12-23-06

Last night I received a phone call from my long distance girlfriend (I can hear my husband now and my reply… “You wish”). She called to fill me in on all the local gossip. It involved a suicide, a possible affair, a divorce, and a musical. I know you (now there are two of you) want to know the ins and outs, all the details but I have to protect the source (some sort of oath I took in line at the Barnes and Noble or somewhere). Some of you may think I just stole these ideas from the movies Flashdance or Fame, and although I do adore those Oscar worthy pictures, I did not steal any plot lines. I will share that she revealed that a certain hostess at a gathering last night, changed out of her party wear and changed into her p.j.’s... mid party. Now if they were silk or flannel I cannot say but knowing her and the way she likes to dab a little Budweiser behind each ear she was probably in full party mode. With that alone I’m sure she was turning a few a men’s heads, but add her rendition of “Santa Baby” on the kitchen table… I’m sure they were eating out of her stocking. This little firecracker has been known to have a few libations and then let it all hang out (and after a few kids I’m sure it does…wink wink). Thank you Kare for the juicy tidbits… I mean Stacy… or Paula…

Also quick update on Washer Watch 2006, my husband has again “fixed” it. I’ve done two loads so far… and knock on wood; it seems to be going good. Also, I have started a little ritual where I tell “her” (has to be a woman, right?... She works so hard!) I love her when I leave. What the heck it can’t hurt right?

12-19-06

As I drive my laundry over to my sister’s house again, I now believe I have really angered the appliance “god” (my washer has broken again). In my mind I have come to realize that they (the “god” and his panel of dudes) are slowly trying to break me. On the panel are Henry, Tommy, and Paul. The appliance “god” is named Jimmy Conway (I’m sure I’ve heard those names before, I’ll just chalk it up to a vivid imagination). Now that I have that part worked out in my mind I just have to figure out what I’ve done. My first thought is that my husband has done something (they always do something wrong) but then I believe they would attack his blackberry, laptop, various cell phones, the toilet, and I could just be left out of this mess. But they aren’t so it’s back to me, hitting me where it hurts over and over. There must be some sort of patron saint of household necessities to protect me, I could hang it over my front door, bury it in the backyard, spread it on my morning toast… I’ll do whatever! Satan has entered my domain and is fiddling with my machinery … that sounds a little off... an unscrupulous act has brought woe in my abode… no odd still…Maybe if I just make a little Italian gravy and sacrifice my George Foreman grill?

12-12-06

I catch my daughter bugging the snot out of my youngest. She is repeatedly poking him. He in return decides “I’ll poke her”, but now she’s annoyed. Although she has been doing this to him for who knows how long, his 30 second retaliation has put her into scream mode (at 7 about everything puts her in drama city). Of course being the adult, parent, the role model, (who am I kidding… the oldest in the room) I try to reason with her explaining that he is just repeating her behavior (god I’m such an untrained talent it scares me). She then sets me straight, “he is invading my personal girl space”, and I pause, personal girl space? Before I can reply she then explains “and babies don’t have personal space so it’s ok!” I am curious so I ask… where did you learn that? “I made it up; I don’t even know what personal means!” and storms off. If this is a prequel to the teen years…I am definitely not wise (or patient) enough to keep up.

12-08-06

I have had repairmen in and out of this house over the past weeks (read previous posts). Right now I have two workmen in the basement replacing the furnace. Can we all say booko bucks, big cash, mucho dinero, lots of Benjamin’s, ho ho oh no… Also today as this big project is taking place my husband finds out that his company may be bought, and broken up into teeny tiny pieces (similar to the Titanic… lets hope he finds an iceberg … or even a ice cube?).What bothers me the absolute most of all is that has gone on with our “bad luck” is that a couple of days ago my husband emptied out the dishwasher, now I know some of you may be like “wow can’t get my man to do that”, I know I’m lucky(ha-ha). Any way the problem was that the dishwasher contents had yet to be cleaned. When I happened to mention this little detail he was like, “Oh well.” Needless to say I’ve had the icky grossies for the last few days, rewashing everything but it doesn’t matter because all I can think of is, what did I use, what did I touch, ugh, ugh, ugh. I think that I need to up my meds…

12-04-06

Just an update for all my peeps (I think the three of us are bonding). Last week we experienced some wonderfully warm weather, broke out the stylish capri’s. Then we were practically snowed in on Friday, but no worries the kids loved it (snow day!). The only hitch was that our elementary school had planned this vendor and craft extravaganza at the school on Friday, so I was on the horn all day calling parents to tell them its still on. This must have melted some of my brain cells (or maybe something else in my teen years… just joking Dad), because at the school that night my sister- in- law and my sister were on raffle table duty. Every time my sister said hello, hi, hola, or whatever to someone, I said hey how do you know them? Each time she reminded me that she was “greeting” people, yet for some reason I couldn’t grasp that and continued to ask her where do you know them from? Ok, people say my sister and I share a brain (and usually I have possession of it, true statement take a poll people) but I obviously had given it to her to use that night. My only concern is that I get it back because she later called me reeling off numbers about something she was adding (not a strong point for her either) and I ended up with a migraine.

11-29-06

As many of you have noticed I have not “blogged” lately (sorry to all three of you who are my faithful readers, once I get sponsorship you get a prize…cross your fingers for a turtle wax deal). This is mostly due to my lack of creativity as things around me are consistently breaking. Just brings a gal down when she has to pay a repairman instead of perhaps dropping a few bucks at Sephora or the Gap (wishful thinking that I ever have some extra bucks but if I did I know where I would spend it). It started with the furnace problems, then moved to the refrigerator, my dryer has gone wacky, and finally my washing machine. My husband stepped up to the challenged and actually fixed the washing machine only for something different to break on it. Two different repair people later and as of today (11-29-06) I’m washing again. I actually started sing as the repair guy left, there was pep in my step, and I even called people to announce the “big” news. People seemed ok with the appliance report (I’m sure they are humoring me). I mean how exciting must it sound when someone calls and drones on in a monotone voice “apparently this doohickey snapped, can’t get the part till later, 45 loads of laundry, blah wah blah”… I’m hoping I can create some riveting story that I could call people with… “He was at the door with a check… Made out to me… I know, I don’t think George Clooney’s ever been to this area…much more in person… well we are headed to Italy next week for dinner him and his crew from Ocean’s 13… I know its so last minute but he needs my help with the script…Oh, maybe a couple of weeks but you never know”…

11-17-06

Today I scared a woman, I believe she may have wet herself, attempted shoplifting, almost burned my house down, had a minute hissy fit, took a toddler into a store filled with glass and chocolate, and because of the above listed items I constantly was searching for my cell phone and car keys ( I was a basket case). First I would like to state that parking in a straight spot is harder than a slanted one, for me (I’m not sure if there are any stats on this fact but I am pretty sure that I’m right.). Also lately I feel there is a shrinkage going on of parking widths (I should probably get out there with some picket signs to bring awareness to this dilemma), that said I can explain the first item of the day. Today pulling into a Wal-Mart straight parking spot, I semi- bumped the shopping cart rack. Or maybe a little harder than that, because the lady loading her car next to it jumped (like a klipspringer, my new $5 dollar word), or maybe she is just sound sensitive? Let just say I blotch out when embarrassed and I looked like a red spotted toad. Anyway at my next destination, the grocery store, I apparently overlooked all the items in the bottom of the cart. The lady at the checkout didn’t seem amused with the “I forgot” excuse (plus I was still blotchy, which made me look a little shifty). I was just in a traumatizing accident I should have yelled but she didn’t seem like one to go to for sympathy. So next was my arrival back at my home. As I walked in I noticed it was quite warm and a bit murky as I entered the kitchen. I had forgotten that I was boiling some tea, or now you could call it a thickened hair dye, a tea jelly, perhaps something you could seal wood with or whatever. The thing about this is that I have been ragging at my husband to move all the crap that has accumulated around the water heater and furnace. I believe my nagging words have been “you’re going to burn the house down.” Last night he moved the stuff and today I prepared to burn the house down (not good if you and your husband keep score). Fourth item today was a slight little fit when I thought some items didn’t make into my bag, so I huffed and puffed, blamed the world , all the while they were right in front of my face . I had a little giggle with myself over that one. Then barely time to clean up, consume a half of bologna sandwich, and me and the babe were out the door to meet his Aunt at World Market. Of course he was tired and fell asleep a minute before I parked (no incidents, thank you). So entering into a breakable store, as we parents call it was not a brilliant move on my half. Summing up the trip, included him ripping open food items and eating them, spazzing out in their narrowest aisle full of glassware, and leaving my sister-in- law on her own because he was screaming “home”. In between this madness I kept thinking I’ve locked my keys in the car or lost them and same with the phone. I must have looking like a paranoid druggie searching my pockets and purse every two minutes. Finally I just took an intermission while writing this story to fix dinner and just wanted to add that if something says “Easy Open” or “Tear here” or anything else that alludes to that promise… they’re lying!!!!!

11-15-06

I’ve had crazy dreams lately and one of ‘em was last night… I was at the Oprah show, I only had $23, which I was keeping in my back pocket (detailed, huh?) Kid Rock was performing (?) and I needed to find a seat. I finally found a seat in a black chair, there was an area of black chairs, and all the other chairs in the place were a different color. The performance started, Oprah offered my money to buy the band ice cream??? Then I look over at the other people in the black chairs and they were all in black and having a silent wedding, I guess that’s what was happening because there was a minister, a bride, and groom but no one was speaking, that’s where I get the silent part (Mensa, remember) but don’t get the all in black. So one song (could I have taken more than one song?) and everyone starts leaving, I rush to get out of there because I don’t want to give Oprah my $23 bucks, I mean couldn’t she have asked the 200 audience members to chip in? No she wanted to scrape me of my funds, how dare you Oprah! I rush past cheerleaders (?) out to the courtyard (never been to Oprah don’t know if she’s even got a courtyard). I’m wading through the pond trying to talk to anyone who knows if I can get a bus or a train back home. I was then mugged but no worries, I wrestled my money back. Out of nowhere my niece and daughter show up and now they have to get home too. I finally see I sign for a tour bus heading to my hometown. We rush to get in line but the lady tells us you had to pre- purchase tickets for this trip. I tell the kids that it’s okay because the bus was all open, no sides, and no bathroom, we would have been cold… and then I wake up. What the heck does all that mean???? Why couldn’t I be on Oprah’s favorites show with Brad Pitt? (I’m still a little angry about the whole Jen thing, but Brad you still look good) What’s with Kid Rock…? I may need some sort of medical intervention… silent weddings… wading through water… $23 dollars, is that some sort of sign? My lucky number? Only eat 23 M&M’s at a time…

11-13-06

Is it wrong that my kids are upstairs plotting a way to scare the beejesus out of their father and aunt? Aunt is coming over soon and dad is on his way home, so whoever gets here first…. Of course the ringleader is the 14 year old in the ski mask. The other two are just along for the ride waiting on whatever orders he dreams up. At this point anything in the ski mask will probably work, and I am a pro, because I’ve been scaring the pants off them for as long as I can remember. I invented hiding in the shower awaiting the arrival of any unsuspecting victim, that’s wrong isn’t it? Well I can’t help it if we are a family who likes to create their own fun. The problem is now they have gotten to quiet… I believe they’ve changed their plan of attack (to me)… I must ambush the ambushers (them) before the ambushed (me) is ambushed.

Got them! I was a chameleon on the stairs listening for their next move. Then …Boo! Just an F.Y.I, don’t frighten someone if they have something in their hand, nature takes over and you’ll be beat down like rabid dog. Ow…

11-08-06 #2

What do you get when you mix errands with a toddler that doesn’t sleep? Answer: A mom in tears. We just had two places to run after school. Not being able to get the bambinos socks on should have been hint on how the trip was going to go (especially when my 7 year old was trying to help me get him ready and she told me that the socks were broken…What?). The first errand was a breeze the next one, not so much. I, of course, had to go to the grocery store to get dinner because of my faulty fridge (which the guy fixed it, just to get him out here was a measly $173.00. Thank goodness money grows on trees *wink wink*.) Anyway I have no food on the premises except for soup, peanut butter, and Halloween candy. Which has some of the major food groups, right? I was just going to run in, grab pizzas and leave but you know that never works. Each of my adorable children were voicing their concerns (how P.C. is that) on each and every choice I made… and running amok, pinching, hitting, and the all round sticking out of tongues. But when it came to the toddler licking the freezer… inside and out…He was LICKING the freezer! I think I cracked. And why when the licking occurred it was in slow-mo? As I reached for him I swear they were piping in the Bionic Woman theme song, and once I pulled him away he slowly stuck out his tongue for one last go. Ugh. What is it with the licking of stuff! Fire hydrants, towels, freezers, god knows what else. I gagged, picked him up and headed for the check out line, and go ahead report me; we went in the 15 items or less with 17 items. That’s how on edge I was. I then headed home, dried my face; oh did I mention the toddler, who was licking the grocery store freezer moments ago, was trying to make up (or should I say make out) with me in line. I know the boy has never been to France but he was all over me with their trademark kiss. I put the few items away in the fridge (repair guy said not to use it tills it cool off, but I thought emptying the now water filled coolers, which now only held four or five items each (juice boxes or water), wouldn’t hurt. Then as I dumped the coolers… on my legs, what am I a moron, I aimed away but, whatever just my luck. Next I dropped pizza on my shirt, rubbed my tear stained eyes with make-up on (were talking liner and mascara but not Tammy Faye) and then realized I needed to be at the school P.T.O meeting. Well that’s when I thought I would just jot down a portion of my day before I leave. Now let’s just hope I don’t scare anyone off with my wet legged, pizza stained, make-up smeared, and germ infested face.

11-08-06

in‧con‧ti‧nent  /ɪnˈkɒn tn ənt/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[in-kon-tn-uh nt] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–adjective

1.unable to restrain natural discharges or evacuations of urine

I= interesting,
N= normally
C = constrained
O= opening
N= now
T= trickles,
I= inconvenient
N= nuisance
E= every
N= nasal
T = tickle


Why me? Who thought one little sneeze could cause a mental breakdown….

11-06-06

So every Sunday I work all day. The place I work at has part of the building closed from 7 am to 5 pm, but during the day I do venture to that part (notice how I don’t reveal too much about myself or I’d have mobs showing up at my work to meet “the funny lady”.) Discreet is my middle name… So anyway the first time I went down to that part of the building I smelled fish and just thought someone must have thrown some fish away (I know Mensa keeps calling me, they want to pick my brain for other brilliant deductions.) I did nothing about it, the next two times I was in and out quickly, bothered by the smell but not really wanting to know what the heck it was. Well the fourth time I could take it no more. The smell had grown to a mixture of fish, dirty diapers, and other unmentionables. I began my intense investigation, smelling the two refrigerators , the garbage cans, then wandering up to the landing where we have three freezers (intrigued by my work environment aren’t you). The first freezer I opened, I knew I had found the problem. Not only did the smell knock me back twenty feet, I also went into gag mode. Looking inside the funky freezer unmasked a murder scene! Not really but boy you could have fooled most anyone, with the defrosted hamburger meat and other unidentifiable meats that were leaking there blood juices everywhere (Stephen King could whip up a novel with these ingredients). Now it was around 2:30pm when I discovered this and knew with the place opening up a 5:00pm that this stench could cause some spontaneous spewing. I had to clean it out. In my favor I did have another person with me, to lug the unnamed remains out to the garbage (can you say “vegetarian”). Not pleasant, I mean I just cleaned out my own fridge, remember. The other person (wonderful, kind, and generous) offered to clean the freezer (to prevent the spewing) while I prepared for the 5 o’clock opening. I was beat, just dragging down that stuff and the emanation of rot and now bleach was almost a bit too much. Did I mention I was preparing food now (just reheating). Yea me, I’ve just added another odor. So anyway when my replacement arrived I wanted out, like when Lisa Marie was married to Michael. I had that vision of them in my head; I finally had to call a hypnotist, but that didn’t work, then there was a voodoo doctor…oh never mind, you get the picture. I don’t really have an ending other than I made it home to my fridgeless abode…until next time on “Turmoil’s of the Unfrozen”.

P.S. Happy Anniversary to my hubby.

11-04-06

I’m writing this as I need a break from cleaning out my fridge. Some of you who know me think I’m just having an anal moment, but you would be wrong. My frickin” fridge quit working last night! It turned all the contents to a savory 68 degrees, yum. That’s right; I’m dumping out every little product, making an unwanted experiment in the sink. Every bit I poured out saddened me, even the ranch dressing from 1999 (although you can’t eat it, it just soothes the soul knowing its there.) What makes matters worse is that my fridge is only a year and a half, and because of this, it’s under a “limited warranty” I can only go to a certain repair place. Luckily for me they can fit me in to their busy schedule on Wednesday…Wednesday? When the lady on the phone told me this I tried to keep my cool saying I wanted to be squeezed in earlier, but nothing. She ends the call by saying is there anything else I can help you with today… “Yes a fridge I need a fridge” she didn’t even find humor in this statement (even in stress I’m funny but no laughter back… makes me cold and impersonal, “tear”.) So now as I’m scrubbing off dried up chocolate sauce (even in this sad form it looks delicious), the doorbell rings. I swear to god (that means in no way shape or form am I joking, just ask my sister) there were two church goers at the door handing out a flyer titled something like the end is near. I nodded and accepted the pamphlet. I walked right back into the kitchen, stopped pissing and moaning and took a shower. Just my luck I now have to go to Wal-Mart and stock up on flashlights and batteries, I’m sure I’ll survive the “end” with the all cockroaches and that would be crappy without light. And to think I was all was all broken up about no refrigerator and losing a couple hundred bucks. What’s “money” going to be at the finale anyway… hopefully it won’t be ice cubes.

10-31-06

Ah Halloween night,
Where no matter how freakishly warm it is the day before, today breaks record lows. Now all princesses and goblins have chattering teeth and are sporting down and mukluks.

Where daylight savings is only 2 days prior, but no one is home at 4:00p.m and at 5:00p.m you can’t see your hand in front of your face.

Where your four year old nephew decides this year he will be very talkative with the “Trick or Treats” and “Thank Yous” but also likes to add on “poo-poo head” and “foo-foo head” (?) to the generous people handing out the candy.

Where if you think you've hidden all the candy after you’ve gotten home, mysteriously half licked and chewed pieces are popping up all over the house(covered in costume lint and cat hair, yum).

Where you think your toddler will pass out instantly because he didn’t nap, but every giggle or noise outside has him running for the door at top speeds.

Where, according to the parents handbook, section 45 paragraph 6, YOU must eat all the candy the kids don’t want to prevent the spitting out and what not’s. (This rule I take very seriously because I really love my kids, so any pain or cramping afterwards I know it’s for the greater good. Also they may want some of this candy but we, as adults as parents as role models are trying to stop the obese society we live in and we must start with the children… I know what you’re thinking but throwing out is wasteful.

Finally where the next morning YOU not your children wake up with a sugar hangover. The only cure… sugar. (I believe that cure is found also in your handbook so I don’t know why I’m telling you this you should already know.)

10-30-06

Friday night was game night with all my girlfriends, and game night is code for pig out night. I took the liberty of studying the 2006 food pyramid guidelines and wanted to alleviate some stress (ladies no worries about those delicate figures) by showing that what we ate fits into these categories perfectly (my interpretation). First grains: We had mass quantities of this area, pumpernickel, beer bread, sesame rods, pretzel crisps, crisp rounds, grahams, and others. You need 6 oz. From this section and I’m sure we topped that, bravo ladies. Second vegetables: 2.5 cups this gets a little trickier but here we go, Spinach dip (hello great veggie), chopped red pepper in the sausage purses (tons of anti- oxidants I’m sure), and that’s really it but I’m almost sure I got to 2 cups of that stuff. Third Fruits: Hello apples and what tastes better than apples, fluff ‘n’ stuff with apples! Also I’m counting pixie sticks; they came in a variety of delicious “fruit” flavors, so I think we are covered there. Then we touch on oils, duh we more than touched that! Fifth is milk :( a mean category for me let me tell you, but that didn’t stop me), Dips, and that’s all I should say there were at least 5 different kinds. Not to forget the variety of delicious cheeses. Finally meats and proteins: well I already mentioned sausage purses and the sesame rods that I mentioned for breads… wrapped in bacon! Killing two birds with one stone, we are the brainier species. I did leave out some keys items (cream puffs and lava cake) but the moral: No pyramid is too high especially if you are trained mountain climbers (code word for eaters).Thank you and good day.

10-27-06

You
I look at you from afar
I cannot reach you
The distance is great
I want to control you
I cannot
It pains me to think of me always reaching for you
You seem broken
You were my best friend
So reliable
Full of stories
You seem broken
You

Maybe poetry should be my escape now that my TV controller is missing again…

This was an email I sent to my husband at work. I wanted him to be with me through my sadness, but he immediately thought it was about him. It’s about the TV. I thought I’d put into word a poem for him.


Selfish
Worried about you
No feelings for others
Sitting alone in a dark room
No ambient light coming from my TV
Alone
All about you
What about me
Missing a piece
Alone
Selfish

While he’s at work trying to provide for our family (I’m just here to raising the children of our future!), I’m trapped here without any connection to the outside world (at this very moment a tear is running down my cheek.) My favorite song lyrics come to mind… “What about me, it isn’t fair
I’ve had enough now I want my share
Can’t you see I wanna live
But you just take more that you give”

This is a fave of my sister and me. I am saddened that I’m not even sure who sings it (again another tear). Can this day get any worse?

10-25-06

Ever been to a “Costco” (bulk ‘r’ us), I have not had the pleasure until yesterday. My sister has one of these memberships that you need to get into the exclusive facility. If you’ve never been it is quite a sight. You could purchase a 9 ft. pre- lighted Christmas tree, or perhaps a flat screen TV for $1799.00 or you may just be running in to get that nutcracker arbor that you missed out on last year, or finally maybe just picking up that mass supply of teriyaki beef jerky that you crave ever so often. So you can see the confusion sets in immediately. I don’t want to pass up some deal of the century or miss out on getting the 30 packs of gum, because you never know when you’ll get stinky breath and with 30 packs, I could almost guarantee that you would not catch me with halitosis. So after you take all that into consideration I thought I would share what I did pick up at Costco with you. Let me preface by saying that I am not pregnant (but I’m still loopy)… A 3lb. 4oz. bag of plain M&M’s, a 2.5 quart jar of pickles (spears), a 5lb. 4oz. tub of animal crackers, laundry detergent, fabric softener, a ginormous bag of pretzel crisps, a carton of Nabisco items (Oreos to Ritz bits), 3 pot roasts, Christmas cards, and finally a case of Capri sun juice(variety of flavors). What can I say, I’m eclectic. What I really needed was vegetable oil but all it came in was an 8 gallon jug, and I didn’t want my husband getting his hopes up for some recreation of some strip club thing he saw in the 80’s.

10-24-06

Let me just start this story by saying that our downstairs bathroom is torn up (unusable) and my 14 year old had a friend staying over. SO at 5:00 a.m. Saturday morning when my 14 year old stampeded into the hall bath and began to heave into the bathroom sink, two things ran through my mind. First thank god he made it into the bathroom and second… Gross! (See how I care if their sick, just where they get sick). I don’t want to get sidetrack but at this point I would like to say I have no idea why he threw up, everyone I tell this story to asks me “why did he throw up?” Um… huh? How am I suppose to know, he licked a garbage can lid on a dare, he’s training for the vomit Olympics, he was attacked by small gremlins in his sleep that pummeled at his stomach, I don’t know. Anyway I kicked my husband to go help him (the reason for this, 97% me cleans vomit to the 3% he contributes.) Okay he gets into the bathroom and my even my husband (who says he doesn’t care where the kids vomit…3% people) was like, Eww. At that point I say well clean it up (remember we have a guest and people need the sink and I don’t want to start mass puking as the others wander in there and smell it.) My thoughtful husband, the man I chose to spend the rest of my life with says… “You can get it in the morning”… Huh? What? Pinch me I’m dreaming right? He said “YOU” … I think I may have to open a can of whoop ass! This story is getting a bit too long let’s just end it by saying “How was your dinner, honey, not too spicy?”

10-16-06

Here’s a sport men could do, you’re on your hands and knees washing the floor and at any moment someone (preferably a 26 lb. toddler with a screwdriver) could attack you. The goal is to finish the floor (changing the nasty bucket water at least once and you can’t use the kitchen sink) and have no tears or bloodshed throughout the process. Another sport idea, folding laundry while a projectile keeps tackling you (again lets use a 26 lb. toddler). The goal is to fold the laundry correctly (no inside out stuff) and put it in the correct places (I know it all looks alike but take the extra minute to decide if the woman of the house could fit into the Dora the Explorer panties.) You may also go for the extra points by keeping a newly curious inhabitant out of the garbage (once again 26 lb. toddler will suffice). It may contain last nights French fry and this creature is dumfounded why we would let this hairy goodness go, and just may eat it if you’re not on your toes. Good Luck!

10-13-06

My daughter and my toddler both could pronounce one word pretty flawlessly… chocolate. I try to say it’s not me but of course it is I who is sneaking Breyer’s with Hershey’s Shell topping each night. I’m like a drinker who has one or two at night after a rough day just to function. Oh and I’ve been caught, sneaking my dark (really milk is my fave) little secret. My toddler will wake up and come downstairs, get right on my lap, put his nose to mine and say “smell?” Then he will take in a big whiff and look at me with the “I caught you look”, and grin and say “chocolate.” I will deny like any addict would but they know (the old joke is, how can you tell an addicts lying? ... their lips are moving. In my case they also have a special candy coating stuck in their teeth.). We adults think we are so clever. I now know that this illness can be passed on through my genes (denial again…it’s poor parenting skills). Taking my daughter to the doctor stresses her out ever since she was little. So brilliant parent I am I have her popping M&M’s the entire visit. I said to the doctor she will need some sort of therapy because I can add, stress + chocolate = disorder. Or when she was potty training, she would receive five M&M’s for using the bathroom, candy + toilet = is what is going to happen to your stomach. And still the way I talk my kids out of any of the goodies they find just to keep them for myself, “Um how bout I just drive you to the toy store” or “Here take this $20 you can get a lot more with this.” I am nuts. I even went online to see if they had a support group. One website reeled me in with the AA credo, “Hi, my name is” but you click on there site and there are recipes for Brownie Mix Rocky Road Bars and Black and White cookies! I guess I’m bringing this up because of a certain holiday approaching where my sickness hits high gear. My lying shines through with my greatest fabrication… “Ew, no, don’t eat that you don’t like that.” Damn you All Hallows Eve!!

10-12-06

Do I tell my oldest son that…

A. I took the liberty of washing all his bedding because athletes and teenagers need fresh linens to concentrate?

B. Tell him I accidentally locked the cat in his room and she took the liberty of doing something to his bedding.

C. Wash, remake it, and pray.

I’m screwed!

My husband just called, he recommends first C, and then wait a day or two, then B.

My other idea…
Buy him off with gifts, because with monetary items there is forgiveness (Kobe is a good example and he did something worse than the kitty)…

10-12-06

Three of my favorite shows:

1. The Office- any time Steve Carell says “That’s what she said” I laugh. And Dwight can we just hang out? I find you witty… in a serial killer sort of way.

2. Lost- but at this time I may be more confused than normal (if that is at all possible). Is one side of the island a Club Med? Also keep Sawyer dirty, please no shower for him! And then send him to my house to do some yard work, where we will reenact last night’s scene. (To my hubby… he really did some fabulous landscaping and there’s no need for him to clean up to come over hereJ.)

3. Project Runway- Auf Wiedersehen. I can’t help its just like my home life; the deadlines, the pressure, bickering, cleaning up, people judging you, and hot models (did I mention I was 5’11 ½” with a 26 waist? Ha-ha).

10-10-06

You ever put something on and you get pep in your step. I had it the other day when I put on my “good butt” jeans. It’s just a little sad when you’re the one throwing out the compliments while passing the mirror, doing double takes on yourself can be a little lonely. And walking backwards with your butt sticking out can land you in the loony bin. But what can I say; I was peppy, so anyone that would look, I pointed it out. Apparently, when a woman reaches a certain plateau in her adulthood and wants to share her posterior with others, no matter of the surroundings (McDonalds or in the middle of the street) this is called a “psychotic break.” So sorry to all of you that I involved (especially the ones that endured my performance of Sir Mix -A- Lot.) I just wanted a little love.

10-09-06

I have come to believe that in hell they make you scrape wallpaper. So I would just like to take this opportunity to apologize for anything I've done in the past or may do in the future, if I have some sort of brain lapse (someone please kick me). Thank you.

10-06-06

Remember my visit to Target with the kids, well I went alone today and fortunately I didn’t have to deal with misfit children but I had to deal with my own covetousness (my big word of the day, if you don’t like my stories maybe you can learn some vocab).So just to begin, its probably not a good idea to go down each and every aisle. When I was staring at all the different choices of bathroom cleaner (who knew of all the upgrades since my scrubbing bubbles came on the market), I should have realized that dilly- dallying would cost me. So when I finally reached the last aisle (on just the right hand side of the store) and a lady looked into my cart and said “Oh, I’d hate to have to put that all away when I got home” I should have ran straight to checkout. But NO…I plugged on over filling the cart. I had some gawkers, amazed at the balancing act I was performing but I proceeded on, looking at snow pants and Christmas presents (I know I’m insane). Eventually I reached the checkout and began to unload my ample supply of goods. The cashier had to use the big bags! The bags for a lot of stuff, the garbage sized bags, the bags reserved for the elite Target shoppers, and I knew my bill would be unmentionable (especially to my spouse). Any way what I’m getting at is I can’t tell “him” (my hubby, my other half, the man who thinks paper towels are a waste of money) how much I spent. To get to the point I would like all (twelve) of my readers to pledge some dinero to get me out of hock. If any of you can boost my readership the deposit from each of you could be minimal. So for any of you that have found yourself wandering through life (or a major discount store) and getting in a little over your head (with parmesan and garlic potato chips) I plead to you. My comrades, amigos, mothers (and fathers I know you’re out there), help this mom (bury the truth from her husband). I thank you for your time.

10-5-06

One of the first stories I wrote was about my daughter’s loose tooth. Well it’s been awhile and the ones that she has lost between then and now have seemed easy. We now are back to the irrational thinking and mass drama. Her not front tooth but side tooth is loose. This morning she spent a good 15 minutes staring at it in the mirror (like magical powers will painlessly drop it from her mouth into her palm) until I suggested maybe getting dressed for school. She turned to me and looked at me with the crazed Wookalar face (see “Private Eyes” one of my favorite movies of all time). “And how am I supposed to get clothes on?!” My response, “Over your head?” This is when I began to fear for my safety “My tooth is in the way!” I calmly suggested that she close her mouth. This is when she looked at me with her favorite “duh” look, “How am I supposed to do that, my lips are stuck because they’re dry.” Perhaps some liquid? Again stupid me she may swallow the tooth. That’s when I brought up that through this whole conversation she has been moving her lips. I will tell you now that she doesn’t ever want to be wrong (and I told her that 99.9% of the time she will not be wrong but that’s when she’s in a discussion with a man… again something to discuss a later time.) Anyway a high pitched screech emitted from her small frame a she stomped off and got dressed. Whew. Oh I forgot to mention she hadn’t eaten breakfast or brushed her teeth yet… so the melodrama had yet to really begin…

10-02-06 pt.3

Part 3 of Monday… While writing about Huggies experiment another incident occurred. A can of newly opened cashews and water was involved. Some of the cashews had been partially chewed (yum) and some were left whole. Again this procedure took place on the train table (and lucky me every square inch of the table was covered to insure proper analysis.) Perhaps he was looking into the effects of water absorption on nuts? Or maybe he is researching behavior of a mother on the edge?

10-02-06 pt.2

Part 2 of Monday… I walked in on my 2 ½ year old as he was performing a scientific test, only he wasn’t in a lab and he didn’t have a microscope. Let’s just say he was in the family room using his train table and conducting a Huggies pull-up “how much water can you hold” experiment. Only he was using the pull-up he’d been wearing and with one hand was pouring the water and with the other… using a god created instrument (good, right?) The other “equipment” had yet to be used. So I believe I just stopped some deadly chemical spill that would have needed E.T. wearing specialists and a syringe of valium… for me.


P.S. It reminds me of two lavatory experiments his older brother did when he was little. First, which is softer, toilet paper or your sock? (That one freaked me out and I may have thrown up in my mouth a teeny bit).Second, how high can I fill a cup… also done in the bathroom.

10-02-06

This morning consisted of the usual Monday morning mayhem. My oldest son’s alarm kept going off and my youngest kept jimmying the lock with a toy spatula and pressing the forward button so this continued on 4 more times until I figured out the problem. Then the toddler reached for a bottle of juice in the fridge (just as we are headed out the door) and proceeded to douse himself in cran-grape. This turned into a mild argument with my husband and myself because I said “who didn’t put the lid back on right?” and he said “I don’t think the lid was on wrong”. Then it was “well then how did the juice get out?” and he was like “well he tipped it” and I was all “well if the lid was on right I think he could turn it upside down and dance a jig”… you can see where that was going. So I get my daughter to school and hubby’s finally off to work. I reluctantly head to the dungeon of multiplying laundry where in the last two weeks I’ve dealt with leaves in the washer, which left what looked like doo-doo stains all over the clothes, and also a metallic bronze crayon mysteriously showed up in the dryer (how many bad words can you think up). Plus no matter how much I do the laundry it seems to be multiplying like rabbits. Low and behold I get to the basement and all my fears were fulfilled and I swear I saw a pair of boxers hop over to a corner! Anyway my neighbor calls and asks if I want to walk. Let me fill you in a bit I do not exercise but I have started this walking bit maybe 3 times before. My neighbor has the route all planned out and I believe she might be trying to kill me. Firstly it seems about 28 miles and secondly she has found the one mountain in our neighborhood (and even in this city) in which we must scale in this workout. Lastly I have to push the stroller with my child, who with the stroller and him combined probably exceeds 124lbs. at least (I never exaggerate people) .We get to the Himalayan part of our hike and I can’t even speak (this is unheard of) and I’m perspiring (ew). This is also the part where I want to knock on any door to make friends and see if they can give me a lift home (I’m a wimp what can I say). I also think of ways this could be easier, like if the stroller was remote controlled or we had something rigged up like in a mine shaft to pull me along or we could float on command, all the usual ideas. It also might be easier if my nanny was watching the child and the buff trainer was encouraging me as we went along with “you are gorgeous” or “I could bounce a quarter of that rump” and when we got home my personal chef (Tyler Florence maybe) was whipping me something up in the kitchen and my masseuse was on stand by and the butler brought me a drink just as I stepped into the hot tub. Why must I be denied! Well its only 10:00 a.m. now and my maid has forgotten to show up but I can’t do anything until the Motrin kicks in…

9-27-06

I have a cold. The kind of cold where your arms and legs are sore and your brain is foggy. Anyway due to this cold I must have not fully secured the upstairs from the 2 ½ year old. So you are aware upstairs we have a highly sophisticated system of locking all doors so the toddler cannot enter, only a few trained can come and unlock the doors if necessary. Two things are needed to have this distinguished honor, height (you must be able to reach the top of the door) and a unique device to jimmy the lock (it happens to be a nail but we tested many before finding the one with the exact measurements needed). To start again the toddler was upstairs in his room (or so I thought) and I was meditating (ha-ha). Anyway the doorbell rings and normally he’s the first one to the door but not today. Magazine seller, which I’m sure she’d be scared off by my sunken eyes and dripping nose but not that easy. “No but thanks”… “Oh, not today thanks”… and finally “AHCHOO, ok then bye”. I close the door and was glad that he must have dozed off. But as I reach the top of the stairs and see my bedroom door wide open a chill goes down my spine. As I enter the room I see my blond haired babe standing over our predominately black cat who now has multiple white dripping stripes all over her. My sweetheart has pretty much emptied a bottle of lotion all over her (and of course she sat through it … see story with cat tweezing incident). Of course though when I grab a towel and try to come to her rescue she bolts around the room then down the hall to the baby’s room. I grab her and begin the buffing process; she now looks like we’ve tried to laminate her and I cannot see her getting a hairball in the near future (or stuck anywhere). While I’m still polishing her I smell a familiar smell in the room… my mousse. He has moussed his room, covering the chair, dresser, a magazine, and other assorted items. I quickly start trying to wipe that up with the towel in my hand but “duh” the towel is covered in glossy cat hair and I’m smearing it all over everything and now its glossy with a touch of cat hair (if Hildi from “Trading Spaces” sees this I’m sure of her next design, cat haired cover cabinets ). So as I finish the cleaning I wipe my nose on my shirt (who am I kidding people I’m not that refined and my arms are sore from the cat shellac procedure and the razoring of the walls). He, my youngest my blued eyed offspring has won again… I am defeated.

9-22-06

So my sister and I were hanging out yesterday, she brought her three ninjas with her (two regular and one in training, they are always in combat mode.) Anywho we were watching the Emmy award winning daytime dramas that the major networks offer (between breaking up biting, kicking, or whatever). SO this young lady had a baby with her husband but little did she know the baby was really her first love’s because they made love (it’s never sex) while suffering from hypothermia (where paradoxical undressing can occur… for real look it up) and couldn’t remember (I hate when that happens). SO now somehow a paternity test has come to light showing who the real father is and the young lady is torn of where her true heart lies. At this point I look over at my sister and say remember the time that my husband wanted me to cut down on my paper towel usage to save pennies and I went into that angry deep funk for days where I was torn between extra laundry and my sanity and I chose paper towels? Are lives are not that different are they? Who am I kidding I never gone into some chocolate induce coma where I’ve been passionate with the Hinckley and Schmidt delivery guy only to find out he’s married to my best friend and possibly my cousin….

9-20-06

Ever watch the food channel or talk shows when they have “quick and easy meal” recipes? I’m always watching for the next easy meal. Fortunately they always start off simple enough… Chicken breast, salt, pepper, flour, but then out of nowhere they add something crazy, and they will always start by saying “the key ingredient” , “the item that brings this whole recipe together”, or “you can’t skimp on this”…. llama hoof scrapings that were raised in the Netherlands on the tiki tiki berry. This item can be found at most exotic stores and online, but be cautious of the stuff that is from northeast Idaho it’s definitely not the same quality. You will probably pay a little more ($45 an ounce) but it’s something no kitchen should be without. Right? Anyway so I’m watching a new talk show and Lisa Kudrow (Phoebe on Friends) is on and she has a quick and easy recipe all you need is a toaster oven and M&M’s… hello she must be talking to me because those items are a staple in my house (yours too I’m sure). So all you do is place your plain M&M’s on foil on a tray, set the toaster on medium( but be careful toaster oven times may vary), and toast them till they crack open. They’re tasty! I thoroughly enjoy them and now I can say snootily, “No I don’t have llama scrapings but I prefer my M&M’s toasted.” Finally a recipe I can follow. Thanks Ms. Kudrow!


Quick follow-up I said “toast” the M&M’s not rub them on toast (my sister was a tad confused). So I apologize to the people she told and especially the people that tried it (yuck).

9-19-06

My seven year old daughter has been suffering from PMS, pissing mommy (off) successfully, for a few years now. The more I smile the more she frowns. This morning it was hair trouble. First combing it sets her off, then the styling begins in which she replies “I look like a rocket ship!” I of course bite down and grin and say “Let me guess which orifice the fire will come from.” She doesn’t find me amusing, I try holding her hair straight in the air and saying “this is going to be a long day, me holding this up all day.” Again nothing. I finally finished, she seemed satisfied because she glared at me a said “done.” I then received the cursed eye and she stomped off. Ah, the joys of the early morning.

9-14-06

My toddler was awake at 5:15 a.m. and as of 5:18 p.m. has yet to nap. So because of this lack of rest today he has had a myriad of activities (for me). To start with today was the day I tackled vacuuming the stairs. Now I know that sounds boring and easy but I went all out rotating attachments to get all the crevices, all the dust bunnies, cat hair, beads, and miniscule particles that appear from beyond (what can I say I live in a Jackie Collin’s novel). I don’t mean to brag but it looked fabulous until my blond ball of energy decided to tweeze the cat… yes… and what’s even odder is that the cat sat for this de-hairing exercise…. Ok then on to emptying his dresser drawers… till you could hear an echo. He removed each item and made sure nothing was left folded and no like items together, I guess a fall sprucing was in order. Each diaper change consisted of me using the few WWF moves that I saw Hulk Hogan perform in the day. He also orchestrated the removal of all his toys from their containers and spread them across his now chocolate chip cookie smeared bed, that apparently he smuggled upstairs while I working on some other menial task(like scrubbed pencil marks off the wall). Well I just had to step away from this story to calm the wide eyed moppet. He was franticly trying to cram every item he owns in his backpack. He kicked, pushed, and screamed… then swayed and bobbed… and now is conked out. Nothing like the sweet little angel napping at 5:48 p.m. that should make for an interesting night…

9-12-06

Yesterday while I was taking out the garbage I walked through a web… ok gross right? But it was the inhabitant of this web that sent me into hysterics. He was huge (he looked at me and mouthed “yum”, ok!) Basically I was frightened out of my mind. First I went into the hee bee gee bee dance all the while cussing (the usual cuss words but I made up some new ones… I’m very creative that way.)Once I established he was no longer on me and he had climbed back up his sinister web, I knew I had to get him for I would never sleep again (sorry all you bug lovers). I looked around for my weapon of choice and it happened to be a rake (plastic not even metal, what I really wanted was a blow torch… maybe next time I’m in Target) Anyway, my spasms had not subsided (I keep slapping myself all over feeling the creepy crawlies!), I pulled him and his web down with the rake. Unfortunately the trauma had made me a bit out of sorts… I couldn’t think of my next move as he shuffled off. I thought the “duh” moment had passed as I tried to attack him with the rack (I’m not a valedictorian) but of course that was not successful (rakes have spaces, genius I am). Ok so now what… A shoe but where will I get one of those? (The ones on my feet were way to obvious… remember I was violated people, he started it.) So I found another shoe and completed my goal (again I hope I’m not offending any PITA members (people identifying to arachnids). So I got back into the house but once more felt something on me and at this point I really freaked. Cussing, banging my head against the wall (yes I know ow but I thought … no I didn’t think), and jittering around. I finally jittered and jived all the way to the chair where I just sat. I have decided not to leave the house because if this guy has even one friend…

9-8-06

Is it me or has Target got its own zip code now? The marketing guys that design the set-up for the store are geniuses. No matter which door you enter you’ll always need something on the opposite side so you must travel the whole store. Now if I was alone (no kids) I would browse forever (M&M’s, shower curtains, shoes, make-up, whatever you can think of), lame that I would count that as a mini vacation. Anyway to enter the store with kids you really need to have a plan (similar to breaking in to a bank). You must have all the supplies needed to get in and out, wipes, drinks, snacks, list, a suicide pill if it just gets out of control, purse, and cell phone (because you can always call your husband directly at work and scream as they scream). So as I enter the store unprepared, other than the Neopet cards that my 7 year old daughter wants, I feel a sense of dread. First off my 2 1/2 year old doesn’t want to sit in the cart; he went stiff leg on me immediately. Well now I have to lay down the rules for walking independently. No running, jumping, dragging, screaming, screeching, (there is a difference), pulling, pushing…. Oh he is off skipping away already. Secondly, the only plan I had, the Neopet cards, are not in stock. This turns into eyelash batting and “we can look for something else right?” I’m screwed. Forty minutes, bathroom break and cart full of stuff later I think we are pretty much home free, nothing’s broken or on fire so we are good. But as soon as I turn my back my 2 ½ year old disappears. I calmly call him (I popped some capillaries in my face) thank the heavens he is just around the corner. Unfortunately he has two bottles of K-Y warming liquid on each ear and he is moving them like he’s trying to get a signal. Trying to get a hold of someone on another planet, Venus maybe? Not embarrassing at all… I just discreetly take the antennas and move away… Nope we’re (he’s) pissed! He begins flailing and hollering, dropping to the floor just to hit his head so the tears can be real (method actor). I try to pick him up whispering sweet nothings into his ear (death, please, never see me again, ya know the usual), but nothing works. Biting and kicking have started and he is now lying in (on) the main aisle just adjacent to the contraceptives (a public service ad if I ever saw one). Of course I try to ignore him smiling at the other visitors, chit chatting with them…“kids will be kids”, “no nap today” (he did), “hasn’t been feeling well” (he’s fine), and “aliens are melting his brain he just was on the”… oh never mind. Somehow I bribe him to the check out line (Halloween flashlight…I know, it’s just September 8th). I begged him to sit in the cart while all 40 of us wait in the open two lines but he preferred digging for nose gold and staring at people. I finally check out and not two steps away from the register he wants to ride! I get into the car and sob not because of his fit or my new bruises it’s because I know I have forgotten something, I always do.

8-24-06

Did I ever mention that my 2 1/2 year old licks the towel when he’s done washing his hands? Nasty right? Well this weekend while we were camping (I mean that loosely we had a cabin with air, shower and toilet) he brought his Aunt and I a plastic cup filled with water. “Mmmm”, he said lapping at his lips. I thought where did he get that? I don’t think he can reach the sink… Well people I don’t think you have to be Nancy Drew to crack this whodunit. I really wanted my sister in law to lie to me about where he retrieved the sparkling libation (actually I demanded she lied to me, there was a bit (teeny bit) of screaming…) but it was written all over her face (neon lighted even). Anyway it’s been about five days since that incident and I’m getting near him again (I’m not running away anymore like Michael Myers is chasing me (not the Austin Powers, the Halloween…although he can be quite frightening with those teeth). Actually today I let him hold my hand while we went for a walk …until… the fire hydrant… As I scream and gag at the same time trying to explain to him that “sucking on it wont get you anything” he looks over at me grins gives it one more lick then skips off…Yucky poo-poo, I sigh…until… the next fire hydrant (really must there be so many of them!)…

8-16-06

Remember the new hose attachment for my backyard hose? Well my husband also purchased one for the front. So am I totally shocked that this morning as my three kids and I were trying to rush out to take my oldest to soccer that the 2 year old took us hostage with the tsunami mode on the hose? No I guess I shouldn’t be. I shielded my seven year old daughter from the direct hit (the kids got no problem with aim now) which left me drenched (I wish I was exaggerating). We made it back inside slamming, the door as he pummeled us, laughing the entire time. My 14 year old made it behind the van; he had to save us because now my daughter and I were trapped inside. I screamed at the two year old through the glass window in the door but this just seemed to excite him more as he sprayed at me, shaking with amusement. I watched as my oldest stalked him with slow movements ready to overtake the little bugger. But oh no the two year old was on to him, he turned at the exact moment of attack and targeted my eldest sending him running, then he turned back to me to spray at me through the glass. Finally I guess the right amount of high pitched wails(coming from my now sore throat) kept him distracted enough for him to be over thrown, stripped from his crown and deflated he bowed his head in defeat and stomped off. Riding in the car with my underwear meshing to my skin is a great way to start any day.

8-15-06

As I sit outside on a beautiful cloudless day, reading my new highly anticipated novel, my 2 year old watering the thirst deprived plants with the new hose attachment, I find myself humming to the weather gods. He looks so angelic my blond boy misting the yard and I’m reading away. It’s like something out of a Rockefeller portrait. WHAM! Gasping for air, water is pounding away at my tone svelte body (ha-ha). My sweet bambino is attacking me! He has change the setting from mist to TIDAL WAVE! As I push my way through the skin removing stream I grab the hose and I … take a breath… I pull myself together … I’m alright… laser resurfacing is expensive; I’ve just saved possible thousands…I turn the hose on the little hellion and use full power. Let’s just say the laughing from his tiny mouth stopped very suddenly. I set down the hose to survey the damage. Book is sopping, I am sopping, now baby is sopping… great now more to do but I chuckle inside, I got the little turkey. I now head for the door and… Sweet Baby Ray’s he’s got the WMI (weapon of mass irrigation) again. The cackles coming from him are definitely something from “The Exorcist” (I swear I saw his head spin too.) Crap… I lean left… then fake back … twisting to avoid the onslaught of spray… I jump… I dive… breathing hard I make it to the door where just as I open it his aim has improved (let’s just say he’d win the kewpie doll). I’m down, struggling to get the door close before the family room is covered in flood! As I shut the door panting as if I just ran the Boston marathon, he appears at he door soaking and sobbing no more chuckles, his big wet blue eyes look up at me like a lost puppy, I look down at him … stick out my tongue and walk away… settle down I’m more mature than that… I let him in, trying not to strangle him as I dry him off… see I’m a grown up calm down…

7-31-06

I had to run to the bank on Saturday I asked my daughter if she’d like to go with me, “boring but ok.” We ran to the bank and then I told her she could pick out lunch. She wasn’t really thrilled but I pulled the car over to discuss all our choices. I ran through all the fast food options ( if you go down the secret hallway in each fast food joint you will find the wee lettered poster with all the nutritious facts of each and every item that these exceptional places offer). Taco bell…maybe… McDonalds…I hate their burgers... Beef Villa…no way... Chicken…alright. Okay Popeye’s or KFC? The one with the picture of the face… are you sure last time you didn’t like that as much, let’s drive by Popeye’s see if that is the one first. We drive by and she said no not his one. I say they have biscuits too… no, no, no. So I drive another 82 miles (not that far but not next door either) to KFC. We pull up and she says that this is the place. I get in line, 2 cars in front and one pulls right in behind me. I turn to her with a smile and say “ok, what kind of chicken do you want?” She gives me a disgusted 7 year old look and says “I don’t want chicken… I just want a biscuit.” Ugh…

7-25-06

In my haste to tell the story of “The Negligent Other Half” I missed some important factors. First the litter box is a covered box… “He” put the liner in but omitted the key kitty ingredient… cat sand. Secondly (and most importantly), he seemed to miss out on all the “tidying up.” You know picking up and disposing of all the prize presents left behind and scrubbing the “essence” out of the upholstered chair. Lastly (maybe even more importantly) have I received any sort of commendation for my efforts through this trying time? Um? Perhaps praise? Some sort of trinket? Well people if I had I would not be straining my hand, typing away, still telling on the f*&^%$# fellow now would I?

7-24-06

Friday morning I went to the basement to start laundry and right at the base of the stairs … cat poop. I hollered (aren’t I cute) up to my husband “one of the cats had an accident on the carpet.”(Actually there were a lot of curse words but I’m going for the PG rating) My husband says he just changed their litter last night, a few more exchanges of words and I chalk it up to a fluke, but Saturday the same thing downstairs on the carpet, kitty dookie. Now we have two cats and I don’t know who’s doing it so I tell the kids to be alert be aware of all the cats movements (ha- ha movements). Anyway all Saturday nothing else. Of course I go to work Sunday morning and can they (I really mean “him”) keep things in check (no). First I get a call that the baby spilled something on the floor and put a towel on it. Then it’s a call with it may be cat pee. Last it’s a call saying “he”(the husband)couldn’t smell anything but has my 14 year old put his nose in it to check( at this point I can still hear my teen in the background gagging… verifying it’s the puss’s pee!) Okay now what’s up? One of the cat’s is sick it’s gonna cost me an arm and a leg to fix it, etc., and etc. First thing when I get home I don’t stress it, except for the fact that the piss covered towel is sitting in the sink…SITTING IN THE SINK!? All day…What!? “Well I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do with it” … “Oh you must be clairvoyant because I wanted you to leave it in the sink until the fairies come and carry it off!”(Jac*&ss). We will just eat dinner and my investigation can start later (no stressing). So after dinner, after scrubbing the sink, after starting the laundry, after doing the baths, I sat down to discuss the tinkle trouble. The family tells me she (we still don’t know which one) peed under the chair that I am occupying. I say I can still smell it, I rewashed the floor, but as I sat there I kept sniffing (which my family felt was quite amusing). I could not stand it any longer so I took apart the room smelling everything but I came right back to the chair. At that moment I was praying I was wrong but I started smelling the chair (not a folding chair, not a dining room chair not a fisher price plastic chair, my new upholstered chair) … I wasn’t wrong... she Pissed in the chair…The freakin’ chair I was sitting in! My eye began to twitch (I thing I may implode) but I hold it together (I know most of you are shocked, trust me I’m shocked). I clean the crud out of the chair and realize that one of the cats must be really sick. Sleep beckons I must retire, so we all pass out…and it was event free all night until I open my eye (just one) to see my 7 year old daughter standing above me declaring she won’t go downstairs because the cat pooped on the chair… I think she’s very funny I cleaned it up last night and it was pee not poop ha-ha… eyes closing again…“but it’s disgusting!” Please be a joke…I drag my limp body from bed… downstairs I go… crabby tired seeping from every part of me…I walk right into… the newly defecated crime scene! … NOOOOOO! I pick up the phone and began to scream expletives at my husband through the phone. Oh my god…I’m going to strangle the cats … why me …cat pee smells worse that sewage… come home and clean this up…cats are Satan’s friends(little ears look like horns right?)…why me … get home now…I’m calling the guys that clean up after CSI… After I hang up (I’m very harmonious at this point, no worries) I call the vet and beg for some miracle to make her stop. She says that they could run extensive tests (meaning sell an organ if you want help $$$$) but it may not tell us anything (you’re screwed). Basically separate the cats and watch them (ohhh like watching paint dry) is my cheapest choice. I head down to the basement to start laundry (Desperate housewife huh? more like desolate housewife.) Sadly there is more cat dung at the bottom of the stairs… I am going to snap, break, and crack. I decide to check their litter (before heading out to purchase another litter box and 903 yards of plastic wrap) for perhaps spiders nest or some sort of gremlin hiding in the covered box. As I lift the lid off the box my worst fears come true… a small family of rats, no, angry biting Brazilian beetles, no… much more terrifying… my masterful husband DID NOT PUT LITTER IN THE BOX! He, him, *^&%&^%&^&, no litter… GOD &^&^%^$% son of **^&^%%$%8768 …What the*^&& %& … I’m going to kill… revenge… retribution will be MINE!!...*dramatic pause* … (insert menacing music)… Oh, he’s home now I need to go leave a special surprise in his car…

4-26-06

I am not much of an outdoorsy person but my children and I have started these little adventures. By our house there is a school, behind the school there are some woods, and in these woods is a creek and some paths (quick note: we are in suburbia not some rustic backwoods). So we found a rough path and decided to “dive in” and take us wherever it lead us. This first time we ventured, I guess we had traveled about 4 minutes in (I told you not much of a Davey Crockett) and we had had enough and were trying to turn around and find our way back. My six year old was frantic thinking we were lost. I assured her we were fine and even when she saw civilization again she believe we had stumbled across a new town (also not raising outdoorsy children either.)Of course it was just where we had entered. But today we were going to be braver. So off we went. on this trip it was Me, my 14 year old niece , my six year old, and my two year old. We headed to the familiar path as before. This time it had a lot more over growth and it was hard to make out the pink ties around the trees (Oh I didn’t mention them… I’m not Magellan either.) So we are deep into the wild when I hear a splashing noise behind me, I jump and turn. I see a fish! A real fish like the kind people fish for, a real live fishing fish! He was convulsing about in the shallow water, confused and disoriented (As you can see I immediately connected with him…. Or her) I knew he (she) needed to be saved. The kids looked on as you would with any wild beast that you come upon in the …wild. Big eyes stared down upon him (her). All the while I was deciding what needed to be done for this heroic rescue that I was about to embark on. What measures are necessary? I ponder. He (She) corrects himself (herself) in the water and heads for deeper area (I breathe a sigh; I mean what was I going to do anyway, this is some uncivilized creature!) I explain to the children that the fish has a natural ability to rectify his (her) dilemma and I, a human, would just have aggravated the situation (full of it, right?) Again as we wind our way back to the populous, my six year old is once again surprised that we made it (I need to get her out more.)

4-4-06

Well it has taken me a little while but I now have my house covered in saran wrap (eat your heart out Grandma!). Older people had the right idea all along encasing their treasured floral couches in plastic. So what if in the summer you have to peel your butt off the sweaty artificial canvas or in the winter you slide off the icy cool overlay, I can wipe it down with a paper towel, bleach, or a power washer if I want. Puke away because now I have acquired an official CDC (center for disease control) suit. Splatter me people I am prepared! It is difficult to relax on a plastic bed but clean up is a snap. Stay tuned to you local cable access channel for my inexpensive ideas for your family. Ideas like, how to not freak out every time someone sneezes (I have consulted with the top psychologists from around the globe), 101 ways to get that aroma out of you nasal cavities (some may freak you out and are painful but you will thank me later), the history of stains (riveting topic filled with all sorts of stain combinations you have never imagined), what to pack in an emergency kit if you need to run away fast ( one hint: consult your local bank for exchange rates), and much more! Stay tuned…

4-01-06

10:20p.m Friday, I am again covered in upchuck; my two- year old has once again heaved. Coating himself, his bed, and me with a concoction only worthy of the million dollar Fear Factor ($50,000 dollars way too cheap and the million may not even be enough with as much as they take out in taxes and all). Oh and I’m not talking about eating it, I’m saying just smelling it is worth the big cash. Anyway back to stripping the bed, stripping us, and to the bath and again we lie down. Now I’m completely paranoid to fall asleep, afraid to be awoken by you know what god knows where. So I lie there like a pretzel stick, eyes bugging out waiting. I must have finally shut an eye when the baby starts a musical array of noise from his backside. The odor, oh the odor, well my wish came true I wasn’t cleaning vomit any longer. The morning has come, many diaper changes have passed and some of the dead are moving around again. This is when I think maybe I should fake illness just to get away (I’ve had three kids I am a champion vomiter, I’m not exaggerating I have a plaque).I could fake them out, have them cater to my every whim, and hide in the bathroom if I just want to get away (this is pitiful). I mean hanging out in the bathroom alone ranks right up there with a trip to Aruba? Unfortunately …yes. As of yet I have not fallen ill fake or otherwise, so laundry must continue on and I must stay here (trust me I thought of running away too, but no money, no gold doubloons to barter, no jewelry to hock, I’d be an easy target of the mean streets, staying put is my only option).

3-31-06

My two year old puked every 20 to 40 minutes early Wednesday morning. He wouldn’t heave into a bucket only a towel would work, this was a long night. He felt better during the day on Wednesday and I felt beat (also I broke a record at the water company; laundry, laundry, and laundry). Thursday was lovely birds chirping, warm weather, clear skies, an occasional odor permeated from my young ones backside (but hey no vomit!), things were looking good. I swear we were all floating around, happiness encasing our bodies. Bedtime came, the children passed out from a full day, my daughter was in our bedroom. Her hair was covering her serene face; I decided to lie down beside her. She became uncomfortable squirming around and then sat up looked right at me… and projectile vomited into my freshly scrubbed face! Two seconds of shock then survival mode, drag her to the bathroom, scrub my face, strip the bed, and strip off our clothes, all the while trying not to upchuck from the smell of death (McDonald’s cheeseburger and fries). Since she had already marked me I decided to stay with her throughout the night. She like her little brother was about every 20 to 40 minutes but she would use a bucket (still she already had caused a new laundry fiasco with the first regurgitation). But it was at 4:00a.m that I knew I would be really tested. She woke up to retch again this time my eyes barely opened as I helped her. After settling her down I looked at the clock, 4:07 a.m. and prayed to make it to 5:00a.m at this same moment I heard a vibrating powerful explosion come from the hall bath. My fourteen year old had succumbed to this puking madness! Now he had made it to the bathroom (good going guy) and even the toilet but because he is bigger and more competitive (always trying to out do), he sprayed the area with this powerful blow-up. So now I was scrubbing the commode at four in the morning. Crawling back to bed, sleep hit me and I don’t think I heard a noise again until around 6:50a.m (spoiled I am). This noise was in stereo (believe me I wish I was joking) hallway bathroom and downstairs bathroom, my fourteen year was on his second round but now he was joined by a new contender my husband…As I write this at Friday 8:14p.m I have yet fallen to this illness but my body still worn from 426 loads of laundry, toilet washing, and etc. (there’s a lot of etc. but I can’t think because of lack of sleep) I wonder is it good karma or bad karma that I haven’t gotten sick….

3-20-06

I don’t know anything. This is the phrase that is repeated to me between 2-100 times a day. My 14 year old is forever reminding me of this. I should have known this would happen; of course I uttered those words to my mother quite frequently (although I was right, child prodigy and all). I thought because of my sheer coolness as a mom that my child would never say that to me. I mean when did I turn into my mom she was always old and she really didn’t get anything. I’m knowledgeable, well-rounded, savvy, all those things my mom wasn’t. How could I be getting the eye roll from my teenager so often? And then I broke. I felt a chill go down my spine as I said to my teenager in slow motion … “just wait till you have your own children”… This is the exact dreadful statement my mother said to me, how could I repeat the words? Is this what my mother has waited for patiently all this years? A curse she put upon me after I did the eye roll and “you don’t know anything” comment. How many times had she heard it 5, 20, or 4325? She has waited by the sidelines knowing my day will come… oh sure I know she will hug me and tell this will pass, all the while she is doing a jig in the privacy of her own home! She cursed me with some sort of voodoo. My teenager is trying to break me and I have to be tougher than the women that came before. I have to stand down, laugh it off, and be the bigger person… Who am I kidding I need to get me some toadstools, batwings, Yahtzee dice, or what ever it takes to keep this tradition going! I mean one more eye roll and I’ll be homicidal (and I just don’t think I can kill anyone, think of the mess).

3-14-06

I have been known to keep a clean house, that’s what the people say. I, on the other hand, just see what I haven’t cleaned, like a bulimic sees fat, when a rich person doesn’t have enough, like Pamela Anderson sees a B cup (stop messing with them Pam), I see dirt. I do like to pick up and put away (I have stepped on enough Lego’s to know those little buggers will bring tears to your eyes.) Anyway, when my 14 year old brought home this questionnaire he had to fill out for school it had questions on it about when he gets older like, career wanted, ideal transportation, things you will do in your free time… this is where I was positive my 5’ 11’’ athletic son would answer exercise and sports, I was partially right he did say those things but his number one was … cleaning! This topped soccer and football! I have seen the signs that he maybe turning into a mini-me but I guess I was in denial. Since we moved six months ago his room has changed on a weekly basis, trying to get the furniture placement just so. He has gotten rid of so much stuff (because the clutter is driving him crazy) I’m sure he is headed for a room with a window and some carpet. The big thing about this I haven’t let his father know, it doesn’t matter that the boy plays football, or likes to be wounded (bloodier the better), that he has the mouth of a sailor, or that he would lift weights in his sleep( if that’s is possible), this cleaning business will be a girly thing. “You don’t know what it’s like to be a boy” is what I’ll hear…“he needs to be tough” (I always think am I supposed to punch him then see if he’d like dinner?) I remember when my son grinded down his front teeth while on a skateboard, immediately I’m kissing and hugging him, all the while I had my phone in my hand to get a dentist on the line to fix his teeth. My husband “he looks good, nothing wrong will some chipped teeth!”(If he is going to model there is, always a mother!) I really don’t know where I’m headed with this story. Am I horrified that he picked cleaning as something to do in his free time?... Yes!… But I’m also glad he is not a slob, right? No matter what he chooses to do in life he will always have to be somewhat organized and tidy if he is going to be successful at it. Boxer, lawyer, teacher, janitor, I mean think about it even if he turns into some serial killer (predominately male field, can’t be more masculine than that) DNA wont be his downfall, the kid will be bleaching like a madman to clean that stuff up (breathe easy I am not raising a serial killer… then again I’m pretty sure that’s what all serial killers moms say!)

3-9-06

Ok so the remote is still M.I.A. I know I am rambling but I just wanted to add that I have inherited this addiction. The addiction to the remote… and I know there are others of you out there! My father is the carrier of the affliction that has unfortunately passed it to me and my sister (luckily our symptoms have lessened and we aren’t as obsessed.) My father has been known to take the remote to the store, bathroom, and any other room in the house, just so it stays with him. The man can fall asleep with it on his person (resting on his belly with one hand covering it is the favorite spot) but once someone goes for it an internal ADT alarm goes off and he awakens defending his property. Not only must he constantly have it in his grasp at all times he must also use it. In one sitting, lets say an hour, he will have checked every channel (and we aren’t talking basic cable) 45 times. In conclusion I just wanted to say that I have never been shopping or to the bathroom with my remote (although I do love it and wished we had more time together before it disappeared.) I am not that consumed with it (again please reappear!) I will manage to go on (probably tormented, plagued, controlled, and just taken over with its vanishment) but I will survive for the children (I must put on a brave face or the sickness will pass on!) Maybe there is some sort of 12 step program….

3-8-06

When a two year old is tired, screaming is usually what is happening. So when you take them to their room to sleep one of two things happens, either they pass out before they make the crawl to the bed or they get that second wind. At first I will lie with my two year old until he is completely settled, this for me can be a painful process especially if they are in “baby wants to party” mode. Today we were in party form so as I lay down I prepped myself for the worst. First as I try to get comfortable I chose to lay with my back against the wall, as always he precedes to step over my neck (missing and falling on my head) to squeeze his 28 lb body in a space the size of a half dollar. In turn I begin to scoot over but that doesn’t appease him because in that moment he has changed his mind and wants to lay where I’ve ended up ( again falling and tripping over my neck and head.) Then we go into gymnastics. “My mom’s a balance beam”, where my bouncing (and I mean literally) boy starts at my feet and tries to walk up my body, falling continuously into my body causing muffled cries to seep from my mouth and bruising that any doctor would question. The balance beam is fun but it’s even funnier when we throw ourselves against mom at the end knocking heads (squeals of joy!) Side note: I really hope it is proven to lessen cellulite, all the pounding and bruising will be just part of what a woman must do to look her best. Now at some point with all the torture going on I start to doze (it is unbelievable but true), this is when objects are now shoved into my nasal passage, ears, or eyes (this, I believe, will not do anything to improve beauty, although again if it is proven to help wrinkles or skin texture all I would say is poke and prod away!) I have had it at this point and begin to restrain the boy (laying on top of him works, I am just joking so breathe people.) Also by now he has grown bored of the mutilation routine and begins to rub his eyes. Within minutes he has dozed off, at this point I start to shove things into his nasal passage….I’m joking! (Really, I just go take some- Motrin).

3-3-06

Just a quick update… the controller is still lost, so basically the T.V. is useless.

3-2-06

I have to admit it I’m addicted to the remote control. I get shudders when I think of the days growing up arguing with my sister whose turn it was to get up of the couch and walk(crawl is what we did ) to change the channel 12 feet away. We would fight forever neither of us backing down (until physical contact was used.) Well now as a mom I know you’ve got a keep an eye on the remote because every (and I mean every) child knows that it is the coveted treasure. I don’t care how many toys you have, if a circus is going on the living room, Teletubbies are dancing around, or a M&M shower is happening that controller is grasped in that child’s hand. So as I went upstairs to lie down after a mentally draining day (aren’t they all I mean you can debate with your teenager so much but you will always be wrong, whining inevitably comes out of my six year old every other word, and the baby still poops his pants, enough said.) I just wanted to lie in bed and watch T.V. When I got in the room and noticed that it wasn’t visibly in sight, I had a slight palpation. As I realized it’s not in the normal spots, under the bed, under the covers, or on top of the T.V. that’s when the “why me” panicked stage began (I just want the remote I didn’t ask for a million dollars, at least not today, I’m not asking for an unreasonable request like a chiseled stomach, where’s the remote!) The room was torn apart, drawers open, bed pulled apart, closet contents scattered around, and everything turned over at least twice. At this point I am so irrationally searching I’m debating waking up my almost 2 year old with a spotlight, “where is it?”…”I know you saw it last”…“don’t play with me kid!”…“you think you’re tough, I’ll have you crying like a baby!” Now my teenager has walked in on my breakdown and is saying things like, “calm down”…”Its not lost”…”deep breaths…”its here somewhere” I look at him crazed what kind of psycho babble is he spewing at me. That’s when he takes another breath and said “mom this is the stuff you tell us.” Before I almost scream out “but it’s the REMOTE!” It is apparent to me that I’ve gone cuckoo behaving idiotically. Smacking my head, “I’ll just go lie down in your brothers room he has a remote!” Forgoing comfort but gaining the remote I head off to relax.

2-27-06

This week at school is a special week where every day you wear something fun. I knew that my unemotional completely calm spirited daughter (ha-ha I’m completely delusional) would like to participate immediately. First day is Red, White, and Blue Day which went very smoothly. Second day is Career Day (a little tougher). My 6 year old wants to be a fashion and jewelry designer, so we debated over wardrobe for a good while knowing that whatever we pick her pink Barbie cowboy boots must fit in to this plan (they are the must-have of every season.) Happy with our decisions (I mean not a lot of tears were shed), we moved on to hair made a compromise and came to a conclusion on that also (yeah!). We were cruising but then I had this idea about handing out business cards, have about 10 cards if people ask who you are you can hand them a card from your teeny sequined covered pink heart purse (which every up and comer in the 1st grade should own). She loved this idea and we would get to work right after school tomorrow. When she came home we measured her wee satchel to see what size her business cards need to be. I measured out about ten cards then cut them down to the size that would fit. I then had this brilliant idea to add ribbon to the top and maybe glue on some sequins. She was thrilled and ran to rummaged through her closet, which is filled to the tippy top with crafty stuff (of course I shuddered to myself I as picture her on the floor throwing items over her head searching for that perfect satin ribbon.) Let’s just say this little project turned quite large (as if you didn’t know where I was going). It seems that 10 cards aren’t enough and immediately after arriving back from the craft cave she whines only in that voice that she can do and says we need 26! Why? Why I ask, I know she will have a logical answer, “Well you know Gianna moved so that makes 24 in the class counting me, then the teacher, and I really need to give Sophia one at lunch time, also if someone doesn’t come in I can give one to the helper but I need 26!” Now I explain we are handwriting all the cards, cutting them, ribboning them, and sequining them. “It’s okay”. So we begin the task. Only 1 1/2 hours later each of us with sticky fingers and carpal tunneled wrists we finish the last card. I look at the clock realizing its dinner time I tell her she must clean up because I’ve got to make dinner, she agrees (to some of you, you may not realize the magnitude of this… this is big!) We have bonded she and I have worked together she knows she needs to help me… this is a gift, a miracle, a phenomenon. As soon as the whistles come from my mouth she saunters into the kitchen and asks if it’s ready. “Sweetheart I just got in here” Boom! To the floor, facial expressions of the wounded wildebeest after it has been impaled by a deadly sharpened highly sophisticated weapon are oozing from her face. At this moment I see that “she” is back! I back away slowly grab for the car keys and baby and stealthily sneak out the door to safety. (Actually I wish that was what I did but in all honesty I stayed hearing the piercing cries of hunger pains emit from my 6 year olds mouth, all the while trying to will the food to cook faster.) By the by after dinner was done she quickly turned into precious again eating and complementing my exquisite cooking. Wiping the sweat from my brow I sighed and thanked the stars that Wednesday is Crazy Sock Day…

2-22-06 pt.2

I just want to say that I didn’t mean to husband bash. Many husbands know lots of stuff, for example:

1. Spending 30-45 minutes in the bathroom 2-3 times a day…Alone (and he’s not cleaning it).

2. Never having to do laundry… turn a white load pink with a red sock (and we don’t own any red socks) gets them out of that duty each and every time.

3. Every Sunday (when I work) the baby sleeps in
.
4. Always arriving home in time just to have missed all the drama.

5. Never having to change the “most indecent” diapers, timing again.

6. Driving when the gas light is on for what seems to be forever, only to leave the car for you when you’re running out the door.

7. Being able to avoid doctors, dentists, and whatever for years (while it seems we are constantly being poked at.)


Of course these are just a few examples I’m sure I could think of more (but I’m doing laundry, I got to change a diaper, someone’s screaming in the other room, and I need to go get gas!)

2-22-06

Sometimes the scariest words a woman can hear from her husband aren’t … I’ve met another woman…. I lost all the money on craps… Brokeback Mountain really touched me… it’s “don’t worry“(Famous last words). Let’s see what lessons my husband had to learn though that infamous saying


NOT A PROBLEM: Standing in a shopping cart, “It’s no big deal”. PROBLEM: Laying under it a contorted mess is.

NOT A PROBLEM: Learning to go downstairs, “let her do it herself, that’s the only way she will learn.” PROBLEM: Watching her tumble down is slow motion only to hear a thud is.

NOT A PROBLEM: Hanging out in a busy parking lot with a three year old chit chatting with others, “I’m watching him.” PROBLEM: Losing him while the rambunctious tot ducks in and out of site, is.

NOT A PROBLEM: Having a six year old watch an almost two year old, “they’ll be fine”. PROBLEM: Leaving a two gallon jug of water with them is.

Most men believe women are “babying” the children and they are there to toughen them up. Most husbands want to teach their wives that they “know stuff too” (ladies please control laughter.) But I ask how long must we indulge (and clean up the mess that they have caused) these males? Women protect the innocent children! Unite!

2-21-06

Out the mouth of my six year old (just from yesterday)…

As I ask her to eat her lunch I said “you ate so well last night”… She gives me the “duh” look, “I was just trying to impress you.”(I guess I’m only allowed that impressive behavior once a year.)


We are looking at a magazine with beauty products, we come across some wrinkle cream, and she says “you really need that because of well you know.” My oldest jumps to my defense and says that’s not nice. She tells him “you need something for all those pimples.” As we stare at her with shock and awe she screams “I don’t know what I’m saying I have an earache, I’m sick!” (And low and behold we take her to the doctor and she does have an ear infection, I did not get any confirmation that this hampers her ability to express thoughts.)


She comes downstairs angry because her older brother has more baseball card then her. I said you want baseball cards. “No!” she yells. I’m confused, what is the problem? She looks at me (the duh look again) “It’s just not fair!” and the storms off.


I tell her maybe she should rest for awhile (this turns ugly). I then say maybe you should just play quietly. Polly Pockets? “No because I’ll leave shoes out and I’ll lose them, I can’t clean that up properly!” Maybe just set up separate areas? “No then I’ll have to move all around the room (a space the size of a 5 by 8 rug) I’ll be exhausted!” Maybe change the dolls clothes? “No then they’ll be stuff everywhere, under the bed it will be a huge mess!” Gameboy? Now she just gives me a look, which again means “duh”. At this point I grab my chloroform filled cloth and miracles of miracles she sleeps the whole night.”

2-15-06

Why is it that living with a two year old is like a horror movie? The house is suddenly eerily quiet (a pin could drop); out of the corner of your eye you see something race by at speeds so great your not sure if it was your imagination. You tip toe quietly around not seeing anyone at first but in the corner behind a chair you see a tuft of hair and an eyeball. At this point you know he is up to no good. As you pull the chair back he screams clutching at his prize(in this case a bag of potatoes).As you try to retrieve the prize (potatoes) wild manic shrieks come out of this 28 lb. child. He is thrashing trying to reclaim his prize all the while piercing red arrows of death are shooting at you with his eyes. Now at this point knowing he has lost he throws his body back as if you have used some sort of paranormal blast from your fingertips and as quickly as this started it stops. He looks up at you with big round eyes and gives you a look like it doesn’t matter he will have the last laugh… and he then laughs. Slowly you back away, looking down at the prize then realizing. A silent scream comes from my mouth, “Crap how many potatoes has he hid in this house!” … this movie isn’t over.

2-14-06

You are what you eat, that must be why I feel like crap now. I am typing to you with only one finger knowing at anytime I may pass out. So this is just an educational letter of toxic chemicals not to mix at anytime. Alright here we go, cinnamon popcorn, Quarter Pounder with cheese (no onions I’m not crazy), powdered donuts, large sweetened beverage (doesn’t matter what it is, it’s the sweetened part that will get you), french fries with ketchup, chocolate hearts (it is valentines day), and a touch of water. I’m a lump on the floor and the worst part is I’m thinking about dinner. Oh also I did chew up a couple of Tums (the calcium is good for you). Well Happy Valentines Day to all, just remember to celebrate in moderation. This may be the #1 day of bloating, nauseousness, constipation, gastric eruptions, and all around pressures in the middle section. Just remember to hug all your loved ones and don’t be afraid to push someone out of the way for the last chocolate marshmallow carameled heart… you’ll have to wait a whole year to get another one.

2-13-06

So my sister has been telling me for 3 weeks I need to go to this party with her.
Everyone is going from her work and she owes them, since she never goes out (she is a mother of 2 with another one on the way, and I have 3.) We never get to go out so I’m thinking ok. The day of the party I ask her what it is for, surprise party is all. Of course uneducated me assumes we will be jumping out yelling “Surprise!” No, no, No it’s a “surprise” party. What? (As we are walking in she whispers “ya know private stuff, you can buy it.” WHAT! She nods and reassures me we will be outta here in a flash. So we sit down for the presentation (and education) of predominately battery operated thing-a-ma-bobs, edible ya-knows, some non- edibles, and see through what-cha-ma- call-its. The presenter (a skinny blond in a half shirt, totally under 30) says keep one hand clean for tasting, I pinch my sister. She starts painting each persons hands with glassy, glossy gunk. She says “now if you’re allergic to sugar (wink, wink) this won’t work you know where.” I whisper over how would you know that? My sister says maybe a Snicker bar for a few minutes could tell you. I think what about the peanut content; we then decide people must test with a Hershey bar. The lick ‘em, heat ‘em, and numb ‘em stuff goes on forever. But no worries its time to bring out the stuff under the satin cover. Ok I am broke but spending top dollar and I’m not kidding top dollar on a double A “whirly Q” seems steep. Of course as she is passing everything around we all stare in wonder. One has 7 different controls (I’m thinking you will have to spend sometime with this thing, with all these buttons you won’t see them once it’s… you know.) All this while I’m pinching my sister and we are laughing uncontrollably especially when she shows the stuff for “that other area”. (Trust me I can’t type it… some of you already know, some may want to know, I just wish I didn’t know.) The party is starting to end because people are now arguing over what’s a must- have, or a want, or whatever… I’m just ready to go. My sister has to say the good-byes. The presenter then announces “if anyone wants to try anything just let her know” (I’m thinking a shower, a shower, I’m dirty.) WE finally get to the door and head out, 10:00 the party is just starting they say (I’m thinking when did I turn ancient 10:00 is bedtime). When my sister drops me off we’ve agreed that or bodies have seen more action then the party goers (hello almost 6 births between us). We will just stick to our fifth Tuesday of the month rendezvous when there is a full moon… some say prude, we say puritan.

P.S. My husband will cringe at this story so let’s just say this is totally fictional!

2-10-06

Why is it that no matter what you cook for dinner someone hates it? Tonight it was my daughter, tears immediately stream down her face. She looks at her plate as if I was serving worms, Bambi’s head, and spiders. The sobs increase as I say “just eat it and get it over with” (I say this 5 out of the 7 dinners I serve a week.) Because of the intense crying her head now is hurting “so bad”. I try to keep my calm saying eat quickly it will be over soon (like she is getting a shot). Unfortunately my voice level increases, then she starts with the “you’re scaring me”, “you don’t love me”, “and I’m stupid”. All the while getting madder because I know she is trying to make me feel guilty. The tension rises as she exclaims “the potatoes have blue in them!” What? Blue? “Maybe darling it’s the spots in your eyes from crying for the last 25 minutes”, I say through clenched teeth .Her older brother is trying to help because he can see that I’m starting to get a twitch. She starts throwing guilt talk at me “I’ll never make good decisions”, ” I’m a bad person”, “I will never grow”, and my fave “you’ve never loved me”. I am now just cleaning up ignoring the ranting; somehow she manages to choke the poisoned pig swill down. She chews up some Motrin and heads upstairs to get ready for bed. I sigh and center myself then I head upstairs to check her progress. Pajamas are on, and she is ready to be tucked in. As I pick up around her room she says “don’t make any noise its hurting my head!... Breath… and turn up the TV I can’t hear it!” Drained I walked out of the room. My husband walks in from work at this moment and I say “you’re timing is impeccable.” My life so far…

2 Year Old

Watching my almost two-year-old son today I noticed he has begun something new. He closes his eyes as he is playing. Fascinated I watch him tool around our family room (also known as “mini- toys ‘r’ us) trying to do certain tasks with his eyes closed. I began to think maybe he is closing them because he does not want to get caught messing with something he shouldn’t be. If He’s messing with plugs and his eyes are closed I won’t see him, that line of thinking. Then it dawns on me that there is no other explanation other than he’s just... Gifted. As he sputters around with his little tykes drill and hammer eyes closed banging into the sliding glass door, I see this must be what Yoda was trying to teach to young Skywalker this whole time. Only my son is teaching it to himself! He is just trying to get inside to his inner chi. I look at him in awe and think of all the possibilities he can have. My son could be a super spy, a Chinese diplomat, a Jedi knight, or a landscaper (one with nature and all that crap). I watch entranced and try to think what must be going on in that highly intelligent mind. Maybe how to build a better automobile, perhaps stopping global warming, how to end world hunger, the list goes on and on in my mind. Suddenly I hear a whimper, instantly snapping me out of my daydream I look down at my son and “Yes what do you need sweetheart?” Looking up with his big blue eyes and wrinkled up nose I notice his hands are down his pants and the odor I smell is not coming from my cooking roast. I realize his communication skills are beyond superb and again I drift back into my daydream… speaker of the house, talk show host… My life so far….

Juice

As many of you may or may not know my eldest child (14 year old boy) is into a “health” kick. I think it started when he was reading a boxing book and the book included their diets. This health regimen consists of just changing his liquid intake. No longer will there be Coke, Pepsi, energy drinks, 7-up, and etc. It will only include 100% juices and water. Well believe it or not there are not an abundance of 100% juices many 3%... 10% … or my fave no juice at all. So as I search the shelves at the store V-8 is the one that stands out. Now I have a 14 year old who can gag on many vegetables… a green bean can make him shake ever so slightly like a baby with high fever. Convulsions come for most others. I really thought I lucked out when I found new V-8 fruit and veggie. Peach mango, strawberry banana, and orange medley OH my! He has been sucking down this juice for over a month (this is the longest “kick” he’s ever been on… we have had others they are all just shoved under his bed now). Last night though everything changed he fell off the wagon. It started when the baby grabbed a pair of scissors and caught and cut the oldest ones thumb. He fell to the floor grasping his very important digit (although I did not see a lot of blood this still is one of the “worst injuries” he has ever suffered). Slowly he shook as the life was being squeezed out of him though the 1/8in opening in his throbbing appendage. As my son lie there looking at a “light” only he could see… I resorted to grabbing a pop to revive him (this had been my downfall). He drank the beverage as he had just been rescued from a desert island, missing his mouth, spilling, gulping, and spraying anyone who was in range. I patted myself on the back (another emergency diverted). I then went to work everything under control… Supermom saves the day… again! When I arrived home the children were in bed so I tiptoed around ate a little something then around 11:15pm headed to bed. My other two snoring away, angelic halos surrounded their heads. When I entered my eldest room and saw bright raccoon eyes staring back at me and then the giggling filled shaking I knew something was up! My poor baby had fallen off his health “kick” and I was to blame. As my first born awakens to start day 1 I look into his sunken caffeine stain stare and know he will be okay… he will be okay.