Happy 8th Anniversary of Momontherocks. For eight years, I've been writing about all the crazy that happens to me as a mom. And it all started with a mass email to my friends for Mother's Day. Here is the original Mother's Day blog. Thank you for reading. I hope you take something from every post - even if it's a great lesson in what NOT to do. If you're really interested, I have all the Mother's Day posts here.

Thanks to my kids for giving me endless content for this blog, it's been therapy for me. They have been therapy for me. They don't make me need therapy, they are my therapy. This blog is also very cheap therapy. So, you're welcome, Max and Lucy. The kids and this blog, I'm convinced make me a better writer, humorist, and mother.

What better way to celebrate Mother's Day than realizing I've signed the kids up for a track meet on Sunday, and can't go to church? The one thing I love to do on Mother's Day is lug everyone to church. By virtue, it's how this entire blog got started, was my first Mother's Day experience. Quite frankly, I'm a little more overwhelmed that this blog is still going, I'm able to still write about so much mothery stuff, and that people still read it than I am about Mother's Day. Mother's Day to me is a fun day of reflection. I love the homemade cards, and the sweet gifts from my kids and my family. The gifts say a lot to me, almost like a report card - "We've assessed your mothering skillz and we think you're doing so well, we got you this."

This year, I woke up earlier in the week with a serious crick in my neck and back. It was awful, so I announced that I'd be getting a pre-Mother's Day warm-up gift of a very necessary massage. And I did. But I kind of regret telling them what I was getting for Mother's Day. Next year, I'll just get the massage and let them pick out their own gifts for me.

We ended up missing church because apparently I think there are two Sundays per week. We had a unique opportunity to sign the kids up for a track meet when the football schedule got moved back. So, it was my big fat idea and nobody else's to sign them up for a track meet. I'm fairly new to track schedules, and so, I kind of forgot the part where it takes all day, and also, it starts at 8 a.m. And it was in Lincoln, NE, so a road trip necessitates leaving an hour early. I wake up every day at 6a.m. but everyone else doesn't. And there's a reason for that - it's too much. And it was Mother's Day, so instead of my breakfast in bed, my sweet Ricardo brought me coffee in the bathroom while I hurried to get my track mom face on which must have been a little weird, because I had no pants on yet.

At breakfast, Lucy brought me a homemade card. We packed up as many snacks and sandwiches as you can fit into a Costco insulated bag and we went. What better way to spend Mother's Day than cheering your kids on? Lucy tried high jump for the first time. It is daunting to jump over a bar onto a cushy mat. If you miss and knock the bar off the standards, you land on the bar on the cushy mat. And who cares how cushy the mat is if you're landing on a metal bar? I mean, really. Earlier in the week, Lucy had landed on the bar. But she got back up and jumped again. So, to watch her jump on Mother's Day - to try something new with a little doubt, but moreso, an eagerness to simply try it - well, I was lucky to see that in her eyes. She also did long jump and landed (pun intended) in the finals.

Max won high jump and then jogged across the field to check in for the 400m run. Meanwhile, I got to take pictures of it all with no whining about Mom taking too many pictures because it was indeed, Mother's Day. And I took full advantage.

On our way home, I requested one last advantage taking of Mother's Day - mama needed a nap. I don't really take a lot of naps. But the drive, and all, and it's my day and such, so, you know, let's do this. As I was falling asleep, Max very quietly slipped in and placed his homemade card on the bed for me and then slipped out. I didn't know he could be that quiet. I guess he has been practicing his ninja skills, so, there's that. In the mad rush to get to the track meet, he'd forgotten to give me my card and the sweet boy wanted to make sure I got it but didn't want to wake me. Lucy, she would have shaken me till I woke up and read her card. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose. Max, kind and thoughtful like his dad, let me sleep first, then open the card.

A few years ago at the discussion of Mother's day and Grandparents day and Father's day - one of the kids asked - real whiney like and while demanding more cheerios - when it was kids day. What I wanted to say was "eff you kid every day is kids day. Get your own damned Cheerios!" But instead I simplified it and said in my best Disney princess voice "Every other day is kids day." And then a bluebird landed on my finger, and I made a fresh loaf of bread and gracefully frolicked through an open field of imagination, whimsy, and stink. But, that's the truth for my kids - every day is kid's day. For other kids - not so much.I know better, and sadly my kids are starting to figure out that some of their friends don't have it as good at home. Maybe their parents are divorced, or worse, maybe they're staying together and screaming at each other all the time. Maybe one of them is drunk. Maybe they are poor. Maybe the kids have no support, or positive influence, or they don't feel safe.

And so what I celebrate is that I have kids and that I am able to make every other day kids day for them. I am exposing them to things like track meets and football and dance and swim team and orchestra. They are safe and happy and healthy smart and kind kids.

Now, someone make me some breakfast in bed already.

That's how I roll.
Song of the day: Thank You by Dido

As I write, I'm reminded of the the time I was distracted by perty horsies...

The other day, I was leaving work. And I was frustrated, for no other reason other than I'm pretty sure I'm not getting it all done at the new job. More on the mention of that new job later. Anyways, one of the joys of transitioning from working on my chaise lounge to working in an office is traffic. It doesn't happen often, as a matter of fact, this was my first traffic sighting, but I was miffed as clearly I have another 30 minutes until five o'clock traffic begins. Duh.

I get out on the major street and soon discover the traffic is because a car is stalled a few yards from a turn lane at an intersection. I merge to get out of that mess and then while I wait I see it's a girl maybe in her twenties and she just doesn't know what to do and shes talking to someone in the car. What if its a kid? I merge back into her lane that everyone's merged out of, throw on my hazards and jump out and ask her if she's ok. She is so pleasantly surprised and her faith in humanity has been redeemed as she has watched car after car drive by. And what I thought was a kid in the car is an able bodied adult - a pal and co-worker who apparently is not about to lower herself to get out of the car. Instead, she's texting all her pals about it. She's been here a while and I m the first person to stop or even drive by and show any concern. Her car is overheated. Soon a guy comes walking up - its her manager.

For some reason, I'm inspired by the manager walking up while hitting his last drag on his cigarette. First of all, she'd called to tell him that she was going to be late because her car stalled and the guy hung up the phone, put someone else in charge and walked into traffic to try to help her.

But also, the girl had been there a while - long enough to stall, panic, call work, the manager to finish up what he was doing and walk about a mile to where her car was. She HAD been sitting there a while and no one had stopped. No one until me. I'm such a hero. Well, maybe not. We all stand there looking at her engine as traffic creeps by in the other lane. We all three determined - it could have been 4 of us, but that chick never got out of the car - was that we needed to push her car.

I know it sounds weird, but I had these ballet flats on, and I was pretty sure I did not want to push a car in them. So, I did the next best, way more comfy and probably faster thing - I offered up my car to push them into the serenity of the Trader Joe's parking lot. Since the girl was headed to work at Ingredient which is also in the zenlike parking lot, we all agreed it would be a great idea. I reminded her that I might scratch up her car, but she was pretty okay with that. My car is not a Lexus. It's also paid for. And it's also not really designated as "my car" per se. It's Ricardo's. But I knew it would be okay to push the car with our car because Ricardo would be impressed. I just knew it.

I pushed her with the car through the intersection. The manager guy rode with me - nice guy by the way. Once we got through the intersection, I think we all breathed a sigh of relief. What a great day, I fought traffic. Ever sitting in traffic and wonder if you could just make all the traffic go away? Yeah, I did that. I was feeling pretty awesome of myself when a cop pulled up to save the day.

"It's okay sir, I've got the day saving gig covered. Go about your business."

Well maybe I didn't say all that. But he offered to push the girl the rest of the way. Ahem - all 20 feet into the parking lot, but whatevs, you go ahead officer. I think we all know I did all the work.

The sweet girl thanked me. The manager guy hopped out and told me to swing by and he'll buy me lunch at Ingredient some time. Considering Ingredient is one of 3 restaurants I can kinda eat clean at, I almost took him up on it. But then I just replied, "Oh no kind sir, this is all in a days work of good doing." Then I flashed him my superhero smile and tucked my cape back in so I could buckle my seat belt. And I headed forth, in search of my next good deed to fill.

Actually I figured I was good for the day. And I was so proud of myself for pushing that car with my car so successfully. I couldn't wait to tell Ricardo all about it. He was going to be so proud. I called him to brag to him about why I was going to be a little late. "Baby! I was having a rough day, and then I helped someone and I pushed their car out of traffic. And she was so grateful and I did good, and I'm so happy I stopped to help."

"Wait, did you say, you pushed a car with my car?"

"Uh, yeah. But it was FOR THE GOOD OF OTHERS! And you would have been so proud of how smooth and professional I did it!"

"Okay, well, hurry home, we need to get to insert one of the 57 different activities we have going on here."

I got home and whatever activity we had to get to necessitated I jump in the minivan and we go. So we did and we got home late and all was well.

The next day, at yet ANOTHER activity, I was bragging to some friends about what a great and noble deed I did. Ricardo and I had split up carting one kid to one activity and another to the other. So, as I'm telling my noble deed story, I get this text:

"Ummmmmmmm....we are missing the license plate off the front of the grand am."

Bahahahah, I thought it was hilarious. Because here I still did a very noble and very great deed, saving that girl from the grips of miffed but still Omaha-style polite traffic folk. I thought I'd done such a good job of pushing the car. Apparently not. Ricardo didn't think it was as funny as I did and then he mentioned something about him driving around with no license plate and how it's super uber illegal in the state of Nebraska. Woopsie. I resolved to get new ones as soon as I got back from a road trip I was leaving for the next day.

I went on the road trip. I came back. I recovered from the road trip. It took a few days. And on day five from my return from said roadtrip, I was on my way to work EARLY as I was going to wow them with my extra time committed to what is now seen as my noble profession of doing good for others. On the way to all that, I got pulled over by a very nice police officer. I didn't catch it at first as I wasn't paying attention to how fast I was going. I was taking a swig of the most delightful batch of coffee from my gigantic coffee mug. Had she seen that when drinking from this particular mug, it may or may not impair my vision? OR, was it illegal now to talk on the phone while driving, because I had my hands free headphones on but isn't that even illegal in some states?

I'm reviewing all this in my head and resolved to watch the news more, especially to be more updated on local phone and driving laws, when I'm pulling over, it occurs to me - it's the damned license plate Ricardo's been reminding me of daily. Dangit.

I explain as quickly as possible this whole story to her, and how noble I was, and now my husband wins this debate. She doesn't think it's all that noble or funny, but hands me what she referred to as a "fix it ticket". Ahhh, Nebraska, The Good Life. I promised her I'd get it fixed right away and drive straight to the DMV right now as it was so very close. I'm pretty sure she didn't believe me. But I did. And $14 later (Ricardo thought it'd be more like $60) I am legal again.

My good and noble deeds are worth $14, I think. Hey, isn't that about the cost of a meal at Ingredient?

That's how I roll.

Song Listen of the day: Drive Thru by Tenacious D (EAR MUFFS!!!!)

As of current, my kids' schedules are a wee bit embarrassing. For about the next month, we're finishing up winter activities and yet, spring activities have begun. Monday evenings look like some kind of bizarre parental tag team chauffeuring service. When we get in bed on Monday nights, we'd high-five ourselves with congratulations, but we're too tired. That, and then Tuesday is upon us and it's equally crazy. By Wednesday, we are split again on the schedules of carting the kids to their activities - but it's only one activity each, so it's practically a breather. Thursday is another activity, but they both go to the same place, so that's easy. When Friday rolls around, we all don't know what to do with ourselves. So we have Family Fun Night and make homemade pizza, also known as "Daddy's World Famous Pizza". Saturday mornings are filled with more activities, and then Sunday afternoons as well.

Last year, during football practices, I opted to start running while Max practiced football. This year, Max is doing spring football. So, upon our return back to the practice fields, I discovered I'd developed a reputation - I'm that runner mom. Secretly, I find this amusing. I guess to others, I run a lot. But I really don't like to run. (Don't tell anyone. It's our little secret.) And what they didn't know was that was the ONLY time I was running. Still, I was doing it. So, I developed a rep as the runner mom (I still chuckle at that title) and great, now I have to keep up the rep and run at spring ball practices. Sigh.

One day a few hours before Lucy's dance practice, I got a text from a fellow dance mom-friend, "Wanna walk today at that park next to dance?" Great idea. And then, a fellow football team mom-friend of mine asked if we could walk together during the boys' practice. HECK YES.

I'm happy to walk with these ladies for several reasons. First of all, I love to visit with them. I find myself looking forward to seeing them at practices. Secondly, I like to run on my own. And also, when I do run with people, I still insist on talking, and for some reason, when running, people don't like to hear me yapping. So, walking and talking is fine with me and probably a little more bearable.

It's occurred to me that maybe carting the kids around isn't the embarrassing part. It's the part where we drop our kids off, kiss the top of their heads (if they don't run off first) and tell them to work their hardest. Then we plop down and sit there and watch our kids give their all. When we go to swim, I usually sit in the lobby or the hot tub. When we go to dance, I sit in these awful chairs and gripe about my back and how loud the dancers are running around. When we go to track, I sit in the stands and read or yap on the phone. What the hell? What kind of example is that? My kids look up and see me sitting there.

So, I decided to take this reputation of the running mom - which by the way, I think it should be a more descriptive term like "barely jogging mom" but anyways - then I should do it ALL of their events.

If you're at any of the following practices - feel free to join me - even the running part. But you might want to bring headphones if you don't want to hear me talkingto you while we run. So, here's my new schedule:
Swim Team practice: I swim in the lane right next to them. So far, they think it's pretty cool. In practicing for Sprint Triathlons, my workout is way shorter than theirs. But they get it and I think they like having me around, but not for the ENTIRE workout. It's win-win all the way around.
Football Practice: Walk & Talk - and total bonus, we're walking the dogs too.
Dance Practice: Walk & Talk OR Jog OR I have intent to get my bike out and crank out a few miles on the bike.
Tracktice (See how I combined Track and Practice for my own word there? You can use my word, no prob. You know you want to): I run in the slow lane on the inside of the track. Eventually, if I'm feeling super bold, I guess I could do some situps and pushups. It's not like I'm jogging for the entire hour.

In between those workouts, I'll be hitting my awesome gym. Mamma's gotta get to the steam room and see her fellow cool gym peeps.

I know we're all busy hustling our kids to practices and games and tutoring and rehearsals. So, I hope you consider my new plan. Can you do it? Can you find a way to workout while your kids are? Let me know how it goes!

That's how I roll.

Song of the day: 2 Legit 2 Quit by MC Hammer (c'mon, it's fun!)

Here's the after. You're welcome, Moms. Your grandbabies ate it all before the storm came. That's the only flashlight I could find. But don't worry, it's glow-in-the-dark. And yeah, that's Perrier. We're classy like that.

When my daddy was alive, he'd call me for one of two reasons -
1. To ask when my birthday was so he could get more combinations on his lottery picks when the Lottery was high.
2. To check on me when the weather was bad. He'd watch the weather and call to fill me in before I knew what was going on.

Apparently, my dad was ahead of his time. 5 years later, my mom's calling. I really don't blame her - remember Hurricane Ike? Yeah, they survived it. And by survived it, I mean, they were without electricity for more than 2 weeks. I remember watching Hurricane Alicia from my garage. It was kind of like a neighborhood block party. I grew up an hour inland on the north side of Houston. So, that we got a show of a hurricane should give you some kind of indication that it was pretty bad. Hurricane Ike was badder. Way badder.

When I check my voicemail from my mom, it's eerily warm out. The day before, it was chilly. So, I know the change in temperature is a good indication of bad weather. Still, I'm driving home, it's sunny and so warm out, I've got the windows rolled down. My mom's voicemail reports otherwise. She's got a shaky and concerned tone but she's trying to be cool and not overact. You know, so I won't blog about her or something. Too late.
"Just checking on y'alls weather." Awkward paus. "Uh, text me and let me know how it's going."

Now the "just checking on the weather" is normal. The "text me" gig ads a bit ofa degree of her concern for me. So, I call her. When she answers I tell her I'm okay immediately. Then I start making swish and wind tunnel sounds to tease her a little. She appreciates that I've told her I'm okay first. I tell her it's sunny out and I just rolled up the windows to talk to her. So, she unclenches for a little bit.

And then she starts in about stocking our basement. Now, I don't know if Moms is mixing up nuclear warfare with tornadoes or what. But we'd talk for a while, she'd circle back to stocking the basement, and then I'd listen, change the subject and she'd circle back again.

I have something over my mom's house: a basement. So, we're fine. But she REALLY wants me to stock it. I explain we have a refrigerator in our basement and it's stocked with our overflow of groceries. We have the following in our basement refrigerator: a beer, milk, bread, onions and potatoes. She assesses it and we have a laugh. And then she comes back to more basement badgery. We apparently need to go buy camping equipment, a generator, flashlights, and a storm radio.

I understand the purpose of flashlights. I promise Moms that I'll find a flashlight and put it in the basement. But she's back to the food situation and she's made a list she'd like to review with me on what I should pack. Dear God. I listen to her. I joke around. But she's going in for the hard sell. Up to this point, I see where she's going with it. I'm just jacking with her a bit. And then she goes in for the bizarre hard sell - she starts talking about how we don't have a bathroom in the basement, but do I know where the drain is just in case.

"How long do you think we'll be down there, Moms?"

"Well you never know, Les."

I promise her that if stuck int he basement under rubble or whatever, I promise I'll dig out and find a real working bathroom. Or pee outside. There, I have a plan.

I finally promise her that I will stock the fridge. I will NOT however, make preparations or any kind of a plan on peeing in my floor drain. And she relents.

Mind you, there IS a storm coming, but it's not for another 20 hours. I call JulzHOLLA to make sure she's aware of this very epic nationally previewed storm. She says her family in Michigan already called her about it. So see, it's not just me either. But apparently, there's this very wicked storm coming our way and it's going to involve "Life Threatening Storms". I'm quoting that from a news story. Seriously. We'll see.

We opt to go out to eat before the very predicted storm hits and on the way home we stop for some allergy medicine. While we're there, Ricardo reminds me we are out of toilet paper. We kid about how we should stock up for this storm. Hahahaha. And then when we go to check out, the checker outter asks, "Are y'all stocking up for the storm?" Then proceeds to tell us the Big O report: Everyone's stocking up on flashlights. Target totally ran out. OMG - Can you believe it?

I turn to Ricardo, "Is this a bigger deal than we're mocking it to be?"

"Nah".

And then we went home and told the kids we're getting ready for a slumber party in the basement. Doesn't that sound like fun!? They bought it. Until I started hauling food to the basement and filling up water bottles. We've been in the basement before for bad weather. I've never stocked it with food. Let the worrying commence. I promised it was just for our party. But then Lucy turned and explained to Max about how Mena called to warn us. Lawdy.

So, as I type, we wait. The basement is packed with food, clothing, blankets, and now toilet paper.

That's how I roll.

Song of the day: Tears in the Rain by Joe Satriani

Before this, I've slipped a little - but since it was at home - and my pantry is pretty cleared out of all dirty items. The food I slipped on wasn't cuuuuhlean - per se. It's usually a binge on Jo-Jo's. By binge, I mean I ate 5 of them with almond milk. Whereas before this venture, I would have eaten the box with a can of frosting. And when Ricardo reached for one, I probably would have stabbed him with the butter knife I was using citing, "Go get your own box!" Or something like that.

So, what happened first was, Ricardo took the kids to his parents for a few days during their spring break leaving me all alone at home with Maybee. Maybee is now confused as I'm talking to her for endless hours of human blabber blabberdy doo. It's one thing to go out of town and be away from family. But it's a very odd feeling to be at home with no one here. So, I may or may not have coped with ginger snaps. They are as clean of a cookie as you can get. Perhaps I hit the Trader Joe's Palak Paneer and Jasmine Rice a little too hard. And then I sat alone and watched tv in my own lonely despair taking swigs of ginger beer. Yeah, I know. I'm pretty awesome. Such a foodie dare devil.

When Ricardo and the kids came home, we went to the movies. Now, I've been to the movies while on this clean eating endeavor. I've packed my snacks, and not been tempted to eat the kids' popcorn. But this time, Ricardo was with me, and I suppose, since he was eating the popcorn, well then so be it - it was okay for me to eat the popcorn too.

When he and Lucy ate the entire tub with, well, I got a little miffed. So, I went out and refilled it, completely validating it. What the hell just happened? I'm supposed to be preaching that a refill of the oil doused popcorn is encouraging bad behavior and eating habits. That just because they hand you a tub of salty genetically modified corn with butter, and a side of free refill, doesn't mean I should do it. Right? But I just want a little bit. I returned to the movies and started in on the popcorn, woops, I mean plot. I was there for the movie, not the popcorn...

I figured since the clean eating rules had been broken, let the flood gates open and flood me. However, the popcorn just didn't taste that good to me. Sigh. I'm growing up again. Dangit. So, I put the greaseball tub down and never picked it up again.

The next day, we got caught. By caught, I mean unprepared. We had our smoothie for breakfast: frozen peaches, water, flaxseed, cinnamon, protein powder. Then we headed out to volunteer for an Easter Egg hunt. I'd calculated that we'd be home in time for our morning snack, but lo, we were needed for a few other tasks. I get it, we're awesome like that. Let's do this. Before I knew it, my stomach was growling and it was lunch time. It's probably a good time to tell you that we were also helping with a food pantry. So, I'm not going to suggest I was starving or whine about how I was starving because I was missing my morning snack. Poor me. Still, my stomach was audibly embarrassing, what with it being at everyone else's ear level and all. Once we finished, since we'd done such noble deeds as feed the hungry, we should be rewarded with brunch at one of the dirtiest restaurants in town - Wheatfields. Because it was closest. Instead of chips and dip, they bring you a giant cinnamon roll slathered with a 3" layer of frosting. Well, it is homemade, so that makes it clean right? I just had a couple of bites.

I found some spinachy artichokey and hammy casserole and ate half. And Ricardo and I pledged that once Easter was over, we were sooooo back on the Clean Eats wagon. JulzHOLLA! and her family were having us over for Easter Dinner. We had no expectations for JulzHOLLA! to accommodate our ridiculous Clean Eats scheme. However, she had - even researching a clean recipe for donuts. Be still my Lilith Fair attending heart. I think I'm in love. I mean, a friend who will go to those lengths - a clean donut, y'all. THAT is a friend with benefits. Heck yes.

Karma woke us up from our Easter weekend binge. Ricardo is nursing a pretty upset stomach as I type. So, we're back on our clean eats. I think the rules were meant to be broken so that you can see the consequences of breaking them. The consequences are breaking out on my face. I've taken advantage of my theory that clean eating will clear up my face. It did. And then I ruined it.

I'm a little disappointed in myself that I fell off the clean eats wagon. In retrospect, now that my mind is fully in tact as the haze of dirty food has cleared - perhaps I should have cushioned this plan of clean eating just a little bit. To expect that I'd not possibly ingest one iota of dirty is unrealistic. My wagon falling offing in my own regard is way better than if I were dieting. I've learned this lesson - clean eating is a lifestyle, not a diet. And I know that by the fact that even when I veered off course - it was indeed a purging of better choices even if not clean.

That's how I roll.

Song of the day: Life by Queen Latifah

In using my powers for good....click here now.

If you are a writer, ever thought of writing a book (everyone I've ever mentioned that I've been trying to write books, always say "I've always wanted to write a book" so, that's just about everyone.) If you've written a book and don't know what to do now. If you need an idea. If you're just a creative kind of person, but mostly, if you have a story to tell (again - each of you has a story to tell) you need to check into attending my very cool friend's retreat.

I met Wade Rouse at the Erma Bombeck's Writers Conference. I almost didn't go to his session. I think it was called something like "The Three H's of Writing: Humor, Humility, and Honesty." I might be wrong, but hey, that's what I got out of it. Anyway, I went to his writing retreat, and got a lot out of it. He does something - I'm not sure what, because I started writing and never stopped, but he helps you tell your story - your way.

On top of that, he does another first - he brings together supportive groups of writers. Because, if you're a writer, you're paranoid about sharing your work with anyone, and others writer happiness or success makes you wanna kind of vomit in a totally validated competitive kind of way.

I'm almost finished with my first manuscript and in the middle of my second. And I look forward to sharing the highs and lows of writing and rejection with my original Wade's Writer's group. We all keep in touch and support each other. One of the writers in my group since knowing me (woops, I mean going to the retreat - but coincidence? I think not.) has completed his manuscript, landed an agent, and sold his book. I am so proud of him and eager to read his book!

Unless you have only intention of telling everyone you've always wanted to write your book, but never actually doing it....Seriously, please consider going to Wade's retreat.

If you have any questions, please comment or email me.

That's how I roll.

Song of the day: Superstar by Lupe Fiasco

This weekend, we dropped off Lucy at a sleep over birthday party. Then we went to pick Max up from a friend's house. But friend's mom said it would be okay if he could spend the night. Max said all in one word: Could we please pick up some jammies, church clothes for the morning, his toothbrush, his ds, and his ipod please. Well, sure kid, if only for the necessities.

So, if you're doing the math, we are 12-hour empty-nesters. Hell yes. Let's party balls! We pretty much don't go out just the two of us. I don't know. I suppose we should on occasion but we both work at home. We pretty much reconnect every day at lunch anyway.

"What do you wanna do?"

"I don't know. What do you wanna do?"

"Don't know. What do you wanna do?"

So, we opted to do what every smokin hot couple like us would do - we went to the sports store to find me some new biking shorts. They didn't have anything I liked or wanted to pay for. I mean for THAT much money, the padding in those pants should offer more than just padding if you know what I mean. Wink. Wink. We kept the hot date hot by me not trying on the bike shorts.

After our failed attempt at bike short purchasing, we swung by the movie theater to see what was playing. But the Hunger Games crazy hasn't subsided enough for me to want to bear that crowd. And the only other movie we were interested in I'd rather wait and rent. This clean eating deal puts a lot in perspective when you're not getting a diet coke and popcorn at the theaters. Suddenly, chomping an apple for $20 to watch a movie and you can't even pause the movie to go pee. Well, it's not so fun anymore. The cost of going to the movies exponentially peeves me. We left.

Anyways, on our walk back to the car we held hands. I know. Pretty cute, right? Then Ricardo remembered we needed something at the home improvement store. And enter the next level of hotness of this hot date. Y'all don't be jealous. We ran into a sweet friend of mine, continued the hotness by chatty chatikins while Ricardo physically just stepped back and waited for it to stop. It's always good to see that pal. We get our very important item, and we head home and resign to watch March Madness. Granted, we would do this if the kids were here. Last week, I think they were around. I don't know though, because we watched THAT much basketball. The deal is, our kids don't hinder our relationship. So, that they're gone, well, anything we'd like to do, we can do with the kids around. Almost anything, but y'all know what I mean.

At halftime of the first game, I mention I want cake. It may have been more of a proclamation rather than a mention. But anyway. This would be the first gigantic falling off the Clean Eating wagon in almost 4 months. I wanted cake for dinner. Ricardo obliged and it was halftime, so we went to the store for cake. But I couldn't do it. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. So, we walked over to the health food section and my cheat was organic ginger snaps and organic ginger root beer. Granted, I had every intention of eating the entire box of ginger snaps, but still, it's better than that cake. I dunked my organic ginger snaps into my organic vanilla flavored coconut milk while I sat next to my man and overdosed on March Madness instead of cake.

But for the record, we did do one thing that we'd never do with the kids around - we had cookies for dinner.

That's how I roll.
Song of the Day: Wanna be a Baller - Lil Troy (I made Ricardo listen to this full blast on our hot date, too.)

Max and Lucy are mad at me. Again. They aren't really mad, so much as they know I won't relent on my clean eating practices. And I won't. Still, they flash their pathetic sad faces over this issue on the same principle that I won't relent. It's so hard to exude stubbornness on a stubborn woman. Poor kids.

There's a reading program at the kids school that they have to keep track of how much they read. If they turn in their reading sheet on time, they get a coupon to pizza hut for a kids pizza with their fake cheese, greasy pepperoni, not-whole wheat pizza crust, and a sweaty bitter kid who throws it all together. And they can only have that free no-nutritional value kids meal if I go in and BUY a meal myself. Which I won't do, so there's that.

Does anyone else find it ironic that my kids have more clarity and energy to do better school work due to their healthy eating habits and yet they are rewarded with a coupon for crap-food? The very school system that holds seminars on logic & consequences of parenting...what about the logic and consequences of rewarding behavior? A logical consequence of reward for a good reading sheet would be a book, y'all. Or a book mark. Or a pencil. Or a coupon to a book store or those all those book club magazines you keep sending home.

So, that's what I did. I told the kids they could trade in their stupid unhealthy pizza hut -served up with a side of bad service and absolutely no nutritional value -coupon for a book. Any book they wanted. They could have it.

Funny thing, they don't even like the pizza hut kids meal. They just like that they earned it. So, they agreed. I don't know what was more reward for them. Because once we went to the book fair, they were quick to say, "Mom said I could have ANY BOOK I WANTED." And then they waited for me to take it back, or put a stipulation on it. I did not. And then the craziest thing happened, they didn't even take advantage of it. They picked a book out that they knew they'd read and probably enjoy. AMAZING.

I lead a book club for a few kids at the school. I still think I was asked to do it as penance, but whatevs. So, our first book club meeting after the first of the year, we had to reschedule to have the meeting earlier in the day than our regular last gig of the day. I seek approval, particularly from kids. And what's the best way to get said approval? Bring treats.

But this time it was different. This time, I'm on this Clean Eating kick and I've made great efforts and within only weeks, discovered so many things I'm responsible for. So, am I leading by example if I bring the kids cupcakes or cookies or lollipops? Probably not. And this time, we're meeting right before lunch.

I put it all on the line, stopped at the store and picked up a bag of Cuties. Moms of the world know what I'm talking about - they are the easy-to-peel seedless tangerines. I was bracing myself to get mobbed and destroyed. Twelve 4th graders pushing me down and beating me on the justified grounds that I didn't bring candy. But I was willing to take it for the sake of making a change in my life and so to, in theirs. That, and I'm pretty sure that I can take at least 8 of the 12 kids. I think I'm loud enough to call for help once they got me to the floor. I had a plan. I risked it all and took Cuties for treats.

Oh sure they're messier, and one kid got the juice in the eye while peeling his Cutie. But they loved them. LOVED THEM. Apparently, they were bragging to the other kids about their special treat that Max and Lucy's mom brought them. I know because Lucy's Afterschool Report involved "Mom, they were BRRRRAGGING about it, and you're not supposed to BRRRAG about it." Then she slumped back in her seat in the car and crossed her arms to confirm her miftness of the injustice.

"Lucy, I saved you a cutie. Want it?"

"Yes!"

A few weeks later, I went back to do the next Book Club meeting, but the teacher had provided graham crackers so that I wouldn't have to bring the treats. I walked in with graham crackers y'all. And you know what I heard, "Aw man, where's the Cuties?" Yeah, that's right, Clean Eating wins, 1-0.

Give your kid a piece of fruit today. And then hand her a book.

That's how I roll.

Song of the day: Ya Gotta Have Pep by John Lithgow (fun kids song and it even has the word poop in it, so they love it)

Something has happened. I don't know what it is. But it's something. I anticipated more clarity when I went on this quest for Clean Eating. However, what has happened is, by immersing myself with the Clean Eats, I keep discovering new layers of nutrition and health. For example, I found this video. My mom shared this on her Facebook page. (Which is way better than the time she posted herself in a bikini. I mean, she's hot and all, but she's my MOTHER.) Anyways, so, I watched it - (see Moms, I AM listening) and I've deduced, it's time for Phase 2.3c15 of the Mom On The Rocks Clean Eating project.

We have been sensitive to make sure to not just force the kids to eat bizarre stuff. We don't want them to end up like Todd Marinovich's dad. Poor guy. Anyway, we want our kids to make healthy choices.

They are making pretty healthy choices. However, I think it's time to ask MYSELF (and not the kids she asked in the video) the pressing question at the beginning of this video: "What did you put in her face!?" Click here to watch the video.
If the Mom on a Mission gig doesn't move you to clean out your pantry, perhaps this kid will.

Looking forward to hearing your comments on this one.

That's how I roll.
Song of the day: Shine by Joni Mitchell

I was asked to judge a rib contest. Not like where you line up Angelina Jolie, Demi More and that Olsen twin and guess who's ribs are the finest. No, I'm talking about tasting delicious meaty (there's not enough meat on those ladies ribs to eat - not even doused in barbecue sauce) beef ribs.

I took full liberty of my status in meeting new people at the party with "Am I judging your meats tonight?"

Even better was when we sat down to judge, food was served to me. And I was asked to be honest and judge it. This might be every mother, or cooks of households across America's wet dream. For once, I am served dinner, and then I get to judge it. When usually, after preparing a solid healthy hearty meal, I get unsolicited detailed judgement. As it turns out of late, Max doesn't like anything other than cheese roll-ups, and please mom, stop buying those whole wheat tortillas, I can hardly bare it.

But tonight, I sit, among my foodie peers, I am served ribs - which, I really have to be honest with myself here, I don't bother to cook ribs. Unless its cooked on the stove or in the oven, Ricardo takes care of cooking all bbq and smoked meats. Still, I can appreciate the time put into these ribs based on Ricardo.

What I really think got me - other than the meats - was the freedom and encouragement to discuss food and flavor among other foodies. I mean, Ricardo can only take so many dinners of me and this conversation:
"I like the flavor, and the texture. I think more cilantro, less lime. And this should be paired with pasta, not rice."

On top of that, we've been detoxing our vacationing road tripping ever butt growing bodies with clean eating. OH no, here we go again. Yeah, we're doing it. So, you can imagine all the other judges (all men) surprise when I've been clean eating up to this point, only to put a rib in my mouth and say, "Oh dear God, this is dirty, dirty, dirty!" I thought I said it in my head, but apparently, from the looks of their confused and some what stimulated looks on their faces, perhaps I was a good food loving woman, and yeah, I said it outloud.

The first rib was dry. Apparently the other judges had that rib already, in the buffet for the public. The ribs for the public (read in snotty foodie judge voice) were sitting in a vat of yummy juices and goodness in a crockpot. Excuse, me...isn't eating the ribs before judging them cheating? I went through and strategically got only the side items and desserts before we judged the ribs.I stuck to the desserts and Diet Coke to cleanse and prepare my palate. I'm committed like that. But I kept my judging of the desserts all to myself (Lemon cream pie with the blue berries and raspberries for American decor wins, hands down. Brownies with frosting runner up)

Anyways, my only reference was the rib samples, and rib #1 had been removed from the vat of juices and goodness and placed into a pan and in the oven to keep warm. So they were dry. They had good flavor though, with just enough kick and heat. A rib, however, should never ever ever have the consistency of turkey jerky. EVER. Rib #2 was better, thicker, and tons of flavor. The others might have mentioned something about being too salty. Whatevs. I, on the other hand, should probably mention that with clean eating, there is no salt. As little sodium as possible. It's my toughest part of the whole gig. So, by the time I got to this rib, I was in heaven. I love salt. And this rib was good. It seemed like there was a salt rub on it as well as a sauce. A wet rub AND a dry rub!? WHAT, WHAT!? yes. High marks.

And then the last rib was dripping with the most divine and unique combination of flavor. Someone did their research on this judge. It was a citrusy glaze with freshly minced garlic and dear God, what is this moment of divinity? Oh yes, it's the cilantro...in the barbecue sauce, y'all. SO. GOOD. That bad boy won based on unique flavor, perfect texture of meat, and the fact that I ate it all and asked for another citing, "I'm just not sure and need to eat another to confirm any suspicion." And I did. I confirmed the hell out of it.

And so, that was our winner. What I really loved was that these rib guys were so passionate about their meats. No greater combination and really compliment is to put me - someone who loves to eat great food - among people who are so passionate about their meats. So, thank you Kris with a K. I'm tearing up just thinking about that beautiful moment.

We topped off the rest of the celebration with Neil Diamond songs, and everyone's favorite American hobby, blowing up money. Didn't someone mention a recession? We're Americans who love America - we eat meats, we listen to Neil, we blow stuff up. Let the fireworks begin.

Thank you Kris with a K!

That's how I roll.

Song of the day: Anything Neil Diamond

YESTERDAY they put their laundry up. Today, I walk by and see this.

Guess who is learning to do their laundry this weekend?

That's how I roll.

Song of the day: Dirty Laundry by Don Henley (repeat theme in this house)

This clean eating gig has been interesting. Knowing my commitment to an entire year, I had challenges.

First there was that road trip, and then there was the Julie Cakes. I had no idea JulzHolla nor JulieCakes would tempt me so soon like this. I mean, really y'all - day three? DAY THREE and you're putting JulieCakes and me within a 1/2 mile radius? C'mon. But I did it! Had I only been eating clean for a week, I bet I would have snuck a cupcake, and then another. Maybe another for the road. But instead - I let Lucy have one, and then made her let me smell it. It smells really really good. And so far, I've been good. This will be a good year for me to prove to JulieCakes that although her cakes are like the best in the whole world. I'm not just using her for her cakes. Indeed, we can extend our friendship past delicious and supreme cakes and cupcakes. It's like cake abstinence. We're going to strengthen our relationship by abstaining. This'll be fabulous.

We picked a menu out of the magazine, that maybe I was a bit too eager or something. I had no idea I was such a picky eater. I always get a kick out of overweight picky eaters. And now I'm one of them.

I have a very small list of things I really don't like: soy milk, fish, shrimp (unless it's fried or dipped in butter). And then I have a list of things I absolutely refuse to eat: lamb, deer meat, goat cheese or milk.

Now I have a couple of others I'd like to add to the mix. It turns out, I'm not a big fan of scrambled eggs. WTF? All of the sudden, I'm against them. I get a little gag going on when I eat them. Remember when you were pregnant and you had that morning sickness gig. It's like that, except we all know I am NOT pregnant. That's a problem when they are on the menu 5 out of 6 breakfasts. The irony of the eggs and pregnancy comparisons hasn't escaped me.

Fish is nasty. The texture of fish, like the scrambled eggs, makes me gag. The taste of fish makes me feel like I've already thrown up. But I haven't.

I had a friend of mine call and say she was in town. She wanted to know if we could meet her for dinner. Uhm, someone doesn't read this awesome blog and her name rhymes with Pusan. That's what you get for not reading. Everyone else is avoiding dining with me like the plague. Even JulzHOLLA! is on a call only basis. Today's call went something like, "Did you say you've been chewing on a salad for an hour?"

Indeed, I had. The salads are huge. Lots of chewing going on here.

Anyway Pusan and company wanted to go out to eat. But really, it was just too soon. So, I offered to make them dinner. I failed to mention our Clean Eats endeavor. But went with a clean menu anyway with:
Steak Roll
Roasted Winter Vegetables
Edamame Salad
and my personal fave: Chocolate Banana Freezer Pie

I would have won her and her beau over had I not been super eager just to see her. I tried to will an early arrival by having dinner fixed early. I forgot to add in to the equation that Pusan is typically late - well, let's just say super laid back. And so I'd cooked the steak early, and keeping it warm dried it out. I also forgot the vanilla in the pie. I think that made the difference. There's always next time...if they come back.

As with any food lifestyle change, we are figuring this all out. What I loathe is all the cleaning. I love cooking in my kitchen. But I'm the first to acknowledge that I'll use every pot and pan and bowl and utensil in the process. Which leads to 2-3 loads of dishes every day. It's time consuming, but I don't mind that.

What I love about our clean eats is first of all, we just feel great. We're never hungry and we're never full. After our Texas tour of all things yummy and dirty-dirty - I felt like I needed a nap - for a week or so. Ricardo and I both have energy during the day, we sleep well at night, and we just feel good. I also love the fact that we're all eating together just about every night of the week. I was in a conversation with some pals the other day and one woman mentioned that they have one designated family dinner a week. And sometimes, they can't make that one. One? Let's be real here, about once a week, as Max and Lucy's schedule gets a little hairy, Ricardo have to divide and conquer, and we end up feeding the kids dinner before we taxi them off to their activities. Then when we get home, Ricardo and I have dinner together. But since eating out is not an option, all of us eating together has been fun. And necessary. I'm currently in a panic over dinner etiquette and it has nothing to do with which one is the salad fork and more like, "Please cut your steak instead of shoving the whole thing in your mouth." Or "Broccoli kind of sprays when you talk with your mouth full, honey." Or the fact that I had to make one of our newly published MomOnTheRocks Rules to be "Chew your food." It's a family rule. Know it. Love it.

My favorite surprise this far is our budget. I'd venture to say we are spending about $300 a week on groceries. Some of you are gasping at my frivolous bulk buying of broccoli and spinach and low sodium turkey breast, I'm sure. However, what we're not spending money on is going out to eat. I don't care how much you budget for eating out, it's ALWAYS underestimated. So, that we're not eating out at all - well, before you gasp at my frivolous groceryness - I guarantee you that you're spending more on your meals than me. $300 a week divided by 5 meals (Breakfast, morning snack, Lunch, Afternoon snack, dinner) 7 days a week, that's roughly $8.57 per meal for a family of four.

Sometimes the veggies go bad, especially if they are organic. I worry that I'm being wasteful. But then Ricardo reminds me of when we're out to eat and one of the kids balks on their choice for a meal. It's not what they thought it would be and they don't like it. So, they don't eat it. And then one of us eats it so as to, you know, not be wasteful and get all that we can out of the restaurant bill. The spinach that goes bad is $5 (it's a 1 pound gig, y'all). The meal that one of them refuses averages out to be $8. I got some use out of the spinach before it went bad. I can't say I got as much out of the restaurant.

What I'm saying is, more time and energy is put into preparing meals and emptying and loading the dishwasher. More money on groceries. Money saved on not going out to eat. We're eating around the table all the time. We're learning a lot about the food we eat. I don't feel sharper (Or is it more sharp?) yet. But I don't feel too full and talk myself out of my workouts either.

The only thing I really miss are the JulieCakes. But they smell divine.

That's how I roll.
Song of the Day: Good Feeling by Flo Rida

That, and this class is going on while Max and Lucy are in swim team, so we're all getting our workouts on.

I was the annoying one in spin class who showed up late, and I had a couple of gulps left in my awesome coffee mug. So, I stood there and finished the delicious goodness before I hopped on the bike. I was that girl. Which is only slightly less insulting to the rest of the already sweaty brood than the one who reads her kindle in spin class or the one who listens to her own music. You know who you are. And if you don't everyone else does, because I'd heard about the infamous kindle lady for weeks before I accidentally got the bike next to her. I didn't think it would be that annoying. But it was.

Anyways, back to my slightly less annoying than those people antics. I got on the bike and started spinning and loving that music from the deejay - woops, I mean the ass-kicking spin instructor with equally intensive music mix as the workout she was unleashing on my butt.

A cool song comes on, and I ask who it is. She tells me. I write it down. We go up hill another 7 miles, another song I like but am unfamiliar with and so again, I get my nifty notebook and ask again, "Who sings this?" Now, I realize I have to shout pretty loud because a) the music is loud and 2) I'm in the back row.

As a six footer, I'm conditioned to sit in the back row. Except in church. In church we like to sit in the front. I don't really know why, but it might have to do with the fact that people have to accept us for the giants we are at church. To date, no one has asked us to move. But in spin class, I sit in the back because uh, well, my butt is big, and in spin pants, it's an extra padded big ass. On top of all that ass bouncing around, I'm too cheap to get new spin pants probably until they split. If you spin or cycle, you know what I mean...they uh, they wear out, like a swimsuit. It's not THAT bad, except remember, I'm getting back into shape again. So the lycra is getting it's own workout. And so, you are welcome more dedicated spinners, I have spared you yet again, and I make a point to sit on the back row.

I ask who sings this. It was the Killers, for the record. Which I and my ass find to be a very poignant moment. I write it down. And then two people over, a fellow spin pal says to me, "Hey, do you have a smart phone?"

I answer yes and brace my Killers ass for her to say something like, "Well, good thing cuz you're dumb."

But she doesn't. Between gasps, she explains there's an app just for me that I should get. Now, she could have been trying to get me to shut the hell up and spin. But I would like to think that she was looking out for my best interest and being helpful. And so, by the end of the day, I had this new app that y'all probably already have, it's called SHAZAM!

Uh, you can hold it up to any song, and it'll tell you who sings it and will hook up to your itunes and you can download it right there. Just like that! It also has some feature that keeps a running list of all the songs you've inquired about. Which would be good for someone like me because apparently, this whole suggestion was sparked by the fact that I've asked about the same song before. Woopsie.

So, I get that I'm a little bit of a splinter in the side of spinners who unite to work their hardest while I ask "Who's this singing?" and then have the audacity to slow down to write it down. I suppose now, I'll just take notes that come to mind, and then when I'm inclined to ask "Who's singing this?" I'll just wave my SHAZAM app in the air.

And so, spin is good for me, my butt, and now my itunes.

That's how I roll.

Song of the Day: Read My Mind by the Killers (Because I wrote it down)

My Yallison lost her father a few weeks ago in a car accident. I am deeply saddened by the news and yet my heart is warmed with support and love from my friends pour out for her. On top of that, when I pushed my way through her gigantic family to get to her, I was welcomed by her family graciously in such a sorrowful loss for all of them. Long ago, I scrapbooked (yeah, it's a verb....google it) and in one of my scrapbooky quote resource books (yep, they have those) I found a quote, that just well very may be my next tattoo:

"We are friends of our friends' friends."

As I prepared to make my way to Yallison, my friends called me, brought over cards to take to her, and JulieCakeLady made them a JulieCake. Well, it was such short notice, she sent me the cake she'd made for her own birthday cake, swearing she'd make herself another one. CHOCOLATE TWINKIE CAKE, y'all.

Yallison's parents have always been a welcoming example to me. They let me hang out at their house all through high school. And when they moved back to Michigan, I still found them and they still let me visit when Yallison got married. We continued to come back for family vacations together at their lake house several times, this time, welcoming Ricardo, Max and Lucy. Mr. Pete will be missed by my entire family. Our hearts ache for Mr. Pete's family.

My first reaction was to get to Yallison as fast as possible to just crawl in bed with her. It was my sincere yearning to get to her and crawl in bed with her.

"Baby, you ok?"

"I just want to get in bed with her."

"Uh, what? Wait. With who?"

"Yallison. I just want to get to her and crawl into bed with her."

"Strangely, I get that. But make sure you're feet are warmer than those ice cubes you've got going on right now." And he booked me a flight.

I took every precaution, packing snacks that would be allowed on the airplane. I proactively walked the entire O'Hare airport and found my best option: Some kind of brown rice and mango and turkey bowl thing at some organic tea shop. I had that for lunch. My quest for continuing this clean eating was still well mastered plan. I packed as much snack as I could. I scoped out any fresh fruit I could find in the airport. And I knew when I got to Yallison's parent's house, her mom stocks their kitchen with healthy eats. I'd be fine. Then I got to Yallison's parent's lake house. And it was over. You know what happens when someone passes away? People bring you food. Delicious, homemade, not-even-going-to-ask-if-it's-clean-because-you're-feeding-me-with-love-all-while-your-heart-hurts comfort food. How dare I ask for some celery stalks and where's the almond butter and hummus at this house?

So, I jumped the Clean Eating ship 5 weeks in - not out of convenience or craving - but out of complete humbleness in this moment of being welcomed in this terrible situation.That, and Carrie might have set a precedence of "Who's the wacky girl with the insulting eating preferences?" years ago.

A long long time ago, when Yallison was getting married, we all emerged on this very lake house. Carrie, at the time was dating a body builder and eating two things exclusively: microwaved chicken breast OR eggs. That's it. Seriously. And that was during a happy gathering.

So, I wasn't about to be THAT girl. You can't top Carrie on that one. And I was here to be helpful, not needy. Everyone had lovingly brought over droves of food. But I was NOT about to inconvenience anyone with a blog commitment to clean eating. I wasn't going to rummage through her pantry and show ungratefulness to the neighbors who by the way, REMEMBER ME, and foo-foo on their beautiful extension of love through food. No way. If ever there was a reason to fall off the clean eating wagon - it's now. So I did.

Which turns out is a good thing because guess who might have gotten through security with that JulieCake? Yeah, that's right. ME. My initial intent was to not eat the cake. Just bring it to them. And I mean really, what greater selflessness than to bring a cake through airport security, and two different airports than to bring it and not plan on eating a lick of it? But then, if I'm going to eat this not clean eats for dinner, well, you know, it's only fair to eat the not clean but again made with love JulieCake, right? I resolved to go with the flow, be helpful and allow myself a piece of cake or two, and get back to my clean eats when I got back to the airport to go home. I hope I can remember where that organic tea place was again.

Yallison did make me wait a little longer to eat that cake though. I am pretty sure she was waiting for the guests to leave so that she didn't have to share. She has had a JulieCake before. So, you know, in her time of need, she's not about to share that wholesome goodness with her family. They can have hugs. She gets the cake.

And so, Yallison and I never did cuddle in bed. We did however do the next best thing, and that is just for one moment with a slice of cake, I hope for just those few moments she was able to be comforted.

That's how I roll.
Song of the day: Alright by Darius Rucker

This is not stir fry - I made this one for Ricardo from my Clean Eating Cookbook, which I read like a romance novel. And by that, I mean, I read it in bed. I study it. I review. And yes, sometimes, I just look at the pretty pictures. This is CLEAN Breaded Chicken Tandoori with Feta Cheese Pita Crisps. It was absolutely delectable. And yes, that is a large scratch in my table. Fret not, I have every intention of buffing it out in about 8 years - when the kids leave for college.

I'm cooking a fabulous clean dinner the other night. Ricardo in his consistent husbandness, takes his role of stirring the pot - literally and figuratively. He's also really funny and says to Lucy who asks what's for dinner, "Stir Fry. But I always wonder, is it stirred or fried. WHICH IS IT!?"

Lucy gets the giggles and continues her homework.

Ricardo moves to the mail. Not the mail we got today, no, but to the pile that has been collecting in our filing system on the corner of the island assumed to be marked "Stuff to take care of but will probably get piled on and neglected." He finds the letter we received and a form to fill out and opts to fill it out now, before we forget about it. The letter and form are for Max. He's been selected for some fancy award banquet for his success in high jump. (Like father, like son.)

Ricardo is interviewing Max and filling out the paperwork for the banquet.
"What is your goal for track and field and in life?"

"In track and field, it's to win nationals." Again, he's nine years old, y'all.

"Okay, what is your goal in life?"

"Uh, okay, I got it. My goal in life is to be a better person." There's a pause while Ricardo writes it all down and then Max continues,

"Because I thought Dad was a good person. But he went to UNO and got his Master's degree to be better."

And so it goes. We better each other by bettering ourselves. Pretty awesome night of filling out paper work and homework and cooking stir fry.

So, is it stirred? Or is it Fried?

That's how I roll.
Song of the Day: Stir It Up by Bob Marley