Tightening the purse strings.

This has been a big year for me and the Smith family, I'll expound on that in a later post, but one of the biggest occasions has been booking the Smith's 2017 trip to Europe. I was born in Heidelberg, Germany (my parents were stationed there at the time), in 1978, and I have never had the chance to return to my birthplace but that is going to change. We head abroad at the end of May, for a "quick" trip and I am beyond thrilled.

As you can imagine, the trip has been a very frequent topic of discourse in our household. For months now we've been discussing itineraries, flight schedules, passports, & rental cars. I have selected all the cities and sites (Disneyland Paris & the Neuschwanstein Castle made the list, of course) that are mandatory stops on my thirty-eight year old, Trip of a Lifetime; Tarzan is just happy to come along, he makes planning a trip such a breeze. Cheetah has added Rome, Italy, as his must see city on our European trek, and continuously adds new venues to our expedition through Europe.

Due to the hefty price tag that comes along with a trip overseas, we've been tightening the purse strings at the Treehouse. We've instituted meatless meals, elemenated eating out, greatly reduced our outside entertainment budget, and have begun keeping each other in check on our frivolous spending.

I began asking myself, "Do I need/want this? Would I rather _____ while in Germany or France?" - each time I consider purchasing new clothes or shoes. I have also been prompting Tarzan when he is contemplating a purchase and Cheetah when he is requesting a new toy or game, with the same round of questions and have found this practice to be the most helpful; until recently. I believe that I may need to create a different method to remind the family, The Boy especially, as to why we're currently sacrificing our wants for a future time and location:

One day as I reviewed the weekly grocery run with The Boy, we were both adding our lunch & dinner items when I mentioned needing to add tampons to the list. Without skipping a beat, Cheetah demanded, "Do you really need tampons, or can you wait to get tampons in France?"


It took several minutes for me to reign in the snorting and tear shedding laughter but I was able to smile lovingly at him and counter, "Yes my dear, I am sure that I need the tampons now. I may even need tampons while in France, too."

It can be tough on a frugal mom, check out this link for a little comedy relief.

Patience is the answer.

Tarzan and I often get the question, "Why did you choose to have only 1 child?" While I strongly believe it is no one's business, I can say that after a very short week home, I have been reminded of the main reason: Patience.

Currently, Cheetah is lamenting my entire existence because I am insisting that his percussion practice be deliberate & focused, the moments of insanity are increasing vastly. It's like his heartbeat is some how linked with the amount of muttering & eye rolling he can produce. Heaven forbid I have a correction to make on his homework or an idea on how he can better edit his shorty story - his face reddens and his sighs become laborious. Those are the moments that I try to count to a hundred and remind myself of the food quality & accommodations of prison - must stay strong!

He tends to react better reason. So breathing deeply, I try to explain that my duty is to instruct him on how to be a contributing member of society; I have to instruct him on how the real word works, how to make & keep friends, how to get & keep a job, and how to stay on the right side of the law. Of course this conversation is met with more sighs & frustration from The Boy and as I begin counting  from 1 to 100, I can feel my imagination slipping down a rabbit hole...go with me here:

We happen upon a coliseum filled with crazed, screaming fans as Cheetah is marched into the center by a scantly clad Adam Levine. A hush falls, as I stand to greet the Challenger. I list the Challengers crimes: not fulfilling promises, blatant disrespect of authority, addiction to gaming devices, & a complete unwillingness to complete menial tasks - the crowd hits their feet and begin jeering at the Challenger. As the Challenger turns to select his weapon of choice, I usher in Dwayne Johnson who is carrying a house cat who is suited for battle. As he lovingly scratches the cat's chin and smiles in my direction....

"Mom, I'm sorry I get so ugly with you. I know you're right and that I am letting my desire for television and video games rule my life and my actions...(he continues to talk as he leans in for a hug)."

I mutter some version of forgiveness as I try desperately to return to my studly daydream...darn kids.

A journey interrupted.

I have been on a journey.  Like every other journey it proved to be enlightening, painful, and a bit disappointing.  In just over 2 years I have lost 60lbs, learned how to defend myself, and reclaimed my estranged self confidence.  Sadly my body couldn't keep up with my spirit.  So with a trick knee and a few bulging discs, I have had to hang up my gi and resign my goals of wearing a black belt.

For several months I have been mourning the loss of my four year plan.  It was so exciting to have a goal again, a reason to work hard and strive for more.  I have been lost and depressed.  However, I am determined that this will be a mere hurdle and not a set back.  With some lifestyle changes, I have been able to keep the weight off but I am still in search for the next step.

Tarzan and I have a goal for 2025, but what will 2015-2025 have in store?  For now I will work on living life and possibly cultivating my writing.  It is possible that dust and cat hair aren't the only things residing in my laptop, may be inspiration lives there too.  Checking Google will be the obvious next step, there is bound to be an app for that...

Camaraderie is the anecdote.

Some friends and I signed up to participate in a local Warrior Dash.  I was nervous that my body would be unable to meet the physical needs the race would demand and I would lie wasted in chest deep mud.  I was correct, the race did demand a lot of my jiggly body but surprisingly this sack of bones was up for a bit more than I bargained for.  There was a great deal of bargaining and begging on my part, after a mile I was more than ready to be rid of the knee deep mud.  The teetering traverse and a collection of walls nearly claimed me but through tears and cheers I pressed on. 

 

My fear of falling almost proved too much for me to bear, I was gasping for air and my eyes could only see bright white light.  I was sacred out of my wits, my body was giving up on me, and then I heard it..."you've got this Jane, only 5 more feet to go".  Sobbing I sat down and scooted my rear across the remaining 5 feet, all the time hearing "almost there, keep breathing, don't look down".

 

Obviously my fears range in their severity and intensity and during these past few weeks I have enjoyed their physical effects on my body.  After each obstacle I faced I grew giddy, I found energy I thought I had lost over a mile back.  It was invigorating.

Fears my be poison to ambition but camaraderie is the anecdote.

 

Fear #15 Walking into a break-in at my home.

 

Fear #16 Warrior Dash.

 

Fear #17 I won't lose anymore weight.

 

Fear #18:  While alone in the house, I am showering and I hear the dog barking.  In shear panic I have to access my surroundings for weapons.

 

Fear #19:  While alone in the house I begin choking on my medicine.

 

Fear #20  That Shihan will teach a class in my dojo.

 

Fear #21  I won't live up to my expectations. 

 





FEAR

Since I have started this 'Black Belt Journey' I have realized how fearful I really am.  It seems that it really is the only thing that is standing in my way.  There are days where the fear of never being able to pass the test for black belt actually prevents me from doing my best at the dojo.  I really need to get a handle on this before it thwarts me from achieving something that could mean so much for me.  Years ago my mother taught me that when a task seems insurmountable you should break it into parts, make it seem smaller.  Since fear is such a big part of my life I have decided to try to be candid about my uncertainties and take some accountability...one at a time.

Each day I will state a fear that has plagued me that day however small, scary, big, or funny.  At night as I lie in bed I'll marinate on it and see how I let that fear dictate my actions and hopefully through a microscope it won't seem all that daunting.

Fear #1: The very moment that I cross under my awning is also the very moment that the gecko can no longer hold on for dear life.

Fear #2: The feeling of something crawling on my foot in the car really is a bug that Cheetah forgot about in the car.

Fear #3: That Cheetah will never have the chance to grow up.

Fear #4: I will never reach my fitness goals.

Fear #5: I am afraid that I will be attacked and will not be able to protect myself or survive.

Fear #6: That I may pee on myself, in the dojo, due to tons of jumping-jacks.

Fear #7: That my husband secretly steps on the bathmat while wearing shoes.

PSA: Gaining perspective.

In this digital age we are beginning to overuse certain terms like; LOL, LMAO, IMHO, and FML.  I don't think there is a day when I don't 'LOL'.  Of all the abbreviations, it's the latter that truly unnerves me.  For those who don't know FML stands for, 'F*uck My Life'.  I see people using this term on Facebook and Twitter, and I have to count to 100 to help ensure I don't flood their pages with insults.

Let me assure you, on days when things are truly 'FML' worthy you will know.  You will be begging for a day filled with: car trouble, unexpected moves, tardiness, stubbed toes, financial woes, spilled coffee, flat tires, and missing keys.  When a true misery (war, illness, death, maiming, etc) of life strikes you down, you will be seen as the boy/girl who cried FML.  Your posts can be viewed by countless people who are faced with real adversities in life, imagine how it must feel for them to see those 3 little letters.

It's all about perspective.

In the name of healthy

When I was pregnant I vowed that my child would not have the same health problems as I do, I raised him to eat at least 2 servings of veggies (or fruit) at every meal and to ingest mainly complex carbs with his proteins.  I am proud to say that he has the healthiest diet of anyone I know...except on Tarzan's BNO.  I allow him to get McDonald's and while I don't eat food from McDonald's I allow him to have his occasional guilty pleasure.  Every time we go he gets the chicken nuggets (I have tried everything to end this unhealthy relationship but even the 'How Chicken Nuggets Are Made video can't end his unyielding love for them) and apple dippers...the kid is a huge fan of the apple.  Well tonight may have ruined his chances of ever tasting the fried goodness of his yummy chicken nuggets again.

I was appalled when I received my child's meal, alongside his glorious fried nuggets of nasty were fries and the smallest bag of apple slices I have ever seen.  I went back to the counter to inform them of the mistake and was told that McDonald's is making some changes to their menu.  The manager said, "In order to offer a healthier Happy Meal we are now offering french fries AND apples in each meal (like it was a point of pride)".  To which I responded, "How is minimizing the amount of apples and forcing french fries on my child healthy?"  Looking baffled he stuttered, "Did you see how small the order of fries is?"  Laughing I retorted, "Have you seen how small the apples are, what a joke!"



"Apple Dippers' - before menu change

 Really McDonald's??  You think this is healthier?  While I never really agreed with the whole caramel thing, this is ridiculous.  Now my child has THREE TINY pieces of apple AND french fries, I understand some kids never get the apples but is it wise to give the addicting taste of french fries to kids who don't enjoy them? 



new 'Apple Slices'

 Take a clue from Chick-Fil-A, now that is a healthy meal for kids.... 

working hard for the money

Tarzan and I had previously been big spenders and had the credit card debit and bad credit ratings to prove it, so we now live by a budget and a strict rule of NO credit cards.  We learned the pluses of living on a budget the hard way, though I am sure our parents warned us before leaving for college.  Cheetah has the joy of be raised by 2 cheap parents who refuse to give into his every whim.  It is so easy to get wrapped up in giving him everything he asks for, while we may not be made of money, he is an only child and it does have its perks.   

When Christmas came around Tarzan and I were appalled when Cheetah's wish list began growing by leaps and bounds, we decided that this would be the perfect time to try and teach him some perspective.  He had asked for the PS3 game called Skylander's, I was down for it until I googled it and realized it was a scam!  No only is the game $60 but you have to buy/collect all these different figures to complete the game.  Once again, Tarzan came to the rescue...he informed Cheetah that this was a rather expensive item for a Christmas gift (especially for Santa) but we could come up with a way for him to EARN the money for the Skylander game.  Cheetah wasn't thrilled but once he understood that he would have the game eventually he agreed to try to be patient and work for the money to spend on his game.

We came up with this chore list, things that Cheetah could do that would help us out and help him foster some skills of his own.  He could earn up to 12 stickers a day (additional stickers could be given if behavior warranted it) and each sticker was worth a nickle.  I was shocked to see such a swift change in his behavior,  we have had to endure quite a bit of conversations revolving around Skylander's over the past weeks but it was worth it.  If all goes well at school this week Cheetah will be buying the MEGA pack...and he is just beyond ecstatic!

This weekend we spoke of nothing but Skylander's and all the 'guys' he wants to buy, he said he'd be on his best behavior and work really hard!  I'm a bit concerned that he may be the best kid in the world and  that we'll be broke before next Christmas. 

Marriage often leads to roommates.

Being married is great; there is nothing like having someone to laugh with, watch tv with, and talk out your troubles with (to list just a few reasons)...BUT...just like every thing else there is a down side.  With a marriage usually comes a roommate, and with a roommate comes a boat load of new difficulties.

On your best of days you can overlook them missing the hamper, not putting away their belongings, or leaving dirty dishes in the sink.  The fact that they read 4 books a week is endearing but leaving them all over the house becomes irritating.  You breath deeply and decide to pick up the slack for a day or two until you become a ticking time bomb. You're secretly daring them to mention just one slip up you've made; you have all your artillery on hand, just waiting to pounce.  If left unchecked feelings of resentment can begin to bubble to the surface.  You've worked so hard to keep the house in order, you've cooked meals, and washed clothes...you're proud of all that you were able to accomplish in your waking hours.  You are shocked that your roommate wouldn't see what a sacrifice you've made to keep things in 'tip top shape'. 

I know all of these feelings ALL to well, and it's not because my roommate is crappy but because of my expectations.  I not only expect my roomie to understand feelings I haven't actually said aloud but I think he values things like a swept floor, clean counters, or sparkling tubs.  For all I know he may be walking through the house fuming over my 6 dirty cups a day, me leaving clean clothes in the dryer, forgetting to replace the toliet paper on the holder, or my piles of dirty socks by my bed side.  So today as I stand on the edge of the high dive just raring to take a leap into the deep end of crazy I must remind myself that I too am a roommate, and not always the best one either.

PSA to prevent road rage:

As of late I can't seem to get a handle on my nerves, my aggrevation level has reached all new heights.  Driving on the streets of Cajun Country has become a real hazard for the safety of others, I felt that I needed to take a more proactive approach.  The best way to prevent mayhem is to educate those around you...

The 1st lesson is on 4-way stops:

After a full-stop has been made, vehicles have the right-of-way to proceed through the intersection in the order that they arrived at the intersection.  If vehicles arrive at approximately the same time, each driver must yield to the drivers on their right.  If more than one car arrives at the same time, the following right-of-ways apply in order: vehicles going straight, turning right, and finally vehicles turning left.

2nd lesson the definition of yeild:

Vehicle must prepare to stop if necessary to let a driver on another approach proceed. In contrast, a stop sign requires each driver to stop completely before proceeding, even if no other traffic is present.


3rd lesson is the roundabout intersection:

Slow down.  Yield to pedestrians and bicyclists, yield to traffic on your left already in the roundabout.  Enter the roundabout when there is a safe gap in traffic and keep your speed low.

Also, I wanted to take this time to inform any future automobile purchasers of a featurere that no longer comes standard on all vehicles purchased.  The 'turn signal', (please follow the link for a tutorial on the correct use of a turn signal) if your car IS equipped with this device, please do us all a favor and use it.

My spring has sprung!

The acquiring of the new house, packing for the move, and unpacking the new house has been ALL kinds of eventful; it’s becoming a comedy of errors as of late.  We are at the point where we are catching ourselves hysterically laughing for fault of having any idea of how to take things anymore.   Tarzan may be King of the Jungle but his back cried ‘UNCLE’ several weeks ago, my right foot has acquired a very interesting ailment (Plantar Fasciitis), and poor Cheetah is still having problems reeling his emotions in from time to time.  This family needs a break, and along comes spring.

Spring is one of my favorite times of year, I look forward to it annually and by the beginning of February I am in desperate need of it’s comforting breezes, warmth, and promise of ‘feet flirting’.  I have been preparing for spring’s happy arrival for several weeks now.  I’ve been busy dusting off my open toed shoes, shaving my legs (thank God for ‘no shave November’), pruning my yard, and loading up my iPod with all my sunny jams.  Tarzan, Cheetah and I are so excited to fully enjoy our new home and all it’s amenities that we are chomping at the bit to celebrate, ANYTHING.  We have people waiting in the wings to help celebrate any occasion we can come up with…the only problem you ask???



That would be the POOL.  Tarzan has been relentless in trying to schedule a pool guy to come out and get everything up and running with no luck; leaving messages these days is a joke.  So I decided I would try too, I have called 3 times now and I keep getting stood up!  What the heck people, I could probably get it clean and ready on my own if someone could just come show me how to use this pump!!  I am drooling as I pass the pool every day, I am getting desperate here.  As I begin to get busier at work I have days dreams of cool dips in the pool with Cheetah as we work off calories and start our annual OD of vitamin D…and here comes Mr. Disappointment with another day of no word from the ‘pool guys’.  So I am putting my foot down, if by this Friday I have heard nothing I may go into business for myself.  Go ahead and see if I’m bluffing.  I am warning you now ‘pool guys’; I am willing to work for money, I am great at customer service, I have an email address, and I return phone calls…I would be some very SERIOUS competition for you.  I have Google and I can read…those are the only tools I need in my arsenal these days.

Put your hands in the air...

The move has made everything so hectic, this is the first time that we’ve moved with the boy underfoot.  It was surprisingly easy, thanks to family and friends things pretty much went off without a hitch.  We had help entertaining Cheetah, heavy lifting, unpacking, and cleaning.  For now we are presently on an unending quest for things that are taped up in boxes and we are wearing a path in the cement from the garage to the house.

Due to the stress of the move Cheetah has developed a fun new habit that has to be stopped.  The school has had to institute a ‘hand check’ rule, it seems Cheetah can’t seem to keep his hands off of the family jewels.  It’s all the time; standing in the store, riding in the car, watching tele, and eating any meal. 

It’s like he has the cure for cancer in there but just can’t seem to shake it loose.  We have tried the whole ‘do it in private’ talk, and the ‘put your hands in the air for a minute’ punishment.  Nothing seems to be working, I wonder if there is a book at the library that could point us all in the right direction.

The only saving grace during all the hooplah has been Mardi Gras.  We are able to take breaks from unpacking and penis talk to; yell our heads off for some cool loot, enjoy good food, get in some time with friends,  enjoy rides, and let’s not forget the cotton candy.

Cheetah’s school has closed for Lundi and Mardi Gras which means a 4 day weekend for me and plenty of time to catch up on laundry and harvesting empty boxes

A little of topic but very exciting…


Over a year ago I read an article the stated that a family could save over $400 a year by owning a bread machine so of course I had to add one to my ‘wish list’. This past weekend the Smith family received an AWESOME house warming gift from my fabulous Aunt.
 

We received a top of the line Cuisnieart Convection Bread machine, and as I sit here I am making my first loaf of bread.  I had no idea it would be the easy, who knew you could just throw all the ingredients in, press start, and boom…BREAD! 

Wordless Wednesday

A Suprising 'Thank You'.

Cheetah has always been a bit of a ‘scardy cat’ when it comes to heights, climbing, noises, and playgrounds (just to name a few) and I always chalked it up to being an only child. He is scared to get inside the playground equipment or any tunnel slides; I tried bringing him to playground after playground; with friends and without. It really never seemed to make a difference who was there or where we were so I decided to sign him up for ‘Tumble Bus’ at his school. They work on physical skills needed for maneuvering on play ground equipment: tumbling and light gymnastics while being in a safe padded environment. He really seems to like it; it’s a place where he can blow off some steam once a week and it has lead to a love of break dancing. What’s not entertaining about watching a 4 year-old ATTEMPT to break-dance???

His confidence was improving but he was still nervous so I decided to use my least favorite 5 letter word in my favor, I say, “Brady isn’t brave enough to climb up that hill” and there he would go, straight up the hill. It even started working at playgrounds and zoo’s; he looks at me and smiles. He turns and says, “Don’t tell Brady he’s not as brave as me.” He has started using our tricks on us, when Tarzan and I say ‘no’ to something he will say, “Its ok if you are scared, you can do it”.

We were discussing our up-coming weekend when I brought up Santa’s Christmas parade on Saturday. He was so excited he smiled and said, “Will he be walking on chairs?? You know, he’s brave enough.” All the talk of bravery has really helped in spreading Cheetah’s wings. We went to the park with friends this weekend and he was getting on the swings, sliding on the slides, and going through tunnels. He was all smiles, so proud that he was brave enough to really enjoy the park. I was nervous about pushing him, who has to nag a little boy to climb or tumble, (it really could have gone the other way) but it seemed a little nudge was all he needed to give it a try. So if you’re keeping score, I think that means Jane 1 Cheetah 0…thanks, Brady.

Merci, beaucoup!

Things in the Smith household have been running smoothly for quite some time now and I couldn’t be happier. And in the interest of science I felt I needed to pass along my findings from the ‘household experiment’ I was conducting. I have found the best tool at getting the appreciation and recognition needed to prevent any feelings of neglect or resentment. It all stems from enjoying some ‘female bonding’…

I was talking with a friend who was griping that all she wanted was a ‘thank you’ from her husband for taking on the responsibility of being the breadwinner of the family, she felt that he didn’t really appreciate the amount of stress that added to her load. Hearing her talk about how unappreciated she felt made me really take stock of my situation and do some serious damage control. Yes all I really wanted was for Tarzan to really realize what all I did for him and our family on a daily basis, but how could I expect him to take that step when I was unwilling to do the same.

What is it that makes saying ‘thank you’ so hard? All this time I was getting some sort of sick pleasure in knowing that I could do all the chores around the house, cook all the meals, get Cheetah ready for the next day, take care of the animals, and have some down time for myself. Why? To prove I don’t ‘need him’, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Wasn’t that the whole reason why I married him?? Not because I needed someone to help me live my life but because I WANTED him there, in my life, so why wasn’t I letting him be present in our life we had built together? Was the way he folded clothes, spiced supper, walked the dog, or cleaned the house really that important? No. What was/is important is that he DOES fold the laundry, cook supper, clean the house, and love Cheetah and I wholeheartedly.

That night I sat down beside Tarzan on the couch and held his hand, I looked into his eyes and smiled. I went on to tell him how much I valued the stress and worry that went along with being the breadwinner and how I knew I would never be able to understand what it’s like being in his shoes every day but that I appreciated him getting up every morning and going to work…for us and for our life. I wanted him to know how much it really means to know that someone is that invested in Cheetah and I, and that he makes his choice every day to work so that we can buy food, clothes, books, cds, and go on trips. He then went on to say how easy it was when I was there to make sure food was on the table, clothes were clean, the house was clean, and that he could count on me to help with Cheetah.

I really went about this whole ‘experiment’ in the wrong way. I didn’t need to find ways to trick him into doing chores or make a point (at his expense) so that he learns to do things on his own…I need to say ‘thank you’. What a difference two little words can make.

Hand it Over Lady!

Bad words in my house are beginning to have a whole new meaning; I firmly believe I could go my whole life without ever hearing the name ‘Brady’ as long as I live. Every day when I pick Cheetah up from school I get to hear the synopsis of “A Day in the Life of Brady” and it’s a very boring read; Brady has this new toy, Brady has cooler tennis shoes than me, Brady says that frogs can’t be poisonous…etc. Last week I tried to explain that sometimes it may seem that his friends may have nicer things, cooler parents, or a better house but it’s not always the truth; sometimes it’s all a show. I even tried the whole ‘the grass is greener story’; all he got from that what sadness when he realized that his momma wasn’t aware that ALL grass is in fact green. Oh well. I decide I am being over anxious and convince myself that four is a bit early to begin a full scale war on my son’s lack of self-confidence; I‘ll let nature run its course.

Yesterday I picked Cheetah up from school and he was so stinky and sweaty, I said, “Dude was it a rough recess?” He sighed, “Yeah, Brady pushed me because I was yelling at him”. WHAT, do my ears deceive me?? Is he cracking the façade that four year-old Brady is beginning to perfect? Curious I asked him what made him so angry at Brady. He proceeds to tell me that Brady said he had to leave him his silly bands to him when he dies, I was shocked. What the heck is going on at Brady’s house?!? “I told him ‘no’ that I wasn’t going to die. Then he said everyone HAS to die and you better leave me all your stuff!” Kind of baffled I asked what his thought about Brady’s demands. “I think Brady just wants all my green grass” he explained.

I was amazed; he was using Cognitive Reasoning at such an early age. We headed home to do the nightly bike ride and prepare supper; Cheetah proceeds to deliver an unyielding stream of questions while I banter back and forth over the tacos we are preparing. Ten minutes later as we are finishing up he looks at me and demands, “Hand over all your green grass lady and no one gets hurt.” Laughing, I kiss him and mutter, “We were so close.”

Picking your battles

I was so excited for a long weekend, I was looking forward to cuddle time with Cheetah, and I a lot of couple time with Tarzan at night watching movies. It was also the weekend that the Smith family would celebrate Cheetah's birthday, so a fun time would be had by all.

The 1st two nights went well. Tarzan was extremely helpful in getting the house ready for all of the Smith family and relatively well mannered as the family partied it up on Saturday. That is where my fantasy long weekend came to a screeching halt. Tarzan had borrowed a video game from a friend and I could only steal him away from it long enough to fold 4 loads of laundry and 1 load of dishes.

I had to wash dishes just so I could make a pitcher of tea...ridiculous. I drank as much of the tea that I could in the next day and a 1/2 and when I poured the last sip of tea, I put the empty pitcher in the fridge. To prove a point, of course. Two hours later he walked down the hall to our bedroom (where I was painting my toenails) and said, "Jane did you seriously put an empty pitcher BACK in the fridge?" "Come on, really?!?" I looked at him, shocked. He turned and walked away. I swear I was so pissed that I dreamed about that damn pitcher all night. I awoke with a plan. I wondered, would he react the same to other ‘tastes of his own medicine’.

He is always getting on to me for leaving condiments out after I fix my plate, I intend to be thoughtful and leave them out for his use, and I really don’t see it as a big deal. So on Sunday we made hamburgers and hotdogs, I was in the kitchen first to fix my plate. As soon as I was done with everything I put it back in the fridge. He walks in as I am sliding the ketchup in the door and he says, “Now come on, you know I was gonna need that.” I said, “Sorry you are always reminding me that I leave things out and I wanted to try to think ahead.” He responds, “Be reasonable.” Suprisingly I left this alone. I must say I am getting pretty good at this ‘biting my tongue’ thing, if I learn nothing else from this…I must say it’s probably worth it. Pick your battles.

Speaking of picking battles…Tarzan has this habit of hanging his clothes (freshly laundered) on the jam of the laundry room door (as well as on the shower curtain in Cheetah’s bathroom). At one point Monday night they were knocked down (I SWEAR that it was not me) and he found the dog laying on them in the hallway. He came to me (laughing) and said, "You owe me, the dog was laying on my pants (that were on the floor), I cleaned them off and hung them back up." I wanted to scream. Since when am I his maid? I responded, “Yeah you’re right, I owe YOU for cleaning your pants.” As he turned and walked away I gave serious thought to hurting him. LOL. How does it go from sweet, happy, loving, newlyweds to maid, cook, washer woman, and concierge?

All in all it was a good weekend, Cheetah and I cuddled as often and as long as he would allow it. His explanation for the shorter cuddle time was, “I’m older Momma, things are going to be different.” Oy vay. Tarzan and I did get lots of stuff done, we marked lots of stuff for our upcoming garage sale. It was a little hard to get it done though, between all the “killing” he did on the video game (insert sigh). Oh well, I guess we really all do have our own idea of a fantastic LONG weekend.