2010 Resolutions...

Here they are... my 2010 Resolutions. I thought about renaming them in some wimpy like form such as:
2010 plans
things to do maybe, in 2010
or even possibilities 2010.

That way if I don't follow through, I won't feel so bad. I mean, resolve... that is some harsh language people. I totally think in our age of wishywashiness I could get a real following of people who get on the band wagon to end the "pressure" of calling them resolutions. It will be the new thing to be politically correct about... I can see the car magnets now.

So here are mine, in no particular order:
1) eat breakfast every day. Please note, breakfast will not be allowed to be a brown liquid in a mug. This one will be hard, I like my jack in a mug... Just kidding, of course I mean coffee.
2) I will paint my right thumbnail red to remind me not to talk so much. Of course, that is kind of an oddity, to have one red nail, so I will have to explain why, and that will lead to more chatting, and hmmm... I think I shall have to tweak this plan...
3) I will go on a plane and visit a friend somewhere at some time. There will be no one traveling near me that once held residence in my uterus.
4) I will win the following bet I have made with my Micah. If I lose 8 lbs in January I get to buy a speedlite for my camera. If you see me lifting a carbohydrate to my lips, slap it away and yell, "Think of the clear photos fatty!" Thank you for your help, and please, whisper the fatty part.
5) I will make a cake from scratch. This is due to the viewing of Julie and Julia, and will likely be a failure, but at least I can say duncan hines does not own me.
6 I will not change any diapers on Mondays. None, zero, zilch. Micah is not aware of this resolution and will probably not be a big supporter of it, but resolve I must, and I vow to stick to this one... it is a matter of principal you know...
7) No more weed beds. My front flower bed looks like I am blue ribbon winner in the crabgrass growing category at the county fair. No more! I will till, weed, and plant until a thing of beauty is thriving properly. (or I may just plant some grass and be done with it, but either way, the weeds will be gone. I like a good loop hole, don't you?)
8) I promise to read every issue of Us magazine that I am getting for the princely sum of $1 a year. Thank you Amazon.com , I will no longer need to go to bed at night worrying about what Nicole Richie is naming her children, or which moronic celebrity paid $1500 for a new handbag. My brain may not be able to handle such intellectual stimulation, but I will try it none the less.
9) The avoidance of ever eating a fish taco shall not waiver in 2010.
10) The walls of my stairway will be properly cleaned and the fingerprints removed... or maybe just painted over. This is akin to the weed issue in resolution #7.

So what are your 2010 Resolutions?

To tweet or not to tweet...

So , last week, I am sitting in church. I hear my phone make its little ringy alert noise that lets me know I have a text. Um... who is texting me? While I am in church? It is from my husband's dear dear friend, JD. (guys do not refer to themselves as anything other than friend. I am guessing neither will be fond of my use of the term "dear" in double time. Let me put it this way... JD was the best man at our wedding, he was with us on our first date, and technically, we at one point in our married life, lived with him. That should make the use of labels a mute point from here on out.)

So, my text was from JD. JD is a pastor, so I am little shocked that he is texting me whilst preaching...

the text reads "behind u".

Huh?

Sure enough, I turn around and there are JD and his wife Veronica. Veronica is one of my favorite people. We don't get to see each other very often, but I love that when we get to, it is like seeing a friend you hang out with all the time. Now Veronica, (aka Vee) is also about 37 weeks pregnant. She is all Heidi Klumesque in her preggo state, but that is not the point of this tale...

We were chatting about baby names, delivery, etc. and the faux paus of texting in church. (which JD will argue that I should have had my phone on mute... yeah yeah yeah... )She tells me she has forbidden JD from tweeting the birth of their upcoming child. So, in order to help Vee out, I am giving JD some guidelines for acceptable and not so acceptable tweets for the man child's arrival.

OK tweets:

* "we are at the hospital. i am excited about the food already"

* "my wife makes even hospital blue look good"

* "micah is my hero"

* "contractions are things like isn't, and can't... my wife laughs at these birthing "contractions"

* "I am the forever servant of my amazing wife after what she and her body are about to go through."

* "I love to give back rubs!"

I also think it is safe to tweet anything related to helpful hospital staff, the good parking spot you snagged, or how thankful you are for your wife. All ok...

UNacceptable tweets:

* "8 cm and 75% effaced"

* "Wow, who knew toes could swell?"

* "I think cankles are sexy"

* "I think 'we' should do this drug free" (note the unacceptable part here is the reference to "we".)

* "push"

* "Hmmm... episiotomy or not? Advice?"

* "Dang, when is it my turn for a back rub here?"

* "honey how are those ice chips? My prime rib is a little tough, bummer"
* "this is taking forever"

Also note anything to with the words cervix, crowning, stirrups, camel through the eye of a needle, etc are also out.

Hopefully JD will keep this list handy and remember, some events need not be tweeted in their entirety. Oh, and FYI the most acceptable tweet would be "baby Jude has arrived." I mean, it is a gender neutral name you know... and biblical... and I am just sayin'... ;)

How many times...

How many times in one day can one person legally say the word "Poop"?

Yes, you read that right.

Alden decided he wanted to start pooping on the potty a few weeks ago. Now, that sounds all well and good. I had glamorized thoughts of the extra cash we would have since we would not be buying diapers, and was immediately encouraging this behavior. Boy, was I duped.

In case you can't remember Alden is 2 years, 2 months, and 17 days old. That is problem number one. (ha, no pun intended. enjoy that freebie though.) He thinks he wants to poop on the potty... yet the ability to do so in proper fashion, is just not quite there yet.

Hence we end with alot of this...

"Ma, I gotta poop. Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma poooooppppppyyy on da poooooottttttyyyyy. Pwease!!!!!"

Really, how can I deny that?

So we go. He sits. He does actually poop 90% of the time. It is the chatting involved that I take issue with. I mean, we're not discussing global issues here. Here is typical potty chat:

Mom: Ok Alden, do you really need to poopy?

Alden: Yes Mom, I go poopy. On da potty.

Mom: Ok, let's get your pants off.

Alden: No, no, no. I do it.

After waiting approximately 38 minutes for him to remove his pants, we sit him the commode.

Alden: Oh! Mom, you hear dat? Hear the poopy coming?

Mom: Yes Alden, I hear the poopy coming.

We wait about 5 more minutes and continue to banter back and forth about all the glorious sounds announcing the poop's impending arrival.

Then, when actual defecation begins... I better be paying attention.

Alden: LOOK MOM! You see dat? You see dat poopy?

Mom: Yes Alden, I see that poopy. Good job, that is a nice poopy.

Alden, Oh, Mom!! Here comes nother one! Nother poopy comin mom! Look!

Mom: (peering into the potty, and yes, you better be actually looking, there is no faking him out) Ok, let's go. Come on and finish poopying.

Alden: Ok Mom, the poopy is cooooommmmmiiiiiiiinnnnnggggg out. Oh, Look Mom! It IS a good poopy. A good good poopy.

Mom:Yes, it is a lovely and good poop. Well done Dookey Master. (clapping ensues)

After helping him down, we flush... at which point We must holler our goodbyes to the poop. Oh yes, we are standing over the potty yelling, "Goodbye Poopy! Goodbye!" There is waving involved as well. It is then that I realize, we should never, ever, ever, allow cameras into our home to view our daily life. There go my hopes of being a reality TV mom star.

So then we clean up, all the while high fiving, and chatting about the "really good" poopy. There is a cookie for a reward, and much celebration. I think when it is all over, I must have uttered the words "Poop" "poopy" or "poopying" at least 429 times. It disturbs me on so many levels, but alas... such is the life with three boys. I know someday it will be over, and I will long for the times of chatting and poop talk with the Dookey Masters. Until then, I still find it humiliating when someone calls and asks what are you doing, and I forget and say, "Oh, helping Alden go poop"... where is the girl who used to style hair all day, and wore leather pants with funky boots?

Oh, her... she is probably in the bathroom... helping someone...

you guessed it...

poop.

Oh, Cindy-Lou Who, where are you???

I have noticed something whilst out and about the last couple of weeks. Here it is...

We have far too few Cindy-Lou Whos out there shopping, and WAY too many Grinches. It starts in early October when retailers skip over Halloween and Thanksgiving and jump right to Christmas. Since I love fall, I mean I LOVE FALL, and Thanksgiving is my favorite Holiday, this irks me a bit. I have launched my own personal anti-earlyization of Christmas movement. Make no mistake, and do not e-mail a harsh rebuke... I am not against Christmas, oh quite the opposite... I am opposed to the ANTI-EARLYIZATION (new wordage) of the shopping part of it. I do not walk down the Michael's aisle that is so crammed full of fake wreaths and pine cones, you wonder... do people even know these actually grow... outside... in nature?

I don't dare walk down the trappings of Target's Complete Home Christmas Overhaul Department. OK, that is not what Target calls it, but you (ok.. I) am easily duped into their retailing traps... "Oh, yes, I DO need a Christmas themed ottoman!" or "However have we celebrated the holidays all these years without our very own Christmas coffeemaker with matching carafe?" One minute I am lecturing my kids about how we are thankful for the very food we are eating, and the next minute I am trying to convince myself that a snowman toilet paper holder IS a good way to spend $10. Oh, the retail shame of it all...

So, I dare not go down these aisles until late November or so... By then I have put up our tree, decorated our house, and feel plenty happy with the level of red and green present in our home. I warn you... if you too suffer from targetoverdecoratitis, steer clear of that place until January.

So, now that I am able to focus on picking up things like laundry detergent, diapers, and clorox wipes, I notice things...

People are grumpy when they shop.

Here they are, with a cart full of gifts, and the scowl on their face lets you know they have thoroughly enjoyed purchasing them. The Grinchies, the get mad when an item is out of stock. They get mad when they wait in line. They get mad about spending the money, mad about wrapping the gifts. Grinchies grump about teacher gifts, over excited children, and crowded parking lots. To the Grinchies I say... STAY HOME!

*Stop glaring at my cute little Hadji who is blocking the aisle because he is talking to a stuffed dog that fell off the shelf.

*Stop fussing at the 40-something mom who is working the checkout. It is not her fault someone has coupons, and do you think this is where SHE wants to be on Friday night?

*Stop beeping your horn at older people who dare take an extra half second to make it through the cross walk.

Go Home. Use you mouse, and click to purchase. Then the only person who has to deal with your grumpy grinchie self is the UPS man. God Bless you UPS man, the grinchies don't like to sign for packages either.

Now... where are all the Cindy-Lou Whos??? They are the ones who smile, and seem to be happy about purchasing things for others. They realize waiting in a line, is... well... just waiting. In a line. It is not the end of the world.Cindy-Lou, she may actually, I don't know, chat with her kids while they shop, and let them know that yes, they can and should pick up that fallen item off the floor and put it back on the shelf. (grinchies just leave it, "let the employees do their job" they say.)

Cindy-Lou does not get mad over a parking spot, she is thankful she can actually walk from the remote lot. Cindy Lous smile and chat with checkout ladies, and their life does not hinge on finding the shortest line. She may even, gasp... let someone with fewer items in front of her!?!? She is a crazy one this Cindy Lou Who. She is actually HAPPY. Happy about Christmas, happy about shopping, happy to be with her kids, and seems to be enjoying life. She is a mad woman! So... who is this Cindy Lou chick...

well, it could be YOU, that's Who.

Onto Scraptivity. Welcome December Daily. I will try to keep up with you this year... here is Day One. Day two is laid out here on my scrap desk, but alas, I made an apple pie this afternoon, and shhh... took a nap, so day two is not ready yet.

And because I am a random-slackerish kind of gal, here are some Halloween layouts too... gotta give fall props ya' know!

PS All the goodies used came from Memorable Seasons!

water water everywhere... um... no, not really.

So, I know I am almost always blogging about some crazy happening at the casa de fingerprint here, but occasionally, I like to drag out the proverbial soap box. Here is one such post. If you do not care about orphans, clean water, or amass-too-much-itis... you may want to stop reading now.

Ok, if you stopped there, I hope you get camel hair for Christmas. Camel hair with fleas.


To all the nice people who are still here reading, hang on... I tend to err on the side of, well, MEAN when I am worked up about an issue.
I was typing up a long post about why and how this issue has become near and dear to my heart. Now I think I am just going to hit the backspace and erase what is below and be blunt, bold, and to the point.

**You and I have too much crap.

**Some people have NOTHING.

**Clean water is not a luxury, it is a necessity.

**You do not need more crap this year for Christmas, neither do your kids.

**If you feel the need to buy, at least buy smart.

Ok, now a little explaining...
about our overcrappage. (yes, new wordage there) I am not trying to say no one should ever buy anything. I am not trying to say if you have a collection of antique gum wrappers or some such kitschy thing, you are a bad person. I am just saying... what if you stopped, just for a minute to ask... Do I really need MORE??? Believe me, this is hitting me right between the eyes too. I have so much crap it is organized in labeled bins. (Crap I think I need. Crap I might need. Crap I may someday use. Crap I have never used but paid too much for to get rid of.)

About some people with nothing...
When I say this, I am not talking about a child sent to school without breakfast. Though I think that is sad, and needs to be fixed as well, I am talking... N O T H I N G. Read this book...

You will start, in small ways to see what nothing looks and feels like. I dare say, you will never utter the words, "I am starving" again without remorse. You may also start to reconsider the idea of adoption. It is doable, I have a friend who prayed her dream to reality... (yes jena, that's you!)

About clean water...
Did you know 4,500 children will die today from water related diseases.

In Africa, 2 in 5 children will die before they reach the age of 5.

Unsafe water and lack of basic sanitation causes 80% of all disease related deaths. It kills more people every year than all forms of violence, including war.

Did you further realize that for a mere $230 you can help buy a filteration system that will provide a clean and safe 50,000 gallons of water? (replacement filters are $30.)

Think about that next time you pay $2.00 for that sweet tea or soda at a restaurant. Seriously... if you gave up that ONE luxury, and yes I am calling sweet tea a luxury, how much would you save in one year??? Ouch ouch ouch... are your toes hurting yet? Mine are. Alot.

About Christmas...
I am not Scrooge. I will buy my kids a few Christmas presents. A few is literal. There will be a toy or two. A book, perhaps. A movie, and a cheap wii game, probably. I know my kids want nerf guns, they run about $20 or so. And here is the thing, if I give them that, and then spend at least one hour playing nerf gun battle with them on Christmas morning, guess what? THEY WILL NOT WORRY ABOUT PRESENTS THEY DID NOT GET! This is where it costs me a little something... my kids are usually so busy playing with the too many toys we didn't mean to even buy, that I sit and leisurely drink my coffee whilst they play. This year, I will put that coffee down and actually, oh I don't know... ENGAGE my kids. It is what they really want anyway, and you know it is true. LESS IS MORE!!!

Looky here... It is what put me over the edge in my plight to make our holiday more meaningful. I mean, I dare say, it is CHRISTmas, and nothing about me charging $300 worth of toys says I am so glad Jesus was born. Ouch, there go those toes again. (especially when you consider applying that principle to daily life and purchases.)








I know there are still some people you want and need to buy gifts for, so how about making those gifts that count?

Look here:
http://www.apronsforafrica.com/

here:
http://saintscoffee.com/index.html

here:
http://www.ssekodesigns.com/

Now, I must give credit to my dear, dear, dear friend Jena, and her husband Keith. I love them. They are a driving force behind bringing these issues to my heart and mind, and are doing so within our church and community. I stole all these sites, and the video from her blog. Golly, I guess that makes me a lazy soap boxer... for shame, I know.


I am not trying to say you should not enjoy Christmas, or give gifts. I just want myself, and others to think... This concept does not come easily to me, but my faith compels me to change. At the end of my life, do I want someone to say, "She sure drank alot of sweet teas and had the nicest collection of crap... good crap too..."

Um... No.

Halloween Thoughts

Say what you will about Halloween.

Choose to celebrate or not.

Carve a pumpkin, or don't.

I really don't care, I just know that I am fond of a Holiday that gives me as a mom of boys a chance to

A) play dress up with them

B) take copious amounts of photos

C) steal candy out of aforementioned children's plastic pumpkin totes.

In reality, A is not as fun when it involves skulls and swords. I admit it, pink feathers and high heels are more fun to play dress up with. BUT, laugh all you want now, moms of girls. When all our kids are in the teenage years, I will be sporting some new delicious shoes with all the money I save not buying tampons.

B is kind of a lie too. I take loads of photos all the time, its just that once my children are in skull clad, sword bearing costumes, they are more willing to pose.

C? C is 100% total fact. Just yesterday I stole a mini milky way from Emerson's pumpkin, and then, to be fair, one from Lincoln's. I am not a big chocolate fan though, so I am sad that the skittles are gone. Keep your stinking milky ways I say! Why can't people pass out salt n vinegar chips???

So, anyway. Halloween. It was October 31st this year.

We went trick or treating with my friend Sarah and her young lad, Isaac. Poor Alden had to stay home with Daddy... fever struck and it was raining. :(

We braved the rain, and hit up a church down the road from Sarah's house for their indoor trunk or treat. As we hopped in the car Sarah and I decided it was best to remove the bumper magnet with OUR church's name on it. It would be akin to wearing your Burger King uniform at a McDonald's, or seeing a registered nurse at the CVS minute clinic... so remove it we did.

That was fun, the boys were thrilled with the free cotton candy and hot dogs.

The rain abated and we did indeed head out into Sarah's neighborhood. Now you will hear why we are too redneck to ever live in an actual neighborhood. It is the first house we go to, Sarah's neighbors - who are very into things like pressure washing the house, cleaning out gutters, and general over maintenance of their lawn- Emerson rings the bell and belts out that lovely Halloween chant of old... "trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat. If you don't, I don't care, I'll pull down your underwear." The sheer joy he got from saying the word "underwear" in public was immeasurable. The neighbor did not find it as funny, and I hung in the back hoping he would think it was some older child of Sarah's that she had been hiding in the basement.

Trick or Treating went well, but here are some observations:

1. If you are over the age of say, 11. Just go take your dang allowance money and buy a bag of candy.

2. If you are wearing a football jersey, you cannot just say, "Oh, I am dressed up as a football player" and request candy from strangers. There is such a thing as Halloween costume pride, and I think at least 15 minutes should be spent in costume prep for it to be a legitimate costume.

3. If you are a female, over the age of, well... ok, ANY age... You should NOT, I repeat, NOT wear anything that involves fishnet stockings, silk attire, gaudy lipstick and large jewelry... you can call yourself whatever you want, you look like you are dressed as a hooker. Yes, I said it... You may think you are Hannah Montana. You are not. You are a cast member from Girls Next Door.

4. Under no circumstance should a girl of 14, dressed in above mentioned attire, and her FATHER dressed in normal clothes still be trick or treating at 9pm. It is especially freakish if aforementioned father, he comes to the door with a cute little patchwork quilted bag asking for candy too. I have never chucked a pack of smarties so fast in my life.

5. If it were my house, and it was not, it was Sarah's, I really would consider slamming the door in the face of snotty little children who ring the bell and then stand there. Looking at you. Not even saying trick or treat. Just looking, as if to say... You know the drill. I admit it, I gave those kids the gobstoppers. Sweet confectionery revenge...

So, all in all Halloween was good. Wet, but good. Here are some pics...

I may even try and blog again tomorrow, although, now that I said that I won't. Probably. Maybe. We'll see...

Ten on Tuesday

Yes, it is a little list of Ten things... just some randomness, and since I do love alliteration, it has been dubbed



"Ten on Tuesday"



1. After reading some of the comments and e-mails from my last post I realize... there are alot more dookey-handling moms out there in the trenches. They apparently, choose NOT to vent about it via the Internet. I wonder if these other moms would want in on a group discount on t-shirts.... I can see the imaging now...



2. Overheard in our car...

Lincoln: Mom, I know why Hadji peed in his pants.

Mom: (giving the stink eye whilst saying this) Lincoln, you do not need to keep bringing that up. We have talked to Hadji, we are the parents, stop talking about it.

Insert silence here... until...

Hadji: (looking out the window) I know why, its cause I just don't care.

That statement was said so matter of factly, I almost peed MY pants!



3. I admit it... I checked out and read in one day, "Stargirl" by Jerry Spinelli. It was in the "young adult" section, so I felt a little like I was buying a training bra. It was a good reminder of how stupid high school peer pressure can be, and really, how some adults never seem to stop acting like they are in fact, still in high school.



4. I puked so violently last week I really thought my eyeballs were going to pop out. It was migraine induced pukage, and poor Micah... I was slumped over the potty like a middle schooler who found the keys to liquor cabinet... not a pretty sight.



5. I almost cried when Alden lept into Lincoln's arms this morning and hugged him and said. "I wove you! I wove you!"



6. I did in fact shed tears over last night's Biggest Loser. When Jillian tears up, what can you expect from a normal (ok, semi normal) human!?!?!



7. I just realized today is Wednesday, not Tuesday. That really messes up the whole "Ten on Tuesday" alliteration thing...



8. I often wonder why, why do we as people insist on trying to pry open windows when God has closed a door? Maybe He should paint them shut.



9. If someone does not stop buying all the peppermint mocha creamer up, I am going to be grumpy... ok, grumpier.



10. overheard again at our house this week:

(This is after I have graciously told my children we were done rotting their brains with the TV and the Wii, and some legos, or book reading would ensue.)

Lincoln: Mom let's read Captain Underpants

Emerson: (looks at me, then leaning over, cups his hand over his mouth and thinks he is whispering to Lincoln): No Wincon I don't fink mom gets that book. She is a girl.

Clearly my children fail to realize that as the youngest of four girls, I was almost like the family pet, and tom-boy would be putting it mildly... I have LIVED potty humor! So ha!

Lucille Ball... with turds.

Yes, it is true. As duly noted on my stupid Facebook status last week, my life... well Saturday it could be summed up like this...

"My life is like an episode of I Love Lucy... with turds."

That statement is not only appropriate, but true. Micah was gone last week Friday and Saturday. We were picking him up at the airport Saturday night, and juggling coinciding birthday parties and such on Saturday along with plans we had for Friday, and lots of other things, like feeding these small children that ramble around here calling me "mom".
I was feeling pretty good about how my singlemomedness was going too. Birthday presents were already wrapped and ready to go, I made plans for Lincoln to be with my in-laws, and had a game plan for the the other two. Well, all that pride came to a screeching halt when Thursday night at 730pm, I opened the door to our basement and was immediately blasted by sauna like hot, wet air. This, this is not good. ( I know, I should have my own home improvement show with those keen problem sensing skills...)
I go down for a little looksee... the hot water tank has water pouring from it, onto the floor, which is thankfully being sump-pumped out of the basement. However, the hot water at the casa de fingerprint it is very hot. Very very hot. I mean, so hot that you can literally make hot chocolate right from the tap. (this is the voice of a lazy mama talking here, trust me, it makes the perfect cup.) Hence, the water made lots of humidity and wetness everywhere. So, after turning off the hot water, and getting a plumber lined up to come fix it the next day, that fun time is resolved.

I am still on my A game with single mommyhood. I can handle this. What I cannot handle is a cold shower. So, when the plumber finished at 4:35 pm, I realized I was not going to make my 5pm drop off at the inlaws. It is ok, I can make it there by 6pm, including drive time. I jumped in the now warm shower, and prayed that new tank was working its little $725 heart out.

Well, I made it to the inlaws at 6:15, and to my friends house by 6:55pm. As I walked in, and saw people look at me a little funny, I realized... I got out of the shower, threw some gel in my hair and just ran my fingers through it. I was a hot mess of red curls. Thank you Lord for hair clips and baseball caps with bling! My friend was a real gem too, she had dinner waiting for me, and fed Alden so I could eat her yummy meal. Single mommies need a hand and I was not stupid enough to say no.

Fast Forward to Saturday. I have Emerson and Alden playing, fed, etc. I decide it is time for Alden to take a bath, and get him all ready. Be forewarned... turdage talk is coming...

Alden is in the tub playing. He starts to call me and says something like "Mama, pootub tubbypoo igo igo. potty... potty... pootubpottytub." This is roughly translated, "Dear Mom, I just laid three cute little turds in the tub with me and if you don't get in here soon, I will, I repeat, I will pick them up."
So I hurry in the bathroom, and see that, yes indeed... in addition to the cute primary colored bath toys I have lovingly purchased for bathing children's entertainment, there are three little brown "submarines" now charting the waters.
DISGUSTING, that is all there is to it. I stand Alden up, grab the few toys that were in the water and promptly chuck them in the trash. Yeah, I said, it... I threw them out. No amount of bleach water can make them whole again folks. I go to drain the water and as I do I realize... there are two very real danger potentials occurring simultaneously.

Danger #1 A Brownie is now making water draining a slow process as it hovers over the drain holes.

Danger #2 Alden is trying to pick back up his own Brownie Fleet.

"ACK" I scream! I grab some toilet paper and without thinking, reach in to keep my little Alden from touching his own dookey. Any mother would do this, however, a smart mother would have thought to grab some other form of paper product... preferably not one designed to oh, I don't know... DISINTEGRATE IN WATER! Oh yes, you have the correct picture in your mind. I am now left clutching a little Alden dookey in my hands whilst the toilet paper just falls apart, leaving nothing between my skin, and said dookey. The gagging that came from within is something only a fellow dookey grabber can ever fully understand.
So... we get the dookey cleaned out of the tub. I stand Alden on the side, disinfect the tub, and turn on the shower. Yes, he will be showering now, because no matter that I disinfected the tub, I cannot let him sit in it again. As we begin showering him, I decide to flush all that mess that I lovingly took out of the tub and threw in the toilet.

I flush it and of course... you know what happened don't you. Come on... say it out loud with me...

The toilet overflowed.

I was beyond thrilled to see those turds yet again. I run and grab the plunger, and try, and try, and try... yet still manage to get nasty water on me and my pajamas. Oh,and the toilet? Its still overflowing... I swear I think I heard it snicker at me. Alden found all of this commotion, and YES that is an intended pun, quite hilarious.
I finally got the toilet under control, wash my hands, then go about washing Alden. Now I am a firm believer in proper booty cleaning. So, I lather up my hands, and realize, oh, no wash cloth... ok, I am a real mom, I just stick my hand back there in that cute little booty crack. I am his mama, he is two, I am still allowed to clean his booty crack with my bare hands...

It is not until my hand is in full booty crackage that I realize... that cute booty crack, it has never been properly cleaned up from the previous submarine launch...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH



I think Lucy would have called Ethel.
I just bleached my hands along with the tub and called it a day.
Sometimes, you just have to admit defeat, have a glass of wine, and call it a day...

A week in my life...

Oh how did I let this happen? I let Beth talk me into joining her, Nicole, Chrissy and some of our other blogging friends on a scrapbooking project called, "A Week in the Life". The whole idea is that you take lots of pictures of your day all week long, then make some lovely scrappy creation about it.

Here is last year's Monday...


Where you may ask are Tuesday, Wednesday, and the other days of the week...

Well, lest you think I do not realize there are seven of them, I will simply come clean. That is where my week ended last year. Seriously, I could not get it together enough to finish the days in proper scrapbeautification. So sad...

Even sadder still, is the fact that I have the unfinished pages sitting in a little to-do pile here in my office as if I am actually going to finish them. Sorry Week in October 2008... you lose.

However, I have been a good girl and clicking away this week. Today though, today I missed quite possibly what would have been the best photo of the week.

A cute picture of your children you ask? No... though they are cute.

A photo of a glorious homemade apple pie? asks the ever inquisitive blogger. Negativ-o, I say.

More Delicious Shoes... you wonder? Nope, no shoe shopping this week for me.

What then, screams your face as you read this, what ever would have been the best picture of the week???

Well, I will tell you...

Today as I sat outside reading whilst the boys played. (ropes, a wagon, and d-rings, it is a miracle there was no ambulance involved.) I heard this noise. It was something coming down the road. Now, out here in the country where I live, I am quite familiar with the possible noises of vehicles and whatnot coming down the road. They are as follows...

**the slow moving tractor driven by a man of oh, about 903 years of age.

**the fast moving tractor, driven by a much younger man who cuts the grass on the roadside for all of us.

**the loud bass of the teenage wanna-be's stereo. (if the large spoiler on the back of his Cavalier could make noise too, wow...)

**the screeching breaks of the snotty luxury car driving mama who was too busy yakking it up on her cell phone to obey the 35MPH signs, as she enters the almost complete circle of a curve right down the road.

**the motorcycles who actually speed up for aforementioned curve.

**There are also assorted school bus, tractor-trailer, chicken and cow sounds as well.

BUT today, today I heard this very odd noise... it was almost like a really loud blender, or an AC window unit in screech mode. Think, straining mechanics here folks. I look up and see...

A 40 something man in jeans, on a bike with what looks like it has a weed-eater mounted on the actual bike. It is propelling the bike, literally. It has to be the most odd looking contraption I have ever seen. So much so, that I stood there, speechless. Now, since that rarely happens my children of course wondered what was wrong with me, as I tried to explain what I had just seen.

We went back to playing. About a half hour later... I hear something, I listen... is it? could it be? I leap up, "Lincoln, I think it is the crazy bike again!" I run in and grab my little camera, but by the time I get outside, it is too late, he is already speeding by... Lincoln says, "Aw, too bad mom, that would have been a great picture."

Yes son, it would have indeed.

The best part... when Micah got home and I was telling him about our day. I ended with my "guess what we saw" edition. He says, "I have heard of bikes being equipped with motors before." As if this is not some weird sighting...

"Really?" I say. "Well, do the motors look like weed eaters and have duct tape holding them to the bike frame?"

I think that was when he realized, this was not some tree hugger saving the world one commuter at a time...

It gives new meaning to the term "going green"...

Here are some of this week's favorite photos despite the missed shot of the year:

The Monster Inside...

Have any of you seen that show? It is on some science channel we receive with our satellite of cruddy channels package. It is literally called "Monster Inside" and they tell stories about people who have disgusting parasites living in them... I think we as a swine-flu fearing, plastic PBA chemical freaking out, and hand sanitizer obsessed nation, do not really need this show. Not.At.All.

But, already, I digress, because of the title.

I have a monster inside me. Not the parasite type, no. This monster, it is my love of shoes and hats and accessories. It is my sisters fault. Do you remember the last post? I tried on those wonderful, now duly named, "Delicious Shoes". I decided they were too much for a SAHM like me. I would not wear them enough, they were too pricey, etc. I have a little list of excuses I use to talk myself out of these very purchases.

But remember, my sister, whom I should note has no fear of her monster inside, she bought them for me! What was I to do??? But then it all started... There were the hats... I put away any thoughts of actually paying the $20 for the Calvin Klein hat I fell in love with. I felt rewarded though when I snagged an equally cool hat, on sale at the Gap for a mere $10. That was when it hit me...
I had awakened a long dead evil that lurks inside me. It is lover of shoes, hats, purses, and jewelery... If you know me you are going, "Wait a minute, this girl wears black 99% of the time and is the most boring dresser ever." (no one need even mention the tie dye.) Tis true, tis true... it is because I have an illness... overaccessorizeitis. It is fatal to budgets and closet space. Husbands are very fearful of this disease in any form. Symptoms include the browsing of Lucky magazine, extra stroll time in the Target jewelry department, and unembarrassed and audible ooooohing or ahhhing over shoes. There is no cure, and I fear my strain is resistant to treatment at this point.

Heaven help me, it all started with the Delicious Shoes...


And now... the Monster is feeding.

Tuesday it hit the addicts high of all time -

SHOE CLEARANCE!!

I was going to the shoe department to look for some more shoes for Lincoln. Apparently, kids feet keep growing, so they have an excuse for getting new shoes often. Lucky.

I enter the shoe department, Alden chattering away in the stroller... On my way to the kid's department I happened to pass the womens shoes. Hello friends... Oh, how I have missed you!!

I see some ADORABLE animal prints - LOOK AWAY I tell myself!! I see the exact style of boots I have been looking for - NO! Don't do it!! I warn. But then, then my friends, this is where I hit the jackpot. As I breeze by the clearance aisle, I see them... Delicious Shoes!! In the Clearance section??? Can it be? I grab them - THEY ARE MY SIZE!!!!!!!!! This never happens. It is always those people with their stinking dainty size 5 feet that get the best deals. Well, ok, them and the size 11-12 gals. We mid range sizers always get the raw end of the deal in clearance. It is a fact. I put on the shoes... perfect fit. Totally impractical. Priced at $16.99. No, I will not do this thing, not even for that price. Then I hear it...

A wee small voice saying... "Look here. Over here...."

I look, and there with a light shining on them like a beacon, I hear the shoe angels singing...

THESE were waiting for me...

How much you say? Well, originally, $70. For my shoe jonesing little self... $4 !!!!!!!!!!

YES.

FOUR DOLLARS!

one, two, three, four.

F-O-U-R

1,2,3,4

are you getting the idea?

This is where the story gets almost unbelievable...

I found two more pairs of delicious shoes for the same price, and all in my size.

Here is proof, see them.



So, yes, $210 dollars worth of delicious shoes for only $12. My head was spinning with the fake leather delight of it all.

I should also mention that I snagged my boys some shoes too... not as great a deal, but still... shoes are shoes... ;)

Now what would be a post without some scraptivity? Plus, you should know...

Memorable Seasons is having a THINK PINK On-line Crop this Friday and Saturday.

You come.

You scrap.

Jill donates $$$ to breast cancer research.

It is a good thing.

Plus, there will be lots of goodies on sale, and prizes, and other fun things...

If you are not a scrapper, too bad... you are missing out and no one will remember what you did and when you did it. Just Kidding! I however, am off to make a scrapbook page about the delicious shoes and their new friends... but first...

A couple of pages about Hadji's Birthday... :) That boy was beyond thrilled to take his friends to Putt-Putt, and be the birthday boy. He is a great kid, despite all his stubborn ways... and I have NO IDEA where he gets them from... ;)

Mickey, school and all that jazz...

So, where have we been...

well I will tell you.

We have been places.

Lots of places.

Here is proof.

(Thanks to a new cybershot pocketsize camera, I am getting photos of all those places now.

I admit it, I longed to snap photos at girls night out dinners, in the store, or at the playground, but let's be honest, hauling out the mac daddy camera is a bit paparazzi like... and it is ANOTHER bag to carry. I already look like a pack mule between a purse, a diaper bag and whatever item I am currently returning at any given time. (yes, i have become that person. the one who says, "well, I'll just buy this maxi dress and see how I like it at home." Guess what? If you think it makes you look fat in the dressing room, chances are you won't lose 10lbs on the way home and like it anymore when you get there.)

But, I digress... back to the where we have been chatter...

We went to Florida to visit my sister, her husband and her two kids. Another sister and her husband and son were also there. In case you have lost count that is 3 females and 9 males in one home. Team Estrogen was severely outnumbered. The fourth sister, she is wiser and steered clear of all that testosterone.

This is Micah and my nephew, Franklin. Franklin is not always a big fan of cuddle time. Yet, Micah broke out the mac and he was in his lap pretty quick. (I am trying to use that as reason number 4,568 that I too should have a mac laptop.)

This is Alden and my nephew Truman. Poor Truman. Alden loved him. Alot. That means he followed Truman everywhere trying to hug and play with him at every second.

This is my nephew Will and my boys, after building lego men. Aunt Sharon is a tad obsessed with giving my children all the toys their cruel parents won't buy them. Suffice to say, she is a popular gal round here...

This is Alden sleeping. It is just cute. That is all.

We did Disney.

Here is proof.

Here are the boys on some ride, I was scared Emerson would fall out. Lincoln assured me he had things under control. Ok.

Thunder Mountain or Road. I don't know, Thunder something. I was kind of hoping Emerson was too short so I could keep him with me and we could go get ice cream, or some other less puke inducing activity. No such luck, dang healthy growing kids...

This is me and Em in the world's slowest moving line.
We were stuck inside the cattle like turn styles of Thunder Mountain. The false advertisement of a mere 50 minute wait lured us in... we are such suckers. Now, normally, Disney runs like a well oiled machine from the parking lot to the food service. This day however, some teenager, whom I am sure was wearing skinny jeans, was in charge of dispersing the herded masses of sweaty parents and their offspring into the ride. Junior Skinny Pants, he let the fast pass line go without letting any of us commoners through... FOR OVER A HALF HOUR! The situation was finally remedied by a sweet girl. Yes, I am making note of her gender for specific and demeaning purposes. All in all we waited an hour and forty minutes for a ride that lasted less than two minutes. I am questioning my entertainment return on the investment.

We got to swim in my sister's pool.

Here is proof.

Alden decided he wanted to be thrown like his brothers. I was not so sure of about this.

Baby being thrown.

Thrown high.

... over a large concrete pool of water.

Apparently my fears were pointless, he loved it.

We shopped, my sister and I.

Here is proof.

I am fearful though, that I have awakened a sleeping giant... that giant would be my love of shoes and hats. There will be more on this later. For now, all you need know is that these are the Delicious Shoes. I walked into Banana Republic, and placed them on my feet before noting their price or impracticality. That is when my sister swooped in and proved... once the baby of the family, always the baby. "Aren't they delicious??" I said. "Yes, very" she agreed, donning a pair herself. "Let's get them!"

"Nooooo... I am a SAHM, I have very few places to wear them, I, I, I..." I stumbled around, trying to convince myself I did not in fact, want the Delicious Shoes. That is when big sister proclaimed, "We are BOTH getting them!!" and promptly bought them for me.

What was I to do? I could not steal her joy.

But now, the giant, the giant is awake... seriously, I have already typed up a post about this illness I have. A month (or more) will not pass before you hear about it... cross my bangle loving heart...

We sent Hadji off to school.

Here is proof.

There will be more on this topic later too... I believe anytime a child talks about someone named Duke, it needs its now blog post. For now, know this, he loves it. I should be happy, but I admit it, I wanted him to miss me a bit... just a little bit.

So, that is it. Where we have been... and why I have once again, not been posting. There were other things mixed in there too... parties, engagements (not mine! LOL), goal planning, answers to prayer, hurts, and of course... insomnia! (nobody need note that I could have, in fact been posting whilst up in the wee hours of the night, but don't. )

Mamas don't let your babies grow up to wear skinny jeans...

No, I am not kidding.

I am laying down the law, and putting it out here into blogland for all to see...

I will never, yes I am saying NEVER allow my sons to wear skinny jeans.

Now, I can say this because in all likelihood, by the time they are old enough to question the clothes I purchase them, skinny jeans will be so over.

But... for now, they are being purchased by too many young men in America.

I plan on making this the hill I am willing to die on. I think it will work since I plan on being the mom who will be okay with funky hair cuts and colors. I will rock out with my kiddos, providing the lyrics have nothing to do with sex, drugs, or hating your mama. I will let them have dessert first sometimes, and not freak out when it is time for "the talk". (ok, that last one is so not true. I still do not call body parts their correct name, and cannot ever imagine doing so with a straight face. It will surely be a giggle laden talk. ) With all that, I am hoping and praying that the harsh forbidding of skinny jeans will be overlooked.

Why, you may wonder am I taking such a hostile stance against the skinny jean...

Well, here is a list of reasons, in no particular order...

**They are made for girls. Look at Audrey Hepburn... now think, did ANY of her leading men wear the same jeans as her? I think not! "Darling, toss me your jeans, and let's go on a Roman Holiday!" Um, no...

**They make boys look like girls.

**Boys have smaller butts than girls and thus, the skinny jean is just a slap in the face with their metabolic rate superiority.

**They make a boys feet look big and floppy and awkward. Teenage boys are already awkward enough.

**Muffin tops and boys are even scarier than muffin tops and girls.

I have also heard that older men are now embracing the skinny jean... this is disturbing on many levels. First of all, that metabolic superiority, it is over for the older adult male, and second of all... EEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWW. Not to mention, ladies, really... if you are out with your man and he has to defend you, how tough does he come off looking whilst wearing skinny jeans? I think the force of the punch is directly proportional to the fit of the jean and how manly the derriere looks.

So, I am officially going public with my hatred of the skinny jean.

Who agrees with me? If you love the skinny jean, raise your hand.

(crickets chirping...) yep, no one. I thought so...

Oh, and by the way, I am getting hits on here from Wasilla, Alaska... Sarah Palin, is that you????
heeheehee

**********************************

On to some creativity then...

Well, first some Mommy reflectivity actually...

This boy. He is five now. He will start school soon. You would think that a kid who is so rough and tumble would be all, "school... see ya' mom!" Um... no. Poor Hadji, he and Lincoln were talking about school in the car and he got all teary eyed and choked up and said, "um. I fink, i will not like school. I fink, I will (gulp, and voice cracking) I fink I will miss my mom all day wong." The head is buried in the hands. I was shocked, and again, we have evidence that Hadji is not as tough as he seems.


Memory Blocks... you take a 6x6 picture, cut it up into 2x2 squares and decoupage it on the blocks.I left one side blank to write witty quotes about family and such... it is still blank. You can interpret that however you see fit.

A challenge for Memorable Seasons. I wanted people to scrap without a photo, mine is a grocery list written by Lincoln. I have not moved into the not-embarassed-to-take-a-photo-in-the grocery-store-category yet. Yet...


Seriously, this is Hadji's stuffed dog. This was my first time "babysitting" her... I got lots of instructions. LOTS. We went over food allergies, sleeping schedule, and even behavioral issues... the pay stunk.

My little fat dog is in the matchbox car phase. I am not sure if I can handle all this growing up. Micah knows it is greatly affecting my ability to stay the course on the "we're done having babies" topic.

25 things...

Since I do have a love/hate relationship with Facebook, I should not be using one of its vices here, but I will. A few months ago it was all the rage to make a list of 25 random things. Well, as you well know if you have spent anytime reading this blog, my life is one big random blur... ranluryness is the technical term.

Anyhoo, here it is, 25 Ranluryness thoughts meandering around my mind...

1. Why is the ratio between number of hours slept and volume of children in such direct disproportion?

2. Do seagulls think people really like them? I mean, maybe they think we are waving hello and not shooing. Maybe yelling "*%&#%$* seagulls pooped on my car again!" is a compliment to them. They are thinking "Nice, I hit the target and they are waving again!"

3.If talk is cheap, I am a skinflint of major proportions.

4. Dogs lick their butts, you should never be kissing them. Think about it, if you saw your kid licking their own poop chute, how quickly would be asking junior to pucker up?

5. I think people can be a source of great disappointment and that is what leads to the willingness of folks to look the other way regarding #4.

6. If silence is golden, that would explain my love of silver...


7. I have no push pins for my corkboard in my office, despite the fact that it has been up for months. I was unable to locate cute enough pins, and gave in last week grabbing a box at Target. The purple ones will be thrown away. Haste makes waste you know...


8. I am big fan of "She's Got the Look." It makes anyone over the age of 30 feel hopeful. Not that I, personally, am over the age of 30.


9. If you can drop hints like bricks, some people's feet should really be hurting...


10. I went to the dentist last week and basically, I am going to have a very costly mouth. My mother always said my mouth would get me into trouble, who knew it would be financial woes...


11. I always thought I was a cool mom until I about went into heart palpitations when Lincoln asked me what boobies were. I made it 6 years and 11 months...


12. I want to travel to Germany and have a few brews with my honey whilst looking for my relative's homes... it would be sweet.


13. If they can make a large piece of steel that FLIES through the air, why can't they make the potty on that piece of steel a little bigger, and smell nicer? Would it be a crime to put some spray in there? A pack of clorox wipes? Really???


14. I still can't remember what ISO means, but now I know what it does.

15. It took Lincoln forever to pick out a backpack and lunch box that would "match"... he is his mother's child. Poor kid.


16. I wonder if I should be trusting a bank that cannot remember to send me a debit card with all my financial dealings???


17. I do not understand fish tacos.


18. I think lavender stinks. Maybe that's because it's purple.

19. I had to question the level of stupidity it took to give a camera guided tour a stop in the "Hidden Room" found in the depths of Michael Jackson's closet. A door that was a) sound proof and b) locked from the inside. Clearly, 2 + 2 no longer equals 4. "How cool is that?" quoteth the moron reporter...

20. I am remembering now why this list thing is stupid... it gets really old around #18, and then you are tempted to just throw things out there like "I had rice krispy cereal for dinner last night"... that is clearly not the type of interesting fact the list makers intended to make the cut. Now, if fruity pebbles were involved, maybe...

21. There were three ketchup bottles in my recycling this week. I am sure that is an accomplishment of some sort, other than the proof that a) i have neglected taking the recycling for a bit and b) my chicken must be really awful.

22. I think I could live outside, if it weren't for the bugs. or the heat. or the rain. or snakes. See, I am totally outdoorsy. 100%.

23. I ran into a ginormous bee whilst delivering something to my friend Sarah's porch. If you could have seen the wild body movements, the flailing about, the running... friends, it was not a pretty sight.

24. You know are in trouble when, you heard a monsoon type rainfall in the night, and then your husband asks you the next morning, "Did you close the car windows last night?" DOH!

25. I get a small thrill when I save so much money at the grocery store that the manager has to come over and push a special key. I wonder, who is this loser and how did I become her? I need to get out more...

Nobody Move!!!!!!

No one in this house is allowed to move.
Oh, I am serious.
The laundry is all caught up.
The hampers are empty.
There are no new new clothes permitted for the next 18 hours.

I would write more, but I think I hear the boys running around. I must stop that potentially sweat inducing behavior.
Doh! I think Alden just got dirty outside.
I can hear the washing machine snickering...

I love you pocket size Lysol...

I am not a fan of public restrooms. In fact, I find the very idea of a plastic oval where multiple people park their hind parts and empty their waste to be one of the most barbaric normalities of our time.

When we are on road trips, we have designated stops where we know the bathrooms are clean. I do still however carry a pocket size Lysol can for those very occasions. Oh yes, they make Lysol pocket size now. I think besides flat-irons, paper plates, and baseball caps it is quite possibly one of the best inventions of all time. (what? you were thinking electricity?) After we use public bathrooms I do not want my children climbing back in the car with shoes that have just trekked all over someone else's urine soaked, fake mopped by a $7 hour high school employee - floors. So yes, I make them sit on the edge of the car, spray their shoes down and then place them under the seat, giving the Lysol time to set in.

So...

me plus

public bathrooms...

not so good.

On a recent trip to see two of my dearest college friends, I was awaiting my flight in the airport and realized... I needed to tinkle. When I am traveling alone I get all estrogen happy and no longer pee... I tinkle. It is so very girly... peeing sans an audience will do that to you.

Well, it was my great delight to enter the bathroom and find...

FRESHLY CLEANED STALLS!

The seats were still up and the smell of cheap pine cleaner was in the air!

Hallelujah! I picked a stall, and hovered happily.

If it is clean, why hover you say...

I will never, and I do mean NEVER place my cheekage on a public toilet seat, pine smell or not.

Now, since I had arrived way too early for my flight, I had to go AGAIN, before boarding. We all know, there is only one thing worse than public restrooms... and that is airplane toilets. They are a whole other level of demonic warfare. So... off I go, back to my clean stall. I get in, turn my bag around and lean it against the door. I have a broken suitcase wheel thingy... thank you Continental Airlines. So, my bag, it leans, and basically touches the floor. Well, I place it very carefully by the door turn around, and if you can picture Sissy Spacek's face in Carrie when the pig blood hit her... that was me. Only it was pee, and it was all over the floor, which meant, the part of my bag that has to lean down was... GASP!

TOUCHING SOMEONE ELSE'S URINE!!!!!!!

Holy Crapola! I flew out of that bathroom so fast. I turned to look again, and all I could think was how... how in the world did one person, and a female at that, manage to get that much pee on the floor?

I was seriously contemplating buying a new bag in the airport, but realized, my fear of urine poisoning would not convince Micah that $150 was money well spent on a new carry on. So, I did what any other red-blooded- American- germaphobe would do. I broke out my pocket Lysol and sprayed that bag down. I also sprayed my shoes. I was not taking any risks here.

It was at this point I pledged my undying gratitude and love to the pocket size Lysol. It has been the best $2.99 I have ever spent. ($1.99 if you factor in the coupon.)

So, Pocket Lysol, this one, (wipes tear away) this one is for you...

And a new scrap page, using my DT Kit from Memorable Seasons...

Dear _____ . Just for Jena and Jmac

So, two of my favorite people in the whole world said, "You should blog for a whole week again." I am agreeing to it. "Why?" , you ask, why bore the entire cyberworld AGAIN... Well, I think by posting these random embarrassments that are my life I am encouraging others to look at their own and go... "Well, at least I am not like that Jude chick..."
So here goes, but since day one of these seven is occurring again on a day full of migraines and a few hours of sleep I am going in list form. I had to laugh whilst reading the Pioneer Woman's Blog about how she tries not to mention physical ailments. Dang, is that proper blog etiquette? I blew that back in the days of the milk machine malfunctions and the first time I typed the word knockedupedness. Oh well...

Here goes... Dear _______,
Things that I want to address...

Dear Blogger, why do you mess up all my pretty and time consuming typing when I put a photo in a post? It is most annoying.

Dear Excedrin Migraine, I love you for taking away my hurting head. I hate you for keeping me up all night.

Dear Facebook, You are evil.

Dear Bejeweled Blitz, so are you.

Dear Fellow Soccer players, You now know I was not kidding when I said I was old and fat, at least I was kind enough to warn you. (more on this later in the week)

Dear Rain, I know you are good for the earth, but all your pressure changes, they are killing my head. I will say it... GO AWAY.

Dear Lawn, sorry you look so long and unkempt. I mean you are lush, yes, but in need of mowing. Blame it on the rain. (Oh yeah, busting out the milli vanilli... I have been waiting years to use this song in a pun like manner. Yes, I understand what this says about the excitement level in my life.)

Dear New Camera, I am sorry I manhandle you like a truck driver snacking on caviar and washing it down with a slurpee at the 7-11. I promise I will read my manual soon and learn what white balance is.

Dear Micah, soon you will have been married to me for 15 years... Your statue should be done soon, it is called "Patient Man". (I wanted "Patient Man With the Nice Arse, but they said Josh already got that one commissioned... hmmmm)

Dear Costco, you and your "veggie straws" are killing me. PS I know you are really just potato chips. Heaven help me if they ever come out with a salt n vinney veggie straw...

Dear Windstream, why does my home phone go dead every time it rains?

Dear Nose, please stop growing. I think you are bumping into my lips.

Dear Alden, please stop eating a pencil eraser whilst mommy types this.

Dear Eutychus, you are my most favorite Bible story.

Dear Jena and JMac, are you regretting asking for this?

Over and out from the Dear _____ world.

I am married to a blind man...

Ok, he is not really blind, but my Micah, he has some very poor vision. I mean, cannot be fully corrected with glasses-may one day need a corneal transplant- bad vision. Now, he had contacts, but a while back, they started making him have these horrid sensitivity issues with light. We would be driving home at night from somewhere and he would wear sunglasses, or it would get really bad and he would have to pull over for me to drive.
Now, there is something you should know about this... Micah does not enjoy being a passenger whilst I drive. Oh, I am a good, no make that a GREAT driver, I think he just has flashbacks to when he taught me to drive. Yep, tis true, tis true... he taught me to drive. This means our marriage is pretty much guaranteed to withstand anything. I think he will never get over a few small incidents... minor things really...

I mean, I admit it. I did in fact ask, "Which is the gas pedal? The short fat one or the long skinny one?" but come on... it could happen to anyone! And I might as well admit it now before Cheryl and Kelli pipe in here and tell in the comments, that yes... technically I was pulled over the night of my wedding... apparently pulling out in front of a cop, not such a good thing. The other was an innocent mistake(s)... I have technically run over my friend Cheryl's foot in two separate incidents. One at the aforementioned wedding, and one other time when... well, honestly, if someone has run over your foot once, you really should move a bit quicker when exiting a vehicle.

So, now, now you understand how bad his eyes are to turn the wheel over to me.

Well, today, he is getting new contacts. And last night whilst we were cleaning up the kitchen, and giggling and such, he says,

"Hey, I may have 20/20 vision tomorrow!"

"All right!" I say all happy for my beloved. Then I say, "Aw crap, I don't know if I want you to see me in 20/20"

Folks, this might not end well for me.
He will see the wrinkles.
He will see the big nose.
He will see that those "curves" they are really more of a gently sloping plain... ok a fall off of deathly proportions at some points, but you get my meaning...

The song, "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow" has take on new meaning for me...

I am going into full force extreme makeover because my husband has better vision now mode...
I am shaving, plucking, bleaching, and moisturizing like never before...
I will have to let you know how it all goes down...

OK, I am done here. This was technically a bonus day anyway.

How does your Garden grow?

Well, here we are...
Day Seven in Jude's Exciting Week... the dirt edition.

(green pepper plantdelicousicus)
I planted my garden. I got it in late (may 19th to be exact). I am normally a Mother's Day Weekend kind of planter, but not this year. So, my veggies are still a tad small, but they are coming along. I had to start the garden back about five feet from its normal spot due to the intense amount of grass that had overgrown it when I was not planting anything... the knockedupedness of 2007 and the sheer laziness of 2008 meant it had been a while since the garden was tilled. Well, I only own a little tiller, the kind made for girls. Yeah, I said it, and if you are some tractor riding female, all the power to ya'... Me? I own a chick tiller.

I had a job ahead of me too... a certain family member, who shall remain nameless, he thought that throwing grass clippings on my garden area was good compost. Um, no... grass reseeds itself. I am not saying there wouldn't have been any grass to till after my two year hiatus, but it would not have been as bad... bad as in, I broke my pitchfork trying to pry a clump out. Seriously, I think next time I need a repair of some sort, I am reaching for the grass seed, not the super glue. Grass is much hardier than we give it credit for, and bonus... there is a variety called "crab grass"... how totally appropriate for moi!
So, anyhoo, after much sweat and fatigue, the garden is tilled up and planted.

Here it is...

I feel all Green Acres-y just looking at it. We have tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, yellow squash, zucchini, green peppers, red peppers, and pickling cukes, Not that I am pickling any cucumbers. Ha! I planted pickling ones at the request of my friend Heather. When I told her we were planting cukes she asked if I did the little kind. "I can" I say. "You will???" she asks, as if I had just given her a gift. I sure like that girl, so little cukes she is a gettin' !
At the top is the five feet of jude-er, I mean, crab-grass, that will be covered with weed cloth and planted with watermelon this week.

Here are some more shots...

A little tomato bud... hello friend, soon I will make you into bruschetta.
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Yellow squash, its death sentence will be a shish-ke-bob.

I am also happy to report that there were no children poisoned by small amphibians during the tilling of this garden. They were joyfully playing with a big silver washtub full of water, some cups and leaves. Yeah, they kept bringing over more and more of these leaves to put in the water and - wait... what does poison ivy look like again...???

crap, I am such a bad mother...

but i am a bad mother who will have fresh veggies...