Reusable WHAT?!!

Another late-night internet surf led me to a site that sells, get this, reusable pads and tampons.
I'm so not kidding.
Apparently, for $12 you can get a flannel/cotton "holder" that has a nifty snap to wrap around the crotch of your panties. It has insertable pads made of cotton that you replace when they get "full" (I know it's so gross!). Apparently you are supposed to replace the inserts and not necessarily the holder, which makes me cringe. You can also buy "pad-panties," which are panties with a pad woven into the crotch. You just replce your underwear when you need to. They come in a variety of patterns, including leopard print. Woo hoo!
Now what gets me is that you have to wash them. They recommend by hand, so they last longer. They also recommend soaking them in cold water as soon as possible to avoid staining, i.e. throw them in the bathroom sink. Eeewww. I can only imagine James going to use the bathroom and coming out saying something like this:
"Um, babe, you uh, left your "thingies" in the sink, and uh, I don't think I can get them out by myself."
Or what if company came over and you forgot about them?? Aaahhh!!
They also include a matching carrier to store used inserts in if you happen to be out and have to change it. Can you imagine if you got pulled over and searched? The police would think you were going to the bridge to get rid of murder evidence!
Also on their site is two more items I found equally hilarious: reusable tampons and the Divacup (TM, or whatever mark I have to have here to avoid a lawsuit). The reusable tampon is actually a sea sponge harvested off the coast of some far away place. You scrunch it up and stick it in, easy as pie. About every three hours, you remove it and hold it under running water to clean it. Then you scrunch and stuff again. I wonder what you'd do if you were out and about and had to "empty" it? (I didn't see a carrier for the used tampons.)
"Hey Taryn, can you rinse this for me? Please? Come on, you have periods too. We're both women! Pleeeease?? Are you still there? TARYN! I need my tampon cleaned!!"
Now that's a close relative.
I don't think I could bring myself to use one of them, I mean I do watch SpongeBob..... it just wouldn't feel right....
And now for the Divacup. It is, literally, a coned cup that you encircle your cervix with to catch "menstrual products." Then you empty it when you think it's full.
First off, the picture shows this cup-cone in this girls' hand, and it is about as big as her palm! Both long and wide!! And it has a "stem" which is used to retrieve the cone-cup that is so long it looks as if you'd cut your labia when you sat down. Several commentors say you can't feel it at all, but come on people! You can't fool me! There is no way you can stick a Dixie cup up there and NOT feel it!!
Second, you're supposed to insert it so that it makes a suction on your cervix to keep it from coming out. You break the seal by pinching the stem. Ever been in a hurry and yanked a tampon out too quick? Can you imagine jerking your whole cervix out into the toilet? Yeah, no thanks.
Third, it's another one of those rinse-and-reuse products.
"Taryn! Can you dump my cup for me?"
Fourth, I ick when I see vast amounts of blood. I just could not dump a cupful in the toilet and not hurl.
And, to top it off, it has the word "diva" in it!! I just know I would feel super-sexy and powerful with a bucket in my vagina!
Their reasoning is that using the products saves money, which I guess it would because the products are supposed to last for years, and using them helps them appreciate their bodies' natural functions and knowing they're saving the world and not introducing "harsh, abraisive" compounds into their "divas." I don't know about you, but I don't appreciate this particular natural function. It's a pain and I can't wait for menopause. And Tampax has been good to me so far, so y'all can just keep that other crap!!

In The Lovin' Oven

First, some quotes from my beautiful children.
Caleb, in reference to a nativity scene: "Look Mimi, there's Jesus and his girlfriend!"
Lily, sitting outside as my sister and I drive up: "Hey friend, there's my mom and my babysitter."
Lily to Caleb after Taryn told them to quit being loud: "We'll do it after Taryn leaves."

I was surfing the 'net a couple of nights ago, and I came across a site promoting safe sex. Now I'm all for safe sex, in fact I think when girls turn 12 they should be on government ordered birth control until they turn 25. That woulda kept me out of a whole lot of trouble. But this site was soooo funny! I could not stop laughing! They recommend making and carrying a "safe sex kit," which contains:

12 Male condoms, in a variety of shapes, sizes, flavors and textures
12 Female condoms
1 Bottle of water based lubricant
10 pairs of latex gloves
5 dental dams, or if you can't find them,
1 Roll of saran wrap
1 tube of aloe vera gel.

Oh boy!
First of all, can you imagine carrying this stuff in your purse (or should I say suitcase) and trying to look sexy at a party or a bar?? I thought the current trend was to not have hardly anything on, i.e. Paris Hilton.
Second, they recommend that the gloves be put on before any hand-to-genital contact is made. Don't you know that feels sexy! But who knows, it may be your thing.....
Third, SARAN WRAP?? You've got to be kidding me!! They recommend this be used to "seal the genital area" before mouth-to-genital contact. Woo hoo, wrap my box in saran and let's go to town!!
Fourth, you know those saran wrap covers with elastic in them that you snap around a watermelon or whatever? Would those work? Or maybe a shower cap? It's the same thing right?
Fifth, aloe vera gel, suggested by this site in case all that latex and plastic wrap makes you "chap up or break out in a rash."
Sixth, can you imagine your one night stand going well after you whip out all this crap?
"Oh, I hope you don't mind, I brought along some protection for us to use. Yeah, that suitcase right there, could you hand it to me? Watch your back, lift with your legs, there you go. What should we use first? Oh, you want to touch me? Ok, well here's some gloves... you're allergic to latex? That's ok, I have rubber and lamb skin as well. Here's a dental dam for when you decide to kiss me. And, um, what "size" are you? I have ten different sized condoms, cause a girl never knows what to expect huh? I saved the best part for last! Here's the saran wrap for when... hey! Where are you going? I already paid for this room you arsehole!!"

Man, I wish I was single so that I could conduct an experiment. I could write a book on my findings and make millions!! I love the internet.

Accidental Martha Stewart

I just folded a tree skirt. Go figure.
That's all I have for now!

Christmas Hounds

Christmas. A lovely time of year. Until you grow up and move out and have kids. Let me explain. My parents always had hordes of boxes of Chrismas stuff. I mean every ornament from every school year or VBS semester for all three of us kids, 300 feet of lights, 50 regular ornaments that came from who knows where (you know those ones you see every year?), and that effin gaudy multi-colored doubles-as-a-disco-ball star. Who designs this stuff?? Ah, I digress.
So every year since I was born (I assume) we hauled out all this stuff and put it on the poor pine tree that happened to befall the Guenther house. Bring Sally up. Took a good two hours or so. And then there's mom's other Christmas stuff, which consisted of another 5 or 6 boxes. You know, the thirty candles even though we're not Jewish, fifteen sno-globes, three nativity scenes, those painted houses in communities, and a boat-load of other Christmas knick-knacks. Our living room always looked like Saint Nick himself, and all his holiday glory, blew up coming down from our chimney. Poor dad, hauling that stuff in and out year after year. Although looking back it was cool seeing all of it set up and all that happy crap, but in the midst of those 16 years I made a decision.
I was never. Ever. EVER gonna have that much STUFF for ANY holiday.
AND, I refuse to set my tree up until at least the first week of December.
First, I am a sort of neat freak. I like stuff tidy and clean, albeit my definition of tidy and clean varies drastically from most people's. It's kinda hard to explain, but one pet peeve is forty boxes of Christmas stuff that follows you from house to house throughout your adult life and gets left to your kids when you die.
Second, to me it just feels weird to put up your tree before Thanksgiving. One holiday at a time please! I don't understand it but some people like that kind of thing and hey if that's your cup of tea, I'll be your lemon. (Aunt Terri you're still cool though!)
SO, I have one small plastic box of Christmas stuff.
Just the basics.
This year, on top of only having that one box of stuff, I commited the cardinal sin of Christmas: not putting the tree up the minute the clock struck December 1st. And believe me, mom hasn't let me live it down. Apparently once you have kids the rule is you have to put up your tree on December 1st and retain said tree until at least New Years. If you don't they sic the hounds on you.
"You haven't put your tree up? OH MY GOSH, why?? You just have to put your tree up, the kids will love it. What? A MINI tree?? Is that legal? What do you mean you have no room in your apartment? If you move the corner table and t.v. and loveseat there's plenty of room! I simply cannot believe you haven't set up that tree....."
Ugh.
It gets worse. If your mom can't convince you, she gets her mom to help. If that doesn't work, they pull out the big arsenal: getting the kids involved. And that's just not fair when they get the kids going before noon on 12-1. It's not.
SO. I put up the tree last night. Yes, it is a mini tree and yes I have had to replace every ornament at least three times in the last 24 hours. And they plug it in by themselves if I'm not in the room. Mom says they would only pull the bottom ornaments off of a big tree, but I don't think so. Not my kids. They're sinister. Plotting to knock a big shiny reflective tree down and thoroughly examine every piece of evidence is NOT out of their league.
So there. I have my tree up. And you bet your boots it's coming down on the 26th.

Have You Missed Me?

I know, I know. I'm horrible!! I keep my audience waiting SSOO LONG between posts! The holidays kept me pretty busy. We went to my dad's side of the family in San Marcos. You want to talk about straight up torture, try riding in a car with a 5 and 2 year old for FFOOUURR HOURS. Yes, I forgot the Benadryl. No, they didn't take a nap. And no, we don't have any of that fancy-schmancy DVD players with personal ear phones or game boys or what not. We had to keep ourselves occupied the old fashioned way: playing who-threw-the-cookie, refill the sippy cup, search for the Happy Meal toy or crayons, read the same book twenty times, the next town is such and such, the next town is still such and such, no we're not to such and such town yet, etc.
My aunt and uncle have a huge porch, and in the midst of choking on blankets of smoke and swagging down a couple of alcoholic beverages we managed to have a few good laughes. Like when Caleb drank out of the porch fountain/dog water. Or the time he started humping the dog (don't ask, I don't know; an isolated incident I might add). We ate burned marshmallows and all that happy stuff. Weather was nice. Other than that I don't have any funny tales to relate to my fab audience. Sorry! Blame the kids, they're the funny ones.

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.

Do I Look High?

This is an account of my evening shortly after taking my sleeping pill:
Man, I'm groggy.....
Guess Hebrews will have to wait until tomorrow.....
(clumsily put away Bible and notebook, sit on side of bed for 1 minute)
Man, I'm hungry.....
(stumble to kitchen)
Man, this light is BRIGHT....
(stare at contents of refrigerator)
Mmmm, milk.... What goes with milk..... cornflakes! Oh yeah!
(make ginormous bowl of cereal)
Hmm.... SUGAR!! Yum yum sugar yum yum....
(dive into gargantuan bowl of cereal)
This spoon is so small, I wish I had a bigger one.... Maybe if I pile it real high with cereal I'll make up for the spoon....
(drop clump of cereal and spoonful of milk on shirt)
Darn.
(clean up mess, resume eating)
Man, this cereal is good....
(finish cereal)
Hmm.... more cereal! Yum yum cereal yum yum....
(start on another big bowl of cereal)
Yuck.
(throw rest of cereal out, groggily turn off light and go to room)
Wow, the house looks kinda cool in the dark.... kinda swirly.... wait..... am I high?!
(laugh uncontrollably in the dark for thirty seconds, stumble to bed)
Ha ha ha, that was SOOOO funny! I'm high, I think! Ahahaha!!
(start making mental checklist of "how to know if you are high")
Munchies... hrmm... half a box of cornflakes smothered in sugar would qualify... lights and colors extremely highlighted.... um, yeah....
(forget what I was doing)
Huh?
(yawn)
Man, I'm tired....
(laugh uncontrollably again)
Man, I'm high off sleeping pills!! AHAHAHAHAHA!!
(fall over and go to sleep)
I guess that's why you're supposed to take 2, because only taking 1 leaves you in between sober and flat-on-your-face asleep, similar to the side effects of cannibis, our favorite little plant in high school. It was fun though!

The Brains of Children

My mom and dad have been divorced for a while now, both remarried as well. Try explaining that concept to a four year old! My dad and his mom came over on the fourth to visit, and Lily started in on her research of the family tree.
"Papa Punkin, is that your mom?"
"Yeah, she is."
"Taryn, is this your dad?"
"Yeah." Thinking.....
"Taryn, is Mimi your mom?"
"Yeah." Still thinking........
"Papa Punkin, are you Mimi's best friend?" I can just see the wheels in her head turning....
"Well, she used to be."
Oh my, Lily is really confused! But she didn't say anything else about it.
He-child is always losing his cup. And I frequently get tired of looking for it. The following is a common conversation we have:
"Mama! Un koolade!"
"Where's your cup?"
"Where is?"
"Go find it and I'll get you something to drink."
"Un koolade!"
"Okay, go find your cup."
"Where is?"
"I don't know, I don't drink out of it. Go find it."
"Aww man...." Walks out of the room, head down and bottom lip out.
A few seconds later.....
"Mama! Un find it!"
"You can't find it?"
"No!"
"I don't think you looked for it."
"Eah I did!"
"C'mere, let's look for it."
Walk out of the room, and stumble over the cup.
"Look Caleb, what's that?"
"You find it! Un koolade mom!"
How many years until pre-k?

Sunscreen.... And Other Things

"Zac realized  the HARD way that sunblock only works if you use it PROPERLY. Maybe next time he will read the instructions!"

I like this picture for a number of reasons. First, the baby-blue-with-fluffy-clouds comforter. Say it with me people: MUY MACHO. It maches the carpet nicely. Second, I see no poo art in the photo. Whew. Third, the tall lobster. Oh wait, that would be Zac..... The unnatural color nicely illuminates his freckles. I really like the stark-whiteness at the top when it is catapulted into a wall of red. But what I REALLY like is the hand-slap marks of white where he attempted to apply sunscreen on his sides. I guess his hands aren't as big as he thought! Hopefully next time his wife will accompany him to the beach so people won't mistake him for the main course.
On another note, Lily and I have been combatting her first adolescent stage. You know, the attitude. From back talking me to yelling at her brother, I've just about had it. So I sat her down and explained what attitude was, gave her some examples, and told her the puishment for said offenses. We were getting into the car later on and she had yelled at Caleb and shoved him aside and barreled into the car ahead of him. While I was buckling Caleb in, I told her to watch her attitude, to which she said "Mom, I'm sorry for attituding to you." You just can't stay mad at a four year old.
We went to a birthday party for Lily's cousin Ana. She had gotten a trampoline for her birthday, and the poor little girl had to combat Lily for her rights to jump. Then while Ana was opening her gifts, Lily jumped on the trampoline singing her Broadway tunes. Here's what I caught: "Iiiii'm at a biiiirthday paaaarteee, for Aaaaannaaaa, haaaaappy biiiirthday Aaaaannnaaa, she's opening her preeeesents, and I'm juuuuumping, yeeeaaahhh!!" The next day at church, she just HAD to wear that stinking birthday hat to Sunday school (thanks for passing those out). They made a crown during class, and I woke up from my afternoon nap wearing it. Apparently I was the mean queen who tormented little children in her sleep. Oh yeah!
I know I haven't written in a while, but I promise to get some more anecdotes up soon!!

Military Grocery Shopping

I went grocery shopping at the commisary on base with my sister and her friend. It was like taking two six- year- olds to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory:
"Did you see that one? Oh my gosh!"
"Yes! And the one beside it! Do you think that's his car?"
"Maybe! Go ask him!"
"YOU go ask him! Ah, he's looking at us, don't look don't look!!"
"You know what? If we meet him, he could introduce us to his friends, and they could introduce us to their friends, and we could meet a whole lot of gorgeous guys!! Eeeee!!" Gag me with a spoon.
Anyway, we made it to the store and got through shopping, even though I had to stop and go to the previous isle and retrieve them from the heels of yet another soldier, and made our way to the registers. I did what any normal (civilian) shopper would do: picked a register and got in line. A couple of minutes later, the woman in front of me turns around and says "The line starts back there." I looked and saw three overflowing-cart laden shoppers glaring at me.
Running the length of the isle in front of the registers are lots of pallets of sodas, crackers, etc. with a gap about half-way. That's where the line started. Oh, so that's why I had to squeeze between a pallet and shoppers in the express lane to get to a register.....
So I meekly wave to the other customers and scoot to the end of the line under the rude glare of the guy at the head of the line holding a clipboard. Wait, a clipboard? This situation just went from stupid to assinine.
First, you have to wait in line to wait in line. Second, when you get to the head of the line, you must wait for the guy with the clipboard to make a few marks on his secretive paper (I tried to sneak a look) and give you your register assignment ("You may wait in line three, ma'am"). Third, you wait in line at your pre-destined, picked-especially-for-you-based-on-the-characteristics-of-your-personality-that-we-
observed-from-your-facial-expressions-and-choice-of-parking-space. Finally, you get the privilege of buying your groceries. What gets me is the clipboard guy gets paid (he had on a uniform) and the sackers rely on tips (they didn't)!! Whose butt do you have to kiss to get THAT job? Does he get paid per assignment? Are there penalties if he assignes a patron the wrong cashier and they tussle about a coupon? Does he get assigned a line when he shops or does he have free pickings? What is his job title? Do you have to have a degree?
Of all the anal retentive features of the military, this one tops them all. I can't even come up with any more to say about the subject. If anyone has any answers, feel free to leave a comment.

Women At Wal-Mart

I under estimated the powers of walmart. Example of what happens when a pregnant lady gets turned loose in wally world!

This is yet another blog-material picture from my brother. It took me a minute to figure it out. Okay, there is kinda a lot of stuff on top of the refridgerator..... Then I got it. They bought so much stuff that they had to tape the freezer shut with electrical tape!! HaHaHaHa!!! I love his caption, too. Men do under estimate the psychological power of Wal-Mart. I can't explain why I enter the store and don't remember anything until I'm trying to find my car in the mammoth parking lot. Or why I get home with six bottles of conditioner that was on sale, eight boxes of tampons that weren't, thirty Schick razor blades for men, and four new pairs of jeans. What I don't come out with is shampoo, diapers, tin foil and sugar. I have the same problem in Dollar General. What happens? Does anyone have any thoughts? I think those black globes on the ceiling are brain wave transmitters with one message: BUY IN BULK UNTIL YOU FILL YOUR BASKET OR YOUR HUSBAND FINDS YOU!!!

The Woes Of Summer

I have to ask all my readers this question, just to see who will say yes and redeem me. Have you ever sat down on the toilet to do your business and Olympic bob-sledded onto the floor because your butt was so sweaty?
True story. Now that I've slipped a disk in my back, I figured I'd go ahead with cracking my tailbone, and add a hyper-extended shoulder caused by kinda catching myself on the way down. I was cooking (frying?) homemade tortillas in my freakin hot kitchen when nature came a'calling. So I raced to the bathroom cause I had a tortilla cooking, pulled down my shorts and WHAM! Right on my arse. I'm thankful that I didn't hit my head on the sink on the way down, and that my body recognized I was no longer seated on the toilet and super-flexed my kegel muscles so I wouldn't pee all over the floor. I didn't realize I was sweating that profusely! Do they make toilet seats with carpet on them? Or velcro? Or maybe I'll just have to wipe before I sit down from now on. (Or maybe I'll have to (GASP!) revert back to full coverage underwear to soak up the access moisture. Aahhh!! NO!! Not the granny panties! You can't make me!) It's times like this I wish I were a man. I bet they don't have problems like this.
While we're on the subject of butt problems, I had a funny conversation with my mom last night. We were driving around and she mentioned that she and Chad use wipies as backdoor sqweegies. I was like, doesn't that feel GROSS your butt cheeks slipping past each other every time you take a step? Nasty!! And the sped up process of said butt cheek gliding has to cause you to take vastly larger steps, right? Do you walk faster to off-set the big steps? I bet you look funny. Doesn't it feel funny? What do you do, cram your underwear in there to wipe up some of the moisture? Isn't that the same as wiping with toilet paper? Ewww, I'd hate to be the one doing your laundry, but I guess since you both participate it's not as gross. I hope they quit before they get older and I have to do their laundry. I'd be calling Taryn!
One last thought..... I've given in and turned the thermostat down to 88. During the hours of 1 p.m. and 4 p.m. Sometimes till 5. But when 4 or 5 hits, you better believe I've got the electro-shock force field back on. Maybe it was the peeling the kids off the carpet to get them into bed that did it. Or maybe the cat hyperventilating at my feet. Or maybe, just maybe, because I found myself sweating so bad I broke the Guiness World Record for Fastest Exit Off A Toilet Seat Without The Use Of Hands Or Feet. We'll see how it goes.

Poo Art!

Yes, dear readers, this is a picture of dog poo. It was sent to me last night by my brother, who apparently inherited the gene that causes sudden, uncontrollable lapses of mental function. I thought only I and mother had it, but I guess it can jump futher than we thought.
I got Zac's text message to check my email, he'd sent a cool picture. So I log on, click and click, BAM!! This awesome piece of canine bowel sculpture appears before my eyes. My first thought was WTF?!! I checked the email bar; it had come from him. Then I think, well maybe it hasn't finished downloading yet. So I sit and stare at it for three minutes. Nothing changes. Now, as if the poo art isn't disturbing enough, it is uncannily highlighted by the Eddie-didn't-make-it-to-the-bathroom-in-time, gag-inducing GELLOW carpet (is it green? is it yellow? it's gellow!). Oh MY gosh, Zac you have to get this fixed. It's HORRID. I find looking at the poo easier then trying to look at this carpet. Maybe the dogs were trying to make it look more appealing? Or maybe they hate it so much that the only way to show their disgust is to crap on it. That's bad. I'm surprised that his pregnant wife can look down and not throw up.
To the dog's credit, it does look humanoid. Which prompted my next question: was that layout natural or did Zac "help"? Hey, he did take a damn picture of it.... He said it was natural (BIG sigh of relief). Maybe he's bored. Maybe he needs to make some friends. One thing I do know, he and his wife need to go shopping for wall-to-wall oriental rugs PRONTO!!

Electric Summer

Well, summer is here. Hip hip hooray for higher electric bills and poopy pool water! My May bill was $150, up from $140. My air conditioning is OFF and will stay that way for most of the summer, if I can win the battle with my sister and my mom. I swear, you'd think I was beating my kids! My sister will sneak the AC on when she thinks she's being coy. Like I can't hear! One time I came home to my mom and the kids eating candy with the thermostat on 70!! Good grief! I'm trying to convince Taryn that it being 97 inside the house is still better than outside where it's 110, and the constant sweating is surely burning calories.
Now before anyone goes calling CPS on me, let me say that my kids wear well ventilated clothing (bare skin) and swim on the porch in their little kiddie pool most of the day. Sometimes we even venture to the city pool for a dip. It's me you should be worried about! I can't get cool! There's something about my room, it attracts heat and hangs onto it. But this is where the computer is, and my big comfy bed. So I am sitting here sweating and typing and hoping I don't ruin the keyboard.
The other night I took to sleeping on the toy room floor. Bad idea. Not only did the air matress deflate while I slept, but what little sleep I did get was disturbed by my psycho cat and my in-laws yapping dog. We borrowed Chi Chi for a day because I know Phoebe gets lonely, and she likes to terrorize the poor chihuahua (yo quiero taco bell?). They were racing across my body yapping and hissing and clawing all night. I ran out of toys to throw at them around two a.m. I have a map of Texas highways on my legs now made by claw marks. Ugh. So I gave up and bought a big box fan at Wal-Mart.
Oh, and I slipped a disk in my back. Nothing big, but the doc told me to stop doing Tae Bo. It sucks! I went through three days of Tae Bo withdraw, where I would randomly yell "double time!" and burst into left and right jabs. So now I'm stuck. Running makes my legs fall off, pilates gives me hemherroids, and Tae Bo plays disk jockey with my vertebrae. What do I do now?! Taryn and I plan on walking this evening. Lets hope I don't lose an arm to power walking.
I don't have any real funny kid stories to tell. Lily tried to convince me she was really a boy, and Caleb and I are still struggling with potty training. I've whipped out the carpet stain remover again and attached it to my belt, because..... well, you can imagine. Those who have forgotten, please see my previous blog entitled "Worshipping Carpet Stain Remover."
Well I have to go clean up the off-brand Lucky Charms glob off my coffee table and carpet. At least milk is white! And I LOVE LOVE it when Taryn walks by me and says "Your son stinks" or "He just made a huge mess with that bowl of cereal" or my personal favorite "Go look what your kids just did!!"

Brain Blast!!

There's a cartoon on Nickelodeon called The Adventure of Jimmy Neutron, a ten year old with an IQ of a bazillion. When he gets into trouble and needs to think of something quick to solve the problem, he has a "brain blast" and brainstorms until he comes up with a solution.
Lily got in trouble for hitting her brother today, so she stood in the corner for four minutes, per house rules. When her time was up, I called her over to me.
"Now, why did you hit Caleb?"
"I dunno, my brain wasn't thinking."
"Well, I guess you'd better tell your brain to start thinking so you won't get into any more trouble, huh?"
-puts hands over ears and says- "BRAIN BLAST!!!"

Caleb is trying to get potty trained. So far we've gotten to him taking off his diaper and peeing in the floor. Apparently he thinks this is what you're supposed to do most of the time, and occasionally sit on the potty.
"Caleb, you're supposed to go pee pee on the potty!"
"Tee tee momma!"
"Yes I know you went pee pee, but you need to sit on the potty next time you need to go."
"TEE TEE, momma!"
"Oh okay, tee tee. Next time tee tee on the potty okay?"
-points to floor and smiles- "I tee tee momma!"
"I know, you're a big boy! When you take your diaper off, go sit on the potty so you don't pee pee on the floor, okay?"
"TEE TEE MOMMA!!"
"Oh good grief!"
Apparently if I'm not going to use toddler-talk we're not going to get very far. Oh, and WHY do toddlers have to repeat a question forty times even when you've told them and they know the answer?

That Holy Feeling

Lately I have been struggling with the issue of money and tithing to your church; how much should I give, how often, etc. Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered hearing the "10%" thing, that you should give God ten percent of your income. The Scripture also repeatedly says that if you give God as much as he instructs, He will provide for you and bless you. So I sat down to do my finances.
Now, when God said ten percent did he mean ten percent of your gross income, or net income? After thinking about it I decided on net for some reason. The following is a layout of my finances for the first two weeks of June, keeping in mind that I need cash on hand for milk and gas.

Net income: $1498.57 (10%= roughly $140)
Groceries, tp, etc: $147.88
James' allowance: $101.80 (includes ATM fees)
Rent: $450
Water bill: $50.91
Dell: $32
Geico: $68.50
One Spirit (book club): $38.03
Colombia House (DVD for James): $26.75
Army (loan for deductible when we it a deer): $50
Eye doctor (LASIK eye surgery): $50
Furniture: $279
Capital One: $25
Orchard Bank: $25
Dairy Queen (our once every two weeks outing): $9.70

Now here's the kicker: All of those added up and subtracted from the net is -guess what?- $144. Which would be $140 (ten percent) for God and $4 for milk (which HAPPENS to be on sale at two gallons for four dollars). Is that amazing or what?!
But then I remembered: I need refills on my meds and gas money, too. Refills will be $18. Then God reminded me. James get hazard duty pay on June 4th in the amount of $25. So there's my refills with $7 to spare. Not exactly enough to get a sizeable amount of gas. Then God jogged my memory again: Mom owes me gas money for taking her to Miles. $5? So there's $13 for gas, and I don't plan on going out of town within the next two weeks, so that would be just right for two weeks of around-town driving.
Granted, that leaves my checking account balance at zero, but hey. God will bless me. Isn't He amazing?!!!

Conversations with the He-Child

Recent conversation between me and the He-Child, driving home from Angelo:
"Mama."
"What?"
"Ungsh kwa."
"What?"
"Ungsh kwa!"
"I dont' understand 'ungsh kwa' baby."
"Ungsh kwa!!!"
"What is ungsh kwa?!"
"A gwaber lana boger shooda ungsh kwa!!"
"Wait til we get home, then you can show me, ok baby?"
-slight whining-
"Mama."
"What?"
"Ungsh kwa?" Grrr.
"Do you want an apple?" I keep fruit in my purse.
"No."
"What did you do at Nana's yesterday?"
"Ungsh kwa."
"Really." 'Ungsh kwa' must be a verb....
"Mama!"
"What?"
"Ungsh ornsh." This one I know!
"You want an orange?"
"No."
"Ok."
"Mama!"
"What baby?"
"Ungsh kwa!!"
"I don't know what ungsh kwa means!!"
"He wants a piece of drink your water!" Now Lily is awake.
"You want a drink of Mommy's water?"
"Yeah! Ungsh wader!"
"All you had to do was speak English!"

Darn Old People

Why can't old people leave us alone? HaHaHa Just kidding Granny. But really, I was at the gas pumps yesterday and I was washing my windshield with the sqweegie thing they have out there, and this older lady came up behind me and said "Excuse me!!" I turned around and saw that she was reaching down to get the air hose by my feet, so I said "Oh, sorry" and moved aside. I thought the encounter was over. Wrong. The next thing I hear is "WELL YOU WERE SLINGING WATER EVERYWHERE SO I HAD TO SAY EXCUSE ME!!" What was her problem? So I turned around and said "YEAH, AND I APOLOGIZED." Now, I didn't yell like she did. I simply raised my voice an octave. I guess I pissed her off cause she got in her car and drove off. Good grief!
Now I'm probably gonna get in trouble for this next story, but hey, it's funny. My brother Zac and his wife Raysha were walking in Walmart, her pushing the basket and him behind her. He reached over and pecked her on the cheek (sweet huh?). Then this older woman says "EXCUUUUSE ME! GO DO THAT SOMEWHERE ELSE!" Was this out of line or what? I mean, they weren't making out in public, and yeah they look young but hey they both had their wedding rings on. So Raysha GOES OFF on this woman, like "Oh I don't think so, it's none of your business yada yada yada" with her finger pointed and everything! The funniest part is they were standing in the middle of Walmart fighting with an eighty year old woman, and when she turned to walk away, still muttering under her breath, Zac had to DRAG Raysha out of the ring! When they told me this story I laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants. I would have paid my own plane ticket to see that.
And last but not least, I almost got run over in the Walmart parking lot by an older woman. I had Caleb sitting on my left hip, and I was walking on the left side of the isle because some moron was driving in the right side. So I'm walking along, minding my own business, when WHAM! something hits my left knee. Now before this episode I was under the impression that you had to learn how to look in your mirrors before backing out of your parking space. I guess not. Some older lady had backed into me! It didn't knock me over, but it did kinda push me. I looked over and in her rear view mirror I could see she had a shocked look on her face. Now I know this wasn't very Christian like, what I did next, but I was pissed not that she had nearly run over me but that I had my son with me too. So I gave her an ugly look, flipped her the bird, and stormed into Walmart.
Next time I go to Walmart I'm going to wear neon yellow and a sign that says "I don't have nine lives, please look before you back up!!"

Tae Bo

So I've been doing Tae Bo daily now for a week (yah!), until Sunday, my day off. And Monday was my birthday, another day off. Tuesday the VCR broke; another day off. So here comes Wednesday, time to get back on the horse......OH MY GOSH. I seriously almost DIED. I didn't even get through the stretches and I was huffing and puffing. I paused the tape twice to catch my breath, and I've only done that once before! I'm glad no one was home cause I was sweating like a stuck pig, grunting with every effort, and farting with every side kick. Can you imagine what I sounded like? -uh- -pfft- -uh- -pfft-
I know Lily would have been cracking up. And double time? -uh uh!- -pffft pft- -uh uh!- -pffft pft- I was getting mad at myself because I couldn't keep up, so I decided to pretend that with every front kick I was kicking Billy Blanks in the unmetionables. I must have gotten over-enthused because I hit the tv and nearly knocked it off the cardboard box it sits on. No, I haven't recently moved. That's about as sophisticated as my entertainment center is going to get for now.
But there is a plus side to all of my hard work. My arms aren't flabby anymore, and my legs are a little trimmer. But this gut! It's not going anywhere! Just jiggle jiggle jiggles through my workout and won't lift a finger to burn some calories. Dumb fat.

Nine Questions of the Times

1) WHY do they have to put 500 q-tips in those darn boxes?!! Do they like to sit around and imagine us poor parents picking them ALL up??

2) Do single serving mac and cheese's have a purpose? Why not make the economy box, you know they're gonna eat it!

3) Do they make kid repellent for single people? What about wrung-out parents? What does it smell like? Peas?

4) Is it REALLY that heart breaking when a horse breaks it's foot? Look up that race horse on yahoo, holy crap people were "weeping in the stands" and the sponsor person ran out screaming "don't put it down, i'll buy the horse! don't kill it!!" Were they weeping for the money they lost? And is that story about how they euthanize injured horses ON THE TRACK (right after they fall) accurate? C'mon people, children are dying of starvation daily yet we bawl over a horse....

5) Why do they even offer the 50 ounce tube of toothpaste? Do they KNOW you have a two year old eager to squirt it all on the bathroom floor?

6) And why do they put all the ice cream on sale the same week you start a new diet? I think it's a conspiracy..... They want us to be fat! Fat people make the world go round!

7) Why isn't birth control mandatory for girls between the ages of 13 and 20?

8) Why does a cat who is helplessly tangled up in one of your bras (I mean almost unable to move) fight you when you try to get it off her?

9) Why do cats think your tossing and turning at night is an invitation to gnaw on your toes?

Kids are smarter than you think....

This is a set of pictures I found tonight on my hard drive. Apparetly Lily has learned how to take pictures with the web cam. Notice the progression of the shots....

Alejandra's Adventure

So my in-laws, my kids and I went to a Mexican restaurant for Mother's Day. It goes good until we sit down, then Caleb throws a fit because he doesn't want to sit in the high chair. He screams NO and PA PA and kicks until I, not being able to stand the other people's eyes boring into me, take him outside. We have a talk and he calms down. We go back inside. We sit. Now he wants a gum ball from the vending machine we passed. I tell him no. He screams. Lily joins in because she wants one too. Now I have two screaming children. So my father in law, James, goes and buys them one each.
Caleb wants red, not orange, and Lily wants orange, not red. So after more screeching they switch. My mother in law, Jeannette, is afraid Caleb will choke on the gum ball, so she bites it in half and all hell breaks loose. All I can hear amidst the commotion is "Nana" and "No" and "bite" and "ball." After numerous threats he calms down and decides he'd rather have a chip anyway.
This gives the waitress, who's been patiently waiting at a safe distance, a chance to take our orders. Jeannette gives Caleb a chip, which she doesn't break into small pieces cause if she's like me she's thinking if he chokes at least he'll be quiet for a little bit. He screams for dip. We hand him the white Ranch sauce stuff, but he makes it known he wants hot sauce and won't take no for an answer. So I give it to him (I know, but it's called tough love for a reason).
He makes a funny face, turns red and starts screaming again. I'm laughing. People are staring and I'm sure a couple were calling the operator trying to find out the local CPS phone number. Half a cup of Sprite later he's ok, and the in-laws have quit freaking out too. The food arrives, and we enjoy a bittersweet five minutes of silence.
I'm glad I eat fast because as soon as I finished Caleb was ready to leave. Lily had crawled under the table. I fished her out while James tried to console Caleb, unsuccessfully. Lily pouts and Caleb continues protesting. James gets up and buys them a little toy. Lily likes hers, Caleb doesn't like his. Screaming. Crying. A new toy. Less hair on my head. Lily gets up and jogs around the restaurant. Finally I take both of them outside, where they roam around and yell at each other until James and Jeannette finish eating. Then we leave.
Can anyone tell me where the OFF switch on a two and four year old are? I seem to have misplaced my manual....

Hangin' With Kirby

My husband bought a $1300 Kirby a year or so before we met, and the curse has now passed from his ex to me. The thing sucks, and I didn't mean that as a joke.
I had just started using it shortly after we met, thinking "Oh, $1300 this thing must be magical!" It was extremely hard to push, and I complained to James about it. He asked me if it was in "drive" or "neutral." What? The darn thing has GEARS? I must have overlooked the gear shift.... So he shows me that when it's unplugged, you put it in neutral so you can move it from room to room. When it's plugged in, you put it in drive to activate the self-propelling mechanism. Oookay......
It also has a carpet shampooer on the sucker. So some months later I decided to try that. I have James explain to me how it works, change the heads, put the soap and water in, blah blah. So he goes out to the back yard, leaving me unsupervised. I get the water, check. Pour in some soap, check. PUT IT IN DRIVE, check. Turn it on. It suds up and runs smoothly, so I'm pretty psyched.
Then the thing starts regurgitating bubbles. LOTS of bubbles. I mean coming out of the head, tray and wheels. I think maybe it's in super duper cleaning mode, so I check for a lever to turn it down a notch. None. By now a whole three feet of carpet is bubble-covered, so I switch it off and go get James. He asks me what the hell is going on. I tell him I don't know. He asks how much soap I put in the tray. I say "Well, I just kinda poured some in there. Probably like half a cup." He shakes his head. "You're only supposed to put two CAP-FULS, dear."
So the months pass and James gets deployed and leaves me REALLY alone with the confounded contraption. I'm vaccuuming along, and the darned thing starts burning. Well, something is burning. Taryn thinks I'm building a camp fire in the kids' room and walks in. "I bet you have to change the belt." Okay, that makes sense.
Now James had attempted to show me how this is done one or two times before. So I struggle and huff and puff and finally get the head off. Have you ever seen a dismantled vaccuum cleaner head? IT'S NASTY. I know I've cleaned up puke and poop and all that, but this was disgusting. Taryn sure as heck wasn't touching it, so I had to dig around and get the swivel rod thingy out. Then I put the belt on. Then I push it back into place. Then I try to put the head back on. No go.
So I take it off and try again. And try. AND TRY. I figure you just reverse the order of steps you took to get the darn thing off to get it back on, right? I guess not. We get the manual out, which is skimpier than it should be considering all the obvious problems customers can have with the machine. I see we are doing the same steps the manual shows. Hmm.
After much cursing, I get it back on and start vaccuuming up the mess I made trying to fix the vaccuum. Now it won't suck! Oh my gosh, I'm about to barf. But I can't leave the mounds of dirt and dust on the floor cause it's gross and the He-child will probably eat it, so I dismantle the thing again. And remantle it.
I still have to run over stuff several times for the vaccuum to suck it up, but I'm not messing with it any more until July, when James comes home. Stupid machine.

Book Club Blues

"Thank you for calling the Crossings book club customer service, how can I help you today?"
"Yeah, I got a bill in the mail for some books from ya'll, and I didn't get them cause I never ordered them. I'm not a member of Crossings."
"Okay, let me look and see what's going on. What is the account number on the invoice?"
"1234567."
"Ok, just one moment please..... Oh I see here that we sent you blah blah and blah (seven books by Joyce Meyer). How would you like to pay today, with a credit card or from your checking account?"
"Um, neither because I didn't order those books from you, I ordered them from One Spirit. And I already paid them."
"Ma'am, we show that you received the books. How would you like to pay today?"
"I don't WANT to pay because I didn't receive the books from YOU, I got them from ONE SPIRIT."
"There's no way you could have gotten them from One Spirit ma'am because it shows you ordered them through us. "
"So I went to One Spirit.com and paid them and they just took my money for books they didn't send?"
"I would call them to straigten out that issue, ma'am."
"I'm telling you I didn't order the books from you, ya'll must have gotten something mixed up. Please cancel my Crossings account."
"I can't do that ma'am, because you have a balance of $34.98 that needs to be paid. We accept credit cards or checks over the phone. Which would you like to use today?"
"YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY NOT LISTENING TO ME. I DO NOT HAVE A CROSSINGS ACCOUNT, AND I'M NOT PAYING YOU FOR BOOKS I DIDN'T ORDER!"
---Pause---
"Can I do anything else for you today?"
"Yes. You can close the Crossings account we've been talking about for ten minutes now."
"I can't do that ma'am, there is a balance of $34.98. How would you like to pay today? We accept checks and credit cards over the phone."
---CLICK---

My Mimi Moment

Well a couple of days ago my DSL went out. I ran my Adware, Spybot, Stinger and AFG softwares and they found a couple of things but nothing real big. I ran them because last time my DSL went out, it was because a virus had "eaten the internet modem connection." So then I ran the softwares that came with the stinkin Dell. Nothing. I decided that rather than pay some guy to reformat my hard drive, I'd do it myself. How hard could it be, right?

So I go to my mom's and look up on the internet how to do this step by step. I take notes. Reformatting the hard drive means I will lose EVERYTHING, including my DSL software, which isn't working anyway, but I really don't want to call Verizon and get a new DSL package, so I decide to call them and see what they say.

"Thank you for calling Verizon DSL technical support, my name is You-wont-remember-in-ten-seconds, how can I help you?"
"Yeah, my DSL isn't working."
"Can you describe the problem in a little more detail?"
"Um... I click on Internet Explorer and it says it can't find the server."
"So it's not connecting to the central server."
"Darn, you people are geniuses. Glad I called."
"Are the lights on the modem lit?"
"Yeah, the power and ethernet are, the DSL is blinking, and the internet is unlit."
"Ah, your modem isn't communicating with the central server."
"No crap, really?"
"Let me test the line, one moment please.... Yes, it's definately not communicating."
"I'm glad there are people at Verizon like you who can tell me what's going on, cause you know, I'm REALLY confused."
"We like to help our customers."
"I noticed."
"Well, we'll sent a technician out tomorrow to have a look at it, ok?"
"Ok, bye." Click.

So the tech comes at ten o'clock.

"Let's check all the lines first. Where is the phone jack?"
"Over there in the corner."
Tech walks over, moves the cat box, stands back up, looks at wall, looks at me and smiles.
"I think I found your problem."
"Did you find the missing hamster?"
"Hahaha. No, the phone cord is unplugged." Reaches down and plugs it in.
"Darn kids!"
"Have a nice day, ma'am."

For Thoe Who Lost Track

Since Lily has a different biological father than Caleb, she has twice as many grandparents as he does. But they claim him too, which is cool. For the purposes of this blog, we'll call her biological father "Bio" (original, huh?).
For those who lost track of who is who in my children's world (after all, don't we revolve around them?), I've composed a list of relatives and their nicknames.

James' parents: Pa Pa Princess and Nana (because Pa Pa is always calling her his little princess)
My mom and step-dad: Mimi and Pa Pa Badboy (he's a police officer; COPS theme song; get it?)
My dad and step mom: Pa Pa Pumpkin (He-child's translation: Pa Pa Pookin) and Grammy (because he always calls her Pumpkin)
Bio's mother and step dad: Other Nana (when you already have one, the next can only be the "other", right?) and Paw
Bio's sister: Aunt Lissa
Bio's grandmother: Great Grandmomma

There you have it folks, but before I retire I thought I'd throw in another Lily-story:
We were looking through some old photo albums, her pointing to the people pictured and either naming them or asking who they were. We came upon a picture of myself and Bio hugging each other on the couch, and Lily says accusingly "Mama! THAT'S not DADDY!"
"I know baby, that was someone I knew before I met your daddy."
"Whew! That was a close one...."
Shoot, I couldn't get away with it even if I TRIED!!

Kids Are Funny... So Are Moms

I recently overheard this conversation between my kids.....
(both quietly playing)
(scream from the he-child)
"La-lee! Geh back! Geh back La-lee!!"
"Oh! Caleb, you can talk! Here you want this back? Here you go." (said in a little sing song like way, which is how her part of the conversation goes)
"Welcome." (He-child's way of saying thank you.)
"Caleb! Can you say Lily?"
"La-lee!"
"Good boy! Can you say Nana? Say Nana!"
"Nannnna!"
"Great job! Say Mama!"
"Mammma!"
"Cool! Say Daddy!"
"Dah!"
"Good! Now say Pa Pa Pumpkin!" (Long story, see the above blog....)
"Pa Pa..... Pakun!"
(She-child gets up and runs into my room)
"Mom! Did you know Caleb can talk like a real person now? He can talk like you and me!"
(She-child conveniently forgets He-child has been making fairly legible sentences for about three months now....)

The other day Lily sat down beside me on the couch and said
"Mom, I'm not gonna say sh*t any more."
"Ok, then don't say it."
"I'm not GOING TO say sh*t any more!"
"Ok! Then quit saying it now!"
-Huff- "Mom! I SAID I'm not GOING TO say sh*t any more!!"
"Ok!"
-moment of silence-
"Well, I just wanted to tell you I'm not going to say sh*t any more."
-gets down and runs off-

I got out of the shower yesterday and was drying off when Lily came into the bathroom (Ever notice that once you have kids, dressing and peeing in front of another human being is no longer taboo, as long as they're less than 36 inches tall?) and said, "Mom, you have a fat tummy!"
"Did you know I have a fat tummy because of you?"
"What?"
"Yeah, when you were in my tummy you got really big and stretched it out, and that's why it's so fat."
-sits and ponders this thought-
"Well that's cool."
-returns to the play room-

Today I was talking on IM to my mom, who is thoroughly amazed at the whole concept of instant messaging. I'm constantly getting messages like "Hey! I can change the color of the words!" or "Look at these cool smiley-thingies!" My mother's loss of.... reasoning? youth? memory giga bytes?..... has been a unique experience, and I can't wait to torment my kids. Anywho, she told me Taryn (my sister) had asked her for mom's friend Karen's address, to send a graduation invitation. So mom typed it into the email..... and sent it to Karen. In case she forgot. Then she realized her mistake, copied the email..... and sent it to herself. In case she forgets. (Maybe Mom is just planning for the inevitability of our minds to start dumping infrequently used data..... I'm glad she thinks of others as well as herself.) Finally it reached Taryn's inbox, but not before I finished laughing my butt off.

A Fright On Sunday Morning

This beautiful Sunday morning, I performed my usual routine. Get the kids up, feed them, dress them. Then I move on to grooming myself for the morning's festivities. I pick out a shirt to wear with my jeans, get some socks out, my shoes. I put on my jeans and realize I grabbed the "hoochie" jeans, i.e. the ones I wear around my husband (if you don't know, don't ask!). They are "very low waist" and "hip hugging," which is a relief cause if they weren't you'd be calling me Paris on the Red Carpet. So I took the jeans off and got the regular, "low waist" pair and put them on.

Then it hit me. Could I be getting, dare I say it?, OLD?!! Now that I prefer not to hang my arse end out of low cut jeans and feel the breeze runneth over my crack, does that mean I'm (gasp!) GROWING UP?!! I take a quick inventory. My shoes (all four pair) are either black or white. I haven't worn three of them in a month or so. The last ones are Sketchers (1 point for the teen era) that are almost worn into the ground, but they're my favorite cause they are the most comfortable. Oh, and I am the proud owner of four pairs of flip flops that are permanently flip flopped. You know, you take them off and they look like you froze them mid-step. Speaking of shoes, my feet are dry and cracked (eewww!) and unpainted (minus that point from above).

I have eight pairs of jeans. Two are the "low waist" (sexy and in tune with the times but still lady-like), my "hoochie" jeans, one torn pair of "hoochie" jeans (I know what you're thinking, and NO, I ripped then while pulling them on), two pair of old jeans (I recently upgraded) and two pairs of size 14 jeans (hey, one can hold out hope, huh?). I also own two belts, a black and a brown.

My closet contains around 15 shirts, 13 of which I don't wear cause James isn't around. But to my credit they are sit-at-the-hips type and current slogan emblazoned. My drawers contain 20 or so white shirts that I wear all day almost every day, and four pairs of "lounge pants." Oh my gosh! Does wearing a T-shirt and scuzzy pants all day cause they're comfy and I really don't care how I look make me even more OLD?!! AAHHHH!!

At least I still have my demi cut bras and thongs (who needs all that fabric between your skin and your pants? Doesn't all that bunch up and keep you hitching your giddy-yap all day?). But I do have more than two sports bras, to throw on when unexpected company arrives.....

All in all I decide to wear the normal jeans because it's church and I figure God knows what my arse looks like anyway and I don't need to show it off for His sake. And I figure, if I'm getting OLD at least it didn't attack me all at once and I still have a few more years to go. Hopefully.

P.S.
My children and I walked to church today, and of course when we got into the parking lot Lily runs ahead of us. She gets onto the sidewalk and hikes up her dress and starts pulling on her pantyhose. I'm yelling at her to put her dress down (surely that wasn't EVERYONE from our congregation outside....) and she looks at me and says, "Mom, I have to pull up my panties, they are falling down!" I sprint to her and yank her dress down and we have a modesty talk, which I'm sure she disregarded pretty quickly. Then we ran into the building and dropped the kids off and I sat in the back pew with my face behind a bulletin.

Sleepwalking

So I'm lying in my bed last, trying to fall asleep and nearly there when Lily comes running in my room. She's saying "I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna do it." She gets my bra off the dresser and proceeds to dust the computer screen with it. I decide to see how long she'll do it, after all, you're not supposed to wake a sleepwalker, right? So she continues for another two minutes or so, then she gets down and starts pacing my room saying "I'm.... I'm...." After a few laughs I gather her up and take her back to bed. I asked her about it this morning and she just looked at me like I was crazy ("Mimi you're CRAZY!!).
James talks in his sleep too, though he doesn't walk around (thank heavens!). In his sleep he's commanding troops. "Get all that stuff, Smith, and put it in the tank box. We gotta get this stuff done, people! Let's go!" Keep in mind he's pointing and waving his arms while yelling. Other times it's like he's back in Marine bootcamp. Once he was moving around the bed like he was crawling under that barb wire stuff, you know like you see in the movies? That was an interesting night. But I guess my favorite is when he wakes me up to tell me something stupid, like "You hear that? I gotta get them out of there. Remind me on Tuesday." I want to say "Roger out," but I don't cause he'll probably go into a whole speech. I just tell him "Okay dear," and leave it at that!

Oh Me Oh My

Well, the past two days have definately been interesting......
Yesterday Caleb woke up with his right ear the size of a lemon! We think he got bit by something, but who knows. I took pictures after I got done laughing so maybe I'll post them later. That night he and Lily were taking a bath, and when Taryn went to check on them she yelled "Come look at what your kids did!" Oh, I can't wait!
They had taken down some 15 towels and had them in the bathtub with them! And not those dinky Dollar General ones, I'm talking the thick $8-a-pop towels! So we had to wring all of them out and wash them, fun fun! And when I asked Lily about it, she said "Caleb did it, but I told him it was a good idea!"
I had another poop escapade today. Caleb did his thing, then took off his diaper and foot-painted all over the bedroom and play room carpet. Then after I got done cleaning him up, he ran away from me and slipped on the kitchen floor, busting his top lip. Poor kid! Out with the stain remover.
Sunday is Easter, I can't wait to see what unfolds next......
(Oh James, where art thou?)

Top Ten Reasons Why I Love My Husband

10) He buys a motorcycle for $500, sells it for $200.

9) He's happy with just two kids.

8) 50 punds overweight? Rail thin? Doesn't matter to him!

7) He risks looking like a fool and tells his commanding officer that he's changed his mind about that whole volunteering-to-go-to-Afghanistan-for-a-year thing.

6) He joins the National Guard and forgets to tell you.

5) He says "Here honey, take the checkbook."

4) He pretends to be asleep when the kids get up screaming in the middle of the night.

3) Waist deep in sh*tty sewer water or clean cut in a BDU, he still looks sexy!

2) He walks with me in Wal-Mart even if I'm wearing three day old sweatpants and a stained T-shirt, with flip flops and unbrushed hair. And holds my hand!

1) Hair. Everywhere.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly II

The Good:
You've washed the dishes, sorted the clothes, vaccuumed the house and fed the kids TWICE today! Woohoo!!

The Bad:
You're late picking up your sister from the bus stop.

The Ugly:
You go to get the kids in the car and find your son standing in a pile of his own sh*t, drawing in the fecal matter with his pacifier. On the white carpet.

What did I ever do in this life or a previous one to need this sort of revenge?!! Mom!!

Kids Say The Darnest Things

I recently went to the post office with my two kids to mail my loving husband a package. When I got back in the car, Lily said "I told Caleb you were dead."
"Why did you tell him that?" I asked.
"Cause you were taking soooo looong," was her reply.

Another time Lily got into trouble for something or another, and while I was chastising her she blurted out, "Now you're gonna eat my brains?"

Lily came up to me today and told me "Mom, I need you to wash the dishes, and fix the dinner, and clean my clothes, and give me candy, okay?" Yes, dear.

You Know You're A Mom When....

10) You notice you haven't showered in three days... and it doesn't bother you.

9) It takes you a week to clean the whole place. You live in an apartment.

8) You never get to spend time with company that comes over because you are busy doing the chores you normally are unable to do with the children around (washing clothes, doing dishes, scrubbing toilet).

7) When someone complains about their stomach problems, you say "Huh! You wanna talk about explosive bowels, lemme tell you about the time my son...."

6) You don't sing lullabies. You hum Dora the Explorer or Blue's Clues.

5) When your daughter asks if she can burn the house down, you look around and tell her you'll think about it.

4) Hold, feed and sing to a baby while going potty? Got it down pat.

3) You find 7 socks and 1 pair of underwear in your kid's hamper that have molded.

2) Sometimes your toddler goes to bed with a dirty face.

1) You find yourself sitting in a disaster of marshmallow cereal, sobbing and wishing that you had left that drunk guy on the floor alone so that maybe the monsters that call you mom would still be remnants of your ovaries.