Little patch of clover

Home....it's so "Good"

2011-07-22T15:45:00.010-04:00

We recently had a new store open in town.

Oh, HomeGoods, where have you been all my life? I am in love...even as my husband curses you.

Now, I admit, when I first went in, this gave me pause...

I'm not sure how many decorating opportunities there are for brass hands throwing the deuces, but anyway...

I am also pretty sure these could have been displayed more appropriately...

But it did start getting better, as I came across a sign perfect for the Little Kid...

Then I came across this lovely number and knew I was in the right place. I have a new obsession with white dinnerware, and this baby would fit right in at my house...

What I really noticed is that there seemed to be a real abundance of all things rooster-themed. Let me help you mothers of boys (and immature husbands) out for a moment here. A rooster theme is not going to work in your house. It just lends itself to a plethora of "cock" jokes. For instance...

Cute stool, right? WRONG. Unless you want to hear this all the time...

"Hey, want to sit on my c***?"

"What do you think of my big, giant c***?

"Check out my c***. It's made of steel."

(Of course, you could always point out here just how "little and cute" his c*** is. That always goes over well with the fellas.)

Better to just go with a cat or donkey decorating motif.

Then again...maybe not.

Random thoughts and random pictures of random stuff that is....random

2011-04-19T11:59:00.011-04:00

Deep thoughts...

The Kohler toilet commercials....really? Are people really singing "nah nah, hey hey goodbye" as they flush? I thought only my 5 year old talked to his turds.

The other day while dropping Chase off at preschool, XM's Kid's Place Live played the theme to "Indiana Jones" just as the van door was sliding open. I am thinking of playing it everywhere I go when exiting the van. It just makes where I am going seem so...exciting. I might buy a Fedora to wear as well. Carrying a whip on my hip *might* be a little over the top, no? I think Dave should have this set as my ringtone for when I call him. For some reason, he thinks that Darth Vaders "Death March" is more appropriate. He is hilarious, right?

I am considering starting to wear my hair like the Safe Side Super Chick. My kids hang on her every word while I have to repeat requests over and over again. It must be the hair, right?

Anyone who grew up in the 70's will recognize these lovely ancient artifacts. Why did anyone ever think they were a decorating "do"?

Why do teenagers go to the mall to talk on their cell phones to other teenagers who are not at the mall? Am I just too old to get it? I am probably just a year or two away from shaking my fist and yelling at the damn kids to stay off my lawn.

Speaking of malls, is there any more heinous a store than this?

I make one trip in that store per year. I go in at Christmastime for gift cards for my three nieces. My trip into Hollister is always the same (old fart alert) .... I walk in and am immediately assaulted by 1. LOUD thumping music that is, did I mention LOUD? 2. The overpowering smell of whatever their cologne is that they are selling. It makes me woozy/nauseous/immediately irritable 3. A saleschick/fella folding the same sweater over and over, size 0 on a fat day, and with a look like, "Erm. Are you lost, ma'am?" They direct me to the cash register with a wave of the hand and what I assume are words, which are lost in the thumping LOUD music, and I peer into the darkness of the store and hope at some point I will find the register. Isn't this a "beach" store, by the way? Why does it have a "midnight at the beach" lighting scheme? I scream at the girl over the din for "THREE GIFT CARDS, PLEASE" after which I attempt to find the exit. It is a maze of shadows and dim lighting, and after wandering and wandering, I am out. I have to save my Hollister purchase until the last task of the day because it gives me such a headache. Don't even get me started on Hot Topic.

I was tempted to grab these at the thrift store the other day, just to see what my husband would do with them. Then I was afraid he may actually do what I feared. Yeah, I passed.

Warsh 'em on the cheap!

2011-01-11T15:20:00.015-05:00

After quite the hiatus, I am back! Sadly, to my nieces, Katey and Hailee's dismay, this is to be an informative post, not the usual smart-assedness that they love from their favorite, favorite, favoritist auntie.

Today's lesson...making your own laundry detergent. Wheeeee!

I have to say, I love this stuff. It cleans your clothes oh so fabby. The only thing I have to get used to is the very light fragrance of the soap. My absolute fave up until now has been Tide with Febreze. Delightful. This make it yourself stuff has very little fragrance to it. You can add a few drops of essential oils to the mix if you want a little more good smelly stuff. I just haven't gotten any yet.

So here's the magic recipe...and my little notes to go along with it!

4 Cups hot tap water
1 Fels-Naptha soap bar
1 Cup Arm & Hammer Super Washing Soda **Important- NOT Baking Soda...WASHING soda. There is a difference!**
½ Cup Borax
Grater
Clean 5 gallon bucket with lid (You can get these at Lowe's)
Clean detergent dispenser (I used a tupperware pitcher with lid)

- Grate bar of soap and add to saucepan with water. Stir over medium-low heat until soap is melted.

-Fill the 5 gallon bucket half full of hot tap water. Add melted soap/water mixture, Washing Soda and Borax. Stir well until all powder is dissolved. Fill bucket to top with more hot water. Stir, cover and let sit overnight to thicken.

-Stir mixture the next day, and then fill a used, clean, laundry soap dispenser half full with soap mixture and fill rest of way with water. Shake before each use. This will be very goopy and separate some from the water, so shaking before each use is important.

Optional: You can add 10-15 drops of essential oil per 2 gallons. Add once soap has cooled. Ideas: lavender, rosemary, tea tree oil...whatever your personal preference.

Makes 10 gallons.

Top Load Machine- 5/8 Cup per load (Approx. 180 loads)
Front Load Machines- ¼ Cup per load (Approx. 640 loads)

I had slave labor helping me with my recipe. They thought it was big fun.

Here is our journey in photos:

Getting the supplies together, mixing hot water with the two powders:

Grating the soap. Looks like cheese, doesn't taste like cheese. This is what Fels-Naptha soap looks like, in case you were unfamiliar, as I was. Oh, and my local grocery store carries this soap, so I bet yours does, too. Huh...who knew? :

Slave Laborer #1, mixing it all together:

Slave Laborer #2, taking a snack break. Please tell me why I bother to wash clothes for this kid?

Here is the final product, a day later, after cooling. It looks a lot like funky Jell-o or congealed chicken grease.

You will fill half of your container with the goop (marked D) and fill the rest with water (marked W)....and shakey, shakey, shakey each time you use it. I dispense it into the glass container for each load. I have a front-loader, so this is a 1/4 cup measurement.

My next green project will be with my BFF, Becky...Adventures in Composting. Garbage and worms. What a delight.

The Lost Little Dish

2010-10-02T11:15:00.005-04:00

We all know that men are very visual. And I like to make things very easy for big daddy, so I created a little tutorial for him. How in the world someone can get a dirty dish to the sink....right above the dishwasher, but not actually INTO the dishwasher defies all logic to me.

I figured I would give mah man a tutorial. Men like pictures and stories, so I combined the two. Feel free to share this with the men in your lives, including any children of the XY chromosome variety as well.

This is a dirty dish. He looks sad. He is lost.

He needs to find his way home. This is his home.

It is so easy to help this lost little dish. Look! You can open his door!

And help the little dirty dish home to his dirty dish family.

I love a story with a happy ending! Hooray!

Will let you know how this pans out. I am guessing my crazy silly hubby will probably respond with a smartass email....of which, of course, I will share. : )

Random Chaseisms

2010-09-08T08:36:00.003-04:00

Overheard at a table in Applebee's (way too loud) .... "Can we stop talking about VAGINAS?"

This morning... "I dreamt of lemons. I wanted to buy them and you wouldn't let me. You should let me do things in my own dreams."

Also this morning... "Why don't you like sharks? Because they bite? I bet Daddy could beat up a shark if it bit you."

Recently.... "Why are you such a little mom? You can't be the boss when you are so little."

Yesterday... "You should not kiss Daddy. He is stinky. You should only love the little and cute ones in the house."

And my recent fave... "Mommy, you are beautiful as butter. Wait. I mean a butterfly."

Thrift Store Thursday!

2010-08-26T18:24:00.012-04:00

Bet you thought I disappeared. Or maybe hoped I did?

But like Rachel from BB 12...

"I'm back, b*tches!"

OK, OK, I know that is not Rachel. But it is close, no?

Clearly, she is not my favorite on the show.

Speaking of these...

...how about some thrift store fun?

Cute little Amish kid?

Or homage to psycho freak Isaac from Children of the Corn? You decide.

Now, seriously, who is going to buy this?

Why, this lady right here.

She was seriously hovering over me as I was taking the picture and POUNCED on the Angel Soft, well, angel the minute I stepped away. I feel quite sure I overheard "score!" under her breath. Yeah, you sure snagged that from me, sister. You win. I have a feeling if I would have picked it up, she would have beat me about the head and neck with one of her filthy Crocs. I just wasn't willing to risk it, even for art such as that.

Even Jesus can't believe the heinousness of that painting.

And in conclusion...

I am happy to announce that I was finally able to complete my collection of "Urines of the World". You can't imagine how hard it was to find the rare "PA Rehab Ex-Con" specimen. Yesssssssssss!

Thrift Store Thursday...It's Baaaaaaaack!

2010-07-05T19:43:00.012-04:00

Did ya miss me?

Ya missed me, ya missed me, now ya gotta kiss me!

OK, I am a little punchy. Blame it on the 100 degree plus weather and a day of Chuck E Cheese and Toy Story 3. I do be FRIED, friends.

But I also managed a thrift store trip. Woot!

Let me say that I scoured the NC thrift stores while vacay-ing in NC. My nieces were excited to help me search out the crap (Hi Kay-Kee and Bug!) but alas, no crap was found. I guess NC'ers either a. have no crap, or b. like their crap and keep it.

But I am back in Pennsyltucky, and (What? The hell you say...?) there are loads of crap here. Buttloads.

Witness...

It is an animal... type... thing....yeah. And it is made of....shells. Surely a one of a kind craptastic creation!

But as I walked along the back wall, lo and behold...

The OCD in me was tempted to walk it back across the store to pair it to its mate, but then I thought to myself, hey, self, nobody needs two of those. I mean, dang, that is too greedy. There are not enough shell animals to go around, people. Let's make it a limit of one per customer.

Now, I ask you, why the hell is this woman so happy? I can honestly say that in my 30-plus years of vacuuming experience, not once have I felt such joy when doing this task that I had to throw out my arm in a Broadway-esque pose and say "ta da!" She has such a look of pure bliss on her face as well. And to think, these were the days BEFORE Prozac. She has either been hitting the sauce, or is super-jazzed about cleaning her groovy sunken living room. My bet is on the consumption of many, many Harvey Wallbangers.

And while Betty Jean was busy tidying up before the Mister came home from a hard day at the office, little Lisa was busy whipping up brownies, courtesy of a powder packet, water, and a light bulb...

Note that the little pink box says "Child tested since 1965" and from the looks of this package, that would have been just one short year ago. Yes, they were actually selling this. But hey, a little botulism is a small, small price to pay for a nostalgic trip down memory lane.

This, I love. This, I almost bought. It is sort of the grouch's answer to a welcome sign. I like the no-nonsense approach. It is kind of like, "Hey, good to see you! Come in, sit a spell! And if you act like a bitch I will throw you right out!"

But I thought it might send the wrong message. Seeing as how my husband likes to tell me I can be abrasive, I guess I should go with a cheery Welcome! sign instead.

And, by the way, to said husband, when he calls me abrasive, I tell him to kiss my ass.

What...? Is that wrong?

He loves me, but...

2010-05-24T17:06:00.004-04:00

There is nothing like the little kid climbing in bed with me in the morning for some cuddles.

This morning he slipped under my blanket and wrapped his arms around my neck. "Mom. Mommy. You 'wake?"

"Mmmmm..."

"You the most byootiful mommy. I'm always gon to stay with you."

"That is sweet, bud."

"I always gon hug and kiss you. I always gon love you."

Now I am good and awake. "I love you, too, baby boy."

"Mom. Never mind. You need to brush your teeth."

Fickle little brat.

Random Sundayisms

2010-05-16T14:54:00.008-04:00

...and I think I shall speak of myself in Third Person, 'cause I am just feelin' sassy (obnoxious) today.

Tracy thinks:

1) ...that in her next life, she wants to be a cat. Not some random scagged out stray, but a pampered puss. The fatter they get, the cuter they get, and they do a lot of resting in the sun. Attitude is expected and tolerated. You also have help that brings you food and keeps your "bathroom" clean. Downside is that you lick yourself to bathe, but the tradeoff seems minor.

2) ...that a screening of "Fatal Attraction" should be required for any man applying for a marriage license. Just watched it again, and that is one scary bitch.

3) ...that it is damn funny when the four year old accidentally says something racy. Case in point, yesterday he exclaimed, "Now, where is that hooker?" while trying to find the latch hook-thingie on his bicycle helmet.

4) ...that she can do laundry all fah-reaking day long, and there is always something in the hamper to wash. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? It is like some sort of evil magic trickery.

5) ...that Junior High drama doesn't necessarily stay in Junior High. As some men seem to not mature past about 12 years old, neither do many women, I am finding.

6) ... that she loves her Kindle. And this confirms Book Nerdiness. And this is okay with her.

7) ... that people who leave the "t" sound out in words like "Martin" should be slapped. Hard. Same goes for those who insist on using the word "conversate".

8) ... that Red Bird candy sticks just might be the world's most perfect food. And that Jonathan Rhys-Meyers might also be the same.

9) ... that super-gluing the toilet seat in the down position is looking better and better every day.

10) ...that these would be perfect t-shirts to get Dave for Baby-Daddy Day. Only I would be afraid he would actually wear them.

And finally...

11) ... the oil gusher that is driving shrimp and crab prices up may cause us to cancel the 3rd Annual H Shrimp and Crab Feast. This will also cause cancellation of my annual drunken jackass picture that I take of me and Dave. But, but, but...it's TRADITION!

Because you know you want to see more of this.

Adventures in swimsuiting...

2010-04-26T10:07:00.012-04:00

...or "How Not To Spend Your 41st Birthday".

Turning 41 is sort of like stubbing your toe. It is not tragic, like say, turning 40, but does make you want to yell out, "GAH! Son of a.....ugh....mother f....." You know, like when you kick the corner of your dresser in the night when you get up to pee in the dark. Hurts, but not life-altering.

So, what to do on your forty-first birthday?

First off, I annoyingly insisted to everyone that I was changing my name to "Tracy QuatroUno" for the day, and they must refer to me as such.

Now what? Hmmm.....mani, pedi, maybe a massage...? Oh, I KNOW!

Get a mammogram and then go try on swimsuits. Yesssssssssssss! *fistpump*

Or at least that is what I did. I mean, you can do something dull and boring like go to dinner, have drinks with friends, or go out clubbing. *Yawn.*

The mammy was a follow up appointment on my right girl so it was only a one-sided boob squish. Still, not all that fun.

The real fun followed when I had the BRILLIANT idea to go try on bathing suits. Oh, frolic and joy.

Let me say that the bikini days are probably over. Yeah, that. Just leave out the "probably". So I moved on to trying on one-piece ensembles. Sort of eeeeasing myself into the old lady one piece Hawaiian-print swimdress look.

The first one I tried was a cute little purple number:

And hell to the no, I am not posting a picture of myself in above-referenced suit. Suffice it to say, I looked somewhat like this:

After trying on a few (and throwing each one to the floor in disgust in toddler-tantrum fashion 'cause I can be really mature that way), I finally decided on a tankini. Yes, I am aware that horizontal stripes are pretty much a no-no, but this was a suit I didn't hate/want to shred/pour lighter fluid on/dance around fire, chanting, "I win, I win, I win!"

Maybe I ought to just join one of those religions where they only wear "modest" swimsuits.

Club Bebe

2010-04-18T11:32:00.004-04:00

Apparently, there's a party goin' on up in hurr.

A new sign appeared on the boys' door this morning...

What do you mean you can't read it? Come on now, it is clear as mud. Let me help here.

This is apparently the entrance to "Club Deth" and if you are smart, you will heed the "Do Not Enter" warning, complete with several skulls and crossbones. Watch out, too, 'cause this joint is "gardid". Probably by a couple of sawed off "gards".

To which, I said, "Um, Hunter, say what?"

And he tells me, "Mom, it is not really a club of deth. That is just to scare off people we don't want in our room."

(Duh.)

"...and if someone wants to come in, they have to sign in on the paper. If we don't want them in there, we will just cross them off."

You will note that both Hunter's and Chase's names are at the top. Well, being owners and "gards" and all...

And my name is labeled "VIP" at the top left corner. (PS, Mom, really, you should have just spelled my name with an "e" in it ferpete'ssake. My 5 year old even thinks that is how it is spelled.)

So far, sadly, Dad has not made the cut.

I think they just let me in for the laundry and nightly turn down service. You don't want to piss off the help, after all.

My blog's carbon footprint? Really?

2010-03-30T20:06:00.006-04:00

It never occurred to me that my blog could have a carbon footprint. But I got this email from a cool group and thought I would share it... Here are some excerpts:

I am part of a young team in Germany, working for an initiative called "Make it green!". Our goal is to contribute our part in reducing the carbon footprint by raising awareness of the severe environmental damage caused by carbon emissions . One of our activities is to raise awareness of the carbon emissions resulting from the use of the internet - specifically of blogs. A blog with 15,000 visits a month has a yearly carbon dioxide emissions of 8 lb.

(OK, I can only dream of 15,000 visits a month, but wowza. That is a staggering amount.)

How do we actually neutralize your blog's carbon footprint? We are planting trees in cooperation with the Arbor Day Foundation in Plumas National Forest in Northern California for our project to neutralize the carbon footprint of blogs. Thousands of wildfires burned down many national forests over the past ten years and 88.000 acres of Plumas' were destroyed by two fires in 2007. To help replanting we need the support of bloggers all over the world! For every participating blog we plant a tree. One blog - one tree.

So here is my post, and there is my new coolio button in that column over "thar" >>>>>>>

Scroll down....down...a little farther. Yep. That one.

I am totally a tree-huggin' mama, so plant a tree for me, my new German friends!

Danke schön !

Chase-isms

2010-03-22T09:59:00.004-04:00

This morning while checking out the box of dinosaur fruit chews, the littlest kid tells me, "You know, dinosaurs are in-stinkt."

(Proud mom...) "That is right, buddy. Very good."

Wow, it actually sunk in when we talked about extinction! Score one for awesome me!

"And what does that mean?"

"It means you have to run from them because they smell bad."

Yeah. We may need to work on that some more.

So, maybe singing will be his forte.

Just heard him playing on the computer, singing songs along with some music on Sprout. He's got the B-I-N-G-O song. (Go, little kid, go!)

Now...Row, Row, Row your boat... And I hear...

"Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary...life is down the drain!"

There's always hope for a football scholarship I suppose.

Good Choices and Destruction

2010-03-04T17:17:00.008-05:00

Ah, winter... Time for snow, cold, cabin fever, and hijinks.

My kids are officially stir crazy and getting into everything. Thereby making me stir crazy as well.

Remember way back...when I wrote about Destructo Baby? Well, leave him to his own devices, and he now has become Destructo Kid. Today I discovered a lovely smiley-faced stick figure kicking a ball drawn on the top of my leather-covered coffee table. When confronted with said picture, he made a grimace like "whoops" and said, "But I did it on purpose and I am sorry."

Um, say what?

Witness one of our laptop keyboards.

And this is after I had replaced the "s" key which he had removed and oh-so-slyly replaced. Only backward. The kid has no game.

Asked about this, you get the same response. I guess he should get some points for honesty. Then again, when asked who ate all of the whipped cream out of the fridge this morning, I was informed that we have a ghost in the house. And that is who did it, darn him.

The middle kid is also looking at creative ways to send me to the loony bin. This week, it is all about making bad choices and good choices. His bad choices take him off of the computer for the day (oh, the horror!) to which I am informed that I am no longer his "very best favorite friend." So, the future lawyer (or con artist, not sure which...) has proposed a little compromise. Ok, he will take the bump off of the computer, but maybe not for the whole day. Maybe if he makes good choices, then he can earn the privilege back? Hmmm... Sounded good to me, and I admired his problem-solving skills and initiative.

Until he then immediately started walking around the house, looking around, and saying things like this...

"Um, Mom, I was going to give the cat a haircut and then I thought I had better not. I made a good choice, right?"

"Yeah..."

(Pauses, walks, looks around...)

"Mom, I was going to give you a Karate chop, and then I stopped. I made a good choice, right?"

"Ummmm, well, yes, but..."

"Mom, you are the best mom from here to the moon. I told you that when I thought it, so that was a good choice, right?"

(Me, the dim bulb, figuring it out...) "Yes, and thank you, I love you, too, but that isn't how this works. This ain't my first rodeo, cowboy."

Deviant little turds. Gotta love 'em.

Thrift Store Thursday and the Littles' Dictionary

2010-02-12T16:02:00.012-05:00

Thrift Store Thursday! Slim pickin's this week, sad to say... Guess I need to wait for yard sale season for the truly heinous and grotesque.

Remember when I said that there was nothing more icky to me than the thought of buying lingerie and underwear at the thrift store? I stand corrected and present to you, the following...

Oh yeah, I want to adhere some rubber boob covers to my skin. You know, ones that have already been attached to a stranger's shweddy hooters.

Rut roh, raggy.... Fido got into the catnip again.

Is this not the most scraggly jacked-up bird you have ever seen? Makes you wonder what the criteria is for the workers at the thrift store to actually throw something in the garbage. "So it has wires protruding at the wings...so the feathers are hanging off in chunks in places...so one of the feet only has two toes and one eye is hanging off... We can still SELL IT! YESSSS!"

Friends, I am a native Floridian, and I can tell you that we are not known for our owls. Note that they tried to tie in to something we actually ARE known for by throwing a couple of random oranges in the front. It would kind of be like going on vacation to Arizona and buying a kitschy little, oh, polar bear or something. Whooo Whooo Whoooo actually buys this sh*t? Why, tourists who stop at Stuckey's, that's whoooooo! (*rimshot* thank you, thank you...)

Yep, that's a butt. You know, on second thought, this is not such a bad thing. What better way to tell the world to kiss your ass before you have finished your coffee in the morning without having to actually verbalize it?

And to wrap things up, a couple of random entries from the Dictionary according to the Littles:

(Chase) Salt and Pepper Channel: the "snow" you see when it is not on a broadcasting channel. (As in "They're heeeeeeeeeeere...")

(Hunter) Vagina: A woman's penis.

Yeah, I know. I have some work to do.

I've come to realize...

2010-02-03T17:17:00.003-05:00

(Special thanks to Bri for posting on her FB page. You helped me out with a long-overdue blog post until Thrift Store Thursday tomorrow!)

I’ve come to realize that my body. . . sure ain't what it used to be.

I’ve come to realize that my job. . . is the most rewarding thing I have ever done. The pay sucks, but the fringe benefits are awesome. Where else can you get peanut butter and jelly kisses and underarm farts?

I’ve come to realize that when I’m driving. . . I have less road rage than I used to. Maybe I just needed to get away from that South Florida traffic. I still have a way to go, as evidenced by a little voice coming from the back seat every so often when stopped at a light..."JEEZ! Come on lady! It doesn't get any greener!" Oops.

I’ve come to realize that I need. . . less than I ever thought I would. The love of a good man and being blessed with three kids makes me warm and fuzzy. Or maybe I just need to shave my legs.

I’ve come to realize that I have lost. . . my mind. But luckily the kids are too little to be embarrassed by it. So far, they think I am a hoot and a half. Yeah, give 'em time...

I’ve come to realize that I hate it when. . . I cannot use the bathroom alone. Seriously. How many people does it take to help Mommy pee? Apparently, three.

I’ve come to realize that if I’m drunk. . . I get ridiculous and hit on college-aged waiters. With my husband sitting right there. Laughing at me, to boot.

I’ve come to realize that money… doesn't buy happiness. But I seriously doubt it buys sadness either. I would love to test that out.

I’ve come to realize that certain people. . . just don't get it. Period.

I’ve come to realize that I’ll always. . . miss my dad. It doesn't matter how much time has passed, thinking of him and the night we lost him feels like a punch to the gut.

I’ve come to realize that my sister... is my very best friend and I would do anything in this world for her.

I’ve come to realize that my mom… is the reason I am the person I am today. She was a great role model and I know I am truly blessed to have her.

I’ve come to realize that my cell phone. . . will always have features I just can't quite figure out. Curse you, Blackberry.

I’ve come to realize that when I woke up this morning. . . I knew my day would be spent outside. First clue, Chase whispering, "Mom...Mom..." and dangling his snow boots in front of my face.

I’ve come to realize that right now I am thinking. . . about getting on to this transcription job. It calls me, but I need to wait until the heathens are in bed.

I’ve come to realize that my dad. . . was a rock star. I had the fun, cute, hilarious dad... the one your friends just love.

I’ve come to realize that today. . . was fun, despite the looming PMS. I feel it comin' y'all. Take cover.

I’ve come to realize that tonight. . . is going to be Transcription Mania.

I’ve come to realize that tomorrow. . . will be more of the same. My Morning of Solitude (aka both boys in school until 11:30) will not be spent with Regis and Kelly or Judge Judy. Damn.

I’ve come to realize that I really want to. . . get on the bathroom remodel project. Bye, bye fifties pink tile!

I’ve come to realize that life. . . is so blooming short. There are no rewind or pause buttons. Live it up, laugh it up, and love, love, love.

I’ve come to realize that this weekend. . . 's weather may booger up our Super Bowl party plans. Nuts.

I’ve realized the best music to listen to when I am upset. . . is anything on Kids Place Live. How can you stay upset or sad when you hear songs like "Squirrels in my Pants"?

I’ve come to realize that my friends. . . are true blue, whether my internet girls or real life peeps.

I’ve come to realize that this year. . . Dave will turn 40 and although I am already there, I find it hilarious for some reason.

I’ve come to realize that my husband. . . is one of the good guys. I thought they were a myth, not unlike mermaids or the Chupacabra. But, nope, the good guys really do exist. <3

I’ve come to realize that maybe I should. . . Um....I got nothin' here, people. I live with no regrets. If I think I should do something, I just do it.

I’ve come to realize that I love. . . living in my loungewear. Comfy clothes rock my socks.

I’ve come to realize my past. . . although sometimes ugly or painful, have shaped me into the person I am today. I wouldn't change a thing.

I’ve come to realize that parties. . . are fun, but I can't stay up much past 11. You can imagine the fun New Year's Eve party guest I am.

I’ve come to realize that my life. . . is like a roller coaster. Sometimes fast, sometimes with an unexpected curve or dip, but always an exciting ride.

It is 12:45 and...

2010-01-23T12:51:00.003-05:00

...the little kid has eaten, so far, today...

2 bowls of oatmeal

An apple

2 bowls of Cocoa Puffs

2 pieces of cheese

and now is having a round meat sandwich. His name for a bologna sandwich.

The kid must be going through a growth spurt. Either that or he has developed a hollow leg or tapeworm. At this rate, he is going to eat us straight into the poorhouse. Anyone want to hire a super-cute 4 year old? It may be time for the kid to get a job. So far, his only real skills appear to be consuming mass amounts of food and taking gargantuan dumps. Oh, and hopping on one foot throughout the house as well as climbing on furniture. He should have a Doctorate in that.

You're welcome, Daddy

2010-01-12T13:57:00.004-05:00

The middle kid and I were folding clothes in my bedroom the other day. OK, I was foldig clothes, and he was sort of balling things up in piles and calling it good. I won't split hairs on this one, since I think he gets an A for effort. My apologies to a future wife. I think he has mastered that man trick of doing something badly so that he will not be asked to do it again.

Anyway, he was doing a squat-hover sort of thing just over Dad's pillow, and as he gave a "folded" shirt a pitch into a pile, the ol' fanny came out with a phrrrrrrrrt. To which, of course, we laughed uncontrollably. I reiterate that I am a total 10 year old boy inside when it comes to farts and burping. The really great part of this, is that he suddenly stops, gives me the straightest face, and announces, "Well, there is a little something special for Dad when he goes to sleep tonight."

Warped kids...I gotz 'em.

John Boys

2009-12-30T10:57:00.003-05:00

I pee. Like, a lot. I am not sure if it is bladder brainwash from when I was growing up, or what. You know, "Go pee-pee before we leave" or when on vacation, "We are stopping for gas. Go in and pee. You don't have to? Well, try anyway..." It could also be the fact that I had three ginormous babies that did some squishing to my organs (8 lb, 4 oz, 8 1/2 lbs, and the whopper that was 9 lbs, 11 oz). At any rate, I can tell you where bathrooms are in any store, restaurant, play area, friend's home in Y County. I have even had to make pit stops in porta-pots here and there. And those things make me want absolutely puke.

I swear to you, I can pee "just before" I walk out the door, drive 30 minutes, and be like, "Aw, hell, gotta go again." Make no mistake, I have no problem with holding it...no dribbling here...but I just have super-functioning kidneys.

That being said, I would not want to do a big fat sneeze when holding a full bladder. That could be catastrophic. Or hilarious. Depending on where I am when it happens. Haha, I said "Depend".

At any rate, so, OK, I have two little boys. One big boy, of course, who can go potty alone, and has for many years, but two littles that still have to go in the Ladies Room with me. When the biggest kid was little, I was a single mom and when he got too old (in his mind) to go into the Ladies' Room, I remember standing in the doorway of the Mens Room, holding the door open with my foot and announcing loudly, "Austin, I am RIGHT HERE. Are you OK? Aust, I am STILL HERE, OK?" (Translation- "Any potential pedophiles, be on alert. Do not even THINK of messing with that kid there. Momma Lion is at the door. Oh, and sorry to any of you fellers just trying to get your pee on, having to listen to a woman's voice bouncing off the tiles. Shy bladders will have to 1. wait, or 2. go pee in the parking lot.")

Anyway, the littles are nowhere near being ready to go to the Mens' Room solo, so they come in with me. Usually, I go in a stall and have them stand right outside the door, with their shoes peeking under where I can see them, but if the bathroom is crowded, they have to come in the stall with me. Yep, pretty crowded, and you hear me saying the following:

1. Do not touch ANYTHING. No, not that, or that. Please, will you just put your hands in your pockets???

2. I will flush it with my foot. Do not touch the flusher. Thanks anyway, but I will handle it.

3. Leave that metal box alone. (Ladies, you know what I am saying. Ick.)

I had both littles in a crowded bathroom recently, and we packed into a stall. I was doing the hover and my youngest loudly proclaims for all to hear, "Hahahahahahaha! Mom, you are peeing out of your BUTT! Hahahahahaha!" To which I hear snickers and giggles. So I try to quietly explain that a) it is not actually coming from my butt, and b) GET OUT from behind there!

Then he says, "Oh, so it must be from your BA-JINE-AH! Hahahahahahaha!"

Heavens to mergatroid. I wanted to get the heck out of there, but I had to make the Walk of Shame to the sink. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone.

It made me recall a story one of my best friends told me about her daughter coming into a stall with her and announcing to all in the bathroom, "Mommy, you have a REALLY BIG VAGINA!" Yikes. I suppose peeing from the butt is a little better than that. But not much.

Maybe it is time to stand guard at the Mens' Room after all.

Thrift Store Thursday

2009-12-20T09:43:00.000-05:00

So, my intention was to do a holiday-themed TST, but upon checking out the holiday decorations available for purchase from my local TS, I found it to be sorely lacking. This leads me to believe that either 1. Very few people are donating holiday decorations, or 2. Someone, or someoneS bought most of the available Christmas cheer.

I lean more toward #2, only because I have seen many outdoor holiday displays around town that make me wonder/afraid of what it looks like inside. You know, craptastic displays like this one...

Nonetheless, I was able to find a few interesting pieces for your enjoyment. I suppose they could be bought and given as Christmas/Chanuka/Kwanzaa/Festivus/Winter Solstice/WhatTheFrickEver gifts, so let's say we are sticking with the theme. Pretend with me, much like we pretend that I actually create these posts on Thursdays.

OMG. The perfect gift for my sister-in-law. Provided, of course, she changes her name to Brandon Edward Reams. Oh, and that date at the bottom. I am sure she would be cool with shaving ten-ish years off of her birthday. I do think she will like the lovely bluebird with the broken-looking neck. Or is he constipated? Jury is still out.

Or maybe this vag-inspired picture? Seriously, I am not the only one that sees this...right?

How would you like this cheery fellow looking at you from atop your armoir? My fear of clowns doesn't seem quite so irrational right now, does it? (Frickin A...really. Who puts this in their house and calls it good???)

For that special someone. You know, when you want to say, hey, I'm wild about you. So much so that I bought you this shitty wooden gorilla.

AHHHH! A TRIBBLE! Oh, just a wig. Eww....

Know anyone who just bought a house and needs a sofa? Or in this case, a SofaKing Ugly?

But this gift.... This one is super-special. This says hey baby, you rock my world. Or else it says, hey, did you know your friend was a freaky pervert?

(I just have to preface this with a "good Lord.")

It is especially awesome if the recipients name is Kermit. As in, "Hey Kermit, big boy, come and get it, baby."

Or you could just do gift cards and cash. If you want to keep your friends for another year.

Making up for it

2009-12-14T12:38:00.004-05:00

OK, to make up for my crybabylittlebitch post from yesterday, I present you with this, courtesty of YouTube.

OMGigglinGertie, how cute is this kid? And how does he know all the words to this song? (OK, maybe just he and I sing it that way, but still...)

I like it, I love it, I want some more of it.

If I could live one day all over again...

2009-12-13T19:04:00.006-05:00

...it sure as hell wouldn't be this one.

Warning. Piss and moan post, dead ahead.

As sucktastic days go, on a scale of one to ten, where ten is complete and utter catastrophe, chaos, and mayhem, and one being, oh, say a broken nail, today rated a solid 5. All things considered, it wasn't the worst of days, but bruddah, it was no picnic, either.

1. Rain. Cold, crappy rain. All stinkin' day long.

Hello, December? Um, where the frick is my snow?

2. At grocery store (after running in from said cold rain), only about halfway through and the celly rings. 'Tis the hubs. "How close are you to being done?"

"Uh, only about halfway."

"The Christmas tree fell over and there are ornaments, glass, and water everywhere. I am standing here holding it upright and need you to help me."

So, I park the cart up front, tell a girl in customer service that I will be right back, and can I leave my cart there? Sure, she says. I rush home to find a hella mess. This is one gargantuan tree. When they say "the bigger they are, the harder they fall", they ain't playin' around.

**Pause P&M session to say YAY! None of the ornaments my mom made me over the years when I was growing up broke. All were intact, which is no small miracle, as they are all ceramic! Not to mention the best part...the tree did not fall on anyone. **

Resume Pissing and Moaning...

3. Returned to grocery store (p.s., called and told them I would not be back any time soon, and to please put back the refrigerated items, only to be told that the CS girl did not relay my message to hold cart, and all items were placed back on shelves. Sheesh.) I am in the meat section looking for ham hocks, which I have no blessed idea what they are supposed to look like. Who eats this crap? Apparently we need them for ham and bean soup, that Dave was making (supposedly, but more on that later...) OK, in the meat section, and suddenly some random woman is going, "Hellooooo, Hellooooooo, HELLLOOOOOO!" and waving her hands in front of my face like I am some idiot. All with this totally exasperated look on her face. Apparently, she wanted my attention, no? And apparently, I was ignoring her, or MAYBE I AM DEAF IN MY RIGHT EAR? How about that idea, lady? Her big hairy deal question, "What is today's date?" I was flabbergasted at the rudeness and managed to mumble out "The thirteenth, I think." I looked for that broad all over the store for the rest of my shopping trip so I could give her a frosty explanation as to why I did not answer her when she needed my attention for the oh-so-important date so she could decide whether or not she wanted to buy whatever meat she was considering. At least, I think I would have said something. Probably not, but in my head, I gave her an earful.

4. Regarding the aforementioned bean soup, hubs had to run an errand (yes, important, but still...) and left me to do all the chopping of veggies and putting together of the soup. I hate onions, and had to chop a bunch of them. Bleh. The ham hocks are just grody looking and I did not want to even handle them for the time it took me to plop them in the broth. (Then again, I have some issues with handling raw meat.) Point being, if I was doing the cooking tonight, it would have been something simpler that had ingredients I actually LIKE.

I know. I am being a big whiny babypants.

*Sigh.

It's Miller time, friends. Multiple Miller time.

Tomorra...is anotha day!

This is what you get...

2009-12-08T18:39:00.004-05:00

When you dick around at the polls and "Ha ha! I wrote myself in!" on an elected position.

Yes, that is my jokey-joker husband who is now an elected official with a whopping one vote. Needless to say, we scrambled to figure out exactly what a "Minority Inspector" was expected to do once we got this notice today. I was so hoping that it would involve something like having to speak in public, or do some such embarrassing thing. I am twisted like that, and make no mistake, he would wish the same on me, should the shoe be on the other foot. Alas, it appears that he only has to show up at the poll in our district when there is an election. I guess he helps oversee things (?) I am still not totally sure. Once it became clear that it would not be anything that would give me reason to poke fun at him, I sort of lost interest in the research. Bummer.

Lest you think he does not take voting seriously, this man never misses an election. He votes in local races as well as national ones. He is very patriotic and takes seriously his right to vote. And now he can surely show his pride in serving his district.

AAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Sucka!

Sketch Artist

2009-11-18T07:55:00.007-05:00

The littlest kid's newest accessories are pad and pen. He alternates from being Joe/Steve from Blue's Clue's to a waiter from some sadistic restaurant. I say "sadistic" because when Chase the Waiter asks you what you want to order, and you respond, they NEVER have it.

"OK, what you want?"

"How about a pizza?"

"Ohhhh....no pizza."

"OK, then, how about grilled cheese?"

"Ohhhh, we have no grilled cheese. We have cheeseboogers."

"Cheesebooger, then."

(scribble, scribble.)

"What else?"

"Uhhhh....salad?"

"Nope! No salad!"

"What do you have?"

"Well, we have french fries."

"Are you sure? OK, then, I will take that. And you tell me what you have to drink so I don't have to guess."

"Sprite. Just Sprite. In a can."

(scribble, scribble.)

So, 15 minutes later when he wants to know what I want to order (again), you would think it would be easy; cheesebooger, french fries, and Sprite...in a can. But nooooo. Now, they are magically all out of all of those things, and the guessing game begins again.

But yesterday, he was intently watching me blow dry my hair, and once in a while would put his pen to paper...then, stop, look intently, and draw again....another pause, look, and another addition to the paper.... I realized he must be drawing me. When I finished, he proudly proclaimed, "Look here, Mommy! I drawed YOU!"

And I must say, the resemblance is striking.

I think he has a great future ahead of him as a police sketch artist.

Mama's Holiday Wish Meme

2009-11-12T20:32:00.006-05:00

Mama’s Holiday Wish List Meme

TodaysMama and Provo Craft are giving away a sleighful of gifts this holiday season and to enter I’m sharing this meme with you.

1. What 5 items are on your holiday wish list this year? Anything sparkly! A new Amy Burhoe ring, Land's End GC, new dishes from Crate and Barrel, new rug from C&B. (Luckily, my darling MIL works there...woot!)

Oh, and if I can have a #6, I shall add some tasty Alexander Skarsgard.

Have. Mercy.

2. What is your favorite handmade gift you have received? Probably a doll my mom made when I was a kid. It was a Miss Hannigan (Annie) doll, and she was a hoot...dressed in a negligee, beads, and feather boa. It was ahhhh-suuuuuuum!

3. What handmade gift have you always wanted to tackle? I have always wanted to learn to knit and make scarves and all kinds of cozy, cute things. The closest I have come is a latch-hook kit. Hey, it has yarn, right?

4. What was the best Christmas gift you received as a child? Hands down- the dollhouse my granddad made for me and my sister. Wish I still had that badboy. I loved it.

5. What items are on your kid’s wish list this year? Since I normally keep them from watching channels with commercials, when they do see one, THAT is what they want. It changes minute to minute, commercial to commercial. Unless it is something dolly or pink, 'cause "Ewww. Dat's for guuuuurls."

6. What is your favorite holiday food? My sweet potato souffle. It rocks my socks.

7. What will you be hand-crafting for the holidays? The boys and I made ornaments for their tree. We will do a few more Christmas-y crafts and that will be about it. Nothing that I will craft and give as gifts...I want to actually KEEP my friends.

8. What is your favorite holiday movie? White Christmas. I actually cry at the end. I can really be a big fat sentimental dork during the holidays. Oh, and the goofball in me has to love Will Ferrell's "Elf". I just like to smile. Smiling's my favorite!

9. Favorite holiday song? Oh Holy Night (I think I totally kick on the Gloooo-oooo-oooo-ooooo-ria! part. I actually don't.)

10. Favorite holiday pastime? I love snuggling on the sofa with a good book, next to the Christmas tree, with some soft Christmas music playing. Delish.

Crowd Control

2009-11-07T15:50:00.009-05:00

...and by "crowd", I mean two hellions...uh, boys. And lest you think that only three or more is a crowd, I invite you to come on by the H household on days when those two are really crankin'. I assure you, it is a crowd. Some days it is a two-Lexapro kind of day. Washed down with a shot of Jack. But I think I have the solution. At least for the next couple of months, anyway...

This...

is my latest purchase. Oh, wait, I did not buy this. No siree, I sure didn't. It "showed up", "magically" from "The North Pole." That, my friends, is my story, and I am sticking to it...all in the name of behavior modification, AKA Crowd Control.

You see, Santa sent a little helper to watch over the littles.

No, no, not THAT guy. This one...

You see, according to the story, this elf watches over those in the house and reports back to Santa every night about everyones' behavior. He then magically flies back to the house and hides in a different place. The fun is then in the morning when you look for where your elf is.

Well, that is the fun for the littles. The fun for me is getting to say, "Oooh, I sure hope the elf doesn't tell Santa about you jumping on the furniture..." And the cute factor of them whispering their Christmas list so that the elf can pass it on to Santa? That's good stuff, too.

First order of business, after unwrapping the package from Santa...

...was to name the little booger. My suggestions of Stool Pigeon, Dime Dropper, and Rat Fink were met with, "uh, what?", so big brother Austin suggested Hermie. Chase then said he wanted to name him Elf-is (Get it? Elfis - Elvis...?) to which I had to laugh/give him a big ass high five. Thank you, thank you verr much...

So, he has a first and last name. Hunter says that "of COURSE, elves don't have MIDDLE names...DUH" so there it stands. Hermie Elfis. I may sneak a little sequined cape on him at some point. A jumpsuit and paunch belly may just be a bit much.

So far, so good. Looks like introducing a little paranoia into their lives is a good thing. Well, for me anyway. And we all know it is all about me. Right?

1 up

2009-11-01T08:31:00.006-05:00

Halloween is over, bring on Christmas! Ok, well, technically, Thanksgiving, and THEN Christmas, but do we really count Thanksgiving? I can tell you that my kids don't. I was explaining the fact that November brings Thanksgiving, to which, Hunter said, "What do we do on Thanksgiving?" How exciting to be able to reply, "Well, we all get together and EAT! Woooo!"

This was met by a blank stare and a kid who was obviously waiting for either the rest of the story or a punchline. "What do we eat?"

"Turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes..."

"Bleh. Can I just eat chicken nuggets?"

"Yeah, I suppose..."

"Then what do we do?"

"Well, we usually go for a walk, the guys watch some football or take a little snooze..."

"Oh. That sounds not very exciting."

He calls 'em like he sees 'em, to which I have no choice but reply, "I suppose you're right."

All he wants to know is when is our Disney trip, how many days until Christmas, and does Santa REALLY see him all the time? Like, even when he is peeing, or dropping a deuce?

I am hoping with the passing of Halloween, the littlest kid's obsession with his Super Mario costume can get wrapped up. He insists on wearing it outside to play. Oh, and complete with mustache. He was getting the overalls all muddy the other day, so I had him change into regular clothes, but he insisted on keeping the mustache painted on. I feel quite sure the UPS guy who made a delivery to our house that day now firmly believes that hormones in milk are causing our kids to experience early puberty.

Thrift Store Thursday

2009-10-23T19:06:00.013-04:00

Q. Will I ever actually post this on a Thursday...?
A. Not bloody likely.

The thrift store, this week, had crap-a-plenty, and I have to tell you, I am more bold than I used to be taking pictures of the fecal matter they are selling. I used to try and be stealth about it (although the camera on my phone gives a resounding CA-LICK! when I snap a pic...) Now, I just don't care. I snap away. Ok, so I am not so bold. I still don't make eye contact with people. What am I going to say? "Hey, I am taking pictures of the ugly shiz-nit you are in here buying because I like to make fun of it on my blog...?" Nope. I think I have mentioned before that I am not looking for a beatdown in the name of a giggle.

Here is what I found this week...

Now, here in PA, I have seen Amish bread, Amish furniture, Amish buggies...but until this day, I had yet to see Amish blown-out egg people thingies.

And someone thought these were just so CLEVER! that they went to the trouble of putting them in little display boxes. Please, oh, please, let this be a Girl Scout project. I don't want to imagine a grown person actually making these things...and displaying them in his/her home.

OK, seriously? Did someone actually GO all the way to Hawaii and buy this? On purpose? The one testicle hanging there is just...sad. Droopy and sad. I have seen testicles like this in my past. Not pretty. Not pretty at all.

Lookit. Proof positive that drag queens celebrate the holidays....

Thanksgiving...

And Christmas.

I am not sure the last time I saw a hummingbird at the beach, but maybe I just have not been paying attention.

This crap was just scary. Check out the Amityville Horror eyes. Nothing says quaint country decor like a possessed goose.

No new ugly furniture to display. Well, there was a grotesque orange and brown plaid number, but there was someone sitting on it and I couldn't whip my balls out to ask him to get up. I feel quite sure it will be there next week. Stay tuned.

Things I have said so far today...

2009-10-16T12:53:00.004-04:00

"I don't care if he is a human bridge. Do not hit your brother in the junk."

"I said no more cookies. This does not translate to smuggle them in your underpants."

"The cat is having a nervous breakdown. She does not want you to listen to her heart with Daddy's stethoscope."

"I am not sure where bugs' penises are."

"Yes, some birds have penises."

"Yes, poop comes from your anus."

"Yes, bugs have anuses as well."

"If you don't want him to toot on you, don't burp on him."

And it is not even 1 p.m. yet.

As you can see, a lot of coversation around here centers around things below the belt. The joy of boys.

It is Day Two of the PA Monsoon, and my kids are suffering from serious Cabin Fever. I am so bugged out by the thought of H1N1 germs that I am not even venturing out to Tumble Town or Chuck E Cheese. So, we are hunkering down here at Casa H.

I think forts of many sheets are in order. That ought to keep the natives from getting too restless.

At least for the next, oh 10 minutes or so.

New Kid In Town

2009-10-12T09:06:00.003-04:00

As I was searching for the lullaby CD last night, Hunter came rushing out of the boys' room with a very urgent look on his face. The conversation went pretty much like this:

"Mom, mom, oh my gosh, mom... Chase said a BADWORD." (Note that "bad" and "word" are always smooshed together and said in a most serious, bass tone.)

"Really. Well, what did he say?"

"Mom, I can't say it. Then I would be saying a BADWORD."

"OK, just this once, you can say it, just so you tell me." (Oh, pleaseGodpleaseGodpleaseGod don't let it be the F-word...)

"OK, if you really want to know...but I am not happy about saying a BADWORD, you know."

"Yes, but take one for the team so that Mommy knows what Chase said. I promise, it's OK."

(Big breath...) "Chase said (pause for dramatic effect...and whisper...) shut up."

"Chase DYLAN! Did you just say the words shut up?"

(Chase) "My name is not Chase. I am Upside-Down Kid."

Good Lord, a naughty alter-ego. This kid is trying to drive me completely mad. Mad, I say. "Ok, Upside-Down Kid, did you say a BADWORD?"

"Yep. I sure did. But Chase didn't." Big smile.

Split personality, or just extremely, deviously, brilliantly crafty? Mmmmmm....I wonder.

Do they make a Preschool for the Criminally Insane?

Love, Kindergarten Style

2009-09-28T13:47:00.003-04:00

Apparently, the middle kid is involved in some kind of 5 year old love triangle.

You see, he had a mission when he started Kindergarten this year. He was out to "find a girl to marry." The first day brought no luck, but the second day, he jumped into the van at Parent Pickup to tell me he found the girl of his dreams. I asked what her name was and he said, "I don't know."

The next day he jumps in the van at Parent Pickup to tell me he found out his True Love's name and it is Morgan. I asked if she was in his class, and he said, no, that he talks to her at PP. So that means that they get, what, 5 minutes a day to talk? (I have since found out that "sometimes" they are on the playground together at the same time, so I guess we can add another 15 minutes every so often to that time...)

I asked him what she looked like and he said, "I don't know."

I asked what color hair she has and he said, "I don't know."

I asked why he wanted to marry her and he said, "Because I asked her and she said yes."

The boy doesn't have very high standards. Apparently, all it takes to win his heart is to say "yes" when he proposes.

Today he came home to tell me that Jake used to be Morgan's best friend, but Morgan told Jake on the playground today that he is no longer the carrier of that title, because now she is Hunter's best friend.

So, Jake challenged Hunter to a fight.

*sigh...*

And Jake said he didn't care and didn't want to be Morgan's friend ANYWAY, SO THERE! and this made Morgan cry.

Which threw Hunter into Knight in Shining Armor mode. Can't resist a damsel in distress.

But I told him that he needed to tell Jake that they could all be friends, and that there would be no such duel, no matter how fair the maiden.

Hunter said he would just put up a force field and block Jake from fighting with him. Good luck with that, kid. Let me know how that worked once you pick your arse up out of the dirt where Jake knocks you.

I said that if Jake really wanted to fight, that he needed to tell the teacher. Let her handle it. He still was not happy with that solution, so I pulled out the big guns and told him that fighting would put him on the red light. Make no mistake, it is a big fat deal to be on the red light. Hunter stays on green and is very proud of that. He comes home to tell me in whispered tones of so-and-so, who got in trouble today and "...was on the....YELLOW light...!" Yikes.

So, hopefully, this scared him into just narc-ing out this Jake character to the teacher if there is any trouble a-brewin'.

Oh, this boy....the girls already are playing him like a fiddle...

Thrift Store Thursday

2009-09-25T14:49:00.012-04:00

It's that time again...Thrift Store Thursday! (Yes, and I am doing it on a Friday once again. But Thrift Store Friday just doesn't have the same ring to it. So, let's play a little game called Every Time I Post One of These Threads, Let's Pretend It Is Freakin' Thursday. K? Thx.)

This was my WTF? moment.

These sofas were lime green and bright yellow. And they were selling them for ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY DOLLARS. That's right. And that is criminal. Criminal, I say.

I may go back and get this bobble-head teacher creature. Not for the teachers my boys have this year, for they are oh-so-very delightful. But we all had one of "those" teachers some time in our lives...one that was deserving of a gift as heinous as this...*cough*Mrs. Ortiz*cough*

Missed? With what, my car? Now, I had a piano growing up. And I skipped lessons because they were BORING as all get-out. But I wouldn't exactly say I "missed" them.

"Duuuuude...look at the liiiiiight... It's like, so bright and junk. Hehehehehe......"

From the similar look on his face, it appears that she passed the pipe to this right jolly old elf. And he is bogarting it. We all knew a guy like this in school. Come on, man, it's puff, puff, pass...

...and so, apparently, are crappy crafts.

This...

is one pissed-off looking lamb. I am guessing it is because he is so poorly painted. Either that, or it is because of the white afro.

I wish I had the stones to have taken a picture of a woman that I saw as I was leaving the store. She looked to be about 250-plus pounds, was sporting what looked suspiciously like prison tattoos, and was wearing a shirt that said "Keep Off". But I wasn't looking for a beatdown today. Trust me, it was some funny shiznit.

Another open letter...

2009-09-16T12:18:00.006-04:00

...to a celebrity.

Not unlike my letter way back when to The Hotness, Joaquin Phoenix, this one goes out to...

Kanye West.

Dearest Kanye,

You are a complete tool.

I know, I know...you've heard it from everyone at this point, even the POTUS, who, I must say, has a tendency to make a little sense when he has his guard down. Of course, immediately following calling you a "jackass", he began to backpedal on the comment, but he said it. Yes, he did. Of course, one of my friends pointed out to me that he just jumped on the Kanye-bashing bandwagon, which should give us more reason to dislike him... something to consider.

But I still think you are a tool. No backpedaling here, baby. You stepped all over a moment by a noob singer who will never get that "first award" moment back. Way to go. And add to the classlessness, you don't even give her a personal apology until she calls you out on "The Cackling Hens", er, I mean "The View". Shhhh.....do you hear that? It is the sound of your career coming to a screeching halt. I think this, added to the spectacle you made of yourself during the Hurricane Katrina telethon has given people their fill of your nonsense. If I was your mother, I would jerk a knot in your tail. Drink less, rap and produce more, and Shut. The. Hell. Up. Nobody cares about your contrived conspiracy theories or your opinions. Do what you are famous for, and put a lid on it. Tightly.

And if that doesn't work out, I am sure Handy Manny is hiring. Looks like there is room to fit one more in the box.

Irrational fears

2009-09-14T21:12:00.007-04:00

OK, so I have a couple.

One of which is bacon. Not eating it, mind you. Not even handling it raw (which I hate to do with raw chicken...I gag and come close to dry-heaving. Yes, seriously...) My fear with bacon is cooking the stuff. I rarely order it when I am out for breakfast, either, because I like my bacon *thisclose* to being totally burnt. Just the way I like my roasted marshmallows. Nobody ever gets it just right.

I am always afraid I am going to get spit and popped on, and I always, always freaking do. But once in a while I get a hankering for eggs and bacon, and I will break out the pre-cooked bacon so I can avoid the hot grease spitting at me. But I was out. And I had a craving. And I learned my lesson, once again.

See what happened tonight?

Shut UP. Yes there is a mark there. It got me. The evil bacon grease got me. And when it did, I screamed like a big sissy, causing the boys to come running in to the kitchen to see what horrible tragedy had befallen me. Even the cat came in. And I swear I saw her roll her eyes at me.

But I ended up with my nummy dinner.

Oh, and my second irrational fear? Clowns. Go ahead and laugh. Then read "It" and hop on my little bandwagon.

Woof...? Please...?

2009-09-09T22:42:00.005-04:00

The middle kid's new obsession is obtaining a dog. I am not sure where this came from...maybe from antagonizing my sister's dog, Abby, while we were (taking over) visiting her house this summer. I dunno, but the whole, "I reaaaaaaaaaally want a dog, mom...What about a dog, mom...? Wouldn't having a dog totally rock, mom?" thing is on my very last good nerve. I have put him off by saying, "well, maybe some day..." (while actually meaning hell to the no) but it is not pacifying the kid.

I am so not a dog person. I mean, I like my neph-and niece-dogs, Ernie and Lilly. Very cute, very furry, and very not at my house. All plusses in my book. I know if we got a dog, it would be another thing for me to take care of, and we all know my record with critters...*cough*fish killer*cough*.

So, I said that maybe he should just talk to Daddy about it, to which he said, "But talking is so boring." I asked what he meant and he said, "Daddy talks a lot.' Well-said, young squire. Yes, Daddy is a talker, and really likes to explain and (go on and on) share...

So, I said, "Well, we really should let Daddy say how he feels about it, since we are all part of the family and it should be a decision we all make.

And the kid wrapped it up with,"But, mom, you are in charge, anyway."

And I bought him a bag of Starburst and let him stay up late tonight. That kid is a rockstar in my book.

Thrift Store Thursday

2009-09-04T13:54:00.008-04:00

I know, I know, it's Friday...but this actually happened yesterday and it has taken me a day to FINALLY figure out how to transfer pics from my Blackberry to my computer.

Yesterday, I headed to the local thrift store (don't want to say the name, but let's just say it rhymes with Shmalvation Shmarmy...) to drop off a box of stuff that should not have made the move to the new house. After dropping off the box o' crap (AKA Dave's stuff that I don't think he needs), I decided to go inside and take a look around. And, brother, am I glad I did. I found so many things to tell you about. It was kind of funny trying to take pictures with my phone on the DL and not look like a complete tool. Pictures say a thousand words, so let's start at the beginning...

Did you know they sell lingerie at thrift stores? Am I the only one who finds that so...wrong? I spotted this lady checking out the brassieres and (ick) garter belts.

Her next stop was at the bathing suit rack, but I was afraid she would see me taking pics of her and pull a blade on me, so I didn't get another one. But really, bathing suits and lingerie? Is there even enough bleach on the planet to get me to consider going there?

Then I stumbled upon this gem.

Yes, that is a candle with bottlecaps embedded in the wax. Note that the tag is still on it, so whoever was the lucky recipient of this gift got rid of it without even lighting it first. Decorating FAIL. WW Vern Yip D?

I think I found the Three Ugliest Chairs in the Continental United States. And if any of your furniture even remotely resembles this, I am sorry. Not for making fun of it, but just sorry. For you.

My camera phone did not really capture the extreme heinousness of the one chair on the far right. It was a lovely combination of doo-doo brown and "I ate too many candy corn and puked" orange.

On to the lovely and oh-so-Klassy bridal well.

Why yes, that appears to be a laundry basket at the bottom.

Clever, no?

No.

Why do I get the feeling that the wedding reception was held in someone's garage and involved a couple of kegs of Old Milwaukee?

I am thinking of making this a regular thing. I may head into the aforementioned thrift shop from time to time, just to see what divine things they are attempting to sell. Maybe next trip will be to, oh, Shmoodwill.

The Big K

2009-09-01T14:04:00.003-04:00

Today the middle kid started Kindergarten. The oldest kid graduated from high school last year and I thought, "Hey, that was fun. Let's do it all over again." Riiiiight.

Hunter was so excited today. All day yesterday and this morning, I was so nervous that I couldn't eat (I know! Right? Crazy talk.) And woke up at 6 am today. I kept it together until I pulled away from the school and had myself a little cry-time. Not sure why, though. The kid went to preschool for the last two years and I didn't get all verklempt over it. Today, though, I was "that" mom. The Boo-Frickety-Hoo, My Little Baby Started Kindergarten Nutso mom.

He had a great day, though. He was all excited when I picked him up and proclaimed that they actually "...let me play on the playground! And I made a new friend, but I forget her name. I will ask her again tomorrow. I hope I remember this time, oh, and I had fruit chews for a snack, but nothing to drink, just the fruit chews... Oh, my teacher was nice, and did I tell you I made a new friend? I can't remember her name, but I know her face..." So I guess the big K was a hit. Maybe I can keep my junk together at the drop-off line tomorrow.

Then the littlest kid starts preschool next week.

I may need to be medicated for that.

I fought the ivy...and I won.

2009-08-29T16:02:00.002-04:00

Getting settled into this house is a chore. I am not complaining, though. Just sayin'. And I swear I have organizing ADD. I will go into a room, look at the boxes and think, "ok, I will unpack one, and then take this downstairs, and look at how this would look on that wall, and oh, I want to paint (whatever) color on the wall, and I wonder if I can find a picture to match this or bring out the color in that..." And I get nothing done. I cannot, cannot, cannot focus with so much going on around me.

Despite it all, I am getting 'er done.

It has rained for the last couple of days, and Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun came out today, so I figured I would get some crap done in the yard. The previous owner let things go out there, so there is loads of work to be done. One of which is a mound of ivy growing up and around the outside light in the yard. I figure that tamed, it will look great, but right now, it is jungle-ish looking. I went to tackle the ivy, trusty shears in hand, and got to work. I was sweating my bawlz off, and yanking on a particularly stubborn vine and very into my task at hand. I yanked and yanked...pulled and grunted, shouted "Come on, you bitch!" at which point, the vine gave, I fell on my butt, and looked up to see a neighbor couple walking their dog, right in front of my house.

Yep. This crap only happens to me.

Welcome to the neighborhood to me. They just kind of smiled and beat feet out of there. Not sure if it was to laugh at me falling on my arse, or to get away from the potty-mouthed nutbag yelling at the vines of ivy.

So I come in the house, figuring I need a break and proceed to take the little cup of water that I had the fish in (I was going to clean his bowl this morning, but again, organizing ADD...) dumped him into the sink, and refilled the glass, intending to drink out of it. Distracted again, did not drink, but came back to it in a few minutes and thought,"Uh, where is Gilbert?"

Panic, panic, panic. Bear in mind, this is a Betta we are talking about, but still...

I look in the sink, and there he is, and he is pretty dang still. Great. (And I am gagging in the back of my mind, thinking how close I came to drinking from his cup. Barf.)

I scooped him up and he started flopping around, so I dumped him into his glass (refilled with distilled water, not my cold H2O). He seems to be none the worse for the wear, after a few seconds of floating on his side at the bottom of the glass.

What a day. I think I need to shower up and relax. I have done my allotted damage for the day.

Tick, tock, goes the clock...

2009-08-20T10:56:00.004-04:00

The middle kid has a new obsession. For some reason, at any given time, day or night, he wants to know what time it is.

And it can make a body crazy.

I wonder if he wants to be sure to see Wapner. You know, Wapner is on at four. Defintely four.

And Kmart sucks. But I digress.

So I finally broke down and just bought him a watch. I was going to get him a regular watch, you know, for the learning opportunity of being able to tell time. Then I thought, hell no. He does not count by 5's yet, and all a regular watch would do is become another opportunity for him to ask, ad nauseum, "Mom, Mooooooom! What time is it on my watch?"

(PS, he just told me it is currently 10:59. In case you were wondering.)

So we went with the digital. Super-cool Spiderman watch, with nice big numbers, easy to read. HALLELUJAH!

And we had to get the littlest kid a watch, too. His is a very dapper Lightning McQueen model. Ka-chow!

Hunter was all excited, had me put the watch on his wrist, told me what time it was (yay!) and then asked me to take it off. WHAT? You gotta be yanking my chain, kid.

So, now it sits my purse. Great.

And he would like you to know it is now 11:03. In case you need to be somewhere or take some medication. He is pretty thoughtful like that.

It's a family affair

2009-08-11T18:45:00.006-04:00

On a two-week Southern excursion, so the posts may be sparse "a while" (that was a shout out to my PA peeps, youse will get that...and the "youse", too!)

Went to my cousin's here in NC for some most excellent grub and even excellent-er company and conversation. She also has a rockin' cement pond, of which, the small ones enjoyed partaking of...

The boys had a blast and were nowhere near ready to leave at the end of the day. It was fan-freaking-tastic to see my girls and get caught up, chit-chat, and pass on the latest family gossip. My family kind of rocks. Be jealous. No, really. Do.

Here is a pic of all of us in the pool... After a few glasses of fruit-infused wine and summer beer... Not to say anyone was excessive, but *cough*lushes*cough*

That's my sister, me, my boobs, and cousins Jill, Jennie, and Maggie. And I know what you are saying, and yes, I agree. This picture convinced me of the need to purchase a new bathing suit. Holy crap on a cracker, can my boobs look any more ginormous? They look like they are in another zip code in this picture. I hate shopping for bathing suits, for the love of God. Pretty much I will pull a couple of suits off the rack, try them on, and if they are not completely heinous- SALE! I don't play around too much with trying on several swimsuits. It is depressing and a somewhat grotesque experience.

It is hotter than the hinges of Hades here in Naw Cack-a-lackie, but we are hoping to get to the train museum in the next couple of days. (Ok, the sawed-off kid is hoping, anyway.) I am going to make my little niece go, too. I plan to bribe with the promise of ice cream. If I have to, I will pull out the big guns. That's right. A Cheerwine Slush.

If you haven't had one, I am sorry for ya. They are a little styrofoam cup o' Heaven. Think Slurpee, but much betta.

Off to kick some ass in Wii bowling. No mercy for Gram.

Box it up for me

2009-07-28T22:18:00.010-04:00

My life, these days, consists of boxes. Big boxes, medium boxes (no, thanks, don't need the small boxes...) Where can we get boxes? What places have the best boxes? What places have crappy boxes? Hubs calling around town, ("Hey, can you hold some boxes aside for me?") I am overwhelmed with cardboard.

And it makes me absolutely MENTAL (moreso than normal) to live in chaos. Boxes everywhere=chaos to me. I cannot get away from them.

Boxes in the dining room...

Boxes in the basement...

And boxes that are empty and need to be filled with our crap...

We are starting the move in t-minus two days. That is two...dos...deux. I am so overwhelmed by packing that I handle it this way...

As you can imagine, being on my arse is getting me nowhere fast.

Oh, and the movers come on the 2nd. That is the absolute last day to get everything out of here. That is only five days away.

Soooooo, tomorrow is "Get Serious About Packing Already Day" in the H household. I have two small recruits who, when they ask their every day question, "Mommy, what fun place are we going to today?" are in for a sad shock. I am putting them to work. But I will try to make it fun for them (ok, so it is mainly for me). We will put on some loud music, shake our groove thangs, and throw stuff in boxes. I might even label them if I am feeling really organized.

I am excited about the new house. The getting there, not so much.

Oh, mammy...how I love ya, how I love ya...

2009-07-23T20:04:00.010-04:00

...my dear old Mammy(gram).

Yep, today was the Second Annual Mammary Mash, also known as my mammogram.

That's "mammogram", not to be confused with "Candy Gram."

And if that picture and reference leaves you totally lost, well, I am so sorry for you, because you missed what I consider to be the best years of SNL. You know, before they totally sucked.

So, anyway, this was my second mammy, so I knew what to expect after going for the first time last year. Last year, when I had to come back because I apparently have what is referred to as "dense" breasts. Not like "duh", but you know, compact. When I went to my follw-up mammy last year, I got the super-squish. I mean, they flattened those puppies out. I was amazed that they went back to being melon-esque. Today was the regular mammy, and I am hoping I won't have to go back for the tighter one again. Definitely not fun. But then again, after having a series of three shots in my eardrum earlier this year, pancaking my boobies should really be no biggie.

Really, mammies are not all that bad. If you have a family history of bC (Cancer always gets a big "C" in my book) then go get the thing done. It is a tad uncomfy, but over relatively quick. And your boobies will spring back into the correct shape, I promise.

But pulling the little stickers off the nips is no party. Just sayin'. Oh, and don't do that quick band-aid pull. Nip tissue is TENDER.

Just so you know, and don't get scammed...this is a mammogram machine:

This...is not.

Freak Show

2009-07-19T09:49:00.007-04:00

I was torn between the title "Freak Show" or "Wal Mart" as they are one and the same. A trip to my friendly neighborhood WM yesterday gave me such bloggin' material. Seriously, I cannot make this crap up.

1. As I am in the antacid aisle, attempting to find my after-dinner mint (AKA Gaviscon), in my peripheral, I see a person behind me, off to the side, appear...then disappear, appear again, disappear...So I look and it is a teenage boy. He is looking at the section of the pharmacy that has the condoms. I sort of laugh to myself as I see why he keeps disappearing. Every time someone else comes into the aisle, he, I am guessing, gets embarrassed, and beats feet until he can peruse the stock again on his own. Still looking for the Gaviscon (who knew there were SO many brands of antacids...?) I watch as he finally makes his selection and walks toward the registers. But he bought a pregnancy test, which was, incidentally, right next to the condoms. I wanted to reach out as he walked past and slap the ever-living stupid out of him. I also wanted to suggest that he go ahead and pick up a box of condoms as well. Maybe that way, this can be the last pee-gee test he buys for a while.

2. As I was leaving, there was a guy at the end of an aisle (and God how I wish I could have snapped a pic with my cell phone, but no way to do it discreetly, not that I still have the foggiest how to transfer pics off my Blackberry onto the computer) who had on too-short purple nut-hugger shorts and a t-shirt (too tight) with a chihuahua on it. No lie, people. No freaking lie. And before you think that maybe he was a little "challenged" or whatever, his lady friend walked up to him and they chatted about "did you find this, did you find that...?" and walked off, hand in hand. The only thing that he was challenged about was his fashion sense, apparently.

3. As I was loading bags into my car, I saw ugly love PDA. Now, I don't want to particularly see anyone sucking face in public, but it brings about a special *gag* factor when it is ugly love. And as luck would have it, they were right next to my car. Making out and rubbing each others' butts. Truly, every lid has a pot. But, please, take that behind closed doors.

4. I also saw a Hummer with this sticker on the back:

Riiiiight. Pretty much, what I get from this driver is, "I care about the environment. Just not that much."

And finally, as I was driving home, a Fred Durst look-alike passed by me in a CRX. I am not 100% sure of the color of the car, as the majority was Bondo-slash-primer, but I venture to say it was sort of blue (?) I find Fred Durst oddly sexy when he is onstage performing, but in a south central PA Wal Mart parking lot, it is just a chunky dirtbag with bad facial hair, driving a crappy car.

Ruuuuun, Forrest....Ruuuuun!

2009-07-17T15:59:00.007-04:00

So, this looks interesting. I have been checking this out for a while, and in my mind, I am already up to two miles. And I am not out of breath a bit.

I guess I need to actually get off my booty and start it.

Did I mention that in my mind, I also have lost about 15 pounds?

A girl can dream...

Anyway, I am liking the thought of being able to run 3 miles in just two months. As it stands right now, the only time I can imagine running is if something is after me. (And, might I add, that something would have to be very scary.) I need to get myself back in shape, and I like the progressive track this plan takes. I am blogging about it to make myself accountable. I am starting the Couch to 5K, and I challenge anyone reading to join me. I promise to blog about it, and be prepared for a lot of bitching and complaining. I will be a total whiny tit-bag. There are not going to be any inspirational entries, so don't come here for those. But I am here for you, to share in the misery.

Maybe we can learn to like to run. Together. Yeah. Not bloody likely.

Just for fun and inspiration, enjoy sir hotness, Christian Bale, out for a run. Delish, even if he is a complete tool.

Uh...mah...GAH.

2009-07-11T10:58:00.002-04:00

I need a dose of girly. Like, right now.

Normally, I am totally into all things "boy". Hell, what choice do I have? I am surrounded by 'em. But today was the cherry on the testosterone sundae. The middle kid asked me if (and I quote...) "my balls were batwings." Oh, yes he did.

Little sidenote for those of you who are male-challenged...when it is hot outside, apparently the dangly boy parts tend to stick to the inside of their legs, creating a sort of "batwing" effect.

There you have it. And yes, I did explain that the correct terminology was "testicles", and that indeed, mommy does not possess said parts.

I think I need to go get a pedicure or hang out in Bath and Body Works for a little while.

It's in the basement...

2009-07-07T11:16:00.005-04:00

And it calls me. Every stinkin' day. It is scary. It is daunting. It is

The Pile O' Boxes.

In the words of this here dog...

I hate packing. No, really, I HATE it. I hate it like poison. Like a trip to the dentist or the gyno. Actually, I would rather take a trip to the dentist and gyno on the same day rather than pack. I would rather my dentist give me a gyno exam than pack.

I have moved so stinking often, and I am TARRED of it. Yes, TARRED. If you are from the south, that made perfect sense. If you are not, well, I am sorry for you in so many ways, but that is beside the point right now.

Anyhoo... I may just torch everything rather than move it. Maybe a big Woodmont bonfire. Get blazing drunk and roast marshmallows over piles of undies and knicknacks. Sounds good to me. You are all invited. You have to help carry the crap outside, though. That is only fair.

Then again, if I burn it all, I will just have to replace it. That may put big Dave over the edge. So, I guess I am back to packing. Damn.

Reporter, or the story?

2009-07-03T10:51:00.004-04:00

Today's funny, courtesy of YouTube.

And, hilariously, the reporter is trying to do a story on violence. And damn that camera guy for not following with the camera. I'd like to think she took the obnoxious guy out by punching him in the junk. That'll learn 'im.

Scalped

2009-06-26T23:04:00.004-04:00

Daddy and the boys went to the barber. The boys had hair when they left, not so much when they came back. I love short hair on fellas, especially my fellas, but someone got a little clipper-crazy at George's. Subsequently, Daddy has been A. read the riot act, and B. given a set of rules regarding future haircuts. Ok, so it is actually one rule:

1. Do not bring the boys back with haircuts like that. Not ever again. Ever.

*Sigh*. I just want to fast-forward a couple of weeks. I know it will look perfect then.

If he does it again, I am painting his fingernails and toenails while he sleeps. OPI's "Keys To My Karma" should fix his little wagon. >; )

Buy this junk

2009-06-24T15:49:00.004-04:00

Why don't they show this commercial more often? I may be juvenile (ok, take the "may be" part out, I am totally immature.) I love this commercial, and it makes me laugh just as hard the hundredth time as it did the first.

Quality commercial production, friends. Quality.

Instead, I get to see Billy Mays screaming at me (and my kids) about how GREAT THIS PRODUCT IS! I even saw him hawking some sort of insurance the other day. Yeah, Oxyclean and insurance. The man can be bought. Speaking of Oxyclean, my middle kid is completely brainwashed that this is a "must have" in our house. I do use the stuff, but you know that he has seen one too man commercials when I come home from the grocery store to him saying, while peering into the bags, "What all did you get? Oh, Oxyclean...awesome!" Really. What four year old cares about that stuff? I think Billy Mays' overenthusiasm has convinced Hunter that stain removal is a thrill. Even Super Chase was pretending to swirl around a stained shirt in a bowl while playing in the tub the other night, declaring, "Now, don't drink this. It has Oxyclean in it". Actually, it came out "Ossycleaner", but you get the point.

Mess maker, mess maker...make me a mess.

2009-06-22T23:22:00.002-04:00

The smallest kid is trying to kill me. No, for real. He may be under the (false) impression that there is some million dollar insurance policy on me of which he is the sole beneficiary.

Today, no lie, less than 2, count 'em 2 minutes after I *tumbled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen...to pour my self a cup of ambition* Chase follows me down, looking and smelling different than when I left him upstairs.

Me: What is on your cheek?

Chase: Wha? Nathing, mommy.

Me: No, there is something red there, come here...and what is that smell?

Chase: Oh, it is nathing.

Me: Is that...? Holy crap on a cracker. Is that NAIL POLISH?

Chase: Oh that? Oh, yes. It is. But just a little bit.

Me: Did you paint something?

Chase: Can I have some donuts?

Ugh. I walk up the stairs, preparing myself for the worst. I find a lover-ly abstract red painting on my yellow wall just at right about Short Stack height. Cheese whiz, wonder how that got there? So, I grab the nail polish remover and get to wiping while it is still wet, and not yet a permanent part of the wall. Looking into my room, now I see it is also on my door. How precious. Luckily I got it all off (along with a little of the wall paint, but you can't see it. Not unless you look for it. And I do. Every time I walk past it. And it makes me nuts. But anyway...) I was so relieved to see that it was only on the walls. Now I am pissed that I didn't grab the camera to snap a pic of the artwork. But at the time I knew time was against me and I needed to get it off the wall while the gettin' was good.

Just a small heart attack, and I quickly recovered. Sorry, little kid. Mission not accomplished. Better luck next time.

Dear David Letterman,

2009-06-16T16:50:00.008-04:00

Yeah. And that would be you.

If you are going to have the cojones, nads, whatever you want to call it, to tell a tasteless joke about a 14 year old girl (or even an 18 year old...really, does 4 years make her fair game?) then please just stick by it, for crap's sake. I loved the apology. It was so sincere (read:forced). It was crude, it was tasteless, and it was hurtful. But then again, you have no idea what it is like to be a 14 year old girl, do you? Girls that age are veeeery sensitive, and always believe the worst in themselves. They can hear a hundred compliments, and just one negative, and guess what sticks in their heads?

Just because she is Sarah Palin's daughter doesn't make her fodder for your stupid "humor". Asshat.

I used to like you, but I am getting that creepy old guy in the neighborhood, leering at young girls vibe. It does not work for you.

You are a tool.

Sincerely,

Angry Trace who happens to be PMSing if you were wondering.

Rockin' with the blue hairs...

2009-06-15T09:22:00.007-04:00

Playlist at Giant - yes, they are still kicking the tunes at my grocery store:

Hungry Like the Wolf- Duran Duran (and I just knew this would be a good trip to the store!)

Everybody Wants You- Billy Squier (can I get a "hell yeah!")

Quick step off the Cool Train with a little number by John Mayer, who, incidentally looks adorable unless you see him singing. Holy spaz, batman.

C'est La Vie- Robbie Neville (that's just the way it goes...that's right!)

Photograph- Def Leppard

So, no ONJ dude today, sadly...but I did see another soccer-mom-ish type in the aisle with me when "Everybody Wants You" was on. I noticed she was mouthing the words right along with me. It crossed my mind to throw up the devil horns and do a mini headbang thrash, but she did not seem to be the type who would be receptive to that nonsense. So I rocked out, but on the inside. My friends and I actually made up a little dance to the B. Squier song back in the day, and I was doing it just like I was 15 again. Just on the inside. Maybe I should have busted a move so I could be someone else's entertainment. But it seemed like little fun since I did not have any kids with me to embarrass. A little old blue haired lady passed by, and I thought about throwing up the sign to her, but thought the better of it. Might have given her palpitations. You know they just don't get us "young people". Shut up. I was young to her.

Next time I will make sure the kids are with me. And maybe I will wear some acid-washed jeans, too. With rips in them. In the butt area.

Oh, she's just walking around drinking...

2009-06-10T11:13:00.005-04:00

Let this be a lesson for you. This is why you do not let a 4 year old answer the phone.

10:00 a.m. Ring, ring...

(Hunter) "I'll get it! Hello? She is right here. Oh, she's just walking around drinking. She just put more ice in her drink. Yeah, just a minute..."

(Me) *Choking/laughing/dying inside* "Hello?"

(Dave) *Cracking the F up* "Having a rough morning?"

For the record, it was Coke. Granted, not the best thing to drink at that time of the day, but it was sans Jack Daniels. I promise. I don't care what the kid says. I love his honesty, but damn, boy, be a little more specific.

After all, no self-respecting mother of three boys starts drinking until noon, for God's sake. A girl has to have her standards.

Just a little extree

2009-06-02T20:03:00.002-04:00

(as Dave's Nanny would say...)

How about this for total cuteness? No, not my kid, but super farkin' adorable. Enjoy.

Doorknock- 1, Chase, 0

2009-06-02T14:43:00.003-04:00

And so it begins...

I have said that the littlest kid is going to be the one that we are thankful we have health insurance for. He is a toughie, and is one of those go, go, go kids. Today, he and the (what he calls) doorknock had a confrontation. He fought the knob and the...knob won. Actually, Hunter was chasing him and he ran into the doorknob. I head that cry, you know the one...where you know something "just ain't right." Gram calls down the stairs as I am coming up, and I see the bloooooooooood. Not a lot of it, but blooooood nonetheless. I spell it that way for dramatic effect because seeing bloooooood makes me quite dramatic. So, anyway, I managed to keep it together and be super-calm (somehow). Once I got a good look at his noggin, I could see that he probably needed a stitch or two. Off we went to the Urgent Care (or Ready Care, I think is what they call it...) The kid was totally chilled. He only cried that inital few seconds after impact, and was a cool cucumber the rest of the time.

We get to the office, and the intake person tells me that the doctor doesn't suture children's heads. Wha? Okaaaay, then, so I have to go sit in the ED for hours with the really sick people? Uh, not happening. (PS, they just closed two schools early in town because a kid came down with the Swine Flu, and there are two other suspected cases.) She tells me she will check with the doctor just to be sure. She does, and he says he would like to take a look at it to check it and make a decision.

So the nurse comes in and irrigates the boo-boo. My bebe soldier flinches only a little, and just hangs in there 'til it's done. The nurse practitioner comes in to check the cut (I guess the doctor decided not to do it or whatever, who cares...) Long story short, the kid got three "Superman blue" stitches in his head. During the numbing and suturing, the boy was still and quiet. No fussing, no crying. I was amazed and proud. And when it was all over, a little faint. Yes, I waited until she said, "We are all done!" to get woozy and break out in a cold sweat. Good grief. Luckily I still kept it together and stayed on two feet.

Chase is currently playing with cars on the floor, totally unaffected. That is one tough little cookie.

Catz with Fatz...

2009-05-28T17:53:00.006-04:00

I haz one.

So I took the Keeton to the vet today. She was seriously behind on some shot, I forget what it is called, and of course, they had to check her poopz for parasites. Keeton decided to not make any said poopz before we left, so I have to now watch for her to take a dump, and collect it into a container, and hot foot it to the vet within a couple of hours. Hey, I got nothin' else going on. Why not transport a cat turd across town?

She got a clean bill of health right up until...dun-dun-duuuuun... the vet said the cat, at a whopping 15 pounds, was obese. Not overweight, not "full" ( as my mom likes to say...), but obese. She showed me an outline of a cat on a card. Looked just like Keeton's shadow. Then, she slid a clear sheet overtop of that with the silouette of what her body should look like. Yowza. Not even close. She tells me about all of the dangers that come along with an obese cat, one of which being that Keeton could develop diabetes. Yeah, I can see telling Dave that we have to start getting Insulin for the cat. That would really go over like a fart in church.

So, Keeton will now be on "light" food, one cup, once a day. This will likely make her super-bitchy, so be on alert if you are headed to my house any day soon. She is all girl, and when on a diet, can get pretty unreasonable. Enter with caution, and it is probably a good idea to invest in some shin guards. Just sayin'.

Crazy people and bargains

2009-05-23T11:30:00.002-04:00

Do crazy people come out for bargains?

Or do bargains make people crazy?

Either way, there were some real nutbags at Old Navy today. In case you have been living under a rock, are male, or have gnarly toes that you keep hidden, you know that Old Navy had their one dollar flip-flop sale today. Yes, my crazy ass stood in line for an hour to get my alloted five pair...some for the boys and some for me. The line went from front to back, then wound around back to the front. Madness. The real crazy I saw today, though, was the people who brought their three and four kids with them so that they could get five pair per person. I am talking, people brought infants and toddlers and had five pair per kid. They were clearly not for the kids, by the way. They had adult sizes in their hands. They just needed extra bodies to get more pairs. And, here is the nutty part...wait for it, wait for it...

They were annoyed and screaming at the kids for being bored, whiny, and running around the store.

Really? Seriously? You expected these little kids to wait patiently in this massive line for an hour so you could get flip-flops? I wanted to whack the woman in front of me with a pair of my shoes. She kept screaming at the little girl with her, who couldn't have been more than eight, to "Watch him! Would you watch him? Damn it, watch him!" referring to her two-year old, who was running in and out of the rounders of clothes. PS, the little girl was a neighbor girl she bribed to come with her with the promise of ice cream. PPS, she also had an infant in her arms that was also "buying" five pairs of flip-flops that were a curious Women's Size 8.

No way would I have brought my kids to this bloodbath. Every time an employee brought another box of shoes out, 1. she had to have another employee with her as an escort/bodyguard, and 2. the minute she put the box down, a swarm of women descended on it, like when you drop a piece of food outside and ants come out of nowhere.

I have not seen such chaos since the Salisbury Mall Pokeman Card Incident of 2001.

But I did get my five pair. Woot woot!

Vocab by Maury and a cute old couple...

2009-05-21T13:26:00.003-04:00

How's that for a combo title?

I was at PT yesterday and saw the cutest little couple there. The dude's name was Edwin (but goes by Sam. That's not actually his name, not even his middle name. He just said he likes the name Sam and always wished that was his name, so he introduces himself as Sam. See how cute already?) He was recovering from something that funked up his balance (just like me) and was doing all of his little exercises with the therapist. He was walking, standing on toes, working on the squishy mat... But the most adorable thing was, that his wife was sitting there watching him, all with a little distracted smile on her face and I noticed her feet. Without even being conscious of it, she was making all the same motions he was. She was doing his exercises right along with him. A silly little thing, but it just touched me. Marriage really is a partnership, every step of the way. I hope Dave and I are that cute little couple one day. I don't want to be the cranky old fart who thinks the world owes her everything just because I managed to live a whole bunch of years. Dave is so goofy that I can't even imagine him becoming some some crotchety old coot, so I think he is going to be ok. Unless I drive him to it.

On a totally unrelated note, as I was watching Maury today (yes, a guilty pleasure of mine...dang, I cannot get enough of those Baby Daddy shows. Why? I am not sure, but when it is on, I am compelled to watch...) and I learned a new word today. Or maybe it is a phrase...? I am not really sure how to classify it. When asked why her ex might be denying her baby, the Momma replied, "Because of two-face-ded-ness!" You see the dilemma here...how to classify that? For that matter, how to spell it? You learn something new every day. Maury sure is edumacational.

Well, we're movin' on up...

2009-05-18T19:52:00.004-04:00

...to the East siiiide....

Ok, not really the East side, and we are not actually moving yet, but every time we talk about the possible impending move, I get the theme from The Jeffersons stuck in my head.

The past two days have been all about getting the house ready for yesterday's Open House, and another showing today. I made the kids slightly mental yesterday by confining them to one room to play, because damn it, I was sick of cleaning one room, moving on to the next, only to find that the little diablos had trashed the first one. So, they were confined to the playroom, to which Chase protested, "But Moooooooom....I want to play with my trains...aaaaaah." Pretty much whenever he is whining about something it is "blah-blah-blah.....aaaaaahhhh." Sort of a drawn out whine. So adorable and not nerve-getting-on at all.

We vacated the oh-so-sparklin' clean house yesterday, and when we got back, we parked up the street a little since it was about 15 minutes until the OH was over. It was a little disconcerting watching strangers walking out of my house, but I am sure hoping someone fell in love yesterday. Our agent said there was a lot of interest, and today's showing seemed to be more of the same. Guess we'll see. I really want to move into the cute little brick number we have a contract on. I gotz big plans for that place. Big plans, I say.

But for now, the waiting game and time to enjoy some nerdy douchebag goodness.

What a maroon!

2009-05-11T19:02:00.008-04:00

So, on my playgroups message board, we had a good question of the day today:

"If you were marooned on a deserted island, which three people would you want with you? They can be dead, alive, or imaginary. "

My response will follow, prefaced by the explanation as to why I did not pick my husband or my kids. You see, I am sure that learning to survive on a deserted island is miserable, and I would not want to subject those I love and hold dearest to such torture.

Yeah, that.

So, here is my answer...

1. Bear Grylls from "Man Vs. Wild". Super-smart and survivor-savvy. Plus, he is hotneZZ. He is my new guy-I-am-lusting-after... God-dog-it, I love me a manly-man.

2. Then, maybe Albert Einstein to stimulate my brain. Ranks a zero on hotness scale, but waaay up there on the brillance.

3. And finally, probably Dane Cook. Again for the hotness, but also to entertain me.

Think the Hubs will buy my explanation for not being stranded with him? Yeah, me neither.

Want to move to Florida?

2009-05-08T09:14:00.002-04:00

You just might reconsider your answer when you see what showed up in my cousin's front yard. Sounds like her boys thought it was super cool, and I imagine mine would, too, but I would be crapping my pants.

Now, I used to live in Florida, and the worst I have seen are kamikaze cockroaches. You know the ones I mean if you ever lived there. They are MASSIVE and will fly off of the wall right at your face *shiver, shiver, shiver*.

But this dude...he takes the cake for freaking me out.

Porno Rhyme Time

2009-05-06T14:19:00.006-04:00

So, Hunter is very into rhyming words these days. Click, trick...dog, log...train, pain...

Until yesterday, when he started rhyming things that go with "duck". I think you see where I am going with this one.

I am no prude, and have a potty mouth I try valiantly to keep from the little pitchers' ears, but I have to say it was shocking to hear that word come from a 4-year-old's mouth. He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was not a big deal, too. So, I had to tell him that this was a naughty word, that we did not say, and gave him some alternatives that also rhymed, like "truck", "Chuck", "cluck"... Until the little brother decided to march around repeating the F-bomb over and over. Equally shocking to hear from a three-year-old's mouth.

Again, I repeated that this was a naughty word and we did not say those things. ("We", of course, meaning "they". ) More distraction with other -uck words followed and I think I have it nipped in the bud. If not, maybe I should get them these t-shirts...just so that people are prepared.

Hubs and I did have a private giggle about it today, though. But we are warped like that.

Back to the land of the semi-hearing...

2009-05-03T15:42:00.004-04:00

I've been working my way back to you, babe...

(And you are welcome for the song headache you have now.)

So, I have been recovering, and looking for the funny in any of this mess. Not quite there, but although this chick may get down....make no mistake, she always, always, always bounces back. I don't think I have been through anything less or more than anyone else, and hey, who knows what someone is going through day to day? But I can say that the things I have been through have made me the strong person I am today. A hurricane, losing my dad, a miscarriage...now this illness. But I read in the paper today about a 41 year old guy who had a stroke and lost his ability to speak. He had to rely on a dry erase board and a computer to do the talking for him. Through it all, he never lost his faith. He prayed for God's guidance to get him through it. He had to think and map out his every day activities in order to plan for how to communicate with those he came in contact with: at the bank, at fast food joints, the grocery store... It all took a conscious effort to plan. He said one of the hardest things for him was going to church and not being able to sing the hymns along with the rest of the congregation. One Sunday, years after his stroke, in the middle of a hymn, his speech suddenly returned and he was able to sing the hymn...and it was one with a message of faith. How amazing is this? It puts a lot into perspective. Someone always has it worse than you, and faith will carry you when you think you are all alone with no hope.

Now, do I still have a pity party now and then? Hell to the yeah. Being dizzy and deaf in one ear just sucks. No other word for it. It just sucks out loud. But, I have my sight. I have hearing in my other ear to hear Hunter giggle, Chase sing "Thomas's Winter Wonderland", Austin tell me he loves me, and Dave tell me that we are in this together. I have use of my arms, legs, and brain. I know life is good. I really do. I am just not so patient. I want to be better NOW. God is telling me to slow down and be patient. This will take time. I have to attend more doctor appointments, have further procedures, and have vestibular therapy. It can take months to get to a new normal. So I have to wait, and have faith. The faith part, I got. The wait part, not so much.

And to top it off, we are attempting to sell our house and buy a new one. Holy crap, am I crazy? Why, yes. Yes, indeed. But such is our life here. Always something new to do, a task to complete, a butt to wipe. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Oh, and back to the song...enjoy. And it's a remix BEEYATCHES!

I get knocked down...but I get up again...

2009-04-22T17:19:00.002-04:00

No funnies today, just an explanation of sorts...sorry to copy and paste from an email, but it is easier than writing over and over....

Long story short, out of nowhere on Easter night, I woke up with ringing and complete deafness in my right ear. I had not taken my Singulair that day, and we were outside at my MIL's that day, so upin talking to Dave, I decided to wait it out until morning and then head to the doctor.
A couple of hours later, I woke up again and the room was spinning. Not spinning like a hangover sort of thing, but absolutely flying. (Help, Jane! Stop this crazy thing!) I immediately knew I would be sick, and could not move so Dave scooped me into the bathroom. I knew something was terribly, terribly wrong and even my big strong paramedic hubby was afraid. I could hear it in his voice. Off to the horse-pistol we go.

Blood tests, CT scan, MRI....I have a raging inner ear infection. Not the kind that your kids get with pain and treated w/Amoxicillin, but deep in the ear. I was immobile (and sort of incoherent) while in the hospital, and the most miserable I have ever been in my life. Not to mention, I had to have shots of heparin in my stomach every day to prevent blood clots from forming since I was bedridden. My stomach is currently a watercolor of lovely blues, greys, blacks, and yellows. Lovely indeed.

I am functioning at about 40%, taking medication, still a mess, and my balance is totally affected. I walk like an 80 year old woman, and am trying to stay out of the public "eye". I have also not regained hearing in my right ear whatsoever, and there is a very real chance that I won't. I figure I will cross that bridge when I get there. In the grand scheme of things, being deaf in one ear is not that big of a deal, especially when at one time they were looking to be sure there were no lesions on my brain, and ruling out signs of stroke or MS.

So, there is my pity party of sorts. Hopefully this will be the last of it. I hate to wallow, and I am sure I will get to where I can find the humor (likely pretty sick humor, if you know me at all) in all of this. It is tough to type and focus right now, so my posts may be limited for a bit.

Upside- deaf ear faces the side hubby sleeps on, so I don't hear him snore. That rocketh.

You know you're an old codger when...

2009-04-10T13:08:00.004-04:00

...hidden profanity flies right past you.

This song irritates the crap out of me. I cannot stand Britney's voice on this song, once heard, the "ha-ha-hee-hee-ha-ha-ho" begins rolling around and around in my head, and the chorus is awkward. Why not say, "If you are looking for Amy?" Why? Because "If You Seek Amy", when you say it out loud and really listen to it, is duuuuuurty. How did I miss this? And even though I don't like the song, I have been known to sing it. Ewwww.... I am sure I sounded like a total toolbag.

In case you are on the other side of the hill, or getting there, let me re-state. If...You...Seek...Amy. Stay with me here, F-U-C....you get it?

In days gone by, I would have totally picked up on that right away. And been one of those hoochies singing it out loud at the club, I might add.

In a reverse kind of way it of reminds me of the time I was singing "Push It" by Salt and Pepa and my mom was horrified. She swore they were saying, "Ah, Bullsh*t".

Now I have become that mom with no clue. Damn. How did that happen?

I'm always thinkin'...

2009-04-04T18:14:00.008-04:00

...but can't always remember what I was thinkin' 'bout.

Thank goodness for my handy-dandy notebook (aka my left palm)

I can't tell you how many times I have thought, "Ooh, I need to remember to tell Dave about that," or, "I should blog about that," and then I get home and have the CRS's. I draw a big fat old blank. Bugs the crap out of me. So, I usually jot down stuff on my hand. See? You can see there that I had MYOOALL, DVADER, and YUP. 'portant stuff.

DVADER- Today in line at Borders, there was a guy in front of me with two boys. Guy's phone goes off. It is Darth Vader's theme. You know, the "dun-dun-dundun" that they play when he enters any scene. Guy goes, "Ugh." and hands the phone to one of the kids. "It's your grandma." Now, I am going with the theory that it is mother-in-law because you know that is a wicked-funny ringtone to set for when your mother-in-law calls. It better not have been his own mother. I would hate the thought of my son pulling that punk-ass move when he is older and married. His wife, yeah, who cares...but not my boy. Actually, future daughter-in-law will probably be one with an off sense of humor if I know my oldest kid. So, she will probably have something like "Superfreak" set as the ringtone when I call. I actually may suggest it one day.

MYOOALL- This was a vanity plate I saw today. The best I could come up with was "mule" (??) Seriously, if you are going to have a vanity plate, don't make it so flippin' hard to figure out. Then again, I am a total "eediot" when it comes to figuring those things out, so maybe I am missing something? Do help a sista out, won't ya?

YUP- This is my new pet peeve, just next to spelling/grammatical errors. And let me preface this part by saying that I totally misspell words on PURPOSE. Sometimes I like to write out a word the way Dave and I say it, like total hillbillies. For instance, I posted a while back about hors-de-overs. Now, I know how to spell and correctly pronounce hors d'oeveurs, but Dave and I like to act like total rubes sometimes and mispronounce words. Mainly because we have three kids, it's cheap entertainment, and we are basically dorks. Back to YUP. Why do people, after you say "thank you", have to respond with "Yup"? I find it to mainly be teenagers. I have been to many a store, and when I have received my change and reciept, and say "Thank you" (which, shouldn't that be something they should be saying to me anyway? But, I digress...) The appropriate response should be something along the lines of "You're welcome", but I suppose that takes too much effort...one syllable versus three and all that. It bugs me. And I am old, so I get to bitch about those darned kids.

I'd say it's a good dadgummed thing I wrote those notes down on my hand today. Imagine what you would have missed.

You're welcome.

Git ya ice cold lemonaaaaade!

2009-04-04T12:35:00.009-04:00

Spring is finally here. I am so feeling it.

So, in the spirit of warmer weather, I am passing along a "Lemonade Stand" award that I received from Jessica at Mommy Needs Coffee. Go check out her blog. Very cute, and how about the dimples on that girl? I am seriously jealous ; )

So, here are da rules...
1) Put the Lemonade Award logo on your blog or post.

2) Nominate at least 10 blogs that show great attitude or gratitude (or however many you want to nominate...I am going with 5).

3) Link to your nominees within your post.

4) Let the nominees know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog.

5) Share the love and link to the person from who you received your award.

Here are the blogs I am nominating:

Kelli at Gohn Crazy (rockin' green momma...crunchy and crafty)

Steph at Our Family Blog (crazy cute kiddos!)

Lara at LaLa Land (I love this girl...she is twisted like me!)

Smoochiepoo at Don't Eat the Yellow Snow and Other Random Bits of Knowledge (funny-ass Canuck.)

Anna at Me and My Boys (A fellow "Twilight Mom", and that rates her pretty freaking high on my Cool Scale, not to mention, she has a houseful of testosterone, much like mine.)

So, if you are looking for new blogs to stalk, er read, check out my girls. Some are my RL buds, some I have "met" here on the Information Highway. All are fab.

I lubs artsy stuff.

2009-04-01T18:48:00.004-04:00

Remember when I shared with you the super-cool Amy Burhoe site? Well, she is on hiatus from creating/selling at this time. Sad face, sad face on me. Bummer. Just in time for my birthday. Damn it. She and I have emailed back and forth and she is just taking a short break to revamp the site and decide where she wants to take her creations, so never fear...she'll be "bah-ck".

This...is the site of a very talented artist...

Artwork to Remember

You think that's good? You should see her sculpture. Wow. I am hoping she will upload some of those pictures soon. She rocks. Ok, she's my mother-in-law, but for real...she is awesome. Go. See. Be impressed.

On a completely unrelated note as I am watching the news right now and it's on my mind... what the frog is up with Brian Williams' eyebrows? He is brainy hot until he starts talking. That is when his eyebrows stand Straight Up Now Tell Me. They sort of make a tent-like structure over his eyeballs.

It's bothersome. As I tell my kids when they are acting up and scowly..."relax your face."

Just sayin'. End random thought.

Hot guys in kilts

2009-03-25T21:22:00.004-04:00

So, I was watching PBS the other night. Yes, I watch PBS other than in the mornings. PBS is much, much more than just Sesame Street and Clifford. You can really get your learn on watching shows on PBS. Ok, so I could not find the remote and was way too lazy to get up (as Chase would say, my butt was having a sit...)

Regardless, I was glad I was having a sloth moment, because I came across a concert by Celtic Thunder. And yes, there they were...hot guys in kilts.

Well, all but the little fella on the far left. He is only 14. He is a cutie, but in a "I wanna pinch your little cheeks, and aren't you just adorable" sort of way. Not like the others, wherein I'm a-wonderin' just what is under those kilts.

HotneZZ aside, their music is beautiful. Such voices, and the melodies are pure bliss. If you like that Celtic flair, that is. I am totally getting this CD for my mom (read:downloading and burning it for her...shhhh...)

Check them out. I think you will like them. And if the music is not your cuppa tea, hit mute and enjoy their skirted goodness. Nummers.

Whoop, whoop, whoop!

2009-03-21T14:29:00.005-04:00

That's the "Nerd"ar going off. And it is me that it is sensing.

Why?

A picture says a thousand words.

Damn skippy, I am wearing a "Twilight" shirt. I figure I am old enough to embrace my goofiness, so I wear it proudly.

As I was buying it yesterday, the little young cutie guy at the register asked me if I was going to any of the DVD release parties that were happening at midnight. He told me that Hot Topic and F.Y.E. were having big throwdowns to celebrate the movie's release. I asked him didn't he think they may throw my old ass out of Hot Topic, to which he paused, looked at me...and said, "Well, maybe you should go to the one at F.Y.E." Damn whippersnapper.

But, no, I did not go out at midnight and buy the DVD. The only thing I saw at midnight was the backs of my eyelids. That is what happens when you are almost (shhhh...) 40. Which begs the question...if you are not young enough to stay up past midnight, are you too old to be a Twilighter?

Even if I was so inclined to attend a Twilight party, I highly doubt it would have been at Hot Topic. All of those young'uns with their pierced and tattooed parts, who aren't completely convinced they are not vampires in real life... in the words of my youngest...no fanks.

So, I am headed out in a little while to get my DVD. Although the book was better than the movie by a mile (aren't they all?) I am looking forward to seeing some Rob Pattinson goodness.

Nummy, nummy, nummy.

Dear Joaquin Phoenix,

2009-03-16T22:05:00.007-04:00

This...

Is not a good look for you.

Seriously, I am, like, totally a hayuuu-dge fan, and an added bonus was your crazy hotness. Now, it is just plain crazy. Hotness has left the building.

Dude, for realz. Are you on drugs? Or maybe, do you need some?

Holy crap. And you are planning a rap career? All right, stop. Collaborate and listen.

Please, please, go into the light. All are welcome here, children...all are welcome. Come back to sanity, for the love of my lust. I beg of you.

The Matisyahu look only works for Matisyahu.

Just to be clear and to be sure you are not corn-fused...as it appears that you are more than not these days...

This...me likey. This...makey me want to watch you in movie. This...good. Very, very good...

This...yucky, scary guy panhandler look. This...makey me want to pukey...

I'll be waiting.

Sincerely,
Trace

P.S. Take a bath. You look like you Smell. Really. Bad.

Ooh, it's so good!

2009-03-16T17:18:00.008-04:00

(As Mr. Food would say.)

I have my own list of yummy stuff and not many of them have to do with food.

My middle kid telling me "You so byoodeefull, momma." Nobody loves me like my boys do.

Kisses from the littlest kid after he has eaten a bowl full of strawberries. Extra messy, and extra sweet.

Crisp Linen candles. Makes the H house smell like girls live here.

Thursday night TV. Until summertime, anyway.

Reading the Sunday paper and having coffee with Big Daddy. One of the best times of the week.

Vacays to NC. Vacays to FL. Hell, vacays any-damn-where.

Watching "Titanic" for the, oh, ten thousandth or so time. I can't get enough of Leo...and Kate's costumes are to die for. Oh, bad choice of words there, I guess...

Pedicures. (Oh, and go get yourself one, ladies. Spring is upon us and along with it, sandal season. I don't want to see your crusty dry heels or jacked up bare toenails. Time to primp, girls. Oh, and shave your legs while you are at it. Winter is over in just a few days. k?thnx.)

Good books. Really good books. (Go read "The Shack". No, really, right now. I'll wait...)

Daffodils. They just make me smile.

Angel food cake. What an appropriate name. I think if Heaven has a taste, it's angel food cake.

And Gerard Butler. No explanation necessary.

I tawt I taw...

2009-03-14T16:55:00.005-04:00

A Cwistmas twee... I did, I did taw a Cwistmas twee!

And it was on March 9, 2009. Out at the curb with someone's garbage.

This picture, however, is NOT the tree I saw. Why? Because for DAYS I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO GET PICTURES ON MY COMPUTER OFF OF MY BLACKBERRY. And yes, that warranted all caps. This damn phone is so complicated. Shouldn't an upgrade=easier to use? Apparently not. So, thanks Google Images for helping a sister out with a picture to go along with my blog post. Ask me sometime when you see me, and I can show you the real picture on my phone. If I can figure out how to pull it up. And if I don't run it over with the Odyssey before then.

But I digress...

So, I was dropping off the biggest kid at school the other morning, and there it was. A Christmas tree out at the curb with someone's trash. I ask you, what would possess someone to keep a Christmas tree until March? March! December 26th, I am ready to get that bad boy out of my living room. No way would I keep it up until almost Easter. Lazy, lazy, lazy. But I have to say, it did look still very damn green. So I guess they not only kept it up, but took care of it very well. I think at this point, they should have just kept it up all year, or at least until it took on a brown cast. They could put little hearts on it for Valentine's Day (and hey, maybe they did!), little eggs and chicks for Easter, flags for Independence Day... The possibilities are endless.

Oh, did I mention they had one of these in the yard?

Yeah, that is a goose that you can buy outfits for. You can dress up said goose for Easter, Halloween, Valentine's Day... They make an outfit for every holiday. Klassy.

I would decorate mine like this for Christmas.

But I am sick like that.

Saturday night lineup

2009-03-07T19:48:00.010-05:00

I love this show. I love this family. It would be coolio to hang with them.

The mom is nothing short of awesome, and have you seen their kickin' farm? Complete with an old west set and pirate ship? It looks like the most fun place evah.

Watching them go beyond physical limitations is inspiring. I have watched them play basketball, soccer, travel all over the place, bike ride, snorkel... and to think I can't get my lazy ass to the gym every day...

I just watched an episode where they went on a road trip to the Little People of America convention in Detroit. Mom took the kids, plus one of the kids' friends, and Dad flew in later and met them. That momma is one tough cookie, taking on a road trip like that. Here I thought I was big stuff driving a few times a year back and forth to NC. Ha. I am small potatoes.

Why does it have to be followed by Jon and Shrew + 8? That show just gets all over my last good nerve. Meh. No matter. Cops is on now. Hellz yeah. That and Maury are two of my guilty pleasures. Shhh...don't tell anyone. I am posing in my every day life as an intelligent woman.

Rise up this mornin'...

2009-03-02T11:14:00.008-05:00

Smiled with the rising sun...

Three little birds...

Pitch by my doorstep...

Singin' sweet songs...

Of melodies pure and true...

This is my message...to you-oo-ooo...

"It is damn COLD out here! (But thanks for the seed.)"

I love winter, but looking out the window this morning at those three little birds, I felt so bad for the little guys. Especially that fat little bluebird all puffed up there in the middle. He just looks like he belongs on a green leafy branch, not bracing himself from the snow blowing sideways. Bless his feathery little heart.

But, take heart, little birdies, spring is on the way.

Nights In RoDEATH...

2009-02-28T20:10:00.005-05:00

...is totally what they should have called that movie.

Hubs and I love to snuggle in our bed at night and watch movies. So, he thought he was doing me a solid and got me a chick flick...

I was looking forward to it, because in the previews, the scenery looked gaw-jess, and I love Diane Lane. And Richard Gere is ol' man hot.

BUT.

I should have paid better attention. I should have done my homework. The opening credits began, and it appeared on the screen...

Based on the best-selling novel by Nicholas Sparks.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Noooooooooooooooooooooo!

I realize I am probably the only woman in the Free World that does not like Nicholas Sparks. If it weren't a bad word in this house, I would venture to say I hate Nicholas Sparks. Not the man, mind you. I am sure he is a lovely fellow. But Damn. It. I cannot stand his books. I swore him off after I read "Message In a Bottle". He got me all emotionally invested in the main character, I rooted for him in his struggles, cheered for him when he overcame and found love again, and then he freaking killed him off. What in the ever-loving hell is that about? GAH. I cried...like really *cried* when I read that book. No thanks. I am so done with his books.

So, when I saw that this was a movie based on one of his books, I just could not let myself get emotionally attached. I told the hubs, "Oh boy, one of those two are going to die. They will struggle with some inner demons, fall in love, and then BAM. Someone is going to buy it." He says I ruined the movie for him because I kept harping on the inevitable outcome throughout the entire 97 stinkin' minutes. I knew some sort of meaningful memories were going to be stored in that damn box she was building. I knew he was going to be the one to croak. I knew it would be in Mexico, and that great embrace they shared when he left would be their last.

Ugh.

Who knew I would prefer the other movie he got? Hey, "Don't Mess With the Zohan". Ok?

Oh, and P.S. I did not see "The Notebook" and never plan to. Those people are old in that movie, and I can guess how it ends. I am a genius that way.

Fee, Fi, Faux...

2009-02-24T17:12:00.008-05:00

Faux chocolate. Who eats this crap?

Chocolate lollipops should be illegal. That includes Tootsie Pops, when the "pop" part is chocolate. The cherry and orange ones are fab-u-loso. But there are few things that taste nastier than a chocolate lolly. Exccept maybe this...

Seriously? Chocolate soda? Gag.

And while this is not technically something you eat, it is something you can taste. And wow doesn't it look just scrumptious? Ewww...

And if you are lucky enough to live in the Philippines, you can get your hands on this...

Yes, my friends, that is chocolate toothpaste. Bet it tastes as gnarly as you think. And what does one's breath smell like in the morning after brushing with this? Musty chocolate?

I like chocolate. I do. But if I am eating chocolate, it had better be the real thing. Don't give me chocolate-flavored. If I am spending my allotted caloric intake, make it worth my while, damnit.

Yeah, baby. That's what I'm talkin' 'bout.

"That" kid...

2009-02-19T19:42:00.003-05:00

...was at Chuck E Cheese today.

You know that kid. The brat who is out of control. The one whose mother sits on her butt, eating pizza and chugging Coke while her little darling is making everyone else mental. Well, to give her credit (uh, yeah, right), every once in a while, she would half-heartedly say, "Elijah, don't you want to come eat?". I might note that she would just randomly say this, not even looking to see if the boy was even in range to hear her. One time she said it, I looked, and Elijah was all the way across the room, next to the ticket chomping machine. Really, though, he would not have even been on my radar, but he made the littlest kid get teary. And littlest kid is way cute and pitiful-looking when his eyes are full. So, I was peee-yussed. I saw it go down, the way adorable little Elijah growled at Chase and said, "YOU GO. GET OUT OF HERE. THIS IS MINE." Man, that broke little guy's heart, and usually he is a tough nut to crack. Big Momma was still eating her pizza, on planet SomeoneElseCanWatchMyKidIAmBusy, so I stepped in and said, "Hey, that is not very nice. Let's share, ok, you little turd?" Ok, so that last part was in my head, but I did ask him to share, seeing as how Chase had the damn steering wheel first anyway... But the kid, and he could not have been more than 3 or so, stopped, turned, and actually glared at me. Nice, huh? Guess we can see the training going on in his house.

Another check on Big Momma, still eating.

Then, my friend's daughter, Mini Miss Thang, entered the picture. Elijah pushed her away, and she gave him a chilling "look". You know the one I mean? The one most of us girls only perfect around high school age. Mini Miss has it DOWN at age 3. That girl rocks my socks. Elijah exited, stage right.

Big Momma didn't skip a beat.

I hope she remembered to take him home.

It's okay...just don't look at it

2009-02-17T19:59:00.003-05:00

This is never good to hear.

Especially coming from the smallest kid.

Have I mentioned that the boy is destruction defined? Seriously, go back a few posts and check it out. Destructo Baby is becoming Destructo Boy.

He comes running out of the playroom like his pooper is on fire, so I ask what is wrong. He says, "My legs are wet" to which I ask, "Uh, okay, and why?" He stops in his tracks, climbs up in my lap, touches my face oh-so-gently and says, "It's okay, Mommy. Just don't look at it."

*Sigh*

As much as I would love to take his three-year old wisdom to heart, I have to look.

But it is not bad. This time. Just some water spilled on the carpet. This time. Yes, again I emphasize this time. Because I know that next time it will probably be something I really don't want to see. Something broken, ripped, painted on, colored over... Something not so minor. Hopefully it will be when Daddy is home, so that he can deal. It's okay. I just won't look at it.

Nothing says "I love you" like...

2009-02-15T09:56:00.006-05:00

...this Valentine's Day present...

Now lest you think my hubs is a chauvenist pig who bought the little woman a stove for V-Day, let me say that my man loves to cook. So, we went out yesterday and bought this, really, for each other. Our range is on the old side, and this was the last appliance we needed to replace, so there it is. Now he can prepare me lovely meals whilst I recline on my chaise lounge and fine muscled men in loincloths feed me grapes and fan me with palm fronds... Yeah, more like he can cook while I manage the rugrats/laundry/taxi service/clean/t-ball/playgroup/etc, etc, et-freaking-cetera...

I did get some roses...

And the early present of my Blackberry...which I still haven't fully figured out.

We also had a lovely night of sushi and many beepers.

Followed by a dose of allergy meds, a really sucky movie (pass on "Flashbacks of a Fool", although a high point would be seeing Daniel Craig's oh-so-fine nakey boo-daddy...it is quite a nice pooper...) Makes me reconsider watching 007 movies. Maybe they wouldn't be so bad...

Then we both zonked out. Not quite the romantic whirlwind...but there's always February 15th.

I came...I saw...

2009-02-10T19:15:00.008-05:00

I kicked its ASS!

May I present...Mt. EverLaundry.

This is what you get, friends, when you keep up with doing laundry, but do not actually fold it. And clearly, I need to conduct an inservice for all males in this household. I plan to title it, "Laundry 101- It's Not Going to Fold Itself."

So, I have been busy for the past few days doing HOA crap, er, uh, important junk. So, I have thrown laundry in the washer and dryer in the evenings, and let it get to this ungodly pile. Today's task at hand was to get it all folded and put away. Again, I am apparently the only one who has the ability to complete this task. I do have my doctorate in Folding Clothes, so my family likes to leave it to the expert. It took me a while, but I conquered that bad mamma jamma. And when I did, I planted my flag atop it. Ok, it is my phone with a dryer sheet attached, but you get the idea.

Now to just get it put away. If I promise to be your best friend forever, will you come do it for me?

Back-handed compliments, preschooler-style

2009-02-06T09:20:00.004-05:00

So, I am getting ready to go out the other day, and I must say, I was feeling pretty good. Hair was cooperating, makeup was just right, and I was wearing one of my favorite outfits. You know the one...tight in the right places, loose where you need it to be. The one that accentuates your positives, and camouflages the negatives... And along came the middle kid. He was walking past the bathroom where I was just putting on the finishing touches. He stopped in his tracks and said, "Wow, mommy...you look so beautiful!"

So sweet.

So, I said, "Well, thank you, Hunter. That is so nice of you!"

To which he replied, "Yeah, mommy. You look so beautiful that nobody will recognize you!"

Uh, yeah. Thanks kid. I think...

40 Eff Bombs

2009-02-04T15:35:00.008-05:00

Oh, how I love me some Christian Bale. He is truly Supreme Hotness...

Howev-freakin-er...

Dude has some serious anger management issues. Did you hear the recording of him going OFF on the set of the new Terminator movie? He ripped a DP (Director of Photography, or some such random title) a completely new pooper for walking in his line of sight whilst he was filming a scene. In case you missed it, you can always count on You Tube to get you caught up. Click below if you dare:

Whacked out Christian

That is forty, yes, forty f-bombs he drops on that poor guy. What I find hilarious is that in the midst of this vicious dress-down, he stops for a moment to tell the guy, "You are a nice guy" and then proceeds to continue with the verbal attack. It even sounds, at one point, like he has to be held back as he threatens the guy with "I will kick your ass!"

Ho-ly crap.

Makes you really think about that incident that happened a few months ago...was it with his mom and sister, I think? They called 911 on him because he was verbally abusive and they were afraid of what he might do to them? Out of control, man. American Psycho, indeed. (Well, British psycho, if you want to get technical...)

I am bummed like the day I heard that Rick Springfield's wife accused him of spousal abuse. These boys need to get their junk together. Be men, would ya? Not just guys. And, hey, quit boogering up my fantasies by being total tools. K? Thanx.

Buy me stuff.

2009-02-03T20:36:00.006-05:00

Remember that ring I had my eye on? I meant to post a picture of it before now, but better late than never.

I love, love, love my ring! You can check out her cool collection here, if you are interested. The ring also came in the most quaint little box, tied up all tidy-like with twine. In my haste to get it out of the box and on my waiting finger, I did not think to save or photograph the box. Trust me, though, it is way cute.

I also told the hubs the other day of my latest want...and it should be arriving any day now. Although this nowhere near as cute and uncomplicated, I am totally psyched (duuuuude.) about it.

Yeah, baby. Getting my Blackberry. Hmmm....I hope it is not too hard to figure out. I am not mechanically gifted. I am sure Austin can help me on that if I need him to.

So, high fives to Dave, for continuing to spoil me. Wonder if I mention that I want this, if he will get it for me, too?

Super Bowl, party of two...

2009-02-02T08:19:00.009-05:00

We tossed around the idea of having some folks over to watch the Super Bowl last night. This is Steeler country around here, and even I got wrapped up in the hype. We also considered attending a Super Bowl party hosted by Hot Friend of Hubby's... However, we opted for hanging out together, enjoying some beepers and horse dee overs, whilst lounging in our PJs. Much better plan, methinks!

Gotta love this face. Isn't that the classic drunk-faced-eybrows-raised look?

And why do I feel compelled to lick this man after I have been drinking? Seriously, you can set your clock by it.

Captain Underpants was a wonderful little cocktail waiter, fetching beepers, and we paid him in snack foods.

The Keetons busied herself with sneaking sips and checking her emails.

The best thing of all...? Football season is OVER, friends. And THAT is something to celebrate!

Bite Me, the Friday Edition....

2009-01-30T09:29:00.006-05:00

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...

2009-01-26T21:31:00.005-05:00

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...

2009-01-24T12:46:00.009-05:00

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

2009-01-20T17:47:00.003-05:00

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...

2009-01-16T19:19:00.006-05:00

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?

2009-01-14T08:09:00.005-05:00

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...

2009-01-11T09:49:00.003-05:00

..."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,

2009-01-05T17:15:00.004-05:00

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

2009-01-01T10:25:00.005-05:00

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.

Get a Clue....or don't...

2008-12-29T23:02:00.010-05:00

Were you lucky enough to find this under your tree on Christmas morning?

If so, haul some major ass to the store and RETURN IT!

By far, one of the most convoluted, confusing, too many rules and too much to remember kind of game ever made. Don't believe me? Check out the faces of some of the players at a recent night at my mother-in-law's house...

I know, right? Looks like a rollickin' good time.

I, myself, got so bored with it, that I started taking pictures of ornaments on my mother-in-law's Christmas tree. Don't ask. I don't know why.

And by the way, this new p.c. version of Clue involves no murder. Apparently, you are to find who committed the crime of theft. Woooo....exciting. Give me the good old-fashioned board game version of Clue. You know, where Colonel Mustard killed someone with a candlestick in the conservatory. Dems good times.

Although, it was sort of entertaining watching my sister-in-law trying her heart out to find hidden clue.

If you give a 4 year old a camera...

2008-12-23T12:11:00.014-05:00

He will take pictures of Mom's butt in flannel PJs...

Self portraits, up the nose...

Pictures of the Christmas tree (with staged train placement...)

What it looks like from his height, looking up at the bannister full of Christmas cards...

Mom blowing a kiss. Note the sex-ay flannel PJs and no makeup look. Hubs is a lucky, lucky man, indeed...

Mom and the big brother...

His lunchbox...

The plug-in, unplugged... (I know, I said it, too... "Why...?)

The ornament he made in school...

He is available for your next special occassion...weddings, birthdays, whatever...

Peeps

2008-12-22T16:04:00.004-05:00

Not the marshmallowy ones with the sugar on them (although those are deeeee-vine!)...but these kind of peeps...

And I think I can use the word "peeps" since it is totally uncool to use that term, thereby not making it appear that I am trying to be a young'un. When we old farts start using a word, it is rendered instantly uncool. Is "cool" even a cool word anymore...?

Maybe I should say "girlfriends." But that starts way too many wheels going in Dave's head. Especially when he sees pictures of one of them like this:

Seriously, she could make some girl reaaaaaaaaaaally happy. Yahknowwhatimean, Vern?

I love my peeps, girlfriends, buds, whatever you want to call them. Makes living in Whitelegs, PA loads of fun.

As the hubs would say...thanks for the mammaries, girls.

Ya'll are awesome.

It's all about me, me, me!

2008-12-18T08:45:00.004-05:00

Nabbed from Bri... Getting To Know You, The Holiday Edition! Post on your blog and hit me with a comment. I would love to see your answers!

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper. It is so much more fun to watch someone rip into a package and watch the paper fly!

2. Real tree or Artificial? Real! I love tagging the tree and going back to cut it down. We did not have that growing up in FL. We got our trees from lots : (

3. When do you put up the tree? 2-3 weeks before Christmas.

4. When do you take the tree down? I want to the day after Christmas, but I usually hold off about a week.

5. Do you like eggnog? Yuuuuummmm...but without the al-kee-hall.

6. Favorite gift received as a child? Definitely the dollhouse my grandfather made.

7. Hardest person to buy for? Dave's dad. The quintessential guy who "has everything."

8. Easiest person to buy for? Chase. If it is a train, train-related, or can be made into a train shaped object, he is all about it.

9. Do you have a nativity scene? Two of them.

10. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail. Email is too impersonal for Christmas cards, in my opinion.

11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? Can't say I have ever gotten a bad gift. I love that someone takes the time to get me a gift, so I am always touched by the effort.

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? (Kid's show) Charlie Brown Christmas, (grown-uppish type show) White Christmas.

13. When do you start shopping? October.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Noooooooo.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Fudge.

16. Lights on the tree? Yes, a ton of them. All white.

17. Favorite Christmas song? "Oh Holy Night" - and I sing it really loudly. Ask my kids. Well, after they take their hands off their ears.

18.Travel at Christmas or stay home? Stay home. We travel at Thanksgiving.

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer's? Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donder, Blitzen...and Rudolph, although he was not an original, from "Night Before Christmas".

20. Angel on the tree top or a star? Usually a star, but this year, it is a Santa Claus.

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? One on Christmas Eve, the rest on Christmas morning.

22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year? Checkout lines at the stores.

23. Favorite ornament theme or color? A little pink bell from my childhood decorations. It brings back great memories.

24. Favorite for Christmas dinner? Ham....or turkey...or whatever. So long as I don't have to cook it.

25. What do you want for Christmas this year? An Amy Burhoe ring. Hmmm....wonder if I will get it? ; )

Bejiggity cat and fudge on fire

2008-12-15T19:09:00.008-05:00

I am getting a kick out of this. Am I just mean? Perhaps. But, I found out today that styrofoam containers make the cat all bejiggity. She is totally freaked out by the thing, and I am not sure why. It has been entertaining, watching her staring at the box, walking around it, getting a little closer...closer....cloooooser.... Only to run away. What a damn freak.

The hub's Christmas present came in the mail today...and it is in that styrofoam box. The cat wants so bad to get up on the sofa in her usual spot, doing what she does best all day; being a lazy load. But the box is stopping her. I guess I should move it...right?

I like this picture...she looks eeeeviiiil. Off my sofa, cursed box!

The boys and I started making cookies today. The plan was to make peanut butter blossoms, oatmeal cookies, tiger stripe fudge, sugar cookies with glaze, chocolate chip cookies, and peppermint wands. We got as far as the sugar cookies and oatmeal cookies. The tiger stripe fudge was a big...

FAIL

In the time that I went upstairs to wipe a butt and wash my hands, the pan was smoking. Not "SHMOKIN!" , but literally about a second or two from producing flames. So much for the tiger stripe fudge. Damn. I only hope this crap will come off of my pan.

The boys enjoyed decorating the glazed sugar cookies. Well, Hunter did, and Chase enjoyed partaking of the sprinkles. By the handful. He is currently spinning in circles, making himself dizzy in the living room. I think his body is furiously trying to burn off that sugar. I only hope he doesn't make himself puke. It would be one colorful mess.

Tomorrow, round two of adventures in baking. Let's see if I can get this all accomplished without burning the motha down.

Oh, and the cat? She's still there...

Dangerous Curves

2008-12-12T22:27:00.013-05:00

Christmas has officially arrived at the H house. We went out and Hubs the lumberjack cut down our tree.

(Note the supervisor making sure he does it correctly.)

(Hunter, searching out bugs. Poor kid misses springtime, when there are bugs a-plenty to be found. By the way, this was before he realized I was taking his picture...)

(And this is after. What a knothead.)

And we brought that bad mamma jamma home. It is such a pretty tree. I just love it. Except for one thing. The tree was growing out of the side of a hill, so there is a slight curve in the trunk. And Mr. Tree Farm Man did not drill the hole exactly in the middle of it. Added to that, I had the bright idea to put pretty near every ornament we have on the tree this year. I wanted that puppy loaded down. The boys were helpful...

(Yes, my kids are running around in their underwear. They never wear clothes inside. We hit the door, and shoes start flying, and pants, shirts...they get right down in their skivvies. It sort of occurred to me that I should put some clothes on them while I was taking pictures of them decorating the tree... you know, for posterity's sake. But, what the hell. This is how they are, so why not take pictures of our real lives?)

Chase decided all of the ornaments he placed on the tree looked just "perfit" in one spot. This was his contribution.

After my rearranging (when the little elves had gone to bed), I was just putting on the last ornament (which was just as Dave was saying, "Uh, I think that is enough,") and BAM! Down went the tree. A couple of ornaments broke, including one that I brought home from our Disney trip (a set of, like 10, though, so I still have more...but still...dayum.) Which brings me back to our curvy trunk. I tried to get a good picture of it, but no luck. Trust me, it has a slight curve. Juuuust enough to make it not-so-steady. Luckily, the kids don't want to touch it, since it is so "pokey".

I just wanted to cry. I had everything so strategically placed, and it looked perfect. But the moment was gone, and I just stuck the ones that fell off, back on the tree, and there it is. I need to trim off some of those wonky sticking out too far branches, but have not gotten around to it yet.

But I still love it.

And I am still adding ornaments. Don't tell Dave.