Don't Try This At Home

WFMW: Carbona Stain Removers

I LOVE Carbona Stain Devils. Each bottle is for a different kind of stain; they also have an all-purpose one that comes in a larger bottle. There is even a color-run remover! No more pink undies because you washed your son's red baseball socks with the whites! (Not that I've done this, mind you. Just, you know, for example.)

I have yet to come across a stain Carbona could not handle.

• Blueberries? Check
• Rust? Check
• Tea? Check
• Greasy juice from Taco Bueno burrito/taco/whatever? Check
• Copius amounts of blood? Check

The next time you are out, you need to get several of these. I have found them at Wal-Mart and Jo-Ann's Fabric stores. I usually pick up a different one every time I go to the store. That way I don't mind paying the three or four dollars. I also end up with a variety of stain removers and always have the one I need.

To view more hints and tips, visit Rocks In My Dryer the original Works for Me Wedneday tipster!

Popcorn

Popcorn has been an integral part of my life. It is actually part of some of my very earliest memories. My dad used to make popcorn and I would help him eat it. We have pictures of me eating popcorn with him when I was a year old! I would run up and grab a handful of popcorn and run off to eat it. Over and over and over.

My parents were never terribly strict on bedtimes. If my brother or I went to bed and couldn't sleep we could get up and check out what was going on. That usually meant sharing popcorn with my dad and snuggling in with my mom. As I grew, I didn't always leave my bed for the popcorn. By the time I was in grade school, I was asleep and didn't care if I missed the late night popcorn because I knew Dad would make too much and he'd leave it in the bowl until the next day. Saturday mornings I would wake up to watch cartoons and snack on the leftover popcorn. That was my hands-down favorite food for a very long time.

You have to remember that I’m old enough to know what the world was like before microwave popcorn bags. I can make popcorn on the stove. I can make popcorn in an air popper. I can make popcorn from a bag. Of all of them my favorite is the air popper. My family started out with the regular air popper. Then we had a spiffy microwave air popper (it sort of looked like this only square). My mom gave it to me a few years ago and I brought it home. My husband, aka The Consolidator, obviously didn’t know what it was and couldn’t be bothered to ask so he threw it away. I pouted for a very long time, but it didn’t bring back my popper. That Christmas my dad gave me a regular old air popper…and I love it. I would venture to say that 80% of the popcorn I make is air popped. I love the way it tastes, the fact that I decide how much butter goes on, how the butter makes the popcorn kind of wet, how I can salt as much or as little as I want. Heaven, I tell you.

Now when I make popcorn, I usually do it after the kids go to bed. I don’t like to share my loot because they pick out all the buttery ones. Sure, I hear about it when they wake up: “Mom! You know you aren’t supposed to eat popcorn without us! You broke the rule!” Of course, that’s an arbitrary, made-up-by-a-munchkin rule that doesn’t count in my grown-up world. I tell them I’ll try not to do it again. They know I can’t help myself.

My dad still makes popcorn. He has a huge green bowl that, I swear, if you actually filled it up with popcorn, it would take a week to eat it all. When I visit him and his wife, we wait until my kids go to bed to make popcorn. Of course, they hear it and smell it and just can’t help themselves so they come tip-toeing out to the TV room with expectant looks on their faces. “Mom? I can’t really sleep…oh. Did you make popcorn? Can I have some?” And I give them a hug and let them curl up beside me on the couch to eat as much as they want.

If you decide to post your own Monday Memory, let me know and I'll link to you!

These Kids Are Killin' Me!

Wild Thing (during one of our morning cuddle sessions): Mom, you’re crappin’ me up! I'm guessing she meant crackin' me up since, well...just because.

Max (during our first attempt to make homemade bread. Which, btw, was delicious.): When do we add the crust?

WFMW: Just For Redheads

Unless you're a redhead, today's WFMW may not help you much. However, if you are a redhead you must check out Just For Redheads. This site designs cosmetics specifically for our coloring! That's right! No more black mascara that looks ridiculous. (And trust me, if you're a redhead wearing black mascara, you look silly. I'm sorry. I don't mean to offend, but get thee to JFR pronto!) I personally wear Ginger Red and couldn't live without it. This site also has terrific colors in lipstick and everything else you need. It also has plenty of sensitive skin options.

I will grant that ol' Paula Pennypacker (do you really think that's her given name?) is a wee bit on the narcissistic side. She's the founder, the spokeswoman, and the main model. You can't swing a dead cat without hitting her picture on the website. Normally, that would completely turn me off, but this stuff is exactly the right color and no more expensive than what you're already buying. Paula can tattoo herself on my hip if I look great and still have money to go out.

To view more hints and tips, visit Rocks In My Dryer the original Works for Me Wedneday tipster!

Summer Reads

Today is the last day of school for us and thus the official start of our summer. In honor of that milestone, I thought I'd suggest a few good pool books for you to read this summer. Shannon and I have discussed that we don't like to read just anything. There are so many good books that we hate to waste time on the bad ones. Sometimes, though, like at the pool, you just need something you can read quickly and don't have to concentrate on. These are those books. These are the books I read in the car so I can stop reading quickly and stop a fight then get back to reading. These are the books I take to the pool so I can watch the kids and read at the same time. Even so, because I hate to waste time on bad books--even if they serve a purpose--I like to think that my version of a flaky book is still above average. (Disclaimer: The book descriptions are from Amazon.com.)

Noble Intentions by Katie Macalister. This book is absolutely hilarious. Yes, this is a harlequin-esque book. Yes, there is sex. There is also an abundance of humor. The ending is horrible and contrived, but did I mention that the book is funny? Get it from the library.

The Other Daughter by Lisa Gardener. A murder mystery. This one has lots of twists and turns  and I read it in a day. Here is the Amazon description: Professional event planner Melanie Stokes does not suspect that the death of a serial killer in a Texas electric chair 20 years before could have any relevance to her neatly ordered existence. But as it becomes clear that the life she's known (as the adopted daughter of Boston cardiologist Harper Stokes and his trophy wife, Patricia) is based on ugly secrets and bloody lies, her world unravels. With the help of FBI Agent David Riggs, who makes up for his lack of physical agilityAthe result of ankylosing spondylitis (bad back problems)Awith finely honed reflexes, street smarts and pure sex appeal, Melanie unearths what an intricately planned 25-year-old cover-up can't hide: the gruesome truth about her parentage.

Harlan Coben books--Any of them! After two or three, you'll see that they are all similar, but even so, they keep you coming back. Here are the ones I've read.

• The Innocent: Matt Hunter made a mistake when he was 20 years old and paid for it with a four-year stint in prison that left him with a determination never to be locked up again. Finally, his life is back on the promising track he was taking before he accidentally killed a man: He has a good job, a newly pregnant wife he adores, and is about to close on the home of their dreams. Then he gets a couple of bizarre photos on his cell phone that seem to show his wife in a compromising position with a black-haired stranger. But before he can sort out who sent the anonymous pictures and why, he's running from the law--especially from the cop who was his best friend in grade school, and a sharp young detective who's stepped right into the middle of an FBI investigation spurred by the discovery that a dead nun who wasn't who she claimed to be is somehow mixed up in Matt and Olivia Hunter's life. Coben deftly wields a complicated plot involving a missing stripper, a dead gangster, an incriminating videotape, and a couple of agents who aren't quite who they seem to be, while Hunter manages to hold onto his faith in Olivia despite her clouded past and uncertain future. Like all Coben's protagonists, Hunter is a nice, middle-class New Jersey boy who's still the innocent of the title, despite the miscarriage of justice that sent him to prison. Or was it? That's the moral question at the heart of this tightly constructed thriller, which will no doubt shoot directly to the top of the bestseller list, and deservedly so.
• Gone for Good: Newcomers and fans alike will know they're deep in Coben country with the author's ninth book, in which a counselor of runaways with his own history of broken hearts and death finds himself caught in a web of lost identities, forgotten nemeses and smoldering grudges. Will Klein was a nice Jewish boy from a nice Jersey suburb until his ex-girlfriend was found strangled next door and his brother became an international fugitive. Eleven years later, as his mother succumbs to cancer, Will gets the deathbed confession that his brother, Ken, is alive; around the same time, his girlfriend, Sheila (herself a runaway with a "murky past"), disappears and a neighborhood psycho called the Ghost resurfaces. Will is yanked into an FBI investigation via his friend Squares (a yogi whose forehead tattoo carries multiple meanings), which jumbles up the aforementioned cast of characters with another mystery occurring in the Midwest. True to form, Coben keeps the plot twists coming fast and furious, and readers will give up trying to guess the outcome quite early on; yet the book's entertainment value lies less in its plot than its characters. From the New York streetwalker Raquel ("Many transvestites are beautiful. Raquel was not. He was black, six-six, and comfortably on the north side of three hundred pounds") to Belmont, Neb.'s Sheriff Bertha Farrow ("Murder scenes were bad, but for overall vomit-inducing, bone-crunching, head-splitting, blood-splattering grossness, it was hard to beat the metal-against-flesh effect of an old-fashioned automobile accident"), this title delivers.
• No Second Chance: Supercharged by a father's fierce drive to rescue his kidnapped daughter, Coben's third stand-alone thriller proves far more gripping than his second, Tell No One. Marc Seidman, a plastic surgeon near New York City, wakes up in a hospital to learn that he has been gravely wounded, his wife shot dead and his infant daughter, Tara, snatched. The ensuing narrative, which shuttles between third person and Marc's first person, covers more than a year in Marc's hunt for Tara and climaxes twice with his fumbling of payments in response to ransom demands, plunging him into despair. A smartly drawn supporting cast supports Marc in his quest, including an old girlfriend-an ex-FBI agent-who reappears in his life; Marc's lawyer, who's also his best friend; a cop/FBI duo who for a while suspect Marc of engineering the snatch and ransom demands; and a working-class hero who joins forces with Marc near the end of his hunt and steals every scene he's in. On the villain's side lurk several shady folk, including a psychopathic former child star and her hulking boyfriend. The plot is overly complicated, and there's a revelation at book's end that veteran thriller readers will have sussed out long before. Those flaws matter little, though, in the face of the emotional onslaught of Marc's gut-wrenching, self-questioning, relentless narration, which will carry readers like a tidal wave through the novel's twists and turns.
• Tell No One: David Beck has rebuilt his life since his wife's murder eight years ago, finishing medical school and establishing himself as a pediatrician, but he's never forgotten the woman he fell in love with in second grade. And when a mysterious e-mail arrives on the anniversary of their first kiss, with a message and an image that leads him to wonder whether Elizabeth might still be alive, Beck will stop at nothing to find the truth that's eluded him for so many years. A powerful billionaire is equally determined to make sure his role in her disappearance never comes to light, even if it means destroying an innocent man.
• Just One Look: The premise is simple enough: suburban housewife Grace Lawson collects some pictures at the local Photomat; inexplicably, one is an old print depicting her husband, Jack, with other college students; when Grace shows the photo to Jack, he drives away-and disappears. Grace's hunt for her missing husband, whom we learn has been kidnapped (but why? and Coben fans will note that the author's last novel also hinged on a kidnapped family member), sweeps her back into a nightmare she thought she'd escaped: the evening years ago when she survived a rock concert rampage, occasioned by a shooting that left many dead. Meanwhile, Eric Wu, a-dare we say?-inscrutable martial-arts killer who has snatched Jack for reasons unknown, menaces assorted folk. Eventually Grace, aided by a Gotti-like mobster whose child was killed in the rampage, gloms on to Wu, as well as on to Jack's sister, a high-powered attorney who, it turns out, is representing the guy who started the rampage by firing his gun. Only he didn't start the rampage after all, and then there's the rock star who vanished after the shooting and resultant mayhem-what's he now doing on Grace's doorstep? This is all as complicated as a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle and about as hard to figure out, although in the midst of the murk there are some wonderful character touches.

Check out MomRN2

Shannon, Everyday Mommy, and I have come up with a new design for our friend over at MomRN2. Those of you who haven't visited her recently may not know that her daughter is very, very ill. The three of us just wanted to do something that would bring a smile to her face. Go check out the new digs and say hi to MomRN2! She could definitely use any words of encouragement you have. Besides, who doesn't like having a little traffic to their site?

In Which I Receive the All-Time Worst Mother Award

Today I suck. Seriously. I. Su-huck.

This morning I decided that since it's the next-to-last-day at school, I should call one of Wild Thing's friends and see if they want to go to lunch after we pick up the girls. I left messages on the home phone and on the cell phone. I didn't hear back, but hey, I'd probably see the friend at pick-up so no big.

When I drove up to the school I saw every mother in Wild Thing's class on the playground. Dammit. I forgot the damn picnic. Yes. I was supposed to be at Wild Thing's class with a sack lunch at 10:30. I got there for pick-up at 11:20.

The moms descended on me and said, "We would have called, but we didn't want you to feel bad or rush over." What? Huh? How does that erase my feeling bad? I feel worse now. And hello? Of course I would have rushed over. BECAUSE I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THERE. Whatever. Everyone shared their Cheetos with Wild Thing and she seemed to be fine with it.

I took her to Subway for lunch and then we went to see a matinee of The Shaggy Dog. She also got her very own popcorn. I was totally sucking up. I'm still sad that I forgot. She has told me multiple times that it's OK. And for her, it probably is. For me, I don't know when I'll get over it.

Monday Memories

I have been considering doing a weekly column post for a while now. I’ve always thought it would help me to have at least one day when I already know what I’m going to write about. Shannon encouraged me to brainstorm ideas and I have come up with Memory Monday.

As the name implies, every Monday I will write about one of my memories. Already, as I’ve been thinking about which memories to write about, I’ve found some I hadn’t thought of in years. I would love it if you all would join me. Our memories are where we came from. Sharing them with others can give us all a new perspective on our virtual friends. Your memories can be in words or pictures or both! Let me know if you participate and I will provide a link to you on my sidebar. 

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Although I consider myself to be an intelligent woman, I have to say that sometimes I’m one taco short of a fiesta pack. Here is my proof.

In high school two of my best friends were guys (for the purposes of this story let’s call them Randy and Aaron). At least once every weekend we would go out together and have a great time. I listened to them when they had problems with girls and they listened to me as I bemoaned my poor choices in dates.

One Friday night they picked me up from work. My understanding was that it would be Randy, Aaron, Aaron’s girlfriend, and me. We’d party hop, drag the strip, whatever. It’s Small Town, after all. If we didn’t spend the whole night at the arcade we’d be ahead of the curve. Instead, we went to a place we called The Grass Highway. It was basically a bunch of wheat fields outside of town. I figured there was a party out there or something so I kept looking for the other cars. Instead we parked the car and Aaron and his girlfriend got out and said they’d be back later. Randy and I were in the back seat.

Anyone see what’s going on here? Yeah, well, I didn’t. I seriously thought we would be leaving in a few minutes after Aaron and GF found what they were looking for and came back. I sat in the back seat of that car and talked to Randy for two hours. Looking back on it, I see that Randy was making several moves on me and I was oblivious to all them. It never occurred to me that one of my BFFs would be making the moves on me. To this day I wonder what would have been had I used my women’s intuition, or at the very least, my brain. I can only hope that Wild Thing will be as naïve as I was and that Max’s girlfriends will be just as clueless.

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Depression Medication

When I finally decided to start seeing someone about my depression problem I was in my mid-20s. I was diagnosed with major depression and put on medication. Since then I have taken several different ones (some together, some not): Paxil, Zoloft, Welbutrin, Prozac, Celexa, Lexapro. I think there are others, but frankly, I’ve lost track. I am currently researching Effexor. The reason I've taken so many is a) I've been on medication for a while now, b) in the beginning you may need to try different things, and c) I tend to plateau after two years on a given medication and then must change. Your mileage may vary.

Each of these drugs is known as an SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor) except for Effexor which is SNRI (serotonin-norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor). I have no experience with SNRI drugs and am not sure if I’m a candidate or not. I will call my psychiatrist next week to discuss my options.

One complaint many people have about depression medication is that the side effects are annoying. Some people feel “foggy”, while others feel a little “jazzed”. One effect that is almost universal to these medications is an inhibited libido. These are all issues you need to bring up directly with your caregiver.

While taking any medication it is important to know how it will interact with the other medications you are taking. Although your doctor should tell you if there will be conflicts, she may not be aware (this is probably more true with a PCP than a psychiatrist). For example, did you now that if you’re taking an SSRI drug that calcium will inhibit the absorption of the SSRI into your system? However, if you take your SSRI drug in the morning, you can wait until about noon and take the calcium supplement with no problems. I was not aware of this and my psychiatrist did not tell me. I did the research myself then called to discuss it with her.

This brings up an important point: YOU are your best advocate. You cannot rely on a doctor to answer all your questions. Why? Because you don’t always know the right questions to ask and your doctor doesn’t know what you do or don’t know. The doctor can usually only answer what you ask. Research is the only way you will know which questions are important.

Friends, I hope you find what you need. I hope you will take the time to research your options and find someone to with whom you can discuss those options. There are so many new things on the market right now. You can be happy again. I wish you the best of mental health.

MomRN2

One of my blog pals, MomRN2, is having an extremely hard week. Her daughter is very, very ill. I normally wouldn't ask this, but please go visit her site and give her your good thoughts. She really needs them right now.

Thanks.