Ellie on Relationships

Ellie: What's wrong Mommy?
Me: Oh nothing. I'm just frustrating your father.
Ellie: (nonchalantly) Well, that happens sometimes.

Me

It's not often I make an appearance on the site. But Dave thought this was a good picture of me and asked me to post it.

The Lake II

Arrrgh, It Being That Time of Yearrr

Yes, it is the day we know you've been waiting for all year—International Talk Like a Pirate Day.
So bone up on your arrghs, me harties, and scurvvy dogs. They're bound to come in useful. Oh and may we suggest ending the day with one of favorite bedtime storrrries: Pirates Don't Change Diapers.

Conversations Overheard

Ellie: Winnie stop licking me. I'm not food. I just smell good.

USPS Sucks The Big One

To say I'm disappointed in USPS would be an understatement. Their customer service is deplorable. Here's the caveat to this global statement: my postman Curtis who I adore, is the best postman around and the staff at my local post office (even though they have a tendency to close 5-10 minutes before 6:00) are fantastic. Really! I mean it. My disgust with their employer does not extend to them.

But by in large, I am unhappy. Why? Because their express overnight delivery is a joke. Something you put your faith and trust in (not to mention your money) and it lets you down in a major way.

Backstory: We had a customer who ordered a gift for her daughter's birthday. The party is tomorrow and we expressed shipped the tutu overnight on Wednesday. She lives in New York City (not remote so no possibility of it needing 2 days to arrive). It is Friday and she has yet to receive it. And when she called the post office to get more information about the packages whereabouts, she was greeted with terrible customer service. An almost glee in telling her they couldn't do anything about it.

So I called too. And the first woman I spoke with also said there was nothing they could do. I explained that I spend countless dollars with them and that they are in the service industry and it was not acceptable that they couldn't help me in determining where this package was and when it would be delivered. I mean extra money was paid.

I was routed to a supervisor.

The supervisor took my information and told me she would start the process for the research into it. However when I asked when I would hear back from someone (after she told me I would receive a call) she couldn't help me. I know the previous person I spoke to told me that the express department was out for the day. Does this mean I'll get a call on Monday or will someone be able to get to me over the weekend? Lady: Ma'am I don't have that information.

What?!? You can't tell me within the span of THREE DAYS when someone might call me back?

I know this—there is a reason FedEx is so successful.

ARGH!

Combining Loves

Every morning Dave goes to Dunkin Donuts. It's part of his routine. I guess since he works from home, he needs a reason to get outside and breath real air instead of this recycled stuff here we've got here in the house.

Anyway, as I was saying he goes every morning. And often he'll bring home something for the kids—a bagel to share, perhaps a couple munckins now and then. Sometimes it's as simple as an orange juice. As a result, my kids have developed quite a love for the DD.

At the same time as this affection for Dunkin Donuts has developed, Jonah has begun to demonstrate a wild fascination with vehicles of all sorts and sizes. Thomas, of course, holds a special place in his heart. Which seems to be the case with all boys of his size.

So what do these two seemingly disparate things have in common? I can't explain it except to say that today as Jonah watched Thomas he spontaneously said, "Choo-choo train getting coffee. Going to Dunkin Donuts." I had to smile. Now that's a boy who knows how to combine his passions.

File Under: Things that are Super Awesome

Rocket Balloons: We had so much fun with these at a friend's house over the weekend. Seriously, I don't know who enjoyed them more, the kids or the adults.

I HATE Spammers

The night before last, Dave and I were settling down to watch Field of Dreams. We've never seen it and there was nothing else on. As we get about 10 minutes into the movie, "If you build it, he will come," my email starts pinging in the other room. I get up to check and I have 30 messages of spam seemingly sent from my own account. They have all been returned by the recipients as spam. What the heck?!?!?! (I can't use the language I really want since this is a blog about my kids after all but feel free to substitute the coarse language word of your choice at select locations throughout this post)

Three minutes later 40 more of the same messages. Six minutes later and my mailbox is rapidly filling up with 100s of bounced messages. Dave urges me to call my hosting service and sure enough this happens all the time. Isn't that nice? Spammers can use any email address they want as their out-going mailbox. Meanwhile people in Indonesia, the US Midwest and Australia think Ellie Bellie Kids is trying to sell them Vigara and Cialis at super crazy reduced prices.

So if you were spammed by what appears to be us, let me clarify, I did not send it. I don't want you to have larger genitals. I do not care if you can not satisfy your lover. I don't have any super secret oops-I've-said-to-much stock tips to share with you. I, like you, hate spammers and hope they get hit by a bus.

There. I hope that clears it up.

Sadly, The Feeling Isn't Mutual

God bless my children, they put up with a lot. Well to be truthful, so do I. But when all is said and done, they are a pretty decent pair. And as draining as it is to have two shadows (make that three now with the addition of the dog) with me all day, every day while I'm trying to grow our business I must say I wouldn't have it any other way.

But Ellie would...

Yesterday as we were running errands, I hear from the backseat of the car:

Ellie: Mommy, when I grow up and have a job, I'm going to have my babies go to school or some other place while I work.
Me: What, don't you like hanging out with me all day?
Ellie: No. It's boring.
Me: Ah. I see.

Now I'm trying not to be too wounded from this heavy-weighted blow from my four-year-old. Instead, I try to think of how many stories we tell in the car, how many songs we sing during a given day (Jonah's favorite is Dan Zane's Pay Me You Owe Me), how we spend every meal together or how just yesterday I made chocolate-chip oatmeal cookies with them and then spent the next 40 minutes cleaning up the mess from them helping while they enjoyed running around screaming like mad people.

No, I will not fall into that guilty trap that all mothers experience regardless of whether they work full-time, part-time, stay at home or work from home. But alas, I wouldn't be honest if I said I wasn't slightly crushed. How can someone so small wield such power? Wait a minute, isn't that what they said about Napoleon?

Sigh. I guess all I can say is, Viva le school starting a week from Monday!