First Things First

Yes, it's true...I am still in New Mexico. However, I can't post what I really want to post due to extenuating circumstances. So, first things first.

My blog is for shits and giggles. Got that?! I write to play online and escape reality for a while. I enjoy reading others' blogs and I hope others' enjoy reading mine. I would prefer that if you have issues with someone, go directly to them via e-mail. Don't use my blog as a sound board for your frustrations.

Second of all, my blog is for shits and giggles. Oh, did I already mention that one? Well, then let me rephrase...I like to laugh. I like to shit. I like to laugh about my shit. You don't? Ok, then please click "next blog" and move on. You're welcome to stay and play as long as you like, but please, play nice.

Thanks and have a GREAT day.

All I wanted for Christmas...

As I sit here in the empty house of my in-laws (everyone has gone to see "Narnia" while my children are taking naps)...I finally have some time to myself. ALL to myself. Sippin' a Coke Zero, munchin' on plain Hershey bars (yes, plural)...I began to think back on one of my favorite Christmas memories.

My next door neighbor, (we'll call him BC just for fun), wasn't just my best friend, he was the only kid on the block my age. So we spent quite a bit of time together. (For those of you wondering, yes, he was the boy with whom I played doctor in the corner of my treehouse.) Oh shit, my dad reads this. I mean, he's the one with whom I played cops and robbers!

Anyway, during one of our many adventures together, it dawned on me that we had different interests. He was a boy, and I was a girl. (as previously discovered in the treehouse.) And since he was a year ahead of me in school, I thought he was the coolest kid this side of the Canadian River. I wanted the two of us to be best friends forever. I realized that his house (just he and his younger brother) was full of boy things. Star Wars, Legos, building blocks, Darth Vador bathroom decor, G.I. Joe curtains, etc. And one of the games we had been playing lately was He-Man and She-Ra. I always had to play the chic, of course, because I was a girl. She-Ra, Princess of Power, defender of the Crystal Castle! But that just wasn't good enough for me. I wanted to be the envy of my best friend.

So I asked Santa Claus for Skeletor. That's right. I told Santa I didn't need a doll that year. All I needed was Skeletor and Castle Grayskull because I knew then that I'd have my friend begging for more. BC had He-man and Battlecat, and I wanted to play the evil forces fighting for Grayskull and battling for power over all of Eternia! (Insert evil laugh here.)

My house had become the envy of my friend, and that next year was full of adventures in our den that had been converted into Eternia. BC continued to play He-Man and Battlecat while I (She-Ra, Princess of Power) teamed up with Skeletor to take over Castle Grayskull and totally kick He-Man's ass!! It was a beautiful thing!

*moral of the story:
you can still be the beautiful princess and not be dominated by the male species. all you have to do is team up with someone (or something) evil and you'll have the world in the palm of your hands!!
(Insert another evil laugh here!)

Merry Christmas to MEEEEE!

So here in New Mexico...I wake up to the excitement of my husband telling everyone in the family, "we have wireless internet!!" Apparently, one of the neighbors has a wi-fi connection, and we can tap into it from the livingroom. Did you catch that?! Do you KNOW what this means?!

That's right, I can breath for the next two weeks! (er, I mean "blog"!) Now, (ms. jae), I am officially feeling the Christmas spirit! fa la la la la, LA LA LA LA!!

Our drive wasn't too bad. It did take us 17 hours, and we did it all in one shot. That's not to say we didn't TRY to stop for the night. There were no vacancies, ANYWHERE! And I found myself explaining to my four year old that just like Baby Jesus, we had no where to sleep. (Yes, I explained the nativity to Sweetie while we were in a truckstop bathroom at one o'clock in the morning. So what?!)

Everyone was excited to finally be at Grandpa's house, especially Bud-hah who asked nonstop since the first item of clothing was packed until we pulled into the drive way a thousand miles later. And though Tiny was pissed at being strapped into her carseat after the first three hours, we continued our drive as Emily Rose tried to break free from the backseat. All I can say is that we were i.m.p.r.e.s.s.e.d.

Needless to say, we all made it safe and sound. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have some blogs to read! ; )

Christmas Post

Alright, this is Little Miss signing off for two weeks. ((breath in... 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10... and out)) We're going to New Mexico to visit my husband's family. And though they do have internet access, I cannot risk the possibility of his ultra conservative Christian family stumbling across my blog. (That and the fact they have dial up...I would rather bang my head against a brick wall over and over and over and over and over again.) However, I am sure that I'll need my blogtherapy during the next few weeks.

Ok, I know what you are all thinking, but I am not a scrooge! In fact, I love Christmas as much as the next little girl who refuses to grow up. Truly. I do. As I see it, there are two sides to Christmas. 1) to celebrate Christ's birth and rejoice in our Savior and King or 2) to celebrate the holidays and get caught up in the "Christmas spirit." And I find that people react in one of two ways. 1) by puking Christmas cheer with every breath or 2) by trying to pretend the rest of the world isn't puking Christmas cheer with every breath. Guess which one I am?

As I said before, I am not a scrooge. I just prefer to sit back and watch the holidays happen. I watch people go overboard on Christmas shopping. I watch people go overboard in decorating their house, their yard, and their clothes with holiday cheer. In fact, there's one house in our neighborhood that truly scares me. Every day, there is a new addition to the insane Santa north pole yardigan. Seriously. It began with the lights. Then the giant toy soldiers. Then the Santa and reindeer. Then the tree trunks covered in lights. Then the Mr. and Mrs. Claus waving and singing, "Merry Christmas!"

I watch everyone hustle and bustle around, trying to get those last minute gifts. I watch the Toys For Tots boxes being neglected. I watch the Salvation Army volunteers ring their bells for hours on end, and see the holiday shopppers scurry right past them. I don't mean to throw a wrench into everyone's Christmas spirit. I'm just saying that it is an interesting culture in which we live. (what did you expect? I got my degree in Anthropology; of course I'm more of an outsider looking in!)

Anyway, while I really enjoy getting Christmas cards, it's been hard for me to get into the spirit of sending them out. Part of me feels like such a chump if I haven't spoken to someone all year long, then all of a sudden, I'm sending them a Christmas card with a family letter to fill them in on the past year of me being such a chump. I feel it's insincere. (That and the fact I don't like to buy Christmas cards, I like to make my own.) I figured that since I don't have the time to make cards, write up a cute little family letter with pictures, write a brief message on the bottom of each page to make it a bit more personal, and mail them out... I'd just send everyone a slip of paper with a link to my blog and say MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!

Sing It With Me (AGAIN!)

Happy Birthday to my husband!

(Though technically, your mother gave birth to you 32 years ago yesterday, we postponed celebrating until the weekend.) So today (give or take a day) is your birthday! YEAH!

Let's see...yesterday you were so paranoid that I'd show up at work to embarrass you. (Like the time I put confetti and balloons and signs all over your office?? or the time I brought up GIANT balloons to the clinic??) Oh well, you have a wife with a blog, and that alone is embarassing enough for any man!


I know that in reality, your birthday can't be the elaborate one I have imagined in my head. However, I can pretend in blogworld!

I turned off your alarm last night, and instead woke you up this morning with with some tender lovin'. While you were in the shower, I laid out clean clothes and a towel for you, and then made you breakfast fit for a king. We had fresh apple juice (I even picked the apples right from the tree), scrambled eggs, bacon, German pancakes with powdered sugar, fresh strawberries, blueberries, and mango slices, served with a hot plate of crepes. The children were already dressed and ready for the day as we all sat down together and enjoyed breakfast, singing songs, and laughing. The only tears were ones of laughter and cheer.

While you were at work, we cleaned the house. We scrubbed the floors, we put away all the laundry, we organized the children's clothes, we dusted the floorboards and light fixtures, we cleaned the carpets, we washed the sheets, and just for you...we decluttered every room in the house! (Since there is now the largest pile of junk on our curb, I made a few phone calls, and the garbage men will make a special trip before you get home!)

The instant you walked through the door, you smelled the aroma of something baking. Mmmmm...it was homemade flan! (Carmelized to perfection!) But not yet! The babysitter had just arrived so the two of us could go out for dinner. We went to the best five star restaurant in Louisiana. You had a plate of lobster, tuna, and shrimp while I had a steak (cooked medium rare) and a side of steamed vegetables. They served us non-alcoholic wine appropriate for every course of the meal.

After dinner, I gave you your birthday present. Somehow you hadn't yet noticed, but I had a new diamond set in your wedding ring. It was beautiful! Then you opened the envelope. It was a pair of NHL tickets to the Sharks game for 10 o'clock that night! (doesn't matter that we're 3,000 miles away from San Jose, this is MY world, so just go with it!)

When we got home (at two o'clock in the morning), you tucked the kids in and kissed them all goodnight. Then you placed your hockey puck on Bud-ah's dresser for the day he gets to attend his first NHL game and catch the puck.

I love you, BABE!

HAPPY

BIRTHDAY!

Little Miss and I Form a Cool New Club . . .

*Sorry Little Miss, my husband made me do it.
~Barefoot.






Update
Mr. Barefoot is evidently REALLY busy at work today.

Sing It With Me...

Today is your birthday.

happy birthday mom!

There has not been a day gone by that I haven't wished you here with me, and there has not been a night passed that I did not look at the moon and imagine it so.

Here's the letter I sent to you:

Dear Mom,

......................................

......................
(all the sappy, heartfelt, warm, mushy

expressions of love and gratitude are inserted here.)
...............

.................................

.............................................

happy birthday!

love always, little miss

* p.s. snuggle a Koala and consider it a giant
hug from us!

Am i pretty?

Fine, this post is for Barefoot, so she'll leave me alone!!

Last Saturday, we were invited to DRY, ink for the LSU football game (which turned out to be a poor excuse for a party...the game, not the hosts, stay focused people!) Anyway, amidst trying to celebrate Barefoot's newfound reason for living, we were trying to watch the game AND nine unruly children (give or take one).

*and when I say, give or take one...that's exactly what I mean!

Needless to say, it was an emotional evening all around. So, Barefoot and I hid ourselves in the office to play e-bay (yes, it's a really fun game where you look up all the things you want to buy and then go try to convince your husband that you really need to bid on these items before they're gone forever!) VERY.EXCITING.

Anyway, I was hanging out on the feather bed (yes, details are important), and Barefoot's 14 yr. old son came in to ask, "Little Miss, am I pretty?...I'm pretty, aren't I?" Me, "um, sure...of course you're pretty."

To which I immediately followed up with a leg-in-the-air display of um, shall we call it affection?? And this was not just ANY fart. No, no. This one was, if I do say so myself... pretty damn impressive. A true rip ass moment. (shout out to Ms. Jae)

He just gave me a blank stare and walked away. The look on his face was so... incredibly P.R.I.C.E.L.E.S.S. I was laughing so hard, and I tried to gasp after him, "Hey, wait!! Aren't I pretty too??"

*yes, there was heavy drinking at this party, and we all had a few too many caffeinated beverages.

**an hour later, his friend came to pick him up, and while Barefoot was busy trying to kiss him good-bye, I was busy yelling "am I pretty too?!"

***while I completely understand if you feel this a "had to have been there" post in order to share in our humor, simply reliving the evening for Barefoot and I is enjoyment enough.

Scroll down!

Sorry, for some reason blogger has removed the time and date stamp from the editing bar, so when I publish one of my drafts, it automatically loads in chronological order.

damn them.

So for my most recent post, please scroll down to "Oh Christmas Tree".
; )

Oh Christmas Tree... (click for pics)

We picked out our first family christmas tree last night!





i know, i know...we haven't had a real tree in the seven years we've been married, shut up...we're trying to make ammends! besides, do you have any idea the sacrifice involved?! it was 47 degrees outside! (the coldest it's been all year!) look at us...we don't even have coats!

So, the tree to my right is the one I picked out. The one we actually bought was half that price. (This just demonstrates my talent...I can walk into any store and set my heart on the most expensive item without even checking the price!)

The evening was not without incident, however. Sweetie was so excited to get to our new tree, that she forgot to look down. Two seconds later, it was all over but the screamin'.

So we paid for the tree, apologized for the chaos, loaded up the kids, (Griswolds' style), and headed home. My husband and I put up the tree and lights while the kids slept. It was so cute to see their eyes light up the next morning. Sweetie even described it as "magic." If that doesn't melt your heart, I don't know what will.

Show some love

Social Work is a tough field. Though that career path has crossed my mind in the past, I was always told I didn't have the heart for it. I get too involved; I'm too sensitive. (C'mon people, I cry when Peter comes home from the army in that stupid Foldger's commercial!) They told me I had to be harsh; I had to be tough skinned. That's why Barefoot is the national board certified counselor and I am not.

All this just goes to show you that even cold-hearted bitches* can break.

So please, stop right now and go show Barefoot some love. Send her LOTS of diet dr. pepper and york peppermint patties.

(*you know I love you!)

Git 'er Done, T-Bone!

My favorite story from our Thanksgiving weekend is that of a little Dachshund puppy named T-Bone. You have to remember he's a wiener dog, long little body, tiny little legs, feet like pedestals, runs in a side to side motion because his legs are too short, sleeps underneath a blankie at night, eats off the floor without having to bend down, and weighs all of five pounds.


But T-Bone wasn't the only dog around. Oh, no! There was also a 76 lb. chocolate lab named Kaia. The entire weekend was spend with T-bone trying to get a piece of that ass. Any time the dog would come inside, T-Bone made a beeline for her. The instant he saw her, he automatically started humping the air trying to get at her (when alas, he would reach her knee pit).

Finally, on the last night there...we were all in the kitchen saying our good-byes. (14 adults, 3 little munchkins, 1 newborn, and 5 dogs.) It was total chaos, to say the least. Kaia was on her leash, running around like a hyper little four yr. old who had forgotten her medication (did i forget to mention she's only 9 months old?!) The other three dogs were playing chase, my three munchkins then chased them, the menfolk were all crackin' jokes, the women were trying to have those serious last-minute teary-eyed conversations, and all the while T-Bone was trying to keep up with Kaia. Finally, my brother yelled, "Kaia! Sit Down!" She promptly obeyed, to which T-Bone came running over, pelvic thrusting the whole way, hind leg already raised in the proper position, and pink lipstick in full function. He.tapped.that.ass. Oh, YEAH, baby, he tapped it. We were laughing so hard that we couldn't do anything to stop it! By the time we regained our composure (and managed to clench hard enough not to completely pee our pants), it was over.

Though T-bone could use a lesson in sex ed, he can rest assured that he scored the big one. Oh yeah, baby!

Insane!

When I was a little girl, I went to visit one of my friends. Her cat had just had kittens, and I couldn't WAIT to see the tiny creatures. When we got there, I will never forget the horror I beheld. The mother had eaten her young! I had never before seen such animal instincts displayed in all my 10 years. I was mortified. (How could this happen?)

Fast forward to last night. Crying. Crying. (she'll go back to sleep, surely, she will) What?! Crying again?? (What the hell?!) Oh, crying and now screaming. (what time is it anyway?) Alright, 3:30a.m...she WILL go back to sleep. (Right??) Aw, crap. It's now 5a.m., and that little **** is going to wake everybody! (There had better be blood involved, missing limbs, diarrhea out the diaper, vomit in the bed...whatever, but it had BETTER be serious!) No? Nothing but a happy baby wanting to get out of her bed? The sun is not up yet! The sun won't be up for another hour and a half! Shhhh...don't you dare wake your brother and sister! (or worse, the dog!) Go BACK to BED! What?! More Crying?! Ah HELL NO!

...and that's the story of how a mother ate her young.

Alright, I'm ready to talk.

It's been nearly three months since Hurricane Katrina ripped through the gulf coast like an angry mother who had just lost her only child...funny analogy, don't you think? Seeing as how that bitch wiped out hundreds of children, broke up thousands of families, killed thousands of men and women (most of whom were impoverished, disabled, or elderly), and left nearly one million homeless?? Most of the links I saved over the past few months are no longer available, thank goodness really. There are parts of this tragedy that I don't want to relive, nor do I want you to either.

I JUST DON'T WANT ANYONE TO FORGET.

I stumbled across this RN's blog following the hurricanes, and it still brings me to tears. I remember stories from the March of Dimes local chapter repeating the same issues faced by this woman. No one was in charge, yet everyone was in charge. If you wanted something done, you had to DO IT YOURSELF. It's during times of tragedy that we have the opportunity of seeing the beauty of the human spirit. When others turned their backs, there were those who opened their hearts and made a difference. I am talking about ordinary citizens. From doctors to car mechanics, police officers to taxi drivers, nursery leaders to the ATF...everyone was on the same playing field the day that storm hit. I was disappointed in National Disaster Organizations (like the one with the red cross on it? yeah, that one), I was disappointed by the organization "in charge" (like the one with Government stamped all over it? yeah, that one), and yet...I am so overjoyed at the response of local citizens stepping up to the plate and making things happen. I am grateful to those who didn't take "no" for an answer. I am grateful to those citizens who got up when they were knocked down. And I am grateful to those Louisianans who are refusing to give up the fight. Welcome home.

The March of Dimes has committed to Hurricane Relief efforts, and I have been so impressed by their hard work. I have seen the difference they have made with my own eyes. They were even gracious enough to let me help. We are all here for the long haul, and no matter what...

WE WILL NOT FORGET.

Wh j kb

Little Miss says:
Hoy rpm (read: Holy crap!)
Little Miss says:
Hoy rp (read: Holy crap!)
Little Miss says:
The he (read: the keyboard)
Little Miss says:
My omputer I ii out (read: my computer is wiggin' out)
Barefoot says:
DO WHAT? (read: are you smoking cracK?)
Little Miss says:
The keybor I broke (read: the keyboard is broken)
Little Miss says:
Uhi…it I beepi (read: Umm, it keeps beeping)
Barefoot says:
NIIIIIIIIIIIIIICE (read: you stupid shit!)
Little Miss says:
Er your phoe bei (read: answer your phone beavis!)
Barefoot says:
YEAH, I’M TALKING WITH MY DAD, HE JUST GOT HOME
Little Miss says:
Oh, my keybor keep beepi it ot ork. (Oh, my keyboard keeps beeping, it won't work!)

*at which point Barefoot starts yelling "SHUT IT DOWN! IT'S GONNA BLOW!"
But I want to figure out what's making that noise!
"SHUT IT DOWN, NOW!!"
Fine. good bye.

**no computers were hurt during the writing of this post.

Now, for my REAL post, go visit Just Me.
I'll catch up on the holiday posts later.

I Just Don't Go There

While avoiding our children, Barefoot and I had this conversation earlier:

Barefoot says:
The girl cherub's nose is bleeding and the boy cherub is crying because she won't play with him. Selfish bitch
Little Miss says:
her nose was bleeding at our house the other night. what's up with that? just dry weather?
Barefoot says:
she has bad allergies, dr. gave us zyertec, but I never remember to give it to her. I suck
Little Miss says:
just wondering...do you spend most of your day trying to ignore your children like I do? or do you actually sit down and play games with them? and do art work together?
Barefoot says:
ignoring or hiding
Little Miss says:
what's the norm?
Barefoot says:
depends on who you ask
Little Miss says:
i knew you were going to say that.
Barefoot says:
yep, and the boy cherub is now singing about the girl cherub's nose bleed
Little Miss says:
I wonder how bad I suck. Maybe I need a mom-suck-o-meter to keep me on track
Barefoot says:
I just don't go there, I know it's bad
Little Miss says:
go where? actually getting involved with your kids daily activities? or sucking?
Barefoot says:
my level of suck-i-ness
Little Miss says:
i mean, like right now, Sweetie is still coloring at the table, Tiny's still napping...and i'm still right where i left them an hour ago. Am I the only mom who does this?
Barefoot says:
nope, I do it to
Little Miss says:
k, good, so long as my *BFF goes to hell with me...
Little Miss says:
i just don't want to be alone
Barefoot says:
cheif greeter, I tell you

*you'll have to ask Barefoot for what her version of this acronym means!

Hi, My Name Is

Hi. My name is Little Miss, and I have an addiction. I cannot leave a store without purchasing something of little consequence. That's right, I am addicted to shopping. I have entered into a twelve step program for this problem currently plaguing me (and my family). The steps are as follows:

1. Recognize you have a problem. (spending $122 when I only went in for a stick of deodorant and some tampons??)
2. Commit to making a change. (balancing the checkbook would be a great place to start.)
3. Confess. (um, honey, we're in debt, our account was overdrawn last week, and I want to buy some new clothes ?? no, crap. um, honey, please don't let me out of the house any more?? Done.)
4. Spend many sleepless nights fretting over fiscal matters.
5. Get a new system for paying bills, record keeping, and budgeting.
6. Cut up the credit cards. (and throw away at least one piece so I cannot possibly tape it back together again for online purchases. damn, that's good!)
7. Cut up the debit card. (ouch! that one was the kicker!)
8. Make a grocery list, and stick to it. (make a list, give it to my husband, and stay OUT of the store. check.)
9. Cash or check only.
10. No impulse buys allowed. (holy crap, did I REALLY commit to that one?!)
11. Stop eating out--the kids don't really need individual kids meals, they're 4, 2, and 1...seriously, we can all split an order of fries and a soda! (you mean they DON'T need a cheap toy that will break in ten minutes and cause total toddler meltdown??!! Whoah, that's deep!)
12. Stay home. No, seriously, don't tempt yourself with window shopping...it will only cause more pain. (feel like shopping? Then Go To The Gym, and kick my own ass!)

Now you know how I'll be spending my time...NOT SHOPPING.

blogging, working out, playing taxi driver to my three munchkins, not shopping, going to the gym and not entering the pro shop they have at the front, driving right past the mall and not shopping, napping, playing with the kids, skipping the garage sales, chasing the dog in the back yard, blogging, bathing the damn dog instead of having her groomed, not going into Petco and buying stuff for the dog, blogging, surfing the web and not shopping, talking on the phone, listening to the radio and trying to win free cash (FOR SAVINGS-- PEOPLE), oh! and then there's not shopping.

Bubbles Rise, plip, plip, plip.

Tonight's post is brought to you by:
(click on picture for more details)

My son has not been sleeping well (as many of you already know by now), and he is still complaining that his tummy hurts. He lifts up his shirt and cries. Tonight, while eating dinner, he leaned forward and farted several times. Later, still crying that his tummy hurt, daddy gave him some hugs...and he farted again. So the next time he fussed, my husband grabbed him and said, "put your butt in the air, buddy...there you go."

[picture this]: he puts my son on his lap with his head down and bum up. He.is.hugging.my.son's. derriere! The odd thing?-- he sat there for a long time, and I'm sure his tummy DID feel better after a little help from gravity...meanwhile my tummy hurt from giggling myself into a silent fit!

*When you tell your son to fart in your face to make his tummy feel better, THAT'S the love only a parent can give.

Speechless.

I don’t even have anything to blog about. How lame is THAT? I could tell you about the horrendous gas our family has been experiencing (my daughter was the reason for driving with our windows down while going 70 mph down the freeway), but I’m not in the mood. I could tell you about my son going potty for the First Time Ever on his little playschool throne, but he’s only done it one time since then (and even THAT was an accident).

I could tell you about the waterbed I've had since I was three years old, and the painful death it suffered over the weekend. And how I was crushed to see the garbage man whisk it away and crush it along with all the other rotten food, dirty diapers, and waste. Now that wonderful little bed, (the one I learned to tie my shoes on while sitting at the edge of my brand new bed-- the one my mom used to cuddle me in during the middle of the night-- the one I used to imagine there were alligators underneath so I had to literally jump from the door to my bed and then line up all my animals and dolls along the edges so the alligators wouldn't get me-- the one I used to pretend was my stage-- the one I could just sink my body into and never feel that level of comfort anywhere else in this world-- the one I used to cry on when my heart was broken-- the one fitted with my Care Bear sheets (my pillow with Rainy Day Bear, the moon, and stars on one side, Funshine Bear and the sun on the other)-- my other set of sheets with Rainbow Brite, my pink bedspread with Holly (that little pioneer girl with a bonnet)-- the one that used to leak right in the middle of the bed and I sometimes forgot about until I sat down into a pool of cold water-- the one my mom and I used to put cleaning solution into then roll out all the air bubbles-- the one my mom used to stay up with me during all hours of the night helping me to cram for that science test the next day-- the one that I slept on throughout my childhood and high school years-- the one I took to college, and the one I gave to my daughter when she graduated from her crib at the sweet age of 17 months old...) now that same bed is lying somewhere in a rotting, disgusting, fly and mosquito infested swampland we call a dump. Am I sad? Yes. Did I think I would be so affected by this? No. It comes as a complete shock to me too, so you're not alone.

I could tell you about ALL those things, but I'm simply too tired. The kids have not been sleeping well, my stomach still isn't right, we have no savings because I suck at budgeting, I miss my mom, I wanted to sell my dog to the gypsies today, I have a yucky cut on my forehead from Tiny striking me with a "childsafe block," (and now it's infected and looking stupid), my hair is in need of some attention, I get my feelings hurt way too easily, and the kids have not been sleeping...did I mention that one?

Okay, then. I'm done.

What Is Sleep Without ...um, any sleep?

Second night in a row with no sleep. NONE.

Do you hear what I'm trying to tell you?? The prince.is.marrying.the.seawitch.in.disguise!!

The girl is feeling better. Her fever broke yesteday. By the afternoon however, I was feeling sick. I'd be changing a diaper, then start to dry heave...so off to the kitchen sink I went. Meanwhile, the kids were LAUGHING at the sound of my insides wretching; they thought it was HILARIOUS. And then the baby started to fake barf! She'd throw her head back, stick out her tongue, and say, "blalahggugh", then giggle. Nnnnice.

(Here I am, barfing into the sink, laughing at my children, and calling my husband on the phone so he can hear what's going on!!--I wouldn't want him to miss out on this PRICELESS family time, now would I?!)

Anyway, the boy woke up screaming that HIS tummy hurt last night. I wanted to be in there if he was going to throw up, so I climbed into bed with him. I was convinced that if he just held still long enough, he'd fall asleep. No such luck. He thrashed around, cried, kicked his feet, screamed, drifted off long enough for me to finally fall asleep, then start the cycle all over again. And by 3:45 a.m. he was saying he wanted to get up. He wanted "chickin en fries and watch cardoons".

EXCUSE ME??!! Cartoons aren't even on at that time of night! Chickens aren't even awake at that time of night!! Naughty shows and infomercials are still airing at that time of night!!! WTH was he thinking?

*The only thing worse than not getting any sleep is TRYING.
~little miss

That's Love, Sam.

Three bottles of Gatorade: check.
Two liters of Ginger Ale: check.
Ten loads of laundry in one night: check.
One can of Lysol: check.
One dispenser of hand sanitizer: check.
One pallet on the livingroom floor: check.
Disposable pillows: check.
Handful of Tylenol: check.
Box of Saltine crackers: check.
Homemade chicken noodle soup: who do you think I am? Betty Crocker? Martha Stewart? no, that's my mom!
Cup-o-noodles chicken flavor: check.

My four year old said her tummy hurt really, REALLY bad. She thought she needed to go potty, so off she went. Soon I heard her crying. I went in and hugged her...that's when it hit. "BAUGHLEHHH!" Puke, all over the back of my hair, my shoulders, my back, the floor...at which point I just continued to hug her and say, "it's ok, honey, throw up all that yucky stuff...shhhh, shhhhh, shhhh."...(thinking to myself how amazing it is that this gut reaction comes so naturally to mothers when it involves her own children)... And yes, all the while still sitting with her pants around her ankles and arms around my neck...poor baby!

*Damn! And here I thought we had narrowly escaped the barfamillion plague that has been going around our preschool friends. I think it's hit every family this side of the Mississippi. Alas, they saved the best for last! (We wouldn't want to be left out, now would we?!)

UPDATE: 10 times in 2 1/2 hours! 10 times!! Is it possible for a little girl to barf up her entire GI tract? I think she's headed in that direction.

Who's Scared of the Light?

Ok, there are two versions to this story, but it doesn't matter. I'll just tell you mine, and we'll leave it at that.

Last week, I put my kids down for a nap, and then I crawled under my covers for a little rest. (BIG surprise, I know.) Anyway, I woke up to the sound of the back door closing. I sat up thinking it was my husband, but realized he was still teaching...then I heard his footsteps on the kitchen floor. I laid back down, fully expecting him to come in and kiss me, tell me class was cancelled, and that would be that. I waited...and nothing. I finally got up and went into the kitchen...nothing, the computer room...nothing. (The panic was really beginning to rise by this point...) I rushed into my kids rooms to see if maybe they were out of bed...and nothing. It wasn't my husband, the dog was with me, and my kids were asleep. I called the two people I know who might feel comfortable enough to just walk into my house unannounced...and nothing. (Neither of them would even lie to me about it to calm my fears! wth??)

Of course the next day, I scheduled an appointment with a home security company. He brought in his entire demo and sales book, (I didn't have the heart to tell him he had me at "hello"...he was obviously new to the business, and I'm sure I was one of his first sales), so an hour and a half later, we were finally signing paperwork. Then he told me the next available appointment for installation was five days away. FIVE DAYS?!

Did he not understand that I now have panic attacks in the middle of the day?! One minute, I'm fine... feeling confident...doors are locked...kids go to bed, then...BAM! The Panic Button Has Been Activated. I panic at the sound of the back door opening and closing, especially if it's during daylight hours! As soon as my kids are in bed, (it's like clockwork), my palms start to sweat, I jump at every gust of wind, and my "down time" has been turned over to the fear of some dumbshit neighbor kid walking into my house. I freak out every time I hear anyone outside...we live in the freakin' suburbs, people!! We have neighbor kids! We have moms who push their babies in jogging strollers! We have grandparents who walk their dogs around the entire block every time they need to urinate! And who the hell gets scared in the middle of the day anyway?! HUH??!!

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

Well, I'd like to invite you all to just try to get into my house NOW! Go ahead, open the door. Or better yet, open a window. C'mon, it'll be fun. And when the security company calls to ask for the verbal password to cancel the alarm, you can tell them it's "get the fuck outta my house!"

Suck My Big Toe!

The night before last, while frantically trying to fix a late dinner for three unruly children, my Tiny decided to get into the pots and pans. I generally approve of this idea because A) it keeps her entertained and B) it keeps her out of my way. This time however, she decided to pull out the large skillet, (and seeing as how it weighs nearly half as much as she does), she dropped it on her foot. At first, I thought the loud noise just startled her...and then I noticed "the cry" (you know the one...the-I-can't-breath-because-I'm-screaming-so-hard cry)...so I picked her up...and that's when I noticed the blood, the swelling, and the purple color under her big toenail.

*for those of you who don't know me, I'm a huge hypochondriac, especially when it comes to my children. I automatically think the worst, and I like to play on the "safe side." I can't stand the thought of neglecting an injured or sick child that truly needed medical attention...I've already lost my mother of the year award, I can't afford to push my luck.

So I did what any normal girl would do. I called my dad (aka the family E.R. doc). He said that due to the amount of cartilage still present in a baby's foot, it probably wasn't broken. I should just give her some Motrin, and she should be fine. Well...about an hour after putting her to bed, she started screaming. When I went into her room, she was holding her foot in the air and wailing like I've never heard before. I felt so bad! (And due to my over-compulsive tendencies to rush to the doctor at the first sign of a homeostatic upset...I did just that.) I rushed her to the doctor.

And then after an hour of holding a screaming, thrashing, crying, tired, and pissed-off one year old, (and of course wishing that I had simply listened to my father in the first place), it was determined that she indeed had a slight fracture, but there wasn't much they could do. At some point, she may need to have her toenail drilled to relieve the pressure. But for now, I'm just supposed to give her some Motrin, and she should be fine. (Gee...where did I hear that before??)

Poor baby! Now she walks on the side of her right foot, she pushes her Tigger-on-wheels with one foot, and she whimpers any time we have to put shoes or socks on her feet.

*And yes, Dad, I did expose her to unecessary radiation, I did indeed waste my $25 co-pay, I did not learn anything new (except that Tiny does NOT like the oximeter being placed on her foot), and we did lose nearly three hours of decent sleep...all because I am an overprotective, overcompulsive, self-absorbed and can't-listen-to-a-damn-thing-I'm-told hypochondriac, but I can't help it...I was born this way!

I Already Wrote This Post!

Didn't you get it? The one with all the cute pictures of my munchkins on Halloween? You know, the really long one with the cute stories to go along with them?

No? Well, maybe that's because Blogger sucks and lost my post!

*if you see scooby-doo, briar rose, and a bat flying around together in blogosphere, please send them back. They belong to me! Thanks.

hAllOWeEN!

As I sit here, awaiting the arrival of little glutton-filled rowdy munchkins to knock on my door...

I can't help thinking how nice it is to be a grown-up. I get to sit in my cute little house and hand out candy to trick-or-treaters and laugh and comment on their costumes, showing my true cheesiness...

Then I look at my candy bowl and get nervous. What if I run out of candy? I'd be such a loser. How would I be able to turn kids away? (I'd have to search the kitchen and start handing out pop tarts or baggies of wheat thins.) On the other hand, what if I end up with the entire bowl untouched?! Would I then be the epitome of loser because even glutton-filled little munchkins were too cool to come to MY house?! What is wrong with me? Hmmm?

So the question...do I give out handfuls of candy to the trick-or-treaters who come to my door (and save face when my bowl is cleaned out by the end of the night, thereby risking the possibility of wheat thins?) Or do I give out one piece of candy to each kid as if I'm being cheap or overprotective of my $3.99 bag of candy?

There must be some sort of balance here. Too much? Too little? Too much? Too little? Too much? Too little? (as I sit here plucking petals off a flower...)

No matter what I do, they'll be judging me. I can tell by the way they look down at their bags after I've dropped my candy inside. Some even look at their friends' bags before leaving my front porch! Do they not like Smarties? Were they hoping for the Snickers? And if I only give them one piece of candy, will they look at me like I'm the Halloween scrooge?!

That's it! To hell with it. I'm turning out the lights and taking my bowl of candy with me! Happy Halloween, you little turds.

Who in the HELL came up with THIS??

Alright. Bitchfest.

Daylight Savings Time

Okay, whoever came up with this feh-reakin' idea never had kids! It now gets dark at 5pm, my kids are used to being in bed by 7:30p.m., meaning they now have to endure 2 1/2 hours of darkness before even being placed into their beds.

Bedtime shows (aka Disney flicks) do not last for 2 1/2 hours, which is our usual before bedtime routine. You wouldn't think a single hour would make such a huge difference. Let me elaborate.

The sun rises sometime between 6 and 7 a.m., thus waking my children ("mommy, mommy, it's time to get up! the sun is up!") at the butt-crack of dawn. NOW, you have taken yet another hour away from my half-assed slumber as the sun rises between 5 and 6 a.m., thus waking my children at the ass crack of dawn. I am pissed. [But not nearly as pissed as I will be tomorrow morning. If you want to cheer me up, send a Coke Zero and a plain Hershey Bar my direction. Otherwise, stay away!!]

I'm not even through bitching yet. You see, it will take several weeks for my children to adapt to the time change, and there will be much wailing and gnashing of teeth in the process. And you want to know the best part?? We get to do it all over again in 6 months!

Like I said, Who IN THE HELL came up with this idea??

* May you rot in hell with NO SLEEP, the voices of screaming children saying they're hungry and for you to get out of bed, not to mention the dog peeing on your floors because she's used to being let outside w/in an hour of the sun coming up, and may it turn dark two hours earlier and the sun rise two hours earlier (and then switch every other week) for an ETERNITY due to the pain and torture inflicted upon the rest of us year after year (6th month after 6th month).

Bitchfest over? Not quite yet. SO SIT DOWN!

Why does Daylight Savings Time have to fall on Sunday? It's always on a Sunday! Not only is it on the sabbath, but it's on a day that my youngest is sick and cranky, AND we have to go to church from 1-4p.m., hence, NO NAP! (and all three of our kids thrive on naptimes!!) I had to teach today, as did my husband, then he had meetings all night long! So I was solo with three rotten children, hungry, cranky, tired as hell...

ALL BECAUSE OF DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME!

Whoever you are, you suck. Big Time.

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

edit Sunday night, 11 p.m.

ABC, you have done it to me once again. I could strangle you! You gave us a rerun of Desperate Housewives. Fine. I can deal with that. Grey's Anatomy is a new episode. I'll be fine.

No? Oh, I'm sorry, but did you just say I won't be fine?? Why is that? Did the tears streaming down my face and the puffy eyes give me away?? HUH?! Did it? You lousy excuse for a television station. Now I'm going to wake up in the morning TWO HOURS EARLY AND I'll feel as though I have a massive hangover.

(At least I should enjoy some alcohol first! Aw, shit, I don't drink.)

That's it. Today is officially fired. That's right , you heard me. FIRED! October 30th, 2005 no longer exists.

I'm Not Here.

I'm over THERE.

have a happy go-lucky weekend!
; )

O-K-L-A-H-O-M-A

OKLAHOMA WHERE THE WIND COMES SWEEPING DOWN THE PLAINS. AND THE WAVING WHEAT, IT SMELLS SO SWEET WHEN THE WIND COMES RIGHT BEHIND THE RAIN!

OH WE KNOW WE BELONG TO THE LAND (YESSSIR), AND THE LAND WE BELONG TO IS GRAND (UH-HUH!)

SO WHEN WE SAAAAAYY YEAH! I -IP-PI-O-KI-AAAAAYEH! WE'RE ONLY SAYIN' YOU'RE DOIN' FINE OKLAHOMA!

OKLAHOMA, O.K.L.A.H.O.M.A., OKLAHOMA....OK!

Sorry, I digress. I just got back from visiting my neice!

You can just call me "Auntie Little Miss" from now on! My brother and his wife welcomed their first baby just three weeks ago! She is P.R.E.C.I.O.U.S.

They call her Piglet because sometimes she snorts when she cries. And you should hear her mom...she calls her "pig-el-let". Guess what else? Pig-elet loves me. (Because I say so, that's why! Shut up.)

***************************
So...a 10 hour drive with a four-year old. Conversation? Not so much.

"mommy... i needdhe=eowe()&#@)!~blahblahaaa!"

me: "I can't hear you, you need to speak up."

"...i needdhe=eowe()&#@)!~blahblahaaa!"

me: "honey, I still can't understand you."

"I NEED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM SO THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU!"

*****************************
Oklahoma is just as I remembered it.

*on-ramps are extremely short
*the dirt is still red
*oil rigs abound
*Braum's Ice Cream still has the best chocolate

*my old house has been repainted and the trees removed, they even put up a cheesy chain-linked fence! And where's my treehouse? HUH?!

Get out of my house! I don't like you living there. It should remain a museum to the Little Miss, vacant and beautiful.

*Mazzio's Pizza rocks

*White Water Bay is a little run down

*Bricktown is shaping up nicely

*The OKC monument is beautiful

Little Miss's Secret Identity

Since Little Miss is out of town playing Auntie (I can say that now that she lives in the South) to her new little niece, I figured I'd post for her.

I have decided to share Little Miss's secret, super hero identity with you all.

You see, Little Miss wrestles at least three small children, EVERYDAY, (her own and occasionally, others, including mine), a husband with a full work schedule of his own, a house that they are fixing up AND manages to volunteer with a couple of organizations, including running the Louisiana Pink Cross and helping out at the March of Dimes. She does amazing things, that woman does. But you would never know to look at her. She never whines or complains, (well not a whole lot anyway), she just gets up, puts on her super hero costume and hits the streets to save another day.

And what does Little Miss choose to conceal her super hero identity, you may ask? Well, I'll tell you. If you her see a woman running around in a tee shirt, no bra and pajama pants, well then you've found Little Miss. Just don't tell, okay?

Shhhhhhhhhh,

Barefoot

In The Little Miss Household:

to the 4 yr. old girl:
"When's the last time you changed your underwear?"
"I don't know."
"Honey, that is ALWAYS a question you should be able to answer at a moment's notice."

( t-shirt says, "I have decided to put myself in charge.")

to the 2 yr. old boy:
"It is not okay to wear

Princess Pull-ups."
( t-shirt says, "I do all my own stunts.")

to the baby:
"Get out of the toilet!!!"
(t-shirt says, "I am definitely up to something.")

to the dog:
"Damn Dogg! Just because there's food on the floor, doesn't mean that we're done with it!"

My Little Man

Just a FEW of the reasons my son makes my heart melt:

he can sing the ABC's, Teapot, Lion King, and Aladdin at the top of his lungs for two hours before finally falling asleep each night.

he has the best laugh; when he really gets going, he gives himself the hiccups!

he loves his "blank-el-lets" and often asks for "some more snuggles."

he used to sleep in my arms when he was a baby. i'd pull him into bed with me and just stare as I watched an angel sleep and dream of heaven.

he has the kissiest lips and cheeks! (and yes, kissiest IS a word)

he loves to be silly, play games, and be loud!

he lights up when he sees his teachers; he LOVES them!


*hey buddy, good luck on your first day of school. it has been so difficult to watch you struggle and yet so rewarding to see your progress. you are the perfect little boy for our family. i love you beyond words, beyond anything i've ever felt before. you are my little Budd-uh, and you always will be. mommy is so proud of you! I.LOVE.YOU.

DAMMIT!

To ABC:
You suck. When I'm having a crappy weekend (literally) I count on a good vedge fest on Sunday evenings. Desperate Housewives is supposed to be conniving, funny, and mysterious. YOU had to make it all EMOTIONAL.
Fine.
Grey's Anatomy is always intriguing and shrewd; it could have redeemed the desperate sensitivities you tried to inflict upon me. BUT NO! You had to play with my emotions for yet another full hour!
Thank.You.Very.Much.
You suck.

My stomach HATES Me!

Definite Signs That Your Stomach Has Formed an Alliance With the DEVIL:

1. your stomach hasn't cramped this much since you were in labor
2. your baby cries because she sees mommy crying
3. you have to actually decide to shit or puke into the toilet (not an easy choice)
4. you stay in your pajamas all day because they're already dirty
5. you mistake toilet paper for fire ants
6. the whole house smells like the geriatric ward
7. you sustain yourself on saltines and Gatorade for 48 hours
8. you can't sleep because of the gurgling noises
9. you don't dare burp or fart for fear of getting MUCH more than you bargained for
10. you only eat what you can tolerate being ejected from your body

*if anyone needs me...I'll be in the bathroom.

Wh...

I wanted to title this post "Why The Blog Name?" But as I started to type it into the little box, my previous entries appeared below...then I realized I had over 15 titles with "Wh..." as the beginning! Why the, where the, when can, who's, and that's not even counting all the how's! I think I'm beginning to see a trend...

Anyway, have you ever read someone's blog and wondered, "why did they name it that?" It's like hearing nicknames, you always wonder what the story is behind them. So in case anyone was wondering, I started calling my youngest child "little miss" because we live in the South. The nickname seemed appropriate for a blogger in Louisiana, so there you go. The actual URL that I wanted was "miles away from here", or something to that effect. I kept getting "miles not available please choose another," so I just went with that. www.milesnotavailable.blogspot.com

Of course, some are blatantly obvious...but for those of us who are wondering, what's your story?

Good To Knows...

#91. If you throw a diaper in with the dirty clothes, it will look like a jelly fish exploded in your washing machine. (oh, and it's slippery as snot when it covers the floors like snow as you're shaking it off.) NOT that I would know...but I'd suggest taking the entire matter outside.

#72. If you leave a box of Cheerios out, your baby WILL find it. She will dump out the entire box, scatter it like dust in the wind, and then your two year old will crush every single cheerio that the dog has not yet licked up.(one week later, you will still be finding crushed Cheerio remains in crevices you didn't know even existed.)

#03. If your dog is tall enough to stand on her hind legs and take food from the counter, then SHE WILL! (And if you kick her ass hard enough, she'll run to her box before you even tell her to do so.)

#14. If your wife tells you to run to the store because she needs chocolate and tampons, DON'T ask any questions. JUST.DO.IT.

Untitled...??

Alright, so I made light of a potentially serious situation, but isn't that the FUN of blogging about it?!

Last Saturday, I went to New Orleans with some other women from our church. We were asked to clean up one of the hospitals. (That whole situation was very encouraging, but I'll write about it later.) When I returned home, I found a BLACK stock pot of burned something or other on the ground outside, and when I opened the door, a wave of smoke hit me. My husband just looked at me like, "what? is it the smoke?" Um. YES. It's the smoke!! WTH?!

Apparently, he left a pot of black beans on the stove to soak, and then he left with the kids for a few hours. When he came home, the house was filled with smoke, and our gas stove was on high...you guessed it, right underneath the pot of beans! You can see where it actually started to scorch the ceiling.

Despite our desperate attempts to rid our house of the smoke, we had to call the insurance company. The damage came from a protein fire, and it takes a special chemical to break it down. Otherwise, our house will continue to hold that smell in the walls, furniture, ceilings, appliances, and clothing!! Now we have to stay out of the house for 72 hours while they o-zone our house, we had to kennel the dog and crash at a friend's house because there are NO HOTELS within a 200 mile radius until January 2006!

All I can say is that we are SO LUCKY it wasn't worse. That night, I saw my baby walk into the kitchen, look up at the stove...and then turn the knob on high! I was floored! I immediately pulled all the knobs off, installed a CO2 monitor, changed the batteries in the smoke detectors, placed a fire extinguisher next to the stove, and took stock in Febreeze.

our insurance went up by 10%.
our deductible is $1,000.
we smell like a house full of smokers.
my baby is to blame.
beans are a protein.

*Needless to say, I caught a glimpse of what the hurricane victims have had to go through, and IT.SUCKS. My heart aches for their pain and suffering. I still cannot even imagine...

The Title of My Next Post

1. Beans, Beans, the Magical Fruit
2. The Great Smokeout of 2005
3. My Baby is a 10% Liability
4. Gas! Who's got gas? Do you smell gas?
5. I don't smoke. Do you smoke?
6. Little Miss A/C Cools the Neighborhood

...more to come

7. Second-hand Beans...
8. When we say Refried Beans, We Mean REFRIED BEANS!
9. Anyone Craving Chili? It's sssssssssmokin'!
10. Little Miss Learns a Lesson Worth a Thousand Dollars

Where Can I Get This Prescription?

Do You Ever Make Up Scenarios?

so, Daydreaming...do you ever make things up, such as what you would say if ...x,y, z happened?

There was this mean lady at the electronics department at Wal-mart last night, checking my groceries [--yes you heard me right, GROCERIES, because the manager thought that I was cute and told me I could pay for my stuff in electronics department because there was no wait], who put both gallons of my milk in the same bag, refused to double bag it b/c after all, "this [was] the electronics department not the grocery aisle", so when I got home to unload my groceries, I picked up the bag of milk.

I was just waiting for it to bust...meanwhile, I'm thinking to myself, "if this back rips, two gallons of milk are going to come crashing to the ground..then I'll tell that stupid lady I want her to get on her hands and knees and LICK up all the spilled milk off the ground in my carport and then I'm going to blog about it..." as my stream of consciousness continues...I'm thinking, "i wonder if others make stuff up before it even happens, I should definitely blog that and see what they think..." (minor sidenote, no one has garages in the South, so don't say anything about me being a red neck or white trash, though I do tend to go braless, wear my bathrobe or pj's for as long as humanly possible, and let my children run around in just a diaper!)


My milk made it to the fridge without incident.
Damn. I guess I don't have anything to blog about after all.

You Get What You Pay For

I've never been much of a consignment shopper, though my pocketbook is becoming well versed as of late. sidenote, I went with a good friend of mine, and even she doesn't know about this...so please, don't tell her.

We went to a little consignment boutique (that's what they're calling them now, it somehow lessons the blow that you're going to purchase other people's used crap). And after browsing for a few minutes, I realized that I had to use the restroom.

N.O.W.

I hate that feeling. I've heard it said before, and I'll say it again, it's that "gotta find a quick escape route for when I shit my pants" feeling. Ummm... yeah, so I asked the clerk if I could use her restroom. She said, "oh sure, honey, go right ahead. Only Baskin Robins next door flooded because of the storm, and now we can't shut the door. But it's off to the side, and I won't let anybody go back there. Go ahead, darlin'."

Uhhh, excuse me? Did you not just smell that nasty fog emanating from the other end of the store? (You know the one? The kind that initiates the "abort! abort!" alarms in your head?!) This is NOT one of those times where I can just "leave the door open." But now it's too late, she knows I have to use the restroom, and if I say no, she'll know why. And if I graciously accept her offer, then she'll definitely know why! What do I do?!

Well, my twisted guts didn't leave me much choice, I practically ran for the porcelain throne! I tried to close the door as best I could, turned the water on for extra noise...and just PRAYED that the sweet southern lady was too busy helping customers to notice anything ...um, er...unusual?

Do you think she'd notice if I flushed twice?

Needless to say, I tried to play it off as casually as possible. Taking extra time to buy a few more things and doing whatever I could to keep her away from the back! (it was like on Friday, when the dad says, "whooeee! don't nobody go in there for thirty five/forty five minutes!")...not to mention the added stress of distracting my friend so she had NO IDEA what had just happened!

another side note: for those of you who don't know me, I'm like "shit break" on American Pie. Remember, the guy who had to leave school and go home to use the bathroom because he feared doing something awful in public? I have no problems exerting bodily functions when I'm home...I just shouldn't go anywhere without Immodium A.D.

I pray they get that damn door fixed soon.

Random.

K, saw this at Life Is Nuts! It's just so perfectly random!

1. Delve into your blog archive.
2. Find your 23rd post (or closest to).
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five people to do the same.

My sentence:
"2! That's TWO dunks in the bathtub"

Seems like we were counting with Sesame Street. The funny thing is this (before Nytro's post) came from soapbox.SUPERSTAR and her sentence was about sick kids. I'm convinced we watched the same episode! Those who want to add to the randomosity, please share with the rest of us.


btw, Nytro...I've been having trouble accessing your site lately: WTH? LOL.

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Mom, She Won't Leave Me Alone!

Rita! You are a bitch. (man, I've waited a long time to say that!) There must be some storm deity out there just toying with us.

I can see it now, Heavenly Storm Mother, her voice like piercing winds howling at her little storm shits:"Katrina, stop pouring water out of the tub! People are dying! and Rita, watch where you step! That'll leave a stinch for hundreds of miles!"

Meanwhile the girls are in the back yelling, "Mom! Are we there yet?! I can almost taste the oil refineries!," or (my personal favorite), "Mom! Pull over, I think I just shit all over the Gulf Coast!"

LEAVE US ALONE!

~to those in the storm's direct path, my thoughts and prayers are with you.

we will all be here waiting to help you put your lives back together, i promise.

Got Any Gum?

I was talking to my friend the other night (and this may get a little crass, so shield your eyes), she told me about her friends at the gym.

A girl came into the gym and told them about her night. She was pissed because late at night, the phone rang. Her husband said, "I got it, it's for me." She said, "no, it's not, it's for me." He said, "what ya wanna bet?" She said, "I'll give you a blow job if it's not for me." She answered the phone and said, "shit," (handing the phone over to her husband) who then said, "I told you it was for me, I just paged the guy two minutes ago!"

Overhearing this conversation, another girl at the gym said, "why did you bet him a blow job? I'd have just bet my husband a stick of gum or something."

Since then, it's been a running joke. "I asked my husband last night if he wanted a piece of Juicy Fruit." or "C'mon, give me some of that Hubba Bubba!" or "can I kiss those Chiclets...with my Extra flavor?"

Check out the benefits of gum! (click here)

"Orbit: For A Good Clean Feeling, No Matter What"
"Freedent: Non-Stick Chewing Enjoyment"
"Winterfresh: Where icy cool breath is always on."

Or you could join the Wrigley's Oral Health Care Network...

What would you take?

The Wal-Mart store in uptown New Orleans, built within the last year, survived the storm but was destroyed by looters.

"They took everything. They took all the electronics, the food, the bikes," said John Stonaker, a Wal-Mart security officer. "People left their old clothes on the floor when they took new ones. The only thing left are the country-and-western CDs. You can still get a Shania Twain album."
source

At least Louisianans haven't lost their taste in music! C'mon, giggle with me, I could use the laughter.

------------------------------------------------------------
Heard on a local radio station today:

some politician mumbo jumbo, an official being appointed somewhere (sorry, I was only half listening as I generally listen to news of the Hurricane Katrina mess these days)... anyway, this political figure said, "I don't believe Roe v. Wade has a super-dooper precedence here."

Hello?! Two MAJOR things here:
# 1) ANY politician saying Roe v. Wade has no precedence?! WTF?!

# 2) using the word "super-dooper"?! (a political figure no less...)

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I.FEAR.FOR.OUR.COUNTRY.

Yep, Definitely Getting Back to Normal

Barefoot had an appointment this afternoon, so she dropped the cherubs off at my house. Before she left, the boy cherub was crying after her, "mommy! mommy!" She quickly walked back inside, kissed the kids goodbye, and said,"I'm coming back. Mommy was just mad."

As she walked out, I just laughed and said, "take your time..."

Brazilian or Native?

I've had this draft saved since right before the hurricane hit. Once I saw the devestation left behind, I realized my sense of humor was destroyed as well. Now, two weeks later, I feel the need for a bit of "normalcy." Forgive me if it seems a bit irreverent during a time of crisis.
_____________________________________________

My husband and I talked about pubic hair last night for twenty minutes. (No, I am NOT joking.) Do you ever wish that you had a conversation recorder just so you could play it back and laugh your ass off? (again and again?)

me: "___ and ____ shave each other as a turn on."
Babe: "I think that's a bit much, but I can understand why they do it."
me: "seriously? because I just don't get it."
Babe: "It's like guys who pimp their ride. You know, they pimp even the parts that nobody ever sees, just because they are THAT cool."
me: "so it's like getting a pedicure?"
Babe: "right. they can say I'm so well groomed; I even take care of THAT!"
me: "but to shave it off completely?!"
Babe: "no, it's more like a landing strip."

Need I go ON?! I only wish this post could do our conversation justice.

note to self:
*lesson #1. scissors are never a good idea
*lesson #2. morning sex and leg cramps are tolerable after all

hmmm, who knew?!

Shelter From the Storm

I simply cannot form one coherent thought right now. I can't articulate my feelings very well, and it's a constant battle. I know it would prove to be quite therapeutic if I could put it all out there; I just don't have the energy. Like Barefoot, I too am exhausted. I'm grateful for the post she wrote, please take a moment to read it. I'm grateful for the sacrifice and effort she continues to put forth, and I'm grateful for my family and friends around the world who are supporting me with their thoughts and prayers. If any of you missed the Shelter From the Storm Benefit Concert last night, you can watch part of it here. (The first song is "Louisiana"...it will stick with me forever.)

RANDY NEWMAN Song Lyrics
Louisiana 1927
(From the album "GOOD OLD BOYS")

What has happened down here is the wind have changed. Clouds roll in from the north and it started to rain. Rained real hard and rained for a real long time. Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline. The river rose all day. The river rose all night. Some people got lost in the flood. Some people got away alright. The river have busted through clear down to Plaquemines. Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline.

CHORUS

Louisiana, Louisiana. They're tyrin' to wash us away. They're tryin' to wash us away. Louisiana, Louisiana. They're tryin' to wash us away. They're tryin' to wash us away.

President Coolidge came down in a railroad train. With a little fat man with a note-pad in his hand. The President say, "Little fat man isn't it a shame what the river has done To this poor crackers land."

CHORUS

In humble remembrance...

In the flooded city, hundreds of New York firefighters who battled the conflagrations in their city four years ago, attended an outdoor Catholic mass in New Orleans. Michael Weinlein, assistant chief of operations for the New York fire department, said: "We worked side by side as we dug through the rubble of the World Trade Center. We have come to repay that debt."

Thank you.

click here for source.

Proud mama moments...

oh the joys of being a mother. I hope this link works. I've been trying to upload a video clip that has brought a bit of humor into our lives...and well, just see it for yourself.

Let me know if it works, (or if once again, I have failed miserably at HTML). Either way, I want to know! Simply click on the picture, and it should redirect you to my media site. Click play, and voila!

P.S. Thanks to soapbox.SUPERSTAR for the "no swearing" sign she posted on her site! It was simply one of those I HAD to have!

Faith Renewed

Ok, so I wrote this post a couple days ago. I couldn't bring myself to publish it because literally five minutes after I wrote about "my faith renewed"...I heard the news. I read the stories. I listened to our local radio stations taking calls from New Orleans and the surrounding areas. I heard the heartbreak in their voices. And it made me angry!! I wrote a follow-up post because I was so pissed. (I truly had a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde moment.) I couldn't decide... was I happy or was I sad? Was I melancholy, or was I pissed as hell? I wanted to rant and rave. I wanted to vent my frustrations. I wanted to post the weblinks to those awful stories I read. I wanted to be in a bad mood, and all I wanted was for people to say, "I absolutely agree with you...you're an irrational bitch, but I agree with you." And that would have been ok with me, truly, it would have. However, I didn't want to fuel the fires. I know I tend to preach unity and support, devotion and giving others the benefit of the doubt to those making judgemental comments...(hypocrite, right here) and yet, all I want to do break away from the system, tell them how badly they suck, show my true colors... So in an effort to do the right thing, I kept the original post and deleted the follow-up bitchfest. (thank you, thank you...pats on the back are greatly appreciated.)

* Original Post Date: Saturday, September 3, 2005 *

I came across a story that Sleeping Mommy had linked on her site. It is just one of the thousands of GOOD THINGS being done in this country to aide in the devastation we are seeing on the news. If you are feeling discouraged, feeling like you are just one person living too far away to do anything to help, please read this story. I know that through this tragedy, we are seeing the best and the worst being brought out in everyone. But this just proves that despite the decay of our loyalties and faith, there is a lot of good that is coming from it as well.

I have also followed the advice of my father (fat, naked dancing cartoon in my comments section??), and I am trying to feel grateful rather than guilty. I am grateful that we (ordinary citizens) are able to provide relief to those in need, even if it is just a hot meal or a blanket. I am grateful my family and my home are safe. I am grateful for the love and support pouring in from around the country. I am grateful we live in a democracy. I am grateful we have certain freedoms, such as the freedom of speech (and blogging, of course!). I am grateful for my faith in God, And I am grateful for His love and mercy.

And in an effort to be "normal" once again, I went to Target yesterday (my utopia, but that's another story), and I must admit, the first half hour was very difficult. We saw a girl (former Target employee from New Orleans) shedding tears of gratitude as the manager reassured her that she had a job here, and she could start right away, and stay for as long as she needed. The place was bustling with lots of people, workers were trying to restock the empty shelves, lines went out the door, delivery trucks were constantly ringing the bell, hospital workers were shopping for supplies due to the sudden influx of nursery patients in our area, people were taking spitbaths in the public restrooms... and I was shopping for ?? What, Barefoot? What did I even buy? Nothing of consequence (except of course for Little Girl Cherub's birthday, which was the driving force behind attempting an hour of "normalcy"), and yet, I still did not feel normal. After indulging ourselves with a mini shopping spree, I began to feel better about our situation. I've been trying to make peace with it. Honest. And visiting my Utopian Society helped to pull me out of a serious funk.

I do know that people are finally being taken out of New Orleans by the busloads (as promised two or three days ago), the hospitals are cleared out, helicopters have been flying overhead nonstop, and 60 newborn babies just arrived safely at a local hospital in our area. ((smiles all around!!)) I know that for every single person that died or suffered, there are at least 10 more that are living and getting better. For once I feel the sun's bright rays are more than just a cruel joke being played on those suffering without air conditioning or sunblock.

K, so there was a little bitching, but it was better than what I wrote 10 minutes later! TRUST ME!!