New Friends

I got to do the coolest thing yesterday. I have this friend Lana who is crazy busy. I think I'm busy. Lana has like 3 or 7 part-time jobs, 2 kids in 30 different after-school activities, and she volunteers for just about anything under the sun. It was my mission to treat her to a Mary Kay facial. She never has free time and a constantly changing schedule. I was going to give her a makeover, if I had to track her down and sit on her.

Luckily, I didn't have to do that. She called me up and wanted to see if I could stop by and do makeovers for herself and her friend Keri. Keri has breast cancer and is currently undergoing chemo. I've never met Keri, but I was very interested in stopping by. I have known people with cancer undergoing chemo and it can wreak havoc on not only the body, but the spirit. The opportunity to "lighten her load" a little was very exciting to me. Men may not understand, but its amazing what a little lipstick can do.

I stopped at the house and was shocked by what I encountered. Not Keri's bald head covered in a turban. Not the slightly dark circles under her eyes. What shocked me was that Keri is only 37. A year younger than I am and she is fighting for her life. I found out she has a 10 year old boy and a 5 year old daughter going into kindergarten, just like Mia. She never smoked, was in good shape, and had no family history of cancer. Her doctors didn't even think thats what it was at first, in fact they told her to wait, but she just needed to know for sure, so she made them keep testing.

I could tell that she was trying to be perkier than she felt for me and, knowing that this was special time with Lana, she was upbeat and cracking jokes left and right. I threw boas on both of them (because women do not get to wear feathers enough these days.) And we had a ball. A few things I found out about makeup and chemo: 1) It's important to only use gentle products, because of the condition of the skin. 2) Eyebrow pencils are awesome and 3) it's hard to use eyeliner when you don't have eyelashes.

We talked about everything. About cancer and boobs and children and depression and faith and purpose and God. And I felt so guilty. I have been so mired in my own sadness, the loss of my job and mourning the loss of my friends there, worrying about money and how we are going to pay any bills in the next few months, trying to balance my desires with the need to provide for my family that I forgot...I am still alive. I know that I will be here in a year to walk Mia to kindergarten. I know I will see the kids open Christmas presents next year. I'll be able to help Mia put makeup on before her first homecoming dance. I'll stay up late at night wondering where the heck Grant is and why he hasn't called and why did I let him borrow the car anyway. And I'll be able to watch Spencer walk across the stage and collect his doctorate diploma.

It was an honor to be able to try and cheer Keri up. I hope I did. When I came home later, Spencer asked me if I made a new friend, like I had a new day at school, and I was happy to tell him, "Yes." It's great to make new friends.

I constantly think about purpose and the reason why we are here. I question everything all the time and pray for answers. Sometimes I get the answers and other times I'm left waiting. I've known too many people that were taken too early and struggled with the reason why. I still don't have the answer. I'll let you know when I hear something. But in the meantime, I'll keep trying to make new friends.

Cavemen, The Kid Who Can't Take No and The Booger Ghost

The kids got out early today. The last Tuesday of every month they get out at 2:18 for teacher enrichment or something or other. I decided to open up the wallet and go to the Dollar Tree and let each kid pick out a toy. I figured we could afford $3 today. Especially with all the money we're saving by not paying for cable.

And who needs it, with "Kids Conversations in the Minivan." Honestly, the funniest show not on t.v. I'm not sure if the crazy/insightful/hilarious chit chat occurs with dads in the minivan or if it is an exclusive "q and a" session reserved for the patience of moms alone.

"Mom," Grant (8 years old) announces out of nowhere. "I think I know how cavemen went to the bathroom. They just held it, 'cause they were tough like that."

"Well, actually Grant," I explained like the all-knowing mom and frequent post-college camper that I was. "I think they dug a hole, went in it, and then covered it back up."

"Kind of like a cat!" You could hear the lightbulb go off over 6-year old Spencer's head. "Except that cats don't dig a hole."

"Mom," Grant said switching subjects without as much as a pause. "How come everybody always tells me no."

"Because Grant," I explained. "You ask for everything."

"Yea. Well I'm that kind of kid."

The conversation continued and questions about archery and Easter and stickers and music and money went back and forth. Only 15 minutes and we covered more topics than most daytime talk shows cover in a month.

"Mom," Grant confessed. "I got a Think Time today." A Think Time is the new consequence for doing something naughty at school. When pressed for his offense, he admitted to "Doing the Booger Ghost."

Apparently the Booger Ghost is a tissue that you draw little eyes on and then pick your nose. You aren't suppose to make a Booger Ghost in public, only in private, and when it's revealed, strikes fear in those who are pursued by it. In other words, its purpose is to tease other kids, in particular girls. I'm not sure of its official purpose, but I think that is basically it.

And then I realized that this could be our Million Dollar Idea. I could write whole books about the Booger Ghost. How he's there for the few days that you need him and then he falls under the bed to live the rest of his life with the Dust Bunnies. How he takes care of you in your moment of need as you battle the Rhino Virus. Books on tape. A Pixar Movie with John Ratzenberger doing the voice of the Booger Ghost. And don't even get me started on the action figures.

Today, Booger Ghost got us a Think Time. Tomorrow, Booger Ghost makes us a mint!

Big Red Spandex

With a name like Husker Mama, you better believe that I am a Nebraska fan. Now that doesn't always mean that I get to go to games, we are on a "partially-employed cutback budget" which leaves very little for entertainment. We did go to the Husker Women's Basketball game last Saturday morning. It was dollar days, so with just a dollar admission, Grant and I got to go for a buck each and Mia-since she's under 6 got in free.

If you've never been to a Husker Women's Basketball game, you are missing out. Its constant rev-d up excitement. The band is at full pep. The women play with enthusiasm, talent and heart. And the crowd (record crowd on Saturday-over 13 thousand!) is at their "Go Big Red"-est. Its really just one jacked up party with some serious basketball playing action.

I wanted to go to support the University. To show Grant some great players with unbelievable skills and to show Mia that women with a passion are capable of anything. Of course both of them were taken in by the spectacle of it all. Grant's biggest wish was to get on the big screen. Mia's biggest wish was to get more snacks.

And then the dance line took the court. My kids were clapping and dancing along. Whoo hoo! The Scarletts do an amazing job of getting the crowd even more ramped up. Seeing how impressed my kids were with the dancers, I looked over and told Grant, "You know, Mommy used to do that when she was in high school."

He looked at me like I was a certifiable lunatic. Like he couldn't put the two together. Here were these sexy women in their sexy half shirts and sexy spandex doing sexy dance moves to sexy music. I think the idea of his mom in one of those outfits alone was enough to make him upchuck the $2 colossal Eileen's cookie he just ate.

In Grant's mind, I was never young. I was never fun. I was never....sexy. And you know what, sometimes I feel like he's right. That feeling of energy and youth and abandon seems so far away when the top things on your mind are finding a job and bills and potholes and losing weight and disciplining children and trying to get your husband to be more romantic around the house even though he probably doesn't feel like it either because he's too tired too. That person that I was in high school is in there somewhere, I just need to find her.

So we were driving home listening to KFRX and that Pitbull song comes on...I'm not sure of the name of it....something about how "I know you want me...You know I want ya".....I'm not really sure what the lyrics are because I can't understand them. Any way, I start rocking OUT! Cranking the music and letting go. Moving and grooving in my Honda Odyssey minivan driver's seat. The Latin rhythms making parts of my body wiggle that haven't wiggled intentionally in a long time. Imagining myself in a half shirt and spandex pants at 18 years old. And then turning around and seeing the look of complete horror on my children's faces.

I can still be young and sexy, but maybe, I should re-think the spandex.

Noise Bubble

Today, Grant had his first official eye doctor appointment. He has been having trouble reading the board at school and has been complaining about headaches, so we thought it was time. And sure enough, Dr. Reins prescribed some glasses.

Grant was pretty pumped about picking some out. Not at all like I was when I was in fourth grade picking out my glasses. I was such a dork. Grant is cool and he thinks its cool that he gets to wear glasses, just like his dad. And I guess kids with glasses don't get made fun of as much anymore. You've come a long way four-eyes.

We picked up Mia and came home for lunch and that was when the craziness started. They both started yelling at the top of their lungs. I suppose they were excited about their routines being thrown off-2 kids home for lunch instead of just one or all 3. Yelling nonsense. I told them to stop and then they both started to jibber jabber. No words, just nonsensical syllables over and over.

"You need to stop making noise, just to make noise," I pleaded. So they stopped and Grant started breathing....loudly. Panting, wheezing, audible moaning. Over and over and over. "Grant! Stop making noise, just to make noise."

But he couldn't help himself. It was like there was a big noise bubble inside of him that just needed to "pop." And it didn't just "pop," it blew up all over the kitchen. (Where are the dogs when you need them). He didn't have anything to say. No thought or idea that he needed to express. He just needed to make some noise.

I thought about how many of us just need to make some noise. Talk show hosts, reality tv, that crazy rock and roll music the kids are listening to these days. We can tell them to shut up all we want, but they have to let their noise bubble "pop."

I suppose that's what I'm doing with this blog too. Even though its quiet (unlike my dog Lacey who is barking every 5 minutes today to be let out so that she can go kill a squirrel), it's my way of making a little noise. It might not always be a coherent thought or idea or even interesting, but it's my way of popping my noise bubble.

Yelling and Yodeling

So we took the long way home from school yesterday. And I do mean long. Grant had to step in every puddle on the way back in his big snow boots borrowed from our neighbors. And so Spencer had to step in every puddle on the way back in his tennnis shoes. It does not matter how many times you tell kids not to step in puddles or they'll get all wet and their feet will freeze on the way home and shoes don't grow on trees and you'll ruin them and I won't buy you new ones....kids will step in puddles any way.

We were walking (splashing) along, when a mom I don't know from the neighborhood pulled into her driveway. I could hear her before I saw her. She was yelling at her kids. And it had so much force, so much anger, I was honestly shocked. Spencer even commented, "Oh, there's a mean mom." I took a second of pride that no matter how much my children insist that they hate me, at least I'm not a mean mom.

Not to say, that I don't yell at my kids, I do. But I realized, that since I've been laid off, I haven't needed to. And I don't know why that is. Is it because my children all of a sudden out of sympathy took their little angel pills and are miraculously more well-behaved? Am I all of a sudden SuperMom? Definitely not.

But I do think I now have more patience. I have more focus. Instead of splitting my focus between work and home and errands and housework and charity and trying to maintain a social life and sports and all of the other things I have to do in a day, I have time to actually listen to them. And they like being listened too. When Spencer hits Grant for "stealing his gaming," I can actually listen to his problem, tell him violence isn't the way to solve it, and figure out other ways to get what you want when other people don't treat you so nicely. (Something we all could learn).

I used to yell at my kids a lot more. So tired with my sleep-deprived morning show schedule (I'd sleep from 10pm-4am and then try to cram a nap in the afternoon), I had no patience, no tolerance to actually look at my children. Too see them for who they were and who they were becoming. And my quick response to yell at them, (sometimes so loudly, I'd hurt my throat) was helping to mould who they were becoming. And who wants to be yelled at all the time? Get your shoes on! Why can't you just listen! Do what you're told!

Discipline is a tricky thing to learn as a parent. There's a thousand books on the subject. To spank or not to spank. Time outs, punishments. Lots of ideas and methods. But I think the key to disciplining your child (teaching your child), is to really get to know them. Understand what motivates them. Understand what's important and what affects them to act in both loving and destructive ways.

This morning, I was getting the kids ready for school. They were on the wii (so great we got this little gift before the "cutbacks"). I started to yell at them to turn it off and get ready for school. Time was an issue. We only had minutes and they were not listening. And I was yelling. I heard my voice louder and angrier and remembered the mother from the day before. But how was I going to get them to hear me? Do I have to yodel?

Then I used my head. "Get off the wii or I'm taking it away." You've never seen kids move so fast.

I have this precious time with my kids. I don't want to spend it angry. I don't want the kids to remember me as an angry mom. I realize that sometimes I won't always have the patience to think of another idea. I might not always know the way to solve a problem. But when the urge hits me, I'm going to try not to yell. I'll just learn how to yodel.

Purpose

The house is quiet today. Grant and Spencer actually had school (no ice/snow days or major holidays) and Mia got invited over to a friends house after pre-school today. A whole day to myself. Or at least that's what my husband must think. A day to watch Oprah and take bubble baths and paint my toenails and eat bon bons.

It's crazy how now that I'm unemployed, I am busier than ever. Running errands, cleaning the house, getting things done for the pool board. (By the way Meadowlane Pool has a fundraising night at Raising Canes next Monday night. If you mention the pool from 5-8, Raising Cane's will donate $1 to the pool) And I shouldn't use the word "un-employed," I am working my Mary Kay business too and have been super busy with that. And of course, there's taking care of the children.

But I feel a tremendous amount of guilt. Guilt for not contributing. Chris comes home from work everyday hoping that I get a job. Lots of stay-at-home moms choose that life. Because they can. I have to work. My income is essential to our existence. I need to make money. And I want to.

My mother worked. So the days of coming home to a hot, nutritious lunch are foreign to me. Mom waiting with cookies in the oven and a cold glass of milk when I got home from school never happened. My mother did teach me what it meant to be driven, to take care of yourself, to multi task and to provide for your family. And now that I'm not providing, I feel a little lost. Incompetent. Purposeless.

As a radio personality, I had a certain amount of prestige and purpose. I was informing and entertaining the community of Lincoln, NE. I helped charities raise money and awareness. I helped area businesses grow. I interviewed the Governor, the Director of the Lincoln Children's Zoo and lots of famous country music stars. I was important. And now I clean toilets. And pick up Legos. And find missing shoes.

I've been thinking about purpose and feeling a little useless today as I was vacuuming up Rosie's dog hair again. And the thought occurred to me that maybe I'm not done being important. Maybe, staying at home, I am making a difference in the world.

Maybe this morning, I made breakfast for the next big country music star. Maybe, I found the next zoo directors backpack. Maybe, I tied a some-day Governor's shoes. And that is pretty important.

Messes

So in addition to my 3 kids, I have 2 dogs. Rosie is an 8 year old German Shepard/Border Collie/lab mix we got from the Capital Humane Society a few years ago and she is very well behaved. Lacey is a 3 year old West Highland Terrier that we got from Chris' boss a year and a half ago and she is the naughtiest dog who ever walked this planet. Although things have improved, she has stopped peeing in the house.

We've had a busy day today. Running errands, going to the library-thank goodness for the library, where else can someone go on a budget and get books about dogs, books about kids and books about things to do on a budget.

We came home and had lunch. Now usually it is our policy at the table for the kids 1.) to ask to be excused and then 2.) take their plate up to the sink so mom doesn't have to. It is my feeble attempt at teaching these kids some manners and responsibility. They forget all the time.

Grant got so wrapped up in his book (He is totally into the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series), that he left everything on the table. I had my back turned when Lacey-the naughty dog, jumped up and knocked his entire plate off the table and ravioli and peas and carrots and beans went scattered, splattered all over the floor. And both dogs like a pack of ravenous wolves descended on the mess.

We have policies in place for the kids. We have policies in place for the dogs. Ideally, no dogs are allowed in the kitchen. Rosie knows this rule and obeys. Lacey takes the rule as more of a guideline and then ignores it. I panicked for a second. I need to teach these dogs rules. I am their master. Discipline is the only way to have control and order and a peaceful life. I need to stop these dogs and clean the mess up by myself.

But then I remembered that I hate to clean. So I let the dogs finish the job. I did the dishes and was at peace. "After all, Mom" Spencer my 6-year old genius boy reminded me. "They made the mess, they need to clean it up." It's amazing how wise my words sound reflected back in the midst of chaos. I just need a 6-year old and two fuzzy critters to remind me.

Quarters

My dad came to visit this weekend. Which I LOVE. For two reasons: #1. Because I love my dad. He is such a calming influence and always offers great advice, and #2. Because he buys the beer. Oh and #3. Because he takes us out to eat! And since we have been watching our money, something we haven't done in a very, very long time.

We went to Dad's favorite pizza place here in Lincoln (Dino's on 84th St.) after Grant's first basketball game on Saturday. Got there early, which was a good thing, because the kids were kind of squirrelly. Mia, my 4-year old, could not sit still. Squirming all over her chair. She slid under the table and I was about to chastise her for her improper table manners in my firmest, yet loving parental tone, when she pops up beaming!

"Look what I found!" She had found a bright shiny quarter. Like one of the treasure hunters of the Titanic, she was so proud of herself. Her brothers walk around with their money jars all the time filled with change they find here, a five-dollar bill from a grandparent or a dollar they earned doing something around the house that I just can't bring myself to do (most of the time involving the dogs). She's always been jealous, because she has been too little to do a lot of the chores around the house and with the tightened economy, chores around the house don't exactly pay like they used to.

So we congratulated her on her find and proceeded with dinner. Crayons and wordfinds all over the table. Chocolate milk cups and refills and pizza and plates. The table filled quickly with our celebration.

When it came time to go, Mia looked around for her quarter. Where did it go? We looked under the wordfinds. We looked under the chocolate milk. Under plates and pizza trays. I could feel the panic/temper tantrum starting. And I could sympathize. After a moment of brilliant luck, how awful to have it all stripped away. For a few moments, Mia with her bright and shiny quarter was a winner. And now, through no fault of her own, it was gone. Yes, maybe she could have put it in her pocket. Maybe she could have given it to me to hold onto. But you don't think about that when you're on top of the world, you just think about how great you feel. You don't even consider the fact that one day, it will be over. No more quarter.

She was frantically looking everywhere and popped back under the table to see if maybe it had fallen back to its original hiding place. I put my hand in my pocket and dug through my change. All I had were some pennies, and a dime. Well, it's silver, I thought, maybe she won't notice. While she was still under the table, I said "Look Mia, I found it" and put the dime on the table.

She popped her head up, eyes full of tears, emotions on the verge of over-flowing and looked at the dime.

"Next time," she said, thankful and relieved to have her treasure back. "I want a bigger one." Don't we all sweetie.

Potholes

I was just at 70th and Holdredge and I swear I saw a small family living inside one of the potholes on the corner. Seriously, have you ever seen such big potholes in your entire life!?!

So it got me thinking about what causes potholes. I know it has something to do with freezing and thawing and ice and snow and whatnot, but really, what causes them? And what makes them so flippin' big? And in the year 2010, we have internet on our phones (if we have cell phones), we can order movies directly to our tv (if we have cable) and GPS in our cars but they can't invent an asphalt that doesn't "pothole?" And am I even typing it correctly? Is it "pothole" or "pot hole?"

So now I'm driving around really thinking about potholes (because without being laid-off, in debt, and very concerned for those poor souls in Haiti, I have nothing else to think about). Where does the stuff that used to fill the potholes go? Shouldn't we see big chunks of road next to the pothole where it used to fit? Kind of like a donut hole. Where does the pothole chunk go?

And then I started to think about fat. (Usually one of the top 5 topics on my mind) A few years ago with the help of a weight loss clinic, I lost a ton of weight. 66 lbs to be exact. Now since I have put a few (understatement) back on, I know where the fat comes from: Brownies and nachos and chips and salsa and good red wine and mindless snacking watching Conan. But where does it go?

Just something for you to think about when you're driving around today. Besides the errands you need to run, and the things you need to get at the store and paying bills and raising your kids and how to achieve world peace.

Letting Go and Lying Down

I love the thaw. These warm temperatures just boost spirits for everyone. I decided yesterday that we would walk and pick up the boys from school. As we were leaving, Grant-my 8-year old asks if he can walk home by himself the long way. I said yes. I think it's important that kids are able to establish a sense of independence and self-reliance. And then I thought to myself, "Well, the long way is long, and what about the creeps." Even though "The Creeps" probably in a million years wouldn't be trolling the 2 blocks from the school to my house, the fact that "The Creeps" exist started to get me a little nervous. So I met him 1/2 a block later.

"How was your day?" I asked. "Great, until you showed up." He said. Amazing the drama and doom and gloom an 8-year old can muster. So now that I ruined Grant's day, we headed home.

Spencer and I went right inside and Grant and Mia stayed outside to play. The snow was really getting good and melt-y. Perfect for snowballing, as I could hear Mia screaming from Grant's snowball attacks. It sounded like Grant's day was improving.

I came out a few minutes later and the two of them had built a snowman. Kind of. The snow was so wet and heavy that Grant's little 8-year old arms were not strong enough to lift the "body" ball of snow on top of the "bottom." Nor could they lift the snowman's head. So, they rolled one right next to each other and finished it off with acorn eyes and mouth and my hat and scarf. The brand new ones I got for Christmas from my inlaws.

I have noticed with my time off that it's amazing. I am learning more and more from my children everyday and how they see and navigate their day: When life gets tough (or the snow too heavy), you don't have to "take" it lying down, just "make" it lying down.

Losing Our Heads

If you ever want to torture me, make me clean something. I hate to clean. Hate, hate, hate it. But to earn my keep and create the illusion in my husband's head that I am not lazy, I probably should clean up around the house a little bit, especially now that I am only partially employed.

My 4-year old daughter Mia is having a friend over tomorrow, so I decided to try tackling her room first today. It's a small room. Legally, I don't even know if you can call it a bedroom, more of an office really. Couldn't be too rough right?

First of all, where did this girl get all these flippin' stuffed animals? I don't remember buying them for her. Santa didn't hook her up. The grandparents might pick her up one here or there, but nothing like the zoo that she is creating in her bedroom. I am serious wondering if these fuzzy critters aren't reproducing on their own when we are not around. Which creates a disturbing mental image that I apologize for putting in your head.

And then there's the crayons. A random crayon here. A half-eaten one there. And everytime we put them in the basket, the basket gets knocked over and we half to start all over again. Seriously, crayons are cheap right? Only a buck a box? And yet I've picked up the same box about 27 times in the past 30 minutes. I would just hit Walmart and buy a new one, but again, a buck is a buck.

I believe that it's important to get kids involved in cleaning up around the house. It teaches them respect for their belongings and household. Teaches them responsibility and independence. And hopefully they can do it all by themselves one day. But today, I was seriously wondering if the lesson was worth the hassle. Everytime I would put something away, Mia would take it out again. It was like I was discovering all of the toys that she had hidden under the mountain of stuffed animals and she was reveling in the newness of her old toys.

But too many toys is too many toys and so many of her toys are just parts of themselves now, as they have gotten lost or broken over the years. I figured this would be the perfect time to really engage her (ie, stop her from undoing all of the cleaning I was doing) and teach her to pare back.

I told her that we were going to look at her toys and decide which ones she wanted to keep, which ones she wanted to give to poor kids and which ones we could just throw away.

She actually got excited. She was thrilled to be relieved of some of the baby/toddler toys that had been cluttering up her room. She felt so grown up knowing some of her baby stuff would go to help another "baby."

And then we came across the head. Mia loves to play with Barbies. Most of them are naked. Many of them have had hair cuts. And lots of them have Sharpie tattoos. This was I believe once a Cinderella Barbie, that now was without a body. I don't know when she had become decapitated, accidentally or not, or who the perpetrator was. She was just a disembodied head, smiling that Barbie smile, painted-on twinkle in her eye.

"Hey Mia," I said. "Should we just throw this in the garbage?" And my daughter looked at me like I was crazy. "No way!" she said. "You never know when we might come across a body that might need a head."

I started to think about all of the things that we just throw away. Things that seem useless or "in the way" or just not worth our time. Things that at one point we cherished and now, that they are broken or incomplete or just not "new" anymore, just get put into the garbage. Ideas, feelings, relationships. Things we give up on because we just don't know what to do with them at the time. Maybe, we should just put these things in a special box in the closet, wait a little while, have a little faith, and keep our eyes open for a body.

Lost

So its now been a month since I've been laid off from my full time radio job. Keeping an eye out for more full time work, I've been running into the childcare issue. Finding someone to take care of your children is expensive. Almost as expensive as working.

I started my own Mary Kay business in August as a way to make a little extra money and see how far I can take it. I could pick my own hours and not have to worry about hiring a sitter while I "work." Now, I'm wondering if this could be my full time career. There are women who do it full time and they can make a LOT of money, so I'm giving it a shot. And I thought I'd look awesome in a Pink Cadillac!

Last night I had a couple of facial appointments in South Lincoln. I 'googled' the address before I left, couldn't find it on the map, so I called and got directions. I must have blanked out while I was listening to the directions, because once I got down there I could not find my way around. I have lived in Lincoln for over 9 years and I got completely lost.

No big deal, I thought. I'll just use the GPS on my iPhone. Oh yeah, I don't have an iPhone anymore. I had to give it back when I lost my job. No cell phone. I cannot even call my client to let her know that I would know be running late. No cell phone. I couldn't even call home to get the number to call my client on my non-existent phone to let her know what was happening. I was lost and helpless. Driving around hoping for a miracle. A "Mary Kay Give Me Directions" miracle.

Then I thought to myself, "There's a bar around the corner. They've got to have a payphone." Did you know that in 2010, payphones are very hard to find. I suppose there's an app for the iPhone that would help you find payphones, but again, I have no phone. Stopped by the hair salon next door and had to ask if I could use their phone. Here I am trying to launch my business, wanting to be professional and put-together and I'm in a panic trying just to make a phone call.

I finally got there 20 minutes late. I was so worried that they would think less of me for running late and getting lost, but they were completely understanding. We laughed and played with makeup and had a ball. I made a couple of sales, got some new clients and made some new friends. A Mary Kay GPS Miracle.

When I got home and the kids heard that I got lost, Mia was very worried. To a kid, being 'lost' is a much scarier position than when you are an adult. When you are a kid and you're lost, not only do you not know where you are, but you are separated from everyone that you love and YOU MAY NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN. Very scary. I reassured her that even though I was lost, I had my Guardian Angel on my shoulder, so I wasn't alone and I eventually found my way. Because after all, all Guardian Angels have iPhones.

The Best Liars Are Four

I awoke this morning to the sound of a plunger and the words "Oh no!" My four-year old girl, Mia used an entire roll of toilet paper for one job. And she didn't even finish the job, she had to take a shower even. She's been having more and more "accidents" since I've been home. And has just been all around naughtier. I always thought kids acted out more to get attention and now, with me being home all the time she's getting more attention than ever, so I don't know what her deal is.

She throws her toys everywhere. Coats the kitchen with maple syrup. Is swearing like a sailor (And don't think the boys don't love it when she uses the a-word. Hysterical! I'm trying to teach her that only desperate comics "go blue."). And when I ask her why she's being so naughty, she says she isn't. It's someone else. "Oh," I say. "There's another 4-year old little girl who pee'd on our couch?" "No Mommy," she answers back. "It's a 4-year old BOY." Already playing the gender card.

So I have decided to blame all my problems on someone else. A....35-year old man named Lenny. (The name Lenny sounds creepy enough.) Where did all my money go? Lenny spent it all at Target. Who got me laid off from work? That flippin' Lenny. Who left a dry erase marker in her sweatshirt and ruined an entire load of laundry? Lenny. Who ate the entire pan of brownies? Okay, that one was me. I am just not a good liar. At least, not as good as Lenny.

Hardship and Disguises

One of the biggest things I have realized after being laid off is that I am horrible with money. Not that I was ever under the illusion that I was good with it I just didn't realize where it all went. And I still don't.

As a radio personality, I was paid a certain salary and then I received additional money in the form of endorsements, live commercials/broadcasts, that sort of thing. Now, when I started I promised myself that my family and I would only live on my salary. All the extra money would be just that extra money and we would save for college, invest, etc. So of course, we started relying on it.

Where did the money go? I would love to know myself. You see all the pictures in the paper about people who over-extended themselves and are currently in money trouble, and they are driving fancy cars and have boats parked the back yard and 3-car garages and snotty kids with expensive jeans. I just looked around and I don't have any of that, except maybe the snotty kids part. Where did our money go? Sometimes I think we "saved" ourselves broke. A good deal on this here and a great savings on this there, even on things we kinda needed, just broke the camel's back. And now, I've lost my income. So the money problems we had before are now staring us in the face saying "I told you so".

Time to cut back. On everything. We are combing through everything trying to figure out what our basic needs are. Basic. My cell phone is gone. I am trying to figure out a way to get coupons without buying a newspaper. Generic cereal. Kids only getting water and bread. Okay, that is an exaggeration, but I am not letting them eat box after box of cereal. Which is what they would choose to do if they could. No other food just a constant steam of cereal. And we are still looking for ways to cut back even if they are painful.

The most painful of all the cutbacks though, the one we were most scared of was, Cutting the Cable. (insert scream here). Especially for the kids. While I knew not getting to watch Alton Brown and the Food Network would be tough for me, my kids were addicted to Cartoon Network. They would communicate to each other only using quotes from those stupid shows. True addicts, I could only guess as to what would happen when we took away their fix.

And then I started to wonder what it was that the kids got from these shows. A lot of attitude. Meanness masquerading as comedy. Insults pretending to be jokes. This was the foundation that my children were getting. This was becoming their culture. How they viewed the world to be. And then I started to remember my upbringing. I didn't have cable, I had PBS. I read books. I played with my friends. All cost effective ways of spending your time when you're a kid, until....

The third snow day. Lincoln, Nebraska has gotten slammed with awful weather this year. Lincoln Public Schools called 3 snow days before Christmas, then 2-weeks Christmas vacation-two days back and now we are on the third snow day in a row. I have been at home, trapped with my kids for what seems to be a frozen Eternity. With no cable. Board games have been played. I cannot come up with another stupid stick and felt craft idea to save my life. "Clean Your Room" never goes over well. And with 33 below windchills, it's really too cold to even go outside.

So you can imagine my surprise when yesterday, instead of hearing slapping and screaming and tears in the family room, not one "I'm telling Mom!". I heard quiet playing. The kids had re-discovered their costume box. Grant was dressed as a cloak-wearing ninja. Spencer was a racecar driver and Mia was a bumblebee. Now what game were they all playing? I have no idea. In what world would a ninja, nascar driver and bee co-habitate, but they were having a ball. No Cartoon Network in sight.

It made me think of an inspirational quote I read recently. (When you are unemployed, a lot of people share inspirational quotes with you.) "Hardship is just opportunity in disguise." Hey! I'm up for opportunity! Maybe it's time for me to hit the costume box. I think I've got a Princess Leia wig in there somewhere.

First Day Blogging

My on-air name is/was Sue Bayou and I had been hosting a country morning show for the past 9 years and found it to be the best therapy. I could share all (well, most) of the crazy things that went on in my life. It was a great way to see the funny, the absurdity in life when I knew I could turn the story of the dog eating my 2-year old's diaper into a "bit" on my morning show.

On December 11th, the radio station decided to make some changes and I was one of those changes. I was let go. Now, I am a firm believer in the phrase "When God closes a door, he always opens a window," but my main concern now is wondering what floor I am on. I've been doing radio since college, almost 19 years and I'm not sure what to do next. I know what people tell me I'm good at: finding connections, working with people, telling stories. So I thought, at the very least, I would try my hand at writing. Ya never know right? And how could I live my life without a "bit" outlet. I need to tell people my crazy stories or I'll tear my hair out and start drinking. More. And bald and drunk is not a good look.

So I have decided to start blogging. I hear that you can even make money at it, so I thought I'd give it a shot. This might not be good for a while. Maybe too long sometimes and maybe too short and quite often incoherent. But its something to keep my mind busy. For now. Until I figure out what floor I'm on.