Pinterest

My sister loves the internet.  I envision her, in her jammies, reading blogs and surfing the net for funny videos and sassy bloggers.  She's the one who got me on facebook (curse you) and finally pinterest.  Ahh pinterest.  Men probably don't know about pinterest.  If they do, its only because they see their wives "pinning" extravagant items and they spiral into a panic, thinking their wife is about to buy a $1000 pair of boots or build a three-story tree house in the back yard.  Eventually they find out that its just things that the wife is interested in.  But since when did we have to advertise what we are interested in?  I "like" this.  I wonder if anyone else is going to "like" this?  No one else "likes" this, so maybe I should "unlike" this because its kind of embarassing to be the only one to "like" it.  It's an exotic and ecclectic list of shit you will probably never own.  The grownups version of circling everything in the Toys R Us catalog.  I like fluffy kittens, Christmas wreaths, long hair, Michael Kors handbags and Salma Hayeks boobs.  (What?!) 
When people start to repin my items I get a little rush.  "Oh look, my old high school friend that I never talk to also likes water.  Wow!!  Why weren't we closer in high school?  Afterall, we have so much in common!"  There's even an iphone app that will alert me when someone repins one of my items. It's set to its own alarm signal.   Envision this, if you will....I'm in church, about to give the Catholic obligatory confession that I think dirty thoughts about Salma Hayeks boobs (what?!), when the signal goes off....
 "Oh shit, Father, that's the signal!  I need to take this!!"  
 (looks at phone) "HA!  I knew my neighbor also likes cool weather!  Damn I love that girl!"   
"You were saying, Father?" 
"I was saying that you're probably going to hell so there's not much I can do with you today." 
"Ok, cool."
 Is there a pin for liking Catholic Priests?  They really are the shit.  (good shit not bad shit)
Anyway, I decided the whole concept was way too depressing.  Pinning crap that I'll never touch.  So I've turned off the alarm and put myself on lock down.  But in the meantime, I'm dying to sneak a peak and see if anyone else likes men who speak French, potato chips and butterflies.  The suspense is killing me!

Annoying Adages

So I was cruisin around on the "Jedi Council Forum" of The Force.net  (So what?!  Leave me alone!)  Anyway, they were discussing some of Luke's most annoying quotes.  This got me thinking about some of the things we say that are the equivalent of running your nails down a chalkboard, for me.  Everytime I hear them my stomach churns and I wanna rip the tongue out of the messenger.  So here are a few examples of quotes that "get my goat".  (that would be #1...hehe)
OK, here we go, quotes that drive me nutbags:
2)  "It's not guns that kill people, it's people that kill people."  Do I even have to explain why this one is just plain stupid?!  Yes, I get the overall point.  If I just lay a gun down on the floor, it won't do a damn thing.  However, this still doesn't explained how every psycho on earth owning a gun is going to improve our odds of staying safe.  WHen I hear this expression, I envision a family of toothless half-wits, all sitting around staring at their family gun on the floor, waiting for it to jump up and shoot the intruder that just snuck in the back door.  Seriously.  This is just a stupid quote.


3)  "If life gives you a bowl of lemons, make lemonade".  I'm all for a nice, cool glass of freshly squeezed lemonade, but most the time life gives you shit.  Hmmm.  So what the hell am I supposed to do with that?


4)  "Live life to the fullest".  This one just pisses me off.  Don't get me wrong.  I'd love to live my life this selfishly.  However, doesn't this go against everything your parents ever taught you?  Just shirk your responsibility and go skydiving in Guatemala!  Have sex with lots of random people.  Swim naked in a lake during the coldest winter months.  What the hell!  Woohoo!!  Afterall, you may only live another 2 months, ooooor 82 more years (!!!!!!), but go ahead and do everything you ever wanted to do.  Live life without regard for your safety or those who love you.  This is grand advice.  (insert sarcastic voice here)


5)  "Everything happens for a reason".  Are you sure you want to stand behind this one?  My husband HATES that I spit my gum out on the sidewalk.  When you walk right into it, are you sure that it happened for a reason?  Or did you step into my gum because I'm an inconsiderate asshole and nothing more than that? 

6)  "When God closes a door, he opens a window".  First of all, is there a tornado coming?  Why are we opening and closing all of the doors and windows when the a/c is on?  Is God aware of how high my last electricity bill was?  Geez.

7)  "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush"  (giggle, giggle.......I know, I'm extremely immature).  But seriously, what the hell does this even mean?  When was the last time you went into a Subway shop and tried to pay with a "bird in your hand".  "Oh wait, wait, I have two here in my bush, let me get those out for you, instead". 

8)  "What's done is done".....oh, really?  Thanks for enlightening me because I thought we were just getting started.  My bad.

9)  "Beat around the bush"...can anyone actually use this one without busting out laughing? (again I am giggling...sorry)   What's with all of the references to bush?  (I feel so dirty)


10)  ""Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies."  So we're supposed to just sit here in silence because you're a lying turd?  Well, thanks for being honest.  Or are you?  hmmm.


11) WWJD?  or "What would Jesus Do?".  While I do concede that this is a great way to live your life, I'm also aware of it's hypocrisy.  Don't you always see the "WWJD" sticker on the back of a huge, gas-guzzling SUV, next to the NRA sticker?  So Jesus would load up his crew in the soccer van and drive across town to eat pizza and play games at Chuck E. Cheese's, while bitching in traffic and screaming at the kids?  He would? OK, Cool.  I stand corrected. 


12)  "This too shall pass".  Thanks for explaining how time works.  I wasn't sure what was going to happen next!  Phew.  Glad you cleared that up for me.

Lucky 13) "Hard work never killed anybody".  (Explain that to this guy.  OUCH.)

And now for some quotes that I can appreciate:

1)  "You grow up the day you have your first real laugh - at yourself."  Ethel Barrymore.

2)  "I am ready to meet my maker.  Whether my maker is ready for the ordeal of meeting me is another matter."  Winston Churchill

3)  "I'm smart enough to know that I'm dumb."  Richard Feynman

4)“The whole history of science has been the gradual realization that events do not happen in an arbitrary manner, but that they reflect a certain underlying order, which may or may not be divinely inspired.”  Man, I love Stephen Hawking!

Octopussy

I took my kids to the bookstore and told them that they could buy anything they wanted, for Valentine's Day. Well, of course this was a huge mistake because in "kid world" semantics are very important. I said "anything", didn't I? So my boys picked out $40.oo Thomas the Train accessories, of course. But my daughter picked out the cutest little octopus. (Of course no one picked out a book...the whole reason I took them there in the first place) Anyway, the octopus was pink and fluffy. It really needed a cute and fluffy name to go along with it's asthetics. I asked her what she was going to name it and she said, "Octopussy"....."Pussy, for short". I bit the insides of my cheeks, to keep from laughing and said, "Well, that's a wonderful name, but I have some other suggestions." This was never going to work because when I challenge her, she fights back even more. She's very hard-headed. We paid for our merchandise and went out to the car. There, I proceeded to offer up alternative names. "How about sassypus or octofluffy?" And she replied, "Those are great Mom, but this is Pussy!" I was going to HAVE to come up with something fantastic or she'd never change her mind. And I was going to have to come up with it fast...before she offended everyone we knew (and a few strangers, to boot). Meanwhile, she's purposely trying to annoy me by repeating the name as much as possible. (bear in mind that she has no idea why I'm opposed to it...she is only five!) "Ian, see my Pussy?" "Woo, this is Pussy" (and a few other comments that I'm not even comfortble putting on this blog!!) I start to panic because every time she gets a new stuffed animal, she takes it to school to show everyone. What would I do when the teacher called me and fussed at me for letting my daughter bring "Pussy" to school?!! My wheels were turning and I finally came up with an idea that she simply couldn't refuse. I strategically turned on the song "Fabulous" from High School Musical. I grabbed "pussy" and started to make it dance to the song. And the coup de gras, I said "Hey, this octopus sure would make a great Sharpay!" She loved the idea. Thank you lord!!I owe you one!

Next Challenge

Now that our trip to Disney is officially over (although I'm a bit in denial still...sniffle.), I'm trying to look toward our upcoming Colorado trip. This is when I'm going attempt to climb Long's Peak - my first "fourteener". I'm making it my new goal to start rigorously training for it. It's NOT my New Year's resolution though, because those things are always doomed to fail, right? Instead, it's just my newest challenge. And one thing you should know about me: I NEVER back down from a challenge. It's a Burnett girl trait, I think. We're quite competitive. We pretend we're not though. That's part of our game. Usually works too. However, I was initially having a hard time getting properly motivated to exercise........until the holidays came. (cue the bad-ass music...oh yea, are you feelin the mood yet?) Anyway, at the family Christmas party, we were all discussing the Long's Peak climb and my grandmother kept insinuating that I'll never make it up with all of the "athletes" in my family because they've all been exercising, while I've been sitting around on my butt, popping out babies for the last 5 years. (Which is technically true, but it sounds like an insult, none the less) "Are you challenging me, old lady?", I thought. Huh? Huh? Well bring it on Grammy! Bring. It. On. (ok, I don't really talk like this to my grandmother. I love and respect her very much...but this is what I was thinking.) Anyway, I decided then and there that I was gonna be so ready for that damn mountain that I'll be laughing my fucking ass off at the top of it! HA, HA, HA, bitches. Fourteen, schmourteen. I scoff at your wimpy-ass peak....maybe I'll just do it in heels! Just watch me!! Oh yea, you just watch me. Meet ya' at the top, weenies! Here we go...

Mission: Disney

Imagine 2000 miles, 10 days, and 7 kids. OK, it just wouldn't do our trip justice if I also didn't mention the extra 5 pounds that I packed on too. Sounds like a recipe for a disaster, eh? Well, it wasn't too bad. We took a family trip to Disney World, and at the risk of sounding cliche, it was magical! Other than the fact that we cheaped out and opted to drive, our trip was probably like most other peoples experience at Disney. Here's a quick summary:
1)Drive, drive, drive
2)get mauled by a deadly swarm of mosquitos, while peeing on the side of the road - WHAT?! You know you've peed on the side of the road before - stop judging me!
3)Mickey, Mickey, Mickey
4)drop, splash, scream, laugh
5)blow a wad at gift shop
6)eat $10 burgers and $5 cokes
7)get stampeded by a herd of wild Brazilians and made into a huge tourist sandwich; and I must also mention that as a result, my sister and I start to get a little "scrappy" with the crowd.
*note: we are very sweet and kind girls until you F with our children and then we turn into raving bitches...it wasn't pretty. We're both a bit ashamed of our behavior.
8) parade, fireworks, more Mickey
9) son pukes repeatedly (man, what a waste of a perfectly good $10 burger!)
10)Get offered a reefer from the hot German waitress...wait, what? Oh. My sister says she was just offering me a refill on my drink. Damn. That was the best part of the trip. Oh well.
11) more $10 burgers and $5 cokes
12) bank calls to ask if we're making all of these purchases or if we've been robbed. Oy.
13) son pukes some more (it just wouldn't be a proper family trip if one kid didn't get violently ill, right?)
13) more rides, more Mickey, more puking
14) pack up and drive home, on what seems like the longest drive in history, with a carload of Disney crap!!
I think it's important to mention, by the way, that I have the grumpiest family on the face of this earth. In all of our photos I look like Jesus Christ himself came out of the clouds, with my huge cheesy-ass grin. But my husband and sons all looked like death was awaiting them. If Mickey Mouse can't make them smile, then I do believe they are screwed. Poor guys. I think that's why my husband married me, in all truth. I can make him smile. Since he's completely incapable of doing so himself, he needs me around for that. I guess it's like the old saying, "there can only be one peacock in the family", but in this case, only one overly-happy nutcase. Well, I'm glad I get to hold that title. But in all seriousness, we all had a really fantastic time on our family trip to Disney. We made memories that I'll cherish forever. Viva Disney!

Earth to Husband!

Dear Husband,


You are the greatest person I have in my life and I love you so very,very much. But if you don't start doing some dishes, I'm gonna have to kick your ass! I was out of town for 10 days and when I returned I had to do all of your dishes. As a matter of fact, I can't remember the last time I saw you wash a dish. Did you forget how and you're just embarrassed to tell me that? Because if that's the case, I'll be more than pleased to teach you.


According to my estimate, you dirty up about 5 dishes per day. And it has been about 340 days since you washed a dish . (I think it was my last birthday...maybe...I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt on this one) That means I've washed approximately 1,700 of your dishes. So either start buying paper plates, hire a maid, or get busy washing, asshole! I'm getting tired and grouchy, and I just might start taking it out on you!! That's fair warning, in my opinion. In addition, I'm PMSing and so this whole situation is likely going to turn me into a raving lunatic at any minute. (But if you mention the PMS thing, I'm really going to give you an ass-whooping. So watch yourself, boy!)

Love,
Your sweet-hearted, caring, and adorable wife

Food for Thought

So our cable and internet went out for 2 days. Two days!! Good lord almighty, two days! (yes, we paid our bill! You smart ass. I outta whoop your butt for even thinking that.) So after I baked cookies, cleaned out the van, did all of the laundry,vacuumed the floor in the garage (man, I sure can get a lot of work done when I'm not parked in front of a computer all day!), mopped the kitchen floor, and realphabetized the food in the pantry (what?!), the question became "What now?". I missed the news. I missed my only source for a social life...facebook...I know, it's sad. I was feeling so disconnected from the world. We could have been nuked and I'd still be outside fucking around with my Christmas lights, totally clueless. And I'm not too sure the local radio station would have the gall to interrupt the ongoing Christmas music to actually let me know that New York has been wiped off of the map. (shrug) Anyway, my husband came home from work and just sat there, staring at me. He hasn't looked at me that long in over 10 years. It was quite unnverving. We had NO idea what to do next! Well, my husband had ONE idea. But that only used up one hour and five minutes of our long night ahead of us. One hour to shave off my winter fur, and well, you know what the other five minutes was for! Tee-hee-hee. (that's my innocent-little-girl laugh) Uh oh, Mom, are you reading this? Crap.
By the way, I asked my husband if it was ok to blog about our sex life and he replied, "hell no!" I don't know why. What's he ashamed of? Once a month he gets to be the "Master of the bedroom" for five whole minutes. Right on, brother!
But I digress, because when I was soaking in the tub and mowing my leg hairs (hey, it's been really cold out lately!), I had plenty of time to think. And what, you ask, does Catherine think about when she has lots of time on her hands? (You probably don't wanna know - but here it goes) I was thinking about how gross hotel rooms are. You see, I'm a camper. Not only that, but I'm a germaphobe. Despite being a germaphobe, I'll throw my ass on the ground and sleep with the raccoons and bugs anyday! But put me in a hotel room and I will completely freak out on you! I'm seriously grossed out! Women who are snobs about staying in hotels vs. camping are totally dilusional, in my opinion. They've obviously never watched a 20/20 expose' on "funk in hotel rooms". There are 4 things that I will NEVER touch in a hotel room. (1) faucets. Imagine some really nasty guy, wiping his big, shitty ass and then turning on the faucet to wash his hands (unlikely that he's even doing that, but let's just pretend, for argument sake.) Sure, you're also about to wash your hands, right after touching the faucet, but don't you also touch the faucet to turn the water off? Thus, you've just defeated the purpose of even washing your hands to begin with. (I've given this a lot of thought!) Gag.
(2) light switches. Imagine Mr. Shitty flipping on the lights after said trip to the crapper. Enough said, right? Wrong! When did you EVER see the maid clean the light switches. I rarely even do that and I vacuum my garage floor, for chrissake!
(3) the remote control. Yuck! Imagine a "John" romping around the hotel room with his $5.00 whore and then picking up the remote to finish off with a little porn. God lord. I can feel the chunks coming up my throat even now.
(4)The floor. Yes, I said the floor. You will never see my feet touch the floor in a hotel. My feet may smell like hell after wearing my shoes for 4 days straight, but that's preferrable to picking up a toe fungus from the skanky $5.00 whore. Ew.
So this is just food for thought when you all venture off for the holidays to visit family and you're snuggled up in your cozy sheets at the Drury Inn. Happy Holidays!

The Second Coming

I guess because we've been discussing Christmas lately, my son has Jesus on his mind. While enjoying a coffee at the local Barnes and Noble bookstore, my son said to me, "Look, Baby Jesus!" And I asked, "Where?" (No, I wasn't expecting to see him!) I was thinking that he was probably looking at a picture or ornament or something. Then my son replied, "Right there!" He was pointing to an actual baby. Hey, he's two years old. We haven't had the all-too-important A.D. and B.C. talk, ok?!! So anyway, I said, "No, that's not Baby Jesus." But he was obviously bound and determined to spot Jesus in the Starbuck's of Barnes and Noble. It was like playing a Biblical version of Where's Waldo. He started pointing to any child under two feet tall, and asking if that was Him. "Is that him? Is that him? Is that him?" (I really have a LOT of patience when I'm with only one child. You'd be amazed.) I look over at the last child that my son has pointed to and I see a little boy with bed-head and he's sucking on his own shirt. "Nope. That's not him either, William." But then I can't help but wonder, what would the modern version of the second coming look like? Would he walk around in droopy diapers with chocolate on his face and vomit on his shirt? Would he quote Elmo and call his blanket a "woobie"? Would he sass back at his mom, and eat his boogers, like the rest of our kids do? How weird would that be?! Or maybe God will make him the most well-behaved child in modern history. Which would probably disturb most of us, as opposed to impress us. We'd want to know what was wrong with that weird child?!! In lieu of bowing down and praising him, we'd be more prone to poking and prodding him, like an alien autopsy. Then we'd piss him off so much that he'd run back to Heaven and tell God to waste our sorry asses. I'm sure of it!
But I digress, because this is actually supposed to be a sweet story. So, I finally ask my son, "Are you Baby Jesus?" And he said, "No Mama. I'm an angel." (all together now) Awwwwwwwwww! How sweet.

...BLAST OFF!

First of all, you have to understand that I have no breasts. I've said this many times before. But it's a critical piece of information that you must hang onto in this next blog. Otherwise I come across as a bit of a weirdo ( or even worse, a pervert!). Anyway, as a result of my being mammary-challenged, my "mini-bras" are all fully padded. I could take a swift punch in the chest and not feel a damn thing. The padding also gives the wonderful illusion that I'm at least a full A-cup. Woohoo! I'm in the big time now! Jealous? (All of my ex-boyfriends are taking a collect sigh of relief that they dodged that pathetic bullet) So anyway, my two-year-old son was sitting on my lap, playing with my hair and he suddenly looked down and grabbed ahold of my boobs. (or at least the padding of my bra) and he said, "what deez?" I said, "oh, nothin' much" (literally). Then he started the countdown: "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...blast off!!!!" And my breasts became critical buttons in the control room of his space shuttle. It quickly reminded me of the old "tune in Tokyo" joke. You know the one. So there we are, on the couch, my son making rocket noises and ocassionally pushing on the puffiness of my bra. And I think, "I wonder if this is going to give him a false sense of what a woman really looks like?" "Is this a good thing or bad?" "Is he going to follow in his Dad's footsteps and bring home a flat-chested woman (and love her anyway, damnit!) or will he rebel and bring home one of those freaks with a double M rack?" Anyway, because he was literally grabbing hold of a bra, and nothing else, I didn't really bother to stop him. Unfortunately, this has led him to believe that he can do this at any moment. I was waiting for my kids to get out of school and he sat on my lap, in front of the other mothers, and started counting down. I freaked out because I knew what would follow "3,2,1..." I quickly pushed him off of my lap and yelled, "noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Like a bad movie. That, of course, brought on more attention than if I had just let him grab my boob! I smiled, like a coward and said, "I thought I saw an ant on my pants." Oh lord. Good cover, Catherine. You're such a smart, quick thinker! 'Cause that was a much better response. They won't think you're an over-reacting weiner at all! I'm an idiot. I'm sure I was the hysterical highlight of many dinner conversations that night. (Narcissism is fun, isn't it?!)

You Liars!

I just watched a commercial where a woman is bargaining with her friend, to share the phone number of her babysitter. She offers her a trip to Cancun, or something like that. Anyway, the offer is impressively high. That's when it occurred to me that I'm surrounded by lying bitches! Oh my god, you guys have been holding back on me and I didn't even realize it. When I've been sitting around complaining about not having a babysitter, I've aways wondered why you all stare at me like a deer in headlights and offer up NO advice. I just thought you were in the same boat and were stumped for good ideas. How naive of me! But it suddenly hit me like a stinking sack of shit...you all have a sitter and you're not giving up her number unless I kill you first! I didn't know that Motherhood was such a dog-eat-dog world. I haven't been playing the game, but now that I know that it actually IS a game...it's ON! Look out ladies, cause I'm after your babysitter and I'm gonna steal her away from you. I'm gonna let her watch my kids while talking long distance on my phone, eating my food, inviting over her boyfriend, and getting drunk off of my booze. She'll never sit for you again. So there! Muwaaaaahahahaha!! Who's the winner now, bitches?!! Wait....what?!!

ugh...again

Dear Kids,
Today I sadly had to declare it official: No more taking a bath together. You've been splashing around and making a bubbly mess together for five years now. It's been fun. But it's time for that to come to an end, and frankly, I'm a little sad about it. But it had to be done. Yesterday, you were slapping each others bare asses and laughing at each others private parts. And the piece de resistance was when Ian showed Abby "why boy parts are cooler than girl parts" and he proceeded to stand up in the tub and pee on your head. Yea, I thought I'd step in before Dr. Freud did. I didn't want it to come down to that one REALLY awkward moment when I catch the two of you "playing doctor" and my shocked and disgusted expression fills you with shame and scars you for life. I love you too much for that. So,separate bubble baths from now on...that's how it goes. Sorry.
Love,
Mommy

Dr. B

My five year old twins are obssessed with "potty words". They spend the majority of their day laughing hysterically over words like "butt" and "poopie". They think they're hilarious! And they struggle, hour after hour, to come up with alternatives like "doodie face", "tushy head" and "butt nugget". So, I spend most of my time, of course, saying, "please stop saying that"........."please stop"......."STOP!" It's ridiculous. And I've become totally paranoid about the possibility of them sharing these words with their little friends at their preschool. I'm sure that would reflect well on me. "Mom of the Year" award, here I come!
But I've come to realize that as much as I struggle to keep my kids from finding humor in disgusting words, I fall victim to it myself. The other day, my husband came home with some HEB brand Dr. Pepper. It's called "Dr. B". And my husband said, "I guess since HEB stands for H.E. Butt, then this drink is Dr. Butt" And we both proceed to laugh our asses off. Good lord. And then we realized what we were doing. How do we expect our 5 year olds to rise above our own level of maturity? Pathetic!

ew, gross

Have you ever seen those shows about sick people who allow their nails or hair or other disgusting body parts to grow excessively, just to get into the Guiness Book of world records? You know what I'm talking about. And we're all thinking, "who are these people"?! And then you start to wonder, "how long, exactly, whould I allow something to grow on my body before my gag reflex was tested?" Well I can now answer that question: 1/4 inch. A normal, well-adjusted, human being with good hygeine will only allow 1/4 inch. You see, I have this awful mole on my arm (really just looks like a little freckle, but I hate it). It has a hair growing out of it that seems to have a mind of it's own. I noticed it getting a little long (I'm already testing your gag reflex with this storty, aren't I?). I thought, for one brief moment, what if I let it grow...how long would this thing actually get? I went three more days, out of curiosity. And once it reached about 1/4 inch I couldn't stand it anymore. I wanted to throw up every time I saw it. It seemed to be staring back at me and daring me to keep it going. No deal! I yanked it out, root and all. Hurt like hell, but it's gone. Who are these disgusting people who can just let these things go?!! 1/4 inch is definitely more than acceptable. That's my limit. (gross)

Look out!!!!!

I've recently discovered something significant about myself. I'm overall an easy-going person, when it comes to my own life. But when dealing with my children, it's a whole different story. I'm so paranoid. I'm like "Debbie Downer", from Saturday Night Live. waaa,waaaaaaaa..... (frown)

I can turn ANY moment into a stress-filled adventure. In my mind, everything has the potential for certain death to my children. "Here's some peanuts to snack on kiddos - don't choke to death!" "Hold the hand rail on the stairs - you're going to break your neck." "Stop watching the rain out the window - you're gonna get struck by lightning!"

It's seriously irrational and most likely getting under my kids skin by now. And I'm fully aware that if I don't learn to back off now, they'll HATE ME in their teen years. But I can't help myself! Not only are they the most important people in my life, but I also don't want to spend anymore money in the ER! If we go there one more time, they're going to call CPS on my ass. How do you back off when you have the clumsiest kids in the world? They can get hurt sitting on the toilet!

My husband is also very paranoid. (so we're a very annoying couple) We've discussed this issue and decided it comes down to the age old question of "the chicken or the egg". Were we paranoid to begin with or did our clumsy children instill this sense of paranoia in us, out of necessity? I'll give you a great example. My sisters boys were playing baseball on the wii. Her eldest son took a swing at the ball, while the youngest was walking by. The youngest simply ducked down. Common sense, right? My kids would have been lying flat on their backs! Oh, what to do, what to do. I guess after enough broken bones they'll figure it all out, huh? I'm just hoping that happens soon because we're going bankrupt, paying all of these medical bills. No college for them, just a well-adjusted sense of danger.

Ode to our Saturn

I'd like to take a moment to talk about my husbands car. AKA "the green crap box". I was the one to actually buy the car, 10 or 11 years ago, after I graduated from college. It didn't take long for it to deteriorate and therefore, I generously and unselfishly passed it on to my husband and got myself a new one. (wink) But everytime I get into that car I fall in love again. I refuse to let him sell it because it bears the marks of so many events in our lives. For instance, the back seat belt was yanked out of the wall when I was in total pain from a kidney stone, en route to the hospital. The bottom is completely rusted out because of the salt on the roads, when we lived in Chicago. You cannot use the lock on the passenger side because someone tried to break into the car, when we lived downtown. Good times. The brakes turned to shit because of all the red lights conveniently located at the BOTTOM of a steep hill, now that we live in the hill country. The middle a/c vents don't work. It's so noisy you can hear it coming down the street from a mile away...literally. The cd player won't eject my husbands rap cd, so the whole time I'm driving with the kids in the back, I'm cringing when the F-bomb is dropped every five seconds. The driver-side visor is peeling away, revealing some flakey orange crap that falls in your eyes when you pull the visor down. Underneath the orange flaky crap is cardboard...wow, Saturn spared no expense, huh? And last night, my husband was the victim of a random drive-by deering. If you live in the hill country, you know exactly what I'm talking about. The deer was either incredibly stupid or suicidal. The deer broke off the side mirror and dented in the door so that we cannot open it anymore. If you recall, I mentioned that the passenger lock is busted too. Therefore, the only way into the car is through the trunk. Can you imagine my poor husband popping the trunk and climbing in, at his work's parking lot?! Hysterical! The other employees are probably thinking, "what the hell do they actually pay those Senior Engineers?" And yet, we still love the "green crap box" and are not even considering buying a new one. We'll keep ragging this one out until it dies on the side of the road and is beyond repair. We love you, you nasty hooptie! Keep going, girlfriend!!

Ianese

As many of you know, I have one particularly precocious son. The things he says frequently blow my mind! I've recently deemed it "Ian-speak" or "Ianese". So I'd like to compare the way a normal five year old would say something vs. the way Ian says it...

Normal kid: Mama, can I play outside?

Ian: Mama, I'm gonna play outside before it rains because I think I see some cumulonimbus clouds.

Normal kid: Ahhhhhh, a bug!

Ian: Look at that interesting insect. I think it's a horned beetle.

Normal kid: Can I have a Milky Way candy bar?

Ian: Mama, how can we see the Milky Way when we're IN the Milky Way?

Normal kid: I like dogs.

Ian: Mama, did you know that Orion had a dog named Serius? He's a constellation too.

Normal kid: I wanna be a fireman when I grow up.

Ian: I don't want to be a scientist, I am a scientist!

Normal kid: ouch, that pinecone just hit me on the head!

Ian: That pinecone fell from the tree because of gravity.

Normal kid: Lightning is scary.

Ian: Lightning is electricity in the clouds. Purple lightning is the hottest lightning. If you see lightning, don't go under a tree or you'll die.

Normal kid: Good dinner, Mom.

Ian: That dinner was scrumptious! (seriously, he says this!)

Normal kid: I don't wanna go to bed yet!

Ian: What on earth are you thinking, woman? It's still light outside!

Normal kid: Mama, tell me a bedtime story.

Ian: Mama, let's talk about the brain and how it works.

Good lord, I have to stop myself, but I could go on and on. That kid cracks me up. He's such a freak!! I love him to death. And if you think this was simply for humor, you're wrong. He's totally said these things to me! My little nerd. :)

Serenity now!

Part of my new "therapy" is to read some inspirational thoughts from Christian mother's in a book I bought for myself. It's purpose is to help calm me down and focus on my job as a mother with patience and serenity. (In other words, not blow my top and get my panties in a wad all the time, as I have been doing in the past!) It's been working quite well. I can see a difference in my attitude already. I read a particularly helpful passage a couple of nights ago that said that God helps you eliminate stress in your life, if you just listen to him. When you ask yourself, "is this task bringing me peace?" and the answer in your gut is "no", then walk away from it. I've been applying this method all day long and it works! For example, I was listening to some political debating on the radio and was getting hot under the collar (to say the least) Was it bringing me peace? No, so I turned it off. When I got home, I was tempted to check on the stock market (AGAIN!) but decided that too would not bring me peace at the moment. I highly recommend this method to you. It's working so well that that tonight I'm going to have the locks changed and not let Jeremy and the kids in the house!! Ahhhhhhh, now THAT'S real peace!

Too smart for his stature

My precocious little son never ceases to amaze me. We were up at his school the other day for a party. They have a set of identical twin boys in his class. The teacher was trying to figure out which kid was which and my son chimed in, "Tyler has the oval face and Tanner has the rounder one!" All the mothers were stunned. I was stunned. The twins own mother was stunned! These particular twins are exactly alike! And then I said, "Wow, Ian, how did you come up with that?" And he just replied with, "geez Mom, you aren't very observant are you?!" This of course set the whole room off with laughter and I was as red as a beet. Smartass!

Where are you, dirty mom's?

Oy vey, it really has been a long time since I've blogged, eh? I meant to pump one out yesterday, as promised, but AT&T was doing an upgrade and so our internet and cable were out all day. In other words, it was a very boring day!! Anyway, I've been wondering, all morning, what I should blog about...my anger over the Presidential race, that weird shooting pain I have in my uterine area (hummm, maybe I'll die form it and this nightmare will be over!), my current struggle to find the perfect medication for my bitchy mood swings, my realization that when you aren't allowed to drink alcohol suddenly everyone and their dog offers you a drink (ugh!), my poor sickly son, or the nauseated pit in my stomach created by our diminishing 401k (that's a big one). Ahh, what lovely choices. But I've decided to keep this blog more light-hearted. We could all use a good laugh, as opposed to bad news, right?

So here it goes...



This morning I spent about three hours watching clothes, cleaning the kitchen, mopping enormous amounts of dirt off of my floor, scraping doo-doo off of the wall (yes, I even get to do that...jealous?), plunging and scrubbing stopped up toilets, hosing off the kids after they made "beaver damns" outside in the dirt, and washing two days worth of crusty dishes. While I was doing this I realized that it's REALLY hard for me to imagine most of my friends doing all of this. Not that you don't, but I just can't imagine it. Everyone I know has a really clean house (and I get the feeling a maid does a lot of it), clean kids, and an overall pleasant appearance themselves. I can't envision all of you with your hair tied up in a scarf like a 1950's housewife, elbow-deep in crappy toilets and dirt. And so I can't help but wonder, "where are my people?" Where are the women like myself? Are we a largely diminishing group or have the rest of them figured out how to get all this work done and still find time to make themselves look nice too (unlike me)? If other women were like me, this is how "my peeps" would look:



1. They'd be wearing dirty nursing bras, strained peas or vomit on their shirts, and sensible shoes.

2. There hair would be greasy and their perfume would be too strong because they're sadly and unsuccessfully trying to cover up their foul odor, from lack of a daily shower.

3. No make-up...that requires time.

4. They'd be humming the theme songs to Backyardigans or Dora, and would be absolutely clueless as to who is actually popular right now. Still thinking that the Backstreet Boys are probably on tour.

5. They'd have NO idea what the date is. What does it matter? Everyday is Monday for us, right?

6. Their nail polish would be disgustingly chipped away because it's been weeks since you've given yourself a pedicure. (who pays for one?)

7. You haven't allowed a guest in your home in over 6months because you know they would never eat in your kitchen and would think you were lazy because you obviously never clean (no one would realize that's ALL you do all day!)

8. You NEVER wear shorts because you haven't shaved your legs in weeks...this doesn't effect your husband, of course, because you haven't had sex in weeks either. Why would you let him touch you, in this condition?! Gross!

9. Your dog AND your son have cheerios matted up in their hair. You're gonna have to just chop it all off!

10. The thin line between your pajamas and "workout pants" has been completely blurred, so you're quite likely to walk out the door in your jammies. And not give a damn, really.

11. You have bruises and scratches from head to toe, from your children flinging their toys at you all day. They have no respect for you.

12. And finally, you forget the meaning of simple, everyday words because you haven't used your intellect in years. You're growing dumber and dumber everyday, so that eventually you're too embarrassed to even engage in conversation! This is trew...troo.. true!

Somehow I feel like I'm alone in this, but I'm probably not. But why is it so hard for me to imagine my friends in this same condition? Maybe it's because they won't let me into their houses, eh?

Thong gone Wrong

I was going out with the girls for a bachelorette party this last weekend and I decided to dust off the old thong undies. I don't really know why. My dress didn't require special underwear. And I knew I wasn't getting laid that night. I guess it just seemed necessary to get me into the old "girls gone wild" mood that I feel is essential for a good bachelorette party. Had to do my part, right?! ;) But the only pair I had left were from my pre-baby days. I probably wore them 10 years ago! And back then my butt was much less...(how do I put this?)...squishy. (By the way, that's a picture of me in the blue shirt over there) I slipped the thong on and ate it up like a starving African child. It just disappeared! Muuuuunch, like that. I knew it felt awkward, but I was in a rush and decided to keep them on. The night went well, but my mind kept drifting off to those damn underwear up my ass. It took every bit of self-control that I have to NOT dig those bastards out of my butt! As soon as we returned to the hotel room I took them off and felt instant relief. It was like shedding a hemorrhoid in an instant. Ahhhhhhh. But to my horror, my asshole hurt for the next three days. Three days! Good lord, three days.

Since I knew I had to blog about this, I couldn't help myself, I had to do a little "thong research". And here's what I found: medical doctors agree that "The chafing that occurs can negatively impact the whole genital area and leave the area more susceptible to infections. Bladder infections and urinary tract infections are more common in thong wearers, too. E coli from the anal area has a more direct line of contact with the sensitive vaginal area."

....um, ew.

No worries, because I've definitely come to terms with the fact that I can no longer pull off wearing thong underwear (literally!!). Yes, that ship has sailed. The only question I have left is what do I do with them? I usually donate my old clothes, but will the Salvation Army take thong underwear? And what sick bastard would even buy them?! Ick! I guess it's "out to the old landfill" for my once-sexy panties (along with my youth!). Oy.