NaBloPoMo: Five Ef- Ups Friday (I'll stop tallying - I think you get the idea)

5 things we've messed up lately: 

Perfect pumpkin bread at least.

1. Mid-October, Reg was home. We'd eaten leftovers / easy meals. Stepping up my game, I cooked honey mustard chicken - then baked 6 loaves of pumpkin bread for tailgating. Knowing we had a busy night,  I made the chicken before driving kids. 

Later, we were waiting for potatoes to boil. I started the pumpkin bread, preheated the oven, mixed the batter . . . 

Opening the HOT oven to stick the loaf pans in, I screamed. The chicken was still in the oven. I KNEW this. I'd turned off the oven, leaving the pans in to keep warm. Still edible with a side of honey mustard dressing for dipping. 

Not exactly my A game.
Looks worse than it tasted.

2. Coach usually picks up the girls from their schools. I texted the high school moms, offering Coach's chauffeur services. Reciprocity is the answer to our busy nights. 

I texted Coach who he was picking up. After they were home a while, I asked who he'd driven. Rae rattled off names. 

Me:  No Elizabeth?!

Nope. Coach's face - sheer panic. He ran for the car, yelling for me to call this girl's mom. He'd not read my whole text. Assuming all the girls knew who was coming, he asked, Do we have everyone? The girls said yeah, and off he went.

Elizabeth isn't always in the carpool, but this night she was supposed to be. The mom wasn't answering her cell, so Coach drove to the school. Before he'd gotten very far, the mom texted. Elizabeth had gotten another ride. I apologized profusely. She understood. I think what she understood was . . .  a dad was involved. 

One of many
 shoe photos I shared.
Asking family to claim
 the # on any shoes
they were interested in.
I'd tossed out the
single shoes already
 so the mates in
 the bin - worthless.
 Longtime readers know Mini.
Par for the course. 

3. A few weeks ago, I got a letter from the treasury dept. My longtime friend since 2nd grade is our accountant. I texted her. After a few more letters, she emailed me:  You did pay your taxes right? 

Um, did I? Nope. I paid all of the kids' taxes, but hadn't paid OURS. In my defense, we'd just gotten home from Italy. Jetlag? I suspect I planned to juggle money in various accounts and then . . . I lost my focus? Embarrassing. 

4.  Reg flew home for fall break - a whole week. Another kid offered to drive him back, so Reg suggested he cancel the return flight. Get a voucher. I asked multiple times, Yep - all good. We cancelled it on a Tuesday night. The next night the kid texted:  I'm sick. I won't be driving back until middle of next week. I found him another ride eventually. Our timing on that was impeccable. 

5.  Remember the missing men's boat shoe? The night before our fam portrait? I later found it - in a bin of 'Mini's shoes' in the basement. Clear case of telling her to clean up her locker in the mudroom, and she shoveled shoes into a bin and stored it in the basement for the entire school year. 

*****

This could've been a much longer list. We're sort of sucking right now. Tell me we're not alone, what's your screw up? 

NaBloPoMo: throwback Thursday (482 words)

My first childhood best friend, Johnny, was in an accident when I was 9, he was 10. He suffered a TBI. Despite his limitations, he's remained upbeat. He walks with assistance, and communicates with some words, plus he gives thumbs up and down. 

Mrs. B, his mom, an amazing artist and crafter extraordinaire, passed away a few weeks ago at 86. She was a pillar of strength, a devout Catholic. After having five sons, she delighted in our family's 3 girls (and our 2 little brothers) when we lived 2 doors down in Davenport, Iowa. We only lived there 3 years, but I count my time in Davenport (from age 3 -6) as some of the happiest of my childhood.

I wasn't sure I'd go to the Tampa funeral, but the brother 'Phil' who is now Johnny's  caregiver, is a nut job. Phil no longer speaks to his brothers. I feared that if I didn't go - I'd never see Johnny again. 

I'd last seen Mrs. B and Johnny when Coach and I took the four youngest to Tampa  in '24. They'd just moved there to live closer to Phil.

Throwback Thursday '75:  

Johnny and I had a sleepover at his house. We wrestled in the basement on their legit wrestling mat. His older brothers taught me a few moves. They'd holler:  "Johnny, don't let a girl beat you!" 

My mom holding my youngest brother.
 Johnny and I playing hot potato at
 my birthday party in our basement. '75?

At night, their whole fam watched something on TV. Mrs. B made popcorn, providing each of us with a bowl. At my house, Mom would pour all the popcorn into one big bowl. We'd stuff our faces, then grab another handful unwilling to eat less than a sibling.  

We were raised like wild animals. 

The next morning, Mrs. B took Johnny and I to the grocery store, buying us each a bakery cookie, further differentiating my slum-like life void of bakery cookies at the A & P.

Eventually I wandered home where I got yelled at for something. Refusing to take that garbage, I walked two doors down and slipped into the B's back door like I lived there, or more accurately like I failed to understand the official ending of the sleepover. 

I hung out with Johnny until one of his older brothers, I think it was Mike, but Mike swears this sounds more like a Phil move . . . one of them barked at me. "Ernie (Davenport is where I got this nickname and the B family utilized it), what're you doing? The sleepover is over. You've gotta go home." 

Bubble burst. I trudged home to face my lousy reality. 

*****

Based on my experiences, I believed Coach and I would land near amazing neighbors. Aside from the elderly couple that we cherished across from our first house, that hasn't been the case. Is it a sign of the times? Did you grow up with great neighbors? Now? Anyone still in touch with their earliest friend?

NaBloPoMo: Wednesday wonderings (309 words)

Weighing on my mind

Will Kay go to the same itty-bitty Catholic HS where Rae is a freshman,  name for the blog:  'St. Itty'? Otherwise she can attend our public HS where the older 6 kids went. Or will we find someone to home school her . . . at THEIR home? 

Joking, sort of. 

Unrelated pic:  This is the view from my window
when I was landing at Midway from
Tampa last night. A bit blurry, but cool.
 I have stories to share from my trip.

I chatted with a co-op home schooling woman a few weeks ago. Weighing our options. The setup she described isn't likely to work, because I'd still have to home school her much of the time. The co-op group only meets on Wednesday. 

Reasons I cannot home school:  

1. my patience is already put to the test when I'm NOT homeschooling her, and 

2. my daycare duties would interfere

Kay's immature, and we aren't convinced the Catholic HS offers help for her academic issues. She prefers St. Itty, but she's got some things to work on (if we decide that it'll be a good academic fit). 

In order to attend, she'd have to earn money for tuition. We hope she's mature enough to caddy, but that remains to be seen. Our kids have caddied there for years, and have built a reputation. We can't just drop Kay off to caddy and have her mess with the reputation. Some of the other kids still caddy there, and they wouldn't want that to happen. 

Also, I'm not willing to babysit until I'm 75 years old to fund her high school years. 

FYI - It wasn't a clear cut choice to send Rae to this HS, but that's a story for another day. Be prepared: mind blowing story. 

*****

Have you encountered a situation when kids needed to attend different high school despite being in the same family? Anyone ever heard of a home school set up, where the student is home schooled in SOMEONE ELSE'S home? Seems like a great concept, right?   

NaBloPoMo: Personal shopper at my boys' service (454 words)

Updates on kids coming soon. I'm heading to Tampa Monday-Tuesday for a funeral and I'm rolling with posts that I've already started. I'm hoping to catch up on blogs from the airport. If  not, I'll be back soon. 

Nice stuff, wrong size:  A few years ago, one of Coach's patients passed away. I'd known him since I was a kid. His wife gave us his very nice clothes, but he was an XXL and the Shenanigan men are tall, bean poles. I dropped the things we couldn't use off at a consignment shop (c.s.). 

Shopping for them:  For his new job, Lad was thinking (well, I was thinking and he opted to listen) he needed some new clothes. I suggested we go to that same c.s. It's far from  home, and when I went to look it up - it wasn't there. Instead I found a c.s. that was 40 minutes away. Lad was all about it, so long as he didn't have to go with me. Huh? 

I had the two little girls with me, having just picked them up from a sleepover at my SIL's house. Fortunately, they enjoyed the adventure. While I shopped, they became well acquainted with the tie collection. 

I facetimed Lad, then Tank. They selected stuff. I paid, but they'll pay me back. (I know where they live.) I feel a bit bad that I didn't ask Ed if he wanted anything, but he's . . . 

A. harder to reach (doesn't always answer his phone),

B. and has a bigger budget, 

but C. He has no time or interest in shopping - so I wish I would've grabbed a few things for him, especially because there were a lot of brands there that he would wear. 

Some of Tank's shirts. Haven't
gotten them to him in the city yet. 

When I was checking out, I asked if I could get a discount for buying in bulk. Yep,  10% off. Sweet. (I think each boy got about 10 high-end items). I proceeded to chat with the owner, telling him this place was a long drive, and how I'd gone to a closer place once. 

Turns out, that other place was one of his locations, and he'd closed it. He discovered that I had a $59 credit from the stuff I'd dropped off before. I split the credit between the two boys. I'm so glad I was in the mood for conversation. 

While I was shopping and facetiming my boys, the owner guy was like, Wow, do they know how lucky they are to have a personal shopper?  

Let's hope so. 

*****

Do you personal shop for anyone? Do you enjoy searching for deals? Like to shop in person, or does shopping online work for you? Are you like me - do you talk to everyone? 

NaBloPoMo: Meet Coach & tidbits about our gang (499 words)

I've had a request to share an update about my people. Well as far as posts go, nothing could be simpler. BTW, I think I forgot to mention - we live in the suburbs of Chicago.

Coach - 

• my main guy, the only reason I'm ever on time . . . "Shouldn't you be leaving?" - I'm famous for doing 'one more thing', 
• my best friend, 
• my biggest cheerleader, 
• the calm to my storm, 

• 

  Coach as Gumby and me as
  Pokey. I made these costumes in '19.

  a person who overreacts when I drive. Me: "You would've passed that guy too, so stop holding onto the dashboard," 
• an amazing father, 
• the perfect candidate Gumby for Halloween candidate . . . guess who is happy the Gumby costume has been reassigned as a beacon/roof ornament during our tailgates? - I said he was the perfect candidate, not that he was a willing candidate,
  
• blog name - he coached our kids in basketball, soccer, and baseball decades ago,
• been married for 29 years, 
• went to high school together, but he was a year younger and one of my brother's best friends,
• we started dating after I finished college. 

I put him through physical therapy masters program, and juggled a ton of infants, kids, and all of the activities and challenges that come with that while he earned a doctorate, a fellowship, and several other combinations of ABCs after his name. 

He's recently switched his schedule. He's home every afternoon between 3 and 4:30 . . . like, what? Who knew that was possible?

Repurposed Gumby.

He's an amazing PT. People come from miles away to be treated by him. I've got some achy breaky parts, and free consults are a solid perk. 

Other tidbits:  he's a devout Catholic, and meets with other men for a prayer group weekly. He's an amazing boss with a heart of gold. We keep in touch with a single mom who worked for him. She thinks the world of him. 

His sense of humor  . . . patients and coworkers are sometimes caught off guard. Like, is he serious? (I'll share one of his jokes soon). 

Silly me, I thought I'd write a few sentences about everyone, but I got carried away. Shock. More later, but for now . . .  

Our kids:  

Me taking Gumby down from his
 post at the end of a tailgate.

Lad - 27, played water polo in college, lives not far from us, just started a new job.

Ed - 25, an accountant, lives in the city, has a serious girlfriend,

Tank - 23 in Dec., graduated 5/2025, lives across the street from Ed, works in business downtown,

Mini -21, senior at ND, an Evan's scholar, interviewing for a job in finance, 

Reg - 19, took a gap year because of epilepsy, is loving his freshman year,

Curly - 18 in Dec., a hs senior, hopes to play college basketball,

Rae - 14, freshman, great sense of humor, (she & Kay moved in with us 5/2023)

Kay - 13, (going on 8?), 8th grader, always tells a lie first *sigh* - a work in progress, baby steps (my constant source of frustration). 

*****

Questions? Anyone else meet a spouse in high school? If you're a long time reader, was any of this new info?

NaBloPoMo: Last Sunday - accomplish much? (500! words - on the money)

I accomplished so much. On top of Thursday's book club, lunch with a friend  Friday, consignment shopping, eating pizza, and working out - I spent a chunk of Sunday crossing things off my to-do list. 

I changed the sheets, cleaned my bathroom, swapped the girls' summer clothes for the next season*, did a one  hour strength workout, went for a 4.5 mile walk while on the phone with Mini and Reg, and helped Curly draft an email to send to prospective college basketball coaches. 

Explaining our clothes swap and shop: 

*Swapping seasons or digging through bins of clothes with Kay and Rae tops my least fav thing to do list, but if you don't mind me patting myself on the back:  I'm good at keeping it light and joking with them, so they end up enjoying 'shopping in my family room.' 

Rae is picky. She loves something at a store. I buy it. We get home. She takes the tags off of it. Might even wear it once. Then decides she hates it. Uncool. 

Rae loves these. Um, they're a tad long.
 Undecided if I'll cut them and see how
that works or have them tailored. They
have a rough edge as of now anyway.

On Sunday, I pointed out that she never wears an ND t-shirt that I bought the girls. She 'really liked' it. Now? She never wears it. She tried to tell me that she's not an adult small anymore. 

Me:  I'll take that bit of misinformation and raise you a 'I guess you won't want this or that, since, 'ya know - these are adult smalls'. 

In other words:  don't play me. 

There's a clothing resale near us that happens twice a year. When the sale is over, the organizers allow foster and adoptive parents to come in and 'shop' for free from whatever is left. I need to register and bring my paperwork, proving my status. I think I have until 3 years after the adoption is finalized - then my eligibility expires. 

It's a wonderful service to the foster community. I've gone to these sales giveaways for a few years, and I see many familiar faces. I'm a get-there-early for this event, and I enjoy chatting with the other parents while waiting in line. 

I attended the sale middle of September, but I tucked the bags of clothes in my dining room until we had time to go through them. That day was Sunday. 

The girls tried things on, gave me attitude, grumbled about stuff, argued about how things fit, both begged for a few of the same things . . . ie:  a hoodie I found at the event with the word, 'Savage' on the front of it. IYKYK. And they perked up when something fit or an item they really liked surfaced.  

After my family room looked like a Macy's after Black Friday, they got a ride to a basketball camp they've been doing, and Coach and I enjoyed the break. 

*****

Have you accomplished a ton on a recent weekend? Do you ever do garage sale or thrift store shopping for clothes? Do you have a room in your house that's your catch-all? (mine is the dining room)

*pls don't scold me:  this isn't counted in my word count - but I'll share updates and a who-is-who of all the Shenanigans next time.

NaBloPoMo: Meet Ernie: background stuff, and a tale I don't think I've shared (497 words)

Welcome to my blog. I've been telling stories, since (clicks to check the date in my 'about') Feb. 2013. 

Background (long-time readers probably already know): 

I have celiac disease. I was diagnosed in May of '16. Instead of saying "I haven't looked back", I'd say, "I've looked hungrily at other people's plates."  

I bake. People devour my chocolate chip cookies, pumpkin bread, and banana bread. If I mess something up in the recipe, my people better tell me, because No cookies for me (said in the Soup Nazi voice from Seinfeld). 

Tank, Mini, Reg, and Curly aka
the Fantastic Four. As Elmo,
 Oscar, Big Bird, and Cookie.

I enjoy sewing and creating. but rarely do that anymore. I loved making costumes for my kids.

My husband and I have eight kids. Ages 27-13. The youngest two grew in my heart -not under it. They've lived with us for 2.5 years. Our adoption of our two teen girls (14 and 13) was final 9/8/25. Yes, you read that right - TEEN, as in - what were we thinking? Well, there are frustrations, but overall everything 's fine. We're really glad those early days are behind us. *shudder*

This is my 11th year running a daycare for teachers' kids. I wish I'd gotten a teaching degree instead of a business degree. I love summers off and my littles. The parents, whose kids I watch, are delightful and grateful. (can't say that about each of the 11 years, but it's the current status and it makes a difference). 

I'm the middle child of five, so I'm a firm believer in friends are the family you choose. Enough said? 

Also:  My Catholic faith is important to me. My aging parents live walking distance to me, and my mom has Alzheimer's. I'm writing a memoir, because funny stuff happens and I've got stories. I lost my drivers license for a while in 2015- too many speeding tickets. I'm a balding (thanks Celiac), messy but organized, workout focused, loud-mouthed fan, who lives to attend my kids' games. 

Hmm, here's a fun story I don't think I've shared here:  My senior year of college, my friends and I planned to road trip to Florida for spring break. We were broke, so we camped in tents. My dad, "Get a damn job then talk to me about spring break." 

My friends doubted I'd go. They packed the car, and waited in the parking lot. I called my dad at his office from my dorm room. "Dad, as the black sheep of the family, I feel I'd disappoint you if I didn't go away on spring break." He laughed. I told him we were driving to Florida. 

It was awesome until the 1993 Storm of the Century hit. The south was ill equipped for icy roads. It took forever to get home. It didn't dawn on my young, clueless self to call home. I missed Mom's March 13th birthday. They were worried sick. 

*****

Long time readers - anything I should've mentioned? What was something nutty you did that drove your parents crazy?