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?