Thursday, December 15, 2011


Sleepy Jo

We went to the Gingerbread House Display last weekend. On the way there, Jo asked, as she always does, “Do we have to go on the freeway?” Lexie asked her, “Why do you ALWAYS ask that?”

To which Jo replied, “There are two whys that I don’t like the freeway. One is it’s loud. And two is it makes me sleepy.” This was her two minutes later.

Dave has started paying Jo one dollar for every morning she wakes up in her own bed. Last night Jo told me, “Every night, I close my eyes and think, ‘I’ll go to mommy’s bed in one minute’. Then it’s morning and I say, ‘DANG IT! I didn’t go to mommy’s bed. DANG IT.”

Sunday, December 04, 2011


23 Adult Truths

You've probably already seen this, but in case you haven't... enjoy. Also, if you find out who authored this, will you let me know?

1.Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.

5. How the @#!*% are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

6. Was learning cursive really necessary?

7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind-of tired.

10. Bad decisions make good stories.

11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't
going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again.

13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.

14. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

15. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

16. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Light than Kay.

17. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

18. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

19. How many times is it appropriate to say "What" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear a word they said?

20. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front.
Stay strong, brothers and sisters!

21. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

22. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time.

23. The first testicular guard, the "Cup," was used in Hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974. That means it only took 100 years for men to realize that their brain is also important.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011


Smells Like Shari

On Saturday I took the girls down to the Seattle Center and then to The Old Spaghetti Factory for lunch.

We were sitting in the lobby and Lexie says, “it stinks in here.” It didn’t really stink, it just has that old-building smell.

“Yeah! It stinks in here!” Jo said, much louder.

“All buildings and houses have their own smell. This one just smells old,” smart Rebekah pointed out.

Lexie picked up my arm and buried her nose into the sleeve of my turtleneck.

“There, that smells much better,” she said.

Rebekah followed suit and put her nose against my shoulder on the other side.

Then Jo stood between my legs and nestled her face into my cleavage.

“It smells like Shari,” Lexie said and all girls agreed.

Who cares if we looked like a totally doofus family, sitting in the Speg Fac, with three girls smelling their mom? It was one of the most fulfilling moments of my life.

Monday, September 05, 2011



We went kamping at a KAO this weekend. One of our afternoon activities was playing charades.

My six-year-old was, among other things, a cherry, a ballerina, Justin Bieber and a cowgirl. Lex’s charade playing is solid.

My four-year-old played with a bit more flare. Her standout charade moments included:

Sunday, July 31, 2011


An Attempt at Poetry (Don't Laugh)


We ran out of milk so he left for the store

For ten years I lay my cheek on his shoulder
Every morning I hugged his waist and he kissed my head

We ran out of milk so he left for the store

We built a life together
We lived in a house, on a street, with our children, our dog, our neighbors, our lawn

We ran out of milk so he left for the store

At the same time we needed milk
A different man, in a different house, on a different street wanted whisky

We ran out of time and he left forever

Monday, May 30, 2011


Burning Calories

For Christmas, my mom gave me this heart monitor. You strap it to your sternum and put the watch thingy on and you can see how fast your heart is beating. It calculates how many calories you are burning.

Guess how many calories I burn getting my kids ready for school in the morning.

Wait for it….


On the third day of wearing my little contraption, I happened to look at my wrist as I was trying to get the girls into the car. Of course I was running late.

Jo (who is three) had both arms wide open with a hand on either side of the car and was stiff as a board. She was screaming, “I don’t want to go to school-day!”

Meanwhile, Lexie (who is five) was in her car seat, kicking the back of the front seat screaming, “Don’t put her in here!” and the seven year old had her hands over both ears and was screaming, “BE QUIET!! I have a headache”.

I glanced my wrist and sure enough, my heart beat was 120. No wonder it says I burn so many calories in the morning.

Speaking of burning calories, I’ve taken up running. Well, I fast-walk with a little jogging thrown in, every Sunday. I’m looking for an ap or tool that will do the following.

1. Let me set it for interval notification. For instance, after five minutes it will say, “run” and then after one minute it will say, “walk now” etc.

2. Track my mileage. What would really be cool is a GPS / map mash-up.

Do you know of anything like that?

Sunday, May 08, 2011


A Note to My Mother

Recently, I’ve had a few meetings at Padelford Hall at University of Washington. Every time I park my car in that janky parking lot and ride up those creepy escalators, I think about how my mom must have felt the first time she took me to my college.

Why the university has anything for new students in that building, I will never understand. That building makes the Winchester Manson look simple.

I, of course, remember little of the day. We went there, “we” found my testing rooms, we did all the things you have to do before you start college.

As I think back now, I have a whole new appreciation for my mother. I try to picture myself, taking Rebekah up that nasty escalator in that strange parking lot, evidence of homeless dwellers everywhere. And then entering that maze of a building and trying to get figure out where the heck we needed to be to take tests that cost me hundreds of dollars (that my daughter promptly failed). I don’t remember my mom being stressed out at all. I’m sure she was. I know my mom. She was stressed out. But why don’t I remember it?

My grandfather passed away last December. As the family was sitting around reminiscing, we started talking about the trip we all took to Minnesota the summer before my 5th grade year. My mom pointed out that she had sprained her ankle when we got to the cabin.

Again, I hadn’t remembered that. I remember a fun week, frolicking with all of my cousins. Now that I have three small children, I know exactly what it would be like to be at a lake cabin, cooking and cleaning for a houseful of kids on “vacation” with my husband’s family (as opposed to my own family, who I could bitch and be nasty with and they’d be genetically disposed to put up with me) and to have a sprained ankle.

But again, I only have only the vaguest of memories of a sprained ankle.

I think most people with good mothers remember them in this way. We remember them less as people and more like the constant guiding force that was just in the peripheral. Maybe a little like the sky. I know I look up at the sky every day of my life, but no single particular images of the sky come to mind when I think of the sky. I appreciate the sky, and think it’s beautiful and am very grateful that it is protecting me from space, but I take it for granted and so does my memory.

Tina Fey’s poem, A Prayer for My Daughter, has a great ending:

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Lately the delayed gratitude for my mother has been washing over me. This morning I make a Mental Note to call her.

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