I stopped watching the news. I also stopped listening and reading to it. This is big for me because I am kind-of a junkie. I thrive on information. I crave the high of knowing what is going on. I love to read, research, and debate – it’s an addiction.

It’s so bad that my kids started watching the traffic report before school – even though we never have to drive more that 5 miles south of my house in Racine to get them to school. Regardless, they can tell you where every accident is through out the greater Milwaukee interstate system.

Cole and Anna Mae can also do an incredibly accurate impersonation of Brett retiring as well as detailed coverage of all any type of natural disaster. They are turning into mini – new addicts themselves.

I began to realize that the news was eating up huge chunks of my brain power with useless information presented in one-hundred-percent problem format.

So, I decided that enough is enough. Nothing heard, seen, or talked about on the news is good. There is nothing but death, destruction, and disappointment all of which I can do nothing about. The news was wreaking havoc on my attitude and it had to go.

Like any bad habit I decided the easiest thing to do would be to replace it. In the morning I would listen to music in the car. At lunch time I decided I would find something else on TV. At 10 p.m. I would treat myself to more time with my books.

So that bring us to today and I think things are going pretty good. Tim of course is making fun of me because I now know all the lyrics to the songs on the Country station. Hey, if I am going to listen to music all day it has to be something I can sing along to and it’s either that or 70s music – which makes me feel dated and old – even worse for the psyche.

Also, Truman seems to be enjoying Days of Our Lives as much as he likes Martha Stewart. I heard him telling Anna Mae about a recent story line where “Patch” is kidnapped by his crazy ex-girl friend who he stood up at the alter when he had amnesia and had forgotten his wife Kayla who was also being held captive at the same time. Honestly, I’m confused too.

At 10 p.m. however, I have not really gotten any more time with my books. It seems like without the “news is coming on” deadline my evening just gets later and later and I don’t actually take the time to “sit down” until I am falling into bed. I have recently gotten caught up on laundry however, and I did get all the Easter stuff put away, so it’s still time well spent.

The only news that is seeping in is whatever I hear when my alarm goes off in the morning and because I am getting so little sleep it turns out that I am pretty good at ignoring that.

Honestly, the only thing I missed was the weather until I discovered that WISN will e-mail constant reports right to your computer. The nice weather man even addresses them personally to me… “Good Morning Theresa,” it reads. “Another great day today with sunshine and highs near 80 inland. It will be cooler at the lake with highs in the mid 60s.” Then it is actually signed, “Sincerely, Meteorologist Brian Gotter.” Just think of it. If your only communication with the outside world was a friendly note about the beautiful spring weather wouldn’t you feel great too?

I think I am still emotionally recovering from the winter from H_ _ _ , because I am really feeling content these days to just hide from any bad news at all. Honestly, I know the mosquitoes will show up eventually and like the news it will rain on my parade of feel-good attitude. However, for now I am enjoying living in a “positive information only zone” and I intend to hide here until my Vitamin D levels are a little less depleted.

But would you please promise to call me if I miss anything really big while I recover?

I have to admit it; I think I am just a little disappointed.  Before I go on, I have to say that, what I am about to say does not reflect on my husband or our relationship. It’s just me and my imagination.

Did you ever see the commercial, I have no idea what they were selling, but a woman whispers something to her husband and the implication is that it must have been like triple X.  Maybe it was for after shave or something because you are left thinking that they have a date for something more exciting than watching the 10:00 p.m. news together – if ya know what I mean…

So every time I saw that commercial I actually thought, “Well I’ve got some good stuff to whisper, but when that gets old I’ll figure out what the woman on the commercial was suggesting and that will certainly spice things up.”

So here I am going along in my great little life when out of the blue someone invites me to one of “those” parties. You know the parties where they sell – “stuff.”  No, I am not telling who invited me. If you were invited – then you know – otherwise I promised not to get her into any trouble – so mums the word J.

Anyway, I couldn’t go to the party, but I did ask for the catalogue. I figured this was my chance. I was going to be proactive and get the information before I actually needed it. Then I would just have ideas of what to whisper and I could work them in at the appropriate times.

Only now that I have the catalogues I realize the reason we don’t hear what the commercial woman said is that the producers of the commercial most likely didn’t really have her saying anything. I guess I’m not totally surprised. I’ve been married for awhile and you don’t get to this point without the opportunity to — you know — try a few things. (I imagine my husband ears turning red at this point, so I think the less I say the better – but come on– we have four kids…).

Anyway, I’m not sure what I was expecting and I guess I should be pleasantly surprised that what there was left in the suggestion box was stuff I was not really all that interested in anyway.  A few other things – like the swing or the pole – would kind of hard to explain to the kids. Still the reality of the situation remains – if there is jazzing to be done I guess I am going to have to come up with a plan on my own.

Honestly I think that’s why God gives you kids… so just most basic stuff is exciting when you actually find a time, a place, and an interest in doing it. If I could give the commercial woman a line I think it might be, “Hey Baby, the kids are all staying at Grandma’s house tonight.”  Trust me that in and of its self would be pretty exciting!

If you are looking for a fun and exciting place to do an “all nighter” I can highly recommend the waiting room at Froedtert Hospital in Milwaukee. It’s especially lively on Saturday nights in early spring. However in the interest of full disclosure – this past Saturday night was my first over night experience there– but it was hoppin’

I started my adventure with a handful of cousins, aunts and one uncle. We were there with my Grandma who was in need of emergency surgery. I am not in any way making light of the condition she was in, but now that she is feeling a bit better and I have started getting caught up on sleep – I am able to really appreciate the experience.

When we first arrived there was a man who could have easily been cast in a role as a Vietnam Vet in Forest Gump sitting kitty corner. I honestly was not paying much attention, but he must have caught the radar of my Cousin  C.B. (I’ll protect the names of the innocent J) because she insisted on wearing a surgical mask in fear of catching a communicable illness. As others walked into the waiting area I imagined them looking at our party of nine or so people all visiting in and telling stories with the poor girl who was so ill that she had to wear a mask. Honestly, I think they kept their distance from us – making it all the more entertaining.

Anyway after about an hour or so the nice lady at the desk came in and said Robert Soandso, Is there a Robert Soandso? She walked right past him and I swear he smirked at me. Then she turned toward us and said, “I am looking for Robert Soandso.” At this point we are all looking at who we assume is her man and she follow our gaze toward him. “I am looking for Robert Soandso,” she repeats and the guy answers, “Yea, so am I.” Then there is a long pause followed by him jumping out of his wheel chair and exclaiming, “Hey, here he is.”

Speaking only for myself I had to really work at not laughing. Not because I thought it would be rude, but more because I pictured his mother chiding me, “do not laugh– that only encourages him…”

It was not long after that when our group split-up — those that didn’t see the sport in staying up all night monitoring the coming and goings of the hospital waiting room vs.  the real die-hards.  I was a die-hard.

I think someone said there were four gun shot patients in the emergency room that night. I have no idea who said it and where they got their information. Most of what we know was overheard, so I am not feeling qualified to back any of this up. However, the next group of people to arrive was all pretty young – maybe in their late teens. I wondered who they were waiting for and why there were no adults with them. For some reason, perhaps I just assumed it; I thought they must be waiting for someone who had been shot.

After a long time of waiting they were told they could go back and see the someone they had come in with. Being always worried about explaining things to my mom I wondered how they were going to describe their night to their parents. Certainly more sad than funny, as they walked away I wondered if there were parents to explain things to.

Then in came the cleaning crew– young twenty-something year old guys who came in and cleaned the waiting room. They had a fancy vacuum that my Aunt N.G. took an immediate interest in. She has always had a very tidy house and – that’s not something easy to do unless you keep up with the latest tools. I thought the cool thing was how handy the attachment was. I have to admit that I as I watched I started to wonder about where I might get one of these really cool vacuums as well.  However, I could not for the life of me figure out the brand name on the vacuum and I offered to walk right over there and ask to see it, but both my aunts must have feared for my life because they insisted it was not quite that important. Funny how at 2:00 a.m. perspective of what is important really goes right out the window.

As the vacuum guy finished our area however, my other Aunt C.L. wondered why he had not used the cool attachment to get more of the dirt up from under the chairs. I think they must have been union cleaners, because that was clearly the job of the next guy with the cool broom. So we watched them clean up the area in a way that made it look clean, but I have to admit – not in a way that would make you believe even for a second they had removed the infectious illnesses that we so clearly sensed were infesting our clothing.

My favorite guy of the evening had a solution. He was sent out of the hospital area and back to the waiting area around 3:30 p.m. The person with him asked how he was going to get home and he said he was going to take the bus. It appeared unfortunate that he would have to wait until 5:00 a.m. for the first bus of the morning to show up.

The guy was a mess, but that was the last thing I thought about him because he kind of disappeared. Life went on and we all practiced sleeping while sitting straight up in uncomfortable chairs. We took turns sitting with Grandma who was slowly being evaluated, poked, and prodded. Then all of a sudden a nurse or at least a nice lady that works behind the counter came running past us to the men’s bathroom. She pound on the door and begins – in a very customer friendly way – so suggest to whoever is in there that they need to come out as they are making a mess. There were comments like – “you can’t take a bath in that sink – the water has been running for over an hour.”

We all looked at each other and then we turned to look at the man who came out of the bathroom. He was all cleaned up – with his hair all slicked back and his face washed – just a few minutes early to meet his bus. He gave us one of those old fashion nods that the men on Little House on the Prairie would do whenever a women would walk in and hand them a glass of water. As he exited stage right the cleaning crew entered stage left and went to clean up the bathroom.

It wasn’t long after that when we moved on to another waiting area. My Uncle T.C. went on a caffeine run and lots of cousins showed up. It was like a party and for those who know my family you will understand that any time there is an excuse to gather it is a time for fun – no matter how serious the reason for the gathering. We were pretty much the only people in this much cleaner and prettier waiting area. When my Cousin C.G. returned she no longer felt compelled to wear a mask.

However, those of us who stayed, ragged and unkempt as we were, we wore our wrinkled shirt tails proudly.  I am thinking of having T-shirts printed, “I survived the night in the Froedtert Hospital Waiting Room.”  Like all good fish tails – The adventure gets better and better each time I tell it J.

I went swimming tonight — I’ll write more about that tomorrow, but as I was swimming I had the funniest idea for Cole’s Valentines. Now 2 margaritas later Tim and my babysitter think I am totally insane, but I think it’s really funny…

Ok, so I would have him cut out a heart and then put a hole punch in it. Then stick a piece of Kleenex in it and write, “God Bless you on Valentines Day.” Is that not totally funny? Remember this is for a first grade boy – Get it — Kleenex and “God Bless you…”

Hey it’s been a long week! I am off to bed, but I PROMISE to tell you all about buying a car in a snow storm, living through my second snow day of the week, and a wild sewing lesson first thing tomorrow…

Alright, Yes, I am losing it, but I think there was fair warning for that sometime early Tuesday afternoon…

So anyway, have a good night and “God Bless You…” (Yes I’m laughing all by myself, I know…)

T 

You know that thing about kids sleeping through fire alarms? It’s true—they don’t hear a thing when it’s going off in the middle of the night. I know this because I just tested it out.

Yup, that’s right – it was a 5:00 a.m. fire drill that only Tim woke up for. Grace and I were already up watching Martha Stewart reruns while making turkey and wild rice soup and folding laundry. We had been at this since 2:30 a.m. when for no reason Grace decided that we should get up and start our day. And no, she has never done this before. And no, she was not really out of her routine yesterday. And no, she was not sick, hungry, or otherwise in need of anything. She, it seems, just thought we ought to get an early start.

Actually, I think she heard Tim come home at 1:30 a.m. and it just took me until 2:30 a.m. to be unable to ignore her any longer. It could also have been because I was woken from a dream where I was stressing out on a train while a baby cried in the background. I said to the person next to me that I was really looking forward to traveling without kids for this very reason and then suddenly Anna Mae was looking me in the eye. You know that feeling when you are startled awake because someone is staring at you? After jumping 4 feet into the air and realizing that the rude baby on the train was mine, I got up and changed her diaper, gave her a drink, and tucked her in with the magic sleep time blanket. It didn’t take, so I came downstairs to find things to do in the kitchen so that everyone else can sleep when I realized… it’s just the perfect time to run the self cleaning mode on the oven…  No, really – I’m home, I don’t need to bake anything, the oven is really a mess, and I don’t mind if the house is warmed up by the heat. Perfect time – I know…

Did I mention that Tim rolled in at 1:30 a.m.? Yea, so when the fire alarm went off and I was quickly opening doors and windows and fanning it with the broom – I think he was a bit – shall we say disgruntled? Oh, please…. I’m the one who is up with the baby and I already have dinner made, the dishwasher is unloaded, bills are paid, and I’m ready to start the laundry… Unfortunately, I’m fairly certain that I have just lost my claim on a nap later today…

After all that is there any surprise that Grace is now sound asleep in the highchair but, I can’t go back to bed because I have to keep on eye on the oven as the batteries have been taken out of the fire alarm, and I still have two self-cleaning hours left?

Alright, that’s it… I can take no more…

I have to vent here because my sister and mother laughed at me – thinking I had turned to the dark side and became a pessimist. Tim is going to be driving through Chicago to get home tonight, so I know better than to complain to him and honestly, when I said something to my girlfriend… well – you’ll see…

So here goes…

Does anyone remember November? I do – it was COLD – remember the blog about the cold? And the stupid bet – You’re right I froze my butt cheeks off all month!

Now onto December – Anyone remember the weather? – of course you all do – my family makes up my #1 readership and the only reason I live here is because of you… But for anyone lucky enough to be off in someplace warm like Spain – (and yes, I checked it’s like a toasty 55 degrees in Spain today!), I’ll fill you in on Wisconsin’s weather… in a word it snowed – it was cold and it snowed like mad. The only redeeming thing was that I did escape for a few short days to Florida to warm up. From that I can only say two things… first, it’s like a new discovery – there is someplace with great weather this time of year and second, HELLO people there is someplace warm – what on God’s green (I mean white) Earth are we still doing here – and if anyone says, “because of the lovely change of seasons” – I may puke at this point.

So let’s move onto January. What can I say, oh yea, January was COLD (surprise) and then one day Cori, my sister called with this terrible accusing tone. Like I was personally to blame for the fact that we had a glorious warm day and all “her” snow was going to melt. Well don’t worry, I got my punishment – tornados whipped through my backyard – tornados in January – Hello people remember what I said about Florida… And don’t even with the hurricanes – we can come back in late summer and fall – I’m all for watching the leaves…

So as you may have realized, Tim is traveling. Last night I had a babysitter and was going to go to a book discussion, but decided that there was no point in making the sitter come out and then keep the kids up so I could take her home in the lovely – COLD. So we made a fire and use up the last bit of fire wood (don’t worry, I can steal some more from Dad’s y2k stash this weekend) and we had a nice evening at home. Cole and I were up reading with three extra blankets and I even let him stay in my bed (mostly for warmth).

My attitude was still pretty good when they called off school and I realized that I would be home alone with the kids all day, unable to even chase them outside because the foolish news casters were doing a bang up job of demonstrating how your skin can freeze if you go out in this weather… Honestly, I was doing alright – even without the fire wood-  until I just checked my e-mail and there was a note from Brian Gotter (the weather guy on ch. 4 – I signed up for weather updates when the tornados went through…) who was notifying me that Racine is under a winter storm warning because we are going to get a bunch of snow dumped on us starting Thursday and ending on Friday.

My girl friend called and mentioned that the weather at the North Pole has been warmer there than here – Fine – you don’t like Florida, let’s move to the North Pole – I’m petite – there are lots of jobs for people like me there – I’ll treat for the moving costs!

Erin – It’s only in the 30s there, so you can come too. Katie, I’ll be ready when you get back… Who else wants to come live with me in the warm, toasty North Pole?

Alright, I feel better… but don’t mess with me if I’ve totally lost it by Friday  J

I am going to write a book about this someday and you all can say you heard it first. This week Tim and I had a retreat at our church. The priest who did the talks was a big guy from New York City who looked Italian, but claimed to be Irish.  His name is Michael Sullivan, so we can take him on his word. He was so engaging and fun to listen to that I went all four nights and Tim went three  – free child care made it even better : )

Anyway, one night he was talking about marriage as he answered a question that had been on my mind for some time. A few weeks back when my girlfriends and I were talking about date nights and babysitters the idea of who comes first – kids or husband – was brought up. Two of us said our husbands – as we had been taught in our FOCCUS classes. As much as they tried to keep their poise, the other ladies appeared to be holding their breath as they tried not to blurt out that we had to be the worst parent in the entire world for not putting our kids first. When one asked why our church taught marriage first we were both embarassed not to have a very good answer.

Well if you wait long enough the answers will fall from heaven eventually. Now, however late, I know why. Father Sullivan explained that there is no Sacrament of Parenthood. Never did you stand before God and everyone you love and promise to be true to your kids, but if you are married in the church (or blessed by the church) then you did. He said that the best thing you can do for you kids is give them an example of a wonderful marriage. Also, he said that he has never heard of a child not having all their needs met who came from a healthy happy intact home. On the other hand there are plenty of kids who have lots of emotional problems because their parent let their marriages fail  – even though they loved their kids.

So seriously, I am going to write a book about this because I have so many examples of this in my life – especially Wednesday date nights – that gave my mother her only bits of sanity for most of my childhood – and my sisters and I a much loved dinner at McDonalds.

Anyway – as I enjoy the last of the quiet Friday moments before the house explodes with all the hussle and hurry that a weekend brings I thought I would remind everyone to pour two glasses of wine, slow dance in the kitchen, and have a fun time with your husband or wife this weekend – it’s good for you, it’s good for the kids, and according to Father Sullivan it will make God happy – now, who can argue with that?

The first chapter of an old creative writing book is what put me to bed last night. The question at the end asks, “Why do you write?” I’m not sure it’s complete, but here are the answers that have floated to the surface so far…

I write to remember. I write because it elevates the moments in an ordinary day. I write so my kids understand me. I write to open my mind to the world. I write because I like to play with words. I write to quiet my brain. I write to record the things I love. I write because I have something to say. I write so I have something to say. I write to stay connected. I write because it keeps me quiet. I write because it gives voice to my dreams. I write because it doesn’t cost anything. I write because it’s what I want to do when I grow up. I write so that laundry and dishes are not all my children see me doing. I write because it gives me energy. I write to see if I’m still interesting to be around. I write because it makes me feel like a three year old in the sand box. I write to keep me company while I sip a cup of tea. I write to get through the winter and then I write to celebrate the sunshine. I write so that I can put aside the things that scare me. I write to give my anxiety to God. I write to take record of the things growing around me. I write as an excuse to sit on my front porch swing. I write to remind myself of what is important to me… people, beauty, simplicity. I write when I need to rest. I write best after I’ve read something that inspires my soul. I write so I can fix the outcome of my nightmares. I write because the best way to see if I’ve learned something it to try to re-say it in my own words. I write because it builds my confidence. I write to be silly. I write when it’s easier than saying something out loud. I write to give my teachers peace of mind … see I really was listening and learning. I write to teach what I have learned. I write because it makes me feel wise and then I write so that I see how little I really know. I write because my parents have never said, “no you should not do that.” I write to feel vulnerable and take risks and I write when I get hurt. I write to leave something behind. I write because it is my music…