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: