Super Beth

Do you ever wonder what goes through people's minds? Apparently among my many superpowers, I have the ability to have the same child on two different days in two different states delivered by two different doctors. Amazing! I wonder if that would get me in the Guinness Book of World Records?

I received a bill a couple months ago from my former OB in Arkansas. I called, said the date of service they had couldn't be right, and that I had documentation saying my last visit with them paid my account in full. I moved across the country. New doctor, new billing, everything's paid. Baby came in October, he was born in CO and was delivered by new doctor.

Enter lunatic office manager in AR. I've been talking with their billing office for a couple months. Stating over and over that I do not live there. Hello, how could I have used their services from so far away? One doesn't have "virtual obstetrics". This isn't like online banking, where your account can be halfway around the world from you and you are still capable of making a purchase. We're talking about the business of human life.

At our last conversation she informed me she would "investigate" my case. Really? And just how do you plan on doing that? She is claiming that by some miracle they delivered a baby boy in September at a hospital in Little Rock. Yes, that would have been my hospital of choice HAD I LIVED THERE. And, yes, I did have a baby boy - A THOUSAND MILES FROM THERE!

Now, I have tried to figure out every possible explanation for this error. To show you the weird innerworkings of my brain I'll list what I've come up with (in the order they appeared):

1. I am an unknowing character on "Big Love." The hubs has a second wife, who is weird enough to go to the same OB as me, and she had a baby last September. I ran this theory by him. He seems to think me and my three kids are enough of a headache, why would he double his pain and agony? Funny.

2. I have amazing superpowers and am able to somehow have a child in AR, somehow put him back in and then two weeks later had the same child in a different hospital in CO. The government hasn't figured out my superpower, because they only issued one birth certificate and one social security number. But that would be an interesting concept. I wonder how much money Lifetime would pay me for the rights to my story? Or maybe I'll be a permanent exhibit in Ripley's. Do you think the bearded yak lady would let me share a tent with her at the circus?

3. A clerk somewhere transposed some numbers and the billing went to me instead of the woman who he actually worked with on that date. Our accounts were a couple digits off, maybe her last name started with the same couple letters as mine (I know she couldn't have the same last name because we were literally the only people with that spelling in the whole state, I've checked). Who knows? Maybe our socials are even close in digits. But the bottom line is, whoever entered the billing made a mistake. And I'm not responsible for that.

So there you have it, my new tale of weirdness. It's a little cloud that follows me around. Somedays the cloud lifts and it's sunshine and rainbows, other days (like today) it hovers and pelts me in the head with licorice and tapioca pudding - yuck. In the meantime, I'm looking for my gold cuff bracelets, lariat of truth, knee high boots, and invisible plane.

Wednesday Recipe Review

I have decided I would dedicate one day a week to a recipe review. I love to cook. Since Wednesday is typically the day newspapers print a section on Food, and you typically find the new sales fliers from the supermarkets in your mailbox on Wednesday, it seems the logical day for my food review.

I'll cook pretty much anything at least once, but really love desserts. Not too long ago I found a recipe by Paula Deen that was very intriguing to me. It was entitled "Gooey Butter Cake" and got rave reviews on her website. Now, I must admit - I don't screw up many recipes, but I did kinda goof this one. The secret to this recipe is that you should serve it warm (not the next day like I did). The middle is supposed to be a little runny, hence the term gooey in the title. If you wait a day or so, it will coaggulate as it cools.While it still tastes good, it's not the consistency it's meant to be.

Also, I should warn you, if you have heart/artery problems, this probably isn't the recipe for you. We all know Paula loves her butter - and this recipe definitely uses plenty of it. If you want a cake you can conceal it's flaws with icing. This is not the cake for you. While it is very good, it is very rich. Icing would probably put you in the hospital in a sugar coma. Due to these reasons, I'm going to give it a B.

Paula's Gooey Butter Cake. Looks good, don't ya think?

So, without further ado... Paula Deen's Recipe for Gooey Butter Cake:

Ingredients
Cake:
1- 18.25 ounce package yellow cake mix
1- egg
8- tablespoons butter, melted

Filling:
1- 8 ounce package cream cheese, softened
2- eggs
1- teaspoon vanilla
8- tablesppons butter, melted
1- 16 ounce box powdered sugar

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

Combine the cake mix, egg, and butter and mix well with an electric mixer. Pat themixture into the bottom of a lightly greased 13x9 inch baking pan. Prepare filling. In a large bowl, beat the cream cheese until smooth. Add the eggs, vanilla, and butter and beat together. Next, add the powdered sugar and mix well. Spread over cake batter and bake for 40-50 minutes. Make sure not to over bake as center should still be gooey.

This should cure your craving for butter, at least for a bit. Enjoy!

The White Stuff

I'm a warm weather person. I grew up in the south. There was very little, if any snow. In fact, I probably have seen more snow in the 8 months since I moved to Colorado than I've seen in my entire life.

At first the snow was amazing. A fluffy white wonderland of beauty to my virgin eyes. Our first snow storm came two weeks after I had Baby in October. Somehow two feet of snow wasn't nearly as enticing as recovering from a c-section. Oldest and middle child loved it. They learned how to build a snowman for the first time in their lives. Of course they could do without shoveling the drive.

Oldest & middle children learning how to shovel snow, Oct. 2009.

Snow came and went, we had a good relationship. Nothing major accumulated until Christmas. In 30 years I'd never seen a white Christmas. I still didn't get to enjoy it because Baby was recovering from a respiratory infection and hospital stay. Then we hit a dry spell. Literally, no snow - or none to speak of - from Christmas until now.

Currently, we have enough on the ground for middle child to have fun in, and we spent the better part of Sunday afternoon sledding.

middle child & the hubs playing in the snow.

It's not the "Snowmageddon" the east coast had a couple weeks ago. But for me it's plenty. I keep hearing that March is typically our biggest accumulation month. So stay tuned, we'll see how many broken bones I end up with from falls. So far the score is: Driveway - 2, Beth - 0. I think I'll go back to my days as a hermit.

She Said What?

Why is it complete strangers feel the need to give  you advice? True, I probably need it, but you never know who you're talking to, you could be talking to the foremost authoritative source on said topic. I am an active participant on a board for recent mothers. Basically it's there for us to go ask questions about our babies and make sure we aren't raising alien children. But, it also allows us a forum to rant and rave, and then find out that others are going through similiar things.

This morning I was struck by how many people feel it is their duty to tell us how to raise our children. I've been blessed. My children's grandparents are 99% supportive of our decisions, and for the 1% they aren't they don't make a big fuss. Basically we are free to raise our children as we see fit. You know, because we're responsible adults and all.  However, I have had quite a few strangers feel the need to butt in from time to time.

So, since my mind is having a hard time functioning today, I thought I'd use my blog as a sounding board for various responses people may need at some point in their life (both in child rearing, and in everyday life). Be warned, some of these responses may land you in a straight jacket, but I think it'd be fun to say at least once.

1. "Oh! You're pregnant, when are you due - looks like any day now, right?" No. Actually, I'm just fat. There's no baby in there. Just the triple big mac, three donuts and big gulp I ate in my car on the way here.

2. "Your baby doesn't look anything like you. He/she must take after his/her father?" Not really. I found this kid on the side of the road and thought it might need a home. I'm in need of a servant, so I thought I'd raise it until it could walk and talk, then I plan on putting it to work 15 hours a day in my basement making trinkets I can take to the flea market and sell.

3. "You're new in town. I have the best stylist." Really? I'd love to have their name and number so I can make sure NOT to go to them. I mean, apparently you're saying this because you think I am in dire need of a makeover, but have you looked in the mirror lately? I hope you didn't pay full price for that.

And my favorite, while standing in line at the check-out counter a complete stranger will pick up one of your items and say, "You aren't really going to buy that, are you?" No. I thought I'd carry it around the store for an hour, bring it up here, make the clerk do a price check and then yell "PSYCHE!" and make her put it back. I have no need for that. But thanks for asking.

If anyone else has a random question or suggestion they have been given (unwarranted) from a complete stranger. I'd love to hear it, as well as your dream response. Hope you all have a great weekend! If you're brave enough to use one of my responses, I'd love to hear how it turns out!

The truth behind "trophy wives" - or at least those of us with children

The term "trophy wife" is misleading. Yes, we are the wives that have given up careers to stay at home, raise families and have the perfect household. We do clean up nicely and tend to turn a few heads when we walk through the door at events. Therefore, becoming our spouses' "trophies". However, many of you non-stay-at-homers do not realize just what this entails. So, I thought I'd enlighten you a bit.

You see, in reality, it isn't that we are our husband's trophies. It's that we deserve a trophy for all that we do. I mean, really. Who else is going to simultaniously get peed, pooped and puked on and not complain? I love how people say we always have  a free calendar, because we don't really do anything. Really? I don't do anything? Let's take a stroll through my day:

6 a.m. baby begins to cry. Give baby paci and groggily go downstairs. Trip on some random toy, nearly break neck on stairs. Make bottle. Go back upstairs, this time avoiding toy. See oldest child off to bus stop - after having lost several arguments about clothing, hairstyles, and most importantly shoes (she wants to wear nonwater proof shoes on a snowy day).

7 a.m. wake up middle child - this is where the fun begins. Feed middle child. Explain to middle child that toast with syrup on it is not a good choice for breakfast. Lose the argument with child, end up giving him a frozen waffle. Yes, it's still frozen when I hand it to him. He's old enough to toast it himself. Dress middle child. Explain to middle child that no, a short sleeved Transformer's shirt is not appropriate in -5 windchill weather. Lose that battle, too. Tell child to put whatever on, you don't care, but "don't come complaining to me when you freeze to death at recess."

8 a.m. take middle child to school. Return home. Attempt to do some housework. Find self talking to dog about politics. Dog doesn't care. Dog won't go outside because it's cold. Dog insists the backporch be shoveled snow free. Shovel back porch for dog, only to realize that dog will not go to the bathroom OFF the porch unless a path is shoveled for her. More shoveling all the while telling Dog that she's like one of those welfare people - they are entitled to have me do the work for them. What am I entitled to?

12 p.m. Lunch? What's that? Do I get to eat? Did I have breakfast? Oh, I have to feed baby. Where did this mess in the kitchen come from? Who's brilliant idea was it to make a peanut butter, nutella, banana and jelly sandwitch and why didn't they eat it? Ew. Why did I taste that concoction. How long has it been left out?

Oh, I might want to get dressed today. Go upstairs. Damn! Stupid toy is still on the stairs. Gross. Looked in the mirror. When's the last time I brushed my hair? When's the last time I waxed my eyebrows? Who the hell am I becoming?

3 p.m. pick up middle child from school. Yes, you can have an afternoon snack. No, you cannot make it out of hot dogs and chocolate syrup. Who ate your sandwitch? That thing? I threw it in the trash. That was gross! Calm child down from the tantrum of loosing his culinary creation. Oldest child bursts in. "People are Retarded" is yelled as she flies up the stairs. How does she miss the stupid toy I always step on it? Oldest child returns a few minutes later and explains that her "curriculum" at school consists of taking notes and writing a report on "This is It". Wow. So, saying the Pledge of Allegiance is optional - but watching MJ's last dance is required. WTF? What is this world coming to?

5 p.m. start dinner. Kids argue over what they are going to do. Oldest child doesn't want to play with middle child. Middle child wants to carry baby around by the leg. Dog needs to go out. Everyone's yelling and the dog is running in circles. Crap!! Dinner on fire!

6 p.m. the spousal unit arrives home. Spousal unit looks around the house. Asks what's for dinner. Isn't thrilled with the menu. Asks why we're having vegetable X instead of vegetable Y. Asks why ingredient X was added to recipe. Spousal unit stars in disbelief as I storm up the stairs - STEPPING ON STUPID TOY AGAIN!! Stupid toy is now in trash. Middle child is upset about toy being thrown away, and fishes it out of trashcan.

8 p.m. middle child is in room watching tv, oldest child is hiding out somewhere in teenage angst, spousal unit is in basement working out. Baby is cursing me in baby language because he wants to suffocate self with blanket and I won't allow it. Dog is needing to go out, but now it's even colder so she refuses.

10 p.m. youngest children have been asleep for a while. Oldest child suddenly remembers she needs a gazillion dollars the next day to pay for a school activity. Pleading ensues at the thought that I might not provide gazillion dollars to child. Check is written, child skulks off to room.

This cycle continues off and on every day - just with different variations depending on what season of the year it is.

Trophy wives everywhere put up with this situation.We find ourselves rooting for sports that have absolutely no appeal to us what-so-ever, all in support of our little ones. We go from being idolized by our daughters to becoming the wickedest witches ever to live when they hit the teen years. Our babies will look us in the eye, give us the biggest brightest smile imaginable... and then... puke on you and giggle.

Would I give it up? Not willingly. I had a good career outside of the home before Baby came along. I'm not anxious to return to it soon. But, the myth vs. the reality of my day is something too many people take for granted. So, let me ask you - the next time you think your friend down the street "isn't doing anything" consider that she may actually be the ringmaster to one of the craziest circuses on Earth. She just isn't selling tickets to the show.

My Lenten Sacrifice

**********************Warning, this post contains some not nice language. If you are easily offended you might want to come back tomorrow. I'm rating it PG-13 for lewd content, if you are uncomfortable with that, don't say I didn't warn you.*********************************************************

Fat Tuesday is over and Lent has officially begun. And, as with every year I struggle to come up with something to give up for the next 40 days. So, I figured I would sit down and list the things I am pondering about sacrificing. Perhaps making a list will make me be a better person:

1. Unnecessary Facebook Friends. Don't scoff. You know you have them. You know in real life you only talk to about 4 people on a regular basis, but in FB world you have befriend hundreds of people. These are the people that you haven't talked to in say, 15 years. You received a friend request from them and had to go dig out a high school (or even elementary school) yearbook. Seriously. You could defriend some of these people and it wouldn't make a difference. Heck, they might not even notice. I recently tried to find a "friend's" page (mainly because another - real - friend told me something about her and I was nosey)... only to find out she had defriended me. Was I sad? No. Should I have been? Probably not. She fell into the "I saw her a few times and we were part of the same women's organization" category. I'm fairly certain we're mutually better off.

2. Chocolate or wine. HA! Who am I kidding? If I gave up chocolate or wine for Lent (as a good friend of mine is doing) then I would probably commit some sort of mortal sin that my soul would not recover from. I do not think the purpose of Lent is to give up something, which in turn, makes you homicidal. So, no - chocolate and wine must remain consumable products for me.

3.Trash talking people behind their backs. This one probably is a category that I should seriously consider giving up for Lent - or just all the time for that matter. I have a bad habit of saying how stupid/how big of a douchebag people are. Of course, I said a moment ago I do this behind their backs. In reality, if I think this of you - I'll tell you to your face... so technically I'm not badmouthing someone that doesn't already know I have a low opinion of them. But, it is a flaw of mine that I need to work on. Self editing is sometimes a good virtue to have.

4. Less time on the internet/facebook. Yep, I'm pretty sure the world will continue to exist if I'm not farming, shooting up cities with my Mob,  cooking up virtual dishes in my cafe, or pledging some virtual sorority. I mean, I did grow up on a farm and I did pledge a social club in college (and from what I've been told went on to be a very scary pledge mistress). So I've already done 1/2 of these things in the real world - do I need to relive it in the virtual land? Of course, then my days would be much longer, but really, I'm sure there's plenty to do around my real world house.

5. Watch less TV. Ok, this one falls in the "yeah, right" category. I literally have a show (or shows) for every single day/night. During the day it's reruns of my favorites now on syndication at night it's sitcom or reality tv. Oh, the list is long and varied, but if I gave up my TV then I would surely turn homicidal. Again, my eternal soul is at stake, so we cannot give up TV.

So there you have it. All my major character flaws (or at least the ones I'm willing to publicly admit to). In all honesty I think this Lent I'm going to try to follow numbers 3 and 4. And in the true meaning of Lent I will try to overall be a better person. Take time to be closer with my family, attend church more consistently, and do what it is we are supposed to do. Lent is a time of reflection. To remember the sacrifices Jesus made for us. He spent 40 days in the wilderness being tempted by Satan and not giving in. Surely I can spend 40 days not referring to irritating people as "that dumbass douchebag". Doesn't seem like nearly the same sacrifice, does it?

Olympic Commentary

I promise not to endlessly talk about the Olympics for the next week and a half, but they are captivating. For 2 weeks we stop, come together and forget all the war, famine and other adversity facing the planet. Well, we don't forget but it's not the lead on our news programming.

I admire these athletes. As someone who is probably ranked among the least athletic on the planet watching them perform their feats often leaves me in awe. I have to wonder where they get their drive. I mean, I manage to fall on a tiny piece of ice and hobble around for several days downing ibprofen like it's candy - these guys go cartwheeling down a mountain on skis and get up and go again.

One especially terrifying sport to me is the luge. This is one sport I love to pick on... I mean, really? You have to be a special kind of daredevil to want to plummet down a tube of ice at speeds of 90ish mph on a sled with nothing to protect you but a skin suit and a helmut. After tragedy struck during training they shortened the course to make it not as risky - it's now 2 football fields shorter. I still saw someone clock speeds of 89 mph the other day. Terrifying.

Then there's the ridiculous. Curling. Really? This is one sport that I just don't get. You want to sweep something? I've got a lovely kitchen floor dying to be swept in record time. If it makes you feel better, you can push a little puck around the room as you do so.

My favorites are the ice skating and skiing competitions. I do not know the difference between a triple lutz, triple salchow or triple axle - but watching these men and women gracefully glide across the ice is amazing. And the skiers? I remember having an extreme crush on Alberto Tomba in Calgary. Why? I don't know. Maybe it's because that was the thing to do, the media was in love with him and his playboy ways. Ever since that middle school crush I've been captivated by skiing.

For all my kidding, I do respect each and every one of these athletes (even the ones with pink hair). They represent us on the world stage, they compete with fierce determination. And, many times have a great backstory to share with us. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy the games. I know I'll be glued to the tv watching their victories - and I have to admit rewinding and replaying a few of the defeats as well.

My First Blog

We'll see how this goes. I've never blogged before, but used to be a fairly good creative writer. I won't promise that some of these blogs won't turn into blabbering nonstop rants, but hey - if you know me, you know that I like to talk. Why should my blog be anything different? I asked a friend of mine who is an avid blogger for some advice,basically she said to have fun with it and be true to myself. So there you have it. Have fun, and be true to myself. I cannot guarantee that sometimes my blog will be boring to others, but I may find some entertainment just in getting the thoughts out of my head and out into the world.
My promises to my readers:
1. I will talk about whatever I feel pressing that day - it could be as mundane as the tv show or movie I watched the night before - or it could be as controversial as my personal politics. Either way, I promise to try to make it entertaining.

2. I will try to keep those of you who are family/friends updated with what's going on here in CO. Now that we are at least 900 miles away from our closest family member, it's the least we can do.

That's about all I have to offer for now. Feel free to follow at will.