Thursday, November 30, 2006
My Potty Monster
I cannot be happy. It is physically impossible for me to be thankful. C. is FINALLY using the potty. You would think that I would be jumping up and down. I was. UNTIL, C. figured out that he is capable of squeezing out droplets of pee on command so he can get a Hot Wheels car. He has obtained 20 cars in the past four days. He has really earned about 10. At one point as I went to get a car, he sat back down on the potty said he peed again and wanted another car. What have I started? I always thought that maybe he wasn't our brightest child. A good friend of mine simply stated while watching him pour rocks over his own head, "I hope he's good looking." I really thought about putting his college money to better use. Now I think I should start saving for a lawyer and rehab.
Snow Day
I'm sure you remember the anticipation of a snow day as a kid. Growing up in Dallas, snow days were relatively unheard of. We did, however, once get out of school because it was too cold.
My first winter here in MO I was amazed at what cold really was. I remember as a freshman in college there were snow flurries and I was so excited and quickly got undressed and hopped back under the covers. My roommate, who was from Cleveland just started laughing. I just KNEW that school would be cancelled. It wasn't.
Since leaving Dallas in 1989, I have lived in some really cold places. Boston and Denver were the worst. While I lived in Denver I drove a GEO Metro, which was really a roller skate with a motor. Due to an unfortunate incident in a shady parking lot with a futon in the back of my car in downtown Dallas, my window did not roll all the way up. It left about an inch gap. I sat on cardboard, because it was easier to remove the snow that had accumulated on the INSIDE of my car by simply shaking off the cardboard. That was not a good car for snow. It's okay, I wrecked it shortly after winter was over.
I was in Boston for four years and had some really bad winters. I did not know that it could get so cold that your breath could freeze inside your mouth. We were there for the largest snowstorm in like 35 years. We were also there for the coldest month of January for 50 years. I had a difficult time believing in global warming at that time. My neighbor was a drunk( and a hoosier, he had an above ground pool in his front yard, his dog crapped in our front yard and his kids shot bottle rockets at other people's houses). Anyhoo, the night the Patriots won the Super Bowl, he came out of his house, fell down the stairs, into a snow bank. He didn't get up for awhile. That's what I think of when I think of Boston snow.
Now that we are back in St. Louis I realize that Midwest winters aren't so bad, except for the ice. Nowhere else has there been so much ice. Which leads me to the reason for this post. By now you know that I have an issue with dog poop. Well, this evening as I was speaking to J. on the phone (he's stranded in Oklahoma), he suggested that since it was going to snow tonight that I go out and pick up all the dog poop. Why, you may ask? Well, when the kids go out to play in the snow tomorrow, the dog poop will be covered and they will step in it. I really don't have a problem with that. J. ACTUALLY thought I should go out in the ice and pick up little poopcicles. I explained to him that it was pelting ice. He didn't understand. I further explained that those little balls of ice hurt. He suggested an umbrella. I suggested something to him.
Needless to say the backyard continues to have frozen dog poop in it.
My first winter here in MO I was amazed at what cold really was. I remember as a freshman in college there were snow flurries and I was so excited and quickly got undressed and hopped back under the covers. My roommate, who was from Cleveland just started laughing. I just KNEW that school would be cancelled. It wasn't.
Since leaving Dallas in 1989, I have lived in some really cold places. Boston and Denver were the worst. While I lived in Denver I drove a GEO Metro, which was really a roller skate with a motor. Due to an unfortunate incident in a shady parking lot with a futon in the back of my car in downtown Dallas, my window did not roll all the way up. It left about an inch gap. I sat on cardboard, because it was easier to remove the snow that had accumulated on the INSIDE of my car by simply shaking off the cardboard. That was not a good car for snow. It's okay, I wrecked it shortly after winter was over.
I was in Boston for four years and had some really bad winters. I did not know that it could get so cold that your breath could freeze inside your mouth. We were there for the largest snowstorm in like 35 years. We were also there for the coldest month of January for 50 years. I had a difficult time believing in global warming at that time. My neighbor was a drunk( and a hoosier, he had an above ground pool in his front yard, his dog crapped in our front yard and his kids shot bottle rockets at other people's houses). Anyhoo, the night the Patriots won the Super Bowl, he came out of his house, fell down the stairs, into a snow bank. He didn't get up for awhile. That's what I think of when I think of Boston snow.
Now that we are back in St. Louis I realize that Midwest winters aren't so bad, except for the ice. Nowhere else has there been so much ice. Which leads me to the reason for this post. By now you know that I have an issue with dog poop. Well, this evening as I was speaking to J. on the phone (he's stranded in Oklahoma), he suggested that since it was going to snow tonight that I go out and pick up all the dog poop. Why, you may ask? Well, when the kids go out to play in the snow tomorrow, the dog poop will be covered and they will step in it. I really don't have a problem with that. J. ACTUALLY thought I should go out in the ice and pick up little poopcicles. I explained to him that it was pelting ice. He didn't understand. I further explained that those little balls of ice hurt. He suggested an umbrella. I suggested something to him.
Needless to say the backyard continues to have frozen dog poop in it.
Friday, November 24, 2006
I'm a horrible person
I was feeling pretty good about myself until about 5 minutes ago. I just read three different blogs about people who are suffering from cancer or working in Africa. They have some very interesting stories to tell.
I just posted about dog crap....
I just posted about dog crap....
He loves me...
Some women may believe that her husband or boyfriend truly loves her because he buys her beautiful jewelry or because he takes the kids out so she can have the day to herself. Don't get me wrong, I love those things, however I learned today how much my husband loves me.
Last night after falling asleep on the couch I awoke in a fright when J. returned from a night out. I had been asleep for quite some time, so I stumbled to bed. There was an odd smell. It stunk. Have you ever been too tired to care? That was me. I figured it was one of three things, A) my breath can get really bad (pumpkin pie, cigarettes and sleep--it can smell like ass), B) J. was letting off some Thanksgiving air from his rather full meal or C) Dukie farted. He's an old dog, he probably has gas like an old man. Like I said, too tired to investigate.
The smell must have been pretty bad because it incorporated itself into my dreams. I dreamt of garbage and backed up toilets. Yet, I still slept. Finally about 6:00 am, there was the unmistakable sound of a dog wretching. It was not far away. It was too close. He's gonna spew on the carpet. J. lept from the bed, like a man half his age to grab the dog, when he stopped cold in his tracks. The dog did not puke, which is easy to clean up because he usually eats it before I get a chance to get the paper towels, he crapped on the floor. He also crapped in his bed, which is about a foot from my face, hence the dreams about backing up toliets. He also crapped on the wall. How does this dog crap on the wall? I have no idea. Every time he has gotten sick like this before he manages to be perpelled by an explosion of diarhhea. We used to think he just ran around in a circle chasing the crap as it came out, but who knows. It looked like a crap murder scene. We were unable to measure the distance of the splatter from the bunghole to get a positive T.O.E> Time of Excretion< or the manner in which it was excreted.
You may now be wondering, what does dog crap have to do with a man's love for his wife. All I can say is, he cleaned it up.
Last night after falling asleep on the couch I awoke in a fright when J. returned from a night out. I had been asleep for quite some time, so I stumbled to bed. There was an odd smell. It stunk. Have you ever been too tired to care? That was me. I figured it was one of three things, A) my breath can get really bad (pumpkin pie, cigarettes and sleep--it can smell like ass), B) J. was letting off some Thanksgiving air from his rather full meal or C) Dukie farted. He's an old dog, he probably has gas like an old man. Like I said, too tired to investigate.
The smell must have been pretty bad because it incorporated itself into my dreams. I dreamt of garbage and backed up toilets. Yet, I still slept. Finally about 6:00 am, there was the unmistakable sound of a dog wretching. It was not far away. It was too close. He's gonna spew on the carpet. J. lept from the bed, like a man half his age to grab the dog, when he stopped cold in his tracks. The dog did not puke, which is easy to clean up because he usually eats it before I get a chance to get the paper towels, he crapped on the floor. He also crapped in his bed, which is about a foot from my face, hence the dreams about backing up toliets. He also crapped on the wall. How does this dog crap on the wall? I have no idea. Every time he has gotten sick like this before he manages to be perpelled by an explosion of diarhhea. We used to think he just ran around in a circle chasing the crap as it came out, but who knows. It looked like a crap murder scene. We were unable to measure the distance of the splatter from the bunghole to get a positive T.O.E> Time of Excretion< or the manner in which it was excreted.
You may now be wondering, what does dog crap have to do with a man's love for his wife. All I can say is, he cleaned it up.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
There was an old woman...
There was an old woman who lived in the Loop,
She has a toilet on which her child will not poop.
The 21st of November was the day of her birth,
it's been 35 years that she's been on this earth.
Her husband threw her party and everyone came,
she didn't throw up, but it was fun just the same.
She bought some new clothes from her favorite store,
talked to her Mother and returned for some more.
Her husband is unaware of how much she spent,
if she keeps shopping like that, they'll move to a tent.
Today, she woke early to take her car to the shop,
she can't drive his car to her next school stop.
He said he wants to drive her to school.
He's afraid of her driving, he's nobody's fool.
She brought some donuts and OJ to share,
she let the students out early and went home to her lair.
She'll be treating her crazies this evening, it's true.
If she can't fix them, they'll probably sue.
Another year has come, she's another year older,
Her boobs are saggy, as her husband has told her.
She's thankful for life and all that she's got,
And one day she will pay for all the trouble she's brought.
Thank you for all the well wishing on the day of my birth. So far, so good. I hope that it continues! Have a wonderful Shannon's Birthday!
She has a toilet on which her child will not poop.
The 21st of November was the day of her birth,
it's been 35 years that she's been on this earth.
Her husband threw her party and everyone came,
she didn't throw up, but it was fun just the same.
She bought some new clothes from her favorite store,
talked to her Mother and returned for some more.
Her husband is unaware of how much she spent,
if she keeps shopping like that, they'll move to a tent.
Today, she woke early to take her car to the shop,
she can't drive his car to her next school stop.
He said he wants to drive her to school.
He's afraid of her driving, he's nobody's fool.
She brought some donuts and OJ to share,
she let the students out early and went home to her lair.
She'll be treating her crazies this evening, it's true.
If she can't fix them, they'll probably sue.
Another year has come, she's another year older,
Her boobs are saggy, as her husband has told her.
She's thankful for life and all that she's got,
And one day she will pay for all the trouble she's brought.
Thank you for all the well wishing on the day of my birth. So far, so good. I hope that it continues! Have a wonderful Shannon's Birthday!
Friday, November 17, 2006
OB/GYN, Job interview, Early American Day and Potty Training
Potty training SUCKS!! C. is 3 1/2 and should be potty trained by now. I know, I know, he's a boy and blah, blah,blah. I am tired of cleaning up poop. This is big kid poop and it' s just gross. I was reading someone else's blog and she wrote about how sad she is that her second baby is getting older. She became sentimental about the joys of babyhood and toddlerhood and how sad she is that she will never get to have another baby. All I kept thinking, was first, WHAT A FREAK! and second, she's never potty trained anyone. If I ever thought of having a third, potty training would change my mind.
C. will not do it. I have bribed, praised and have now resorted to bullying. The only option I have left is to strap the toilet to his butt all day. The only time he wants to use the potty is to avoid going to bed. He's a sneaky one. I'm thinking that saving for college is a waste of time, we need to be saving for rehab.
SMELLY FEET
What is it about going to the GYN that makes me get dressed like I'm going on a date. I wear the "good" underwear with matching bra(it's pretty easy to match white), take a long shower, shave and put on nice clothes. It's just really weird that I care so much about what a doctor who sees ten women a day thinks of my hygiene. I just imagine her doing a breast exam and flashing her a tuft of pit hair. However, the thing I fret about most are my feet. I do not have nice feet but they're not horrible. There is something about having my feet so close to someone's face that makes me worry for her safety. Never mind she's got her face so close to my butt, but it's my feet that I worry about.
This visit was pretty normal. I got undressed and was thankful for the cloth covers. Paper is so scratchy. I neatly folded my clothes, underwear hidden discretely underneath. You'd think the care I put into picking out my underwear I would have been wearing them on my head. I left my socks on. I always do. It's not about the cold stirrups, it's totally about the feet. As if that thin bit of fabric would keep my noxious odor from knocking her on her butt. In general, my feet don't stink, however I become OBSESSED with my feet during these appointments. After the breast exam, in which I was sweating so much that I saw her wipe her hands from touching my armpits (gross, maybe shoulda been worrying bout my pits), she asked me about my IUD and if I checked for the string every month. She must have guessed the answer when she saw my face contort into that," I smell poop face". I don't feel my boobs monthly and they are on the OUTSIDE!!
She wants me to get my herniated bellybutton fixed. (A. did that to me) I asked if they did tummy tucks at the same time. She didn't laugh.
JOB INTERVIEW:
got real sweaty
had butt mouth from coffee
new cute outfit
got the job
they must be desperate
EARLY AMERICAN DAY:
I volunteered for the first time at my daughter's school this morning. I was really nervous. I did not want to embarrass her or myself. I smoked BEFORE I took a shower, so I wouldn't smell like smoke, I showered, put on clothes (no Mom jeans) and put on make up. That was a lot for me. I thought I looked pretty good. I might even get a nod from a "Good Mommy" instead of the usual scared smile.
After arriving I realized that Good Mommies fit into particular cliques. None of which I am a part. I fit into my own group. The Invisible Moms. I'm the mom that people meet a hundred times and say, " I'm sorry, have we met?" I'm the mom that no one can remember when they say, "Who's A.'s mom? Is she here?" Granted I'm not around much and I didn't join the Mother's club or say the rosary, but COME ON!! Maybe they just didn't recognize me when I was clean.
Being invisible does have it's perks. No one asks you to volunteer again. They forget about you. Flying under the radar may not be such a bad thing. I was able to identify other groups as well. You have these women in your life, I just know it.
Hot Moms: They are young or look young. They dress like they're going clubbing instead of volunteering at school. They are very popular and very thin. You may also refer to these as "thong moms". They tend to dress their daughters a little slutty. The girls often have faux fur collars and knee high black boots. I will never be this.
Frumpy Moms: These women look like moms. They wear Mom jeans and oversized Mom sweaters. They volunteer for EVERYTHING! They know everybody's kids and parents. They organize parent get togethers and insist on playdates. I had a conversation with one today, she was a close talker and kind freaked me out. The NICE mom that I have the weekly playdate with is one of these. (I gotta figure a way to get out of this playdate thing!!!! She made cookies today and talked about the evils of smoking!!! I can't take it!!!) Their kids are really going to hate them one day.
L.L.Bean Mom: These women look like they just got back from a run and a breakfast of bran. They shop at Whole Foods and encourage the other mothers to bring healthy snacks. Their kids have matching clothes and the girls always have bows in their hair. Their kids are NEVER dirty or untucked. I predict these are the future sociopaths. How can a kid live on trail mix and organic milk and not get a little screwed up?
And finally there are the Invisible Moms: I'm one and don't really strive to be any different. Most of these mom are working moms, so you don't see them very often. They are kind of like the "regular dads". You assume the kid has one. Their kids get picked up by babysitters and are always a little disheveled because these moms don't always get the clothes ironed and laid out. Most often it comes out the hamper.
I think the saddest mom is the wannabe mom. She wants to be in the good group but just can't make it. Most often it's the woman who was cute and popular in high school but now fits more into the frumpy mom world than the hot mom world. You all have a picture of that one in your head. Her kids are dressed "too" perfectly and she invites all the hot mom kids to parties. She shuns us invisible moms. She makes me laugh.
Needless to say, I made it through the crafts and chaos and was able to sneak out virtually unscathed. We have a party with these people tomorrow night. There will be alcohol, so I may not be so invisible tomorrow. I think I could move into a whole new category. SCARY, DRUNK and LOUD Mom. I know that is J's favorite.
C. will not do it. I have bribed, praised and have now resorted to bullying. The only option I have left is to strap the toilet to his butt all day. The only time he wants to use the potty is to avoid going to bed. He's a sneaky one. I'm thinking that saving for college is a waste of time, we need to be saving for rehab.
SMELLY FEET
What is it about going to the GYN that makes me get dressed like I'm going on a date. I wear the "good" underwear with matching bra(it's pretty easy to match white), take a long shower, shave and put on nice clothes. It's just really weird that I care so much about what a doctor who sees ten women a day thinks of my hygiene. I just imagine her doing a breast exam and flashing her a tuft of pit hair. However, the thing I fret about most are my feet. I do not have nice feet but they're not horrible. There is something about having my feet so close to someone's face that makes me worry for her safety. Never mind she's got her face so close to my butt, but it's my feet that I worry about.
This visit was pretty normal. I got undressed and was thankful for the cloth covers. Paper is so scratchy. I neatly folded my clothes, underwear hidden discretely underneath. You'd think the care I put into picking out my underwear I would have been wearing them on my head. I left my socks on. I always do. It's not about the cold stirrups, it's totally about the feet. As if that thin bit of fabric would keep my noxious odor from knocking her on her butt. In general, my feet don't stink, however I become OBSESSED with my feet during these appointments. After the breast exam, in which I was sweating so much that I saw her wipe her hands from touching my armpits (gross, maybe shoulda been worrying bout my pits), she asked me about my IUD and if I checked for the string every month. She must have guessed the answer when she saw my face contort into that," I smell poop face". I don't feel my boobs monthly and they are on the OUTSIDE!!
She wants me to get my herniated bellybutton fixed. (A. did that to me) I asked if they did tummy tucks at the same time. She didn't laugh.
JOB INTERVIEW:
got real sweaty
had butt mouth from coffee
new cute outfit
got the job
they must be desperate
EARLY AMERICAN DAY:
I volunteered for the first time at my daughter's school this morning. I was really nervous. I did not want to embarrass her or myself. I smoked BEFORE I took a shower, so I wouldn't smell like smoke, I showered, put on clothes (no Mom jeans) and put on make up. That was a lot for me. I thought I looked pretty good. I might even get a nod from a "Good Mommy" instead of the usual scared smile.
After arriving I realized that Good Mommies fit into particular cliques. None of which I am a part. I fit into my own group. The Invisible Moms. I'm the mom that people meet a hundred times and say, " I'm sorry, have we met?" I'm the mom that no one can remember when they say, "Who's A.'s mom? Is she here?" Granted I'm not around much and I didn't join the Mother's club or say the rosary, but COME ON!! Maybe they just didn't recognize me when I was clean.
Being invisible does have it's perks. No one asks you to volunteer again. They forget about you. Flying under the radar may not be such a bad thing. I was able to identify other groups as well. You have these women in your life, I just know it.
Hot Moms: They are young or look young. They dress like they're going clubbing instead of volunteering at school. They are very popular and very thin. You may also refer to these as "thong moms". They tend to dress their daughters a little slutty. The girls often have faux fur collars and knee high black boots. I will never be this.
Frumpy Moms: These women look like moms. They wear Mom jeans and oversized Mom sweaters. They volunteer for EVERYTHING! They know everybody's kids and parents. They organize parent get togethers and insist on playdates. I had a conversation with one today, she was a close talker and kind freaked me out. The NICE mom that I have the weekly playdate with is one of these. (I gotta figure a way to get out of this playdate thing!!!! She made cookies today and talked about the evils of smoking!!! I can't take it!!!) Their kids are really going to hate them one day.
L.L.Bean Mom: These women look like they just got back from a run and a breakfast of bran. They shop at Whole Foods and encourage the other mothers to bring healthy snacks. Their kids have matching clothes and the girls always have bows in their hair. Their kids are NEVER dirty or untucked. I predict these are the future sociopaths. How can a kid live on trail mix and organic milk and not get a little screwed up?
And finally there are the Invisible Moms: I'm one and don't really strive to be any different. Most of these mom are working moms, so you don't see them very often. They are kind of like the "regular dads". You assume the kid has one. Their kids get picked up by babysitters and are always a little disheveled because these moms don't always get the clothes ironed and laid out. Most often it comes out the hamper.
I think the saddest mom is the wannabe mom. She wants to be in the good group but just can't make it. Most often it's the woman who was cute and popular in high school but now fits more into the frumpy mom world than the hot mom world. You all have a picture of that one in your head. Her kids are dressed "too" perfectly and she invites all the hot mom kids to parties. She shuns us invisible moms. She makes me laugh.
Needless to say, I made it through the crafts and chaos and was able to sneak out virtually unscathed. We have a party with these people tomorrow night. There will be alcohol, so I may not be so invisible tomorrow. I think I could move into a whole new category. SCARY, DRUNK and LOUD Mom. I know that is J's favorite.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
A Great Opportunity...
That is how the invitation starts: "You are a hard working Christian woman in search of some 'Me' time. You may be in the middle of raising several small children. Your husband may work late or travel a lot. You may be a Corporate VP in charge of several challenging people.
This organization gives you an incredible 'Me' opportunity. Founded with Spirituality Enrichment in mind, this organization can give you a 'warm and fuzzy'. It offers friendship and camaraderie through various events, it allows you to talk to God through prayer and rosaries...."
I don't know about you but nothing says "me" time and " warm and fuzzy" like saying the rosary. The invitation encourages me to bring my buddies. Anyone? Anyone?
I also got invited to a school related social gathering. I don't want to go. I don't know how to behave in situations like that. These people like their children and their husbands. These people stop drinking after one glass of wine. These people don't stand over the appetizer plates because they didn't eat dinner. These people don't have poop cramps and gas. These people don't sweat like a stuck pig in 45 degree weather. These people don't have butt mouth from beer. These people know what "polite" conversation is. These people are not dying for a cigarette every fifteen minutes. These people don't puke and pee simultaneously on the floor of the bathroom. These people don't stick flowers in their own eyes. These people don't run into inanimate objects with their cars.
Maybe J. should go alone.
This organization gives you an incredible 'Me' opportunity. Founded with Spirituality Enrichment in mind, this organization can give you a 'warm and fuzzy'. It offers friendship and camaraderie through various events, it allows you to talk to God through prayer and rosaries...."
I don't know about you but nothing says "me" time and " warm and fuzzy" like saying the rosary. The invitation encourages me to bring my buddies. Anyone? Anyone?
I also got invited to a school related social gathering. I don't want to go. I don't know how to behave in situations like that. These people like their children and their husbands. These people stop drinking after one glass of wine. These people don't stand over the appetizer plates because they didn't eat dinner. These people don't have poop cramps and gas. These people don't sweat like a stuck pig in 45 degree weather. These people don't have butt mouth from beer. These people know what "polite" conversation is. These people are not dying for a cigarette every fifteen minutes. These people don't puke and pee simultaneously on the floor of the bathroom. These people don't stick flowers in their own eyes. These people don't run into inanimate objects with their cars.
Maybe J. should go alone.
How Does She Do It?
I have a lot of respect for women. For all women. Women work hard, sacrifice and give of themselves. That being said, I am jealous. I am jealous of "that woman" who always looks nice. You know her. She's your neighbor or the woman working out next to you or maybe she's you. I used to think I hated her, but I realize now that I wish I was her.
About every six months I get sick of myself. I decide that I need to try harder to look nice, get in shape, lose 10 pounds and maybe get my house organized. I get my haircut, eyebrows waxed, pedicures, manicures, start working out and eating better. It lasts about two weeks. Being on top of those things is REALLY hard. Right now my eyebrows need tweezing, hang nails need clipping , hair needs styling and fat butt needs slimming.
How does "that woman" do it? I saw "her" this morning. She was running down the street. She was thin and even while she was jogging she looked great. She had that healthy glow. She wasn't sweating. She had on cute work out clothes and did not look like she was about to pass out. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE? Those of you who have Jazzercised with me, know that my work out looks more like a hippo dying than a workout routine. I'll bet when she's done, she'll still smell like lavender and be able to breathe. When I'm done I look like I showered with my clothes on and smell like the monkey house. Is it genetic?
I know "she" has problems, blah,blah,blah, but she looks so good having them. I want to have even eyebrows and unchipped nails and old sweaters that still look new. How does she do it? I really want to know.
About every six months I get sick of myself. I decide that I need to try harder to look nice, get in shape, lose 10 pounds and maybe get my house organized. I get my haircut, eyebrows waxed, pedicures, manicures, start working out and eating better. It lasts about two weeks. Being on top of those things is REALLY hard. Right now my eyebrows need tweezing, hang nails need clipping , hair needs styling and fat butt needs slimming.
How does "that woman" do it? I saw "her" this morning. She was running down the street. She was thin and even while she was jogging she looked great. She had that healthy glow. She wasn't sweating. She had on cute work out clothes and did not look like she was about to pass out. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE? Those of you who have Jazzercised with me, know that my work out looks more like a hippo dying than a workout routine. I'll bet when she's done, she'll still smell like lavender and be able to breathe. When I'm done I look like I showered with my clothes on and smell like the monkey house. Is it genetic?
I know "she" has problems, blah,blah,blah, but she looks so good having them. I want to have even eyebrows and unchipped nails and old sweaters that still look new. How does she do it? I really want to know.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
A "Good Mommy" Goes Down
I am not usually one who revels in another's misfortune. Okay, it depends who it is. Anyhoo, yesterday was an interesting day, filled with drama and anger and victory. It was Election Day. While waiting in line at the polling place, a "Good Mommy" drove by. She saw that it was almost time to pick up C. from pre-school and offered to allow me to stay in line and she would pick him up. Who does that? Not me. I can't stand other people's kids (with a few exceptions). I will give someone money from my pocket, my last cigarette or my place in a long line, but I do not volunteer to take someone else's kid. That is one of the many reasons I am not in the "Good Mommy" category.
Let me tell you a little bit about this Good Mommy. She is so NICE!!! She never raises her voice, she never harshly reprimands her children, she can always find the positive in any situation. She's a friggin Den Mother, Room Mother and Sunday School teacher. In other words, she is the Anti-Shannon. Once while talking about our three year olds, I was explaining that every morning C. and I walk to school and run down our list of inappropriate behaviors. (Example: No biting, even if you think he might taste good. No hitting, even if they really deserve it. No scooching, even if you really like her. No singing in the other children's faces, even if you really like the song, etc... ) Well, the GM, told me," Instead of telling him what he can't do, why don't you tell him all the wonderful things he CAN do?" HAHAHAHA!!! I'll tell you what you CAN do.
Anyhoo, after voting, which was more important than picking up my son on time, I run into the GM. As we are crossing the very busy street, her daughter starts to run out where cars are coming. I, of course, take the Lord's name in vain. GM grabs the hood of her daughter's coat, yanks her back so hard the little girl falls on the ground. She then starts YELLING at her daughter. Her daughter is crying. The GM turns to ME and apologizes that I had to see that. HUH? I scream at my kids for much lesser offenses and apologize to NO ONE.
I wanted to tell her was WELCOME TO THE DARK SIDE!!!
So, today is a good day in my world. The Democrats are the majority in the house, we in Missouri can now begin egg harvesting and cloning and my cigarette prices won't go up. The kids are at school and I am going to take a nap.
Let me tell you a little bit about this Good Mommy. She is so NICE!!! She never raises her voice, she never harshly reprimands her children, she can always find the positive in any situation. She's a friggin Den Mother, Room Mother and Sunday School teacher. In other words, she is the Anti-Shannon. Once while talking about our three year olds, I was explaining that every morning C. and I walk to school and run down our list of inappropriate behaviors. (Example: No biting, even if you think he might taste good. No hitting, even if they really deserve it. No scooching, even if you really like her. No singing in the other children's faces, even if you really like the song, etc... ) Well, the GM, told me," Instead of telling him what he can't do, why don't you tell him all the wonderful things he CAN do?" HAHAHAHA!!! I'll tell you what you CAN do.
Anyhoo, after voting, which was more important than picking up my son on time, I run into the GM. As we are crossing the very busy street, her daughter starts to run out where cars are coming. I, of course, take the Lord's name in vain. GM grabs the hood of her daughter's coat, yanks her back so hard the little girl falls on the ground. She then starts YELLING at her daughter. Her daughter is crying. The GM turns to ME and apologizes that I had to see that. HUH? I scream at my kids for much lesser offenses and apologize to NO ONE.
I wanted to tell her was WELCOME TO THE DARK SIDE!!!
So, today is a good day in my world. The Democrats are the majority in the house, we in Missouri can now begin egg harvesting and cloning and my cigarette prices won't go up. The kids are at school and I am going to take a nap.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
As She Slept
My daughter is six years old. She has a little brother. He's three. They don't always see eye to eye. A. is very territorial and C. likes to "get in her kitchen". C. is NEVER allowed in her room. She has many six year old treasures that are too precious for a little brother to touch. A. doesn't like her brother too much. She never asked for a sibling and would have been just fine to be an only child.
As I was retiring for the evening, I went to check on my little angels as I do every night. C. pooped and the smell had wafted into the hallway. Still he slept. I changed his diaper. (NO, HE'S NOT POTTY TRAINED YET!!!!) I walked across the hall to kiss A. on her head and walked into a toy explosion. Every toy (which is a lot of toys) was thrown across the room. Books strewn across the bed, animals hanging from the shelves, dolls partially undressed. And then I saw it. The dollhouse that had been meticulously furnished and set was hit by a 3foot tornado in T-Rex pajamas. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED? A. sleeps through NOTHING. This disaster was at least a 15 minute task. Was she dead? Did he finally kill her? No. She was breathing. Maybe she had done this? It was then I spotted all the evidence I needed to make an accusation, two blue blankets and an empty sippy cup sitting right next to her head.
Because I do value my son's life and would like to sleep past 6:00am, I cleaned the mess. If she woke to find her life in shambles and KNEW that it was her nemesis' doing, she would KILL.
See, I do love my kids.
As I was retiring for the evening, I went to check on my little angels as I do every night. C. pooped and the smell had wafted into the hallway. Still he slept. I changed his diaper. (NO, HE'S NOT POTTY TRAINED YET!!!!) I walked across the hall to kiss A. on her head and walked into a toy explosion. Every toy (which is a lot of toys) was thrown across the room. Books strewn across the bed, animals hanging from the shelves, dolls partially undressed. And then I saw it. The dollhouse that had been meticulously furnished and set was hit by a 3foot tornado in T-Rex pajamas. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED? A. sleeps through NOTHING. This disaster was at least a 15 minute task. Was she dead? Did he finally kill her? No. She was breathing. Maybe she had done this? It was then I spotted all the evidence I needed to make an accusation, two blue blankets and an empty sippy cup sitting right next to her head.
Because I do value my son's life and would like to sleep past 6:00am, I cleaned the mess. If she woke to find her life in shambles and KNEW that it was her nemesis' doing, she would KILL.
See, I do love my kids.
An Apology to My Kids
I owe my kids an apology. Not necessarily for anything I've done yet, but for what I will likely do in the future. Here's a list of things you will hate me for in the future.
The first thing I need to apologize for is that I am REALLY LOUD!!!! I don't mean to be loud, I just am. When you almost fall into someone or I am relieved when I thought I lost you and I shout, "JESUS!!!" and all the good Mommies smile uncomfortably and look away...I'm sorry. I will laugh louder, talk louder and walk louder than anyone else's mom. Unfortunately I often say things you'll regret, and I'll say them REALLY LOUDLY!!!
I am sorry that I will yell at you in front of your friends. If I see you doing something I don't like I will become a bullhorn. The only explanation is that I have poor impulse control and sometimes you guys piss me off. Sorry.
I'm sorry that I don't take a shower before I drop you off or pick you up at school or school activities. I'm sorry that I have crazy hair and raccoon eyes. I'm sorry that sometimes I forget to brush my teeth. I'll try not to talk to anyone you know on those mornings.
I'm sorry that I wear my pajama shirt and a raggedy baseball cap when all the good Mommies( who I know talk about me) have on their day clothes. At least I've put a bra on and am wearing real shoes and not house slippers.
I'm sorry that you are not going to get to do all the afterschool activities that your friends are doing. There's really no reason other than I am lazy, do not enjoy your friends' mothers and would rather buy new clothes for us than to pay for gymnastics, karate and dance. It's not like you'll go to the Olympics or anything.
I'm sorry that our house and car are always a mess when your friends come over. YOU MADE THE MESS!!!
And finally I am sorry that you will not keep up with the Joneses. You will not get a cell phone, you will not have the best designer clothes, you will not have a nice new or used car. You may not even get to go to college. I have no reason other than, your dad is cheap.
I embarrassed my daughter today. She's six. How do you explain to a six year old that she better get used to it? I embarrass her dad on a regular basis, so why should she be different.
The first thing I need to apologize for is that I am REALLY LOUD!!!! I don't mean to be loud, I just am. When you almost fall into someone or I am relieved when I thought I lost you and I shout, "JESUS!!!" and all the good Mommies smile uncomfortably and look away...I'm sorry. I will laugh louder, talk louder and walk louder than anyone else's mom. Unfortunately I often say things you'll regret, and I'll say them REALLY LOUDLY!!!
I am sorry that I will yell at you in front of your friends. If I see you doing something I don't like I will become a bullhorn. The only explanation is that I have poor impulse control and sometimes you guys piss me off. Sorry.
I'm sorry that I don't take a shower before I drop you off or pick you up at school or school activities. I'm sorry that I have crazy hair and raccoon eyes. I'm sorry that sometimes I forget to brush my teeth. I'll try not to talk to anyone you know on those mornings.
I'm sorry that I wear my pajama shirt and a raggedy baseball cap when all the good Mommies( who I know talk about me) have on their day clothes. At least I've put a bra on and am wearing real shoes and not house slippers.
I'm sorry that you are not going to get to do all the afterschool activities that your friends are doing. There's really no reason other than I am lazy, do not enjoy your friends' mothers and would rather buy new clothes for us than to pay for gymnastics, karate and dance. It's not like you'll go to the Olympics or anything.
I'm sorry that our house and car are always a mess when your friends come over. YOU MADE THE MESS!!!
And finally I am sorry that you will not keep up with the Joneses. You will not get a cell phone, you will not have the best designer clothes, you will not have a nice new or used car. You may not even get to go to college. I have no reason other than, your dad is cheap.
I embarrassed my daughter today. She's six. How do you explain to a six year old that she better get used to it? I embarrass her dad on a regular basis, so why should she be different.
Friday, November 03, 2006
My life til now
I have decided to post some previous emails about the mishaps of my normal life. If you have already read them, please be patient, something embarrassing will happen again.
I don't know why I swallowed that fly...
I chased a fly around my house for two hours tonight. It buzzed in my ear, it landed on the television screen, it made a feast out of my dinner and finally there was silence. After almost knocking over a lamp, nearly smashing my television screen, spilling my beer and waking ahouse of sleeping children I was finally victorious. I felt calm to return to watching my evening of murder and drug shows.
Where had the fly gone?Well, as I was cleaning up for bed I took the drink of my well deserved beer only to discover that I had swallowed that fly. How do you know you may ask yourself. Is your beer lumpy going down? I don't think so. Since you all know me very well, you have to know that the first question that went through my head was, " Was this a fly who had dined on dog poop and trash earlier this day? How much fecal matter had I ingested in that one small fly?" Needless to say, I understand why the woman who swallowed the fly thought she just might die.
Sweaty
For those of you not in St. Louis, I will tell you that the weather was pleasant enough for a morning in late August. The temperature, approximately 68 with slightly high humidity. I took great care in selecting my outfit this morning. I wanted to make a good impression, professional, stylish, yet able to hide those unsightly sweat marks that for me are a part of life. Navy blue.
Anyhoo, apparently I have to walk quite a great distance to my class. The sweat begins. No biggie, I have 15 minutes to reapply deodorant and freshen up in the bathroom before class. Yes, I carry deodorant in my purse. I enter the classroom, set up when the Dean comes in and says we have a room screw up and we need to move. No biggie, until I have to climb three flights of stairs. The sweat begins again. The room was not hot, in fact most of my students were shivering. I, however, began to look like Martin Short from his SNL days, when he plays the guy being interviewed by 60 minutes. The sweat actually got into my eyes, rolled down the side of my face and down my back. I don't even want to tell you how large the sweat rings under my arms were. I think they reached my knees and actually wrapped around my waist and met in the middle. I think even my elbows were sweating. My sweat actually rolled off my face and landed on the syllabus as I was distributing it. NICE!!!!Do you think I am being talked about? Well, now I know to wear a hat and dress completely in black for the rest of the semester. The rest of the class went well and I hope that first impressions don't REALLY matter.
Mama said there'd be days like this...
It started late last night. I had eaten Hardee's for breakfast, Steak and Shake for lunch and pizza and wings for dinner. Mix that with a chocolate shake and some beer for good measure. I must say that I had a bit of a "funny tummy". I decided to take a Ducolax to relieve some pressure. I also knew that if one worked well, TWO must work great. Monday AM, the children are already fighting by 6:15. GOOD MORNING!!!! The Ducolax has worked and I am feeling SOOO much better. It's time to move on with the day. I drop A. off at school and C. and I head to Target to get some errands done. Well, once in Target, I decide what the hell, let's do some grocery shopping and am deciding upon which of those flavored waters to buy, when KONK!!!! A two liter of water bounces off my head and crashes to the floor. Water is spilling everywhere. As the good neighbor I rub my head and go off tofind a Target employee to inform them of the spill. The woman I found yells into her Walkie Talkie, SOMEBODY GET THE BLEACH AND THE WET VAC. THIS LADY DROPPED A BOTTLE OF WATER!!! But, but, but, I didn't drop it, it fell on my head. So anyhoo, the "clean up" people came and roped off the area so no one would get hurt and proceeded to treat the spilled water as though it were hazardous material.
A little embarrassed about the scene we had created we quickly swooshed to the other side of the store.While browsing the toy aisle, trying to convince C. that if he started using the potty he could have any toy he wanted, I started to feel a little shakey. Then I started to feel a little sweaty (and not the usual Shannon Sweaty). Okay, I didn't have breakfast, maybe I'm just a little light headed. THEN THE RUMBLE!!! THEN THE CRAMPS!! This was no hunger problem this was SOMETHING ELSE! Now we've all had that experience where you think, I know I can finish what I'm doing and makeit home to my nice clean restroom, or at least I can check out and sneak into the public restroom without a scene. Well rumble got louder and I realized that in fact I had to abandon my full cart in the middle of the toy aisle, yank my screaming kid and RUN to the bathroom. No scene.I thought I could make it. I almost did. Luckily I mostly made it. So what the hell do I do now? I don't want to upset the sensitive, so let's just say we made it home, with all our groceries. THe best part is that behind us in line to check out was a parent from C's school who was very chatty. The whole time I am talking to her I am thinking to myself, "About 3 minutes ago I crapped my pants."
I am home now, resting quietly and will remain at home for the rest of the day. I think it's just safer that way.
I don't know why I swallowed that fly...
I chased a fly around my house for two hours tonight. It buzzed in my ear, it landed on the television screen, it made a feast out of my dinner and finally there was silence. After almost knocking over a lamp, nearly smashing my television screen, spilling my beer and waking ahouse of sleeping children I was finally victorious. I felt calm to return to watching my evening of murder and drug shows.
Where had the fly gone?Well, as I was cleaning up for bed I took the drink of my well deserved beer only to discover that I had swallowed that fly. How do you know you may ask yourself. Is your beer lumpy going down? I don't think so. Since you all know me very well, you have to know that the first question that went through my head was, " Was this a fly who had dined on dog poop and trash earlier this day? How much fecal matter had I ingested in that one small fly?" Needless to say, I understand why the woman who swallowed the fly thought she just might die.
Sweaty
For those of you not in St. Louis, I will tell you that the weather was pleasant enough for a morning in late August. The temperature, approximately 68 with slightly high humidity. I took great care in selecting my outfit this morning. I wanted to make a good impression, professional, stylish, yet able to hide those unsightly sweat marks that for me are a part of life. Navy blue.
Anyhoo, apparently I have to walk quite a great distance to my class. The sweat begins. No biggie, I have 15 minutes to reapply deodorant and freshen up in the bathroom before class. Yes, I carry deodorant in my purse. I enter the classroom, set up when the Dean comes in and says we have a room screw up and we need to move. No biggie, until I have to climb three flights of stairs. The sweat begins again. The room was not hot, in fact most of my students were shivering. I, however, began to look like Martin Short from his SNL days, when he plays the guy being interviewed by 60 minutes. The sweat actually got into my eyes, rolled down the side of my face and down my back. I don't even want to tell you how large the sweat rings under my arms were. I think they reached my knees and actually wrapped around my waist and met in the middle. I think even my elbows were sweating. My sweat actually rolled off my face and landed on the syllabus as I was distributing it. NICE!!!!Do you think I am being talked about? Well, now I know to wear a hat and dress completely in black for the rest of the semester. The rest of the class went well and I hope that first impressions don't REALLY matter.
Mama said there'd be days like this...
It started late last night. I had eaten Hardee's for breakfast, Steak and Shake for lunch and pizza and wings for dinner. Mix that with a chocolate shake and some beer for good measure. I must say that I had a bit of a "funny tummy". I decided to take a Ducolax to relieve some pressure. I also knew that if one worked well, TWO must work great. Monday AM, the children are already fighting by 6:15. GOOD MORNING!!!! The Ducolax has worked and I am feeling SOOO much better. It's time to move on with the day. I drop A. off at school and C. and I head to Target to get some errands done. Well, once in Target, I decide what the hell, let's do some grocery shopping and am deciding upon which of those flavored waters to buy, when KONK!!!! A two liter of water bounces off my head and crashes to the floor. Water is spilling everywhere. As the good neighbor I rub my head and go off tofind a Target employee to inform them of the spill. The woman I found yells into her Walkie Talkie, SOMEBODY GET THE BLEACH AND THE WET VAC. THIS LADY DROPPED A BOTTLE OF WATER!!! But, but, but, I didn't drop it, it fell on my head. So anyhoo, the "clean up" people came and roped off the area so no one would get hurt and proceeded to treat the spilled water as though it were hazardous material.
A little embarrassed about the scene we had created we quickly swooshed to the other side of the store.While browsing the toy aisle, trying to convince C. that if he started using the potty he could have any toy he wanted, I started to feel a little shakey. Then I started to feel a little sweaty (and not the usual Shannon Sweaty). Okay, I didn't have breakfast, maybe I'm just a little light headed. THEN THE RUMBLE!!! THEN THE CRAMPS!! This was no hunger problem this was SOMETHING ELSE! Now we've all had that experience where you think, I know I can finish what I'm doing and makeit home to my nice clean restroom, or at least I can check out and sneak into the public restroom without a scene. Well rumble got louder and I realized that in fact I had to abandon my full cart in the middle of the toy aisle, yank my screaming kid and RUN to the bathroom. No scene.I thought I could make it. I almost did. Luckily I mostly made it. So what the hell do I do now? I don't want to upset the sensitive, so let's just say we made it home, with all our groceries. THe best part is that behind us in line to check out was a parent from C's school who was very chatty. The whole time I am talking to her I am thinking to myself, "About 3 minutes ago I crapped my pants."
I am home now, resting quietly and will remain at home for the rest of the day. I think it's just safer that way.
Dukie's Butt and cancelled Christmas
I realize that some of you know this story already, however it has been requested by a faithful friend. My computer skills stink, so I am going to try to copy and paste. Let's see if this works!
Good AM to you!I just wanted to let you know that I finished the book last night and I thought it was really good. A little depressing, but good. Hope you enjoy.I also want to thank you guys for your concerns over the craziness of my life. Things have settled down again after a bad weekend. At one point CHRISTMAS WAS CANCELLED!! I honestly did not know that my mother had that kind of power. I thought she at least had to consult Jesus or Santa Claus or somebody. But don't worry, she has recalled her decree and we can all breathe a collective sigh of relief. I finally told ALL parties that I no longer want to talk about this situation. For Chrissake I have Dukie's bleeding bunghole to think about.
Dukie had his surgery on Monday and now has a shaved butt. In the right light you might just mistake him for a baboon. NICE!!!! Hope you all were able to visualize that. Anyhoo, obviously the people at the vet's office do NOT know me. They let me know that they kept the tumor. I am not sure if the nurse makes necklaces out of them or perhaps we could hang it on our Christmas tree, now that Christmas is back on. She then suggested if Dukie starts to pull at his stitches I should rub Vaseline on his butt. I am not sure what horrified face I made, but she then left. I can't pick up dog shit in the back yard without my gag reflex going into overdrive, can you even imagine me greasing up Dukie's bunghole? Sorry Lady, AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN!! If she said anus one more time I was going to punch her. Add it to the list of moist panty ballsack tiddies and pizzeria of words that are greatly upsetting. Oh, I can't forget UNDERPANTS!!!!
Good AM to you!I just wanted to let you know that I finished the book last night and I thought it was really good. A little depressing, but good. Hope you enjoy.I also want to thank you guys for your concerns over the craziness of my life. Things have settled down again after a bad weekend. At one point CHRISTMAS WAS CANCELLED!! I honestly did not know that my mother had that kind of power. I thought she at least had to consult Jesus or Santa Claus or somebody. But don't worry, she has recalled her decree and we can all breathe a collective sigh of relief. I finally told ALL parties that I no longer want to talk about this situation. For Chrissake I have Dukie's bleeding bunghole to think about.
Dukie had his surgery on Monday and now has a shaved butt. In the right light you might just mistake him for a baboon. NICE!!!! Hope you all were able to visualize that. Anyhoo, obviously the people at the vet's office do NOT know me. They let me know that they kept the tumor. I am not sure if the nurse makes necklaces out of them or perhaps we could hang it on our Christmas tree, now that Christmas is back on. She then suggested if Dukie starts to pull at his stitches I should rub Vaseline on his butt. I am not sure what horrified face I made, but she then left. I can't pick up dog shit in the back yard without my gag reflex going into overdrive, can you even imagine me greasing up Dukie's bunghole? Sorry Lady, AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN!! If she said anus one more time I was going to punch her. Add it to the list of moist panty ballsack tiddies and pizzeria of words that are greatly upsetting. Oh, I can't forget UNDERPANTS!!!!
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Late night ramblings of a woman alone...
I think I may like this blogging thing. I can write whatever I am thinking and not really have to bother my friends with emails.
As I was cleaning the house this evening for my mother's upcoming visit, I started to think of all the things I can't do. Not won't do or don't like to do, but CANNOT do. I can't clean up dog poop without gagging. I can't add or subtract in my head, which means I can't make change. I can't purposely leave my doors unlocked and I can't make a cake that doesn't look like I dropped it. I can't make grilled cheese or frozen pizza without burning it and I can't go to sleep without rubbing my feet together like a cricket. I can't say the word breast without pausing. I can't hear the "Big Butt" song without laughing. I can't cut paper in a straight line. I can't wrap presents and I can't read a map. I can't read in the car without throwing up. I can't leave a blister unpopped, a zit unpicked or a hangnail unpulled. I can't quit smoking. I can't walk by a basket of candy without eating some ( I guess that goes for donuts, cookies and cakes). I can't eat cooked carrots without making "that face" and I can't use the Nordic Trak in the guest room without injuring myself. I can't bring myself to shimmey in public. ( maybe that's why Jazzercise didn't work out)
Most of all I can't make it through the day without medication and coffee.
As I was cleaning the house this evening for my mother's upcoming visit, I started to think of all the things I can't do. Not won't do or don't like to do, but CANNOT do. I can't clean up dog poop without gagging. I can't add or subtract in my head, which means I can't make change. I can't purposely leave my doors unlocked and I can't make a cake that doesn't look like I dropped it. I can't make grilled cheese or frozen pizza without burning it and I can't go to sleep without rubbing my feet together like a cricket. I can't say the word breast without pausing. I can't hear the "Big Butt" song without laughing. I can't cut paper in a straight line. I can't wrap presents and I can't read a map. I can't read in the car without throwing up. I can't leave a blister unpopped, a zit unpicked or a hangnail unpulled. I can't quit smoking. I can't walk by a basket of candy without eating some ( I guess that goes for donuts, cookies and cakes). I can't eat cooked carrots without making "that face" and I can't use the Nordic Trak in the guest room without injuring myself. I can't bring myself to shimmey in public. ( maybe that's why Jazzercise didn't work out)
Most of all I can't make it through the day without medication and coffee.
Crunchberries for Dinner
I have decided to chronicle my stories because I have a compulsion. When something happens to me, no matter how embarrassing, I must share it with everyone on my email address list. So to save email space, I will share my life on the internet. I tell you, it's a lot kinder than sharing my body on the internet.
As I develop this blog, my children are eating Crunchberries for dinner and watching Scooby Doo. So much for my parenting skills. At least I'm not smoking inside and downing a pitcher of margaritas before I beat them or lock them in the basement. I want them to have something to tell their friends when they start the " Listen to what my mom used to do" stories in college or prison. I want my kids to have some stories to tell.
20 minutes later... You know you've done a great job when your kids are in bed screaming. No sweet dreams and cuddles at our house tonight. Where are my cigarettes and that pitcher? Things are a little crazy when J. is out of town. The house is a little messier, the TV is on a little longer and the kids go to bed a WHOLE LOT earlier. They also can have Crunchberries for dinner.
As I develop this blog, my children are eating Crunchberries for dinner and watching Scooby Doo. So much for my parenting skills. At least I'm not smoking inside and downing a pitcher of margaritas before I beat them or lock them in the basement. I want them to have something to tell their friends when they start the " Listen to what my mom used to do" stories in college or prison. I want my kids to have some stories to tell.
20 minutes later... You know you've done a great job when your kids are in bed screaming. No sweet dreams and cuddles at our house tonight. Where are my cigarettes and that pitcher? Things are a little crazy when J. is out of town. The house is a little messier, the TV is on a little longer and the kids go to bed a WHOLE LOT earlier. They also can have Crunchberries for dinner.
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