Oddities

Were you all beside yourselves with worry that I didn't post yesterday? NO? Are you serious? You mean your every day routine doesn't involve coming to see what breathtakingly exciting developments have been happening in my life? I'm shocked!

No seriously. I was organizing all morning long. It was so exciting, I forgot to get online at all in the morning. God, I'm a dork.

Look at what I accomplished.

I realize it would be much more impressive if I had taken a "before" shot. In all my excitement, I forgot. But just know that this is a HUGE improvement. There were cards, game pieces, and Play Doh crumbs all over that closet. The games were all thrown haphazardly on the shelves and it was basically in a state of utter chaos. It drove me nuts just opening the door. And now, it gives me peace. I've stood and looked at this no fewer than 5 times since yesterday. I love to organize. If you know anyone who works for Clean House or some other organizational, cleaning business, tell them to look me up. I want to work for them! I would love to go into people's homes and reorganize and clean their junk. Is that weird? I think it might be a bit weird...but not as weird as some of these other "quirks" of mine...

1. I love to buy stationery. I have a ton of notecards with my name, initial or other cutesy decoration. I LOVE to buy Post-its in different colors. I love note pads, cute pens, and anything else that you might use to write down your grocery list, to-do list, or thank you note. Except that I mostly use email to communicate, so the notecards don't get alot of use. The cute notepads and Post-Its, however, do get alot of use. It thrills me to use the last piece of paper on a notepad because that means I get to go peruse the "home office" section of the store. I can spend 15 minutes just in that aisle.

2. I love to buy Tupperware, Rubbermaid, Gladware, etc. I like containers. With lids. Preferrably in cute colors. I have a ton and I love to "accidentally" leave them at other people's houses so I can buy more.

3. I am obsessed right now with buying cute mixing bowls. These are my current favorites:

They are small and really not that functional, but I still like seeing them stacked in my cupboard.

4. I don't like to eat corn tortillas. Now, that in itself isn't weird, but the reason for it is. When I was a special education teacher, I had a 3rd grader in my class who had cerebal palsy. He was in a wheelchair and wore diapers. Normally, his aide changed his diaper, but when he came to me, she would like to take breaks and relax a bit. I didn't blame her and we usually got by just fine. But after Spring Break in Cancun with his parents, he needed a bit of extra care in the toilet area...so I offered to just start changing him myself. It wasn't a big deal and I sure didn't mind. But here's the bad part: the smell of his diapers reminded me of corn tortillas. So now I have the association of corn tortillas with poopy diapers. I still eat enchiladas, but when they bring that warmer to the table and the lid opens, I can tell at first whiff if it's flour or corn inside. Forgive me if I crawl under the table. *shiver*

Do you like how I switched from stationery and kitchen accessories to dirty diapers and corn tortillas? My mind is funny that way.

John David Charlie Spinson

I'd like to introduce you to John. Specifically, John David Charlie Spinson.

Where? Did you just say where? You mean to tell me you don't see John right there in front of your eyes? Yeah, me either, at first. But look closely. See that disgusting grub worm toward the bottom of the clay pot? That's John David Charlie Spinson. The girls found him yesterday and brought him to the house, proclaiming "We found a pet! We finally got a pet!"

Now, I realize how sad it is that I have reduced these children to adopting a grub worm, all because I refuse to have an animal in this house. If you can find a pet that doesn't require any work, doesn't smell and doesn't shed, then let me know. We already went the fish route. Twice. The first one died when Aaron cleaned out the tank and put water that was too cold in. Next time, the water was too hot and that fish bounced from side to side in the tank until he finally expired. No more fish for a while. (P.S. Don't call PETA. We aren't trying to be mean to animals.)

Anyway, I can't think of anything else that is non-disgusting (I'm trying, I really am), so they had to adopt John. They were happy. I believe the times with John were some of the happiest of their (and possibly his) lives.

Here they are after finding him and building his home. Avery can't take her eyes off of him.

Here he is, going down the slide with Avery, soon after he moved into his new home.

Here's Reese cradling him lovingly in the new home.

And then, Dad came home. Apparently, Dad doesn't understand the significance of a new pet because he just carelessly tossed it aside as we were hosing off the back porch. He actually had the nerve to dump all of the dirt out of this grape container and just hose it off with the rest of the dirt and rocks. And oh. my. gosh. You have never seen such devastation.

Reese was screaming out the door "YOU KILLED HIM, DADDY YOU KILLED HIM!!!" Avery just kept saying "Dad, you can't just throw away our pet. That's our pet. We love him." It was pandemonium for a while.

I was a bit more sympathetic than Dad was because I had been here when they first discovered and fell in love with John David. I felt bad for them. But not bad enough to skip the photo op...

Look at her. She is seriously devastated over the loss of this wonderful pet that she wouldn't even touch because he was "yucky."

Avery's photo is a bit staged. She saw me taking Reese's picture and she said "Mom, I want you to take a picture so you can see how sad I am too." So here you go...

May we all just have a moment of silence to honor John David Charlie Spinson's short, yet admirable life? Thank you.

The Bug Catchers

They caught bugs all day Saturday. Avery was the President and Lead Finder and Catcher of the Bugs, Reese was the Vice President and Holder of the Bugs, and Rhett was the Official Dirt Eater of the group.

I didn't have the heart to tell them that you are supposed to catch LIVE bugs so you can observe them...that bug catcher is full of dead rolie polies. Oh well, they had fun anyway.

Fu Manchu?

Fu Manchu?

Nope, just Big Tuna eating chocolate donuts with "sprinklers!"

Happy Sunday!

Up All Night

I am so tired, I can barely see straight. I was up half the night. Not dealing with kids as one might expect. Nope, I was up watching politics. The Republican National Convention, to be exact. Can you think of a more boring, loser-ish way to spend an evening? That's what I used to think too. Before I got old. Now, laying in my bed with my favorite comforter, watching history in the making on TV is my idea of a good time.
Last night was a good time. Sarah Palin, the VP candidate running with John McCain spoke for the first time. She was amazing. Even the ultra-liberal media agreed. Now, I realize that her speech was written for her and she has yet to prove herself in a debate or off-the-cuff press questioning situation, but wow. She was awesome.
I have had trouble with this year's election for several reasons. First of all, I'm not ultra-conservative in my life. I know abortion and homosexuality are sins in God's eyes, but I really don't know that I think the government should be involved in making those choices for people. I know that it doesn't affect or hurt me in any way if someone chooses to be gay or if gay marriage becomes legal. I know I don't think it's fair if someone does decide to be gay but their partner is not allowed in a hospital room with them because they aren't "family." I also know that I don't want to force a woman to have a baby if she desperately doesn't want it. I think we've all seen the results of unwanted pregnancies. In fact, in the book, Freakonomics, they go so far as to suggest that the decline in crime in the 90's had nothing to do with law enforcement, but actually as an indirect result of the Roe v. Wade decision in the 70's. Meaning that, since abortion was made legal in the 70's, there weren't a bunch of unwanted children who would be of crime-committing age in the 90's. Maybe it's true, maybe it's not, but I found it interesting.
Anyway, I'm not trying to start a debate here. I'm just saying that I don't feel like a right-wing conservative. However, I do normally vote Republican. And yeah, that means I voted for W. And I'm not embarrassed about that. I know he's made tons of mistakes and has a low approval rating, but I'm also smart enough to know that most of his decisions were not made exclusively by him. I'm also informed enough to know that this Democratic Congress has an even lower approval rating than Bush. The lowest in Congressional history, in fact. So it ain't just W making mistakes up there.
I normally feel comfortable voting Republican because, even though I live a fairly non-conservative life, I don't want to live in a non-conservative country. I'm not a fan of the socialist movement. I don't think it's realistic and I don't think it works. I think it sounds good to the very rich because it makes them feel less guilty for being rich. And I think it sounds good to the very poor because let's face it...they just don't want to be poor anymore. And I don't blame them. But I would like to be able to help them of my own volition rather than the government taking more of my money so that they can decide who gets it and who doesn't. And I damn sure don't want the government in charge of my health care.
Saying that, I felt torn this year. Obama was the first Democratic candidate who hasn't made me want to vomit. I actually thought "Hey, this guy is the one who will bring everyone together." I hate party rhetoric. I hate it. I hate that some people will stick by a person based on their party affiliation rather than their beliefs. And I refuse to be that ignorant. I want to learn about someone and vote based on what they believe rather than what letter comes after their name. So I've been paying attention.
I've been nervous about McCain. People make fun of him a lot for being old. But here's why I like him: The Republican base (ultra conservatives) don't like him much. They think he's too liberal. Well, I'm too liberal for that base. And I'm glad he's not a staunch, stuffy old conservative. I think he's just right for my taste. Conservative and Republican on important issues like the economy, energy and terrorism. But not overly conservative on the issues of gay marriage and abortion. That's my style.
But until last night, I was still torn about who would be best. And then Palin came out. Dang, that girl is awesome. She is so small town, down-to-earth and funny. I love her! I am so excited to vote Republican this year...finally, it's not so much about voting AGAINST one ticket as it is voting FOR another.
Whoever you are voting for, you can't say this election has been boring. It's not "business as usual" on the political front and it makes it fun. Ok, maybe not fun like dancing on tables or partying until 3 a.m., but for a 36-year-old suburban mother of three, it's all I can handle these days!

Walking to School

We live in very near the school where Avery is in Kindergarten. People always say "Oh, that's so nice" when we tell them where we live. It is nice to be as close as we are. I don't feel so far removed from her during the day. It's nice, but not as ideal as it couls be. You see, we live just close enough that you you feel like a lazy chump if you ever drive. And yet, it's just far enough that you break a sweat walking, especially in the afternoon. The only time it's a problem is if I've already taken my shower (kind of necessary after running in the mornings) or if I have to be somewhere later in the day, because this is what we've looked like coming home from school each afternoon.











And those are the two in the stroller. Imagine me, 30 pounds overweight, pushing 60 pounds of kid in a double stroller four and a half blocks. In the hot, humid 100+ degrees Texas weather. Ick.
But I'm happy to report a slight change in our weather this morning. It was cool enough that the girls wore a jacket. It was a wonderful walk to school. The walk home? Still nice and cool...because it started raining. So today, I'm a bit less sweaty than usual. Now I just smell like a wet dog. Gotta love that Texas weather!

Kids Are Funny

Last night was one of those rare nights where the kids were not only well-behaved all evening, but also hysterically funny. I will share my favorite conversation. Maybe you had to be there, or maybe you had to have a margarita in your belly, but the whole thing just struck me as funny.

Avery: Mom, there is a girl in my class who just does this to me all the time: shows me how the girl blows in her face and gives her the "raspberries" all the time.

Me: Why in the world does she do that?

Avery: I don't know. She does it when we sit on the carpet and when we stand in line. I never even talked to her before.

Me: That is kind of strange. Have you told her to stop?

Avery: No. I just a-nore (ignore) her.

Me: Well, if she ever says naughty words to you or hits you, you can tell the teacher. Otherwise, just keep ignoring her.

Avery: Can I tell you something and you won't get mad? It's kind of mean.

Uh oh. Here it comes.

Me: Sure, you can tell me anything (gulp.)

Avery: She kind of has, well, kind of has a mean face. It looks like she's mean all the time. And she has alot of leftover boogers on her face. Her mom doesn't wipe stuff off her face at all.

Me: (Holding back laughter) Well, she probably just isn't a very happy little girl and it's probably best that you just be kind but ignore her if she is mean.

That was the end of it until we got in the car.

Me: Avery, I was just thinking. I bet that little girl just wants to be your friend but she doesn't know how to ask you. Do you think?

Reese (out of nowhere), shouting: STUPID OLD MAN!!!

Me: What? What did you just say?

Reese is silent, as if she has no idea what I am talking about.

Me: Did you say 'stupid old man?' Who were you talking about?

Reese: This (points at her car seat buckle, which she has been working on buckling for 5 minutes and can't seem to work it.)

According to Avery, Reese says "Stupid old man" all the time when she's upset. I have no idea where she got this, but I blew snot out of my nose trying not to laugh at her. And then I had leftover boogers on my face, which made me laugh again.

Kids are funny.

Who Cares If It's Lame?

This morning, when Avery suggested that I buy myself a birthday cake so we could have a party after school, I told her no. I told her that most people don't buy themselves a birthday cake. She said "Why not?" And I thought...why not, indeed? Who cares if it will just be me, my kids, and the kids I drag home after school with us? This could actually be pretty fun.

Confession: I was kind of excited because I knew immediately which cake I would pick if they had it in the case at Kroger. Every time I see this, I want to have a reason to get it. And today I did.

Thanks, Ave, for making me feel like it's ok to buy my own cheeseburger and fries birthday cake!

Bad Mood? Go to Wal Mart

Who knew Wal Mart could be the happiest place on Earth? Not me, that's for sure. I normally dread trips to Wal Mart and today was no different. Plus, I've been in a perpetual state of bad-moodness for the past week or so. It's a combination of a lot of things, mostly to do with being a parent (Avery has been in some big trouble lately), some with school starting (I don't do well with change), and some with getting older (I'll be 36 tomorrow!). None of these things are big enough to ruin a person's day, but when you combine them all every day for a week, it starts to feel kinda big.
I've been trying to find ways to lift my spirits, including drinking spirits, but nothing seems to be working. My house has been a pit and sometimes, the out-of-control appearance of my house makes me feel out of control. I'm babysitting and busy, so I decided to milk my bad mood and beg my husband to hire Celia, our once-every-six-months housekeeper. (How many hyphenated words can one person use in a post?)
I should be elated. And it makes me feel like a spoiled brat that I was irritated that she was 2 hours late. I was irritated because I have Reese (2 1/2), Rhett (15 months) and the baby I keep (9 months.) I had meals, naps and poops all planned out so that I could get it all done, be gone for a couple of hours and then come back in time for one more feeding for the baby before we walk to the school to pick up Avery and other kids I'm keeping today. Ok, so she's 2 hours late. I am not going to act rude about it because it's not like she was at the mall shopping. She was cleaning someone else's house and I should be grateful I can afford to hire her (sometimes when it's my birthday week) at all. So we rolled with it.
I loaded up the kids and the baby immediately started screaming. I began to dread walking around Wal Mart with three kids under three when only two can fit in the cart and the one who can walk is notorious for hiding in stores. But the minute we walked in the door, I could tell it would be a good trip.
There was a band singing directly behind the cash registers. Actually, it was a man and two women, but they were really getting after it. The man's name is Fisher Stevenson, and according to the Wal Mart workers, he's "the next big thing." He was very social and personable and he talked to people as they walked by. He spotted Reese in her pink princess gown and tap shoes and told her she was beautiful. That's all that girl needs to hear. She stopped directly in front of him. He looked at me, asked her her name and told me she looked like Suri Cruise (2nd person in 10 minutes, by the way.) He then said "This next song is dedicated to Reese here." He asked Reese if she knew ballet and she put her hands up and twirled. He began to play and she proceeded to dance, all by herself in a circle of onlookers. She didn't stop the entire song, and a few other kids came to join. I know it's a cliche, but that girl danced like nobody was watching. And when the song ended and the group of spectators began to applaud, she came running up to me, arms wide open, with a look of pure joy on her face. It was one of "those" moments. The moments as a mother where you feel as if your heart will burst right out of your chest. One of those moments where everything else in the world fades completely away and all you can feel is happiness. I will never in my life forget Sweet Little Reesie, twirling in her "pin-thess" dress and "tippy taps," confident and secure that, at that moment she was the most beautiful, talented ballerina in the world.

The First "Real" Day

EDITED 12:29 p.m. (I forgot one more thing that made my heart swell...Avery came in after brushing her teeth this morning holding a sample of perfume. She said "Mom, I put this on since I have school today, ok? Say it with me..."Awwwwww.")


Today was the first full day of school for Kindergarten and I was surprised that it went so well. Avery couldn't wait to go and she didn't even want me to walk in with her. She said "Mom, do you have to come inside with me?" I told her no, but that I was going to do it all week and she said "I thought it was a REAL school day today?!" I obviously did not have one of those children who was clinging to my leg, begging Mom to stick around. She was more than ready to be on her own. She can't wait to eat at school ("Awesome!"), play on the playground ("So awesome!") and go to PE ("We get to do sports in the school? Awesome!"). Needless to say, she is a tad bit independent and terribly excited to get this whole ball rolling. That makes it easier, I think, to leave them.

Leaving Avery was easier than expected. Leaving the house was not. Getting all three of them dressed and fed by 7:40 proved to be a challenge. I was sweating profusely by the time we reached the school. At any rate, Reese, Rhett and I are home and wondering what to do with ourselves. Here are a few pictures of our morning.

Here's Avery, walking down our driveway. Her Pa Pa got her new school shoes and she loves them.

The little ones are pretty excited too, although they don't know why.

Here's the Kindergartener unpacking her bag. She knew right where to put everything. She was so on the ball. I asked her if she knew where her cubby was and she said "Of course, we were already here once." Duh, Mom.

This was probably my favorite moment of the morning. I promise it's not staged. Avery told Reese to come give her a hug and I was lucky enough to have my camera ready. I could cry just looking at it and thinking of Reesie's little voice as we walked out of the classroom saying, "Mom, now where do I go?" It's so hard to be the ones left behind.

This is how we left her. Sitting at her desk, waiting for all the unknown, exciting things to happen. I see a tiny bit of apprehension in her face, but she wouldn't dare admit it. That tells me is that she will miss us a little bit today. Maybe not as much as we miss her, but she'll still miss us. Won't she?

Homeschooling?

Is it too late for me to decide to keep Avery at home one more year? Or homeschool her? Just for one more year?
Today was her first day of school and they only went for about an hour while the parents listened to a bunch of procedural stuff. Basically telling us about lunch, how to pick them up after school and other general "don't-be-an-annoying-parent" stuff. And I still cried.
What is my problem? I taught Kindergarten at this school. I know the principal and many of the teachers. And I'm still a total basket case over it.
I'm not ready to let my baby girl go. I feel like, once they start school, it all goes so fast and every year is a step further away from me. I'm not ready. I'm not ready.
I realize that I can repeat that all I want, but that tomorrow will still come and she will leave me. And she can't wait.
I'm off to cry some more. And try to think of distracting things I can do tomorrow so that I won't be so lonely without her on her first full day of Kindergarten.

I Feel Sorry For Her

I don't even know this girl, but I feel sorry for her. Every time I see this ad pop up on my computer screen, I wonder if she's seen it. It's not the picture that would make me wilt, it's the caption. "She's a model now?!" Am I just being hormonal or is this mean? I feel sorry for her...and also I worry that one of my old yearbook pictures is floating around out there with the caption, "Can you believe her teeth are actually straight now?!" or "Would you believe someone married this chick?!" or "Can you believe this girl stopped wearing color-coordinated Esprit outfits with matching twist beads?" or...

Ok, so you get my drift. Yearbook pictures should stay in the yearbook, where they belong, only to be shared with your equally-dorky classmates.

Juice Bong?

What does it appear that she is doing? Maybe I'm just a raging alcoholic, but this reminds me of bonging beers in high school. That's not, of course, what she is doing, but that's immediately where my mind went, which is why I had to grab a camera.

What she is really doing is, in my opinion, still somewhat wrong. She's letting her sister use this makeshift fire hose to blow into her mouth. Ick.

And now her ear....

They are so weird. They must get this from their dad's side of the family.

Mmmmm, Cheetos

This was quite possibly the happiest moment of Rhett's week. He found his sister's Cheetos. He took them to the kitchen and ate quietly, presumably so no one would notice he was there.

He crammed them in as fast as he could, trying to savor every moment before he got caught.

Big Tuna Goes to the Doctor

So Friday was Big Tuna's 15-month Well Check appointment. It was basically uneventful except for two things.
1. We realized that he weighs a mere TWO POUNDS less than his older sister. Rhett is tipping the scales at 29 pounds, while Reese had to keep her shoes on to hit 31.
The good news is that he's a boy. There are always nose guard positions available as well as Olympic weightlifting. Also, according to the doctor, "He may look like a hunk, but he's also tall for his age, so he should weigh that much."

2. The doctor says bunk beds are a hazard. He hates them. His twin boys have them, but they've never stacked them, even though the boys are now 8 years old. He sees just too many injuries that way. He recommends leaving them unstacked for as long as possible.
Huh? Why would he mention this out of the blue? Oh yeah, the huge scrape down Rhett's back and the two busted lips from falling off of the ladder that is supposed to be under the bed, but somehow wasn't because they "wanted to play army fort and they have to get on the top."
the doctor suggested that we put the ladder in the attic. He didn't seem amused with my neglectful parenting.
I'm just glad it wasn't Reese's appointment. I would have had to tell him that she chewed through the electrical cord on the DVD player and almost shocked the hell out of herself. Can you imagine the look on his face then?
Wait...do I hear knocking at the door? Is that Child Protective Services? Uh oh. We're going out the back...

The Payback

I felt like Supermom yesterday. I'm not bragging, I promise. It only happens once in a blue moon, so I know I'm not actually Supermom. But I felt like it.
I was up at 5 so I could go jogging before Aaron left for an overnight trip. After jogging, I came in, went through my clothes so my friend could borrow the ones that don't fit me. Until they do fit me. Which hasn't happened since my children were born, but I'm sure it will happen soon. Oh wait. I quit boot camp, didn't I?
Ok, whatever, I'm still Supermom. I cleaned out the closet, then began preparing homemade biscuits for when my children woke up. One of the kids I babysit arrived around 8:30 and he was sad. Comforted him and woke Avery up to help me. Feeling great.
As Supermom, I feel that a scheduled craft will help lift every one's spirits so we make Suncatchers. The kids loved them. Score one for Supermom! Never mind the tiny beads all over the floor. I sweep it all up and send them outside to play while the Suncatchers bake in the oven.
In the meantime, the baby I keep shows up. I put her in the high chair with Cheerios and call my friend to see if her two boys want to come over to play in the water. They show up and all of my kids, plus the boy I babysit, plus the two boys are outside playing in the water. I yell out the door that I will make cookies for them to decorate after lunch. They are excited. "Way to go, Supermom!" They don't say this, but I know they were thinking it.
I realize I have no sugar cookie dough, but I have a cookbook and all the basics, so I decide to make them from scratch. Yes, from scratch. I make the cookies and refrigerate the dough as directed. I then wonder what I will make all these kids for lunch. I am not in the mood for a sandwich assembly line. Plus, I'm not sure we even have enough turkey for 6 children. I spot the hamburger I'm thawing in the sink. I had planned to make the kids and I a cheeseburger macaroni-ish casserole for dinner. I decide it makes more sense to make it for lunch. So while I clean the cookie dishes, I begin browning hamburger and cooking macaroni.
I see the clock. It's 11:00 and I've already done more in this day than I usually do in one day. Go, Supermom.
I call them inside to dry off, change clothes and wash up for lunch. They track in more grass and water than I thought possible. I sweep the kitchen floor for the second time.
Lunch is ready. They love it. Three of the kids ask for seconds. This gives me a rush, which is embarrassing.
They all eat good and I send them off to play while I bake the cookies and get the icing ready. The dough is all cold and pliable so I decide to form it in the shape of the first letter of their name. They will love this. As the cookies bake, I dye all the frosting and get all the sprinkles out. They come downstairs to see their initials and they are all excited. They can't believe it. "Way to go, Supermom." They don't say it, but I know they are thinking it.
The cookie decorating lasts a lot longer than I had anticipated and it's relatively calm and argument-free. It went very well. When they are finished, I see sprinkles, cookie crumbs and icing all over the floor. I send them off to play, bag up the leftover cookies, and begin cleaning the kitchen. I sweep the floor for the third time. It's only 1:30.
The baby wakes up (oh yeah, I fed her and put her down for a nap during all of this) and wants to be held and changed. I hold her while I gather up all the wet towels and throw them in the wash. I change Rhett, put him down for a nap and rock the baby for a bit.
The kids are all watching a movie and playing Ninja Turtle while they watch.
Once Rhett wakes up, I gather up all the kids and throw them in the car. I drop the friend's boys off at their house and the rest of us go up to the neighborhood Parcel Post to mail a package. It's closed, so I have to drive a ways to the post office. The five kids and I run in to the post office to mail a package. The trip inside takes about 4 minutes. Getting in and out of the car with five kids takes approximately 16 minutes.
We stop for drinks at Sonic and head home. The baby is asleep, so I put her in bed and tell the big kids they have to rest for a bit. That goes over like a fart in a phone booth, but I sit for a while.
Finally, it's 4:30 and the baby goes home. Then the boy. It's just my kids and me. They remind me that I promised to take them to buy more crafts for tomorrow (today). I'm exhausted, but I promised. So we go. On the way, Avery asks if we can eat dinner at a restaurant. There is one next to Hobby Lobby and I'm Supermom, so I say yes. We get to Hobby Lobby, everyone is picking out what they want and we get in the checkout lane. As I am paying, Reese walks up and says "Momma, I need new pants."
And here's where it all starts to go downhill. She has wet her pants and left a huge puddle near the checkout lanes. There are four people in line behind me and only one lane open. So everyone sees and hears what is going on. I tell the lady behind the counter and she hands me a roll of brown paper towels. These things soak up NOTHING, so I use half a roll to clean up the tee-tee. She has called the manager in the meantime, so he and all the spectators are just standing around, watching me clean my child's pee. She is standing there with wet pants, wet shoes and itchy legs, asking me for new shorts. Avery keeps saying "Mom, can we just go eat?"
We get it all cleaned up and exit the store as quickly as possible. I inform Avery that we cannot go eat since Reese has wet pants. She is immediately devastated and bursts into tears. I know she is just exhausted from all of the days' activities, so I tell her we'll go through McDonald's and get something to take home. This makes her sort of happy, but then she pushes Reese and calls her a "Doodie." We don't call names in our family (not much anyway) so I tell them we are not going to McDonald's. We are going home and eating Lunchables. Oh. My. Lord.
Don't ever tell your exhausted, whiny 5-year-old that she is eating a Lunchable, because the shit will hit the fan.
The resulting conversation went something like this. I was mortified and shocked by this whole situation, by the way. And my Supermom feeling went flying out the window, only to be replaced by the worstmotherintheworld feeling that lurks in my stomach still today.

Avery: (through tears) I'm not eating a Lunchable. I'm never eating any of your food ever again.
Me: Good, that saves us some money.
Avery: You are so mean. You are the meanest I ever saw.
Me: You haven't even seen me be mean. I suggest your zip your mouth before you see me get mean.
Avery: I have too seen mean. You are mean. I see mean every day.

I decide at this point, it's best to ignore her. She wants to rile me up and I shouldn't feed into that. But what she says next shocks me. I cannot believe this is my sweet baby girl.

Avery: You know those kids you babysit? I'm going to tell every one's mom that you are the meanest person ever and no one will bring their kids to you anymore.
You won't get to babysit. Ever.

Still ignoring.

Avery: EVER NEVER EVER NEVER EVER NEVER. You will just be alone and mean all the time!!!!!

Still ignoring. Pit in stomach has grown to the size of a small country. I turn up the radio and dance with Rhett. He is oblivious to the anger Avery is sending my way and just bangs his head against his seat to the rhythm. Reese is sucking her fingers. I say sweet things to them so they won't think everyone in the car is nuts.

Avery: Mom. Can I say sorry?

Ignore.

Avery: MOM. I WANT TO SAY SORRY. Sorry Reese. For saying you are a Doodie.

Ignoring, very purposefully now..

Avery: ANSWER ME, MOM. WHY WON"T YOU ANSWER ME???? I SAID SORRY.

Me: Avery, I don't let anyone talk to me that way, especially my 5-year-old child. I appreciate that you are sorry, but you need to realize that words hurt people and "sorry" doesn't always make it go away so quickly. I have done nothing but sweet things for you and your friends all day and the one thing I say 'No' to sends you into a huge fit. That is ridiculous and I won't tolerate it.

Avery: I'M NOT EATING A LUNCHABLE!!!

I'll stop here, even though this went on for about an hour after we got home. Avery had to spend about 40 minutes total in her room before she adjusted her attitude and came out for hugs and apologies. I did forgive her (of course), but the pit in my stomach is still there. This is what she says to me when she's angry when she's FIVE. I think it's safe to say I am scared out of my mind.

And as for the Supermom gig? Since I see how Supermom gets paid back, I have not planned any activities, meals or fun for them today. I plan to jack around on my computer while I make them clean house. Let's see how THAT mom gets treated tonight....

You're Not the Boss of Me

I quit boot camp. There, I said it. I quit boot camp. I said it again.
It's been super hard for me to admit that. I don't like to quit anything. Ever. It makes me feel like a sad loser, but I had to do it. Ok, well, I didn't have to. I wanted to. Sort of.
Honestly, I'm not sure that I really quit. In fact, tonight would have been my second night of this session and I already miss it, so I'm 99.9% sure that this is just a break. I'm not sure why I felt that I needed to, but all signs pointed to me taking a break. I've been dreading this session starting for some reason, so when my friend called to say she couldn't go Monday night and then Aaron said "I wish you weren't going tonight," it took me about 4.2 seconds to call the instructor and tell her I was sitting this session out.
I've been worried about my decision for the past three days. Even though I feel some relief and not having to go, I think I needed a break. But why did I need a break from something I loved?
I figured this much out. It wasn't just this session. I was the same way last session. So much so that I refused to do much of anything pertaining to exercise on our "off days." As if that is hurting someone else somehow. "You force me to do boot camp on Monday/Wednesday/Saturday? Well, then, I will sit on my fat ass on Tuesday/Thursday/Sunday. I will also eat junk and gain weight instead of losing. See? YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME! So there!" (For the record, I'm not sure who the YOU is in these sentences. If it is somehow me, then that means I'm telling myself that I'm not the boss of myself, which is weird because if I'm not the boss of me then that means someone else is the boss of me and I don't like when someone else bosses me. Got it?)
This is what it all boils down to for me. Once something starts to feel like something I have to do instead of something I choose to do, I don't like it anymore.
So basically, I quit boot camp because I felt forced, yet had no problem jumping out of bed to do 3 miles on the treadmill this morning because I chose to do it. (Ha ha, Self. You aren't the boss of me because I am the boss of me!)
Is anyone else starting to think that maybe therapy is another thing I shouldn't have quit?

"Making a Scoop-ture"

I love their imagination. And the way Reese says "sculpture." And the fact that she's pantless and Avery's shirtless. Or the goggles. Or the Yo-Yo Ball attached to the stair rail. Or the...

Oh, whatever. You get the idea. I think they are cute. And funny. And....somebody stop me.

The Girls from the Real O.C.

I know I've skipped a few days, but I've had good reason. One, my stupid internet connection keeps going in and out, driving me crazy while I try to write and navigate this site. So I gave up.
The other reason is a really, really good reason to take a break. Girls Weekend.
Last year, three girls I went to high school with and I decided to start a tradition. One night a year, we use my husband's Marriott points for a free night at a hotel and we just hang out. No kids, no husbands, no responsibility. We can drink and no one has to drive home, which is a good thing, because nobody drinks like girls from Osage County. (Bring your own 18 pack, iced down in a bathtub.) It's either in the water up there or it's because there's nothing else to do in that small town except backroad and drink or have sex. We will not discuss the latter. At all.
Back to Girls' Weekend. The best part about this weekend is that we are all friends who have known each other for years and years but none of us are like "best friends." We get along great and pick up right where we left off when we do see each other, but we all live in different areas of the metroplex (and one of us is still living in the O.C.) so we don't spend alot of time together. Girls' Weekend is a great time for us to catch up on each other's lives and relive past moments that no one else can understand.
This weekend was perhaps the best thing I have done in a long, long time. Without going into great, dramatic detail, I'll just say that it seems that my husband and I have hit a rough patch. Some might call it the Seven Year Itch. I don't know what I call it, but it's been tough at times. I've been frustrated, to stay the least. Until last weekend. I think I can safely say that the Girls may have just singlehandedly put our relationship back on track. Who else but your longtime girlfriends can tell you to pull your head out, stop being a victim and do something about your messed up situation? Who else but your girlfriends can make you feel instantly better about your situation because they too have been there? I took everything they said to heart and began working on the situation yesterday upon returning home.
I can guarantee one thing: My husband will never be negative about Girls' Weekend after this. I think he'd be ok with me going once a month. Yikes. Once a month with the Girls from the Real O.C.? My liver couldn't take it.

.

The Mullet

Let me start by saying that my brother is not a tool. Well, sometimes he is a tool, but only when he is trying to be but then, it's not like he's a real tool, he's just acting like a tool to be funny so that means he's not a tool. Got it?
He is also NOT the type who would ever ask to be photographed in front of a car. Ever. I made him stand there and he thought it was stupid. It probably is, but I am a tool and I don't care.

Ok, on to the meat of this post. My brother, who is not a tool, is very, um, frugal. I wouldn't say cheap, but his wife might. And he drives to the big city every two days for his job as a fireman. So you know these gas prices have been driving him insane. I'm sure he couldn't sleep at night, trying to think of a way to leave the big, gas-guzzling pickup at home. He would have ridden a horse if someone had one to loan him. Or tried to find a way to use the horse's turds as fuel for the gas-guzzling pickup he has to have for his on-the-side painting gig. I know him and I bet he mentioned the price of gas every single time he had to drive to work. Every 48 hours.

And then he found The Mullet. He found this car, which, according to him, gets "unbelievable gas mileage" and he drives it to and from work. I have no idea what year this car was made or even what kind it is. I don't know where Josh got it, but someone took the time to lovingly adorn the words "THE MULLET" to the back of it. I can't imagine why. Except that maybe this car looks like the type of car a dude with a mullet would drive?

I made him pose for the above photo. He chose to pose for this next one. He said "I'll pretend I'm in high school and just got my first car." So maybe he is a tool. But in his defense, he gets it from me.

If you knew my brother, you would know how stupidly funny this is. If you don't know him you just think he's a tool. That's ok, but he's not. He just has a really good sense of humor, especially about himself. He can never be accused of taking himself too seriously.

Check out the front license plate the guys at the fire station made for him.

Ok, I don't know why it says Dirty White Boy. But I do know why there is a Huskie dog on the left. Our high school's mascot is the Huskies. So there's that. And they drew it with funny, gap teeth because even though my brother is adorable, he's been convinced that he has messed up teeth, so they made the Huskie have messed up teeth. The picture on the right is of my brother sweating. Because they've never seen anything like the way he sweats. (Our whole family does this and as a woman, it's humiliating. I'm the only one at wedding receptions who has to change clothes and dry her hair between songs.) Look back at the first pictures. The wet all over Josh's shirt is sweat from working in the yard. For about 15 minutes. So I guess the fire station guys make fun of him for that, too.

"The Real O.C" is for Osage County, which is where we are from. And it is the real O.C. If you don't believe me, just go there.

In case you can't tell, I got a kick out of the whole thing. Saturday night, we were going to go toilet papering in The Mullet, but then realized it was 2 a.m. and decided to be responsible and go to bed. Plus, it's not the most inconspicuous car in the world. I wish I had one.

Updates!

1. JF wins the Lovely toilet water because she is the only person who cares.





2. We are back from Oklahoma and I'm swimming in laundry and snuggling my baby boy, who I missed severely, any free moment I have, so I'm not posting much today.





3. My sweet nephew, RJ, is perfect. He gave everybody quite a scare and had to stay in the hospital for a few extra days, but he is at home now, doing very well. So is his momma.


Here's a picture. Couldn't you just eat him up?





That's his momma's hand. She can't stop touching him. Can you blame her?

More on our "Girls' trip" home (Rhett was sick and stayed home with Daddy) later. Including a picture of my adorable brother with his Mullet. Stay tuned!

Ghetto Giveaway

First let me make something clear. I'm not going to start doing giveaways all the time. One, because I don't have alot of money or crap to giveaway and two, I'm not trying to increase traffic on this site. Both of those seem to be important elements of the blog giveaway.
BUT, in this case, I have something I need to get rid of, I've already offered it to my sister, my sister in law already has it, and I don't know who else likes it.
What is it? A one-squirt-used 1.7 oz bottle of Sarah Jessica Parker's LOVELY.
I just got it...it's $52 at Sephora but I can't return it because I opened it and took ONE SQUIRT. I love, love ,love the way it smells in the bottle. And on the sample squirty sheet they give you. But when I put it on me, it stinks to high heaven. If you don't believe me, ask my husband. He agreed that I STUNK when I wore it.
SOOOOO who wants it? I will do a random drawing amongst the comments left for me while I"m in Oklahoma this weekend. Which means you have until Monday afternoon to get those comments in.
I know it's ghetto, but it's an almost brand new bottle of perfume that I can't do anything with. So take it off my hands and enjoy. If it stinks on you, toss it. It's not like you paid for it.

He's Finally Here!

Baby RJ arrived at 5:18 p.m. today, July 31. He was 7 lbs 12 oz and 20 inches long. I hear he is perfect and his mommy is doing great! I'm still waiting on some good pictures (not on my cell phone) and it's KILLING me not to be there. I can't wait until Saturday when I can snuggle him all I want to!

Children of the Corn

As many of you know, I love pranks. Just about any kind of prank, as long as it doesn't cause real damage to anyone's property. As a kid, I spent many, many summer and weekend nights playing night games (Kick the Can, etc), toilet papering, and playing Ding-Dong-Ditch, only we didn't call it that because we were from a small town in Oklahoma and didn't know any better.


And here's my confession: I still love doing all of these things. I don't do them very often, but every once in a while, if my friends and I are kid free after a few cocktails, we pretend we are in junior high. I know some people think it's immature and stupid. And maybe it is, but it's virtually harmless and there is nothing like running down the street, laughing as hard as you can in the middle of the night. I don't care what age you are. That's some good fun.


Anyway...I have some friends who are of the same mind set. And the other night during our poker tournament, one of the guys suggested that we go "get into some trouble" after the poker tournament. I wanted to, but didn't think it was fair of me to leave my husband at home with the kids while I went out running the streets, so I declined.


About 40 minutes later, at approximately 1 a.m., our doorbell rang. And this is what we saw:


That's corn. In the husks. These dear friends of ours went to a nearby cornfield, pulled out at least 20 ears of corn and dropped it on our front step. Inside the door. Why? Because they could. And they knew we would laugh. I still laugh every time I sweep up one of those hairy things that comes from inside the husk. I love a good prank. This was my first "corning" in all my 35 years of life. I haven't decided if I will add it to my own reportoire, but it's always nice to have new ideas just in case.


Baby update: It's going to be a long day, according to my brother in law. What a surprise. My mom, sister and I must have the coziest uteruses (uteri?) in the world. Those babies love it in there!

I Can't Sleep

Actually, this is nothing new, but tonight I have a very good reason for the insomnia. My baby sister is getting ready to go to the hospital to be induced. This means that, if all goes well, we should have a new baby boy sometime tomorrow. All I can think about is her anxiety and nervousness right now, as she strolls around Wal Mart, killing time until they can be admitted. And how there will soon be a whole new person in our family that wasn't there before. It's so exciting and amazing and a miracle! And I have to wait two whole days to meet this little miracle. Aaarrrrgggghhhh! What will I ever do to occupy my time until I get to snuggle that sweet boy and smell his newborn head?
OH yeah, that's right. My own three kids. And those extras I babysit. THAT'S why I'm not at my sister's side right this very second! Wait. I'm not sure she ever invited me. Hey, why didn't she invite me to the birth of her child? NO fair! (I'm just kidding. I just know she loves it when I make stuff all about me when really it's not at all!)

So, send some happy thoughts in the direction of northern Oklahoma if you get a chance. Maybe something like "Good Luck Lauren, hope this one isn't 10 pounds!" She'll like that.

Half Empty/Half Full

Things I love about today (so far):

1. It's raining. Which means no slip n' slide in the backyard, which means no water/grass/mud track-in to be cleaned.
2. It's raining. Which means lots of snuggle-buggles on the couch, reading books and watching Cinderella.
3. Just got an email from Bath and Body Works. Today only special: Sugar scrubs for $9 each. I'm stocking up for gifts. Everyone I know will be getting a sugar scrub for their birthday/Christmas/Columbus Day gift this year.
4. I only have one child to babysit and it's the baby. Which means a quiet, calm, lazy day. I'm still in my jammies, in fact.
5. We had pancakes for breakfast. What is it about making pancakes for breakfast that makes it seem like a special day?
6. Wednesday is trash day. Which means a clean slate. No trash in the house for at least 30 minutes. Ah, smell the clean.

Things I don't love about today:
1. It's boot camp day. And since it probably won't be 104 degrees outside because of the rain, we'll have to run. A LOT. Right now, I'm not in the mood. Being in your jammies does NOT conjure up fantasies of running and sweating.
2. Kids inside all day. They will be bored by 2:00 p.m. And I'm babysitting, so we can't go anywhere to relieve our cabin fever.
3. The dishwasher is broken. So I can't run it. And it's full. I don't like handwashing forks and spoons. I think they need to be washed in steaming hot water so as to remove the cooties from all the licking.
4. Rhett AND the baby are poopy. So much for my deliciously clean, no-trash smelling house.
5. It's raining, so all the cornhusks in the backyard are wet and soggy. It looks disgusting and it's attracting birds. There are approximately 20 black birds in our backyard as we speak.
Why is there corn in our backyard? Answer will be posted tomorrow. Ah, the suspense!


Six to five? Not bad. That means that, so far, my glass is half full. Here's to keeping it that way! Have a good one.

What is the Deal with Target?

Seriously, what is Target's problem? First off, about two years ago, they started that new return policy where you can only return two things without a receipt per year. Which sucks royally when you get four of the same crib sheet at a baby shower, but can only return two of them. Unless you already returned a pair of shorts and a shirt three months earlier.
I actually boycotted them for about 6 months over that one. I mean, I totally get that there are people out there who steal things and then try to return them for cash. But that can't be a huge percentage of the total of Target shoppers can it? Here we are again, with 95% of the population being punished for the actions of the other loser, deadbeat 5%.
Nevermind that Wal Mart has the same issues, but they happily accept returns without a receipt. They just give a Wal Mart gift card instead of a cash refund. Seems to make everyone happy. Sure, Wal Mart probably loses every once in a while when some white trash thief tries to return a pair of socks he never actually paid for, but they have a column on the tax forms for just that thing. It's called write-offs. And apparently, Wal Mart has decided that they would rather keep their customers happy and run the risk of losing a few bucks here and there. I like Wal Mart.
Sadly, though, Target has nicer stuff than Wal Mart. And I love Target. But after yesterday's fiasco at the Customer Service (they should call it the Customer Frustration counter), I'm thinking of going back on the boycott. I know they don't care, but man. It's so irritating.
I finally accepted that I would always have to have a receipt. Got it. If I can't find my receipt, I don't even try. I donate whatever it was that I bought that didn't fit/had a hole/etc. I just chalk it up as a loss. But yesterday, I had the receipts. I had everything I needed and it was STILL a huge, huge hassle. I had written a check for one of the items 7 days earlier and they let me know that I could only get a Target Gift Card as my refund choice. Because I wrote a check. Because I couldn't find my debit card. Do they not realize that a check is the same as cash? I understand that a check has to clear before they can do a return, but it had been 7 days since it cleared and besides that, on my bank statement, it said "electronic check" which means it cleared pretty darn quickly from my account. So, if I wanted to go buy something with that money somewhere else, I can't. I have a $114 Gift Card from Target. Nice, right?
But that's not even the worst part. Apparently, I had paid cash (debit card) for one of the items, so they credited my debit card $21.58. Easy, right? Yeah, well, this morning when I went to reconcile my bank statement I noticed that these Target Customer Frustration people had, indeed, credited my account. But 3 transactions later, they debited the same amount. So I'm back to zero on that one. And I called them to tell them and of course, I have to find all applicable receipts and a copy of my bank statement (which would be no biggie if my printer was working right) detailing the problem and then bring it out to them and they will "see what they can do." I can't wait for this one.
Of course, I'm babysitting two kids and I'm not about to go get screwed at Target with 5 kids in tow, so we'll just have to wait until I have some free, kid-less time before I can deal with this. That's hard for my impatient anal-retentive brain to handle, because if I can't deal with it until I'm kid-free, I may not have this problem resolved for the next 3 months. And if you know me at all, you know that an unresolved problem, even one that only involves $21.58, can keep me up at night. Thank God for Ambien.


Update: Sweet Husband is taking care of it. His exact words were "I'll handle this tonight when I get home. You don't worry another second about it." I love that guy.

Diary of a Bad Mommy (Volume 8)

So, my latest money-making scheme isn't a scheme. It's good old-fashioned work. Babysitting, to be exact. I've been keeping a 5-year-old boy 3 days a week and a little baby girl just sporadically. It's not too bad. Some days are a bit more, um, long, than others, but I LOVE having my own money. Don't get me wrong. My husband gives me a nice, plentiful "allowance" on payday every two weeks, but it pretty much just covers groceries, gas and the barest of essentials. Groceries for a family of five is, as you probably know, not cheap. So if I want to shop at Sephora or Old Navy, it cuts into our grocery budget and then I have to ask my husband for money as if I am his kid. "Daddy can I please have some Smashbox primer and eyeliner?"
But I digress. The real issue today is that I spent all my money. And then some. I got paid on Friday and went to buy groceries for our poker tournament. And then, in a rare moment of solitary shopping, went to the mall and blew some more of "my own money." I'm completely broke. COMPLETELY. If I was in college, this would be the time I would run down to the strip and donate some plasma to make it through the rest of the week.
I don't mind being broke. Especially when I have lots of "pretties" in the closet to look at. But I woke up this morning, realizing we were running out of milk. And diapers for Reese and Rhett.
Is that the sign of a deadbeat mom or what? I spent all my money on fancy baubles for myself and now the babies ain't got no milk or diapers? Dang, I feel like such a loser.
So, in order to sort of redeem my status as a decent mother, I'm off to Target to return some of the least necessary items so I can trade them in for diapers and milk.
And then I will sit in the corner in shame and embarrassment for the rest of the day.

Born To Be Wild

TGIF!!!

P.S. I know it's so lame to say TGIF. It's one of those things no one should ever say, like "TTFN!" (Ta Ta for Now, ala Tigger) or "Any-who." I just couldn't think of anything else. And, as we all know, I'm a real nerd at heart.
Any-who, TGIF. TTFN.
Lylas, BFF!

Jon & Kate Plus 8

My sister-in-law, April, has been hounding me for months to watch Jon & Kate Plus 8. She and my brother, Bo, have called me on more than one occasion to tell me that something about Kate reminds them of me. (They really do think that...it's not that I think I'm a TV star or an awesome mom-it's that THEY think that!) In fact, when we stayed in a hotel about a month ago just for fun, Bo emailed me and said "Did you get that idea from Kate?" and I honestly didn't know who or what he was talking about. (By the way, my friend Misty and her daughter also think I'm like Kate, but they don't hound me about it!)
Anyway, back to the show. I finally recorded several of the shows and have had a chance to sit down and watch two of them. First of all, let me just say that if I had eight children, I'd be an emotional train wreck. I would be yelling at everyone, all the time and I would NOT look as cute as Kate does on a daily basis. But, I think I see what they are talking about. Some of the things are wonderful and I'm extremely flattered that anyone would think that I was like that. And others, well, sometimes the truth hurts. I'm breaking it down both for you, for Bo and April, but also for me. It's kind of a fun "Look in the mirror" for me to see how someone else views me.
Here are the things I've noticed about Kate:
(I do acknowledge that this is a completely self-absorbed, narcissistic post, but for me, writing is a form of self-expression that helps me work through my thoughts. Besides that, what's more narcissistic than writing a blog about yourself, assuming that people will read? I do that every day, so how much more damage can I really do?)
I'll start with the differences.
1. Kate wears makeup all the time. Right this second, I not only have no makeup on, but my hair looks like a combed it with an egg beater because I still haven't tamed it from bed. I also have a face full of zits. She may have makeup people to cover hers, but I haven't seen any.
2. Kate has lost most of, if not all, of her baby weight. She looks adorable. I am still 26 pounds overweight.
3. Kate has 8 children. She loses her patience like I do, but with 8 children. I lose mine with THREE. Sheesh.
4. I've never heard Kate cuss. I talk filthy. Not in front of my children (at least not much), but I have a bad habit I can't seem to get rid of.


Here are the similarities, as I see it.
1. Kate has short blond hair. I also have short blond hair. Like her, I try to keep it "in style" and not too boring or house-wifeish.
2. Kate is married to Jon. I am married to Aaron, but they are so similar, it's scary. They are both super nice, both hate to show emotion, both love their and help with them more than their dads did, and they both put up with a lot of shit (see? Why the cuss word?)because they married women who were bolder, more opinionated, more outgoing, and well, just MORE.
3. I've heard several people say they think Kate is a bitch. I imagine that some people also think I'm a bitch. I sometimes speak before I think and am too brutally honest sometimes. I can be gruff and unthinking. I can be insensitive, and I talk to my kids pretty much the way I talk to adults, sans cussing. If I'm frustrated, everyone knows it.
4. Kate has a tendency to boss or talk down to her husband. I do this too. I think it comes from dealing with kids all day. You get used to barking orders and expecting things to get done in a hurry. Not to mention that Jon and Aaron both have a tendency to "not notice" things that need to be done.
5. Kate has an idea in her head about how things should be done. She likes for things to be organized and efficient and expects everyone in the household to follow suit. Ditto.
6. Sometimes Kate yells at her kids when they are all screaming, fighting or whining. She feels bad afterward and will often apologize and tear up over it. Me too.
7. Kate loves being at home and on a recent ski trip, she was most excited about staying in the cabin and doing laundry all day. That's how I am, too. I love to clean, I love to do laundry and I have bread baking in the oven right now. I am honored to be a "housewife."

See? Some bad, some good. I'm sure there is more, but I'm only on my third episode.
There, April. Are you happy? Not only have I watched the show, but I've used it as a tool for self-awareness and introspective analyzing. I've also found a way to make a show that has nothing to do with me, somehow, all about me. Is that what you thought I'd do?

What's So Funny?

I find this picture hilarious. I'm not sure, but I think it's the outfit. I don't normally dress him in muscle shirts, but this was on sale at Target. Each piece was $2.08...so if he never wears it again, I'm not out much. And I have to tell you, I may not ever put it on him again - unless I need a good laugh.
I can't decide what it is. Knit black shorts? No, they are fine. I think it's the shirt. I think he looks like he should be working on a car in his front yard. Or watching NASCAR on TV while drinking an original Coors from the can. Or yelling at his wife with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

But then again, sometimes Rhett reminds me of Chris Farley. When I look at this picture, I feel like I'm watching an old episode of SNL. Of course, my baby is much, much cuter, (and not strung out on cocaine and fried cheese) but think about Farley in that sleeveless shirt in the Chippendale's sketch, right before he stripped. Identical, right?

I also love that he's saying "Cheese!" like his sisters do, but it sounds like "Yeeeee!" Of course, only I know that's what he said. And that that's why he put his hands up to his chest in a "look at how awesome I am" gesture.

Whatever "it" is, I love it. It makes me smile. I hope you at least get a small grin out of it.
Happy Wednesday!

Is It The HULK?

Nope, just Big Tuna having a cupcake!

Check This Out

I recently received a request from the creator of http://onmyperch.blogspot.com/, asking if she could feature my crafts on her page...go check it out. There is a giveaway today for one of the door signs! Besides that, it's a really cool site...she basically shops and tells you about stuff you should probably buy. I'm shocked and honored that she picked me as one of her features.

p.s. When should I expect the paparazzi?

What is Wrong With This Picture?

If you guessed "The baby is on the stairs but the gate is still up," you are correct! This crazy boy can climb over the gate. It's not easy for him...the bottoms of his toes are bleeding from holding onto those white criss-crossy things, but he is determined to get up there.
I didn't expect this. The girls never even tried to cross the gate. They never tested child-proof cabinet locks either. Rhett will work them until he's in. He can get into the cleaners under the cabinets with no problem. He can also get into the one that has all the Ziploc bags in it. At least twice a week, our kitchen floor is covered with various sizes of Ziploc bags. What's funny to me is, that when I tell him "No," he'll stop. In fact, he won't even attempt the cabinet with the cleaners anymore. But the Ziploc cabinet? He heads for it at least once a day, no matter how many times I say "No." Same with the stairs.
We finally removed the gate because he already understands that he has to go down backward, which makes me feel a teeny tiny bit more comfortable. I'm sure my heart will start beating regularly in about 6 months.
Is this how it always is with boys? I don't know if I can take it. Of course, I don't really have a choice. I'm not putting him back, that's for sure!

The Bra Story

I'm not sure why I titled this story "The Bra Story." As if someone who is a 36DD has only one bra story. So, while there may, indeed, be another bra story down the road, this one, for now is "the bra story."
A few months ago, I was watching an Oprah rerun about bras fitting well and how wearing the wrong bra can make you look fatter. As a person who is always looking for an easy way to look slimmer, I thought "Aha! That's my problem. My bra is the wrong size!" (Not sure how wearing the wrong bra can make your belly spill over your waistband, but if Oprah says it will make me look slimmer, I believe it.) All of the ladies were fitted by a bra professional at Nordstrom. I don't normally shop at Nordstrom, but I wanted the right bra and the right fit, so I went. I thought that I would get fitted, find out my correct size and maybe buy a bra. I normally buy mine from One Hanes Place at about $20 each because they are "slightly irregular" but if I had to buy one $40 bra to get a good fit, I would do so. Plus, I need a black one for something I'm wearing that night, so it will be a good excuse to have to buy one.
I walk into the bra department and am immediately approached by a very nice looking young girl. I tell her I'm afraid I'm wearing the wrong size and I want a good bra. She is all too happy to help. We go to the back and I strip to my bra so she can measure me. She immediately says "Well, I can see one problem right now. This bra is very old and the elastic is all stretched out. You definitely need to update your bra." Okie dokey. Slightly embarrassing when you are standing there half nude, but I can handle it. I need to look slimmer. I will tolerate anything to look slimmer.
She finishes measuring me and states that I am, in fact, a 36DD. Which is what I'm wearing now. That cost $13.99 from One Hanes Place. Crap. I'm wearing the right size. Which means that, not only is this a wasted trip, but I'm going to have to buy a more expensive bra just because I don't want to be rude. Oh well. I need the black one anyway. Plus, a bra is a bra, right? I mean, just because it's Nordstrom doesn't mean their bras are all expensive, right? I mean, the most expensive bra I've ever seen is a Wacoal at Macy's and it was like $38. I can handle that once.
Ok, so salesgirl asks me what my preference is...seamless? Strapless? (hell no.) lacy? Plain? I tell her I don't need anything fancy, but I do prefer seamless. You know, when you are wearing a tight knit halter, you need a seamless look.
She offers me a drink before I leave. Diet Coke? Water? They may even have some wine in the back, would I like for her to check? Just water, thank you.
She comes back fairly quickly with the water and 5 or 6 bras in my size. She makes me show her each one, which is, again, slightly embarrassing, but whatever. She is constantly bringing more bras, and after trying on about 73 different ones, I decide on the first black one that I had tried. Which I had told her I loved. But she wanted to make sure. So we're both sure now, and I say I'll take this one. I didn't look at the price tag because of course, a bra can't be more than $40 and I'm prepared to bite the bullet and spend it because I need it and it is a nice bra.
She tells me that they recommend that you buy a nude one and a black one. I'm ashamed to admit that, at this moment, I was intimidated by the Nordstrom brand. I was embarrassed to admit that I could only afford one bra; in fact, I couldn't even afford the one. I was only buying it so as not to seem cheap for coming in to get fitted and drink their water only to say "Ok, thanks, I'll go buy one at Target now." So I caved. I said I would take one of each. $80 on bras? What will Aaron say? He'll say, 'Holy Shit, $80 for bras?'" Oh well, maybe he'll start to seriously consider getting me that breast reduction when he hears about this.
I dress and go out to the checkout counter, where she is happily wrapping my bras in lovely silver tissue paper. No one has ever wrapped my bras before. I could get used to this.
"That will be $148.36 (I don't know the exact cents, so I made up the 36)."
"What's that?" I say, certain that I've heard her wrong.
"$148.36."
For the love of all that is holy, did she just tell me that two bras is more than our weekly grocery budget?
I stay cool. "Ok, here's my card." I act as if I spend $70 per bra every day of the week. As if I have all the money in the world and I'm not giving this a second thought. In reality, I'm worried sick...do I even have that much in my checking account right now? How in the hell will we buy groceries next week? How can I get out of this without embarrassing myself?
I can't see any way out of this without feeling like a total douche, so I just pay and walk out of the store. I feel totally sick to my stomach. And then it hits me. I'll just return them later. But I never have alone time to shop at the mall. Could I send Aaron to the store later this week to return them? I can, but he's not going to like returning bras.
So, do you want to know what I did? I decided that since I needed the black one, I'd just keep it. I would never spend that much on one bra, but I needed it for that night and it should last a long time, so I kept it. I wash it lovingly by hand and only wear it when I have to wear a black bra.
Do you want to know what happened to the nude bra?
I went outside, got in my car and drove around to the men's department downstairs. And returned it at the Diesel counter.
Three lessons I learned from this experience:
1. Always look at the price tag. There are people who will actually pay exorbitant amounts for everyday items, such as bras and underwear, so don't assume anything.
2. I need a boob job so I can buy cute little flimsy bras at Wal Mart and Target. Feel free to send donations. Just think...if each of you donated $1 a day (just substitute my boob money for the money you are currently sending to feed the starving children in Africa), I'd probably have enough money for a breast reduction and lift in oh, about 3 years.
3. If you are fat, you will look fat, even if you wear an overpriced, $70 bra.

The Ant Farm

Well, it's happened. I have finally lost my mind. I did the unthinkable. I ordered Avery an ant farm.
Now, I realize owning an ant farm isn't necessarily an unusual thing. They sell them, after all, so obviously people buy them. In fact, our friends had one a couple of months ago and suggested we get one. I said "HELL NO" even though it looked sort of interesting.
Let me explain why this is unthinkable to me. I hate ants. Not that anyone loves them, but after a very terrifying incident about 10 years ago, I really really really hate them. I found out the hard way that I am severely allergic to certain types of fire ants. When I say severely, I mean the Epi-pen carrying, throat closing, death kind of allergic. I'm not trying to be dramatic, but I don't want to die, so I usually avoid ants at all costs.
So then...why did I purchase a death farm? Because I'm a selfless, loving mother who would rather risk life and limb making my children happy than see them be unhappy. Ok, seriously... Aaron gets points for doing good things at work and then he can use them to go shopping on his company's website. We've gotten some pretty cool things this way, so I was excited to shop when he told me he had points. Everybody got at least one thing and as I searched for something that Avery would love, I came across this ant farm. I passed over it twice before I came back to it. I couldn't find anything else she would go nuts over and I knew she would like this. I decided to swallow my own fear and selfishness and order the dadgum thing.
And you know what? It's just as I thought. They are completely and totally enthralled by this thing. And I am obsessed about making sure no ants get out. One did get out through the airhole this morning and now I'm vigilant about watching those little suckers. The surprising thing, to me is this: once you start watching, those things are interesting. Not just to the kids, either. They work constantly, carrying that gel from one area to the other. It's pretty fascinating.
One thing you need to know though: Read the directions before you go collect ants. A coupon to send off for harvester ants comes with the kit, but it can take up to 6 weeks to receive and if it's too hot outside, they won't send them because they'll die. It's hotter than Hell down here right now, so I'm guessing the ants wouldn't make it 2 minutes in a box in the back of a mail truck. But the directions say you can collect your own ants from outside so we decided to go that route.
Now, ordinarily, any time I'm sitting outside, I see ants everywhere. They crawl on our food, on our feet and on the babies. I call the Terminix guy regularly to come get rid of the ants. They are EVERYWHERE. Unless you are looking for them. We sat outside for 15 minutes last night, trying to find ants. We found four tiny ones. One died almost immediately (I think I squished him a bit when I picked him up.) and the other three were pretty useless. I was starting to think we should go ahead and wait until fall to get the harvesters if we wanted to see some real action.

This morning, I decided to go out back to see if I could find some bigger ones. Jackpot. I found at least 5 really big hard workers. (Well, they could be fat and lazy for all I know, but they looked pretty busy to me.) I put them in the farm and they went nuts. And then, they started attacking the smaller ants that we had collected last night. Apparently, if you are going to have an ant farm, they all need to be from the same colony. And apparently, the Front Yard Colony and the Back Yard Colony are not only different, but they have an ongoing fued. It was brutal to watch. (Actually, it was funny...they actually pummel each other with their little tiny feet....it looks like they are punching the guy.)
I told my sister about the ant farm this morning and she said "Yeah, remember on the movie 'Antz?' The colonies don't get along." Wouldn't you know it? The one movie I haven't seen all the way through. "A Bug's Life," if I remember correctly, never addresses the ant colonies. So it's all my fault that the Front Yard Colony lost a few good men this morning.
Anyway, if your kids are bored this summer, may I suggest that you invest in an ant farm? It's kept the kids occupied for a good hour this morning. Just make sure you get all your ants from the same spot. Or not. Depends on how bored you are. And how much violence you allow your children to see. We are pretty PG-13 around here, so a little mild ant violence is ok with us. In fact, I may run out to the front and see if the FYC has any more fighters out there. Hey, it's summer...nothing but reruns on TV. You gotta create your own entertainment!

Name That Movie

Guess what movie the girls saw this weekend? Their daddy took them Saturday night and this is all I've seen and heard since....

FYI-In case you can't tell, the sound effects are all Reese. That piercing "Hoy-ya!" is about one decibel away from piercing my left eardrum.

P.S. WHY IS IT SIDEWAYS? It wasn't sideways when I filmed it, saved it, or downloaded it, but when I save it, it becomes sideways? I'm starting to think I'm not cut out for this....

Happy Friday

I didn't snap this picture myself...I got it from that OMG! Webpage that always pops up on Yahoo! Entertainment. It made me laugh out loud. Mainly because I assume that Jim Carrey is just being silly, but then again, he's kind of an odd duck, so maybe not. (Even if he's joking, why isn't Jenny McCarthy reacting? If it were me, I'd be holding a sign letting the world know that THIS IS A JOKE!)

Anyway, then I started thinking about how Hollywood seems like they sort of pioneer funky fashion crazes and what if guys all over see this and think it's the new style and begin to wear it? Then I pictured my husband in it. I love that man to death, but Jeez Louise, he is hairy...this "outfit" would most certainly emphasize some of his hairier parts.

Ah well, I lead a rich fantasy life. He won't put on a Speedo on a dare, so this ain't ever gonna happen.

Enjoy the pic anyway (picture someone you're fighting with wearing this and you'll have to crack a smile!) and have a Happy Friday!