Writes for Kicks

Bingo!

Heather Dorsey — Sat, 03 Jan 2009 17:43:56 GMT

My friend Jennifer and I like to head down to Potawatomi Casino occasionally to play Bingo. She goes a little more often than I do. And she has inducted more than one person into the world of bingo cards, daubers and a smoke-filled non-smoking section.

I believe last night was my third or fourth time in as many years. For the uninitiated, Bingo is crazy! You get a million bingo cards of all different shapes and sizes. It is rare that you actually are trying to get one row like the kind of Bingo we played when we were kids. Instead you are trying to get the "postage stamp" or the "small turtle" or the "crazy kite." You use your ink dauber to mark up to nine cards, at a time, if you buy a single set of cards--more for the people who buy more than one set. They tell you to use the olive-colored sheet next and as you are looking for it they've already called out three numbers. That is when you figure out that olive is really light grey and no one else seems to have any trouble with figuring this out. (Is everyone here color-blind?)

Even though I've gone a number of times and learn a little more each time I go, I still don't know what the heck I am doing half the time. Here's an example from the second time I went. You are given a little door prize number when you purchase your bingo cards. Throughout the evening they call out these numbers and if it is your number you scream "buddy!" at the top of your lungs and then they will come and check your winning ticket, and in a little while, someone will come and hand you some money. I know this from first experience.

I was with Jen and another friend when they called out the first number. I couldn't find my ticket anywhere. We had eaten a snack and threw out the garbage, so I look in to the bag that they have taped to the table (for all your used bingo sheets) and sure enough, in with the napkins and nacho crumbs is my ticket. O.K., cool, crisis adverted. They didn't call my number so I put my ticket in a safe spot this time. We continue to play Bingo and then they call out another number, since my friend Jen's ticket was one number away from mine, she knew they had called out my number. I hadn't even heard them call the number I was still searching for B13 or O73 or something of that nature. I start looking for my ticket...where was that safe place again? My coat pocket, my purse, my jean's pocket...where is it? "Scream buddy!" "Scream buddy!" my friend Jen is yelling at me. I scream, "Buddy!" and then there it is. I find my ticket.

A man comes and takes my ticket and I keep playing. A little while later, he comes back and counts out $250 for me. I kid you not! And I never win anything, or up to that point I rarely did. How fun is that? I was headed out on a vacation that following week and now I had my spending money.

Last night, which was typical, I won nothing. Jen and I had a great time laughing and having fun (quietly), while all the people around us were extremely serious. And, quite frankly, a little snotty. Even though I started out this blog about my winning story, because, well, it's sort of fun, the real reason I wanted to write was about something that we observed while we were playing.

A granddaughter was there with her grandmother and every time the grandmother asked a question or made a comment the granddaughter would reply to her with a snotty tone. I ignored it at first, but after a few times I met eyes with Jen across the table and you could tell she was thinking the same thing I was. I said to Jen, "I really miss my grandma; you know this was the first Christmas I spent without her." Jen had been at the funeral but couldn't believe it had only been a year since my grandmother had died last January.

I then continued, "I never talked to my grandmother like that." And Jen agreed that she had not talked to hers that way, as well. We discussed how much we missed them and how much fun it would be for them to be there with us. She said, "I feel like saying something to her." I agreed. I'm not sure if the girl heard us or not, but she stopped talking so snotty to her grandma so I think maybe she did.

My grandmother was 96 when she died. She was always one of my number-one fans. She was also funny, really funny. And my cousin's child thought she was called "great grandmother" because she was so great. If you are fortunate enough to have your grandparents still alive, make time for them and cherish them. One thing I loved to do with my grandmother, when she was still alive, was to stop at Taco Bell and get tacos (she loved them) and then take her to the playground so we could chat while she watched her grandchildren play. She loved getting out of the assisted living facility she was in. Later when she was placed in a nursing home and went down hill fast, my goal was always to cheer her up and make her smile before I left. If I was having a bad week, nothing cheered me up more than heading to visit my grandmother.

The price of the taco: about 79 cents, I believe. The visits were priceless.

Warm blooded kid.

Heather Dorsey — Thu, 18 Dec 2008 05:27:00 GMT

It's that time of year when I have to put my foot down with my son Riley.

"You have to wear your winter coat! You really need to put some gloves on! Where is your hat?"

This is an actual statement I made to him yesterday. I actually wrote down what I said after I said it, because I felt a blog post coming on. To give you some background, he was leaving the house for basketball practice. He had on shorts and a long-sleeved hooded sweatshirt. This was after I insisted that he was not going to leave the house in just shorts--he needed sweat pants and a winter jacket. It was snowing out and the windchill was below zero.

And I actually said: "The wind chill is below zero. The roads are slippery. Cars can crash when roads are slippery. You'll get hypothermia and they'll have to amputate your leg."

I have to chuckle as I write this. My son is the most warm-blooded human being you will ever meet. He is always warm. I will have on jeans, a turtleneck, a sweater, a scarf wrapped half -way around my face, a winter jacket and gloves and I will be freezing. He will be wearing short-sleeves and be warm to the touch.

But there is a time when I absolutely have to put my foot down and when the wind chill is below zero I pick my battle and insist on winning.

I put up with the stares from little old ladies when it is 40 degrees out, and he is not wearing a jacket, because I know the kid is actually warm. I let him play soccer or football in fall, when it is damp and miserable, and he is the only kid out on the field without a long-sleeved shirt on under his uniform. I send him to school where he is the only kid in 5th grade wearing short sleeves. But during our Wisconsin cold snaps I micromanage.

Now if only I could find a way to harness his body heat to heat up the house, then I'd really be on to something!

Too funny not to share!

Heather Dorsey — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 19:45:58 GMT

Time seems to be speeding up lately. I think that is the general consensus I am hearing from time-starved moms. There is too much to be done, and not enough hours in the day, at this time of year.

What we need is time out to have a good laugh! If you are up for it, click here. It is laugh-out-loud funny. And this is after I walked out of Panera this morning, where I had breakfast with a friend, and found that someone had smashed in one of the tail lights on my minivan. (Merry Christmas to you, too! Thanks so much for not leaving a note.)

It's hard to say for certain, but I think my favorite part is when the wife says to the husband: "Wow! I'm married to you."

Snow Day

Heather Dorsey — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 01:37:47 GMT

Normal school day:

6:15: Wake up Miranda.

6:16 - 6:20: Cuddle with Miranda and coax her out of warm bed.

6:20: Wake up Riley.

6:20 - 6:30: Miranda gets dressed; I help her do her hair.

6:30: Miranda starts eating breakfast.

6:30- 6:40: Some time in here Riley makes an appearance, hopefully already dressed in his school uniform.

6:40 - 7:00: Some time in here Riley eats, brushes his teeth, packs up his school stuff and packs up his snack (both of which should have been done the night before).

6:55 - 7:00: Miranda brushes her teeth, gathers up her school stuff.

Of course, I help or nag this whole time depending on whether or not we are having a good morning. "Miranda eat." "Miranda eat." "Miranda, are you eating?" "Miranda, you cannot talk and eat at the same time."

I make lunches, remind kids not to forget gym clothes, snacks, library books. I help look for missing gloves, make sure they have their snow pants and that they didn't forget to pack their lunches...you know the drill.

7:00: Kids out the door. (Me too, the days I drive carpool.)

Snow Day:

5:30: Miranda wakes up.

5:45: Riley wakes up.

Enough said.

Gotta love carpool.

Heather Dorsey — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 17:05:02 GMT

Out of the mouth of babes, as they say.

The other day I was driving carpool to basketball practice. It's small, just three of us moms drive (actually two moms and a dad who is helping coach). So I'm listening to three 10 yr. old boys chat, along with my 6 yr. old, and one of the boys asked Miranda if she was 6 or 7 yrs. old. One of the other boys said, "you are not supposed to ask women how old they are. They don't like it."

Boy number one said: "Yeah, I know they don't like getting older."

Boy number two: "I don't know why. Guys don't mind getting older, but women do. And women live longer than men anyway. So men are the ones that should be upset about getting older, not women."

Too funny! I was laughing in my head and thinking about the answer to the question. (The reason I didn't laugh out loud is you hear way more interesting stuff if they kind of forget that you are there.)

I thought, all you have to do is watch the news to get the answer to that question. Guys are often balding (think Matt Lauer), have big guts (think many of the weatherman, not locally but Al Roker and Willard Scott come to mind), or are, in general, just really funny-looking (weird hair-dos or facial hair). When is the last time you saw a heavy woman on the air? It just doesn't happen.

With these 10 yr. olds the conversations keep getting more and more interesting. I love the naiveté that these kids still have. At other times, especially with the girls, they seem way too sophisticated for their own good. This conversation kind of got finished before it got started; but if I hear of anything else interesting, I'll keep you posted.

Winter Wonderland

Heather Dorsey — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 04:22:05 GMT

The last of the leaves were raked yesterday (much thanks to my wonderful boyfriend) and I thought it was only fit to share why I love where I live, despite having to rake the leaves so much.

I must say, with the fabulous fall weather we had this year it wasn't even too much of a chore (well, I did ache a bit). I guess the only times I really mind doing it is when it is freezing outside.

So, this is what I woke up to this morning: spectacular! I know my photos aren't doing it justice, but I try.

Fa,la,la,la,la...

Heather Dorsey — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 19:06:50 GMT

I don't know about you, but I'm starting to get that feeling that I get every year around this time. You know the one...if you are ahead of me you are already getting wiggy about the upcoming holiday season. Maybe you are stressed out about getting Thanksgiving dinner on the table. Maybe, like me at this very moment, you are planning on getting your carpets cleaned. (Whatever they are using to clean my carpets is totally annoying my eyes/nose at the moment. This can't be healthy for these guys who do this day in and day out.) You are thinking about holiday decorations, greeting cards, presents, school concerts, outfits. The list is endless.

Every year I think if I can just get enough stuff done early enough then I won't have to get stressed out. And every year I seem to do a little better at this. I put my holiday lights up (but not on yet) last week when it was still mild out. I've already ordered and received my holiday cards. A couple of years ago I typed in all the addresses of the people on my Christmas card list so that all I have to do is make some revisions each year and print out the list on labels. I've managed to keep my house tidy enough so that when I host Thanksgiving dinner next week it shouldn't take all that long to clean.

Yet every year, no matter how prepared I am, the other shoe always drops at some point. One minute I am fine and then the next minute I feel the stresses of the holidays come on. I always think that this year will be the year it won't happen. Adding to my potential anxiety-triggers this year is the fact that my children will be visiting out-of-town relatives with their dad which always makes the holidays a little more difficult for me.

It was with all this in mind that I came across an interesting e-mail in my in-box this morning talking about not letting the stress of the holiday season get to you this year. It is from this organization called "The scream free life" and though I think that title is kind of hokey, the articles that this woman writes are really interesting and seem to resonate with me, more often than not. So I can't quite get myself to unsubscribe from their mailing list.

Anyways, if you have a moment, click here. I'm going to try a few of her tips and hope that this will be the year I buy into the true meaning of the season and not the stress of the season as well.

Free Snapfish Photo Book on Oprah

Heather Dorsey — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 01:03:39 GMT

This opportunity is just too good not to share. My sister just called me to tell me about a special offer she saw on Oprah.

She said Snapfish.com was offering a free, bound 8" x 11" custom-cover photo book to help Oprah viewers get organized. Her guest, Peter Walsh, suggested taking digital photos of your children's artwork and then having them made into an album. I had to laugh because I blogged about clutter last month and one of the lines in the poem I created was: "Oh... and the most confusing part... what to do with all the art?"

I actually took pictures of all my children's art when I was getting organized; but I hadn't taken the next step yet and had them made into an album. Well, I was just on Oprah's website and I got the coupon loaded into my Snapfish account for the free album. Now the hard part will probably be how backed up that site will be. To take advantage you'll probably have to go and make your album at two in the morning; but I figure it's worth a try.

So start snapping some photos and here's the link: http://www1.snapfish.com/info18

The kicker: you only have until Friday night to get the coupon and you have to make your album by Sunday, November 16th.

Orange Roughy

Heather Dorsey — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 04:07:36 GMT

We had orange roughy tonight for dinner. They were just lightly breaded fillets. My 10 yr.old walks up, sits down and says, "what kind of chicken is this?" I answered, "it's not chicken--it's fish. He said, "it's really good." So I told him it was orange roughy. He made kind of a funny face and then abandoned it and just said again that it tasted good.

I know this is not a big deal to you; but it is a huge deal in our house. You see at the age of 10, my son seems to be getting past his picky-eater stage with no help from me whatsoever. Things that he used to look suspiciously at and refuse to try, he now eats. I'm not a huge fan of hot lunch, but now about once a week he'll announce that he wants to have it so I get a little vacation from helping him get his lunch ready.

The amount of restaurants we can now eat out at is drastically increasing since he has decided tomato-based sauces are o.k. That opens up the world of Italian and Mexican restaurants for sure. He will even eat things he doesn't really like that much; as long as it isn't too bad.

This kid was such a picky eater up until he realized that there were a lot of good foods he was missing out on. I think he just got bored with eating the same things all the time. He is still at his core a little picky. He won't drink soda. He doesn't think he likes it and I am all good with discouraging him from doing so. He also won't eat pies or drink smoothies. Again, fine with me, since he gets enough sugar in other sweets.

It's just so cool to see your kids mature. It seems like yesterday that my mom, ex-husband and I had to pin him down to take an antibiotic when he was little because he refused to drink it. It didn't work; he spit it out. (Did I mention how strong willed he was as a child? Or the kinder description: determined.)

I just remember thinking that you can battle your kids about a lot of things, but you really can't force them to eat something they don't want to eat. At least, I was never successful at it. At some point I gave up and counted my blessings that there were a lot of healthy foods that he liked. And, though I was sick of always making the same things, I figured some day he would expand his horizons. And that some day is now. Yea!

Working it.

Heather Dorsey — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 16:57:57 GMT

I headed to the gym after carpool drop-off this morning. My kids' school starts really early, so I was able to drop carpool off and head to an exercise class that starts at 7:30. I literally drive right past the gym, to get home, so there are no excuses. Later in the day, as things get crazy, I can feel good that I got my work-out in before I ran out of time (and energy!).

As I pulled in the parking lot I saw a car stop after the driver pulled out of his parking spot. He was lighting his cigar. I had to chuckle to myself and comment to the person working at the front desk. Doesn't that negate whatever he just did for a workout?

Anyway, I hadn't done an exercise class in forever. I go in spurts. If you read my last blog about getting tennis elbow raking leaves last fall, that was partially because I had been attending this challenging exercise class where we used a lot of heavy weights. I had done the class before I had raked leaves that night and the combination of the two had left me with this painful, swollen elbow. Not only did it turn me off of raking leaves, but the exercise class as well.

This class was being taught by a mom at school, who I know, and it was a new class so I thought I would be supportive and attend. Well, she didn't need my support. Her class was crowded and it was awesome! It's a muscle conditioning/strengthening class and it made everything burn, so you don't feel like you are wasting your time, that is for sure.

Who knew this woman was totally funny as well. There were times I was laughing so hard it was hard to hold the body bar still (while balancing on one leg, I might add). The reason I decided to blog about this, I guess, is just that sometimes you have to shake up your routine a little bit. I've been really bored with working out lately but it is so important to get those endorphins going. You feel so much better after you do. Being able to laugh out loud for a majority of the class was such an added bonus.

As I left the club smiling I walked past my neighbor's car. A mom of five children, her license plates say: "WHAT KDZ." That always makes me chuckle. Then I saw a new little sticker on her car "I know I run like a girl...try to keep up!"

Ah, simple pleasures...sometimes it's just the little things.

Oh how the cold wind blows!

Heather Dorsey — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 16:35:13 GMT

It's that time of year! I love fall! I love the colors, being able to wear jeans, going to my children's' sporting events and decorating the house for Halloween. But what I don't like about fall is the annual raking-of-the-leaves ritual.

It's not that I mind raking and leaf blowing that much. Truthfully, I love my leaf blower; even though it does blow the mulch all over when I'm trying to clean out my garden beds. It's just the fact that I will have to clean up the leaves at least five or six times. The first time is fun. The kids and I make leaf piles...I get out my camera...when we are done we schlep big tarps full of leaves down to the woods.

The second time...still kind of fun. The third time, the kids abandon all the fun before the piles are even formed. The fourth time, my daughter's hands will be freezing before she even steps out the door and, well, so on and so forth--you get the idea.

I live in a heavily wooded neighborhood. "Gorgeous" would be a good word to describe it. It really is. But it comes with a price.

The only thing is, that other than the trees in between my neighbor's and my driveway, on one side, I'm the only house without a wooded front yard. All my trees are back behind my house, and to one side. Everyone else has trees all over their front yards and guess where all the leaves from my neighbor's house across the street go? They fall down on the ground and sit there until the wind blows them all on to MY yard.

Well, that's not entirely true. Depending on which way the wind blows they either blow on my yard, or the neighbor to her north. This annual event really bonds me with the neighbor to her north. We wave and commiserate with one another as we both are out there, cleaning up the leaves, yet again!

I know it is not my neighbor's fault, exactly. Like my dad says, "it's mother nature." But as we get in to November and it is FREEZING outside and I am out there, yet again, because I don't want to go into winter and have all those leaves kill my lawn, it's kind of hard to be upset with Mother Nature.

I kind of feel that if my neighbors across the street would pick up their leaves at least a couple of times, they all wouldn't blow into my yard.

Anyways, I know this is petty, really. And it is fabulous exercise, so I do try to keep that in mind. Hopefully I won't get tennis elbow like last year where I couldn't raise my arm more than halfway up my body. So, since I am done griping, here is a picture of the first successful, group clean-up of 2008. I even got a neighbor kid to get in on the action. Though he did disappear before the clean-up began. Hmmm, how did that happen?

Split the House?

Heather Dorsey — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 04:44:00 GMT

Well, here's something you don't see every day...

According to an Associated Press story, a couple in Cambodia divorced and the husband took his half of the house, albeit in bits and pieces. That's certainly thinking outside the box. I guess he gets points for creativity.

As Forrest Gump would say, "that's all I have to say about that."

Pilin' up.

Heather Dorsey — Fri, 03 Oct 2008 18:17:21 GMT

Piles on the counter and on the office floor, and just when you think it's not possible--there's more!

Stuff for school, junk from the mail, postcard flyers advertising a sale!

Coupons, receipts, articles on how-to, costume ideas for the day we say "boo!"

Permission slips, patches for uniform rips, rosters for soccer and volleyball, carpool schedules for one and all.

Deadlines, meetings, bills, bills, bills--my contribution to the local landfill.

Everything kept out--in plain sight--file it and you may forget overnight.

Leave it out so you can see what needs to be done with less difficulty.

To-do lists, box-tops clipped...I toss, I sort, I file and purge. I just want to toss everything; but I resist the urge.

Thank you's, post cards, cute kid pix...some fit on the refrigerator door; but if you manage to find enough room, soon there will be more.

The weekly "what's up!" they get from school to help them learn the Golden Rule.

Reminders of upcoming tests, order forms for girl scout vests.

Oh! And the most confusing part...what to do with all the art?

Water colors, oil prints, cray-pas, crayons, self-portraits, flowers, a Japanese fan.

Alright, o.k. I'm finally done, my house is clean my work is done. I'm all pile-free and feeling proud. So much so, I shout out loud.

My label maker is out of labels, my piles are removed from the kitchen table. I'll try to remain pile-free as best as I am able.

Fifteen a minutes a day is all "they" say, to keep my home looking just this way.

Quit Pushing--Yourself!

Heather Dorsey — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 17:14:57 GMT

One of the reasons my blog is titled "Writes for Kicks" is that in addition to being a writer I'm also a soccer player. I've mentioned in an earlier post that my daughter plays soccer as well.

I am co-coaching her team with another parent and it is really a blast! These little girls are so much fun and really good little soccer players as well. They are still learning and like most 6 and 7-yr. olds they look like a swarm of bees out on the field; but that's o.k. At this age it is about letting them have fun and encouraging them to make decisions for themselves out on the soccer field.

If they are about to thrown the ball in, in the wrong direction, we'll redirect them. Same thing if they are about to take a corner kick and kick it down the field instead of toward the goal. But all-in-all they are so busy racing around out there that they don't really hear you too well anyways. When their teammate is about to take a corner kick and the only players in front of the goal are from the other team, you can scream to them, "Get in front of the goal!" And they will stare at you blank-faced, like a deer in the headlights. "Get in front of the goal!" "GET in FRONT of THE GOAL!"

Honestly, at this age, you are supposed to just let them have fun. Is it frustrating? It can be if you let your competitive nature get in the way of common sense. When I first started coaching my son's teams five years ago I probably gave a bit too much direction and I used to keep score and I wanted to win. The boys did too. Then if they lost they were upset for about two minutes, until they got their snacks and juice boxes and then they were fine. I had to teach myself to focus more on the fun and now second-time around with my daughter, I'm really good at it. So good, that I forget to keep score at all. But the refs don't either at this age so it really doesn't matter. Except to the parents and some of the other coaches.

Last weekend the girls were playing when all of a sudden one of the other team's coaches shouted over to me, "You need to take out number three! She is going to hurt somebody!" He kept repeating this over and over and was all worked up about it.

Number three is fairly aggressive. She's kind of all over the field and she does push a bit. But she is not trying to hurt anybody. She's just still learning and so she will push the other players with her hands. This is not difficult to do since there are about five or six little girls, in a little pack, hacking away at the ball most of the time.

I responded, "When she comes out we will talk to her."

I'm not going to go into great detail about what happened, but suffice it to say my answer was not good enough. He criticized me for "teaching your players to play that way" and demanded that I pull her out RIGHT NOW! Well, if I had any doubt about whether to pull her out or not, I certainly wasn't going to now. This coach was unbelievably competitive. He yelled at his girls non-stop the whole entire game. You would have thought that we were playing the World Cup.

His team outplayed our team. And they won. But I bet our girls had more fun. If I would have pulled this little girl out and told her to stop pushing she would have burst into tears. She hasn't made it through a practice or game without bursting into tears yet. And though this coach was major league upset with her, you could see that all the little girls out on the field were fine. None of them were upset about the way she was playing.

At practice this week, we will continue to teach the girls about staying on their own side of the field, explaining, again, the difference between a goal kick and a corner kick. We'll work on throw-ins and passing to one another. And we'll discuss how you shouldn't push off other players using your hands. And then next weekend we'll head to our soccer game where I will allow the girls to go out and play and be 6 yrs. old.

Then I will go to my game and let my competitive spirit flow, if I so desire. Maybe that other coach should join a team too. Just a thought.

Crazy "Matches"

Heather Dorsey — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 18:57:35 GMT

When I mentioned my favorite blog a couple of weeks ago it unleashed this crazy amount of hits to my blog. By sheer coincidence, I mentioned reading "Single in the Suburbs" that morning and by the next day it had disappeared. All of a sudden, all these readers like me were searching for Sarah and by the magic of Google, they were finding my blog on Milwaukeemoms.com instead.

It got me thinking that there were a lot of women (and maybe some men), like me, who could totally relate to Sarah and her single parenting lifestyle. Clearly I am not the only one following her ups and downs!

Because my e-mail is a bit like my office, minus the piles, I have messages that are still sitting there that I never bothered to delete. At the time, I just saved all my Match e-mails to a folder. I just went back through the archives and had a few good laughs.

For example, read this e-mail that I got from a guy who I had literally sent one e-mail to, asking him what he liked to do for fun in his spare time (I kid you not, I am not making this up!):

"I enjoy many things for fun...kissing and all that goes with it is definitely on the list, and downhill skiing, the shooting sports, golf, tennis, riding my motorcycle (with you), riding ATV's (I have one for you too), swimming, hiking, and so much more...I also enjoy doing things that include the kids...the list is endless...Do you like to kiss?"

Puking was more what I felt like doing after I read that!

Another interesting response was one I got from a man who lived in Portugal. He seemed nice, but I thought that the distance would be an immediate issue that would be hard to overcome. Plus I thought his comment about meeting his family was just a little too bizarre for me.

I was thinking it would be fun to hear about some of your more interesting responses! Since I am no longer on Match and have not been for quite awhile, I'm no longer living Sarah's life in that respect. If she ever gets serious with any of her possible suiters, then we'll be on the same page. But none-the-less I still find Sarah's experiences entertaining and I'm sure she is not the only one with stories to tell!

Single in the Suburbs Update: She's Back!

Heather Dorsey — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 15:20:00 GMT

I got my Sara Susannah Katz fix tonight thanks to Sophie and Donna who sent me the link! Thanks to all of you who also sent me the link before now. Since the articles had stopped at installment 64 I hadn't held out much hope for the Match.com site; but what a great surprise to finally find installment 65 posted there.

If you haven't found installment 65 yet, click here.

Enjoy! (And make sure and read it before the rest of my blog if you want to be surprised!)

Now we finally know that Chris did, indeed, break it off with Sara. It didn't come as a huge surprise to me since he really didn't seem that in to her. And I definitely think she is better off without him.

Not to mention that we are better off without him--he didn't exactly add a lot of interesting dialog to her blog!

A lot of their interactions were almost painful to read and they couldn't have been too much fun to experience in real life. I'm not sure when her next installment will be on this new site. Wouldn't it be great if she upped it to once a week? Regardless, I will be staying tuned and rooting for her as she continues her search.

Single in the Suburbs

Heather Dorsey — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 03:37:08 GMT

I just got finished reading my favorite blog: "Single in the Suburbs." Click here if you want to check it out. This writer, a divorced mom, posts a blog entry every other Monday about her dating life on-line. I stumbled across her blog a couple of years ago and I have been keeping tabs on her love life ever since. I find her to be witty, brutally honest and just plain entertaining.

And I think we have a lot in common.

I tried match.com. My ex-husband had been moved out of the house for over a year and our court date was set. He had been dating someone for about 10 months and I had accepted that there was no chance of us getting back together. (Yeah, I know...slow learner.) I had stumbled upon Match.com by accident one day when I thought I was clicking a link to an article, and instead found myself on this online dating site.

After ignoring the invitation to "try it three days for free" or maybe it was "look all you want," I left the site and thought that maybe I had gone temporarily insane. But then I was back a couple of days later and decided what the heck, it couldn't hurt. I really wanted to meet someone to go out to dinner with or see a movie.

I've been on and off that site a couple of times in the last few years. I haven't been on since last fall and don't plan on checking it out again. (I'm happily dating someone.) But at the time, it was great. I realized that though I never came across any single, eligible men that I wanted to date, in my day-to-day life--they were definitely out there. As a divorced parent, it had renewed my hope that I did have a future I would be able to move on to, when for so long I could never envision it.

If you are newly divorced, and wondering where in the world you can meet eligible singles, you should check it out. And don't forget about the blog I told you about. I find it so entertaining; and if you like it, you can read 64 installments right up front. I hate that I have to wait two weeks to hear what this midwestern mom is up to next! Personally I think it is a no-brainer that the guy she is dating now is not for her...

To boo or not to boo!

Heather Dorsey — Fri, 12 Sep 2008 14:47:00 GMT

I went to the Brewer game last Friday night. I was with my boyfriend and some friends. My son coincidentally had tickets to go to the same game with his dad.

When Eric Gagne took the mound, it seemed that the entire crowd at Miller Park started booing. Then Gagne gave up a home run and the crowd booed even louder. Than he gave up a double and who would have thought that the crowd could get any louder?

That weekend, I was talking with my son and discovered that he and his dad had booed Gagne as well. I said that I hadn't, and that I thought it was kind of bad that we would boo one of our own at Miller Park.

We were in the car at the time and my son and his friend immediately started explaining, with great exuberance on both their parts, why he got booed. "He's pitching terrible!" "He used to be good!" "We are paying him eight million dollars!" "If it weren't for him we could afford Sabathia!" And so on and so forth.

I said that I thought that if people were upset with how he was pitching--and thought that he shouldn't be--then people should be upset with management, not Gagne. After all, I reasoned, he is doing the best he can and it is not as if he wants to do horrible and have all of Miller Park booing at him. At this point both their arms shot up in the air (How cute is that?) and they went into great detail about how much he is being paid. Since he is being paid so much he shouldn't be pitching so badly, they argued.

I asked, then, that if they made the Select team for their little league--because they played really well at try-outs--and then they ended up being terrible, should I boo them? They said that they weren't being paid eight million dollars. I said that I thought that Gagne would probably rather make five million and pitch well then make eight million and pitch terribly. (I've since learned that he was paid 10 million, but why split hairs?)

Regardless of how much money he makes, he's still just a human being out there doing the best he can. What is he supposed to do, go to Brewer management and say, "I really stink. I quit." Seems to me that he should keep trying.

Finally, I had to pull out my big guns: "But he has a mother! How do you think she feels?"

There was more talk on the boys' part about steroids and other questionable behavior and quite frankly, they know way more about baseball than I do. In the end we had to agree to disagree. But it was a fun way to spend a car ride.

Earlier this week, before Monday's game, Gagne made a $50,000 donation to the MACC Fund. It was the largest single gift ever made by an athlete in the MACC fund's 32-year history. I hope the crowd didn't boo him.

"Does this make me look fat?"

Heather Dorsey — Tue, 02 Sep 2008 18:15:33 GMT

I was helping my daughter pick out her back-to-school outfit last night.

At our house this entailed picking out either the navy blue uniform shorts or one of the two uniform jumpers and a red, white or blue polo shirt. I thought she was going to love her jumpers; but for the last two weeks she has been complaining that she has to wear a uniform. I half expected her to pick out the shorts over the jumper since she has been protesting mightily that the jumper isn't pretty enough.

Anyway, she chose the jumper. When I asked her which one--because we have two different styles--she pointed at one and asked: "Will that one make me look fat?"

I have to admit that even though I know that society starts bombarding our girls early with these sort of messages, it is still is kind of a shock when you hear these words our of your little girl's mouth for the first time.

My daughter has the most beautiful, muscled, lean body. She is so active. There is not an ounce of fat on her. And then, of course, she is only 6 yrs. old.

I know she didn't learn this from me. Not because I have the most beautiful, muscled, lean body but because I don't ever call myself fat in front of my children. I have always been particularly careful about the comments I make in front of my daughter.

You know though, even my son has made comments about being fat. Like his sister, he is very muscled and has always been height and weight proportionate. But I've watched him and all his friends grow the same way over the years. They shoot up and then they thicken out a little. Then they shoot up and then they thicken out a little. All the boys in his fifth grade class have these little bellies.

When my son said he was fat one day, which is so ridiculously far from the truth, I replied that it is normal and healthy for boys his age to have a little fat on them. I told him that his body needs it and that he should look at his friends--they all have it too.

I asked my daughter why she would think that the jumper would make her look fat and she quoted some person she had heard on t.v. on some Nick Jr. or Disney show. She didn't really think she looked fat. She was just repeating something she had heard.

The good news is she bounced out of bed this morning and was really excited to put on her jumper--even though it doesn't twirl enough for her tastes.

I drove carpool this morning and at the parking lot at school I commented on another mom's cute outfit. She replied, "oh, I'm so fat!" (She isn't.) Good thing the kids were already in school.

Back-to-School: Be an Open Book

Heather Dorsey — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 19:42:17 GMT

When Riley started football this fall, his dad, who is helping coach the team, told me that practice starts at 5:30 but that we should get there ten minutes early because the boys throw the ball around before practice. Seems like a good idea since our son only knows a couple of kids on the team and isn't big buddies with either one of them.

Monday we showed up for practice on the dot at 5:20 and no one was there. My boyfriend, who I was talking to on the phone, asked if we were at the right place. Then it hit me, my ex-husband had said something about practice being at another park this week. Riley confirmed it. So without getting out of the car we headed back out toward the other park. We walked all around, found two football teams and numerous soccer teams but not my son's football team.

Now it's 5:40. We tried calling a mom whose son is on the team (and whose number I have in my cell phone). No luck. I would have called my Ex, but I knew he was at the hospital, with his new baby, and his phone was most likely turned off. So, as the clock ticked, we decided to head back to the first park and there the team was--right where they always are. I walked Riley over as I knew he was a little apprehensive about being late.

I quickly explained what happened to the coach who was in the middle of practice and added for good measure, "Did you hear Mike is not coming tonight? He and his wife just had a baby."

The coach looked a little confused and a conversation at the next practice confirmed that my ex apparently hadn't shared the fact that we were divorced. I ensured that the coach had my e-mail address for any future communication that went out to parents.

The park and rec. department knows there is only one parent in my household. But the information doesn't always get filtered down to the coaches. As a matter of fact, as a coach, I know it doesn't. I'm always looking for it; and even as my son's soccer coach last season I didn't realize that a kid on our team had divorced parents.

I'm usually pretty good at letting coaches and teachers know right off the bat that we are divorced. That way they can make sure and send e-mails to both of us. When I went to a parent meeting at school the other night I put down both my e-mail address and my ex-husband's. This keeps him in the loop as much as possible. I encourage the teachers to please allow the children to make two of anything that is made for parents throughout the year, whenever possible, to avoid my kids being torn as to who to give that gift to. I also ask them to make an extra copy of information coming home; because it is so much easier during hectic work weeks to pull out an extra copy of information rather than copy it myself.

I try to fill the teachers in on any major life changes for the kids to keep an eye out in case anything could affect them at school. I told Miranda's first grade teacher that she just got a new baby sister a few days earlier. The teacher asked: "Oh, her dad and his wife?" As tempting as it was to say, "no, I just got my pre-pregnancy body back quickly." I just said yes and she thanked me for telling her. Keeping the line of communication open is always a good idea.