Tuesday, August 18, 2009

New blog site

To get to my new blog go to http://jlakec.wordpress.com (or click here & bookmark it).

I was able to import all the posts and comments from this blog. I'm still working on the format and sidebar items.

The biggest change is that I'm discontinuing the nicknames. I'm outing by name in two days unless you speak up before then.

Crap, I have to go make dinner now.

I'm moving

The blog that is. I'm switching to Wordpress. It will take me a few days of messing around to get it up. I'm not tech savvy . The title will still be "I'm really not that busy." I may post a few more things here before I'm ready to make the move. Just stay tuned.

The most annoying toy EVER

Most mom's would pin that title on a different item. Like maybe one of those V-Tech toys that periodically talk even when no one is the room (or has touched the toy for three days). Or possibly a board game like Mousetrap that looks cool and then ends up leaving your kid in tears because it's hard to put together, doesn't really work, and you end up screaming a profanity and throwing it in the trash putting it away for "when you're a little older." Other mom's might choose video games that turn your kids into screen zombies for hours at a time (I rather like those). Not me. This punching ball's days are numbered.

This ball has caused no less that three screaming fits - all Worm because it's Huck's toy and Huck doesn't like to share it. Two near heart attacks - I startle easy and Huck likes to carry it into a room & suddenly start punching it. One bonked head - Worm likes to grab it and run from Huck, but he can't really see around it. And one pre-syncopic episode - it's hard to air up.

Green punch ball, I'm coming for you. Now I'm doing the thing where you point to your eyes and then at the thing you are coming for.

Monday, August 17, 2009

But it's true!

Today was Huck's back-to-school ice cream social. I spent a few minutes speaking with his new teacher. She's new to him and new to teaching, so all kinds of newness happening. Later, Truck and I were discussing our impressions of her. I mentioned she was really lucky to get him in her first class. He said, "I know, you actually said that to her and I was kind of embarrassed."


No really... what?

It's not bragging when it's true. Seriously, ask Miss J., she'll back me up.

I mean, if I can't be immodest about my kids, what's left? I'm over 35 so mini skirts are out. I don't have a job, so professional accomplishments are out. None of you are commenting on my recent organizational feats, so that's out.

Let me live vicariously through my kids. Apparently it's all I have left.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

New sidebar item

I'm adding a list of blogs written by people I actually know. If you have ever met me and you write a blog, please tell me about it. I will read it and comment on it and put a link on my site.

I'm really not that OCD

Next to the spiffy pantry, the catch-all area by the phone started to look worse than usual. I'm not usually into cooking, cleaning or organizing. I like a clean house, but I pay Jazmin and Maricela for that. I like good food, but I consider take-out Thai good food. And my feelings about junk have always been, "If it's behind a closed door, it doesn't exist." Do you think Truck is whispering subliminal messages in my ear at night? "You love to clean." "Baking is fun." "Messy cabinets are the devil's playground."

On a roll

The pie is gone.
I made flourless peanut butter cookies.

Friday, August 14, 2009

The whitest boy in America

Worm is obsessed with the song Boom Boom Pow (Yes, I know the lyrics aren't the cleanest. I also let them watch cartoons that say the word stupid and sometimes drink juice that is not diluted with water. I'm a rebel). Every time we get in the car he demands to hear it and then we end up listening to it on repeat for twenty minutes. While it's infinitely better than kiddie music, it's starting to grate my nerves a bit. I know I could just refuse to turn it on, but twenty minutes of continually escalating shrieks is the alternative.

This morning we were driving Huck to his clay class, listening to the usual, when Huck asks a question.

Huck: "Mama, they're saying 'Let the beat rock', right?"
Me: "Yes"
Huck: "Do they mean beat or beet."
Me: I'm unable to speak due to uncontrollable laughter.
Huck: "It's not funny. I don't mean pickled beets or anything, just regular beets."
Me: Laughing harder and trying to cross my legs while driving so as not to pee myself.
Huck: *sigh* "You missed the turn."

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Stirring the pot

Huck started soccer today. He is terrible. He also read a book to me today and did not stumble over any words, including: unnecessary, ridiculous and embarrassing. Basically he is mini me.

Worm refused to wear anything but a diaper and high heels until 9 a.m. He also insisted on a "cold faffle" for breakfast (Eggo waffle right out of the freezer). Later he freaked out because I wouldn't let him eat a tube of Burt's Bees lip balm. I'm thinking this is the Collins genes at work.

Jo? Truck? Comments?

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

My life: According to Dead Milkmen

I saw this quiz on facebook. You're supposed to choose a group or artist that has a lot of meaning for you. That felt too sappy for me, so I went for pure fun!

This is my life according to song titles by Dead Milkmen (runner up answers in parenthesis because it was hard to pick).

Are you male or female? Punk Rock Girl (Gorilla Girl)

Describe yourself. I Walk the Thinnest Line (I'm Going to Purgatory)

How Do You Feel? Take me to the Specialist (Two Feet off the Ground)

Where do you live? Tacoland (Tiny Town)

Where do you want to go? Where the Tarantula Lives (Beach Party)

Favorite form of transportation. Bitchin' Camaro (Nitro Burning Funny Cars)

Your best friend is... The Girl with the Strong Arm (God's Kid Brother)

What is life to you? Epic Tales of Adventure (Life is Shit)

You Fear... Takin' Retards to the Zoo (Big Scary Place)

What is the best advice? If You Love Somebody, Set the on Fire (Nutrition)

How Would You Like To Die? I Tripped Over the Ottoman (Surfin' Cow)

My Motto... Don't Deny Yout Inner Child (I Don't Wanna I Don't Wanna)

You may now worship me for the domestic goddess I am





Not only did I redo the pantry, I also scrubbed the indoor trash can, hosed out the outdoor trash can (which smelled of vomit) and baked a lemon meringue pie. Plus I did it all in high heels, a crinoline, and red lipstick. Okay strike that last part, but still!

The pantry is irgnized now

I was going to edit that texted post, but I think the word irgnization rocks and will now add it to my vocabulary. Before and after pics of the irgnized pantry coming up shortly...
This is a text post, so sorry for any spelling/grammar/ general readability issues. I'm at Sonic right now treating myself to a gigantic drink.I'm going home to clean out the pantry. It's a huge pantry! Hopefully the lethal amount of caffine I'm consuming will get me through it. Jo just cleaned out her closet so I felt the need to one-up her with my superior irgnization skills. Not really. My drink's here. Bye!

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

The cat

So we have this cat. She's pretty much like every other cat on the planet. She sleeps 22 hours a day. She acts as if she's starving if her food dish isn't filled to the brim. She horks up a nasty little hairy alien every few weeks. She stops in front of me when I am carrying large objects in an effort to trip me. She sleeps in the sink. She thinks paper bags are cool.

Every cat on the planet does this shit. If you think your cat is unique because of these things or anything similar, you are mistaken. Your cat isn't special unless it can play Chopin on the harpsichord.

What makes our cat unique is that she also poops anywhere BUT her litter box; and only when we aren't looking. This means she craps all over the house at night. We got so tired of playing find-the-cat-poo every morning that we started making her sleep in the laundry room. Now she craps all over the dryer. I fold the laundry in my bedroom.

This is the first 20 minutes of my life pretty much every day

Wash hands
Start water boiling for coffee
Make Huck's Nexium
Grab paper towels and head to laundry room
Pick-up cat poo
Flush cat poo
Wash hands
Stir freshly ground coffee into boiled water
Disinfect top of the dryer
Give cat fresh food and water
Wash hands (disinfectant + cat food, not my scent combo of choice)
Take Nexium to Huck
Get lots of hugs and and earful of chatter (Huck is a morning person)
Push plunger down on coffee
Drink coffee

I seriously have to wash my hands three times before I even get to drink coffee and I'm not even a germaphobe. Anybody want a cat?

Thursday, August 6, 2009

This post sucks

I am trying to overcome writers block by just writing whatever I can and hope that it will jar something loose. This post sucks. Don't read it.

I can't think of anything to write. I decided to just start typing to see if something will turn up. Turnip. Rutabaga. Spinach. Okay, writing whatever pops into my head is stupid....

Wow, I really suck at this free form writing thing. All I can think to write about is how I have nothing to write about.

Worm is watching Little Bear on the TV in my bedroom. Normally it is the sort of thing I can tune out. However, on this episode there is a chicken "singing" and it is incredibly annoying. Now Worm is screaming, "I hold card!" I just renewed my car tags online, so my debit card is on the side table. Worm made a beeline for it, so I had to snatch it up before it ends up at the bottom of the toy box with the Cheez-it crumbs and sticky Happy Meal toys. The stupid chicken is still singing. Now it's opera. I might need to take some Xanax to make it through this episode.

Mel and Huck are going through the house counting things.

Windows: They say 12, I say 11 because they counted the sliding glass door as a window and a door. Potato, Potahto
Exterior doors: 3
Interior doors including closets: 14
Drawers: 58
Cabinets: 34
Places to sit: 14 (We don't entertain much)
Mirrors: 7
Framed photos: 12
Paintings/Pictures that aren't photos: 19 (Some mom I am, more paintings than photos of the kids)

They're still counting, but I've stopped listening to the outcome. Damn singing chicken. Please make it stop. So now I'm wondering how I can have so many cabinets and drawers and still have nowhere to put anything. I should stop this stupid free form thing and go clean out some crap. With that many drawers I should have a few empty ones!

Had to stop for a minute. Worm rode his trike into the bedroom and then fell off. I have a strict no toys in the bedroom policy, so as soon as the tears are dry he's going to have to ride it back out.

I ended up taking the trike out myself, but I told him what I was doing and why. He'll get there eventually. It's a process.

Holy crap this is the most boring thing I have ever done.

Worm wants me to bite his feet now. Weirdo.

Okay, this was unproductive. We are going to lunch in a bit, maybe something blog-worthy will happen at McDonald's.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

I am a grown-up

You know how kids will inadvertently say something dirty? You know how when that happens you have to remember you're an adult, not a twelve-year-old? You know how sometimes its no fun to be a grown-up?

This afternoon, returning home from a pizza/arcade/dirty feet/stupid plastic toys sort of place, Worm wondered who was eating candy. He was eating candy. He could see that Huck was eating candy. He asked Mel, and she confirmed she was eating candy. Then he asked me. I was not eating candy. Worm said, "Mama no eat candy?" So I pretended to be sad and told him I didn't have any candy. Then Huck piped up, "I ate my sucker, but you can lick my stick."

I am a twelve-year-old.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

There's always something worse

Yesterday, I took Huck to the hospital for upper GI testing.

We arrived a few minutes early and went straight to admitting. The woman behind the glass smiled and indicated his paperwork was on the top of her pile. Then she proceeded to highlight, write, and staple all over several other people's paperwork while we stood there staring at her. I was just about to say REALLY?!?!?!, when she straightened her last little pile against her ruler and picked up Huck's papers. To me, this indifference to us was a bad omen. However, the rest of the admitting business followed without incident. I told myself she was probably ODC, which is good in hospital admissions, and to stop being silly.

In the waiting area, I began reading an entertaining new book to Huck. A dad was there with his son who looked about three-years-old. They had a backpack full of toys and an air of seasoned pros about them. They happily listened to me reading aloud. I got the impression it was nice for both of them to have a new waiting room activity. They were called back to the lab and returned a few moments later laden with cool stickers and completely dry eyed. In my mind, this was another bad omen. I mean, what are the odds that two kids in a row will handle a blood draw well? Would you play Russian Roulette on those odds? If you answered yes, please seek help, or revisit your 3rd grade math book.

I was correct about the bad juju this time. Huck somehow had gotten it in his head that they were going to prick his finger. I warned him several times this would be like a shot, but he was still startled when the guy pulled out a needle. He started to shake and tears began running down his cheeks. Another guy came in and held him still. I guess they pegged him as a runner, probably a smart move. The phlebotomist's idea of bedside manner was to tell him that the boy before him didn't cry, plus his actual vein puncturing skills sucked. By the time Huck's blood started to flow, he was crying in that opened-mouthed, half yelling, drooly sort of way big kids cry when they aren't trying to garner sympathy or get out of trouble. You know, real crying. When it was over, hold-em-down guy looked at needle digger guy and said, "Good job, Joe."

Excuse me? Practicing your embroidery on my son's arm and pointing out that the toddler before him didn't cry, constitutes a good job? What the hell is a bad job? Using dirty needles? Snapping the kid with the rubber tourniquet then showing him the syringe and saying - this mofo's gonna hurt even worse? Please let's refrain from giving false confidence to all medical professionals, shall we?

After that, I figured the worst was behind us.

When will I learn that optimism is a total waste of time?

To be fair, the x-ray tech and radiologist were fabulous. The x-ray tech, Gary, was a big Hawaiian guy. He called Huck "brah" & me "cuz" and said aloha & mahalo and crap like that. Huck was immediately taken with him. In fact, when I commented to Huck that his breath smelled particularly acidic, he offered to let the x-ray guy smell it too. Gary declined, but with a mahalo all the same.

Jim, the radiologist was clearly a dad. He asked age appropriate questions and knew just what foods to talk about to get Huck's stomach working.

At first, things were going great. The giant x-ray camera was familiar to Huck thanks to previous tours of Jo's workplace. He enjoyed seeing his ribs and spine on the TV. He wondered if people would grow extra ribs if they ate too many bar-b-que ribs. This got him a chuckle from the guys, so then he was ON. He was chatty and charming and clever. He even sipped the barium without incident a few times. I sat down to wait it out, confident that these guys had it all under control.

Then Huck hit a wall. Turns out his stomach empties much slower than normal, so everything began to take a really long time. He had to drink something that adds gas to your stomach, but then you aren't supposed to burp. Burping is the one thing that really makes his stomach feel better (well, except for actually barfing, but let's not count that), so we always encourage him to burp. At one point, he was having to roll around on the table, hold in burps, and take sips of barium - he just fell apart. Unfortunately, the next task was to drink about 6 ounces of barium in about 8 minutes.

I held the cup and straw, Gary held wet and dry wash clothes, Jim brought a barf bag and then snuck out (chicken!). He cried, he gagged, he sputtered, he cried some more. I had to play good cop and bad cop. Alternating between encouraging patience and drill sergeant is difficult. At three minutes remaining, I started to lose my patience. I'm a chugger when it comes to nasty medicine and was just about to demand the same of him...

Then I thought of backpack dad from the waiting room, my friend with Autistic twins, and the other people I know who go through medical tests and procedures with their kids regularly. I mentally slapped myself. With my shit sufficiently together, I easily guided Huck through the last 4 ounces. We took every second of the eight minutes, but he got it all down. Gary commented that he could see I was about to lose it and then it was like I just switched gears. I told him that's exactly what happened.

Later, at lunch, we told Coco all about our hospital adventure and I noticed that Huck was telling it all cheerfully. I wanted this to stick in his mind, but not as a bad memory, so I decided to tell him something to make him laugh about it.

Me Hey, dude. You know you had upper GI testing, right?
Huck Yeah.
Me Do you know what they do for lower GI testing?
Huck No
Me They take that same white medicine you drank, and shoot it up your butt instead.
Huck *blink*blink*blink* Coco, is she joking me?
Coco No
Huck I guess there's always something worse.

What a great lesson. Thanks, Huck.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Are you effing kidding me?

I took the kids to Wal-Mart today. I try to avoid shopping with two kids (I feel like putting a disclaimer here about how other people shop with bunches of kids and make it look easy, but I am not one of those people and having my attention divided makes me anxious and mean, oh look, I already have...), but we were out of everything except eggs and frozen veggies. I'm not saying I couldn't make a decent meal out of eggs, edamame, and bell pepper mix (actually that sounds kind of tasty), but I just didn't feel like trying.

On our way into the store, Worm decided he wanted to sit in a shopping cart NOW, not in one minute when we are inside and away from traffic, NOW. So I sidestepped to the nearest cart corral. There was only one cart in it, and it was pushed all the way to the back. I carried Worm in and as I am leaning over the entire basket to put Worm into the seat part, a man walks up with his empty cart. He smiles at Huck, he smiles at Worm, he smiles at me, and then he puts his cart in the corral and walks away.

Puts his cart in the corral.

While we are standing in it.

And walks away.

I have to push his cart backwards and pull the cart Worm is in forwards in order to escape the cart corral. His cart has a wonky wheel, of course, so it wouldn't push straight with one hand. I have to completely push his cart out of the way and then go back for the cart with Worm in it. Now, this wasn't a difficult task by any stretch of the imagination. But why did I have to do it?

Dude, Dubya Tee Eff?

Oh no you didn't!

So our flight out of San Diego was cancelled. It wasn't just any cancellation. American Airlines pretty much flipped us the bird, laughed at our dismay, and then mooned us just for good measure. It was such an uncomfortable and exhausting day for the boys that we resorted to allowing Worm to do anything he wanted as long as it would keep him from screaming in public.

You want to throw your dinner on the floor?
You want to throw my dinner on the floor?
You want an entirely different dinner?
You want to throw that on the floor too?
Yeah, okay.
You want to run through the airport, cackling like a maniac?
You want to run through the airport, cackling like a maniac, pushing your own stroller?
You want to touch every gadget in Brookstone?
You want to sit on the back massager chair that could pinch you?
It pinched you?
Yeah, saw that coming a mile away.
You want to sit on it again?
Look there's Jo, the bestest aunt in the whole world, run to her! Run away from the gadget store! Run, Forrest.
You want to walk around with Jo?
You want to walk around with Daddy?
You want to walk around with Mama?
*sigh* okay
You want to walk around with Huck?
Um... okay, but I'll follow at a safe distance.
You want to ride up and down, up and down, up and down, up and down, up and down, up and down on the escalator?
Okay, but hold my hand.

During one of our many time killing excursions, Worm barreled between two business men, bumping into their legs. It was after eight p.m. at this point. One of the men looked down at Worm and then said under his breath, "Why would you travel with a kid that age this time of night?" Clearly, he did not mean for me to hear him because when I whipped around and looked at him, he immediately turned red.

About nine clever comebacks popped into my mind as we walked away, but all I could think of at the time was, "Our flight was cancelled, asshole."

It kills me that's all I could think of in the moment, but at least I got to call him an asshole in front of his colleague. It made me feel just a tiny bit better.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Our flight out of San Diego has been cancelled. Maybe we can stay another day!!!!!

Wormainian , the Sea World edition

Guys = Dolphins
Ewwww= Eels (I'm with you, dude)
Shampoo= Shamu

Monday, July 13, 2009

One thing I forgot

The moment we stepped onto the airplane for the first time, Worm began to scream "NO NO AIRPLANE!" He continued to scream this until a few minutes after takeoff. We got a lot of unhappy looks. FYI, toddlers could give a shit if they are making you uncomfortable.

Updates from San W

I'm tired, but I have some readers who are curious about how the trip is going.

I think we got Huck's pukiness fixed for now. We stopped the prescription Axid & started 20mg of Prevacid Saturday night. This was all based on internet research on my part. I am so
NOT an internet MD kind of mom, but I was desperate to get him well enough to enjoy this trip. He's about 90% better. Looks like we are going to have to take him to a pediatric GI when we get home. Poor kid.

Now that Huck is all well, Truck is sick. He is also having GI issues. Let's just leave it at that, shall we?

Today, Jo and I let Truck hang in the hotel room and watch golf while we took the boys to the beach. They had so much fun! The best part was figuring out what Worm was calling the waves and why. Tif thought he was calling them scary bubbles. However, I am fluent in Wormainian, so I realized he was calling them sorry bubbles. You see, the waves were knocking them around, and when I bump into Worm I always say 'sorry'. This must happen a lot, because he now says sorry when he bumps people, the cat, the fridge, walls... he bumps into a lot of stuff. Anyway, waves are now sorry bubbles. I love how that kid's mind works.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Right when we pulled up to the airport, Huck puked. Great start to our trip.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Preparations for San Dub-Ya

We're going to San W on Saturday. That's San Diego for those who don't read every word I write plus all the comments. Oh and possibly a few personal texts between me and Jo. So, yeah, you probably don't get that, sorry.

Hey? You don't read every word I write plus all the comments... why the hell not?

Anyway, the preparations for this trip are kinda eating into my 'not that busy' time. It'll be Worm's first experience with air travel. I'm driving myself crazy making sure I've thought of everything he might need for a safe and comfortable trip. I'm scared shitless concerned that he will have a mid flight freak out and the one thing I decided to leave home is the only thing that will calm him down. At the same time, Truck is a work-week travel snob. I have to keep the carry-ons reasonable so I don't have to listen to endless sentences starting with "It's travelers like you..."

Plus, I'm a travel wimp. I get scared during take-off, every mid-flight bump makes me yelp, and landing always makes me nauseated. I puked during the landing of our honeymoon flight to Cancun. Romantic!

So, don't become overly alarmed if Homeland Security announces a sudden rise in the domestic flights threat level on Saturday. It's just me, Pukey McSherpa Pants, with a barf bag in one hand and the entire contents of her toddler's bedroom strapped to her back, screaming at her husband to just shut the eff up already!

Monday, July 6, 2009

Being friendly

Today I was driving on a narrow, windy stretch of road, uphill, in heavy traffic. I was in the left lane (it's a four lane road, I'm not suddenly in the UK or anything) and there were construction barrels on my left. I was purposefully hugging the line between myself and the cars on my right because a road crew was working precariously close to those barrels. We're talking young men in neon green shirts inches away from my tires. I figured, in case of emergency swerving, I would rather nick a car than a person. Right? In fact, the car in front of me was doing the same thing.

Apparently someone in the right lane felt encroached upon. He honked and gestured wildly (albeit, not rudely) at both of us as he passed. He then proceeded to speed and weave his way through the remaining traffic. Huck asked, "Was that guy waving at us? Do we know him?" I replied, "No." I figured the no covered the fact that he was not waving at us and that we do not know him. I felt no need to elaborate. Huck then said, "Guess he was being friendly."

You know how you see people driving like that and always wish there was a cop there to see it too? THERE WAS! Dude got pulled over. As we passed I said, "There's our friend, let's wave at him!"

Being friendly never felt so good.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

You just have to see it

Huck has the complete cartoon series of The Adventures of Super Mario Brothers 3 circa 1990. Both boys are huge fans so it's preferred viewing around here. This morning I was going to record a little of my favorite episode for you, but no one would shut the eff up long enough for me to accomplish anything the boys were a bit boisterous. Finally, I decided to just look for it on youtube ('cause if you can't find it on youtube it must be a figment of your imagination, right?).

There were many versions to choose from, but this is the only one with actual Milli Vanilli music included. After the whole lip-syncing shakedown the music on the cartoon was changed to generic keyboard tunes.

Friday, July 3, 2009

Wormainian is being phased out

We've had some recent breakthroughs in Worm's language development. This week he started saying his own name instead of calling himself baby. The cutest thing is that he makes it plural. Of course I might have nightmares tonight about Worm sextuplets or Worm clones.

Also, we got him to say I love you. Sort of. It comes out more like 'luggie'. Hearing him say 'Luggie, Daddy' and 'Luggie Mama' is precious. Multiple Worms chasing me with outstretched arms and snotty noses screaming LUGGIE MAMA, not so much. Man, I'm really setting myself up for a terrible night.

P.S. Huck did not get a trip to Sonic today. He and Truck spent 5 (million) hours on the golf course, and then we all went out to eat at a real restaurant. He did get to pick the restaurant and did not have to share his food with anyone. I consider that fair. But, if he asks I won't deny him that extra Sonic trip. He deserves it.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

The shower gifts aren't for me!

Crap, I have to tell you something about Worm too. Can't the kids take a break from being cute and funny so I can just surf the net for once?

Anyway, Worm requested some "lice cheese" this afternoon (a slice of american cheese to those who don't speak Wormainian), then headed straight to my bathroom. I stood behind the door and peeked at him. I thought watching him leave something in the shower might give me some insight into what's going on in his freaky little head.

It was a total non-event. He just pulled open the door, put the bowl of cheese on the shower floor, reached over and grabbed a few bites out, shoved them in his mouth, shut the door, and walked out of the bathroom.

Then he walked past me and said, "Daddy shower."

I guess the previous bowl of cheese and the dolly block were for Daddy.


I was going to be lazy today and not write anything, but I have to tell you about Huck....

We were having Sonic for dinner because promising Worm french fries was the only way I could get him to leave the pool. Huck ordered a corn dog and Worm wanted a "hamgerger." However, once Worm got a good look at the corn dog, he changed his mind (he has inherited my love of all foods served on sticks).

Truck and I tried to purposefully misunderstand what Worm was wanting. "You want a drink of my soda?" "You want some ketchup?" "You want the toy?" We didn't really expect it to work, but you gotta try, right?

Finally, I looked at Huck and said, "If you trade dinners with him I'll take you back to Sonic tomorrow."

HOLY COW I LOVE THAT KID! He handed his corn dog over to his baby brother with a smile. No whining. No eye-rolling. No bemoaning the lack of fairness.

I heaped praise on him and told him I was going to tell everyone I know what a great big brother and all-around fabulous person he is.

He basked in the glow for a minute and then asked, "Are you going to blab about this?" I said, "Sure, I'm telling everyone who'll listen." He replied, "No, I mean on your blab. Are you going to put this on the internet?"

Hell yeah, dude.

I'm lazy, here's a video

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Another present from Worm

Worm left another gift in my shower. To me, this is more confusing than the cheese. What is he trying to communicate with this particular item? I'd love to hear some theories from my readers.

I still haven't eaten the candy

Swearing like a Mother

I just spent two hours cleaning out Worm's dresser and closet. It would have only taken an hour and a half, but I dropped a mug of coffee ten minutes into the chore. It splattered on the dresser, two walls, six feet of baseboards, the closet doors, the closet floor, a pile of freshly folded tiny t-shirts, and many, many toys. There were not enough variations on the eff word for me to properly express my frustration with this event. I made up a few new ones.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Don't Do It (my favorite song by The Band)

Oh, I forgot to tell you guys, the kids also won a bunch of candy at Fast Lanes. Not just crappy off brand candy either. Full-sized candy bars. Hershey's and shit.

Okay, so technically I won it, but I immediately bequeathed it to the big kids.

Okay, so technically I didn't bequeath it to them 'cause I think then I would have to die before they got the candy. But, I did tell them it was all theirs and made good on this promise by making Huck & Mel divide it up as soon as Worm went down for his nap.

Those candy bars are now mocking me. It's taking every ounce of my willpower to stay away from the candy. I want to run to the kitchen, fling open the pantry door, move the collection of Wal-Mart sacks, open the random left-over Christmas box.....

Crap, now I have to think up a new candy hiding spot or you blood-suckers will sneak in and clean me out.

Shit, guys, I want to rip into that candy with such force that I eat some of the wrappers and not even notice.


Took Huck, Worm, and Mel to Fast Lanes today.

Holy !*(@#$%^&)+#$, what was I thinking? This is not the sort of place you should go when you are outnumbered 3:1 by kids. At one point, the big kids hit a 1000 ticket jackpot. They were giddy. I was nauseated. All I could think was, "Great, instead of 5 plastic trinkets, we get 50."

Monday, June 29, 2009

Jelly Beans

Worm is cupping a tiny bowl of mixed Jelly Bellies. He's quite taken with the selection. He spends a few minutes touching each bean and saying all the colors he can name. Speckled isn't in his repertoire yet, he calls those pink.

Which bean will be first? The choice seems impossible. Finally, he selects a candy. I wait to hear his assessment. It's instant and definite. He spits it on his shirt. Black licorice.

I wipe his mouth and say, "Sorry, dude, some people like it. Try again."

Number two elicits cries of terror. Hot cinnamon.

"Oh, baby... I thought it would be cherry. Here drink some of my water. Better now? Wanna try again? No? Okay, I'll just leave them here in case you change your mind."

I settle down with a book thinking an Elmo DVD might buy me twenty minutes to read. I get thirty minutes! That's the toddler jackpot. The interruption is a sticky little hand on my leg. I look down and see his cheeks loaded with what has to be the remainder of his jelly beans.

He points to his mouth and says, "I like dat one!"

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Gum isn't candy

According to this article, Orbit gum is the number one selling candy in Russia.

Um, the space race is over. You can eat chocolate bars and gummy bears now.

Plus, this same article mentions that Trident was the first gum in space. Shouldn't Trident be on submarines or something?

Okay, so I have a problem with the whole article... gum isn't candy.

Dishpan hands

My dishwasher has been broken all week. I have been completely inconvenienced and put upon by the whole hand-washing thing. Tonight I mentioned to Truck that I've never lived in a house without a dishwasher. He replied that he didn't live in a house with a dishwasher until he was eighteen, which means his mom didn't have one until she was in her forties.

Um, yeah, we're talking about MY pain here.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Mocking Potatoes

Did I ever write about the time I made mock mashed potatoes using steamed cauliflower? The healthy cookbook said my family wouldn't even know the difference. Holy Vegans, it was so gross! Clearly the cookbook author's family is a bunch of ruhtards. It's still the gold standard for gross things I make Huck try one bite of. Tonight I made smashed potatoes. He got confused about what those were and started to cry and said he didn't want mocking potatoes.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Vegas, I'm not that busy style

I've started and deleted this post three times since Monday night. My original thought was to do a parody of The Hangover using things that actually happened to me & Truck in Vegas. Turns out, that's a lot of work. I'm nothing if not lazy.

Next, I was going to tell of my Vegas adventure from my hair's point-of-view. I started out with airplane hair, then I had a great hair night, next my hair was normal, then wavy, then frizzy, then it got really dry, and finally I ended with airplane hair again. Sounds weird, right? It was. And stupid. And not funny. And hard to follow.

My third idea was haikus. However, this proved to be too much work, too hard to follow, and not an original blog format. Lots of bloggers haiku.

So, where does that leave me? Bullet points, of course. For fun, I'm writing them in no particular order. Less work for me and all.
  • On the way to Vegas I sat between Truck and a skinny, sleepy girl with really bad breath. Note to skinny girls: if you eat something, your breath won't smell so bad. I'm not making that up, not eating enough carbs makes your breath stink. Google it. Anyway, at one point Truck motioned to the ring on her finger and mouthed, "check out the rock." I mouthed back, "fake." Here is how I knew: bad skin, too much make-up (spider-leg lashes), inexpensive clothes, all other jewelry was cheap looking. The ring was at least 3 carats. Ladies, are you with me on this one? If someone in your life could afford a real diamond that big wouldn't you also be getting facials and new clothes out of the deal? And maybe some Listerine.
  • Cabbies:
  1. Greek, told us about people in his family we were never going to meet and a monastery in Arizona. Dude, shut-up!
  2. Really, really large, but mostly in his bottom-half. I can only imagine what the driver's seat of the cab looked like. Dude, how do you buy suits? Do you get two and just toss one whole jacket and one whole pair of pants?
  3. Grumpy as hell, turned up the song Sensual Seduction. Seriously, dude, that song is so bad it makes my teeth itch. Plus, if you don't like people getting in and out of your car and asking you to drive them places, don't be a cab-driver. Just sayin'.
  4. Pleasantly cursed at every other car on the road, generously honked his horn to remind all other drivers that he was more important than them, kindly weaved in and out of traffic to stay out of everyone's way, dropped me NOWHERE NEAR the American Airlines check-in. Dude, you're an a-hole.
  • Truck and I enjoyed people-watching at Olives at Bellagio. Most fascinating are the people who look alike but are much too young to already look alike. It's cute when old people look alike. It's creepy when newlyweds do. For example, the couple in my direct line of vision were in their early twenties, with short brown hair, gold wire-rimmed glasses and light blue shirts with black pants. Plus they were both soft and doughy, but not fat (Yes, I know. Hello, Kettle. I'm Pot.). It was just sad.
  • Diagonally to my left was a party of four that made up for the sad doughy kids. They, too, were in their early twenties. Best I can figure, they were about to attend an "ironic" dress like it's your Jr. Prom party. Surely that was it. Please, let that be the case, because they were knocking 'em back in a way that suggested unprotected bathroom sex was immanent. Okay, so now I'm just being mean and judgmental. Stick with me, I'm sure it'll get worse.
  • In Vegas, everyone checks everyone else out all the time. Well, not everyone. The only people who checked me out were at least twenty-five years older than me. I must look really hot to the the retirees. That's actually better than the interest I garner at home. Around town I attract men who are missing teeth, speak broken English, or talk aloud to themselves. Give me a sane, English-speaking, sixty-year old with a realistic set of dentures and I might just hit that.
  • Once, in front of the elevators, there was a group of Tibetan monks. They were completely blocking the elevator to my floor, but I had to pee really bad and wanted to do so in my room instead of the casino bathroom, so I just squeezed through them. There was a drunk guy (mid-forties, so way too young for me) who barged through them and got on the elevator with me. When the doors shut he says, "What's with all the llamas?"
  • I couldn't sleep late. I was wide awake by 5 a.m. every morning. That's 7 a.m. here. However, sleeping until 7 a.m. is pretty decadent for me. So I was up and wondering around by six every morning. It was fun to watch the other folks who were also unable to sleep late (I picked up a lot of guy's numbers during those times. Get it? Old guys wake up early?). It was even more fun to hang around the tables and watch the people who hadn't been to bed yet. Such exuberance! Also, I saw a guy who looked just like Shane Sparks. Shane Sparks was in line at Starbuck's in the Mirage at 6:30 a.m. on a Sunday morning.
  • Speaking of Starbuck's. How is their coffee so consistently bad? Chains all over the planet and the coffee still tastes like singed ass hair.
  • I overheard this conversation: "Hey, you're doing sidewalks now? I thought you were on bus-stops." "I was, but they always smelled like beer and piss." Okay, now, get your mind out of the gutter, it was maintenance men, not 'ladies'. My thought was 'When you took the job, what did you think a bus-stop would smell like?'
  • There's an adult pool at the Mirage. I asked Truck to stand by the adult pool sign and look scandalized. He refused. He's the only person who won't humor me on that shit. That's probably what's keeping us together.
  • Truck and I were on the elevator with another couple. A generic soft-rock song was playing and the other dude started grooving along a little. Then he caught me looking at him and got all embarrassed. He probably wouldn't have cared except that Truck and I were the doughy white couple in this scenario, not them.
  • Have you ever noticed that large crowds of people always smell like curry farts? Do we all become gassy Indians when mashed together?
  • I was outside writing in my notebook one morning, two girls wobbled up on painful looking shoes and sat down just slightly too close to me. Far enough away that I would look weird if I moved down, but close enough that I couldn't do anything but listen to their conversation. Mostly they texted and talked on their phones. There was much talk of 'hooking up later'. It was patently uninteresting as far as eavesdropping goes. Then one of them says, "My dad's on facebook now." Then the other says, "I know, I accepted a friend request from him the other day." A few minutes go by, then the first girl jumps up and says, "We have to go remove a bunch of tags NOW!"
  • Vegas is the only places where smokers are still unapologetic. Smokers don't skulk in Vegas. They wave it around in your ice cream like it's 1974.
  • I read this in a book while there, "If I stop judging other people, I free myself from being judged." Patti Digh (Life is a Verb).
  • Sure, Patti, but can it wait until after I get the Vegas post finished?
  • When you sit outside with a notebook, people think you're going to draw them. Hello, I have a blue pen and a lined composition notebook, are you a moron?
  • I really like cocktails in ice-cold, sugar-rimmed martini glasses. I would rather have several $14 drinks than gamble. Ends up costing less in the long run. I particularly liked the Showgirl at BLT Burger, the Slingback at Olives and the Floating Orchid at Japonais.
  • The Mirage has a Secret Garden and Dolphin Habitat. Big cats and dolphins in a mini zoo. It was really cool and all, great for kids. However, you have to walk through a casino to get to it. What do you do? Cover the kid's eyes just incase? What if you want to take the preschoolers on a field trip? I'm guessing blindfolds.
  • I love the lighting in the bathroom of my room at the Mirage. It's the most flattering bathroom light ever! I spent an inordinate amount of time admiring myself in that mirror.
  • My pen ran out once when I was taking notes outside. I shook it and it fell in some bushes. Leaned down to get it & changed my mind. It was by far the least offensive thing in that bush.
  • I decided I really like bald dudes. Saw a lot of guys who were hanging on to fewer strands than I have on my chin. The guys who just cut through the pretense make me smile.
  • Ladies, painting your toenails with only a stripe of color at the top looks stupid. Painting your toe nails silver with a black stripe at the top looks gross. Painting your toenails green with a black stripe on top looks like you have a fungus.
  • Why do people who don't have kids and don't look good in a swimsuit go to the pool? Is sweating and burning fun? It's Vegas, you can see scantily clad women inside where there's A/C.
  • Eavesdropped on a dad talking about his college-aged daughter. He said she was having to study and make financial decisions on her own for the first time. Apparently she flunked two classes and ran out of money. Now, I don't have kids old enough for independent study or money management, but I think that introducing these concepts BEFORE they are a legal adult is wise, perhaps.
  • "Sell your cleverness and purchase bewilderment" - Rumi. He never went to Vegas or he would have known bewilderment is free.
  • Patricia from Brazil is a blackjack dealer at the Mirage. She's obsessed with the Duggars. I'm not sure how you would determine that about your blackjack dealer, nonetheless, Truck discovered this and told her we live near them. She then told everyone who came to the table that Truck was Jim Bob Duggar's brother. She nearly swooned when he told her we live less than a mile from Joshua Duggar's car lot.
  • I hate not having baby wipes in my bag.
  • Truck and I played blackjack with Hesh from the Sopranos.
  • Walked to the elevator behind a guy with his arms around two very skanky girls in sliver bikinis and plexiglas shoes. The whole time I was thinking "pleasedon'tgetinmyelevator" over and over in my head.
  • If you have an actual song for your ring tone, I will make fun of you.
  • In the airport I heard a guy on the phone say, "... as if you didn't trust me." Dude, you're in Vegas and said the T word in a "wounded" voice. You just bought yourself a month on the couch and couples counseling.
  • I don't get most man jewelry. Especially gold hoop earrings. Argh, matey?
And here's where I will end the bullets. Surely you noticed there are no tales of big wins or losses, no gushing reviews of the shows we saw, no tempting descriptions of the meals we ate. That's just not the "i'm really not that busy" way. I live in the seams of life, not the fabric.

Monday, June 22, 2009

I have returned, I am exhausted

I have 8 notebook pages of scribbles from my Vegas trip. I'll start sifting through them tomorrow while Worm is napping. It may take me a few days to get anything coherent put together. It's all just impressions and brief observations, so the post will be disjointed and oddly worded. I don't see how anything regarding Vegas could ever have a sense of flow or continuity. The whole place is just a snarl of bursting noises, flashing colors, and assaulting smells. Some good, some bad, all jarring.
I can text blog updates now!

Friday, June 19, 2009

A small confession

After all my big talk, I only spent $400 of my $500.  I wanted $100 for emergencies.  What happens in Vegas and all....

No, really, what does happen in Vegas?

I've never been.

I do know I'm not sleeping on any of my flights.  I have no intention of returning pregnant with another devil-baby.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

A rare beast, indeed

This morning, I stopped to get coffee before my big $500 shopping spree and encountered a rare beast: sweaty-from-his-workout-inappropriate-cell-phone-rude-to-service-people-guy. I've run across sweaty guy, cell phone guy, and rude guy plenty of times.  They aren't that rare, know what I'm sayin'? But the cross breed?  It was a truly spectacular sighting.

So dude's in front of me in line, and he's not just kinda sweaty.  There are rivulets of sweat running down his legs from parts of his body I really don't want to be considering.  I actually slipped in a small puddle of jerk sweat when I stepped up in line.

Then his phone rings and he proceeds to have a conversation that forces me to further consider the sweatier parts of his body.  Yup, he went there.  Loudly.  In a lovely little local coffee shop.

When it's his turn to order, he's rude in that 'I was just being funny' way that's never actually funny.  After placing his order, he demands the clerk recite it back.  Large vanilla latte.  That's it. It's not like he was making sure she understood he needed skim because he's calorie counting or soy because he's lactose intolerant.  Large. Vanilla. Lots of milk and foam.  Even I remember, and I've been trying to forget all damn day.  With the order confirmed, she asks his name to write on his cup. He tells her it's Frank.  As she starts to write, he says, "My name's, not really Frank? Did you think I was serious? Do I look like a Frank?"  The girl just calmly says, "What would you like me to put on your cup, sir?"

Finally, he steps away.  I look at the clerk and say, "I would have just written Dick on his cup." She picks up his cup, turns it over, and draws a tiny little penis on the bottom.  I gave her a high five and put $3.00 in the tip jar.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Jesus is always good for a laugh

Last Saturday, Truck and I took the kids downtown for some family fun.  Truck hit the bar, I hit the corner and the kids hit the pipe.  Family fun indeed!

I kid.

Actually, we went to check out a new community sponsored event called "Take your Kid to Dickson Street".  We opted to take both kids because it was just too hot to leave one in the car.

Again with the kidding.

What I really wanted to share with you was an exchange I had with a dad outside one of the event areas.  It was a spot set aside for the kids to draw on the sidewalk with chalk.  I opted to wait with the stroller and Truck waded in with the boys.  The other dad was waiting with his stroller too.  

At first I was minding my own business, wiping some funk off the stroller's tray and admiring all the little chalk masterpieces.  Then something caught my eye.  I little girl named Mathilda had written of her love for Jesus directly above a spot where a kid named Landry had written his name.  Basically it said "Mathilda loves Jesus Landry".

I turned to the dad and said, "Hey, Mathilda thinks Jesus' last name is Landry."

Let me interrupt this story to clarify that I live in the Bible Belt.  Opening a conversation with a slightly irreverent Jesus remark could lead to unwanted witnessing and/or stoning. 

Stroller dad didn't miss a beat.  He replied, "Someone should tell her it's Christ."

So I said, "Really? I always thought it was Ovnazareth."

We both started laughing.

Then his wife walked up and gave me the stink eye.

Normal kids make for boring posts

Worm was good today and Huck didn't say anything weird.

Great for my sanity.

Sucks for the blog.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Hurricane Worm

Crouching Colors, Hidden Pillow

Huck's favorite color has always been yellow. To me, it's not the most neutral of 'gender-neutral' colors. Still, I've always let him pick out as many yellow shirts, candies, and cups as his little heart desired. Sissiness be damned.

So this morning, when Huck announced he had new favorite colors, I was more than a little interested. I figured we were finally moving into some more traditionally masculine color schemes around here.

Huck: I have some new favorite colors, but I can't decide what order I like them in.
Me: Well, just tell them to me in any order.
Huck: Gold, silver, blue, green, red, and I still like yellow.
Me: *choke* Gold? As in gold jewlery?
Huck: Yeah, it's shiny and nice.
Me: Okay, which of those is first? (pleasedon'tsaygoldpleasedon'tsaygoldpleasedon'tsaygold)
Huck: Gold, of course.
Me: *sigh* What's next?
Huck: Here's where I can't decide between silver, blue, or green. Can they all just crouch together at second.
Me: Sure, they can crouch. What's third?
Huck: Red.
Me: So yellow is number four?
Huck: Yes. Should I hide my yellow pillow from pre-school?
Me: Why?
Huck: So people won't see it and think yellow is my favorite color.
Me: If you think that would be best.

Vanilla Pudding and Spare Change

It's 9:15 Monday morning and the boys are eating vanilla pudding.  Don't judge.  They had breakfast like 2 hours ago and the pudding is sugar-free plus a good source of calcium.  It says so right on the package.

P.S.  I am digging this song today.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

I'm still laughing

Last night Truck told me to spend some money.

He instructed me to take $500 out of savings and go clothes shopping on Wednesday when the kids are with Grandpa.  We are going to Vegas on Friday & San Diego in July.  I really do need some clothes that I haven't worn while emptying a baby pool or climbing the slide at Chick-fil-A. Even my 'going out' clothes have unidentifiable stains.

After he delivered this edict he added "If you don't spend all $500 you can deposit it back."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... okay I think I'm done. Oh! Nope, here it comes again


Who knew he was so funny?

Saturday, June 13, 2009

I'm still playing with my damn blog (no blog is not a euphemism for something dirty)

I can quit anytime I want. For real.

I just don't want to right now, okay?

Truck just walked through the bedroom. He was hunting for the cat (We have cat issues that have never made it to the blog. I should rectify that soon). He found the cat and then said, "I'm going to watch Entourage now."

Great, like I need another round of Jeremy Piven nightmares.

I decided I should not be the only one with Jeremy Piven fever dreams, so I'm giving you this gem.

Good night. Sleep tight.

I need to go to bed, but I want to stay up and play

Wow, what a dirty title.

Sorry, Truck. Not tonight, I have an addiction.

I seriously want to stay up all night putting random stuff in posts.

But, I have to raise kids and shit tomorrow and that requires 6-8 hours of sleep. So I am going to leave you this one thing and then go to bed....

I so wish I could do that!

An old dog learns a new trick (Not that I'm old, or a dog. Crap, I hate when I inadvertently insult myself.)

A few weeks back, a nice person named Susan left a comment on my blog telling me I could edit my Html to add songs to my posts without making you leave the blog to hear it. At the time I wondered if maybe I needed to learn Farsi or a smattering of ancient Aramaic to understand her comment (that's another Gilmore Girls reference, if you are keeping track). Then I saw this little box that said edit Html. Long story short, it's like cutting & pasting 101. Look what I can do!

If you enjoyed that song, thank Susan, whoever she is. If you didn't enjoy that song, I don't really care.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Big E loves the redheads

Truck & I went to dinner and a movie tonight with Big E and Mrs. Big E. The first restaurant we attempted to patronize was so crowded we couldn't park.  The second restaurant we tried hadn't opened for business yet.  At that point we gave in and ate at Red Robin. Whatever.  Our only real criteria was a fully stocked bar.  As we were leaving, dude came out in the bird costume. I dared Big E to let me take his pic and put it on the blog.  He didn't let me down.  He really had no choice after he left me to defend myself against the tootsie roll throwers that one time.

We saw The Hangover.  The funny thing is, Mrs. Big E and I actually saw this movie together on Sunday.  Neither of our hubbies are Friday night movie guys (too expensive & too many kids), so the only way we could get them out was by promising to see it again.  No problem, I was sure there were some subtleties I missed the first time around.  Uh, kidding about the subtleties. It's a hysterical and nasty movie, but there's nothing subtle about it.

Anyway, I remembered from my first viewing that there were two horror movie trailers before the show.  I'm such a chicken that I can't even handle two minutes of scary.  So I used that time to go to the restroom.  I didn't have to go, but I tried anyway.  We are always making Huck do this and he hates it, so I thought I'd see what the fuss is about.  Dude, what's the big deal? So you pee a little instead of a lot?  Get over it.

I tried to go slow with the hand washing & lip gloss application, but when I got to the theater door I could tell the scary shit was still on.  There was a guy sweeping the floor and I tried to talk to him.  I think I said something like, "I'm such a baby, I had to leave during the scary previews."  He said something like, "I have to go sweep the men's room now."  Then a guy came out of my theater, went to the men's room, and was right back out in less than a minute. ewwww.  So I caught him as he was walking in and said, "Hey, dude! You in the orange shirt! Yeah, you.  Is the scary stuff over yet?"  He looked at the screen and said, "Yeah, that guy from Entourage is on the screen now."  So I got all excited 'cause Adrian Grenier is yummy.  

It was Jeremy Piven.

Hey, orange shirt wearing dumb-ass with questionable hygiene, I was trying to avoid bad dreams.  Thanks for nothing.

You can let out that breath you've been holding

Here's the new do. 

One tough cracker and one not so tough cracker

Worm is eating some crackers.  They're thicker than usual and require extra vigorous biting. He made an attempt, but couldn't quite get a bite.  So he took the cracker out of his mouth and said, "Aw, maaan". 

Keep up the cute, Worm.  It's the only thing that's keeping you out of foster care.

Speaking of crackers....

Years ago, Huck came home from pre-school and laid this nugget in my lap, "Mr. Jason says I'm so white I'm like a cracker."

Yes, a daycare worker called my son a cracker. It's all good.  I referred to that guy as "the pedophile in training" so we're probably even.  Not that I really thought he was a pedophile, I just say crap like that.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Music that's making me happy

Today has been all about Matt & Kim. You may have heard their song Daylight on a cool Bacardi commercial.  That's what made me check them out.  So glad I did!

Go to their MySpace page if you're interested in hearing some cool music.  I recommend Lessons Learned, Daylight, Yea Yeah, Silver Ties... hell it's all good.

They're going to be in Dallas on July 11th.  If we weren't leaving for SAN DIEGO that day, I would make Jo get me some tickets for my birthday (which will be 12 days after that in case you want to buy me a present or bake me a cake).

Minty fresh poo

Today I took all three kids to our local library....


Um, I'm waiting for you to say "THREE kids?"....

Oh, you did? Sorry, didn't hear you. Damn internet isn't turned up loud enough.

Okay, so I have a friend who works from home.  She has an eleven year old daughter.  Let's call her Melbourne, Mel for short.  Having Mel at home makes my friend's life harder.  Having Mel with me makes my life easier because she is free slave labor the kids love her.  I have her on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  It's awesome!

On Tuesdays we go to the library for Huck & Mel to participate in reading groups and for Worm to act like a total turd in public.  There's a story-time for his age group as well, but he would rather chew off his own feet than attend.  At least that was my understanding on Tuesday.  The holy hell fit he pitched when I tried to enter the story room could have indicated that he would rather chew off his own elbows.  I'm not really certain of anything except that he was going to start biting if we didn't get the eff away from the soft spoken lady, puppets, craft supplies and happy children.

On Thursdays the library has kid friendly entertainment, so we went back.  It was kiddy music. It was horrible.  Huck loved it. 

How does a kid like The Clash and a duo that opens with 'If You're Happy and You Know It' and closes with the alphabet song set to a really generic Reggae beat?

It started out okay.  Worm sat on my lap, away from the other kids, and said "SONG" after the first tune.  He even sat on the rug by Jack, briefly.  Then they sang a song about candy.  Worm lost his shit.

He began crying and yelling "CANDY" and digging through my purse.  I had no candy.  I did have some Breath Savers.  I bit one in half and let him eat it.  He liked it and wanted to eat the whole roll.  I don't know what eating a roll of Breath Savers will do to a two year old's stomach. I imagine the result would be diarrhea that smells refreshing. I'm not interested in testing that theory.

He was so inconsolable that I had to take him out to the car.  In the car we listened to really bad kid music and did not eat candy.  He was happy as a clam.

um, ouchie

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Mom hair and mullets

Got my hair did today.

We added more blonde for the summer.  Brighter hair color makes me happy.  It looks fabulous, as usual, because Staci is a color genius.  Seriously, go see her, your roots look like crap. 

Sorry, was that mean?  Whatever, Miss Clairol, you know it's true.

Anyway, the BIG HAIR news is...

I got bangs and lost the sharp angle.

My hair is now a blonde bob with bangs.  Wow, I didn't see that coming at all.  That's pretty much mom hair.  Should I have mom hair?  Should I change my name to Deb? If you didn't get the Deb thing, you're not a Gilmore Girls fan.  Yes, I know the final season was two years ago. I still watch it everyday on ABC Family. Bite me.  Are you allowed to say 'bite me' while sporting mom hair?

Aaaaaaaaanyway, a few weeks ago I was considering doing something a bit funky to my hair this summer.  I am going to live with the mom hair for a few weeks & mull over my funky thought. I've shared the funky thought with my boys: Huck is pro, Truck is con, Worm is a brat.  Their opinions have now been noted, but will not be considered at decision time.  

I would have included a picture of the new do, but I came home from the salon and spent the next 6 hours cleaning out Huck's room.  It REALLY looks like mom hair right now.  It is messy, sweaty and is housing at least two dust bunnies.  I found a raisin in it after I cleaned out under Huck's bed.  Huck doesn't really like raisins.  God, I hope it was a raisin.

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate my hair.  It is just a little boring.  The good thing (other than the gorgeous color) is my hair is still a bit angled.  If I don't keep the front longer than the back, I end up slightly mulleted after a few weeks.  A slight mullet is unacceptable.  If you're going to have a mullet, you must go balls out.  I'm talking Billy Ray Cyrus circa 1993 here.  Go ahead and click the link, don't be scared. It's not THAT Billy Ray Cyrus song.  

Anyway, that's probably enough about my hair.  I suspect you lost interest with the words 'mom hair'.  I don't blame you, I would have too.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Get thee behind me

Worm is the devil's spawn.  


I am now convinced that Worm was not conceived in Hawaii.  I believe we entered a twilight zone on the plane ride home from Hawaii.  While in this zone the devil boarded the plane, impregnated me, and then erased everyone's memory.

I'm not joking.  

I can no longer accomplish anything in a timely (or even uninjured) manner.  He has entered the "tiny control freak" stage of toddler-hood.  When Huck was in this phase he cried a lot. That's it. Cried. Some extra hugs, a few firm yet reassuring words and he was good to go.

Worm. Freaks. The. Fuck. Out. Over. Everything.

Here's a run down of the more memorable freak outs from the past few weeks:

Leaving the Park to go to Chick-Fil-A:  He was hungry and thirsty and had clearly indicated he would like to have "Chick" and "Lem-Nade".  I am not sure what set him off, maybe because I carried him instead of letting him walk across the blistering parking lot? He shrieked his way to the car and then did a backbend in his car seat that would have impressed Madonna's yoga instructor.  It took nearly ten minutes to get him securely buckled.  I did not raise my voice even one time.  I did, however, bite the inside of my lip so hard that I have canker sores in two places.

Sunscreen : Worm :: Holy Water : Devil  

Leaving Best Buy: The candy machines set him off.  He was all cool with leaving until I said no to the candy machines.  He was so mad that he actually kicked me in the head (repeatedly) while I buckled him in.  I did yell this time.  Can you hold your shit together while someone kicks you about the face and head?  If you answered 'yes', you just won yourself a toddler.

Bath time: Clearly there is hydrochloric acid in our bath water.

The end of bath time:  Seriously? You just screamed your head off throughout this entire bath and now you're pissed because it's over?  You're killing me here.

Crackers: We're out of all forms of crackers.  Worm climbed up on the kitchen counter, got down the phonebook, looked up the number for SCAN and said "don't make me call them, lady."  Okay, so that one is an exaggeration, but give him six more months.  He WAS irate for about half an hour over the crackers. 

Wal-Mart: screamed NOOOO NOOOO NOOOO from the check-out to the car. A lady actually followed me to my car and watched me buckle him in.  I thought she was making sure I didn't beat him once I got him in the car.  Instead she helped me put the groceries in the back and then gave me a hug. Huggers generally creep me out, but I was too weak to resist.

These are just the ones I have the energy to write about.  He melts down about 6 times a day. He is awake about 10 hours/day.  I'm too tired to even do the math. It's a butt-load of tantrums, how's that for mathematical precision?

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Mag & Kat

This is Mag Porterfield (Nanny) and Kat Seal (Mamaw). 

Kat has her little arthritic hands tucked demurely behind her back as she waits patiently for the photographer to snap her picture.

Mag is shaking her fist and threatening to "Whoop the shit" out of the photographer if she doesn't hurry.

Guess which one is MY grandmother?

Mag & Kat are 88-year-old widows.  They are living together for the first time in about 70 years. They dress alike on purpose. 

Are they adorable or what?


Okay, so I have been completely MIA.  Forgive me. There was plenty of fodder in these last few weeks, but I just procrastinated the writing until the moments were lost.  I'm unreliable. Deal.

Here are some bullets to catch you up...
  • Memorial Day at my mom's - My female cousins are awesome, including the "by marriage" one.  We will forever be The Wondercousins! Their kids are lovable and funny and charming.  It was a blast. I hope to never go that long without seeing them again.  I tried hard to write about the trip, but I think I wanted it too much.  The words just wouldn't flow. I have a hysterical picture that deserves it's own post. I think I can muster up a little something for that.  Or maybe not. Deal.
  • Kindergarten Graduation - Huck goes to a school with A LOT of Mexicans.  This is not a culture I am familiar with.  Oh hell, who am I kidding, if you aren't white and from the south I probably think you're a freak.  My blog, my reality. Deal with that too.  Anyway, the Mexicans like to dress their little girls like Disney princesses or tiny brides.  Huck looked like the token white kid at Guadalajara High prom.  I am not saying this in a judgmental way.  It is what it is. He is very white.  They are very Mexican.
  • My health - Had two week follow up for my BP.  It was 123/72 after two weeks on Benicar. Looks like I'll be on that indefinitely.  Great. I love taking pills.  I guess I'll have to deal with that.
There is more.  The kids have been alternating between funny, annoying, and endearing.  I have been interacting with strangers.  We have been back to The Club.  The potential is there, the ambition is not. Story of my life.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

I didn't do that cliche thing involving vomit

I just said "Bath time!"  Worm replied, "No. Hot."  To the untrained ear, this may sound as if Worm is requesting a cool bath.  He isn't.  He's requesting chicken nuggets or a hot dog.  If you spent a few days with him it would make sense to you, I swear.

Anyway, I clarified, and it turns out he wanted a turkey dog.  Dinner was less than an hour ago, but I knew there was no way to talk him out of it.  He is single-minded, to put it politely.  I'm an 'in for a penny, in for a pound' kinda girl, so I asked Huck if he wanted a turkey dog too.  He did, but "Only if it's frozen."

Holy Mary Mother of God! 

My regular readers know I HATE the phrase 'I just threw up in my mouth', so I will not tell you that's what happened to me.

Instead I will refer you back to this funny post I linked to a few months back.  Pick any option on this list, or off the comments.  It's all funny and it all pretty much sums up how I felt about the frozen hot dog request.

Um, ha, ha?

Huck just made up a joke.  It's not bad for a joke made up by a 6-year-old.  However, it's not good either.  I'm posting it mainly to document the fact that he truly grasps the concept of wordplay. I'm really proud of that achievement.  

Drum roll please.....

How do cows learn to dance?

They just MOOOOOOOVE around.

bada bing

Um, okay, that's all.  Just wanted to get it posted before I forgot.  Stay tuned for a post introducing you to more of my family....

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

So this is my last title starting with so

When I started the blog in October, using the word 'so' to start all my titles didn't seem like a big deal.  To me, it went with the blog title 'I'm really not that busy.... So I write a silly blog.'

But now it just feels confining.  Sometimes I think of a great title and then I can't make it work with the word so.  That sucks.  I hate giving up something funny.

I also hate using nicknames for everyone, but I'll keep those for continuity purposes.  If I ever write another blog I am dropping all anonymity, it's a pain in the ass.

I have some posts started in my head.  Hopefully they will make it to the screen before I forget them.  This is the end of the school year, so I have some loose ends to tie up before I can get back to being not that busy.