New Home

Here is a picture of our new house. I'm kind of itchy to get started on the landscaping, as the huge grass bushes in the front aren't doing anything for me, but that will have to wait until spring.
Our move was really crazy. I think everyone was in such a rush to get the heck out of Cinci, that we went a little to fast. My bed got broken, but thank goodness my father-in-law fixed it. Everything else is scratched up and dented. But hey, we all made it in one piece, right?
So we have a long list of projects we want to do, and not enough time to do any of them. On a good note, I did get my curtains hung in the kitchen today. Not easy to do when you have a great big tummy like I do right now. It only took me four tries.
For the uninformed, we found out we are going to have a little girl. I've picked out a lovely paint color for the nursery, and my son's new bed arrived today. So we can start working on getting him out of the crib. Easier said than done, I think.
My son is starting to get a temper. His new thing is to bite mommy when he gets mad. So he's had his first time-outs already. He has a breakdown when my husband or myself reprimand him. It almost breaks your heart. After a minute or two, I give him a big hug, and tell him to keep his big teeth to himself. Hopefully, his little sister doesn't have the same urge. I don't know if I can handle two biters at once!

Procrastination

My son and I went to the park today. He loved playing on the swings as usual. I thought I would take him over to the creek to take a look. He took one look at it and proceeded to walk right into it! It's only 1 inch deep, so I wasn't worried, but that's really not what I had in mind. Then, he proceeded to SIT in the middle of the creek. So at this point, I figured what the heck, he's wet anyway. Then he decided to give ALL the rocks in the creek a taste test. Sigh . . . needless to say, I had to strip him down in the parking lot and change his diaper before we went home.

Once home, my plans of packing daunted me. I really hate to pack. It always seems like I get stuck doing it while my husband is off working in a different state at a new job. Sure, when he comes home on the weekends, he packs up speakers and computers and bits and bobs, but the drudgery gets left to me. I hate cleaning out closets, I hate packing dishes, and I hate packing knick-knacks and associated goods. Blah.

That’s why I having a moving sale this weekend. At least, I think I am. I have to get up off my tired butt and make up some flyers. It's really not going to help to have a sale if I never advertise it.

I already sold my fridge and range. I placed the ad in the local newspaper over the weekend and then promptly forgot I did it. I really didn't forget, but when the first caller rang up at 7:30 in the fricking morning, I realized that I hadn't even thought about cleaning out the fridge. 10 fridge viewings later, I decided that I needed to clean it up and drag out the cooler. Finally, a cantankerous old man showed up and bought the set for his grandson. What a nice thing to do. Except they trashed my house getting it out. The fridge spilled water all over the floor, and the walls have some lovely dings and scraps now. Oh well, I guess we would have caused just as much damage. Besides, it's my landlord's fault for not supplying basic kitchen appliances in the first place. Then, when we offered to let him buy them at a discount, he refused, saying he didn't want the bother of maintenance.

Well, I can see that. But now, after who knows how many tenants dragging appliances in and out, the carpet is trashed. Oh yeah, and the tile is now cracked and chipped in the kitchen. So sorry.

Sigh. . . . On that note, I have some boxes to pack. I guess I’ve procrastinated enough. See you all in INDY!

Walmart Woes

I've developed an unnatural love/hate relation with Wal-Mart. I love the low prices, but I HATE everything else about the store.
How to I hate Wal-Mart, Let me count the ways!
1. Dirty stores -- not all the stores are dirty, only the old ones. The new ones are usually relatively clean, but NEVER trust the bathrooms. Even in the newest stores, the bathrooms rival bus stations and rest stops for dirtiness. I think I've been in cleaner port-a-johns.
2. Customer Service -- What customer service? At a store nearby, I walked in to exchange an item at 10 am. There were 10 people in line, and 1 worker. That one worker was arguing for 10 minutes with a customer about a return. Finally, I gave up and left. When I returned later that day, it was the same situation.
3. Unstocked Shelves -- I was buying the Wal-Mart brand of baby formula. However, they would constantly run out. I would go to the store and face an empty shelf. I would ask the clerk if they had any in the back. They would just shrug and point to the liquid formula at the bottom. I don't want the liquid, I want the powder you idiot! Baby formula is not something stores should run out of. It's not like you can switch brands back and forth. My son was sensitive, and would take a day or two to adjust to a new brand.
4. Crazy fellow customers -- Wal-Mart attracts the craziest fellow shoppers. One time, a guy came up to me and pointed to my purse in the front of the cart. "Is that your purse?" "Yes," I answered. Then he berated me for 5 minutes about how he could steal my purse in 10 sec. flat and how I shouldn't leave it in the cart. Go away crazy man! It's my problem if my shit gets stolen by crazy Wal-Mart Shoppers. Also, never leave your CART unattended in Wal-Mart, even if it has stuff in it. Someone will steal it quicker than you can say "mental ward".
5. 100 check out lines -- 2 open checkouts. Why! I don't understand why they taunt you with unused lanes when you are standing in a long line with screaming children. It's like waving free crack under the nose if a crack head. Open up another line already! Put those greeters to work!
6. Speaking of greeters, they creep me out. Get rid of the greeters. They always smile a creepy smile at you, and try to strike up an inane conversation. Also, they will tackle you if there security system goes off by mistake. There is nothing better than being tackled by an 80 year old in a blue vest.
7. Inattention to detail -- In the Wal-Mart I shopped at in Indy, a three year old boy just died because a store display (a mirror) fell on him. What? Did someone forget to tighten the bolts, or did they just haphazardly stock the display? Once, when I was in a Wal-Mart, I went to grab a plastic produce bag, and the very heavy metal holder came crashing down on my foot. It wasn't attached to the display properly. Although my smashed toe wasn't life threatening, it could seriously hurt a child. Apparently you take your life in your hands when you shop at Wal-Mart!

Toxic Boss

Everyone at some point has worked for a terrible company or a toxic boss. I had the pleasure of working for both at the same time. I think a pre-requisite for management in that company was a small brain and an over active libido.

My manager was a 19-year-old girl who was hired for her looks. She was blond and giggled a lot. I was hired for my previous experience. As it turned out, I was the only one in the whole department who knew what I was doing. I would do my manager’s job, and basically run the whole show. She would then take all the credit.

Her boss was an egomaniacal jerk. Six of us were crammed into a little office. He had a plush office right next door. The thermostat was in our office. He would get furious at the heating system, and would then run into our office and start swearing and beating on the little plastic box that covered the thermostat. The customers on our phones would always ask what was going on.

Meanwhile, he would sexually harass my young manager. He would offer to buy her clothes and give her money. Of course, he wanted a little “something” in return. I might add that he was married.

He would encourage all the managers to sleep with clients. He said this was good for business.

When it came time for my performance review, they told me they couldn’t give me a promotion from a Representative to a Specialist because I was already a Specialist. Apparently, they hired me as a Specialist, but never told me. They also wouldn’t give me a raise, because they said I was already making more than my 19 year old manager.

Then the final blow came. They won a new account, but promised the client the world without ever asking the people who actually did the work if it was possible. I was a member of a four-person team. My manager was always out on business, so I had to do her job, my co-workers where slackers and were never at work. Basically, I had to run the entire department myself. I got an ulcer and literally had a breakdown one day at work.

When we lost the client, I was told that it was my entire fault. I should have “tried” harder. When I offered to give my two-week notice, they back peddled and said that it wouldn’t be necessary. I stood up, walked to my desk, penned the notice, and slammed it down on his desk. I have never regretted leaving that horrible company. What is your worst experiance? I would love to hear. Leave a comment and share with us all. It will make us ALL feel better.

This is a picture of our son "helping his dad". He is already showing an aptitude for computers and hard work! Hopefully, he never gets a toxic boss.

Books I've Read -- Summer 2006

I saw something like this on another web site, and thought it was a pretty good idea. I'll leave out the kiddie books. But I do read a lot. Hey, it's more entertaining than drivel on network TV. A summery of books I've read this summer.

Inge: a girl's journey through Nazi Europe--Bleier, Inge J. -- This book, or rather the author annoyed me. She finds fault with everyone and everything. Her insecurity and churlishness infect the whole book. First, she says it is her father's stupidity they didn't leave Germany earlier. After her sister leaves for the US, her jealously is apparent. She is sent to live with her uncle, and she doesn't say nice things about that part of the family either. Her uncle ships her off to live in a group home, and she is angry about that. It's really frustrating, because you know that the people around her are doing all they can. An interesting read, if nothing else. And I guess I can understand her anger. It is just very raw, like wounds that never heal.

A Midwife's Tale -- Laurel Thatcher Ulrich -- A fantastic, if not slightly dry, look at daily life at the turn of the 1800's. The diary of Martha Ballard covers births, deaths, and everything in between. The author draws connections to the diary to cultural changes that were occurring in America after the revolutionary war. All in all, a good read, even if I did skip a few parts. The author got a little long-winded at times. This book has now been made into a documentary on PBS's American Experience.

Hiding in plain sight: the incredible true story of a German-Jewish teenager's struggle to survive in Nazi-occupied Poland, Lauer, Betty -- The title tells you everything about this book. It is a true story of a young girl that manages to elude the Germans with a fake identity card. Even though she has the official card and has relocated to larger city, she lives in constant fear and poverty. Throughout the book, she has several close calls with both German citizens and soldiers. Sadly, she loses many family members to the tragedy of the Holocaust. The most amazing thing about her story is that she never gives up, even when her life appears hopeless and lost.

Double Deuce Parker, Robert B. -- Okay, as you can tell, this is my new favorite author. A mystery. The main characters, Spenser and Hawk try to solve a double murder, a young mother and her 3 month old child who where gunned down in a drive-by near the projects where they live. Gives a lot of insight on my favorite silent tough guy, Hawk.

Night passage Parker, Robert B. -- The first in a new series by Parker, this book introduces us to Chief Stone. Stone is a cop that has problems, but he is trying his best to work them out. I hate the ex-wife. I wish he would lose her. I don't think he does, because she keeps showing up in later books.

Love stories of World War II -- Larry King -- This was a really good book. A very heartwarming story about how couples meet and came together during the worst of times. Although all the stories didn't have happy endings, it still left you with a warm and fuzzy feeling. This book leaves you believing in romance and true love. Probably not the best book if you just broke up with your significant other.

Stolen Lives: Twenty Days in a Desert Jail - Malika Oufkir -- Malika was born into a life of privilege in Morocco. Her father, a general in the King's army was close to the royal family. She is "adopted" by the king to be a companion to his daughter, who is about Malika's age. She misses her family dreadfully, but feels like she can't ask to go back. The first part of the book describes her life of fancy and luxury in the palace as a pampered child. When she gets older, she returns to live with her family. After her father falls out with the king, he is arrested after a failed coop attempt. In retaliation, her, the rest of her family, and two family friends, are thrown into a desert jail. Unbelievably, they are held in harsh conditions for 20 years. After a daring escape, they are eventually released. Many readers find Malika arrogant and spoiled, however I feel like she is just relating her life in the best way she can. She was, after all, practically a princess. This is a very hard book to put down. I would highly recommend. It is amazing that things like this still happen in the modern world.

THE FOURTH

There is nothing that compares to the smells, the sounds, and the lights of a good fireworks show. This is what the 4^th of July means to me. Oh yeah, and all that patriotic stuff is pretty good too. I always get a tear in my eye when the Star-Spangled Banner is played.

When I was a kid, we always went to the fireworks show, but my dad would complain and moan. He hated the traffic. At the time, we lived in Fort Wayne Indiana. The show at the Coliseum was spectacular, but I think the whole city showed up. Parking wasn’t a problem, because they had a huge lot, but getting out was. It would take us hours to get home. Dad would grumble and moan the whole time. To this day, I would rather wait around for the lot to clear after a show than rush out and get stuck in the traffic. I have never really understood the people who leave early. I mean what’s the point of going if you miss the end?

My most memorable 4^th was the year we went to visit my family who lived at the time in the high New Mexican desert. They had bought tons of fireworks, and of course, it was just our family and the rattlesnakes. If I remember correctly we had a big cookout in a fire pit and then shot off a ton of bottle rockets and shells. I think that was the year I fell going down the path to the backyard and put a prickly pear cactus through the palm of my hand. I can remember sitting there with my hand in a bowl of water while my uncle picked out the needles. Ahh, the memories.

This year, we decided to try the fireworks show with our 14-month-old son. For the first time, we would expose him to a timeless American tradition. Last year, he was only 3 months old, and we thought it might be a bit much for him.

The only problem is that the shows around here all start around 10 pm. Way past the little guys bedtime. But it worked out okay. I put him down for a “nap” about six, when I woke him up to leave he looked very confused.

Luckily, the local fireworks where held within walking distance of our house. We loaded the stroller full of bug spray, flashlights, and picnic blankets and made our way to the local park. We felt a little smug about the fact we didn’t have to deal with traffic. The city lot near there isn’t very big, and people were parking all the way up the street by our house, about a half-mile away from the park. It would have been pointless to drive anyway.

The scent of the holiday filled the park air. Pizza, hot dogs, and funnel cake filled the air with a heady smell. Vendors sold glow in the dark necklaces and light sticks. Kids raced by, beating each other with bats. My son was wide-eyed, staring at the mass of humanity.

They had a pretty good cover band. They played some Chicago covers and a few bluesy numbers. Our son was dancing and clapping along with the music. I was amazed that he was getting so into it. The stage was far away, as we had chosen to sit near the back so we could make a quick getaway if the boy got upset.

When the fireworks started, I braced my self for wails of fear. However, he just grabbed a handful of my shirt, and a handful of dad’s shirt, and stared wide-eyed and open mouthed at the display. I know he was a little confused, but he seemed to enjoy it.

No, it wasn’t the biggest show I’ve ever seen. In fact, it was a little tame and short, but it was perfect for the little guy. It was over in 15 minutes. We held our hands over his ears for the finale, because it was extra loud. But he loved it. What was the best part of the night? He went right to sleep as soon as we got home.

The Saga of Mr. Bear

The Saga of Mr. Bear is a sad one. My son has been ferociously teething since he was three months old. He grabs Mr. Bear in a mighty hold and then proceeds to chomp down on his head with the force of an ancient snapping turtle.

Mr. Bear gets no rest. Daily and nightly, his head his used for teething purposes. Once my son has had his way with Mr. Bear, he leaves him lying in a sodden and mangled heap.

Because of this abuse by an uncaring and demanding one year old, Mr. Bear has a hygiene problem. To put it succinctly, all the other stuffed animals avoid Mr. Bear because he stinks. In fact, when an unwilling parent picks him up, it is usually with great hesitation and disdain. The stench of Mr. Bear is unbelievable. He has reached the point in which we MUST do something.

So this brave mother took it upon herself to clean and sanitize poor Mr. Bear. This has been done on several other occasions, with a somewhat successful outcome.

Usually I take Mr. Bear by the feet, and firmly plunge him headfirst into the laundry detergent. While this is not recommended for stinky small children, it does work fairly well on Mr. Bear. He comes out smelling fresh. The only problem with this is that his discoloration remains. His yellow stained head is a warning to the stuffed Big Bird and Barney to stay away from toddlers.

This treatment needed to be different. Mr. Bear was suffering greatly. He had turned an unnatural brown color. I say unnatural, because Mr. Bear is not a brown bear, but instead a cute and fuzzy white bear. Maybe he is albino, because he isn’t a polar bear, and I’ve never seen a white bear in the wild or at a zoo. But I digress. Mr. Bear had a serious dermatological problem that could only be helped with extreme measures.

We took Mr. Bear firmly by the legs. “Ohhhh nooooo.” He complained, “Not the laundry soap dunk!”

“I’m afraid, Mr. Bear, that it is worse than that. We have arranged today a white vinegar dunk. We are hoping this will remove your unsightly stains.”

“Oh nooooo. It burns! It burns!” He sobbed as I dunked him head first into the preparation in the Pyrex measuring glass. I left Mr. Bear in the solution for a good five minutes, against all protests.

Upon retrieval from the solution, Mr. Bear exclaimed, “I’m never talking to you again.”

“Fine, Mr. Bear,” I said, “But realize I do this for your own good.”

We then took Mr. Bear firmly by the legs again and dunked him into a vat of laundry soap. The solution we used in this instance was a little more powerful this time, as in the interim I have started using All Small and Mighty. It is a lot more concentrated than the regular version.

“Hurmmmph,” was all Mr. Bear said.

Then we buried him way at the bottom of the other laundry. We dialed the water up to blistering hot and commenced with the spin cycle.

Unfortunately, when I took him out, he was still unsightly brown. We repeated our previous torture steps, and placed Mr. Bear back into the wash. “I hate you,” Mr. Bear exclaimed, his beady eyes glaring at me.

“This hurts me more than it hurts you.” I told him, stuffing a blanket on top of his head.

After the second wash, Mr. Bear was only slightly discolored. I think my son may have partially digested his head, and the stains are now permanent. However, he does smell much nicer now. Mr. Bear is still not talking to me, but that’s okay, I can’t understand him anyway, as his head is now back in my son’s mouth. Until we meet again, Mr. Bear.




*******************News Flash***************************

We are happy to announce that we are expecting again. A new Miller will make an appearance around the first of February!

Road Rage

I don’t think road rage is altogether a new thing. I bet back in the days of chariots, Major Phoebes of the Roman Army got irritated when Plebe Thaddeus’s sporty new war horse cut him off on the highway, and threw a spear at him, or at least exchanged verbal blows.

I just don’t understand how some people could be so clueless. I love the balding men in the flashy sports cars who are blabbing away on their cell phones, going 20 miles an hour, weaving though traffic. Or the driver eating a hamburger and not noticing that the light has just turned green.

I was turning out of Walgreen’s the other day, when the irritating driver in front of me decided to turn left, out of the right hand turn lane that I needed! I was so pissed. Not only because they were clearly breaking a traffic law, but also because from that particular intersection it is difficult to turn left even in the correct lane. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, a break appeared in traffic. However, this numbskull wasn’t paying attention, and MISSED the chance to go.

I became livid. My blood pressure skyrocketed. My son was crying in the back seat, and the rush hour traffic was unrelenting. Finally I broke, I yelled and banged on the steering wheel,” If you don’t move your car, I’m going to road rage you!”

Unfortunately, I didn’t realize in my irritation that my windows were down. I realized as the driver looked back at me with a scowl on their face. However, my goal was realized, and the car in front of me vacated my lane. I realize in retrospect that the driver could have been packing some heat. I could have become another causality in the growing conflict between drivers. I really should learn to keep my mouth shut, at least when the windows are down.

Graduation Weekend

Our little brother Jay just graduated from High School. When I first met my husband, Jay was about six. I’ve gotten to watch him grow up. From a skinny little rug rat playing hoops on his toy basket in the living room, to a strong and handsome young man playing football on the field, he has been a joy to watch.

So it wasn’t an option to attend the graduation. We had this trip planned for years. But I knew when we read the weather report we were going to be in trouble. It was going to be hot! Blazing hot. I think I nearly melted away to nothing this weekend.

We arrived on Friday night, after being in the car for five hours, and our little boy screamed for about three of them.

The next day, we arrived at my husband’s parent’s full house. The rest of his family from Arizona was in town, so the house was bursting at the seams. My little niece was there, and the two kids approached each other warily. My son burst into tears the moment she touched his toys. He hasn't quite yet learned the art of sharing. Soon however, they began to at least tolerate each other. By the end of the weekend, they where going wild together, running around the living room and bouncing off the walls.

They had decided to make homemade pizzas for the open house, and the preparations began on Saturday. My sister-in-law Julie used two industrial sized cans of tomatoes to make the sauce, 10 lbs of flour to make the dough, and at least 10 lbs of cheese, which was shredded. I think about 10 onions where cut, and at least 2 garlic bulbs where minced. My eyes were watering so bad from the onions, I had to stick my head out the doors a few times to clear them. I smelled like a big onion all day. Phew!

On Sunday, we got ready for the big ceremony. Upon arriving at the school, we got a few of the last remaining seats in the bleachers. It was so hot in there. It was in the high 80's outside, and without air conditioning in the gym, and the humidity at 200%, it was like a sauna in there. Buckets of sweat oozed out of every pore. I felt bad for the poor graduates, who had to wear those heavy robes. I'm really surprised that no one passed out from the heat. About 20 minutes into it, by son started to fidget, so I took him outside. When I walked in the hallway, it felt about 30 degrees cooler out there. So I stood in the doorway and watched. I think I had the best seat in the house. I got to see everything, and stay cooler.

The open house was a blast. Julie's homemade pizzas were a big hit, especially with the teenage boys. She couldn't keep them coming out of the oven fast enough. My father-in-law, as a joke present, gave Jay a luggable computer to take to college with him. It was circa 1980's, with a mini screen and a huge body. Jay was surprized when he opened his real gift, and found a tiny labtop to take with him instead.

On Monday, we had a delimna. Grandma really wanted to take my son and neice to the zoo, but my husband and I really wanted to avoid Chicago. The traffic, the drive, the crowds. We decided to drive the whole family to Indianapolis, about 2 1/2 hours away, and go to the Indy zoo. It was on the way home for us, and broke the trip up for our son. He hates being in a car seat for more than 2 hours. It worked out well, because our good friend had free passes for entry, and the whole family got in free.

My son really likes fish. In fact, I should really get him a fish bowl or something. He enjoyed the seahorse exhibits. The other things in the park, he really wasn't interested. He was more interested in people watching and cousin watching than anything. He did seem to take interest in the big bull in the farm area. He wanted to reach out and grab him, but I didn't think that was such a good idea.

So, exhausted, sweaty, and happy, we got home at a reasonable time on Monday night. My son wouldn't let go of my hand the whole way home, and wouldn't fall asleep either. I had a huge headache, and ended up sitting in the front seat all scrunched around so he could hold my hand. I sang to him for about an hour on the way home.

I still haven't unpacked all my bags and done all the laundry. But on a good note, my son slept really well today!THE WHOLE CLAN! Click here for more pictures!

Full of Poo

Caca, Poo, Poo-Poo, Poop, Turd, Guano, Sewage. Stinker.

Am I being shocking? Well, we all do it. Having a child gives you a whole new outlook on it. It’s just a natural body function.

Of course, before I had a baby, I knew that babies had poopy diapers. I just didn’t know there would be so many.

My son is a prodigious pooper. About four times a day, I’ll smell the fragrant whiff of methane gas, which indicates a blue ribbon stinker in the works.

My biggest exasperation is that my son WILL NOT lay still to have his diaper changed. If I’m lucky, I can distract him with a book or a toy. If not, he will end up crawling away from me at lightening fast speeds, getting poop all over him, his clothes, me, my clothes. Sometimes, it takes me a good ½ hour to change the pants. Sometimes, I’ll just leave his pants or shorts off, because it’s just too much work to get them back on. I swear I need a nap after one of these titanic struggles.

Actually, lately I’ve discovered that he loves me to sing him some silly song and wiggle his feet around like a maniac. So I have to so all that and try to get a diaper around him at the same time. I’ve actually become quite good at the method of taping a diaper on while the baby is crawling away, standing up, or being held up in the air by Daddy. They should have a contest or something. I bet I would win.

Thank God for Pampers and the good folks at Proctor Gamble, which just happens to be headquarted here in Cincinnati. I feel like driving up to the gates, giving the guard a smile, and saying, “I’m not psycho or anything, but if you could just let all your poop engineers know I think they make a good diaper.” I’m sure that would brighten their day.

I’ve tried other diapers. Actually, I've tried every other diaper in the world. None of them work to hold back the oceans of poop delivered to me every day by our own personal poop factory.

I can’t wait until the little boy is potty trained. When that happens, I’ll probably need to buy toilet paper by the skid. Until then, I just hope that Pampers keeps those coupons coming.