Mini Van Dreams

Family Life

First Name Basis

I grew up in small-town USA.  I moved to a military town with my husband.  Then, we uprooted ourselves and moved to even a smaller town.  We are talking tractors on the roads, people actually are friendly, I know my neighbors’ names and their dogs’ names, people at the grocery store know the twins’ names, etc…. small town stuff.

For the few years we have lived here, we had been ordering pizza from a certain place that supposedly won all these awards.  Supposedly, the best place in the county.  Home of champion winning pizza.  Personally, didn’t think it was all that great.  Their subs kinda sucked, to be frank.  (Which, side note… this town is so weird.  Not one of the pizza places have ever heard of mushroom gravy on steak subs.  Really?  Where I came from (about 40 miles south of where I am now) the bomb was a pizza AND mushroom gravy steak sub.  Go figure. )). 

One day, we wanted pizza and ordered it from this hole in the wall in a little strip shopping area.  The.  Best.  Pizza.  Ever.  We’ve never had anything bad there.  We order there once a week (at least.)

So, earlier I mentioned how small the town we live in is.  We call the pizza place these days, they ask us our name… and they ask “the usual?”  Ummmm.  I think we order pizza and subs too much.  We go in to town to pick it up, walk in and they just hand us our order.  They know us by sight.  They give my kids candy when we go in… literally taking change out of the cash drawer to buy it out of the machine for them.  They know I don’t like lettuce on my Italian sub.  They give us extra hot wings.  They’ve given us free subs because they weren’t toasted perfectly.

Don’t get me wrong… I love living in a small town.  I love that I know my neighbors.  I love that on a clear, quiet morning I can hear the cows mooing from the farm down the road.  I love waving to the farmers on their tractors as they pass by.  But, I am on a first-name, recognizable basis with the smallest pizza place in town.  I don’t know if this is good or bad. 

Do you think if I asked, they’d get me some mushroom gravy?

The Worst Part of Motherhood

Don’t get me wrong, I love being a mom more than life itself.  I waited a long time to be blessed with my two little bears.  But, the one thing I hate most about motherhood…


I can’t do anything in the bathroom without at least one kid and usually the dog in there with me.  Going to the bathroom, taking out my contacts, taking a shower, picking my nose… well, you get it.  Do they have a radar for the bathroom entrance?  They can be anywhere in the house and when they see me go in there I hear “Can I come too?” 

The really sad part is, the dog comes in and is able to shut the door—and she does it just to escape the kids!

Unfortunately, my house is so old it doesn’t have a lock on the bathroom door.  Granted, this is an easy fix… but seems like a lot of bother.  Especially since it would just be a matter of time before one or the other locked themselves into the bathroom… and I would have to find the key.  It would just be a hot mess.  (Remind me one day to tell you the baby powder story…)

So, here is how it usually goes.

“Mommy, can I come too?”

“I guess.”

“What’s that?”

“My contact case.”

“Do you put your eyeballs in there?” 

“No, I put my contacts in there.”

“What’s this?” 

“Contact solution.”

“You put that in there?  Is that medicine?”

“No, it’s like salt water.”

“Can I drink it?”

“What’s that?”

“My contact.”

“Does that go in your eye?”


“Can I have a cookie?”

Okay… so, you get the point.  It’s even worse if you are going to the bathroom.

I’ve complained to other mom-friends.  They laughed.  I’ve complained to my mom.  She laughed.  No one told me there was no privacy anymore!  Excuse me for liking to poop in private!

And, by the way, they don’t do this with daddy.  Just mommy. 

I don’t remember this being in the owner’s manual.

The Missing Princess

We had a missing princess at our house this week.

We looked high.  We looked low.  We crawled around on our hands and knees looking for this doll that is smaller than the palm of my hand.  We tore the house apart.  No luck.

Nana was called for clues.  “Where’s the princess?”  I asked.  She replied, “Morgan is missing?”  I hung up on her and continued my search.  I had a hysterical three year old to contend with.  One who was convinced her brother took it and hid it from her.  (Chances are, she threw it at him and that’s how it got lost, but I digress…)

Last night, my husband went to Walmart after work to buy a hose sprayer.  Morgan saw it and asked what it was.  He showed her and explained to her how it works.  She came out to me in the living room and showed it to me and explained how it worked– almost verbatium to what her daddy said.  She demonstrated how to pull the handle back and how to change the water patterns.  All of a sudden, in the middle of her explanation she declares “I have to go hide now.”  And off she trots to the couch and their little “hideout”. 

Minutes tick by.  This momma was relaxing for five minutes.  I hear a muffled squeal.

“There she is!  I found her!”  Okay, so it didn’t sound that clear– her head was buried in the back of the couch. 

Morgan’s head pokes out of the back of the couch and she said “Look, I found her!  She was hiding in the couch.”  I had one happy little girl.  Sleeping Beauty was even treated to a bath.  Of course, being the notorious smart ass that I am, in my head I am thinking “Oh, good… now we won’t have to call out the FBI.”   

This brings up a few points in Juliaville.  Where does this stuff go?  It disappears and you look high and low and it just shows up?! 

Do I have a black hole in my house? 

Does anyone else have this problem? 

And… do you think I should clean behind my couch more? 

If only I had time…

First Post

I’ve always wanted to start a blog.  A couple times, I have started one and never really went back to it.  (Wait!  Don’t leave!)  I used to have a website way back when Geocities was still around… but, when they shut down I never did anything more.

Which, brings me to this.  I have friends that have blogs.  I have co-workers that have blogs.  So, hey, why not?

Here I am. 

Stay tuned.