tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80199362011-11-20T19:17:56.896-05:00"Point Me To The Exit" is a labor of necessity, born of insanity, nurtured with desperation. It's the story of a mom.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.comBlogger271100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-2485259779112333122008-06-11T14:24:00.003-04:002008-06-12T13:52:31.621-04:00

I’m coaching softball. And by “coaching” I mean herding fifteen 7-8 year old girls around a ball field for an hour twice a week.I don’t get a horse and I don’t get a dog. But I do get three assistant coaches.I think I’d prefer the dog.Seriously.Tonight is our second official practice of the four we’re allotted before games begin. I say official since one of our other coaches has kindly –

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-872307553651109452008-06-05T14:24:00.008-04:002008-06-05T15:44:13.184-04:00

It’s hot here in Lansing, Michigan. The actual temperature is only 78. Not all that impressive, really, unless you factor in the humidity. The air truly feels as if you could slice it with a knife. Even the plastic kind I allow the children to use. Three small bodies in this house with me, all wanting to cuddle, add not only degrees of happiness but of heat. I’ve opened the windows,

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-64838035771199421492007-08-23T15:23:00.000-04:002007-08-23T15:42:29.391-04:00

My oldest daughter can jump rope…..backwards. I can’t manage to employ those eyeballs I’m supposed to have in the back of my head.My middle daughter can whistle nursery rhymes. I am practicing making their punishments rhyme.Roses are RedViolets are BlueWho’s never leaving their room again for as long as they live under this roof by these rules while showing respect and consideration for

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-42546763223596020262007-08-23T14:49:00.000-04:002007-08-23T14:50:52.553-04:00

Overwhelmed with my day to day To Do Lists, I’ve decided to make a Life To Do List. Large-scale, likely unachievable, highly unbelievable, and grossly over exaggerated seems like the way to go. If I’m going to make a list of things I’d like to achieve in my lifetime, I think it makes the most sense to either make a monumentally long list of easily attainable goals so as to never run out, or a

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-56320522064470333882007-08-20T13:27:00.001-04:002007-08-20T13:27:52.893-04:00

Being a mother of 5 is undoubtedly the most challenging job I hold. Of course, it also happens to be the only job I currently hold, unless you count being a wife, and today’s a good day, so I won’t count it. Tomorrow may not fare the same.My children are 2 months, 2 years, 4 years, 6 years, and 7 years. Although I dye my hair, it’s not for grey, only vanity. My temper is mostly in check. My

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1142969162019254112006-03-21T14:22:00.000-05:002006-03-21T14:27:44.170-05:00

Joey: Why is 7 afraid of 9?Baby Mia: droolsJoey: Because 7 ate something.Baby Mia: droolsJoey: Get it? 7 ATE something. You don't get it.

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1133887392749963582005-12-06T11:42:00.000-05:002005-12-06T11:44:56.440-05:00

I decided I’m going to write a book. It really wasn’t as simple as it sounds though. In part because I’ve actually already written the book. Eighteen years ago, as a matter of fact. So, in fifth grade, I wrote a book. It rambled on where it should have been brief, it climaxed too late, and it lacked overall direction and focus. In short, it was written by a ten year old. Despite its

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1107882993168018882005-02-08T11:55:00.000-05:002005-02-08T12:16:33.170-05:00

I’ve happened upon another hypothetical situation I thought I’d share. So, there’s a 3-month pregnant wife suffering discomfort in her lower back due to pregnancy-related growth and expansion. She’s engaging in an odd frog-like stretching position in the family living room in an attempt to quell the pain. Her loving, and very thoughtful, husband notices the situation and voluntarily crosses

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1107448258943005792005-02-03T11:23:00.000-05:002005-02-03T11:36:35.176-05:00

Our family’s nighttime ritual is rather interesting, I think. After putting our 19 month old to bed, the girls (3 & 4), my husband, and myself all gather in their room for “the usual.” It’s always sweet, occasionally frustrating. One night, our baby girl was in a bit of a mood. It went something like this: It was Myrtle’s night to tell a story. She told her usual castles, princes,

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1104156858740990052004-12-27T09:11:00.000-05:002004-12-27T10:33:57.826-05:00

I got a pair of Uggs for these cooooold Michigan winters, a day at the spa, a prepaid card to our local Starbucks-esque coffee shop, and a cool book all from my loving husband. Oh, and apparently a little one that will be here sometime in August. And it wasn’t even on my list. He really should have consulted me on that one first, but it’s the thought that counts, right? RIGHT? I’m hoping

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1103551760875574452004-12-20T09:04:00.000-05:002004-12-20T09:10:01.190-05:00

When will men get it? No, not periods. Not menopause. A clue. When will they understand that there is a fine line they walk with their women, and there are dire consequences if they cross it? Let me present you with a hypothetical. So, husband and wife are getting ready for bed together, doing all the usual: brushing teeth, washing off makeup. You know the drill. The wife just happens to

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1103039217973385542004-12-14T10:45:00.000-05:002004-12-14T10:52:27.886-05:00

After an extremely rough night of two ear infections, one wet bed, and a teething baby, I wasn’t exactly feeling up to being Super Mom today. The morning started out real slow, with me taking a moment to rest both before and after my shower. The kids were reacquainting themselves with Playhouse Disney like never before, and I didn’t even have the energy to feel guilty. I was slowly pulling

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1102606741956586442004-12-09T10:33:00.000-05:002004-12-09T10:42:15.363-05:00

Dear Santa, All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth. Really, I want them back. I’m not old enough to be missing teeth. Ok, not missing per se, but those part-ceramic, part-metal, part-whatever the heck they’re made of might be fine for Christmas ornaments, but I don’t routinely adorn my mouth with Christmas ornaments. Yeah, I said routinely. And well, that’s not really all I want for

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1102434215727568172004-12-07T10:25:00.000-05:002004-12-07T10:48:42.620-05:00

Well, after the sale of Mary in the Grilled Cheese and Ghost in the Cane, eBay should expect more business with the inevitable auction of this Jesus in the Dental X-Rays. Because I think my husband incredibly funny, I will share with you our conversation via IM on the Jesus X-Ray. Disclaimer: The following conversation could be considered politically, morally, socially, and religiously

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1102360229773344442004-12-06T14:02:00.000-05:002004-12-06T14:16:22.693-05:00

Here you go, ladies. Check out these gems: *Jack Grimes of Maryland – Admires Saddam Hussein, and has a strong interest in telepathy and astrology. *Sterling Allan of Utah –Alphabetized and numbered every word in the bible, and says the code he discovered told him how the country should be run. *Randy Crow of North Carolina – Has a government implanted chip in his brain, and fears being

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1102086388381587682004-12-03T10:03:00.000-05:002004-12-03T15:01:39.650-05:00

Today feels like a good day for some unabashed, gratuitous bragging. So here goes: 1. My 4 year old understands and practices sarcasm. I'm so proud! 2. My 3 year old can write her name, and is an extremely good dancer. 3. My 17 month old can climb anything, and has taken to pushing furniture around the house. 4. My husband is the smartest, wittiest, most modest man I know. (ok, two of the

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1102006776439685012004-12-02T11:58:00.000-05:002004-12-02T12:04:50.710-05:00

When did pneumonia become so common place? It just made its way through our neighbor’s home, infecting both of her two kids. Now, it’s found its way to ours. Thanksgiving Day 2004. Little Man (our baby boy) comes down with a nasty cough. He had a very low-grade fever, but we were out of town, and he was acting fine, so we just watched him closely and went on with our plans. For all intents

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1101757371022750862004-11-29T14:41:00.000-05:002004-11-29T15:17:23.020-05:00

I try as much as I can to enjoy all of my children’s firsts as they happen, and appreciate them individually. I stopped thinking of my own firsts… well, about 5 years ago while expecting my first child. Even the firsts I felt during pregnancy were more about her than me. Well, today, I had a first, and it was really cool. My oldest daughter is in preschool three days a week. Her wonderful

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1101329868944159172004-11-24T15:50:00.000-05:002004-11-24T15:57:48.943-05:00

It’s snowing! Yup, in central Michigan, from the sky, falls the big, fluffy evidence that winter is closing in on us. And with it, come the sounds of the season... Somewhere at work, “I told her I wouldn’t have to mow the lawn again.” Somewhere are home, “I knew he wasn’t gonna mow the lawn again.” Somewhere in the neighborhood, “Looks like they’re not gonna mow the lawn again.” Ahh, the

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1101156003207787412004-11-22T15:36:00.000-05:002004-11-22T17:50:47.313-05:00

I've noticed in my blog surfing lately a new way of sharing a little about yourself. To that end, I've compiled a '100 Things About Me' list. It isn't fascinating or engaging, but it might just give you a little glimpse behind the blogger known as April. Thanks in advance for reading. I tried not to get too wordy, but I'm not sure I succeeded. I am 5’ 8’ and mostly legs. Thank God the clothing

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1100880370255843162004-11-19T11:05:00.000-05:002004-11-19T12:43:34.636-05:00

Ok, I had a dream. Two nights ago I had what might have been one of the most profound dreams of my life. I often remember the images and thoughts that flash through my sleeping mind, usually with fogginess and confusion, but with an overall sense of theme. Tuesday night, I dreamt of something far different than my usual anxiety-ridden delusions. It appears the propaganda of this past election,

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1100183943647032822004-11-11T09:36:00.000-05:002004-11-11T09:46:22.720-05:00

Kids. They’re funny little creatures. Their growing vocabularies can be reason for pride, concern, and often laughter. My daughters (3 and 4) have taken to making up “Knick Knack names” for everyone in our family. Regardless of my repeat corrections, they insist on calling them “knick knack names.” I chuckle each and every time I hear it. I know one day they’ll learn to say it properly, and it

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1099941590216430302004-11-08T14:16:00.000-05:002004-11-19T12:47:45.993-05:00

Ok, yeah it's Monday. The day we all dread. The day we must kick our own butts, and the butts of those we love, back into line. It's back to work for many. For me, it's back to CrackMom. I don't actually use drugs, at least not those of an illegal nature. My drug of choice is very much legal, but no less dangerous. I assure you without it, I'm a ticking timebomb. Caffeine is my vice, in just

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1099421143330540852004-11-02T13:44:00.000-05:002004-11-02T13:49:47.153-05:00

Election Day! Because it hasn't and can't be said enough, VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! Assuming anyone actually reads this, I hope you enjoy my commentary, have a small chuckle, a big pee break (those lines can be long) and head on out to vote! There's nothing better to do on this bleak, rainy day. There's nothing more important, more fulfilling, and empowering. For one day, ALL voices can be heard equally.

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1094060016625361202004-09-01T13:55:00.000-04:002004-11-19T12:50:32.486-05:00

I suppose today is one of those "typical" mom days. The kids are ornery, the house is a mess, and I have a headache the size of Vancouver. Take into account the empty bottle of Advil, the complete lack of will to clean - even AFTER 3 cups of coffee, and the laws in place against beating your children, and today seems rather hopeless. The outcome couldn't be more predictable OR disheartening.

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1093362613659412332004-08-24T10:40:00.000-04:002004-11-19T12:51:43.593-05:00

So, at age (still in negotiations), I am a full-time, stay-at-home, surviving-day-to-day, almost-optimistic, overly-pessimistic, just-call-me-realistic mother of 3. My children are with me 24 hours a day (which is to say, they: see me pee, invade my shower, impede my soap watching, snatch my food, clean the floor with my toothbrush, and leave me too exhausted for sex with my husband - really,

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8019936.post-1093024572120212172004-08-20T13:25:00.000-04:002004-08-24T10:38:59.560-04:00

"Point Me To The Exit" is a labor of necessity, born of insanity, nurtured with desperation. It's the story of a mom.

Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11071435667894039185noreply@blogger.com