My Attept At Rapping

"Aunt Flo"

Aint Flo, Aint Flo
You gotsta go
You been here too long
Get yo'sef up out my doe
Get out my garden you hoe
Yo ways is shady
Yo tactics is low
Better replace yo face
Befo' you wind up on de flo'
You'sa curse on my purse
Eatin all my money
You think it's funny
But Imma change yo pace
Send you thru that doe
Aint Flo Aint Flo
You gotsta Go!!!

(To the tune of "Do You Ears Hang Low")

Do yo string hang low
Do it drag on de flo'
Is it super is it reg
Do it get wrapped around yo toe
Do yo kids call it baby seeds
Can you use it to stop sink leaks
Do yo string hang low?

Bubble Trouble 2

Fact:
27.7 ounces of dandruff shampoo will produce approximately 4.8 billion bubbles. It will also turn the bath water a curious cerulean blue.

Fact:
Feeding your cat name brand cat food does not alter the amount of fecal matter she produces in a day. Instead, it gives it a shrimp smell on top of the already nostril burning odor. So now I am paying top dollar for shrimpy cat shat.

Fact:
Failing to wash your hands before using the bathroom after you've applied IcyHot to your back will make certain areas icy and hot.

P.S.
Why do I always get the retarded buggy when I go to Wal-Mart? Is this a sign? If you hear a-squeakin, I'm on my way.

Bubble Trouble

Ah, bathtime. A time to relax and enjoy the internet while the kids lovingly fill the bathroom floor with four inches of water. The other night I went in the bathroom because I heard an excess of giggling. Hmmm.....
They had poured not one, not two, but THREE almost- full bottles of shampoo into the bathtub. There were bubbles. Everywhere. I almost couldn't see my kids! On the floor, on the toilet, in the cat food. What to do? I rinsed them off as best as I could and let the bubbles dissipate (evaporate? pop? what do they do?) overnight.

Color Coded Pre-schoolers

How cute could this get?
Lily has a friend in her class who is autistic, her name is Mallory*. I was asking Lily about her yesterday because I was curious if Lily had noticed if Mallory was different or not. She has noticed. "What makes her different?"
"Her brain."
"Her brain? How?"
"It's a rainbow."
"Really? What color is my brain?"
"Well... I think green."
"Really? Not rainbow?"
"No, only Mallory is rainbow."
"Everyone's brain is a solid color, and Mallory's is a rainbow?"
"Yeah."
I swear. I have psychological genes in that pool.
* Not her real name. Blame HIPPA.

To Whom The Bell Tolls

I'm telling you. They're out there. There's a whole big conspiracy with snipers watching our every move. They calculate, contemplate, evaluate, and bait. They're sneaky. You never know who they are, where they are or who they'll corrupt to get information about you. It could be your best friend. It could be your mom......
They call themselves OPERATION BLUE BELL.
I have long since speculated that they existed. My wariness was confirmed yesterday in the ice cream isle, where, mixed in with the chocolate chip cookie dough and dutch chocolate was a new flavor:
FRENCH VANILLA CAPPUCCINO.
How else could anyone put together my two ultimate favorite treats, ice cream and coffee?? I ask you, how was I supposed to resist this delectable temptation when I was caught totally and completely off guard?? There I was, just roaming around the bread isle and what happens to pop out at me but the stack of this new flavor of delight that was suspiciously pulled forward much further than the other stacks?? How did it get that way?? How did it wind up in my freezer?? It walked?? Yeah right.
Women of the world, we must pull together in order to beat these sabotagers of diets! Be on the look out! Keep your eyes open! Warn your friends!! They're everywhere!!!!

P.S.
After extensive research, I have found the name of this monstrocity misleading. It does not give you energy, no matter how much you consume. Fight!!

Abusing Fat People

I went to McDonald's today and of course I had to go to the bathroom. Something about drinking 112 oz of water a day. I feel like a coffee filter trying to hold back a waterfall. Anyways, so here I go, get in the stall, plop down. Then I see my reflection in the metal door. Shooop, pee stops. Have you ever looked at yourself in a reflective stall door? How unflattering! Maybe it's the way your pants around your knees widen your stomach pooch, or how the toilet paper dispenser distorts the size of your boobs and arms, I dunno. But I got to thinking, almost every place I go to has reflective doors! The worst is Olive Garden, I think they wave the metal a little to really freak you out (thank you DQ for having wooden doors).
Is this a conspiracy? "How can we really mess with their minds? Put mirrors in the stalls!" This is some kind of abuse I'm certain. Emotional I think. And have you ever tried not looking at yourself while you wipe? HOW GROSS. It's like some sick part of you is like "Hey I always wondered what I looked like while I wiped...." and you can't help but look! And then you're even more grossed out! I guess I'll have to start closing my eyes when I have to use a reflective stall.

Dietician Disaster

I'm tired of being fat. So I went to see a dietician, because obviously my diet of blizzards and fries isn't working. Plus, it's free (thank you Tricare). So here I go. My daughter was in school but I had to take Caleb, which was going okay until he realized I was going to be talking for a LONG time (more than 3 minutes). So he starts getting ancy and the diet guy goes and gets a chair that spins, and it has wheels! Kudos! So I put Caleb in it and away he spins.
About ten minutes of non-stop spinning later Caleb gets up, comes to me and BUUUULLLLHHHH all over this guy's carpet. Chocolate milk and pop tarts everywhere. Lovely.
Can someone explain to me WHY children move from place to place while they throw up?? Do they like running and puking at the same time? They obviously don't understand the concept that staying in one place while upchucking makes only one spot to clean, and not four or five.
So here Caleb is, hurling on the floor and moving from spot to spot between heaves. I think I counted four puddles and two streaks, where he hurled in mid-walk. This gets grosser and grosser! As I grab a trash can and try to corner Caleb (which only makes him run faster and vomit more) the diet guy is being no help at all, just sitting there watching the show. When Caleb was done, you know what he said?
"Do you think he needs a glass of water?"
What?? The kid just got done throwing up everywhere! Do you need one more puddle to make the stains symmetrical? Do you like seeing kids puke? What kind of freak are you? In the end it turns out he has a two year old so he's kinda used to the unexpected happening and he was totally understanding. Except for the water thing, good grief!
Now I remember why I get a babysitter for my appointments.

You're Upset About WHAT?!!

While the husbands are away, the wives will.... panic, aparently.
So now we're down to the final four months or so of our husband's deployment. Yee Haw!! Our unit leaders have collaberated with the "higher ups" to have a re-integration meeting, which I guess is supposed to tell us what to expect when our honeys get back and how to re-integrate him back into our lives. Their slogan is "You Don't Have To Do This Alone!" or "Please Don't Go It Alone!" Interesting slogan from someone who jerked our boys out of our lives in the first place. The key elements of Family Member Reintegration Briefings are:
A. Reunion Briefings
(Namely, how to hug one another and say we missed you.)
B. PTSD/Combat Stress Awareness
(They have combat stress now? Wait till we get home to the children....)
C. Suicide Awareness
(If they haven't done it while being overseas, away from family and friends and thrust into a life of sand, gunfire and hot hot hot heat, why would they do it now??)
D. Veterans Benefits
(Thanks guys, I already did the research. Basically veterans might get help in buying a house. Maybe.)
E. Troop and Family Counseling Services
("I'm just finding it SOO HARD to let my husband cook, clean, take the trash out, pay bills, take the kids to school, share my bed, rub my feet....")
F. Military One Source
(And our husbands returning to America would change a national website how?)
G. TRICARE and United Concordia Benefits
(From what I understood, once you get back your benefits DROP. Simple as that.)
(UPDATE: Benefits can be extended for up to 180 days if your soldier has been deployed more then 30 consecutive days. WOOHOO!!)
Oh gosh. I think I may have to miss this meeting.

Sister Sense

My sister recently commented on my "Cold Cold go away" blog entry. She said "you're not getting old, you just need to get out and have some fun." I would like to reply.
The following is a schedule of my days of the week:
7 a.m.- 3 p.m.-- feed, clothe, send to school, fight with and clean after kids
3 p.m.-9 p.m.-- feed, fight with, bathe and clean after kids, work, pick up kids, put kids to bed
9 p.m.-7 a.m.-- sleep, wake up, get more water for kids, sleep, wake up to one or both kids in bed with me, sleep, wake up, get into Lily's bed, sleep, wake up, put kids back in their beds, sleep
Sometimes I squeeze in church or computer time. Now here is a simulated "night out" for me:
Spend three days juggling work schedule with babysitting schedule to see which set of grandparents will volunteer to babysit during my evening out.
Drop kids off.
Take shower.
Try to find something nice to wear, remember I've gained 10 pounds, and cry.
Pick out the usual jeans and shirt.
Spend 20 minutes trying to decide where to go without leaving a 10 mile radius of my kids, because inevitably they will sense I am trying to have fun and want to come home early.
Decide to go out to eat.
Try to find someone to eat with.
Friends are either working or taking care of their kids, in-laws and/or parents are babysitting or recovering from such.
Decide I didn't really want to go anywhere anyway.
Put on shorts and T-shirt.
Surf Ebay or MSN.
Get bored and go to babysitter's house to watch their t.v. and/or visit.
The End.
So you see, I try to have fun, but until James gets back, I really can't!

Random Thoughts

I discovered the other day that I do not own a fly swatter. But a spatula works just fine.
Conversation between Taryn and I while shopping the other day:
Me: "I dunno, I don't think that bottle will look good in my kitchen."
T: "What bottle?"
M: "The one I just bought.... didn't I?"
T: "Didn't you?"
M: "Didn't I?"
T: "Did you?"
M: "Did you?"
T: "I bought that something or other."
M: "I thought so."
Then we proceeded to Burke's Outlet. Don't ask, I don't even know. Reminds me of half my conversations with Mom. But she is getting better.
Note to Zac: Yes, baby poop can be green. It may also be yellow, orange-ish and sometimes blue, if you get the combination of food right. And yes, they will be fine.
I'm decorating my apartment so it won't look so..... undecorated. I'm aiming for a European look in my kitchen, a "woodsy" look in my living room, and a leaf/water look in my bathroom. I can't figure out a theme for my room. Chaos seems to be working though.

Ghost Pounds

Alas, my career at DQ has caught up with me, to the tune of 10-15 pounds. I'm scared to actually jump on a scale, so I'm guesstimating using the tightness of my once flattering jeans. But I have not gained ordinary pounds, oh no. That would be too simple. I have gained ghost pounds, those that move from your stomach to your hips to your thighs. Example: My jeans do not fit because I cannot squeeze my thighs into them. Then, my bras don't fit cause the straps and band are too tight (too bad I haven't gained boob pounds....). And then, my shirts don't fit cause my pooch sticks out! It's like no matter what cute outfit I try to wear, I can't because those ghost pounds appear. Funny, when I'm wearing my everyday house clothes my thighs and tummy fit fine.... Then I go to work and Kathy is like "Well I don't buy new clothes, that way I have to lose weight to wear the ones I have." Nice concept, too bad it doesn't work for me. I enjoy breathing and not looking like a slab of salami squeezed in a tube top. Which reminds me, Lily said my legs looked like sausage the other day. Grrr.

More Baby!!!

More Zayden!! Such a cutie pie!!

X-ray Mishap

I hurt my back again, surprise suprise. Shooting pains, you know. So I went to the doctor, and I don't think he was certified. It was a different doc from the one I had seen before. He didn't exactly tell me what was wrong, just gave me meds and set me up with physical rehab, which is okay cause that's what I wanted. Gimme pills!! Yeah!! Then he sent me off to get some x-rays done. Cool. So the guy tells me to take off my shirt and bra and put on one of those high dollar, extra luxuriant blue paper robes. Man I felt sexy in that. As I undressed, I realized that two of my piercings were going to be in the way of the x-ray rays (??). While I won't tell you what body parts I am speaking of, I will tell you that there are two and they are at chest level.
So, crap, I gotta get these out. Let me explain how this piece of jewelry works..... The above is a picture of a captive bead ring, commonly used for such piercings as I have. On the bead are two teeny tiny indentions that you have to magically line up with the ring for it to snap into place and stay put via tension. Changing them takes about, oh, an hour. And I have five minutes to remove them before the technician gets suspicious.
First I try to pull the ends apart to release the ball. No go. So I apply more muscle, and one hand slips, jerking my body part sideways under my armpit. OUCH. Don't want to do that again. Then I try to pull one side up while pushing the other side down, bending the metal slightly and releasing the ball, because now I don't care if they break or warp while I get them off cause this stuff HURTS. That method doesn't work either, though my hands didn't slip. WHEW. Then I try to wedge my tooth inbetween the ball and ring. Yes, I had my body part up to my mouth and yes I did look funny, and no it didn't work. Now my body parts are aching and probably almost bleeding, and the tech is knocking on the door saying I don't have to disrobe completely, all I need is my bra and shirt off. Grrr.
I finally get them off by using a credit card instead of my teeth to pop the stupid stinking little ball out of it's socket. I walk out holding my parts and after signing a waiver stating I AM DEFINATELY AND TO MY KNOWLEDGE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY NOT PREGNANT, I am contorted and twisted and zapped and finally released back into the world. Uuuuggghhhh.
(Photo borrowed from www.bodyartforms.com)

Cold, Cold, Go Away!!!

I have a cold
I'm feeling old
Nose is red and running
Head feels all funny.
Eyes are watering
Ears itch and are bothering
Can't stop sneezing
I think I'm wheezing.
I look like crap
Can't take a nap
Cause my nostrils need new plumbing.
Everything tastes weird
Still I have gained 10 pounds, as I feared.
I have a cold
I'm feeling old
And now my story is all told.

Alejandra's All Over Again!!

My kids are pretty good for the most part. Do you know why? Because they save it up and dump it on me all in one day! Two weeks ago was one of those days. I think it was a Saturday, who knows. I had battled with them all day over the flavor of kool-aid I made, who's drinking out of whose cup, I had the toy first, mom rewind Bob the Builder NOW, I'm hungry, she hit me, I have to potty, can you go with me, can we get dressed now, I want to go outside, will it rain today, is lunch ready yet?, I can't find my cup, I can't find my other shoe and I HAVE TO WEAR DORA SHOES TODAY, I don't wanna change my diaper I like it hanging to my knees, can I get on the computer, what are you reading?, can you read to me, no not that one this one, NOOOO!!! I want this one, mom where are you going?, is the macaroni and cheese on fire?
And I had to go to Wal-Mart. I thought the trip would be calming. Nooo, never that easy. We get there and first I have to battle Lily to get in the cart because she runs off. There's one screaming and crying at me. Then she finds something off the shelves and hits Caleb with it, then denies it. Now I have two screaming, crying children, and I haven't even made it past the door greeter. I snatch the thing away from Lily, who yells that she wants it back, tell her no and she shouldn't hit her brother, she knows better, and walk to the clothing section. I start looking at clothes for church and they start in with the "Can we go to the toys, I want to see the toys, mom I need to go to the toys NOW, MOM CAN YOU HEAR ME?!" I tell them if they straighten up we can go by the toy aisle. I meander a couple of racks away, and I hear screaming. Wonderful. Caleb has a shirt on a hanger and is hitting Lily, who is screaming for mommy. A lady stops and asks Lily where her mommy is, and she points to where I am, and I wave and say "Be there in a sec."
To make a long story short, I didn't buy any clothes. I didn't get past the clothing section. I had to wheel my wailing kids between customers at the check-outs who are staring and whispering to the car, where I toss them in and turn up the radio to drown out the "I THOUGHT WE WERE GONNA SEE THE TOYS YOU SAID WE COULD GO SEE THE TOYS WAIT!! WAIT!!" I'm in no mood to cook dinner, so I drive to DQ.
To anyone considering having children, don't until you take mine in public. Then see if you really want kids. We get into the restaurant in three or four pieces, and Caleb goes right to the gumball machine (why do they put those there??). Lily has to go potty and runs to the bathrooms. While I'm looking over the menu and Caleb attempts to break into the gumball machine, Lily comes up to me holding out her hands and saying "Look Mom!! They got pink soap!!" Back to the bathroom. When we get out, Caleb is up front asking strangers for quarters. I tell them to get two booster seats and sit down while I order. I hear them fighting over the seats. I go corral them into a booth, and go BACK to the counter. This time I get to order and almost get our drinks when I see them crawling around under the table. By the time our food gets to us, we've spilled 42oz of coke on the table and floor, chewed up two ginormous wads of gum and thrown them somewhere, and shredded four napkins. After eating three fries and half a chicken strip each, they're ready to go. And not just in one way.
When Caleb goes number 2, he performs what I call the "poop dance". He sticks his butt out, leans over, gets on his tippy toes and runs circles around any stationary object, while scrunching up his face and shreiking. Sometimes he throws in a jump or two. As the process progresses, he makes more noise and runs faster. I know, it's funny but whatever works, right? So he's done and gets off his booster seat and starts dancing, running between customers at the counter and making stops at the gumball machine. Of course, Lily has to chime in "Mom, I think he's pooping!!" So I leave my food, gather the kids and head home, where I lay in bed and cry. Boy I'm glad I got my tubes tied.

Careers At DQ

Ahh, the rewards of working at Dairy Queen. I like it, though making ice cream cones is challenging. You don't believe me? Did you know there is a certain way to make the cone formation? And the curl? Yeah. My cones look like rolls on the Michelin Man, and my banana splits look like aforementioned rolls of vanilla with streams of strawberry, pineapple and chocolate running together, smathered in whipped topping. No wonder customers look at me funny. Blizzards and moolattes are easy, I mean you can't mess them up. You just toss some topping in a cup with ice cream and blizz it together. Did you know that milk shakes can EXPLODE? Yeah. Hold that cup tight or you'll be sneezing strawberry syrup and milk the rest of the day.
That's just up front! In the back is where it gets crazy. You wouldn't believe what people order! "Can I get a salad with just a little bit of lettuce?" What? Isn't the lettuce what a salad is all about? Ok. "I need a hamburger, meat burnt, buns toasted on both sides, mustard on one side, mayo on the other, grilled onions, no lettuce, six pickles and three tomatoes, cut in half." Umm, could you repeat that? I ran out of space on my "SHORT ORDER COOK" hard drive. I've also had tacos and hamburgers with no meat, "thin" gravy, "soft" fries, cheeseless nachoes and a chili cheese dog, no bun. C'mon people! I only get paid $5.15!!

New Baby

Here is my nephew Zayden Alexander-Knight Guenther, born 9/13/06. He weighed 7 lb. 15 oz. and is 19 inches long. Congratulations to the new parents!!

Penis Perils

My first child was female. No problem. I'm female, so I've had some experience in this field. Five years later, so far so good. My second child is male. Hrmm. Some differences, but not many. Shouldn't be too hard, right? Well, we got through the trial and error of circumcision (note to new parents: vaseline does keep the skin from sticking to the diaper, but also makes the diaper waterproof. Translation: pee all over the baby and his sheets, or whoever he's laying on). After that it was smooth sailing. Now we're in year three: potty training and the discovery of his flappy, apparently indestructable appendage. I swear, it has been through yanking, twisting, crunching, thumping and pinching. Does it have nerve endings? I guess not. I have also discovered, like their grown up counterparts, boys' appendages need very little stimulation to go from flappy to not flappy anymore. Seriously, try changing a diaper and wiping poo off the thing. You can't get it down.
The other day I had spiderman "panties" on him (hey, when you live with two girls you have to adopt their language), trying to get him to enertain the thought of pottying. I found him sitting on the couch, appendage exposed, with him hammering it with his toy hammer. And of course, the appendage was not in its natural state. Hrmm.
"Caleb! Don't do that!"
"Why?"
"Because you'll hurt yourself. Come here."
As I am trying to replace appendage in it's cloth cage, he starts banging on it again.
"Caleb, I said stop."
"I try get it down!"
Here's where I start rolling over laughing, while trying to think of something to counter that comment with. What a witty observation!
"Just leave it alone and it will go away," I try, but it makes me laugh and he doesn't seem to understand. So I go get a diaper. The old "out of sight, out of mind" always does the trick. Do all little boys do this? Do they just grow out of it? Will he be in diapers until high school? Maybe I'll keep one on him even then....

Jury Duty

This was so funny I just had to blog it.

For the newcomers here, my husband James is deployed overseas. Today he told me he got a summons for jury duty here in town. I was dumbfounded. I asked him if there was one of those "forwarded" yellow stickers on the envelope that the post office sticks on there. Nope. Then I started to laugh. The people from "The Greatest Little Town In Texas" sent a jury summons to a soldier at an APO address, complete with troop name and division number. The address has six lines. Isn't that a little LONG for someone who lives in state? Did they not notice that? "Hey Bob, you ever been to APO Texas? Me neither!" So now I have to take time out of my busy schedule to go to the courthouse and give them a copy of his deployment orders to prove that he is overseas waay past August 28th. Good grief.

My final question is, how did they get his address? I didn't give that to the post office. Is it connected with his social security number? Wow that makes me feel all warm and toasty inside, knowing anyone could pull up his SSN and find out where he and his fellow soldiers are stationed!! Good grief.

In other news, Lily has started school and she loves it! I do too. She told me today I had a "bless you" problem because I was sneezing so much. Say it with me: awwww.

I Need A Vacation

Yes ladies and gentlemen, I am back! (silence) I realize I have been gone for a while, and I apologize. (more silence) Oh, sorry. I forgot I have a limited audience. (my mom) ANYWAY I have been busy moving into an apartment and spending time with James on his two week siesta from being overseas. And fighting with Verizon about my DSL not being turned on. I am really getting annoyed with major corporations!! "Yeah, it'll be turned on tomorrow..... wait, Tuesday.... what was your account number again ma'am?" Grrr.
Remember when I told ya'll that sleeping with Caleb was like sleeping with a big sweaty gorilla? Well, sleeping with my sister is like sleeping with a big sweaty PISSED OFF gorilla. I swear I have bruises from where she kicks me. She screams too. I think she's why I twitch. I am still used to James being where she is, so sometimes I forget and lay a leg over her. She freaks out! "GET OFFA ME!!!!" Kicking and stuff, geesh. She claims she doesn't remember any of it. Yeah right.
Lily starts school on Wednesday. Believe me I have been counting this one down since year one. ("They have to be 4 to start school? Darn. I guess I'll be back in three years. Can I go ahead and pre-register her?") Now the count down for #2 begins.....
My cat is in heat and she's driving me insane. You know those really annoying noises cats make when they go into heat. I can't even describe it! Only my cat has an unusual talent: she can roll her tounge. Seriously! Like when you speak Spanish rolling of the tounge. My co-worker suggested speaking Spanish to her...... um, ok. So I've been talking but she thinks I'm an idiot for saying "please" and "thank you" and the names of fruits all the time.