Monday, December 29, 2008
From what I can remember, Saturday was a fairly decent date in history. Peabody met me at Mom & Dad’s after getting in from Dallas. He was going to go with me to town – a few stores were having really good sales. Instead he vouched to watch the kids (the saint!) and visit with my Dad while my Mom & I ran out instead. We got back in around 11 p.m. All was well…until I woke up the next morning.
B y the way, this is a slighly long story, so I won’t mind (and I’ll never know) if you don’t read it to the end. I really wanted it for our family history books, somewhere down the road.
What I thought would be a short trip to the bathroom at 5:30 a.m. instead lead to an entire fiasco. I realized that I never loaded the slides for church the previous Friday. No big deal really, as long as it was taken care of before the 1st service started at 9:00 a.m. I brushed my teeth, pulled on some clothes, and hauled butt to the office to load them. Before leaving I noticed the bulletins, still UNFOLDED, sitting on the copier. Great. I decided to take them back to my Mom’s house to fold and bring with me when I came for church. Again, no big deal really. I hauled it back to Mom’s, got business taken care of, and jumped in the shower to get ready. Then I remembered that TooCool would need cash for later in the day when he went Angel Tree shopping with the Youth Group. I didn’t want to wake Peabody up to ask where the check card was, so I looked everywhere possible with no luck. I woke him up enough to ask the question – where was the card. He said it was probably in the console of his car. I ran out to the car, mad that I was running late, just mad in general. Pregnancy rage. 10 times worse than road rage. And what happened next was just the thing I needed to push me over the edge.
For the few who know me (and the rest who don’t) I’m not generally a jealous person. Peabody has always been a big flirt. Seems like it’s only become an issue in the past when I’ve been pregnant…lol…and this is the 4th and LAST time. Anyhow, I run out to the car, look in the console, and the wallet wasn’t there. More anger. I happened to glance in the back floorboard when shutting the car door, and then I lost it. Not got slightly frustrated or a tad bit upset, but went total bat shit in 10 seconds flat – although I’d be willing to bet good money that bat shit had more composure than I did at the time. A lone Playboy Magazine was lying there. I could tell, instantly, with my eagle-like vision, that the magazine appeared to be untouched. Ever. That meant no difference to me. I also was able to see that the magazine was from AUGUST. Still, no difference. I tore that magazine in so many pieces it would be impossible to ever find them all. I tore out the poster of Miss August, and spread her across the dashboard. I tore out some helpless twin girls on another page and smashed them through the steering wheel. The most unfortunate victim was impaled through the gear shift. The rest of the girls were no longer recognizible as girls.
I stomped back in the house where I noticed Peabody’s wallet lying on his jacket. I got the card out, stomped to the bedroom and said, “Hey F-er. I found your wallet and got the card. And that money I deposited yesterday? Forget it. I’m emptying the entire account. You can figure it out, you piece of shit.” His response was classic! “Sam.Hill, what? What? What happened? Did I say something in my sleep? What did I do? What’s wrong? Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on!” He was still half asleep, and truly had NO idea what had just happened.
I ran out the door and peeled out of the driveway with such lightening speed I’m sure there was no rubber left on the tires. How mature I can be sometimes. I drove like a maniac, cursing with every breath. I sped to TooCool’s friend’s house, where he had stayed the night. I had told him the evening before to make sure and set his alarm, but I knew that was a long shot. Instead I called 4 times with NO answer. How DARE he?!?!?!?!? I resorted to banging on the window of his friend’s room to wake them up. He drug out about 10 minutes later with NO shoes (the boy NEVER has shoes on, can’t EVER find them, even when nailed on. Drives me nuts. But that’s another story.) I tore down the road driving to the church to drop off the bulletins in my state of madness. TooCool clearly feared for his life. He didn’t know anything, only that I was pissed at him for not answering his phone.
My cell phone rang, and it was Peabody calling, still flabbergasted by the attack. I gave him NO clue as to what he’d done. I told him he was the idiot who’d made the mistake; SURELY he could figure it out. Rat bastard. The phone rang again, this time with a text message from my boss. He wanted to know where the bulletins were. This pissed me off even more (how that was possible, I don’t know) because I’d already sent him a message an hour before saying I’d bring them with me when I came to church.
By this time I had decided not to attend church. I wasn’t crying yet. Generally speaking, I’m not a cryer…more of a cusser, and although I needed a good sermon at the moment, I was in NO mood. No mood at all. I screeched into the church parking lot 10 minutes before 9, and ran through the “main” front doors where EVERYONE was coming in. Lovely. I handed a random person the bulletins, and ran back out. Jumped in the car and started back for Mom’s to finish off Peabody. While I was gone he questioned my Mom and Dad to ask if they knew what my problem was. Of course, they had no idea either. Mom said, “Who knows. You know how she is when she’s pregnant.”
TooCool ran in for a shower and I sat in the living room and pouted. Peabody dared to come out of the bedroom to ask more questions. I answered with nothing but hateful comments. Finally he gave up and said he was going back home. He said he had done everything possible to try to figure out what he’d done wrong, and to fix the situation, and he didn’t know of anything else to do. He went out the door, and I immediately ran to a window in my parent’s room to see his reaction to the “death of the poster-girls”. Another classic response….laughter!
He put his hands on his head and started laughing! The NERVE! Then he began “picking up the pieces” and the last thing I saw was him heading for the trash can with 2 armfuls of trash. Did he come back in to profess his undying love and apologize? Hell no! And that was probably the smartest thing he could’ve done.
About 20 minutes later I loaded the girls in the car and went on my way to drop TooCool off at church. Before I could get there I got pulled over. Fortunately, for the officer, he decided to let me off with a warning. Lucky guy. I pulled up to the side of the church, let TooCool out, and was on my way back to my parent's house when my phone rang AGAIN! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!! Can you not FEEL the rage surging out of every pore of my body?! And who was it? My beloved boss, calling again, to ask me a question! “Uh, hey, you DO know it’s Communion Sunday, right? The bulletins are wrong, and the slides are wrong too. And So-and-So’s not here yet so he can’t fix them. ” “Are you kidding me?!?!!?! Holy hell. Of course they’re wrong. Why would anything good happen today? I guess the idiots can’t read out of a hymnal!!!! They HAVE to have the slides. Fine.” I wish I could insert a sound byte of exactly how I sounded at this moment. A few days later my boss told me it sounded something like a loud, evil growl, and a long NOOOO! I hung up, threw the phone across the car, and did a u-turn in the middle of the highway.
I went back to the church again, and by this time I was sobbing like a moron. Uncontrollable, ugly, pathetic sobbing. I nearly tore the transmission out by throwing the car in park so fast. All I wanted to do what run in, fix the slides, and run back out, without speaking to anyone. I wiped my face off, took a deep breath, and headed for the door. By this time it was 5 minutes after 9, and I figured most everyone would be seated. Nope. No such luck! There were so many people in the foyer I could barely get through. I kept my head down and didn’t talk to anyone. When I got to the computer So-and-So was already there fixing my mistakes. I was relieved that I had one less thing to do, so I turned my back to get away and So-and-So just HAD to ask, “Everything okay?” Then I lost it again.
I just waved my hand in the air like it was no big deal, started crying again, and shot back down the stairs. I ended up running head on into a friend, who said, “Oh my gosh, Sam.Hill, are you alright? What’s wrong!?” Of course I couldn’t answer, still in the ugly cry, and just pushed past the mob of people and ran out. Even worse, she followed me outside and I just drove away. Again, like the mature 31-year old that I am.
Within 5 minutes I had at least 4 different texts from people at church who witnessed my meltdown. I still think it's funny that there are other “emotional” people in our church family who cry at the drop of a hat, and we think nothing of it. Let people see me cry? And obviously the whole world is falling apart. Fortunately most of them figured it was just a P.I.P.E. (pregnancy-induced-psychotic-eposide).
I got home a bit later and Peabody was watching “My Super Ex-Girlfriend”. I happened to walk in on the part where Uma Thurman tossed a giant great white shark into the guy’s apartment, and it was trying to eat him. I muttered something about wishing I had a great white shark to throw.
I finally gave him 5 minutes to explain the situation. How the Playboy Fairy must've played a joke by putting magazines in his car. He finally explained that the day before, while in Dallas, he stopped by our good friend’s house to eat. While there, our friend gave him 2 old Playboy magazines he’d got from his father-in-law (ewwww…..used! yuck, lol) and that he’d already memorized all the girls in them. He was just doing his “manly duty” by recycling them. When Peabody got ready to leave, he threw them in the back floorboard without a 2nd thought. After a 2 hour drive from Dallas he showed up at Mom’s house and didn’t think twice about them. That made it even funnier later…that he honestly had no idea what had made me so mad. And the poor guy never even got to look at them. Pretty funny now.
I semi-got-over-it throughout the rest of the day, with profuse apoligizing from him, and almost constant sarcastic comments from me (Oh, well I guess if I could carry an airbrush around with me, I could look that good all the time too; or, how I thought he was making a pathetic attempt to make himself feel less guilty since I had no other option than to be a fat, pregnant, cow for the next few months, etc.).
The funniest thing happened a few hours later when I picked TooCool up from his shopping trip. He told me he’d taken out the trash that morning after Peabody left, and he asked me if what was in the trashcan was the reason I was mad at his Dad. I laughed and told him yes, I was mad about the magazine, and that one day when he was older and had a girlfriend he’d probably go through the same thing. Then he said, “Well, Mom, I guess I don’t really know about all that stuff, but there’s one thing that I really don’t understand. Why did you have to tear all the pictures up in tiny little pieces? I mean, you could’ve just given it to me and told me not to let Dad see it. Or you could tell me to hold it until I was 18 or something.” I couldn’t stop laughing. He’s in 7th grade right now, and will be 13 in March. At least he’s honest, though. When Peabody was in junior high he had a bunch of his dad’s magazines buried in the back yard!
That evening Smartie had her very first Christmas Program with the kids choir. I was apprehensive about how she’d do, since a few days before at practice she refused to move a muscle or sing one note. I had already started getting over the fact that there was a 99% chance she wouldn’t perform. I was SO glad to be wrong (for once! Write that down!). She nailed it, singly loudly and smiling for pictures the entire time. I didn’t care one bit that I was holding a Christmas present on the front row for bribery – she performed! And soooo….after a long, tumultuous day, we ended on a high note!
Monday, December 22, 2008
I left at 11:15 to head out to the ranch. About 5 minutes after leaving the office, I realize that since I’m in my Mom’s car, I don’t have the keys to get in. I call Peabody, and he happens to be coming through Gladewater, so I meet him at the gas station to get the keys.
Finally, I’m on my way home, happy and warm. I pull up to our gate and get out to unlock it, when the seatbelt sticks! Absolutely wouldn’t budge. I push and pull, tug, cuss, poke keys and other sharp objects in it, and nothing happens. I’m stuck in the car, at the gate, wondering when the grass will catch fire and I’ll be burned alive. (I only say that because yesterday when we got home there had been 3 mysterious grass fires on the side of the road near our house. Who’s to say it wouldn’t happen then?!?!?) I call my Mom to see if she’s run into this problem before. She laughs. Apparently it happened to my Dad a few days ago, but he was able to get it unstuck. I resolve to wait in the car until the delivery men show up and they can help me get out. Or maybe they have a pair of scissors handy. Who knows. After another 10 minutes I’ve had enough. I put the top down on the convertible in 36 degree weather, and wrangle the seat belt, stretching it to maximum capacity, and desperately try (and succeed!!) to contort my pregnant body until I’m able to break free. I’m out! (And very impressed with myself, I might add.)
I’m thinking to myself that I’ll have a few minutes to load the dishwasher before the delivery guys show up, and make it look like I live in a clean house. The front garage door is closed, as expected, so I drive around to the back. It’s always up and open, but earlier today Peabody had put it down except for 1’ space at the bottom so the dogs could keep warm. I decided to lay on my back and scoot under so I could open the front door. I managed to do that, and went back out to the car to drive back around to the front. Guess I got in too big a hurry and shut the door to Mom’s car, and after 30 seconds the car manually locks itself. Lovely. Now I’m out in the cold, with the keys for the car AND the house all locked in the car. What else?!?!?!?!?!? I call Mom and tell her I’m going to break a window. She freaks out thinking I’m going to break a car window, when I meant a window to my house so I could get inside where it was warm. Then she tells me even I call Lock Doc to open the car door, I won’t be able to start the car because of the alarm setting. It causes the engine to be on lockdown until you use a special-unlocky-thing. Figures. She decides to drive out to my house with Cookie and the unlocky-thing to help me out.
After waiting about 10 minutes, the delivery men show up and set the gift in the barn. I seriously thought about just leaving it out in the barn, or in one of the storage rooms, but I figured between the dogs, cats, random mice and other creatures the gift would have no chance of survival. Finally Mom made it out there, with the unlocky-thing, and my extra set out house keys. She did most of the work trying to get the gift inside (and it was work). I’d love to know the moron that designed our house and decided to put 4 steeply-inclined steps to the door. Idiot.
All business eventually comes to a close, and I’m able to head back to the office by 11:45. A good 45 minutes of hell. Just like a perfect Monday.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Saturday I was pretty tired, especially after staying up 2 nights with Cookie. I just wanted to stay in my pj’s all day and lounge around. That didn’t happen. You know what? Pathetically, it must’ve been SUCH a tragic day…I can’t remember a damn thing. Honestly. Who even knows what happened. I do know that vomit, and fever, both occurred.
That evening I remember just fine though. It involved a trip to the stupid E.R. It was about 6 p.m., and Cookie’s fever was rising. It got to 104.3 and I threw her butt in the tub. After a cool bath and motrin, it only came down to 103.9, so we headed to the hospital. It was a hospital we’d never been to before, but was the closest to our house. They were pretty good there…nothing to write home about, but decent enough. After numerous hours, a few chest x-rays, blood work, and a bag of fluids, we were sent home with a diagnosis of pneumonia.
One thing really pissed me off while we were there though (imagine!). When we were taken to Radiology, the tech was sitting in a waiting area watching TV. No big deal. They weren’t busy, no one was there really, so I didn’t mind. What I did mind was when it came time to do the x-ray. Every hospital I’ve EVER been to has ALWAYS asked “Is there any chance you could be pregnant?” before taking an x-ray. If you don’t know already, I’m 20 weeks along with Baby #4. Easily showing my pregnant belly (thank you, crappy wasted ab muscles). The tech asked me to sit Cookie in a chair a certain way and to step aside for the x-ray. I asked him “Don’t I need to go out since I’m pregnant?” He apologized, said he couldn’t tell (which made me happy for a split second), and I went out of the room. The 2nd x-ray was different though. He said he absolutely couldn’t get by without having someone else help with the x-ray, because he needed someone to hold Cookie’s arms up out of the way. He said although he hated to do it, there was no other choice than to have me stay in the room. I did wear 2 different pieces of protection (a vest and a belly belt), and I’m 99% positive nothing will come of it. I wasn’t pissed because of exposure really, but just the fact that they didn’t have anyone else on staff to help. I’m sure there are plenty of pregnant chicks who’ve had to take x-rays of some part of their body before, no big deal. Just the “idea” of it all. Morons.
Monday, November 3, 2008
A few hours later, TooCool dragged in from school. Since I’m such an awesome and understanding mother, I ungrounded him after bringing some grades up to a decent level. He wanted to go to a friend’s house and to a Halloween party (and to stay the night), so I got all the kids dressed up, and took him down the road. I was on my way to my friends house with the girls when I heard a gag. With one quick flip of the rear-view mirror, I witnessed Cookie decorating her car seat with “white stuff”. Smartie did the logical thing, and started laughing. I was gagging, and figured it would be quicker to drive back to my Mom’s house a few miles down the road, instead of pulling over and taking care of matters. Apparently Cookie didn’t think I was going fast enough, so she proceeded to hurl vomit like a fire house. Quite the pro, that girl. She continued until she had decorated nearly my entire back seat, floorboard, car seat, and back of my seat. I even took pictures to show to my friend, so she’d believe I wasn’t b.s.’ing at the last minute (and just for fun, to show Cookie what she put me through as a baby). Although this is supposed to be an anonymous blog, it’s getting hard for me to keep it that way. Soooo….after I get home later and download the pics off the camera, I’ll be posting them for your viewing pleasure. Aren’t I sweet?
We stood out in Mom’s driveway with the water hose, and I cleaned out the carseat, stripped Cookie down to her skivvies and cleaned her up, and got settled. Peabody and I decided he’d come to Mom’s house to watch Cookie, and I’d take Smartie to my friend’s house for trick-or-treating. All in all, it was a good evening. I got some awesome treat’s while visiting my friend – super awesome chocolate-chip cupcake things, and rice krispy treats, and Dr. P! J Smartie had fun running the neighborhood, and made out with a pretty good sized sack of candy.
We got home around 10:00 and did exciting things like watch t.v.! (and wondered when I’d get to use my new sewing machine…still in the box in the back of my car).
Before I get to the good stuff, I’m sure you noticed I baled on the promise of writing every day in November…since it IS November 3rd, and today’s the first day of posting. But I have a pretty good excuse. I mean, it’s no “dog ate my homework”, but a real, valid, excuse. Take it or don’t. I don’t care.
Ahhh glorious Thursday! Practically Friday, and I’m happy. Cookie decided to have diarrhea that morning before school, but it wasn’t a big deal. Nothing I couldn’t handle (Now Peabody? That’s another story.) Took her to school, where she was THE cutest scarecrow I’ve ever personally seen. She made it through the day playing and having fun. When I went to get her out at 2:30, I noticed she was wearing a different outfit. I felt so fortunate to have missed the diarrhea scandal that had gone down 5 minutes before! Apparently she could’ve won a contest for crapping at that point….out of the diaper, down the legs, on the clothes, etc. That’s my girl!
A few hours later it was time to take Smartie to gymnastics. We dropped her off and headed to Books-A-Million to pick up the best books ever in the world!!!! (Twilight series – but that’s another post!). We made it to the 2nd row when I heard something I was unsure of. The foul smell that followed gave me a clear indicator of what it was, and who (my dear child?!?!) it was coming from. I picked Cookie up, where a warm surprise greeted my arm about the time I put it under her butt. Thanks!!!! I held her out with 2 arms and sprinted (as all pregnant girls do, so gracefully) to the car. There was no spare outfit! I took care of business, and then came upon a package I had received earlier in the day. It just happened to be a pillowcase dress I’d “won” off of eBay, for Cookie! Voila! Problem solved. After another trip back into the store, we picked up Smartie and TooCool, and headed home.
Little did I realize, home didn’t mean squat as far as comfort. Around 10 p.m., and after 5 more “lovely” diapers, I thought I’d use my awesome motherly judgment, and give Cookie a ½ tsp of children’s immodium. Would a doctor recommend it? No, but I’m a mother, and SO much smarter than doctors these days. Never mind the fact it takes like a mint rear end (I know, I’ve tasted it….pretty bad). I sat on the kitchen floor with her and got about ¼ tsp of liquid in her mouth before she decided to repay me….by vomiting hot, curdled milk all about me (hair, shirt, hands, arms, legs, etc.). Then SHE cries! What? Shouldn’t I be crying? I’m the one covered in PUKE! I get the kitchen cleaned up, and by the time Peabody rolls in around 10:30 we’re in the tub. Day one down!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 9, 2008
I've tried to cut back on the trash-talking in general, but if I do, I try to use only the first letter "stupid a", or I spell it out (i.e. o.s.h.i.t.). You get my drift. So imagine my surprise to hear this come out of my child's mouth:
Me: Oh dead-gum! I hit my arm on the door and I'm DYING. Oh this hurts.
Smartie: Mom! You know we can't say bad words!!!
Me: What are you talking about? I didn't say a bad word. (For once in my life!)
Smartie: Oh yes you did. You know what you said. You said s-h-i-t.
She didn't even know what she was spelling! Probably thought she was spelling dead-gum, and that it was bad because I said it when I hurt myself, lol. That's fan-flipping-tasting! She's in preschool right now. The teacher asks them each time to name words that start with the letter of the day. I'm seriously thinking about letting her skip the "s" day.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
I went to my 15 week doctor's visit on Monday. I told the doctor, "I want to see a penis today. And it's not yours." Hey - I've known this guy for YEARS. I just laid it out there, plain and simple. He said he never told me I could have a sono this time around, to which I replied something about him being full of it. He DID say, the very last time I was in, that I could see what flavor it was the NEXT time I came in. (which would've been Monday).
Finally he said to shut me up we'd take a look. I told him maybe my kid was already well hung, like a bull. He said, "Or maybe it will have a really big vagina!". My mother was with me, already blushing insanely from embarassment, so I had to add, "Only if it takes after it's grandma!" Gotta love me! :)
We got in the sono room and he said he could tell what it was. I figured he was joking, but he said he really could tell what it was. He said, "Here's a thigh bone, and here's another thigh bone, and here's...."...and I finished with "a cute little penis!!!!!" He stopped me right then and there, and informed that I could never use the words "little" and "penis" in the same sentence again. I'm this kid's mother...I can do what I want! :)
Sooo, I called Peabody as soon as we left the doctor's office and said, "What do you think of the name Melissa?" Dead silence for YEARS. Then I said, "Because that would be a really weird name for a BOY!" Guess I scared him senseless.
To make that clear, we are now having our 2nd boy. That makes 2 boys, 2 girls, 2 dogs, 2 cats, and a stupid evil bird in a pear tree. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
We invited my parents to come along, and set out for Roadhouse. I did the responsible thing and called ahead for our party of 7, at least a good 30 minutes early. I expected to have to wait an additional 15 minutes or so, but that was it. I DID NOT expect the rest of the evening to turn out like it did.
We waited outside for quite a while, and I was happy that the weather at least was working in our favor, blowing a cool breeze. And then all hell broke loose. Peabody had been playing with Cookie, and suddenly said, “Mommy, Cookie made a present for you.” (Code for Cookie took a dump.) After debating my options (going to the restaurant bathroom, or to one of the cars) I decided to go to my parent’s car to change her. I took off the dirty diaper, and didn’t fold it all the way up like I usually do. I set it in the car seat while I finished getting the new diaper on. One strap, done! Second strap, not so fast! Cookie grabs the tab of the dirty diaper and jerks it hard. The diaper, crap and all, landed on her FACE. EWWWWWWW!!!!!! This being the first time I’ve seen actual crap on my daughter’s face, I was dumbstruck as to what to do. I pulled the diaper away from her face, and still couldn’t see her eyes. There was crap all over them. Not to go too much into details, but it had a bit of consistency…not too much, but just enough to let most of roll in the floorboard. I was cussing, gagging, yelling, etc. making sure the world knew I was trying my hardest to sound all white trash out in the parking lot. I brushed it out of her face, got her all situated (did I mention I didn’t have any more wipees?!?!?!) and began picking it out of the floor.
There was no console light in the middle of my dad’s car, so I had to blindly feel around for crap. Imagine how fun THAT was! It was all smashed in my fingers, bleck. Makes me nauseous just thinking about it. I finally got it all cleaned up as best as I could, and attempted to lock and shut the door with my elbow. I stomped back up to Roadhouse with a diaper in one hand, and crap-girl in the other, and DARED anyone to even LOOK my direction. I dropped the diaper in the trashcan outside, and went to the inside restroom (where I should’ve gone in the first place!!! But hindsight’s 20/20, right?) to clean Cookie up a bit more.
There were 2 sinks (and soap & paper towel dispensers) and plenty of room, but some heifer hell-bent on looking beautiful decided the light would work best in her favor if she stood directly in the middle of the area, so there was NO WAY we could get in. I tried to squeeze in to wash my hands, and then Cookie’s. I was getting some anti-bacterial foam to put on her face when I noticed there was crap in one of her antennae! At this time I REALLY needed the height of the sink area to raise her up (since I’m a pregnant hog and it’s hard for me to bend over that far) to pick it out of her hair. But would the other cow budge? Hell no. I want you to know that that stupid girl looked absolutely NO DIFFERENT when she walked out of that bathroom than when she went in 15 minutes before. But whatever. She even KNEW that I was trying to pick CRAP out of my child’s hair. But she didn’t move. Not even an inch. SCREAM!!!!!!!!!!! UGLY FACE!!!! UGLY, HORRIBLE, WORDS!!!!!!!!!!!!! Every time I tried to get another small piece out, it would smash in her hair. I eventually had to put her head first under the faucet (after the heathen left) and wash it out that way. Finally, after 20 minutes of torture, we were both clean.
I took her back outside, gave her to Peabody, and marched back in to the hostess desk to ask how much longer we had. “Oh, it looks like the table you’ll be sitting at has another family there. They just got their food, so it shouldn’t be long. Maybe another 20-25 minutes.” NOT THAT LONG? 20-25 minutes, after we’ve WAITED 35 minutes, AND I DID CALL-AHEAD SEATING?!?!?!?!?! What in the sam hill?!?!?!?! I’m glad to know that this call-ahead seating they just rave about means about as much as a stick in the mud. Bastards.
After another period of wasted time (a total of 1 hour and 15 minutes after arriving) we got our table. I’d love to say the steak made it all worthwhile, and it may have made up for it slightly…….but that was all erased by the fact that some lunatic backed into my car while we were eating. And didn’t leave as much as a thank-you note. Suckers.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
No, it wasn’t crickets or mice, but my sweet baby girl, chewing my shoes into pieces. Does she have some sort of vitamin deficiency that she’s looking to replenish? I’d hate to think it would be found in my flip-flops of all places. How flipping nasty! On a good note, I think she’s built up her immune system.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Before I start on that, let me say I'm extremely pissed because I just typed this entire post, didn't save it, hit publish, and then it dis-a-freaking-peared. Figures! Since I suffer from severe short-term memory, let's see if I can remember what I wrote in the first place.
Extremely-close-to-Jesus moment #1:
The whole fam damily is in Sweetie's room doing 50 different things. I'm cleaning out the closet, kids are jumping on the bed, and Peabody's playing the piano. All is well in the world. Then Cookie forgets who she is, and assumes the identity of Spiderman long enough to put her sticky hands and feet on the window and climb a "step" or two. She turns around to see what the other kids are laughing about, and sticks her head right between the two strings that control the window blinds. She was there for all of 2 seconds before Peabody jumped up and set her free. (To do: buy blind-stringy-wind-up-thing for Cookie's protection.)
Extremely-close-to-Jesus moment #2:
About an hour later, we haven't moved much. I'm still cleaning out the closet, and Cookie is standing inside it opening and closing one of the doors (double sliding doors). Then genius decides to roll it over her foot. She immediately screams "Bee! Itsa bee!" (her remark for just about ANYTHING - when she sees a june bug, if she shows you a mosquito bite, an ouchie, anything. I sit down with her and then she her foot is covered with blood. Way to knock one out the park, Cookie! I get her cleaned up, and all is well for a little while.
Extremely-close-to-Jesus-and-a-cast moment #3:
That night, I'm helping TooCool with math homework. Cookie is sitting backwards in a chair at the table, singing and bouncing. Apparently she got a little too much bounce, and fell forward with the chair. No big deal, except her legs were stuck between the 2 wood panels on the back of the chair. I look down and see her legs all contorted. Doing what came logically, I jerked her out (wouldn't that have made it worse if they were broken?) and set her down to see if her legs still worked. She immediatley started hitting me and stomping for getting in her way. Guess she was fine.
And that, folks, is why I'm up for "Parent of the Year".
I'll get back to complaining, and with a new post, tomorrow! :)
Oh - and the names have been changed to protect the innocent (and the guilty).
So I’m standing in line when I catch a whiff of, ahem..some nasty stuff. I immediately thought to myself at least this person reeking of stench behind me has been working, so I should quit being so hormonal and judgmental. And then he had to go ruin it by talking to me. The conversation when something like this:
Oogie: So, are those toys for your inner child?
Super-Perfect-Me: No. They’re for some sick kids.
Oogie: Not your kids I hope.
Super-Perfect-Me: No. My boss’s kids. (Note to self: Oogie – are you writing a freaking novel? Why the 50 questions?)
Oogie: Oh, by the way. Are those your real eyes?
Super-Perfect-Me: No. (If only you could see the ugly look about my face at this time.)
Oogie: Oh. I was going to say…if those are your real eyes, you might be a little devilish.
Super-Perfect-Me: Well, if you’re not careful, I can be. (Mustering the best “go to hell” look I have in my pocket)
Oogie: Oh c’mon now. There’s no way you could be a devil with such cute toes. (What in the SAM HILL? Did you just say something about my toes? You carnie-freak, why are you talking to me. About my toes?!?!?! BLECK. Can I vomit on you? What in the HELL are you thinking? Who says that? To a complete stranger no less? In a completely FREAKY strange way that makes you nauseous?
Now if you know me (or if you don’t) I’m not phased by too much these days. I’ve led an interesting life, and done some insane things…but to be able to “OOG” me out? You have to be pretty damn impressive with your “ooginess”.
I was sick as a dog the rest of the time in line, and just when I thought I get away without another word spoken between us, he says (with the flipping nastiest look on his face that I’ve ever seen) “You have fun with those toys of yours.” VOMIT.
In my house, I’m happy when the kids are quiet. Yes, I know in the back of my mind that they must be up to something, but I lie and tell myself they’re little angels. I checked in on Smartie in her room. She was coloring and watching a movie. Awesome! Cookie’s playing with Peabody. Check! CoolTeen’s in his room with his friend. 3 in a row. Woohoo!
I decided to make some chicken and vegetable soup – just what I’ve been craving lately. I know it’s been 100+ degrees every day in Texas, but I still wanted soup. Hey – I’m not making you eat it, so shove it.
Back to Smartie. I’m waiting for the soup to finish, and she strolls out with some scissors and hands them to Peabody. Unusual for her, since she lives to cut paper up in a billion pieces. Guess she was trying to hit a new high, and instead decided to mangle her hair. As you can imagine, lovely was the first word that came to my mind (right after holy hell). If she could’ve picked a more perfect way to cut it though, I’d be stunned. She actually did a pretty good job. She cut all the long bangs and hair on one side, so it looks like it’s layered. Fortunately she still has some hair left and looks decent.
Then I notice she’s not wearing underwear. That always leads to something good and decent, right? Not in my house. I’m informed that she was too busy cutting her hair to stop and get to the potty, so she just peed in place. Really? So nice of you. So polite. Where did you go to finishing school? Who has time to piss these days anyhow? Not me.The only thing she was lacking was a chicken foot, and she would’ve had a hoodoo gig set up.
Watch your chickens, people.
Saturday night I thought I’d do things early, for once in my life, and I headed to Wal-Mart to buy CoolTeen’s school supplies. Who knows what I was thinking. Apparently I wasn’t thinking.The entire time I was there my pants kept falling down, even though I had the stupid, worthless belly band on. What a load of crap. Wasted $12 just so my pants could keep falling down. Great. Anyhow, I had a pen and list in the buggy, and thought Cookie would be content playing with them. Nope. Instead she wanted to play the fun game of “throw the damn pen down 500 times just to see mom have severe reflux problems”. Now THAT made her happy.
Might I add, whatever lame-o teacher made the school supply list for the 7th graders must be in cahoots with the Anti-christ, in a conspiracy against me. For instance, the list called for FOUR SMALL glue sticks. Did they sell packs of 4 small glue sticks? Don’t bet your life on it! 2 packs of Jumbo sticks (but they requested small), or 3 packs of small (and I wasn’t buying 6), but NOWHERE to be found were a pack of 4 small glue sticks. Evil people. I wanted to rip one out of another container so I could have the 4 small ones I needed. How about 12 fine-tipped washable markers. Nope. I settled for 10. Or even better, 3 70-page spiral notebooks. HOLY PISS! You’ve got to be kidding me! It’s a conspiracy, so don’t try to convince me otherwise. After finishing up the list as best as possible, I headed on to get more crap I needed. Little did I know…it would’ve been better if I’d just left at that point. But OH NO…I’m a glutton for punishment.
Some idiot hell bent on pushing me over the edge started sneezing. Not just once, twice, heck – even five or six times? Nope. TWENTY-FOUR! Because I counted! Because I have nothing better to complain about! Around Sneeze No. 12 I started huffing. Apparently he couldn’t hear my exasperation from the aisle over, so by the time Sneeze No. 19 happened I yelled to Cookie, “Holy s.P.i.t. Go outside and sneeze!” (Because surely he was sneezing on purpose, right? And I’m pretty sure he could’ve controlled whatever allergies he was having problems with, right?) WHO FREAKING SNEEZES 24 TIMES?!?!?!?! Nobody I want to be friends with, idiot.After venting my frustration, I breezed on to look at the Bissle Little Green cleaner. I really want one, which is unusual enough for me to “want” a cleaning product (since I’m allergic to cleaning). I’m checking it out, all proud at myself for being so “mature”. Right. Cookie could see right through me.
While I was looking at that, Cookie was on the other side of the buggy putting in three 15-packs of colored hangers. We got a few aisles over when she got pissed at me and threw a pack of hangers at me.That’s another thing I’m writing to the congressman about – who decided to put 1 measly little piece of cardboard on these hangers to hold them together? Before I could realize what was happening, the hangers flew threw the air, broke out of their “box” and landed all over the floor. As I bent down, cussing, and trying to pick them up, TWO MORE bunches of kamikaze hangers came at me. I was putting them in one side, and she was throwing them out the other. A Wal-Mart associate came through about that time, and gave me the look like “Oh, there’s another kid I’m going to have to clean up after.” That did it. I decided then and there I wouldn’t put them back in their packages…I was rebelling! I took a giant pile of multi-colored hangers and smashed them on top of a random clothes rack and left them there. Take that!
Eventually I’d had enough, so I drug my stupid cart up to the check out line. Waited a good 20 minutes at least. This is the FIRST time I ever opened a drink and chips while in the checkout line. I’ve seen other people do it, but it’s just something I haven’t done (on the very short list of stuff I’ve not done). That night it was an exception. Cookie wouldn’t shut up, and desperately wanted Cheetos. I was so thirsty, and the Dr. Pepper was calling my name. Hey – it was no margarita, but it would do. I polished that sucker off by the time we got to the cash register.
Guess what happened? KARMA HAPPENED. Did my check card work? Nope. How about the credit card? Uh, no. Because satan lives at Wal-Mart. I thought I had the problem figured out, so I went to another lane (at the return counter) and stood in line again. I told the girl how it was probably my fault for being so horrible the entire time at the store, and that I probably just needed to repent. She took my card, and I casually said, “If it doesn’t work this time, I’ll just smash it into a million pieces.” 30 seconds later…..I’m sorry, it didn’t accept it. “HOLY HELL! YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!!” She looked at me and said softly, “What was that you said about repenting?” Ehx-cuse-meh? Please don’t be preaching to me (even though I just said the same thing 1 minute earlier.) My card finally worked for $2.33 for the drink and chips. Figures.And just think….I’ve got nearly 8 more glorious months of this.
Warning. Talk to me at your own risk….and if you’re extra sensitive, just don’t talk to me at all. I don’t want to be responsible for making you unhappy, crybaby. And if you still talk to me…well – you asked for it.
You know it! It got knocked up. That's what I get for getting a "to remain nameless" tattoo on my ankle. Oh well - hindsight's 20/20, right?
For future reference for anyone, Depo and Yaz suck balls. Sure, I would've loved (most days) to have another kid, but not at this minute. Anywho - I can't look at it as anything other than a blessing, so whether YOU like or not, you'll have to deal with it, lol.
As it stands, I'm due on March 30th, which means this baby got "hooked up" around the first of July.This is the LAST of the Mohicans (or the Hast's). The day this baby is born, my womanly "makeup" will be cut, tied, burned, and donated to science. I don't ever want to see it again. The only way I'd EVER have any more children is if I won the lottery, and adopted some nannies. That's it. So there. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Last night on my way home, I decided to stop at Sonic to get my daily Java Chiller fix. A Java Chiller is like heaven in a cup, and cheaper than Joe Muggs or Star Bucks, so that’s an extra! CoolTeen and Cookie were along for the ride.I placed my order. Cookie was happy, yapping away. CoolTeen and I were making small talk. (I was being cool, as usual.) A hacking noise came from the back seat, and I realized Cookie was choking on something. I still haven’t figured out what it was, other than the most disgusting, clobbered milk EVER known to man. You know what I’m talking about. I pondered to myself whether I should let her “sit and simmer” until we got home; OR, risk taking her out of her seat to clean her up, and then scream, push and cuss for another 10 solid minutes trying to get her back IN her seat. Might I add that Cookie was not at all bothered by this vomity goodness. She was smiling, playing, and rubbing it in her hair.
I took all I could stand. Within 2 minutes, the stench had wafted to the front seat, and I decided to clean her up (for my own selfish reasons).I opened the door and realized I parked too close to the stupid ordering window. Did I re-park? Heck no. That would’ve taken more effort than I could muster.
Instead, I attempted to squeeze my voluptuous self out of the area smaller than the end of a ballpoint pen. This is where the butter would’ve been helpful. Seriously. I still have marks on myself where I successfully managed this feat.Did I mention I was sporting the most insane “hawk” you’ve ever witnessed in the history of man?!?!?! My faux-hawk was rocking like there was no tomorrow. I was just playing around at home, did one, and then forgot it was there. Oh I was getting props for my mad hair skills. I’m awesome.
ANYHOW….I get to the other side of the car when the car-hop-girl comes up with 3 chillers. I give them to CoolTeen and tell him to put them “somewhere” until I can finish with Cookie…FIGURING he’d hold one, and put one in each cup holder. Get Cookie all cleaned up, happy with myself, thinking it was way easier than it should’ve been. I go around to my side to get in the car again, and this time hold my breath and try to “do it fast and get it over with” (gee, how many times have I said that in my life!) I suck in, twist, and contort myself, and finally! Plop into the seat, where I had a very unusual feeling come about my butt. I jumped (if you can “jump” 6 inches in a car) thinking I’d been shot. My life flashed before my eyes. And then CoolTeen laughed. Terd. The Genius-To-Be-Called-CoolTeen actually had the idea (and followed through…that’s my boy!) to sit my chiller in my seat. Ehx-cuse-meh? I yelled some obscenities (of course all my windows were down, so I was playing the W.T. role perfectly) and then yelled at CoolTeen for sitting it there in the first place.Have you ever had a coffee enema? They do those, you know. Yesterday was my first one. I think in the future I’d like it to have a little less bite, and a bit of a warmer temperature.
Do you know what he had the gumption to tell me?! “Oh sorry, Mom. Next time I’ll tell them to reinforce the sides of the cup with steel!!!!”CoolTeen is now in a FADI coma (fist-and-drug induced).
Okay, I’m kidding – you crazy people and your non-having-sense-of-humor-beavers. Whatever.The one plus that came out of all of this is now I have a long-lasting coffee-scented seat. You couldn’t pay for one of those. I rock! Oh, and one more thing. By the time I got home and took off pants, my butt was dried.
This morning I went to take a shower. Peabody was in the bathroom and said “Did you crap in your pants or something?” Well OF COURSE I DID! No. “Are you sure,” he said, “because you have a fart stain on the back of your panties.” Really, bucko…that high? I wasn’t aware I’d had my fart-maker transplanted to top of my butt. Idiot.
I would like to think I’m laid-back person for the most part, unless someone pisses me off. It’s not to say that I can’t be vicious if someone (my child) keeps messing with me. And don’t you DARE try to fling an object in my general direction, much less my head, or life as you know it…will be finished.
Yesterday afternoon me and the family were at church for our night of District Youth. Easy enough. Had a good time. We went to go pick up Cookie at my aunt’s house. CoolTeen had already mentioned he’d like to spend the night with Sharon. I told him he should come home since he had football practice at the butt-crack of dawn the following morning. He stood out in her front yard glaring at me, daring me to make him get in the car. Then he stomped over to my Grandma (his great-grandma), came back out and said “She said I could stay.” Didn’t matter to me. I’ve never heard her say no to anyone, so I told him to get his butt in the car, and we’d go down to meet Sharon at the store to get Cookie. He FINALLY got in, slammed the door, and began wailing like a 2 year old girl. I couldn’t do his “performance” justice with descriptive words, so I made a one-act play instead….titled “CoolTeen’s Song”.
I even laughed after it was over, just because he was being so stupid. I then made the comment about how I would’ve LOVED to have a video camera so I could record him, and then show it to all the kids at church, school, etc.
Then things got ugly.I’ll be damned if CoolTeen didn’t just pick up a random toy and throw it forwards, and smack me in the back of the head with it. Did it hurt? Nope. Was I pissed? Like you don’t even know. I was going all of 10 miles per hour when I whipped over to the side of the road, jerked open the back door, and proceeded to frog CoolTeen with the fist of fury. Mature of me? Oh sure it was. Let him hit you in the back of the head with something.Then I proceeded to tell him that when we made it home, he was going to get a butt-whooping like NO other. He told me he’d run. I told him I’d be waiting when he got tired.
I gave him 2 choices, being the excellent mother that I am. He could either go to his room and wait for me, and I’d give him 10 licks quickly; OR, he could run, and when he finally got back home, I’d still give him 10 licks…but very slowly, as hard as possible, and with a minute break between each one.
Do you know what he had the BALLS to ask me on the way home? If we could stop at Sonic? What? Were you just in the car five minutes ago when the deed went down, sucka? The smartest thing he did last night was go straight to his room.
You may remember a few weeks ago when I got my Dad's car (actually my Dad's dad's car - he passed away) stuck in the mud, when I stopped to come to the rescue of a baby skunk. I waited a bit to tell Dad, because although I'm out of the house (and an age that's forever 29), had I told him at the actual time of the event, he would've been pissed. He thought otherwise. I got an email from him this morning:
My Darling Daughter;I Finally read your....ahhh..."Yo suckas" blog. While I will admit it made for entertaining reading, I did not agree with your saying I would have been pissed that you got my dads old Lincoln stuck by the road. Am very sure I would have commiserated with you over your misfortune, gently coaxed you into the correct way to get a heavy (tank?) car out of a slick situation, then wished you a well and safe journey! There is no way, having tried my best to teach you the correct way to handle a car in any situation, that I can even relate to your having been in such a spot. Well, other than the fact that your a lead footed, air-headed, soft hearted, bundle of nerves, on the verge of insanity, phone-cam toting mom that's just not well connected with your faculties. But are reasonably well adjusted other than that.
Your loving dad
After about 10 minutes of Cookie being "good", she decided she'd had enough of it, and refused to let me get anything accomplished. I had to call for reinforcements (i.e. Mom & Dad...a.k.a. DeeDee & PawPaw) to come get her. The only way Cookie would be quiet was if I took a picture of her and let her look at "the baby". Here's a few from our impromptu photo shoot:We even did a video of her naming her body parts (because she's a GENIUS!). Even funner was when she watched the playback, she had to rename her body parts with the baby on "TV". Or funnier to me, I guess.
Smartie & CoolTeen were being angelic. They ran upstairs to play. I couldn't them, so I figured they were being decent. Of course, I didn't get up to go see if they were being decent, but I just assumed. After Cookie left I started working, and heard something behind me. I turned around and let out a blood-curdling (sp?) scream. Apparently the full moon and sugar morphed my children into these:And no...I didn't get the placement of the pictures confused. Normally my children look like the ones at the top of the post, complete with fangs and drool. I left with two angels....God was smiling down on me!And then I woke up with a kidney stone this morning.
Apparently he has a sense of humor too!
It all started on a cold and rainy Monday afternoon….kidding. Sorry. Felt like starting a novel. After the hectic morning, followed by a few hours of leading a group of insane 5th & 6th graders at Vacation Bible School, I visited Mom and Dad for a while. I was getting ready to go home, and wouldn’t you know I could find the keys. Figures. This isn’t an unusual occurrence, so I thought after some praying, cussing, and repenting, I’d find ‘em. Wrong. After countless hours (minutes) searching, and coming to the decision that I didn’t want to waste money on Lock Doc, I decided to take my Dad’s car home. Oh yes….the tank called the Lincoln Towncar. I figured either my Mom would find the keys later, OR I’d find the first set I’d lost at home a few weeks before. I just wanted to go home and have a nice evening. Hey – we all have our wants, right?
I got on the road, had calmed down, and I was singing Rock Lobster at the top of my lungs. The girls were riding with me, and the world was good. They soon fell into a sweet slumber because my voice is so awesome. (There’s my other career….becoming the rock star I know I am and putting out a new version of Rock Lobster. For those of you unfortunate enough not to have heard it, give me call and I’ll serenade you. Really.) Actually they did fall asleep, and I was enjoying the silence.
I was about 3 miles away from home when I saw a “spot” in the middle of the road. Figuring it was a dead animal, I kept on driving. As I came closer, I realized it was alive, and it was a squirrel. Oh, I yelled out loud for the idiot to stay put so I wouldn’t hit it, and I think it heard me. Or it was just scared senseless (hey – happens to the best of us sometimes). I got about a mile on further down the road when I got to thinking that was the smallest squirrel I’d ever seen.
I just HAD to turn around and go see about it. Maybe it was a baby without a Mom! I couldn’t just leave it there! Maybe I ran over half of it and it was suffering! I couldn’t be so heartless as to finish the job off, but I could take it to the vet! Administer CPR? Lay hands on it and pray? I drove back and pulled to the side of the road, and the little critter was still sitting in the same spot, and the only thing I could tell was that it was shaking.I got a little closer, and then I realized what I was looking at. The cutest thing I’d ever laid eyes on in the last 30 seconds.
It was a baby alright….a baby skunk. Smaller than the palm of my hand! Ohhhhh….I didn’t care that it would grow up to be a rabies-carrying-stink-bomb, it was cute…and I have a mother’s heart. Sometimes. It was making a little chirping sound, and being the animal expert that I am, I figured it didn’t know how to use it’s squirter. And no, I didn’t get skunked. I got down on my hands and knees and starting making the same noise, “calling” it over into the grass. I couldn’t very well leave it to be run over by some idiot driving like a bat out of hell, or eaten by a stupid vulture. I needed to get it to safety. After it clumsily got to the grass (falling over just like a baby learning to walk) I decided to do what any mother would do. A photo shoot. (With the crappy cell phone camera).AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!
I “helped” it get to the safety of the forest, and decided to head on home. I did a 360 in the middle of the road, and then….got stuck. Oh yes. In my Dad’s Towncar. On the side of the road. In the mud. Because it had rained a bit before. AND the car was half in the ditch, and half in the road. The good long stretch where people drive really fast. Grrreeeeaaatttt. All because some stupid skunk couldn’t keep up with her lame-o kid and it had to go and look all helpless in the road. Moron. That’s the last time I stop for a skunk!
I didn’t want to call Peabody. He’d be mad as piss. I didn’t want to call my Dad. Same scenario. So I broke down and called Eddie, the ranch hand. I even lied and said the reason I pulled over in the first place was because Smartie had taken off her seatbelt. Way to go there, 30-year-old-mother-of-the-year! Lie about it! That ALWAYS makes things better. I was waiting for him to get there, and decided to attempt to get out of the ditch one more time. I succeeded! I put it in reverse, floored it, and that sucker flew across the road. Put it in drive, and I was on my way! Whew! What a day!
In case you haven’t received the memo yet, there’s a conspiracy against me. I’m sure of it. Little satellites in outer space plotting my every move, steadily changing every hair in my head silver, and sucking up every last ounce of sanity I have. Really. Oh I’m quite sure of it.
This morning I woke up to a dream…..it was just me and my girls snuggling and waking up to start the day. As I stretched and became more oriented (if that’s possible) I realized I wasn’t dreaming…it was a real. A really nice start to a really nice day.
Then I took a shower. After getting out I noticed Smartie with lipstick smeared all over her face and was smacked back into reality. A chase ensued and was going good until I stepped in something cold and gooey. I looked down to see what it was, but couldn’t focus. You need good eyes, contacts, or glasses to focus…and I didn’t have any of those working in my favor. It didn’t smell like much of anything, so I kept looking for Smartie. Instead I ran into Cookie, who had something smeared all over her eyes and cheeks, and was holding a little blue container. I wrestled it away from her to find that it was Avon eye cream. Lovely. All this happening less than 24 hours after my eventful car ride home the evening before.
What happened? Why, I thought you’d never ask!!!! (Another post to follow soon – we have to end with a cliff-hanger!!!!)
I ask this question numerous times a day. Obviously, I’m a “do” first, and “think” later. Usually this works well for me. I couldn’t wait to get back to work…back into my “normal” schedule of dropping off the kids and heading to the office. Everyone had other plans for my day.
I just happened to remember that I *volunteered!* (WWIT?) to be a group leader for Vacation Bible School, which started Monday. Fine. I guess. Until I listened to my answering machine, and realized CoolTeen was supposed to get braces Monday morning; AND that Cookie needed to go to Mother’s Day Out in White Oak; AND talked to my Mom only to hear she didn’t have a car to help out with that day. HO-LEE PISS! Are you kidding me? Figures.
I canceled CoolTeen’s appointment, dropped Cookie off, and headed back with Smartie to VBS, where I could start my group-leading efforts. Smartie decided to have a nervous breakdown, and screamed for a solid 30 minutes about ABSO-FREAKING-LUTELY NOTHING! After agreeing to let her wear her goggles all day, she finally shut up. About 15 minutes later, a teacher called and said Cookie was having an asthma attack, and there was no rescue inhaler to be found. Great. Just great!
I leave VBS, pick up Cookie for a breathing treatment, and instead decide to run her to the doctor. After a shot of steroids and 3 breathing treatments, she was better. I got back to the office around 1, and got NOTHING accomplished the rest of the afternoon.After I got home it wasn’t much better. Cookie didn’t feel well and whined a lot.
Later, in the bat-cave (insert schwwaaauuuu spaceship warp sound here)…I was in the bathroom when my Mom ran in with Cookie & Vomit! Vomit isn’t the name of the dog, lol…but it was all over my Mom: jeans, shirt, etc. and Cookie too.You want to know how my evening ended? By thinking I had an internal injury when the whole “womanly” thing happened. I know you can probably sleep a lot better tonight knowing that, but I haven’t had that happen in FOREVER. Like since Cookie was born. BLECK is all I can say. No wonder I hate pretty much everything I see right now…I was just beginning to think it was my lovely personality.
Oh, and on top of all that kid stuff at the top - I'm asking for more next month! Since CoolTeen's in the youth group at church, church camp (6 days), and Big House (3 days). It's a good think I don't have much hair right now...maybe people won't be able to tell as much when it all falls out.
We (i.e. 2 insane parents) decided to take our family to San Antonio for a fun weekend, to visit Sea World, the zoo, River Walk, all that good family stuff. San Antonio was…eventful, stressful, etc. In case you’ve forgotten their ages (hey—sometimes I can’t remember their names!), CoolTeen is 12, Smartie is 4, and Cookie is 1.5. They basically live to piss each other off.
Normally I have 2 back seat areas, but when packing for a family of 5, you have to smash all the kids together like sardines in one area. DAY ONE: About an hour down the road, I felt duct-tape calling my name. If you aren’t in the know, duct-tape LOVES children, especially bad ones!
The following is a staged pictured. This is no way represents real life. Ever. Unless being paid.
When the 2 older ones finally shut up (about 4.5 hours into the 5 hour trip), Cookie decided to have an asthma attack. We met our friends at their hotel, Cookie sucked back some albuterol and ‘roids, and all was well in the world. Or so I thought. That’s what I get for thinking! Idiot.
We went to the San Antonio zoo. Had I known how bad it would SUCK, I wouldn’t never wasted time fighting for parking spaces and being DEFEATED by some moustached-road-wench-and-her-tin-on-wheels, and THEN having to park flipping light years (a mile) away. It was at least 150 degrees outside. Even when scantily clad, ice water doesn’t knock the edge off. I was so desperate as to stand under the BIRD BATH! I didn’t care if it was shit-water, I needed something on my skin besides sun. Do you know what the highlight of the zoo trip was? Walking back to the car and finding that a fire-hydrant thing had exploded, making a river in the road!!! I jumped it in like a school-kid. It could’ve been full of elephant pee, and I’m pretty sure I would’ve jumped it in anyhow. We finally made it back to the hotel in time for a few hours of swimming, and then got ready for a night out on the town. What in the PISS were we thinking?!
Kids don’t like to walk, so why would we take them to the River WALK:? HELLO?!?!?!?! Morons. The only thing that made it worth-while was ending at Dick’s Last Resort. CoolTeen (and Peabody) was impressed with all the multi-colored bras hanging from the bar and girls as far as the eye could see. The place was packed wall to wall, so our party of 8 wedged in between the stage and ramp, and settled in for a good time. There was a storm of paper balls flying at all times. What an awesome idea! I had more fun throwing crap at random people than ever. CoolTeen got 2 hours to mack on women, and they thought he was a cute kid. CoolTeen = satisfied. For once! Smartie was head-banging to the live band, and happy, and Cookie was dancing on the table. We’re raising our kids to be outstanding citizens, eh? The music and margaritas made the whole day. I was ecstatic! Great ending to the first day.
I could insert all sorts of thoughts going through my mind, then and now. Hmmm…..no politically correct way to say what I’m thinking. Ahh, nevermind. If you know me, call me and ask….or maybe you already know what I’m thinking….ya bunch of suckas.
Our smart friends had brought their tickets the first time, so they were already in the park. We spent the next hour looking for them. Finally we met up, did our sight-seeing, kid-slapping, slur-throwing business, and had a little fun.
Smartie rode her first roller coaster, and loved it. That’s my girl!!!! Even CoolTeen & Peabody had to get in some kiddy rides.
I had just made some smart-mouthed comment about how I wished it would pour down rain and cool us off. 30 minutes later, the rains came down like a flood. Everything was shut down for over an hour. Have you ever tried to get your child off of a 40-foot high climbing ropey-jungle-gym-thingy with lightening all around? I don’t recommend it. Not that it bothered me (hey—everybody needs a jolt every now and then!), but CoolTeen drove me NUTS thinking Smartie would be hurt. I’m glad he suddenly decided to be protective, because the other 364 days a year he wouldn’t pee on her if she were on fire!
In the middle of it all Cookie decided to throw a fit, classic style.
The rain drove most people away, and after waiting over an hour (and wasting loads of money on 5 varieties of ice cream) the rides opened back up. We rode the Electric Eel over and over again. The first time Bestie and I sat in the very front car. We made fun of a sign while in line that said you had to wear your shirt while riding, but didn’t think anything of it until the first drop. The tricky wind undid Bestie’s sarong and out popped Sidekick #1. Do you know how hard it is to catch one of those while on a roller coaster? Oh it’s tricky all right...and it doesn’t help when said wind is blowing slobber on you, from your friend’s mouth, because her mouth is open wide laughing. That’s what friends are for!!! Ride #2 was just as funny, but for different reasons. The “couple” in front of us had matching rings, tattoos, and were so in love. They were “special”. Guess you had to be there.
So we pay around $50 a piece to get in to this park, and what do my kids have the most fun doing? Playing in trees!!!!
We bailed out around 9 and headed to TGIF’s for dinner. Can you say POMEGRANATE MARGARITA?!?!?!? Oh, sweet heaven….when I’m a millionaire, I’ll have a pool of it to swim in. Not only is it pretty to look at (hey—presentation is everything), but makes you feel better AND has antioxidants!!! It’s a jack-of-all-trades!
I guess Cookie wasn’t as impressed with our surroundings. While I was gone to the bathroom, she unloaded vomit like a pro, all over Peabody and the aisle. The people sitting nearby were impressed no doubt!
We also went to see the Ski-Show, and afterwards took pictures with some of the crew. Notice the stupefied look on Peabody’s face, all the while trying to cop a feel on the barely-legal’s to his left. Lol. Side-hug!
Then we hit Viva, which was a bit lame if you ask me. All pretty and bright colors, but a girl dressed up in a bird costume flying through the air and dipping her feet in water didn’t do much for me. The acrobats were cool, and I liked the dolphins and beluga whales, but there was just too much interpretive crap (dance) for me to handle.
By the end of the afternoon, I could’ve been a body-double for a lobster. SPF 30 blows. SPF my happy foot.
We took off around 4:00 p.m., and after getting on I-35, traffic slowed considerably. And then stopped. At first, I figured it was some moron trying to jump off a bridge on the very day I was using the road. Then I decided it must be construction, or a car wreck, but I never imagined there’d be a yacht blocking the road. Maybe it was the heat, the medication, the fighting children...who knows...but I found it insanely funny.
The rest of the trip was followed by more kids fighting….what else is there to do on a 5 hour drive home, I ask you? Of course, it wouldn’t be a trip with me if I didn’t get a ticket. The officer asked for my license, and the only one I could find was expired. Figures! Then I couldn’t find my insurance either. He started laughing, and told me he couldn’t wait all night for me to find it. Even though my inspection sticker expired in February, he still let me off! Oh, note to self: Thank you for not changing out of your swim suit before leaving San Antonio!!!!That’s it, in a nutshell...or a blog, rather. I’ve decided I’m never taking another vacation with my children unless there’s a nanny involved (even if she’s 18 and from Sweden), or until they’re in high school!!!!!!
Last week CoolTeen got his green belt in karate. He was proud and so were we. Then on Thursday Mom caught him walking down the road with a friend carrying candy. She knew they didn’t have money, but they told her the lady at the gas station said they could have it (she was another of their friends’ mom, and she’s given them candy before). Mom said she didn’t want the lady to get in trouble, so she was going to go pay for it. That’s when CoolTeen fessed up that they took it, as in “stole” it. Mom didn’t know what to do about it, so she just dropped him off at karate and then called me. I called the White Oak police and explained the situation to them. They laughed about it and said I could bring him. You should’ve seen the look on his face…I picked him up from karate and said we needed to go visit someone. I thought he was going to pass out. After he and the police had a “nice” talk, I took him back to the gas station where he apologized to the lady, and we paid for the candy. Then I called the other kids mom and told her about it. I’m pretty sure he learned his lesson. He was grounded the rest of the week and weekend. Even when his friends called and he told them he couldn’t talk…they asked him why he was grounded. He told them it was because of behavior issues…he was too ashamed to tell them he stole something. He was the best he's ever been at helping me with the girls for the rest of the weekend. He played with Smartie practically ALL day Saturday, with barely any fighting at all. :)
Yesterday I saw a cute little video of a baby (2 months younger than Cookie) saying all the names of her body parts, and making different animal noises, and I decided we needed to work on that, lol. All Cookie knows is toes and belly. If you ask her where anything else is (like her nose, ears, hair, hands) she always holds her foot up and points to her toes, lol. The only animal sound she knows is dog. She will make a dog sound, but last night started quacking….although it sounded more like ack-ack. Oh well. I'm still pretty sure she's a genius!
In my life, I've said I wouldn't go to a few select places anymore....like Chuck E. Cheese's (after the vomiting pants incident), or Braum's (after my insane-o-pregnant-meltdown). I can now add the pet store to the list.
I've always loved the pet store...just to stop by, look at the animals, play with the kids (not strangers kids...my own), etc. So, yesterday - when Smartie asked me to take her there, I thought it sounded like a good idea.
CoolTeen, Smartie, Cookie and I piled in the car and off we went. We played with the hamsters first. Smartie insisted on holding one, which may have been easier if I didn't have to catch it with one hand, while making sure not to drop Cookie. After getting a hold of the little sucker, I handed it over to Smartie, where she promptly let it fall on the floor. This was a good 3 foot drop, so I'm sure he suffered a traumatic brain injury of some sort. I scooped him up and tossed him back in the cage before he started stumbling...lol. Not funny, but it was funny.
Off to the dogs we went! The girls were cleaning out cages, so we got to play with nearly every dog there. There happened to be an English Mastiff...not as cute as mine, but cute anyhow. It took off running after another employee, but spotted Cookie on the way, and ended up scratching her face all up. Strike 2.
Smartie was now yelling that she needed to hold a bird. Of course she picked out the meanest bird in the cage, and just HAD to hold THAT ONE. I finally caught the demon-bird, when he proceeded to bite and flog me with his talons...lol. Evil birds, straight from the depths of hell. I just let go and he flew down in the pit of other evil bird-friends. Strike 3.
Technically, 3 strikes and you're out. But we weren't finished with this game...oh no! I was getting hot, irritated, sweating from lugging Cookie around and yelling at kids to quit touching that, and stop doing that. We went back to the hamsters for one final look. Smartie begged to have another try at holding one. I find one that looks cute and is sleeping, reach my hand down, and AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!! Screamed like a flipping girl right in the pet store. The stupid hamster lobbed on to my finger. I got so mad, that I pointed at the hamster, told him how lame I thought he was, and then gave him a gentle thump. Unfortunately some guy and his kid had just walked up behind me, and saw the alleged thumping incident. Piss. Strike 4.
We move to the bunny cage, the next one over, and the kid that was with his dad bends over the hamster cage and says, "Hey Dad! I wonder what would happen if I fell in there with them?" Like the parent of the year, I laughed and said, "They'd probably eat you alive!" I laughed. Surely they knew I was joking, pretty much. Guess not. People just don't have a sense of humor these days.
Yesterday evening Smartie was hell-bent on being mischievous. She was playing outside with the dogs, and I went to check on her. When I opened the door she was standing between the 2 cars, looking surprised. I asked her what she was doing. “Oh, I just pooped out here.” You what?!?!?! “I pooped. And I tee-teed too.” WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!?!?! “Well, Daddy does it.” I couldn’t help but laugh, and tried to tell her that Daddy doesn’t poop outside, he only pees, and even that’s not IN the garage, it’s OUT in the grass.
I took her in the house for a bath. As soon as I got her washed off, I told her to play while I got some clothes for her to put on. By the time I got back to the tub, Smartie had dumped an entire bottle of baby powder in the tub. It was EVERYWHERE. The powder was floating in clumps on the top of the water, and Smartie had it all over her too. I had to empty the entire tub, wash it out, and give her another bath.
Later I walked into the kitchen, and once Smartie saw my eyes, she jumped back from the counter, and threw a box of breath mints on it. I asked her what she was doing (they were my father-in-law’s mints) and she put her hand on her hip, waved her hair out of her eyes, and said, “Oh…uh….CoolTeen! What did you give me these for?!?!?!” This was pretty funny, especially since CoolTeen was in his room with the door shut. She had to think of that excuse on the spur of the moment.
Is that all, you ask?!?!?!? Why NO, of course not!!! CoolTeen was taking a bath, and Smartie went in to bother him. She wouldn’t leave him alone, so he dumped a bucket of water over her entire body. She ran out crying, he was laughing, and I was yelling, since I had to get her new clothes, AGAIN, and clean up the bathroom, AGAIN. Oh….all that, and I super-glued my eyelid to my eyeball….
I had an exciting weekend. Exciting may not be the best word choice now that I think about it. Exciting makes you think it was fun….awesome…exciting! It was opposite of that.
Sunday morning I got the kids ready and we headed off to church. Cookie was unusually happy, babbling through most of the service. Smartie was happy too, quite unusual, and went to Children’s Worship. T.Clutch announced that the office would be closed for MLK Day, so I would get the day off. Woohoo! Even I was happy!
After church we went home, and I laid down with Cookie for a nap. When we woke up, she sounded like a 30-year smoker with emphysema. I waited most of the afternoon around the house, to see if she’d get better. By 4:30 I’d made up my mind to go to the E.R. with her. Fun!
Long story short, they said she had bronchitis, and kept asking if she had asthma; NO. They sent us home, FINALLY, with an inhaler. All was well, or at least good for the moment. Somehow, in the back of my mind, I just knew I should’ve gone to work Monday. But I didn’t. I stayed home with the kids, looking forward to a long lazy day. Cookie had other plans, of course. She decided to pull a small table over on her face. I expected to see a purple punk-knot on her head, but when I picked her up, blood was everywhere. I’m NOT exaggerating…it really was everywhere. I ran her to the kitchen, screaming along the way; grabbed some paper towels and held them over her face. Then I debated who to call….Peabody? Mom? 911?
I called the doctor’s office when I realized she’d busted her nose. (imagine me, shrieking, yelling, hyperventilating….)
“Are you open today?!?!?! Is this the answering service?”
“Yes ma’am. We’re open.”“I need a doctor on the phone. NOW!!!!! I think my baby broke her nose!!!!”
“Calm down ma’am. Let me take your information and I’ll get a phone nurse to call you back.”
“She might bleed to death by then. I don’t want a call back. Give me a nurse NOW!!!!!”
After talking to the nurse, I felt a little better. Cookie’s nose finally stopped bleeding, but every time she sneezed it would splatter. Imagine that.
Smartie looks in the trash can 30 minutes later, completely oblivious to what happened.“What’s all this blood in the trash can?”“It’s where Cookie busted her nose.”(Sound exasperated…..) “Oh gosh. I guess we’ll have to take her to the hospital again before you kill somebody.”Sounds about right!
Mental picture: Me, serene and calm, as usual, in the middle of chaotic Chuck E. Cheese's. Cookie and I were bonding, I tell you. Apparently she wanted to bond in a different sort of way than I was thinking. She got choked on a mushroom, so I let her puke in my hand (ahh, the joys of motherhood!). No big deal. I've seen puke more times than I can count. She gags a bit more, and proceeds to chunk on my jacket/shirt. Still not horrible, to me, since I've been through this before. Just as I'm about to wipe off myself, she makes a little gaggy sound again. I say, "Cookie, don't throw up on mommy." Evidentally she has a hearing problem too. Vomit shot out of her mouth like water from a firehose. I wish I could insert the sound effect here, I can do it perfectly. Anyhow, this time I actually screamed (which was muffled by the screams of 500 other children running amok) and held her away from me. The guy at the table next to me asks if I need
anything. "YES! PPEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAABBBBBBBBBOOOOOOODDDDDDYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Again, another shot of the puke. My girl has The Exorcist topped easy! Peabody finally shows up and says "Oh, yuck.", and thinking it's no big deal, because he can only see my shirt. Then I lean over and show him the vomit-pool I'm swimming in, and he looks sickish. I take Cookie to the bathroom, the both of us dripping. Some nice lady tried to help me wipe off my pants, but to no avail. This nasty crap either curdled off and fell in chunks on the floor, or smeared. That's an awesome feeling. Really. I'm not exaggerating in the least when I say this is the most I've ever seen a child puke.
Fast forward to outside. I told the kids we had to go, obviously. We get outside, and I realize there's NO WAY I'm sitting in my car with these jeans on. My jacket, if you recall, was also puke-ified, so I wasn't sitting on that either. I made the wise decision to ditch the jeans, but the removal of them wasn't as easy. Not just because we were on the Loop on a busy weekend evening, but because chunks of vomity goodness were falling out from the INSIDE, smearing as I went. Bleck. I was NOT impressed. People were even getting in the car next to us. Oh well, like they've never seen legs before. Dorks.
On New Year’s eve, I talked to said family to make sure they got the ranch open okay. We were in Dallas, and they wanted to pop fireworks at our house. No big deal. We do it every year. Great. Sort of.The following morning my phone rings, and I see it’s T.Clutch calling me. I answer, “What’s happy about it?” Expected him to have said “Happy New Years!” Yes, happy new year’s, in a sort of twisted fiery-esque sort of way.
T.Clutch would be much better at telling this story, but since he has SO much to do being a boss and all, I thought I’d take the reigns here. Guess they only got to spark one firework, and I’m pretty sure it was the biggest firework they’d ever witnessed, so to speak. Oh the fire worked, alright….right from the little sparks warming up some grass, following it to the pond, and then torching into a bonfire! We’ll just say the story ends with a 911 call, some fire trucks, water, blisters, smoke inhalation, and a few acres of char. I think I’ll be putting something about fire safety in next week’s newspaper!
Freak and Bestie went to work, Peabody was gone, and I was in for a fun day with children. Let me elaborate. This would include my clan of super-good-ness (CoolTeen, Smartie, and Cookie), along with said dog, Rufus; AND SweetPea and DoggyFriend (friend’s sweet daughter and friend’s ever-balding dog). I started the day off like every day….with a little D&D. For reference, D&D happens to be Dr. Pepper & Darvocet. On a REALLY BAD day, you might go so far as to hit rock bottom, which would consist of P&P. Pills & Prayer. Oh yes. That’s what I’m talking about. God invented prayer, which I do daily, and he also invented those medicines. Or the tools, ingredients, and guys who put it all together. Let me just say it now and get it out there. I’m pro-drug, all the way. Nothing hard, mind you, but if there’s an ailment, there’s a medication for it, I can assure you. And…and ailment also includes those caused by 4 children, 2 dogs, and a house of expensive stuff!
Basically I sailed right through the day, nothing major. Just fighting, yelling, locking kids in closets…you know, the usual. Later in the day, the adults return home (Freak, Bestie, and even Peabody!). We decided to go to this super-cool exhibit at the Gaylord Texan resort hotel. On a side note, what idiot decided to name it Gaylord? I don’t’ care if that’s your name…change it! Gaylord? Aren’t you asking for it? I could fill a whole page with crap about that. Anyhow, the ice exhibit was super-cool, like I said earlier. It was 2 MILLION (tons or pounds, I can’t remember) of ice, carved into all sorts of crap. Slides, trains, elves, toys, candy canes, a walk through Nativity scene with the biggest angel ever – honestly, we’re talking 30 feet high with a 20 foot wingspan. He could whoop some demon-tail if I EVER saw. At the end were the slides, steps and all made of ice, 3 different levels. I got to slide once, and felt like a kid again. Smartie went at least 15 times. OHHHH…also it was only 9 degrees in there, and you had to wear these astronaut parkas.So things are awesome, and we head back home. My back is killing me, but hey, have D&D and there you go! Fixed up for AT LEAST 2 hours. Me and Bestie play 13, and I beat her into oblivion, thank you very much. We ring in the new year with Peabody asleep on the floor, kids passed out on the couch, and my sitting up ‘til 2 in the a.m. watching Code Blue on TLC. Life in the lap of luxury!
We (as in me, Peabody, CoolTeen, Smartie, Cookie, Freak, Bestie and SweetPea) all loaded up and went to a mall, where they had a toy train exhibit. They were running everywhere – over your head, through your legs…you get it. Like some train monster vomited in there. The train monster also vomited the city of Dallas and surrounding areas in there too. It was pretty neat, complete with little playgrounds and creepy little kids on swings that were an inch tall. Neat, but you couldn’t get me to spend the night there.
After the fun with trains, we window shopped stores I couldn’t afford to step foot in. CoolTeen drove me nuts the entire time thinking we were going to fall off the 2nd level, so he kept pushing me away from the sides. At least he’s considerate sometimes! Smartie had a nervous breakdown and wouldn’t walk at all without screaming, and holding onto my leg for dear life. Not because of the level, but because the floor was some sort of marble-y stuff, and she could see the reflection of the ceiling on it. Try walking through the mall with a 25 pounder, an 11-year old pushing you, and a 3-going-on-4-UFC-Wrestler at your butt and it’s difficult. I should’ve won an award for the delicate way I handled things. Yes, I did use “I” and “delicate” in the same sentence. Get over it. I can be delicate. Really. Delicate like a water buffalo.
Later, in the bat cave, I was parading through the house when the blasted ottoman jumped right in front of me, and tried to bite off my toe. I saw my life flash before my eyes. This was the first of three times that happened this night (the whole flashing-life-scenes thing). The second time was when I bent down to do something unimportant, and when I stood up, a wall decoration consisting of a candle, glass, and wrought iron, tried to impale my skull. Stupid wall decoration…didn’t it know it wouldn’t be successful?!?!?!?! I came away unscathed pretty much…just a dent in the ol’ noggin.The third time my life flashed before my eyes was because of Smartie. Apparently she was trying to get the dog from behind the couch. Failing, she instead decided to knock over a flipping table that may as well have been made of diamonds…wait, not diamonds…they don’t break….may as well have been made of Waterford crystal, that also happened to have numerous other valuable things on it (i.e. lamp, glass tray, geode bookends, my last will and testament). Everything tumbled, everyone yelled, Bestie cussed, I cussed, heck…Smartie probably cussed. She got spanked, put in time out, and somehow…only by the grace of our Lord and Savior, only a mug broke. It was a miracle!
Peabody left later that evening so he could go to work on Monday. And Monday my dear, is another story.
Ahhhh, the first night visiting. Everyone’s glad to see everyone else. People are happy. Kids are decent. Dog is good. Or that’s what my stupid brain had me thinking for the first 5 minutes!Hmmm. Did I sleep the first night? Nope! Sure didn’t, Bob! I was up cleaning couch covers all night long. Let me digress.
My friends have a huge “L” couch that numerous people could fit on. Seeing how there’s only 3 of them, I’m not sure what they were thinking when they bought it. Maybe when they had 20 kids they could line them all up on it. No really….it’s a nice couch, comfy, you can fall into it, and just about everyone from both families could fit on it. Sooooooo….I’m laying on the couch with “All My Children” when I’m getting ready to go to sleep. I figure I’ll just stay downstairs and save myself the trouble when someone needs something to drink, diaper change, etc. I was kissing the kids good night, when I realize……….. Smartie pissed on the couch. Lovely. That’s the exact word that came to my mind. She couldn’t have picked a more expensive couch to pee on unless we’d been at Saks or something. I stay up the next 1.5 hours trying to get the flipping cover off the cushion, so I can wash, dry and put it back on before telling Jackie.
Fast-forward a bit….I’m heaving and huffing, trying to stomp the cushion back into the cover, and finally! I get it. I put it back on the couch, and then kiss the kids goodnight, again. This time at 3:00 a.m………ooohhhh…..the time when the spirits are most active. Apparently there was a spirit of bodily excrement following me around. When I got to Smartie, guess what I found? JUST GUESS! Another patch-o-piss! Seriously! It’s a conspiracy!!!! This was followed by more foul language, washing, drying, and stuffing. I finished up around 7:00 a.m. Why go back to sleep now? The day is just getting started!!!!!
Last night I'd just finished eating a hamburger when Smartie said, "Mom! I wanted a hamburger too!" I told her she should've said something before I inhaled the entire thing. I would've shared (a little). Then she asked me, "Where did you hide it? In your hips?" EX-CUSE MEH? My hips? What hips? Where did she hear something like that?!?!?! I asked her who told her I had big hips. She said, "Aunt Sharon." I somehow doubt that's true.
CoolTeen also has a way with words. He's also in that "stage"...you know - 6th grade, having those stupid sex talks, etc. So I'm putting away baby food in the cabinet, when CoolTeen points and yells, "Holy crap, mom! What are those? Condoms?!?!?!?!" I'm appalled my baby even knows the word, much less know what they could possibly look like. My 2nd thought was what idiot put condoms in with the baby food, and where did they come from. I turn my head to see that Q is pointing at the box of baby bottle liners. Now, without saying too much, these suckers are 8 oz. They also expand in the middle to hold 10 oz. What kind of jacked-up giant on the beanstalk would need such a commodity I ask you? Seriously? Wouldn't that be like elphantitis or something? You might be able to sign up for Guinness Book with such a thing! I couldn't even begin to imagine. I ask CoolTeen, "How do you know what those are?", which was answered with a "I know more than you think I do, Mom." Great. Whatever. I proceeded to tell him he better not ever need such an instrument until he was at least 55. He complains and says "Holy crap, Mom! I can't even have kids? I don't want to be 90 when my kids are 20!!!!!"
Good point.Ahhhh....out of the mouths of babes. I'm so glad Cookie can only say a few. :)
"Hi M'am. Do you know why I pulled you over?"
"Yes sir. I was speeding." (Grinning from ear to ear.)
"Do you have some sort of medical emergency?
"Well, it's not really an emergency, but I AM going to the gastro doctor right now. See? Here's my paper." (Smiling and showing him papers.)
"Do you know how fast you were going?"
"Well, to be honest I wasn't looking at the speedometer, but I'm going to jump out there and guess 70."
"Yes m'am. You were clocked at 71."
"Ooooh, see! I told you, I'm pretty good at that guessing stuff. I was right on the mark!"
"May I have your license and insurance please?"
"Sure, here they are."
"M'am, your insurance is expired. Do you have another form in there somewhere?"
"Well, I probably do, but I don't want to look for it right now. If you want you can follow me to my Mom's house. She lives just down the street and I can print you out one there."
"That's okay, m'am. Just give me a second."
I wait in the car, feeling chipper, just knowing that I'll get out of this ticket. And I did. He comes back to the car, and the following takes place:
"M'am, I'm not going to give you a ticket for the speeding, but you will need to go to the court and show the judge your insurance."
"Why thanks, officer. See, I was speeding because I'm going to the gastro doc, and I want to get out of there as fast as possible. IF you know what I mean." (followed by laughter)
"M'am, I don't want to hear any more about your doctor's appointment today."
"Don't you think it's a good way to start out the new year?"
"Well, yes, I guess so. I hope everything turns out ok."
"Thanks, officer. Have a great day!"
He laughed quite a bit, but I think he was ready to vomit by the time he got back to his car.Now guess what? For saying all that (because I was truly going to the gastro doc, I get repaid by getting to have a colonoscopy on the 28th of January. Woohoo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)