Tuesday Twitters

Hey if you haven't checked out Audrey's birthday card in the previous post, don't forget to, because before I found that farting penguin birthday card (which is perfect), I found many that bordered on demonic possession and carnival carnage…Youtube can be scary.

OK...PBS has cameras in my house; today Sesame Street talked about going to the dentist (see below) and Curious George is talking about making sandwiches, which just happens to be Audrey's bday dinner request for tonight. *eyes darting everywhere...looking for little cameras*

I was on medication, for a week, that causes hallucinations; if this post doesn't make you believe that, then go read my Bird-Brain post. But I am off the meds now, and I am getting better. I think…

Audrey is now telling people she sees that she can wrestle them, and win. She is so friendly.

I saw a Ped Egg at Rite Aid today. It looked like a cheese grater. Thinking about shaved skin and Parmesan cheese at the same time was not good for me, and probably not good for you either. Sorry.

I was checking Jacob’s math and told him his answer was wrong, but he quickly showed me I was wrong and how. Do you know how happy that made him? Do you know how happy that made me???

Do you think that Prince has sold out by heavily promoting his new album at Target and on Late Night shows?I have to say though, whatever anti-wrinkle cream he is using I want it!

How do you stop your kids from freaking out about little ants crawling on their arms if you can’t even stop yourself from freaking out? Umm..

Some bloggers I enjoyed have disappeared. Do you think it’s possible alien abductions?

Do you know how hard it is to find rainboots for a boy in size three? Please don’t suggest ebay…I am not desperate yet.

My kids go to the dentist tomorrow and you can BET I will be blogging about that one (knees shaking, palms sweating).

My great friend and faithful commenter (riiiiiiiiiiight??) Robin has been waiting all day for my Tuesday Twitters post, and here it is. It’s great to be the icing on someone’s “cake”! Mmmmmm…icing…

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AUDREY!

It's my baby girl's 6th Birthday!

When she wakes up I will show her this card; Jacob's birthday is in 5 days, so he'll get this too, because, I am pretty sure they won't be able to get enough of this...



Maybe their obsession with farts/poop IS my fault.

Anyway, I love you Audge, Happy Birthday!!!

AKA Mom.

The Bird-Brains of Hysteria Lane

Gossip is bad. Right? Yeah, it’s bad. Especially when it involves pointing out the very worst we see in others. But, we have been tainted by the mainstream media, magazines, TV shows and “news stories” just enough to believe we have some sort of reporter/journalistic integrity and novelty when we spew out any juicy morsel that happens by our radar-sensitive eyes and ears. Just the type of behavior we want our kids to adopt, right?

Hey, I know I am on the mark here, because the Lilo and Stitch cartoon my kids just watched told me so (um, yeah, I watched it too).

But, we still want to relay juicy stories, am I right?

See, I cannot help myself. I am about to spew some really juicy gossip here! You’ll never believe what happened on Hysteria Lane with a couple of bird-brains we’ll call “Robin” and “Jack Sparrow”.

I looked out my window yesterday and noticed something strange happening in the water dish I put out for Jack Sparrow and his entourage to drink from. This water dish has been their refreshing rest-stop for many a season now, and they happily perch on the edge of the bowl and drink until they are satiated. This has consistently been the standard M.O. without any sense of deviance, but, suddenly, a transient thug, Robin, decided to jump in and take a bath! Jack, the leader and year-round resident, did not like seeing this newcomer, Robin, cleaning his nas-tay parts in the “residents-only” drinking bowl.

Jack hopped right up to Robin and was like, “what the…??”

And Robin was like, “psh.”

And Jack was all, “wha?? Wha???”

And Robin was like, “whaev-“

And Jack said, “dude!”

And Robin was all, “psh.”

And Jack was like, “dude, get out of my water dish! I don’t want to be drinkin’ your poo!”

Robin turned around and was like, “psh. this is SO my waterdish now, you Year ‘Round Yokel!”

Jack squared off, “dude, I am not 'anti-mirgration' but this is our territory, and we’ll take you out if we have to!”

Robin laughed, “we? WE?? Psh. I see you and no one else. BRING IT!”

Before I could say egg salad a fight broke out! Jack was hopping madly and fluttering wildly about the water dish, spewing taunting obscenities, as Robin stood his ground and hissed and splashed poo- tainted water into Jack’s eyes. Frightened squirrels looked on as feathers flew, beaks clicked, and angry swear words rang out.

Jack was all, “dude, you’re a freaking idiot!”

Robin laughed in his face and said, “PSH! YOU’RE A LITTLE SPARROW!”

With that, Jack flew off, and Robin laughed as he puffed out his big red chest and splashed with wild abandon, that is, until Jack came back with two of his friends.

I covered my kids’ ears and eyes as Round Two began.

Jack screamed, “DUDE, YOU’RE GOING DOWN, YOU RED BREASTED CRAP SEWER!”

Jack’s friends chuckled as they murmured, “he said 'breast'!”

Robin fired back, “c’mon you little dust balls, EAT MY POOOOOOOOO!”

Feathers and poo-water and blood covered my patio during this full-on assault, and Robin soon realized he was no match for 3 ticked-off Sparrows, fighting for their precious water dish. It seemed like forever but finally Robin flew off with a wounded foot and ego, screaming all the while, "I'll be baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!"

Jack pranced around and gloated, “Oh yeah, I AM all that and a side of earthworms!”

Then, just as I thought peace and order was restored to Hysteria Lane, and the water dish on the Patio Sanctuary, a crazed look in Jack’s eye worried me. He hesitated only for a second before HE HIMSELF JUMPED RIGHT INTO THE WATER DISH!

He friends stood by, shocked, as he splashed and laughed maniacally.

The squirrels dropped their walnuts in horror as Jack's own poo now swam in the drinking bowl.

The visiting Cardinal lost his partially-digested lunch.

Man. For all the great things Jack does around here, he sure can be a jerk sometimes.

It's Been A Year

Well, I must say, I am happy to see a full 365 days pass since March 26th, 2008. Here is a pic of my son, recovering from his surgery, which, up until the last phone call from the Surgeon, had me on a rollercoaster of emotions.

I was walking to the kitchen that day in March, when Jacob came up to me, asking for a hug. Now I am sure all of you are familiar with looking down, and seeing your lovely “baby”looking up at you, with hands raised up for a hug. I was about to bend down and hug him when it saw it.

I wish I could say that I continued moving into the embrace position, but instead my fingers went straight to his neck and I said, “what is that?”

There was a lump.

For the next five minutes Jacob held out for his hug while I poked at this lump next to his esophagus in the groove of his neck. I will not panic. I told myself, over and over.

Because panic, I must tell you, is what I do best…

This lump was about the size of a blueberry, and could only really be seen at certain angles, but sure enough, it was there.

When Josh got home I told him about the lump, and, contrary to my usual behavior, that I was going to give it a week before I made an appointment to see the doctor. Jacob hadn’t been sick, wasn’t lethargic and was eating and growing like crazy, so, a week seemed reasonable to me.

Except...

I used the week to poke my son’s neck, my daughter’s neck, my husband’s neck, MY neck, and anyone else that would let me touch their neck. And then, I couldn’t help myself. I got on The Internet.

Panic took hold.

I couldn’t get him to the doctor fast enough.

Two incredible doctors saw Jacob and examined him, asking me questions, as I counted to ten in my head to halt the tears and answer them. They threw around big medical words that I did not understand as I held Jacob on my lap. They looked at me and said the next step was to visit a surgeon.

“It’s not…” was all I could say.

“Oh no, dear, it’s not!” The one doctor offered quickly. “The chances of that are a million to one!”

Well, after an unclear CT scan, three more doctors, and two sonograms, those odds went up to one in three.

The surgeon was kind enough to offer two other possibilities of what it could be after examining him, but once I heard “it is quite treatable with chemo” I about died in that room.

Josh has a better ability to think calmly and objectively and hear all the POSITIVE things the doctor said. But, I am me…I don’t hear that stuff. I asked to be left in the room as I sobbed, thinking, not my baby, not my baby. How in the world was I supposed to be strong for my little boy? How was I supposed to find God in this? Why was I freaking out and not praying?

We had three months peppered with appointments and consultations, and decided to do the surgery in Alaska while we were there on a month-long visit with friends and family. We had a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese the night before the surgery. During the party I would have snippets of laughter and peace, only to be thrust back into worry and a physical grief I had never experienced before.

Because every night for almost three months, I got on my knees and prayed at his bedside. Every night I thought of parents that were having their first night with a terrible diagnosis, or their first night with their children in the hospital, or horribly without their children in their beds ever again. I thought of parents who had that horrible news destroy their calm, parents that cried, cried out, and prayed and fought the battle while they held their babies, only to have them slip away, and no longer have them. You all, I can barely write this even now, I am crying so hard.

If it weren’t for my faith, if I didn’t believe that our kids are “loaned” to us, if I hadn’t introduced our kids to my Savior, and witnessed them grow and blossom in their own relationship with Him, I am not sure I would have made it through as a whole person if I had lost him. I would have found this world and life to be incredibly cruel and worthless. And, even with my faith and a peace somewhere deep down, I was flooded with fear and pain, and I could barely hear His voice through the screaming in my mind.

The day of the surgery I was numb. We had talked Jacob through all we could, and actually did not have to do a ton of reassuring, as he continually told us he was “just fine!!” And, admittedly, he did not act sick, and with all the information being thrown our way, that was a bit of comfort in the chaos.

The surgery was a fast 45 minutes and we were allowed into recovery to be there when he woke up. The doctor met with us and told us about the cyst-like structure he took out and all the yellow, chunky goo he was able to remove. He had new suspicions of what it could be, but wanted to wait for pathology. The most important thing at that point was that it was out.

The next few days we worked at keeping Jacob comfortable and making sure Audrey didn’t feel lost in all the anxiety-filled activity. He recovered quickly and was ready to do more than we were willing to let him do!

I was cutting up carrots for soup when the phone rang. It was the surgeon.

“Remember I said I would call if there was an issue?” He began.

At this point I spiritually laid down, “Yes.” I managed to say.

“IT’S NOT CANCER!” He sang, apparently thinking this was a great way to break the news.

I picked myself up off the floor and thanked him for all he had done, although at that point I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him for his delivery!

It had been a long three months of doctor visits, questions, possible diagnosis, tests, prayer and tears. You know how people say they feel a weight lifted off their shoulders? It is so, so true.

The phone calls were now celebratory; I had a smile on my face. I was thanking God continually. I was feeling elation and pain at the same time. There are parents everyday hoping for that same phone call, and they never get it.

Why? I don’t know. I don’t pretend to understand. All I know is, time with my children is precious, I am thankful I have been entrusted with them. I am thankful for my God, because without Him my weaknesses would take hold in such a way that I would do much more damage than any illness or disease could ever do. When I hear of parents suffering through the illness and/or loss of a child my heart breaks, as I know His does. And, I know, if our children are given the path to walk, the one that will take them back home to Him, should that day arise before we are ready, then truly, everything will be OK.

Tuesday Twitters

So, I made it back to the gym and rocked the elliptical! While I was there Jack Waggoner was on that soap show, and I am pretty sure the cast of Twilight and Michael Jackson were on there too. Jack kept his shirt on. Whew!

I have an AWESOME giveaway coming up very soon! Wait for it, 'tis cool!!

I took the kids out to plant flowers. It was 40 degrees and sunny. I got sunburned. How does that happen in March you ask? Well, I am the color of...white.

I forgot how much more human I look after I finally pluck my eyebrows.

I am gonna dye my hair black again; it’s the only color that truly makes sense. So, instead of being a brunette or a redhead I shall be a blackhead. Hmmm…maybe I'll need some biore pore strips too…

What’s the purpose of ear wax again?

The stinky squirrels dug up some of my flowers! I dusted everything with cayenne pepper but they came back…thems tough squirrels!

Have you stopped by wendiwinn’s giveaway yet and entered? Hurry up! Well, what are you waiting for, a blog-guided invitation?? Wait…

I have decided I must go to a John Mayer concert. Just has to happen…figure the easiest way to do this is to become famous, befriend Jen, and score some free tickets. Buying them is just too hard.

I am a PRO at baking air! If anyone wants some warm, yummy, baked air, call me.

See this awesome necklace?

Well it is named after ME! How cool is that? Go here and check it out!!

Is anyone as sick of the love rectangle on LOST as I am? And can someone tell Kate that if she doesn’t stop frowning, her face will permanently freeze that way? Maybe it’s too late…

Sigh…are you ever just so lazy that it’s even too much effort to complete a full thou

A Cake Sprinkled with 18 kids

My friend will soon be hosting a “sprinkle” for her friend, who is having her third boy. I had not heard the term "sprinkle" before, but I guess this is used for subsequent children, rather than the full-out shower for the first bundle of joy. So I guess it's like, less gifts, maybe less games and less cake? I don't know. But that got me to thinking, how many kids does it take, really, to merit a sprinkle? Just three? What about like, 6, 10, or 18 even? Wow, I am not the kind of woman that could take on 18 kids. Even my sprinkle would be a disaster. It would go something like this...

The scene:

A beautiful spring afternoon, around 2 pm. Hostess has decorated the living room with balloons and streamers, and appetizers surround the delicious white cake topped with tons of scrumptious frosting flowers.

2:15 – I show up. I take one look at the cake and ask, “where is my donut?”

Hostess says, “donut?”

I say, “yeah, that thing I sit on…I have only had 17 kids, ya know!”

There is no donut for me to sit on. She forgot it, not me. I am angry and want cake.

2:30 – Guests start showing up, I am eyeing the cake.

2:45 – Everyone tells me how cute I am and how excited they are that my 18th child is coming soon. My eyes roll back into my head and I pass out briefly, and I then grab 5 deviled eggs from the table and stick them in my pocket.

2:50 – The Hostess announces that everyone can start eating the hor de’oeuvres. I take the eggs out of my pocket and start eating.

3:00 - 3:20 – I am cornered by a guest…

Guest: “HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!”

Me: “Hi?”

Guest: “Remember me?”

Me: “Ummmm…”

Guest: “Yeah…our kids go to school together?”

Me: “OK…which kid and which school? I have 5 kids at one school, 6 at another, 4 at home and 2 working to help pay for my boob job and tummy tuck. It’s their fault ya know…”

Guest:: “Uhhhhh, Jacob, I think…is that his name? What are their names?”

Me: [sigh] “John, Jacob, Jingleheimer, Schmidt, Sawyer, Kate, Jack, Juliette, Locke, Hurley, Ginger Spice, Mary-Kate & Ashley, BoyD, Daughtery, Hey You, Pax-il, and Tax-Break.

Guest: “Uh, wow. Those are interesting names. You must have your hands full!”

Me: “Where’s the cake?”

3:25 – I am standing next to the cake, when another person approaches me.

Guest: “HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!”

Me: “Do I know you?”

Guest: “Silly, it’s me, Marie! Your neighbor?”

Me: “Oh sorry! You know how breast feeding sucks the brains out of your head. I have been nursing non stop for almost half my life.”

Guest: “So is this the last baby for you and your husband?”

Me: “Husband? Is he here? HIDE ME! Please! I don’t want to be closer than three feet from him!”

Guest: “Wow…I don’t think he’ll see you behind the eggs…did he put you up to all these kids?”

Me: “Well, he knocked me up with all these kids, but, it’s not him, it’s me. He is SO hot. I can’t restrain myself when I am around him…” [Marie quickly walks away]

3:30 to 4:00 – A whole bunch of games are played that I don’t care about. I fall asleep.

4:05 – I start opening gifts.

Guest: “Oh! All those diapers are from me. Funny story though! I had your registry and the list said Depends. Glad I know better and got you diapers instead! HAHAHAHA!”

Me: “No Depends?”

Guest: “Umm…”

Me: “Lame. Now I have to go buy some. Please...just breathing makes me pee.”

4:20 – I have opened all the gifts and am about to devour the cake when The Hostess starts cutting it up to serve.

Me: “I want pieces with edges only. In fact I want the whole perimeter of the cake. Just cut out the center and give me the perimeter. And all the flowers too. Now.”

Hostess: “Awww is this all for your family?”

Me: “Are you NUTS? In the past 18 years I have had 4 hours of sleep, have ONLY been out of the house 24 times for my showers/sprinkles and to give birth, nursed enough to fill a dairy plant, have taken 15 showers, changed 82, 945 diapers, given 60,000 baths, wiped 17 noses 5, 248 times, eaten nothing but cold meals, if I eat at all. I use tape to keep body parts from dragging on the floor, forgotten what sunlight feels like, AND I have had sex only 18 times which is waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay not enough for the price I pay! The only way I get to have fabulous white sheet cake with tons of frosting, AND eat it too, is to attack my husband, get pregnant, and have a sprinkle so I am GONNA EAT ALL THIS CAKE RIGHT NOW!!”

Hostess: “I think your reasoning is flawed…”

Me : “Oh no, it isn’t. The cake is so worth it.”

Tuesday Twitters

OK, so two mosquito bites one day, and then two inches of snow the next. I SO hope that killed enough off to like, KILL KILL KILL KILL them all…forever…I can dream…

I heard snipping noises upstairs while my son was in the bathroom. I called him down and inquired of this noise. He happily announced that he brushed his teeth and clipped his own nails. I asked him where his nail clippings went, his eyes got big as he said, “they exploded everywhere!”

John Mayer and Jen Aniston broke up again. I really don’t care. But it does allow me to like his music even more. If you don’t like John Mayer, you might have problems…

The spam fried rice was awesome! You have no idea how much I ate, because 5 cups of prepared rice is a lot. I may never eat fried rice again. Nah. I’ll make it next week…

I got my Girl Scout cookies! They heard my non-stop wailing and came selling to my door. However, the second boxes’ bag was busted. I threw it out, in case they were trying to poison me. Don’t you watch 24?

I am scared to go back to the clubhouse to use the treadmill, but I am much more scared of June-September. So I will go and run, again.

When I look at my arms from the top they look nice and thin. When I look at them from the side they look…long…not like, from shoulder to fingertips, more like, bicep to tricep. Does this make sense? OK…I have Bingo Wings.

Audrey told a joke: “Why did the belt go to jail? Because it had pants and a shirt!” Hmmm…maybe it would have been funnier if she had used the word, “poop”.

I “jumped the shark”, and I liked it.

OK so you know the movie First Knight with Richard Gere (as Lancelot) and Sean Connery (as King Arthur) and that chick (as That Chick)? And that kiss between Lancelot and That Chick at the end, when they get caught by King Arthur? Now, I KNOW it was a wrong, sinful, evil kiss, bad bad bad, and I KNOW they deserved death or whatever, but, I dare you to say that isn’t one of THE most passionate kisses you have ever seen, and that you don’t want your husband to walk into a room and kiss you that way. King Arthur needed to take some lessons apparently…but ya know, she’s a chick, I mean, Lancelot saved her like what, THREE times? Where was King Arthur during all of that…wait, this is becoming a blog post…

I FINALLY found a foundation and powder that match my complexion: death. It’s gonna rock with my black hair and nails…how old am I?

The stairs in our apartment are loud enough that I can hear hubby coming downstairs, which gives me just enough time to jump up and look like I am doing something, ya know, important or, relevant, and not playing on FB or my blog.

Jim and Pam better get married soon. And if they don’t, or they break up, I will sue NBC.

Jumping the Shark with Poop

I might be jumping the shark here, pulling out some "low-brow" humor, just to entice and bring in readers, maybe like I did with my fart post and my potty post. But really, I am a mom, and some of these topics are still quite relevant, so, until I have exhausted them completely, they will probably keep showing up.

Yes this is about poop. No, not actually poop poop, well, yes, poop poop...but…sigh.

It’s like this. I am tired of listening to my kids talk about poop.

It all started years ago, when a dad of the group announced loudly in front of all the boys that he liked to "eat poop”. Of course he was joking, but the damage was done. All the boys exploded with laughter, and I verbally assaulted the dad, in code language, for his ill-timed and ill-tempered gaffe. He just shrugged it off. He is the dad; he is not generally the one at play dates, grocery stores, or soccer practices dealing with the ramifications of such statements. However, his boys got him back big time at a birthday party for a grandparent, when the youngest held the mic, in front of all the family and friends, during his "happy bday grandpa" speech and announced, “I eat poop!” See? Ya reap what ya sow.

We have all done it; we make that one tiny little mistake, of laughing, and suddenly poop is a word used more than the word, “the” or even “no”.

It embarrasses me when they talk about poop in front of complete strangers. You just don’t do that! Wait, um…ok…I know most of you are complete strangers…

And you just don’t throw around words like poop, turd, nugget, stink log, hershey squirts, and crap! It’s a cheap way to get attention and hollow laughter. Yeah I know…I used poop in the title hoping you would click on my post.

Adults do not think poop is funny anyway! It’s not funny when my kids talk about it every 5 seconds. And it’s definitely not funny when I play Pet Society on Facebook, and my little cat character leaves dancing poop all over the house, and I can move it around and give it to other peoples' pets as a gift. Not even when we bought my grandma moose poop earrings as a joke and later found out she was actually wearing them. Not even when I talk about my horrible IBS and compare a bout of diarrhea to a terrible car accident.



Mr. Hankey wasn’t even funny, and I didn't even need to watch South Park to know that. See, it’s not worth talking about!

So I nag at my kids, and threaten all sorts of punishment, like taking away games or treats after dinner. I tell them that there is nothing funny about poop, how it looks, smells, what it sounds like coming out. It’s not funny to say you are going to eat it, poop on the floor, poop in your underwear, call someone a poopyhead, or imagine people like Brad Pitt, Martha Stewart, or your grandparents pooping. I tell them no one wants to know if they pooped, unless they haven’t pooped for days, then it might be a good idea to tell someone. I tell them that poop is in the same category as fart. And I don’t want to hear about it, hear them talk about it, or joke about it. Because none of it is funny. Period.

Speaking of periods…

A Post Revisited

I don't deny that I am a stereotypical blogger, and that I have a somewhat addictive and paranoid personality as well. Take, for example, that I am quite addicted to my feedjit counter. I have a friend who is trying to free me of this even as I type. But, if I didn't have it, I would miss out on so much. Like this little encounter...

I found that one of my posts was mentioned in a thread on this site. I have to admit, the site intimidates me a ton, and I am pretty sure anything I said there would cause my foot, or someone else's foot, to be inserted into my mouth (please use some mint foot cream before insertion...please). And I don't really know if my post was mentioned in a positive or negative way either, so I'll just ramble on in my paranoia here.

See, many a lady have come from that anger-charged thread to read my Mom Jeans post, one of my very very first posts, which I am re-posting here for a re-read, or a first time read, in case you haven't gone back that far.

My post is all about being a first-time mom and buying new jeans, Mom Jeans to be exact, and coming to grips with it.

Apparently the Mom Jean is quite the hot topic, and women can get um, opinionated concerning the jest directed at the Mom Jean and possibly the kind of people who wear them. No one, so far, has tried to lynch my post (NOR have they commented); their angst is directed mainly at the SNL skit that features moms in these jeans and the stigma that is connected to that style of jean. But several (like, 30 in one week) woman have silently visited my blog from this one mention, and I am a little scared. What do they think?

Since I am all about self-deprecation for a laugh or two, I totally see the humor in this skit and wouldn't wear Mom Jeans any sooner than I would wear Daisy Dukes or a toga. However, to some this skit is not funny at all.




And I must say, some of the greatest people I know wear Mom Jeans; these particular women who DO wear Mom Jeans ALSO wear a kind demeanor, and an attitude of grace, toward all, stylishly on their sleeves as well. Because of that I can understand why it would offend some to group all these women into a physical and life-style stereotype that people laugh at. And though you won't ever see me wearing Mom Jeans, I hope my sleeves are as beautiful as the ones I know who do, someday. Anyway enjoy this "inspired by real life" post. It's more about how hard it was for me to get out of the house as a first time mommy, and dealing with all the experiences that come along with it.


Crying. Baby crying just stinks. You hate it. You want more than anything to help your Sweet One feel better so he can go back to that cooing and gurgling you love so much. But you are on a mission, because you’re FINALLY losing some weight, and you have been stuck in the house way too long. The sun is shining and new jeans sound better than the epidural you got at 6 centimeters. You manage to get your 25-pound fully-stocked diaper bag and baby into the car without much fuss and you are amped and ready to go. You pull out of your driveway, feeling free and totally independent!! You're three minutes into the weekend bumper-to-bumper traffic and your Sweet Little Angel starts screaming and wailing. This predicament is new to you. It’s just you, and baby, and traffic. What could possibly be wrong? Paci fell? Toe is cramped in new shoes? Sun is in his eyes? He is backwards in the seat and you can’t see him! How do you assess and remedy this? What do you do, miss your exit, pull of to the shoulder and fix the problem? Continue driving and put on some 80’s rock music, hoping to drown out the crying with the “wah wah” of the ever-popular guitar solo? Most moms I know opt out for the “twist your neck and arm backward" approach, using your new circus stunt to pat her head in between shifting gears and changing lanes while saying, “you’re ok!” at 40mph or more. While this does not do much to stop the crying, and puts you, baby, and others at extreme risk, at least you feel like you are doing something and you make your exit!


So you get to your destination no longer inspired but haggard and disoriented with the worst neck pinch you have yet experienced. With ringing ears you park wherever you can and begin to wrestle the stroller out of the trunk, breaking the one good nail you have trying to pop the thing open. You fit your monster of a diaper bag halfway into the bottom of the stroller and prepare for baby transport, only to find that baby has fallen blissfully asleep while you were fighting with the stroller. Your best efforts to gently move baby from car to stroller starts the wailing all over again as if you were attempting to catapult baby from his “comfy” car seat to the “comfy” stroller. Even moms who are lucky to have a car seat that locks onto the stroller don’t always escape a loud transition.


So 20 minutes into your trek, baby is crying that hunger cry you are learning to identify (and now you’re leaking) even though he just ate right before you left so he can’t POSSIBLY be hungry, right? You convince yourself of this in order to proceed and get from the parking lot into the mall. Baby's screams are amplified, each wail echoing painfully through the mall’s large walkways. What a way to announce it is time to find some new jeans! You feel all eyes on you as you trudge by, trying to remember the names of the clothing stores you used to shop at since so many new ones have popped up while you were living in the Maternity World. The annoyed eyes become all too heavy as you duck into a normal clothing store for the first time in about 6 months, and you are happy to escape the wave of grimaces. Breathing a sign of relief you quickly become appalled as you see skinny, taut women parading around you. Envy and disbelief overwhelm you and you are certain none of these women have had children, and you determine they should not be allowed to do so, for fear they might snap back to those annoying silhouettes . You angrily snatch the first three pairs of jeans you see in different sizes and lug the stroller to the dressing rooms.


On a side note, you have another dilemma: Do you use the room reserved for people with wheelchairs who need to use the support bars (this happens in bathrooms too)? You realistically cannot fit your diaper bag, let alone the stroller, in a dressing room designed for skinny childless people. By the way, baby is still crying. As you pray that no one in a wheelchair needs to try on anything in the next 15 minutes, you bolt into the dressing room and maneuver the stroller, diaper bag and of course, yourself into the still too-tiny dressing room and position yourself in a manner that you hope will reveal the most flattering image of your “new body” in the mirror.

You sit down and look at baby, who is not wailing any longer but seems to be taking a break as to save the real tantrum for an audience. You realize that baby’s binki is missing, but there is no time for that; she is quiet and it is now time for the daunting task of finding great jeans that fit! You remember the dressing room mirror as being evil, but now you wish you could try the jeans on in the dark! "Is this a fun mirror??" you moan while squinting so you can blur your view of stretch marks and chunky flesh.

Of course you try on your pre-pregnancy sized pants first. Denial and agony of the truth clash when they don’t fit and you groan as you pull them up as far as they will go, which is half-way up your thighs. You manage to convince yourself that clothing sizes changed within the last 6 months due to some manufacturing mishap and attempt to move on. The next pair is not much better, but after squirming and yanking you get them to cover your behind! For a split second you think you should buy these and use a rubber band to hold them together and wear over-sized shirts for now because the weight will just “melt off” once you start that strenuous exercise routine. You are jolted back into reality and try on the third pair. Of course the largest sized pants you don’t want to fit “fit”, and you are pretty sure you are buying your first pair of "mom jeans" as tears start to well in your eyes. Jeans shopping was not as fun as you thought it was going to be! After slipping back into your maternity jeans (which are actually more current with the trends than what you are about to buy) and letting your tummy back out, you realize you now have to go stand in line to buy the darn things. On cue baby starts crying and starts to emit a very ripe and nauseating smell. You decide the diaper can wait as you exit the room and head for the line of about 2000 people waiting to buy jeans in your old jean size.


As you stand in line with sweat dripping off your brow and onto the shelf of a chest you have acquired, you fumble for binkies, toys, Cheerios, anything that will get your baby to stop crying, but nothing is working and you know it is because of that rancid diaper you are allowing you child to steep in as it ferments due to your selfish quest. Your eye catches the clock on the wall, and to your amazement, you see that it took you an HOUR to try on three pairs of jeans. You swear you will never go out alone with baby in public again as you realize it is ALSO time for baby to eat and you either will have to sit on a bench by the cell phone kiosk to nurse, or use your half-an-hour window of time to get home and feed the ravenous peanut before he explodes. If you are a mom with formula, you are probably letting out a sigh of relief as you give the baby her bottle and the rest of the experience is somewhat tolerable. Or, you’re freaked out because you forgot your ATM card and have no cash to buy bottled water and must either, let your baby starve, or get water from the bathroom that was last cleaned, uh, when?


You are able to buy your jeans just before everyone passes out in line behind you and you make it out to the car relatively in one piece and start loading everything back in. Driving all the way home with that smell is certain to be a health hazard, so you attempt your first diaper change in the passenger side seat of the car. Right now you're happy I told you to pack plastic baggies! You’re tired, your breast pads are filled to capacity, and you wish I would have also have told you to add earplugs to the list! Baby starts crying again as soon as you are out of view, and the perilous drive home requires that 80’s rock music once again. In your stressed-out stupor you actually think your baby’s screams sound great to heavy metal. At least you got some jeans, right?

I Cannot Write This Stuff...

I recently sat down for a marathon night of The Price is Right, with my 7-year-old and 5-year-old, because that is what we do when daddy is at a conference. We were watching it on-line, which means there are less commercials assaulting their impressionable little minds, and it's a fairly smooth ride through a show of “fabulous fun and prizes” that the whole family can enjoy. So I thought…

Because suddenly out came Jack Waggoner.

Yea, weird right? He ran out and told Drew that since the Bold and the Beautiful Set was right next to The Price is Right set, they could hear the screams of the crowd during his important, ahem, “love scene”. Ummmm…

I ignored this, thinking, what a STUPID cameo, but, I knew this would make no sense to my kids. Focus on the fabulous prizes, I told them, and not the weird man talking about something called, “love scenes”. This went over without incident.

All was well again, as the kids became hysterically excited over skin treatment lines, his and her mopeds and shiny dishwashers. They sat totally enthralled as the merchandise hungry contestants bid on electric vegetable peelers, outside thermometers and in-home gyms, and yeah! a car!…no wait…

Out comes Jack…again.

This time, his shirt was open, there was lipstick all over his mouth and “kisses” everywhere on his shirt. He announced that he and this "new" actress were on the couch “doing the scene” and the crowd was still too loud, thus ruining "the moment". My kids said nothing. I sat horrified. I pretended that it was not happening, and, like an idiot, I figured this was as bad as it was gonna get and kept watching, because the Big Wheel was next!

Oh, I forgot to mention, every 20-second commercial was for a sweepstakes hosted by CBS. For a free colonoscopy. I.am.not.kidding.

Have you tried to explain a colonoscopy to YOUR child?

This commercial is SERIOUS people! I don’t swear, but WHAT THE…?? Is the wave of the future health care sweepstakes??

We get to the wheel, and my BP is back to normal, when…

You guessed it!

Jack ran onto the set again. With only a towel on. At this point I was not sure what he said, because I was yelling VERY loudly to my kids that he was going to the pool, over and over again. THEN, he zips on a faux six-pack foam abdomen, and THEN, he turns around and flashes Drew. This had to be the most confusing 2 minutes of my kids' lives.

He returned at the end of the show, telling the crowd they could now scream all they wanted, because he was “done”, and the Barker Beauties, (or whatever they are now) pawed at him whilst wearing bathing suits. The writers need to be fired. Seriously. It was terrible. It was like watching Mr. Rogers get a colonoscopy.

Here is what my poor children gathered from this night of Game Show Carnage:

*Dishwashers are VERY cool and shiny.

*That guy got kisses. LOTS and LOTS of kisses. And he wears lipstick.

*The girls liked him. A lot.

*The girls are pretty (“how do they get all these beautiful women to show the prizes?” says my 7-year-old son, who now showers for girls.)

*Jack went to the pool, "‘cause mom screamed that he did." And he wore a very strange floating device, so he wouldn't drown.

*Colonoscopies won through the CBS sweepstakes include a 2-night stay at a lush resort in California.

I could NOT have made this up. And obviously I am a deranged mother, because the first thing I thought was, “I must blog about this.”

Tuesday Twitters

Audrey is now emphatic about everything; I tell you, she is SERIOUS! About…everything! Seriously! And "for reals!" Where does she get this stuff?

I wonder, is it OK for kids to run around with straws in their mouth? What about pencils? That was strictly a hypothetical, random, rhetorical question…

FYI, Jacob has gas, and he doesn’t like it. Neither do I.

Remember this dog covered in mud in that one post I did? Well, I want this dog. Even if it’s covered in mud. It is so cuteness.

When I went to the clubhouse to walk on the treadmill, there was this show on VH1 with crazy couples chasing pigs that would become their pets/kids. And one of the pigs had a problem with his thingie…it was hanging out like a curly purple worm, and I was walking next to this obviously college-aged guy and he snickered, and I was so embarrassed I tripped and slid off the treadmill and got a tread mark on my face. No not really, but in my mind I did…

At this time I have three zits on my forehead. If you drew lines to connect them, they would form a perfect isosceles triangle. I feel a homeschooling opportunity about to burst on the scene!

I will make spam fried rice. And I am really excited about it. Thanks, wendiwinn!!! I hope you rig your giveaway so I will win!

I was happy to see that in this past week’s epi of LOST, Locke didn’t chop anyone’s head off…

I love my purse.

I couldn’t buy Girl Scout cookies when I went shopping as I didn’t have a debit card OR cash. I cried for 4 hours.

My hair is Hot Mess. It blew around in the wind today as I was walking through a parking lot, and not even the wind could cool down its Hotness. I ache for women who walk into a building with an entirely different hairstyle than when they left the house.

Some "super" model announced in the news (“news”, ha!) that she “eats like a pig”. I am pretty sure she meant she "eats like a bird”, because she eats a lot and yet stays skeletal thin and is thus light as a bird. Because seriously, have you ever seen a pig eat? Have you EVER seen a model eat???

I think Audrey got "serious" from me. Seriously. For reals.

Seven

So my son has been deeply entrenched in the belief that girls are gross and worthy of hatred for some time now. He is seven. Though he does love me, and his sister, and his grandmas for that matter, he has told me, time and time again, that any person of the female gender in near proximity to him simply ruins his day, and he has acted appropriately so. This could be because they tell him he is cute and they like his hair and they chase him around.

But, during all this torturous attention, something must have happened to him. He recently said this to me:

"Ya know mom? I think, when girls are around, that, maybe, I should shower because, well...girls don't like it when you stink."

SHOWER?? He is seven! He has never taken a shower, because he is afraid of water beating down on him and getting into his eyes and nostrils. Now he wants to shower. For girls.

Did I mention he is seven?

Oh yeah. He also told me (and showed me) that he has "huge!" biceps. Could these two situations be related??

Se-ven.

Could someone tell me what has happened here, and how I can reverse the effects?

NO WAIT!!

Maybe this new self-awareness will get him to stop picking his nose?

Hey Super Archie with HUGE biceps...are you about to pick your nose? Is that an, "I HEART Picking" emblem?

Do Betty and Veronica know about this?

Insanity has no limits...I am having a hard, hard day...

Playing Tag w/ Voyeurs, Rosebuds & Hand Sanitizer

Let's all come clean right now.

We are voyeurs AND exhibitionists. We are. Just accept it, OK? In fact, we are B.L.O.G.G.E.R.S.:

Bloggers
Love
Oogling
Great
Gunnysacks
Eyedrops and
Rosebuds
Seriously

OK so that fell apart. BUT we DO love being let into people's lives and spewing about our own, don't we? It is a fetish that sprouts in childhood (think about sneaking into your parent's room, to look in their drawers AND how much you loved "show and tell" of all kinds!) that usually wanes a bit as we get older, but for us, it rooted deeply and bloomed somewhere between Blogger and Wordpress.

So, with that long introduction, I am happily displaying the results of me being tagged, by my great bloggy Retired Friend, for, "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT'S IN YOUR PURSE????"

So, without further delay, here is my purse:

Yeah, isn't it great? My first expensive purse, that I got for a screamin' deal! It has everything I need. It's got all the basic colors to match my shoes, it's nice and deep, it has inside pockets that zip, and two little side pockets to hold my phone and my hand sanitizer. Plus I think it's super great. Now, what was inside when I took this pic?

OK! So, we have a couple of pens, my checkbook and all the small, rectangular plastic thingies I need secured by a yellow ponytail holder thingie, a DOLLAR! DOLLAR TREE HERE I COME! Um...a great book that I am reading and hoping to do a giveaway for someday, some water in an un-earth friendly plastic bottle (don't judge) an archaic cell phone, because like I told you all, I am behind the times, a used tissue (thanks, Audrey) and my Altoids. Good stuff...

Now, two important things were missing on this day. One, my makeup.

Nothing fancy, but, there's some foundation, powder, eyeliner, gloss and mascara in there. Yes. I know, you are all giddy right now.

And, the most important thing my purse was missing that day, my little bottle of hand sanitizer.

Yeah it doesn't fit too well, but I like my purse. And I need my sanitizer. Ask anyone who knows me.

So, were you ready to stop reading? You can't. Why?

THERE IS MORE!

So that was my fancy schmancy purse that I look cool walking around with, where other women with cool purses walk around, at The Mall. But, when we go on hikes, the zoo, or somewhere where I don't want to actually hold my cool purse, I need something practical. Like this!

This is a Fanny Pack in disguise! It's like a Liver Pack! This purse goes across the body and rests pretty much above my liver. So great! I got this off of Amazon and I loves it! It fits close to the body, has a little pocket up top for the cell phone, and can hold a water bottle with no problem AND it isn't that ugly! I.so.scored. Here is what was in it:

Some "leather" gloves from Rite Aid, a LIST to Rite Aid, my gym entrance card, and a pen. I am sure this is what Britney Spears is carrying these days, especially on her frequent jaunts to Rite Aid. Are you getting a clear picture of how incredibly COOL I am yet??

OH OH OH and look at my new shoes!

No, this is not an unmatched pair, but yeah, two more great Amazon purchases! The Colombia sandals are for the zoo, to wear with my Liver Pack, (I will probably wear ankle socks with them too, because again, I am THAT cool!) and my new brown sandals that go with my new cool purse, make me scream, "I LOVE being 35!"

Look at the embellishments...

Won't these shoes look great with my red toenails and buffed heels? I know you SO want to be seen with me at the mall. And Rite Aid. Man I am cool.

Now, I am sure, if you are still awake, you are wondering what happened to my OLD purse, right? Of course you are! I gave it to Audrey, and, when I did, she responded as if I had given her a million dollars:

Awwww. Sad little purse. A $14 buy from Fred Meyer. Served me well. Now, what is inside Audrey's new purse?

OK...we have a tongue depressor, a few Legos, a gum wrapper, the little booklet that came with my Colombia sandals, a red string, a shiny quarter and a little bottle of hand sanitizer from my friend wendiwinn, and a note that says, "Dive"...wow. Audge is well on her way to being super cool like her mama!

Well I don't know about you but I am exhausted. This was like cleaning my kitchen!

Now, I want to know what's in all of your purses, anyone who reads this! Comment and let me know if you will do the "what's in your purse" post so I can satisfy my nosy disposition. But, I am especially calling out three bloggers, and they better respond, or I will make fun of them.

Hey Lola: I am SO interested in your purse. And your underwear drawer, and any personal file of yours I could get my hands on...

Wendiwinn: Yep, you're being tagged. I am hoping Spam is in your purse.

Much More than Mommy: Don't clean your purse before you do this! DON'T DO IT!!!

OK I need a nap!

The Ecostore Giveaway Announcement

*UPDATE*
Due to no response within the three day rule requirements, a new winner was chosen on Saturday, March 7th at 12 pm EST
the new recipient is Sarah McMenamin! Congrats!

AND THE


IS....



BETH!

You won! You won the $25 gift certificate and two body soaps from the ecostore! WOOOHOOO! HAPPY DANCE!!

Now Beth, you have THREE DAYS to contact me to claim your prize, or some other person will happily take your place! HURRY!

Thanks to everyone who stopped by and entered, and thank you again to the ecostore for a great giveaway!

PS
Don't fret if you didn't win! You can still go to any Meijer store and purchase their wonderful line of earth-friendly products there! And when you do that, everyone wins!

Twittered Tuesday

Note to self: being smacked on the forehead with a big rubber ball does NOT feel good.

I am behind in all areas of technology; I shall do my form of "twittering" until the next social networking sensation comes along, then I will twitter the way the world does now...for I just cannot conform that much.

I had a dream that Locke went berserk, and was running around killing people. He even jumped networks and killed Dr. House! He was cutting everyone’s head off! I think it was that last lemon bar I ate before bed…

I got a call from a guy who announced happily that I had won a 2 day cruise to the Bahamas. What? A TWO DAY cruise? Are you SERIOUS? Do I get to sleep in the belly of the ship, and shovel coal into the furnace too?? Does that come with a guaranteed Norovirus package, complete with raging fever, explosive diarrhea, and endless projectile vomiting? Will we see a rogue iceberg, and hit it and sink, while Celine Dion belts out that song and beats her chest? Or, when my two days are up, will you just shove me off the side and I get to swim home??? Oh, sign me up NOW! I so hung up on him. Loser.

Are my twitters getting too long? Are they like, MEGAtwitters, or actual blog posts?

I totally had an awesome blog post idea at like 2 am, and I DIDN’T WRITE IT DOWN AND NOW FOR THE LIFE OF ME I CAN’T REMEMBER WHAT IT WAS! (crying uncontrollably while downing sugar cookies) Learn from my mistake, unless you REALLY love cookies.

Audrey ran into the kitchen and screamed, “WHAT? The sugar cookies are GONE? That’s IMPOSSIBLE!!” No, sweet child, it is not… *wiping crumbs off my lips*

By the way, Africa is STILL on my back! Oh, don’t know about Africa? Just read this post. Yeah it’s long. So what. Read it.

Hmmm...I am a bit abrasive, cranky, cantankerous and arrogant today. It's either PMS or I am a 70-year-old man.

I was SO bummed to find out this freezing weather just makes the evil bugs dig deeper into the warm dirt so they can survive. I want them to DIE DIE DIE DIE!

I found a new way to waste copious amounts of time on FB. It's called, Sorority Life. I am guilt ridden and giddy, all at the same time. Please help me. No, never mind. Just join my house so I can buy a stretch Hummer.

Jacob loves this new song on Madagascar 2. I think he’s gonna like REAL women! (the crowd jumps to their feet and cheers!) Cause there "ain’t nothing wrong, with lovin’ chunky”.

Should I be concerned if I really, really like watching the hippos dance?

March 4th is the Deadline for the Giveaway!

So...while you have been sitting around, reading my FANTABULOUS blog (and maybe others) have you um, neglected your toilet?

Wow...


Or, have you let a few dishes pile up?

Actually I have seen worse...

How about the dog? How's Fifi looking these days?

Poor Fifi! Bet your carpet is messed up too!


When's the last time you washed your hair?

Woah!

Or maybe, your house looks like this because you spend too much time here, blogging:

Shame on you!! (Unless you're brilliant...but still...)

If this is in fact you, then I strongly suggest, if you haven't entered my giveaway for great eco-friendly cleaning and bath/body products for your home, family, and pets, that you do it now. Seriously. Like, now...and clean up your house, or I'll never come over!

I hope you win!