Don't Open the Door - It's Potty Time

Just an FYI to all you parents...

If you can't get your kids to give you the "front and center" full attention you desire, and you are permanently hoarse from screaming, "come here, NOW!", and you are about to pull your teeth out to numb the pain of constant disobedience from your children, then here is a way to get their undivided attention...just go to the bathroom!

Yes. It works! See, every time I go to the bathroom and shut the door, 3 seconds later I hear endless knocking and,

"mooooooooooooooom! What are you doing?? Let me in!"

And they do not leave, or stop knocking, until I open that door.

Sigh.

No matter what I am doing, like plucking my eyebrows, relieving my bladder, squeezing a zit, crying about something, or trying to stuff cookies/cake down my throat, they are there.

If I didn't lock the door they would barge right in!

Why is this? Why can I scream, and threaten, and plead for them to come to me when I need them, and only get a mere, "WHAT?" response that barely travels through space? But, when I have something to do near a toilet they are on me like flies on poo?

They shake the door and yell in panicky voices, like I found a window and jumped out, or dived into the toilet and flushed.

It's even worse when I CAN'T open the door in a timely manner because, well, I am in agonizing pain and stuck on the toilet.

Like, if I ate something loaded with cheese and oil for lunch, and my stomach, 3 minutes later, says, "OOOOH NO YOU DI'NT!" I can understand their distress, as one second I am at the table hearing their latest "knock knock" joke, and the next I am up the stairs and out of site with no explanation. That's when this phenomena is at its peak.

The scene:

I have flown upstairs, clutching my gurgling, churning, stomach, as toxic, gaseous, digested globs of waste push on every intestinal curve, threatening to blast out before I can get my pants down.

Now on the toilet, writhing in pain because my body has decided to add constipation to this cheese-induced IBS encounter, I hear this:

Kids: "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! OPEN THE DOOR!"

Me: (sweating and panting like I am about to birth a category 5 twister) "I...can't...now..."

Jacob: "Audrey won't let me..."

Me: "FIGURE IT OUT....YOURRRRRRRRRR (about to faint) SELF!"

More knocking.

Me: "LEAVE ME ALONE!" (groaning now, pretty sure I am about to die.)

Kids: "I'm hungry!"

Me: (uncontrollably shaking, not sure which hole the toxins will shoot out first) "YOU CAN WWW...WWW...WAIT A MINUTE!"

Kids: "MOOOOOOOOOM! Open the door now!"

Me: (I am ready to leave the planet at this point) "Would you both just go DO SOMETHING??"

Kids: "We can't get the movie to start!"

Me: "FOR THE LOVE!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!" (now promising God I will be a better mom should I survive this.)

Kids: "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOMIIIIIIEEEEEEEE"

At this time, my body finally cooperates, and sounds resembling a terrible and fatal car wreck ring out; I am relieved and horrified, both literally and figuratively.

Knocking has...not...stopped...

Alllllll this time, they could have been tearing apart the kitchen, eating Styrofoam, sliding head-first down the stairs in their sleeping bags, writing on each other with permanent markers, playing with fire, doing anything they wanted. But, instead, they are glued to the bathroom door, waiting to enter.

I flush the toilet, praying it doesn't stop up from the carnage that just took place. Calmly, I wash my hands and finally, to stop the pounding, open the door.

The kids fly in. And, you guessed it, they fly right back out.

Kids: "MOM! [retching ensues] WHAT IS THAT SMELL??"

Me: "Kids, that is the smell of what mommy likes to call, 'alone time'."

Yeah...I need some better alone time.

Twittered Tuesday

If you missed last week's twitters, stop by here!

. . .

Jacob had a conversation with me, without me; he asked me questions, and then, answered them himself, for me, and then responded back. I am impressed.

Josh can now put his hair in a ponytail. Jacob said Josh doesn’t look like “himself”. Josh thinks Josh looks like a “ninja”. Audrey said Josh looks like "George Washington". Or a "girl". I’m staying out of it.

For school the kids and I made a mold terrarium…funny, I have never had to work at growing mold before…it has always come quite naturally…

Man! I can REALLY load a dishwasher! All those years of playing Tetris, for hours on end, is really paying off!

I just showed Josh the “Business Time”** video by Flight of the Conchords on youtube. DOH! Tomorrow is Wednesday! *smacks forehead*

10:38 am. wendiwinn told me to be random.
10:39 am. Told wendiwinn I was, and did. At 10:40 she said she needed to go potty.

The shoes I got on-line are TOO SMALL! Dangit! My feet are 7 ½. PERIOD! Fix your shoe sizes to match MY FEET! Sheesh!

Jacob told a joke at dinner: “Why did the bald monkey cross the road? Because they thought it was a pig and the cars tried to cut it into bacon and it was a bald monkey and hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha bald monkey!” *crickets chirping*

I went to the bathroom THREE TIMES without changing the toilet roll and had to find something to wipe with each time...you think I would have changed it by the second time! I pee a lot.

My toes are super cold. And I mean COLD! Cold enough to whine about it. Yeah. Cold.

I love Survivor! But I could never be on Survivor. I would have a mono-brow in a week. Seriously. And who wants to look at a mono-brow? That would get me voted off, at least as a sympathy vote.

I cracked myself up. Again.

In the car Jacob confessed that when he was four, he sneaked out of his room, in the middle of the night, and took an apple from the fridge, which he then stuck under his bed.

I basically ate an entire box of Nilla Wafers in one day. After contemplating the ramifications of this act, I went to Sam’s and bought a bigger box.

I just unraveled Audrey’s slinky. That makes me feel smart, like smart people that solve Rubix Cubes.

I think I am about to sneeze…nope, wait I ashrfoaihgeiibglaiufydp…bless me!

**youtube does a good job at screening videos. This video talks about s-e-x but is not vulgar. However you will have to sign up stating you're over 18 to view it. Man this was a boring twit...

A Giveaway, Benefitting You and the Planet!

THIS GIVEAWAY IS NOW CLOSED

* * *

Hello Faithful readers!

You are about to enter a giveaway! Yes you are! Happy happy dance!

A lovely company called ecostore, originally based out of New Zealand, contacted me for a review and a promotional giveaway for their line of natural, chemical-free household products! For 15 years, ecostore has made their products with a "passion for improving the planet while providing products that are safer and healthier for your family", from spray cleaners, to pet products, to soaps for your baby's skin. I have been given the wonderful opportunity to sample several products, which ecostore states, "are just as effective as the leading supermarket brands" and let me tell you, THEY ARE! And the best thing is, they are expanding HERE in the US to all the MEIJER stores, and can be found on line here!

Here's what I tried:

PRODUCT #1 Citrus spray cleaner

About the product: This citrus cleaner has a subtle, yet fresh, lemony scent, and sprays in a very fine mist, which is great since their products are concentrated, meaning you cover a lot of area at once without over-using the product. It's great for kitchen surfaces and most household surfaces (you may need to do a test-spot on more delicate surfaces, per website instructions) and when diluted is great for mirrors and glass. This product is a "natural alternative to petroleum based solvents" and is naturally antibacterial! It comes in a 17 fluid ounce spray bottle, and there are refill bottles to buy subsequently.

How did it work?: This cleaner works GREAT! I love the fine-mist, as I know I am really covering an area thoroughly. I also love that I don't have to wipe again with water since it is not made with any "nasty chemicals". The citrus spray is strong too! I erm...spilled some, red wine, (shh!) on my counter top and it left a nice little stain. The citrus spray cleaned it right up! The citrus component makes it a great solvent for scum in your sink, and even is great on bathroom surfaces like your tub!

Would I buy this product again?: Absolutely!

PRODUCT #2 & #3 Rosemary Orange Shampoo and Conditioner

About the products: The shampoo has a very light and soothing scent of orange and rosemary. It comes in a 6.8 fluid ounce bottle and contains all natural ingredients.

How did it work?: Shampoo is a hard one for me, as my hair is very thick and oily. This shampoo got my hair squeaky clean with one application (sometimes I have to sud twice!) I normally love super smelly shampoos, but I will say more about that in a minute. I was pleased I didn't have to use a ton of it to get my hair clean, as I only wash my hair every other day, so as you can imagine, I need a good shampoo! Just for fun I switched back to my old shampoo, and was shocked to find that the apple smell I once loved smelled like ammonia to me! No joke! I did not enjoy it like I once did! And, my hair did not get as clean; it still smelled "oily" after drying my hair, where with ecostore's shampoo not only was my hair clean, but my scalp was too!

The conditioner was a pleasant surprise as well! My hair didn't feel like a grease slick, but it detangled amazingly! I was actually shocked to be quite honest; I usually need something shy of butter to get my hair to detangle. And once I blew my hair dry, my hair was shiny, I mean REALLY shiny! Again my hair smelled clean with no over-powering scents, and most importantly it WAS clean! Oh yeah, I have color on my hair, and it didn't strip the color or cause it to fade, which is nice as I am vain and want my gray covered!

Would I buy this product again?: Absolutely!

PRODUCT #4 Pure Oxygen Whitener

About the product: This 35.3 ounce container uses natural oxygen producing whiteners and plant based ingredients to whiten clothes. ecostore promotes this product, saying it "brightens and cleans baby's clothes and does not contain any harsh chemicals that could irritate delicate skin".

How did it work?: I dissolved the whitener in the washer with water as the directions dictated, and I threw in my towels with my usual detergent. I dried my towels my usual way and set up for a comparison. The towels were just as white and just as soft with one important difference; the towels I washed with the whitener smelled clean! And by clean I mean like when you dry your clothes outside! The freshness compared to the other towels washed normally was amazing! 35 ounces is a lot of whitener, and I will have plenty for loads and loads of whites to come!

Would I buy this product again?: Absolutely!




Now it's time for you to try these products! And ecostore is giving you that chance by allowing me to host a giveaway!



Simply comment on this post and you are entered to win a $25 gift certificate and two body soaps!

Happy Dance!!! Here are the details:

-One entry per person

-You must enter before March 4th, 2008, 12pm Eastern Time,

-You must leave me a safe way to contact you,

-You have 3 days to respond if you win before another winner is chosen by the RNG (random number generator)

Please visit their website and become familiar with their products, visit their FAQ's, and their BLOG, and then head to any MEIJER store to find this line that is gentle on your budget and family! If there are no MEIJER stores in your area, order on-line!

Thank you to ecostore, for this opportunity to review your wonderful products and for providing such a generous giveaway!! Good luck everyone!

Noblesse Obligations...

So, a while back I got the Noblesse Oblige Award from Joan over at The Retirement Chronicles, who is on vacation. Visit her blog and show her you miss her. How dare she go on vacation!

Anyway…this award, by definition, points to my nobility and my obligations to said nobility (hear the fanfare?), and not just merely my talents of “spending my time in idle pursuits.” Wait…you sure about that, Oxford English Dictionary?

Anyway (squared) seeing as I have lost 3 followers in the past 2 weeks (SOB!) I decided accepting this award and writing a post about it today would make me feel better.

This award points to bloggers who:

1. Have a great, nay, EXEMPLARY attitude, respecting all cultures and beliefs,

OR,

2. Inspire and encourage others, often offering solutions,

OR,

3. Have a clear purpose, fostering understanding on social, political, and economic issues, as well as the arts, cultures, sciences, and beliefs,

OR,

4. Are refreshing and creative,

OR,

5. Promote friendship and positive thinking.

Well, I am not sure that I cover all five, BUT, I must say, my goal here IS to inspire (like Kira in Xanadu), make people laugh (like Jack Black in well, anything), and possibly help the reader feel less crazy by seeing just how crazy I am (like some crazy person you think is crazy). I love nothing more than knowing I made someone laugh out loud, truly, and reading the comment, “I can SO relate!” So when I lose followers, I am quite crushed, and on the verge of scheduling a therapy visit…

OK! I am then supposed to mention who gave this to me (see up there), display the award (of COURSE!) and write about what my blog has achieved thus far and give an example using a past post.

Ahem.

Writing is a total release. I have been writing since I was 8. I have been guided by some fantastic people: my advanced-placement English teacher, Mrs. Dahlager, in elementary school, my English teacher in 8th grade (ickers can’t remember her name!) that pushed for me to be a freshman accepted into yearbook (which I was, because I am THAT cool). Also, my teacher for creative writing and newspaper in HS, Mrs. Hikcock, and my yearbook teacher, Ms. Palmer (who died of lung cancer years ago) who told me I had a gift in writing and truly paid me compliments, and helped me foster my abilities. And, my mom, who has always loved my writing, which means so much. My husband is my biggest fan.

Writing is one of the only things that I think I do really, really well. I am not saying I am the funniest, or that my grammar/punctuation is stellar, or that I stand out in any particular way, but, I enjoy it immensely and feel proud of my accomplishments and proud of my blog. I work hard to keep to a theme, share about my family in a funny but positive light, and pepper in just enough seriousness to keep it all grounded.

If I had to pick a post that I think is most enjoyed (according to my stats) it would be my John Mayer Better Wonder More post. That post I think is the epitome of self-deprecation, in a funny and enjoyable way, (what?) such that people see the sarcasm yet can relate, and they love that they can relate. But personally I have a hard time choosing a favorite. Whether it’s based on reality or a completely true experience, I like them all.

Hey! I have followed all the rules so far!

So to continue in that vein, I now must award people as well. So many great bloggers already have this, but, that really doesn’t matter, this is about being acknowledged by your peers, a shout out, in a great community of bloggers who I thoroughly enjoy. And I follow a ton of blogs…I give up showers just to do so! Seriously, I have met some people that I now consider very close friends through blogging, and I am inspired by what I read, and I laugh a lot more, everyday! How can you go wrong with that?!

To start with, if you are in my blog roll on the right, you are tagged! These particular blogs are blogs I check everyday and feel I have either made a great connection with the blogger or I simply love the content of the blog itself. And to this list I am also tagging, keeping the criteria in mind:

Meet the Blog at http://www.meettheblanksblog.com/

Vickie’s Scrapbooking and Tidbits at http://vickiesscrapbookingandtidbits.blogspot.com/

Playing House at http://smeiers.blogspot.com/

And

It’s a Beauty Filled Life at http://itsabeautyfilledlife.blogspot.com/

Now I have to take the kids to Chuck E Cheese.

Peace out.

If I Twittered

A few days ago my parents asked me if I twiggled. I laughed hysterically for about 10 minutes before I finally said, "maybe...but I think you mean twittered? In that case, no."

And here is why, because my twitters would be something like this:

A can of mousse just fell in the toilet, while my son was peeing. I just pulled it out and washed it off.

For school I taught the kids about Song Sparrows, and Jacob cried because he had to write a report.

I banged my head against the wall.

My daughter burped the ABCs in full at lunch. Then she burped the little song that came after it.

Both kids took about 10 minutes to determine if Audrey had a booger on her face or a piece of carrot. It was determined to be a carrot after she ate it.

I left the laundry wet, in the washer overnight, again, so it is being washed, again.

I sneezed and burned my hand on the stove, again.

I looked up some illness on the internet and freaked out. AGAIN!

I clipped my toenails.

I watched the videos, "Kittens Inspired by Kittens!" and "Star Wars Retold (by someone who hasn't seen it)" a few times more because they are funny.

I thought about working out, and didn't.

I ate some M&Ms.

I ran around the house and randomly cleaned things.

I got my new purse and it is SO COOL...now I must write that post about purses...

I checked FB and my blog 80 billion times already.

I played 3 Scrabble games, and lost.

I made dinner...don'tcha want to know what it was??

Took the girl to dance class. See how boring it gets?

I got the idea for this post. And now you have read it, and you are better for it.

Stringing Along a Bloody Tooth

So, Jacob's tooth is precariously dangling by a piece of rotting skin, really a stretched-out fleshy "gum tag" that is either suctioned to the tooth or attached by little teeth hooks or something. Or maybe it’s tape, or glue. I really don’t know; I didn’t bother to learn anatomy. Anyway, the tooth has been a shiny enamel mobile in my son’s mouth for over a week, and, no matter what we say or do, he won’t let ANYONE near him to yank the sucker out.

And this isn’t the first tooth he has lost.

Nope. No amount of money, idle threats, candy, promises of extra Wii gametime, NOTHING will get this boy ready for us to just reach in and pluck out the tooth. He screams, cries, and runs frantically in all directions, claiming the pain will be too excruciating and that he will suffer extreme blood loss and he will die. This might be the reason…

With his first tooth, we thought it would be so funny to put Jacob through the tried and true method of removing baby teeth, the tie-a-string-to-the-tooth-and-door-handle-and-slam-the-door-and-the-tooth-falls-out method. There isn’t a person in the whole wide world who doesn’t experience this, a total "Rite of Passage", right? The problem with this method is, we get so excited about trying it that we often do so when the tooth is, well, just not loose enough…right? Am I alone here? Am I?...

So, Jacob had his first loose tooth, and he was ready to get it pulled out. We were all excited and ready to participate in this life-changing event!

We tied the string to his tooth…funny!
We tied the sting to the door…oh how we laughed at the craziness of it all!
We got the door into position, and held Jacob still…
We slammed the door…

Suddenly, high-pitched squealing and wailing ensued as we now had a frantic, tethered child, desperately trying to make an escape like a trapped fox in a snare. The tooth was not budging, but bleeding profusely, and Jacob resembled a human paddle-ball that exploded red paint. Trying to talk to him over his howling got us nowhere as he ricocheted off the door repeatedly while we tried, without success, to hold him down and get the sting off his tooth. Fearful of losing my finger to razor sharp baby teeth, I cut the string from the door handle as Josh used all his force to hold Jacob down. We let him go and saw standing before us a traumatized, bleeding, 7-year-old with a long string firmly attached to a hanging, but determined to stay, tooth.

He looked at us, shaking, and began to slur and spit, telling us what horrible parents we were and that we were NEVER, EVER allowed to touch his teeth again! This tirade went on and on as Audrey sat in the background, half giggling, half grossed out, and 100% determined to grab a hold of that string.

Guilt does a weird thing to parents, and for a split-second, we looked at each other to confirm that we WEREN’T the worst parents in the world. That’s when Audrey leaped past us and grabbed the string.

Before we could even react, we had two screaming children running around trying to gain control of that string. Jacob tried as best as he could to stop her determined little hands from getting that string, but it was a quest she would not give up on...

We tried to stifle our laughter as we jumped in to stop the mad pursuit. She was about to get a scolding for upsetting her already suffering sibling, when she triumphantly held her hand high. In it, was the string! We then looked at Jacob, who had a bleeding gap in his gum-line. The string was off! And the tooth? Next to his foot!

Immediately all the drama vanished and the kids laughed at how funny it was that his tooth was next to his foot. We laughed along with them, hoping he had already forgotten how he came into this predicament in the first place.

He hadn’t, and that’s why teeth now hang for weeks from his mouth before they fall out, and why grandpa now sends him 5 bucks for each tooth, a sort of punitive retribution for our terrible parenting skills.

A February 14th Poem

Happy Valentine's Day
Woop de doo!
Happy Valentine's Day
From me to you!


Hope that your kids
Made you something "coo"
That involved lots of chocolate
But no boogers or goo


Hope that your husband
Or lover or spouse
Remembered the day
And isn't a louse


Hope that your chocolate
Is calorie free
And eating it makes your thighs
Resemble Demi's


Hope that your card
That sits on the table
Claims that you're great
Sexy (and stable!)


Hope you got flowers
Or jewelry or money
And "something" that would "fit"
A 25-year-old "bunny"


Hope you get steak
Wine and cheese
And that your kids are at a lonely babysitter's
So you can do as you please...


Remember today
Is about love and all that stuff
This poem is lame
So that is enough...

The Guilt Trip

Hey all!

Here's a post from a "guest" blogger! She (allegedly) did something bad, and would like to get it off her chest...enjoy!

. . . .

That’s it. I am a bad mom. It is official…I am waiting for my trophy in the mail, or the warrant to be issued…

Of course, I have some things going for me, like,

- I love to home school (that alone should shoot me right up to sainthood!)

- I give my kids Flintstone vitamins, and fresh fruit and veggies everyday.

- I don’t let my kids drink soda.

- I play “soccer mom” in moderation, allowing them fun and socializing activities.

- I spray whipped cream in their mouths, for fun…I am SO cool!

- I try to teach them patience, charity and how to be thankful.

- I don’t allow TV in the house, which means they don’t watch commercials, know of Miley Cyrus, or Victoria and what her “secret” is…

- I don't even swear!

And yet, all of that is negated by the fact…

That…

I (allegedly) broke the law. Yep, me and Judas Priest, peas in a pod…

Yeah...and my son became SO upset (because he was (allegedly) involved) that I am CONVINCED he will blab his guilty conscience to the first cop we see…and then I am doomed.

Here’s what happened…

During the school lesson yesterday, we learned about what it meant to be a “good” citizen; we talked about being a part of a community, contributing to the good of said community, and our rights and responsibilities within that community.

There were many examples of what this meant, from our right to assemble and worship how we choose, to cleaning up litter we see on the streets, to working with local officials to make our city a better place overall.

The lesson also talked about (gulp) laws and how it is our responsibility to follow them, not break them. And the downfall of my sainthood in my child’s eyes went something like this:

Me: “So some laws we should follow are, not littering, not stealing, and always wearing your seatbelt AND for children to be in booster seats until they are 80 pounds.”

Son: “Mom?”

Me: “Yes?”

Son: “Remember that day in your friend’s car?”

Me: “Ummmm…”

Son: “Ya know, when we were with ______ and ______?” (I am allegedly protecting people here)

Me: “Ummmm, yes I do…” (I am frantically trying to figure out my response, I know what’s coming)

Son: “Well, _______ and me rode on the floor of the car!”

Me: “Yes…yes you did…we had no choice-“

Son: “WE [allegedly] BROKE THE LAW??”

Me: “Well, uh…well, allegedly, but, our cell phones died! And we couldn’t get a hold of anyone, and...and...she had to leave and I didn’t want to have to walk, and it was late and we needed to get home and there were weird people and wolves and aliens in the trees and I was wearing heels and it was winter and and and…”

Son: “What if a cop saw us?”

Me: “Well, he couldn’t, as you were [allegedly] on the floor of the car.”

Son: “BUT WHAT IF HE DID?”

Me: “We…would have gotten in trouble.”

Son: “WE WOULD HAVE GONE TO JAIL?”

Me: “No, at most we would have [allegedly] gotten a citation.”

Son: “WHAT’S A CITATION?”

Sigh…

There is no way to rationalize (allegedly) breaking the law, but I continued to try as my son's face contorted at every excuse and reason I gave. Finally, I relented, as he clearly wasn't buying the alien reference.

So I (allegedly) confessed.

Me: “Yes son! I [allegedly] broke the law! I am [allegedly] a bad person! I [allegedly] put my needs and reasons above the law! I [allegedly] claimed I was BETTER than the law! I [allegedly] found reasons to break it, and I was [allegedly] convinced I wouldn’t get caught! And I [allegedly] involved you! You [allegedly] are an accessory to a crime!”

This did not go over well.

Now, in my "possible" need for a "defense", (because I cannot stop defending myself anyway) the law in the state we were in was um, not too strict, and this (alleged) "guilt trip" wasn't even 1/2 mile down a side road (allegedly to a coffee shop so I could allegedly use the phone).

It is so weird how, at their age, I used to stand up at the dashboard of the truck on road trips because it was fun, and never wore a seat belt...or a helmet while riding my bike, or sunscreen...

And besides, Madonna and Britney were TOTALLY snubbing the law during their little car trips, on highways, in traffic! There are pictures! And what about school buses? I mean COME ON!!! Why can the public school system "break the law" everyday??

Sigh...

So, in weighing all the options at the time, it (allegedly) seemed like the best option. But, my dear parental friends, let this be a "potential" lesson to us all, as little eyes and ears and consciences are alert, and watching everything we do, and those tragic memories are cataloged, and will come out when we least expect it...yet for me it will probably be the next time we see a cop...

Hey Baggy Eyes!

My kids vacillate between laughing at my “jelly belly”, “jelly butt”, “flappy arms” and my "baggy eyes". Then they start asking me if I am going to die (eyes brimming with tears, mind you). Yes, even my kids can see, I am getting old-er.

My husband and I were driving home two days ago, trying to remember how old we actually are. Being together since we were teenagers, and actually having to do MATH to figure out our differences in age (he is younger…oh yeah baby!) we realized we had to think to finally figure out how old we are. Then he laughed. Then he got hit.

OK OK…I am not THAT old. But, anymore when I hear, “you’re (fill in the number)! Oh my, you look like you’re 25!” I can’t help but think the people saying it:
-have not seen any REAL 25-year-olds lately
-need bi-focals
-have been hitting some sort of “sauce” or “pill” a little too much
-think I have money and want some of it.

Because c’mon, kids don’t lie. Well, OK they do, but when they have the ability to tell the horrible scary truth, through their questions and responses, they do. Such as:

“Mom, what’s that?”
“My neck”
“No, what’s that hangy stuff on you neck?”
“My skin.”
“HAHAHAHA”
“Sigh”
"Mom, are you OLD?"
"No, not really."
“Mom, are you gonna DIE?”
“No…not yet anyway!”

I look in the mirror every morning, hoping to see this once familiar visage:







And instead, I see, this:










ACK! RUN AWAY! ERASE YOUR MEMORY! I see this now and I want to cry, but I dare not as that would make my eyes even baggier...

I am not sure when this happened, but I have noticed it recently and I don’t like that I now resemble Gandalf The Gray.

In fact, I no longer spend my time envying women with smooth legs, now I search every face to see if they have the bags under their eyes like I do and envy the ones who don't, instead. I mean, isn’t over half of America not getting enough sleep? So, there should be more of these bags out there…but I seem to be in the minority.

And the internet is no help. I keep reading that scientists have recently discovered the bags are actually FAT! Great. Now my EYES are FAT! How the heck do I exercise my eyes?

Jennifer Aniston is turning 40 and crying about a long gray hair on her head…I had one, three inches long, GROWING OUT OF MY FACE! She needs to get over herself, seriously, I am the one suffering here! John, sing her a song, or slap her...yeah, slap her!

Terrible. Soon the wrinkles will set in, and I will be Gandalfina The Saggy.

Yeah maybe it’s allergies, maybe it’s my salt intake, maybe it’s my lack of vitamin b6, or sleep, OR my heavy drinking (nooooooo, that was just on the internet list) but I think it’s simply this: AGING!

So what can you do, except try to calm your kids down by assuring them that none of this means I am going to die just yet…

Sigh…

Chicken: It's What's for Dinner, Again...

SO EAT IT AND BE HAPPY ABOUT IT!

Sigh...

I swear it is like the Twilight Zone for me.

Every single night, 2 hours before dinner, I am wracking my brain, while the nagging question crawls all over me like a million tiny spiders- WHAT WILL I MAKE FOR DINNER TONIGHT?? I rock back and forth, with a pool of my sweat and tears collecting on the floor around me, as the kids bounce about endlessly, screaming,

“we’re huunnnnnngry! What’s for diiiiiiiiineeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrr!?!?!?!?!?!?”

In my nearly manic state I manage to squeak out, “ch…ch…chicken…” to which they say, “yuck I don’t LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE chickeeeeeeeeeen!”

Couple that with finding out that John Mayer’s Bold as Love is just a cover of a Jimmy Hendrix song, and the pain is almost unbearable.

I run to my Happy Place!!

Ahem…

Since we don’t eat out any more, or order out, (hubby makes the BEST home made pizza on Sundays, PTL!) I am making dinner every night of the week, and I must admit, it drives me insane. Mostly because I have an "apartment" stove (translation, a piece of crap) and it challenges me everyday by refusing to heat the coils or by burning the food to a crisp. I miss my new gas stove (sigh) and my huge kitchen (wimper!) and the lovely island I used to prepare at (before we became poor college students, SOB!) but I digress…I HAVE a stove so…no more blubbering…

Now after all of that, I am sure it is hard to believe that I actually like to cook, but really, I do. I have about 35 dinners on my cupboard that I coordinate grocery lists with so we can rotate through quite a few dinners. They all take about the same amount of time, which is about 45 minutes (Rachael Ray I am not).

So of course, with all of this cooking going on, cost of ingredients comes into play, as well as the actual ingredients, as well as my feeble attempts at keeping my fragile sanity. Because of this, chicken, is my friend, my BFF (Best Food for the Family) if you will.

I don’t normally want to eat my friends, but this friendship is one-sided, with a minimal internal temperature of 170.

I buy the frozen, boneless, skinless breasts at Sam’s and can make several different chicken dishes with them, because you can start cooking them while they are still frozen, and I never have to worry about being out of ready-to-use chicken! In fact, half of my recipes I rotate through are chicken, and the rest are divided up between organic beef, fish (or shrimp), and some turkey and pork dishes. If my hubby didn’t give me the wonderful break on Sunday’s with his AMAZING pizza, I would truly go insane. Wait…

So, I thought, I would share with you all, 15 of my chicken recipe TITLES. Then, I want someone, anyone, to go back to this post, read it, and share with me a fantastic, yet easy recipe? Please? Then, if you like, let me know if any of the recipes down below sound good, and I will share it with you. And, if you have any other good chicken recipes, let me know!

Tonight I am making my lemon chicken with artichoke hearts and capers. If I had some mushrooms, I would add those! I serve this chicken over pasta and sprinkle it with Parmesan cheese…it is just delish…

So c’mon y’all, DISH!!!

1. Simple Baked Chicken

2. Chicken Parmesan & Pasta

3. Chicken Enchiladas

4. Malibu Chicken

5. Teriyaki Chicken w/ Broccoli

6. Chicken Fajitas

7. Fettuccini Chicken (and shrimp) over Pasta

8. Pad Thai with Chicken (and shrimp)

10. Stir-fry Chicken w/ Rice

11. Italian Chicken Cutlets w/ Veggies

12. Chicken Salad Sandwiches

13. Lemon Chicken w/ capers and artichoke hearts over Pasta

14. BBQ Chicken

15. My FAMOUS Chicken Soup (this is my personal fave)

I'll Pass on the Gas

So me and hubby have been together 18 years now, and we have never farted in front of each other.

I know, you’re like, “WHAT?”

Yeah yeah! I know! You’re all, “we couldn’t SURVIVE if we didn’t fart in front of each other! We fart all the time! We play FART games! We rate each other’s farts! We can communicate through our farts! What, kim, are ya gonna tell us next that you don’t have TV and your kids were conceived by immaculate conception?”

Well to this I say, we don’t have TV, and if YOU cut the cheese with reckless abandon, and you’re proud of it, then pop off and go let it rip on your own stinkin’ blog!

Just somewhere along the way of courting, he said in passing that any sort of gas permeating from, or even squeaking by, any orifice of the female gender, was deplorable and grounds for being cut loose. I piped in and agreed that I would blow him off, too, should he ruin my olfactory nerves. And don’t worry, to this day there is no double standard, he keeps his gas at bay as well. And, since I never really had a problem with keeping my poofs to myself, this silent agreement to keep it in has never turned violent.

In fact, at one point in our teen years, I almost had Josh convinced that I didn’t even poo. Yeah! I am THAT convincing! What is more romantic than imagining that your loved one doesn’t poo poo? He’s getting his PhD now, so of course he knows better. And, I am pretty sure he knows I fart. It’s kind of like UFOs; he hasn’t been witness to any, but, he is pretty sure they are out there…

So, in such a tightly closed relationship, where does that leave you to fart when you have to?

Well, there’s the car, when you are alone. That’s an “open all the windows and turn up the music” situation right there, and NOT a recommended activity at drive-thrus or in car washes. Then, there’s the bathroom, and that’s a free pass, because c’mon, it’s the bathroom! But if it sounds really bad and is louder than the fan AND running water, then you can feign sudden illness and get sympathy before laughter. Then sometimes you just have to let one go, like when hubby leaves the room to get a snack, and you hope and pray it doesn’t linger. And, unfortunately, sometimes, when you are “alone” you loosen up and toot in front of your kids.

If you have any kids around the age of 5…no, make that seven…no, better yet, 13…15? OK OK if you have kids AT ALL, chances are farts to them are hysterically funny. ALL farts: dog farts, baby farts, their farts, movie farts…think about that part in Dumb and Dumber. OK better yet, watch it.


Now, without the SOUND, it’s not that funny (the smell NEVER is). Tell me, with a straight face, that the little poot that comes out at the end isn’t the funniest part of that whole scene…seriously!

And, farts are at their funniest when mom or dad do it, and your kids have THAT to hold over you when your spouse comes home…

Now this is where all of you who expel freely laugh at me and say, “serves ya right ya dingbat! Not only are you in danger of exploding one day, but now your stinky secret it OUT!”

To which I say, yeah…



PS…I just laughed for about 10 minutes reading THESE! Have fun!

It Pays to Pay Attention...and Pay it Forward...

Recently, I got this in the mail:

A lovely little book, featuring funny vignettes on mommy life. Why? Just because. Just because someone wanted to make my day better! Thanks SO very much Yoda...er...I mean, umm...Beth! (over at thiscrazythingcalledmotherhood) And, your personal card, along with the book, DID make my day BETTER! (happy dance!)

See, she decided to do an act of kindness, sort of random, sort of numbered; the first three people to comment on, and commit to her "Pay it Forward" post, got a sweet present in the mail. So I commented, about how great of an idea this was, and that I WOULD pay it forward. And guess what? I am paying it forward now, 'cause that is part of the rules...and I shall follow them, just to show that I can.

Because you see, we need to teach our children to be accountable for their actions, to keep their word, to follow the rules, and to "pay it forward" in life. They watch everything we do. And, if we remember this, it makes us, and them, and eventually other people, more pleasant to be around. We must always remember:

-To let that person into our lane, even if they didn't signal

-To give a huge smile to the check-out person at our grocery store, and look them in the eye and say, "have a great day!" and mean it!

-To leave a big HUGE stinkin' tip for that server, who manages to smiles at you and your troop of crazy hungry kids, who manage leave most of their food on the floor for said server to clean up...

But more importantly, if you are ONE of the first THREE people to comment on this post, AND, let me know you will also "pay it forward" (and then leave your addy on my email) you will then get a little gift from this pretty little Etsy shop that just might make your day, because, whether or not you think you do, you deserve it.

UPDATE!

If you are bummed about missing out and not being one of the first three, then watch these blogs for their Pay It Forward posts!

Sounds Like Tomatoes
WendiWinn
Williamson4

Hey Bruce, It's CHOCOLATE!

So I crashed into bed last night, and managed to prop myself up on my pillow, as hubby turned on the DVD so we could watch the latest arrival from Netflix: The Hulk.

The NEW The Hulk. Not the one with the other people…you know? I get confused, too.

So despite that, the movie fits my criteria VERY well. There was no real plot (actually there were HUGE chunks of plot connectors missing, which is OK when you have no plot) LOTS of explosions (of course they are selective explosions-just because you have gas pouring out of a gas tank with trillions of sparks around doesn’t mean you’ll blow up!). And, there were monsters, car chases, people screaming and running in terror, etc…all good stuff.

Then, I connected with The Hulk.

At the end of the movie, when he was fighting the Mutant/Half Dinosaur/Half Hulk guy, there were two poignant (yes, I said poignant) moments where the camera panned in on Hulky and, he sighed. Yes, he sighed, like, “WHY do I have to deal with this AGAIN?”

THAT’S what is making him so angry! He's just irritated about having to do the same thing, over and over! Suddenly, on the inside, I was like, “yeah Hulk! I know! Why DO you have to pound Mutant Dinosaur Hulk into the ground AGAIN with the helicopter? Why do I have to do ANOTHER load of laundry?”

How I see it, is Hulk just has a bad BAD case of PMS.

It’s like this.

I am going through my day, minding my own business. I have broken up about 50 WWF-like fights between my kids and I have administered 8,245 snacks. We have covered math, science, and reading for school, and I have done the dishes 423 times in the past three hours, and folded 98 pairs of pants. My eyes are puffy and I am little more tired than usual. I sit down periodically only to be interrupted by a request or the buzzing of some irritating appliance, signaling me to finish my chores. Once that’s done, I am craving potato chips and salsa drowned in vinegar. Something is happening…

Early evening rolls around and I am becoming “snippy”. I can only do everything so many times in a day anyway, but now I feel like the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up and I have a pit in my stomach. Every question asked of me is answered with an ascending growl that causes the inquisitor to ask another question, which is, “what is wrong with you?”

Suddenly, I am a clumsy mess of “fricks” and “friggins” and “FOR THE LOVE!” exclamations, as I gave up swearing like a sailor YEARS ago, but I still have that inner agitation that used to accompany it. In the pit starts a raging fire. My head starts to pound like a bass drum. I can feel my lips curling and my muscles tensing and twitching, and that familiar lump sits in my throat. My stomach starts to bloat and the elastic on my pajama bottoms stretches to capacity…

Frantically I run to the calendar and check the dates. Yep, PMS has arrived, and there is NO going back!

Unfortunately it’s dinner time and PMS has infiltrated every vein, every mitochondria, every fiber of my being, and, in this state of mind and physical distress, it is downright dangerous for me to be in the kitchen. Now as The PMS Momster, I am:

-slamming doors, pots, pans, sharp knives, and my head against the wall
-burning various parts of my hands
-spilling food on the floor, and my feet
-burning and melting plastic utensils on the stove coils
-screaming “FRICK”, “FRIGGIN”, and “FOR THE LOVE!” every three seconds
-crying
-looking upwards, raising my fists in the air, and screaming
-burning the food
-banging on the stove as the coils stop working, again, just to mock me
-yelling to the kids that their “thinking” is too loud and to knock it off
-falling into a tirade when poor hubby asks me ANY question like, “what’s for dinner?”, “what’s that?”, “when will we eat?”, and “what day is it?”
-throwing dinner on the table, 25 minutes late, burned and mutilated, with threats that everyone better like it, or else...
-so frustrated by the time dinner is done that I can’t even eat it, so I go into the bathroom with some chocolate and cry while I stuff my face. With each bite the fire dwindles, the lips relax, the tears dry, the pseudo-swearing stops, and my muscles smooth out, but my stomach still stretches out my pj’s…it’s ok. Chocolate is worth it.

Hulk, chocolate is the antidote…