Its All In The Name...

I realize that Bernie Madoff is scum. I recognize that he is the criminal and had hundreds of victims that will no longer be able to afford their bentley (and I don't mean my dog) and their kids may not be granted reality shows to depict how truly disgusting their lives are (yes Spencer Pratt, I mean you). Oh how they suffer. And, I am sure some people really are suffering. But, a little reality check here... would you really give your life savings to a man named Madoff? As in "Yes, I made off with your life savings?"

Let's pretend his name was Robin U. Blind. Would you let Robin have all your pennies that you worked (and by work, I mean either married into and/or inherited from someone who really did work at some point) so hard for? Maybe if his name was Mun E. Maker, I would understand the level of trust people put in this guy, but Madoff? Really???

There was once an arson suspect in Indiana named Burns. Uh duh. Guilty. Handing over millions to a guy named Madoff??? Hmmm.....

RIP Michael Jackson

I am not really a big Michael fan. I love the Jackson Five, and 80's Michael was pretty good. "We are the World" still rocks and I did an interpretive dance in 8th grade to "Black and White." I don't know if he molested kids, and I do think he was a kook. But, he was an icon. An icon of my childhood and my adulthood. Other people have had icons die. Farrah wasn't my generation. Neither was Paul Newman. But Michael was mine. I didn't understand you, but the talent hidden under the oxygen masks and behind plastic surgery gone wrong... to lose that is tragic. Only 50 years old.

Goodbye, Michael. I hope you find the peace in death that you certainly didn't get in life.

I am a mother...

Mark takes the kids to the park almost every evening after dinner. It gives me time to clean up, and if I am really lucky, time to sit on the couch for half a second and just breathe. Today, they went marching out the door while I stood at the sink rinsing our marinara spotted plates, and I heard a shriek. Seconds later in walks Mark carrying both boys because Will wiped out in our garage. He bellowed "mmmmaaaammmmaaa" while choking back sobs and gasping for breath. Rest assured, he is fine. He didn't even break the skin, which makes today a good day, because no skinned knees is a rarity in this house. But, it did take me aback for a moment because I realized... I am a mother.

That thought did occur to me twice before. Once when they pulled Will from my womb and a second time when it was Jack's turn to be yanked out. But, after that... not really. I know I have kids (don't call the men in white coats just yet), but on a daily basis I feel more babysitter-esque. Just feed, clothe, rinse, repeat. Three times daily. Keep them alive in between. Check. But, when Will's shrill "mama" echoed through the house, I realized it was directed at me. I was mama. I could heal him.

I don't walk on water, but man... its pretty close. To be the mother of a young child is the closest thing to God on this planet. Luckily there are lots of us, so it doesn't go to our heads. But, we are magical. He is hurt and my lips heal him. He wants a cuddle and time stands still in mama's arms. Someone is mad at him and my words repair the damage. And, when he is wrong... my arms absolve him of his sins. He cried tonight until I kissed his wounds and hallelujah, he is cured. I am a mother. Weird.

The thunder rolls....

In the immortal words of Garth Brooks... the thunder rolls... and the lightening strikes... another love goes dark on a sleepless niiiiiiight. In this case, the love going cold is that for my computer, and the dark would be the monitor that no longer glows with lovely cyber colors. That's right. Computer down. I tried 911 and they were no help. Will got inside it with his plastic drill and nothing. Mark the IT professional pronounced it, "time of death 9:43PM." Apparently he did everything he could, but it was just too far gone at that point. Single tear. By tomorrow, it will be lots of tears. One strike of lightening and BAM... my world is over. So, this is to let my readers (or reader depending on the day) know that I am gone now. My computer has been silenced. Some day, I will type again. Buh bye.

Shoo Fly - Obama Style

Shoo Fly

Lyrics

by President Obama

Shoo fly, don't bother me.

Shoo fly, don't bother me.

Shoo fly, don't bother me,

for I'll kill you then pardon me.

Watch me, watch me

Reflexes of a jungle cat

Watch me, watch me

tiny fly, you just went splat!

Please note that lyrics were not intended to offend the fly community or endorse the ruthless murder of insects throughout the world and apparently inside the White House, so please don't come after me, you idiots (ahem.... I mean Peta).

Striking Fear into the Hearts of Many...

Do you ever put the kids down for a nap, miraculously... both at the same time...and then sit down with a soda and your Tivoed Real World/Road Rules Challenge (hypothetically, of course... cuz who watches that stuff) only to hear the worst sound ever made. WAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

I find myself in a constant state of "what was that? Did you hear that? Which kid was that?" And, I don't mind saying, I am a little bit sick of it. I come downstairs with Will this morning and get him to the potty, get his breakfast, nuke my leftover pizza (the breakfast of champions), all the while listening. Thinking about turning on the monitor, but that just makes the WAAAAHHHH that much louder. I prefer the semi-muted WAHHHH of the natural cry as opposed to the magnified WAHHH of a speaker. As soon as my microwave signals me with the triple beep... I hear it. WAAAHHHHHH. Pizza abandoned. I am a trained Jack retriever. Just brush me occasionally and leave me a bowl of water and I am good to go.

Later, I will shower. (Yes, its 10:29am and I am still in my pjs... and truth be told, I have been in them since 4:30pm yesterday. Ha. Stay home moms rule). I will put Jack down for his morning nap soon and I will shower... all the while holding my shoulders up to my ears with the tension of knowing that any minute.... while shampooing.... while brushing teeth.... if I am lucky, I will make it all the way to make up and hair before the dreaded WAAAAAHHHHHHH starts again.

Even later, I will put them down for a nap (God willing, at the same time). And I will attempt to get things done. I will make phone calls, I will fold laundry, I will bake banana bread (no kidding... its really on my "to do" list today). But, I will do the whole list creeping around, afraid to speak above a whisper for fear that they will hear me. That I will get a premature WAAHHHHH or MAAAAMMMMMAAAA depending on the kid.

Latest, I will be in bed tonight. I will have the Jack TV on and I will sleep the restless sleep of a parent that knows the second she falls asleep the child will awaken. Times two, since there are two kids. I know that if I hit that blessed REM that others speak of but I don't quite recall, I will be ripped from it with a WAAAHHHH of epic proportion.

I remember a time when I lived alone and I would hear the windows creak with wind and be frightened at the noise. I would hear scratchings of bushes on my bedroom window and the house settling like footsteps and would jump wondering "what is that sound?" Only now do I realize what a terrifying sound really is. It doesn't make you wonder if there's someone in your house. You know there is someone in your house... and you know that the peace and quiet that you may experience at that moment is going to be short lived.... you just don't know when it will strike. WAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Pee pee in the potty.... A Diary

7:30a - Trying to put Will on the potty. Apparently someone has equated sitting on the potty with water boarding, because Will has decided that he is not going to do it. In fact, Will has decided that he would rather be tar and feathered than do it. Will would rather cover his body in honey and roll on a bee hive. Will has decided he would rather swim in a sea of sharks with a paper cut (Will would have the cut, not the sharks) than do it. You get the point. He protested. A. Lot. Evil Mommy "The Potty Training Torturer" forced him to sit on potty bare butted while she read a story. Gitmo has nothing on her! Will continued his protest in the form of a screaming, crying tantrum. Mommy's negotiating style (ex. DO YOU WANT A SPANKING?!?!?!?) was victorious as Will sat on potty through entire story. Upon completion of story, Will decides that maybe he will go pee pee to earn 30 minutes with his "potty buddy," a reeree super cool shooter truck. Will succeeds in going potty and is currently playing with shooter truck while wearing Lightning McQueen grunders. Score 1 for Evil Mommy.

8:40am - Grunders report - dry! Torture session number two began at 8:30am. Forced unsuspecting victim (aka Will) onto potty. Evil Mommy read "A Was Once an Apple Pie" which was actually much more painful for her than for Will. Will sat through story. No pee pee. Will tried after the story... much grunting and effort was put in. No pee pee. Finally, Will determined that he needed to use the big potty. More grunting ensued. SO DID PEE PEE! YAY WILL. Score - Evil Mommy 2... Diapers - 0!!!!

9:51 am - Grunder status - dry again!!! Torture session number 3 began at 9:40am. It was interrupted by TruGreen dude at 9:42am. I apologize, Mr. TruGreen for coming to the door in pjs, glasses and braless. Of course, Will had no pants or grunders, so my lack of bra might not have been quite as odd as Will's lack of anything south of the border. This potty session was a win/win because Will picked a different book (Clifford book called "Teacher's Pet") and Will went pee pee right away. Not So Evil Mommy - 3.... Diapers - 0!!!!

11:09am - Its almost too easy! Mediocre Mommy - 4... Diapers 0! Like taking candy from a baby... or actually, like giving bribes to a toddler... but who cares!!!

12:23pm - Changing name from Mediocre Mommy to Failure Mommy. With 4 minutes to go on the "potty timer" Will informed me that he went potty on the chair. Failing At Training Mommy - 4... Diapers 1. Uh oh.

12:48pm - Making a comeback! Will starting to pee and yelled "MOMMY, ME POOPING!" We ran to the potty and while the poop is still alluding us... he pee peed!!! Can I get a woo woo!?!?! Mommy Rules - 5.... Diapers 1.

12:59pm - I've created a monster. Will yelled "MOMMY, GO PEE" and we went to the potty and he peed. Then he asked for trucks. As a prize. I am making him a sign that says "Will pee for trucks" and putting him at a highway off ramp next to the homeless guys. Super Mommy - 6... Diapers 1... Will realizing he can get oodles of toys in trade for urine... 1.

1:09pm - I've. Created. A. Monster. A monster who likes to pee. Tired of Potty Training Mommy - 7. Diapers 1. Times Will has peed in last half hour - 3.

1:51pm - How is it possible that he wet himself after peeing every 30 seconds?!?!?! Will went out to play and promptly wet his pants... THE FIRST PANTS I HAVE BOTHERED TO PUT ON HIM TODAY! Luckily, my grouchy neighbors have company and all are sitting on the deck outside so that they could hear him yell that he was peeing himself. White Trash Mom - 7. Diapers - 2. Monster who loves to pee in the potty... Gone.

2:32pm - Will goes pee pee upon my request prior to nap time. Mother Earth Incarnate - 8. Diapers -2. Nap time. Thank God.

4:56pm - Nap time's over. Peace and quiet is over. My sanity is over. Oh wait... I haven't had that for years. Somehow Will remembered that potty = death, so it was a fight to get him back on. Once on, that craptastic "A Was Once An Apple Pie" reared its ugly head. No pee pee, but a valiant effort at least. Considering going to the store to buy books that don't make me want to stap my eyes out with the soap dispenser. But, slightly afraid to take the spontaneous pee machine to the store. Hmmm.....

5:43pm - Suggested that Will go pee pee. He agreed without incident and is happily playing with his "potty buddy" truck after a successful urination. Seriously, is this my life? It currently revolves around someone else's bladder. God help me.

6:36pm - Asked Will to go pee pee before dinner. HE DID IT. Picture me singing the "We Did It" Dora song and swinging my arms and knees side to side. He did it!!! Me - 10. Diapers 2. Eat it, diapers!

7:39pm - Will wants to go to the park. Told him that he has to go pee pee first. Will pee peed like a pro. A PRO! Mother of Professional Pottier - 11. Diapers - sad, pathetic score of 2.

8:22pm - Will returned from the park after about 30 seconds so that he could spend time with his "potty buddy." Who knew all he needed to pee pee is a friend. Or really, a truck. Duh.

9:07pm - Will was diapered for bedtime at 9:00pm. He then asked to go pee pee in the potty one more time. He said he didn't want a diaper, he wanted grunders. Well, he got diapers because we all know he's not going potty during the night. So, he is now off to bed. In a diaper. His first diaper of the day. Only two accidents. I think that is pretty good and don't worry, I'll keep you posted. Not as posted as today... but posted nonetheless.

The end.

Just Jack. 2009.

Jack has lots of numbers. Jack has one tooth. He has taken zero steps. He says zero words. He stands on his own for two seconds at a time. He has slept through the night three times. These numbers that define him are pretty low. Except in doctors and doctor appointments. Jack has five doctors. Jack has a pediatrician, a chiropractor, a neurologist, a neurosurgeon and a physical therapist. Jack had four appointments this week alone. But as of now, Jack is down to one.


I blogged awhile back about how we had to take Jack to the ER one night because he had a seizure. That was back in March. Finally, after doctors and tests and tests and doctors, we have a definitive answer of... he's fine. HE. IS. FINE. Those are short words. They make up a short sentence... but the weight of that sentence is ginormous. I would like to say that I always knew he would be fine. That deep in my soul I knew that this would be the outcome. But, I didn't. I didn't panic either. I didn't freak out or lose it, and I stuck by my mantra of not panicking until there is something to panic about. That being said, I would gaze at his head and wonder. What is in there? His blood work was normal and we learned that awhile ago. His EEG was normal. We learned that not long ago. His neurologist felt that things were fine. We learned that a few weeks ago. But, there was that dreaded word that kept hanging around. Tumor. Nothing excluded a tumor. So, tumors lingered in my mind. The what ifs hung out there with the tumor. What if he had one? What if it was inoperable? What if it was a choice of whether or not to operate but he may not survive? What if its not all ok? But, now I can say a hearty "piss off" to you what ifs because I don't have to keep you in my head anymore. Because there ain't nothing in Jack's head that isn't supposed to be there. Take that, what ifs!!!

Starting at about 2:30pm today, when the neurologist called and told me what I was 95% sure of, I can look at Jack's head and not wonder if something is in there. I can stroke his hair and not fear what lies beneath. I can look in his eyes and know that those eyes don't hide anything painful behind them. Jack is fine. The best three little words I have ever heard.

Lost Mojo

I don't know if I ever had any mojo.... but if I did, I accidentally left it somewhere and I haven't been able to retrace my steps to figure out where. I looked in the couch cushions and under the ottoman, but its not there. And, I even cleaned out my purse, but all I found was Zain's old hearing aide. So, I am pretty sure its lost and I am not sure if it will ever be found.

Basically, I am not feeling the blog world anymore. Don't get me wrong... I love the clever and witty blogs that I read... I've just come to realize that mine isn't one of them. I used to have a list of topics and cracked myself up (and I don't care if I was the only one cracking), but I can't think of anything to say anymore. The only crack is the crack I must be smoking if I think anyone wants to read the crap I keep putting out here. I have complained about my kids, husband, life, weight, kids, politics, tv shows, kids... and I am even boring myself anymore. I have lost followers, my comments are down to next to nothing... and I just think maybe its time for me to move on to other exploits... like the laundry I've neglected since I started this thing.

At first, blogging was an addiction for me. I couldn't wait to have a couple minutes to bang out a post on my keyboard... but now it feels like a job. And God knows I don't want no J-O-B. And if I did... it would actually pay some money. So, I am taking a break, I guess. If I track down my mojo, I will put it to good use... but until then... consider this a mojo (and crappy post... or crappier than usual) free zone.

Scientific Proof

I saw part of Good Morning, America today, and they announced that my kids are killing me. I don't know if you saw it or not, but Robin Roberts announced that "Will and Jack are slowly killing Lynn". I was shocked that she knew that, but who can argue with Robin. Seriously, the woman knows her stuff.

Ok, it may not have been that blunt, but the bottom line is that they have determined that getting too little sleep literally shortens your life. A person needs 7 to 8 hours of sleep to regenerate and fix the damage done to your body during the day. Seven hours of sleep? I haven't gotten that in 3 years and some odd weeks. Probably longer than that, because at the end of my pregnancy with Will I had to pee every 35 seconds, so I am not sure I got much sleep in the interim between potty trips. Then again, maybe I passed out on the toilet a couple times... so it is possible. Plus, he had colic and slept through the night at 1 month old... so maybe 3 years is a bit of an exaggeration. I know for a fact that I haven't gotten that much since Jack was born. So, at a minimum, we are going on 10 months and three nights since I've slept a nice "life lengthening" amount. So, I am toast. Goodbye, cruel world!!!

So, at 7:45a this morning I learned that my children are shortening my life. GMA says so. Now I am left trying to determine how much time I have left on this planet. They didn't tell me how short my life is going to be. I am 30 now... so... what? Maybe I am middle aged. I am googling sports cars and toupees to allow for my midlife crisis that I apparently need to get moving on. Adding "have affair with pool boy" to my to-do list for today. I don't have a pool, so I guess that means I am heading over to Lori or Jo's house today in the hopes that they may have a pool boy stop by. I feel like I need to go skydiving.... Rocky Mountain climbing.... go two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu. But, then again... I bought Bagelfuls at the grocery store yesterday and they are like $4.00 a box with only four bagel tubes of cream cheese goodness inside... so if that isn't living life to the fullest... what is????

A Secret Wish...

There is a couple that I hold a deep and serious hatred for... even though I don't even know them. This couple is so sickeningly apple pie that they make my blood boil. This couple smiles bigger than a Colgate commercial and giggles like school children. This couple says things like "Gosh golly" and "gee whiz." This couple makes me want to puke. This.... is the couple.

I just threw up a little bit in my mouth. I don't really know what Donny and Marie have done to me personally.... but I am pretty sure they scorned me in a past life... because I just want to kick them in the shins and run away. Actually, I would rather kick them in the shins and stand and point as they wallow in the shin pain. I would kick Donny somewhere else, but I am not sure he is anatomically correct (have you seen some of the crap this "man" is willing to wear???), and I am totally sure I don't want to find out. I think they annoy the crap out of me for pictures like this:

Are they rocking out to "I'm a little bit country.... and I'm a little bit rock and roll?" And seriously, if Donny wants to claim to be a little bit rock and roll, I think that Metallica, Elvis and The Backyardigans should band together to kick his a$$ for every time he has ever claimed to be any part rock and roll.

Or... maybe they irritate me because they sing like this:

Or, it could possibly be for album covers like this:

I just watched them in a segment on The Bonnie Hunt Show, and I just have to wonder... is it real? Could two people really be that annoying? Here is what I wish... is it possible that they have invented these personalities to sell crappy music and cheesy dolls to the taste-challenged? Is Donny stopping off on Hollywood Boulevard after his appearance on Bonnie to pick up a hooker or two and head home for an evening of debauchery and sin? And Marie heads her separate way to go home to Utah and chain smoke, swig vodka and smack her boy toys around. Secretly, they hate each other and the whole brother/sister too close for comfort thing is just an act so that people think they are pure and innocent (and possibly incestuous) while they really can't stand each other and Donny had to take an order of protection out on Marie because when he told her that she was off beat on the finale of Dancing with the Stars she kicked the crap out of him. But, don't worry about Donny, because he has been sneaking into Marie's house and injecting her NutriSystem pre-prepared meals with lard behind her back.

Ok, maybe this is too much to wish for... but its a fairytale that I would like to see come true.

My uterus hurts...

My biological clock ticks sometimes. I threw it out the window a few months ago when it started ticking, but it somehow made it back inside me. I think its because so many people I know are having baby girls.... and I want one. Jess is having a baby girl. She has two boys, 6 and 4ish, I think, and now she is prego with a little bambina. Briana is popping (I wrote pooping the first time... and it made me laugh) a baby girl out this July, and Julie in Germany doesn't have confirmation but she "feels" like its a girl. Even Kat, a fellow blogger, is Queen of Boyland, but she's having a pink hatted little one soon. I kinda want one now, too. Her name is Olivia Eleanor, I think, and she would be very cute and well behaved, I'm sure. Doncha wanna meet her?

I want to be pregnant again, too. I do. I am not sure its for the right reasons though. I want to wear huge flowy frocks and have a good excuse to muumuu out. I want to eat ice cream and gain weight and have a plausible reason why. I kinda want it for the right reasons, too. I never felt Will when I was pregnant with him. Never. There was no "oh honey... he's kicking" moments in my baby growth chamber. The nurse said I was "insensitive." My response was... duh. When I was pregnant with Jack I tore my round ligament and he blinked and I felt it. There was no "awww... he moved." It was "AAAAAHHHHHHH, SIT STILL YOU LITTLE DEMON!!!!!" But, I want that. I want to sit here and feel the baby shift and lovingly stroke my belly like they do on TV. Surely that is how it is supposed to be, right? And, with Jack there were so many complications. I never sat back and relished in my baby-building amazingness. Instead, I BEGGED for it to be over. I counted the seconds until that 500 pound (ok, he was 8 pounds 10 ounces) lead weight was taken out. I want the glowy, showy happy pregnancy that Motherhood Maternity's catalogue shows. I bet they're just wearing fake bellies, huh?

But, as I have mentioned in a previous blog... I don't want to raise my baby girl. I don't really want the whole c-section thing to get it out, and God knows no one is coming out the other way! I saw that video in birthing class and that stuff just ain't right. And, I don't want it to cry. I don't want middle of the night feedings and I don't want to have a baby. I want my life back. I want sleep uninterrupted and tv watching of something other than Noggin. And books. With WORDS and not PICTURES. I want a baby girl, but not an actual living, breathing baby. I want a little Olivia (Liv) to dress in cute clothes and cuddle, but only on my terms. Not when she's hungry at 2:00a and not because she just erped up 15 tons of curdles white nasty on the ruffles. And, don't get me started on going through 9 months of pregnancy hell (oops, I mean bliss) and have that kid come with another outie and not the innie that I want!!!

So, basically my uterus longs for another trip down Procreation Lane... and my brain has pulled over onto the shoulder in protest. Part of me thinks that we should just have Mark neutered because I am probably better off sticking to the two and a half kids I've got. But, if we did, I think I would regret it. Does that mean I could have a quickie with George Clooney??? Hmm..... that plan may not be so bad.

His Name is Will... and he's a truckaholic

This is how Will goes swimming.

This is how Will goes to the farm.

This is how Will opens his birthday presents.



This is how Will parties on his birthday.



This is how Will plays at the park.




This is how Will plays at Chuck E Cheese.



Am starting to be concerned that truck addiction is getting out of hand.....

Wednesday "What the..." a day early...

I am so on top of it, I am living Wednesday today. I have a standing Wednesday playdate with some friends (and yes, we bring the kids, too), but we're doing it today... so in honor of that... I am going to do a Wednesday "What the...." today, as well. Some things are going on that warrant some commentary. Because really... what current event isn't enhanced by a little Lynn logic?!?!

1. How does an entire plane just disappear? I am not making light of this, because I am scared to death of flying, so major air disasters tend to make it on my radar. But, I am just wondering in the age of voice recorders, black boxes and uh... actual radar... why don't we know what happened? Was Air France cutting back on technology or what? Let's go ahead and agree that it is ok to cut back on the extra luggage for free, and its ok to take away our snack packs and peanuts... but it isn't ok to let us fly over the open seas and not be tracked. Some cut backs are just not ok.

2. I want to give a shout out to all the Pro-Lifers out there. I get the message and on some level, I even agree. (On some level.... not in reality land). But, could one of you explain to me why its not ok to terminate a pregnancy in the early stages, but it is ok to terminate an adult life? Because I am not sure I get that logic. That whole "every life is precious" thing should probably go ahead and apply to the already born and raised, too.

3. Lastly, on the list for Wednesday's "What the..." is the Murphy's law applied to owning a house. Why is it when you finally are going to invest in something that you would just L-O-V-E for your house (hypothetically, we'll say a patio that is actually bigger than a matchbook that could hold a table and chairs), you get an estimate on some water damage that runs at at minimum of $12,000. Goodbye, patio! Hello.... living in a box because who the hell can afford a repair that starts at $12,000. And, for the record... if you are sitting there thinking that you could easily afford that repair and you don't get where I am coming from... don't comment. Thanks.

Irreconcilable Differences

Right now, Mark and I are suffering from a major difference of opinion. It may even rival the great "Choking versus Drowning" debate of 2005 that almost lead to our wedding being cancelled. And while this topic is equally as inconsequential as that one, apparently it is going to be the catalyst for fights for the rest of our lives. And what is this monumental crisis that we can't seem to get past? Car keys. Car. Keys. Car keys left in the car. Oh yes. My name is Lynn, and I am known to leave my car keys in the car. I am 13 hours and 45 minutes rehabilitated, having brought the keys into the house when we returned from my mom's last night. But... I may fall off the wagon. Quitting is hard to do.

Some of you are probably thinking that I am nuts for leaving my keys in my car. I could get the car stolen, or worse... my DVD player and Madonna CD collection could be toast. But, I live in Tamesville, where nothing ever, EVER happens. I have seen the cops in our neighborhood twice since I've lived here, and both times were because I accidentally dialed 911. Oops! Plus, I am sorry, but I got my hands FULL. You try bringing in two giants, plus a diaper bag, plus a purse and keys when you don't have any pockets. That ain't easy. And yes, I could take a second trip out, but that all depends on what stage Jack and Will are at on their quest for world domination. Sometimes, walking out the door and back just isn't an option. Then, I admit it. I forget. I juggle nap times, recipes, roof estimates, our schedules, our bills, our bank accounts, our rental properties, what time Jack ate last, why the fish keep dying, and whether or not I should pluck my eyebrows versus waiting til the next wax. Its exhausting. Sometimes the little stuff slips.

Now don't get me wrong. I understand Mark's point of view. Take keys in.... world stays safe. I see the logic in that. I am not some crazy person who would park down in Ghettoville and leave my keys in the ignition. I am even making a concerted effort to bring them in at home (after being locked out of my car twice recently because my purse was in the car, with my keys, and Mark locked it after driving it last). We also decided that the second set of keys could hang in the house instead of in his pocket at work all day when he isn't driving the van. Makes sense, right? And, I will actually add "remember to bring in purse and keys" to the list of things running through my so-called brain all day long. Excellent compromise. But, yesterday, at my parents' house (possibly a neighborhood safer than mine because the over 90 crowd that lives there can't see over my steering wheel to drive away in the car anyway) I had no pockets and I left the keys in the car. This event will go down in history as the cause of World War III. We'll just have to wait and see who breaks out the nuclear arsenal first... the Allies or the Axis of Evil Car Key Leaver Iners.