sorry for party rockin’ …

So, the other morning on the way to school, LMFAO’s Sorry for Party Rockin’ comes up on the radio and I turn it up at #1’s request. We are the front seat and are singing away having a great time when all of a sudden, #2 says … ‘MOM! STOP IT! YOU ARE WAAAYYY TOO OLD TO BE PARTY ROCKIN’!!!!!! You’re so embarrassing! It’s making me sick!’ He’s 7. Ugh! This is just the beginning!

After I stopped myself from letting him out of the car on the curb RIGHT THERE, I turned up the music and dropped off the kids with LMFAO blasting out of the windows!

I have learned a few things since that day.  1. My kids are waaayyyy too YOUNG to be Party Rockin’! Yikes! That song says ‘Whiskey Dick’, which is hysterical for us dinosaurs that graduated in the early 90’s, but not so awesome for those that will graduate in the class of 2020 something or other!  2. As hard as I try to fight it, I am TURNING IN TO MY MOTHER! Even though, she drove a Bitchin’ Camaro when I was in High School, and I just have a Mini Van that looks like a tampon, I am turning in to her … here’s why …

It’s 1990, and it’s 3:10, quitting time as far as us freshmen are concerned.  I gather my things and head out to Putnam Street to find my mom in her faded, navy blue ’78 Bitchin’ Camaro. Before she can get me, she has to round up my two younger siblings from Olson, and scrunch them in the backseat with my 3 year-old brother. Thank God I get the front seat. I am the oldest after all. I look up and down Putnam and I don’t see her, but I know she is there. How? How do I know she is there? The beat? Which beat? This Beat …

This Beat is Technotronic. My mom LOVED Technotronic! I mean, my mom LOVES Technotronic! She wore that tape out … more than once!  So, when  I couldn’t find her, I would just listen for the beat … kind of like putting your hand on the railroad tracks … and I would know she was just around the corner.

So, kids, I will not be Sorry for Party Rockin’! When you can’t find me, just listen for the beat!

for the happy,


P.S.  No more LMFAO for you kids! Put that on your mortgage list! Geez, those lyrics, they make me feel old!  Wiggle wiggle wiggle yeah!


the mayor of crazy town attends a funeral …

This is an oldie (but goodie) from my old, dead blog. Enjoy!
Living in our house we have 2 grown ups – mom and husband, 3 children – #1, #2, #3, 1 dog – beagle, and 2 gerbils – squiqqy and ziggy. We also call them Honey and the Black One, or Honey and The One That Bites, or Lenny and Squiggy, or Rex and The Other One. I actually don’t really care what they are called. They are stinky, and they tend to bite. It is kind of fun to watch them nibble on their sunflower seeds at night, but I could probably watch that on youtube for free and never have to clean the gerbil cage again.We once had an afternoon when we had nothing to do. No baseball, no mommy working, no soccer. Wow! sounds nice, right? Wrong. We cannot be left home alone with nothing to do. Something bad usually happens. On this particular nothing-to-do day, I sent #1 upstairs for a timeout 5 minutes after we got home from school. He returns immediately, and he is panic stricken.”Mom! honey is DEAD! The Black One killed him!”

“Oh, no, #1, I’m sure he’s fine. The Black One would never kill Honey.”

Upon investigation, I find The Black One eating Honey. Literally. I keep trying to get the very excited kids out of the room. #1 is crying, #2 is screaming, and #3 is yelling something about cowboy boots and underwear day. Yes, I said cowboy boots and underwear day.

I secure the scene and prepare to dispose of the body. I have in my possession a large black trash bag, rubber gloves, and a bottle of mean green. In the middle of removing the body (read – emptying the cage contents into the trash bag, body and all), #1 enters the room.

“Are you just going … to … throw … Honey … away…? … ! … ?”

(Actually, that was my plan, but, he’ll never know.)

“Ummmm, of course, not #1. I was just holing him there until you got here.”

“We need to bury him.”

“Really? We?”

“Yes, sniff, sniff, we, sniff, should call a, sniff, craftsman and have him, sniff, deliver a special, sniff, metal box to bury, wahhhhhh, honey in.”

“A craftsman, huh? Special metal box?”

Snnnnniiiifffff!!!!!!!!!! WWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
“OH! Well, #1, while I would love to track down a craftsman and get honey the very best metal box possible, I’m afraid that is going to be impossible because all of the best craftsman are finished working by 3:30, and it’s … well, it’s already after 4, buddy.”wwwwaaaahhhhhhhhh ……. sniff sniff sniff”My goodness. How about if we find a special cloth to wrap him in for his funeral instead? Maybe like this very special … ummmm …. bandanna?”

“OH, Mom, that would be just perfect! Honey loved red.”

He did? Super.Now that that’s settled, I remove Honey from the trash bag and very ceremoniously wrap him in the sacred red bandanna while #1 is silently praying over his dead body. You see, #1 wants to be a priest, but only if he doesn’t have to shave his head*. After enrobing the body, I let #1 hold Honey for a second to say goodbye, then I quickly shoo him from the room while I finish cleaning up the crime scene.
In case you don’t know, I do not run a pet cemetery here, and I’m not about to start today so, once #1 was out of the room, I started getting Honey into his proper funeral garb when …The back door opens and closes and small feet come walking in. It’s #3.”Mom, i’m done pooping.”

“Huh? Weren’t you just outside?”

“Yep. Come wipe me.”

“OK. what’s going on?” (he is naked from the waist down except for his flip flops.)

“Oh, I pooped outside just like we do at the farm.”

“We’re not at the farm, at home we poop inside, in the toilet.”

“Ugh, boring.” He’s 3!

“Gross. Who’s going to clean up that mess?” (He puts his hand on my arm and gives me that I know you rode the short bus here, old lady, patronizing look.)

“Don’t worry about that, Mom. Beagle already ate all my poop.”

“Fabulous. Now I won’t have to get my hands dirty before the funeral.”Enter Super Husband. Now the gang’s all here and we can proceed with the funeral. mom, husband, a keening #1, #2 who couldn’t really care less, pants less #3, and poop-eating beagle. Super Husband digs hole and gently places ‘Honey’ in the bottom, then he plays the newly downloaded ‘Taps’ on his iphone while #1 tosses shovels of dirt over ‘Honey’. What a sight.Later that night, when Super Husband asked me what would happen when Beagle dug up ‘Honey’, I told him that we had just had a funeral for a sock. That’s right. The old switcheroo.

Fast forward to the next morning. #1 wakes up first and Beagle wakes up. We tell #1 to let Beagle outside, and he refuses. He is anxious that Beagle will disturb Honey’s grave. Super Husband is sure to explain that if Beagle does disturb the grave, she will surely eat the body, so there will be no sense in searching for it. Ever.

for the happy,

we all do it a little differently …

It’s the most wonderful time of the year. Or is it? Christmas doesn’t bring out the best in me … or my husband.  We just don’t do well with change. For starters, our house is only ever barely clean to begin with, and NOW I have to REDECORATE?!? Geez. I mean, gimme a break.  We have had our Christmas tree in our home since December 3rd. Lights on it since the 5th. Ornaments since the 7th. It fell over on the 8th.  Today we decided that leaning in the corner is the perfect place for that damn tree.  *Most* of the other decorations are out or have been stuffed back in the bins and left for dead.  There will be other Christmases when our house will look like we hire elves to do all of the work.  For now, this will have to do!

We have our own kind of fun around here, and you just can’t wear your new jammies from Mema for 3 days and do the Jingle Belt Dance (click here to see the dance!) in the living room if there is Christmas crap everywhere. Here is just a minute of the boys dancing to their fave Christmas Carol – LMFAO’s I’m Sexy and I Know it. Yes, you heard me.

Now, who wants to go shopping, because this Santa needs some presies so I can stay up ALL NIGHT on Christmas Eve to wrap them. I mean, what else do I have to do that night?  I’m sure the elves will prepare breakfast …

…themostwonderfultimeoftheyearthemostwonderfultimeoftheyearthemostwonderfultimeoftheyearthemostwonderfultimeoftheyearthemostwonderfultimeoftheyearthemostwonderfultimeoftheyear …

in it for the happy,


9/11+10 …


Ten years ago on 9/11 was the first day I ‘saw’ my oldest son. That was how the day ended, but here is how it began …


I was getting ready for work; Mark had already left, as he was working in Peoria that day (about 3 hours away).  I was half listening to the Today Show as I was racing around, and then I sat down on the corner of the bed to really dial in to the broadcast.  I called Mark to make sure he was listening to the radio. As I was sitting there with my phone in my hand talking to Mark, watching the Today Show listening, explaining, trying to comprehend … at this point, this was still just a plane crash, the second plane crashed into the second tower live on TV.  What the hell had just happened?


On my 30 minute drive to work, I listened to the radio the entire way … the only thing that was on was coverage of the plane crashes into the Twin Towers.  Just as I was pulling into the parking garage, the first tower fell.  We had clients in that building.  I hauled my 5 month-pregnant-self up to my office on the 13th floor and was amazed to find all of my co-workers not at their desks.  Our office was a large open room with groups of desks, no cubicles or offices, with a HUGE floor to ceiling window at one end that faced the city of Chicago.  Everyone was standing at the window, watching to see if Chicago would be attacked next.  We had an office there too.  We evacuated several of our offices in major cities that day and in the offices that we didn’t evacuate, I’m pretty sure no one was working any way.  In the corporate office, we brought a TV in and stared at it all day in disbelief.


The towers falling, the Pentagon, Pennsylvania, the constant news coverage, it was so surreal.  Nothing had changed for us, our office looked just the same, my friends were still intact, how could this be happening?  We watched together for hours and we just couldn’t believe our eyes.  The devastation was unnerving.  What was even scarier was the knowledge we would gain later about how and when the terrorists had infiltrated our systems, how they have changed our perception of safety, changed our vocabulary, our holidays, the way we remember.


One of the eeriest things about 9/11 was the grounding of ALL of the flights to and from everywhere.  Where we lived was kind of under (way under) a landing pattern for Midway Airport, so we would see and sometimes hear many planes each night.  For the week (5 days, I’m not sure) after 9/11 that the planes were all grounded, it was so eerily quiet at night. At first, you couldn’t quite put your finger on what was missing, but then it was just creepy.  We couldn’t wait to see those lights in the sky again.  One amazing thing was that my boss at the time, an entrepreneur, was a partner in another business, a charter airline.  During these days, they were one of the very few people in the air because they were flying airline executives to crash sites.  Just one of those crazy things.


Anyway, back to the actual day … after a very emotional day, I was really looking forward to my very first ultrasound to see my very first baby, and Mark was racing home to make sure he could be there with me.  He had told me that morning before he left, before 9/11 happened, to make sure I gassed up my car so we wouldn’t have to stop that evening on the way to the doctor.  Well, in all of the morning’s excitement, I didn’t.  And then gas was $6 a gallon and there were 85 people in line at the gas station.  Wouldn’t you know it that on the day the US declares war on terrorism, Mark declares war on me for not putting gas in my car at the right time!  We were late to the appointment, but they were accommodating.  We did not find out the baby’s gender, which drove almost everyone we knew crazy.  We loved it.  In February of 2002 we had a boy.  He’ll be 10 soon.  (I can’t believe I have a 10 year old!)


We’ve come a loooong way in the ten years since that day.  We’ve gone from 0 kids to 3, we have moved a long way from Chicago, we are both business owners, we are both working very hard on finding our real happy, and we have grown so much as individuals, a couple, and most importantly, as a family.  We work hard and we play even harder.  We choose to surround ourselves with good people, and magically, life is more fun.  The sink is usually full of dishes, there is always laundry waiting to be done, and the grass – well, that will get mowed someday!  We are busy having fun with our kids or spending time on this amazing activity we call grown-up time, nothing crazy, just some time with other grown-ups!  We used to do it all the time before we had kids and we loved it, so we’re adding that back on our To Do list.  Our kids are in a lot of sports (times 3) so I’m basically a chauffeur from 3 PM to 8 PM each day.  We do the best we can each day and then we flop in to bed immediately after they do … ahem, 8:35 … and try to stay awake past 10 PM.


My hope for the next 10 years is that we can find more success in happiness, and bring more harmony and balance to this place I call Crazy Town. Maybe a routine would help?  Ya think?  We learned this week that life is short and you never know what is going to happen.  Be in it for the happy!  We are.


for the happy,


the one kj