The First Day Of Crazy

On The 1st Day of Crazy
The Good Gods sent to me
An Absolutely Flooded Basement...

A Whoopie Pie Debacle
Broken Coffee Pot
Nick Broke His Thumb
Splinters From The Wood
Smashing Christmas Tree
Papers Go To Print

FIVE PRESENTS FOUND(by Tyler, of course)

Forgot My Wallet at My House
Need to Order Oil
Of Course We're Outta Milk

AND A FOOT OF WATER IN THE BAAAAASE~MEEEEEENT!

Merry Christmas!!

funny.crazy.love

My Broken Funny Bone

Oh.
Where do I begin?
With an apology? A thank-you? An excuse?

Buckle up, Crazy Road travelers...this might be a bumpy ride.

First, I will tell all of you that have been wondering if the crazy, funny, nutty situations that make life on Crazy Road so, well, crazy~ are still occurring, that~

YES. Indeed they are.

Its a bit of a long story as to what happened with me, and why I haven't written about our chaotic, hilarious life. But now, as I am writing, the words are piling up in my head and ready to explode right onto this blog...

The fact is, my funny bone broke. And it took the words of a complete stranger, as well as a new friend, to shake me out of my slump.

You see, back in July, I received an email unlike any other.

It was an email from someone that I had never met.

Inviting ME to compete in the Mrs. Maine Pageant.

My initial reaction was a giggle.

ME? In a pageant? Now THAT was hilarious to me. And to my close family and friends who know me all too well~hysterical! How would someone like ME compete with beautiful, smart, talented ladies who were likely familiar with very high heels and false eyelashes?

More giggles just picturing it.

ME in a bathing suit? ME in an evening gown? ME in a...crown?

And so days went by, and I couldn't get the thought out of my head. Being in the pageant would mean I could talk about Barbara Bush Children's Hospital and The Make-A-Wish foundation, and maybe, just maybe, help out these two charities that are very near and dear to my heart. so, why NOT me?

"PLUS," I thought...

I mean, this is something that is a once-in-a lifetime opportunity. The whole issue of the looming 40th birthday has been really getting me down...why not do this thing and really take this opportunity to GLAM up. I USED to be glam. I USED to know what was hip. I USED to read magazines and brush up on eyeliner and highlighting techniques...

NOW I pour over the articles on banishing belly fat and reducing stress and de-puffing under-eye-bags.

Blah.

So, with the encouragement of the same family and friends that giggled along with me at first, I took the plunge into the pageant world. I vowed I wouldn't stress about it. I promised I would have fun with it and not try to be someone that I was not...

Oops.

I didn't even realize what was happening.

I poured over pictures of bathing suits and gowns.

My hair has gone from blond to red to brown to red to brown again in an effort to look my best.

I purchased creams and lotions and eyebrow stuff...

I stopped seeing the humor in my days.

On Thanksgiving, for instance, my beloved coffee pot @#$% the proverbial bed. Because I am a fiend about my coffee, not just any coffee pot will do. Because its Christmas, my finances are tied up in Santa's sack(get your minds outta the gutter folks, I mean toys)...and the new pot will just have to wait. So, in the meantime, my husband and I take turns literally beating the broken KRUPP'S coffee pot until it brews my liquid lifeblood.

That's funny.

But I didn't write about it. I will, though. I have a lot of "ground" to make up...

Our Christmas tree came crashing down in the middle of our living room the other night. Among shattered ornaments and tangles lights, the real me would have laughed at the situation and written about the fact that I heard the tree creaking and thought there was a squirrel or mouse a la Clark Griswold, and my husband and I were staring at the tree waiting for it to jump out at us as the tree came smashing down...

Thats funny.

But all I could do was cry and think about all the work I put into that tree and the sentimental value it had...

My husband said..."Well, its gonna make a good story for your blog..." And I barely heard his words.

A couple of weeks ago, I was trying on gowns for the pageant. As I stood in  front of the mirror, and the downright lovely lady fussed over the straps and the trains and the sparkles and the boobs...All I could think of was...my belly fat. My stress. My worry about being judged.

This was not funny.

Last week, I met with a couple of ladies to go over my "pageant stuff." My paperwork. My bathing suit. My plan for the interview.

I answered the questions in a way that I thought was "pageant" like...

And here is my first "THANK YOU:"

During the practice interview, she stopped me mid-sentence.

She said, "You are not that funny. Everyone told me that you were funny and I am just not seeing it."

I was so taken back by her statement! After all, the one word that I am pretty sure people think of when they think of me is: funny.

What had happened? Where had I gone wrong? Had I evolved into an un-funny person?

You know what?

I had.

Shame on me.

I think I convinced myself that to compete in a pageant like this, I had to become very dignified. Very serious.

Very Not Me.

So thank you, beautiful stranger. I hope to re-meet you soon so I can introduce you to someone I like very much...me.

The other night, as I was peering into my magnifying mirror looking at my wrinkles and zits and other deformities with my ever-critical eye, my husband came into the bathroom...

"Stop doing that!" He said..."You are beautiful."

"Easy for you to say. You don't have one-single-wrinkle or and you never get zits!"

He said, "Maybe you should stop layering all those products on and just use soap."

hmmmmm.....

And I looked at my side of the vanity and really saw what I had missed for months.

I have every anti-aging eye cream, scar-reducing serum, self-tanners, stuff to make my hair better, thicker, longer, lighter, darker, skin-primer, face luminator, Clearasil, line erasers, eye-lash plumpers, lip sticks, glosses, balms and tubes....you name it...if it is on a Rite-Aid shelf...I own it.

Ugh.

And I am pretty sure I look the same as I did before.

He was so right. Again.

Yesterday, my new friend Kayt said, "When are you gonna blog again? We miss your funny, crazy life!"

You know what, Kayt?

So do I.

And lucky me, it's been right here waiting for me. Right in front of my ridiculously eye-shadowed eyes.

Thank you, Kayt.

So...onto my apologies...

To my husband. I know I have been impossible.

To the followers of Crazy Road...

Sorry...temporarily lost my funny-mojo.

I am right here...

And so, I will be in the Mrs. Maine Pageant in February. I will do my best to represent all of the "MRS. MAINES" out there who are busy mothers, wives, workers, bill-paying, grocery getting, dinner-making, tear-wiping-bedtime-story-telling-appointment keepers-taxi driving-Christmas shopping-beautiful-talented-successful ladies out there.

I will proudly wear the heels and the gowns and the bathing suits(oh.yes.i.will) and the eyelashes. My hair will be shiny and big and my "girls" will likely be taped up to resemble the boobs(yes, I said boobs, because its funny)of days gone by...

But underneath it all, I PROMISE, will be crazy, funny me.

And THAT is perfectly fine.

I am thrilled that you are still reading this. I might have thought you would have given up on it. I forgot how much I love to write about my wonderful life...I admit...I almost forgot my password to get into my own website! But of course, it came to me. Its really my own description of the real me.

Thank goodness..

I am soon-to-be-forty.

I am proud of my life and my accomplishments.

I have laugh lines~From years of laughing so much and so hard at myself, with friends and family, at funny movies with my husband, at my kids, my sister, my friends, Lisa, Julie...

I have a belly that has made room for my three beautiful babies, and is a bit stretched out because of that. In light of what I have in my kids...I'll take the stretch.

I have stress about my job as an advertising executive, and ad deadlines, and sales numbers...but I have a great job~I work with fantastic people, I have a perfect schedule...I am so lucky.

I am blessed with healthy, happy kids. An amazing, supportive husband. A great family. Amazing friends.

And a healed funny bone.

Stay tuned...I am back, baby!!

Thanks for reading...

funny.crazy.love.

Real Runner

People say I'm crazy.

I won't deny I have my moments of crazy. I embrace it now. I can't fight crazy any more than I can fight being short, or my fear of frogs.

What seems crazy to others, and what is crazy to me, are sometimes two different things.

Crazy to me was the thought of ever being a "runner." I've done my fair share of treadmills, and aerobics, and hundreds of different videos, ab crunchers and whatever was the new "it" gadget...but I never could get my arms (or legs) around RUNNING.

Here's another thing about me. I am naturally lazy.

Not so much in my life, as a mom, a wife, an advertising exec, grocery getter, tear wiper, dinner maker, bill payer, candy-land-ref, and all that...

But with excercise.

i no likey.

I know its a must. I have read every magazine, watched every TV show...I KNOW I have to exercise if I want to be fit and healthy.

I know.

I know.

I know.

So last year I started walking...every day, a little further, a little faster. I grew to look forward and actually liked my walks. I took Casey, my beloved Golden Retriever. And seeing the absolute joy he got from the walks made it all the better.

I even got some of those massive make-your-but-look-cute-if you-walk-in-these Sketchers. I have never had a pair of shoes that came with a DVD that shows you how to walk in them, but sure enough, in a few days I was walking on air and feeling better and better.

Miles and Miles later, at the end of the summer, I heard about a family in my town that have two young children, Brooke and Josh, who have been diagnosed with A-T. Brooke is in my daughters class, Josh is in third grade. There would be a 5K in October to raise money for research for this terrible disease that currently has no cure..What could I do to help?

I could run, that's what.

So I started running.

I hated it.

It hurt my legs. It hurt my hips. It hurt my back. It hurt my arms. It hurt my ta-tas. I think it hurt my ears. It hurt everywhere...at first.

But I did it. I set the goal that I would run that race without stopping. 3 Miles. I knew it would not kill me.

Right?

At times I felt like it would. I started 1/4 mile by 1/4 mile. Soon I was running that 3 miles...and I had my trusty little pedometer thinger to prove it. My heart pounded. I believe that I perspired more than I ever have.

But doggone it. I was running.

And so October arrived. I was ready to race.

The night before, I was nervous. I wasn't sure why, I knew I could do it. I wasn't out to win...I just wanted to finish. I didn't know the route of the race, but I was pretty sure it wouldn't be too hard...right?

That night, my belly was doing that thing...you know what I'm talking about...that "ohnopleaseletmemakeit" feeling that you get if you have...well...intestinal distress...the runs.

Ironic.

The morning of the race...I felt better. I was excited. Ready to go...

I popped some Imodium and hit the road.

I picked up my friends and drove down to the church parking lot...It was "brisk" to say the least, but the energy of the runners and huge turnout to support the family was utterly amazing. Music was blaring, people were laughing and warming up...I got my "number."

It was 40.

Ironic.

I told my friend not to worry about running with me. I knew she was a "real" runner, and her pace was sure to be faster, and I didn't want to worry about keeping up. I just wanted to run the whole race with no stopping.

Just about as quickly as we started, I lost her in the pack.

About a 1/2 mile into it, I found my pace, which was clearly slower than most. But I didn't care. I was doing this for so many other reasons. I was doing it for myself. I was doing it for Brooke and Josh. I had set a goal, and here I was...running.

I kept up for a while, but at the first turn, was the first "hill." Remember, I live in the "Western Mountains." Its pretty much ALL hills. I watched as the "real runners" went up and over, and lost them.

Thankfully, there were wonderful volunteers along the route to direct us...cheering us on...lights and sirens from the local Police who had all volunteered their time to direct the race...it was awesome.

But the effing hills.

I was huffing and puffing and sweating.

This was not the fun part.

Then, at about halfway...at the top of yet another hill, there was a mini water station...where Brooke and Josh were there handing out cups, and saying "thank you" to each runner...with tears in my eyes I picked up my pace. Would these kids ever run? They will if I can help it.

Down a hill and around a corner, there was a man walking, cheering and supporting the racers.

"It's All Down Hill From Hee-Yah!"

"It is??" I panted. "Thank GOD!!!" I almost turned around and kissed him.

Down hill I could do.

Another Corner...

The police officer directed me up another hill...

"Really?" I squeaked..."But a guy just said it was..."

Bastard!

Son of a...!

At the top of that hill, I realized I was alone.

Alone with my burning quads, my sore toe...my very un-lady-like sweat...and lost?

I had lost sight of my friend's swinging pony-tail, in a not-so-nice part of town...

I knew I had to be close to the end...but I was not sure. I think I was hallucinating. I was singing to myself.

On a road I knew would somehow get me to the end...

Where the $%#@ was I?
Where the $#%^ was everyone?

Only I could get lost in my own hometown and lose sight of 30 people running in a pack in bright, matching tee shirts...

Then I saw this person...not sure if it was a man or a woman...handing out little cups at a table on the side of the road...

"Yessssss." I was on the right trail!

I took a cup and drank it...feeling very marathony and athletic...

"Holy #$%^!" I thought out loud..."I hope that wasn't some sort of drug or something!"

This person could have been some LOONY passing out meth-juice or crack!

Was I going to die?

I kept running.

Then I saw another police car...blue lights twirling...at least I think they were....maybe I was swirling...

The sun was bright...The officers directing me...

"You're almost there!!!"

"I am? I am!"

Its a good thing. I had to pee.

Now I could see runners in front of me. Now I could hear a few behind me.

I caught a glimpse of the crowd at the end.

I could hear them cheering for runners as they finished.

I was going to be one of them.

Then I saw my three beautiful children cheering for me...beaming with pride..."Go MAMA!"

My parents were there cheering for me as I neared the finish...

My friends that had finished were cheering...

"Great Job!!"

I ran in holding the hands of my two little rascals...Someone snapped a picture...Someone yelled out my time of finish...people were patting me on the back...

I did it.

And I didn't poop my pants, or overdose on that cup of drugs...

I did it.

I became a runner.

I did it for those kids. I did it for my kids. I did it for crazy me.

"Beautiful are the feet that carry good news." The priest quoted before the race started.

That carried me through. And every day since that race. I have run.

I will continue to run, and have set new goals. Crazy goals? Maybe. But the thought of running at all used to be crazy...to me.

It still hurts.

I still don't love it. But I can do it and support causes that are near and dear to me. And that is the reason I run.

Hope with Every Step raised over $55,000 for research in A-T.

I am honored that I could help.

And really, really proud of myself.

Thanks For Reading.

funny.crazy.love.

The Name Game

AAAAHHHH~

School is back in full session! That means crazy mornings, lunch packing, bus meetings, soccer practice pick-ups, Open-Houses, school picture reminders on the fridge, two-times-the-laundry, and lots and lots of stories!

This is Tylers first year of Pre-K, and, unlike Mackenzie, Tyler starts telling me the minute-by-minute details of his days the second he steps off the bus.

In his funny, animated way, he tells me the excitement of eating breakfast and lunch with his new friends, making play-dough, drinking from the watah fountain and his absolute favorite~RECESS!!

We've been asking about his friends, but until late last week, he really couldn't tell us any of the names of his new little buddies...

When we visited the school for the open-house, I noticed some of the cute names on the tags hanging on the cubbies...names have changed so much! Names I would never have thought of for my own children, but really interesting, unique names for both boys and girls. Some are whimsical, some are tough, some are spelled in letter combinations that may prove to be difficult to remember when addressing birthday invitations or valentine cards, but really, really different titles to the adorable little wee-ones that are just entering the world of learning.

So yesterday, as Ty was telling me of the drama that occurred in the line waiting, waiting for that precious water-from-da-fountain, I was stopped short when he started mentioning names...

"And so we were waiting in line, and "Mikey" got white in fwunt of VIPAH..."

"Wait. Who?"

"VIPAH....and den he hit huah on da showdah..."

"Ty. Hold up. VIPAH?"

"Yes. VIPAH."

"Is VIPAH a girl or a boy?"

"She's a guwal."

"VIP-ER?"

"Yes MAMA!"

"VIPER?"

"YESSSSS,"

By now he was frustrated with both me and my mother who could not control her laughter at this scene.

"Do you think there is really a child named Viper?" I asked...

"I don't know," she replied..."He is pretty sure."

"Tyler. Come back."

He had already started on his twain twacks.

"What?" He wanted nothing to do with this conversation anymore.

"Are you sure her name is VIPER?"

"Yes."

"And she is a girl?"

"Yes. Vip-Ah."

Then he came over to me, put both hands on my face and said,

"Say....VI..."

So I repeated, "VIIII,"

"PUH."

And I repeated back to his very serious face, "Puh."

"VIP-UH." He was certain. Absolutely sure.

I was trying not to be surprised. There ARE some really different names...maybe "Viper" is a family name? Or a nick-name?

The rest of the afternoon went on, dinner was chaotic, more laundry, forgot that library books had to be returned, ran out of milk, work report still had to be done...but I could not get the name out of my head.

When bedtime arrived, Ty was getting into bed...I asked again, "Tyler. Viper?"

And then Mackenzie appeared in the door. "Mom! It IS VIPER!"

"How do you know? Is she on the bus with you?"

"No. I just know." She explained. "I have been hearing you ask Tyler a hundredtwentymilliontimes!"

"Have you met her?"

"Mom. Her name is Viper. Believe me."

Really? Really? I had to find out.

I called my friend Julie...She didn't know...

I hopped on facebook and was DE-Lighted to see his teacher online...I couldn't resist asking...

"Do you have a girl in your class named "VIPER?"

Her response:

"LOL."

"No. Its not VIPER. But he is close."

I knew it.

Pheeew.

When I told Ty this morning that his friends name was _IPER, he laughed and laughed...He gave himself a "V-8" smack and said, "OOOHHHH. I thought it was VIPUH this whooooole time!"

I look forward to hearing all about his stories...his new friends...his water-fountain line dramas...his playground antics...everything...and if he ends up with friends named VIPER or Reptilly or Cobra, as long as they're good friends, that is fine with me.

God Bless the teachers. Hope you have a great year!

Thanks for Reading~

funny.crazy.love.

The Curse of Queen Frostine

I had a nightmare the other night.

The cast of Crazy Road was engaged in Family Court.

"What brings this Family to my courtroom?" Asked the judge.

"Candy Land, Your Honor," I replied. "The game of Candy Land has forced our family into pieces. We fight. We yell. We burn parts of the game in the furnace...Our once close-knit, loving family has fallen to the Curse of Queen Frostine."

"I see." The judge commented, shaking his head in sadness. "I hate to see this happen to good families...but, it happens all too often...I have no choice but to...."

AND THEN I WOKE UP.

What would a judge have decided?

Okay. I really didn't have a dream. But let me tell you, I believe we have been cursed.

It all started last Christmas...

The kids got CandyLand and Chutes & Ladders.

These games have been around since I was a little kid, but man, they are re-vamped today! All glossy and bright and colorful...but the premise is the same. Designed to teach kids counting, colors, patience, good sportsmanship, and yaddah bladdah gaga, these games are likely in thousands of homes all over the world. I believe in teaching children all of the aforementioned skills. I REALLY do. I just don't think they are meant for the buggers here at Crazy Road.

The second that the kids opened Candy Land, my life changed. OUR lives changed. Because counting and colors did not register with my kids. The GUMDROP PASS and MR. MINT and hot little LOLLIE became the focus. Not only that, but the cards were everywhere, and the poor yellow game piece was constantly found stuffed into the cushions or between books because neither of the kids wanted him.

The anguished cries of the poor soul that landed on "sticky licorice"(so they lose a turn) or the loser who AAAAALMOST made it to King Kandy but at the last draw picks Gramma Nut made me more and more stressed. I took the game away and hid it in my closet. I thought they would forget about it, but they did not.

Day after day they would ask for it. Standing in my closet, peering up at it as if it were the only toy they owned and were being kept away from any shred of happiness or joy...the "joy" that only the Journey to CandyLand could bring them.

I folded. But with strict rules and guidelines: No Fighting. No fits. No cheating when "shoveling" the cards. Queen Frostine would be "shoveled" into the pile right along with the double "purps" and the single "stupid" greens. I would see to it, that her card would be drawn fair and square.

Well, lo-and-behold, they did not follow the rules. Fighting ensued, crying, kicking fits prevailed, and I ended up putting the entire game(except for the little gingerbread man game pieces) into the furnace.

Yes.I.Did.

Was that irrational? Probably. Was it detrimental to their development? Possibly. BUT...Did it buy me some peace and quiet for a while? OH YEAH BABY. No regrets.

But you know...Tyler asked about Candy Land almost every day...for a good 7 months. And you know something else?

I was FOOLED!

I bought Tyler ANOTHER brand-spanking-new Candy Land game for his birthday in August. August 9th, to be exact. I thought foolishly that the loss of the first game would remind him and Kiki that they need to play nicely together. That being a good sport and congratulating the winner, and being "happy" for whomever picked the glorious "Queen Frostine" card would be hugely beneficial to them.

uum. no.

In fact, it got worse.

Tyler would throw a fit(and I mean F.I.T.) if he didn't draw "a special person" card, meaning Frosty, NannaNuts, Minty or who-ever...he didn't even care that drawing the said cards resulted in him being sent backwards...The word "cwap" was uttered every time a "color" card was drawn. He simply does not get it yet.

Then Kiki was overheard "manipulating" the "shoveling" process and actually "counting cards" to ensure that she was the prize picker of special people cards...like a little "rain man."

It was so out of hand...

I have regulated Tyler to playing alone.

I have sent Keek to her room for "cheating." I mean, COME ON! Its freaking CANDY LAND!

So last night was the ultimate breakdown of every system I have tried to enforce.

Trying to overcome the stress of my workday and make dinner and mentally check off items from my to-do list...the screams kept coming from the living room...I squeaked my usual empty threats...eventually walking in to find my daughter strategically "placing" the Queen Frostine card in the pile.

"Kiki! Give me the cards. I will shuffle them." I demanded.

While they continued to bicker, I slid the QUEEN right out of  the pile, calmly walked out of the room, opened the trash can and dropped her in.

"See You in Hell, Frosty." I (really) said.

It wasn't until after dinner that they realized the card was missing.

"MAMA! I can't find her! I know she is here..."

They both searched. I felt a tiny bit bad, but I smiled and said, "She left. She knew that she was causing you two to fight and cry and she felt it best to go."

Sinister. I know.

But they bought it for a few minutes!

Until Chris came in...

"Daddy! Daddy! Queen Frostine left!!!!We can't find her anywhere!!!"

Chris came around the corner where I was still grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

"They're freaking out trying to find that card." He said.

"I know. I threw it in the trash."

This is where things get ugly.

HE actually got mad at ME! I had envisioned a HIGH-FIVE or a "Nice Job" from him, but....

"You can't do that! That won't teach them anything!" And my wonderful husband opened the trash and started looking for the card, now buried under the hamburg package and taco trimmings.

"Are you kidding me?!>!"

We actually started yelling at each other a little. We NEVER yell. Really. We don't.

Then he proceeded into the living room, before I knew what he was going to do...he bellowed,
"You know what you made Mama do? You made her so mad she threw away Queen Frostine!"

Tears.

Questioning little faces.

My family was disintegrating right before my very onion-teary eyes.

I was Rockin' Mad.

Mad at Chris. Mad at the kids. Really pissed off at Milton Bradley. Chris was mad at me, Nick was just confused...Tyler still thought the Queen has left the building...

What was happening?

We had been cursed.

We barely got through dinner. Everyone was pouting. Our tacos were the only things making noise. Uncomfortable dinner silence. Nothing worse.

All of the kids went about their business after dinner. Tyler seemed to accept the loss of the beloved card, and saw that he could still play the game without her. Chris and I forgot our little spat and moved on...Poor Nick just went to his room to do whatever he does for hours in there...and Kiki? Well, she went to her room, too.

I was finishing up the dishes and she came around the corner.

"Look, Mama. Look what I  made."

And she handed me a little picture, perfectly colored and framed...about the size of a...

"Who is this?" I asked. The picture was of a girl with crazy yellow hair...at first I thought it was a VOO-DOO picture of me.

"It's Queen Frostine! I made it so we can learn our lesson! Can you help me cut it out?"

Oh. Lord.

I knelt down to hug her, and Tyler came in, Over-The-Moon at his very creative big sisters offering.

She cut that hand-made-Candy-Land-Queen-Frostine out...

And they lived happily ever after.



Lessons were learned by all of us.

Am I sorry I acted in the heat of the moment? Nope.

But I promise, I won't burn another board game...

But don't make me play Monopoly. I might throw THAT one right into the street. But I still am the Connect Four Master.

THE END.

Thanks for reading.

funny.crazy.love.

Stacy and Joe: An Update

Its been a while since I've written about Stacy and Joe.

If you missed some of the very first blogs, you might not know who Stacy and Joe are.

They are very important members of our family here at Crazy Road.

Stacy is Mackenzie's friend who stays with us frequently because her mother owns a restaurant and travels between here and California. She wears purple nail polish and picks her nose. She also has her ears "peeched."  She and Kiki talk on the phone all of the time. Stacy left us for a while in July because she apparently told Kiki that I wasn't fun.

Anyway, Stacy has a sister...
Her name is Iffy.

Not Tiffany. Not Effy.

Iffy.

Iffy has been around quite a bit lately, too, and has introduced my 5 year old to the concept of World travel.

The other night, we were doing our whole crazy bedtime routine, when we heard Kiki clanging around in her messy, messy bedroom...

She showed up in the doorway to Tyler's room and announced that she had taken her money out of her piggy bank, and was ready to go to Paris.

"Paris?" Chris and I both questioned aloud in unison.

"Yes. Paris." Kiki declared, as if this were an everyday occurrence.

I had just gotten used to the idea of her traveling to her ballet school, which happens to be in California! Every day, she puts on her "high heels," grabs her purse and tromps down the driveway to "California." She will run around exclaiming how late she is going to be and how angry her ballet teacher will be if she shows up late!

So, back to her Paris trip...

She had on her "traveling shoes" which, again, thanks to my friend Julie, are those plastic dress up heels that come in Halloween-y costumes...her big purse, and her "Tiana" nightgown. And she had snuck my lip gloss.

"What are you going to Paris for?" I asked.

"OOHHH, ya know, I'm going to the zoo, and shopping for Tyler's school clothes."

"Do you have enough money?"

"Yes. I have a coin."

"A coin? Just one?"

"Yes."

"How are you going to eat? Where are you going to stay?"

"In the brick hotel. The one that Arack Obama stayed in."

"Right." I still can't believe she talks about the Obamas like they are our next door neighbors.

"I don't think you'll have enough money. Not with just one coin."

She looked at me like I was nuts.

"Its-A-Magic-Coin" she sing-songed.

"How are you going to get there?"

"Iffy is picking me up in her purple and pink boogie-car."

"Her what?"

"Her BOOGIE car."

"Oh."

"We are stopping in North Navornia to pick up Lola."

"North Where?"

"NA-VORN-YA." She was clearly getting frustrated with all of these questions on her itinerary..

"Who is Lo-?"

I then realized that the conversation had just sucked me in so far that I was asking questions as if all of this were really happening. And I am pretty sure I kept a straight face through the whole thing...

Then Tyler chimed in from under the covers.

"Joe got killed by a dragon today."

"Oh, no! He did?"

"Yup. And I saved him!"

"Wait. You saved him?"

"Yup."

And he jumped out of bed and started jumping around like he had a sword or a dragon slaying tool of some sort...and making these swooshing noises..."Like this!"

"Where did all this happen?"

"In the forest wight outside ow-ah yahd."

"So, is he okay?"

"Yes. But Beyontay got killed instead."

Beyontay. Beonte. bee-on-tay. Is Joe's older brother. Joe is Tyler's buddy. Beonte is somewhat of a bully, but he lives in New Jersey, so unless he is at camp, we don't see him around as much as we see Joe.

Joe has finally stopped stealing from Tyler's toy box, and all of them, Kiki, Stacy, Iffy, Tyler and Joe all get along swimmingly here. They eat breakfast together, they play "How to Train A Dragon" together, they have concerts...so much fun.

And in case you haven't figured this out...they are not even real..

Kiki isn't REALLY going to Paris in a Boogie Car.

Tyler isn't slaying dragons in the woods.

But their imaginations are so incredible, and the details are so, well, detailed, that I sometimes think that Iffy and Stacy and Joe and Beonte are really here.

I mean, just this morning I made extra pancakes for them...

Lately Kiki likes to have sleepovers in Tyler's room. She sleeps on the "Crouton"(the futon) and they laugh and talk about their adventures and sing crazy, made up songs about North Navornia and usually the word "poop" makes it in there and they both end up in a fit of giggles...its magical....

The kids will be starting school again soon...and sooner than I probably know, Stacy and Joe might not be around anymore...I'm gonna miss 'em.

Every moment is a moment.

Now I am going to see if North Navornia exists on a map somewhere. Maybe I'll just Google...

Thanks For Reading.

funny.crazy.love.

And The Mother of the Year Award Goes To...

WELL...Certainly NOT ME!!

Oh, Yeah.

I'm back, baby. So sit back, and get ready for more from CRAZY ROAD~

This particular story is written per the encouragement of my wonderful son, Nick.

Not only is he smart, handsome, athletic, kind, funny, generous and understanding...he is also FORGIVING...because living with a crazy Mama like me can't be easy...

So I'll start by saying, I am not a big Hockey Fan...

However, it is the sport Nick has chosen as his "number one."

I did not grow up around hockey. Therefore, I do not understand it. I will go so far to say that I don't even like watching it.

But, Nick likes it, and along with other circumstances, Nick is INVOLVED in hockey.

It is a time consuming, expensive sport that requires lots of dedication, lots of travel, and LOTS of moo-lah.

That being said, I want to make sure that~

A) HE REALLY LIKES PLAYING. Not just likes his buddies that play, or the social part, or the cool uniform...

and

B)He plays to the best of his ability. I don't need him to be the star, but I want him to always do his best.

Which brings me to his game this week.

He has been playing for about 7 years now.

His dad is really an amazing player(I'll give him that), and has coached Nicks teams since he was a toddler. It really is a must, since it's tricky for me to travel out of town with the little ones, and try to get them to sit in a freezing cold rink in the middle of summer(or winter, for that matter, but that's just me...)

So I haven't been to too many summer hockey games.

I try to like it...I REAAAAALLLLLY do. But going to a hockey game when it is 90 degrees outside somehow feels...I don't know...OFF.

But his dad couldn't make this particular game, and I would never let it happen that at least one of us weren't there for him...I mean, hockey isn't my favorite sport, but my children, and their happiness, are my LIFE! So off  we went...me, my mom, my niece and Nick...on a hot summer afternoon...to Augusta...to watch...hockey.

If you didn't know this already, ice rinks "steam" up in the dead of summer, making it almost impossible to see through the "boards." So, in order to watch the game, we had to go pretty high up on the bleachers, to see over the glass. (This will be a good part of my excuse for what you are about to read...)

The teams came out...our team was clearly out-manned. The other team looked like they might have been semi-pro...in fact, I think I saw their center driving the truck that passed me on the way in...not sure...

Anyway...

Like I said, the team came out...I noticed some really good skaters...and some really, unfortunately wobbly skaters...and some just looked like they were napping right there on the ice...

I pointed out Nick to my mom and niece...Hmmm, I thought...Was he feeling well? He looked tired, and SA-LOW.

I will NEVER be a screaming parent at sporting events. I will cheer encouragement. I just miiiight point out a bad call by a ref/ump/whatever. But I will never yell at my child during a game. You see, I am certainly not a participant of sports. I fear confrontation and the thought of losing a game, even Connect Four, makes me queasy. So I will never criticize an athlete.

UNLESS...

He plays like the kid that I watched PAINFULLY through the entire game.

What was he doing out there?

Our poor goaley was getting peppered...shot-after-shot...the score went from 3 to 5 to 8 to ZIP before they stopped counting goals. We had no defense!

Crap.

I was so frustrated watching my kid.

Years of practice. Schedule manipulating. Dinners at 4 or 8. Practices in snowstorms. MUNEEEEEEEEEE.
Parents arguing. And for WHAT?

A kid who clearly, even from an icy distance, did not want to be there. A kid that did not "show up" for his team.

After the game mercifully came to an end, the fans from our side tromped out to the lobby, to wait for our "Bears."

I even mentioned to another mom that I was frustrated that my son really didn't play well...he sure didn't give it his best.

Then Nick came out, smiling as usual.

"Jeez, Nick...do you feel sick or something?" I asked.

"No! I feel fine!"

"Well what the heck happened out there?"

"What do you mean? You don't think I played well?"

"Honestly? No! I don't! I watched you dope up and down the ice and let your goalie get slaughtered..."

I went on...

He was pissed.

He argued...

I should have stopped. But he argued that he thought he played well, considering the other team was so much more experienced...

Our conversation continued.

It really should have stopped. Given that I really am not an expert in  the game, and the only time I ever tried to play was during a parent-player game...and let's just say I screamed like a baby the whole time I was on  the ice. Nobody would skate near me...I was like a Ban-Shee with a pink hockey helmet.

I made a comment about watching number ** "zombie out" when Nick interrupted...

"Uh, Mum?"

"WHAT?"

 "I'm number 12."

I slammed on the brakes.

"Huh?"

"I'm number 12. Not **."

I almost drove off the road.

You mean I watched the wrong KID?

THE ENTIRE GAME?!??$$?@?#???

Oh.My.God.

"I thought you were number **! You've ALWAYS been number **!"

"Not in summer hockey. You watched the wrong dude."

Not only had I just spent the better part of the afternoon watching a game I clearly don't understand, in a freezing, foggy ice arena...but I didn't even see my kid play!

"Do you still think I had a bad game?" He was actually laughing.

"I am soooooo sorrrrrrrrrrrrryyyy...."

My son is so forgiving of me. Thank Goodness.

It is a moment I'll never forget.

I know he won't forget either...at least until he gets that new DS game that I promised him...

So, I won't be getting the Mother of the Year Award yet again...But...I learned more valuable lessons on parenting.

Sometimes its tough balancing life...kids, work, school, sports...

Its okay to make some mistakes...We HAVE to! But find a laugh in it, learn a bit from it...and move on.

And remember to make sure you know what number your kid has on his sport jersey. You wouldn't want to miss anything...

Thanks For Reading...

funny.crazy.love.