(Not my) oops #3: Meet Mini, the proud new owner of pink shorts

If you're new here, allow me to introduce my daughter Mini. She gets her blog name, because she looks a lot like me. After three boys, she's the baby who made me a girl mom. Her first word was 'bow.' Her mission in life is to make everyone laugh. She's 20 and will be studying abroad in Florence next semester. She's a junior at Notre Dame, where she has the Evans Scholarship (a scholarship for caddies with a financial need, excellent caddy record, strong character, and good academic standing. We only pay for her food at ND - talk about feeling like you won the lottery). 

She does well academically, but our goals are to keep her:   

    1.  from attempting to cook things in the kitchen (because we value our lives), 

    2.  off the expressways (she got her license during the pandemic and maybe it was a sympathy 'pass'), and 

Unrelated, but this popped
up in my Google
Photos when I searched
 for red pants. 
This was a woman walking
 in our neighborhood -
look closely, she's got a
white cockatoo?
Or some kind of bird. Never
 seen her before or since. 
So wild. 

    3. in a high income job one day, so she can afford to have someone else do her laundry for her . . . permanently. 

She loves to shop for new clothes, but would never dream of putting any clothes away. She's quick witted, a learned trait perhaps after dealing with three older brothers. She's caring and empathetic, but prefers not to hug. She's 6 feet tall, (her college friends swear that she came back after the summer and is actually taller, she's wondering if she grew AGAIN) and while she played basketball (and tennis, and badminton) in high school - her approach was:  "Look at us, laughing and having fun!"  She is a friend to all, but if you ask Curly - she's not someone to ever get in an argument with. There's no winning. 

Over the summer, I bought her new red cropped jeans that were on sale. She LOVES them. She washed them . . . without my involvement which is the expectation now that she's in college. This 'do your own laundry' thing is something she dislikes strongly. 

Mini and Curly shopping for
 ice cream and Mini
is wearing the pants. 

She wasn't home and I needed to use the washer, so I switched her laundry into the dryer. In the process, I noticed her little black and white gingham dress had red streaks on it. Yikes. When she got home, I told her I'd put her things in the dryer. 

Then I broke the news to her:  Mini, just remember clothes can be replaced. (pause) I think your red jeans bled on your other clothes. Did you mean to put those in with the rest of your laundry? 

The pink shorts
 making a white comeback.

Yes, she knew the jeans were in the laundry. See:  academically strong, but otherwise, well - we all have weaknesses. I warned her about the state of her black and white dress and her pink shorts. She was like, I don't have pink shorts.

Um, YOU DO NOW. 

I pointed out that this is a mistake you make once, and then you figure it out. She said this ISN'T the first time though. "I'll never learn this." Really? I find that hard to believe, but I've watched her struggle to make minute rice, so perhaps some skills elude her. 

Oh, look. A tan gingham dress . . .
but still with a black lining. 

All in all, she lost the black and white gingham sundress that she wore once, a pair of tan caddy shorts (these shorts had seen better days, so maybe the red jeans did her a favor by off-ing them), her new beach-y, gauzy white shorts, and a few socks. It was a small miracle that other light colored things were not impacted. Phew. 

I tried multiple times to wash the ruined items using different 'stuff', but the red/pink wouldn't budge. After she was back at school, I bought RIT. I boiled water on the stove with the RIT mixed in. In good news:  she has her white shorts back. And she now has a sundress that once was gingham, and now is light tan? With pops of the once-black-and-white fabric along the seams. Maybe we can dye it another solid color at some point. 

Do you have a terrible laundry incident you'd like to share, or are you still in recovery? Or are you related to someone who struggles with the concept of DON'T WASH REDS WITH WHITES? Have you used RIT? Have you dyed clothing another color? If so - tips are welcome. 

Oops #2: Oh, THIS makes sense: tales of a dumb *ss

Speaking from a pride perspective, I'm hoping to run out of dumb ass/oops material before the end of NaBloPoMo - but I'm not sure that I will. As my dad used to say to us when we were kids, "You know what? You're not as dumb as you look." Sometimes he'd follow that up with, "You're dumber." 

Thick skin was mandatory for survival.

In June I get a text message from the post office. "You have a package that can't be delivered, because it doesn't have sufficient postage. Click this link to pay for the postage."

I was in the middle of a workout. Aha, I thought, this makes so much sense. What's that saying, Timing is everything? Well, exhibit A.

I'd taken the two foster girls shoe shopping. They both have club feet. It's  unfortunate. Their case manager didn't even realize.

Kay said to me on the first visit:  Wanna know something interesting about us? 

Me:  Sure. (although, Do I? - nervous of what this could be).

I bought these shoes for
 Rae last year. The small
 shoe was a little kid's size,
so it came with velcro.
 We opted to have
her bump up a size,
 so that the shoes
 looked the same. 

She shared that they both have two distinctly different sized feet because of club feet. I'm a practical person, so I asked with a twinge of hope in my voice:  Do you have opposite sizes, so like Can you buy a couple pairs of shoes and swap out the . . . 

Kay:   Nope. We both have a small left and a normal right. 

Damn.

Coach is a PT. When we took them to Shriner's Children's Hospital a few months later to have their issue assessed and get inserts, etc. he shook his head while reading through the excellent notes from the doctor that the case manager dug up. The parents took the girls in for surgery, Rae had more than one surgery. Then the parents never followed up. Never had the girls wear the boot, etc. The feet could've stayed normal, but without follow up, they reverted to being misshapen. 

Higher end department stores allow us to buy two pairs of shoes for one girl and return a mismatched pair, because it's considered a disability. The customer has to have more than a size and half difference in their feet. They have a 2 or 2.5 size difference. Places like Kohls won't allow a mismatched sale. Shame on them. 

This is unrelated, but
when I searched my
 google photos, I realize
 that I take a lot
 of photos of shoes when
 I clean out the mudroom. 

Anyway, it's tough to buy sale shoes. We need a lot of trial and error to find the perfect fit and shoes on sale sell out of some sizes. This post office text made sense, because we'd been waiting for Rae's other shoe size to arrive by mail and it had been weeks. 

My brain:  Oh, weird. Von Maur messed up the postage. I'll just pay the difference so we can hurry up and get them in the mail, because what if the pair in the mail doesn't fit? Von Maur  may have sold out of  the size we need. 

I clicked the post office link and typed in my credit card. 

I know, I KNOW! DUMB ASS. I got a message saying that card didn't work. What the heck? I tried my debit card. Same message. The next day I drove to the post office STILL NOT REALIZING I'D BEEN HAD. 

Post office lady:  We never send text messages. 

I closed my eyes as the realization washed over me. Son of a Be-atch. 

Do you know what's fun? I mean in addition to trying to buy sale shoes online to fit mismatched feet? Cancelling a credit card and redoing all of the auto pay stuff associated with that card. 

Tell me I'm not alone. Have you compromised your credit card? Know anyone with club feet? 

Oops - the phone edition

I often blog about situations that run amuck. Mistakes, oversights, or hiccups. I've been making notes of 'oops' to share during NaBloPoMo. 

Phone service:  Forever ago, we had Tracfones, adding minutes to our flip phones as needed. There was nothing smart about those phones, but they worked. When we graduated to 'real' phones, Coach identified Walmart Family Mobile as the cheapest option. We've had that service for roughly  13 years. 

It wasn't always horrible, or maybe we didn't need to contact customer service as often as we have recently. Maybe there was a merger? I don't even know anymore. After the snafu with Reg's phone in September, I was done. 

Last week, Mini's phone stopped getting service. I called the 1-800# and thought I might experience "Death by poor customer service".

Turns out, when we updated our credit card info a few months ago, the * manager didn't set Reg and Mini's phones up with recurring service - it ended after a month or two. This is the same issue Tank had last month. Because who wants their phone to work for more than a month at a time? 

* they claim everyone who works there is a manager. A fun trick, because you can never say, "Let me speak to a manager." 

I got it straightened out, but the next day I ran to the Verizon store during nap time while Reg was home. 

Frozen:  After almost 2 hours, I left without new service. Our credit was frozen back when there was that big ordeal and everyone was supposed to freeze their credit. We were struggling to unfreeze it. 

Since when did getting a phone become like getting a mortgage? Poor Emily, the young lady helping me. She wanted that sale. I was bringing in 7 new lines. 

At 4:45 pm, the credit place said I was unfrozen and everything should be fine, so I drove back to Verizon. When I got there, my account was still frozen but a few minutes later it was good to go. 

Other debacles:  Walmart wouldn't unlock Reg's phone, because it was purchased less than 60 days ago. But! since it's taken me about 55 days to get this phone thing handled, he could get it unlocked on Nov. 4th. Walmart sent wrong codes to unlock other phones. *I hadn't eaten dinner.* Need I say more? While I begged a 1-800# 'manager' to send me a correct code to unlock my phone, I lost my marbles to the tune of SPEAKING LOUDLY. 

Emily:  She's had a very long day. (her explaining me to another patron who she was helping while I was in unlock-phone-jail)

If I never have to call Walmart Family Mobile again, I will die a happy woman.

It's all fun and games until
 someone refuses to
 come out of the toy fridge.
I may have felt like crawling
 into a small space while
 attempting to update
 our phone service.

My phone's text alert sound stopped working a few weeks ago, unless I'm in Bluetooth. Huh? Once my new phone arrives, I'll be able to hear text alerts AND send texts without random '?' appearing between most words. Dare to dream. 

Coach and Curly's phones weren't compatible with Verizon, so the three of us needed new phones. My older kids were like:  Get an iPhone. I've always had an Android, but I caved to the peer pressure. I selected an iPhone for Curly too. When Coach, my husband who I thought I knew, decided to get an iPhone, well - I would've been less surprised if Taylor Swift appeared on my deck and offered my little girls a private concert

Coach and I were meeting friends for dinner Friday night.

Curly:  I'll babysit. THAT'S TOTALLY FINE. YOU JUST GOT ME AN IPHONE! 

I can't pick up my new phone until Reg's phone is unlocked, b/c I think I'm using his SIM card until then - but don't quote me . . . after sitting at Verizon 1.5 hours past closing for a combined 5.5 hours between my two visits, I realize that I know nothing. But hey, my 16 yo is willing to babysit. 

What's the longest time you've owned a phone? (my dinosaur  circa 2018, or 19) Are you like the Verizon people, who had never even heard of Walmart Family Mobile?

I'll make you the Four Horsemen (or die trying)

The below costume was Lad's in 6th grade. Not a happy memory. Ass hat kids, aka his 'friends', agreed to be the Four Horsemen (a Notre Dame football foursome from the early ND days). A few days before Halloween, he came home crying. The 3 other kids decided to do a different costume idea involving 3 kids, not 4, and he wasn't included. 

As I live and breathe, I wanted to strangle those little shits, but instead, I calmly looked at my kid, shrugged, and told him they could dress up as something weak . . .

Me:  But, you? You can still be the Four Horsemen. I can make you the costume with 3 extra bodies.

Lad:  You can? 

In my mind, I'd figure it out, or die trying. I had a t-shirt place screen print Coach's face, my dad's face, and the Gipper's face (Gipper was one of the Four Horsemen) on fabric. So the other 'guys' were real looking. Having bit off more than I could manage, I pulled an all-nighter Oct. 30th.

Then, Lad's mean teacher left him in his upstairs classroom when it was their turn to march thru the gym, because Lad needed help getting the costume down the stairs. (He told her this and she shrugged and walked away). The costume was, um, heavy - the 3 dummies were connected with a dowel rod that Lad had to balance on his shoulders. Translation - this falls under:  it seemed like a good idea at the time, as in the middle of the night when he was sleeping and I couldn't test it out.

My mom and I sat in the gym eagerly waiting his arrival, and when he wasn't with his class, I ran upstairs and found him sitting in his class all alone. I helped him carry it downstairs. 

The emcee stopped the 8th graders who were about to start their annual show:  "Wait. We have one more costume. Lad Shenanigan as the Four Horsemen." The gym went wild.

If you're new here, Lad still struggles and I feel responsible. We left him at that school where teachers and kids were unkind and horrible to him. I've apologized to him, but the damage is done. I wish my wiser self could go back and give my young-mom-self advice. Transfer him from this stupid Catholic school where all our other kids were happy. I'll share more Lad updates later this month. 

Have you crossed paths with people that mistreated you or one of your kids years prior and managed NOT to wrestle them to the ground? If so, please tell me how. (I'm kidding. Of course.)

Halloween costumes: con't, Sesame on parade and some easy stuff

From the year I 'phoned it in' because we moved and I refused to unpack my sewing machine. . . I give you:  Lad's mummy, Ed's bat with wings from an old umbrella, Mini's Indian Princess - cute outfit from a resale shop. I 'made' boots. They looked silly, but oh well. The other kids were repeats. 

*Mini's butterfly costume was the next year when I used a sewing machine, but Blogger won't let me move the photos around. Not gonna fight with Blogger. 

 Below is Lad as the Four Horsemen . . . explanation in the next post, because it's a story and Blogger has decided it's all or nothing. If I delete these two pictures, it'll delete all of them. 





When I suggested Cookie Monster (blue fabric was on sale), Mini fought me hard, saying Cookie Monster wasn't a girl. I convinced her and then made Curly a giant cookie. At the time, Tank aspired to be a bird watcher. So, he walked around with Beanie Baby birds perched on a branch attached to his vest.

The next year, Big Bird was born. I hand-sewed a couple hundred feathers made of flag material to an upside down round laundry basket. The top piece was separate. Tank was Cookie Monster, Mini was Big Bird. Curly was sort of over the cookie deal, but she rolled with it. 










Poor Ed. He was a leprechaun. It was weak. I used an orange towel to make a beard. I think I ran out of time due to the intricacy of Big Bird. He hasn't let me forget it. 

This is the year I added Elmo and Oscar. This is one of my favorite pictures of all time. These four grew up calling themselves the fabulous four. They had secret meetings and special badges. Always a hoot. The year I added the two new characters to our line up, our living room looked like Jim Henson's studio, or what I imagine his studio looked like. This video clip below . . . it makes us howl with laughter every.time.

Anyone want to try to convince Ed that his leprechaun was amazing?

NaBloPoMo 2024 . . . an intro & Halloween costume review (part 1: when they were tiny)

*If you're already familiar with me, feel free to skip to the photos.

Good morning and welcome to NaBloPoMo '24.  Last year I joined last minute. It was my first time participating. Since I enjoyed meeting new bloggers and readers, as well as the challenge of writing daily, I decided to do it again. November '23 was rocky at chez Shenanigan. I had to be off my antacid to prep for a SIBO test (gut health thing) and we had a school issue that I'm so glad is behind us. All that resulted in me barely sleeping, but meant plenty of writing time in the wee hours. This time around I'm looking forward to a 'normal' November, and anticipate writing in the waking hours only. Fingers crossed. 

If you're new here:   I've been blogging since Feb. 2013. No, my real name is NOT Ernie. It's a nickname that I was stuck with graced with. My dad's illegible hand writing is to blame. We went to a restaurant in Davenport, IA for my 6th birthday. Dad jotted down my name (and my brother's name, as his b-day is a few days after mine . . . because being born 5 days after Christmas wasn't challenging enough, I usually shared my b-day celebration with my Irish twin brother). Dad slipped the paper to the wait staff, so they would gather at our table and sing to me (and Pat). Guess whose name they didn't screw up? Yep, Pat stood on his chair, pleased as punch. Tearful me, who found being called 'Ernie' insulting, stood on my chair, because Mom insisted. 

My hubby, Coach, and I have been married for 28 years. We have 6 biological kids, ages 26-16 (almost 17), and we're in the process of adopting two sisters (13 & 12 yo) from foster care. The girls have lived with us for 18 mos. The adoption should be finalized in early spring. 

This is my 10th year running an in-home daycare for teachers' kids. If you read between the lines:  summers and breaks off, how sweet . . . Bingo. 

Most of my blog fodder stems from:  offspring adventures, family funnies, daycare drama, middle child frustrations (mine, see 'forced on a chair while posing as the birthday boy'), and life's never dull dealings. Other mentions:  celiac disease and another difficult-to-pinpoint gut issue, a nutty neighbor, and tailgate successes.

I love to create stuff (see Halloween costumes below). I'm working on a memoir and meet with an amazing writers group weekly. We live in the western 'burbs of Chicago where I bake a ton. I'm still struggling to adjust my feed-an-army mentality while kids are at college/moved out. (more of a casserole queen than a gourmet). And I'm grateful for my Catholic faith. 

Yesterday, I yanked a few of my homemade costumes from the storage room in the basement for my charges to borrow. I like to sew and nothing is more forgiving and more integral in getting my creative juices flowing than Halloween costumes. Without further ado: 

Reg reprising the
Knight role in 2010-ish.
All four boys wore the knight.
We were on our
neighbors' driveway.
That's our first house
in the background.

2003:  Ed in the tree as Peter Pan.
Fun fact - my dad has a giant size
photo hanging in his office of
Ed posed in this tree from this day.
Lad is wearing our all-time favorite.
 "Knight riding on a horse."
Note the deceiving fake legs.
A video of my kid walking in this
would be better, because a
 still photo doesn't do it justice.

Tank and Reg in 2007.

2010-ish:  Try as I might, I
could not cover
 up these faces.
Curly and Reg
liked to dress in the Tigger
costumes while playing. I
 made these for Lad
 and Ed in 2002.

I decided one day that Tank would make the perfect turtle, so I made this for him without a pattern back in 2002 when he was a chubby almost 11 mos. It was hilarious. Reg, pictured above, is a skinnier, also cute version, 2006.

Curly was our cute turtle in 2008.

Our 2006 Christmas card photo. Our card read:  Merry Christmas, May the Force Be With You. Mini's hair:  I fashioned her a wig with buns out of black fleece.  Lad was a Jawa. Tank - Yoda. Mini - Princess Leia. Ed - Chewbacca. Ed insisted on shopping for the 'right' fabric for Chewy. My machine broke in the process. Too thick. He wore it in kindergarten and it happened to be 90 degrees that year. He refused to take it off at school, and my friend, the room mom, called me and asked me if I was trying to kill my kid. 

 1. Curly 2009:  destined to be Goldilocks. With her partner in crime, Reg as Peter Pan.

2. See the bear-face purse that I made? Sadly, we used lugged it around with toys for church or older kids' sports for years and eventually we misplaced it. One day, I'll recreate that purse so my grandbabies have the whole package.

3.  When Curly was around 9, I bought an apron and drew bear faces on it - a recreation of her baby costume, because she was in a Halloween Irish dancing competition. We loved that annual competition. So much easier than the real dresses and stupid wigs. 

4. The apron had 3 bear buttons on it and iron on letters. Other than sewing the apron, super easy. 

I attempted to order the photos, but Blogger had other ideas. So much for short-ish posts. If we don't count the captions, maybe this is short? Tomorrow will be less writing and more pics, because I couldn't fit them all in one post. My favorite costume collection is coming up. Do you have a favorite Halloween costume from when you were a kid? Have you ever made a Halloween costume?

A wacky Wednesday post: in a funk, even though everything's fine

Everything's fine. I'm sleeping GREAT. I finally own a bookshelf for my tot books. Tex's windshield is gonna be repaired this morning from the comfort of my driveway. Reg is home. Got home last night and is home during the day, because he has no practice today. I like having him around. He eats a truckload of food, but he's helpful. He might even go to the grocery store for me. 

See, everything is fine . . . But, I've been feeling a tad blue the last few days. Can't quite put my finger on it, but I have a few theories:  

1.  Mini was home for a week, and now she's back at school. This is the trend, as in - I know this is how the college schedule works. And, she'll be home again over Thanksgiving. Plus we are doing a full blown, bring-Gumby-or-die-trying tailgate Nov. 9th, so we'll see her then too. 

Things just feel heavy. Slow. Irritating. Maybe it's that the warm weather is fading (which, Is it fading? Because today and yesterday is was in the 80s. I'm here for it, truly). I was looking forward to the weekend in NJ, and it was fun, but it's not like it was a wedding or something with so much momentum/build up, that I'm wandering around dazed and confused, unsure of what to do with myself now.

Hanging outside end of
October in 80 degree
weather with tots who
 love a zipline ain't all bad. 

Everything seems off. Babysitting, ugh. When will they wipe their own noses? What if the one mom didn't pack humus for her 18 month old to smear everywhere? Cooking - please, Lord - let meals just appear in my fridge, premade and ready to eat. The goal of decluttering the house feels ultra impossible and endless, as in - where to begin? 

This is unlike me. I'm usually a peppy, let's-go type. I power thru the things on my list, and am ready to tackle more. I ignore housework in order to carve out time to write, and it doesn't bother me - because I feel like Hooray, I enjoyed writing that story. I'm looking forward to a weekend at home  - maybe we can tackle some projects, but there will be days until the launch of the weekend. 

Two of my people, happy to go
down the slide together. So sweet. 

2.  Am I sort of not missing Mini, but irritated with her? She was home all week and failed to do her laundry. What? She left obtaining her study abroad visa go until the last minute. Annoying. I had to hold new purchases hostage, threatening to return them if she didn't make serious headway on the disgusting mountain in the corner of her closet. How does she function? Is my realization that she's this disorganized bringing me down? 

3. Could it be the medication? I've been on it before - at 25 mg, and this is only 10 mg. Maybe I'm just taking time to adjust to it. I'm really tired in the afternoons, even after sleeping over 8 hours at night. Hey, I love the sleep, but I wasn't banking on feeling useless during nap time. That wasn't the case last time. 

4.  I attended writers' group on Monday. It wasn't my turn to read, but I left thinking Am I just wasting my time? What am I even doing? Will my book idea ever appeal to a publisher? Not likely. Who am I kidding? 

5.  Also, it is hard to have a break from the younger girls and then re-enter. They aren't doing anything wrong. They're doing fine. No issues lately, but it's exhausting and I liked having that break. Sometimes the exhaustion of the process comes in waves. I'm counting this as one of the waves. Reentry is no fun. 

6.  Maybe I'm just hungry. I ignored low FODMAP most of the weekend - I didn't get crazy or anything, but I did eat two, as in not 1 but 2, GF brownies one night (OK, so a little crazy). And, nothing happened to me. I survived. I'm assuming the meds are helping to deaden whatever is amiss in my gut, so Thank you, meds? I don't have any direction with this low FODMAP thing. Is it safe to quit the crazy restrictive diet and just eat GF and call it a day? Or at the very least call it happiness for my taste buds? 

Anything dragging you down lately? What do you do when you're in a funk?

The next time a post will pop up here will be NaBloPoMo. I'm excited, and I'm aiming to keep those posts on the shorter side. 500 600 words or less, most  (?) of the time. Fingers crossed. I hope you'll visit. I think the first one will be a look back at Halloweens past. (aka cute costumes).