Spring Broke

So, it's spring break again.
UGH.
And somehow there are even MORE kids at my house than I planned....
.... I planned for zero.
But that's okay.
I'm only babysitting one kid for about three hours a day this week, my nephews (SQUEE!!) are awesomely good, and my step-nieces are cool too. The average age of my peers this week will be five.
Oh boy.
At least I pawned the Panther over to Nana's for a while.
He's another kid altogether.
Strangely, more needy and more attention hungry.
But he purrs. And it makes it all okay.

Big News!

JAMES GOT HIRED ONTO THE LOCAL POLICE FORCE!!!

YAY!!
**does a happy dance**
On another note, I will no longer be babysitting one of the chimps.
**does a happy dance**
Oh.
Right.
I mean *sigh.*
But seriously, it turns out that I can't hack a daily taking-care-of-someone's-child thing without it cutting into my family life. Like, I get tired of keeping him out of everything and trying to put up with his endless defiant attitude. It makes me a mean person.
And a lazy person.
Instead of one night a week that we get take-out, we have one night a week that we eat at home. UGH. There are just some children that no matter what you do, if there is no discipline at home a babysitter's job is going to be darn near impossible. The babysitter cannot be the sole disciplinarian in a child's life.
And I'm not talking about smacking him around all the time. I'm talking about trying to be in public without being hit in the face and spit at, or trying to keep him from bludgeoning the other children, or simply obeying certain rules (we don't reach over the kitchen counter and grab objects... like knives). And yes, an eighteen month old CAN back talk.
So after much thought I've come to the conclusion that a babysitter's job is to provide a safe environment for a child, meet his or her needs in an appropriate and timely manner, and MAINTAIN the discipline and character that the parents have begun to nurture in their home. Maintain, not create AND maintain to only be undone over the weekend.
So while he has his charms and is insanely cute, I must relinquish this assignment to his original owners.

Back to Basics

Blogger says that the last time I blogged was November 24, 2009.

You see, I have been debating over and over the issue of blogging. I have been blogging for some three years now and while I like to write and my family likes to read, blogging has obviously been on the back burner for quite a while.
For starters I've been busy with two chimps,

two orangutans,


a gorilla

and a panther. I am a bonafide zoo keeper now a days. Babysitting two 1 year old's can definitely make you feel as if your house is being overrun with primates, and the 5 year old and 8 year old just add to the mix. In a lovely way because, as Aaron would say, children are somehow more tolerable in herds. But there are some advantages, such as the chimps poop at the same time (must be a smell trigger thing), sleep at the same time, and eat at the same time.
And then there is the gorilla.
You may already know that I am referring to my husband.
The head honcho, the growl-and-get-it-done, almost graduated gorilla. Hair and all.
Simple to maintain and easy to love, he is still a lot of work!!
Wives know what I mean.
And then there is the panther.
I've always wanted a loving pet but HOLY COW. This animal is NEEDY. He wakes me up around 6 every morning... to be held. Seriously.
He's all up in my face, meowing, pawing, biting and suffocating until I get up. Then I feed and water him and guess what? That's not what he wanted. Now he's following me and tripping me up until I literally bend down and pick him up. Then we cuddle and purr and love on each other and then he goes on about his feline way.
The only problem is he wants purr time seven times a day.
Egads!
The gorilla doesn't even get purr time seven times a day!
But I love him just the same.
Usually not when I'm cleaning out the litter box though. This cat has talent in a rectal way. Let's just say I've been cleaning walls.
And then....
MY NEPHEWS ARE HOME!!!!


Who would seriously deny these two handsome boys to sit at a computer and blog?
I shall call them.... the two capuchin, or Caps for short. Not because they look alike (they don't), but because the capuchin are one of the smartest, loudest and mobile primates.
And then there is me, the zookeeper.
I shall not post a picture of the zookeeper, since they are a circumspect species and I couldn't locate an awesome picture of me. But I have been busy maintaining the main zoo (minus the Caps), which means mainly feeding, cleaning, homework, and mediating arguments.
Throw in Granny's 80th birthday party, Girl Scouts, parent/teacher conferences and a lot of sleep and I've been a busy bee.
Oh.
And I'm thinking about going back to school.
Alas, I realize this blog has not been updated very regularly, but in between diaper changes and cleaning guns and wiping up lip gloss from the carpet, I'll try to blog more.
Adios!!!

Notes To Self

Don't EVER buy the dollar store brand shaving cream. BAD. NEWS.

Remember that daughter will forget the stipulations of Girl Scout meeting attendance and whining will ensue.

Spend the extra bucks for quality cat litter. And food.

And shaving cream. (shudder)

Buy a small notebook to keep in your purse for when you forget your regular notebook at home.

Have one place for sunglasses, keys, purse, bills, etc. When looking for something, it won't be in that location.

Defensive Driving is BORING. Watch your driving.

BLOG MORE.

A Long Overdo Weigh In

Blah.
So, I'm down to a size 14/16 (depending on the store I'm at and how distorted their sizing system is) and I WAS weighing in at 210.
But for some reason I'm now back to 220.
But my arms and legs and stomach are not any bigger. I can still fit into the clothes I was in when I weighed ten pounds less.
????????
Even if it is muscle I'm not too thrilled.
But if I'm healthy and my husband still kinda oogles my boobs I suppose I should be happy too.

Christmas 2009 -- The List

Wow, I haven't blogged twice in the same month since.... May or something.
Anyway.
'Tis the season for gobbling turkey and Black Friday sales and Christmas music and Jesus.
And the yearly culminated wish list.
Which for the kids means the 4,772 items Nana said "You'll have to wait for Christmas!" to.
(Lily circled a step ladder and Caleb circled Oreos in the toy book for Mimi to use as a guide. Classic.)
To James it means "The stuff I've been bugging and bugging and pleading and whining and otherwise carrying on for that APPARENTLY she has YET TO NOTICE."
To me, it means excitedly shopping in June and being bored in December and not really needing anything, except.....

A boob job. D's should look nice.
Laser hair removal. Legs only.
A nonstick muffin pan.
One pair of perfectly fitting, never shrinking, never wrinkling jeans.
New kitchen knives.
Liposuction. Say..... 20 pounds.I'm not high maintenance or anything, right?
A calorie free, fat free, sodium free food that tastes DELICIOUS and is cheap to buy.

I'm not too high maintenance, am I?
No really. I need a muffin pan.

Who You Gonna Call? Not This Blogger!!

Recently I awoke at 3:47 a.m. with two 48 lb. children nestled snugly under my armpits.
Joy.
When inquired, they cited nightmarish nightmares as the motive for changing beds.
I reminded them that if they pray and I pray, Jesus would give them a good night's rest... in their own beds.
No go.
So, I'm really tired and I don't want to get up, so I let them stay.
Lily falls asleep, Caleb starts talking.
"I just can't go to sleep because the colors don't go away, even at night!"
"Huh?"
--repeat--
"What are you talking about?"
"The COLORS. I see them in the air."
"What kind of colors?"
--names the rainbow--
"Are they... around people?"
"No, just floating in the air."
"Floating?"
"Yeah."
"Are they big?"
"Sometimes, mostly small and round."
"When do you see them?"
"When I am awake, in the air."
"Outside too?"
"Sometimes."
"Everywhere? Like at school too?"
"Yeah."
................
"And they won't go away!"
"Well, let's pray about it, okay?"
"Okay."
We pray. We fall asleep.

In the morning I ask Caleb about our conversation, trying to figure out if he was dreaming or what not.
"Caleb, do you remember what we talked about last night?"
"Yeah. The colors."
"Do you see any right now?"
"Yeah."
"Where?"
"Over there in the corner. They're like, purple."
--We all look--
"I don't see anything there."
"I do."
Lily: "Me too! They're right there!"
"Um.... okay...."

So, who should I call? The ophthalmologist or the exorcist?

Lessons from Babysitting 2- Typical Schedule

8:30 -- Acquire child

8:30-9:00 -- Feed child 2 pieces of buttered toast

9:00-11:00 -- Keep child out of the candy, buttons, bottled water, sodas, baskets, Betta fish, fish food, framed photos, refrigerator, cleaning supply cabinet, paper towels, toilet, regular towels, potpourri, candles, candle holders, scissors, trash can, nail files and newspaper.

11:00-1:00 -- Leave Granny's. Give child cup of milk, change eighth diaper and lay down for a nap. Clean up leaked milk. Check email. Exercise. Shower in record time. Blog.

1:00-2:45 -- Feed child Goldfish, mac and cheese, fish sticks and peanut butter. Keep child out of dumb bells, socks, dirty laundry, make up, toothpaste, sidewalk chalk, scooters, Cheetos found on the floor, mixer, checkers, recycling bin, crayons and purse.

2:45-3:15 -- Pick up older kids. Go to park. Keep child from killing himself on the teeter totter. Keep older children from killing him with "How high can he go?" experiment.

3:15-5:30 -- Return home. Mediate fights between children over who stinks. Try to entice child with rubber duck to keep him from in front of the t.v., which makes one or more children scream. Welcome home husband with a "Your turn, I gotta pee." Attempt to pick up living room. Find missing yogurt container behind t.v. Change 112th diaper. Clothe child in original outfit, which was disregarded after 58th diaper.

5:38 -- Return child to mother. Talk for a bit. Give gift of cabinet locks.

5:52 -- Glare at husband when asked, "So honey, what's for dinner?"

For better or for WORSE, for better or for WORSE.....

CAUTION: Lots of Vaginal Talk

NOTE TO DAD: DON'T READ ANY FURTHER.
TRUST ME!!
--------------------------------------------
We're mostly women, right?
I hope so.
So we all know the joys and sorrows of owning a vagina, right?
I hope so too.
And we all know that occasionally things get all mixed up and hell ensues, right?
I dearly hope so, because if not, you're readin' the WRONG BLOG.
Anyway.
So a few weeks ago all hell was ensuing and I logged onto Google and searched the connection between yogurt and balancing out the right bacterias in the, uh, lady's room.
I found out that many women had cured their lady rooms by inserting unflavored yogurt twice a day for like five days.
And I thought, I'm not babysitting this week, so what the heck.
But, these women did not report on how they achieved the inserting of the yogurt in the appropriate location.
(NOTE: Don't Google "insert yogurt in vagina" because you get all sorts of creepy stuff.)
So, I trotted down to the store and bought tampons and unflavored Greek yogurt, because it supposedly had a lot more "good" bacteria than Yoplait.
Then I went home.
After ruining eight tampon applicators I hadn't gotten anywhere. It just wouldn't stay in the applicator.
So I wait until my darling children are in bed and I approach James with a bowl of room temperature yogurt, a spoon and a smile.

"I need you to do something for me."
"Um...."
"I need you to take this yogurt and place it gently into my lady room."
"I... I don't know if...."
"Don't ask questions. I Googled it. It's totally legit."
"Okay."
He's such a good sport.
So I'm lying there and James is eyeballing the lady room and he says,
"How do I get it in there?"
"I dunno. I thought maybe you could think of something."
...........
"I'm drawing a blank."
"I guess just kinda spoon it in there, like feeding a baby or something."
..............
"Okay."

I'll spare you the gory details (ha ha ha) but after much laughing and some hand sanitizer, I was good to go.
So I lay on a towel in bed and we settled in.
Now, as any of you ladies know, liquid to semi-liquid substances eventually escape the lady room.
After about an hour, you can draw your own conclusions. Then I'm ready for bed so I roll over and James curls up behind me.

We have a nightly routine. We say our good nights, kiss, then roll over or cuddle for a minute.
Then we fart and go to sleep.
I dunno, it's like clockwork or something.
So, in my routine, I fart. Quite impressively, if I do say so myself.
And in the dark James says,
"Did you just..... FART YOGURT on me??"
"Yeah, it got on me too."
(Silence)
"So, are you turning on the light or am I?"
"I guess you'd better do it. I'm kinda... stunned."

So the next day we both agreed I would just bite the bullet and go to the clinic and get that nasty gel gunk to get this hellishness over with. So I did. And we lived happily ever after.
The end.

Lessons From Babysitting

• HOLY CRAP. HIDE EVERYTHING.
• Little fingers make HUGE messes.
  
• Little bottoms make HUGE messes.
• Little people produce MASSIVE amounts of mucus.
• Sweet grin = nasty diaper.
• "But MOM!! It keeps FOLLOWING ME!!"
• Granny's house is a suitable refuge from chaos.
• Don't bother cleaning house. REALLY.
• Close all doors.
  
• Carrying them is easier than walking over them and hearing them cry.
• Get a simple car seat. Practice daily.
• Consider buying cases of air freshener.
• Don't say "Throw the ball!" unprepared.
• Crunch, crunch go the Goldfish.
• Nap time? HA!!!

Family Ties

Today I'm participating in a mass blogging! WOW! Women On Writing has gathered a group of blogging buddies to write about family relationships. Why family relationships? We're celebrating the release of Therese Walsh's debut novel today. The Last Will of Moira Leahy, (Random House, October 13, 2009) is about a mysterious journey that helps a woman learn more about herself and her twin, whom she lost when they were teenagers. Visit The Muffin to read what Therese has to say about family relationships and view the list of all my blogging buddies. And make sure you visit Therese's website to find out more about the author.

Sometimes family ties can seem more like family anchors, chains, tethers, rubber bands... you know. Fortunately for me I have a pretty good relationship with all of my family. Also, fortunately, they are all varied and fun and odd in their own way. For today, according to the above, I would like to spotlight:
LILITH.
Daughters are great. Daughters are fun. Daughters are cute and sweet and THEY CAN DRIVE YOU INSANE. Now normally she and I can relate on the mother/daughter level, usually when she hoists herself up to my level and tries to push her limits. Which is a... daily... occurrence. But I love her anyway. In fact I find it quite humorous when she defends Caleb (MOM, don't blame him! He's just a kid!), plays peacemaker (Ok Caleb, now tell Mom you're sorry...) and boss (MOM, he doesn't NEED a time out!), or just plain defiant (I don't have to do homework today. Or EVER.). But my favorite role of hers is poor, pitiful, mistreated, unloved child. She usually pulls this at bedtime.

"MOOOOOOM!!!"
"What?"
"Can I have ONE more hug?"
"Lily, I've already given you three. It's time to go to bed."
"But MOOOOOM!!"
"Go to sleep Lily."
"But..."
"No."
(You see, there never really is one more hug. It keeps going and going.)
--silence--
"MOOOOOM!!"
--ignoring her--
"MOOOOOM!!"
--still ignoring her--
"Whaaaat?"
--still not saying anything--
"WHAAAAAT?!"
--giggling--
"MOOOOM!! I have to tell you something!!"
"Go to sleep!"
"But.... can I ask you a question?"
"Ask me tomorrow."
Caleb: "Mom she won't be quiet so I can go to sleep!"
"He's being noisy too!"
"Lily you're the only one who is making noise!"
"But.... WAH!!!!"

So we play this game for about ten minutes until she decides her act isn't worth pursuing. It is especially humorous when she is really tired and throws in remarks such as "You don't EVER come in here!" and "But I won't stop crying until you hug me again!" But I have to remember that she's just a little girl and little girls have drama just like big girls. Little girls only have their mother to let it all out to, and that's okay. At least she doesn't pull the guilt trip thing a la Caleb. More on him tomorrow!

This One's For Melissa

Recently it has been brought to my attention that since I don't have anything to do all day, perhaps I should be blogging. That's what friend's are for, right? So here I go.

I DON'T have much to do all day since the kids and James started school. I have this whole 8 hour time block to myself, and while I repeated "I WILL WRITE THAT NOVEL" like a mantra, I just can't bring myself to sit down and write it. James and I are still getting up at 4:45 a.m. to lift weights and jog (JOG!!) on the treadmill. Exercise has made me feel sooo much better! But by the time I get back, shower and get the kids to school I'm really tired! This is also partly because I quit taking my Arson. I had to. It was like an addiction, seriously. If I didn't take it I felt cranky and if too much time passed I got a HUGE, BIG, BAD headache. I think I know how a migraine sufferer must feel. So the lack of major doses of caffeine hasn't helped either.

So anyway... umm.... Lily joined Girl Scouts. Hit us up for cookies around November, yo. Oh, and I joined the PTA. What I want to know is WHO THINKS UP ALL THESE FUNDRAISERS?!! GS is selling nuts, both kids are selling cookie dough and other sinful sweets, and we got a notice yesterday to start selling raffle tickets! And this stuff isn't cheap, either. Like $13 for 3 pounds of cookie dough, which I guess is ok, but $6 for 10 ounces of nuts? That's nuts!! So anyway if you need any nuts or cookies or pies or raffle tickets, hit me up.

We are slowly adjusting to life as a nuclear family away from the crutch of the in-laws. I am still trying to retrain James into his role as 24 hour Dad, including Rule 45: You cannot retreat to the bedroom when one or more kids start whining. And Rule 72: If I'm making dinner, doing the dishes and helping one kid with homework, yes, you are automatically nominated to wipe your son's butt.

Oh, and have I mentioned the INSANE stench that accompanies protein shakes? Oh. My. Stars. It makes the most horrid, disgusting, gag-inducing nasal assault ever known to man. And James has to have one DAILY. Something about building muscle? Must be the anal muscles because for a little while there I almost CRIED when he farted. The kids and I literally had our faces in our shirts. You could smell it when we opened the door. I'm pretty sure I've seen a couple of house guests grimace as the air freshener wore off. I also tried to take him to public places a lot, like church, where you can't fart, but then the built up ones in the car made the effort not worth it AT ALL. But it has gotten better with time. I guess his body is handling it and not just blowing it out of his tailpipe rather than digesting it. I swear, it was like I couldn't even get close to him without him farting.
"It's not my fault you activate my defense mechanisms!!"
---crying--- "Just make it stop!!!"

My Zayden went home to Italy!!!! I miss him soooo much!! I hear he and Kashdon are getting along though, and judging from his mother's MySpace updates (My life is pure chaos; Can't wait til Zac has a couple of days off so I can get a break from these kiddos; God, please let me keep at least 50% of my sanity; etc.) they're good at being boys.

Oh, and heads up ladies:
KEEP OUR BATHROOMS CLEAN!!!
Yes, I've had those monthly horrors too, but please have the decency to clean up after yourself!!
What kind of heathen are you?!!
I am SOOO glad Lily chose the other stall.
Speaking of, when do little boys stop spraying urine like a fire hose?

In other news, I think James is trying to hint at more toys. He keeps Ebaying fancy holsters and giving me those fleeting "wonder if she's noticed" looks. He also needs a Blue Tooth, but so do I. So we need... Blue Teeth? Blue Tooths?? IDK.

OH, AND I got rear-ended a couple of days ago!! It didn't do any damage to my vehicle (must be that bendy-plastic bumper) but his truck was pretty dented. Another teenage boy! What is it with you?? Leave me alone!!

Ok. I have to go make brownies and clean the bathroom (see above) and think about the novel I'm not writing.
Happy blogging!!

The Family Who Withdraws Together Stays Together

Since returning from Iraq, James has been on the nicotine patch, and I must admit, it’s going better than I expected. Apparently the dentist over there informed him that he had the gums of a 70 year old, and he decided to quit. What?? That’s what I’VE been saying for six years!!! Anyway. He’s not the one I’m worrying about. Since we moved out of my in-laws home, the kids have been going through MAJOR Nana and Papa withdrawal.

“But when I cry Nana gives me what I want!!”
“You just wanted to come home from Iraq to spank me!!”
“But…. Papa ALWAYS lets me have candy before dinner!!”
“Can I call Nana please?”
“I don’t want to live here!! I want to live with Nana!!”
“It’s too early to go to bed! Nana ALWAYS lets me stay up and watch SpongeBob!!”
“But Papa ALWAYS makes me ravioli if I don’t like dinner!!”
“What can we do? I’m sooooo BORED!!”

I tell you. It’s a circus around here. I’m still deciding what I want to withdraw from in order to join in on the fun.

School Fool

The kids started school a couple of weeks ago. Lily is now in 2nd grade, Caleb in kindergarten. They grow up so fast! When I first started this blog, Lily was in Pre-K!

I LOVE to buy school supplies. I like the paper, pencils, crayons, rulers, etc. But what I do NOT like is the INSANE amount of supplies they want. Case in point: kindergarten students needed 21 brad folders. 21!!! Are you MAD?!! And 2nd grade needed 15!! They also requested 42 pencils PER STUDENT!! With an average of 15 kids in a 2nd grade class, that comes out to 630 pencils!! Are they going to build a shed or something? Good grief!!!

James also needed school supplies, less in amount but more expensive altogether. For instance:

Gun: $554
Ammo: $650 (estimate)
Uniforms: $58
Handcuffs: $30
Two 3 inch binders, dividers, highlighters and paper: $27 (stinking binders are $10.90 a piece!!)

Luckily my step-father is a PO and we’re borrowing his duty belt and holster. The Lord provides!!

On an end note, the kids are getting their bunk beds today. Yay.

Workout Fallout

First, a weight update:

Weigh-In: 210.
Lost: 20.
To Go: 30.
New motivation: husband. The former Marine, I might add.

So yes, we have been getting up at 4:45 IN THE MORNING to lift weights, do some abdominal work and cardio routines. I. AM. DYING. Literally. Between the early wake ups and horrific gas, I am running low these days. Oh, the gas. I guess I should explain.

Every morning for breakfast James has a protein shake made of chocolate flavored chalk protein, soy milk, a banana and ice. Now I don’t know if it’s the protein or what, but fella has some hella odor for the remainder of the day. Every day. It’s so bad our apartment smells like fart when we return from errands. Even the kids are gagging, and I think my sheets are turning green. As for me, I’m staying on my low carb, low fat diet even though I have the occasional (daily) splurge. You can’t pay me enough to drink that protein crap. It tastes like chalk and sticks to your teeth. Ugh.

Going to Jail

If you are a faithful reader of this blog, you probably already know that I am frugal, sometimes obsessively, much to my husband’s chagrin.

“But… we’ve always had cable…”
“No we haven’t. Not a year ago in Ennis, and you did fine.”
“But… I’ve been in Iraq for a year…”
“And… you have two kids to play with.”

So after four days of being puppy-dog eyed 24 hours a day, I gave in and ordered cable. I also gave in and agreed that he needed a new cell phone. It is looking a little Iraq-ified nowadays. So we surfed Ebay and found one with functionality but not too many bells and whistles. Upon arrival of the phone, we called Sprint to activate it and found out that the phone was still under someone else’s plan. Not the seller’s though. Someone he got it from. Sounds kinda fishy to me. So we began packing it all back up to return it to the seller.

“What are you doing?”
“Trying to get the battery door off.”
“Why?”
--smile
“I just thought, uh, if it’s stolen, I should wipe off my fingerprints or something.”
--stare
“Right. You’ve been watching way too much CSI. Give me the phone.”

--shoves it into envelope and seals it before he could erase any evidence

Moving and Grooving 2

SO… I know I haven’t blogged in a while. But I have a REALLY GOOD, LEGITIMATE reason… JAMES IS HOME!!!!! WOO HOO!!! And well, I’ve been busy. You know how I roll.

Upon arrival (or shortly thereafter…or the next day… whatever) James informed me that he still wanted to be a police officer, and since I have been praying for God to guide James, as the leader of our family, in the direction that we should go, I agreed. While he was gone I, being the totally awesome wife that I am (his words, not mine), filled out his applications for the school and GI Bill, requested and copied all paperwork, and corresponded with the police academy leader dude. He starts on the 28^th. We have also passed the time by moving into the city to be closer to said academy. I think the kids are going through Nana and Papa withdrawal. More on that later.

Now I knew that James becoming a police officer would entail spending a significant amount of money on gear and other toys, mindless worrying on his part, and teeth clenching on mine. But seriously, it hasn’t been too bad. I mean, I brought a book with me when he insisted he had to be an hour early to his psychologist appointment (to sign off that he’s sane and all) and waited patiently for him to explain his reasoning for expensive extras, one of which was a trigger lock. Oh yes, he bought a gun. A Glock 22 or 40 or something. I dunno, it’s small and black.

“Babe I don’t like the lock that came with my gun.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because you have to loop it through the loading mechanism and trigger part and by doing that it suppresses this spring mechanism and I don’t want the spring to wear down from constant suppression.”

……….

“Um, maybe that’s how it keeps it from, you know, accidentally firing or something.”

“I still don’t like it.”

So he went and bought a trigger lock, the kind that runs through the trigger part and…. locks. But was it safe enough? NO.

“I still think it could come off.”

“Are you serious?”

“Maybe I should keep it in the safe.”

“Sure.”

“But what if someone jimmies the safe?”

“Babe, you don’t even have BULLETS for it yet.”

Exactly. Story of my marriage. Running from the tornado on a clear day.

Things That FREAK ME OUT

Google knows where I live, and therefore recommends nearby gyms to join.
Google maps, and the pictures is has of my car.
Yahoo knows that I am 40 or more pounds overweight, and can suggest 100% guaranteed diet pills.
Myspace knows I am a mother with young children.
It also knows I'm married.
And that I like receiving free stuff.
And that I would like to work from home, doing minimal work, and make $4K a month. It also assumes I am into stripper attire, a practicing swinger, secretly in love with obscene fetishes, and obsessed with Miley Cyrus.
Twitter. WTH?? Freaky.
John and Kate.
Offers to increase the size of my non existent penis. And hundreds of female attention to boot.
Japanese animation.
Certain family members. You know who you are.
Back fat.
These things.
Douching. WTH?!!
Teenagers. *shudder*

No More Queer Eye for the Princess

So here's the result of her surgery.

NOTE: not for the faint of stomach.



The evil-ish look should resolve itself in about a week.
The surgery went well, she really liked the anesthesia part, and I giggled when she kept falling asleep while the nurse attempted to ask her questions.
Also, she kept her Daddy Doll THE ENTIRE TIME.
Because he was ready to be a Daddy when another wasn't.

One Cat, One Bag, Much Chaos

So, the proverbial cat has been let out of the bag.
(Stay with me here.)
Back in July (I know, I know!), Bio and his wife invited us to their son's first birthday party.
Can we say... awkward?
So after much thought, I decided to attended said soiree.
Now God and I have been having an ongoing conversation regarding this subject. I basically went back and forth and back again, what do I do, when, why, how. The usual. I ended up giving it to God and saying, "Okay. If you want me to tell her about all this, please move her to start asking questions."
And she did.

It began a couple of months before when she and Caleb began asking how babies were made, her three Nana's and three four Papa's and all that fun stuff. When I told her about going to the birthday party, she asked "Am I related to him, too?" And I just felt at peace, so we took a trip to the little bitty town I graduated from and told her the story of her birth.
Leaving out the screaming, crying, jail and child support, of course.
I explained conception as two special Legos, also called cells, one that a woman has and another that a man has, and when they love each other or even THINK they love each other these two Legos connect and make millions of other Legos. But instead of making a city or the Eiffel Tower, they make a baby. Skin, hair, organs, legs, etc. She understood, or at least nodded her head.

Then I told her that I didn't get the second Lego from her Daddy, I got it from another man. And since I did, she was technically his biological daughter, because biological is when one Lego comes from a certain person. Thus, she was my biological daughter and his biological daughter, since our two Legos came together to create her. To further complicate matters, if he uses any of his other Legos with any other woman's Legos, she would be related to them, as well.
So technically, she had three little half brothers and one little half sister.
Her response? "Aye yi yi!!!" *shaking her head*
*Which is exactly what I thought!*

That was just a summary. She asked a lot of questions and I answered them. Then I asked if she understood, and she repeated the story in her own way.
(Did I mention I have some genius genes in that there pool?)
So then she asked who the other Lego came from, and I told her it was a man named Z.
Not really Z, but you know.
Lets call him.... Zazu, which is Hebrew for movement.
LOL. A little inside joke, I suppose.

Anyway, I explain that Zazu is her biological father, but that when she was born he wasn't ready to be a father yet. So I went and found a man who WAS ready to be a father, and that man is her Daddy.
And she asks what she could call him.
"Uh.... Zazu, I guess."
"Yeah, or bliologlical father."
"Yeah, you could call him that I suppose. But it's kinda long."
"What about Father?"
"Umm...."
"But not Daddy, because he wasn't READY to BE a daddy. He wanted to be a FATHER. But DADDY was READY to be a daddy, and that's why he IS my Daddy."
"EXACTLY!!"

Then I went on to explain that he would like to visit her occasionally, and I also explained that he could only come over if SHE wanted him to. Then we talked about the other kids he has. Then we went to the birthday party, where she helped out her "little half brother" swim, open presents, etc. We took pictures. She said hello to Zazu, but didn't ask any questions.
And she hasn't mentioned him since.
Which doesn't bother me in the least.