just because it made me laugh...

not whining. won't do it.

I promise not mention how bad my teeth STILL hurt today. I won't mention the fact that I can barely be understood because I can't open my mouth all the way to speak. My family is enjoying it immensely. I will mention that I got a good chuckle at my ownself this morning. I woke up and couldn't believe how much better my mouth felt. Just as I was marveling over how quickly the pain ended it occurred to me that in my drunken stupor last night I forgot to put the damn rubber bands back in after I ate dinner. DUH. No wonder I felt better. Then I trudged into the bathroom to reinstall the torture devices (rubber bands) and almost cried at the pain flooding back. I think even Matt felt bad for me. This was a good sign in our marriage because I think he was ready to kill me last night. I wasn't kidding when I said I needed a big bottle of vodka with which to drown myself. I really did dive in with both feet. I think I irritated him with my alcoholism last night. I guess if he felt bad for me this morning that must mean he likes me again.
But I won't mention the pain in my mouth. Promise I won't.

whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiining...

My teeth hurt. Bad. I am currently waiting for my knight and shining armor (Matt) to arrive with my liquid pain killer (vodka- in the vanilla variety) so that I can drown myself in it. Hoping the bottle is that big. Must drown myself in it.
I thought once I got over the initial pain and whiny-ness of getting these bitches (ooops, braces) put on my teeth, I would never again feel that kind of pain in my mouth. The kind that makes you want to just jerk the *#$&ers smack out of your mouth. The kind that makes even my inner pig not want to look at food, let alone be forced to chew it. Sadly, I am again experiencing the pain thanks to my friends the rubber bands. I have them going in 4 directions currently in my mouth and I want to shout at my short, pudgy orthodontist and tell him what a rat bastard he is for putting people in this pain. I know it isn't his fault. It's actually mine. I brought this on. It doesn't matter. He is still a rat bastard (he really isn't. He's really a nice guy. He can't help this). I might feel differently in a day or so when it stops. Please tell me this will stop in a day or two. Probably until they put thicker rubber bands in a different location, going in a different direction. Then it'll all start again. Curse this bad bite of mine!!!!
I found out today that my blood pressure meds prevent me from taking ibuprofen. I refuse to ask if I should be limiting my alcohol intake. I'm sure I don't want to know the answer and quite honestly tonight, I just DO NOT care one iota. I'm havin' the liquid pain killers in vanilla form. Several of them. Do not call my house tonight and expect anything more than slurred speech. The fault of both the vodka and the rubber bands.

grey skies...

We are supposed to have "November grey skies" all day today. It was cold yesterday but the sky was blue and the clouds were puffy. It was a crispy fall day- my favorite. Today we are November grey. Blah. Except they were wrong at the ol' NBC weather station today. They said we wouldn't see the sun at all. Nary a bit, all the live long day (my words- not his. He isn't a total hillbilly. I am). And yet I saw it. Just as we were headed toward the bus. It came up over the field behind us and peeked through the November grey. Just long enough to hit the tress on the opposite side of the field and light up the oranges, yellows, and reds on the leaves. It was bright, fantastic, beautiful. I made a mental note to run home and grab my camera and take a picture of it as soon as I could dump Justin out of the van. Sadly, when I got home, it was November grey again. None of the fiery, bright colors were still illuminated by the sun. They are still pretty, but it isn't even close to the same.
Still...for a moment today, I saw the sun. They said I wouldn't, but I did. I think that means it's going to be a good day.

Avoidance is my friend...

I am avoiding several things today. Cleaning being the biggest one. My house is a pit. I need to get it clean before Fri when we have a visitor coming. Matt's mom. She hasn't seen the house and it'll be the first visit. I REALLY need to get it clean. Yet, here I sit, avoiding.
I am avoiding getting on the scale because I have been on an ice cream kick this week and it is going to be U-G-L-Y.
I am avoiding figuring out what is on my nerves today. Something is. I am in a mood and I don't know why. I feel a storm brewing in my brain and I have no idea what the deal is. Could be hormones, but I fear I blame 90% of my current pissiness on hormones. I'm starting to think it's not hormones so much as it is just me. Who I am now. What I have grown up to be. I think when I was little I wanted to grow up and be a veterinarian or a teacher. Instead I grew up to be the wicked witch of the west. Who'd have thunk?
I am also avoiding what to make for dinner. Maybe if I avoid this long enough it will turn into pizza night. This is my hope.
I have a long list of avoidances. I won't bore you with it all. This is already an ignorant post. No need to ignorant it up any further.

Oprah strikes again...

That Oprah. She has more money than anyone. Yet she always reminds me what a heel *I* am for not appreciating what I have. Her show yesterday was "moms around the world". Hannah was watching it with me so it was enlightening for us both. Some of the women (like the hot mom from Brazil- and I don't mean temperature hot) had more riches than they could even handle. Nannies, maids, drivers, all the goods. Brazil mommy was spouting how lucky she was to be able to spend time with her children. Yes...because someone else is cleaning your toilets and mopping your floor. Plus she is married to Brazil's version of Brad Pitt. That could go either way on the good-bad scale. I wouldn't want to be married to any form of Brad Pitt- even Brazil's. Thanks Matt.
Then, of course, there were the moms of Africa. That Oprah, she refuses to let us bury our heads in the sand and pretend what is going on in Africa is not. She shows us these horrible things regularly. Things that makes anyone with a soul uncomfortable. What she said that stood out in my head, was that those moms in Darfur, Africa want the same things for their kids that we do. They have the same hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Except they live in a refugee camp and can't sleep at night because someone might invade the camp and rape them or their children. Oh...and they don't know when they'll have their next meal. Or sip of clean water. They are lucky if they get one meal of grain a day. Yet, they hope the same things for their kids that I do.
Yep...Oprah knows how to make me appreciate that I have time to play Candyland. That I even own the board game. She even made me appreciate my crappy water and ignorant clean-nothing dishwasher. Even better than that, my daughter saw this same thing. Last night as we were saying our prayers, she prayed for the mommy that didn't have food for her babies. Yes, Oprah. We got the message.

Earn bad mommy credits for the day...check that off my list.

Help me try to make a 5 year old understand why I am backing out of a field trip to the pumpkin patch. We were supposed to go last week but they cancelled because it was muddy. That's nice of them, but now it's muddy and freezing. It doesn't sound like a fun trip to me. Especially not with Ryan in tow. Of course, I have devastated my daughter. Just earning my bad mommy award points. Yes indeed. It isn't just cold, it's bitter...and did I mention the mud? A 2 hour trip through the pumpkin patch just does NOT fit into my plan for the day. It would be different if it was even partially indoors. It is not. It is 1 hour and 45 min of listening to "the life of a pumpkin seed" and 15 min of picking pumpkins. In the freezing cold, bitter wind, and mud- wait did I already mention that? Blah. I have scarred her for life by telling her we aren't going. I'll pay for the therapy later, I'm sure. Whatever.

Friday funnies...

For your reading pleasure I am going to share 2 conversations I had with Justin last night.

Background on conversation #1- they are talking about seeds in school. They were supposed to bring in seeds to share with the class. We walked back to the Buckeye tree and found a buckeye (which is indeed a seed I just learned) and also a buckeye still in the hull (which is cool and porky in Justin's words) (porky=spiky for those who don't know that already) (DUH). I put them in a baggie and he takes them to school. Fast forward 2 days...riding in the car...

Justin: Mom! Why didn't you name my nuts??

Me: Uhhhh... what?

Justin: {sighing in complete exasperation} My nuts mom! My nuts! Why didn't you name them??

Me: Justin, I can't begin to figure out what you could be talking about.

Justin: My nuts! When I took them to school I couldn't remember what the porky one was called.

Immediately my brain clicks because remember, porky=spiky...

Me: You mean your SEEDS? I think you mean why didn't I label your seeds?

Justin: Yes, mom. Seeds...nuts...whatever.

Me: Big difference, son. And I didn't label your seeds because it was your homework. Name your own nuts next time.


Conversation #2. No background available. I still don't know what the heck he was talking about.

Justin: Mom is a chicken wild?

Me: A chicken? No it's a farm animal so it's not really wild.

Justin: How about a spider? Is it wild?

Me: Umm...sure I guess a spider is wild.

Justin: A worm? Is a worm wild?

Me: Gosh, I guess if a spider is wild, then a worm is too.

Justin: What about an acorn?

Me: Ask your dad.

I'm still figuring that one out. He was cracking me up, though so I thought I'd share :) I'm sure in a day or 2 the lightbulb will click on again and I'll know why he needed to know if an acorn was wild. If any of you know about the wild-ness or lack of wild-ness in acorns, please share. Janet- maybe you could ask Alex. That would be a Bubba-ism, correct?

How do you not love a man in uniform?

Today is Justin's first Tiger Scout meeting. Could he be any cuter? I'm thinking no, but I'm a little biased. He is so excited. I'm hoping he isn't bummed when he figures out he isn't camping out tonight. I've tried to explain that's it's a meeting, not a camping trip, but he is one who needs to actually BE THERE to catch a clue.
Do you know how hard it is to sew those little patches on the shirt? HARD. Even using all of my mad housewifey skills, it took a lot longer than I thought it would. The numbers are still crooked, but I attempted 3 times to get them straight, and then I called it good enough. I'm sure one of the other moms is Martha Stewart and her patches will all be perfectly level. Mine aren't and I'm good with that. I'm wondering why those patches aren't iron-on anyways??? That would've made it loads easier.
Anyways...that's all I've got for today. Cute boy in uniform. You're welcome.

Domestic goddess...yes indeed...

I'm not sure why it is that the term "housewife" makes me cringe. In the technical sense, that's what I am. But when someone calls me a "housewife" I just conjure up images of a frumpy woman in slippers and a robe with those pink spongy curlers in her hair. I may be frumpy sometimes, but I can at least throw on a pair of sweats everyday. And those curlers? Not since I was in elementary school thankyouverymuch. I impressed my grandmother with my homemade pumpkin butter and canning skills this weekend. She said at some point yesterday that I have turned into a good housewife. I *think* this was a compliment, but it was said in a way that made me think that she figured I would amount to nothing, so at least I can mop a floor with the best of them. She also said I should hang on to Matt because I'd never find someone as good as him. I know that to be fact, but again it was said in a way that screamed (to me at least) that I barely deserved him , so I better keep mopping the floor and keep him happy. I know old folks say rude things. They think they have earned the right to say whatever, in front of whoever (or is it whomever?). At least my grandma has. Sometimes it is downright funny. Sometimes it makes you want to crawl in a hole and die. Recently it seems to always happen at a holiday gathering and it makes me want to cry. She always seems to strike a nerve with me and make me feel like all these years she has thought I would end up a loser. I can't help but wonder why. I was always a pretty good kid. I made good grades, I went to college. I didn't finish, but I went on to a respectable career. Bless her heart, she has no idea that what she is saying is hurtful. She was a nurse in the army during WW II and then for many years at Children's Hospital. She can tell stories that make your toes curl. Over and over, we get to hear those stories :) I know that she thinks I done good, but it just seems it's not good enough. Maybe if I had become a nurse...
Anyways, apparently I make a damn fine housewife. Though if you don't mind, I'd prefer to be referred to as the domestic goddess that I am.

Edited later to add: While I was making lunch for the chiclets today (using all my mad housewifey skills to whip up PB & J) it occurred to me that possibly the reason she says I make a good housewife with a note of disdain in her voice is because she would've rather been strung up by her toes, than be a stay at home mom. She loved her work and needed it. I can totally get that. Not everyone wants to do this job- I don't even want to sometimes! That was a lightbulb moment for me.

When I am old...

I hope I am healthy

I hope I am active

I hope my brain still works as well is it does now

I hope my kids will sit with me when I am not well

I hope I don't say mean things about people as though they can't hear me when they most certainly can

I hope I am surrounded by love

I love the 80's....

No really, I do. Nothing made me happier than to hear that some of the 80's styles were coming back. I remember fondly my 80's clothes (most of them). Baggy jeans, 10 button shirts (layers and layers of them), big chunky sweaters, Eastland shoes...I could go on for days...
I just wish the fashion police would check with me before they pick what they are bringing back. I'm scared. No really, I just gave up my last pair of what I'm sure my sister would roll her eyes at and call "mom jeans" for a cool pair of straight leg jeans that were "in" last year I'm sure of it. Now I'm watching the Today show this morning and they got a 'hot styles for less' segment on. What do mine eyes see? Leggings. Hello?? Fashion police?? I'm going to be your latest victim. Ain't no WAY I'm am going to stuff my thighs into leggings EVER AGAIN. I can just see it now. Me, thinking I am all cool in my leggings, walking down the street. All the people behind me wondering if that's cottage cheese on my thighs or if I have just been sitting in gravel. Why didn't they bring baggy jeans back? I still know how to peg them! Does that count for nothing???? Instead they bring back skinny jeans. I cannot wear skinny jeans, for I am not skinny. I can still do kick ass big hair if need be. Maybe that will save me from the fashion police paddy wagon? Doubtful.

The impossible to-do list...

I have this to-do list. It is, oh say, as long as my arm. I have written down all the stuff I want to accomplish today and tomorrow morning. It is completely impossible as it stands right now to get it all done and, like a complete moron, I keep adding stuff to it. A bunch of family is coming over tomorrow afternoon for Hannah's birthday. A few of whom have not seen the house yet. So, I want it spit shined. Totally needless, since most of them will likely not be looking for dust with white gloves on. Yet, I must trudge through the motions of cleaning it up as if they might. We have 2 soccer games tomorrow morning and it is supposed to be frozen tundra here in the a.m hours. Should be a blast! Especially when I'll barely be able to think about anything but my to-do list that is left un-done.
I get a little sick pleasure out of crossing stuff off the list though, so I must make one. So much pleasure that after I cleaned the fish tank this morning (which is, by the way, thriving with our store-bought water) I realized I had forgotten to actually put it on the list. So I wrote it on there, just so I could cross it off. How ignorant is that????
Happy Friday to all. I'm off to do my to-dos

At least you have your legs...

I am the first to admit that I whine. A lot. Too much. Give me a topic and I can find a way to whine about it. Yesterday I was in a "woe is me" state of mind when it occured to me that I have a pretty damn good life. So maybe (and this is a BIG MAYBE- big like my ass if that helps you gain frame of reference) if I focused on the positive instead of the negative, I'd feel a little better. I know. It doesn't take an afternoon of watching Dr. Phil to figure that out. Anyone can tell me the same thing. So why, oh why, do I not do that? Not sure. Maybe because it easy to count up all the bad stuff? Well, brainiac, how hard is it to count up the good stuff? Not so hard. So here I go:

1. a great husband who makes me laugh. He also makes me roll my eyes at his ability to pull ignorant, who gives a shit, facts out of the air at any given moment. Wait..this was supposed to be positive...that one may at first sound bad, but it might serve a purpose someday, for him to be able to tell me that running in a zig-zag pattern will confuse an alligator and give me time to get away from it. See you're rolling your eyes aren't you? OK...most of the time he's funny and he loves me, so he gets the #1 spot. I am not easy to love.

2. 3 healthy & happy kids. They are blessings. They are also total pains in the arse sometimes, but I love them like nobody's bidness. They are now and will forever be my babies.

3. a house. A really cool house. A house that we fit quite comfortably in. A house in a cool neighborhood, with fun people (now that I know them). No matter what, we have a roof over our heads that we all like. For that we are thankful. If it weren't for the stupid sliding glass door... STOP...positive, Amy, positive. OK, so I hate the door, but at least I HAVE a door, right???

4. My family. They are zany. I don't have an "average family" by any stretch of the imagination, but they are all wonderful people. People who would give you the shirt off of their back, even if it was the last shirt in their closet.

5. a bunch a WONDERFUL friends who I can count on for anything. And I do mean ANYTHING at all. I could show up on almost any of their front doorsteps at any given time and be welcomed in with open arms. Maybe it's because they know I tend to come bearing gifts & alcoholic beverages. Whatever the case, I'm pretty sure I have the best group of friends on the planet.

See...that's only 5 things and I think anyone would read that and think I was a lucky girl. And...wow...I am lucky. Intensely lucky. Because I have a ton more good in my life than even those things, but if I typed them all out you'd be rolling your eyes at me, not at Matt. I'd hate for that to happen.
In case I forget how lucky I am, and fall into the whiny-ness again, I am also so lucky to have my mama who will be sure to remind me. I may not have buckets of money to pay my ever-increasing stack of bills, but at least I have my legs. There are people who can't say that. I told you they weren't average people, that family of mine.

Happy Birthday Hannah...

Five is a big milestone birthday for most kids. Hannah is sure she is taller this morning. And her baby teeth will certainly be loose by the end of the day (never mind that Justin is 6 1/2 and still holding on to all of his). Anyways...she had a fun morning! New dollhouse, birthday cake for breakfast... Life is good in Hannah banana-land!

Your bonus smile for today...

Every mother learns the fine lesson about "choosing your battles" at some point when her child is around the age of 2-ish. Some battles are just not worth fighting about. Case in point: Hannah's outfit choices...

Daydreaming...

If I ruled the world…

All children’s pants would be adjustable waist. No exceptions. Really…this can only be a good plan.

Children would never whine. Again, no exceptions on this one.

I would be paid an hourly wage for this job I currently hold.

It would not be minimum wage.

I would have access to a jet and a spa so that my friends and I could go whenever we wanted and get a massage and pedicure.

I would have a beach house within a few minutes of the spa. Gotta be able to show off those new pedicures while sticking our toes in the sand and sipping a cold martini.

½ & ½ would automatically come out of the container and into my coffee, in just the right amount. The perfect amount if you will.

Caffeine would make you lose weight. Lots of it. As would brownies and chocolate chip cookie dough.

Mean people would fall through a trap door in the floor Scooby Doo style every time they acted like assholes. At the bottom of the trap door would be garbage. Weeks of rotted garbage. I’m guessing after a week or so of this plan, there would be a few less assholes in the world.

Stoli Vanilla Vodka would arrive at my home anytime I snapped my fingers. And a hot dude with washboard abs would be there to mix my drinks.

Home appliances would always work properly. Until you wanted a new one- then they would automatically be broken with no hope of repair.

Dogs would only be allowed to fart outside. Never in my bedroom while lying on MY bed. Shasta- this one is about you.

I would have an engineer on call to build the train tracks that my son desires. I admit to not having the brain capacity to do this. It only frustrates me. More so when the track falls apart 5 minutes after I walk out the room. Damn you, Thomas the tank engine!

I would have volumes of easy dinners at my disposal. They would be healthy and tasty. They would, of course, also cook themselves and I would always have the ingredients in my fridge or pantry.

Toy manufacturers would be restricted from placing twist ties of any kind on toy packaging. Any toy manufacturer caught placing even one (let alone the 27-50 they currently use) would be forced to spend the next Christmas day or birthday in the homes of small children everywhere, where they would be forced to get their own toys out of the freakin’ boxes.

Toy manufactures would also be forced to use the same battery rechargers, AC plugs, and remote controls for ALL TOYS. Do they have any clue at all what it is like to keep all of those stupid cords separate??

I would have never ending patience with my kids and husband. I’d never lose my temper or my grip on reality. I wouldn’t have to pretend to be excited about yet another game of Candyland or Chutes & Ladders, because they would actually be enjoyable to me (before you snort a -yeah right- at me, keep in mind the bit above about Vanilla Stoli and the hot guy mixing my drinks)

And there would definitely be world peace. All of the terrorists would be in the Scooby Doo trap doors, along with pedophiles, school shooters, kidnappers, etc. so we would have a peaceful and happy world.

Fun grandma...

My mom very rarely gets the "fun grandma" award from Hannah. They have a love/hate relationship. Grandma Joy usually wins the prize because she spoils Hannah like nobody's business and because she usually shows up to our house with bags of M&Ms and sometimes a twinkie or 2 in her pockets. So, in all rights, she should win the prize. How could anyone else even be in the running when she bribes with chocolate and twinkies?? This weekend my mom was able to take the lead away from Grandma Joy. She had Hannah over for a sleepover and they made haunted gingerbread houses. Hannah hasn't stopped talking about how much fun she had. My mom is probably still recovering because Hannah rarely stops talking, period. She doesn't believe in silence. Ever. She makes your eyes cross sometimes. I'm used to it, but my mom had a large dose of it this weekend and she wasn't used to it. I think she is likely still drinking it off. I'm hoping it was worth it in the end. She has the "fun grandma" prize firmly in her grasp for at least a few days. Even if she had to sport a 2 day headache to earn it :) No pain, no gain right??

A brighter day...

Nice stuff to ponder...

The changing of the leaves behind our house. This was taken as I was sipping my coffee (with perfect cream of course) (and it was REALLY GOOD JEN) in my chair on the back porch. The leaves have just started to change and I'm thinking once they hit their peak it will be beautiful...

And then of course my new mums...which I did indeed stop and smell. In case there are inquiring minds out there who are dying to know how mums smell, they smell..ummmm....unremarkable. They don't have one of the smells that makes you say "ahhhhh that smells great!" They look nice though!

Heavy stuff for a Saturday...

Why do people do bad things to children? All the violence in the schools this week makes me unbelievably sad. I mean really, the Amish?? What did they ever do to you? Nothing. They are peaceful and unobtrusive. And yet a man broke into their school and killed little girls. Killed them with the intent to rape them first. I can't believe I am saying this outloud, but at least he *only* killed them. Those poor girls in the Colorado school shootings were apparently raped first. The last moments of that poor girl's life were hellish. And that's the thought her parents have to live with.
Can I just say right now...this is my worst fear. My biggest nightmare. That someone will take one of my children and harm them in this way. I can't even think it without getting emotional. And really, God forbid this ever happen, the guy who does it better kill himself, because hell hath no fury like a mama. I would need to be locked in a rubber room for the rest of my life. I can't imagine losing a child.
I have been thinking about these horrifying things all week. I'm hoping now that I have written it down that it will leave the recesses of my mind. I think it makes me so insane because there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. You want to believe that you can protect your children from the horrors of this world, but there are things out there that no one can protect them from. You can't keep them in a bubble. No matter how badly you want to. You have to let them ride bikes with their friends and look for bugs under rocks in the woods and just generally be kids. I wonder if our parents worried about predators lurking behind bushes when we were kids? I rode my bike down the street by myself in the dark. My best friend lived about 10 houses down from us and I often left her house after dark and rode home. I could never do that with Justin. Granted, I was in 4th grade at the time and he is in 1st, but in 3 years will I feel differently? I don't think so. We currently live at the back of a court. Justin walks to his friends house that is 4 or 5 houses away just at the edge of the court circle. I watch him out the window until he gets there. I wonder if I will ever not feel like I have to keep an eye on him while he plays outside. Don't even get me started on the Boy Scouts. Justin just joined and I informed Matt he will forever have to go on campouts with him. Sorry, not that I don't trust people, but how many stories have we heard about those 'trusty Boy Scout leaders' taking advantage of little boys. Makes me want to vomit on my keyboard right now. I want to protect my kids as much as I can. Unfortunately I have to send them to school. I can be thankful that there is only 1 unlocked door in the building and it is directly in front of the principal's office. There is a margin of safety, but it's never enough.
OK...go on about your lives. Sorry for the downer.