Bliss and Chaos

If there is a hell....

2011-09-25T14:47:00.000-07:00

If there is a hell, I am thoroughly convinced it is Chuck E. Cheese's. Have you ever been there? It's like Vegas for kids under the age of 12. All flashy lights, no daylight anywhere, little tokens to put in games that spit out tickets that you win so you can redeem all 9000 of them for a pink eraser. Vegas, man.

I waded through the massive crowds of people to find the birthday party for Brady's little buddy and I was in total awe. Whoever dreamed up CEC was a genius. And, if you don't already know, my definition of a genius is someone with a lot of smarts and no common sense. I mean really, you invite people to bring their children into a dark and germ invested child version of an Indian Casino filled with slot machines and you have a two drink maximum?

My theory is they should give you a Xanax for every 25 tokens you buy your kids. Although I suppose maybe CEC is the reason that flask technology has really improved over the years. A flask is about the only thing you need to take with you, other than a credit card, to survive. Oh, that and a shit load of hand sanitizer.

I have been VERY few places in my life where I felt that I needed a shower immediately upon exiting, this would top that list. Oh. My. Goodness.

Towards the end of the adventure Chuck E. Cheese made a personal, and highly disturbing appearance. The first sight I caught of the mascot mouse I thought to myself, "there's a nightmare waiting to happen" and sure as shit, there were several kids screaming and crying out for their mothers, myself included.

Can you pick a more creepy character? It has a giant plastic head with a perma-grin and these two giant beaver-teeth looking set of chompers right under its pink, shiny nose. I had an anxiety attack just thinking of what those two little teeth could do if he caught my arm. Incidentally I left a voicemail for my therapist on the way home.

But the part that beats it all is when you feed your tickets into this little machine and it counts them for you. It made the most skin-crawling "num num" noise every time you fed them in. I kept looking around for It. I shudder at the thought.

I can honestly say, that if there is a hell and I'm pretty sure I'm headed there, it's gotta be Chuck E. Cheese.

Notes from the teacher

2011-09-23T22:38:00.000-07:00

So it's three weeks into school, we've only just completed the second full week and honestly the first one doesn't count for Brady because they went half a day the first day, then a full day and had a weekend. Why bother? Just sayin'.

I knew my little red headed devil was perhaps going to be a bit more of a challenge, behaviorally speaking, in school. I did not, however, bargain for four separate incidents in two weeks' time. Really kid?

Not to mention the fact that the kid is a magnet for dirt and chocolate milk stains. Who, in their right mind, decided that a white freaking polo shirt was an appropriate uniform selection for boys under the age of 10?

Honestly, it's like asking a pathological liar to just tell the truth once in awhile: newsflash, it's not gonna happen. Much like my five year old keeping his white shirt white. I hope to hell I don't get a note sent home saying his white shirt has turned gray and I need to get him more shirts. I'll freaking lose it.

Speaking of notes being sent home, just thought I'd bring this crazy train back around to the original thought pattern that started this mess. Here's what I've had sent home:

Mrs. Little: Today Brady refused to sit quietly during story time and keep his hands to himself during story time, after REPEATED warnings. (I am totally not shitting you on the all caps)

Mrs. Little: Today Brady was pushing and shoving kids during clean up time.

And this, the CLASSIC, the ULTIMATE, the BIG MAC OF ALL NOTES SENT HOME:

Mrs. Little: Today Brady and student XYZ (name changed to protect the guilty) kept hitting each other in the privates.

On the plus side, at least he's getting it out of his system now before it really hurts, and thank GOD it was another boy, but then on the other hand what the hell was he thinking? The privates? Is he training for Bullying 101? Is there an entrance exam for that program? Sheesh, next thing you know he'll be practicing wedgies and learning how to steal lunch money.

Holy cow batman, I had no idea he would be such a devil. The kindy teacher has been teaching for 25 years and I'm willing to bet the last few have been spent looking for a reason to retire. And now, she has it. My kid. Never been more proud......

It's that time of the year again....

2011-09-03T09:02:00.000-07:00

Yes folks, it's time for college football. The one time of the year that Mark looks forward to more than his birthday, more than Christmas, more than a day off from work. I sense that his excitement level is the same as an 18 year old on prom night whose date is a "sure thing".

It's a throwback to the good old days of anticipation, wondering, waiting, hoping, and pouncing on his Christmas presents with sheer, unadulterated joy. Instead of asking his parents "how many days until Christmas" I hear "guess how many days until college football?" on a near daily basis. Then, at the 24 hour mark, it's "guess how many hours until kick off!?"

I must confess, my enthusiasm for college football season is similar to that of going to the dentist: I dread it just a little bit, but I know in the end it's good for me, and with any luck it passes by quickly and relatively painlessly. I wish I shared his enthusiasm, I really do. College football means the TV doesn't get a day off for nearly 5 months straight, the poor thing.

It isn't that I hate watching football either, I enjoy it, but would much rather do it in person. Get it over with in an afternoon rather than an entire weekend, beginning sometimes on Thursday night! Mostly I feel bad for Mark because I simply cannot bring myself to look forward to watching football. At. All.

I would imagine that the way I feel about college football is strikingly similar to the level of anticipation he feels when he hears the words "Hey, let's take the kids shopping, they need some new clothes" or "Is it OK if I host a Pampered Chef Party at our house?"

It's one of those things we'll probably never share an affinity for. It's a sport I never played, barely understood, and one that I don't think I can ever truly love the same way Mark can. I am sure he'd give anything for a wife that puts on his favorite team's jersey, brings him cold beers all day and provides and endless supply of potato chips and chili dip.

And, as I'm typing this, he's in the other room watching ESPN college football preview. The ONLY thing that makes pregame worth watching is my fantasy boyfriend Herbie. Thank you ESPN for hiring some eye candy in the form of Kirk Herbstreit so those of us college football widows have SOMETHING to look forward to.

One for the books

2011-09-02T08:11:00.000-07:00

We have some basic rules in our house. Things like if Mom or Dad says no, the answer is no. The kids aren't allowed to ride their bikes past a certain point around the corner because we can't see them. Don't take food without asking a parent. Keep food in the kitchen not on the brand new carpet, and don't give food to your friends without asking me first and them asking their parents first. This rule is the most important because not only should parents always sign off on what their kids eat, we have a sweet little neighbor girl with a peanut allergy and you have to be careful and read labels. And, um, Brady can't read labels. YET.

However, I think Brady had an AWESOME day yesterday because he literally ignored all those rules and did whatever the hell he wanted to. It started out when I found him trying to sneak back in the house with a bag of mini-marshmallows that he "shared" with a buddy in the backyard. I kid you not, when he saw me, he said "Uh oh..." so yeah he knew he was totally busted.

Next I watched him ride around the corner and silly me I assumed he was stopped as far as he was allowed to go. When he didn't come back right away I went looking for him and I didn't see him. Panic set in.....I started yelling for him and prepared to go find him in the car, which sadly I've had to do before......

He finally pulled in the driveway, and luckily for him, his buddy sold him out and told me how far they rode their bikes.....I do hope it was worth it.

Then, throughout the day he asked probably a half dozen times if the same friend could go in the house. At least a half dozen times I told him no, because we needed to keep the house clean for a visit by the Grandparents and for Pete's sake it's really nice outside you should be playing OUTSIDE!!!

And yet, after the final ask and final NO, I saw them go around to the back yard. PHEW. Well, the back door was unlocked, why wouldn't it be anyway, and by the time I figured out that they had gone inside not only had they totally destroyed the bonus room upstairs, but they were standing on the carpeted steps eating go-gurts!!!!!

Oh but the fun doesn't end there folks! Let me just tally this up for you, just to be sure you're caught up:
1. Ignored mom and let a friend in the house
2. Gave friend mini-marshmallows which he didn't ask me about and KNOWS I would have said no! (and I'm pretty sure that friend didn't ask his mom first either!!!!)
3. Rode his bike way too far, past the point he is allowed
4. Ate food all over the new carpet

And THEN.........my daughter went into the fridge looking for a vanilla yogurt snack and Brady casually says, "we're all out of vanilla" which I said is impossible because I bought four containers just the day before. Then, his eyes double in size, he slapped his little thieving hand over his mouth and whispered in the most deathly afraid voice "The yogurt!" What about the yogurt says I? The little monkey just ran outside and brought in FIVE containers of yogurt, two empty, one half eaten and two that were never opened. Five yogurts for two little boys?

Yeah, so why were there five containers of yogurt outside? Thoughtful little fella shared yogurt, go-gurt and mini-marshmallows with the same kid. I must apologize to his mother, I'm pretty sure the poor kid didn't eat any dinner what with all the food my son so generously gave him!

Words cannot begin to describe how mad I was last night. And, I still am. But since we have a LOT of cleaning to do today, I'll just put the little fella to work. Hope he can run a vacuum. And use a mop. And scrub a toilet......

Is it right to say to a 6 year old "Are you freaking kidding me?"

2011-08-28T08:22:00.000-07:00

I remember when I was little, I was not allowed to call on the phone, or physically go visit a friend until after 10am. 10am has always been my mental guideline for releasing the children into the wild. Maybe 10am was our barometer simply because that was about the time that my mom finished her coffee, the newspaper and a shower and was thus ready for whatever it was we would dish out.

This morning, however, as I was pouring my first cup of coffee, that sweet, blessed nectar of the Gods, I heard that little door knocker thingy on our front door. Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap. TAP! Seriously, give a woman more than 10 seconds to get to the door for Pete's sake.

Mind you, I've been up since 6 when my five year old crawled into bed with his icy-cold toes attached to my thigh because he was "cold" in his own bed, and I managed to amble out of bed at 7, but my hair looks like a bristle brush and I haven't brushed my teeth. The LAST thing I'm interested in, is answering the door. Thank GOD I was wearing a sweater to cover my boobs, I"m still in my PJs!!!!!!!!

I cracked the door open, and this sweet little 6 year old neighbor boy face says "Can Kaylee and Brady play?" DAMN, before I could say no and shut the door my kids came running over to see who it was. ALLEGEDLY we're going to church today, but if Mr. Sleeps-a-lot doesn't get up we won't make it in time. So I told the kids no and sent them back to watch Thomas the Tank Engine. They didn't complain TOO much, but I bet if they saw the scooter race in progess on our street they would be singing a different tune.

But honestly, 8am? If his mother knew he came down here I KNOW she would be absolutely mortified! Just like I would be. And am, because I'm pretty sure that sweet little neighbor heard me say, as I bolted the door, "Are you freaking kidding me?"

WHY?!

2011-06-22T14:20:00.000-07:00

If you are my facebook friend you know I've been bitching about getting sick. Honestly this is the worst I've been sick in a long time, and I'm just chalking it up to getting old. I'm staring down the last lap and a half of my 30's and have noticed some stuff that's changed.

For one thing, I don't remember being THIS miserable before. When I say miserable, I mean the sinus tingling, sore throat causing, headache inducing plague that has turned my head into a booger manufacturing facility.

I would like to note here that I'm not sure HOW I can generate so many boogers or where all this crap comes from, but when people suggest that God made us perfect, he did NOT, I repeat DID NOT think of having us burn fat to create mucus. Just sayin'. That would make this experience a bit more palatable.

I also noticed that in the past, in my sleep, when not able to breathe through my nose, the worst side effect might be a bit of a split lip from dryness of the old mouth, but now I'm getting these awesome, albeit adorable little pimples that retrace the steps of the drool that runs out when I'm in REM. Super cool.

And if that isn't enough, the pimples are enhanced by the redness that surrounds my outer nostrils from the constant nose-blowing and at a certain point even the soft-lotion infused tissues are NOT going to cut it. SO really, I'm just a vision of loveliness, how Mark can keep his hands to himself is a mystery I'll never understand.

But lastly, but not leastly, the most obvious sign that I am aging is that now when I'm sick there's this trifecta of awesomeness: when I sneeze I also cough and AT THE SAME TIME, yes you guessed it, I pee a little. What the hell happened to bladder control? Kegel exercises my ass, and for the record I had two c-sections, never once did I have to force something the size of a bedroll through something the size of a Gopher hole opening. WHY?!

Should I put a bird on it and call it art?

2011-06-16T08:32:00.000-07:00

Today is the last day of school for the kiddos, and while cause for celebration, it also gives me the chills. After the amount of wine I consumed last summer staying home with the kids. Alone. Daily. I am hopeful that this summer will be better. I get to work part time so the children will still have the opportunity to miss each other part of the week, which ensures about 20 minutes of solid wrestling-match free playtime a day.

But as usual I'm a bit off-topic. What I really want to discuss is the danger of leaving your iPhone, iPad, and/or iTouch in reach of any child in your household (that includes the husband who may thing his porn surfing will remain untraceable which I can assure you, it does NOT).

I try to take photos of the kids on their first and last day of school each year so I can see how much they have grown which in turn drives me to drink and drown my sorrows in my favorite coping mechanism: red wine. Granted, driving me to drink is a fairly short trip, but still, having your children grow up only means one thing: you better grow up too!

Before you know it they'll be hormonal beasts, all heads spinning and split pea soup barfing, angry, loving, funny, angry, happy, sad, and angry again, all of this in about a minutes' time. Begging for their freedom, yet at every given opportunity breaking the rules so they aren't even allowed to pee without permission. As you can imagine by reading this, when I realized I would someday have two teenagers in my house at once, the thought of three of them tipped the scales in favor of the old "procedure" for Mark (see previous post on the subject for more entertainment).

Wow, am I off-topic for the day. Sheesh! So anyhoozer, the reason I am bringing this all up is that AFTER I downloaded the last day of school photos from my iTouch (in my drunken stupor Friday night I left my good camera at a friend's house after saying "my talent is making a bottle of wine disappear" which I did. All. By. Myself.) I discovered an entire suite of self-portraits taken by my daughter, Monday when she was home with a fever.

And while most of them are self-portraits (now I know why she was so freaking quiet that morning) there are some other artful selections of her stuffed toys, blanket, booger-infested tissues and a go-gurt wrapper. Really Kaylee? You left photographic evidence of you pigginess for all the world to see! No denying it now sister!

In a way her stuff is pretty edgy. I wonder if I change it all to sepia tone and put a bird here and there, if I could enter them in a contest and call it art?

To view the work of our budding photographer, please clink the link below:

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2142055953015.130871.1294683160&l=6194646924

This morning...

2011-06-14T19:30:00.001-07:00

This morning I asked my husband to remind me why we had children. Really, I did. Because I did not sign up for a 6am wake-up call from a very cranky 5 year old whose sole mission in the morning is to worm his way into going downstairs to play Angry Birds Rio Edition without permission on my work-issued iTouch.

No, I did request a dramatic interpretation of (insert any coming of age sit-com here) by my 7 year old daughter for any morning task she’s been assigned, including but not limited to properly brushing her teeth.

I never, ever, ever recall volunteering to referee a WWE match between my children, while still in their pajamas, fighting over something they were never allowed to be doing in the first place.

The “So You Think You Want to Parent?” brochure NEVER mentioned a thing about a child’s god-given talent to eat the same breakfast for a week straight and suddenly without warning declare that they feel like gagging at the very sight and smell of maple brown sugar oatmeal.

These little hoodlums did not, I repeat emphatically, DID NOT come with any warning labels telling me that the simple act of getting oneself dressed in under 20 minutes in an outfit comprised of simply fresh undies, socks, shorts and a shirt is a mission impossible.

I was unaware that even shoes with Velcro can pose a serious challenge at any given moment, in particular when the child in question has decided that dragging their feet is a better option than getting their damn shoes on. Their ability to tune out even the most persistent parent is nothing short of a gift from God. Sometimes I wish I still had the same ability, but apparently the moment a zygote formed itself in my body I lost every coping mechanism I need to survive the insanity that is THE MORNING RITUAL.

And I don’t want to hear that we should be doing the same routine day after day because then, and only then, do children learn what they need to be doing and when. Because we DO. Have. A. Freaking. Routine. But all children have the uncanny ability to come completely uncorked at the most critical juncture. They are like that copy machine in the office that senses your stress and need for immediate copies and then breaks down at that very moment.

And yet, even as I asked my husband the question “Why did we ever have children?” I knew the answer: we wanted them. Really we did, and though I often ask myself “what were we thinking” I can honestly say that I do love my fussy 5 year old at 6 am who, when asked if he needed a hug, simply put his arms up to me. That’s was all he needed, and all I needed too. A nice, long hug with little baby pat-pats from him on my back. Kissing his sweet little fuzzy head and taking him downstairs with me so he could push the on button on the coffee machine for me while I checked my facebook status.

Why I won't go to my 20 year high school reunion

2011-06-05T20:27:00.000-07:00

WARNING: Read at your own risk. This post is not intended to be funny, nor is it meant to piss anyone off. If you laugh, or get mad, you're probably one of the reasons I'm not going.

I've been debating, for months, whether or not to attend my 20 year high school reunion. Surprisingly, it was a tough decision, but once I made it I thought "why the hell was that so hard?" and the following diatribe will enlighten you as to why.

If we went to high school together, and especially if you are going to the reunion, please don't be offended, and don't think I'm looking for sympathy. I'm not. I just need to be honest, for myself, for my two children, who will be in high school someday, and for all the high schoolers I work with and see on a daily basis.

I went to school with the same group of kids from Kindergarten until graduation. It's not like I had a hard life. I had a pretty charmed life, actually. I had two parents who loved me, an older brother who was mean to me, a dog and a cat, a swimming pool around the corner and we never went without food, shelter, or clothing. Thank God, because if I would have had to put up with all the shit I went through in school, on top of no clothes or a house, well I don't think I'd be where I am today.

It really hit home for me when I started to see all the yearbook photos posted on facebook, and then I dusted mine off and looked through them for the hell of it. I thought back on school, all 13 painfully excrutiating and embarassing years and honestly, my best memories aren't reflected in those yearbooks. Those belong to someone else. Those belong to the kids who belonged. Who had the parties, went to the dances, ruled the school, that kind of thing. Not me. My best memories are outside those four walls of school, with the few friends I have kept, and with my family.

High school was painful, as was junior high, and to an extent so was elementary school. What I remember most from elementary school was being tormented for being tall and gangly. Being called Rover and barked at on a daily basis. Yes, I've been to therapy (not for this) and NO I don't need to go back. I'm glad those things happened to me because they shaped the woman I am.

Junior high wasn't much better. I discovered a talent for playing music in the band, and yeah, I liked it. LOTS. It sure as hell beat anything else I could have done. I was never good at sports, even if I tried. I wasn't EVER going to be a cheerleader even though I desperately wanted to fit in that crowd. Nope, I was a band geek through and through and some folks never let me forget it. But you know what? If I had to do it again, I wouldn't do a damn thing differently.

What I remember most from junior high are all the dances I went to and none of the boys asked me to dance, I remember trying out for cheearleader (what the hell was I thinking? all legs and elbows and absolutely NO SKILLS) and never making the squad, and I remember Craig Woods (yeah some of you are going to be named!) telling me one day by my locker that I was a pirate's dream. I didn't understand (I was SO NAIVE) and he said "duh, you have a sunken chest."

Well excuse me for being a LATE LATE LATE LATE LATE LATE bloomer (I didn't really get boobs until I was about 25!). Am I mad at Craig Woods? Hell no, I bet I couldn't pick the guy out of a line up today, but back then he was a cool kid, and I was just the opposite. And you know what? Maybe he was being a little asshole because he was only tall enough to see my boobs (or where they should have been) and he wished he'd been taller and had more choices in chicks. Who the hell knows. And I don't give a shit anyway. I just remember that it hurt.

I remember the last day of ninth grade and thanking God that junior high was over. And on that last day I went to a party after school at someone's house, I honestly think her mom made her invite everyone, but I only remember feeling awkward and out of place because I didn't fit in with the "in" crowd. I left early, walked home, and prayed to God that high school would be better. It wasn't.

The highlight of my high school career was meeting Becky Hipp Hodgen, who to this day is still my friend. And honestly, it's only because she has never given up on me. We have been through lots together, but the funny thing is, we didn't even have the same classes at school. My BEST memories of high school are hanging with Becky and not one of them is at CV. We usually hung out on the weekends and had a hell of a time. We were always thankful to survive the week and compare notes about the misery we endured. She was painfully shy, which folks mistook for being "stuck up" and I was, well, just me. And guess what? Becky is the best woman I know, and lots of people missed out on what a rock star she is.

As for me, once again I was a just a band geek who paid her dues and rose to the most supreme level of band geekdom as a junior by becoming one of three drum majors for our marching band. That was a HUGE accomplishment for me, and an experience I'll never forget. It really was awesome. I went to Canada at least three times traveling with the band, all over Washington and Idaho and it was the only place I ever felt like I succeeded. And where I sort of fit in.

And while being in the band was a blast, it surely wrecked any dreams I had of being "popular" and invited to parties, having a boyfriend and going to school dances. And you know what? I wouldn't do a damn thing differently. Not one. Damn. Thing. Even though at the time I felt like I was missing out.

Then I made a bad decision as a junior to try out to be our school mascot. After one more failed attempt at being a sophomore cheerleader I had given up on the dream. I was totally OK with the band and my small circle of friends. And yet, something possessed me to become a giant fuzzy bear that acted like an idiot in front of hundreds of people for an entire school year. I was pretty happy about my choice, after all wearing a costume and being a goofball was a nice metaphor for my life.

I remember after the "winners" were announced (it really wasn't a contest anyway because no one really wanted to be a cheerleader or the mascot that year so it wasn't like I beat anyone out of the job) one of the girls I had known since junior high said to me, "Well I guess since you couldn't be a cheerleader you took the next best thing." I will never forget that. Hadn't even crossed my mind that I'd found another way onto the squad, I really just want to make an ass out of myself for laughs, something that I'd learned to do pretty early on in my life. Making people laugh to cover up how miserable you really are is a wonderful escape mechanism. And I use it even today.

See, this is the kind of thing I remember about high school, boys that didn't like me, parties I never got invited to, dates I never went on, dances no one asked me to and people that never wanted to be my friend. I remember feeling like an outcast every day I stepped foot on that campus.

High school was just a day to get through, every day, so I could go home and not feel so exposed. When I look at my yearbook I realize that high school wasn't for me. Those weren't the best years of my life. No, those started the day I left Spokane and went to college, and they've never stopped.

High school was the most painful experience of my life, up until last July when my Dad died unexpectedly. I didn't get to say goodbye or tell him I loved him or thank him for everything he ever did for me. I am still paying for that today. Unfortunately my reunion weekend falls on that one year anniversary and I cannot relive two if the worst times in my life in three days.

I really don't want people to feel sorry for me, or think I want them to feel sorry for me, or think I want them to think I want them to feel sorry for me. I'm just telling it like it is, another characteristic I picked up as a young teenager. These are the reasons I don't want to go.

I haven't talked to 99% of our graduating class since our all night senior party, and honestly I don't really remember much about that night or if I did in fact talk to anybody because my mom made me go, against my wishes, so I bribed my older brother into buying me booze so I could go drunk. I figured that would make it survivable. However, I hadn't really been drunk before so I didn't quite get that you really need to keep drinking to keep the buzz going. Something you can't do at a well-chaperoned all night party.

I don't really give much of this a lot of thought to be honest. I'm married, I have two kids, an awesome husband, and a great life. High school was simply 3 years out of my nearly 39 year life and not the best three years as it is anyway. I've always heard it said, "the best is yet to come." So true, the best has been every day since.

My children are addicts

2011-03-22T09:19:00.000-07:00

For the holidays Mark's employer was kind enough to "gift" him an iPad. Yes, you are not seeing things, you read it correctly: A FREAKING IPAD. Even though I think it was one more way to ensure that he'd be "accessible" no matter where he is and what time of day. Watching him get all twitchy when he can't raed his email at bedtime is a bit amusing, albeit disturbing at the same time.

The fact that HE got the iPad is kind of hilarious if you know Mark and I-could-care-less attitude about advancements in technology. The man wasn't even a participant in the texting revolution until last summer for Pete's sake.

I estimated it would be about three days before he gave up and it became mine, and rightfully so I must say. After all, I'm the gadget geek in the house. I'm the one who practically has a big O anytime I can figure something out that a condescending tech support person would normally take three days, two heavy sighs and a "I can't believe you're so stupid" dirty look to do.

But I'm off topic, shocking I know. When Mark finally got the thing up & running the only thing he could get it to do was play "Angry Birds" a highly addicting game/app/life sucker that was preinstalled. I believe he said "The kids will sure like this!" FAMOUS last words.

We've gone from Fruit Ninja and Angry Birds to twenty different apps and GIANT meltdowns, with moments of bargaining, whenever I cut the kids off. I mean honestly, Brady begs, BEGS me, "can't I just look for some updates mom?" He's standing there, scratching himself, breathing heavily, looking around like there's a cop hiding in the dark corners of the house. "Just one game mom, I promise. Just one more." Yeah right ya little monster.

So I thought I would give them ten minutes each morning, and that would be it. And yet, ALL DAY LONG they beg, please, BARGAIN for just "one more game" and that's it, they swear, it will be their last. But I don't give in. No sirree, it's for their own good. The iPad is mine, MINE.......

Mark and I discussed this morning that we need to detox them. How do you detox children from Angry Birds, Pac Man, Chicktionary and Knocking Down Cans? I"ll let you know how it goes. And I may be starting my own support group FIPUA (former iPad users anonymous) and my kids will be charter members. Damn you Apple, damn you and your amazingly wonderful touch screen technology....

I was wrong to accuse you...

2011-03-12T16:13:00.000-08:00

Dear Activia,

I was wrong to falsely accuse you of making me a giant, bloated gas machine. It made sense at the time, I has just purchased Activia yogurt (only because it was cheaper since I had a COUPON, Mom would be so proud!) and suddenly I noticed that I was just farty & hellaciously fragrant and I blamed it on you.

Once my complete 24 pack of Activia was gone (you just CAN'T let that yogurt go to waste you know!) I moved on to Chobani. It wasn't cheaper but I figured it wouldn't make me gassier than a full helium tank so I continued with my assumption that it was you all along Activia. Shame.

Oddly enough I continued to find myself repelling my husband and cutting a hole in the ozone layer with my stench. I was left with one conclusion: I MUST be lactose intolerant. So not only have I thrown Activia under the bus, but really dairy products as a whole. And let me tell you, trying to walk through Costco and avoiding samples covered with cheese is nearly impossible. That leaves me with dry crackers or muscle milk.

Ah, sweet relief. As much as I missed cheese and yogurt, I didn't miss feeling like a tight rope around my colon, squeezing the air trapped in its most dark and dangerous crevasses. We thought there was a slight chance that indeed, my fart syndrome was caused by edamame, which was quickly put to rest. With regret in my heart I said goodbye to dairy and hello to a bunch of other crap that I didn't really like.

Four long and excruciatingly difficult days went by. I tried all kinds of things to replace my lunch and snacks with non-dairy options, including eating Kashi Go Lean Crunch, dry, no milk, no yogurt mixed in, as I had been eating it for weeks.

The kids also decided, along with Mark, that Kashi Go Lean was tasty no matter how its eaten: milk, no milk, yogurt, no yogurt, and we all started consuming it with reckless abandon. The first evening as we sat down to dinner we all felt a bit uncomfortable, slightly bloated and in general just a little gassy. Then, without warning, we had a virtual SYMPHONY of farts.

Let me tell you there's nothing like the sweet sound of children and parents, tooting in concert, bouncing off the hard wood chairs, making it echo in the vault of our ceiling. A concert. Of farts. At dinner. Ya gotta love it.

So once again I want to extend my sincerest apologies to Activia and all dairy products. And give you fair warning about Kashi Go Lean Crunch. The stuff is so tasty and so full of fiber that you'll have the cleanest colon on the block, but you will be living alone.

Parking Patrol

2011-02-22T19:55:00.000-08:00

Recently upon returning from a lovely morning at the Portland Children's Museum I found a ticket for $24 because my tires were slightly over one of the two lines to my right in my miniscule parking space at the Sunset Transit Center. This is for the jackhole that I saw lurking in the parking patrol car about 10 spaces away from me:

I was actually puzzled why you would ticket me, asshole, because you watched me park my minivan as you sat there in your car salivating over the 50% commission you'll no doubt receive for ticketing vehicles in the parking garage.

Could you not have wandered over and said something like, oh I don't know, "Did you know, miss, that if you park over the line I can write you a ticket for $24?" Instead you sat there watching me, no doubt with a giant hard-on, waiting for me to leave so you could take a picture of my car and write the ticket.

And it was highly interesting that you, in your official vehicle, were blocking the way so you could ticket all 10 cars that were there at 9:45 am. There were about five cars parked on the main level leaving plenty of open space, including the two on either side of MY car, that you could have parked your vehicle in.

But then again, you were in an SUV, and you must know how freaking impossible it is to park in those miniscule spaces that are designed to hold only a Toyota Prius or a Mini Cooper. So instead you sat in the car with your pants down watching me take my two small children to the train, just waiting for the opportunity to test our your fancy new digital camera to get proof of my infraction with the Mission Impossible music playing in your head.

And to be honest, it never occurred to me to check to make sure I wasn't over the line because I run out of fingers counting the number of times I have driven to the Sunset Park & Ride and not been able to park in the dozen or so empty spaces left because several other people with cars that are normal sized can't park in those little tiny spaces thus rendering it impossible for us to park either of our two vehicles.

Oddly enough I don't remember EVER seeing tickets on the windshields of THOSE vehicles no doubt because you'd get writers cramp on those days, assuming again that your hand has been busy doing other things to yourself while you wait for them all to leave, as I believe you were doing today.

If you really want to raise revenue for public transportation try actually CHECKING on people to ensure that they have paid their fare or have their pass. I've ridden the train dozens of time, and paid my fare EVERY TIME. I cannot say that for other folks. I've probably paid for that one ticket several times over. OR you should go write tickets on a thursday at 11am when the lot is FULL, or ANY OTHER day other than Sunday.

So perhaps maybe I'll just pollute the atmosphere and clog our congested roads for the next 6 times I plan to use the train instead, you know, so I can cover the cost of this ridiculous ticket.

Peace out.

The Activia Challenge

2011-02-22T19:49:00.000-08:00

Day 1: Wow, tasty yogurt!
Day 2: Tasty yogurt. I'm kind of gassy though. Can't be the Activia, though!
Day 3: Wow, yogurt. I am really gassy. My husband won't even get within five feet of me. What could I have eaten?
Day 4: Yogurt. SOOO gassy. When am I gonna poop?
Day 5: Damn yogurt. Bloated from the gas. How much longer before the damn bursts?
Day 6: Goddamn yogurt. At least the damn burst tongiht, but I might have to call the plumber. And my husband STILL won't come near me.
Day 7: Freaking yogurt. Still bloated. Still gassy. STILL POOPING. On my to-do list: buy toilet paper, a plunger and some air fragrance.
Day 8: On the plus side: At least now I have a morning crapper. Minus: So damn gassy at night. Husband thinking of sleeping outside to get away from the stench.
Day 9: When they say "regulate" your digestive system does it really mean farting for 4 hours at night, followed by extreme crapping, jet propulsion edition? NOTE TO SELF: Buy stock in Charmin.
Day 10: Still eating that vile gas producing husband repelling colon cleanse in a container. Fucking yogurt. Sorry, gotta go, time to make a deposit in the excrement bank.
Day 11: No more of that shit. Still gassy.
Day 12: Took a big crapper this morning. How long will it take to cycle out of my system for god's sake?
Day 13: Still farting, no husband within 100 feet and now I'm constipated as hell.
Day 14: Activia, you win. Regular in 14 days. As in regularly gassy, bitchy and smelly. Hey, who needs yogurt for that?

Top 10 things I want to tell the high school students I work with but I can’t or I might be fired:

2011-01-14T18:20:00.000-08:00

1. Please resist the urge to suck the uvula out of your boyfriend/girlfriend’s mouth. You are only going to be separated for about 90 minutes, tops, and the sounds you make are extremely unappealing.

2. Blue hair is for puppets, not people.

3. If you think you’re being an individual by piercing things, look around. EVERYONE expresses their individuality by piercing things. Maybe try NOT piercing things, and then you’ll be unique.

4. No one wants to see your boxers/briefs so pull your damn pants up. That is why they call it UNDERWEAR. You wear it UNDER your clothes. Only superheroes are allowed to wear their briefs over their clothes. You are NOT a superhero.

5. That tattoo you have and/or want to get will turn to a giant blob of unrecognizable ink someday. Resist the temptation.

6. Lunch is NOT a subject in school. You cannot say your favorite subject is lunch. You don’t get graded on how quickly you can pound down an 800-calorie burrito and a soda.

7. Bikini strap tank tops are not an acceptable form of clothing for school, they are meant to be worn UNDER something, not as a separate clothing item. If you wear one, you are sending the message that you are a sexual animal and an easy target for horny high school boys desperate to get laid. If you don’t want them staring at your boobs, cover them up. If you do, well cover them up during school hours for the love of GOD. Boys don’t need more distractions at school.

8. School is for learning and preparing for your future. Put your phone away and wait until lunch to text your friends. Once again, I repeat, lunch is NOT a subject so that is a better time than during Algebra, something you need to pass in order to graduate.

9. Adults can absolutely read body language. If you think you are being sly with your friends by rolling your eyes, I assure you we CAN see you and we don’t really care that you roll your eyes. We have a job to do, so get over it.

10. “Hey sexy” is not an acceptable greeting for every one of the opposite sex whose uvula you’d like to suck out. They aren’t all sexy and lying isn’t nice.

Squirrels UNITE!

2011-01-07T11:35:00.000-08:00

I haven't been posting lately, mostly because of the holidays and the fact that I was without technology (aka unplugged) for about 10 days, and then I went back to work. Seeing as how I'm home sick with a bad bad bad cold I've got a little more time on my hands. Which brings me to Facebook. Need I say more?

YESTERDAY I received the following invitation: Squirrel Appreciation Day
Time Friday, January 21 · 12:00am - 11:55pm

Location The Whole Wide World
Created By If this group gets 1,000,000 people, It will have 1,000,000 people.

TODAY I received the following message from a certain Sheldon K Burns:

It has come to my attention that this event has been taken over by members of Alpha Gamma Delta. The aforementioned party has managed to run off some guests from this event, which is designed for the holiday of National Squirrel Appreciation Day. Just in case the definition of squirrel is a little hazy, here it is: any of numerous arboreal, adorable, cutesy, heart-warming, bushy-tailed rodents of the genus Sciurus, of the family Sciuridae.

So, sorority girls, young and old, I ask, no, demand you to stop running off the good people trying to appreciate the bushy tailed mammal that we all love. We value your attendance in this event and please feel free to invite all your sorority sisters. I only ask for you to please not run off the non-Greek lovers of all thing squirrel.

Everyone, please invite all your friends!

Thank you

Sheldon Burns, President

"If this group gets 1,000,000 people, It will have 1,000,000 people"

Sponsor of "National Squirrel Appreciation Day"

Let's dissect this shall we?

First of all, I didn't know anyone was REALLY named Sheldon, other than that guy on the Big Bang Theory. By the power of reasoning I can only assume that anyone with that same name is probably as much of a lonely virgin as Sheldon on BBT.

Furthermore, if your name is Sheldon and you create an event for the appreciation of squirrels and you know their actual scientific name & classification, I think you have a little more to worry about than a few old sorority girls. ATTENTION SQUIRRELS: HIDE on January 21, as I am not sure exactly what an adult male would mean by National Squirrel Appreciation Day. Just sayin'.

And another thought, the event is public, so why can't we be including ourselves? If you really wanted non-greek squirrel appreciating friends, you should have kept it private and invited the only three friends you have that you play online video games with. Duh.

And it isn't a REAL event, it's an all day squirrel love fest for the Whole Wide World. Again, squirrels take note of the above advice.

It also occurs to me that you mention that we're scaring off non-greek lovers. Seriously? Sheldon, by your photo it appears that you are an adult. When are you going to grow up? I am a 38 year old woman (by the way I never responded to the invite in case you're wondering) and the vast majority of the ladies you are telling to NOT pay attention to your little event more than likely finished college before you were even a zygote for shit's sake.

I also would like to point out that if you really want a million followers you probably DON'T want to piss off the 90% of the population out there who really give a rat's ass about squirrels.

And dearest Sheldon, please don't send those kinds of messages without thinking about who you are sending them to. It's rude. You'd be MUCH better off posting something to a public blog like I am. Oh, and by the way, personalities are on sale at Macy's. I suggest you go buy one.

Why My Children Will Someday Need Therapy

2010-12-20T07:49:00.000-08:00

Reason #1: I have convinced them that Santa IS watching them. All the time.
Reason #2: I have convinced them that Santa has a cell phone and uses it to text me when they are naughty.
Reason #3: I have convinced them that the website that tells them automatically that they are on Santa's nice list is run by Gremlins.
Reason #4: They KNOW what a gremlin is.
Reason #5: They have been completely convinced that they have a 50/50 shot at getting coal in their stockings.

God, I love Christmas. It is the one month of the year I have something to hold over them to keep them in line. Yes, I know, I am mother of the year.

Everyone's a Critic

2010-11-18T18:18:00.000-08:00

I am really not sure what wild hair/hare has gotten into me lately, but whatever it is I've gone insane. I have never been sure if the expression is "homeless crazed bunny caged for the first time" wild or "weird gray hair sticking out of the top of my head and cannot be curled or sprayed down" wild, but either way I think I'm safe.

But I digress, what I really want to talk about is what happened this morning at 6am. I have been getting up prior to the ass-crack of dawn to work out. So this morning I wandered (OK stumbled half asleep) downstairs and started the coffee pot. I got one of those newfangled contraptions that grinds & brews your coffee all at once, and needless to say it can be a bit loud.

Under normal circumstances no one wakes up when I push the button, but today as it so happens, both children were awakened, rudely I surmise, and came hopping down the stairs shortly after I began huffing and puffing on the elliptical. I always close the door so that my gasping for air and crying for mercy cannot be heard by the rest of the house so imagine my surprise when I saw the door nearly fly off its hinges to see two sweet smiling faces still in their PJs with VERY messy bed head.

"Whatcha doin'?" They asked me. I kind of wanted to say "climbing mount everest" or "gutting a pig" to see what they would say, but as I mentioned it was early and none of us were awake enough to think.

I explained that I was working out and Brady, bless his sweet little heart, said "good job mom, you're not getting as fat as you were!" Oh, now, isn't that sweet? If he were not made of 50% of my genetic material I might have done something I'd regret later. Instead I just ignored it and tried to go about my business.

I noticed that the kids had given up and left, which made me thankful that I would continue my workout undisturbed, and ALONE, which is how I like it. Sadly though, they both returned shortly thereafter with their pillows and blankets and basically had a picnic in the room. They wanted to know if they could watch me.

What do you say at 6 am to your adorable, although frighteningly honest, little children? As I mentioned I just started the coffee pot so my mind was not functioning at all so I said yes.

For the next 10 minutes I heard the following: Mom, go faster! Mom, you aren't doing push ups right. Mom, what is THAT exercise you are doing?

You know, if I wanted a personal trainer, I would have gotten one. But I didn't because the last thing I need is someone I know watching me sweat like cold beer in the hot sun. Oh, a beer sounds might nice......Sorry, I got distracted for a second there. What I mean is that I like to work out ALONE, the way God intended, so that no one that you love can ever see you THAT horrifically out of shape and THAT close to passing out (unless there's that beer involved I mentioned earlier and then you're OK on the passing out thing).

One nice thing they did was count for me while I did some planks (the worst exercise ever invented to torture someones out of shape abdominal muscles) and were absolutely amazed when they got to the number 50. Granted they counted so fast it was probably all of 20 seconds, but still they were impressed.

My next workout? Find the tools and put a lock on the door.

Workplace Restroom Etiquette

2010-11-01T18:33:00.000-07:00

Now that I am back among the employed in a building with a couple hundred people (instead of just a couple) I am remembering what it's like to share a bathroom space with people you have never met.

As such I have developed a short list of "tips" for people who are in a similar situation. You know, I always try to be helpful.

Without further delay, here are my top tips for people in the workplace to remember about the employee restroom:

1. If you poop, PLEASE oh PLEASE remember to spray something in the stall for God’s sake. We all drop the deuce now and then (coffee and fiber are a deadly combo) but if you do happen to soil the bowl please do us all a favor and use room deodorizer, I hate to tell you but your shit does, in fact, stink.

2. Don’t leave the radio running in the restroom with a public radio station on. There’s nothing more frightening in the early morning before the IV dose of caffeine kicks in and you hear a male voice speaking in hushed tones on the other side of the stall door. I will always think I made a wrong turn and ended up in the men’s room.

3. FYI the bathroom is not your personal office. Do not answer your cell phone on the shitter. Do not go in there to make a personal call. Do it at your desk like everyone else. Sheesh.

4. In reference to item #3 if the person on the other side of the cell phone knew you were going “tinkle tinkle” while talking to them, they would probably throw up a little. Don’t do it.

5. And if you break rule #3, make sure you have the decency to speak in English so we can eavesdrop as is our right, and so we also know you aren’t talking about that really tall lady that was crop dusting you on the stairs earlier.

I am SURE I missed something, so please, comment at will.

Multitasking-in-training

2010-10-10T13:42:00.000-07:00

We all know that women are the ultimate multi-taskers. We can talk on a cell phone, hold a screaming toddler on our hip, answer the door and stir a pot of stew all at once. It is just in our nature, as result of years of subconscious training and practice.

Now, I don't want to offend any dudes out there, many of whom are also very capable of multi-tasking as well. For example, Mark can watch football and eat potato chips at the same time, and even open his own beer bottle from time to time. Yes, I know, I'm a lucky woman.

And almost all men multi-task during "sexy-time". You cannot deny that sometimes you think about "other things" to "prolong" your, ahem, experience. That my friends is ALSO multi-tasking. Burping & farting at the same time, not so much. That's more of just a beautiful gift from God, if you ask me.

The kind of multi-tasking I am really talking about is truly the ability to do three or more things simultaneously, without effort and without consciously doing so. In observing both of my children this past summer I have been able to tell that Brady, God bless his sweet little boy heart, has a one-track mind.

For now, his fixation is on all things to do with cars. I do not look forward to when the pendulum swings over to girls, especially since his interest in his penis is starting to wan, and that thing has really been stretched to the limit, if you know what I mean. Boys just don't seem to think about more than one thing at a time. When there's food, they eat or practice distracting the nearest sibling, depending on how much they like the food you've prepared.

Girls, on the other hand, seem to be able to do at least two things at a time, unless there's a mirror nearby in which case they are rendered completely useless for doing anything but making faces at themselves. Kaylee, for example, can play barbies and totally irritate the shit out of her brother all at once. It's a gift, really. She can also poop and read a book. She can also twirl her hair and speak in coherent sentences.

But today I was the most proud of her I have ever been. While at the lunch table, Kaylee performed a trifecta of multitasking. While reading a recipe out loud and chewing her lunch, she managed to rattle off the most amazingly disgusting fart I have ever heard from her.

As they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.....

Sometimes posts find you....

2010-09-01T07:59:00.000-07:00

Guest post for today, and I need to meet this person. Who knew you could post anonymous rantings on Craigslist? I had NO idea. I used my blog for un-anonymous postings about my job which got me into trouble from time to time. This, my friends, is genius.

(warning, if you are offended by swear words, you shouldn't read my blog, let alone this post)

---------------------------------------------

To my coworkers. (you know who you are.)

Date: 2010-08-31, 6:22PM PDT

To my beloved and not so beloved coworkers, I have little ranting I need to get out. Since its a break of office manners to bring it up there, I am forced to resort to here of all places. First of all to the hipster down the hall, fucking shower and shave, we are in an office not camping, shed the scruff and stink. To Ms. High and Mighty, get over yourself, you are not the Queen of the world, you are not some beauty queen that we all bow down to, you work with the rest of us mere mortals so please act one. To the redneck bigot... wtf man? You had to go to college to work here, so why in the hell do act like an inbreed retard? I mean come on all that America is number one shit gets a little old when you lump in with anti Obama and anti Muslim shit. Makes you look like a tool of the right. To the hippy burn out, you as bad as the redneck, only from the other end of the political scale. To the Boss man, yelling at people, and bitching about things doesn't make people work any harder for you, it makes us look for a new job. Besides if you want something done, you should really try giving advance notice about it, after all if takes an hour to do it, you need to give people that hour, plus a little so they can wrap up what your asking them to set aside.

And to the whole lot of you, why is the break room always fucking pig pen? I know the cleaning crew comes twice a week, so why it ever damn day there is a coffee ring on the counter? Pizza and hot pocket blow out in the microwave, plus the nasty drips stuck all over the inside of it? not to mention the fact that at least one of you doesn't know what the trash can is for, I'll give you a hint, apple core, used napkins and food scrapes go in it, not left on the table. Dare I ask why my bagel came out of the toaster tasting like greasy maple syrup the other day? Did on of you sick fucks put sausage in there or what?

Thanks for you time and please, please clean up after yourselfs, I feel like I am working with a bunch of kids.

http://portland.craigslist.org/mlt/rnr/1930205915.html

PostingID: 1930205915

Save the drama for your mama!

2010-08-27T08:26:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon Kaylee started complaining of pain in her stomach. First she thought she was hungry but was unable to decide what to eat. She was fussing and complaining "I need some food Mo-om!" but every option I gave her was unappealing. So the longer she went without a snack, the higher in pitch and more whiny she became.

I asked her to show me where her belly hurt, as clearly the situation was escalating once I gave her buttered bread and she had two bites before crying even louder. She pointed to her left side and at first I was really concerned as quickly as the pain came on. I asked her if she thought I should take her to the doctor, but she said no because she didn't want a shot. At this point I figured she probably just had a lot of gas, but you never know so I thought I would get some more information.

I dragged her into the office and jumped on Web MD, but in the meantime she was REALLY crying, complaining, whining, and basically acting like there was an alien attempting to exit her body. Web MD was GREAT because I could ask her all kinds of questions about her symptoms and basically narrowed it down to two options: constipation or gas. Awesome.

She climbed up on my lap and was doubled over and said "I knew this day would come! I'm dying!" and I have to tell you I was laughing and stifling my laughter so hard I almost peed a little, and tears were rolling down my cheeks. This whole display was really oscar-worthy I tell you.

I laid her on the couch and instructed her to pull her knees up to her chest. Just like magic, suddenly the pain began to dissipate. Eventually we wandered back to the kitchen, the scene of the crime, and she climbed up on the wooden bar stool. Which was fabulous. Because wood is the best thing for amplifying the sound of the loudest and longest FARTS I have ever heard from a 6 year old child in my LIFE.

Another day, another problem solved, another academy award for Kaylee.

Open Letter to Sock Manufacturers

2010-08-26T10:46:00.000-07:00

Dear Sock Makers,

Recently our family purchased socks from an unamed clothing manufacturer, and much to my dismay, each and every sock is designated for either the left foot or right foot.

May I respectfully ask you WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING? For anyone who is borderline OCD, anal-rententive, or a stay at home mom with nothing better to do, or the deadly combo of all three (which accurately describes me) this is the meanest thing you could have ever done.

First of all, I am compelled to sort through the pile of laundry to create separate stacks of socks with an L, and socks with an R. And if they are different colors, there are even more piles. And this takes a long time I have to tell you.

And THEN I am guilt-ridden when I don't do it, and I marinate in my guilt until I do laundry again and can sort them and match them PROPERLY. And I don't always have the time to match them, so you can imagine how much my therapy bill will be when I cannot take it anymore.

Secondly, are you NOT aware that socks get eaten by the dryer? So, if a sock with an L goes missing, I cannot possibly keep the matching one with an R because unless it has its match I can't put it together with another sock WITHOUT a letter on it. That would be crazy.

And I can't keep a sock without a mate laying around in the off chance that the dryer eats the R of another pair thus having a match. It just isn't right to keep socks in the drawer without a mate. I mean REALLY.

Finally, have you ever tried to convince a four year old that their left foot is really their right foot? And then spent an entire day knowing that their socks are on the WRONG FEET? Horrible, it's just horrible.

So please, dear sock makers, for my sanity and the sanity of thousands of others like me, please discontinue the practice of sewing the L and the R on your socks.

PS: Did you know you CAN wear them on the wrong foot and they are still perfectly comfortable? Why the hell do you need the letters on there? I just don't get it.

Epic Battle

2010-08-18T13:39:00.000-07:00

Last night was an epic battle of wills: The seasoned vet vs the rookie. Age vs youth. Experience vs determination. Who won? Read on for the full story...

My kids are good eaters, most of the time. Kaylee will try anything once, and if she doesn't like it she'll tell you. Brady will look at something and decide he doesn't like it. Instantly. Before smelling, tasting or even touching it. Even so, they both like salad. And for that I am thankful.

Last night I grilled chicken (yes, I skillfully operated a Weber grill all by myself) and served salad and grilled asparagus as well. Kaylee at it all and then some. Brady complained about the entire meal as soon as he saw it on the table.

Battle #1: Asparagus. My ONLY requirement is that they TRY something, just one bite, and if they don't like it OK. But they have to try it. Brady says, and I quote: I will NOT eat ANY. I repeated again to him the rule and his options, either eat one piece or eat a pile of them. Incidentally Kaylee was rooting for me to win because she wanted seconds of the asparagus. Brady, she says, just eat ONE. That's all you have to do. Nice cheerleading there, big sis. After about 5 minutes of me putting one on his plate, him taking it off, me putting it back on, him taking it off, me putting it back on, him taking it....well you get the idea, I won. He actually ate it. And, guess what? Liked it. ARGH!

Battle #2: Chicken. While only a minor skirmish, please understand that it IS about the fight, not just the war. If I let my guard down for one second he'll eat me alive like a grizzly bear and his prey. Brady wanted a whole piece, which was a big ass piece of chicken, one that even I couldn't finish on my own. I convinced him that I would cut it in half and make bite sized pieces and after he ate ALL his dinner he could have seconds. This took all of about 2 minutes and it was over.

But wait, there's more....

BATTLE #3, the battle of all battles, the cream of the crop, the cherry on top, the big daddy of them all: SECONDS OF SALAD............. As I mentioned, Bready does like his salad, so he asked for seconds, which I happily served up. Mind you he is VERY clear that he doesn't want mushrooms so I carefully select each piece of lettuce to put on his plate. Near the end of the meal he decided that he was done and left the table. We ask them to ask to be excused (you know, to give the appearance to visitors that our children are actually polite) so when they just get up, you know it isn't going to be easy getting them back.

Once he sat back down and I explained to him that since he asked for seconds of salad that he needed to eat it so it didn't go to waste, he promptly said "I will not eat it." If you've met me, you know that any sort of defiance like that doesn't go well, and as shown in battle #1, I will not relent until I win. So, I made myself comfy. I explained that he could sit there all night long, and I with him, until he ate the three bites left of salad on his plate.

Many people, at this point in my story, will think "is it really worth doing battle over some droopy expiring salad with a four year old?" to which I will answer every time and twice on Sunday that yes, with this particular four year old that not only is it worth doing battle, it is a matter of teenage year survival that I not give in. Give the kid an inch and he'll take my minivan for a joyride with a six pack of beer and a learner's permit just because he can.

The rest of the details of the story are not really worth giving other than to tell you that about 30 minutes in, with me returning Brady to the chair in front of his food a thousand times, I finally told him I would just get a glass of wine and a book and wait all night with him. Finally, at that point, it was starting to get dark so I went into the kitchen, poured myself a GIANT GLASS of red wine, and grabbed a novel that I had just gotten through the first few pages. I sat back down, cracked open the book took a long, delicious sip of my wine and looked over at my son.

Suddenly, he was ready to deal. It was like magic. I was the interrogator, and I finally broke him. But, when it comes to battle, it isn't always about the win, but about giving a little to the other side so they at least have some dignity left and that they feel like you've done them a favor, not the other way around. He wanted to eat 2 of the 3 pieces of lettuce left and I chose the two largest. He ate them, quickly, then asked what was for dessert.

One syllable, or two?

2010-07-19T10:31:00.000-07:00

I can always tell when all hell is about to break loose in my house based on the way the kids stretch certain one syllable words in to two.

Example #1: "No!" becomes "Noah"
     From another room I will hear the children playing, happily, which I know in my gut will last no longer than 5 minutes. There's a minor back and forth disagreement about where Barbie should sleep and then I hear this:  "Brother! No-ah!" Translation: Brady, I am gonna do what I wanna do so you can piss off. And you better duck because there's a smack-down coming.

Example #2: "Mom" becomes "Mo-Om"
     In the distance I hear the tell tale thumps, thwacks and smacks. I feel a storm brewing and then I hear a loud THUD or SLAP following by screaming from one child, the other saying "Mo-Om". Translation: Mom, I messed up and made my brother/sister cry but I'm gonna make damn sure I say whatever I can to make you think it was his/her fault so I don't get stuck in the corner.

Example #3: "Hey" becomes "Hey-ah"
     Usually this one is outside, though I did just hear it from the upstairs moments ago. Generally there's been a binding verbal agreement to pursue one form of entertainment, in this case it was playing barbies & cars in the same room. You know, separate but equal. Eventually one of them tires of the arrangement and breaks said contract. Then there's the "Hey-ah" when it has been discovered that said agreement has been terminated and one of them has been left alone. Usually followed by a loud thud and "Mo-Om!"

Example #4: "Fine" becomes "FINE-AH!"
Once again, this is usually a final acceptance of something that was originally displeasing to the child. Sometimes this is said when I've won the war on teeth brushing "Fine-ah, I WILL!" but most often there's a series of events that results in this most final of word wars.
     First I hear "No-Ah!" because one of them has changed their minds and the other one isn't quite sold on the new idea, which then results in the typical thud/smack/slap combo at the end of which I hear "Mo-Om!" and an immediate explanation to draw any suspicion away from the child NOT screaming and writhing in pain.
     After I explain I am not a referee and tell them to work it out on their own, I usually have about 90 seconds of peace when I hear "Hey-ah!" because the one child who was just deflecting judgement onto the screaming child has suddenly decided it is in his/her best interest to go along with the screaming child.
     Then the screaming child says "Fine-ah" in total, albeit grudging acceptance, of the current state of affairs. Crisis averted, ten more minutes of peace.

Things I am learning about my children

2010-07-15T14:14:00.000-07:00

As with every journey in life there are always a few bumps in the road and a lot of emergency bathroom stops (when traveling with children). So it is with my current trip as a SAHM (stay at home mom to the layman). Each day there is a fork in the road, a construction zone or an out and out detour, but all the same I'm learning to roll with it all, mostly due to the therapeutic nature of alcohol.

Anyhoozer, back to the topic at hand. As a mother, the instant the child is placed in your arms you just know them. You get them. Even when they scream inconsolably at 6pm in the evening for the first few months of their lives you know it is because they can't think of anything else to do. After all they've pooped, eaten and slept the rest of the freaking day. So, you know, why not?

As they grow it is no different. They start to find their little personalities and you learn what their little quirks are. This is helpful information to document, by the way, not for posterity's sake, but in the event you are daring enough to leave them with the grandparents for a week you'll know what to tell them.

Kaylee has always loved reading. It used to be she would snuggle up in my lap and put her fuzzy little head in my face so her hair would tickle my nose and I'd sneeze a thousand times while I read to her. Now she pretty much reads out loud to me. She's an easy kid, just get her books, paper, pipe cleaners or crayons and she's entertained.

Brady loves anything with wheels or that bounces. Seriously, we have more balls in our house than the Chippendale Dancers. (can you tell I've been WAITING to use that line?!?!). If it imitates the sound of a motor or can be kicked or thrown, Brady either has it, wants it, or I have already sent it to Goodwill because he forgot about it and he has too much crap laying around.

Kaylee is also a sensitive little monkey, she seems to get her feelings hurt so very easily and yet she can sure dish it out. She'll make a great contestant on Big Brother on CBS someday. Brady is also sensitive but doesn't turn on the waterworks very often. Instead he uses his brute force to destroy stuff just to piss you off. I had no idea we were related to Mel Gibson.

In many ways the children are Yin and Yang, how polar or seemingly contrary forces are interconnected and interdependent in the natural world, and how they give rise to each other in turn. And in many other ways they are just kids and doing everything to make me crazy and then running up to hug me. Blessed am I.

Yes, I have officially become my mother

2010-07-12T14:44:00.000-07:00

I know I have said this before, but now that I am home with the kids instead of working full time, I have had the opportunity of a lifetime to say all the things my mother used to say to us when she was home with us all day.

For example, my personal favorite is "wait until your father gets home" which means that you have completely and totally lost all credibility with your children and no longer have control over ANY situation. WARNING: If you find yourself saying these words, or similar variations such as "your Dad is NOT going to be happy when I tell him about this" you do not, I repeat DO NOT want to take your children anywhere in public because they know that you know that you have completely lost it and quite frankly nothing good can come from that.

Another little gem I found myself saying was the old "I gave birth to you so you should (fill in the blank here)" guilt trip. In my case, the words were slightly different but the desired result was the same: shame and guilt the kids into doing what I want. I took them to the Portland Children's Museum (by the way HIGHLY recommend it for kiddos & parents who need a little break!) and basically watched them screw around for three hours. And they had a blast but it wore me out a bit.

When we got home I asked them to have some "quiet time" and at 3:30 in the afternoon I found myself wondering "what the hell was I thinking" but saying to the kids out loud "I've just spent three hours following you around that museum can't I have 10 minutes of peace and quiet?" Pack your bags, we're going on a guilt trip kids.

As previously noted my children are now predisposed to fighting from the moment they open their eyes in the morning until they finally pass out in the evening (it IS getting better I swear) so I found myself yelling "Do I have to SEPARATE you two?!?!" as my mother knew, as do I now, that the one thing the kids hate more than each other is not being together. Works like a charm.

I think I am going to write a movie script for my life these days called "Threats, white lies and digital evidence" since these are the new tools of the trade. I think I can hear my mother laughing right now. I gave birth to the children she wished upon me so many years ago.

The signs of aging

2010-06-25T11:11:00.000-07:00

As I round the corner and enter the home stretch to the big 4-0 (yes I know I am a drama queen and I am also aware I have 2 1/2 years left but bear with me!) I have noticed several signs of the aging process. Most of them are managable and easily remedied.

For example, I had to break down and start coloring my hair this past year to cover up all the grays. I swear though that now that I have started to color my hair it is REALLY pissed off and decidedly accelerating the process of making me into that white-haired psycho I've always dreamed of being. Honestly, when my roots start showing I notice about 50% more gray than the last time I colored.

Another wonderful indicator that I'm gettin' up there are those fun little hairs on my chinny chin chin. Again, an easy fix with a tweezer, though I am starting to consider having them lasered. It used to be a once in awhile plucking event, but it seems like they grow back fast and furious and are starting to bring friends. So it's either they get zapped or I borrow Mark's razor. You do the math.

Also, besides the chin plucking, now I am growing these totally awesome sideburns down my cheeks. Again, a good pair of tweezers and a decent magnetic mirror really do the trick. Eventually though I just won't be able to keep up and I might just shape them into lambchops. Stylish, don't you think?

My favorite thing about getting older, as if the other items on the list aren't awesome enough, is that this year I was finally prescribed bifocals. Yep, I am THAT blind that not only is it difficult to read road signs but I am unable to properly decipher the alcohol percent by volume on the wine labels at Trader Joes without a pair of nerd goggles.

But this morning in the shower tops my list of the greatest things to ever happen in the process of becoming an old fart. And speaking of farts, here's the scoop: I felt the urge to toot, mostly because I'd had a cup of coffee and you know it's just a warning sign of things to come. So I went ahead and let-er-rip and you know what happened? NO, silly, I didn't SHART (shit-fart combo if you don't know what a shart is), I PEED a little.

When the hell did I start losing control of my fricken bladder? Anyone know where to get coupons for those little panty liners for impromptu peeing? I gotta get me some. And this one bothers me most of all as it cannot be cured with tweezers, hair dye or bifocals. There's no pill to fix your peepee. You just gotta wear Depends, or my personal favorite "Oops, I Crapped My Pants" brand undergarments. (thanks SNL, you're the best!)

You weren't there

2010-06-24T09:20:00.000-07:00

This post is for you, Anonymous, and anyone else who would question the love a mother has for her children. If you are looking for a laugh today, this isn't going to be it, and I apologize, but I write for fun, for therapy and because sometimes I think that my experiences are easy to relate to by anyone, male or female, mom or dad, working or at home. At the end of the day, if I can look in the mirror and believe that I have done my best to be wife, mother and shaper of my children and their future, that's all that really matters.

Dear Anonymous,

You weren't there every night since the birth of my children when I check on them before I go to sleep. Every night. I kiss their sweet little sweaty noggins, whisper in their tiny ears how much I love them and to have sweet dreams and how much I'll miss them all night long.

You weren't there every night I got up with one of my sweet babies because they were sick, having a bad dream or just wanting another kiss, hug or snuggle. You weren't there to see me fall asleep with a smile on my face snuggling with one of my beautiful children because I heard them call for mommy and I was there.

You weren't there every night that I missed them traveling for work, feeling guilty because I wasn't home for them. You weren't with me on the plane when I sobbed because I wasn't able to bring home the breast milk I pumped 4-5 times a day while on a business trip, knowing that it was all for nothing and I couldn't give it to my sweet baby boy who didn't deserve to miss out on nourishment from me.

You weren't there when I cried and cried in therapy over of years of guilt built up because I wasn't home with my children every day. You weren't there when I started taking antidepressants because I was so despondent about not being a good wife and mother that I thought driving off the long bridge in my car was a better option for my family.

You weren't there every time I dropped my children off at daycare 5 days a week and felt an overwhelming sense of loss because I missed out on their day. And you weren't there when I picked them up and hugged and kissed them like I had been away from them for months.

You weren't there my first week on the job as a stay at home mom to see how much of a failure I felt like because I realized that I didn't have the skills to do the job. Do you know what that feels like? To realize that the one thing you've wanted since you gave birth to your children is the hardest, most difficult and stressful job you will ever have?

Do you know how much guilt and frustration I feel because I have been a working mother for years and have missed out on so many important moments in the lives of the most wonderful children God has ever created and now that I have the opportunity to be with them for a few months I realize that I do not have the first clue how to make it? And the only outlet I have is this blog, my humor and the hope that I am not the only one who feels this way.

You weren't there for any of this, and you never will be. But I hope that you, and anyone else out there who thinks I am a sympathy mongering unappreciative stay at home mom, can understand that when I feel like I've failed, and for me this is a daily occurence, I use humor to deflect and to put my mind at ease.

It's a hell of a lot easier to laugh about things than to let them eat you alive until all you can think about is how you can put your car in front of a semi so that your children and your husband can be better off without you.

I don't get paid enough for this job

2010-06-22T08:10:00.000-07:00

As I walked through Winco foods yesterday with my children who have never, ever behaved worse in the store than they did yesterday (see this post about the time they tipped a grocery cart over so you can get a feel for how horrible they were: http://blissandchaos.blogspot.com/2009/09/children-for-sale-two-for-one-special.html) I thought to myself, "I do NOT get paid enough for this job."

And no, of course I make no money as a housewife, and never having had the prestigious opportunity to stay home with my children it has been quite an adjustment for me, and apparently the kids as well. But really, is it too much to ask?

$5 for every time they got out of the cart and ran around it, getting in the way of several non-English speaking shoppers who, thankfully, did not understand the swear words coming out of my mouth.

$10 for every look of sympathy I got from the sweet old man Kaylee cut off while selecting our shopping cart for the day. I saw him over and over again and he just LOOKED like he felt sorry for me.

$25 for every time I pinched the kids for their misbehavior (it sure as hell beats being one of "those" mothers in the store who actually spanks her kids)

$50 for THIS button in the bathroom, at EYE level to my children, and note Kaylee CAN read:

If my math is correct, that would be about $315, which more than covers the cost of my $100 grocery bill, but the leftovers, well, not nearly enough to compensate me for my humiliation. One hour and 5 minutes of sheer terror, frustration and complete and utter senseless behavior from my children. I am never EVER taking them shopping again.

Have I said that before?

And in case you think I am overexaggerating my experiences, here's the evidence to prove that I am not. This is my recycle basket:

I sooooo need a job.

Guess what I got in the mail?????

2010-06-11T13:36:00.000-07:00

The following video is of my field sobriety test as reference in the post below: http://blissandchaos.blogspot.com/2010/03/friday-night-lights.html (click to review)

You kind of have to read the post before you watch this so you understand fully what happened. It does help to have friends at the police station who can send you these things, but also so they can tell you the reason WHY they actually did the test on me:

The car smelled SO BAD, and I mean like A LOT OF ALCOHOL because of my drunk-ass husband that officer Giese had to be 100% sure that I wasn't also drinking. All he could smell was stale booze and cigarettes (and a lot of it) so I had the privelege of proving in public that I was completely sober.

Thanks Mark, and thanks to SPD for keeping our streets safe.

NOTE: The video is long and you can skip ahead to the test but watch the beginning. The officer saw me coming with a head light out, pulled over to wait for me to turn, then followed for a nanosecond before flipping his lights on. I didn't stand a chance.

And Mark STILL hasn't made up for this! Huh. Enjoy the view:

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1294683160#!/video/video.php?v=1490705709666&ref=mf

Things I wonder about my children

2010-06-10T20:31:00.000-07:00

Why do I have to repeat myself 8,000 times? I understand in marketing you have to make a lot of impressions before people take note, but really when I'm screaming don't cross the street there's a car coming, well you'd think they might take notice.

Why do they seem to argue over the dumbest shit like they're Heidi & Spencer Pratt? Legos, race tracks, barbie books, etc.

Do they really not understand that orange and purple or stripes and polka dots go together like Tiger Woods and being faithful? The crap these kids pick out to wear is unblievable (and slightly embarassing)!

What possible reason do they have to be awake before 7 am? What possible reason does ANYONE have to be awake before 7am???

How can they possibly think that telling me NO is a good idea? Or do they just WANT me to lock them in their rooms. Oh yes, I did.

Who in their right mind would ever jump from the couch to the chair to the other couch back to the chair over the end table and NOT expect to injure themselves?

How is it possible that they have developed such a well timed sense of comedic timing? EX: for the 8,000 time I ask Brady if he's brushed his teeth and he finally answers "affirmative". The kid iss FOUR years old. Oh, and he thought to explain to me what the definition is: "that means YES mom". Oh gee, thanks.

Why do they look so sweet and adorable when they're sleeping? I know all they're doing is dreaming up how they can make me completely crazy tomorrow. Dang them!

Why I don't like renting a house

2010-06-09T12:24:00.000-07:00

At first glance it appeared that renting a home would have lots of advantages for us, for example if anything goes haywire like a leaking window or a flooding garage for example, well help is just a phone call away, and not on our dime. What the hell was I thinking?

I knew the house we are renting wasn't in perfect condition, but assumed that it was somewhat well maintained and that there would be few, if any, repairs needed. O.M.G. Where do I start?

People kept telling me how much it rains in Portland and blah blah and I knew it did, so I am not complaining about the rain in this post. What I AM complaining about are the plants, yes actual LIVE FREAKING PLANTS growing out of the gutters on the house. The same gutter-plant combination that creates a stream of water that runs through our garage when there's a torrential downpour, which is of late an hourly occurrence.

We still have boxes in the garage, shame I know, but we do. So I called the property mgt company to tell them about the river of water and they recommended we use towels to shore up the water until they could have someone clean the gutters in the next two days. Yeah, that was SUNDAY, today is WEDNESDAY, and shockingly there's been no gutter cleaning. Poor Marky cleaned out a downspout to help and I think he was dry heaving the whole time looking at 15 years worth of shit in there.

But, alas, I am ever so greatful for the rain so I don't have to worry about watering the plants in the gutters though, as I am quite sure they would die if they had to rely on my gardening talents.

Speaking of the rain, there was a nifty little drip of water coming from the top of the window in the dining room, as noted on day 2 of our occupation of the "money pit" (if someone actually ever bought this house it would be better to just knock it down and start over, seriously).

It was nearly two weeks before the guy came out to check on it, thankfully he did take care of it, but if I were the owner of the home I would be PISSED. Think about the mold/mildew/moss issues.

And, holy crap moss grows here like mad, I'm afraid I need to dry the kids off every hour or so lest moss start growing on them too! You just don't want to stay in one place too long around here.

Oh, and the other WONDERFUl discovery I made today while walking around some nature trails: giant, slimy, mutant snails. Blech. I think I peed a little when trying to avoid a half dozen of them or so while I ran, kids trailing behind me thinking I was going to leave them (and if they couldn't keep up, well too bad) ALL THE WAY HOME to the comfort of my dry garage. Oh, wait, the downpour started and yep, you guessed it, more water.

Internet, AT LAST!

2010-06-08T12:56:00.000-07:00

My sincere apologies to the few, the proud, the Bliss and Chaos followers (pretty sure mostly just my relatives so you have to forgive me anyway), but we finally and I mean FINALLY got Internet access late last Friday. Before I dive into the topic of the day, here's a little recap of what has been going on:

Mark was offered a job at Nike in Beaverton, we moved, I left my full time job and am now, officially, an alcoholic stay at home mommy with a part time contracting job administering a grant. We have been here for two weeks and have discovered the zoo, Winco foods and the fact that the reason my children rarely fought before was because they weren't around each other very much.

Now that we're here, and have been trapped in our house for two weeks while watching a monsoon outside, I have come to realize that siblings aren't meant to be together 24/7. They are genetically programmed to fight, as previously discussed, but they are also pre-programmed to kick the hell out of each other on a regular schedule, about every ten minutes of the day.

If their little spider senses kick in and they realize that I am not watching their every move (seriously I have shit to do like laundry & clean kids!) they automatically start kicking, scratching, biting, shoving, pushing and otherwise tormenting each other. Which, in turn, causes me to step in, blow the whistle and BAM! They have my attention once again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

But, I digress. The topic of the day is my newly found and disturbingly detailed obsession with finding a lightweight, handheld vacuum that can easily be transported up and down the stairs in our rental house. Our current vacuum is a tank and while I've attempted, albeit quite unsuccessfully, to suction our stairs, it has become glaringly apparent that unless I can eventually bench twice my own weight, I need something SPECIFIC to clean the stairs.

And I am slightly concerned with my voracious research on the topic and seemingly natural inclination to turn up my nose at anything "rechargeable" or "bagless" God forbid I try these new-fangled contraptions. I am wholly obsessed with finding a lightweight handheld portable vacuum WITH bags AND a cord and am actually getting frustrated because I can't find "just what I am looking for".

This disturbs me in ways you cannot imagine. For a woman who up until two weeks ago mostly microwaved food and ate standing up, who barely gave the vacuum a second glance (and only accidentally discovered that you actually NEED to change vacuum bags on occasion) I have become the woman who has dinner on the table, AT THE TABLE, sitting down and with napkins no less and am utterly and completely fixated on cleanliness. What the hell?

Stay tuned for the next episode of Amy: OCD alcoholic, chef, maid and multi-tasking extraordinaire. It only gets more interesting...

What's next?

2010-05-06T11:51:00.000-07:00

I am on the cusp of truly experiencing Bliss & Chaos, 24/7: Mark and I are moving to the Portland area at the end of May for the job opportunity of a lifetime at Nike. And it is Mark who got the job of a lifetime, I'll be leaving mine. And apparently the job market in old P-town is a little tight so I get to have some time off with my hoodlums for a few months while I find my next career.

So I'll be a full-time stay home mom for awhile until I can convince some poor sucker out there to hire me.

Many people have been asking me what I want to do next and I have no idea. I swear. NONE. I have a list of things I DO NOT want to do, so that will be mildly helpful in my quest. Those items are as follows:

1. I do not want to be a President/CEO/Executive Director. I'm far too young to have so much responsibility. You know, raising two small children is WAAAAY less responsibility than running an organization, right? RIGHT?
2. I do not want to be in the public. I'm tired of going places and running into people I know. Oh wait, maybe that's the small town thing. OK so I'm desperate to feel no guilt on Saturday morning showing up at a public event with my two hooligan children in tow, no shower, no make up and wearing sweats.
3. I do not want to manage anyone. Not because managing people is a bad thing, but the people I've been "managing" require no management and I can barely parent two small children and convince them to wear their shoes, how am I going to manage grown ups? I don't think I have the skills!
4. I don't want to be someone's corporate bitch. Nuff said.
5. I don't want to be responsible for an entire organizational budget. I married a bean counter for a reason, it ain't my skill set.
6. I don't want my own office. I'm lonely in here.
7. I don't want to be required to make decisions. I really want to be told what to do, I am getting quite good at it with two small children in the house.
8. I don't want to have to sit at a desk all day. Mostly because my ass still hurts from that fall on Easter Sunday when God punished me for cheating during lent. YES, he DID.

I guess that sums it all up for now. Basically, I need your help in determining my next career. Will you please vote on my poll?

I was punished by God

2010-04-27T15:33:00.000-07:00

I am 100% convinced that my fall down the stairs on Easter Sunday was no accident. Here's the timeline of events:

February 16th, AKA fat tuesday I decide (against my better judgement) to give up sweets and alcohol for lent. The sweets I can handle, booze? Yeah, not so much.

March 27th, AKA Mark and Amy's first date night in 1000 years. I had wine & dessert with dinner (GADS, I know is was a Saturday but read on!).

March 28th, AKA black sunday I didn't eat ANY sweets or drink ANY alcohol because I "cheated" on the day before and was making up for it by being good. (if you are unaware, Lent is 40 days and doesn't include Sundays so you don't have to give up your stuff on Sundays. Don't believe me? Count the days and visit http://www.catholicismforweaklings.com/) Okay, just kidding about the website, but it is true.

April 2, AKA the night before easter Sunday, and my sister in law and I had a glass of wine. Yes I know lent wasn't over, but it was midnight somewhere in the world and I didn't really think God would mind, especially since He knew I would be in mass on Sunday morning.

April 3, AKA easter morning, from Friday night until Sunday morning before mass I made multiple trips up and down my sister in laws gorgeous and seemingly fresh polished hardwood stairs. No problem. The FIRST trip down the stairs AFTER mass, and I repeat IMMEDIATELY AFTER easter mass I slipped on the stairs and fell on my ass.

Coincidence? I think not. And yes, my ass still hurts. Just sayin'....

Turn on your damn ears

2010-04-09T09:58:00.000-07:00

I know that I've blogged about this before, but O.M.F.G. (you KNOW what the F is for) I cannot for the life of me accept my children's lack of listening skills. As you are painfully aware there's a difference between HEARING and LISTENING. According to children, these are THEIR definitions:

HEARING: Mom/Dad, I hear you when you are talking. No matter what you say I will decide if I will actually acknowledge you. So for things like "brush your teeth" or "put on your shoes" I will determine, at my earliest convenience, when I will actually LISTEN and do what you ask.

LISTENING: Mom/Dad, I will listen to you only when I Goddamn feel like it and only when you say things of interest to me, such as "Who wants ice cream" or "Who wants a puppy?" If you insist on saying things like "put your clothes on" "get in the car" and "stop smakcing your brother" note that I will HEAR you, but I will not do as you command. I do have the ability to transition from HEARING to LISTENING, but I caution you that just adding words like "or I'll spank your butt" or "you will not get a cookie" makes little difference to me. I do, however, have the ability to measure the octave of your voice and can tell how close you are to actually enforcing said punishments like spankings and it is at that critical juncture when I will turn my ears on and LISTEN. And not one freaking minute sooner.

Why I love living in north Idaho

2010-04-08T13:50:00.000-07:00

You know the saying, a picture speaks a thousand words? This one doesn't have to. It says it all in less than 10: We love meat so suck it vegetarians!

Things that are not fair

2010-04-05T09:38:00.000-07:00

1. Falling on my ass on hardwood stairs.
2. Falling on my ass on hardwood stairs stone cold sober. If I had been drunk I wouldn't be sore all over my body.
3. Falling on my ass on hardwood stairs the last week of ski season when the mountain has the best snow ever.
4. Falling on my ass on hardwood stairs and then catching the one segment of AFV (as I am flipping through channels laying on my stomach with ice on my ass) that features a bunch of people falling on stairs.
5. Falling on my ass on hardwood stairs and then having a 2 hour drive home where I had to sit on my ass.
6. Falling on my ass on hardwood stairs and then working a job that requires me to sit on my ass all day in front of a computer.
7. Falling on my ass on hardwood stairs and not wanting to go to the Dr. for any help because of the sheer size of my ass now that I've been in a desk job for several years.

I think that just about covers it.

MORE CAME TO MIND:

8. Falling on my ass on hardwood stairs and still having a cold so that it hurts a LOT every freaking time I sneeze.
9. Falling on my ass on hardwood stairs and still having a cold and taking cold medicince that makes me fart. It hurts to fart.
10. Falling on my ass on hardwood stairs whils having a cold because it hurts like hell to blow my nose.

April Fools!

2010-04-02T12:46:00.000-07:00

My post yesterday was an April Fools Joke!!! YEAH BABY! But, um, apparently I shouldn't make those kind of jokes because it can happen. Here's one EVEN SCARIER than someone who had a vasectomy:

From a friend who I will not name to protect their identity:

"Well I had to laugh at your April Fools Joke, too bad it actually happened to us. Yep, I am preggo with number 4 yes 4 and it is finally a girl. I had my tubes tied in November and we were preggo before. I didn't figure it out until I was about 20 weeks along. Crazy huh so my little ones will be 13 months apart! Yep I am freaking out."

Freaking out? That's the understatement of the year! OMG, this is a full time WORKING momma with three boys already. God Bless her, keep her in your prayers.

I will not make this kind of joke EVER EVER EVER again!!!!!!!

Accidents Happen

2010-04-01T12:44:00.001-07:00

Remember waaaaaay last fall when Mark had an appointment with Dr. Peterson (Peter! I still laugh about it) to have his little swimmers road-blocked? I wasn't overly sympathetic to his, er, needs and I kept hoping hoping hoping that maybe just maybe it might fail.

Weeeeeeelllllll, despite having been given the "all clear" in January, apparently something went awry because GUESS WHAT? Come mid-September we'll have another little Little to enjoy. Yep, that's right! I think perhaps there were some little swimmers who just made it past the dam or something.

Mark is still slightly suspicious but I think he's coming to terms with it, though he will totally deny it until it's literally staring him in the face! I think it's a defense mechanism or something, after all denial ain't just a river.

But now I know why I have been getting sick NONSTOP this year. I knew this, but forgot, that you tend to lose some of your immune system abilities when you get knocked up. So no more nyquil for me, and I suppose its a damn good thing I gave up booze for lent! Otherwise we'd be having a two headed baby.

Apparently there's only one little Little in that already chubby belly of mine, which was of GREAT relief because I really don't think I could handle twins with the three children I already have.

We haven't told anyone so this is the BIG announcement. I am excited, Mark is in denial and we haven't told the kids yet, even though they ask me daily if my fat belly has a baby in it and when its going to arrive.

I am just ever so greatful that I haven't barfed during this whole thing. Living with that hangover feeling for several months is just the pits. We do have names picked out: Anita Little if its a girl, Stuart Little if its a boy.

Sick of getting SICK!

2010-03-30T10:32:00.000-07:00

O.M.G. Since January this is the third time my nostrils & sinuses have been filled with snot. And it's not like it even wants to come out. Nope, it just keeps filling up, backing up into my brain causing a horrendous headache. I feel like the kids are smacking my head with a flip book or something.

I really think its something in my new office that is doing it. I have no ther explanation, other than perhaps my forgetting to completely disinfect my entire body after every trip to Walmart. Seriously, though, is it just me or are your hands totally gummy from the grocery carts there? I saw a woman with rubber gloves on her hands and I thought "Genius. Freaking genius."

Of course having two small very unhygenic kids that bring home every last germ known to man, and some that haven't been discovered yet. But this time, I was the first to come down with this crap. I am sure it is from my most recent trip to old Big Blue.

I passed through the pharmacy to get a new Hello Kitty electric toothbrush for Kaylee and I swear every single person either coughed, sneezed or breathed on me when I passed through. I ALMOST grabbed some EmergenC but though, eh, I'm fine I can always come back and get some. And here we are, I was sick AGAIN withing 24 hours of that little excursion.

Next time I go to Walmart I will be wearing a surgical mask and rubber gloves. And I am NOT going there today to purchase my cold medicine. With my weak immune system, God only knows what I'll pick up today. Blech.

Friday Night Lights

2010-03-22T08:06:00.000-07:00

After an unplanned break from blogging (due to a severe case of writer's block), I'm back baby! I'll start off with my very eventful Friday evening for starters, then work my way into other goodies in a couple of days.

March Madness has arrived, and as such that means I'm a basketball widow. Mark rounded up some buddies Friday night and they went to watch the Gonzaga V Florida State game at a bar in downtown Sandpoint, with lots of TVs.

My Father, bless his heart, came up for the night to hang out with me & the kids and I was expecting Mark home around 7pm, after the game was over. At approximately 7pm I received a phone call from my very inebriated hubs informing me that he had been at the 219 (Sandpoint's only Five Star Dive Bar, self proclaimed) and was now at A&Ps across the street. (I will NOT say what I believe A&Ps stands for, but if ya wanna email me, I'll tell you privately.)

Mark asked if I would be so kind as to pick his drunk ass up when he decided he'd had enough to which I replied (being the awesome wife I am) "as long as it's by 10pm since that's when I am going to bed, otherwise you can take a cab."

My Dad and I watched basketball after putting the increasingly goofy children in their beds for the night and waited for Mark to call. At 10pm SHARP, my cell phone rang and I think I heard Mark say "hold on a sec, Brent wants to talk to you" and then I heard a lot of unintelligible slurring that ended with "Mark is ready to come home."

As many of you know, I usually give up alcohol for lent, and this year was no different so I wasn't at all concerned about driving to pick him up. I had nothing but ice water all night long. My only concern was that my front right headlight was out and as you'll recall around here that is the FAVORITE reason to be pulled over by law enforcement. It has only been 18 months since the last time it happened.

So I pulled up to the curb in front of A&Ps and the hubs plopped into the minivan smelling like a cigar/brewery and proceeded to tell me how to drive. I got to the stop sign at Second & Church where Mark told me I didn't need to stop, then pointed out that it was a good thing I was driving. I said, well you know I am driving in the dark with a headlight out, right? He wasn't too concerned.

However, when I got to the stop sign ONE BLOCK LATER I saw a Sandpoint Police Car pull over to the right side of the road. I told Mark, "You realize I am about to be pulled over, right?" and he said "yep" and then I think he belched.

Sure enough, as I rounded the corner in front of Ivano's the lights started flashing. Honestly, is it really necessary to pull over a freaking mini-van with one headlight out? For Pete's sake, people speed, throw cigarettes out their windows and a host of other sins, but I have to be pulled over twice in less than two years for a headlight out?

And ya know what? We replace those damn things about every three months, it seems to be a stupid electrical issue for the van. I never know when they will go out next! Hope they don't both go out at once, as I discovered happens a lot via edmunds.com search.

Needless to say I was pretty pissed at this point. But I tried to be nice & polite to the officer, since it's not his fault the light was out. He asked for license, registration, proof of insurance etc. NEVER EVER EVER let a drunk-ass passenger dig for those items in the glove box. O....M.....G.

Eventually I gave him my license and grabbed the stuff from Mark to find the registration. However, we couldn't produce a current copy of proof of insurance, despite Mark's best efforts to give the officer every last shred of proof, all of which expired at its most recent in 2009.

The reason? We're in the process of changing insurance companies and had planned to move everything by March 10th. Unfortunately we haven't quite "gotten er dun" so while we are still insured, the actual proof of that is not anywhere we can find at the moment.

Officer Giggles came back and informed me that he would need to do a field sobriety test on me, "to make sure I was OK to drive". Was I wrong in assuming that me telling him that A)I had nothing to drink and B)I gave it up for lent anyway and C) was the designated driver for my husband that D) he wouldn't need to pull me out of the vehicle at the intersection of Highway 95 and First Avenue for all the freaking world to see and perform a field sobriety test on me?

To say that I was happy to prove my sobriety is an oxymoron, kind of like saying Nancy Pelosi is a good Catholic. But I did it anyway and I have never been more humiliated in all my life. The officer even called for BACK UP! There were two, count 'em TWO law enforcement vehicles stacked up behind me.

I would seriously rather spend another three years in Junior High again than undergo a completely unnecessary field freaking sobriety test on a busy intersection in a small town where everyone knows I drive a gold Kia Sedona mini van (don't buy one peeps, if you don't want your headlights to go out on you).

I got back into the van after receiving my ticket, yes I got a ticket for failure to produce proof of insurance, and I think I said something to Mark like "I'm going to kill you" but I think there was an f-word in there somewhere, but tough to say when you're that mad.

All Mark could say was "how do I make this up to you?" and that's where ya'll come in. Please vote in my poll to help him decide what he can do to make it better for me. I know he will appreciate your input.

Tweet deck and other time suckers

2009-12-18T09:04:00.000-08:00

Wow, so I thought maybe I'd better join the social media revolution and sign up for tweetdeck. Congratulations, Amy, you've just signed up for the greatest time sucker of all! Not only can I tweet about nothing to hundreds of people I've never met, but now I get INSTANT UPDATES from hundreds of people I've never met. What a gift.

I must admit I am a bit of a social media junkie these days. For example, almost a year ago I joined the FaceBook revolution. Now I have been connecting with dozes of people from junior high and high school, many of whom I have not spoken to since June of 1991. But, it is pretty cool. And I find myself jumping on during the day to see what people are "up to" when I need a brain break.

And I have discovered that MANY people do the same thing, at regular intervals, so now I know when someone has taken a dump, washed their dishes or eaten a muffin. How ever did I get by without this knowledge?

And I am just as guilty, my most recent FB post: "Ever notice how close the U and I are together when typing the word shut?" Really? We should retitle status updates to say "Deep thoughts by Jack Handey".

And another great function of the FB world is that you can change the language settings. I recently discovered the pirate setting. Aaaaargh, me mateys were squawking all the time! I grew tired of translating it so I went back to plain English. Guess that's why I decided to try tweetdeck. Something else to entertain me.

I also discovered that I can "tweet" (aka say nothing of substance in 140 characeters or less) via my cell phone. And I can also update my FB status with the phone, hence the "I've eaten a bran muffin, look out toilet when I finish with the dishes" kind of updates.

But, if you have oodles of free time and need something that completely consumes your brain, check out twitter, tweet deck and other fun ways to tell the world absolutely nothing. Kind of like a blog.....only really short. Hmmm.....maybe I need a hobby.

Sanity, sanity, wherefore art though sanity?

2009-12-08T16:24:00.000-08:00

The last couple months have been beyond crazy. Let me say first that I am grateful for all my blessings, which are many: a home, wonderful kidlets, a really cool hubs, a great job, our health, and you know blah blah blah.

So why in the name of all that is good and holy am I suffering from anxiety attacks all over again? It has been a RARE occasion that I have experienced them over the past year, but lately I am just in a constant state of anxiety.

Do you know what it feels like to live with the sensation that a sumo wrestler is standing on your chest at all times? Do you know how freaking embarassing it is to have to drive while inhaling/exhaling into a paper bag so you don't go apeshit?

Can you fathom the frustration people like me feel when they realize that it takes less than 60 seconds to be completely and utterly worked into a frenzy, and yet it takes 4 days, 3 xanax, 2 bottles of wine and a full day of sleep to get rid of it?

Do you know that you can give yourself MORE anxiety by being anxious about having an anxiety attack? Have you ever heard of an adult woman chasing her tail? Welcome to my world!

I am, as I type this, feeling an even heightened sense of anxiousness, solely because I'm talking about it. OMG!

I hope that after the holidays, the new office move, the Tiger Woods debacle and the H1N1 scare are over that I'll start to feel better. Meantime, I'm off to find a quiet place to curl up in a ball and rock myself to sleep.

Dude. Seriously?

2009-12-07T11:17:00.000-08:00

I have been swapmed lately with work and kids and life, you know how it goes. Not that I haven't had anything to say, but nothing that has really pissed me off to drop what I am working on (that pays my bills) to take a moment to vent. Here's my moment.

I've never been a HUGE Tiger Woods fan, but always kind of thought he was a neat guy, giving back to kids, being a golfer/philanthropist/family man. Guess we can add philanderer to his list of accomplishments.

And how embarassing, not for the world of golf, not for Tiger, but for his beautiful wife and their two kids. And ya know what Tig? Get over the media getting "all in your bizness" about your "transgressions". You're one lucky SOB that no one found out sooner.

And the fact that people find it so interesting and can't resist wanting to know more, is that quite frankly people are kind of shocked that you would abuse your position in such a way. And you're so "private" about your private life. Here's a tip, Tig: If ya want to keep your private life private, keep it in your pants, bud.

And if you can't keep it in your pants, then don't go sleeping with multiple, extremely slutty and opportunistic chicks from Las Vegas. And do your wife and children a favor, and allow them to move on.

Honestly, I can completely understand why the back of his car was smashed with a golf club. He's lucky he didn't get it in the head. And I also understand her being visibly upset, the last thing I would want is the whole freaking world finding out what a cheating bastard I married, calling my judgement into question.

Nuff said.

God Bless single parents

2009-11-06T08:33:00.000-08:00

To all you single parents out there: you have my support and sympathy. Lately Mark has been working very long hours and I have been on kid duty by myself.

They totally know when they outnumber me, and they divide and conquer. And purposefully ignore everything I ask them to do because I can only chase one of them around the house at a time.

For example, last night was "tubby night". We really should bathe them nightly, as they are very stinky and unhygenic, but I don't have the mental strength to survive this nightly ritual alone.

I figured it would be easier & quicker to tub them together, which I haven't done since Kaylee pointed out that Brady has a mushroom atop his privates. Man oh man was I wrong. I made them swear that they wouldn't yell or splash. They promised. Not so much.

My first challenge was chasing one or the other to get them to take their clothes off. As previously mentioned, they know there's only one of me, but two of them. So that was a needless 10 minute ordeal to get them naked.

Then once in the tub, they proceeded to splash, scream, yell, fight, etc all the while knowing that I could only beat one of them at a time. And that was fine with them. Getting them out was interesting too. It was a conundrum, really. They waited until all the water drained, then sat there complaining about how cold they were, yet they wouldn't let me dry them off.

I explained that they couldn't just sit there with their towels, that they actually had to use them to remove the water, but it was like talking to a fence post. Another 10 minutes of my life I won't ever get back.

This morning I also had to get them ready on my own, for the most part, since Mark had a 7:15 am meeting. Let's just say that things didn't go much better this morning than they did last night.

Single parents have my support and sympathy. While this is an occasional experience for me, it's a daily struggle for them. That's why god invented coffee for the morning and booze for after you get the kids in bed. Amen.

Gravity Storm

2009-10-23T09:53:00.000-07:00

Anytime one of the hoodlums fall over, Papa (my Dad) will say "gravity storm". Kaylee doesn't fall as much anymore, but her little brother, for as coordinated as he is, can't seem to stay on his feet. Brady seems to walk into these "storms" quite often.

I'll be in the kitchen doing dishes or making something to eat and one minute he's standing and the next I hear a loud "thump, Waaaaaaaah" and he's on his back, his hip, his face, his head....you get the idea. I mean it is INSTANT. Thwack. Scream. How it happens so fast is beyond me. You blink, you miss. It's amazing.

And you'd think the kid would learn from his mistakes, but much like a twenty year old girl who keeps going out with the same asshole with a different name, Brady keeps doing the same thing over and over and over.

For example, I can't tell you how many times the little fella has fallen off the dang kitchen bar stool while farting (figuratively, not literally, that is another post for another time) around at dinner time. And everytime is results in a bloody nose. EVERY. FREAKING. TIME.

This past weekend, however, was by far the WORST fall of all time. I was, of course, doing the dishes. One minute I'm saying "Brady eat your dinner before I smack ya" and then next thing I know as I'm bent down to put a plate in the dishwasher I hear a VERY loud "thud"....then the dreaded silence.

You know, the silence where you are waiting and you think maybe, just maybe, he won't scream. You hang there, breathless, like a dangling participle, anxious and alert. Then, it comes. The loud, never-ending screech and you know that this time, without a doubt, there will be blood. Lots of it.

Since the old hubs was recovering from the surgery to prevent further children (thank God) he was unable to pick up the poor little man. By the time I got to him, the blood had just started dripping. Unfortunately I made a critical error in judgement, by mentioning that there was blood coming out, causing my son to look down which then caused gallons of blood to come gushing out.

I picked him up, ran to the bathroom and laid him on his back. Have YOU ever tried to hold a three yeear old down on a bathroom counter about 1/3 of his actual size? I really don't recommend it, I felt like I was wrestling a fricken alligator.

But then, now this is the best part, as I am cleaning him up, or attempting to, he caught sight of all the blood and TOTALLY lost his mind. Screaming, writhing, more blood shooting out, it seriously looked like a freaking murder scene in our bathroom. We had three, count 'em THREE washclothes covered in the red stuff, plus my clothes, his, the counter, sink, carpet, etc etc etc.

We finally got him calmed down and the blood stopped and attempted to ice his face. Again, have YOU ever tried to put ice on a rapidly swelling nose of a very busy and extremely agitated 3 year old boy? Again, I don't recommend it.

Here, for your viewing pleasure, is the end result of the events described above, and yes, he's sitting on the toilet. As mentioned in a previous post the kid takes 15 minutes to poop, what else was I supposed to do:

Things about children that I will never understand

2009-10-21T08:46:00.000-07:00

1. Why I can repeat things like "put your shoes on" and "get in the car" about a thousand times before the kids "hear" me, but when I say "who wants ice cream" just ONE TIME they respond.

2. Why children can remember the one time you said a swear word, four months ago, but they don't remember why they can't mess around on the furniture, despite the fact that every time it results in a bloody nose and/or the icing of some body part.

3. Why children are incapable of buttoning their pants, zipping their coats, and putting on their shoes at home, but are magically granted the ability at school or friend's houses.

4. Why it is so freaking difficult to get in the car for ANY reason OTHER than to go to Silverwood. I swear, I should just tell them we're going to Silverwood EVERY DAY and then it would take 30 seconds as opposed to fifteen minutes.

5. Why cheese makes everything more palatable for children to eat. Vegetables, meat and yes, even fruit. Blech.

6. Why children want to dip every piece of their dinner meal in their juice cup. Soooooo gross.

7. Why, when the kids were in diapers, it took them less than 15 seconds to fill them up with poop, but now that they are toilet trained it takes them at least 15 minutes to finish. AND sometimes they even ask for reading material.

8. Why kids look so deceivingly angelic when they're sleeping, but the minute their feet hit the floor you can almost see the devil horns poking out. Totally Jekyl & Hyde.

9. Why they remember to tell you when you do things you shouldn't such as coughing without covering your mouth, forgetting to say excuse me when you belch or fart, and yet they can't seem to remember those things for themselves.

10. How you can love them so much, even when you feel like selling them on eBay.

Another moment of irony in our household

2009-10-20T16:50:00.000-07:00

If you read this and you know my husband......don't tell him about this post. I'll find you. I swear.

As you all may well know, Mark underwent the old knife to prevent further spawn in our family. I have to say that I found it VERY interesting that the man was afraid to take a shower (even though the instructions said he could) and he waited three agonizing and very smelly days to do so.

It also said he could take ibuprofen and some other pain meds that they sent home with him (which I have placed in a secure location for my own future use), and yet he didn't take anything, but preferred instead to tell me how painful it was. CONSTANTLY.

And yet...the instructions also said he should wait a week before, um, well, you know, but he was willing to break the rules last night. Of all the things to ignore, it had to be that one?

The most frightening moment as a parent......so far

2009-10-19T08:21:00.000-07:00

I had my most frightening moment as a parent this weekend (so far). Was it when Brady fell off the kitchen bar stool (again) and we think he may have broken his nose? Sadly, no. Was it Friday morning thinking Kaylee might have the swine flu? Nope. (and it turned out to be a sinus/ear infection, thank goodness).

Instead, it was the very moment that I realized my five year old daughter figured out that there are limits to what we can do to get her to do what she's SUPPOSED to do. She is waaaaaaay to young to know that she can withstand physical torture in the name of getting what she wants. She is too young to have figured out that, unless we install restraints, there's really no way we can keep her in bed when he have banished her to it for being a turd.

She is too small to know that, no matter what we say or do, her physical presence has grown enough that she can, in fact, fight back. OMIGOD. Needless to say, this was a difficult weekend. I was a man down and she knew it. (for those of you not in the small town gossip loop, Mark took preventative measures - ahem, snip snip, ahem - last week so we won't be having more children, and after this weekend......... he's like a God to me)

I kind of assumed that she would come to this realization, I dunno, sometime in her teens. I figured I had a good nine or ten years of maintaining some sort of control. Wait.....I think I hear my mother laughing in Boise right now.....stop it Mom!!

Let me tell ya, it is a VERY scary thing when you've tried everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, save for things that CPS would frown on, to get your kid to A) eat her goddamn dinner; B) stop smacking her brother around; C)get her f--king clothes on for school and; D) (my personal favorite) do something you've asked her to do by least the third, if not second time, you've asked. Is that asking too much?

I did recognize a pattern of behavior though (and this is where I KNOW my Mom is laughing so hard she might pee a little) that she wants to have control over the house, her choices, and quite frankly our whole family. Which is really really unfortunate, because I am the one who wants to have control. So it's a battle of wills my peeps, and guess what? This weekend, it was a freaking DRAW.

Next time, chalk one up to MOM. I'm going to buy some restraints for her bed today. Oh, and turning the lock on her door around.

This isn't alarming to PETA?

2009-10-12T11:35:00.001-07:00

Have you seen the email that has all these poor dogs in halloween costume? Here's a sample.

Where is PETA when you REALLY need them? Seriously.

Am I screwed or what?

2009-09-30T09:12:00.000-07:00

At five years old I would have NEVER been able to survive a slumber party at a friends house. In fact, I think I was in the second or third grade the first time I even had the guts to try, and then I remember freaking out and my poor mother having to pick me up, and she wasn't happy. Robe, slippers, no make up.....it wasn't pretty. And it was only about 10 pm....

Kaylee, on the other hand, has been begging me, PLEADING, to go have a "spend over" with her friend Hannah, who is in the third grade. Hannah is a great little girl, so it wasn't Hannah that worried me, it was Kaylee and her lack of knowledge of surviving a slumber party that had me concerned, ie: don't fall asleep first or your underwear will be frozen solid; someone will put your hand in a warm dish of water to see if you'll pee the bed, or, and this is my personal favorite, while you're sound asleep your friends will scrawl inappropriate messages in lipstick on the parts of your body not covered by a sleeping bag or hair.

But Kaylee and Hannah are young, so I probably didn't need to freak out quite so much. Reluctantly I agreed to the event, mostly because Mark was out of town, and handling one small and very tired child would be easier then both, especially because I haven't had the guts to go back to Safeway to buy booze since my Dad had to buy it last time (see this post if you're confused: http://blissandchaos.blogspot.com/2009/09/most-exciting-moment-in-my-life.html)

Brady & I took Kaylee to her friends house, and while Brady had dinner with Kaylee and her friends I sat talking to the parents (my friends) until about 7pm. Kaylee came wandering downstairs awhile after dinner, apparently surprised to see me and quite disgruntled that I was still on the premises and said, "When are you and my brother leaving?" to which I replied "In a few minutes" to which she said, and I quote: "AWESOME!"

I kep thinking that I would get "the call" to come & pick her up (a half hour drive from my house in traffic) so at 9pm when the phone rang I thought "this is it." I answered the phone only to hear my very inebriated husband on the other end of the line, slurring his words and confessing that he was at a place called "Cheerleaders" and it was Cougar night (''it's so obvious" he said) and karaoke night to boot. So basically he was drinking with his buddy watching a bunch of horny single 40 year old women warble Madonna tunes and was totally put out that none of them bought him a drink!

But I digress. Kaylee never needed to come home, and when I picked her up she clearly had a wonderful time. In fact, I think she was really pissed that I even picked her up! Five years old and ready to run....I'm screwed. And soon to be back in therapy.

Spotted at the dollar store

2009-09-28T12:45:00.001-07:00

I was at the dollar store the other day looking for a few things for an event. I didn't find ANY of what I was looking for, but on the way out I spotted something that I couldn't quite believe. I blinked a couple of times, rubbed my eyes, I really thought it was a mirage or maybe I needed new glasses, but FOR SURE I saw a PREGNANCY TEST for ONE DOLLAR at the DOLLAR STORE.

I don't know about you, but when you buy things at the dollar store, you don't get mad if they don't work 'cause after all, it was only a dollar. Now if a pregnancy test was a dollar and it didn't work, well I'd be pissed. Especially if you're one of those people who might be a day late (and a dollar short) and you think "maybe I'll take this test to see if I really can put down a bottle of wine and four shots of vodka tonight."

In my humble opinion, an accurate pregnancy test is worth the exra nine or ten dollars, I would think. I mean what's a few more bucks to be absolutely sure instead of an entire nine months of freaking out thinking you've poisoned the embryo with a couple nights drunkeness at the local watering hole.

But you know what I didn't see at the dollar store? Condoms! And I would think if you sell a preggo test, you might want to sell a pack of rubbers. I'm just sayin'.

Teeth whitening, really not the first thing to address

2009-09-28T09:10:00.000-07:00

Do you ever see those funky little side ads on different pages that you browse? Today I saw one advertising how to whiten teeth without bleach.

I'm thinkin' maybe putting that one tooth back in her mouth (or closing the gap, it's hard to tell) might be the first order of business.

Then the second one probably needs to visit the dentist and get that cavity taken care of. Priorities, people!

How to tell if you have the Swine Flu or not

2009-09-25T09:27:00.000-07:00

I received an email from my Dad today. Unfortunately he's been ill this week and was concerned that he may have the Swine Flu. But, he indicated that he was pretty sure it wasn't, as he has a fail safe test. He said, and I quote: "I didn't have the urge to roll around in the dirt or become a lawyer" so he was positive it was just a normal virus.

Save it for the Civic Theater

2009-09-23T14:02:00.000-07:00

Those of you who know me well are not surprised that my theatrics earned the comment "Save it for the civic theater" from many adults on many occasions in my lifetime. In fact, it is safe to say that I still have a flair for the dramatic. Unfortunately, so does my daughter.

The day started out the same as always, me badgering the children to get dressed, eat breakfast, brush teeth, comb hair over and over and over, whilst experiencing continuous ground-hog's day type feelings every time I opened my mouth.

After several minutes with my voice on repeat, the kids were ready to go, maybe not mentally, but physically ready for sure. Kaylee went completely apeshit and I literally pushed her into the garage with my knee, step by step by step.

It was an oscar-worthy performance, tears and sobbing. "I don't wanna go to school. I just wanna stay home." Full of sympathy I said, "sorry kiddo, staying home just isn't an option. Get in the truck." When little miss Academy Award realized I wasn't going to budge, she changed tactics on me and started begging me to drive her to school.

When that didn't work and she was safely buckled in her car seat, I closed the car door to muffle her screams. Pretty sure the neighbors thought we were dismembering her...

Flash forward to 10:30 when "the call" came in. "Mrs. Little, this is Mrs. Hurst from the Carden Academy. Kaylee says she's been feeling nauseous all morning and is asking for you to come and get her." Yeah right.

I went to the school (in no hurry mind you) and when I arrived, little miss Driving Me Crazy was sitting, eating, shoes kicked off and a big ol' smile on her face. I knew before I got there that she'd be full of shit. She totally had Mrs. Hurst convinced....the poor thing. She felt so terrible for calling me out of the office.

But really, what will be more fun will be to find a creative, yet appropriate way to punish Kaylee for faking it. I would bet $100 that my Mom has about a dozen ideas......

Lincoln Logs

2009-09-22T08:05:00.001-07:00

Lincoln Logs were one of my all time favorite toys when I was a kid. I could sit for hours putting little log style villages together by the warm wood stove fire in the basement of the house where I grew up.

All this time I thought of Lincoln Logs as a child's toy. Until yesterday. Kaylee and I were chatting about her day. I asked if she had any "adventures" yesterday and she said only one.

My sweet little blue eyed daughter told me that she stepped in dog poop at school. Dog poop? Yes, mom, I stepped on Lincoln Logs. Lincoln is the school dog, and I bet you can figure out the log part.

I will never look at Lincoln Logs quite the same way again.

Reaaalllyyy!?!? by Amy Little

2009-09-18T07:52:00.000-07:00

Really? Someone took a 47 year old convicted schizophrenic murderer to the Spokane County Fair for a field trip?

Really? Was that the BEST idea for a little R&R you could come up with? Maybe a quick run around the hospital yard that has an electric fence or something MIGHT, just MIGHT, have been a better option?

Really? Taking a schizophrenic murderer to an event with thousands of people, including small children, lots of flashing lights and so much mental stimulus that even a sane person can lose their noodle? Really?

Really? Flashing across the TV screen a breaking news line was your best bet for finding a 47 year old man in a red jacket and a backpack who is a convicted murderer that got lost at the fairgrounds?

Call 911? That's what we're supposed to do? Really? Why not, um I don't know, lock your doors/windows and put the children in your bed with you, sleep with one eye open and a shotgun handy?

Really? Authorities didn't notify anyone for 2 hours? And you wonder why you can't find him? Really? And he could attack without provocation? REALLY?

Really. This is a head shaker people!!

My Little Man

2009-09-15T08:48:00.000-07:00

Brady had just finished going potty and tried to flush the toilet this morning. The handle, I must confess, doesn't always work properly. It takes a little extra oomph to get it to flush, but a 3 year old at 6 in the morning just doesn't have the stuff.

Instead, I stopped cold in my tracks, thinking I hear "Dammit! It doesn't flush!" I walked over, calmly, and asked him what he said. And a three year old is NOT bashful about repeating their words, particularly when they are things they KNOW they shouldn't say.

This sweet little voice said "Dammit." Incredulously, I asked again, what did you say? This time a bit more shyly he said "Dammit" and looked at me out of the corner of his eye, as if to say yeah I get it Mom, I know it's a bad word, so what are ya gonna do about it?

So I said Brady, please don't use that word, it isn't a nice word, nor is it a word for a little boy to say. I felt like I'd really made my point well. I didn't yell, make a big stinnk about it, I just simply and calmly explained the situation. One of my finer moments as a parent, I thought.

A little while later he was working on a puzzle in the bathroom (don't ask, just work with me here) and I distincly heard the following: "Dammit! I can't get the Liking McQueen togedder!" Now people can truly understand why I keep his hair short....so when the devil horns start poking out I'll have fair warning.

The most exciting moment in my life happened at the store

2009-09-14T08:41:00.000-07:00

I returned to the scene of the crime yesterday (Safeway) for some supplies for dinner with my Dad and step-mom last night. My dad decided to drive me in since he was blocking our car and because the kids were watching a movie with GiGi and my husband was balled up on the floor with a hurt back so what was there to do anyways?

I did not have to take the children, thankfully, and walked my dad through the entire ordeal while we were shopping. Of course, when Dad & Judy come to dinner, alcohol is a must. We stopped off and picked up a bottle of wine and headed to checkout.

A couple of weeks ago my driver's license went missing. I keep forgetting to go get a new one, and given the fact that I have purchased or attempted to purchase alcohol multiple times since I lost it you'd think I'd remember to get it taken care of. Not so. However I do know the true meaning of Murphy's law: no matter how old you look you'll get carded ONLY when you can't find your driver's license.

Last night, though, I was in need of some booze and I hoped that I'd get by without having to show my license. I almost fell over laughing when she carded me and I had to admit that I didn't have my license. She gave me a serious talking to, but I pointed out that I was with my Dad who was present at my birth and could vouch for me that I was legal. And guess what? He actually had to!

I'm a 36 year old woman with a husband and two children and my Dad had to buy my booze!

Children for sale - two for one special

2009-09-11T07:57:00.000-07:00

I was in dire need of some dietary staples last night, but since I missed my kiddos all day I decided (against my better judgement) to pick them up and THEN hit the store.

Oh. My. God. What the HELL was I THINKING?

On the way into the store we talked about how much I needed their help, if they were good they could get a treat, etc etc. They seemed so sweet in the parking lot, even saying they wanted to get their dad a treat too, and if they weren't good, well they'd still get a treat for Mark.

So I "thought" when we got into the store that all would be well. Mistake #1: I did not restrain either child in the cart.

A brief summary of the events at the store:

1. They got into a wrestling/biting/hitting match over who was going to push the cart in the produce section, the FIRST PLACE we got to in the freaking store.

2. Both started crying because I bought red pears. God forbid change, if they aren't apples then life is apparently over. Who wants to try new things anyway?

3. In the meat department (stop #2) they started pushing the cart INTO each other, one was on one end, one was on the other and it was like freaking tug of war with a heavy and highly mobile object in the middle. And yes, both ended up screaming and crying in about 5 seconds flat.

At this point, people were REALLY starting to stare at us, some were laughing openly (but who can blame them) and I asked the meat department guy where the beer was.

4. We made it through a couple more stops without incident but crashed and burned (literally) on the way back to the produce section for one last item - by the way at this point the kids were following me screaming and crying because they weren't getting a treat so I started just singing "kids for sale, two for one special, one comes with his own blanket" - and we ran into our neighbor Margi, who has yet to start her family and while we were talking the kids literally TIPPED THE DAMN GROCERY CART OVER IN FRONT OF THE PHARMACY!!!!!!! I think Margi will up her birth control measures after that incident.

Needless to say they fussed and cried the entire time, and the sweet little bag boy at the check out stand asked if I needed help out and I said only if help meant that he would put the groceries in my car and bring the kids back into the store so I could go home and have a relaxing glass of wine ALONE.

He just kind of stood there blinking at me....I think he thought I was serious. Maybe I was.....

Another Mother of the Year Moment

2009-09-09T16:00:00.000-07:00

Today is Kaylee's second SECOND day of school and guess what? TOTALLY forgot to pick her up. CRAP! Pick up time is from 2:15 - 2:25 and ya know what? At 2:28 I realized that I forgot. No excuses, no reason, just plumb forgot.

I mean there WAS someone at my desk unexpectedly this afternoon and it is only day 2 and I didn't have it in my calendar, but for the love of GOD what kind of a mother FORGETS to pick up their kid on the SECOND DAY OF SCHOOL!

And I'm Catholic now, so the whole guilt thing is REALLY getting to me. I feel terrible, awful, the worst mom ever. But, hopefully a margarita will fix all.

Coincidence? I think not....

2009-08-30T19:16:00.000-07:00

V-day has been set. Yep, it's official, Mark made the "appointment" for "that thing" he is getting that he has yet to actually use the technical term for: Vasectomy. As excited as he is to have it done, the guy just can't bring himself to say it. Kinda funny.

But not even remotely as funny as this: The Dr. who will be performing the "procedure" is named Peterson. PETERson. Am I the only one who thinks this is totally hilarious? Yes, I know, that is sooooooo third grade. But I don't care.

PETER. It's damn funny.

You're better of without it, I think

2009-08-28T08:49:00.000-07:00

Mark and I were watching TV last night, as we do on a regular basis, and the following commercial came on for a drug called Chantix, that is basically prescription medication for those who want to quit smoking:

http://www.chantix.com/tv-ads.aspx

Ya gotta watch this....seriously. Here's the thing: The commercial is about 60 seconds. About 15 of it is about how great the meds are and that it helped this woman quit smoking after 29 years.

THEN it launches into another 45 seconds about how it can take three months to actually stop smoking, that there are numerous (and life threatening) side effects of the medication (seriously, see below), and you have to have an actual "plan" with maybe even counseling, that the meds alone won't do it.

Really? This is a viable option for people who want to quit smoking? THEN when you quit taking the meds you have a slew of withdrawl symptoms that include things like depression & suicidal thoughts? You'll be so agitated and upset, you'll probably start smoking again! Why bother?

Seriously, this is from their website:

What is the most important safety information about CHANTIX?
Some people have had changes in behavior, hostility, agitation, depressed mood, suicidal thoughts or actions while using CHANTIX to help them quit smoking. Some people had these symptoms when they began taking CHANTIX, and others developed them after several weeks of treatment or after stopping CHANTIX. If you, your family, or caregiver notice agitation, hostility, depression, or changes in behavior, thinking, or mood that are not typical for you, or you develop suicidal thoughts or actions, anxiety, panic, aggression, anger, mania, abnormal sensations, hallucinations, paranoia, or confusion, stop taking CHANTIX and call your doctor right away. Also tell your doctor about any history of depression or other mental health problems before taking CHANTIX, as these symptoms may worsen while taking CHANTIX.

Is there other important safety information? (as if the list above wasn't enough!!)
Some people can have serious skin reactions while taking CHANTIX, some of which can become life-threatening. These can include rash, swelling, redness, and peeling of the skin. Some people can have allergic reactions to CHANTIX, some of which can be life-threatening and include: swelling of the face, mouth, and throat that can cause trouble breathing. If you have these symptoms or have a rash with peeling skin or blisters in your mouth, stop taking CHANTIX and get medical attention right away.

Use caution driving or operating machinery until you know how CHANTIX may affect you. (I don't know about you, but most people who smoke also drive because they always roll their windows down and blow smoke into my car)

What are the most common side effects?
In clinical trials, the most common side effects of CHANTIX include:
Nausea (30%)
Sleep problems (trouble sleeping, changes in dreaming)
Constipation
Gas
Vomiting
These are not all the side effects of CHANTIX. Ask your doctor or pharmacist for more information.

That would be enough for me to decide that either A) I'm better of smoking or B) chewing the nicotene gum might be a little safer.....

OMG - you can get money back

2009-08-28T08:00:00.000-07:00

CLICK HERE AND SIGN UP PLEASE:

http://www.ebates.com/rf.do?referrerid=HbPsV4OvaWRxNqfDrmnzyQ%3D%3D

Holy cow batman! I am shocked shocked shocked! My friend Deena www.momthatmakescents.blogspot.com turned me on to this site where you get cash back for purchases. And I get cash back when people sign up (who also get cash back). I kind of thought it was a joke, but it isn't.

I am going to get $23 in November, but maybe even more, just for buying stuff through the site. I have pretty much just bought restaurant gift certificates for local restaurants, which has allowed me to save money AND get cash back. (you need to also sign up for restaurant.com)

By the time November rolls around and I get my check, think of how much booze and happy pills I can buy with my rebate check! YEAH baby!

The best part? Both sites are FREE TO SIGN UP.

And yesterday, because of Deena, I saved $50 bucks on a $100 grocery purchase at Safeway. I was on such a high, it was actually almost better than sex. Almost.

Some things are just so hilarious...

2009-08-26T14:59:00.000-07:00

you really don't need to say anything at all.......

Thank you Sassy Texas Redhead for the laugh of the day: http://sassytexasredhead.blogspot.com/

Honestly, who would go to a place like this? Wait....please don't answer that question.

The Big Debate

2009-08-24T09:51:00.000-07:00

Thankfully this isn't a debate in our household, but if it were I would have a LOT to say about it. First, a little background on the discussion (and I am sorry Mark you will not be happy about this post!!). I have been asking, literally begging to have another baby. You see, I've got the fever and the only cure is another pooping, crying, sleeping & eating machine that weighs 9 lbs at birth. Or so I thought.

Recently we decided to look into enrolling Kaylee in a private school, which comes with a hefty pricetag. Then I had another epiphany yesterday after catching my three year old son in a big ol' lie: someday soon I will have two teenagers. I don't think I'll have the strength to survive more than that. While I love babies and small children, as a former secondary educator I can say with 100% certainty that I would not want three teenagers in my home at one time. Nuff said.

Since we weren't 100% sure if we'd want a third little tax deduction, we put another method of pregnancy prevention in place until we could decide for sure. Mark the math whiz and financial guru decided LONG ago that we were done. Me, it took a little while longer. Now, I honestly don't know what scares me more, the cost of private school for two kids or the thought of three teenagers, but in any event I have finally come around to his way of thinking.

Needless to say, Mark's first words were: "I better get this done before you change your mind." So last night we did some research on the dreaded V: vasectomy. For a guy who volunteered to have one performed weeks after delivering our second child, I did find it amusing that he didn't know how to spell it! Anyhoozer.....

We googled Vasectomy and the FIRST SPONSORED LINK WAS THIS:
Don't Get A Vasectomywww.Essure.com
Essure® is Perm BC You Can Trust Without Cutting or Going Under

I knew immediately that this would be some other kind of torture for a woman to go through to avoid a man having to have their little boy parts fiddled with, and I was right! The HOME PAGE of this website is dedicated to the benefits of why this procedure is SO MUCH better than a vasectomy for a male. Check this out: http://essure.com/Home/Comparing/EssureVasectomy/tabid/66/Default.aspx?gclid=CJPV6IDivJwCFSNQagodHD3VoA

I decided to do a little research because I was 100% certain this would have been invented by a man, and yes, it was. After all, why on earth would a female MD invent yet another procedure for a woman to endure so a man would yet again not need to bear the responsibility of birth control?

After all, let's take a look at the options a man has for prevention: rubbers & vasectomy
Women: the pill, hormone shots, IUDs, tubal ligation, diaphragm, cervical cap....and I could go on. Hmmm.......coincidence? I think not. If you don't believe me, google it!

I think by far the most disturbing part of the whole website is the comparison it draws to the vasectomy. You have to check it out, but honestly it was like "oh poor fella, he'll be sore for a few days and have to squirt in a cup a few times, which is actually a bonus I think, after all they get a chance to spank the money AND look at porn for a valid reason. It's like a get out of jail free card!

Never mind the 9 + months that a woman's body is invaded by an alien species, the barfing, weight gain, breast feeding, recovery, etc. Literally for nearly two years your body is NOT your own. I think it's okay for a dude to have some "slight discomfort" for a few days. After all, three days of icing the old giggle berries beats three more years of finding excuses to disappear when there's a diaper full of shit just waiting to be changed.

Lesson in genetics part 2

2009-08-12T08:47:00.000-07:00

While traveling alone by airplane with two small children I realized that I also have become my father.

Everyone was tired, hungry and anxious to get home. Both children simultaneously burst into screaming tears for no apparent reason, and somewhere in the aiport my Dad heard the whole episode and yelled out the following phrase: "I'll GIVE YOU something to cry about!"

Like that really helped the situation. But I felt better hearing it. Thanks, Dad.

Lesson in Genetics

2009-08-07T07:58:00.000-07:00

I'm not really sure when I officially became my mother, but last night I realized the following:
1. I heard myself say "the answer is no. no matter how many times you ask, or how you ask, the answer will still be no!"
2. The kids were trying to avoid their bedtime and I threatened bodily harm
3. I explained to the kids that the sound of thunder was just the angels bowling
4. I bribed them with dessert so they would eat their freaking vegetables
5. I actually said "Stop jumping on the couch! It's all fun and games until someone breaks an arm!"
6. When Brady gave me some attitude I simply explained, "that is no way to talk to your mother" as if a three year old is remotely capable of grasping the concept of guilt
7. I yelled things like "don't forget to flush the toilet!" and "wash your hands!" and "tur out the lights, for pete's sake you're wasting energy!"
8. AND I have a purse full of coupons, and I'm not afraid to use them!

Shock and Awe

2009-08-06T08:20:00.001-07:00

I am about to change my blog title to Bliss, Chaos and Poop since it appears that recently poop is the number one topic, aside from clandestine sex. What happened last night is WAAAAY funnier, and slightly more disturbing, than my friend's camper trailer being sex-christened by someone else.

We live on an acre, in Sagle, with lots and lots of trees. When Brady was potty training he would frequently pee his pants because he didn't want to stop playing to go all the way in the house to use the toilet. After all, that would interfere in what he was doing.

After a couple of wet pants incidents we decided that since he is, after all, a boy, that it would be acceptable to pee outside in an emergency situation. So now he pretty much waters the weeds anytime we are outside. Might I say that we have been VERY CLEAR that he is only to do this at home, not at school, the park or anyone's else's house, unless they say it's okay.

Last night Brady said "I need to pee in the woods!" So I said "Go for it!" I saw him standing there with his little dingaling and looked away for what was a matter of three seconds. I heard him say "Mom! I got poop on my underwear!"

I leisurely strolled over thinking I might find some skid marks or something. Nope, fresh. So I asked him, "did you toot and a little poop came out?" He said "yeah, I tooted and just some poop came out" as if he was trying to convince himself that was all it was.

He pulled his pants up, and as he did so, I realized that while he was standing there and peeing, when he "tooted" he basically rocket propelled a terd right out of his butt that was just sitting right there on the side of the driveway, steaming and attracting flies, as poop usually does.

My first reaction was one of complete and total shock. Then awe, as it appears that the little guy is doing a great job ingesting fiber in his diet. Then I was kind of angry because who poops outside in their own driveway anyway??? Finally, I just started laughing uncontrollably because, quite frankly, the whole situation is really hilarious.

So I guess I have the "Phantom Pooper" and the "If I Have to do it I'll do it anywhere no matter how inappropriate it is Pooper." Lucky me. Isn't life grand?

Ode to Coffee

2009-08-03T10:24:00.001-07:00

My eyes don't open, my mouth barely speaks
Until I feel your warm steam on my cheeks.

That first cup of java just smells so great
When getting out of bed I can hardly wait.

One pack of splenda, a little carmel cream
Wakes me up from my crappy work dream.

I love to wrap my hands on that mug
If I could I would drink you by the jug.

What would I do without thee, o coffee?
Without you, there's no morning pee.

You make me much more tolerable to most
And you taste great with my morning toast.

So warm & delicious coffee I love you,
Thankfully I'm at work for my morning poo.

Kona, Cuban, and fine French Roast blend,
Makes no difference to me, you're all my best friend.

Regular, espresso and even french press
I love them all, no favorite I guess.

I'd take it by vein or catheter too,
But hot in a mug is how I prefer you.

The faster it comes the happier I am
Just ask the kids and husband, my poor little fam!

Now, dearest coffee, I must bid you adeiu,
Until 6am when I will definitely see you.

The Phantom Pooper Strikes Again!

2009-07-30T11:25:00.000-07:00

Actually, the Pooping Extrovert, AKA Kaylee was at it again today. We went over to a friend's house for breakfast before work today (she was leaving town today) and had a delightful spread of sourdough pancakes, fresh fruit, coffee, sausage and eggs. De-lish!

Before we left I gave the kids their morning "coffee" of milk, cream and a teaspoon of java. Apparently the coffee worked fast on Kaylee. As we were leaving I used their facilities and guess what I found? Two little terds in the toilet, waiting to be flushed. That girl!!!!

The Pooping Extrovert

2009-07-29T08:15:00.000-07:00

Have you ever known people who are afraid of pooping anywhere else but their own toilet? My husband calls it the "shy pooper", and apparently he is well acquainted with this phenomenon. Me, I have never had that problem, when ya gotta go, ya gotta go.

Apparently, Kaylee has inherited my complete and total comfort in pooping whenever is necessary and in whatever hole is available. In fact, I think she takes it one step further: she'd RATHER poop in someone else's toilet than her own. Introvert, she is not.

For example, our dear neighbors were building their house for about six months, and placed a Honey Bucket (no clue where that name came from, if you get within 10 feet of them they definitely DO NOT smell anything like honey) porta potty on their property, for the convenience of their subcontractors, and apparently for my beautiful daughter who "made a deposit" in it every night we went to visit them.

I figured it was just a novelty that would eventually wear off, but I was wrong. In fact, when they finally had working indoor plumbing and the "Smells like old, rotten shit bucket" was removed from the premises, little miss poopy pants was visibly upset.

I had warned my neighbor about how Kaylee likes to poop in other people's homes and how frequently she visited the outdoor facilities and hinted that she would probably want to christen their new toilet eventually. We weren't even there 5 minutes when she looked at me, wide eyed and in a VERY strained little voice said "Mom, I need to go potty." I knew it.

I went and checked on the poor unsuspecting throne and sure enough: streak marks. I had to 'fess up to the neighbor, who thankfully has a great sense of humor. And I do apologize that poop has been included in several of my posts recently, but it does make for some good stories.

I don't have enough fingers to count the number of times Kaylee has rolled the old logs in someone else's bathroom, but this past weekend kind of takes the cake. If you haven't read my previous post on how my friends Brian and Sara had their camper sex-christened, you must read that to understand why I am totally embarassed and highly amused at the same time.

On my post this morning was another comment from my friend Sara that reads as follows: "Oh and Amy, YOUR little darling daughter "blessed" the toilet with the first poop. All these fun firsts have been taken from us! First the humping, now the pooping! Dang!" If I could crawl in a hole, I would, but first I would need to make sure Kaylee hadn't already taken a shit in it.

Campus Interruptus

2009-07-27T07:53:00.001-07:00

I had THE funniest thing happen this weekend, oh my goodness. If I hadn't been so dehydrated from the heat, I would have DEFINITELY peed myself.

Mark was gone all weekend long helping his older brother move into their new house in Colville, so me being mother of the year that I am, kept the kids SO BUSY all weekend long that they didn't have an opportunity to beat each other.

First up on the list was visiting Brady's best buddy Joe Joe, and his future wife Bean (aka Lily). We hung out at their house for several hours on Saturday playing with all their toys, making a giant mess at their house, eating their pizza and leaving a wake of destruction in our path when we left.

Then my college friend Brian and his lovely, talented and extremely funny wife Sara (you can check out her blog too: http://www.sarafilly.blogspot.com/) were camping with their friends at Round Lake State Park. I allowed the kids to pass out in the van on the 25 minute drive down to the park and then we hiked down to the lake (really, it's just a freaking pond people, but anything with more water than a puddle qualifies as a lake up here) for some time to play.

Sara and her BFF were in town shopping for some CRAZY bargains during crazy days in Sandpoint, so it was me, Brian and three children ages 5, 3 and 11 months. If you knew both of us when we were in college, you probably wouldn't have trusted us with three children. Thankfully we've grown up significantly....

Sara made it back to the campsite and joined us at the lake for a swim. We were having a blast catching up and splashing with the kids. Sara mentioned that she had cupcakes back at the campsite and before I could say anything my kids were pretty much out of the water, with shoes on trucking back up to their camper for a treat. Maybe if I didn't deprive them so much.....

Anyhoozer.....I guess we're pretty noisy and didn't stay down at the beach quite long enough. As we were entering the campsite Sara's BFF and her husband came BARRELING out of Sara & Brian's camper looking ever-so-guilty.

The hubby said "oh we were looking for a bandaid" and Sara said (I am totally not making ANY of this up): "Oh MY GOD! You guys were DOING it in our camper, WEREN'T you???"

They looked pretty darn ashamed and quite frankly didn't even bother to deny it. All Mrs. BFF said was "It was all HIS idea" (totally what I would have said) and Sara says, "Amy, this is my friend (name changed to protect the non-innocent) Madam Humpsalot".....

I know they were slightly concerned about the impression they must be leaving on me, but hey, I'm a mom with two kids, I totally get it. When you're camping with your kids there's pretty much no choice. And ya know, doing it in someone else's trailer WITH a door that locks must have been pretty appealing.

More than anything Sara was bummed because she and Brian had yet to "christen" their own camper, but that duty has been covered for them. Thoughtful friends.

I did notice, however, that Mr. Humpsalot didn't look overly tired, and he certainly didn't say he needed a nap so I was guessing that they never really did seal the deal, if ya know what I mean...

Children & Animals

2009-07-22T16:00:00.000-07:00

I always say "children are like wild animals, and they can smell when you're weak or afraid, and they WILL take full advantage." I learned that during my days as a middle school teacher. I am pretty sure I've mentioned it a time or two in this blog, but I was reminded of this very phenomenon last night.

Poor Mark had to work late on a project that was moved quickly up the priority list while he was away on vacation. Of course, it never fails, it is almost always tub night when Mark is pulled away. Hmmmmmm......coincidence?

Of course we're all tired from our trip and the kids are, without fail, ravenously hungry when I pick them up at the end of the day. Additionally, because of the whole bandaid thing, Brady didn't take much of a nap so here's the equation for disaster: 1 tired mom who had a crappy day at work + 1 really exhausted 3 year old with an axe to grind over the bandaid situation + 1 really emotional and sensitive 5 year old = TOTAL DISASTER!!!!!!!

Here's how dinner went down:

Kaylee complained because her (custom made by request) cheese quesadilla was cut and Brady's was not. Seriously, the kid was almost in tears. I had forgotten, so went ahead and cut it. Cue the screaming 3 year old: I don't want mines cut (you read right "mines" as in both of his personalities I guess). Me (mother of the year): Quit complaining and eat- it will cool off and won't burn your mouth.

Kaylee pounded her quesadilla (after talking herself down from being upset over the whole cutting thing), apples and carmel (haven't made it to the store, okay? stop judging) and apple juice. (Note: Mom, I know there's not a vegatable, see previous statement). I asked if she was hungry and YES, she was. I think the kid has tape worms or a hollow leg. She eats more than I do! I gave her some tunafish salad on crackers, and yes she ate it. Then a big ol' ice cream sandwich, followed by yogurt and life cereal. And ya know what? Still hungry.....

Fast forward to tub time.

Me: Get your clothes off and in the tub! REPEAT 80 times!!!! Finally got one kid in the tub, after she dropped the old deuce in the toilet. Then Brady stepped up to the pot and also dropped a deuce, but really messy (read: poop everywhere!!!!). Both kids finally got in the tub together and complete mayhem ensued. Splashing, kicking, hitting, toy throwing, and general shenanigans. I think I was as soaked as the kids when all was said and done. One of these days I'll remember to change out of my work clothes before tubby time.

You would think as hard as it was to get them in, they would have been thrilled to get out. Nope! And the tub was coated in brown sludge from whatever dirt they managed to coat themselves with, on top of the three inches of sunscreen applied each day to keep their skin as white as my well you get the idea...

Me, I'd be jumping out of the tub to escape the parasites now living in the ring around the tub, but I guess when you're 3 and 5, it is just as fun to taunt your mother and play in an empty tub than to actually escape the plague.

Anyway, bedtime didn't go much better, but I finally got them in and of all the things to top off my day? Couldn't find my margarita fixins.....typical.

The Serial Thumbsucker

2009-07-21T12:48:00.000-07:00

When Brady was a baby, I tried like hell to get him to take a binky, or a "pacifier" if you must be technical, but to no avail. He would just spit it out and go right for the thumb. Shoulda known, he'd suck on any finger he could find near his mouth, including mine.

I hoped that one day he would just take the damn binky and forget the thumb, but that day never came. My logic was that I could always take the binky away, but to get him to quit the thumb was going to be a little tougher. Man was I WRONG!

Brady is now 3 + years old with no end to the thumbsucking in sight. In fact, he has made two little holes in his thumb from his increasingly crooked bottom teeth on top of the giant callous he's created. So much so that I think he may draw blood soon.

We kept reminding him when we were on vacation: Brady take your thumb out. One time he replied back: But I'm TIRED. (as if that's a valid reason for chewing an appendage off your body!)

Yesterday we were in the car for hours driving home. We kept reminding him to stop doint it. In fact, I think we said "Brady take your thumb out" on a 5-1 ratio of the children asking us "are we there yet" which is A LOT.

At one point I looked back and saw that he had put his blanket over his head. Guess what he was doing? You got it: sucking his thumb in disguise! Stinker.

Oh, and apparently Brady thinks his middle name is "Stinker Pants", 'least that's what he told his Aunt Debbie when she asked him.

And the footnote to this story is that last night I wrapped Brady's thumb in three big bandaids and put him to bed. He clearly didn't suck his thumb, but promised if I took the bandage off he wouldn't suck his thumb. I am not that dumb. But I did give him a dollar to quit asking me.

What song does THIS remind you of?

2009-07-13T13:08:00.000-07:00

Recently Mark made what those of us in redneck north Idaho (according to his brother anyway) refer to as Beer Can Chicken.

It is actually quite delicious, but when I went out to the grill to take it inside I opened the lid and burst our laughing, nearly peeing myself. All I could hear in the background was "Sledgehammer"....

"sledge sledge sledgehammer

I've kicked the habit

shed my skin

this is the new stuff

I go dancing in, we go dancing in...."

Long live Peter Gabriel and this naughty naughty song! To check out the (PG 13) video click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hqyc37aOqT0

And you'll see what I mean about the chicken, 'cept mine has a nice tan.

Pretty darn funny

2009-07-11T17:26:00.000-07:00

On the way to my friend Deena's house Brady asked for a piece of juicy fruit gum, which he was given. Deena and I were prepping for our big yard sale today (a whole other blog on that later!!) so the kids went inside. A few minutes later Brady came out screaming his head off due to his irrational fear of dogs, in particular yellow labs who want nothing more than to lick him and allow him to scratch their butt.

Anyways, after the evening was over we stopped for the kids to get a milkshake and I noted that Brady's gum was gone. I asked him what happened to it and he said "the dog ate it" like it was his homework or something. I figured he was full of shit. So I prodded some more and asked his sister who was allegedly a witness to the whole event. Yep, sure enough.

Here's what they said: Brady was crying so hard that his gum fell out and before Brady could pick it up the dog ate it. Kaylee says, "Harley is a doggie garbage can."

I sent a text to Deena thinking that maybe this wasn't such a good thing, and all she said was LOL, you have to be careful with that dog, if you put anything in front of him that resembles food, he'll eat it.

I was so thankful that she thought it was funny because I almost peed my pants when the kids told me! Now to figure out how to get rid of Brady's fear of dogs....

One of my favorite things

2009-07-10T14:44:00.000-07:00

Is driving around town and having my windows rolled down enjoying the sunshine, light breeze, blue sky, and fresh air, then stopping at a stop light and having the asshole next to me blow his cigarette smoke out of his own fricken window so it drifts right into mine. Gee thanks dumbass, if I wanted to smell your smoke I'd be riding in your car. Roll up the window you selfish jerk.....

New grocery store ID policy

2009-07-08T11:46:00.000-07:00

Recently I decided to start coloring my hair. Mostly because it's getting really really gray, but partly because I just wanted to do something different. As many of you know, I have a love affair with alcohol. Not the co-dependent kind or anything, but I just reaaaaalllllllly love it.

Ever since I started coloring my hair again, I noticed that I was getting asked for my ID in the check out line when purchasing any sort of booze. I was feelin' PRETTY good about myself, until an encounter recently.

Check out girl: "Can I see your ID please?"

Me: "Of course! Thanks, I never get asked anymore. Makes me feel so young looking!"

Stupid ass check out girl with no common sense: "Yeah, they changed it. Now we have to card if you look under 40."

You know you're camping in north Idaho when...

2009-07-06T12:42:00.000-07:00

You know it's spelled "creek" with a long EE sound, but you say "crick"

You think nothing of shooting a firearm in the middle of the morning for no reason other than just because

You happily enjoy a light beer in a can cooled in the aforementioned crick

You determine that dirt is just as good of a bug repellant as anything

Beer bratwursts become a dietary staple

You use gasoline to start a fire, instead of the old fashioned way with sticks and pine needles

You see signs to a lake, but when you get there it's a really big pond

Your husband actually sees a bear and you are grateful he brought his gun

You are filthy dirty and tired when you get home but you've never had more fun!

Goin' camping

2009-07-02T10:59:00.000-07:00

We are headed out this afternoon to go camping for the weekend. I sincerely hope that the rest of the weekend goes better than our morning:

Mark ran over Kaylee's bike and totally crushed it while trying to hook up the camper trailer.

Cross your fingers that it gets better from here. I am pretty sure I'll have plenty to blab, I mean blog about when I get back from boondocking in the north Idaho woods.

I can hear the banjos now....

Is it just me or...

2009-07-01T14:21:00.001-07:00

Have other women's husbands been constantly busting out their best Michael Jackson impression ever since the dude croaked over? No? Just mine? Sigh.

I always say....

2009-06-29T07:55:00.000-07:00

"God makes them cute so you don't sell 'em."

Perfect example: Friday night at dinner at a local burger joint a young lady walked by with red, and I mean like spray painted red on purpose, hair.

Brady says (quite loudly) "She's got crazy hair" while pointing as she walked by. Wish the floor could have swallowed me up.

Then again, if she didn't want people to stare, why paint it Ford Mustang red?

I am a twitter pig

2009-06-26T11:55:00.000-07:00

I had no idea, really, how addicting social media can be. I started off slowly, a little blogging here and there. Moved on over to a little plinky, then got too busy to keep writing (plus it is much easier for me to make stuff up than be told what to write about!).

I added a facebook page, just for the heck of it, and soon found myself with 124 friends (I honestly had no idea that many people liked me, or that I liked them back!) and suddenly WHAM! Twitter ended up on my to do list.

Twitter is the absolute perfect tool for me though. I cannot stop talking, nor do I ever stop talking about stuff that no one gives a crap about (just ask my husband). But suddenly I sign up for a twitter account to talk about training for the half marathon and people actually "follow" me so that they can keep up on the mundane stuff of my life. And sadly, I am excited to be keeping up on the mundane stuff of other people's lives.

For example: "Stuck in the airport in London." That is interesting, how did they get to London and why??

OR:

"Playing on the beach with my kids right now." I wanna be there too....not "tweeting" that I think I pulled a muscle in my armpit training.

So now I'm a social media junky, learning how to update everyone with everything in one quick tweet, post or text message from my phone. And I have become a twitter pig, waiting for the day when the twitter peeps say, "enough already scenic halfer, ENOUGH!"

Multi-tasking challenge

2009-06-23T08:23:00.000-07:00

So I can drive a car, talk on the phone, drink a bottle of water and twirl my hair all at the same time, but apparently I cannot tub and get two children ready for bed simultaneously. Shouldn't be that difficult.....but it is.

Last night while I tubbed Brady, Kaylee stood next to the tub buck-ass naked and sobbing "I want my mommy! I want my mommy!" And where was I? A foot away. What-ev!

While she was standing there sobbing & naked I said "Hey Kaylee, do you need to go potty?" Thinking now would be an optimal time to use the toilet. "No!" she says.

BUT as soon as I put her ass in the tub she started screaming "I need to go potty! I'm going to pee in the tub!" I took Brady to his room, showed him his pajamas, pull ups and socks (a simple three step process, one would think this would be a slam dunk) and went in to tend to an apparently exhausted 5 year old.

I hurried, scrubbed, washed, and rinsed as fast as I could. There was NO WAY in hell I was going to let her out of the tub until she was done. Man oh man, have you ever tried to quickly tub an angry 5 year old who is the size of the average 7 year old? I'd rather pull my toenails out.

I got her out, dried her ass off and put her, yes shoved her, onto the toilet thinking she was going to freaking explode. Tinkle tinkle. 2 seconds, that was IT! ARRRRGH! Are you kidding me? All that screaming for what amounted to a teaspoon of piss?

It was then that I realized Brady was being oh so quiet in his room. A sure sign that he's not doing what he's supposed to be doing. I figured he was playing with cars or reading books while completely naked (apparently the kid enjoys wearing just the birthday suit).

But oh no, he wasn't playing, nor was he dressed. He found the nearly full container of Vaseline and was "applying" it to his butt. And it was EVERYWHERE!!!!! Chunks of it all over his butt, in the crack, up his back, on his hips, and ALL OVER HIS FINGERS! EWW! And there was only about half of the Vaseline left. The whole situation was disturbing, and extremely hilarious.

I was laughing so hard and said "Wow Brady, what a good job you are doing" while trying not to pee myself. And ya know what that little stinker said? "You're WELCOME, Mom!"

I am not the daughter of the year

2009-06-22T10:27:00.000-07:00

I called my Dad yesterday and wished him a happy father's day. We talked for a long time on my way home from the store. I do have to say he got his present last weekend but when I pulled in the driveway I saw a very naked Brady (he wasn't even wearing socks) running laps in the house and I hung up on my Dad and I totally forgot to call back. Sorry Dad, I do love you! Hope you understand that Mr. Junior Streaker totally derailed my thought pattern.

Dad, this is for you: Ray Stevens, The Streak video on YouTube.

Thank God for technology!

Serious proof that I need to up my meds:

2009-06-16T10:53:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago I started training to run the Scenic Half Marathon in Sandpoint on September 20, 2009. I have a blog for that too: http://anyonecanrunahalfmarathon.blogspot.com/

So basically I have 4 full time responsibilities:
1. Wife
2. Mother
3. Executive Director
4. Writer/trainee for the Scenic Half

Well, and #5 would be professional multi-tasker who always finds time to blog & tweet about stuff no one cares about.

In any event, have I bitten off more than I can chew, or can I handle it? Vote!

What makes it all worthwhile

2009-06-12T08:16:00.000-07:00

So I had a bad day yesterday. Big deal. I am alive, employed, and have a beautiful family. Yesterday did go from bad to worse, but at the end of the day, it was all worthwhile.

Kaylee's game wasn't canceled so she played her last game and went to the pizza party afterward. All of the players were presented with a trophy. I sat and watched my sweet little angel baby girl clap and smile while her teammates were called up one by one to get their trophy. She had no idea whether or not she was going to get one, but it was written all over her beautiful face that she was so happy for her teammates.

At that moment, watching Kaylee and seeing what a wonderfully big heart she has, I completely forgot about everything else.

I couldn't have been more proud of my daughter. And, at the end of the day, that's what it's all about anyway.

Is someone trying to tell me something?

2009-06-11T14:06:00.000-07:00

So here's my day so far:

The kids were both up at the butt crack of dawn today and therefore went apeshit during the morning routine. If one wasn't crying, it was the other one. And we did THE SAME DAMN THINGS WE DO EVERY DAY!

Then I spilled coffee all over my pants (but didn't notice until about 5 minutes before my luncheon) and had giant wet spots on them from trying to clean them in the bathroom.

Minutes before leaving for the luncheon, I was informed that the passenger window on the driver's side of my luxurious mini van was busted out by what appears to be either a giant (and now probably injured bird) or a baseball bat.

During lunch the internet didn't work for my keynote speaker who also had food poisoning and thought she was going to barf.

The sound system at the lunch didn't work so I ended up using my middle school teacher voice instead of the mic, but then they fixed the mic and I forgot to tone down my voice and pretty much blew everyone out of the room with the obnoxious sound of my voice.

I am also unable to have my window repaired because the vandals (or the bird) were an hour late in smashing it in so the window won't be here until tomorrow.

I couldn't get photos to email to the Spokesman to swap out in an ad with a 2 pm deadline

In the midst of trying to send the photos the police came to take my report on the mini van incident so I am not sure my changes were made.

The only way my day will improve is if thunderstorms cancel Kaylee's final tball game so we can just go straight to the pizza and beer. I really need a beer. Now.

Dear Dog Owners in my Neighborhood:

2009-06-02T09:55:00.000-07:00

Thank you so much to those of you who let your dogs roam free in our neighborhood. Since we don't have any pets of our own we appreciate it when your dogs decide to use our grass as their personal toilet.

My husband and I were just saying how much we wished that we could have a pet and clean up dog poop on a regular basis. Thanks to you, we have the privilege without all the additional cost and hassle of feeding, watering and vet bills. That is really great, we get the easy part of pet ownership.

We also truly enjoy all the yellow spots your dogs are leaving in our luscious green lawn. We only put the turf builder on there and paid a lot of money to have someone groom it in the spring to green it up for your four legged friends anyway.

And thanks to you, we get to play this really fun game with the kids: "What shape is that?" Sometimes the little yellow dead grass pee spots look like a letter, most recently the letter F. We are hoping your dog can't spell and we don't find a u, c or a k this week.

FYI, our daughter is perfectly capable of sounding out words now though, so if your dog is that talented, please try & convince it to spell FUN or something a little more family-friendly.

The kids do enjoy having domesticated animals running around our yard as well, so we are very appreciative that you haven't invested in a fence to keep them in your own yard. We would miss them so. After all, why take the time to put them on a leash and take them for a walk or invest in a pesky fence or dog run when they can just run around unsupervised to get their exercise and fresh air.

We are actually considering doing that with our children. Unfortunately they wouldn't leave little brown smelly land mines or pee in your grass so I don't know how much you would enjoy having them in your yard. On the other hand, your yard probably doesn't have dog crap in it, so it's probably easier for them to play in. Hope you won't mind having them around.

Sincerely,

Your favorite neighbors

Okay, I admit it, I'm just weird

2009-06-01T08:23:00.000-07:00

I see that most of you know me well enough to know that I was quite sober when filming the dance heads video. I will admit to one glass of wine, consumed at least 2 hours prior to the video production.

If you haven't had the opportunity to review the aforementioned video, here's the link to the post: http://blissandchaos.blogspot.com/2009/05/100th-post-and-it.html

Those of you who voted that I had lost all sense of self-awareness are partly correct. One must have self awareness to actually lose it. Technically, I have none. In fact, let me describe to you the scene just prior to filming:

Pam Houser, CEO of the Post Falls Chamber: "Amy, grab your purse. We're going to film one of those things."

Me: "Okay, but I haven't had nearly enough to drink." (who was I kidding?)

Pam: "You'll be fine."

Me: "I dunno, this is kind of embarassing." (as if that has EVER bothered me before)

I sort of drug my feet over there, you know putting on a show for the folks, like I REALLY don't want to do this but am going along with it to be nice.

At the beginning of the video you see me chatting before the music starts. Clearly I enjoyed watching myself on that nice body!!! Then, cue the music and I really hit my stride. And for those of you who don't know how it works, yes I could see myself the ENTIRE time which is why I really hammed it up.

I am a shameless attention grabber and I always want to be the center of attention. Can you tell?

Clay VS Adam

2009-05-29T16:28:00.001-07:00

Okay I have really avoided watching American Idol this year, but am at least aware enough to know that some gay dude came in second. Funny thing is everyone acts like the's the first ever gay dude to not win American idol. And they also act like he's the first gay dude EVER on the show.

Puh-leeze.

Anyone remember Clay Aiken? Der! Like we all didn't know he was a homo the entire time he was on the show. And it's not like his closet gay-ness prevented him from winning, he just sucked a little more than Reuben Studdard.

That is what I find so amusing, that people would even remotely suggest that his gay-ness (and by the way he hasn't even confirmed it!) prevented him from winning the title. Give me a fricken break. I would bet that most of the voters are a bunch of fag hags anyway.

And I am not saying that being gay, not being gay, being gay and not admitting it, or being gay and knowing it but not wanting to tell a bunch of people is a big deal anyway. It's really not. Leave the poor kid alone.

Heck, he probably will have a better career than the winner anyways just like Clay Aiken. And what is up with their little cat fight? I bet they just totally love each other and can't admit it.

Go Away Diego, Go Away

2009-05-29T11:05:00.001-07:00

Oddly enough I had a little extra time to sit on the couch with my children this morning and watch the tail end of quite possibly the most disturbing children's show on TV, next to Dora the Explorer.

First of all, there are a LOT of holes in the Diego cartoon series. How many children have a backpack that turns in to a jet pack, snowboard or canoe? Next time my kid is in an emergency situation I hope he doesn't start singing that stupid "back pack" song hoping it turns into something only MacGyver could dream up to save his ass.

Then he has this little baby jaguar sidekick. And he talks. And he actually rescued a mama bird and her two baby birdies from a nest. I don't know about you, but most jaguars I know would have made those birds a snack. Diego wouldn't be taking a picture of the cat & the birds for his rescue album, and the photo would be of the jaguar with some feathers stuck to the sides of his mouth.

I think the most annoying thing is that Diego repeats EVERYTHING, over and over and over. How many fricken times can you say "back pack" or "swim" or "flap your arms like a bird" with the most cheerful, happy and oddly nonsensical emphasis on the words?

Personally, I think Diego is on crack. No one is that enthusiastic and energetic all the time, nor would they imagine they could do half the things he does, unless they were under the influence of something. Now I REALLY wonder what is in his backpack...

Different kinds of milk

2009-05-27T08:48:00.000-07:00

On the way to school today the kids each had a glass of milk (actually a sippy cup of milk but whatever).

We were talking about how good it was since they were given 2% instead of their normal nonfat. We talked about 2 %, whole milk, 1% and nonfat.

Kaylee mentioned they were drinking cows milk. As a follow up I asked what other kind of milk there was. Kaylee began listing off cow, goat and sheep.

Brady chimed in the following response: Chocolate!!

I have never been more proud, or more confident that he is my son.

I'm Famous!

2009-05-26T08:18:00.001-07:00

Well, maybe just infamous:

http://www.khq.com/global/video/flash/popupplayer.asp?ClipID1=3773464&h1=North%20Idaho%20car%20dealership%20affected%20by%20nationwide%20Chrysler%20restructure&vt1=v&at1=News&d1=113300&LaunchPageAdTag=Search%20Results&activePane=info&rnd=38495499

Signing off,
Famous Amos

(DUDE! What is UP with that double chin? Get me back to the gym, man!)

Cell phone ettiquette

2009-05-21T13:43:00.000-07:00

What in the hell has happened in the last few years that we have completely forgotten the appropriate ettiquette for cell phones?

Years ago I attended a funeral and actually watched the son of the deceased answer his cell phone and then talk, YES TALK, on the phone during the service. While I don't condone or excuse this behavior, it was so long ago that cell phones weren't necessarily in the mainstream at that time so people really had no clue what was appropriate.

A few years and several million cell phones later, people started to adopt more appropriate standards with cell phones. But now I think we have reverted to some highly inappropriate bevavior.

Lately I have seen some very disturbing activities among cell phone users. No, I am not talking about "texting" or "sexting". I am referring to the basic common courtesy people have forgotten to extend to one another.

At two T-ball games in a row this week, the coach on the other team (2 games, 2 teams, 2 different people) not only had their cell phone on, but they answered it in the middle of the game, which coaching their team. And then to top it off, they had actual CON-VER-SA-TIONS. WTF?!?!

Then, today I attended a luncheon meeting. Honest to God, I can forgive you if you forget to turn your phone off and it rings and you look sheepish and grab it, turn it off and freaking apologize. Who hasn't made THAT mistake once or twice. What I cannot tolerate is this scenario:

Lady A's phone started ringing, and ringing and ringing. She checked it and just turned off the ring, not the phone. Then Dude B's phone rang, and rang, and rang. Lady A's phone rang again. Dude C's phone rang, then Dude B. Just when I thought people had it figured out, Dude C's phone rang again. These people were all withing 5 feet of one another.

And you know what Dude C said? "I just dont' know how to work this new phone." Surely you know where the freaking power button is. If you don't, you shouldn't have a cell phone, let alone a driver's license and a set of car keys.

I think the most amazing thing was that no one else in the room appeared to be in the least bit bothered. In fact, they all looked kind of amused. I think I was the only one in the room who looked like they just smelled an 8 month old partially thawed dog terd.

Perhaps that is what bothers me the most, that no one else seems to care about interrupting an important thing like I dunno, coaching your child, or a volunteer speaker, for the sake of finding out what the hell you're going to eat for dinner.

My mom would be proud!

2009-05-20T13:20:00.000-07:00

As we have previously established, it takes very little to get me excited (though Mark may argue that point!). I printed some coupons the other day from a website that my friend Deena sent me. Deena's money savings skills are superior to anyone else I know.

Honestly, the woman knows how to make the grocery store pay HER to take something off their hands. If you are all about saving money you have to check out her blog: www.momthatmakecents.blogspot.com because you can find all kinds of free crap on there, in addition to coupons and all sort of other stuff!

But back to my original story. I printed a bunch of coupons from here:
http://print.coupons.com/couponweb/Offers.aspx?pid=13927&zid=ym31&nid=10&varb=cy7phwew4g18jxdbcp7p&bid=alk0520130540wszhu8754117
and went to Safeway today to pick up some snacks & micro lunches for work.

Not only did Safeway have almost everything I had on my list on special, but I had coupons for about 75% of the stuff I bought. No joke, I saved over $45!!!!!!

I was so satisfied I needed a cigarette when I left the store.

Mother of the Year Alert

2009-05-18T09:24:00.000-07:00

Many people who don't know me have no idea that I am a closet thrill seeker. Having children has tempered my adventurous nature (no more bungee jumping or extreme sailing) but I do love nearly peeing myself on the rides at Silverwood Theme Park.

Yesterday we hit the park for a fun family day of baking in the sun and riding the rides. Kaylee is just tall enough to go on every single ride in the park (with a parent). She waited all winter long to be big enough to go on the Corkscrew Roller Coaster. Our first ride of the season: http://www.silverwoodthemepark.com/corkscrew.php CORKSCREW! YEAH!

She is such an amazing little thing. She looks nothing like me: Big blue eyes, blonde curly hair, her dad's feet. Looking at her from head to toe you would never guess that she inherited any of my genetic material. However, strap that kid into a ride that makes most grown men cry and you will see her mother in her eyes.

Our final ride of the day is called panic plunge: http://www.silverwoodthemepark.com/panicplunge.php Top speed on this ride is 47 MPH. Kaylee wanted so badly to take it for a ride so we waited patiently in line for the thrill of her lifetime. I think her eyeballs popped out of her head on the way down. That kid didn't make a sound on the way down but sure enough, as soon as we got off she asked if she could go again. I couldn't have been more proud!

'Fess Up Friday

2009-05-15T12:01:00.000-07:00

Wow! Where have I been? I really don't know! Busy? Maybe. Losing my mind? Definitely.

Here's my confession for today: I just ate a chocolate chip cookie. Most people would say "what's the big deal with a chocolate chip cookie?" The big deal is that I won't stop there. Oh no, later today I'll be offered dessert and I'll say no thank you. But then I'll think, "I already ate a cookie, so what's the big deal? I blew it already." Then I'll raid the chocolate stash at home because again, I've already blown it for the day. Then while watching a movie with the kids, most likely the 57th time I've watched the same movie, I'll eat an entire bag of microwave popcorn. Then more chocolate. So what I am really saying is that I have little self control or will power when it comes to junk food. Once I start, I just can't stop! But heck, it's Friday, so who cares anyway? Ice Cream parlor, here I come!