRILLED future imagineer Alex Williams by pointing out subtle themeing details at the parks. She knew it was an oddity and should be considered wrong to place “Brother Bear” references on an “UP” themed area. (It had previously been a Brother Bear area, and Disney left several references to BB intact…it’s policy of late being to cater to the lowest denominator of Guest, it saves money that way.

12. Finally, I’ll sign off saying that I learned this camp is going to be one rollicking roller coaster ride for Casadie and myself. As a camper, she gets INTENSE preparation from working actors, and as a Mom, I get intense preparation in being the best type of parent for a working child actor. Agents and Casting directors sometimes cast for the whole package, knowing they have to work with the parents almost as much. I’ve learned about Coogan Savings Accounts, Work Permits…etc. We also learned that Casadie will already be part of a commercial shoot on Wednesday…Adrian is using all of his campers in the background for a website commercial. More details as I get them. She also gets to attend a taping of Good Luck Charlie, including a backstage tour and photos/autographs. I’ve got one bouncing-off-the-walls kiddo here.

See you later, so much to do! Casadie looks a little tired…now where did I lay that botox syringe???? J

***For those readers not following me on Facebook....This post refers to my daughter Casadie who desires to be an actress, and her opportunity to attend an acting camp in Hollywood with Adrian R'Mante, from the Suite Life of Zach and Cody, as well as other celebrities. Casadie and I are in Southern California for 3.5 weeks so she can have this adventure.

Deep Pressure

2011-04-14T08:59:00.000-04:00

Picture yourself, laying under a sheet, in a darkened room…soft music playing, and in walks a hot Russian massage therapist. He quietly asks “Where do you need special attention?” and for a brief moment, you want to tell him. Ha! But then you lie, and say “Nowhere *special*, but my shoulders have been tensing up.”

No, this is not some daydream or trashy romance novel; this was my real massage experience just the other day. My life has been stressful lately. Wait. I need to rephrase that...my life has been over-the-moon stressful. Highly agitating. Pressure-and-stress-beyond-what-the-typical-full-grown-adult-can-handle kind of stressful. Cross country move for 7.5 people (one kid staying behind to go to college, but he’ll be travelling with us for the summer, and I’m taking his stuff) and a dog; no heater in our house through the winter, and no A/C now, so our house is hotter inside than it is outside. Car troubles, new job responsibilities, pest problems in our house, oodles of people to see and commitments to meet before we move…it all adds up to Mom being shipped off to the funny farm.

So, for Christmas, my very generous mother gave me a very generous gift certificate to my favorite massage studio. There, I found the nirvana that is: male therapists. I had never had a male therapist before…being a large, ample, pooh-sized woman, it’s an uncomfortable and embarrassing thing to be semi-nude in a dark room with a man other than your loving and supportive husband…but one day, I simply had no choice, so I accepted. AND I WILL NEVER GO BACK. I have a theory about why my male therapist experience was so life-changing. I prefer extremely firm pressure. Stress-filled muscles like mine, hidden under a couple of extra layers of….skin, (yeah, extra skin!) require someone with sharp elbows, steel bones, and a sadist’s outlook on life. If I don’t get an elbow ground down deep into my shoulder blade, it just ain’t gonna cut it for me. It’s not a true massage if I’m not near tears at least a few times during the hour. Yes, yes... soothing soft touch is wonderful too, and I want a balance, but my muscles need to be beaten into submission.

When you ask a woman to do this, they really have to ramp it up. Let’s face it…political correctness aside, we ladies generally are not as strong as men. So to apply the REALLY hard pressure that I need, a female therapist has to go beyond her normal application of pressure, and summon up all her strength. This rarely, in my limited massage experience, lasts long enough to truly work out the kinks. After a ferocious burst of effort, I can feel the strength ebb out of her fingers and arms...and eventually, the huffing and puffing begins while she slowly winds down and tries to get her heart rate back to normal. I end up feeling bad for them, and the next time she asks if she's doing it hard enough, I say "Oh yeah, that's perfect." *sigh*

But for a guy…they often come equipped with near-monstrous levels of strength. During THEIR massage training, they simply have to learn to harness their strength, and get to spend the entire time learning to perfect the art of soothing, supplicating and caressing. So when I say “I like firm pressure…like REALLY hard,” their eyes light up, and their little boy excitement of being able to use their entire physical range is fun to watch. They spend the entire massage asking constantly if the pressure is too much, and I purr back “No, it’s perfect…more, please.”

So Dimitri and Austin at Hand & Stone spa at the Loop, I salute you. I thank you for spoiling me for any future female massage therapist in the world. All inappropriate references to a hot Russian asking me if I ‘want any more special areas taken care of’ aside, my husband might thank you too…I have not asked him nearly as often lately to work out my knotty (naughty..haha, see that very appropriate word play I inserted in there??) shoulders for me, because I come home a melted puddle of happily relaxed, bruised and subjugated muscle…ready to do battle with the world. At least until I enter that 97 degree house and do battle with that itty-bitty bug.

Love Notes

2011-04-01T01:16:00.000-04:00

I realize that it’s been a long time since I’ve posted on this blog. I extend my heartfelt apologies to anyone who uses the blog as their toilet reading. (Yes, I have followers that do exactly that.) Since early February, I’ve been deeply involved in arranging our upcoming cross-country move. I will definitely be sharing some stories and thoughts, both funny and unfunny about that whole process and the thoughts and feelings behind it. Today though, in a slightly related-mostly unrelated topic, however, I want to talk about love notes.

Unabashedly, I am a sucker for love notes. Somewhere in my primordial ooze, a gene established itself as a complete romantic, mushy-gushy scrapbook type of individual, and I cherish and love each note of encouragement, love, affection, holiday greeting, etc that passes through my fingers and my heart. What this means is that as I pack and purge, I am constantly faced with an impossible choice…to save or toss this amazingly precious bit of paper? Always. always the choice is to save it, after all, it says so much..and so the packing pile grows.

The love notes can be from anyone. Of course, notes from my husband and beautiful children melt my heart and are always a good way for any of them to get out of trouble. And they know this. My quiet, introspective husband writes a damn fine love note and although you, dear reader will never know their contents, you are certainly allowed to be jealous. He’s goooood.

But right at this moment, as I make one of the biggest changes in my life, after some of the most stressful years of my life, I find that some of the most precious love notes I have are those that came from my Cast when I was their manager. Adventureland-Liberty Square Cast Members are people exuding with personality and vitality, and filled with creativity and with no fear of expressing it. As the job, schedule, policies and other assorted work-related headaches are more extreme than necessary for what should be such a magical place, the Cast was often left feeling discouraged and without advocates. When I would step in and assist my Cast with whatever they need, or at least listen with a sympathetic ear, I would often return to my office after a long shift and find little love notes written on post-its and pasted to my cubicle. Anything from the silly: “Jennifer is the lemon in my iced tea” to the suck-up: “Your kids are the cutest kids on the planet!” Frequently, they were veiled taunts at my other team members: “Jennifer is my favorite manager!” surrounded by swirly hearts. Once, after loaning my jacket to a former Cast Member who was visiting from England, I put the jacket on 3 days later, reached into the pocket, and found a little slice of sweetness in the form of a hidden note from her. That note, worn and faded, still resides in the same pocket, and always warms my heart when I wear the jacket.

My cast also enjoyed my subversive ways of dealing with ridiculous management dictates. My boss, an unnamed ass who will go down in the annals of spectacularly ineffectual and uninspired pseudo-leaders, once pulled me into the office and demanded that I “do something about all those notes.” I asked what he wanted me to do with them. He replied that my desk looked messy and disorganized because of all those notes and “all those pictures of your kids.” Now, keep in mind, other managers had so much Disney/Baseball/Simpsons/Whatever memorabilia that there was no room to write or effectively use a keyboard on their desk, but MY desk was the problem desk. Even HIS office was a mish-mash of Disney crap, Dolly Parton altar, and ugly cat pictures, but I was supposed to remove the photos of my children. No waaaay, Mister. I clung to his claim that it was disorganized, and promptly walked out to my desk, removed everything, and meticulously put it back, in nice neat rows. All pink post-its were lined up vertically to the millimeter; all the smaller, white ones went horizontally across my cubby door. My childrens' pictures in frames were lined up in a precise row across the back of my desk, in age order, and all the snapshots under my clear plastic blotter magically became arranged by size. All the cast leaving notes in the future followed my lead, and each subsequent note continued whatever pattern suited it best, and never did the subject come up again.

Upon my layoff, one of my greatest fears was that during the packing process, my beautiful and meaningful notes would get “lost.” Thankfully, a friendly face was assigned to pack up my things, and very sweetly she included every single note. They reside in a box, ready for the day when I can go through them without bawling my face off, and can put them in a scrapbook of my Disney career. Each Cast Member who took 15 seconds on some random day to thank me, to brighten my spirits, or to leave me a reminder of some crazy inside joke has no idea how much those notes buoyed me on my difficult days, and how they remain close to my heart to this day.

I challenge you today to write a love note to someone. Make it long and heartfelt, make it short and silly. Make it spontaneous and meaningless, or a ridiculous declaration of your love. Whatever. Just make someone happy for at least the time it takes to read it, and whether or not they are a pack-ratting scrapper like me who will save and cherish it, it will make an imprint on their heart.

Saturday- Things I can't believe I'm saying February 5th

2011-02-05T12:15:00.000-05:00

"What's your sign?"

Don't you just love the random little questions asked by curious and uninhibited minds? They don't hold back and some can be quite odd, and you wonder what is going through their little minds as they land on the need to know that particular tidbit.

"Do Rhinoceroses have toenails?"

"Has anyone ever been on Jupiter?"

"Why did Lady Gaga's mother name her Lady?"

My girls are currently enthralled with the "Signing Time" Videos. We check them out from the library, renew them until the end of time, and almost always end up paying late fees too. We finally drop them back off, and head immediately to the DVD section to see what has landed on the shelf. Old favorites, or new volumes to devour? I know the "Signing Time with Alex and Leah" theme song by heart, and I feel as though I know the child actors who star in the shows, and I marvel at "how much they've grown."

It's not unusual now for the girls to use sign for their requests, and often they have learned signs that I have never even seen. Even Bethanie is getting into it, and when we played a board game, it was common for her to use the signs for "My turn" and "Your turn" while we played. It's pretty cool to see that the girls have found a language they love to learn, and that we can all use as a family.

Except that yesterday, the girls wanted to know the sign for vagina. This subject is not covered in the DVD series. Evidently the host, Rachel, doesn't feel that stars Alex and Leah (cousins) need to discuss anything below the neck, and I understand that. But now I have a houseful of little girls who apparently would all like to discuss their private parts via Sign. So Mom and Dad can't overhear the conversation, I imagine. Even Bethanie, pretending to be horrified, was interested in finding out if I knew the answer to this question. For the record, I didn't.

Also, in a moment of spectacularly unenlightened and unprepared parenting, I think I said something like: "Oh, I don't think there is a sign for that. It's a private area, so there's no need to discuss it." I am normally nonchalant about things like body part names..and we are a potty-humor type of family...so this would typically not be an issue. But I admit they took me by surprise, and as I could still remember my friends teaching me the signs for "Shit" and "Sex" back in high school, I suddenly had an image of my adorable little daughters running around doing inappropriate signs, and I cracked. Couldn't do it. So therefore, "Vagina" has no sign. At least not right now.

But, I DO know the sign for Rhinoceros now, and could stumble my way through telling you via Sign, that I have no idea if Rhinoceroses have toenails or not.

PS. www.signingtime.com. Pretty great videos. We want the whole set (hint hint for the holidays and birthdays coming up!)

Saturday- Things I can't believe I'm saying

2011-01-29T15:23:00.000-05:00

We're going to try a new Saturday feature here at Spilt Milk. "Things I can't believe I'm saying." Every Saturday, I'll try to update with a quick post that will detail some item from the week that made me stop and go "hmm."

To start us off, I have a little nugget from this afternoon. Today, we have a houseguest. Casadie had a gymnastics workshop this morning, and when I picked her up, she and her friend Andrei pleaded for a playdate. He's the gorgeous and charismatic son of the owner, an extremely talented young man, 9 years old. Casadie has had a little crush on him for a while, and honestly, what red-blooded little girl wouldn't? He's ADORABLE. So, we get permission from his parents, and off we go!

Once home, they go upstairs to play. The cleanest, most organized room right now is Alex's room, normally locked and off-limits since he's at college. I decided to let them play in there while I was doing laundry. Casadie kept trying to shut the door, and Andrei wanted it open. I had to step in and say "Casadie, when we have boys over to play, the door should remain open." Casadie said "Why?!", and in an effort to avoid an uncomfortable conversation that could actually make them THINK about doing something inappropriate, I just shrugged and said "Because I said so." Andrei looked at me for a moment, and looked at Casadie, and said "Thank goodness I'm a boy!" I had to turn away quickly before they both caught me busting out a laugh.

Later, my policy on the open door became very prophetic..but not because Casadie got any wild ideas, but because my 5 year old, Delanie decided that Andrei WILL be her future husband, and was trying to seal the deal with a kiss! Andrei had to ask (ever so politely..I LOVE that boy) for some assistance, and I had to go up and tell my 5 year old that kissing playmates is not acceptable. Hopefully, there will not be a repeat with her or any of her sisters today. I can only have this conversation once.

Kimball Traditions- The Tooth Fairy

2011-01-27T00:38:00.000-05:00

Traditions. Such a wonderful part of any family. Whether big or small, traditions help unite generations, mark moments in time, and provide a connection to warm family memories for years to come. I am particularly attached to tradition. From the time I was a kid, traditional moments dot my reminiscing. After being picked up from camp, we ALWAYS stopped at this little store for a snack and a potty stop. Once I got older, started working at the camp all summer and that little store burned down, the tradition became a Saturday evening trip to Dr. Munchie's pizza every weekend. Our Christmas tree was decorated every year on the Friday after Thanksgiving, and we burst into "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" at the VERY first glimpse of Christmas lights as the season got started.

Once I had children of my own, I of course continued many traditions and established new ones. As a new, young mother of two, I took my kids to each new Disney movie, on the first day of release. Preferably the first showing. I continued decorating the tree on Friday after Thanksgiving, until Bethanie was born, on December 7th. For a while, I decided to respectfully wait until after her birthday to do it, but have since become a little more fluid with that date. We buy each of the kids a Hallmark ornament at Christmas and write a little inscription on the inside lid. My Mom sent my ornaments with me to decorate my first tree, and I will do the same for my kids.

Over the years, as we've added more children to the Kimball brood, it's easy to see how some traditions, started innocently and easily with just 1-2 kids, can get VERY out-of-hand when you have a large family. Today's example is the Tooth Fairy. Of course, the Tooth Fairy serves every family, whether you have 1 kid or 18, but because she knows every family is unique and special, she tailors her tooth-retrieval service to the specific needs of the family. At least that's the story in our house. When Alex and Bethanie were little and the only kids on the horizon for this very ambitious mother, the Tooth Fairy delivered a BEAUTIFUL bookstore-quality book complete with inscription, AND a crisp $5 bill. Yes, over-the-top..but who cares. The Tooth Fairy loves books, and knows my kids love books, and so she aims to please. The baby teeth days are fleeting, so my arrangement with the Dental Queen was something to be cherished and celebrated.

Many years later, as Casadie began to lose her teeth and the Tooth Fairy would again be visiting the Kimball household, I stopped short, and quickly counted the number of baby teeth this Enamel-Wrangler would be picking up from our home in the next several years. 4 more girls, 7-8 teeth apiece (how many baby teeth do kids lose, exactly? I've lost count!) Speaking conservatively, we're talking $150 bucks and a veritable library of top-shelf Newberry Award Winners. The Barnes and Noble CEO should be sending flowers to our house. Bill hopelessly suggested (he never had a chance) cutting the cash back to $1 and buying paperbacks, but I said the Lady of Floss could afford $5, 2-3 times per year. He sighed, rolled his eyes lovingly (I swear), and drove me to the bookstore to make a few selections. (The Chomper Collector treasures and uses Mom's suggestions when she delivers the books, of course.)

Casadie has been working on her top two teeth, which have REALLY taken their time. I was worried that an Oral Surgeon might be needed to help these along, and that given her age of 7, she might be close to abandoning her belief in the Princess of Plaque. But, once the tooth came out yesterday, the debate as to where to put the tooth, which bed to sleep in (we really have a musical beds thing going on over here lately..with bunk beds in two different rooms and sisters who like to switch loyalties and alliances..a long story for another day), began in earnest.

Any doubts I may have harbored, ie "will the kids REALLY remember this as a cherished tradition, or is this Queen of Gleam just wasting her money?" was absolutely dispelled this morning, when Casadie marched downstairs, grinning a toothless smile ear-to-ear, and clutching a large book under her arm, "Zen Shorts."

"Mommy! Look what the Tooth Fairy brought me!" She showed me the book with the beautiful water-color illustrations, and read the, may I say, very touching inscription to me.
"That looks wonderful!" I replied, "have you read it yet?"
"No, not yet. I want to get Library Mouse, & the Marshmallow Incident first. I haven't found them yet."

Mom very confused: "Why do you need those books first?"

Casadie "Well, those were the first and second books the Tooth Fairy ever gave me. I want to read them in order before I start Zen Shorts. The Tooth Fairy always gives me such beautiful books."

A Mother's silly indulgences completely validated in the wise and wonderful words of a 7 year old, who is losing her baby teeth kind of late. She still believes in the magic, and I am absolutely proud and excited to provide it to her.

Rock on, Tooth Fairy.

For the birds....(I mean, KIDS)

2011-01-22T01:03:00.000-05:00

Confession time.

I hate birds. Also, I am not bright. Impulsive and child-like, but not necessarily bright. One might wonder why on earth these two things are related, and one might also note that probably only ONE of those two facts is news to anybody.

A little background on my bird-hating-ness. I haven't always hated birds. They are pretty. They have a beautiful, melodious sound. They eat bugs and such. I once even owned a bird. A co-worker of my ex-husband talked him into taking on an orphaned cockatiel. I believe the cockatiel was orphaned because it was the devil, and no one could stand it, but I digress. I happily thought that a cockatiel was just the most adorable pet to add to our brand-new little family. Because every newlywed couple needs a squawking, obnoxious bird that wants out of it's cage at all hours of the day and night, right? That kind of stress is perfect on a budding new marriage when you're all of 18 and 19 years old. So anyway, to make a long story short...the bird didn't work out (neither did the marriage, but it would be a few more years before we'd admit to that), and we ended up giving him away. At least I *think* we did..I'm pretty sure I didn't agree to one of Jay's wilder plans to let it go free in the Oregon wilderness.

Cut to several years later, not really on *loving* terms anymore with birds in general, I was pecked, rather ferociously in an aviary at the Portland Zoo. We had our adorable son Alex with us, baby Bethanie in the stroller, and some horrible little green and red beast nearly pecked me to death while my husband (now EX-husband) laughed riotously at my predicament. Not long after that, he rented Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds" for us to enjoy in the privacy of our own home. Evil bastard.

Ever since then, I avoid aviaries, even if it requires back-tracking half a mile through the zoo or park path to find an alternate route. I don't need to see any more birds. They have feathers, two feet, and occasionally one will have a very interesting-looking beak. Whoopee. Somehow, the big kids caught on that I wasn't just disdainful and bored..but that there was a real fear involved. Like my unreasonable fear of popping Pillsbury biscuit cans, this has now become a source of gleeful amusement for them. They pat me condescendingly on the head or shoulders, offer to hold a map or jacket over my head and escort me quickly through the aviary so I don't have to backtrack. They say witty things like "Oh..that's RIGHT...you're as scared of birds as you are of loudly popping biscuit cans, AREN'T YOU??" and I just give them my best "I will KILL you when we get home" grin..and run through the aviary at top speed to prove my bravery, flinging other people's small children aside like they are bread crumbs. Which I hope the birds think they are, at least long enough to distract them from me.

So, when one irrational woman is afraid of birds, and is ridiculously annoyed when the chirping outside wakes her up at the unholy hour of 7am, what is the best course of action?.....

.....buying a bird feeder for homeschool of course. The girls saw the project in a book, and clamored endlessly and adorably for it, until I gave in. The project actually involved BUILDING a bird feeder..but since I'm handier with a debit card than a hammer...a beautiful black bird feeder came home, along with a bag of "Songbird mix." (Is it made of real songbirds? I hope so! *maniacal hand-wringing and 'muahahaha-ing'*) So now, the girls can gleefully watch for birds in the backyard, and I can lay in bed at 7 in the morning with a pillow over my head.

.....I'm thinking of buying a BB gun.

PS. As I wrote this..I realize then, what an oddity it is that I enjoy playing "Angry Birds". I realized that I'd rather be the pigs. But I'm still mildly obsessed. Just an odd coincidence.

I broke my funny...

2011-01-17T19:57:00.001-05:00

Sorry folks, my funny got broken. I have always intended for my blog to be a humorous and light-hearted look at the craziness that is our life..but I suppose it wouldn’t be real and honest if it didn’t occasionally explore the darker, crazed side of my “crazed life as a homeschooling mother of 6”. The end quarter of the year, all the way through February is what Bill and I lovingly and laughingly call “Kimball Crazy Quarter”..and it’s a time filled with the normal stressful holidays, our anniversary, and not one, not two, but 4 birthdays for our family. So understandably, my stress level rises during this period anyway. Add to it the exceptional hardships we’ve been facing financially through our layoffs, the new added stress of a job that doesn’t fit my personality and a few tragic and horrific situations for family and friends, and it’s a recipe for a personal fitting of a white coat for me.

I’ve struggled lately with severe feelings of self-doubt, plummeting self-confidence, worry about the future , and even confusion about what I WANT from our future. I had dreams…they were to have a beautiful family, wonderful husband, and a job at Walt Disney World. Have, Have and Had. Now what? It’s definitely time to re-evaluate and set some new goals, but that’s where the self-doubt is coming in. Our financial hole is so deep, I can’t see the top, let alone the beautiful horizon.

Homeschooling fills part of that horizon. I see my children enjoying each other’s company, I see Bill and I really reconnecting with them and learning much more of their personalities that I ever would have known if they were in daycare and school for 8+ hours per day. For this, I am grateful. It gives me small, meaningful goals for the day, the week, and even a year’s worth, but still, I feel lost. I worry that my depressive episodes will cause me to lose focus on this particular goal, and that wouldn’t just hurt me, it would absolutely be damaging to the girls and their future. So the self doubt creeps in, and makes me wonder if they wouldn’t be better off back in school. I know every homeschooling parent experiences some measure of this worry, but mine are just exacerbated now with my overall hot mess.

I could spend an entire blog complaining about my job, but I’ll just say that I do love Hilton. I love most of the people I work with. I could easily see myself leading this team, supporting them in this very difficult job of telemarketing, but the actual job of being on the phone, suffering the abuse of a nation of people that feel it’s ok to demean, demoralize and otherwise rudely treat me simply because I’m a telemarketer is so hard to endure. Each sale equals success, and refills my bucket a little bit, and the rare no-sale with a wonderful person and a great conversation does as well.

But when in a 6.5 hour shift, and well over 400 calls results in no sales, my bucket is empty, overturned, stomped on, and has a hole drilled in it. Filling it with a success just becomes that much harder. I’m told I’m very good at this job. My superiors say that my style on the phone is awesome, and I’m the best of the best. This is so hard to believe after someone has just cursed at me, and told me I’m worthless because I happened to call them during their 7:47pm dinner. I can see a future with this company as a leader, and I’m making inroads toward that end, but the emotions that threaten to bubble over and become on display are endangering the professional demeanor I struggle to present. For those who say “why wait until you can be promoted? If it’s that hard on you emotionally, find something else!”….I’m trapped. Utterly and absolutely without options. The money I make when the going is good is absolutely enough to make it impossible to leave. There are zero comparable options out there for someone like me, with no degree and with my need for reasonable hours and legal work. I mean, I suppose I could be a prostitute, but then we’d spend so much on bail money, lawyers, etc. *sigh* And face it, there’s only so much of a niche market for gals like me. (ok..so my funny is bruised, not necessarily broken.)

I struggle with exhaustion. A job that requires so much mental Olympics and verbal sparring until 10:30 or later each night, means that I am too keyed up to sleep until well into the wee hours of the morning. In turn, this results in me having to sleep later, cutting into exercise time, homeschooling time, errands, housework, etc..something has to give, and often, it’s ALL of the above, rather than just one or two things. All of this feeds back into the overwhelming feelings of worthlessness that are becoming harder and harder to rise above. On numerous occasions, I’ve called one friend or another only to burst into tears and blubber my way through a rant on how awful my life is. To those friends who have endured those calls, I can only apologize and thank you for listening.

At the risk of making this the longest post ever, I’ll wind down by saying that I DO remember the positive things in my life. I do see the value in my beautiful family and my wonderful, generous husband. I recognize the luck I have in that regard and I count the little things among those things I value the most.

A husband that continues to get my car door for me, 13 years into our relationship. He is the best of the best in so many ways, and he supports me 99.5% through all of this, even while dealing with his own feelings of stress and struggle with our situation. I say 99.5% because no one can truly support 100% the sour moods I get into. It’s impossible to ask of someone, and he occasionally is just done with them, has his say, and then he slips back into the wonderfully supportive man I know. I would love to just have him welded to my side.

A talented, intelligent son who has risen above his own personal challenges of autism, and is successfully navigating college life in pursuit of a physics degree.

A beautiful, creative teenage daughter, who while exhibiting normal teenage attitude, continues to provide invaluable assistance to me and her father while we get through this difficult period in our life.

Little girls who love unconditionally, and who always are a source of laughter and fun.

Our health..recent events with friends and children of friends make me so grateful that my children are healthy and that they continue to thrive.

Homeschooling. I am so grateful to have found this outlet for my energy and my need to plan and set goals. With no other goals in my personal life to strive for at the moment, this becomes a good focus for me, and I get to be closer to my girls.

Friends who listen. My circle of friends is wide and varied. I am continually entertained on Facebook, so when I’m at my darkest, reading their observations and anecdotes of their lives truly help me get back on track, at least for that moment, and I gain a lot of positive energy from that.

This blog. I am grateful that I started this, and I’m grateful for the wonderful feedback I’ve gotten. My family is special to me, and I’m glad that at least a few of you enjoy their antics. I’m sorry to post something that is seemingly so out of character, but truly, this is just another side of Jennifer, one that not as many people see. I am fairly good at faking it most of the time, but lately, I’m just so tired. I do promise to find my funny again soon, and I am taking notes of the little things that happen. Maybe another thankful list will be forthcoming soon.

Much love and sincere thanks for popping in and spending time with me. I promise to follow doctor’s orders regarding my broken or bruised funny, and will be on the mend.

Merry Christmas!!!

2010-12-24T15:39:00.001-05:00

Merry Christmas! As you can imagine, in the Kimball house, like any other, it can get crazy! But considering we live in Florida, away from our extended family, we are grateful for the large number of children we have, to give our holiday the chaos and bustle that Bill and I remember from our childhoods. Our kids may not have cousins to run and frolic with, but they will always have each other, and the shared memories of the season will last them for decades to come.

So, Merry Christmas! From Bill and Jenn, as we drive around at 2am from 7-11 to 7-11 to Wal-mart, looking for one more blister-pack of Harry Potter Silly Bandz, because Santa would NEVER forget one child when filling the stockings!

From Jenn, fighting the crowds at Best Buy, because the gift I had finally decided to buy for my impossible-to-shop-for husband suddenly appeared in a pile of last-minute bargains he HAD to get while he was shopping yesterday. Time for a new plan!

From Bill, working hard at CVS to help fill last-minute prescriptions for people who will be unable to get it done tomorrow while they are closed. Seniors and Tourists are cranky people when they can't get their meds immediately, so he will be working hard to maintain holiday cheer, as well. Hopefully, he will be home soon.

From Alex, on his 6th lap around the neighborhood with Fynnlie. We've put out some of the gifts already, and she's having a hard time keeping out of them. Walks in the stroller provide a good 45 minutes of freedom from constant monitoring of the tree and baby at the same time.

From Bethanie, working hard to beat her 7 year old sister at making the longest paper chain. Recreating moments from your childhood in order to give those experiences to your younger siblings is refreshing!

From Casadie, utterly thrilled to find that she's superior at making paper chains, besting her 16 year old sister. Constant calls to come "hold it up and see how tall it is" reveal that it would take about two Moms, laying head to toe to match the length. Much more to do, though!

From Delanie, 6 links in the paper chains and over it. Just. Done. Specifically moved the project table in front of the couch for her, so that she could sit and relax, and fool the siblings and subsequent photographs into thinking she was actively participating.

From Emmalie, obsessed with eggnog. Endless clamoring for more. Repeatedly. We feel indulgent, since this is the only time we ever have it, but also don't want her on the cover of the tabloids as the "Preschooler who gained 85 pounds from drinking eggnog!! Photos inside!"

From Fynnlie, so very fascinated with the lights, the bows, the wrapping, the strange activities...but bewildered at all the times she gets strapped into the stroller and taken for a walk. Highly unusual. Also battling a small bug, but we're hopeful her eyes won't be glassy and feverish in the photos.

From Sadie, our dog. Nothing special to say..it's a pretty normal day for her, she just wanted to say hi.

From all of us, up to our elbows and eyebrows with sugar cookie baking and decorating...this activity will be the messiest and most delicious project we'll take on all year. This is what will cause us to be up too late, find that Santa has already passed Florida on the Norad Tracker and make me have to scramble for a story. "Umm..well, Santa realizes that not everyone puts their kids to bed at 7, so he just checks to see, and if we're still awake, he puts on the list to come back after he does other states. It's no problem, he's so magical!" It's still working, but I have no idea how many more years I can pull this off. Thank goodness I can think fast. I make up all sorts of nonsense that they remind me of the next year.

From all of us, as the kids open one gift from Grandma tonight, and put on new, semi-matching pajamas before crawling into their beds.

From all of us, as Bill and I wake the to shrieking joy that is little girls discovering their stockings and their one, bigger un-wrapped gift from Santa. Us grown-ups will groan and stretch, wishing that just for once, children slept until noon on Christmas Day, but also loving the sound of their laughter, and look in their eyes as they show us all the treasures. For us, we are grateful for our children's health, their intelligence, and their exuberant personalities as we go through this life together, and Christmas morning is a time to just revel in the luck we have experienced in having them.

Merry Christmas from the Kimballs, our Spilt Milk and our Sticky Kisses!

Blinking while driving

2010-12-17T20:16:00.000-05:00

Here’s how I imagine the conversation went.

Governor Charlie Christ: “We really need to remove Governmental influence from people’s lives. Let’s cut them a break. What can we do to show them we really care?”

Underling: “We could tell them they don’t have to use turn signals anymore! That’s very annoying, and I know I’D be thrilled!”

Gov. Charlie: “I’ll go one better. Let’s leave the law on the books, but just have all car manufacturers make cars WITHOUT turn signals. That way, if we need funds, the police can still write tickets for not using them. Until that day, though, the Floridian people will just have one less pesky little rule to follow, whether they want to follow it or not.”

I say this is how I imagine it, because I imagine LOTS of strange things as I drive. Mostly, I imagine that 99% of the drivers in Florida today opened a can of Pringles and were thrilled to fine a gen-yoo-ine Florida Driver’s license inside! “Yahoo! I done got one of them permits to drive! Now I don’t have to black out my windows as much!”

I also imagine that waves of tourists and immigrants decide, en mass, that THEIR way of driving in their country is just as good as or better than ours, so why read the damn manual anyway? A friend, who is originally from India, once showed me a video on YouTube that showed a typical Indian intersection. It looked like crazy, drunken ants racing to cross each other, stop, rub noses or scents and scurry on, right after you shove a large stick into their anthill and stir it up. It was insanity! It very much resembles trying to merge onto the 408 from I-4, and I know you know what I mean.

So, among this imagining I do while in the car, I had to come up with some hypothesis to explain the utter lack of people using blinkers in this state. I mean, honestly…why WOULD seemingly law-abiding citizens deliberately flout this very simple procedure? These are the same kind people that wave at me if I let them cut in front of me and my safe distance cushion. I realize they were waving with one finger, but surely, if they are that polite, AND they have full range of motion in their arms, shoulders, elbows, wrists, hands and especially that middle finger, they MUST have the ability to simply reach 1 inch to the left of the steering wheel and flip that turn signal up or down. Wouldn’t they?

So I came to the obvious conclusion that cars sold in Florida must no longer have turn signals installed. That of course, led to how that might have happened, and in the middle of the recent political climate, it was an easy leap to come up with that scenario. Governor tries to help the people, a suggestion is whispered, and something crazy becomes the norm. I do hope someone whispers to Rick Scott that millions of jobs can be created if we simply put the unemployed to work re-installing the turn signals and teaching drivers how to use them.

Governor Rick Scott: “I need something to deflect concern that I might be a crook.”

Underling: “Well, you know all those tickets we wrote for not using turn signals? Seems that is pretty much unenforceable since Charlie had blinkers removed in 2006. We’re going to lose $2 billion in funding for schools.

Gov Rick “Our citation money is funding schools? That’s gotta stop.”

Underling: “Since lawsuits are going to suck up that money anyway, why don’t we just close the schools, have the teachers reinstall the blinkers in all cars, and send stimulus checks to everyone who owns a BMW or better?”

Gov Scott. “Genius! Make it so, number one!”

*much could be inferred from my use of a Republican governor and underling. Much could also be inferred from the fact that the last three governors in Florida just happen to be Republican, and I’m convinced SOMEONE had a hand in this. Carry on.

A Theme Park Day in our Lives

2010-12-13T12:34:00.002-05:00

Here’s another chapter in the “How on earth do you DO it, with so many kids?” book o’ questions. On Sunday, we decided to visit Universal Studios and Islands of Adventure to take part in their holiday festivities. We’ve been living in Central Florida for 11 years, and had not yet visited Grinchmas and the Macy’s parade at the two parks. We were doubly excited because some new friends from homeschooling were going to meet us and hang with us, so it was going to be a fun day! Now, readers of my blog know that we are not early risers here in the Kimball household, so you really ought to start off being impressed that our plans included arriving at the park by 9-9:15am.

7am-the first alarms go off. Snooze.

7:09-the alarm goes off again. Snooze. (WHY again, are they only 9 minutes long??”

7:18-Again with the alarm. Hear the big kids are up and helping the little girls get up. SCORE-reset the alarm for 8am.

8am-get up, mumble unintelligibly about having to get out of bed when it’s so dang cold!

8:15-finish shower, get dressed, change clothes twice. It’s a toss-up between looking somewhat fashionable for my new friends, and trying to figure out exactly how cold it will be today. There’s not a cloud in the sky, so it’ll warm up decently, so a fashionable t-shirt it is!

8:45 We all run around like chickens finishing up getting ready. I’m in charge of the camera, and USUALLY I’m the one combing little girls’ hair. Bill has grabbed the brush, so I am left adrift. I realize that the camera is nearly full, so I begin deleting bad shots in earnest. The big kids help the girls find shoes and one of them gets the diaper bag ready. I won’t name this person (Alex) because we find later that he didn’t add any wipes to the wipes container.

9:15-We are outside. This is a win, even though we’re about 30 minutes behind schedule. 20 minutes later, after arguments about who gets to sit next to Alex, and removing car seats just so the seats can be flipped down to access the 3^rd row and then the car seats get replaced, everyone is strapped in. This is when Bill and I make 3-4 trips back into the house to retrieve forgotten items. Jackets, phone chargers, diaper bags, the extra stroller, etc. The big kids carry important items to the car, such as Fynnlie’s cup, Fynnlie..etc.

10:00-Parking at Universal. As usual, we are the car selected to begin a new row, waaaaaaaay at the end. Seriously tempted to show them my large belly and claim third trimester pregnancy to get them to let us park at the closer end. It doesn’t always work.

10:05- The family abandons me at the bag check line. All the bags/coats, wraps, cameras, water bottles etc. are stuffed into the bottom of the stroller, so they are free to go through the no-bag line while I stand there with “Raymond” the security guard as he pokes through my things and barks at me to keep the stroller off the moving sidewalks.

10:10 In through the front gates! I collect all the tickets and put them in alphabetical order. Much easier to tell whose is missing.

10:15 Pass Suess land to the chorus of “We wanna ride Cat in the Hat! We wanna ride One Fish Two Fish!” These clamors come from girls who only said all the way in the car that they wanted to ride the Hippogriff coaster. Harry Potter land is our priority, and we want to do it early before it gets busy. However, we do stop to meet the Grinch, because there appears to be ZERO line. The girls attack-hug him in the middle of a rant, and his heart grows two sizes. The resulting photo is irresistible, so we spend 20 minutes negotiating the ridiculously complicated photo-buying process.

11:00-Arrive in Hogsmeade. Whoops, it’s already busy. Bugger. Let the big kids head to Dragon Challenge coaster since the line is not long. Casadie and I walk through the line just to check out the props like the Weasley’s Car and the Triwizard Tent. Casadie constantly fact-checks me to make sure I’m not actually trying to compel her to get ON the ride.

11:20-Fynnlie is grumpy and hard to manage at the moment. Reaching into the “Raymond-the-Security-Guard-disturbed-pile-o-stuff” in the bottom of the stroller, we can’t find her cup. It was carried securely and safely to the car, and then NOT placed securely or safely in the diaper bag. *sigh*

11:45-The family, minus Bill and Fynnlie have successfully ridden the Flight of the Hippogriff coaster. We go to park the stroller by the castle so we can all enter Hogwarts to ride the signature ride. It’s warmer now, and most of us have shed our coats and placed them in the stroller. Before going into the giant concrete castle, I check the phone to see if our friends have arrived in the park. No messages, so in we go!

At some point in the queue you go from inside back to the outside, and through rafters and bars, you can get a glimpse of the sky. It appears to have changed. “Honey..those look like rain clouds. It’s not supposed to rain right?”

12:00-Ride the best ride in the Universe. Ever. Alex and Beth ride first, while Bill and I wait with the girls in the baby swap room. Fynnlie keeps trying to grab/disconnect some poor disabled child’s oxygen bottle. This room is far too small for the amount of people that must stuff themselves in it. Bonus though, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone is playing. Bill and I get to go next, after giving the big kids dire warnings about letting Fynnlie switch off that kid’s lifeline.

12:20-Exit 8 people into a gift shop that is wall-to-wall people. Seriously. There are as many people entering the store via the exit as there are people exiting the ride and into the store. It’s a madhouse. Strangely, most of these people are wearing ponchos. And they’re wet. Oh Snap. It rained.

12:25. Correction, it’s raining. Now. Drizzling. It’s gotten much colder, and the little girls are pathetically shivering and rubbing their arms, and we are drawing attention as those horrible parents who didn’t put coats on their kids. We rush to the stroller, slipping every five steps. (Wizarding World needs non-skid, says former theme park manager) Start stuffing kids in coats. “My coat is all wet!” “Yuck!” “I fell down again!” I’m annoyed with one of my kids who darts in front of me and acts as though they’re going to go off with another family, so I hook the back of their shirt and begin dragging them back to us. That’s when I realize, with horror, that it’s NOT MY KID. I let him go and he throws me this half annoyed, half terrified look over his shoulder. I jokingly tell his Mom “Oh, hey..I just almost took your kid with me..so sorry for the attempted kidnapping!” She pretends to think it’s funny, but then quickly gets her family away from us.

At the risk of making this the longest post ever, I could continue to detail my day. Suffice it to say, the rest of the day was cold, wet and miserable, weather-wise. Our friends messaged us that they were extremely intelligent and decided to go home. We will reschedule. We, the Kimballs, decided to tough it out since we were already there and spent the rest of the day and evening having a fairly marvelous time despite the weather. Overall, although each move from place to place was fairly chaotic and filled with headcounts, we had a wonderful time. We left the two parks at 8pm, and drove home, wondering how Bill and I managed to work for 10 years in theme parks, and how after only a year and a half away, our bodies can’t even manage 9 hours. Every joint hurts and will hurt worse in the morning. Can’t wait. We grabbed some inexpensive take-out and headed home. 15 trips from the car to the house with pizza, breadsticks, sleeping children, diaper bags, Nintendo DS’s, cameras, and bags of purchases and we declared the day a success!

Casadie's Adventure

2010-12-06T01:49:00.002-05:00

Take one girl who has loved to perform for adoring audiences since day one, add one mother who continues to search high and low for fun things for the kids to do, regardless of how busy the family is, toss in one very enticing radio ad, and stir. Once things are good and mixed, put them in the oven for an hour, and there you have it! One custom-made, super-fun, adventurous journey for the Kimball Family!

Casadie has been charming acquaintances from the day she was born. So much personality and love packed into one blond-haired, blue-eyed girl. She adores meeting new people, and pulling them tightly into her circle of friends and family. Meet her once, and within the 15 minute window of time that you talk to her, she'll be so adoring of you, that goodbyes are met with a pouty lip, a demanded hug and a promise that we will see each other again soon. At home, she is a singer, a dancer, a miniature Lucille Ball, Carole Burnette and Lady Gaga all wrapped up in one package. She belts out "Big girls don't cry", "Pokerface" and "Girls just wanna have fun" anytime you ask. And mostly, during the times you don't ask.

She's been taking gymnastics now for a year. Not regular, run-of-the-mill gymnastics, but Cirque-style gymnastics. She's learning Rola Bola, Aerial Silks, Trapeze, Tightwire, etc, in addition to the standard trampoline and tumbling. Orlando Circus School is one of her favorite places to be. During the rehearsals for her Summer Camp performance, I watched her be one of the most mature, prepared performers. She wasn't necessarily the best at any one particular art, but she knew everyone else's cues, and where everyone was supposed to be. I watched her perfect her stage-whisper, helping the smaller children stay focused and on task without being overtly bossy. She became a real leader. I was proud.

So when the radio ad aired, inviting kids with an interest in acting to come audition for Adrian R'Mante's Celebrity Actor's Camp, I thought, "Why not?." She didn't know why I got her out of bed at 7am one morning, or why I thrust a Shel Silverstein poem in front of her and told her to try and remember some of it. It was several paragraphs, and she memorized it in less than an hour. We arrived at the hotel, and saw dozens of other children, most dressed up so fancy with their make-up and hair all fixed. We arrived in jeans and t-shirt. We (I) felt a little conspicuous, maybe I didn't have a clue how to do this, and how to help my daughter succeed. I sighed, and resigned myself to the idea that nothing would come of it, and we would just enjoy our morning together.

After a rousing introduction to the camp by a very energetic Adrian R'Mante, Casadie met briefly with a talent scout. She said she loved gymnastics and that she was learning Russian. Some notes were scribbled onto her form, and she was sent to the audition line. I wasn't allowed to follow my baby into the curtained area where she would audition for Adrian, and waited nervously on a nearby chair. In what seemed like nanoseconds, she was out, smiling and full of energy. "He liked me! He said I was cute!" I pestered her for more details, but she said she did her poem reading for him and he asked her some questions, and she couldn't remember them.. We were given some information about the camp, and told that if she was selected, she would get a call the next morning.

Casadie at the first day audition for the camp

The next day, I overslept, but didn't see any missed calls on my phone. I jumped into the shower, and of course, that's when the talent scout called. She left no message, and I spent the next couple of hours dialing her number every 15 minutes or so. I worried that it was a one-call per household thing...you snooze, you lose kind of deal, and I had blown it with my desire for shampooed hair. Stupid hygiene! When finally I received a callback, they let me know that Casadie was invited to the camp, and that Adrian had really enjoyed her audition. We were told to return to the hotel later that day for paperwork. Bill and I sat and had a long talk about the cost, and did some preliminary research online. Scams for children's acting gigs are rampant, and though we were confident this was not a scam, we wanted to be sure. For every successful venture, you are bound to find naysayers online, and of course we did. But we overwhelmingly found more positive comments than negative. Adrian's camp is up-front about fees, and what they are covering. He makes no promises about the children finding work, just promises that with hard work, and the chance to prove themselves, his camp will help them get a foot in the door. He teaches both the children and the parents how to play the game, how to treat acting like a business, and what steps to take to get into this world.

Casadie and Adrian R'Mante

Although we could afford only the basic-level camp, we enrolled Casadie with enthusiasm. Our philosophy is that a little learning is better than none, and any education you get, is exactly what you make of it. My goal was for her to have fun, and for me to learn how to negotiate the world of agents and opportunities for her. We got exactly what we paid for. Casadie had an absolute BLAST at all of her camp sessions, and Adrian gave Bill and I tons of tips and solid information about how to go about getting headshots, how to have them printed, and how to distribute them. Casadie also got to spent entire days working alongside and learning from her favorite celebrities, such as Adrian himself, Cameron Goodman, David DeLuise, Chester See and more. We were sad to see the camp come to an end, but really, it was only a beginning. She auditioned in front of an LA Casting Director, and some local agents. She's already received a callback from a local agent, and we will be meeting with them this week to discuss representation.

Casadie getting last-minute tips from Adrian before her audition in front of several key people!

Moments after her audition. She LOVES the feeling of performing and she came out dancing and running into our arms!

Just this week, she also received a call she was highly anticipating. At the end of each regional camp across the country, Adrian selects a handful of campers to potentially attend an "Invitation-only" camp in Hollywood. In July and August 2011, Casadie will spend 3 weeks learning the business from the inside out, and it will culminate in a performance in front of more LA-based agents and casting directors. She will work with a number of working actors and celebrities, increasing her acting network. Actors like to work with children they've worked with before, so these kids get offers routinely. This thing could truly take off for her. If it doesn't, she have an absolutely priceless memory for the rest of her life. Figuring out the money and logistics is the next step. In addition to a very reasonable fee for a 3 week camp in Los Angeles, there are flights, lodging and incidental expenses to consider. In a period of time where we're still trying to make ends meet while recovering from our layoffs, this might seem like a frivolous expense, but in reality, we know there's a short window here of opportunity, her interest and desire and her age level. When this is easily affordable for us in a few years, they may not be casting blond-haired, blue eyed 13 year olds. This might very well be the window that God opened when he closed the door on our careers. Maybe I found homeschooling as a way of being more flexible and open to opportunities. Maybe Bill and I are meant to manage our lives in a way that puts the children first, rather than our financial security. Who knows?

I'm very dedicated to making sure that if it does take off, Casadie knows normalcy in her life. I will not raise the next Lindsey Lohan, I will not let acting usurp family. Homeschooling and layoffs have brought our family closer and more connected, I will not allow anything to undo that. But as I sit here, I can't help but hope that one day, I'll get to go sit in a theater, buy a tub of popcorn and a large soda, and sit down and watch my very talented, very lovable daughter act out her dream.

Yard Sale Queen

2010-12-03T13:21:00.001-05:00

As hobbies go, holding yard sales qualifies as pretty lame. So, let’s just call it an ‘alternate income source’. Well, that’s also kind of lame. Hmmm, well anyway, I’m sort of addicted. I’ve always been financially challenged, so the occasional burst of spending money after a sale is very motivating. My sales, even on their worst days tend to net me at least $300, and have even reached the stratospheric levels of $1200-$1400!

That isn’t to say though, that holding yard sales is easy. It can come with quite a bit of hassle. As someone who abhors hassle, I’ve come up with some tried and true tips for minimizing drama and problems!

1. Have a couple of willing teenagers to help. Or, at least have teenagers that you can FORCE to help. Threaten them with eviction, or use the ever-available “I gave birth to you, so you’ll darn well take a shift out here so I can get a shower” guilt trip. Just make sure to educate them on the prices you expect, so you don’t hear “Well, I *think* my Mom wants .50 for that limited edition Hummel figurine, I’m not sure. Yeah, ok...a quarter will be fine.” Also, make sure your helpers have enough street smarts to know when a person asks about a “rack”, that they don’t assume the guy is talking about the shoe rack, and instead begins walking away with your husband’s $200 storage rack that you’re using as temporary shelving. For a dollar.

2. Sell ANYTHING. Nothing is too weird, or even gross. I once had a box of junk a friend gave me, which I dumped onto a table without sorting. An hour later, a woman asked “How much?” while holding aloft a Ziploc bag of those small, pink, foam hair curlers. With hair still attached. .25 cents, baby! And I didn’t even feel guilty!

3. Speaking of stuff, GET SOME. Get so much out on your tables and lawn that people can’t possibly see it all from their car, and they’re forced to get out and shop. This way, if nothing else, your adorable 7 year old has a guaranteed customer base for her snack shack.

4. If you don’t have stuff, call in the cavalry. Your friends are usually happy to do a little spring cleaning of their own, without the hassle of going to drop off at Goodwill. I’ve been blessed with friends who have dropped off clothes, toys, stuffed animals, pots, pans, and even furniture! They claim I’m helping them, but as always, I’m touched, because their cast-offs have sent my son to Japan, and after our dual layoffs, made car payments, kept our lights on, helped Santa make it a nice Christmas morning, and even put food on our table.

5. Learn local haggling guidelines. In the Northwest, where I’m from, if you priced something at say…$5.00, the customers would generally offer half, maybe rounded down to $2. Then, they’ll good-naturedly engage is in the negotiations, and end up paying $3 or so. Everyone’s happy. In Florida, apparently a $5.00 item is only really worth 50 cents, and if you don’t immediately agree to this dramatic price drop, then the item, your house, your outfit, your hairstyle, landscaping, children, pets, the slant of your driveway and even the way you stand are the most disgusting thing/s they’ve ever had the misfortune of encountering. This is actually them being nice, though. If you happen to counter with “Um..well, no, but I’d go $4.00”, you’ll be hit with a volley of insults and muttered proclamations about your parentage. My advice here is to stick to your guns. I’d much rather GIVE the item to charity after my sale is over than sell it for a quarter, well below even it’s minimal yard-sale value. I have to have standards.

6. Have bags on hand. But keep them hidden. Apparently, yard sales have become just an outdoor version of Target. The customers noted above, when they DO score a passable bargain from me, always *demand* a bag. If I happen to not have stocked myself up in plastic bags before my sale, I’m hit with the same litany of disgusted looks again. Go green, people! I’m surprised they haven’t started asking for receipts and frequent shopper discount cards. Laminated.

7. Finally, if you buy items for your children’s snack shack, buy things you’ll enjoy eating. When it’s slow, don’t be surprised when those big blue (green/brown/hazel) eyes come batting and they say “Mom, would you like to buy a soda? Nobody is coming to my snack shack.” *blink, blink* “Yes, dear, someone gave me a quarter for that couch earlier today, and Alex got a quarter for my Hummel figurine. I’ll take a diet coke.”

The response? “Mommy. *eye roll* The sodas are $1. Don’t start with me.”

With these handy tips, you too can have a productive and successful yard sale. Just call me when you’re done, and I’ll offer you a quarter for all of your leftovers. Just be sure it comes in a bag.

100 Thankful Things-Part 4!!

2010-11-28T10:49:00.000-05:00

You've waited patiently, and here is your reward! The last 25-ish random-stream-of-consciousness items that I'm Thankful for. Now, obviously, the disclaimer here is that this certainly does not represent ALL that I'm thankful for, not in the least...it just seemed prudent to stop at 100. I hope everyone had a safe and happy Thanksgiving with all the people in their lives worth being Thankful for. I was missing a lot of wonderful people on my list, but I definitely had a good day with my peachy wonderful husband, and my 6 bountiful blessings. Now..onto Christmas!

76. For homeschooling again. Just the fact that I now have a project, a vision, a goal. That morphs and changes. This is EXACTLY what I needed to stay interested. I’m world-famous for a great idea, being very creative with it, jumping in with both feet and then abandoning it. My peachy husband and I have fought about this. Homeschooling is not just a project, it’s become a passion and a way of life. I have soapbox rants I never thought I had, goals for my girls that I never understood, and I get to justify my compulsive obsession with children’s books.

77. For fat fingers and tiny keyboards. I absolutely love trying to type my blog entries on the netbook, and having my fat fingers launch the internet, or deliver my mouse some-where mid-document. It’s fun, and yes, I’m being snarky again.

78. For my year 2000 Wedding to my fabulous husband. Yes, we paid too much, and probably could have gone a lot cheaper, but I have nothing but beautiful memories of a very unique location, everything exactly the way we envisioned it, and not one single regret or “wish we’d done this.” Again…worth every penny.

For a husband that agrees with me about point number 78. It’s adorable to me that he continues to recognize symbolic things that remind him of our wedding, or makes sure to download our wedding music to my iphone, etc. I fall in love with him a little bit more every day, even 10 years later.

79. For my brother. We’re not always as close or chummy as I’d like to be, but I loved having him for my baby brother. Yes, I forced him to act out the role of Sandy while I belted out Annie show tunes, but I know he’s forgiven me. I think. Anyway, he’s grown into a very wonderful man, solidly professional, loves his nieces and nephew and is a wonderful husband. I’m very proud of my Jer-Bear.

80. For Camp Silver Creek and camp songs. Fried Ham, Louise the elephant, Wake up Stupid birds, and When I wake up in the morning live in my heart and memory along with Barges, Within our Power, and Kum by ya (I know, spelling is way off, but’s 2:30 am on Thanksgiving morning and I thank you for forgiving me for being too lazy to look it up.) I regret that my kids have not had the same chance to experience your wonderfulness, Silver Creek, but I’m hoping to change that soon.

81. For my sister-in-law, Rita. She knows why.

82. For the potential Adrian R’Mante saw in Casadie, and for her experiences at Celebrity Actor’s Camp. Again, something expensive, but that was worth every penny. The fact that I got to drive David Deluise and Chester See to dinner in my truck was a complete bonus. I am the coolest Mom on the planet to my 7 year old, and that is worth a million bucks.

83. For you, my faithful reader. Almost done.

84. For board games. Another obsession. Oddly enough, we don’t play them nearly enough to justify my obsession with them, but nothing has more potential for fun than a brand-new, or new-to-us board game. I have a whole closet full of them, and a giant wish-list for more. I would open a game store. Or write a board game blog. Or something. Anything to actually give me the reason or excuse to buy more. I probably should play the ones I’ve got first. At least that’s what the peachy husband says. I need local friends with similar interests. Accepting applications below.

85. For junk mail. Not just any old junk mail. I am a dedicated Oregon-born environmentalist, so the random postcards for political ads, drain-cleaning, roof and gutter work, Heat-Mizer units..whatever..no way. But a damn good stack of catalogs?? Bring ‘em on. I am a list-maker, and I will dog-ear every single page and make a wish list for gifts, homeschool, myself, etc. Have I ever actually ordered anything from a catalog? Nope. But the *potential* for the perfect item exist in those pages.

86. For Aunts and Uncles. Again, not always as close as I’d like to be, but I love them just the same.

87. For my Mother-in-law. Kudos, Madame. You raised one fine individual. No criticism from me, except to say, please come visit your grandchildren. You’ll love them, and they are dying to know you. It’ll make your son happy too. The wonderful man you gave to me.

88. For People to People’s trip to Japan for my son. You put him on a plane to Japan. Which will FLY ACROSS AN OCEAN. You panic and hyperventilate a little bit. They return him to you, two weeks later, in perfect health, with 1200 pictures and a lifetime’s worth of memories. You vow that every one of your six children needs this experience. You do the math..and then you start the panicking and hyperventilating all over again.

89. For Fynnlie. You’ve earned the label “Happiest Baby on Earth”, and you’re beginning to bring a little sass and attitude to the table. Bring it on, toots. Just charm us with that adorable smile while you’re at it, and the world (as we are able) will be handed to you on a platter. Your butt-scoot instead of a crawl was the most amazing addition to baby lore in this house. I will tell that story to your future husband and all your future children. Be warned.

90. For Harry Potter land. I suppose I could have put this in the Harry Potter category waaaaay back in the beginning of this list, but it really deserves it’s own spot. Walking into Hogsmeade makes me speechless. Or Teary. Or both. Well done, Universal, for showing Disney how a land is made with love.

While we’re in Hogsmeade, I’m thankful that Brad Starr was at the Forbidden Journey ride to share in my exultation at finally getting on the ride. It was well worth the humiliation of initially being too large to ride, and then having Brad and my husband there to cheer me on, (and to let me ride again as many times as I wanted) made it the BEST experience possible!

91. For Dawson. We miss you, you beautiful Lilac-point Siamese cat. I’ve never had a cat that had true personality, at least not when interacting with me. I could hold you like a baby, you were smarter and more charming than most children. Why you scooted out the door after 10 years with us, we’ll never know..but I hope you’re well and happy. I hope you and your crazy crossed eyes are making another family happy, and I hope we’ll meet again someday in this life or in another. If pets can’t come to heaven, I’m not going.

92. For my Dad teaching me defensive driving. I have amazing “tough Dad” soundbites to deliver to my teens as they learn to drive such as “Every other driver is an idiot. Assume that.” Or “It’s not against the law to be first off the line. Punch it.” I’m an awesome driver. Though I yell a lot, my Mom says..and she also says I get that from him. Oh well. They’re all idiots out there.

93. For Gray’s Anatomy, Desperate Housewives, and LOST. Some very favorite all-time shows. More McSteamy please. Can Taylor Lautner be a patient soon? A naked one? He’s legal now, so it’s not as creepy that I adore him.

94. For my wedding ring. Bill, that peachy husband that I’ve told you about, bought me the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. Suits me perfectly. I’ve been without it a while, but recently lost enough weight to wear it again. I love declaring my marital status via a flamboyant wave of the hand. Watch me glitter, beyotch!

95. For Humor. For the ability to whip myself up into such a giddy frenzy that I become the main attraction. Those times where I am wheezing, snorting, hyperventilating, rolling on the floor are some of the most exhilarating cut-loose times in my life. Who has the ability to do that to me? Gina, Katie, Bill, and my brother Jerry, and honorary brother Shane. Mr. Bean with Gina in an empty theater around 1998 or whenever it came out= pee your pants funny. Jerry and Shane playing a mock improv version of the 25,000 pyramid..OMG. Love you all

96. For finally getting the guts to write a blog and put my innermost “me” out there for you to approve or disapprove, dissect and critique. This is a huge step for me. *golf clap*

97. For the lottery. Someday, my sweet, we will be one. Then, this blog becomes a book, self-published at the publishing house I purchase. By phone. From my chartered cruise. Surrounded by my friends who read my blog. Or facebook. and Garth Brooks. It'll be a nice day.

98. For having enough ‘stuff’ that I can sit around and be annoyed by how much ‘stuff’ we have. Toys, scrapbooking supplies, enough DVD’s to entertain the masses, enough clothes that doing laundry only once every two weeks is actually conceivable, etc. We live in excess, and need to cut it down, but I am grateful that whatever I want or need, I can generally get.

99. For everyone who thinks they were forgotten or left off this list. You weren't. But it IS 2:30am, and I may not be able to think of anything particularly profound or witty about you and our relationship at the moment. So forgive me, and I will be thankful for YOU in my head and heart.

100 For silly word processing programs that push the last paragraph over a full indent because it can’t know to put the 3-digit ‘100’ a little more to the left for consistency. Yes I’m being snarky.

100 Thankful Things-Part 3

2010-11-27T14:20:00.000-05:00

Here's part three...enjoy! Wow..look at those cool Amazon ads popping up. I wonder if you do your Amazon shopping via the link from my site, if that would generate any income. Hmmmm. :)

52. For awesome little netbooks won at work. For cool leaders who try to make a crappy job tolerable or even fun with prizes and recognition. It works. I can haz the ipad next please? Or the Volkswagen Jetta? I DID sell 7 today. Just sayin’. Top seller of 100+ reps today.

53. For cool friends who advertise my blog and tell people to read it and click on occasional ads. Every little bit helps and feeds my ever-needy ego.

54. For my husband. Somehow, I found the one man on the planet who understands my particular brand of crazy, and I married him. He’s amazing. When he’s not immersed in his own particular brand of crazy..but I love him then too. He’s peachy.

55. For my layoff. I don’t always feel this way, but it’s Thanksgiving week, and my new employer realizes that family time is important, and valuable and they sent us home to be with our loved ones. With 4 days off. Disney says “Suck it up and be grateful that you work for the number one theme park in the world.” Choke on a turkey bone today, Mickey. You used to close Disneyland on the occasional day of the week and holiday. That would be SOO refreshing now, but it will never happen.

56. For bowling. You class-less, white-trash past time. You are always fun when I finally get around to playing, you never change, except for the occasional technological advancement to the scoring system. My kids are always enthralled, and yet you smell like beer and cigarettes. It’s a conundrum.

57. For the Jungle Cruise. Because in the above item, I wanted to put “It’s a paradox”. I miss you, Skippers. Also Pirates, Carpet salespeople *snickers at name*, Riverboaters, Hoppers, and Mansion maids and butlers. If there was a job I’d take for the rest of my life, it would be as your leader. With certain people tarred and feathered and away from Disney, of course. Let me know when this happens, please.

58. For quiet test trips on the Riverboat. For Robert Brauchler, who was always willing to chat with me, but also respected my silence when I NEEDED that quiet test trip.

59. For Emmalie. Always always always a big personality. Whether Angry, Happy or Sweet, she does it ALL the way. She was a cruise ship souvenir, the best one I ever had. She’s a loving big sister, a member of the Harry Potter-Lady Gaga-Percy Jackson fan club. She’s got a gravelly voice, which reminds me of a 73 year old smoker, but she’s 3. Always a crack up.

60. For Adam Lambert. Because when singing along with “If I had you”, this 39 year old, fat mother of 6 feels cool and hip. Life is a party, it’s ecstasy!

61. For finding awesome deals. Koda the ride-on dinosaur: $400 retail. Not selling, so discounted to $200. Two weeks before Christmas, $99. SCORE 1 for the Kimball parents for waiting! The girls promptly renamed him Cupcake and someone rides him nearly every day. His battery lasted almost 2 years. He’s now a silent dinosaur, because we are too lazy to change the battery. I resolve (is it that time already??) to figure out how to change his battery this weekend.

62. For Discovery Toys. Oh, DT, what a love affair I’ve had with you for 18 mind-blowing years. There are at least 15 toys in this house that belonged to Alex, and then Bethanie, and then Casadie and then Delanie, and then Emmalie and now or soon to be Fynnlie’s. You make amazing things and I love you. Even when I can’t really sell your toys to people, because inexplicably, they’d rather pay for junk at wal-mart or on craigslist and have it last 6 weeks. You get what you pay for, and you are worth EVERY. DAMN. PENNY. www.discoverytoys.net/jenniferkimball

63. For the Wicked soundtrack. You introduced me to broadway soundtracks that are not Disney, and the “Defying Gravity” song was my F-you to Disney, sung at the top of my lungs for weeks on end after my layoff. It’s also my inspirational ‘get-ready-for-an-interview’ accompaniment.

64. For Tillamook Cheddar Cheese. Oh, you glorious brick of curdled milk, you. HOW do you manage to be heaven on earth? In your shredded form, I’d ditch the peachy husband and marry you. Because I can’t, I’ll settle for occasionally completely over-indulging and shredding nearly a pound of the stuff and eating it with Ruffles. Or stuffed all by itself into a taco shell. Or even sprinkled over spaghetti.

65. A special thank you for Albertson’s for carrying Oregon’s Tillamook Cheese. Just the one type, the one I love. Don’t you DARE close your last damn store in Orlando. I will bring some hate and hurt down on you. Seriously. I need me some cheese.

66. For Irene and the gang. Pregnant with my 6^th baby, nobody throws you a baby shower at that point. Apparently, it seems greedy. My philosophy is..keep the gifts, but let’s at least celebrate the new life. What do you people put in your baby books under “shower” for subsequent children? “Not worth welcoming to the world?” Seriously. Irene and the gang threw me a lovely shower for Fynnlie, complete with hand-made scrapbook pages to put in an album for her. Amazing. Very very touched. To the core.

67. For friends with skills. Michael Curatolo Photography…amazing work. He volunteered to do last-minute, desperately needed headshots for Casadie, even though his specialty is lingerie models and fashion photography. Imagine taking your 7 year old to a photographer that specializes in nearly naked women. He was a champ, did a lovely job and I adore the pictures of Casadie. For Terri, also a friend, who pitched in with Casadie’s hair and make-up. You rock, folks!

68. For the Mickey’s Not So Scary Halloween Party Parade. Best. Music. Ever. For. A. Disney. Parade.

69. For best friends. For those no longer in contact, to those newly reconnected, and to those who have lasted nearly a lifetime and those of recent years. You all have loved me at various points in my life, at various levels of crazy and been the crutch or sidekick I needed at the time and forevermore.

70. For my ex-husband. Honestly…thank you for being such an over-the-top asshole for 98% of our marriage. Want to know why I thank you for that? Because it allowed me to recognize Bill for what he is, simply the best man on the planet. Otherwise, I would have taken him for granted, and that would NOT have been cool. (Also, he did supply me with two beautiful kids, so I guess I can get un-snarky here for a minute and be genuine about that.)

71. For my current health. Scary stuff in 2008 definitely makes me appreciate that as much crap as I’ve done to my body over the years..(poor diet and exercise…not drugs, people..sheesh), I’m remarkably healthy and lucky.

72. For my amazing chiropractor. I am NOT exaggerating when I say that he completely restored my quality of life. I envisioned myself in a wheelchair by 45, and spent a great deal of my 30’s enduring extreme pain getting in/out of chairs, cars, toilet stalls, up stairs, down stairs, walking etc. Not only is he a miracle worker, he’s a good friend and I adore him.

73. For Mountains. I’m not joking when I tell my telemarketing customers from the Northwest that I want them to wave at Mt. Hood for me. I miss my damn mountains. All the mountains here have roller coasters running through them, and that’s only cool for a minute.

74. For friends from around the world. Working at Disney brought me into contact with the most diverse group of people I could ever hope to know. From college students to retirees, from Ohio to Britain to China to Australia...my world is smaller now. Or bigger...not quite sure how that works. But Amy..there's always an opening as a Kimball daughter for you. Or as a daughter-in-law...the boy is legal now!

75. For my husband. I monetized my blog, and he became intrigued, and he’s currently obsessed with trying to decipher all the lingo to placing ads, etc. I’m not allowed to ask you to click on ads, but for the love of god, do Bill a favor and think about it.

Also, leave me some dialogue below. Any of these Thankful things on YOUR list? Any crazy things YOU'RE thankful for that you can share? Let's make this a fun forum for all of you to play in when you stop by!

100 Thankful Things- Part 2

2010-11-26T14:29:00.001-05:00

24.For digital cameras. I used to take 6-7 rolls of film per major event/vacation day. Bless you, you 10+ megapixel creation and your endless take/delete/store/upload capabilities. Shutterbugs like me rejoice.

25.For scrapbooking. A hobby beyond compare. Creative, but can be mindless fun when I need it…I get to look at fun, beautiful, meaningful pictures in a creative way forever, and justify “me” time while creating the layouts. I love midnight crops.

26.For Piktails scrapbook store and Debbie. You are a junkie’s dream. The methlab of scrapbooking. You have everything. Or can get it. And teach me how to use it. And you let me work there. I love you.

27. For Harry Potter. You came into my life as my oldest children were beginning to veer off into their own interests. We can always connect over a good stupefy spell, plot point, or midnight opening. Thank you for continuing to entertain, so my little girls can know you in the same way. I’d adopt you, Harry. Can you save some Obliviate spells for me and a few selected targets??

28. For blue-ray technology. My husband is extremely hard to shop for. You give me new opportunities. May the lord bless the smart ones with newer technologies so I always have the chance to upgrade dear hubby’s collection of superhero movies.

29. For my mother. You are amazing. You are always there. You lend an ear, a hug, a wallet, etc. We never want for anything that is truly needed. My children are blessed to have you and your frequent flier card in their lives.

30. For my own grandparents. At nearly 40, I have been extraordinarily lucky to know my grandparents (save one) from childhood into my adult years. I have lost 3 grandfathers at this point in my life, and I’m lucky to have loved them enough to feel true suffering at their loss. I am grateful to still have my wonderful grandmothers, and love them endlessly. I’ll tack on some specific thanks here, for my Grandpa Gardner. No longer with us, he taught me many amazing things, like how to find and enjoy a securt (secret) trail, how to grow a giant pumpkin, how liberry is actually pronounced and that babies fall of the sky during a baby shower, and that’s how you pick yours out. Thanks for giving me that dance, and for telling me to follow my dream and my man to Florida. If you hadn’t given me your blessing, and promised to be my safety net, I might not have gone.

31. For my dear husband. He is still driving, and letting me write. He’s still peachy.

32. For his earlobes. He will hate me for saying this, but tugging his earlobe is a massive stress reliever for me. I am thankful that he recognizes the need to stand still and let me do it.

33. For Bethanie. A teenager, she is anything but typical. She has stepped up this year, and (mostly) without complaint, babysits endlessly for free so that Bill and I can concentrate on getting our finances back in order. She deserves a medal. After she finishes the dishes. Oh Cinderellaaaa!

34. For the IRS. Thank you for auditing us just two months after dual layoffs. Our $1200 bill for a small mistake in 2007 was just the whipped cream topping we needed. Yes, I’m being snarky. You sons of bitches.

35. For Cakewrecks. I can waste DAYS on that site. Ah-mazing. Pee-your-pants hilarious. She’s a nerd, a geek, a lover of cake. She’s ME. And yet not me. Cakewrecks.com. Get some.

36. For I-4 being mostly empty at 11:12pm on the night before Thanksgiving. At least from Orlando to Lakeland. We thought we’d take hours to get Alex picked up.

37. For USF. I gave you my son, you are turning him into a strong, independent, social creature I’ve never met before. Kind of joking, but honestly…I’m impressed. He loves it, and is wildly successful there. High Five, Bulls.

38. For my 7^th telemarketing sale today. (Wednesday) Aimee so-and-so..I salute you. You paid $99 for your vacation to Orlando, and it bumped me up a tier in my commissions, earning me an extra $350 bucks. I love you.

39. For Christmas lights. You crazy kids that get them up the day after Halloween are kind of cool. I enjoy them.

40. For Casadie. She is unique. There’s a quality there that you can’t put your finger on. She’s magnetic. Everyone loves her, and she loves everyone. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s fun to watch.

41. For the support Thomas Hawes and Leora Gallamore gave me at Guest Correspondence. I loved that job, but wanted to spread my wings. Without their support, I would never have met the wonderful Cast Members that I led in the Call Center or in Adventureland/Liberty Square.

42. For Walery’s Pizza in Salem, Oregon. Perfection on a pizza pan. You were cheap when I lived next to you and was poor. Dinner on many nights was 6.99. Now that I’m far away, and poor, I’d still pay $100 for one good, hot pepperoni pizza. Stay open forever. Pretty please.

43. For cousins. I had only one sibling, but lots of playmates several times a year. My own kids lack cousins, probably a reason that we have so many. We have a built-in extended family for down the road. My grandchildren will eventually have trillions of cousins/2^nd cousins, etc. Yay for giant Christmas get-togethers!

44. For my husband and his similar philosophy on our family size: “Why not?” *chuckle* (Honestly. That IS how the conversation goes.) Bwaahaaahaha.

45. For Viksingers Jazz Choir in High School. Hated high school, but for those two years, at 6:45 in the morning, I was part of something cool. We rocked. (or jazzed..whatever)

46. For my ridiculous imagination. I can take a small event possibility and extrapolate it out to the extreme. Like how when I win a giant lottery..YOU have an invitation to join us on our chartered cruise. This may or may not involve a special exclusive performance by Garth Brooks, who will do it because he’s in love with me, but knows that I am happily married, so will do it just to please me and love me from afar. Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner will join him on stage, shirtless. All staring at me, intensely.

47. For my husband. Who gets a chuckle out of me staring at a shirtless Robert Pattinson/Taylor Lautner. Who says “You’re going to buy that magazine aren’t you?” and shakes his head. He’s peachy.

48. For the sign on I-4 on the way to Tampa that says: “Alexander Street.” Because I’m going to Tampa to pick up MY Alexander, this always makes me giggle. I’m usually giddy with exhaustion, but I do crack myself up.

49. For Delanie. Beautiful girl, thoughtful girl, matter of fact girl. Dramatic Girl, Shy girl. My one-of-a kind dark-haired girl. My Delanie-cakes. Your concern about me being fat is both touching and insulting. Grow out of that, would you? Mommy loves you, but she also loves Spaghetti with butter. Sue me.

50. For Spaghetti with butter. Almost forgot that one. Have to thank my Mom for serving it to me as a child. It’s a simple pleasure, and makes me officially a cheap date. Albeit a picky one.

51. For you, dear reader. Halfway there! (and then some!) More to come tomorrow!

100 Thankful Things-Part 1

2010-11-25T11:56:00.001-05:00

I so admired my friends that had the time and the mental acuity to diligently post their “thankful” things over the last month or so. Some were faithful and did it every single day, some let it add up and did a few at at time. I am not always as thankful as I should be. I do try to see the positive, but my mother will tell you, that from a very young age, I was either up or down. It’s feast or famine with me, a veritable roller-coaster ride. When there’s a bump in the road, I can malinger over it for days, and yet, in the next instant, be lovable, excited and so gosh dang adorable you might as well call me a muppet. It’s what gives me my charm. Or so I’m told. So I’ll do my best to stay on topic and just tell you what I’m thankful for, so sit back after a good Turkey dinner, unbutton the top button and hopefully see a little bit of this list in your life.

1. That my computer is working today and seems to be letting me save this document so far. That’s a pretty big win on some days.

2. That I have a job. Many don’t, I didn’t for a long while, and although it’s a hateful, miserable job and 95% of the people I talk to hate me to the very core, it’s presently doing a marvelous job of helping us slowly get back on our feet. So, although I can’t complain about that, I will from time to time. A job this miserable deserves equal treatment.

3. That I’m being recognized as someone with potential at this miserable job. I love the company, love the people, and when I achieve the rank of leader, I’ll be more than able to help my agents deal with the stress. Why? Because I’ll have been there. I’ll understand.

1. 4. For IPhone. Never have I felt my phone was such a lifeline until I got my iPhone. I would DIE without it. I’m sure of it. As if it had electrodes wired from the phone to a pacemaker in my heart. Phone lost..game over for Jenn. I’m pretty sure this has to do with me being able to access facebook whenever I want.

1. 5. For Facebook. Not only did this serve as my tin can on a string to stay in touch with my cast members after my layoff, but it now keeps me entertained at the above-mentioned miserable job. Friend me!

1. 6. For Packrat. This is related to facebook, but deserves its own thank you. It’s a game, one that I was/am addicted to. I’m dedicated to making sure I never miss a collection. It’s ridiculous, but it’s mindless fun. Now, I share this mindless fun with my husband and daughter, who keep me up-to-date when I can’t.

1. 7. For homeschooling. Never have I spent so much time with my children. (How did I manage to have 6?? Where did they all come from??) I enjoy trying to figure out what will inspire each child the most and finding a way to implement it. Yes, I sometimes throw worksheets at them to keep them quiet, but they love worksheets. Yes they do.

8. For Lady Gaga’s Pokerface. For the endless giggles that watching and listening to a 7, 4, 3, and 1 year old sing “I’m not bluffin’ with my muffin” or “Cherry Mine! Cherry Mine! Poker face!” inspires. I salute you, Madam.

9. For the fact that my old minivan is running well today. Yes, just today. The Expedition seems to be having issues, so the old faithful sienna will have to make the trip to Tampa to get my son from college for Thanksgiving. “I think I can, I think I can”

1.

10. For children’s books. There’s nothing so wonderful as a giant stack of children’s books to sort through. To smell, to turn the pages, to reveal the story a little bit at a time without glare, without batteries, etc. New, young parents…please don’t ever underestimate the value of holding a child in your lap and making Grover voices while reading the “Monster at the End of the Book.” Ever been a hero? You will be when you read that.

. 11.For the new, Giant Toys R Us at Milennia Mall. Just heaven. Love it.

. 12. For my husband. He’ll pop up here again and again, I’m sure, but at the moment, I love that he’s ok with driving while I write this list in relative silence. He’s peachy.

. 13. For my cool dining room table booth. This came from a friend, Carol, so I’ll say here that I also thank her for everything over the years. My girls are outfitted in stylish clothes, and a good 95% of these were hand-me-downs from her two adorable granddaughters.

14. For Orlando Circus School, and specifically Andrei and Victor. They have ignited a passion in Casadie for Cirque arts, that I could never have known existed. They throw and launch my baby through the air in ways that could be imminently dangerous at any moment. That they are generous people who have allowed Casadie to continue even when it’s financially difficult (impossible) to continue. Spasibo my friends.

15. For 5 beautiful daughters. Each of them aggravates me in different ways on different days. Each is a unique and wonderful addition to the family. You make me more because you exist.

. 16. For my handsome son, Alex. You may be the only boy, but you fill the role wonderfully. You make us proud. We’ve had our rough spots, and I nearly beat the Asperger’s out of you, but you’ve blossomed. When you invent time travel, can I have a couple of trips though, just to enjoy you as a baby..back when it was just you and me against the world? Those were nice times, my little fud-puddler.

1. 17. For Ikea. Does this really need an explanation? Just walking in the door is exhilarating. I need an unlimited credit card. NOW.

1. 18. That we’ve managed to hang on to the house through our last couple of years of financial hardship. Can you imagine trying to move 8 people, 1 dog and two cats in the midst of foreclosure? Ugh. This may not last, we’re not out of the woods yet, but I’m thankful we’ve lasted as long as we have.

1. 19. For yard sales. See number 18. Yard sales are a big part of why 18 exists. Selling stuff is hard, but fun. Friends who bring their junk for us to sell help us far more than they realize. Keep the junk coming folks. Another sale is on it’s way!

1. 20. For you, dear reader. You’re a 5^th of the way through! Yay!

1. 21. For sharpened pencils and adequate erasers. For the Sudoku that gets me through my shift. For Bethany Glazewski for teaching me Sudoku.

. 22. For the word “Snarky”. I love this word. I am snarky. Quit being snarky. What a snarky bitch. The computer/car/kid/television/phone/dvd player is being snarky. It works anywhere.

23. For being able to put a certain former supervisor in his place over the existence of the word snarky. I know more obscure words than you’ve ever heard in your lifetime. Yes, this is me being snarky.

Ok, I'm about a quarter of the way through. Stay tuned on Friday for Part 2! Enjoy your Turkey coma today!

My Lovely Alphabet

2010-11-23T12:57:00.001-05:00

There are many patterns in life, both natural and man-made. Some are aesthetic, some are mathematical and some were designed with safety in mind. Still others are so amazing in their accidental beauty, that it takes your breath away.

One area in which you must be very careful in starting patterns is in naming your children. You can get into dicey territory when you have more children than you originally thought you’d have, and you can run short on options. My maiden name was Jeldness, and both my brother and I have names that start with ‘J’. Jennifer Jeldness. Just the alliteration of this name alone earned me nicknames like ‘Jenny Jello-head’ when I was a kid. Not sure how my brother fared. But how many more ‘J’s, that sounded good with Jeldness could my mother have come up with? The Duggars went down this path back when they saw only a handful of children in their future. But now that they are letting God decide their family size, do you know how hard it is to find 20 names in one letter that you like? That sound good with ‘Duggar’? Thank goodness they didn’t start with ‘Q’!

Our family pattern-alphabetical names-started out innocently enough. For those of you who don’t know my family, they are, in order: Alex, Bethanie, Casadie, Delanie, Emmalie and Fynnlie. Alex and Beth were born during my tumultuous first marriage, and there were never any plans to expand that family. Those names were alphabetical completely by accident..in fact, Bethanie’s name was almost Amberly. But when Alex was little, I would always tease him gently, and say “Mommy should have another baby and name it with a ‘C’, so I’d have Mommy’s ABC’s Cute, huh?

Cut to several years later, remarried to a wonderful man-with whom I’d happily repopulate the earth if ever a comet decimates the masses. You’re welcome. Anyway, this brilliant 1^st child of mine, with a photographic memory (at times) asks his newly pregnant mother “So, are you going to name it with a ‘C’ so you have your ABC’s? And with that, a pattern was born. We scoured name books, and found several wonderful options. When we discovered our precious baby was a girl, we began to narrow the list. Cassidy was a favorite name from a tv show, so we decided to go with it. But it needed tweaking. You see, there was one more pattern to deal with. I loved that Bethanie’s name ended with ‘ie’, and thought because they were sisters, it would be cute if they matched. (Boys names do not need to follow this IE pattern.) So I played with it. Cassidie, Cassadie, Casidie, Casadie, and so on.

Casadie Kimball it was!

And then….

Delanie Kimball

Emmalie Kimball

Both of these so easy. One glance at a name book, they popped out and we knew it instantly. They were both converted to their ‘ie’ versions easily and beautifully. In fact, I mentioned in a previous post that E’s name was laughingly decided was we drove home from the hospital, with our brand new Delanie in the backseat. “So, what’ll we name the next one?” Erickson Kimball, or Emmalie Kimball. Done. 11 months later, Emmalie joined our family. Eazy Peazy. No need to go any farther, right?

August 2008. Decisions to be made. Go for it, or don’t. Six is crazy, right? Well, I’d just been through a major hospitalization and surgery, and it was very scary stuff. My employer’s reaction to my long-term absence was less than positive, and it was causing me to reprioritize my life. We decided that our children were our greatest joy so why not invite MORE joy into our lives? So, with decision made, the hunt was on. “F”. No disrespect to those out there with lovely and wonderful ‘F’ names. There’s just a lack of contemporary, feminine ‘F’ options. Even for boys, Frederick, Francis, Frank, just not our style. We did like ‘Ford’ for a boy. But I challenge you, my loyal readers, to find an “F” girls name that could end in an LY or IE. It cannot be a nick-name as a first name “Frankie, Francie” I had nearly 300 cast members at Disney involved in working on this.

We even briefly considered abandoning the pattern…but thought about how the child would feel not being part of the plan. I also had a friend who was adamant that our patterning was ridiculous, but he was equally appalled that we would consider abandoning it. I heard this opinion daily. He still can't say our baby's name without equal amounts of humor and disgust. His repeated statement. "I don't support that."

We finally settled on Fynnlie. It was a choice widely debated, because Fynn is generally listed as a boy’s name, but we do adore it. Finley is growing in popularity for girls, so it’s not such a stretch to imagine more Fynnlie’s in the world. In fact, there was a Fynnlie, spelled the same way, born 2 hours after our Fynnlie, in the same hospital. Our beautiful Fynnlie is a credit to the name. Always happy, she has taken to the name with grace and finesse. It suits her.

For those who ask me “So, are you going for a whole alphabet?” Maybe I am. Maybe I’ll be the first person on the planet to have 26 kids for the sole purpose of completing a pattern. For your reading pleasure, here’s a quick rundown of some top choices for the rest of the alphabet. There are holes here, and this does not obligate me to stick with these choices should the letter ever be needed.

G- (g) Gracie (b) Grayson

H- (g) Hadlie or Harlie (b) Harrison

I-

J- (g)Jacie (b)Jackson or Jaxon or Jameson

K-(g) Kennedie

L- (g) Lexie (b) Landon

M- (g) Macie, Mallorie, Maralie, McKinlie (b) Michael

N- (g) Natalie (b) Nicholas

O- (b) Owen

P- (g) Preslie (b) Parker

Q- (g) Quinnlie (b) Quinn

R- (g) Rylie (b) Ray, Reese

S- (g) Sydnie (b) Sawyer

T- (b) Tristan

U-

V- (g) Valarie

W- (g) Whitnie (b) William, Walker, Wyatt

X- (b) Xander

Y-

Z- (g) Zoie (b) Zachary

There you have it. Suggestions for adding to the list welcome! Leave me a comment with any patterns or traditions for naming your children that you’ve followed. Was it a joy to follow, or did the need to name your child something specific cause you to pause?

Bethanie's Robot

2010-11-20T01:26:00.001-05:00

As parents, I’m sure we all deal with unusual requests from our children. From the simple, “I want all my food to be orange,” to the unfulfillable “Can we visit Barbie in her castle at the North Pole?” Honestly, I remember circling EVERYTHING in the Sears Wish book, and handing it over proudly to my Mother. Although, I’m not entirely clear on whether I was actually expecting everything in the book to be under the tree, or if I simply wanted to give Santa a good variety of wonderful things to choose from.

Heck, I’ll even admit that at 15, my best friend and I found a house for sale. We absolutely felt it was the best idea in the whole world to have our parents BUY US THE HOUSE, and let us live there. As roommates. At 15 years old. Our justification for this request was that we wouldn’t fight as much with our parents if we lived on our own. We actually thought they’d go for this, or at least I did..maybe Kristin was more realistic. It was a block and a half from her house, and we just KNEW that her Dad could adequately supervise us from a block away. There was endless dramatic begging, pleading and reasoning for weeks on end, until the house finally sold to some other lucky buyer, presumably of legal age. This made our request a moot point, and eventually we lost interest. Now, to give me credit, I still maintain that at the $30,000-40,000 asking price of 1986, it would have been a good investment. *wink, wink*

Today, with my own kids, I see examples of these unusual requests, but not normally on such a grand scale. I’ve been asked for two birthday cakes-with two different themes, which was indulgent of us, but doable. Or we’re asked for another baby sister or even a brother, which is certainly conceivable. *snort* I even get asked for daily field trips in our homeschool. Unrealistic, certainly, but easily deferred and replaced by another fun activity.

My oldest daughter, though, dreams big~just like her mother. 15 now, she’s never easily defeated, is pleasantly persistent, and is certainly self-confident and assertive with what she wants. One day, however, she stated she wanted to build a robot. She came to me, all of 7 or 8 years old, with a sketch in hand.

“Mom, I want to build a robot.”

“That’s wonderful Beth! I’m sure you will someday. You can do anything you set out to do when you grow up.” (We have a very supportive parenting philosophy.)

“I want to build it now.”

“Oh. Ok sweetheart..why don’t you go borrow Alex’s Legos. I can’t wait to see it!”

“No, I want to build a REAL robot.”~complete with eye roll and pleading voice.

“Oh, I see. Well, sweetie, I’m not sure how to build a robot” (keep in mind, this is before we homeschooled and I was clueless about ideas and resources. If this question popped up now, I’d simply log into my yahoo account, slap a question on the homeschool board, and 15 minutes later, I’d have a list of parts, lesson plans, objectives and scope/sequence).

“Why don’t you draw me a picture of the robot you want to build, and we can research how to do it later?” *Big supportive Smiley Face.~see the beginnings of a homeschool Mom here?

“No, I want to build it NOW!”

“Ummm..honey..what do you want to build it out of?” *slightly less supportive, but hopeful for a reasonable response*

“Parts from the junkyard. We can go buy them right now!” *you can practically hear the Duh Mom in this statement, can’t ya?

“Ummm” *facepalm* (keep in mind, it’s 6pm on a weekday, and Beth has never been to, or even SEEN a junkyard at this point in her young life. I wouldn’t even know where to FIND a junkyard, nor would any amount of junkyard pieces fit in our then-tiny apartment.)

“Bethanie, sweetheart, we can’t go to a junkyard tonight. They’re closed. Why don’t you draw it exactly how you want it, and then build a model out of Play-Dough or Legos, and then we can make a list of what we need and go to the craft store, or the , junkyard in a few days.

“No, I wanna build it now. Why can’t we go to the junkyard NOW?” (not angry, but honestly confused and pleading.)

“Beth. It’s late and we don’t know what you need.”

“Wires and metal plates. And some screws.” Duh Mom strikes again

“Sweetie, that all seems very reasonable and correct, but first, it costs money. Second, we don’t know how to connect it. Third, we don’t have any tools.”

“But Dad has a hammer and a screwdriver.”

*facepalm*

This conversation goes on for 20 minutes with me alternately extraordinarily amused by her insistence and innocence, and being ridiculously exasperated at her unyielding persistence.

I’m positive it ended something like this:

“OH MY GAWD, we canNOT go to a junkyard right this minute, for heaven’s sake. Now, either go draw me a picture of this super-cool robot, or go get your pajamas on-but just drop it ok?????!!??

Quietly: “Okaaay Mom, but can we go to the junkyard before school tomorrow?”

AAAAAAGGGHHHH!

Just think. If my Mom had bought me that house, I could have used the equity to buy her some highly advanced robot kit from Radio Shack, along with some extra parts from the junkyard. I think I’ll just blame all this on the stonewalling Kristin and I got from our parents. Thanks a lot guys, for killing a little girl’s robot dream. Good job. *eye roll*

So, what's the craziest thing YOUR kids have ever requested? Or did you have unreasonable demands as a child that you're only now recognizing as you grow up and understand your parent's point of view? Anyone letting their 15 year olds live in a nearby home?

Sitcom Shenanigans

2010-11-18T12:12:00.001-05:00

You know those over-the-top moments from sitcoms that just don’t happen in real life? Ponder Lucille Ball stuffing chocolates in her mouth in I Love Lucy, or Joey and Chandler chasing the bus down the street after they left Ross’s baby on the bus? Things like that never happen right? Let me share with you one such moment from the Kimball household.

About 5 years ago, so keep in mind I only had 3 children back then. Life should have have been calm, idyllic, wondrous. *Snort* I can’t even WRITE that with a straight face. So, about 5 years ago, I came home from work in the afternoon. Bill was going to pick up the baby (Casadie) from daycare, so I just went straight home to spend a few nice moments with my older children. I brought in the mail, and stood in the kitchen going through it as the kids came downstairs. We chatted while I sorted junk from bills, none of us aware of what was truly going on in our house. In our kitchen. Where we were standing. Completely oblivious.

Out of the corner of my eye, I sensed movement. I think I looked once, and then back at the mail. I would like to believe that I didn’t actually see it, but really, I think I DID see it, but my brain refused to cooperate. So it took another several long seconds before the movement prompted me to look again. THIS time, my brain believed. I understood what was happening. The ENTIRE KITCHEN AREA WAS FILLED WITH SUDS. I turned, stared open-mouthed until the kids caught on and also turned to look. We stood there in complete and utter shock. Stared at suds that came out from the dishwasher, and slithered along the floor. It had filled an area about 8 feet wide, and had come about 7 feet out from the dishwasher. The suds were roughly 4 feet high. I am not joking. This means I had approximately 224 cubic feet of soapsuds. In my kitchen. And growing. This is not something one just fixes. First, you panic. Quietly, so as not to scare the kids. Then, you bust out laughing, because you realize it’s straight out of a sitcom, and this will make a great blog post someday when you have a blog. 5 years in the future. Or at least, you can make Stacy, your friend at work, nearly fall out of her chair with laughter when you tell the story the next day.

Next, you turn to your daughter, who very sweetly offered earlier in the day to run the dishwasher for you. “Sweetie..did you start the dishwasher?”

“Yes, Mom..I did.”

“So..sweetie..what did you DO?..I mean..that 300 square feet of suds isn’t normal, you understand..”

“I don’t know Mom..I just put the dishes in, filled the soap dish with Dawn, and pushed start.”

“You. Used. Dawn.”

“Yes, the dishwashing liquid.”

“You. Used. Dawn. Liquid. Dawn.”

“Yes.”

“@#$%^&&*$!!! YOU NEVER USE DAWN!! OH MY GAWD.”

“Ok..Mommy is calmer now. Let’s just clean this up. Alex. Go get all the towels from upstairs.”

THIS is when my son chooses to respond very matter-of-factly with “Why should I have to get any towels? Bethanie is the one who did it?!”

Now, when your kitchen contains 400 square feet of suds (I might be exaggerating by now), there’s not a lot of time for a calmly composed lecture of shared familial responsibility, partnership, coming together in a crisis, lending a helping hand to one another, etc.

There IS time to scream. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? THE KITCHEN IS FLOODING WITH SOAP SUDS, AND YOU ARE UNWILLING TO HELP??? GET ME THE @#$^$@@ TOWELS NOW SON!”

Much hilarity and enjoyment of a kitchen full of soapsuds was lost amongst this little temper tantrum of mine. So a word of warning: If you are a 13 year old teenage boy, and your Mom seems pretty calm about the kitchen being filled with soap suds, tread lightly. Your Mom is probably not as calm as she seems, and everyone working together quickly may help her to stay sane.

Second word of warning. When your Momma told you that liquid soap is not appropriate for a dishwasher, she was right. It took 17 empty loads to finally clear the dishwasher of the residue and get back to normal washing.

If only Bill had walked in the door at that moment and said in his best Ricky Ricardo voice..”Oh Jeeeeennniffferrrrrrrr!”

A Day in My Life

2010-11-17T14:29:00.000-05:00

I’m often asked “how do you do it ALL??”. This questions is usually asked in hushed, breathless tones, with wide eyes, as though the cape fluttering behind my back is awe-inspiring, and must be treated with reverence. If the questioner would look a little closer, however, they’d see the cape is slightly wrinkled, a button is missing from the left shoulder, there’s a pizza sauce stain in the middle, the dog chewed the bottom corner, it’s covered in cat hair, and it smells faintly of baby puke. It DOES flutter nicely though in a stiff breeze.

The people who ask me that question, never seem to believe me when I say “I DON’T get it all done. My house is a mess, I’m disorganized, and rather lazy.” Here is the proof.

12:01am. Since a day technically starts at midnight, we’ll begin here. I’m trying to get off of facebook, and finish watching a dvr’d episode of Grey’s Anatomy with my hubby. As I’m still awake and on a buzz from my work shift, I’ll sometimes sit at the homeschool table and try to organize things for the next couple of days. I’ll flit between that and facebook (I’m addicted) until 2am…..Ok..wait, that just seems like a pathetic start to a “day”, so let’s actually start in the morning. It’ll be more inspiring.

8:00am. This is when my alarm is set. Wake up to the pleasantries that are 105.1. Why oh why did they fire Erika??

8:03am Hit the snooze..9 more minutes!

8:12am Alarm goes off again. Appliance Direct Commercial is playing, UGH

8:12:01am SNOOZE that guy right off the airwaves

8:21am Alarm goes off AGAIN. Dammit! Why can’t snoozes be set for 20 minutes? Why 9? That’s stupid!

8:23 Get up, listen at the door. Silence, means the girls are still sleeping. Score! Reset the alarm for 9:30am. Just this once. I NEED the extra sleep today.

9:30am Alarm goes off –hit snooze immediately

9:39am OH ALL RIGHT! I’m UP! Check to make sure Bethanie is up, she’ll get Fynnlie up and get breakfast started for the girls while Bill and I take our showers.

10:15am –Emerge triumphantly from the room, ready to begin the day! Find the living room in shambles, couch cushions on the floor serving as seats for the girls as they eat their cereal and/or waffles in front of the tv. Today’s offering is the Karate Kid, (1980’s) version, and it’s near the end. The girls, still in pajamas (agh!) gather to recreate the signature “crane” move, complete with hummed soundtrack and crowd effects. I sit down to catch up on facebook and wait until it’s over. Spoiler Alert** Daniel LaRusso wins the match!

10:30am Begin the first attempts to get the girls dressed. Bethanie has brought down clothes, and Emmalie/Delanie begin arguing which is theirs. They wear similar sizes, so they often want what the other is wearing. The next 15 minutes will be spent asking, telling, demanding, trading, and threatening.

10:45am The girls are dressed! Wahoo! I am so surprised it’s finally happened, and mentally drained by this process, it’s time for a break. Let’s upload some photos to facebook and see how many hits my blog has gotten!

11:15am. Ok, time to get to work. Call Casadie over to the homeschool table. Call her again. And again. She loves her schoolwork, but she’s been captured by the Nintendo Monster, and is presently obsessed with her DS. It’s time for spelling, and she’s finally arrived. This quick list of words *should* take less than 10 minutes, but Fynnlie keeps coming over and reaching up to steal crayons or grab Casadie’s paper off the table. Bethanie would normally get her for me, but she’s just left to walk to Freedom High for choir, so for now I’m on my own. Bill’s running an errand to get some milk. So it’s one spelling word-chase the baby. Two spelling words-fish crayon out of her mouth, etc.

11:45am- Gather all the girls to read aloud about wasps and scorpions. It’s on the schedule, and even though the girls find them gross, I feel like they should at least learn some basics about ‘gross things’. So I forge ahead, over cries of “Ewwwww, that’s disgusting!!” or “I HATE WAPSES!” or “Mom, we’re getting those nests back outside, guess it’s time for Daddy to spray again?”

12:00pm “Yay paint!” The girls can smell paint for a mile away, and they swarm like, well, wasps! They love to paint, so the next several minutes are very pleasant. Project days are always exciting

12:30pm Put paint away. Spend the next 20-30 minutes cleaning paint off of paint brushes, tables, hands, baby’s face and mouth, the sliding glass door, and inexplicably, the ceiling fan. (Oh, who are we kidding..I’ve never cleaned the ceiling fan.)

1:00pm OH NO! Forgot about the laundry. I was going to do 3 loads today. Make my way upstairs (who builds houses with the laundry room upstairs?? Idiots) *sigh*, just able to “fluff” the dryer.. Definitely not getting three loads done today.

1:15pm Pull crayon out of Fynnlie’s mouth

1:17pm Watch with relief as Fynnlie finishes her tantrum after pulling crayon out of her mouth.

1:25pm Flop into computer chair. There’s no time to get anything else done before I have to get ready for work, so I pop in a “Signing Time with Alex and Leah” in. All of the girls enjoy learning sign, but Delanie is REALLY getting into signing. Make mental note to try and find an actual class for her.

2:00pm Eat lunch. Mental prep time for work. Hard to prep oneself for complete and utter rejection and spewed hatred for 6.5 hours, but I do my best.

3:15pm Leave for work. At the door, I must submit to Kissy-Huggy requests from 3 of my girls, try to keep Fynnlie from escaping, and bark last minute suggestions and requests at Bethanie for her evening with the girls.

4:00pm Work starts with group cheers, challenges to beat the dayshift, or the Las Vegas office, etc. The adrenaline push is ON.

4:03pm- Log into my first call-answering machine

2^nd call-“Dammit I’M ON THE DO NOT CALL LIST!!!”

3^rd call- “Not interested!”

15^th call-“Not interested!” (see any patterns?)

37^th call- *Might* be interested in Orlando.. “Is it free? If not, burn in hell!”

102^nd call- Whoohoo..finally a sale!

10:30pm Beaten, exhausted, emotionally drained, I take my last call. OF COURSE this will be the one pleasant, talkative Guest who indicates interest..so I stay on the line for 45 minutes. More often than not, this will still not be a sale. Yay for unpaid conversation with someone for 45 minutes.

11:15-Drive home, grumpy and unfulfilled in my ‘career’. At least the girls will be in bed when I get home and the house will be quiet.

11:30pm **Those mothers who get their children to bed by 8:00 need to look away (This means YOU Katie!) Girls are in pajamas, but they convinced Bethanie to put in Percy Jackson and the Olympians at 10pm. It’s still on, because they stopped and repeatedly played the Casino part, so they could dance to Lady Gaga’s “Pokerface” At least when they get to bed by midnight, they sleep in, so they still get their 9-10 hours. I promise.

12:00am- All girls down, and I’m tired, but still wired from my shift. I’ll just watch a little Desperate Housewives while I check my email and facebook. But I’ll definitely go to bed by 1am. I promise.

2:15am- Turn off the computer monitor, set alarm for 8:00am. Definitely going to get up at 8 tomorrow, so I can start early and hopefully get in a better pattern.

REPEAT-Endlessly.

**This representation of an actual day may vary. No substitutions, or refunds.