An Apple a (whole frickin') day

Yes, I'm aware it's been almost 5 months since my last post.

So, last night, in my rush to make a yoga class on time, I dropped my phone.  My iPhone, to be more specific.  I didn't look at my phone until I was in the car, ready to jam to my iTunes.  

Sonofa.

The phone must've hit the kitchen floor in the most perfectest (yes, it was that. perfect.) way to completely eff it up.  I've dropped this phone lots of times never and nothing like this has happened before.  I guess practice makes perfect?  I've never ever done anything like this, ever, so imagine my surprise that a) it happened in the first place and b) it was as bad as it was.  There were all these white lines going down the length of the left side of the screen.  The right side?  Perfectly intact.  I was able to text my sister "y-u-p" as those letters were all on the right side of the keyboard.  Of course, I had to hit the camera button to get the phone unlocked, then click the center button to get to the home screen, but hey, I'm resourceful.  And my iTunes worked.  So, I didn't worry and continued to my yoga class.

After some namaste-ing, I came back to the phone.  And, because of my new state of calm, expected the phone to have reset or something while I was away.  Isn't that what happens?  You do nothing and it just fixes itself?  No?  Crap.  I was, unfortunately, left with the dreaded task of telling the husband.  No amount of yoga breathing could get me out of it.

This led to a mini-lecture about how I should be more careful (a doy) and an hour phone call to Apple or ATT&T, whomever he called.  Good news was I was eligible for an upgrade.  Just had to go to the store and get a new phone.  (Yay, new phone!)

This morning, we went to AT&T.  Got the new phone (yay!).  The salesperson told me I should make an appointment at the Apple store to sync all the information from my old phone to my new phone.  Sounded easy enough.  I scheduled an appointment at the Apple store.    

That was a mistake.

The (very nice) Apple guy told me that, basically, I could do whatever I needed to do from the comforts of my home.  Smiled (nicely) and (nicely) sent me on my way.

Ugh.  Fine, whatever.

I went home and plugged my new phone into my computer. 

Error #1:  You must download the newest version of iTunes

I've been putting this off for months (years?), ever since a FB friend asked if there was a way to undo the download.  I wanted no part of that.  But, if I had to, I had to.  Clicked on "update software".

Error #2:  You have too much shit on your computer.  Remove some and you can download iTunes.

Well, hell.  How do I do that?  As it was, we had an external hard drive for our photos.  What more could I do? 

Since I had no idea how to find files to delete, I went to Apple's site to find the (very nice) tech support.

Error #3:  You must use the latest version of Firefox for Apple Support.  Or something like that.  Basically, if you're using this version of Firefox, we have bigger problems.

Oh, fercrankinaford.

After an hour on the phone - an hour of deleting files, downloading iTunes, creating new accounts, resetting the phone (twice) - tech support (nicely) sent me on my merry way. 

Is it working?  I have no idea.  According to the phone connected to the computer, I still have 7 hours remaining in my backup process to know for sure.  It's usable.  However, none of my apps are on the phone, but, then again, my darling wallpaper is there. 

That's a start, I guess. 

I am a yogi

The definition of yogi is "one who practices yoga".  Or, in other circles, "An American baseball player, born 1925".  Today, I'm writing about the former.  I'll most likely never write about the latter (no offense, Yogi).

Obviously, there is a lot of information out there about yoga.  And I'm sure most of it is true.  Even if it is on the Internet.  I believe yoga is whatever you want it to be.  For me, it's a way to challenge myself physically, while helping me find ways to reduce my stress level.  While I understand there's an "awareness of your inner self" component, I had never, um, been aware.

I've been practicing yoga religiously since that first class I took 2 years ago.   I can now say with conviction that yoga is my thing.  It's challenging and relaxing at the same time.  It's exactly what someone like me needs. 

While I practice regularly at home, I like to take classes.  About a year ago, I found a yoga studio I truly love.  I go with friends, I go alone.  I just go.  I go to class with a few friends every Saturday morning.  It's early, but that's what's so great about it.  We come, we see, we conquer.  And then go for Starbucks after.  Bliss. 

Anyway, my studio partnered with some others in the area to put on this free yoga event last night.  So, my SIL and I decided we'd go.  Along with several hundreds of our closest yogi friends.  When would we have the chance again to practice outside the Rock Hall for free?

It was everything I had hoped for.  I know I'm totally drinking the Kool-Aid here, but I don't care.  We started out in shavasana, looking up at the stars.  My SIL and I were all, "Yeah, this is the coolest."  I closed my eyes and listened to the world around me.  I heard crickets and traffic and the wind blowing.  I got the goosebumps.  I was aware.

At one point in the evening, our instructor referred to us as yogis.  Before this night, I just thought of myself as someone who practices yoga.  But something switched on inside me (again, the Kool-Aid) and I agreed with her.  I am a yogi.

The rest of the class was similar to what we do.  Aside from me taking pictures of the crowd while in downward dog.  Details.  It was an event I'll have a hard time forgetting.  Even with my terrible memory.

I am a yogi.              

How I spent my summer vacation

I just had to tell my 8-year-old niece to be aware of her lady bits.  At.  All.  Times.

What is this world coming to?

And so marks the end of another fun summer!  School starts in 2 days, which means we have 2 days to cram as much fun into their little systems as can be allowed without a search warrant.

First stop?  The dentist!  Yaaaaaay!!

Okay, this was probably the crappiest thing I could've done to my boys this summer.  But, they'll thank me for it someday. 

The other night, I synced my phone to the computer, moving about 300 pictures from my phone to the computer.  And then I looked at the pictures.

You know what?  It was a pretty fun summer.  Go me!

I mean, yeah, we had some crappy weather and some lazy days, but we did do stuff.  I have pictures of the kids:

at the zoo
at the beach
at the pool
in DC 
on a scavenger hunt at the nature center
at the beach (again)
on a hike, feeding ducks
at the water park
putt-putting
running through Target like crazy people
at the zoo (again) (and again)
on the slip-n-slide
eating ice cream
on a day trip to Put-in-Bay (an island on Lake Erie about 3 miles off the mainland)
an African safari!

It was a fun summer.  They might not remember it, but I sure will.  It will keep me warm on those cold lonely nights at the old folks' home.

But now we must look ahead.  School supplies have been bought (and are sitting in a pile on my dining room table).  The 5-year-old has Kindergarten orientation Wednesday, but school technically starts for him on Friday.

Sigh.  I'm going to have a hard time letting go of that one.  He's my youngest.  And, to me, he's still a baby.  It probably has to do with the fact that he can't say his Rs properly and would still prefer I wipe his ass (let's face it, I'm better at it).  And while he has a great Kindergarten teacher, she's. not. me.

So, yeah.  This sucks.

But?  I am looking forward to my Twilight marathon!    

Coolest Mom in the World!

Remember when I told you about my history with Super Mario Bros?  Well, the Coolest Mom in the World strikes again!

Picture it: 
It is morning.  Our Wednesday visitor shows up before my children wake.  We chat for about a half hour (he's a talker, that one; cracks me up).  I ask if he wants to play Wii.

Turns out the kids' new (old) game to play is Super Mario Bros (again).  Yay!  I know this game!

We turn it on.  He plays a round.  I tell him my history with the game.  How I've beaten the game.

Him (wide eyed):  You've beaten this game??
Me (solemnly):  Yes.  Yes, I did.
Him:  Whoa!

Yes, that's right.  I'm amazing because I've beaten a Nintendo game.  I can die happy now.

Then I play a round for him.  I'm dodging mushroom guys left and right!  I'm getting extra lives he doesn't know exist!  I'm getting 5,000 points just by jumping the flag correctly! 

I.  Rock.  It. 

The kid is enthralled.  I love this kid.  My kids don't think I'm nearly as cool.  They usually roll their eyes any time I try to show off my awesomeness.  Not this kid.  He is immensely impressed. 

I think I'd like to keep him as one of my own.  I'm pretty sure his mom won't mind.

Finally, my lazy ones come down the stairs.  They go to the basement, as usual.  Our visitor tells them what I have just accomplished.  (To be fair, I only got to somewhere in the 5th level, but still.  They haven't gotten that far.)

I'm upstairs in the kitchen, listening to his tale.  A lot of "She did this!" and "She did that!"  They were all, "She did?!"  It?  Was fantastic. 

I wonder if they give you a tiara for Coolest Mom or is it just a T-shirt?

Playing house

Yesterday, while I was evoking arthritis in the fingers making friendship bracelets, the kids abandoned me and went outside to play in the rain.  As I was intent on (read:  could not stop) the task at hand, I paid little to no attention to them.

Finally, I looked up to relieve the neck cramp I'd gotten from being hunched over for 8 hours straight and saw the children outside, struggling with a full bucket of soapy water.  They were lugging it over to the play set.  Also with a stack full of (clean white) washcloths.  In the 8-year-old's defense, I believe I granted permission, but what do I know?  I was trying not to mess up my bracelet.

What were they doing, you ask?

Cleaning their play set. 

They have been playing "Little House on the Prairie" for days now and the play set has become their log cabin.  So, they washed it, like any good adult does (not this adult, but hey, whatever).  It was so adorable, I had to stop my bracelet-making (which was going horribly wrong anyway) to watch.  The awesome neighbors' kids were over, too.  Imagine a 2-year-old with a dirty (yet soapy) towel, washing down a slide. 

A.Dor.Able.  

8-year-old:  I never knew it was this fun to clean.
Me:  Oh?  If you're looking for something to clean...
8-year-old:  I mean, with water and stuff. 

If they're this excited about cleaning, I'll give them things to clean.  With water even!  They have a perfectly cleanable bathroom upstairs just waiting for them.

Hey, kids?  Where'd you go?

One reason I don't have girls

I always assumed I'd have girls.  Or, at least one girl.  Someone to play Barbies with, someone whose nails I could paint, someone whose hair I could French braid (I can do a wicked French braid).  Someone to play dress up with.

(Okay, I admit I played dress up with the 8-year-old when he was 6 months old.  He looked... like a boy in a dress.  It wasn't as much fun as I thought it'd be.  [And, don't tell him I did that.])

So, God had other plans for me.  He gave me the boys, he gave my brother the girls.  I find it quite amusing that my brother has all girls.  Beautiful, beautiful girls.  My brother, in his youth, was quite mean to the girls.  He's a good looking guy and all the girls liked him.  And he was kind of a dick to all of them.  In return, he liked the one girl who was a dick to him.  Go figure.

Anyway, at least I have my nieces to play dress up with and French braid their hair.  I am fortunate enough to spend a lot of time with my nieces during the week and indulge my inner girlie girl.

Today, friendship bracelets were on the agenda.  Remember these things?



They were all the rage when I was a kid.  I remember I spent an entire summer making these with my friends.  They, like us, were pretty awesome.  So, I got a little excited when I told her we could make these.

And then I tried to remember how to make them.

My niece has a Friendship Bracelet KIT.  A kit.  When I was a kid, we'd just go up to the local craft store and buy tons of different colored thread and make up our own designs.  Nowadays, kids can't think on their own, so you have to tell them, in detail, how to do everything.  What could come in this kit other than the thread, I thought.

Instructions!

As with most instructions, I felt I was reading Chinese.  What the hello is a number 4 knot?  I consulted our good friend, YouTube.  Okay, now I knew what a number 4 knot.  Back to the instructions.

Make a backwards number 4 knot.

Ugh.  I don't remember it being this hard.  My bracelet looks like dreadlocks on a white person.  Just a tangled mess that no amount of conditioner will help.  Just, no.  Give me an epic Lego battle any day.  Let's blow fake shit up.  Why can't we just make normal braided bracelets?

I can even French braid it!              

A rainy day at our house

So, that muthafucka Mother Nature screwed me again yesterday.  I had all kinds of fun outdoor activities planned for us.  Instead, the skies opened and vomited rain all over my fun.

Pretty picture?  Imagine how I felt.

We started off the day with a failed science experiment I got from my good friend, Pinterest.  In theory, it should've worked.  I understood the science behind it.  I explained the science behind it.  The kids were excited to help.  But, after it didn't do what I said it would do, they quickly lost (P)interest.  So much for that. 

Then came the rain.  At first, it consisted of a few big fat drops.  Those?  Are fun.  I pushed (with force) cajoled the children into staying outside during this period.  These kids are turning into pansies.  I mean, who doesn't have fond memories of playing in the rain?

After some time, they realized the error of their ways and I thoroughly enjoyed watching them (from the safety of the front porch [there comes an age when getting wet isn't fun anymore, mIright?]) ride their bikes, splashing through puddles.

The weather, of course, got worse, so we had to come inside.  That meant 5 obnoxiously loud (I love them individually, but, altogether?  They are loud.) children were running amok through the house.

My solution?

A movie.

You bet I did.  In my defense, I had 5 children running amok in the house.  Enough said.

And then came the fun part.  After the movie was over and the young one went down for a nap, I made the older kids do homework.

Heh.

I bet Mother Nature will think twice next time about messing up my children's day.