What in the Sam Hill?!?!?

Why didn’t I just avert my eyes?!

2011-09-27T04:31:00.000-07:00

There are some things you just *can’t* un-see, forever engrained in your mind, *even* if you have short-term memory. They generally pop in your mind in unexpected moments. You’re driving along & rockin’ out to Rollercoaster of Love like nobody even has *bid’ness* doing, and ….WHAM! You’re taken back to the time you jerked the door open to your parents’ room and WERE SCARRED FOR LIFE.

Perhaps you’re (doing your damnedest) trying to actually *taste* the food the waitress has just served, while your kids are squirting cherry tomatoes in people’s hair, and SMACK! It’s 3 a.m. and you’re standing in line behind a Walmartian wearing a glittery red thong underneath his white tights, furry man legs and ‘shoes that are *just* killing her’. HOLY MONKEY PISS. (But those shoes were *totally* cute.)

I had another such moment last Friday, one that has permanently stained my brain, and I throw up in my mouth each time it comes to mind. One thing I never thought I’d see, or wanted to see. WHY?! WHY didn’t I *just* AVERT MY EYES?!?!?!?! ? I think I need electro-shock therapy, copious amounts of alcohol, a lobotomy, a 15th concussion, water-boarding……something, *ANYTHING* to take the image out of my head.

I hate to even recount the story, but for the sake of others, and the hopes that it NEVER happens to them, I’ll do it.

Allllllllll I was *going* to do was ‘fix’ Byron’s temporary phone so it didn’t have a passcode on it. He’s about as technologically savvy as a yodeling camel, so I figured I’d mark it off the list as my ‘Being the Best Wife EVAH’ task of the day. Next time? Forget it. I’ll keep my snarky attitude, thank you very much.

Did I mention it was his temporary phone? A phone that had previously belonged to Quentin? Like, oh I don’t know….say, a month ago?

I got the passcode fixed up in no time, because I *am* a genius. Thought I’d go above and beyond my ‘Best Ever’ wifely call of duty, and change the lame-o funkified water-bottle background pic Q had put up. I might as well have made lobster and filet mignon!

I scrolled through pics of a car engine, family, a pasture….and then….Why in the HELL is there a PICTURE OF A WANG on BYRON’S PHONE?! I yelled something random, just being shocked that it was barely 9 am, I was watching Team Oomi Zoomi with the kids, and had already looked at porn. C’mon, guys. I usually wait until at *least* 10 am before doing that. I started hitting buttons trying to delete it, and got more panicked as Violet ran over asking “What is it? I wanna see! Is it something scary?!” Oooooooh you have *no* idea.

Instead of deleting it, whatever button I clicked just turned the image view from profile to landscape. Fabulous. I covered the pic with my hand so I didn’t have to be disturbed by the “what if” thoughts plaguing my mind. I left the bottom border exposed – where NO FLESH was showing - so I could see if the pic was *actually* deleted before I removed my hand……and that’s when my head fell off and I vomited from my shoulders. No, really. That’s exactly what happened.

The floor? Yeah, it was showing in the bottom of the picture. That was BYRON’S bathroom floor. That was NOT Byron’s bid’ness. ……. Upon further interrogation and investigation, Byron found out that ‘it’? Belonged to Quentin. I only *wish* I could insert vomit-uous noises here.

It seems that Quentin was *so* impressed with himself, he just *had* to take a photograph! For his AOL icon? Sexting? Posterity? No matter the pointless reason, he may as well have been drawn and quartered, because he’s had the ever-lovin’ tar beat out of him, and has been scared beyond ALL belief for the legal repercussions for possible ‘sexting’.

Although I know he’s fully recovered and likely forgotten, I – my friends – have not. MEDS!!!!!

Carpe medications!

2011-07-23T05:54:00.000-07:00

It’s just *gotta* be a good day when you wake up, covered in pee, that *doesn’t* belong to you (thank you Duke, and those lame-o UNnight-time pullups!)…..then roll outta bed to get cleaned up, *only* to learn you can’t walk – because remember yesterday? All those squats, presses, curls & extensions – so you could become the *monstrous* in-human-looking body-builder that’s inside you? Raawwwrrrr!! I mean, *ahem* (unenthusiastic) Yeaaaahhhhh.

Walk with swagger (?) to the kitchen for some sort of medication, only to continually imagine you’re being eaten alive? Oh wait. You *are* being eaten alive - by ants? Sense of déjà vu (see devil-bug post). Look down in kitchen floor to see what looks to be a ball of a furry mass, some dead animal of sorts, with black fur? Blackish fur with orangey parts? Ooooohhhhh…..like when the kids played ‘chef’ last night, & threw a buffalo wing in the floor because it was far *too* tiresome for their delicate arms to aim it at the trashcan 2 feet away? Guess they take after Byron. Ant massacre ensues.

Try to go back to bed, set down drink, then knock it outta the park (or in the hallway, at least) when I shake the new, clean blanket out. The now dirty, Dr. Pepper covered blanket. Oh, and the DP covered floor. How I’ve managed to get through all this and not say 1 foul word could only be God’s work. I’ve only been awake 15 minutes, and I can already tell….it’s gonna be a *fantabulous* day.

Think I’ll sneak out and go fishing before anyone else wakes up.

Beer Makes Hair Healthy! (i.e. Piss for your Hair)

2011-07-20T18:55:00.000-07:00

After the ‘bout-with-the-bug’ yesterday, *surely* nothing but boredom would ensue for the remainder of the day. Wrong.

That’s when you decide to see what that watery noise is – that’s clearly NOT someone peeing – coming from the loo. Ahhh, Duke – ever the metrosexual – is already into taking care of his beautiful blonde curls. He’s standing by the toilet, with the measuring cup – from the sugar bowl? Yes, the sugar bowl. Because haven’t you heard? Everyone who’s anyone exfoliates with sugar at the toilet – and rinses off with cup-fulls of liquid from it.

I *finally* figure out what’s going on.

Duke, has heard – from countless years (what? 2.5 years – that’s 30 months) of media bombardment, that beer? Is good for your hair. Being the genius he is, he’s determine from the best of all sources (read: me!) that beer…. Smells like horse piss. Tastes like horse piss. If you look up beer in the dictionary, it shows a picture of – you guessed it! Your Mom. Kidding. It shows a piss-laden horse stall.

It’s *obvious* the boy wanted to take care of his hair – knew the horses were on the *other* side of the ranch – and used what was available at the moment.

Kinda like when you’re in the mood to do some stained glass artistry – and out of supplies – so instead, you throw a marshmallow in a glass bowl, put in a fork, and voila! It catches on fire, explodes, and creates the most interesting looking stained glass bid’ness I daresay I’ve ever seen.

I (almost didn't) DOMINATE, YO.

2011-07-19T12:49:00.001-07:00

You know that moment...when you're waking, wishing whatever kid with their foot shoved up under your rear would remove it….or at least have the *decency* to take their scratchy socks off their feet.....or, remove stickers (from previous sticker-overdose)…. even shave, perhaps? But wait....shave? It could only be one of my children, and none of them shave. Except for Q – who’s 15 – and if *his* foot is up under my butt while sleeping? We have FAR bigger issues.

Only *2* hairs? When was the last time their foot was 1"x2”? In utero? A foot that seemed to be struggling, wiggling ... it *IS* a foot...RIGHT?! Suddenly the thought crept into my mind….WHAT in the holy monkey piss is up under my bid’ness, yo?! Somebody call for back-up, SpecOps, NARCs, NARC-Anon’s, The Fab 5 (where *are* they these days?!), HELP!!!!!!

Now that I mention it, go ahead and call for paramedics. There *seems* to be a head-sized hole in my bedroom ceiling. Then again, maybe that’s just a dent in the ceiling….and the hole’s in my head.

I *knew* I should’ve been a high-jumper!!! We could’ve been living the high-life off the money made from my superb, nay – SUPREME – high-jumping skills. I’d have commercials, promo deals for Nike and Gatorade, my face would be on the box of Wheaties…..oh! The things I would’ve *loved* to know long ago. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be…..

*The* MOST GINORMOUS DEVILBUG (waterbug) in the HISTORY OF MAN just tried to EAT ME ALIVE!!!!!!!!! He could’ve had the integrity to cook me first. I know I went off and broke my dermis or something important….what’s it called? Your spatula? Spectrum? Speculum? (Wait, I’ve heard that somewhere before……) Sternum! That’s what I broke, when my head hit the ceiling and my body bent in unnatural positions.

Insects? Sure. Snakes? Love 'em. Had a 6-footer named Rutherford. Skydiving? Of *course*. WATERBUGS?! Suck it!

Note to Waterbugs: Remember the fate of the pinetrees, dude. I won. Both times. They might’ve had me looking trashy for a hot second, but I? DOMINATED.

Here I Are

2011-07-13T03:35:00.000-07:00

Lots of stuff has happened since 1950. People grew up. Got a few cooler cars. Got rid of some *way* cooler cars (uh, 1949 Mercury Led Sled, chop-top, black with flames & suicide doors, OR 1951 Chevy Pickup? Need I say more? Well *that's* a stupid question.) People got color TV's. Plastic surgery. They made freezable pb&j sandwiches with*out* crusts. Cell phones popped up, and so did blogs. Then around 1957, (January 2011 my time), my computer bit the dust and my 5th child - What-in-the-Sam-Hill - died. Sigh! Blogging world?! Where *have* I been without you? Lots of places. Most I didn't even wanna go to. Like the high school cafeteria. I digress.

I have *so* much to ramble on about....at least a good 6 months worth of stuff that's happened...as well as complete randomness that pops into my mind Every. Single. Day. Like how after 33 years on this earth, I've *finally* decided what I wanna be when I grow up: Eva Mendes or Lady Gaga. Don't judge me.

Guess I'll just start with today and see where it's takes me. Hm. I'm syncing my new iPhone right now, after my most recent one got syphillis, played in the dirt, had an exorcism, ate cement, and was permanently buried in the trash can. I got so excited after learning I could re-download all my past apps and 20+ hours of music that I had to take a xanax. (Okay, the xanax was just for fun. Suck it. You know I'm kidding. Maybe.) Future tip for all you freaky-deaky 15 year olds out there: Do NOT download a gazillion different free Kama Sutra apps to your Mom's phone while bored (or looking for geniune info). While I *do* appreciate the fact that they were ALL free, it's inappropriate. Do it on your Dad's phone instead. Kidding. Just don't do it. I still have a 2 year old. I don't want grandkids for another 20 years, and if I can find a place to have you (il)legally sterilized, I *will* do it. Don't tempt me. Fa'real, yo. I *love* Mexico. Don't give me another reason to have to make a trip there. Then again.....that *might* not be a bad idea.....

This evening I got to (re)meet some people from church who are part of my Supper Club group - which is exactly what is sounds like. A club. For supper. All I had to do was provide some chairs, half-clothed screaming children, and my *stunning* personality. We had a great time...or *I* had a great time. Everyone I wasn't related to was pleasant, I learned new things about some neato-bandito people, scared them with info about me, *and* ate some of the best food ever (that I will totally copy and claim as my own invention at future family get-togethers).

I take after my Mother. Although I complain about having to clean before people visit, and then froth at the mouth like Cujo-on-crack, I tend to work better under pressure....so, about 2 hours before people were set to arrive, I got into a cleaning frenzy. Oh! I'm also *always* late. After 19 years with Mr. Late himself, it's rubbed off on me.

When everyone got to my house at 6:30 on the dot, as planned, I sent Gracelyn to the door and ran to the bathroom to do a wash-cloth bath and change clothes. Think I managed to spray on enough sugar-lime refreshing spray to cover an army, threw on some different (and probably dirty) clothes, and ran back out to pretend I'd just been sitting around all day. I did, however, have to give a few excuses of why/how things were broken or unacceptable, so no one got hurt. Like the guest toilet. It doesn't flush because the Anti-Christ lives in it, so you have to fill the tank with water every other flush. Or the master toilet - how if you lean to the side you might slip off and bust your head on the table, because a hinge broke - when I stood on it - to see if dust was on top of the light-fixtures. Or maybe it was to take a full-body pic of a new dress. At this point - who cares?! Or the stained remains of innocent smashed earthworms, chocolate milk, jalapenos, dog food and dirt on the kitchen floor - because the flipping Swiffer Mop ran out of batteries while said guests were coming down my driveway....and *somehow* NOT ONE of the 15 remotes I emptied had batteries that wanted to cooperate? Or if they tried to sit on the futon couch, they might as well kick off their shoes and pretend they were visiting China, because my kids busitificated it so one side touched the floor? I finally realized it Just.Doesn't.Matter. This? Is *SO* the real me....and if they can't manage to handle the real version, I'll kindly offer the meds - because, hey! I'm a people-pleaser!

Now that it's 4:02 a.m., and I've officially been up all night - I think I'll take a shower to smell better for the dentist tomorrow. I hope I haven't overdosed on Orajel by then. Is that possib

disRobed much, suckas?

2011-01-13T14:48:00.000-08:00

In the last week, I’ve had more than a few robe malfunctions. I have now decided to quit wearing a robe, so I’m *forced* to get dress decently should I be driving. There are three important things you should *not*, under ANY circumstances, do in a robe.

1. Drop off kids at school.

Dropping off children at school can scar your friendly principal, *especially* when said mother looks like she’s one straight-jacket short of the institution. Really. I was wearing blue tri-color striped pajamas with orange paint stains, attempting to cover them with a nicer looking robe (Christmas present…for Quentin) – last minute – when the principal suddenly steps out to open the car door for Gracelyn. My hair was also sticking out in 90 different directions, doing something I’d cuss on a good day trying to get it to do…..but then stuck a fork in a light socket, and it all went downhill. *Not* a good look for me. I know, I know, you have a *real* hard time believing there couldn’t possibly be something that fit that description, right? Meh.

2. Get gas.

A few days ago I woke up to a chilly 25 degree temp outside. Fortunately I’d made it to the bus stop in time *with* my children (don’t judge me), and figured I should get gas while the car was warmed up. Lest I not need remind you what I was wearing. Again. At least it was clean!! I think. I told myself that surely *no one* in their right mind would be out getting gas, *especially* on the end of 20+ gas pumps…and on the positive, it was still dark outside. I pulled in, turned the car off, and was about to open the door when Mr. I’m-So-Awesome-Because-I-Have-*NO*-Trouble-Getting-To-Work-When-There’s-An-Inch-Of-Ice-On-The-Road-*AND*-I-Managed-To-Fix-My-Suave-Hair Dude pulls up next to me. Figures. I pretended to look through my purse for a credit card already in my lap, waiting for the hours to pass so he’d go inside the station, get back in his truck, read a book, look at himself in the mirror…ANYTHING!!! But nooooooo, fate would not have it. Instead, he finally turned his back to me, and looked like he was doing something important. Wouldn’t you know that dirty scum-sucker turned around at the *very* moment I stepped out of the car, and the heavens parted – the angels sang – and the sun shone on me like I was princess. Except I wasn’t princess, or even a homeless one. What’s that you say? I couldn’t have looked *that* bad? Oh really. Not *even* in my fur boots, with one ripped open to display my foot?! Yeah, what was that? Suck it.

3. Jog on the side of the road.

For reasons that aren’t the topic of today’s blog, I’ve never been much of a jogger, lest I be killed or maimed in some fashion (that would at *least* be funny for a news article). About the only time you’ll see me *attempting* to do such an absurd this is when I’m running after one of my heathen spawn, after they painted the dog blue. Again. For the 3rd time. With permanent markers. Wearing only their underwear. In sub-zero temperatures. I digress.

Anyhow. I was bound and determined to beat the bus to the stop this morning. I thought for a good *minute* about putting my blue jeans on, but then figured I’d have plenty of time to do that before taking the 2nd set of kids to school. Little did I know exactly how much time I’d have. I pulled into Mom’s driveway, turned the car around, and waited for 15 minutes for the bus. The car decided to act like a girl (This girl?! Never) and quit running. Literally. I waited for the bus to get the kids, and then called Mom for gas. Technically her driveway isn’t *that* long, but after the gas station incident, I decided against the whole homeless fur boot look. Wouldn’t you know Mom was alllllll out. Next step? To the neighbors house! Yeah, uh, except that involved mud, and cold, and wind, and hell, fire and brimstone, and bad hair, bad pajamas, and a robe. Mom jumped in my car so I could use her shoes, and then I proceeded to run down the road, in PUBLIC!!, looking like that. At least this time I had on *black* pajamas, so you *totally* couldn’t even tell it was the same person as the other 2 times. You wanna know how many cars passed me?! MORE than a few. Bunch’a crap if you ask me. I sprint down their driveway, and Danny was outside getting ready to leave for work. I'm sure I scared the piss outta him, and wouldn't you know...He was out of gas too. The rest of the morning was *pure* joy, from squeezing mom’s car through the tiny gate opening left by my car, to soaking myself and God’s green earth with half the gasoline I got. Still now, almost 9 hours after my shower? I smell like I *just* sprayed on some of my newest eau du parfum – Octane.

I hope this helps some of you *fine* people not make the same mistakes. Instead, make brand new ones, and share your tips with me! Oh, and a tip for an unknown restaurant advertising on the radio: Meatball Slider? Is *not* a good name for a dish. Can it, suckas, because it does *not* make me hungry.

Just like her mudder.

2010-11-17T14:26:00.000-08:00

GiGi was *real* hung up on impressing me yesterday afternoon, and made sure that happened. The bus driver stopped the bus and got out, smiling, just to tell me something about my girl. By this time I was beaming from ear to ear, imagining my child coming to the rescue and administering mouth-to-mouth to save a child's life, or protecting fellow students from an attacker. Nay, this was *not* the case.

My 6-year old ball of *pure* sunshine, Gracelyn, flipped off each and *every* child that passed her while getting off the bus yesterday. She's the last one off, so she made *quite* the impression. My child isn't greedy (ha!), and proceeded to share her love of the bird with them all. Hey - at *least* I get a point for teaching her to treat everyone as equals.

Lest you forget this very child impressed the masses her first time telling a Bible story - her version of Mary and Martha meeting with Jesus. She was only 3 and had just come home from her 1st night of Vacation Bible School. It went a little somethin' like this:

Mary and Martha were happy because Jesus was coming over for dinner. Martha was running around crazy, cooking and cleaning, and got mad because she couldn't find Mary anywhere! She opened the door, and there was Mary, sitting on the floor at Jesus' feet - and Martha said, "Mary, what the *hell* is going on here?!"

You don't get that kind of education from just anywhere, people. Recognize.

If I get a deer-kick to the teeth - I'll have hoof in mouth.

2010-11-16T20:10:00.000-08:00

It’s not at *all* unusual (read: highly unlikely) to drive up and see Byron sitting outside with the kids, but this time? It was *slightly* funny, considering the fact he was out with Duke, who was only wearing shorts….with a temperature of 51 degrees. Well, *Duke* didn’t have a 51 degree temperature, but he was *outside*, and it was 51 degrees out there. I digress. Did I mention this was less than 24 hours after Duke was sent home from school, with fever, and projectile vomiting? Duke didn’t seem to care, and besides….as Byron pointed out, they *were* sitting in the sun.

Last weekend we attempted some fun here and there. Do you know what’s fun and is *free*?! A playpen! Or seems like it’s called something else these days, but after 4 kids, I can’t recall. You say tomato, I say…the grossest food ever unless it’s in soup or ketchup. Violet and Duke played a good hour or more on in, in it, around it, hanging and flipping off it, climbing it, and so on….*and* although I can’t say we came away injury free, there were *NO* trips to the hospital! Score 1 Ashley!!!!

We also attempted to do Chuck E. Cheese for the 2nd time this year. Don’t think we’ll be headed back anytime soon. Oh the happy memories from days of yore at the Mouse House: from the time I puked the *entire* way home – out the window – with Q and friends in the backseat; to the time Violet puked all over the table *and* me – right beside some family who just had their pizza served, *and* I had to de-pant myself right on Loop 281; to this visit, when I did the unthinkable, and attempted entering the depths of hell with 3 of my kids – aged 6 and under. Wrong. Duke got lost, fell backwards off the tricycle to the ceiling, and was rescued by an anonymous do-gooder. The suck-bag grandpa who *LET* Duke fall, and didn’t even *ATTEMPT* to get him off before he fell – while his *OWN* granddaughter was on the damn thing – should be *awful* glad I took a double-dose of Depakote that day. Duke did have fun before the unfortunate accident, and was absolutely obsessed with riding in the car with the mouse.

The Duke decided to get a bit more attention later on. He was feeling neglected because his sisters were playing princess makeover. All was quiet in the house for 15 minutes, and that’s when you know it’s gonna fall apart…when everything *seems* fine. Apparently Violet resorted to getting Duke out of their room by giving him some purple mascara. At least he figured out it’s supposed to go on the face…….and I've decided to consider tasting it myself. I do *loooooove* to eat icing, and It *does* have the look of purple icing, no?

Mummies in the house!!

2010-10-27T15:08:00.000-07:00

I was nearly *certain* I’d made an exciting archaeological discovery a few days ago.

The girls were climbing in bed, getting ready to call it a night, when Violet got mad (imagine!) and threw one of her stuffed animals at the wall. I had to run for a Xanax when I saw Gracelyn *VOLUNTEER* to try to get it...for her sister! She couldn’t manage to reach it, so she asked me to do it. I tried and tried with the gimp arm with no success, so I got a flashlight. What I saw next made me reach for another Xanax (sweet joy!). It was....a rib cage! All sinewy, red, brown, streaks of tan...about the size of....the cats.

A thousand thoughts flew through my head all at once: Was this the cat that disappeared last summer? Did this rib-cage belong to one of the ghosts in my house? Wouldn’t a 3rd-time boob job be the charm? How do people get discombobulated? Have you ever seen someone who was combobulated?

Alas, I realized it wasn’t any of those things, but instead a rack of ribs from our last barbeque. Wait a minute...when was our last barbeque? Labor Day? Surely not...4th of July. Ha. Yep! On the 4th of July, we had a bunch of friends over, and one of ‘em volunteered for rib duty.

The only logical conclusion I’ve come to is that my kids have *finally* realized that I? Am *not* a cooker (as Gracelyn calls it) and took the ribs for possible future use.

I wanted to get a photo of ‘em, and haven’t had time yet – so you’ll be relieved to learn they’re in a safe and protected environment, behind the dresser.

Don’t judge me. I’m gonna put ‘em in a jar with formaldehyde for the Halloween party Friday.

Battle o' the Pine - Part Deux

2010-10-26T20:32:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer #1: I have *no* idea what in the ever-loving monkey-piss is wrong with this blog. Every time I put my pics in, it removes formatting...if I re-do, everything gets jacked up all over again. This lame-o computer will NOT win the battle....so if this post looks jacked up for a while, it's a computer conspiracy.

Disclaimer #2: I am *way* behind on the blog. I'm always behind, but even for me...I'm way, *way* behind. I just seem to get all my good ideas in the day, when blood is still flowing through my brain, but I don't usually get to write 'til the evening, because...well, just because of normal insanity. Just take a pill, smile, and pretend like you like it. Or else.

I can dance and slide across the kitchen floor *insanely* well…. until I eat the side of the refrigerator… with the back of my head… after an attempted tap-dancing-burlesque-lindy-hop move. I *totally* had it going on for a second there. My compliments to So You Think You Can Dance, Dancing With the Stars, and good genetics.

I’m almost certain my most recent bout of insanity began when I threw the universe itself into shock. I’ll have you know I cooked – like *three* nights, in a R.O.W. Yes, go ahead…take a minute to collect yourself. I *practically* made filet mignon with a hollandaise sauce, but for the sake of being humble, we pretended it was Hamburger Helper Beef Stroganoff and Chicken Teriyaki. You say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to.

Note to self: Get Duke a helmet. The boy falls on the ground and throws his head back at a moment’s notice. Because I’m a concerned (read: selfish) parent, the only plastic surgery I care to pay for is for myself. I digress.

Last week was straight out of a horror movie. Maybe a horror-comedy. Hell, nearly *every* day is a horror-comedy movie for me.

We were fortunate enough for Byron to start his new job that Monday, and the sky was full of sunbeams, sparkles, rainbows and butterflies. And rabid demon bats. I only *thought* things were stressful after dropping the 2 younger heathens off at their new school. >> Obligatory 1st day of school pictures with the “look how happy we can pretend to be if Mom bribes us with candy and trips to the pet store” smile >>

That night, Gracelyn decided to start coughing up her lung, spleen, entrails and whatnot – so I gave her some of Dimetapp, played reruns of Dancing With the Stars, and got some hilarious video of her dancing right along. She’s got her mother’s mad skillz, yo. *Mad* skillz. I was up *all* night with her.

Tuesday I was dragging, even with my super shots’o’bat piss (5 hour energy drink). I had been joking about the fact that the 1 year anniversary of the Attack of the Pine Tree was coming up.

The next morning I was determined to be on-time, with a plan, on-schedule – everything I’m usually not. Just remember when things seem too good to be true, that’s probably the case. *Apparently* the pine tree family still had pent up anger issues from last year, and just after I uttered the words, “Quentin – call DeeDee – because I don’t need to talk on the cell phone while I’m driving”, the pine tree’s Dad spit on the road, made a tire slip in the mud, and our van spun around and ate pine again. What. The. Hell.

Fortunately this time didn’t involve me being carted away by ambulance, with my life (and arm) hanging by a thread. Ha. Everyone *still* had to go to school and work. Even Quentin, with his 5 bazillion self-portraits on my camera and phone. No breaks in *this* bid’ness.

Thursday *had* to be better, but no, no, no. Why ruin a perfectly bad week by making it better? Not in *this* household, no sir. After Violet ran to the bathroom a good 20 times before we left for school, I decided to take some pee to the doctor for a test, and voila! Yet *another* UTI for VioleNt. Oh, what’s that? Only 50 pair of underwear in a day, *and* a bazillion dollar antibiotics?

Puh-leese. Thursday wasn’t through was us. About 20 minutes after I left home, Byron called with a message. Funny enough, his car would only go in reverse. I explained how if he were *truly* dedicated to his new job, he’d drive 30+ miles in reverse, no big deal. Good thing for him I’m practically a saint, so I turned back around and took him to work. We found out a few days later all his car issues were due to his *hospitable* introduction of this unfortunate hog to the after-life via the Corolla.

I have to go. Byron has officially scared the piss out of me. The man? Knows the lyrics to Laverne & Shirley, and is belting them out, with the show. He. Is. Somethin’.

Side note: The wreck this year happened on the 1-year anniversary of last year's wreck. I also ran my mom's car off a small bridge when I was 16, which *also* happened in October. If any of you kind, generous people would like to start a fund, where I can stay at home the entire month of October 2011, you'd likely be protecting humans all over the earth. Just sayin'.

They Only Look Like Angels

2010-08-29T15:29:00.000-07:00

All I wanted to do was take a nap while the girls sat beside me watching Strawberry Shortcake. All I ended *up* doing, was taking a nap, so as to give our *helpful* children (read: destructive fruit of my womb) time to demolish the house. In less than 30 minutes, they managed to:

Convince our color TV he had warped back to the 50’s, so he was all ‘I’m going back to black and white. Besides, black is slimming.’

Let our antique hutch in on the secret that *everyone* wears stuff faded these days. *Usually* in the middle. *Especially* in ginormous Jupiter-sized rings.

Pack the iPhone charger with so much green ‘stuff’ that she acts like she’s never even *seen* the iPhone before. They’ve been together since last year!!!!! Huzzy.

It’s a good day when September 18th rolls around, and for worthwhile reasons, I’ll be taking it *all* off, by being brave, and getting bald. You should too. Don’t make me sic my kids on you, because I will *so* do it.

Visit http://www.stbaldricks.org/ & www.stbaldricks.org/events/easttexas NOW. Please. :)

I once was blind, but now I see!

2010-07-31T14:19:00.001-07:00

The trouble with waiting a coon’s age to write between blog entries, is forgetting all the insanity that happens. I’ve sat here on the couch for the last hour trying to recall everything, and let’s face it…I might as well be trying to fit in size 6 britches: with some friends, duct tape, butter, and the help of the Good Lord, it just *might* happen.

The most recent mayhem ensued when I had temporary blindness. At the immediate time, it wasn’t funny….but it’s *slightly* funny now that I think about it, and know for a fact I’m not going blind. I wear contacts, and for the last few days my eyes were burning, watering, and light-sensitive. Three days ago I was hit with the ingenious idea to do something radical…and take them out. When I took them out I was surprised it didn’t solve the problem, but instead got worse. By the time I left work Thursday afternoon, they were hurtin’ pretty good.

I drove to Planet Beach to get my fake tan, and the pain was getting worse. The important thing about a Mystic Tan is that you don’t get wet for at least 6 hours afterwards, and preferably overnight. I damn near started a new trend when my eyes started pouring water, making white streaks down my face, where the tears were washing the tan-stuff away. Had I not wiped my face off with a wet towel, I’d still be sporting a Tony the Tiger look today.

I tried to wait at the salon for a bit to see if sitting in a dark room, with sunglasses on, would help. Nope. It was worse. Eventually reinforcements were called in. About 30 minutes later my Mom picked me up from the salon, and took me straight to the ER. There’s no need to remind you how smart of an individual I can be, at times, so I was *certain* I was going blind. I couldn’t open them, unless they were pulled open….and even then I couldn’t see.

I’m a person that uses humor (hey, at least *I* think I’m funny, and since *I’m* the only person that knows anything, I’m right) to diffuse any situation. This time was no different. About the time I said something to my mother about hoping I had a hot doctor…and then becoming disappointed when I realized it was pointless since I wouldn’t be able to see him…I heard a voice say, “Hi. I’m Dr. Klingenberg. You’re husband is Byron?” I just *ass*umed he read that on my chart. A short time later I learned he’s one of Byron’s students from jiu-jitsu! Lovely. Already made a large ass of myself (for pain-related reasons, and from my natural personality) to find out he’s friends with my husband. Fortunately if I see him out in public I won’t recognize him, since I *still* don’t know what he looks like. On a side note I had the best nurse EVAH…who happens to be dating a guy I go to church with, and we’re all friends. It? Was wondrous.

We got down to the eye bid’ness, and numerous fun things started up – like putting lemon juice in my eyes. Okay, so it *may* not have been lemon juice, but it *totally* felt that way. I had all sorts of eye exams, and the last one was the best. It included putting rubbery extra-large contact-ey-thingies (yes, Know-it-all, that *is* the correct technical term) that were connected to bags of saline, and I had 1 liter of saline flushed over each eye.

That was extra fun because it soaked my entire shirt with saline was as well, so I? Was stylin’ *and* profiling in my *favorite* red heels, best jeans, and? A hospital gown.

After numerous tests, medications, and papers, I was released with instructions to see an Ophthalmologist the next day.

I should add that – as noted above – I was wearing my favorite red rockin’ modern-Dorothy shoes by a *fab’lous* Mr. Giani Bini. I honestly got more compliments on those shoes, from people of ALL walks of life, that night, than I’ve gotten in Y.E.A.R.S. You need some too. I’m just sayin’.

Long, long, long, long, LONG story shorter. I saw the professional-eye-dude the next day.

Diagnosis? When I recently put in new contacts, I had an allergic reaction. This caused rough bumps to form on the underside of each eyelid. Not knowing this, I took the contacts out to make things more comfortable. It *actually* made it worse, because then the bumps scratched the corneas on each eye. The scratches got infected, and voila! Eye issues.

The eyes are on the mend now, with a few different meds, and I’m doing good…and now, a few thank-you’s:

Thank you Mom, Planet Beach people, Dr. Klingenberg, Carol’s Carol, everyone else, and most importantly:

Thank you Lord Jesus for helpin’ me out, again, even though I *totally* don’t deserve it. Thanks for showin’ me that ghetto-fab’lous AWESOME double-rainbow the day before, and letting me keep my sight. I once was blind, but now? I see, yo’.

Can I get an AMEN?! And now, some double-rainbow pics and videos for your viewing pleasure.

Lame-o Chick I will so not like for forever

2010-05-11T11:05:00.000-07:00

The other day I was sittin’ in the salon, getting my purple fabulosity put in. I was flipping through a Maxim men’s magazine. Very interesting and funny stuff in there, and as expected, lots of girls.

There was 1 section on a lame-o smelly pirate hooker named Aryanni. She’s a stupid UFC Octagon girl. I would so smack her teeth on the octagon. Anywho, I turned the pages to see her stats (she might as well be 13, like *negative* 5 foot, 4 pounds, ridiculous business) and low and behold that huzzy had the *gumption* to be frolicking in the flippin’ grass, in just a pair of panties by Honeydew.

How, you ask, did I know the designer of the fab little panties? Because. I own them. I may have looked like Ary-puky-anni in the 5th grade, but alas…not now.

I’m dieting now…on Dr. Pepper and lemonheads.

A bunch'a (un)important crap.

2010-05-08T13:10:00.000-07:00

I just overheard Gracelyn saying, "I’m gonna tell you for the *last* time, Violet! You don’t say it like “damn it, shoot”, you just say *damn it*"!!!!

Are the cattle driven to have relations when they’re directly in front my glass door? Bunch’a flipping exhibitionists. I don’t drive out in the middle of them in the pasture and have relations where *they* can see. Okay, so maybe I did *one* time, after going to the Jaycee’s Haunted House in Tyler when Byron and I were 19-ish, but they *so* weren’t the same cows!!

There’s an electric fence out away from our house, in the pasture by the pond. We use it when the cows are in the pasture by the pond, so they’re not gator bait. The kids know they’re not allowed to go by the pond outside, and our house alarm even beeps every time a door is open or closed, so we know when they go out. Long story short, the girls were playing out in the yard, in front of the same glass door the cows had relations by. Violet ran towards the pond, with me yelling, “Violet, stop! Do *not* run to the pond! The fence is on! You’re gonna get shocked! Violet!!!!” ZAP. Well, so much for that. Don’t get all huffy with me, it’s not that strong, and didn’t even leave a red mark on her hands. Not even an hour later, Quentin set his gun on it to aim better. ZAP again. Moron. Wasn’t supposed to be shooting *towards* the cows in the first place.
Hmmm….what else.

OH! I got supah-fab’lous new purple hair, and I’m rocking it *all* up in your business. The countdown to September 18th bald-dom is *on* like donkey kong, and if you haven’t signed up to brave the shave and conquer kids cancer, we will *have* words. Go sign up. Now. Or else. http://www.stbaldricks.org/events/easttexas or if you live further away, find another event (they’re world-wide!) at http://www.stbaldricks.org .

One last funny thing to mention. Quentin is 14, and *way* too involved in thinking about girls. He’s been dating a girl for a few months now, and I found out they had their first kiss a few weeks ago. Since then kissing has been in high demand, from what I gather. Quentin told me recently that they were “like, you know, making out”. Hmph. I asked him what the definition of making out was. He was all “Whatever Mom. You are *so* lame. You know!” I’m figuring it’s still the same ol’ business….kissing, hugging, basic making out. A bit later I got a text message that said “consecutive kissing with occasional tongue”. Oh I laughed and laughed. I told Quentin that while I *did* appreciate his use of 2 large words, I’d prefer that he find something more productive to do. Not productive like making trouble, or babies…but productive like reading.

Holy. Piss. I just did the *longest* most *best* burp ever! Guess you’d have to be here.

The shovel did it!

2010-05-06T21:26:00.000-07:00

I’ve always been a sucker for animals. Like to play with ‘em, eat ‘em…they’re just all around good things to have on hand.

Recently Gracelyn’s school raised baby chicks from wee eggs, and we ended up adopting 2 of ‘em. Did we *have* to adopt them? Puh-leese. The biddies looked at me with big doe chicken eyes, and cheeped, “Pick me! Take me home to be tortured by your heathen spawn, let your dog maul me in a game of chase, and then cut my head off with a shovel, please! Me, me, me!!!!” Okay, so maybe they didn’t say the part about the dog chasing them (who are we kidding, there was never a chase when it started and ended in the dog’s mouth), but you get the vibe. They *had* to live with us.

Fast forward to a week later. Violet decided the biddies needed to stretch their legs, so to speak, and let one down on the ground outside. Next thing I know, Gracelyn busts through the door screaming that a chicken is dying. I go outside to find the biddy by a tree, all lopsided and obviously sporting new body shades...the color purple, ha! It really *was* sad for a few minutes. It was not long for this world, and I didn’t want it to suffer, so I cut his head off. Sucker. Kidding! Sort of. About the sucker part.

Its eyes were closed, but it was still breathing. I thought I’d put it in a small box in a safe place so it could at least die without kids and dogs trying to poke/chew it (Duke tried to bite the biddies heads off the first day…little Ozzy). When I tried to pick it up, it cheeped like “sucka, I would *so* peck you in the eye and flog you in your uvula if I could” and I was all “Piss. This sucks.”

It closed its eyes again, and I waited for it to die for a good 2 minutes. It didn’t happen. I thought maybe I could, um, suffocate it (oh, I feel *so* bad even typing that) if I just held it’s beak-hole shut. It seemed like it was going well, until it’s eyes flew open and it struggled and I just couldn’t do it. It was a flipping baby biddy, suckas!

I asked Byron for a gun, to blow it into oblivion, but he wouldn’t load it for me. I told him to kill it, and he refused to hurt an animal, especially a baby one, and that it was *all* my fault for adopting them in the first place. What a flipping girl.

In the end, it was the flat shovel. I held it above the neck with, asked the good Lord to forgive me, and slammed it down with my foot. Done. And then I remembered (from my childhood), when you cut a chicken’s head off, they run.,,, except this one just turned in circles. He was *slightly* handicapped. Then I laughed.

Obviously God has a sense of humor, because that? Was funny stuff.

On another note... Did you know if you spit on an electric fence and the spit hits the wire, at the same time you realize it's still falling from your lip, you get electrocuted? Well, now you do. But that story's for next time.

I knew you (pretended to) missed me!

2010-04-13T18:53:00.000-07:00

I? Am supah-ghetto-fab’lous, and *apparently* my fabulosity ‘twas heard all about the world, and they were all Ex-*cuse* MEH? You *have* to be our employee, and I? Was all sho’nuff.

More easily explained? I’m the newest lucky employee of Hudson Printing. I temp’ed for them for 60 days, and finally started all official-like this Monday. So far, so good. I haven’t dreading going to work so that’s a promising sign. Everyone has been very nice and helpful, so I’m hoping I’ll get to stick around for a while.

Oh-holy-piss, you do *not* even know my business. As you already know (or maybe you don’t, because you’re lame – isn’t there some artsy-craftsy stuff called lame? Like la’me? La-may?) that I’m a *slight* fan of tattoos. I had 2 older ones on my shoulder blades: a stupid peach that said “Peachy” (Honestly. Am I ever peachy about anything?) and a gecko that was pretty for a few days – until I sunburned it into oblivion a week later. Anywho, I had them both covered up with some pretty lilies to match Byron’s name, and the fleur-de-lis in the middle of my back. LARGE-like thanks to Nikki at Garage Art Studio in Longview, for drawing it up, and putting it on.

Since we last talked Palm Sunday and Easter flew by, and we had a *grand* time with family.

This? Is what Quentin looks like on damn near *any* given day. I think he’s attempting an “I’m-so-cool-I-just-happen-to-be-caught-off-guard-and-still-manage-to-look-this-awesome look, but I’m not buying in to it. I’m his mother, and that ol’ dog won’t hunt.

Hmmm…what else, what else, what else? I’m drawing a blank. Guess it’s time to call it quits for this evening, but maybe you fine people can inspire me with something. Or maybe you’re just boring and lame, and will inspire me to sleep. Now *that’s* an idea I’m feelin’ fond of about now.

Good ol' Family Pictures

2010-03-14T06:13:00.000-07:00

We had an appointment yesterday to have our family pictures taken. Sounds easy enough, right? NEVAH!!

This *is* the Hast Family, if you recall. Let me preface this by saying these are not just *any* old pictures. We haven’t had a family portrait since only having 2 children. We were long overdue. I couldn’t use just any old photographer, and they couldn’t just be any old photos, so we went with the best: Jennifer Weintraub of Sugar Photography. http://www.sugar-photography.com

Because we were scheduled to shoot in Deep Ellum (in downtown Dallas), we drove up the night before to stay with Jackie and family. I woke up in the middle of the night and checked the weather. Since it was going to be a bit cooler than I had planned for (only 51 at 9 a.m.) I decided to take a 2 a.m. trip to Walmart for necessities. I got coordinating hoodies for the girls, and then realized that *somehow* Violet had made it to Dallas with NO shoes…or rather, her sister’s shoes that were 4 sizes too big. I went head and bought some pink converse shoes for her, and headed back home.

The next morning we were up and at ‘em early, getting everyone bathed and ready to go. I probably don’t need to tell you we were running late. About 30 minutes before we left, Duke was WALKING around upstairs (he can walk now!! Not a pro, really, but he’s doing it.) when he reached out for the railing of the stairs. Guess it was a bit too far, and he ended up falling over, managing to hit his forehead. Now he was sporting a nice red head, which was expected for our pics. What’s a good family picture without injury?

Could that be *all* that happened before leaving? Hell no. Jackie’s dining room ceiling started pouring water after we’d all had showers. I *know* she was more than impressed, especially since she’s having Natalie’s birthday party next weekend at home.

We finally got around to making our first attempt to leave. I was loading things into the car, and kids were running around outside. I told Quentin to pick up Duke and bring him to the car. Apparently he didn’t hear me, so Duke walked out the door unassisted, with Freak-O Ken walking behind him. Ken is a moron and figured Duke could take a cement step alone, and next thing I know, Duke is eating cement. He’s screaming, Byron picks him up, and wouldn’t you know….a *lovely* busted top lip, all swollen, and bleeding on his new shirt. The picture shirt. FIGURES!!!!

We make our 2nd attempt to leave after cleaning him up, get halfway down the road, and realized Violet didn’t have her shoes. After lots of cussing and looking, we couldn’t find the new shoes I bought just hours before. We had to end up letting her wear Gracelyn’s extra pair of hot pink tennis shoes, which matched perfectly, except they looked like clown shoes on Violet. Oh well, we belong in a circus anyhow. (I’m quite certain that while reading this, you just nodded your head in agreement. Suck it.)

Only 15 minutes late, we finally met the photographer of our dreams !! I’m *not* kidding…you *have* to book her. In countless months and hours on the internet, researching, no one else’s work is even comparable to hers. Fa’real yo. Book her or I’ll hunt you down, like the dogs that you are, and slap your teeth out….or something like that. We weren’t ever posed like you’d expect at Olan Mills, Sears, etc. Instead we played, laughed, hugged, kissed, walked, and spun around, and she caught it all on film. Absolutely priceless!!!!

Duke, the hap-hap-happiest baby I’ve ever had, was still pissed about the lip-bid’ness. He decided to show just how unhappy he could be. Violet and Gracelyn acted like usual, and didn’t listen to anything anyone asked them to do. Quentin was his normal supah-cool self, getting confused with his sheepdog alter-ego, with hair in his eyes. By the time we got to the 3rd location Duke finally perked up, and was generally happy. Craziness included, we had a great time!

I absolutely cannot wait to see the pictures!!! Jennifer was nice enough to give us a sneak-peek and I was *very* pleased. She was very easy to work with, and I feel like next time I should supply her with a xanax or 7 for our craziness. Pictures to come!!

Technorati Blogging Bid'ness

2010-01-23T08:04:00.000-08:00

Okay, Technorati. This? Is my blog. Verify away. :)

Q5T7UMSCNSMB

A margarita for mommy. and a bloody nose for you!

2010-01-19T19:56:00.000-08:00

After the *good* time I had day before yesterday with Duke drinking piss and tequila, I figured it would be at least another week before something note-worthy happened. I should know better. That’s never the case.

Today started out normal enough. I woke up late…as usual. The kids got to school late…again. I picked up my Mom and made the *adult* decision to have some balls and take initiative to continue working out every day, so that’s exactly what we did. After shaping my body into a *true* work of art, we decided to grab a bite to eat, and get something healthy. Fate intervened when some moron pulled into MY parking space in the deli, so we were forced to wait for another. Then I realized that Chili’s was in the next lot over…and we *could* have something healthy there too. Three Southwest egg rolls, 15 chili glazed chicken wings, and *ahem* 3 margaritas later, it was time for a nap. Hey…I earned it!

I crashed at my aunt’s house for a few minutes (or 2 hours), and then we went to pick up the kids. That’s when the *real* fun started. I was pleased as punch that Gracelyn got a green dot, AND a recommendation from the teacher to be placed in the Gifted & Talented program!!

We were on our way home when Violet started beating Gracelyn in the head with a plastic bottle (to congratulate her on her school achievement). It was innocent enough, I suppose, but Gracelyn was NOT impressed, and retaliated with a punch in the gut. Payback from Violet was served up with another bottle smack to the head, and hair pulling. Gracelyn let out the most high-pitched scream *evah*, started crying, turned around, and slapped Violet in the face. Now both girls were crying and screaming, and I did the thing any *good* mother would do. I started laughing, and told them both they had it coming. ALL while I’m driving!! Another glance in the rearview mirror showed Violet with a bloody nose. About the time I told Quentin to get a napkin, my Mom yelled, “Oh no! She’s bleeding everywhere!”

I try to imagine what people in other cars thought when they passed us….all in my pimped out mini-van, me driving, my Mom’s butt up in the air….because she was standing on her knees in the seat, leaning over trying to help Violet. By this time Gracelyn’s screaming thinking she’s killed Violet. Quentin was absolutely NO help at all. Violet’s nose was literally *squirting* blood, and I was saying, “Wait! Someone get my camera!” Priorities, people. It’s ALL about priorities.

Long story short, everyone in the family survived. The only death was for Violet’s shirt and 5 blood soaked napkins. When I got her out of the car, she had blood all over her legs and said, “But Mom! My wegs is bweedin’!" I didn’t get a picture of her bloody face, but I did get one of some of the damage, and looking perfect 20 minutes later.

This would technically make her *third* broken nose, in less than a year, and she’ll be 3 next month. Anyone want to donate to the upcoming nose job fund? I would be *much* obliged.

We do NOT drink piss in our family!

2010-01-17T17:25:00.000-08:00

So it’s been a coon’s age since I last blogged. We’ll just say my unfortunate run-in with a pine tree gave me writers block for a bit (or 3 months). The pine tree *finally* met it’s ultimate demise a few days ago, when I saw it being chopped and loaded into a trailer, and the rest being put into a wood chipper. Suck on *that*, pine!

You may not have any idea of what I’m referring to with all this pine tree talk. In October, on my way to drop off my girls at school, a pine tree smite me in the SUV, so to speak, and I nearly met Jesus up close and personal. Fortunately the girls were unharmed. My SUV died and went to junk heaven, and I was taken to ETMC. I don’t remember a thing, but I got 8 liters of blood (thank you very *much*, donors), and spent 6-8 hours in surgery for them to save my now-gimpy left arm. After a few days on a ventilator, and some good drugs (from the best parts I recall, of course), I was released about a week after the accident. I’d also like to extend a *very* personal thank you to the suckbag pine tree, who forced me to have to drive a minivan now.

I had to have spots on my biceps closed up a few times, because it kept coming open, so *that* was nice. My stupid arm is still numb, and burns all the time. A few of my fingers won’t bend, and that pisses me off when I need them to help button my pants, but honestly I shouldn’t complain. I *do* have one of the best scars EVAH and it instantly makes me 10 times hotter. I’m lucky I’m alive and that I have 2 arms.

Now, on to *more* important things.

I’ve come to the conclusion that Duke should live in Japan because he likes to drink piss. Piss is, after all, sterile. If you’re stranded out somewhere for a long while, and need something to drink, you can drink piss if you need to. It still doesn’t make me a fan of it. I’m not sure how long I’ll have to wait before I can kiss Duke on the mouth.

Fa’real yo. He managed to escape the carefully planned out trap doors we have put up around the house; this particular one made up of about 7 pillows. He was able to squeeze his little fat body underneath them to the other side of the couch, and made a beeline down the hall. I wasn’t worried, since I knew I shut the doors in the hallway. No problem. Until a few minutes later when I hear Gracelyn screaming, “NO Duke! You can drink that! Oh my gosh, Mom! Come here!! Duke is drinking pee and sucking on toilet paper!!!” LOVELY.

Apparently Gracelyn went into the bathroom earlier to wash her hands and forgot to shut the door. It was *also* disgustingly apparent that Byron is in 3rd grade and *still*, at 34 years of age, doesn’t know how to flush the toilet. Duke was standing at the toilet, leaned over with his arms in it, and covered in piss water. Holy piss indeed ma’am. Needless to say, Duke was bathed in GermEx.

Later, in the bat cave, all was relatively calm. Duke was upset because he didn’t think I’d ever kiss him again, so he crawled over to one of his favorite parts of the house. The Liquor Cabinet. He took out his favorite old bottle of tequila, started beating a spoon on it, and chewing on the lid. It *was * pretty cute, so I even ran to find the camera to take a picture. I switched over to look at it, to make sure he wasn’t all goggle-eyed, and noticed something more important. The lid was sitting behind him, on the floor. The cap to the bottle. A UWS (unidentified wet spot) was on the floor behind him. It seems Dukers took it upon himself to get the lid off, and washed his mouth out all antiseptic-like so I’d feel better about kissing him (he *knows* I love margaritas). Fortunately I was only gone getting the camera for 15 seconds, so he wasn’t *totally* soused. We’re SO waiting for his 1st birthday party for that!!

PS: I got extensions, so I look like this now:

A gummy...what?!

2009-09-23T21:19:00.000-07:00

This evening I ran to the store to get some Dr. Pepper, and came back home with treats for the kids (perchance to buy me 10 more minutes of sanity). I bought my girls these giant gummy snakes. Violet tore hers into lots of pieces. She bit half its head off and threw it at me. *This* slice of yummy goodness is what remained.

It is just me, or does this ever so slightly represent the most gnarly wang in history?

Violet, do you have beer in your bedroom again?

2009-08-05T06:18:00.000-07:00

"Violet, do you have beer in your bedroom again?" And no...I'm not talking to my 21-year-old daughter. She's 2. What can I say? I'm practicing right now for our future talks.

This morning I went into the girls' room, and immediately smelled beer. Byron mentioned something about it the day before, but I couldn't smell anything at the time. Besides, their room had been *thoroughly* cleaned just 2 days before. Today though? REEKED of beer. Like the party back in the day that I went to where some stupid girl poured beer all over me and my leather bomber jacket, and then I had to walk home, and then I told my parents I fell in sewage instead (to explain the beer, sticker burrs and mud all over me). Yeah, I was a *great* liar back in the day....and you *so* know they believed it. I digress.

I started picking up random things in the girls room and smelling them, trying to diagnose the problem. I finally got around to the play kitchen, moved the little table out of the way, and found this:

Notice how I used the banana for scale, so you could see the actual size of said mystery object. Okay, actually I found the banana in the room too, but isn't it cool how the 2 foods were sitting just like that so I could attempt to use it for an excuse?

A photo from Ground Zero. Notice the height of the object. I think there's a small stem in it too.

I asked Violet what it was, and she said, "Itha uh-may-tah. Now. Put ith in my fidja-ratr.", and she politely opened the door. Translation: It's a tomato. Now. Put it in my refridgerator.

First one to correctly identify the mystery object gets to keep it!

Can't anything ever be easy?!?!?!

2009-08-02T12:59:00.000-07:00

Every time my family gets ready to leave from home, I tell the girls to go outside, get in the car, and put their seat belts on. No matter what I threaten them with (grounding, taking toys away, spanking, etc.) they *never* go straight to the car. They always chase after the cats and dogs, ride their bikes….*anything* to avoid doing what I asked them.

Why would I think this morning would be any different? Byron had already left for church, so I herded up the children and had them heading to the car. The girls, as usual, didn’t get in the car like I told them to, so I was already mad. I was slightly relieved by the fact that it took me less than 10 minutes to get them in and go.

I got about a mile from home when I heard Duke gagging. I looked in the back seat to see Violet with her fingers in his mouth, so naturally I told her to get them out. She’s been known for sticking them in there before, trying to get him to “bite” her. After she took her hand out he was still gagging, so I started slowing down to pull over. Then Violet shouted, “My key! My key!” I’m pretty sure I had my first coronary right at that moment when I realized she had shoved “her” key in his mouth. Where did she get the key ,you might ask. I would sheepishly reply, “Well, Violet was making noise and crying for some keys to play with, and I didn’t have her key ring with me. Instead I just gave her a key I found in the cup holder to shut her up.” I had just said I couldn’t drive with all the noise, and was doing anything to keep them quiet. Just in case you’re in this situation in the future….never give your 2 year old a key….ESPECIALLY if they’re sitting next to their 5 month old brother.

I was still going about 40 mph, but by this time the he wasn’t making any noise. I whipped the car over into the nearest ditch, jumped out, and jerked him out. When you’re in a hurry, those stupid car seat buckles are impossible to get off. I turned him upside down on one arm, and hit him as hard as I could in the back. His eyes, nose and mouth were purple. Look, I’m LOVING the color purple in my hair, and even in a shirt. But on my child’s face? Not attractive.

I was still out in the middle of nowhere, and there were only 2 houses nearby. I picked the one with the shorter driveway, but it was still a good ¼ mile. And then I started running, and kept running until I fell down. Jumped back up, kicked off my flip-flops, and kept running. Ran into their dogs, and kept running. I’m not exactly sure what they thought about some crazy-purple-haired girl running down their driveway with a baby, but I know if I ever saw something like that, it would scare the ever loving tar out of me! Finally I made it to their house, and rang the doorbell a million times over. The residents, a man and woman, ran out to help, thinking I’d had a car wreck. When they figured out what was going on, we all ran inside and they called 911. I kept beating Duke on the back trying to get him to breathe, but we never saw the key come out. The operator stayed on the phone with us until Duke started breathing good again, and they asked me to take him to the hospital.

The lady, Al Sumpter, drove me back out to my car, and my girls. Did I already mention I left them in the car with it running? I knew they couldn’t go anywhere, even if they put the car in drive, because it was STUCK in the mud. I figured with my luck a cop would drive and I’d get in trouble for leaving children unattended, but that didn’t happen. Both girls were still in the car. Violet was swinging from the grip bar and playing, and Gracelyn was crying. Gracelyn informed me that Violet needed to pee, so she just went all over the back seat. Lovely! Then Violet said, “Where’s my key?!” Sounds about right. My car had sunk further into the mud, but Mr. Sumpter went and got some chains to pull me out. I will be forever grateful to that couple!

I took Duke to the GSMC E.R. They got him back pretty quickly and took an x-ray. They’d already discussed how they’d have to get the key out, which would require him being put under, and using a scope, or doing surgery. Neither seemed to appealing to me. See how upset Duke looked by the whole ordeal? Obviously VERY stressed...lol.

The doctor came back with the x-ray results, and finally told us…NO KEY! He said it must’ve flown out one of the times I was hitting Duke in the back. I have never been so relieved in my life!

This afternoon’s plan? To find every spare key, change, or any other small part lying around and throw it away, or put it up and away. My kids will have to think of some other creative way to have me institutionalized!

Random Stories & Thoughts

2009-07-08T08:11:00.001-07:00

This is probably the longest post in blogger history, but it’s just a few random thoughts, and some of our plans for the next few days. Read it through to the end or don’t. I won’t ever know the difference.

A few days ago, Duke woke up from a nap and Gracelyn told me she thought he had “the rabies”. His legs and arms had a red “rash”, but it was actually the pattern of the sofa fabric where he’d been sleeping. Thank you very much, “the rabies”.

Gracelyn also thinks that the word “titties” is “tibbies”, and bastard is “pastar” (Thank you, Austin Powers). Neither of which is acceptable for her to say, but it’s still funny.

This morning when driving the girls to school, Violet started whining, “Mommmmyyyy! Gimme it! Gimme my we-tahd!!!” It sound like she was saying one of the very few words I won’t say…you know….derogatory term for mentally challenged. Again and again she yelled, almost crying, but still insisting I give her the we-tahd. After a few minutes of listening to her waller, I turned around and saw what she was pointing to. Her sister’s purse, in the shape of a GUITAR. I laughed and said, “Violet, can you say ‘gi-gi-GUI-tar?!” She replied with, “Yep! Weeeee-taaaaaahd.” Guess she told me!

I stopped in the church office this morning after taking the girls to their classes, to print out our boarding passes for the flight. I was holding Duke in my lap at the time. He decided he’d had enough waiting, so he puked on me. Twice. A lot. No big deal…this is my fourth kid, and honestly…what’s a day without puke? Or artwork on the walls? Or a package of red kool-aid opened in the back of the car and mixed with spit to “paint” on the seat? (That piss doesn’t come out! It literally looks like I carried a dead deer back there.) Or a concussion? (Violet had her 2nd concussion in less than 6 months last week, thanks to the jury-rigged “safety net” at Dairy Queen not keeping her out of the wrong area…so she climbed to the top of the outside of the slide, and jumped. I’d say it was about 10 feet in the air, and she landed flat on her back. I was in the room! I couldn’t get her out, because the stupid area was too small for me to get in. Even Gracelyn couldn’t fit back there, but leave to Violet – a.k.a Evil Knievil Jr. – to figure out how. I think we’ll be making her a helmet soon!) I digress. So Duke puked on my hand. A few hours later we’re in the car on our way to Dallas, and I rub my hand by my face…and smelled….baby puke. Apparently? It’s *real* hard to clean out of the crevices of a ring.

So I’m looking out the airplane, and wondering about all sorts of questions I’ll forget to ask myself when we land. For instance…what are all these circles on the ground? I’m guessing they’re crops of some sort, that would make sense….but crops of what? And how do they plant them in a super-cool perfect circle? With a monster pointy-thingy that you used in Geometry to draw circles with? Secondly: There are TONS of these little “driveways” with squares of dirt at the very end. From up here it looks like a community of gophers or prairie dogs, but I have NO IDEA what they are…and this is the crap that will keep me up at night. *If* I happen to remember it later. I’m looking out the window right now, and there’s like 10 square miles of gopher cities. Insanity.

The drink lady & dude passed us a bit ago, and offered free drinks. Nice of ‘em. Then said we could buy a cookie, some nuts, or chips for the price of your firstborn. For real. $4 each. Those suckers better be plated in GOLD, or the size of a dinner plate if I’m buying a cookie for $4. Now some moron a few rows behind me traded his child for a sandwich, and that’s all I can smell. I don’t know what it is, but it smells like Schlotzky’s. He better *hope* I don’t have to go to the bathroom, or it will be on like Donkey Kong. I purposely haven’t eaten today, just so I wouldn’t have to relive the last experience I had flying to Vegas….3 Xanax and an hour in the bathroom later….and so the story goes.

I’m *so* gonna slap the kid behind me. He has to be about 15…reminds me of Quentin…and if it were Quentin sitting back there? I would’ve already smacked the back of his head. I swear he’s tapping and playing drums with boxes of NERDS. Sucka, I have NOT had enough medicine to take care of you yet. We’ll be landing in Vegas, and this kid’s gonna need *major* dental work, because I’m gonna his teeth out.

And now we just flew over something that resembled an Olympic-sized swimming pool. Or maybe two Olympic swimming pools. But instead of cement it looked like tar around the outside, and it was filled with dirt. Weird. Oh! Oh! Oh! And the Hoover Dam! And Lake Mead. I’m *so* impressed. I could probably enjoy the view better if not for the searing pain in my hand making my vision blurry (a bit of turbulence and Byron has a death grip).

So the next few days should be fun. Or interesting. Or both. Tonight we’re not doing anything planned, just ho-humming and watching the oddities on the street. I’ll be SO ready to eat by then. I want a near-alive filet mignon and some bread.

Friday will probably be the best day EVAH. We got tickets to the first ever UFC Fan Expo, coinciding with the 100th UFC Fight Night. There will be tons of vendors there giving crap away, and even more importantly, my main UFC Man, the one who will take me back to Canada to be his love slave, Mr. Georges St. Pierre will be there. Don’t think I haven’t already mapped his EXACT location in the building, because I have. He will be my first stop. If I can peel myself from his body at any point in time, there will be other awesome fighters there, and the Octagon Girls too. I’m taking a picture with each and every one of them to pin on my bathroom mirror to drive myself to workout. Or eat another cookie or 17 because I’m so happy I don’t have to be fit for a living. I also bought Byron, as his actual “present” for our anniversary, a 2-hour training session with Wanderlei “The Axe Murderer” Silva. Suck on that! Which reminds me, what is his actual “present” for me? I’m betting it’s the $100 to gamble with. Sucka. He better be glad I love him.

After that I’ll be home ‘til Sunday, and then head out again that afternoon to redeem myself ‘til Friday as a 7th Grade Church Camp Counselor. Pray for those kids, y’all.

On my way to the looney bin

2009-06-16T07:50:00.000-07:00

It should’ve been simple enough. I was thinking about something along these lines:

“Kids, it’s time to go to VBS! Everyone get in the car. Let’s go have some fun!”

But, alas! It was not meant to be. Flipping figures.

Today was technically my first day unemployed. Of course, everyone *knows* that’s complete b.s. There will NEVER be a day when I’m actually unemployed…*ahem* thank you, four children and husband, who INSISTS on acting like one of the children most days….especially TODAY when I needed him to act like a husband, but oooooooohhhhh no. The stars were NOT aligned in the heavens for me today. I tempted Fate, and that byotch took the bait and ran with it.

I woke up after a nice, long – and might I add *well-deserved* – nap. Stretched, exhaled, and surveyed my kingdom. All was well. Looked at the clock and saw that I had around an hour to get myself and the kids ready before heading to church. Took a shower, still feeling pretty pleased with my control over the situation, and then the Children’s Director called. “Hey! I was just calling to remind you to bring the crocodile, tablecloths, pom-poms and sandwiches. Oh – and you have less than an hour to be here.” Well piss. I forgot ALL about that crap. (In my defense, I’ve been suffering from *severe* short-term memory for the last year or so. She, along with a few others, told me NUMEROUS times yesterday to bring these items. And then they reminded me on Facebook. And reminded me yet again today with emails and phone calls.)

I immediately went into Panic Mode, running around putting lipstick on with one hand, and slapping kids teeth out with the other. My real problem began when I asked Byron for help. It’s odd to me how he’s sick when I ask him to do something. This week, for instance. He was sick for 2 days, then recovered for jiu-jitsu in Dallas on Thursday. He was “sick” again Friday, then better to go to jiu-jitsu Saturday. Fine Sunday, and somehow sick AGAIN this evening when I asked him to get up off his butt and help get kids out the door. You would’ve thought that death was imminent when I mentioned I might leave Duke with him to give me a few extra minutes to do other things, and he could drop him off at my Mom’s when he went to TEACH JIU-JITSU. Notice a pattern here? Most days, fine. Ask him to do something? He’s practically got cholera. (*Disclaimer: He did actually put a onesie on Duke, AND put him in his car seat.)

I’m stomping around, yelling, herding children, just trying to get out the door. Byron eventually offers to keep Duke, but only after I’ve threatened to trash the thing that gives him life. The yin to his yang. The good to his evil. The woman to his man. X-Box 360 game UFC 2009 Undisputed. Instead I tell him *where* he can put his stupid game, and proceed to choke while attempting to yell obscenities.

FINALLY all the kids are in the car, I hop in, and……THERE ARE NO KEYS!!!! NONE! WHAT IN THE SAM HILL?!!?!!!??! Let’s just say it took 20 minutes of searching to find them….in….the……freezer. Thank you, Violet. Or maybe it was Byron, since I think he secretly *likes* hearing me complain. He’s sick in the head that way.

By this time I’m sweating, my head hurts, and I’m REALLY pissed off. Flying down the road 90-to-nothing, and then I see a lone crocodile sailing through the air. It was too late to go back and get him. Earlier I had tied him to the top of the car with a bread tie, got side tracked, and forgot to tie down his other leg. The croc was a prop for VBS. Oh well. It was for the good of the team.

Could I make it to VBS with 3 of the 4 items required of me? Nope. 2 of the 4? More like it. Hey – 50% ain’t bad. By the time I got to VBS, 20 minutes late, dragging 3 children…I had come to the realization that I left the sandwiches at home, risked jail time by leaving kids in the car running (with the door locked) while making a dash for more bread and ham, AND forgot the tablecloths.

Think next time….I’ll just stay home instead. Then again, next time? Happens this afternoon. Think I can make it?

Everybody needs a cop-out now and then...

2009-05-15T08:05:00.000-07:00

So I suck. Get over it. I'm totally lame, and haven't have *time* (AHEM thank you four spawn of my womb, insane job, flat tires, puking, dirty house, gymastics, cheer, American Idol, Dancing with the Stars, House, sleeping, reading, and the Antichrist)....so I'm completely cheating and will just post some of my recent status updates from Facebook. I PROMISE to actually put some time and effort into writing something witty (or completely useless and pathetic) for the blog this weekend.

Here's a recap of my activites as of late:

05/15/09:

Lame-o SD camera cards can suck it. Why do I spend *countless* hours...nay, days (!) to get a decent picture of kids (or the dogs. or a sunset. or the puke ever-so-carefully *placed* across the living room and down the hallway and all over the bathroom. pretty much every place BUT the toilet or trash can) just so I can get to work EARLY (because I'm dedicated that way) just for the card to tell me it won't work?!?!

05/14/09:

Check out the growth on my new hair, yo. And baby, this isn't rogaine...it's *genetic*. Suck on that!

Why is it that right when I start singing in the car, someone has to talk to me? They come right out of the woodwork, and all *I'm* trying to do it sing a little. It's not every day that you get a chance to belt out Rock Lobster, ya know.

05/13/09:

So I got these super-cool contacts in...they flipping *Sparkle* like nobody's biz. I look like a Cullen, so you know I'm a sexy beast. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself.

Although Duke can't see more than 12 inches away from his face, he can still sense when I walk through the door of my office. He immediately starts screaming. Thaaaaaannnnkkkkssss.

05/12/09:

What's on my mind, you ask? You. You are always on my mind....you are always on my mind. I would *rock* American Idol, yo.

05/11/09:

I'm pretty sure there's a ghost in the bedroom with me. I'm hoping after I go to sleep it'll fold the flippin' clothes. *Ahem* GHOST: If you're reading over my shoulder, get lost. I know jiu-jitsu, dude. Or at least I live with a jiu-jitsu teacher. And he will *really* mess yo face up, fa realz yo. Facial scrub.

Nothing like 'Try A Little Tendeness' by Three Dog Night to get you going on a Monday afternoon. Oh, if you could only *hear* my solo!!!

05/08/09:

You know what *really* p.o.'s me? These stupid little silver hairs that I keep having to pluck out. Who has like 5 silver hairs? Am I supposed get my hair dyed for FIVE hairs? And even worse if I pluck 'em, because they're small and I ended up taking out all the hair AROUND them, so there's a bald spot. I look like I got attacked by mockingbird. Flipping mockingbirds. Worthless!

Baby Zoee Benefit Concert - Still time to get tickets!

2009-05-06T21:08:00.000-07:00

This Friday night May 8th, 2009 at 7:00 p.m. at the Maude Cobb Convention Center in Longview Texas, there is going to be a very special benefit concert event for one-year old childhood cancer victim, Zoee Loissa Smith, or “Baby Zoee” as many folks refer to her

Zoee is a 1-year old little baby girl from Longview who contracted cancer at the age of 6-months old and has now undergone several operations and chemotherapy for the past 8 months at Children’s Hospital in Dallas and continues through these things today… which is a miracle in itself.

This Friday, Mark Cooke & The Cooke County Line will be performing live plus your ticket will include a buffet dinner provided by Jalapeno Tree Restaurants. This event will be a banquet type, seated intimate setting that will be great for a special date night out or even a perfect Mother’s Day present for mom and all for a very worthy and needed cause.

Tickets are on sale Wednesday and Thursday at Cavender's Boot City on the loop in Longview and then available Friday at the Maude Cobb box office. Please join us for this unique dinner style concert and dance as we gather together to help Baby Zoee and her family fight her struggles with childhood cancer.

For complete details about this event, visit http://www.babyzoee.com

PS: PLEASE HELP ZOEE BY REPOSTING THIS TO YOUR FRIENDS. THANK YOU.

Please move on. Nothing to see here. Do NOT look at the accident.

2009-05-03T23:12:00.000-07:00

What do milk on the floor, chest in beans, evil looks from church-goers, proclaiming “I tooted!” and pulling pants down have in common? They all happened during lunch today at a local tex-mex restaurant. Apparently *someone* (i.e. ME) hasn’t learned that taking kids to restaurants? Yeah. You just DON’T do that. Because then they go and do stupid things, and you don’t get to even breathe, much less TASTE your food, and the entire time you’re worried about what they’re going to do next, or who’s going to say something to you, or roll their eyes, or ack! Judge you for being a bad parent, no parent at all, or *even* look at you like you might be…you know…*ahem* gaaaaayyyy. Right. Because I’m not. Morons. For serious.

After church this morning a friend and I went to lunch, and took most of my kids with us. Mistake. It was already crowded with people; everyone getting out from church. I’d say the first 5 minutes went pretty smoothly, and then I had to go and get all excited, and that pretty much ruined it. The waitress brought Violet some milk in a cup with a lid. I thought about pouring it into her sippy cup, but she seemed pretty content with it the way it was, and I figured it would keep her quiet. (For future reference, go ahead and *think/figure* on things a bit longer…it won’t kill you.) Hmmm….I guess it kept her quiet. Shortly thereafter the milk was airborne. Niiiiicccceee. Insert hateful looks from people who wonder why I can’t control my child. What do they want from me?!?!?!! I cleaned up my mess. Geesh!

After this, the events get fuzzy. After all…it *has* been at least 12 hours ago that this happened, and I have *severe* short term memory. Now what was I talking about?

Violet doesn’t have any recollection of last week’s events, including BREAKING HER FACE (or maybe she just doesn’t care; and it’s possible that she wants CPS called), so she insisted on standing up in her chair over and over. I bribed her. Threatened her. Spit on her. Okay, don’t get all pissy…I didn’t do that last one. Basically tried everything in the book, just short of duct-taping her to the seat, to get her to sit down. I can see it all now…in slow’mo. She jumps……lands with both feet on the chair….but too close to the edge of the seat….the chair starts slipping backwards…..she starts falling forwards…..fear in a mother’s eyes…..death-rays shooting out of fellow diners eyes…….SPLAT! Chest in beans. Next?

The entire time this was going on, three girls came and sat at a table across from us. I’m guessing they were in their late-teens (15-17ish).They were all dressed nicely, and I figured they just got out of church like most everyone else there. A few minutes later, what I’m *assuming* was their mother, came and joined them. The judgment began. At first I didn’t pick up on it. Just felt sorry for them that they must lead such boring lives, and have been so unaffected by attending church that morning…..that they *never* cracked a smile during their lunch. By the time we got around to ol’ chest-in-beans (sounds like an Indian name, right?) the mother was GLARING. I just thought it was because I couldn’t control the 2 year old, but then we came to realize…..yeah. Going out on a limb, and just *assuming* (I know, I know…what happens when you assume. Whatever.) but she thought we were gay. Which would be great if we *were* gay. But we’re not. I’m sure she thought we were corrupting “our” children, and we’d all be going straight to hell. Lady, if you’re reading this. REPENT NOW! THE END IS NEAR! Just kidding. Next time just ask. Or don’t. It was awfully funny watching her watch us. When one of her poor girls cracked the TINIEST SMILE EVER DOCUMENTED IN HISTORY at us, she elbowed her! Holy sheep piss.

The last half of lunch was nearly as exciting as the first. Our poor waitress, who was great – by the way, got so flustered running around, that she ran into Gracelyn’s chair. Insert nice save by the waitress, and my friend too, I think, that kept Gracelyn in the chair, and her food on the table.

Violet decides she’s had enough quiet time (read: 2 minutes of eating) and wants to play again. She kept trying to drag the chair around on the floor, twirl, sing, play in condiments, etc. until she’d finally had all she could stand, and shouted loudly, “I TOOTED!” That’s what I *always* do when I get bored, exasperated, flustered, etc. Seems to relieve a lot of pent up anxiety. But hey, that’s just for me. Don’t go doing it and blame me for the looks you get. I couldn’t help but laugh. She was making a factual statement. At least she wasn’t lying about something.

Last, but not least! We’re trying to get things rounded up to leave, and Violet’s still bouncing around on the floor. And table. And chair. And my lap. Then she tells me she tee-teed. Great. No big deal. Then she starts pulling her pants down. (And immediately I re-lived the previous day’s events…at a party at the park, with a *bazillion* onlookers, and Violet walking with her pants around her ankles and a diaper in her hand. Hey – she gets that from her Dad.) Fortunately she wasn’t quick enough to get the diaper off this time.

The waitress never brought us our ticket, which *really* surprised me. I would’ve figured she wanted us OUTTA THERE. But no…only the lady with her daughters wanted us out (and possibly all the other diners). I’ve never seen someone eat their food so fast! They were in, ordered, ate, and left, all within 30 minutes. And there were FOUR of them.

Okay, I’m stopping now. There I go being judgmental again.

And that, dear readers, is why you NEVER, EVER, take your children with you to lunch. EVER. NEVER. Or people will think you're gay.

Interpreter needed for 2 year old.

2009-04-29T08:19:00.000-07:00

ORIGINAL STATEMENT:

Bi-wet Bi-dell. Bi-wet Bi-dell. Hwo. Hwo Dah-dee. Un tahk uh mommy. Ah see a muntan. Ee you momma. Ee you! Ah cwomb you ike ah muntan. Woooah.

INTERPRETATION:

Violet Adele. Violet Adele. Hello. Hello Daddy. I talk to Mommy. I see a mountain. It's you momma! It's you! I climb you like a mountain. Wooooah. Does wonders for my self esteem.

MOMMY's RESPONSE:

So I'm a mountain, huh? Sounds like somebody doesn't wanna eat tonight.

HOW is this possible?

2009-04-28T09:31:00.000-07:00

Saturday, April 18th:

Crawfish boil and Violet's *bonk* bed incident. E.R. trip. No broken bones.

Sunday, April 19th:

Call from E.R. They *think* she's got a broken nose. Not positive. Suggested taking her to family doctor.

Monday, April 20th:

Violet to family doctor. Yep, a broken nose. And a broken cheek. Sent to specialist that afternoon.

Tuesday, April 21st:

Trip to lame-o GSMC for a sedated Cat Scan, only for the stupid nurse to tell me she doesn't *do* sedatation. What in the piss? I came here...why?

Wednesay, April 22nd:

Trip to Open Imaging for 2nd attempted scan. Violet had 2 adult doses of a sedative, and neither worked. Mummy wrapped her like a burrito, and got the needed pictures. Broken nose, both cheeks broken. No surgery needed.

Thursday, April 23rd:

Took Gracelyn to GSMC for a sedated cat scan/MRI. Wait. Have I heard this somewhere before? Got some super-cool versed meds, and she got funny. Sucessful test. No surgery needed.

Friday, April 24th:

Duke's turn for a doctor visit. Swollen groin. Doctor sent us to Open Imaging again (those people LOVE me). Bowels in the balls. Now we all KNOW that's not natural. Send to Children's Hospital in Dallas.

Saturday, April 25th:

Duke's hernia surgery successful!

Sunday, April 26th:

Discharged from Children's. Nice trip home. Pick up our other heathen children. Insanity ensues.

Modnay, April 27th:

How 'bout a nice speeding ticket? Thanks a lot, Christina Aguilera!

TODAY: Tuesday, April 28th:

Mental institute in Terrell, anyone?

Technorati Profile

2009-04-23T13:48:00.000-07:00

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And that's why I'm Mother Of The Year!

2009-04-20T14:07:00.000-07:00

What would a weekend be without crawfish, a potato cannon, flying lessons, a trip to the E.R., and a broken nose? Not a whole heck of a lot. Let me just say…if YOU aren’t experiencing these things regularly, then you must be not be *living*.

Life Lesson #1: Throughout my life, I’ve experienced TONS of exciting, dangerous, and just plain stupid things. Let’s see. Running parent’s car off a bridge? Check. Getting arthroscopic surgery because of injury sustained while TP’ing someone’s house? You know it. Walked runways in Paris? Okay…not exactly. More like 1 in Los Angeles. Skydiving? Owned it like nobody’s business. But the joy, nay – complete fulfillment, from a potato cannon? Never…until yesterday. I’ve now come to the decision that potato cannon should be marketed and sold as a weapon of mass destruction fun for the whole family! Unfortunately I didn’t get ANY pictures of the potato-shooting mayhem that followed, but I will soon enough. I foresee Byron and I spending an afternoon showing our love for one another by making personalized cannons.

Life Lesson #2: Friends are fun. Crawfish is yummy. Mix the 2 together, and you’ve got a recipe for good times. And good times were had by all. I can’t remember the exact amount, but Jason cooked up a good 30+ pounds of those critters with some taters, onions, and corn, and OH MY….*cue* heavenly aroma. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH YUM. The only thing I’d change in future “crawfish fests” would be to wear PPE…personal protective equipment….because when someone cooks them correctly, they’re HOT. Everything burns…eyes, ears, nose, mouth, lips, and KNUCKLES. Apparently when your hands are already dry (and in desperate need for lotion)…and you use crawfish seasoning for said lotion…madness ensues. I’ve never been in such pain in my life (except for the c-sections. and a few boob jobs. And the time I got my finger stuck in the toilet paper dispenser. Or the time I superglued my eyelid to my eyeball….I digress).

Life Lesson #3: Kids will be kids. They *don’t* need encouragement from parents to jump off objects from 5 feet in the air, say…like….bunk beds. This same adult doesn’t need to show the kids what SUPER COOL action shots they could take on the camera while doing such stunts., and how the parent should probably consider a side business of taking action shots for sporting events. (But I *so* could do that as a side job!) Finally the good parent comes to her senses, calms the children down for a group photo, and advises everyone to do the “smart thing” and get down off the bed. Everyone follows directions well, except for 2 year old Violet, who decides she wants to test out her kamikaze acrobat skills and does a nosedive off the bed….falling, flailing, and landing on her FACE and an angle such that should’ve broken her neck. Honestly. *Cue* crying, screaming, snake-like-not-bulging-from-forehead, and blood from nose. I suddenly decided to be the good mother and grab her up to soothe her, run her over to Byron so he can be equally appalled and horrified, only to hear him say, “Holy crap! She looks like a Klingon!” Really? Our child was near death, and she looks like a Klingon? (Other nicknames thought of later in the evening were Cyclops, Triceratops and Cromagnon Man). After a frantic trip to the E.R., it was discovered that nothing was broken…just nice and bruised. (Or so we thought! Another blog will detail the new news of broken nose, broken cheek, and concussion. Yep, we like to do it right!)

My ingenious brain has suddenly just stopped working, and now I can’t think of any other way to end this post than to just end it. So suck on that.

She makes her mother proud....

2009-04-14T22:39:00.000-07:00

Overheard Gracelyn playing school in the garage....

Quote of the Day: "Ok, Bessie. You better stay in that room and go to sleep. It's nap time, and me and Miss Summer will be out in the hall talking. No it's not fair, but that's what we do at school. And if I hear you, I'll have to take to you to the principal, and he'll hit you with a stick, and then all hell will break loose."

I'm thinking she'll make a *perfect* teacher one day!

Payback's hell.

2009-04-10T13:05:00.000-07:00

Ahhh, maturity. It takes longer to develop in some of us. In others, we mature quickly, only to relapse when we hit our 30-somethings. That’s the case for myself (VERY mature mother of 4, and church secretary), and some of the other *wonderful special fabulous* workers at Mother’s Day Out.Yesterday, after all the insane children were napping from the Easter Party fun, some teachers wondered what they’d do with the additional confetti filled Easter eggs. A while later a plan was concocted to smash said eggs in the car of another *super* MDO teacher. Hey, it was completely fair game…the car was unlocked! Although I wasn’t specifically involved in this “attack”, I did take pictures of the aftermath for fun. Wait…don’t go just yet. Look at the pictures below, and then keep reading.

The day went on. I stayed late at the office working on stuff for the Maundy Thursday and Good Friday services. Then we attended the Maundy Thursday service, went home, got kids to bed, and relaxed. I hopped online and rehashed the days’ activities with a friend. We got to talking about how we’d like to work as a team to pull a prank on yet another innocent bystander. Then we figured ‘why pick on the innocent’? Let’s get someone who needs to be messed with…say, like the Pastor? He’d gotten each one of us with different pranks here and there over the last few weeks (April Fools, etc.) and we came to the decision that payback was necessary.

An hour later, say 11 p.m.-ish, I was on my way to pick up my friend. We had the car loaded with toilet paper and plastic forks, because that’s how we roll. I must say we did a heck of a job….but didn’t go too overboard. This IS Good Friday, after all. We left shortly thereafter, and felt right proud of ourselves. Then lightening struck! Yet another idea!!!! We returned 10 minutes later with a camera to take pictures of the mayhem. We left the 2nd time, and went to the gas station to get some drinks. Then ANOTHER idea hit us! EGGS! Again, we didn’t do anything horrible. We just smashed the eggs IN the carton, and left the carton open on the front porch in front of the door. We also rubbed egg yolks all over our hands and made hand prints on the door, because we’re mature that way. Then trouble struck….

That time we saw a shadow cross the doorway (while our hands were in the act) and we HIGHTAILED it like NOBODY’S business. I almost fell trying to run down the hill (their yard is slanted), my pants fell down, AND a roll of tape I had in my waist band ended up stuck to my butt. Niiiicccce. My friend ran the other way, AWAY from the getaway car. I had already decided I’d sacrifice her to save myself. After all, I could always return to get her later!

We finally left and headed home. I loaded all the pictures on Facebook in the wee midnight hours, and we waited. Nothing. We just *knew* we’d get a hate call this morning, and would go back over and clean up. Nothing. Numerous phone calls to their cells and home, still nothing. A bazillion text messages and Facebook posts, and again…nothing. Then my friend drove past their house and saw the mess had already been taken care of. A bit later she was driving around again and even passed them on the road, waving and smiling. No response. Just ignored her and drove away. After that we felt slightly bad, especially after I found out the victim’s mother would be coming in today for the Easter weekend.

So what did we do? Send stupid flowers with a card that said, “We are sorry, but not too sorry. Signed – The Instigators”.

Look, it could’ve been WAY worse:

1. We could’ve thrown the toilet paper UP in the tree branches. Instead we just wrapped it around the trunks.

2. We could’ve wet the toilet paper after wrapping the stuff, making it that much harder to get rid of. Nearly impossible.

3. When professionals fork a house, they put them in random spots all over the yard so you’re finding them for weeks. We took the time, and care, to put them in a straight line leading from the getaway car to the door, and then made an extra “v”. Nothing over the top.

4. Lastly, we could’ve done WAY worse with the egg business. Instead we left them neatly tucked in their carton, albeit slightly damaged…and only left handprints on the door. We didn’t smash them about on their house like they were going out of style. A note was even left on the kitchen window from Jesus and Us (because Jesus IS always with us, right?) that said “Jesus was here, and so were we.”

Today is Good Friday, the day that Jesus was hung on the cross and laid in the tomb. Everyone who’s anyone knows the story…that Jesus rose from the dead on the 3rd day, and FORGAVE all those morons who did horrible things to Him. He died so that we could be forgiven and saved. ‘Nuff said. Praise be to God!!!!

Child-proof bottles? No so child-proof.

2009-03-29T10:34:00.000-07:00

Last night we were late getting home. Me, being the planner I am *for real!* decided to give the girls a bath and get things ready for church last night, instead of making us late this morning. I had just about finished everything, when I sat down to play "makeover" with Gracelyn - just so she'd let me brush her hair and pull it back. Violet was stomping around us, playing with a toothbrush, singing, putting bows in her hair, etc...just keeping busy.

Suddenly she stopped singing, and started spitting instead. I turned around, saw white stuff on her face and said, "Violet, do NOT eat the toothpaste. It can make you very sick." About the same time I happened to look down and saw a lone pill on the floor. Lying a few feet away was the pill bottle that had 5 phenergan in it. I almost lost it. These are pills for nausea....when I take ONE of these pills, I'm out for a good day or so. She ate 4. Not good.

I ran to the kitchen, called poison control, and they advised me to take her to the nearest E.R. So at 11:30 p.m. last night, I left Duke with Byron, loaded up the girls, and headed to UT Health Center. It could've been a much worse scenario.

The doctor didn't think she ingested too much because it tastes SO horrible he figured she wouldn't have swallowed much of it. Still, she was acting slightly affected, lethargic, etc. so they decided to give her activiated coal (as an alternative to pumping her belly). This stuff was liquid coal, jet black, and just nasty. They brought it to her in 2 cups, thinking she'd take it by mouth. Apparently they weren't thinking. She got one sip and spewed it everywhere. The nurse got a syringe so we could try to give it to her that way....and it pretty much worked.

After the first cup of coal she puked everywhere (that's my girl!). It took a while, but we were finally able to get the 2nd cup down her, and then we had to sit and wait. Pure torture to a 5 year old and 2 year old to sit and wait. No TV. No colors. No books. No toys. No fun. Violet resorted to scooting around on the nasty floor, and finally I just gave up and let her.

So thanks, stupid pharmacy, for giving me a bottle for people with arthritis that DIDN'T have a child proof lock. And thank you too, stupid self, for putting the bottle in the bathroom on the counter. And thank you, lame-o universe, that I only got to sleep from 4:30 - 6 a.m.

My only sincere thank you? To God for saving us from yet another disaster and protecting Violet from what could've been.

Jesus speaks spanish

2009-03-28T16:15:00.000-07:00

Today I was riding in the car with Gracelyn. She was looking through old photos I found recently, and one was a picture of her as an infant, along with my Mom and Granddad. Sometimes it's in those conversations where she's asking ME to explain things, and she ends up telling me a thing or two, funny as it may be.

Gracelyn: "Hey Mom. Who is that guy holding me?"

Me: "That's Granddaddy. He was PawPaw's Daddy."

Gracelyn: "Is he my Granddaddy too?"

Me: "Yes."

Gracelyn: "Did he die and go to heaven?"

Me: "Yes. He died when you were 2, and he's in heaven now."

Gracelyn: "Did he want to die?"

Me: "No, Gracelyn. I don't think anyone WANTS to die, but we all die one day. Then we get to be in heaven together."

Gracleyn: "Well, maybe I'll just run out and get hit by a car so I can hurry up and get there so I can meet him." (She said this like she was talking about picking out a cereal or something, very nonchalantly.)

Me: *A little shocked* "Oh, no, we don't do that. We wait until Jesus calls us home to heaven."

Gracelyn: "But Jesus doesn't call you on the phone. He doesn't even talk."

Me: "Yes he does. Maybe not on a phone, but Jesus talks to us, and even if you can't hear him he's always with us."

Gracelyn: "Like when we're sleeping?"

Me: "Yes, when we're sleeping and all the other times too."

Gracelyn: "Oooohhhhhh. Okay. You're right. He DOES talk to us, but someone needs to tell him to quit speaking Spanish. I can't understand him."

It took everything I had not to burst out laughing, but I was able to keep my composure until we got somewhere I could laugh without her hearing.

But, it does seem that way sometimes I guess. Jesus is talking to us all the time. Maybe we're so caught up in other things we don't always catch it, or even understand......Spanish.

St. Baldrick’s, Mama Drama, & Other Fun Stuff

2009-03-16T12:54:00.000-07:00

First and foremost, I just have to tell you how happy I am for the turnout we had at our St. Baldrick’s event over the weekend. I had been more than a bit worried, since I COMPLETELY dropped the ball on sending out press releases, making speeches, etc. when I got put on bed rest at the hospital. That being said, we raised around $3,500 for the organization! We had lots of people attend, and over 20 shaved their heads, including 3 girls! Woohoo ladies! A local motorcycle group found out the event the DAY before, yet donated all the drinks, $1,000, AND…one biker shaved around 15” off his hair before shaving it completely bald! It was awesome!!!!

We also had Baby Zoee Smith and her family with us. Zoee was diagnosed with cancer at 6 months of age. She is now 13 months old. Please leave words of support (and find out more about her) at http://www.babyzoee.com/ . There’s an upcoming fundraising event for her during May, and they still need sponsors and volunteers! Every little bit helps!!!!

Everything at the St. Baldrick’s event ran pretty smoothly, but it seems like anything I’m involved in generally has some drama, lol. My mom completely passed out after giving blood. She had some juice and crackers after donating, and then sat in a chair and asked for another drink. A few minutes later my dad and 2 workers from Carter BloodCare were trying to walk her over to the reclining donation chair, when she hit the floor. It wasn’t funny, but it was…especially since she was fine later.

A friend of mine also attempted to pass out. Fortunately she didn’t, and recovered soon after.

For those of you who know my brother, you know he can be, ahem *different* at times…or hell, all of the time. While my mother was in “recovery”, diphead swung around like a ballerina girl to swat at a balloon, when he supposedly dislocated his shoulder. I’m quite certain he’s full of crap, but that’s neither here nor there. I was absolutely mortified. If I could only show a picture of how STUPID he looked, and a video of his “performance”. Dragging his damn arm around walking hunched over like some version of Igor or the Hunchback of Notre Dame. I told him to get up and quit acting like an idiot. About 2 minutes later my Dad walked by him and said something to the effect of “D.B. Get up off the damn floor.” Some other onlookers were concerned, but a few friends pointed out to them that if I wasn’t concerned, and neither was my Dad, it was OK. About 20 minutes later the idiot was backing up about 10 feet from the wall, and then running at it full force with his shoulder to “pop it back into place”. Did he do this in a discreet location? Oh no…you need an audience for that sort of business. He did it right in the middle of everyone, acting a fool like nobody’s business. Makes me proud.

Other than that, it was a success! Can’t wait ‘til next year! And now...a few pictures!

M.I.A.

2009-03-11T14:30:00.000-07:00

Sorry, I know, I know....I've been missing in action. You can thank our newest addition, The Duke. I was on bed rest for 8 days before he was born, and then he had to go and get all dramatic and stay in the NICU for another 7 days after his birth. He turned 2 weeks old on Monday, and is doing quite well now. He's become quite the pro at keeping me up all night.

The first few days I attemped to take a nap each day to try to catch up on lost sleep. Now I've figured out that that will NEVER happen. Instead I'm learning to adjust to less sleep, and feeling extra special if I happen to get to take a nap on a particular day.

My humor has suffered because of this. :) I, do hereby promise, a new and *funny* post will be coming soon.

Another excuse? I've also been swamped with preparations for the upcoming St. Baldrick's event this Saturday in Gladewater, from 12 - 3. There's still time to sign up for our event, or pick another one near you (nationwide). You can even register to be a virtual shavee. Of course, I'm always up for accepting donations to reach my shavee total. Just look for the event in Gladewater, TX at First United Methodist Church at http://www.StBaldricks.org .

So, my plate is slightly more full than usual. I'm sure I'll get used to it soon. I'm very blessed!!!!

The Duke and Baby Drama

2009-02-25T19:45:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Baby Duke seemed to be doing well. He had made improvements in the amount of oxygen he was requiring, and was holding steady around 30-35 %. Everything was going well, the night was pretty quiet, when some moron doctor decided to piss me off.

This doctor WAS NOT my baby's doctor, NOR was he covering for someone else or on call. He should've never seen my baby, period. When he walked in he was very nervous, talked quickly, and couldn't sit still. Then he told me his name, and I immediately didn't like it. He was the SAME moronic doctor that diagnosed a friend's baby with like 5 different fatal brain disorders, kidney disorder, and all sorts of other crap because he's so crazy. Even sent her, with her baby, to see all these specialists in Dallas to find out what? There was NOTHING wrong with her baby in the least.

He starts telling me that he was paged to come and check on Duke, and he'd taken a turn for the worse. He said Duke couldn't breath at all, and made it seem as though Duke were near death. This whole time he's sitting, squating, standing back up, looking in his bag, acting like a total crack head. He said Duke needed to be put a ventilator because he couldn't breathe, might need some other meds, etc, and made it sound like I had in choice in what was going to happen next. By the end of the conversation I asked if I could go see Duke, and then the idiot doctor said, "Well, you might want to call the nurses and make sure they're finished intubating him." WHAT?????Of course I freaked out. That doctor ran off so fast,almost like he didn't want to get in trouble if someone saw him in my room or something. I call Byron, repeat what the idiot said, and he got all upset too and started driving back up to the hospital.

About 30 minutes later the neonatologist stopped by. He's the doctor for the sick or preemie babies. He was VERY calm, and after talking with him, things didn't seem quite as grim. He said Baby Duke never got worse, and never had trouble breathing. He said he was staying the same, which was fine, and they could've waited another few days to see how things progressed. Then he told me that Duke was intubated because that was the ONLY way to administer the new medicine....not because he wasn't breathing well. He also said that after the vent was used to give the medicine, it starts working nearly immediately, and they can be taken back of the vent within 12-24 hours. MUCH better news.

We went to see Duke last night and it was a bit upsetting to see all these tubes connecting to one large piece, and then a tube going down his throat, one in his nose, etc...but the monitors on his oxygen and breathing levels all looked quite a bit better.I called to check on him this morning around 4 a.m., and he was already doing better on his oxygen, holding steady at 26%. Room air was the main goal, and that's 21%.By the time I went to see him when the NICU "opened" this morning at 8 a.m., he was on room air! What a miracle! Then they started weaning the pressure that was on the vent.

We've made a few visits with him throughout the day, and when I went back at 3 p.m. he was just being removed from the vent! Breathing all alone, on room air, with no vent or oxygen!!!! Praise GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

About 30 minutes ago they did a blood gas test, and won't have to do more bloodwork to check his levels until tomorrow morning. The NICU is "closed" right now, and opens again at 7 p.m. They said I'd finally get to hold him for the FIRST time, and feed him too!!!! We are SO BLESSED!!!!!!

I get to go home tomorrow, and Duke will likely be transferred to the regular nursery by then. If things keep looking up, he'll be able to come hom on Friday!!!!!

Thank you, everyone, for your prayers...even if you didn't happen to know about what happened last night. I was so drained (emotionally, physcially, mentally) after all that we've been through in the last week that I just couldn't make myself post an update or do phone calls. Please continue to keep The Duke in your prayers. :)

Love you all!!!!!

Baby Duke has arrived!

2009-02-23T21:57:00.000-08:00

Baby Byron Duke Hast made his debut today, Monday, February 23rd at 1:26 p.m., and weighed 6 lbs 12 oz, and was 17.5" long. I was technially 35 weeks pregnant today, so he's considered a preemie (full term is 36-40 weeks).

Wordle fun...

2009-02-12T09:01:00.001-08:00

Pretty cool little thing here called wordle....go there to create your own wordle wonder. :)

My Turn Day...

2009-02-10T08:21:00.001-08:00

I would LOVE LOVE LOVE for each and every one of you passing by this blog to take a minute and consider signing up to be a shavee this year for the St. Baldrick's Foundation, which raises money for pediatric cancer research. You set the goal, and if the donations meet your goal, you shave your head. That's all there is to it!

Just think...no more bad hair days, at least for a long while. No excuses about vanity. I'm a mother of 3, with 1 on the way, and I could always use a little extra time. By shaving my head, I'll save at least 20 minutes every morning "doing" my hair. Not to mention the main cause of bringing about awareness to pediatric cancers, and life-saving research!

C'mon...you can do it.....be brave - get bald!!!!

Just go to www.StBaldricks.org and find an event near you!

Now, it's your turn......

My mom can squirt milk out of her boob.

2009-02-05T08:16:00.000-08:00

“My mom can squirt milk out of her boob.” Those were the exact words my 5-year old used to enlighten an elderly stranger in the checkout line at the grocery store. When in public, she gets pretty shy, and either pretends you don’t exist, OR gives you the classic “go to hell” look. I’m fine with either of these, but of course, she had to go and show off a few days ago.

It takes a lot to upset or embarrass me, but I did get a little pink in the cheeks trying to get Graceyn to shut her fat mouth. It went something like this:

Old Man: Hi! You sure are a cutie!

Gracelyn: No response.

Old Man: And it looks like you’re going to be a big sister soon. (pointing to my belly)

Gracelyn: I already AM a big sister, but I’ll be another big sister when this baby gets here. They’re going to cut him out of my mom’s belly in a few days.

Old Man: Oh. I see.

Gracelyn: And you know what? My mom can squirt milk out of her boob. The other day my mom was fixing her shirt, and there was a big wet spot on her shirt and I was like, “Mom, what’s that comin’ out of your nipple?” (She learned the word nipple last week and has tried to use it in every conversation since then.) And my mom told me it was milk for the baby. And I was like, “Oh that’s SOOO gross that you have milk in your boob. You could, like, squirt somebody in the eye with that, and that would be really funny."

Old Man: Stunned silence.

Gracelyn: I’d be like, Quentin, you better quit messing with me or I’m gonna tell Mom to squirt you with that milk.

Old Man: Suddenly remembers he needed a few more items from the store, and walks away.

Yeah, out of the mouths of babes. Gotta love ‘em! And by the way….I’m available for parties.

I'm coming out....

2009-01-26T16:42:00.000-08:00

...of the virtual closet. No, I'm not gay (although I don't have the slightest thing against anyone who bats for a different team). I'm coming out of the "anonymous blog" closet. I turned in my letter of resignation at my office last week. I used to have an "open" blog, complete with my information (there's NO shame here!) but I had to close it down due to not being able to completely speak my mind, since I work for a church. Anyhow, my job will be ending soon, coinciding with the birth of our LAST child, so I figured now would be just a good a time as any to "come out".

I get so tired of having to try to remember the names I've made up for each member of our family....heck, most days I'm lucky if I can remember to send lunch with each of my kids to school, much less remember fake names and b.s. No thanks. So consider this to be my most boring post ever, but just a little fyi. :)

Fun in virus-land

2009-01-14T11:37:00.000-08:00

EVERYBODY in the family got sick over the weekend.

Friday night I didn’t feel good, so I had to cancel my plans to go to Shoguns (my favorite restaurant this month). I was totally pissed, but figured I’d go on Saturday.

Instead, Saturday afternoon Smartie started puking, and I thought (hoped and prayed) that it would be a 1-vomit episode, like Cookie had had a few days earlier….but NOOOOOOO. The girls, my mom and I loaded up in the car to go to the grocery store, and while my mom was inside Smartie decided to puke in the car. I had given her a bag just in case she needed to puke, but apparently when you’re 4 years old, your brain flies out the window and you forget how to even OPEN a bag, so you puke all over the bag (and yourself, and the car) instead. THAT was fun. She proceeded to puke a bazillion times more. Shogun’s was cancelled once again, and I was even more pissed (hey – I’m selfish, what can I say) It was a f’ing conspiracy for me NOT to go to Shoguns. Instead I ordered takeout from Roadhouse (my 2nd favorite place to eat), but I wasn’t entirely happy since I was already set on Shoguns. We headed home that evening, and I expected everything would be better by Sunday.

What in the piss was I thinking? Smartie woke up feeling fine, and Peabody went to church. I woke up with pains in my side, so I loaded up the girls and went to my parents house. Peabody met me there after church, and I decided to go to the hospital since I figured I was having stoner issues, lol (kidney stones). The doctors confirmed it was, in fact, a stone, and that I was having trouble passing it because the baby was laying on the tube it was trying to pass through. Little heathen. They said it would have a better chance of passing if I laid on my left side only (the stone was on the right). Only problem was, I couldn't lay down AT ALL without puking.

After I’d been at the hospital for an hour or so, I called Peabody to check in on things. Then he told me he was sick, throwing up no less. Figures! I finally got out of GSMC a few hours later (they said I could stay with a pain pump, or go home with pain meds). I decided to go home to try to help with the kids since Peabody was faking it (and I'm a freaking SAINT!). He was sick as a dog, and we all stayed at my parents house Sunday night. I was up all night long with reflux issues, throwing up every time I tried to lay down. THAT was fun.

Monday morning I had my 30-week pregnancy visit, but after that I took the rest of the day off since I’d had NO sleep, and was still hurting from the stone (and then I got the stupid virus too!). Do you know how uncomfortable it is to puke and dry heave with a BABY in your belly?

I was up again all Tuesday night with reflux, and resorted to sitting straight up to try to get some sleep. All it did was make my neck hurt.

Today everyone seems to be much better. I'm pretty sure I passed the stone. I got my reflux medicine refilled, FINALLY, and with insurance (which knocked it from $124 to $50). Protonix is like GOLD!!!!! Everyone has quit puking, and I finally got a good night's sleep last night.

Let's see who can be the first to piss me off today! :)

25 Things

2009-01-08T17:22:00.000-08:00

I was acutally tagged to do this on my facebook account, but I thought I'd share it with you wonderful people as well. Since I can't say ALOT about myself on here, at least for another month or two, I can give you this information:

1. If I didn’t have scoliosis, I would be 6’2”, instead of a measly 5’10” (no offense to the vertically challenged out there!)

2. I’ve always wanted to join the circus (imagine that!).

3. People piss me off so much these days, I think about biting my tongue off at least twice daily.

4. I know I shouldn’t get any more tattoos, since 10 is OBVIOUSLY enough, but I’m sure I will.

5. I got to see the Leeza show twice in REAL LIFE. This one girl brought her new product – a pump that you put on your lips a few times a day to make them fatter. Impressive, I tell you, impressive.

6. I’ve been told I “live an amazing life”. Sounds like someone wants a favor.

7. I’ve been skydiving twice.

8. Recently numerous innocent photo-girls were maimed and disfigured beyond all recognition because of a pregnancy-induced-psychotic-episode.

9. In March, I will once again be bald, and the mother of my 4th and FINAL child.

10. I could live at Six Flags.

11. I thrive on chaos.

12. I only take halfway-decent pictures on my left side. The right side (lazy eye, flared nostril, SERIOUS issues) of my face doesn’t cooperate with how great the left side thinks it is. I always have to feel my face to see which side the beauty mark is on, and that’s the one for the camera!

13. One time I was on a bridge in grid-lock traffic in Dallas. Smoke started coming up around me, and I felt sorry for the poor fool whose car overheated on the highway below me. About 2 minutes later my hood caught on fire. It was MY stupid car.

14. I’m pro-plastic-surgery like you cannot even BEGIN to imagine.

15. I’m also pro-medication. I’m quite certain there’s a medicine to fix any ailment. None of this “Oh, I’m so womanly I’m doing this birth crap au-natural.” Give me a flipping break.

16. When I was little I wanted to grow up and marry PeeWee Herman. Now THAT’S an aspiration!

17. Tomorrow I’ll have purple hair. Take THAT! UH!18. I love me some crème brulee.

19. Last year I was in an unfortunate accident called “eyelid-superglued-to-the-eyeball”.

20. I hate mini-vans. I know hate is a strong word, but I truly HATE mini-vans.

21. I never graduated high school. I stopped 2 months into my senior year and then got my GED. I started college the following year like I would have had I stayed in school.

22. My arms are double-jointed. And so is my brain.

23. Almost everything I own is black or brown. Hey, black is slimming!

24. I have some crazy-cow-lick business going on in the front of my hair, which helps my perfect my poof (when I have hair).

25. I can rap Sugar Hill Gang’s “Rapper’s Delight” like nobody’s business.

It's time to take it all off!

2009-01-06T11:52:00.000-08:00

Your hair, that is!

It’s almost time for St. Baldrick’s 2009. This year it will be held on Saturday, March 14th, from 12:00 – 3:00 p.m. at FUMC in Gladewater, Tx (or you can visit www.St.Baldricks.org to find a location near you!)

Be brave and get bald! Absolutely NO excuses!!!!! It’s just hair, and it will grow back. If you’re insecure, buy a wig (or a sack!). This is all about the kids, and I plan on driving all of you so insane that you’ll agree to shave your head just so I’ll shut up and leave you alone. I don’t care if you don’t like me, don’t want to, blah, blah, blah. This is a great cause, and if you don’t agree, I don’t care. You’ll get over it.

Last year we raised just over $5,000, which completely blew me away. After all, the first amount I put on the website was only $250. I’d say we knocked that one out of the park! This year I’m upping the ante to $6,000, which should be no problem.

A few new things have been added this year. You can always visit the St. Baldrick’s website and buy t-shirts, mugs, mouse pads, license plates, shirts, etc. with the St. Baldrick’s logo.

You can also visit www.heartof.com, and designate the St. Baldrick’s Foundation as your charity of choice. Part of the proceeds of each purchase you make will help cure childhood cancer. Merchants include Apple iTunes, Barnes and Noble, Best Buy, Dale and Thomas Popcorn, Linens & Things, the Museum Store, Macy’s, PETsMart, Sharper Image, Toys R Us, and many more. You can even book your next trip with Expedia or Orbitz. When you enter this online mall, you’ll go right to each merchant’s own website to shop, and you’ll see upfront what percentage of your purchase price will come to the St. Baldrick’s Foundation. (Percentages vary by store; the average is 8%.) There’s even a page to show “Today’s Bargains.” So shop your heart out and help kids with cancer with every purchase! To join, go to www.heartof.com, and designate the St. Baldrick’s Foundation as your designated charity. (Hint: On the “join” page, choose California for the location and Children & Youth for your category, with keyword “Baldricks.")

Also, if you’re online EVER, GoodSearch.com is like any other search engine (and it’s powered by Yahoo!), but every search you make can generate funds for the St. Baldrick’s Foundation. Here’s how it works: Go to www.goodsearch.com and type "St. Baldrick’s Foundation" into the "I support" box. Now every time you use GoodSearch to search the web, a portion of its advertising revenue will be shared with St. Baldrick’s. To see how much GoodSearch users have generated for St. Baldrick’s, click on “amount raised,” once you’ve designated us as your organization of choice. Spread the word and surf the net for kids with cancer!

As you can see, there are MANY ways this year to become involved, but I would LOVE to see EVERY ONE of you with a shiny noggin on March 14th. Go bald or bust!!!!!

Even I can be psycho.

2008-12-29T14:36:00.001-08:00

**Note: These events happened on December 6th & 7th. Names have been changed to protect the guilty.**

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!

Now this is a Monday.

2008-12-22T12:56:00.000-08:00

I woke up in a decent mood today, glad that I only had to work today and tomorrow of this week, and then I’m out for Christmas-time. Ahhhhhh……family and fun. At lunch today I needed to drive home to meet a certain set of delivery-people, bringing a gift for Peabody. No big deal, right? Is anything in my life ever NOT a big deal, I ask you? Why hell no.

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.

I give up.

2008-11-10T07:48:00.000-08:00

Obviously posting every day for the month of November won't happen. I was playing catch up last week after what I thought was the end of Cookie's bout with pneumonia and a belly virus. Nope. She was admitted to the hospital on Wednesday afternoon, and we got released Friday afternoon. I ended up with the same virus on the 2nd night of our hospital stay, and had to go home. My mom sat with Cookie for the rest of the time. Peabody and Smartie also got it, and TooCool followed suit this morning. Think I'll pick up this afternoon or tomorrow morning from here. :)

Part Tres of the Disaster Days

2008-11-04T13:44:00.001-08:00

How could Saturday get any worse than the past 2 days? Pretty easily, I guess. I should know by now to NEVER under ANY circumstances ask that question. Things can ALWAYS get worse.

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.

Making Mom work for her title, Part Deux

2008-11-03T13:25:00.000-08:00

Halloween is here, and we’re ready to hit the streets for more candy! We HAD plans to go to our friend’s house to let the kids trick-or-treat…but, noooooooooo. I don’t think so! The day went fairly well. I worked a bit, and then picked up my Mom, Smartie and Cookie to head to town. Cookie was doing okay, just a bit of belly issues, but nothing major…or so I thought. After buying a sewing machine (SO excited!!!), some fabric, and other crap I never knew I needed, we headed back to Mom’s house.

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).

A Crappy Story, A Ponderance of Puke, A Fable of Fever?

2008-11-03T11:04:00.000-08:00

Part Uno

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!

30 Days of Blogging....

2008-10-31T07:57:00.000-07:00

We'll see if I can actually accompllish that. I know I've got PLENTY to piss and moan about, and the kids are always doing something that's funny (or funny later, after it's over with). I've really slacked for the month of October. I'll claim exhaustion.

Ready, set...tomorrow!

Spelling bad words? Not a great idea.

2008-10-09T11:44:00.000-07:00

While pregnant, I tend to have a mouth like a sailor. I just can't help myself. I'm pretty hateful most of the time. This is the 4th time around for me, and it's never gotten any better. The only thing that cures it is birth, and that's not 'til March!

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.

We're having another....brat!

2008-10-08T12:01:00.000-07:00

I'm very excited to announce we're having our 2nd boy.

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.

Cookie Got Spit-Faced

2008-09-30T12:42:00.000-07:00

Saturday night I was ready for a fun-filled trip to Roadhouse. I really knew there wouldn’t be much fun involved, but I was ready for a nice medium-rare filet mignon. My favorite. Yum…I can still taste it. But next time, IF there IS a next time, it will be a childless, or take-out, visit.

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.

Half-eaten Shoes

2008-09-23T13:28:00.000-07:00

Either the crickets have decided they’re not getting enough nutrition from my t-shirts, or I have a large mouse dragging my shoes off into uncharted territory. At least that’s what I’ve been thinking for the last few weeks. That all changed a few days ago when I noticed chunks of brown material scattered throughout the living room. I had no idea what it was. Then Cookie strolls in with her mouth full of brown stuff, spitting it everywhere, and I still had no idea what it was. Then I came across this:

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.

Cookie tries so hard....

2008-09-15T15:42:00.000-07:00

.....to get hurt.

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".

That took long enough!

2008-09-15T14:02:00.000-07:00

So here I am today, finally getting my new blog online. I'm pissed that it's taken me this long (since August) to get it back up and running. I'm pissed that it has to be anonymous to keep everyone happy, and even more pissed that it takes so much time and thought to rename every flipping person in my household, and THEN to remember to call them their "new name" on the blog. I'm pissed that I haven't got to write anything new in a long while, and I hope I can remember most of the funny things that have happened since my last post. We'll see how it goes.

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).

WHAT did you say to me? (08.06.08)

2008-09-15T14:00:00.000-07:00

You know them. You see them all the time. Oogie people. Just makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, or – if you’re like me, make you want to vomit. Yesterday I was in the local discount store, getting some crazy flying/screaming monkey toys for my boss’ kids. They’re all sick, and I figured they could fling them at each other, and inflict torture on their parents with all the screeching they do.

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.

That’s hoodoo for ya! (08.05.08)

2008-09-15T13:58:00.000-07:00

Apparently Smartie is feeling neglected these days, although I don’t see how. She comes to work with me at some point every day (without her siblings). I haven’t been blatantly ignoring her, that I’m aware of. Guess she had other ideas.

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.

I don’t glow. I steam. (08.04.08)

2008-09-15T13:56:00.000-07:00

What idiot ever said pregnant women glow must’ve been on crack, and some bad crack at that. I don’t flipping glow. Not even with 5 metric tons of bronzer!

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.

Guess what I did? (06.24.08)

2008-09-15T13:55:00.000-07:00

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.

Vomit, Butter and Coffee.(06.23.08)

2008-09-15T13:53:00.000-07:00

Vomit happened. I could’ve used butter. And then my butt ate coffee. All in the span of 15 minutes!

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.

You’ll cry like a 2 year old girl now. (06.22.08)

2008-09-15T13:52:00.000-07:00

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.

From My Loving Father (06.21.08)

2008-09-15T13:50:00.000-07:00

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

Somtimes they look so sweet! (06.29.08)

2008-09-15T13:48:00.000-07:00

And sometimes, they don't. You all know what I'm talking about....children. I had to come to work last night to finish up some things, and I had to bring the whole crew along.

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!

I thought I was just going to go home…. (06.28.08)

2008-09-15T13:47:00.000-07:00

....but am I ever “just” going somewhere, so simply? Not in my life.

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!

What. In. The. Sam. Hill. ?!?!?!? (06.25.08)

2008-09-15T13:45:00.000-07:00

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!!!!)

What was I thinking? (06.24.08)

2008-09-15T13:42:00.001-07:00

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.

And you call this a vacation?! (06.23.08)

2008-09-15T13:39:00.000-07:00

Ahhh, vacations. For the stressed, a vacation is a relaxing time….my ideal vacation would be full of sand, sun, and margaritas….and minus, say...3 heathen children hell bent on making me work for my money. I might as well have taken up 2 or 3 extra jobs instead of “vacating”, because that’s what my vacation was all about. Work. And cussing. And pill-popping. And margaritas. Did I mention cussing?

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.

Day Two (06.23.08)

2008-09-15T13:37:00.000-07:00

Saturday we got up early and headed to Sea World. We had just arrived when I realized I left all our tickets the hotel. After another hour of driving and cussing enough to be a sailor, we arrived at Sea World for the 2nd time.

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!

Day Three (06.23.08)

2008-09-15T13:35:00.000-07:00

Our last chance to get some fun in was Sunday, since we were heading out that evening. We hit Sea World early, and after trekking through fields of cars, broke down at the gate and decided to get a double-stroller-buggy for $15. Easily worth the money to shut kids up from saying—for the umpteenth time—I’m tired of walking!!!! We saw Shamu, the whole point of Sea World. That was touching….awww…..sentimental. It was pretty cool.

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!!!!!!

Stuff in general... (04.08.08)

2008-09-15T13:33:00.000-07:00

Had to take Smartie to the doctor yesterday, lol…she needed stitches but refused. She fell at school and bumped her lip. It didn’t bleed very much, but she refused to let anyone look at it. Two hours later I got home and looked, and there was a large hole where a piece of “stuff” was missing from her upper lip, on the inside (about a ½” piece). They tried to put dermabond on it, but it didn’t make it stick very well. Today she just looks like she got collagen injections on the top lip. Underneath though it’s whitish- gray …yuck.

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!

St. Baldrick's!

2008-09-15T13:32:00.000-07:00

This weekend I organized the first ever St. Baldrick's Event in East Texas (Longview/Tyler area), which raises money for pediatric cancer research. I only had about 6 weeks to plan (I'm always "last minute")...but, we raised over $5,000 for pediatric cancer research! We also had 26 units of blood donated (their goal was 16), and the bone marrow company registered 21 new people! I’m so pleased with the turnout we had…it was so much greater than I had expected. We had about 30 shavees, including 7 brave “girls” who shaved their heads bald, and a few other ladies who cut their hair short for Locks of Love. Thanks again for the support from each and every one of you! I can’t wait until we do it again next year!!!!

It was just a trip to the pet store!!!! (01.29.08)

2008-09-15T13:28:00.001-07:00

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.

Why 2008 will be better than 2007.... (01.28.07)

2008-09-15T13:26:00.000-07:00

A look at the past.....April 2007....Want another kid? I’ll be glad to give you one of mine!

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….

Bronchitis and a bloody nose (01.22.08)

2008-09-15T13:24:00.000-07:00

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….)

“Premier Pediatrics.”

“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!

Have you ever tried to de-pant at Chuck E. Cheese? (01.07.08)

2008-09-15T13:22:00.000-07:00

Well, I didn't just try to take my pants off in front of a Chuck E. Cheese, but I accomplished it! That's right, at 7 p.m. on a Saturday night, I was shuckin' the britches. Fun it was! What lead up to the occurence was even more fun than that.

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.

The Torch (01.04.08)

2008-09-15T13:19:00.000-07:00

The Clutch Family. Friends & co-workers. Nothing but good things to say about ‘em, except for the time T.Clutch tried to light up my pasture like the Fourth of July. Except it wasn't the Fourth of July.

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!

On the third day….

2008-09-15T13:17:00.001-07:00

Ahhhhh, glorious Monday! New Year’s eve! Nothing can go wrong on this last and most perfect day of the year! Actually the most terrible/funny thing happened, but it’s so absolutely insane it will be saved for a separate post.

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!

Day Two in Hades

2008-09-15T13:11:00.000-07:00

This was a good day, overall, thinking back on it now. Nope, cancel that.

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.

Weekend in hell….err, Dallas: Part Uno (01.04.08)

2008-09-15T13:10:00.000-07:00

I was really looking forward to going to Dallas last weekend, for the New Year, and spending time with my best friend and her family. Good things happened, but from what I can recall, the bad may have outweighed the good.First Night

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!!!!!

Kids say stupid crap sometimes.... (01.03.08)

2008-09-15T13:07:00.000-07:00

I'm not excluding myself from this topic, because I say stupid things every time I open my mouth. Apparently my children have followed suit.

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. :)

Conversation with a State Trooper (01.02.08)

2008-09-15T13:03:00.000-07:00

Today I had a conversation with a State Trooper. It went a little something like this:

"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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Do you want me to call the police?! (12.19.07)

2008-09-15T13:00:00.000-07:00

Mom called me just a bit ago. She was keeping the girls until I got off work. Apparently Smartie took Cookie in the bedroom and proceeded to lock the door. At first it was funny. Then it was annoying. Gracelyn refused to open the door on any condition. The conversation went something like this (with me listening on the phone)

"Smartie, you open that door, or I'm going to call your mother!"
"NO!"
"I'm calling her right now, and you're going to be in big trouble!"
"Fine. Call her then. I don't care."
"Okay, I'm calling her. She said get out of that bedroom."
"Hell no! I'm not going anywhere."

Mom finally says she'll call me back when she gets Smartie to open the door. I wait about 5 minutes, and call back to hear Cookie screaming in the background, and Smartie laughing. This all at the same time as my mother is cussing like a sailor (and I can just HEAR her frothing at the mouth).

"You open that door or I'll bust your butt!"
"NOOOOOOOO!"
"Santa Claus isn't bringing you anything."
"I don't care. I don't want anything from stupid Santa."
"Your mom is going to call the police!"
"Call 'em."
"SMARTIE, open the door NOOOOOOOWWWWWW!!!!!"

This was followed by my mom sliding the fly-swatter under the door and thrashing it back and forth. Who knows who's feet she got (could've been Smartie's....could've been Cookie's, lol).

Finally the door opened and Smartie said, "There. It's open. Gosh." (The most calm look on her face, like she doesn't know what the big deal is.)Does she get it from me?!?!?!?!

I'm a radio STAR!!!!!! (12.18.07)

2008-09-15T12:59:00.000-07:00

Honestly, If I get any cooler than I already am, I don't know how I'll handle it all. Not only am I a wife, mother, office worker, former model, contortionist, graceful strider (i.e. falling down the stairs) and jack-of-all-trades, I can now add radio star to my resume!!!!! I'll be signing autographs all next week. Call me and I'll see if I can pencil you in (you have to be REALLY important for ink).Came in to work this a.m., and turned on the radio...and heard, "The tune of O Christmas Tree is also the tune to 4 state songs. Name one and you win!" I dial, ring....ring....ring....IOWA? Yes! How did you know that? Are you from Iowa?" "No, I'm work in an office (like that's relevant?!?!?!?) and the other day I helped my son do his state report, which happened to be on Iowa. That was one of the fun facts we used." I freaking RULE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There I was pissing and moaning about doing some report with CoolTeen, and I got dinner for 2 at Mazzio's. What's up?!?!?!?! It's no Foga de Ciao, but it's food, and it's free. That's what I'm talking about.

Something inspirational, perhaps? (12.18.07)

2008-09-15T12:57:00.000-07:00

Now that I wrote that for the title, I don't think that's really appropriate for this story. Soooo, if what you're looking for is a little inspiration, HIT THE ROAD. It's not here, I can assure you. Neat, yes...but not inspirationl.

Those of you that know me, know I've been on a crusade to get an English Mastiff. The Dog of all dogs, to me. I had one, once, and some sorry suckas stole her, and I hope they've repented, or have gotten tangled in barbed wire, or the dog has turned against them, eaten them, or something along those lines. But nothing too harsh, you know.ANYWAYS...back to the "new" dog.

I will be adopting my newest family member this Saturday, and I'm counting down the days like a kid at Christmas. (Can I still be counted as a kid at 30?) So last night I'm on the 'puter, doing serious research (i.e. seeing if I've won the lottery) when I decide to look up directions to the dog's current address. I notice a nearby town (6 miles away) is called Dripping Springs.In college, at band camp (kidding - it wasn't band camp, it was a party)....no, no, no....In college I had 3 jobs, and one of them was for some cousins (called aunt/uncle) in Kilgore at their business. The woman boss even coordinated my wedding. I was very close to them, but they loaded up and shipped off to guess where?!?!?! Dripping Springs! Like the sleuth/CIA agent that I am, I tracked down their business on the internet, and called them last night at home.Now, this Saturday, not only do I get to pick up the newest member of my family, but I get to see people I haven't seen since my wedding (almost 9 years for you lame-o's out there). I'm VERY excited. Must be fate! Or how 'bout God?! Woohoo!

A Christmas Story, sort of.... (12.17.07)

2008-09-15T12:56:00.000-07:00

Here's another story from the past...this summer, in fact, after Vacation Bible School....

Yesterday Smartie was telling me bible stories. I got all teary-eyed thinking how she’s actually paid attention in church and Vacation Bible School, and was so proud of my little *angel*. That’s what she is, you know, a perfect angel. She tells me how Jonah was swallowed by the whale (and the whale happened to be a girl), and how she spit him out. She proceeds to tell me about Jesus, Mary and Joseph. She even adds in some girl named Jennifer, and starts calling Joseph, Joespher. This is still too cute, and I’m just beaming from ear to ear. Then she tells me the story of Mary and Martha, and how Jesus came to visit them. She then said, “Martha said – Jesus! Don’t say bad words.” , and I told her, “Gracelyn, Jesus didn’t do anything bad. He was without sin. He didn’t say bad words.” “Well, I do!”, was her response. Okay, we’re still alright, and she goes on telling me how Martha was busy cleaning and cooking for Jesus, but Mary wasn’t doing anything. She just sat with Jesus and listened to him. Then, according to Gracelyn, Martha got so mad that she was doing everything, that she started looking for Mary. When she found Mary sitting with Jesus, she said, “Mary, what the hell is going on here?!?!?” Somehow I doubt those words were in the Bible.

Boxing, anyone? (12.13.07)

2008-09-15T12:51:00.000-07:00

It all started on a beautiful Tuesday. Little did I know, it would turn into another day of pure joy straight from the blackest pits of hell.

Round 1 – Mother’s Day Out Christmas Un-Program:

My daughter Smartie doesn’t like most people at first glance (or 5th either). She does, however, LOVE performing at her loudest, singing and dancing in front of the TV or the person that’s nearest. Tuesday night she had a Mother’s Day Out program, with singing involved. WOOHOO! My child will be a star! That’s actually an inaccurate description. She was more along the lines of a bulldog. She was placed in line by a child (to remain nameless) that was NOT of the best influence. By the time he shoved her, and the other boy jerked her hair, she was pissed. I was completely surprised she didn’t punch anyone in the face. Did she sing? Hell no. Just stood with arms crossed, the meanest look I’ve seen in a while on her face, snarling. That’s my girl!!!!!

Round 2 – CoolTeen's First Un-Performance in the Band:
I leave Smartie's activities to go straight to see my genius son’s first performance in the school band. Ever. Me, Mom, Smartie, Cookie & Peabody…we’re all there. We sit in the middle of a row where we *think* we can see CoolTeen. I feel a pang in my belly. Not good, I can tell. The Band Director then announces that no one is allowed to get up during the performance, because it’s being recorded. Lovely. I start getting hot and fanning myself. All I needed to add was “I do de-clah-uh.” Anyhow, blah, blah, end of performance, and no CoolTeen in sight. I finally found him OUTSIDE. Huh? Long story short, some jerk stole his instrument, and he didn’t get to play. I was acting calm and serene, as usual, ready to beat the everloving monkey piss out of somebody. Anybody. The teacher? The other kid? An innocent bystander? All would have worked at the minute.

Round 3 - TKO:
Therefore, I got my video camera all ready for NOTHING, both times. Then I remembered I forgot the FLIPPING CAMERA at HOME ANYHOW!!!!!!!!!!!! I quit. You’re all fired!

Why I'm not sane (06.27.07)

2008-09-15T12:47:00.000-07:00

I’m going INSANE!!!! I refuse to ask the stupid question, “What else can happen?” because it
just keeps happening all on its own!!!!!!!!!! URGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can’t shout loud enough in my email. I was literally growling and frothing at the mouth because of my computer just a minute ago. I honestly hope everyone ignores me today.

Almost out of propane.
Peabody's sick.
I’m sick.
Kids are maniacs.
Someone asks me to make copies, a BUNCH, like say 8 sets of 65 double-sided sheets. After making ONE set of copies, the COPIER BREAKS!!!!!!!!! Now what do I do? These are for an “important” meeting, and it will just look like the secretary is no doubt mentally challenged.
Copier is broken. Again. And making my paper into little decorative fans, which would be FINE IF I WERE TRYING TO MAKE FANS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anti-christ copier company won’t send rep until this afternoon.
Went to Mom’s for lunch and CoolTeen was running around, OUTSIDE, with his UNDERWEAR on! They sort of look like shorts, but c’mon…really tight short shorts. PUH-LEESE.
Peabody hates his job and mopes.
Have I mentioned the propane?!?!?!
Have I mentioned that the COPIER is BROKEN!?!?!?!?! AGAIN?!?!?!??! I’m quite sure there’s a conspiracy against me here, or wait, even better…some militant militia (is that even “real”?) is plotting against me because I hold the key to something important, like a vast wealth of MUD, in my YARD, that’s preventing the PROPANE from being delivered!!!!!!!!
I try to get ahead, and start making copies on the evil upstairs copier for other work. It’s only one side, for right now. After I finish, and am oh-so-pleased with myself for doing a good deed (even if it IS in my job description) only to get back to my desk, and get an email from a co-worker (totally not his fault, it’s the lame computer) saying to disregard the previous email (with? You guessed it! The stuff I inserted and copied just minutes ago!) Now I get to do it ALL OVER AGAIN AND waste MORE paper and TIME and INK and CRAP.

I’ll be bald by tomorrow. Mark my words.

What in the Sam Hill?!?!?

Why didn’t I just avert my eyes?!

Carpe medications!

Beer Makes Hair Healthy! (i.e. Piss for your Hair)

I (almost didn't) DOMINATE, YO.

Here I Are

disRobed much, suckas?

Just like her mudder.

If I get a deer-kick to the teeth - I'll have hoof in mouth.

Mummies in the house!!

Battle o' the Pine - Part Deux

They Only *Look* Like Angels

I once was blind, but now I see!

Lame-o Chick I will *so* not like for *forever*

A bunch'a (un)important crap.

The shovel did it!

I knew you (pretended to) missed me!

Good ol' Family Pictures

Technorati Blogging Bid'ness

A margarita for mommy. and a bloody nose for you!

We do NOT drink piss in our family!

A gummy...what?!

Violet, do you have beer in your bedroom again?

Can't anything ever be easy?!?!?!

Random Stories & Thoughts

On my way to the looney bin

Everybody needs a cop-out now and then...

Baby Zoee Benefit Concert - Still time to get tickets!

Please move on. Nothing to see here. Do NOT look at the accident.

Interpreter needed for 2 year old.

HOW is this possible?

Technorati Profile

And *that's* why I'm Mother Of The Year!

She makes her mother proud....

Payback's hell.

Child-proof bottles? No so child-proof.

Jesus speaks spanish

St. Baldrick’s, Mama Drama, & Other Fun Stuff

M.I.A.

The Duke and Baby Drama

Baby Duke has arrived!

Wordle fun...

My Turn Day...

My mom can squirt milk out of her boob.

I'm coming out....

Fun in virus-land

25 Things

It's time to take it all off!

Even I can be psycho.

Now this is a Monday.

I give up.

Part Tres of the Disaster Days

Making Mom work for her title, Part Deux

A Crappy Story, A Ponderance of Puke, A Fable of Fever?

30 Days of Blogging....

Spelling bad words? Not a great idea.

We're having another....brat!

Cookie Got Spit-Faced

Half-eaten Shoes

Cookie tries so hard....

That took long enough!

WHAT did you say to me? (08.06.08)

That’s hoodoo for ya! (08.05.08)

I don’t glow. I steam. (08.04.08)

Guess what I did? (06.24.08)

Vomit, Butter and Coffee.(06.23.08)

You’ll cry like a 2 year old girl now. (06.22.08)

From My Loving Father (06.21.08)

Somtimes they look so sweet! (06.29.08)

I thought I was just going to go home…. (06.28.08)

What. In. The. Sam. Hill. ?!?!?!? (06.25.08)

What was I thinking? (06.24.08)

And you call this a vacation?! (06.23.08)

Day Two (06.23.08)

Day Three (06.23.08)

Stuff in general... (04.08.08)

St. Baldrick's!

It was just a trip to the pet store!!!! (01.29.08)

Why 2008 will be better than 2007.... (01.28.07)

Bronchitis and a bloody nose (01.22.08)

They Only Look Like Angels

Lame-o Chick I will so not like for forever

And that's why I'm Mother Of The Year!