Monkeys and chaos

Sometimes my kids are up and active when I'm trying to make jewelry (as opposed to how I used to do it -- when they were napping -- but those days are seemingly long gone). I do my best to keep them occupied with something productive while also keeping an eagle eye on them. If you're a parent, you know how quickly things can go from perfect to pandemonium in a wee couple of minutes.

In my life, it happens when I'm on the phone.

Meet my youngest child.

A serious flirt.

And mischief maker.

And he eats....A LOT. In fact, if you ask him, he will tell you his name is Chunky Monkey.

His father and I are completely prepared to get the phone call from school one day that he has run his underwear up a flagpole.

(And is using his charm and good looks to get out of having to scrub the entire cafeteria floor as his punishment.)










Why am I worried about such things at such a young and sweet and tender age? Because of what he can do with a couple of markers in just three minutes.

Who knew that in the time it takes to take a phone order from a customer that you can paint your hands with a marker.

And if that wasn't enough, he wanted to show me his artistic talent and could use the complimentary color orange on his arms to set off the color purple on his hands. (If you're trying to calculate a score for this masterpiece, using two colors in under three minutes does increase the difficulty factor by 0.3).

So if you ever call to ask a question, place an order, or just otherwise chit-chat, remind me to check on Chunky Monkey and make sure I have all marking elements (including my collection of 64 different colors of Sharpies) in my possession.

(By the way, I can't wait to get a note from school today asking me to keep my child home until his fungus has resolved.)

What food means in this house #BAD11 #FoodDay

Food is more than just food in this house.  It's been a way for me to connect with my family.  I never would have guessed that 3 little boys would love helping their mom in the kitchen, but they do.... and I have found that I adore having them with me.  I knew from when they were just crumb crunchers scooting around on the floor that I wanted them to learn how to cook so that they wouldn't starve when they went off to college, but I didn't know that it was going to be a fun time for us to bond and grow as a family.  Who knew that teaching life skills would be just as valuable to me as it is to them.  You can catch up with some of my food related posts here:

Brownie Making Day

Breakfast Casserole Recipe

My favorite Malbec wine

Death by Chocolate recipe

Iron Chef and foodporn

My review of Food Network Magazine

My wine indulgence

Thankful Thursday

Thanks to Nancy Grossi and her blog Wife of a Dairyman, I am now inspired to write a Thankful Thursday post.  While the Thursday rant was cheaper than a therapist, I think I need to go on a different path. 

Wait, a minute...I've got one more rant in me. 

If you remember back from a few months ago, I lamented like a really old woman about what's going on with this generation.  We are once AGAIN looking for another babysitter (maybe my kids aren't as well behaved as I thought), and imagine my surprise when the first girl I interviewed this time was a really, really good fit.  She was ready to take the job until I explained I needed a copy of her social security card so that I could file this with the IRS and pay the taxes and such.

"Oh, so this is like a real job.  Taxes are a lot of money.  I don't think I'm interested."

Yes, this is a real job.  Yes, taxes are a lot of money.  and by the way, YES, it's the law.

Do you think you can run that by Target or Macy's?  "I really want this job, but ya know, paying those taxes is a big burden on me.  Can we just not do that?"

Wow, I feel better.  Maybe I'll just have to do mix it up a bit with being thankful.

Who is doing 45 in the hammer lane?

*This is a part of the Thursday rant series, a tongue in cheek look at my life.*

Not really my car, but something tells me I would like driving this one.

There's a section of 4 lane highway north of Gainesville that I drive regularly.  When I've got my kids with me, I am definitely the high school, driver's ed, my parents are watching me, state cop is behind my car, defensive driver.  Very careful.  Speed limit.  Signals.  Both hands at 10 and 2. 

When it's just me....

Watch out.  I'm a bat out of hell.  Running behind.  Mashing the accelerator.  Burning fossil fuel.

It seems that when I'm in 'bat out of hell' mode, AND on this section of road, I run into someone going 10 miles under the speed limit in the left lane.  EVERY time.  I don't run into this on other roads or even the interstate.  If I didn't know better, I would say I died and this is my eternity now.  I'm sure this is a sign to leave the house earlier or get back into old lady sitting on a phone book to see over the steering wheel mode, but I'm not listening. 

Good thing I watch NASCAR with my boys.  Picked up a few driving tips to deal with this.

I got nothing

*This is a part of the Thursday rant series, a tongue in cheek look at my life.*

For those of you who are regular to my blog on Thursdays, you know I find something crazy in my life to write about.

Not today.  Nothing to rant about.  No complaints.  Nada.

Things are going pretty good.  Really, I don't have any complaints.  My kids are good (not perfect, but good).  Hubby is a great help.  My business is doing well, especially considering the economy.

Yeah, nothing to complain about here.

Not this week anyway.  Check back next Thursday.  I'm sure there will be some sarcastic banter somewhere in me waiting to get out.

Go the F**k to sleep

*This is a part of the Thursday rant series, a tongue in cheek look at my life.*

Have you heard anything about this book?  The first I heard of it was about a month and a half ago when it was mentioned in the American Public Media Marketplace podcast I was listening to that day.  Host Kai Ryssdal ended that day's podcast by reading an excerpt of the book.

I SCREAMED laughing.  Out loud.  Hard.  Belly laugh.  Like the kind that anyone near you wonders if you're having a seizure and in need of medical attention or if you just blew a pop tart out through your nose.

Does that make me a bad parent?  Apparently, there is a subset of the parenting world that thinks so.

A little more background on the book here:  it's designed like a children's book -- illustrations, short, rhyming sentences, big print.  But of course, it's only meant to be read by the adults.  I bought a copy for hubby for Father's Day.  We both laughed so hard.  Really hard.  In fact, he thought it was a great gift.

Have I ever thought those exact words?  Does that mean that I would ever say that to them out loud?  No is the answer on both counts.  But that doesn't mean I haven't thought to myself on more than one occasion, "are you really sure you need to be awake right now???!!!???"

So for those of you parents that think this book is a production of the antichrist, may I congratulate you for being PERFECT.  As for me, I'll keep nurturing my warped sense of humor.

I hate grocery shopping

*This is a part of the Thursday rant series, a tongue in cheek look at my life.*

I've been asked a time or two just how I get everything done in my day.  One thing that helps (that took me a couple of years to realize) is that hubby does all the grocery shopping.  Now before you go all, "Aww" on me, it's really not a huge deal for him since he works there.  He's a bit of a bargain hound and knows where everything is.  This past Sunday was the first time in awhile that I've had to go to the grocery store with more than three items on my list.  (It was Father's Day after all, so he deserved that day off.)

Three little boys had to go with me as well.

Crikey.

What would have been a 7 or 8 minute trip for him turned into about to be 45 minutes for me, not to mention that I didn't get everything on the list.

I won't go into everything, but here's a few of my complaints:

• Why can't every store be laid out the same?  (He works for a chain grocery store and hears this complaint from others as well.)
• Why can't all of the same item be in one place?  I shouldn't have to look for ready made mashed potatoes in the dairy and meat sections.
• There needs to be a big cage on wheels that I can put the peeps in.  Is that legal?

What bugs you about shopping?

What do you hate about shopping online?

I briefly mentioned last week about a few studio projects I'm working on.  One of those projects is upgrading KMS Designs.  It will, for the most part, look almost exactly the same.  Where the big changes come in to play is a better shopping cart system.  Which begs the question:

What do you hate about shopping online?

I'm going to add features I think will make the process better, but I don't want to miss anything.  Here's a few of the online shopping mistakes that I want to avoid with my new shopping cart:

• General glitches and errors.  You shouldn't have to be constantly reloading pages.
• Requiring as little as information as possible.  With all the computer security breaches nowadays, you have to wonder if your information will ever be safe again.
• Easily findable information.  You shouldn't have to hunt an peck for what you want to know.

So, what's important to you?  SERIOUSLY, I want to know.  I've been doing this long enough that I'm afraid I'm missing something.  Please leave any and all comments in the box below.  (If you don't want your ideas made public, just drop me an email to kmsdesigns@hotmail.com.)

Your feedback is helpful and appreciated!

Is it okay to bring uninvited kids to a party?

*This is a part of the Thursday rant series, a tongue in cheek look at my life.*

Warning, this is another of a "not really a rant" posting.  This one is somewhere between an etiquette concern and overreaction to how a party invitation was addressed.  Please comment.  Seriously.

I took my oldest two peeps to a birthday party this past weekend at a kids recreation center.  The birthday invitation came with the oldest two peeps name on it, not my youngest peep.  My older two peeps are in the same class in preschool; the invitation was for everyone in the class.  I had no expectations that the youngest peep would be on the invitation.

I got a gift to take and the older peeps were excited to go.  I lined up a babysitter for the youngest peep.

I was a bit surprised when I got to the party.

Their classmates were there, along with some of their classmates' siblings.  Now I don't know the full story; maybe the other siblings were on the invitation.  Maybe those families are all good friends and were not.  (not crying here -- I'm a big girl.)  Personally, I just wasn't going to bring my child to a party he wasn't specifically invited to.  I'm sure the family hosting the party had to pay on a per person basis for everyone in attendance and I just didn't think it was appropriate to save me the cost of a babysitter and bring baby peep.

Am I overreacting?  Do you ever ask to bring the other child?  Do you ask and offer to pay the difference?  Or do you just assume it's okay to bring extras?

Science activities for kids

My sister called before Easter and asked what my boys wanted for a gift.  The first thing out of my mouth was what they didn't need:  MORE TOYS!  Our house is exploding at the seams and I look for every excuse possible not to bring more things in.  My suggestion to her:  a butterfly house.

The house came by itself a couple of days later.  There was a coupon inside to redeem for caterpillars.

Two cups of caterpillars came with their food inside.  Within a couple of days, they formed chrysalids and hung from the lid.  (You can see top of them in the picture if you look hard enough)

Once the chrysalids are hanging from the paper, you take the lid off the caterpillar cup and move the paper to the inside of the house.  I clipped them in there with a wire.

About three days or so after that, we had beautiful orange and black butterflies.  We've been feeding them fruit and the boys have loved watching them (along with the cat).  I'm trying to talk them into letting them go.  Yeah.  Haven't gotten that far yet.  The whole process from start to finish has taken about 10 days.

Moms can never be off duty EVER

*This is a part of the Thursday rant series, a tongue in cheek look at my life.*

Let me bring you up to speed:  I have 3 boys, all aged four and under.  It can get a little crazy here.  A big ninety-eight percent of the time, if I'm lucky enough to get ALL of them to take a nap at the same time, I get to work uniterrupted in the studio.  I'm either pouring resin, or I'm making phone calls:  both things that I don't need little people distractions for.  The exception to this is Saturdays.  Sometimes I work on Saturdays, sometimes I don't.  Mentally for me, it's my day off.  I might get caught up on my magazines, see what the DVR has recorded for me this week, or ever so infrequently,


I take a nap.

Last Saturday was one of the those days.  Two of the three peeps were already worn out.  It was a really, really nice day here -- moderate temperatures and little humidity.  It was also really, really quiet.

Yeah, let's go for it.

Peeps one and three were down.  Peep two seemed tired, but was playing with his cars.  He assured me he was going to nap too, eventually.

So, comfy jammies and a fluffly pillow was all I needed to get started.  Sometime a few minutes later, the phone rang.  My first thought, "I can't believe I forgot to take the phone off the hook."  When I didn't answer, and the caller immediately called back, my next thought was, "Sorry mom, whatever it is, it can wait."

Apparently not.

A few minutes later (not really sure of the exact time here because I was doing everything possible not to open my eyes), there is a BAM BAM BAM at the front door.  "Oh, like now what??  I just want some quiet time.  In fact I've been really bad today and need a time out."

I put on my fluffy pink robe and head to the door.  I open it and stare at the two sheriff's deputies who were wondering why I looked like I was a mom on a mid afternoon bender.

"Ma'am, are you okay?"

With one of the slow blinks (you know, the ones where you take an extra .4 milliseconds to allow you that extra time to think), I answered, "Yes....."  I'm looking past them while they're asking, expecting to see one of my neighbor's houses has exploded or is in the middle of a hostage situation.

"Ma'am, someone here called 911 and hung up."

Once again, blank stare, while I'm thinking to myself, thanks kids, I didn't really need that afternoon off.

"Ma'am are you alone?"

"No, I have 3 kids with me."

"Ma'am, did you hear the phone ring?  No one answered when we called back, TWICE."

By this time, I'm a little punchy.  "Do you answer every phone call that comes to your house??"

Whoops, maybe I shouldn't have said that.

"We need to speak to the child who made the call."  Actually, this turned out to be a good thing.  Deputies in the their cars with flashing lights can be quite a motivator for a four year old to never call 911 again.


They left, last peep took a nap, and I went back to work in the studio.  That will teach me to take a day off.

What's up with this generation???

*This is a part of the Thursday rant series,  tongue in cheek look at my life.*

Before I get started, a few disclaimers:

1. Type A people call me Type B.  The vice versa also happens.
2. I have kids, therefore I am officially "old".
3. I never do anything half baked, especially when there is money involved.

Now, on with the story.

We are losing our babysitter that we have had for the past year.  Any of you with children can relate to the fact that sometimes it's a fine line between leaving your kids with another young adult versus a pack of wolves.  When you find a babysitter you like, (at least I) try to do everything to keep her.

Ours is graduating.  (Maybe I should go with one that can't pass her classes.)

Ah, I forgot how much fun it is to look for a new one.  Here's a few of the recent adventures:

Wow, I got a TXT for an interview.  MayB I can watch the kids this way 2!!  LOL

• Sure, my kids met you at my neighbors house and you hit it off.  Yeah, let's try this Thursday.  And I don't mind AT ALL if you come 45 minutes late, don't call to let me know, then tell me you have to leave early.  I'm only doing this as a favor to you.
• Yes, I am looking for a babysitter.  No I don't mind sharing with you how much I'm paying and how many hours you can expect if you don't mind showing a little interest in my kids first.
• I know you like to text and all, but can you actually answer calls with that phone?  I'm running out of character spaces to set up an interview with you.

In trying to find another one, I suppose one can liken it to dating.  Find one that's not offensive, no major behavioral issues and can pass a drug test.  Wait, I forgot about driving records.  Drat.

This is your brain. This is your brain while multitasking.

Thank goodness the letters are a bit of mental stimulation.

*This is a part of the Thursday rant series, a tongue and cheek look at my life.*

I think my brain gray matter is the consistency of brie cheese.

or vanilla pudding.

or maybe even an ice cream cone that's melted on the seat of the back seat of my car.  (thanks kids)

or maybe soup with a few alphabet letters in it.

I say this because I don't seem to have the attention span to watch anything remotely intellectual on television.  (or at least if anyone has a British accent)

My husband says it's because I do to much multitasking.

Seriously?  So what if I boil and egg, write my next novel, and give myself a manicure at the same time.  (Okay, maybe not a manicure; I'm a pedicure kinda girl.)  Hubby will tell you that if you're going to spend anytime with me at the computer, you'll need to be wearing a seatbelt because you'll get whiplash as I go back and forth between tabs, programs, and "whatever it is that you do".  (That would be the business of art jewelry dear.)

So has all this multitasking melted my brain?  Hmmm.  And to think all this time, I've been blaming it on the sleep deprivation.


L        O         N         G


P   A    U    S    E




Uh, what was a I talking about again?

Why are my clothes not coming clean?

*This is a part of the Thursday rant series, a tongue and cheek look at my life.*

Ok, seriously, I need some help (or at least some validation).  I have a "major namebrand" high efficiency washer.  It was a replacement for a "fill 'er up with water" model.

Not my child or washer/dryer set, but I love the picture.

Here's my problem:  If I don't pretreat my clothes with detergent, the grease stains don't come out.  It doesn't matter if it's a "dab" of olive oil or the oil slicks my kids somehow get into without my knowledge.  They don't come clean.  AARGH!!!!!!!

Seriously people, I need some help.  Here's what I can tell you I've done:

• I have a water softener that is working.
• I've tried different soaps. 
• I don't overload the washer.
• Water temperature doesn't make a difference.

I'm even inclined to think it's a high efficiency washer issue since I washed a load in a friend's HE washer of a different manufacturer.  (Yes, I'm determined to figure this out.)

Advice please!!!

Valentine's Day, measles, and why I almost went postal

I don't know what it was like when you were a kid, but when I was school, Valentine's Day was about cards and cupcakes.  Maybe a little bit of candy, but overall a day of showing that you could write your classmates names on the outside of tiny envelopes.  My oh my, how things have changed.

My oldest two peeps aren't even four yet, but Valentine's Day is a huge production.  As we learned last year, cards simply aren't good enough anymore.  There must be a piece of candy, crayon, or keys to a new car attached to the card as well.  Giving a card without a small gift attached must be considered "gauche", which is the only reason I have for what one parent was so kind to give with her child's cards.

First, the disclaimer.  Yes, I was BAD MOMMY for not going through the bag to see what they brought home.  My bad, and I have paid for it.  

You see one parent thought it was a great idea to give these:

Yes, STAMPS.  With that red ink that will be living with the cockroaches after we nuke everyone off the planet.  Imagine my surprise when my kids came out looking like they had a serious skin condition that made having the measles look like a day in the park.  (And by the way, it was on their face too.  My twins looked like something that belonged in the circus.)

This was one of my boys after a thorough scrubbing that also served as the equivalent of a spa approved sandblasting.  They went to school the next day looking like this and I was only so grateful to find out the CDC wasn't called to investigate the mysterious blotches.







After scrubbing them off, I had several mini strokes as I walked from room to room to find out what else had been violated.  It was as if street artist Banksy had been in my house, yet the art was worth zilch.  (Sorry folks, the brain strokes were keeping me from seeing straight enough to get any pictures of the defiled house contents.)  I'm convinced that if I drove to the offending parent's house and stabbed her senseless with a dull knife, I know I would have been found not guilty as long as there was one mom on the jury.

At least with the help of my handy dandy, super solvent, remove the paint off your car, but don't use it on your hair "Aqua Net", I was able to get it rubbed out of the carpet enough so now it actually looks like part of the design.

Oh yeah, here's what I learned:

• Trust, but verify.
• Some parents don't have enough of the common sense part of the brain to function properly.
• Aqua Net is still one of my best friends

We might have gotten the neighbors talking

We have an interesting ritual in this house.  Every Saturday afternoon, at 5 PM, we (me and the peeps) plop down in front of the TV to watch Iron Chef America.  I'm not really sure how this started, except that they like to help me cook, and I'm quite willing to encourage that habit.  Normally, hubby isn't home by then, but as luck would have it, he rolled in at 4:55 last Saturday. 

Now, in case you're never watched an episode, it's two chefs going against each other in a food battle stadium style.  They only have an hour to prepare 5 courses, and by the way, you have to use a secret ingredient in every course that we just unveiled to you 3 seconds ago. 

Now me and the peeps talk about the show during the day.  We try to guess what the secret ingredient is going to be and mimic some of those moves that Mark Dacascos puts on at the beginning of the show.(Who knew you could get a work out watching this show?)

As the show revealed the secret ingredient, the oohs and aahs coming from our living room got any of our neighbors within earshot wondering if we were watching a porno.  We were, sort of...food porn that is.  You see, the secret ingredient was.....

CHEESE!

Oh yes, this house LOVES its cheese.  The secret ingredient was gruyere to be exact.  I immediately began fantasizing about fondue and hubby was alive with anticipation about what gruyere and a strip steak could be doing together.  (Oh, you nasty boy you!)

Oh yes, we're crazy married people with kids in a college town.  Don't worry, we were in bed AND asleep by 9:30.

Slacker Mom Saturday

Being a parent is the full time job.  I just try to fit everything else in.  I had finished up all my orders from the Orlando ACRE show this week, with the exception of one.  It was my biggest order, and I knew it was going to take a bit of time.  Unfortunately, my oldest two are outgrowing the nap (a.k.a. mommy time) and didn't let me get much accomplished.  I needed to get my groove on, so come Saturday morning, I turned into slacker mom.

"Who wants to watch a movie?"

They were cheering and I was giddy at the idea of gettin' my groove on for more than 15 minutes this time.  In an unbiased as possible self-assessment, I'm somewhere between "anti-TV nazi" mom and "meet my babysitter, Miss Sony 32 inch".  I'm convinced that too much of the "crack box" will melt their brains.  I just don't know where that line is and don't want to pay for the therapy sessions they're going to need later (at least not for that anyway).

The good news:  I got work done and they got to watch one and a half of their favorite DVD's.  Good thing I can go back to being a better parent tomorrow.

How to go from having nice dinner to getting advice from Dr. Laura in 2 minutes or less

So you want to get to know me, eh?  How about I start a regular post called the Thursday rant.  A tongue in cheek look on something that has anywhere from mildly irritated to vastly annoyed me in the past week.

So in attending the wholesale show this last week, I got a chance to meet some other artists.  All in all, I must say that they were the nicest group of artists I have ever had dealings with.  I found their willingness to help a wholesale newbie like myself quite refreshing.  I should have known better than to expect everything to go without a hiccup.

One artist, whom I had chatted with a few times, asked if I wanted to go to dinner with her.  I was at the show by myself and the idea of eating with someone sounded more fun than sitting in a restaurant by myself and having people think I was a serial killer or I had bad body odor (neither of which are true -- just for the record).  As I was driving to a local Orlando eatery, we shared details about what we do when we're not making jewelry. 

Now, have you ever been in a conversation with someone you just met and you get that, "oh, I wish I could fake a seizure right now to get out this" feeling?  Without getting into the details of the conversation at that moment, let's just say it was the equivalent of talking with one of my "never had kids, can't plan more than 5 minutes ahead" friends telling me how to parent my two year old who's having a tantrum of all temper tantrums in the checkout line at one of those big stores with a bullseye logo. 

My immediate thought is:

Plan A:  Rewind time to 15 minutes ago.  When you ask me to go to dinner with you, I'm going to tell you I'm on my way to get an appendectomy.
Plan B:  Find the heaviest thing I can in my truck to hit you upside the head. If you're unconscious, you won't be talking.

Since time travel hasn't been invented yet, and I didn't have anything that could be used as weapon, I had to enact Plan C as soon as we sat down to a table.

"Vodka tonic, please."

Now, in her defense, I'm sure she thought she was being helpful.  But here's my rant:  Improve your listening skills!  What should have been just a nice conversation turned into me getting unsolicited advice and opinions from Dr. Laura when I didn't even call into the show.  Besides, I can always get unsolicited advice from my mom and chances are I don't have to be put on hold.

Now, I'm not going to tell you that I've always been a good listener.  I haven't.  In fact, I'm sure I was pretty bad at it.  It wasn't until I took some business classes about 10 years ago (that included "improve your listening skills" modules) that I realized just how totally I lacked at listening. 

It gets me thinking.  We take 'public speaking' classes in college.  How about 'public listening' classes?  You have two ears and one mouth for a reason.

Does anyone else have this problem, or is it just me? 

The real me

One of my very good friends (who shall remain nameless), called me very recently.  She explained that she had been reading my blog recently.  The conversation went something like this:

"I like reading your blog to find out what's going on, but that's not you."

"No, I'm pretty sure it's me.  Might be one of my other personalities, but it's me."

"That's what I'm talking about."

"Whaddya mean?"

"I mean you're funny, crass, brutally honest, moderately opinionated and always full of wit.  You don't do that on your blog."

"I know, I talk jewelry making on my blog."

"Why don't you throw in some of the other stuff."

"Okay......  You really think people want to read that?"

"Why do you think I call you?"

All right people, here goes.  It's me.  Uncensored.  Uninhibited.  Sleep deprived and looking for my next good wine buy.  Oh yeah, I also make resin jewelry, raise three boys, have a house full of furry animals and hubby gets what's leftover.  (Yes, you should feel sorry for him.)