Bite Me, the Friday Edition....

Just a few random things on my mind this morning....a handful of minor annoyances in my otherwise sunny day...

1. My sore back can bite me. I love shoveling snow, don't get me wrong. It is great exercise, and I get such a sense of accomplishment when I see a clear, clean driveway. Buuuuut... the snow a couple of days ago was crusted over with ice, and took its toll on my old muscles. I spent yesterday with my good friends...

Then, the Helpful Hubs gave me an article in the paper with tips on shoveling without injuring yourself. A day late and a dollar short on that one. Love that man for trying, though. Helpful Friend, Becky, told me she would have brought me a little piece of paradise AKA Percocet, if only she had known of my injury before she came over. Good intentions, A+...actually helping me F-.

2. This pimple on my chin can bite me. Seriously, is it really fair to be battling the beginning of crow's feet AND still dealing with breakouts? I mean, what the hell here?

3. Car repairs can bite me. I am thankful to have a vehicle with no car payment, but jeez Louise, repairs can be costly on an old girl not under warranty.

4. And because no bite me thread is complete without Supreme Hotness...Ryan Reynolds can bite me. And I mean that in a totally good, totally inappropriate way.

Monday Quickie...

The smallest saw this today...

And proclaimed, "Look! The geese made a seven for me!"'

Oh, to be three and think everyone and everything was put on this earth for my enjoyment.

Just a cute moment. That is all. Carry on.

The world according to Chase...

Did you know that this is gorilla ice cream?

Or that the words in "Holly Jolly Christmas" are not "ho, ho, the mistletoe"...

...but actually, "ho, ho, the Mister Toe"?

How about the cabin we stayed in at Disney's Ft. Wilderness?

Nope, it was not a cabin...it was a "cabbage".

Thank goodness the H household has the wee one to set us straight. He is determined to edumacate us on talkin' gooder.

Next on his agenda...giving us all a fashion makeover.

Geek in Mom's clothing

My geekiest confession (which I only recently revealed, and I am catching all kinds of holy hell for it...)

My name is Trace, and I am a Barry Manilow fan.

Yes, that Barry Manilow, as if there were any other.

I am not a Fanilow, not obsessed, and have no (ok, maybe a little) desire to see him in concert. No, I don't have a crush on him, nor do I find him attractive in any way, shape or form. And although my gaydar is usually waaaaay off, can I just say, uh, "beep beep".

Any given night, you can find me in my kitchen, dancing and singing to a collection of his greatest hits on CD...that's right...Ultimate Manilow, my friends. And, I have mentioned before, I sing loudly. And not well. So much so, that the kids close the playroom door when the show starts. The smallest one will usually do it with a glare, proclaiming, "That hurts my head." I can get them in the kitchen with me when "Copa Cabana" comes on to dance with me. It is quite a scene. We are all afflicted with the White Man's Disease...a.k.a. we can't dance for crap. But, we have a good ol' time regardless.

So, as my sister would say, I have totally stepped off the Cool Train. Although I like Top 20 music, do I love me some Barry songs.

Lord help me if I hear any of the songs on the overhead speakers at Giant. No doubt someone will be blogging about some crazy woman at the grocery store belting out "Mandy" in the cereal aisle.

Cha-Cha-Cha-Cha-Chaka Khan...Chaka Khan...

Playlist today at my friendly neighborhood Giant...

As I walk in and check the boys into the Tree House to play, I realize I am doing a little booty-shake. Why? Overhead, the speakers are treating shoppers to a little Chaka Khan. "I feel for you....I think I love ya..." Oh yeah, my grocery store plays the jams. Sadly, there was no dancing dude in sight today, but better believe, I was on the lookout.

Today's playlist was postively rawkin':

I Feel for You - Chaka Khan (damn, she is awesome. Go on with your big haired bad self.)
Why Can't This Be Love- Van Halen (heeeeeeeell yeah! Throw up your rock sign and thrash.)
Pink Cadillac- Bruce Springsteen (can Boss me any damn day.)
(Some random Beyonce song...all of them sound pretty much the same, and oh, dear God the wailing...)
Karma Chameleon- Culture Club (losing me a bit here.)
When I See You Smile- Bad English (Trace, OUT.)

So maybe Culture Club and Bad English didn't make me want to break it down, but it is better than muzak...no? I swear, I am thisclose to being that guy in the store dancing in the aisle. And Eh mah gah, if they ever play THIS, it is All. Over. I won't be able to control myself. This song is just way too hot. If I happen to be passing by a pole at that moment, I may actually be tempted to grind it. The bonus would be that I could make a little extra dinero for the groceries.

Hey, and how about me and my wicked memory, being able to list all the songs I heard today, and in order, thank you? This old girl's mind is like a steel trap, I'll tell you.

Guess what?

Chicken butt!

And that is the joke du jour...or joke du every stinkin' day in the H house. My boys will tell that joke over, and over, and o-v-e-r, each time, accenting the punchline with roaring laughter. So, imagine my delight when reading a post by Caroline at Cheaper by the Half Dozen, and seeing her oh-so-adorable Evan sporting a chicken butt t-shirt! Thankfully, Caroline is a helpful blogger and added a link in her post so that I could track down said t-shirt and order two of them for my family clowns.

The etsy shop where you can find these is called Blue Turtle Collection, and Kate, the creator, is super-nice and so creative! You must check out her shop. I read a blurb that said her sewing machine took a dump due to a power surge, so her stock is a little limited at the time, but I know that she will be back to creating in no time. She makes the cutest diaper wallets, and if I were still a momma that carried diapers, I would definitely be buying one. The t-shirts are silk-screened, too...none of this iron-on crap.

So, high fives and a shout-out to Kate! Thanks for helping me continue to encourage smart-assedness and twisted humor to my boys.

Four in the bed, and the little one said...

..."I ready to go downstehs, mommy." Cue the start to my day.

I guess you could say we "morning co-sleep". My kids have slept in their own beds for quite some time now. I co-slept more with them when they were infants and breastfeeding. Convenience, and I loved the closeness. I felt that they needed it as well. But I have to say, that once I reclaimed my half of the bed, and they were in their own beds, it was (shhhh..... kind of....nice.) I did miss the little warm bodies next to me, but they seemed to be ready for space of their own. I pretty much let them dictate when they were ready for that. Especially the middle kid. The smaller one, who came a mere 18 months after his brother, was in and out of my bed. Momma really needed her sleep. Having kids post 35 will wear. you. the. hell. out. When it is time for sleep, you better get it. Plus, that boy was my boob hound. If he was in my bed all the time, I would probably still be nursing him. He's three, by the way.

So, as I said, they sleep in their own beds all night, but when there is the slightest lightening in the sky, little feet come pattering in our room. Usually, it is the smallest. And he snuggles in so close and sweet, with his face right next to mine. He will go back to sleep...but then I am pretty much needing to get up and pee, but Lord, Lord, Lord....don't be getting up before that little boss is ready. So, I lay there, and smell his hair, and look at his face. It is bliss, even with a full bladder.

Next in is the middle kid. He burrows in next to his brother, and has to hold on to a piece of me...a hand, an arm, touching my elbow, whatever. He is a mover, not unlike an alligator once it has it's prey in the water. Rolling, rolling rolling. Eventually he will settle in, and all is quiet. As sweet as this moment is, I sometimes I look over and see my husband on his side of the king bed, nice and comfy, sprawled out, and wish the monkeys would once in a while climb in and get in his space. Then I catch a whiff of shampooed baby hair, and I know I am the lucky one. Sleep is so overrated, really.

Dear dude at the grocery store,

I saw you. Sure did. And I know you know I saw you, too. I know the store was pretty empty today with only a handful of bluehair shoppers, but I came up that aisle where you thought you were alone. And I saw you.

Breaking it down to Oliva Newton-John's "Physical" blaring from the ceiling speakers.

Damn, it was a good time, watching you. And, yes, I saw the shoulder shimmy you broke into when Liv was singing "...animal, animal..." Holy crap on a cracker, that's entertainment.

I tried to be stealth, so as not to stop the show, but dangit, you saw me. Only for a second though. I noticed you did not want to make any real eye contact. Can't say I blame you. I think you must have high-tailed it out of there after that, because I looked for you when Yes's "Owner of a Lonely Heart" came on. I wanted to see what you could do with that jam.

So, thanks, dancing queen. You made my trip to Giant a good time today.

Sincerely,

Trace (who is still giggling...)

Destructo Baby

Damn, smallest kid. Why are you so destructive? Seriously, if there is something that can be broken, he will do it. Even if it is break-proof, the boy will find a way. If he is not breaking crap, he is making a mess. Take a look at some of his handiwork...

New DVD, one day old. See that big ol' crack? Yeah, it goes all the way through. Bye, bye, "Thomas and the Magic Railroad".

Left in his wake, middle kid's room (his was spotless, by the way. Coincidence?)

He also wrote on the computer monitor, but I was in a panic to clean it, so no pics there (and, yes, it all came off...) Then the powdered donuts ground into the carpet, all of the pots and Tupperware pulled out of the cabinets, and spilled yogurt. This, by the way, was All. In. One. Morning.

It is not malicious destruction. The boy is like a baby bull in a china shop.

Good thing he is cute. All is forgiven. Little stinker.