oops, I forgot

In the midst of well, everything, I forgot to share a picture of my little weirdos on Halloween.  

Here they are hiding their true identities and about to embark on their journey of demanding the neighbors give them stuff for free.  

Kind of reminds me of some other things going on these days.  I’m just sayin’…

psst…

I found my dream home!  It’s a beautiful, historic home that needs ‘just a little’ restoration.  It is one of those ‘my grand kids can come visit me here’ kind of houses!  Look at that porch and those trees!  Oh, I’m getting drunk off the thoughts of sipping sweet tea on the porch in the Spring whist I glisten in the sun.*  It is just a tad out of my price range, listed at 1.3 million.  And, it is nowhere near where hubby could get a good job, but whatever! What do ya say?  Are ya’ll ready to help me bust out of this drafty, unfriendly subdivision?  In an effort to move along the process I’ve decided to take up a collection.  You can contribute to the purchase of my dream house by making a donation at www.nofreakinwaythatisgoingtohappen.com  
I’ll just wait here while you grab the checkbook…

*As my friend RM informed me this past summer: Southern girls don’t sweat, they glisten.  Well, I’m technically a Yankee with hot flashes, but dag-nabit, I can sure as hell fake a glisten!

What I learned on a typical weekend

I am relieved to say that this weekend was rather uneventful for our circus of a household.  But, even though we didn’t have any infectious cat bites I certainly learned a few interesting things.  
I learned that my cat Isa, the nice one that didn’t bite me, is so fat that when she is sprawled in my lap she can support the weight of Macbook without being affected or put out in any way. She stayed there comfortably for about 30 minutes before her enormous girth was too much for even me.  

I learned that there is no way to get a four year old and a three year old to agree on a pumpkin face unless you let daddy draw it and then shout ‘back up!  there’s knives everywhere!’  Meet Wally Scary, our pumpkin graciously named by our children.  
I also learned that even tricycles can be dangerous and it is a good thing we make the kids wear helmets.  We took the kids to the park today to practice riding bikes.  We did this mainly to ease my mind from the weird anxiety I have about my kids lacking the strength and skills to pedal.  Mia freaked out when the wind blew and felt she was going too fast.  She stopped riding.  Jacob gave it a bit more effort, but gave up for good reason.  Did you know that tricycles don’t have brakes?  Jacob discovered this after he began to pedal, couldn’t stop, and flew over the edge of the trail and into a small ravine.  I don’t have pictures of this because, well, I’m just not that bad of a mother.  He fell about 6 or 7 feel and landed flat on his face.  He emerged with no injuries and a new hatred for his tricycle.  We came home and practiced riding more in the driveway and hubby informed me that the only way our children could be so bad with steering and balance is if they had been eating paste or were drunk.    I really wanted to agree.  
The weekend is almost over and Monday will be here soon enough.  I’m sure next week will bring a whole new load of craziness…in costumes! 

The power of OJ

After a day of heavy drinking it was time for Charlotte to make some phone calls…


“I love you, Man!”

the mind of an artist

My precious daughter, Mia, is our little artist.  Since an early age she has shown an interest in coloring, painting, crafts, and all the creative aspects of a kid world.  Recently she has started drawing.  She is creating her own pictures through her mind’s eye.  As a mother I think this is just wonderful.  I think it is great to have original works of art to hang on the fridge that were completely and totally made from scratch and without any real rules or direction.  Today she brought home this lovely picture…


Me:  Mia, this is beautiful.  

Mia: Yea, I drew that at school today. 
Me: Well, I think it’s fancy!  But, why are the people frowning?
Mia:  Because they are sad.
Me:  And, why are they sad?
Mia:  Because they lost their parents.
Me:  What do you mean they lost their parents?
Mia:  Well, their parents were fired!
Me: Like from a job?
Mia:  No, mommy!  They were in a fire with smoke detectors and stuff and they got fired!
Hey, I just claimed to like the drawing.  I never claimed to actually understand art.  

now there’s something I never thought I’d say

“Get your penis out of the freezer and go put your clothes on!”

Can’t make it to the crib

Screw it!  I’ll just crash in the hallway.  Mommy will find me eventually.  

I doubt the diaper company will appreciate this promo

Right around 4:00 at our house begins what I lovingly call ‘rush hour.’  This is the crazy time of day when the kids are tired, hungry, unable to decide anything for themselves, and totally anxious for Daddy to come home.  It is also the time when the phone seems to ring, something drops or gets broken, mommy has reached sensory overload, and someone always poops.  
Today it was the baby.  She was crawling around the kitchen and I noticed the foul odor.  When I looked down at her it appeared that the power of her poop has caused the first diaper wedgie I had ever seen.  Now, a good mother would have thought something like, “Oh, poor baby.  You probably feel icky in that diaper.  Here, let mommy put down whatever she’s in the middle of and change your diaper immediately.  I wouldn’t want you to get a rash or anything.”
See, I’m not a good mother.  I decided it was funnier to just follow her around the house and take pictures of the baby wedgie.  The more she moved, the deeper it got, and the more I laughed.  

Yep.  That’s the kind of mother I am.  
**For those that may be worried, I did change her diaper…shortly after I was done taking pictures of her chubby ass!

Blast from the past!

I got a newsletter from my high school alumni association the other day.  I chuckled when I saw it in the mailbox.  As a means to share my chuckle, I thought I’d show my Senior portrait.  Yep.  The year was 1997.  The hair was curly.  The girl was odd.  And, the teeth, apparently, were big.  Would I ever go back?  No.  Do I miss it?  Not really.  Did I skip the 10 year reunion?  You better freakin believe I did!

Thanks for the laugh, high school photo and newsletter.  I feel like I should be showing an ‘after’ photo here, but that would be like one of those emails where you have to turn the volume up real loud, stare at the screen, and then something jumps out and makes you pee your pants.  No, thanks.  It’s not laundry day.  

My daughter is the outbreak monkey

And, she didn’t arrive with a younger, cuter Patrick Dempsey playfully going by the name Jimbo.  No, she just came with her own version of a virus.  Where’s my damn antidote!??

I am dying to take a bath in Lysol and have developed a serious hatred for the Activa yogurt folks.  Occasional irregularity is a freakin‘ joy compared to what is happening within the quarantine of this house.  
School is officially back in session.  It is time for the continuous exchange of the creepy crud. Even if it is only preschool, both will be bringing home every bacteria, virus, and snot case known to man.  I’ll be investing in the orange juice farms of sunny Florida and taking stock in the tissue company before ya know it! 
I’m considering life as a hermit…
I tend to get a bit dramatic when I’m sick.  It’s a gift.