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.