It's been a little crazy 'round here lately, forgive my absence. Nothing really unusual, just life getting in the way of me telling you about life getting in the way.
That's right, I have no news to report, no gossip to share, no snark to unload. I'm just going to sit here and let my train of thought run your ass down like you were standing on the tracks and didn't hear the whistle.
It's finally a beautiful sunny day and I spent the morning running errands, changing shitty diapers at the grocery store (because that is the ideal place) and then fighting two small children into their car seats. Peanuty Goodness has pooped the last two times we've gone to the grocery store and since I only have two hands, the diaper bag stays in the car so I can bring in the reusable grocery bags and the kids. If I knew I wouldn't get arrested, I'd consider leaving the kids in the car and bringing the diaper bag into the store; it gives me much less trouble and doesn't pull things off the shelves. Changing a diaper sitting in the driver seat because your two year old refuses to get out of the passenger seat is challenging, at best. At worst, it's downright messy. But I prevailed. Without losing it, I might add. Points for me!
After getting home, I made The Tyrant's lunch, my lunch and then got a bug up my ass and made Peanuty Goodness spinach, peas and pears from scratch in the blender. Fresh spinach, fresh peas and a whole, cored pear blended and Viola! Lunch. I never had it so good. Ramen noodles and Swansen frozen beef and gravy in bag shit that you can thaw and put over a slice of white bread was my parents idea of a balanced diet. I was also a latch-key kid so my diet was limited to how well I could reach the stove top. I forgot! Stove Top! That stuff was great! Except the nasty Corn Bread flavor, eww.
Either way, I'm feeling all Goddess/ Earth Mother and cleaning up after providing sustenance for my offspring when I get a little enthusiastic and break one of the wine glasses that's been hanging out in the sink for almost a week because my inner Goddess/ Earth Mother doesn't want to wash dishes. She's a lazy bitch sometimes.
Now I'm down a wine glass. I take this to mean that I should drink more wine. There is no rhyme or reason on how I leapt to that conclusion but that's the one I'm sticking with because it makes me happy.
The Big and I are going on a date tonight and hopefully I can stay awake past 10 and have something more to talk about to him than the fact that I changed a diaper at the grocery store. Maybe I should ask my Goddess/ Earth Mother for topic ideas.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
I'm so glad that's over
My grandfather passed on last Thursday and I drove from Montreal down to Hilly Billy Heaven, Pennsylvania. The entire trip was a clusterfuck of epic proportions and I'm glad to be home. I learned a lot on this trip though and I'll share some of the high points with you:
1. My grandfather looks funny with his teeth in. It had nothing to do with him being gone, he looked exactly the same. But with teeth.
2. It doesn't matter if your mom works for Customs, you will get pulled over at the border anyway and your car searched for no other reason than because they can. This takes the better part of an hour.
3. *Some* cops don't care if you're going to funeral. You can get a speeding ticket anyway.
4. My sister was pulled over by a cop who let her go with a warning. I'd say there were sexual favors involved because I'm catty and bitchy and jealous like that but her kids were with her and even I won't go there.
5. The Big O stayed home with the kids and while the house was wrecked and the children and the kitchen floor were sticky, no one bled from the eyes so I consider it a success.
All in all, I'm glad that Grumpa isn't suffering. He had a long, happy life and touched so many people. I love him dearly and he'll be missed greatly.
1. My grandfather looks funny with his teeth in. It had nothing to do with him being gone, he looked exactly the same. But with teeth.
2. It doesn't matter if your mom works for Customs, you will get pulled over at the border anyway and your car searched for no other reason than because they can. This takes the better part of an hour.
3. *Some* cops don't care if you're going to funeral. You can get a speeding ticket anyway.
4. My sister was pulled over by a cop who let her go with a warning. I'd say there were sexual favors involved because I'm catty and bitchy and jealous like that but her kids were with her and even I won't go there.
5. The Big O stayed home with the kids and while the house was wrecked and the children and the kitchen floor were sticky, no one bled from the eyes so I consider it a success.
All in all, I'm glad that Grumpa isn't suffering. He had a long, happy life and touched so many people. I love him dearly and he'll be missed greatly.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Grumpa
My grandfather was my first friend. Some of my first memories are of him. He owned an upper/lower duplex in North Tonawanda, NY. My father, mother, sister and I lived downstairs and he lived upstairs with my aunt. After my parents split and we moved out, he eventually sold that house and moved back to Pennsylvania. He had a small home that he shared with his wife. They lived on a couple of acres and would plant what he called a garden and what I would call a farm lacking animals. I went down every summer for at least two weeks. He taught me how to dig out new potatoes and shell peas. I learned how to drive a stick shift on the road that ran along the railroad tracks behind his house. There was an honest-to-God swimming hole off the tracks about a mile down and I'd try to get him to let me go whenever I could. He had smelly well water and a decent collection of comic books. All in all, it was a pretty good time.
He'd write me letters updating me on the happenings in his life from time to time and as I grew from a little girl into an obnoxious adolescent, I responded less and less. This inspired him to start calling me PLK, short for Poor Little Kid Who Doesn't Have A Grandpa. He was convinced that I had learned nothing in school and had somehow manipulated my teachers into passing me even though I couldn't write since I never wrote him back. I in turn decided that his sunny personality wasn't being properly acknowledged and began calling him Grumpa. He liked this immensely.
My father taught him how to use a computer in the most basic sense and he's been emailing anyone he could for almost a decade since his hearing has failed. His lack of punctuation makes for interesting reading but it's nice to hear from him. He likes to tell me about the weather, family I've never met and his gangrenous big toe. Again, interesting reading but he always asks after the boys and spells The Big O's name correctly. And he always, always signs them Grumpa.
He'd write me letters updating me on the happenings in his life from time to time and as I grew from a little girl into an obnoxious adolescent, I responded less and less. This inspired him to start calling me PLK, short for Poor Little Kid Who Doesn't Have A Grandpa. He was convinced that I had learned nothing in school and had somehow manipulated my teachers into passing me even though I couldn't write since I never wrote him back. I in turn decided that his sunny personality wasn't being properly acknowledged and began calling him Grumpa. He liked this immensely.
My father taught him how to use a computer in the most basic sense and he's been emailing anyone he could for almost a decade since his hearing has failed. His lack of punctuation makes for interesting reading but it's nice to hear from him. He likes to tell me about the weather, family I've never met and his gangrenous big toe. Again, interesting reading but he always asks after the boys and spells The Big O's name correctly. And he always, always signs them Grumpa.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Time flies
Today is the Tyrant's 2nd birthday. My mom surprised us with a visit a couple of days ago and we're all going over to the in-law's to party, toddler style. My in-law's have family in the area and they were all invited which means that there's going to be 15+ people there. I don't think I had this many people at my last 5 birthdays put together, but whatever. The Tyrant is funny and amazing and adorable and super fly!
Happy birthday to my favorite 2 year old!
Monday, February 21, 2011
They better like each other
It took us a while to get pregnant with The Tyrant. We got married and I went off birth control. Three years, +/-18 rounds of Clomid, 2 miscarriages and one near-death experience later, we held him in our arms. As I've written before, he was an angel baby. Slept well, ate well, smiled a lot; just perfect. This was our downfall.
When we discussed how many children we wanted, we agreed that 2 would be great. Since we had so much trouble and heartache having The Tyrant, we decided that we would discuss trying again for a second child when he was one year.
I've never been a patient person. Ever.
When he was six months old, I got my cycle back and had the brilliant idea that we should try again for a second child immediately. Who new how long it would take this time, I told The Big O. We'd try for a year and I'd go back to my OB, get more fertility drugs that make me batshitcrazy and play the waiting game again. He was not convinced but I was persuasive and eloquent and knowledgeable in my logic (read: I got a Brazilian wax).
I thought for sure that it would take us forever to get pregnant again. Actually from the time we had the first conversation to when I peed on a stick was a little over two weeks. Fruit flies have longer life spans.
Now we have Peanuty and I can say with absolute confidence that if he had been our first, he might have been our last. He's still the angel baby that The Tyrant was, but in different ways. For example: Peanuty likes to snuggle where The Tyrant didn't. Unfortunately he likes to snuggle at 11PM, 1AM, 2:30-3:30AM and 6AM.
But today I watched The Tyrant play hide-and-go-seek, toddler style with his baby brother and thought about how lucky I am Giggling and chortling, they were the most beautiful babies I've ever seen. Now if only I can get this kid to sleep without selling my soul...
Thursday, February 17, 2011
He called me an artist
The Big O wants me to let more people know about my blog so we're going to have an unveiling soon. I haven't let my "real life" folks know about my blog because I wanted to see if I could write. See, I've never written before, I've just wanted to. I don't know if it's any good but he tells me that I have potential and I choose to believe him. I also wanted to see if I could write weekly and I wanted a place that I could just vent about anything that came to mind, including my "real life" folks if necessary.
There will be pictures of The Tyrant, Peanuty Goodness and of course, The Big O. Since I have artistic control, there may or may not be photos of me unless I can perfect PhotoShop to make me look like Christy Turlington on a fabulous day.
Stay tuned!
There will be pictures of The Tyrant, Peanuty Goodness and of course, The Big O. Since I have artistic control, there may or may not be photos of me unless I can perfect PhotoShop to make me look like Christy Turlington on a fabulous day.
Stay tuned!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
What do you want to know?
Someone asked me if I was going to write one of those 'about me' posts. While I really enjoy reading them on other blogs, I find that writing my own feels incredibly narcissistic.
But my fans insist:
1. I was born and raised in Buffalo, New York and left almost as soon as possible. Great city, great people....wait, no....just great people. The city kind of sucks.
2. My dog died over a year ago and if I had my way our second son would've been named after him. Stop looking up the number for Child Protective Services; before we changed it, his name was Luke, not Fido or Rover. Either way, I got vetoed.
3. I can speed read. This in no way pays any bills or enhances my life in any way. It actually costs me money as I buy books on my Kindle faster.
4. I can still do a round-off. It's not pretty but I can put my ass over my head and land without killing myself.
5. The smell and taste of coffee makes me gag.
6. My house is a complete disaster area but my Tupperware cupboard is arranged with military precision. I fear this is the sign of a disturbed mind.
7. I'm getting tired of nursing and would like my old breasts back. They were perky and perfect and I'm afraid that now they're sad and will look like someone deflated water balloons part-way.
8. If you're not sarcastic or snarky, I probably won't like you.
9. I smoked cigarettes for about 18 years and quit 6 years ago. I am now one of those obnoxious former smokers who hate the smell and will give myself whiplash sitting in my car trying to see who is smoking at the stoplight near me so I can give them the stink eye for fouling up my air.
10. I learned how to drive a stick shift sitting on my uncle's lap in his Jeep when I was 13. He pressed the gas/ clutch combo because I couldn't reach the pedals and yelled at me to shift up or down.
11. My goal in life is to not fuck up my kids any more than I was. Some days this looks like a tall order.
12. I would get my nose pierced if I was sure I wouldn't look like an asshat but the odds aren't in my favor at this stage of the game.
But my fans insist:
1. I was born and raised in Buffalo, New York and left almost as soon as possible. Great city, great people....wait, no....just great people. The city kind of sucks.
2. My dog died over a year ago and if I had my way our second son would've been named after him. Stop looking up the number for Child Protective Services; before we changed it, his name was Luke, not Fido or Rover. Either way, I got vetoed.
3. I can speed read. This in no way pays any bills or enhances my life in any way. It actually costs me money as I buy books on my Kindle faster.
4. I can still do a round-off. It's not pretty but I can put my ass over my head and land without killing myself.
5. The smell and taste of coffee makes me gag.
6. My house is a complete disaster area but my Tupperware cupboard is arranged with military precision. I fear this is the sign of a disturbed mind.
7. I'm getting tired of nursing and would like my old breasts back. They were perky and perfect and I'm afraid that now they're sad and will look like someone deflated water balloons part-way.
8. If you're not sarcastic or snarky, I probably won't like you.
9. I smoked cigarettes for about 18 years and quit 6 years ago. I am now one of those obnoxious former smokers who hate the smell and will give myself whiplash sitting in my car trying to see who is smoking at the stoplight near me so I can give them the stink eye for fouling up my air.
10. I learned how to drive a stick shift sitting on my uncle's lap in his Jeep when I was 13. He pressed the gas/ clutch combo because I couldn't reach the pedals and yelled at me to shift up or down.
11. My goal in life is to not fuck up my kids any more than I was. Some days this looks like a tall order.
12. I would get my nose pierced if I was sure I wouldn't look like an asshat but the odds aren't in my favor at this stage of the game.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
I'm a bad influence
The Tyrant really isn't a tyrant, he's a great kid with a strong sense of self. Luckily, he has his father's laid back personality with a healthy dose of humor in there to make it interesting. When he was born, The Big O and I immediately fell in love with this little bundle of squeeziness. He was an angel sent from on high and we couldn't have been happier. I nursed him exclusively until he was almost 6 months but that little darling had been sleeping through the night at 2 months. He ate almost anything you gave him with a smile on his face. Actually, he still does most everything with a smile on his face.
At the end of the month, he'll be two years old. While he is still my perfect angel, he's attempting to assert himself in ways that I don't appreciate. Like when he whips his blocks at Peanuty Goodness and beans him in the head. (Unfortunately, Peanuty Goodness has a huge head. Seriously, his head is melon-sized, it's pretty hard to miss.) Thankfully Peanuty Goodness doesn't seem to mind overly much, I think he's just pleased to be part of the action.
And I have to admit, the swearing thing was kind of funny. The first time. It's a little adorable to hear your kid mispronounce a word that'll make you slap the taste out of his mouth when he says it later on in life. But after the first time, I just cringe thinking that I'm going to have to watch my language. As it is, I apparently say "Ummm" a lot if he repeats it as often as I say it.
Today, it appears that I have to watch my attitude also. The Tyrant gets a pacifier at nap and bed time only. When he wakes up, he knows he has to leave them (yes, he gets three. I call it a gluttony of pacifiers) in the crib. He woke up happy today and when I went in to get him, he was all smiles and wanting to get out. Some days he wakes up miserable and just wants to be left in his crib for a while. We accommodate this because it's easier to leave him in there than fight a silly battle.
He stood up and threw his pacifier down. It bounced a couple of times and fell onto the floor underneath the crib. This is where the dust grizzlies live. Dust bunnies are no match for dust grizzlies. No matter how often I vacuum, those bastards seem to hibernate and come back. When he saw that his pacifier had fallen under the crib, he made a sound that can only be described as disgusted. Thoaty, gutteral and full of attitude. I laughed my fool head off.
Again, let's hope that this is the worst of what he picks up from me. Cause I'm going to be paying for that attitude later on in life when he becomes a teenager and makes me wish that instead of kids, we had just gotten another dog.
At the end of the month, he'll be two years old. While he is still my perfect angel, he's attempting to assert himself in ways that I don't appreciate. Like when he whips his blocks at Peanuty Goodness and beans him in the head. (Unfortunately, Peanuty Goodness has a huge head. Seriously, his head is melon-sized, it's pretty hard to miss.) Thankfully Peanuty Goodness doesn't seem to mind overly much, I think he's just pleased to be part of the action.
And I have to admit, the swearing thing was kind of funny. The first time. It's a little adorable to hear your kid mispronounce a word that'll make you slap the taste out of his mouth when he says it later on in life. But after the first time, I just cringe thinking that I'm going to have to watch my language. As it is, I apparently say "Ummm" a lot if he repeats it as often as I say it.
Today, it appears that I have to watch my attitude also. The Tyrant gets a pacifier at nap and bed time only. When he wakes up, he knows he has to leave them (yes, he gets three. I call it a gluttony of pacifiers) in the crib. He woke up happy today and when I went in to get him, he was all smiles and wanting to get out. Some days he wakes up miserable and just wants to be left in his crib for a while. We accommodate this because it's easier to leave him in there than fight a silly battle.
He stood up and threw his pacifier down. It bounced a couple of times and fell onto the floor underneath the crib. This is where the dust grizzlies live. Dust bunnies are no match for dust grizzlies. No matter how often I vacuum, those bastards seem to hibernate and come back. When he saw that his pacifier had fallen under the crib, he made a sound that can only be described as disgusted. Thoaty, gutteral and full of attitude. I laughed my fool head off.
Again, let's hope that this is the worst of what he picks up from me. Cause I'm going to be paying for that attitude later on in life when he becomes a teenager and makes me wish that instead of kids, we had just gotten another dog.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
First poop, now puke.
Peanuty Goodness ate a lot for dinner tonight. So much that I was amazed and probably gave him more than was good for him but he wanted it so I decided to tempt Fate and see.
It didn't go well.
He doesn't sleep well as it is but tonight he woke up after being down for an hour. When he wakes up, you know it. Hell, the neighbors know it. This child wakes up screaming and doesn't stop until he gets his way or passes out, whichever comes first. Getting his way usually comes first as A) I can't have him waking up his brother and B) he gets so upset that shit gets ugly real quick.
Like tonight, for example. We try a modified cry it out method that doesn't seem to work but we go with it hoping against hope. It's like the definition of insanity; you keep doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results. That's us. There should be a picture next to that word in the dictionary of our tired, confused faces.
Back to tonight. I let him cry for 10 minutes, then go in to soothe him. We try not to pick him up but some nights it quiets him down and he falls asleep but other nights it's a no-go. Tonight was half and half. When I picked him up, he quieted down and would fall asleep in my arms but when I went to put him down, it was on. You'd think the crib was electrified the way this kid acted. After 10 minutes we decided maybe his tummy was upset and gripe water was the way to go. The Big O went in to get him and I prepared his digestif. Don't you know he calmed right down, sat on his daddy's lap looked at me, smiled and threw up everywhere? I think he did it for spite. At least it wasn't on the rug. Small blessings, right?
It didn't go well.
He doesn't sleep well as it is but tonight he woke up after being down for an hour. When he wakes up, you know it. Hell, the neighbors know it. This child wakes up screaming and doesn't stop until he gets his way or passes out, whichever comes first. Getting his way usually comes first as A) I can't have him waking up his brother and B) he gets so upset that shit gets ugly real quick.
Like tonight, for example. We try a modified cry it out method that doesn't seem to work but we go with it hoping against hope. It's like the definition of insanity; you keep doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results. That's us. There should be a picture next to that word in the dictionary of our tired, confused faces.
Back to tonight. I let him cry for 10 minutes, then go in to soothe him. We try not to pick him up but some nights it quiets him down and he falls asleep but other nights it's a no-go. Tonight was half and half. When I picked him up, he quieted down and would fall asleep in my arms but when I went to put him down, it was on. You'd think the crib was electrified the way this kid acted. After 10 minutes we decided maybe his tummy was upset and gripe water was the way to go. The Big O went in to get him and I prepared his digestif. Don't you know he calmed right down, sat on his daddy's lap looked at me, smiled and threw up everywhere? I think he did it for spite. At least it wasn't on the rug. Small blessings, right?
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Freedom's just another word...
I'm carless. No, I typed that correctly, carless. Sans automobile. Without transportation. Back in my 20's, my car was totaled and I went without a car for a bit. Did you notice I wrote, "in my 20's"? I had a kickin' little bod, plenty of friends and the bar was two blocks away so I really didn't miss my car all that much.
Now it seems that my body has kicked the bucket, no friends to speak of in my new town and who has time to hit a bar when my almost eight month old still gets up at least twice a night. But I'm okay with all that. I do miss my car however. :)
Now it seems that my body has kicked the bucket, no friends to speak of in my new town and who has time to hit a bar when my almost eight month old still gets up at least twice a night. But I'm okay with all that. I do miss my car however. :)
Friday, February 4, 2011
Things I'm sure of today
1. My fortune cookie had SIX fortunes in it tonight. Evidently, much happiness and pleasure is coming my way. Either that or the machine that inserts them is broken.
2. The Tyrant not only knows how to find the tampons I've hidden but will bring them to me saying, "Mommy's?" I'd hate to guess that they're Daddy's.
3. A warm bath and the smell of clean clothes can induce vomiting.
4. A two year old can eat a lot more than you think he can but will only want to eat what is on your plate. Even if it's the exact same thing that's on his plate.
5. Banana bread with chocolate chips can be eaten for breakfast (the bananas make it healthy enough to pass), snack (it's a loaf so therefore snack-able) and dessert with lunch (the chocolate chips make it qualify as dessert). Since I made it from scratch and know what I put in it, I decreed that most of the calories are "good" calories so any weight gained is obviously water retention or a faulty scale or something equally bullshit.
6. The child that you thought was sleeping soundly will wake up screaming right before you walk out of the house to go somewhere.
2. The Tyrant not only knows how to find the tampons I've hidden but will bring them to me saying, "Mommy's?" I'd hate to guess that they're Daddy's.
3. A warm bath and the smell of clean clothes can induce vomiting.
4. A two year old can eat a lot more than you think he can but will only want to eat what is on your plate. Even if it's the exact same thing that's on his plate.
5. Banana bread with chocolate chips can be eaten for breakfast (the bananas make it healthy enough to pass), snack (it's a loaf so therefore snack-able) and dessert with lunch (the chocolate chips make it qualify as dessert). Since I made it from scratch and know what I put in it, I decreed that most of the calories are "good" calories so any weight gained is obviously water retention or a faulty scale or something equally bullshit.
6. The child that you thought was sleeping soundly will wake up screaming right before you walk out of the house to go somewhere.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Questions?
1. If you have pets, do you see them merely as animals, or are they members of your family?
I actually like some of my pets more than members of my family so how's that for an answer.
2. If you can have a dream come true, what would it be?
Please, please, please not the one where I'm naked at the grocery store. The dream I would pick to come true is the one where my ex turned into a decent human being. Barring that, I'd have to go with world peace.
3. What is one thing most hated by you?
Ooo, Most Hated is like prime real estate. I don't want just anyone living there so I'll have to go with bad drivers. USE YOUR SIGNAL FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!
4. What would you do with a billion dollars?
Habit For Humanity and medical research.
5. What helps to pull you out of a bad mood?
Peace and quiet. And chocolate.
6. Which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone?
Being loved.
7. What is your bedtime routine?
Um, I brush my teeth and go to bed. People have a "routine"?
8. If you are currently in a relationship, how did you meet your partner?
We met through a mutual friend who later told several other people that he must have a lot of money because he's not very attractive. I took that to mean that he was ugly and I was a gold-digger. She was NOT invited to our wedding.
9. If you could watch a creative person in the act of the creative process, who would it be?
I'm going to have to agree with Heathersamommy on this one; one of the great painters would be pretty awesome.
10. What kind of books do you read?
Thriller/ suspense and chick lit.
11. What's your fear?
Bugs and that flesh eating disease. Yuck.
12. Would you give up all junk food for the rest of your life for the opportunity to visit outer space?
Are you kidding? That is the dumbest question ever.
13. Would you rather be single and rich or married and poor?
I liked being single but being married is more fun most days, money or not. :)
14. What's the first thing you do when you wake up?
There's usually a younger man in bed with me, sometimes two or three even. This involves much maneuvering to get someone's elbow out of my gut or the small of my back. Then I go pee.
15. If you could change one thing about your spouse/partner what would it be?
I'd like him to iron his own damn shirts.
16. If you could pick a new name for yourself what would it be?
Lilah
17. Would you forgive and forget no matter how horrible a thing that special someone has done?
It depends on how horrible exactly.
18. If you could only eat one thing for the next six months, what would it be?
Chicken salad
Per Heather over at Heathersamommy, I have to tag people. Since I don't know anyone to tag, you can do this if you want to. :)
I actually like some of my pets more than members of my family so how's that for an answer.
2. If you can have a dream come true, what would it be?
Please, please, please not the one where I'm naked at the grocery store. The dream I would pick to come true is the one where my ex turned into a decent human being. Barring that, I'd have to go with world peace.
3. What is one thing most hated by you?
Ooo, Most Hated is like prime real estate. I don't want just anyone living there so I'll have to go with bad drivers. USE YOUR SIGNAL FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!
4. What would you do with a billion dollars?
Habit For Humanity and medical research.
5. What helps to pull you out of a bad mood?
Peace and quiet. And chocolate.
6. Which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone?
Being loved.
7. What is your bedtime routine?
Um, I brush my teeth and go to bed. People have a "routine"?
8. If you are currently in a relationship, how did you meet your partner?
We met through a mutual friend who later told several other people that he must have a lot of money because he's not very attractive. I took that to mean that he was ugly and I was a gold-digger. She was NOT invited to our wedding.
9. If you could watch a creative person in the act of the creative process, who would it be?
I'm going to have to agree with Heathersamommy on this one; one of the great painters would be pretty awesome.
10. What kind of books do you read?
Thriller/ suspense and chick lit.
11. What's your fear?
Bugs and that flesh eating disease. Yuck.
12. Would you give up all junk food for the rest of your life for the opportunity to visit outer space?
Are you kidding? That is the dumbest question ever.
13. Would you rather be single and rich or married and poor?
I liked being single but being married is more fun most days, money or not. :)
14. What's the first thing you do when you wake up?
There's usually a younger man in bed with me, sometimes two or three even. This involves much maneuvering to get someone's elbow out of my gut or the small of my back. Then I go pee.
15. If you could change one thing about your spouse/partner what would it be?
I'd like him to iron his own damn shirts.
16. If you could pick a new name for yourself what would it be?
Lilah
17. Would you forgive and forget no matter how horrible a thing that special someone has done?
It depends on how horrible exactly.
18. If you could only eat one thing for the next six months, what would it be?
Chicken salad
Per Heather over at Heathersamommy, I have to tag people. Since I don't know anyone to tag, you can do this if you want to. :)
Monday, January 31, 2011
Mother Of The Week Award
Last night we tried a modified cry-it-out scenario that went badly. We let Peanuty Goodness cry for no more than 10 minutes at a streetch and one of us would go in his room to soothe him. If I went in to soothe him he would cry a little harder and get upset that I wasn't picking him up. If The Big O went in, his cries went into octaves that dogs can't hear and he pitched a bigger fit than ever. (I guess the mommy wins that popularity contest.)
It was my turn to go in and I thought I'd rub his tummy and face, tell him I love him and leave again. But, nooooooo. From the second I walked in his room, something was different. Maybe it was the smell.
When I touched him, my first thought was that I put my hand in egg whites but that couldn't be right. No, it wasn't spit up either. Spit up is small, mostly in a contained area and mildly annoying. This was throw up. It went from his head to his knees, front and back. It was out his nose and up the back of his head in his hair. It covered a foot radius around his little body.
I'll collect my award later after his first therapy session for abandonment issues, thankyouverymuch.
It was my turn to go in and I thought I'd rub his tummy and face, tell him I love him and leave again. But, nooooooo. From the second I walked in his room, something was different. Maybe it was the smell.
When I touched him, my first thought was that I put my hand in egg whites but that couldn't be right. No, it wasn't spit up either. Spit up is small, mostly in a contained area and mildly annoying. This was throw up. It went from his head to his knees, front and back. It was out his nose and up the back of his head in his hair. It covered a foot radius around his little body.
I'll collect my award later after his first therapy session for abandonment issues, thankyouverymuch.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
A cautionary tale
I recently posted this on a parenting board I belong to and think it's reflective of my cake needs at any given time. Yes, I have cake needs. Doesn't everyone?
If you're craving cake and decide to make one, make sure you have all the ingredients you need first. If you know you're out of milk, DO NOT use the recipe that has no milk in it. Wait until you can get milk as this recipe sucks balls. Your cake will have the texture (but none of the fun) of a brownie.
What? You'd like frosting? Buttercream? No problem. Wait, no milk. Ah-ha! You have soy milk! Same thing, right? NO, NOT EVEN CLOSE. Put it down and back away. This will give your frosting a weird sort of lemon-y flavor that while not unpleasant (it is buttercream after all) is just odd.
And even if your husband tells you he's an architect, DO NOT let him frost the cake. Your kitchen table will look like a Jackson Pollack canvas when he's done.
All in all, your brownie textured cake with soy milk buttercream frosting sucks and your cake craving is so now out of control that you're contemplating walking 6 blocks to the supermarket in a foot of snow, uphill the way back and your kitchen needs clean-up from the HAZMAT team.
Not that I did this. I'm just sayin'.Friday, January 28, 2011
Is there an echo in here?
The Tyrant will be two years old next month and is tons o' fun lately. He interacts with us more, has opinions and loves to turn the light switches on and off. It resembles a disco up in this mother sometimes but that's okay, that's how we roll. Or used to roll. Or could roll if we didn't have children and serious sleep deprivation.
Unfortunately, with the increased interaction comes increased verbal diarrhea. This child will repeat anything. ANYTHING. Including me exclaiming how cold it is in the kitchen one morning, "FUCK ME!" There was no getting around it either, The Big O was right behind him so I couldn't even pretend like it didn't happen. Let me tell you about the stink eye I got for that one. Alex Trebeck might not have given it to him due to pronunciation but it came across well enough. The Tyrant especially likes to see my reaction so when I do slip up and say something that little pitchers with big ears (what does that mean anyway? Little pitchers, big ears...never understood that one) shouldn't hear, I try not to give a reaction should it be repeated and giggled over.
Like today for example. I was unthrilled and let it be known with a long, drawn-out, "Shhhhhhhhhhhhh-IT". Don't you know, second for second, letter for letter, it was repeated with the exact amount of feeling. If I wasn't so sure that someone was going to take my kid away, I'd be proud.
My mother likes to say that I swear in body parts. I prefer the classics and use them with frequency and feeling. My personal favorite is an action word but could be construed as a noun, I suppose and in polite company is defined as one who performs fellatio. That's if you you hang out with people who say "fellatio" to each other. And if that's the case, who the hell are you hanging out with?!
I'm waiting for that bomb to drop and will forever be banned from speaking to, in front of, around, near or in the general vicinity of my kid if The Big O ever hears that. So for now I'll have to stick with fuck.
Unfortunately, with the increased interaction comes increased verbal diarrhea. This child will repeat anything. ANYTHING. Including me exclaiming how cold it is in the kitchen one morning, "FUCK ME!" There was no getting around it either, The Big O was right behind him so I couldn't even pretend like it didn't happen. Let me tell you about the stink eye I got for that one. Alex Trebeck might not have given it to him due to pronunciation but it came across well enough. The Tyrant especially likes to see my reaction so when I do slip up and say something that little pitchers with big ears (what does that mean anyway? Little pitchers, big ears...never understood that one) shouldn't hear, I try not to give a reaction should it be repeated and giggled over.
Like today for example. I was unthrilled and let it be known with a long, drawn-out, "Shhhhhhhhhhhhh-IT". Don't you know, second for second, letter for letter, it was repeated with the exact amount of feeling. If I wasn't so sure that someone was going to take my kid away, I'd be proud.
My mother likes to say that I swear in body parts. I prefer the classics and use them with frequency and feeling. My personal favorite is an action word but could be construed as a noun, I suppose and in polite company is defined as one who performs fellatio. That's if you you hang out with people who say "fellatio" to each other. And if that's the case, who the hell are you hanging out with?!
I'm waiting for that bomb to drop and will forever be banned from speaking to, in front of, around, near or in the general vicinity of my kid if The Big O ever hears that. So for now I'll have to stick with fuck.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
No one prepared me for this
This is a warning: This post is about poop. If this disturbs you, you probably shouldn't be reading my blog anyway.
The Tyrant pooped in the tub tonight. For the first time. Ever. No, really. I was getting Peanuty Goodness to sleep when The Big O tells me that there is a particularly stinky mess floating (floating!? Who knew it floated?) in the bath. My first thought was, "Thank God I threw out those squirty bath tub toys." I shudder just thinking about that possibility.
So I did what any normal person would do. I sent a text to my BFF, who may or may not have had this problem before, asking what should I do. I didn't want to reach in the water and pull out the stopper. What if it went down the drain? Or worse, what if it didn't? Honestly though, I really didn't want to stick my hand in that water. I love my children, I really do but there are limits. The water just plain grossed me out. And I had a home water birth with Peanuty Goodness. The irony, right?
Anyhoo, I stood there analyzing the situation hoping the answer would come to me while I tried to figure out what I had fed him from the remnants. I had a very "look but don't touch" attitude. By the way, blueberries and edamame will retain their shape amazingly well if your child is like mine and swallows them whole like a baby dinosaur.
In the end (get it? in the end....funny shit. Oh, there I go again!), I went with the path of least resistance. That's right, I turned the shower head on pulse/ massage and beat the hell out of that shit right down the drain. Unfortunately, I had to throw out my shower puff. Who knew it splattered as well as floated?
Also, I'd like to give a big HELL YEAH! to the makers of Clorox Clean Up Wipes. Not the most environmentally friendly, but fantastic nonetheless.
The Tyrant pooped in the tub tonight. For the first time. Ever. No, really. I was getting Peanuty Goodness to sleep when The Big O tells me that there is a particularly stinky mess floating (floating!? Who knew it floated?) in the bath. My first thought was, "Thank God I threw out those squirty bath tub toys." I shudder just thinking about that possibility.
So I did what any normal person would do. I sent a text to my BFF, who may or may not have had this problem before, asking what should I do. I didn't want to reach in the water and pull out the stopper. What if it went down the drain? Or worse, what if it didn't? Honestly though, I really didn't want to stick my hand in that water. I love my children, I really do but there are limits. The water just plain grossed me out. And I had a home water birth with Peanuty Goodness. The irony, right?
Anyhoo, I stood there analyzing the situation hoping the answer would come to me while I tried to figure out what I had fed him from the remnants. I had a very "look but don't touch" attitude. By the way, blueberries and edamame will retain their shape amazingly well if your child is like mine and swallows them whole like a baby dinosaur.
In the end (get it? in the end....funny shit. Oh, there I go again!), I went with the path of least resistance. That's right, I turned the shower head on pulse/ massage and beat the hell out of that shit right down the drain. Unfortunately, I had to throw out my shower puff. Who knew it splattered as well as floated?
Also, I'd like to give a big HELL YEAH! to the makers of Clorox Clean Up Wipes. Not the most environmentally friendly, but fantastic nonetheless.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
It runs in the family
My dad is a typical dad, I guess. He fought in Vietnam, is a little stand off-ish and likes to tell me his opinion on everything in my life, in rather large words. He's got a hell of a vocabulary. He's put on a bit of weight "on the back nine", as I like to call his senior years but it doesn't seem to bother him overly much. Retired from a car factory, he now runs his very own sawmill in the itsy-bitsy-teeny-tiny wide spot in the road he calls home; middle (of nowhere) Tennessee.
He likes to tell me about the weather at his house in Tennessee, the weather at my old house in Florida and the weather at my grandfather's house in Pennsylvania. Last week he told me that he would be a naturist except his friends Roy and Crystal lives too close and might see him. Sorry Internet, I can't be the only one with that image in my head. His computer is his closest friend besides his wife and he has rebuilt a new one every few years.
I think I look exactly like my dad. My mom thinks I look like my dad too, but she loves me anyway and has gotten over it. Dad thinks The Tyrant looks like me too, which is funny to everyone else. I got one of those 4D scans when I was about 6 months pregnant with The Tyrant and you can clearly tell that I was the carrier for the clone. This child was then and is now, without a doubt, a smaller version of my husband. Eyes, mouth, cheeks, chin and especially (Thank God!) the nose. At almost 2 years old, he has straight blond hair like The Big O did at that age, although a little darker, but still; it's not the curly brown that I have. My genes saw his and caved in defeat. His temperament is that same too. Low key, laid back and almost calm for a two year old. See? Totally not my kid! My only hope is that the math aptitude comes from his father too.
He likes to tell me about the weather at his house in Tennessee, the weather at my old house in Florida and the weather at my grandfather's house in Pennsylvania. Last week he told me that he would be a naturist except his friends Roy and Crystal lives too close and might see him. Sorry Internet, I can't be the only one with that image in my head. His computer is his closest friend besides his wife and he has rebuilt a new one every few years.
I think I look exactly like my dad. My mom thinks I look like my dad too, but she loves me anyway and has gotten over it. Dad thinks The Tyrant looks like me too, which is funny to everyone else. I got one of those 4D scans when I was about 6 months pregnant with The Tyrant and you can clearly tell that I was the carrier for the clone. This child was then and is now, without a doubt, a smaller version of my husband. Eyes, mouth, cheeks, chin and especially (Thank God!) the nose. At almost 2 years old, he has straight blond hair like The Big O did at that age, although a little darker, but still; it's not the curly brown that I have. My genes saw his and caved in defeat. His temperament is that same too. Low key, laid back and almost calm for a two year old. See? Totally not my kid! My only hope is that the math aptitude comes from his father too.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Life gets in the way
When I first decided to start a blog, I had so much I wanted to write about. I had an idea for a funny post, an idea for a witty post, an idea for a thought-provoking and poignant post. I had ideas coming out my ass and I was going to be the Barbara Walters/ Connie Chung/ Oprah Winfrey of the internet blogospere; benevolent and contemplative yet racially diverse too. (Stop laughing, it could happen.) Now I find myself wanting to write but the small people are very demanding of my time. It's all, "Pay attention to me, I'm hungry, change my diaper." Or it would be if they could string together words.
Don't they see that I have a following I must attend to? That the internet needs me to surf it or it'll fade away into the nothingness that Al Gore created it from? That my friends and family would worry themselves into a tizzy if I didn't Tweet my every last narcissistic thought? (I actually don't have a Twitter account, but you get the idea.)
Truth be told, laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking, nursing, stacking blocks, reading books and marveling at the incredibly good fortune to have such an amazing family take up most of my day. And if I have a few minutes to shower, that's good too.
Don't they see that I have a following I must attend to? That the internet needs me to surf it or it'll fade away into the nothingness that Al Gore created it from? That my friends and family would worry themselves into a tizzy if I didn't Tweet my every last narcissistic thought? (I actually don't have a Twitter account, but you get the idea.)
Truth be told, laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking, nursing, stacking blocks, reading books and marveling at the incredibly good fortune to have such an amazing family take up most of my day. And if I have a few minutes to shower, that's good too.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
And the hysteria ensues...
For my first post, I'd like to introduce you to my family. I'm married with two boys, The Tyrant and Peanuty Goodness. They are by far the coolest people I know and they have the sunniest personalities. My husband, The Big O, is also immensely cool, however sometimes not so sunny. He gets extra points for making me laugh though.
My mother lives in Florida and carries a hand gun. My father lives in Tennessee and carries several hand guns. My sister lives in New York and should not be allowed near anyone who might be thinking about hand guns.
In a nut shell, they're insane but they're mine and I love them. Most of the time. In a snarky, am-I-really-related-to-you kind of way.
My mother lives in Florida and carries a hand gun. My father lives in Tennessee and carries several hand guns. My sister lives in New York and should not be allowed near anyone who might be thinking about hand guns.
In a nut shell, they're insane but they're mine and I love them. Most of the time. In a snarky, am-I-really-related-to-you kind of way.
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