T.G.I.F.

SERIOUSLY! IT'S FRIDAY!!

can you believe it??!!

______________________________

I Spoke Too Soon.

Anyone want to know how to get Cinderella to mop and scrub your kitchen floors on her hands and knees and do two loads of laundry? Do you?!

Here's the KEY:

Make sure your daughter eats expired yogurt followed by cheese cubes and a glass of milk. Wait less than two hours. Wait for it. Wait--

PROJECTILE VOMIT all over the kitchen floor! Five rounds of vomit, SPLATTERING everywhere, puking on the girl's shoes, the girl's clothes, my shoes, my clothes, the blanket, and the kitchen rug. Just when you think it's all over, the husband goes to run the bathwater. Two seconds later, the Tiny one stops what she is doing, looks at you with watering, red eyes--then WHAM! PROJECTILE VOMIT of red applesauce and crackers all over the kitchen floor, her clothes, my clothes, and of course, the blanket.

Here I am, holding two ragged little girls, covered in vomit--the husband takes them away while I begin to clean up. Not one minute later, I am dry heaving over the kitchen sink, trying to hold onto my dinner as though it was my last supper (Panera, mmmm...it was good!). Somehow I make it through, only to SLIP and FALL. Yep. Slip-n-Slide, vomit style. What a perfect ending to a Friday night.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to spray another round of Lysol. The stinch is unbearable!

My Pretty, Pretty Ballerina

Just SHAT ALL OVER her PRETTY, PRETTY BALLET CLOTHES, and then let it drip onto her PRETTY, PRETTY BALLET SHOES.
She rode home from class on a stack of newspapers and junkmail
(I should mark it "return to sender"! HA!)



*I picked her up just before realizing WHAT had happened, so you can add SHAT on MY pants and on MY shirt to the list.

**And yes, I said "shat"! (somehow "she pooed on my clothes" doesn't give you the FULL effect!) So leave your "i told you so" comments somewhere else because after the day I've had, they are NOT welcome here!

Thinking back to 09/20/2005

Who's Idea Was This? (found this in my archives and LMAO!!)

Who's brilliant idea was it to take three hungry, cranky, and tired munchkins to a picnic outside in 101 degree weather?! Need I remind her that we're in Louisiana?! STEP OUTSIDE and into the Bayou Sauna,

Also, to the girl working the fast food gig...I know you're busy, and that you just want to get a head start on my order. However, when it's a 5-10 minute wait at the drive-thru, please don't make my frosty the second I order it. A melted frosty is useless to me...ESPECIALLY in already hundred degree weather!!

If you see either of these people, please smack 'em. And then bring me a new pair of clothes, right down to my underwear, and bathe my kids because it's HOT, it's STICKY, and now I have a headache.

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* I totally remember this post! And I have to say, I am completely OK with my now 67 degree weather, thank you very much! (sorry Bayou, I love you, but I'd rather just miss you!)

This just isn't going to be easy.

I have decided (deep breath here)---to stop swearing. Yes, it's true. I have come to this conclusion based on my own merits, and I am doing this for myself. (And if it sounds like I am trying to convince myself of this, it is because I AM!)

It's just time to give it up.

I don't want to be a sailor's wife. I don't want to sound like the white trash I so exuberantly display when I take my daughter to Kindergarten wearing only my pajamas, both little munchkins in dirty t-shirts, pullups, and no shoes---I want to be classy. Bitchy, but classy. Crap! I'm not saying that word.

Maybe I need to rethink this whole thing.

There are just times when, "shoot! that hurt!," or "dangit! that sucks!," or "what the freak were you thinking?!," or "darn! I can't believe I missed that!," or "where the heck do you think you are going?," or "that really ticks me off!" or "pilatekickmybuttes" just simply
WILL.NOT.WORK.

Oh well. The road to HECK is paved with good intentions!
I'll just go with that.

Pilatekickyourasstes!

So I've always been more of a Yoga girl and less of an (ahem, farting) Pilates girl. Well today I went to my first class, and I swear it kicked.my.ass! Who knew that a ball could be so demanding? Or that an elastic band could snap back and hit you in the face while doing a bicycle lunge on your back? Or that balance is THE key factor in exercise? Or that a ring could cause such pain?!

Umm...I do!

My legs are sore, my back is numb, my shoulders ache, and my abs need a good stretch to recover from my 55 minute duration of what can only be described as Yoga Hell. AND--I still have to take care of my kids for the rest of the day!!

Tranquilizers? Anyone?? no?!

Good to Know # 481

When you go outside for damn dog's potty break, you may want to wear your running shoes. You just might run into the neighbor you are trying to impress who is out jogging ten times around the block to lose those last few pounds. So you may very well join her (as our block is quite small), thinking this would be a great chance to get to know each other and spend that one on one time you have yet to enjoy since the move.

TWENTY minutes later, you may find that you are still jogging (ahem, speed walking) around the block, nearly dragging damn dog along (as she's not used to exercise), you will smell like a pig, and you will have blisters the shape of a large "C" on both of your heels because you were (of course) barefoot. You will gracefully excuse yourself when you pass up your house for the fifth time, walk inside the door, and CRASH onto the floor. (Both you AND damn dog on the cracked linoleum floor in the kitchen, panting---trying to explain to your husband between breaths why it took you twenty minutes to poop the dog.)

Meet my daughter, Angelina Jolie

Who needs serious lip injections when all you really need is to smack your mouth on the tunnel slide at the YMCA?!

It's free. It's beautiful. And you get an additional lip color
at no extra cost.

She loves me. She misses me. She wants to be my favorite friend for Liii-hiife!

The rumors are true. (click here). BFB drove 10 hours to spend two glorious days with us. It is also entirely true that within an hour of her arrival, we had dropped $150 at Target and were on our way to Hooter's. (Some things NEVER change!)

Saturday was full of indulging our Visa check cards as we visited Sherwin-Williams to stock up and take advantage of BFB's discount (I am now set to paint the WHOLE house--any volunteers?) then off to the outlets. Not just ANY outlet store, but THE OUTLET STORE. That's right, I'm talking about the Pottery Barn Outlet. BFB died and went to heaven, but that did not stop her from picking her dead carcass off the ground and CLIMBING IN THE 70% OFF CLEARANCE BIN!! Afterwards I swear she needed a cigarette and a decent night's rest. I'd say we were pretty successful. (Would our husbands agree? that's a different story all together!)--But lets focus on the important stuff, shall we?:


We are hot.




We have beautiful children.




BFB has NO Shame.




And our girls admire one another
as much as we do.





We were frequently asked if we were sisters, and one guy even asked if we were Canadian. Why? * UM, COULD IT BE THAT WE ACT LIKE FOREIGNERS IN A STRANGE COUNTRY?!

*don't worry, this is just who we are when we're together. ask her about the earthquake or the harlot with a backsliding ass!
Now THAT's good stuff.

SYMBOLISM. Let it strengthen you.

It's Like Dating

I have to say that making new friends is like dating. Whether it's at church, your kids' PTA meetings, or the YMCA--you scope out the prospects just like you would some new fling. Is she a hip chic? or is she too rigid with her kids? does she have bratty kids that I wouldn't want my kids to emulate? does she look like a fun mom? would her husband mesh well with mine?

So you muster up the courage to say hi, chat for a bit, then if you're lucky, you leave with a phone number or an e-mail address. Am I right?

Then comes the awkward first date. You feel guilty for never calling and have to go through the whole, "remember me?" speech--b.s. for a few minutes, then set a day to get together (with the kids of course because they always take pressure off certain situations)...and then you hang up the phone wondering if you were too forward.

Tomorrow is the first date with a new friend I haven't even met yet. It's true. (hence the dating rant.) Her husband was doing some contract work on our house, and before he left he gave me his wife's name and number. Judging from his personality, she must be pretty cool. So we'll see. But because I was the one to call, I feel like it's "my date." What if she hates the play place? What if she hears my kid scream and decides she doesn't like me? Then again, what if we totally hit it off and become BFF? (correction, "favorite friends"--barefoot).

do you think I should buy her flowers?

; )

Good to Know # 816

If you are 5'11'' (and over the age of 25)
let me just say this much:
you're too big for the playground's tunnel slide!

You might end up chasing your baby girl, thinking you can still maneuver down the slide the way you used to play "crack the egg" when you were little, follow her down the slide, and two hours later you will find the pain in your low back is still intensifying, you will have trouble walking up the stairs or bending down to pick up the toys, and you will moan like an old fart who threw out his back...

Thirty minutes later you will be calling your dad asking, "what the hell can I do to make it stop??" Then your mind will begin to race, (blurring out the doctor's voice), and instead of hearing "ice it and you'll be fine," you hear, "you will be in a wheelchair for the rest of your life"...suddenly you find yourself wondering how you will ever drive a car again, or run along side your daughter on her bicycle when the training wheels come off, or attend your son's high school football games when you can't even stand up!!---and ultimately you'll decide that your life is just about over.

My advice? leave the sliding to the kids and you'll be fine.