Purging The Clutter

My mind and my life have been so busy lately that I just need to purge the clutter from my brain. Thanks to Mrs4444 and Friday Fragments, I am doing just that - with a twist. Fatherhood Friday Fragments. Stop by both Dad-Blogs and Half Past Kissing Time Later today, not now, not before you spend time hanging out with me.

First and foremost, Suburban Wow livestreams today at 12 edt/11 central/do the math Mountain and Pacific. You west coasters confuse me. Here is the cheater link to *watch the show*.

• Yesterday Eldest Weasel turned 16 years old and today is her last day of school. We will be heading to the DMV after the show today, if she can get all of her paperwork together.

• The other Weasels will be finished with the school year next Thursday. The last day of school is my favorite day of the year. I am usually even happier than the kids. Call me crazy. I hate the school year and love having the Weasels around. We have fun together.

• Summer has officially arrived in Chicago with temps hitting 90 for days on end. I love the heat, but am ticked off because all of my summer clothes shrunk while sitting in the storage bin all fall, winter and spring long.

• I took Matilda The Hun for a walk yesterday and was very impressed by how well she walks on the leash without having had and formal training. I realized that she is better behaved than the Weasels. Huh. I am better at dog training than kid training.

• I went to the snack and candy expo this past Wednesday and will show some of my favorite finds on Suburban Wow today.

• The Stanley Cup Finals start tomorrow night and I can't wait. It does however make me miss my Dad and wish that he were around to enjoy this with me. He was the one who gave me my love for the game.

• I painted my nails orange this week and added the Flyers logo to them. Yes, I am seriously excited about this series. I sent out a twitpic, but can't find it now. I'll show them off on Suburban Wow.

My Stanley Cup Runneth Over

Move over Miley Cyrus. It is I, WeaselMomma, that has the best of both worlds now.

NHL Eastern Conference Champions, the Philadelphia Flyers, my hometown team, my first love in sports, the fellas that make my blood run orange and made me all googly eyed as a teenager are going to the Cup!

VS.

NHL Western Conference Champions, the Chicago BlackHawks, the team of the city where I now reside. A team that I root for guilt free, unless they are playing my beloved Flyers. doesn't happen very often, being in separate divisions and all A team that has always held a fondness in my heart, as the first NHL game that I cognitively remember watching at the Spectrum with just my Dad and I was against the BlackHawks. I had scraped and saved to buy Dad the best seats that I could for his birthday nosebleeds with an obstructed view.

Now they get to face off against each other for Lord Stanley's Cup.

And just to add a cherry on top, I got to watch Philadelphia clinch the Conference Championship last night by shutting the Montreal Canadiens down in 5 games. With years of hating, cursing and Damning those SOBs straight to hell vicious and bitter rivalry culminating in watching 3 shutouts on behalf of the Flyers, before an exciting game 5 to put the Final nail in Montreal's coffin for the season. I got so excited, that I actually wet my pants a little. Shut up.

So, I am on cloud nine. If you want a favor from me, this is the time to ask. The only rub is that game 4 is smack dab in the middle of Eldest Weasel's Sweet 16 birthday party. I hope that all of her friends want to watch the game.

May God and Kate Smith both bless the Flyers and America, but what an awesome consolation prize I have waiting for me if things don't work out. My Stanley Cup Runneth Over and I am living the best of both worlds.

I'm An Eyesight Junkie Now

Last fall, after being on the receiving end of regular teasing about my inability to see, I finally got around to having an eye exam for the first time in 17 years. There was never a doubt in my mind that I needed eyeglasses for reading, but I could see everything else just fine........or so I thought.

I flunked the exam so badly that the doc laughed louder than if he had been administering Harvard admissions interview to Lindsay Lohan. Call me Mrs. Magoo. Not only did I need prescription glasses, but I also had so suffer the indignity of Mr. Weasel doing his hyena impression for days on end once he heard the news that I needed TRI- FOCALS!!!!!!!!!!! I couldn't see near, far or up close! And yes folks, I was out on those roads driving! Thank God that I had passed kindergarten with flying colors and could recognize that red means stop. Ya'll would have been in a world of hurt if I had been colorblind too.

The first few days of wearing the news specs made me so motion sick was a huge adjustment to my everyday life as I staggered around walking into walls and tripping over curbs even when I was stone cold sober. Who knew that the lawn was made up of individual grass blades and not just a large sea of green? Now that I am used to my glasses, I can't live without them. I am more dependent on them than Rosie O'Donnel is Cheetos. So much so that I think I may already need a stronger prescription. Kind of like an eyesight junkie.

My eyes have become so lazy that they are no longer willing to work hard to compensate for me, much like the Weasels and the thought of washing dishes without the benefit of a dishwasher. Heck, I can't even get them to rinse the food off of dishes, even with the benefit of a dishwasher! Recently, I have heard about people buying their glasses online and I got all excited. That is until I found out that you can't take the eye exam online. That would be really cool. Picking out frames online might be a bit tricky for me. I like to try those kind of things on before I make a choice, but am very much intrigued by the ease of getting them online. Have any of you ever tried it? How'd you pick a frame? How'd you like the process?

Are any of you thinking about trying it? If you are, would you like a 10% discount? GlassesUSA.com is offering you, my lovely readership, the discount code of mommy10, even you guy types, if you are in the market for some new Magoos.

Oh, and full disclosure.........This post is all me all the time. I am however being compensated for the links therein. 'Cause let's face it people, I need a pedicure and it's not going to pay for itself.

Broad Street Bonding

As a small child I watched Flyers hockey, curled under my father's arm. It was the Era of the Broad Street Bullies and dad loved it. With only one TV in the house, my options were limited to watching the game or staring at the walls - No noise was to be made in the house when the Flyers were on.

So I would curl up under Dad's arm and watch the game. Showing an interest in hockey was a great way to win Dad's affections and there was no chance of the channel being changed during a game, anyway. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

Gene Hart would belt out the play by play with such passion and speed that I had absolutely no idea what was going on. During stoppage of play, commercials or intermission, Dad would explain it to me. What I did know is that I enjoyed the fast paced action and jumped out of my seat every time Gene would scream out "SHOT, SCORE! Philadelphia!". I came to love the game too.

I unknowingly, had been watching some hockey greats. Bernie Parent, Bill Barber, Bobby Clarke and Dave Schultz were just a few of the line up.

As the years went on, I watched more, I learned more, grew a greater appreciation for the game and had watched live, some great moments in sports. All while sitting and bonding side by side with Dad.

I inadvertently learned knew language skills.

I cried when the news proclaimed that their was no hope for Pelle Lindbergh.

I cried in 1987 as I watched the the Stanley Cup slip away from reach at the end of game 7. Not just for the team and our hopes, but because I had much homework that had not been completed and had been counting on the day off of school as a buffer.

I rejoiced as I watched Ronnie Hextall, Rick Tocchet and the Sutter Brothers live on the traditions of a Philly favorite team.

I remember many a long, cold and windy walk with my Dad to the Spectrum to watch the games.

I am now watching the Flyers in the Stanley Cup semi-finals, with Smallest Weasel under my arm and the other Weasels sprawled through the living room. I explain the game, the action and the rules at the stoppage of play, the commercials and during intermission.

The Weasels are learning names like Chris Pronger, Mike Leighton, Danny Briere.

I have inadvertently taught them some new language skills.

Dad has been gone for many years now, yet he is still close in my heart. I feel him close as I hold my children and watch the Flyers play.

The Flyers are only 6 wins away from taking The Cup home. Lord Stanley, we want your Cup.

18 Years and What Do You Get?

When our children are born, they give us a great sense of hope for the future. The clean state of a new life and a mind just waiting to be filled with all the wonders of the world. A life ahead that has so much potential, just waiting to be tapped into.

We dream that they can grow up to be doctors, scientists and jurist of the fairest minds. We look into their eyes and see the the brilliance of the wheels grinding in their heads with sentient thought from early ages. As parents, we see their inner greatness and know that we can guide them in life and they can become great engineers, architects or cutting edge neurosurgeons.

Then they begin ripping off their diapers and playing with their own poo. Molding it like clay in their hands and smearing it artistically on every possible surface,In a way that makes the primates at the zoo say "Dude, that's nasty!" much like an artist with a blank canvass. We assume that they are telling us that they are ready for potty training when in fact, they just like to play with poo. We see their brilliance in everything that they do.

With a blink of an eye they grow to be tweens when they believe personal hygiene to be optional. We still have hopes for them but are no longer delusional about those hopes, but not on such a grand scale. At this time we realize that the time we have left to teach them how to be self sufficient adults is limited and that toothpaste usage is a life skill they have yet to master and we have much to accomplish and pertinent knowledge still left to pass on.

By the time they reach teen-hood, they finally take to heart the wisdom that you have beat into their heads about hygiene. Yet, you realize that with such focus in one area, they are still lacking any and all passion about the hygiene of their environment. Basic life skills such as not living in squalor or eating from clean utensils still have no priority in their lives. It doesn't matter what environment you have provided them or encouraged them to keep through the art of torturing via assigned chores, they have yet to grow an appreciation of the benefits that lie there in.

All through high school, we waste energy and breath attempting to reinforce the notion that the sniff test does not a clean shirt make they need to learn how to care for themselves and their personal needs in order to make it out in the world on their own. Only to come to understand that there are some lessons in life that they must learn through their own experience and that no amount of harping can change that and easily explains the carnage that is college dorm rooms and 1st apartments. We as parents have planted the seeds for that knowledge to grow.

While we await them to move the heck out of our homes so that we no longer have to live amidst their desecration, Before we know it, they shall be grown and out on their on. Off to college or trade school to become that great scientist, bartender, hairdresser or architect or poo flinging fool. We will shed a tear of sadness for the void they will leave behind, a tear of joy for all their accomplishments, see all of the potential within them and envision the bright future that lies ahead for them and thank God that they will finally be washing their own gym socks and enjoy a moment of pride, looking at their lives and knowing we have taught them well.

*This post is written for the venerable Melisa with one S, whose 18 years are coming to a close. I hope I could make you chuckle between tears.

The Sweet Side To Commanding A Room

Fellow blogger Spuds of Blirred Reality has written a post that was so popular that he re-posted by popular demand. I'm glad that he did. It was some great advice on the topic of "How to Command a Room Like a General", that basically translated to 'How to act like a gentleman, with class'. It is an excellent and entertaining read, that I hope to expound upon today.

Thus, I offer you The Sweet Side of Commanding a Room, Ladies Edition:

First things first, the look; Be sure to look your best.

• Be well manicured and kept. It doesn't matter if you do this yourself or have it done professionally, just make sure it's done. Clean, shaped nails, polished or not are a must.
• Take care of the eyebrows and get rid of stragglers. Waxing is best. No caterpillars aloud.
  
• Your undergarments are more important to the way you look than what you wear atop of them. A good bra can change your life ladies. Use body shapers to the fullest extent of the law (they make them for every issue) to conceal anything that you want (or need) to be concealed to be looking your best.
  
• Keep your attire simple and modern, yet classic. Skip the frills and fringe of trendy fashions. Go for basic, classic and flattering, never go frumpy. Leave the ultra-trendy fashions to the tramp set those dependent solely on their looks and have little else to offer.
• Do not carry a purse. It will only get in your way and have you fiddling with it all night and that detracts from your look. A good accessory will subtly add to your look and not distract from it. You only need to carry an ID, credit card and lipstick. Have your escort keep them in one of his many suit jacket pockets. This is much easier when you are married to your escort.
  

Enter the Room With Style.

• Enter the room on the arm of your escort. Not holding hands or side by side. On his arm. It shows that you are a lady and expect to be treated as such.
• Keep good posture. Slouching will make your stomach pooch and your shoulders look mousy.
• Walk with a confidence (never arrogance) that commands respect. You will be noticed. Hopefully your escort knows how to carry himself.

Always have a fresh drink in your hand.

• You don't have to be actually drinking them, but always be holding a fresh one.
• Melted ice in a wilted drink is a no-no. Pitch it.
• Never get your own drinks at the bar. That is the responsibility of your escort or other kind offers of the gentleman company you keep.
• Do not actually drink more than 2 cocktails through the course of the evening.
• Give the illusion of holding your liquor well, when in fact all you are really doing is holding liquor.

Shake hands upon introductions like you mean it.

• You don't need to take anyone's arm off, but give an honest firm, feminine handshake.
• Do not use the little limp wrist, 'I can barely hold up a glass because I am so weak' Scarlett O'Hara nonsense.
• Make eye contact. Don't stare, that's creepy, but show the person you are speaking with that they have your attention.
  
• If you Carry yourself well and shake hands feminine, but firm, the men will be intrigued with you as an attractive contender and not just a decoration. The women will interpret you as sincere in your greeting and you won't give them the 'I am repulsed by touching you' and 'too good for you' attitude.
• Keep your words and comments gentle and complimentary with the ladies. Don't over do it with syrup. Be genuine and kind. Many women are already looking for a reason to hate other women. Don't give them ammo. Win them over with smiles and generosity of spirit.
• As for the men, keep your words smart, your demeanor coy, your wit and tongue sharp but never mean. Think Katherine Hepburn or Grace Kelly -smart, classy, beautiful & could hold their own in any room -, Marilyn Monroe, on the other hand - beautiful, yet flaky and helpless. The combination of looking your best, being engaging and confident will intrigue and gain you respect from the men. The perpetual drink in your hand will help you get away with the sharpness of your tongue.
• You are not an accessory, do not act like one. Be engaging. You are the recipient of the same invitation of everyone else in that room. Own the room.
  
• Garnering the correct attention from men, believe it or not, has more to do with personality than looks. Granted, it takes the right look to get their attention, but it takes the right personality to keep their attention and leave a positive impression.

If you chat up the ladies and hold your own with the men as you carry yourself with confidence, you will soon have the room eating from one hand and the invitation to the next get together in the other.

The Black Eyed Peas Were Wrong

My day actually started out pretty good, unlike this past Saturday. I cranked on the tunes as I slapped together some sandwiches, snacks and juice boxes in full blown dance jam mode to regal the Weasels with my mad lunch packing skills as they ate breakfast.

The Black Eyed Peas insisted repeatedly that it would be a good day and night.

They even wished me Mazel Tov!

I whisked the Weasels into the car to head off to school. We were actually on time for once. Will.i.am may just have been onto something.

As I hopped into the drivers seat, Middle Weasel bolted out of the car for the last minute "I forgot ____". No biggie, we are good on time. MW only made it about 6 feet though. The door back into the house had closed and locked behind us. This would be the door that I don't have the key to.

No biggie. I know it's gonna be a good day, Fergie told me so. I'll find a way in.

I did manage to break my way in, in record time without the police being called. I was still batting .750, right?

I did some dishes, popped on twitter and within minutes was rewarded with an announcement that I had won round trip limo service to an event I'm headed to on Thursday night!!!!!!!!

Soon I had an email with all the details and instructions to call the limo company right away. I did so, only to find out that I live outside the radius that the prize covers. I'll call it the 'Winner's Circle'. No limo and champagne for me.

Apl.de.ap is disappointing me.

Next thing I know, it's time to leave for a Weasel doctor appoint. I get there to find a mountain of paperwork waiting for me and the news that there is a problem with the insurance. Or rather, there would be if we actually had some!

WWWWWHHHHAAAAAAATTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It seems there is a snafu ~that we are working on getting straightened out~ and that The Weasel Family is not presently covered by insurance!!!!!!!!!

I returned home after striking out 2 out of 3 times at bat (with a walk of breaking into my own home as my only trophy). I remembered that Mr. Weasel is working late tonight. I made sure everyone was fed a dinner that did not contain any Black Eyed Peas and hit the keyboard. I'm afraid that if I say anymore, it would just be taboo.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that Boy Weasel (13) had career day at school, where he opted to visit the box salesman, cosmetology, Bridal shop and advertising booths.

Tomorrow I think I will start my day with a little Garth and some Friends in Low Places.

*Sorry if this post sounds whiny. I'm not trying to be. I just wanted to point out the irony of my day.

No, No It's Not

It has been a long and harried week around here. Extremely busy and stressful with high highs and low lows. There were appointments to be kept on top of track meets, mysterious hive breakouts in the classroom and field trips. All the normal stuff, plus some bonus monkey wrenches thrown in for good measure.

I have been up well past my bedtime just about every single night. Last night was no exception. Once I did get to sleep, I was woken up around midnight and it was a good hour before I was back to getting some blissful Zzzzzzs.

4am comes around and it's time to start my day. I grab my coffee and open the back door in the darkness to let Matilda The Hun out for her morning constitutional before she manages to make me spill my mug all over myself.

Of course, Matilda decided to turn it into a real morning constitutional and take herself for a walk through the neighborhood. Great! Now I have to get a robe and shoes on and go collect her in the blackness while trying to navigate the minefield of fertilizing goodness that she left in her wake.

Reclaiming the 100 lb. beast and dragging her back into the house, I discover that Smallest Weasel is awake and wanting to cuddle up with me because she is cold. Only she's not cold, she's burning up.

Within minutes of cuddling, Smallest Weasel starts running for the bathroom before she has an explosive experience in her pants. I may have to fumigate to get rid of the stench. No sooner do I get her back to the couch than she is running for the bathroom again. This time battling time from things coming out the other end. I run behind her and hold her hair back, while trying not to upchuck myself. Hmmm, I guess those hives aren't to mysterious after all and are part of a virus. Smallest Weasel won't be going to that really awesome, super cool birthday party today that she was invited too.

Hmm, better wake some more Weasels up for the two track meets and gymnastics class. Matilda is ringing the potty bell at the back door again.

It's 7 am and I am already haggard. Mr. Weasel makes his entrance into the living room after having leisurely woken up on a warm and sunny Saturday morning, just as I am cracking open a silver bullet. "Isn't it a bit early for beer? Even for you."

No, no it's not.