Too Bad We're Too Far Out for Merry Maids....

Ok, I was kidding about the crack pipe.

I realize I've been a slacker lately, with both posting and commenting. I think I may be on my way out of the "newborn fog" that I've been in for the past four months. As I'm becoming more aware of my surroundings, I'm noticing that a clutter monster took a giant dump all over my house.

My goal is to clean and reorganize one room a day.

stop laughing!

So far, I've done our bedroom and the dining room. I'm currently working on the computer room (aka - the dumping ground). I've even rearranged all the photos on our hard drive and put them in neat little folders. Then I went nuts and uploaded more pictures to flickr, because I can't ever stay focused on the task at hand.

While reorganizing our closets, it occurred to me that if I'm going to be successful at this whole "three kid thing" I'm going to need to be more organized. I have plans for chore charts and reward charts and schedules and I'm even breaking out the label maker!!!! Of course if I know my kids, in only one week the labels will be peeled off and stuck on the walls and the charts will be colored with pretty little scribbles.

Too bad my mother-in-law can't plan one of her visits for the one week out of the year when everything is neat and tidy.....maybe I should call her ;)

Cuz I'm sucha gangsta

El Loco Moto People Iced: Twenty Four Car Bombs Planted: Eighteen Favorite Weapon Curdled Milk Arms Broken: Twenty Six Eyes Gouged: Twenty One Tongues Cut Off: Five Biggest Enemy: Big Pauly Get Your HITMAN Name AWSOME-GAME

Time to get busy

My husband must have been hitting the crack pipe on his way home from work last night.

Why?

He agreed that if I lose 50 pounds that I can buy myself a pair of Jimmy Choo Shoes.

I know, I know, they're disgustingly expensive and that's why I don't own a pair of any designer shoes now, even though I love shoes. I have hideous feet and I'm secretly hoping that a pair of expensive shoes will somehow help me hide the fact I have man feet and stubby toes. (It's my lie, let me live it how I want to.)

I also love designer handbags and I have one Coach purse. I saved up and rewarded myself when I completed my first 5k race. (I walked the whole thing, but I finished it dammit and that's what counts!) Don't be fooled though, we have a Coach outlet only a few miles from our house and I got the purse on sale for $60. (Not too shabby eh? I love a good bargain!) The purse was excellent motivation for me and once I completed that "race" I felt a huge since of accomplishment and even signed up for, and completed, a few more races - without buying anymore expensive handbags. Luckily, my materialism only goes so far.

Back to the issue: losing 50 pounds will be a HUGE deal for me as I am struggling with being the fattest I've ever been in my life. (I've lost 25 pounds since the baby was born in September and I am proud of that small accomplishment.) Fifty pounds is not an unreasonable goal, as it will put me back at a healthy weight for my height and small bone structure.

I have a problem with food. I can eat healthy for days and then one night when I'm stressed out I will run to the store and will come back with enough candy to put a horse into a sugar coma. And I eat every last bit of it. I eat when I'm stressed, when I'm bored, when I'm upset and when I'm happy. So now the trick will be to replace the recreational eating with healthier habits that will keep my hands busy - like crocheting. It's also time for me to register for another 5k and get my butt moving again.

Oh yeah, during our "negotiations" last night, I also threw in a trip to New York to buy the shoes. Just don't tell the husband I could save money by staying in the state and getting them in the ATL. (That's Atlanta for all you foreigners)

Now, I've got to go find that crack pipe of the husband's - it's gonna take something strong to help me win this battle ;)

Those were the days.....

Now that I am faced with the reality that my daughter will soon be a teenager (god. help. us. all.), I often find myself reflecting on my past behavior when I was a teenager. I've come to the conclusion that I owe my grandmother a thousand apologies - and then some.

In my own defense, I was not a complete heathen. True, I lied, drank, had sex, smoked and skipped school. I, however, did NOT talk back. Why? Because I was afraid, very afraid. I gave dirty looks and rolled my eyes as I walked out of the room, but I didn't dare disrespect the old people raising me. In addition to the brand new tatas, the hormones raging through my body also gave me the superpower of being a know-it-all. You the know the kind, the one who interrupts conversations and corrects people while they're talking. Add in a southern twang and green eyes and you've got a pretty good picture of who I was as a teenager.

Fast forward to my early 20's.

We're all sitting around one evening, drinking our "toddies" that my grandfather fixed for us. I'm feeling all grown up because I'm finally drinking alcohol with the adults and being allowed to join in the conversation. Somehow the topic of sororities comes up. Except my grandmother keeps calling them fraternities. She corrects herself at first, that is, until I decide to jump in every.single.time. to correct her. Instead of telling me to shut the fuck up and let her talk, she just corrects herself and keeps talking.

For the fortieth time, my grandmother says fraternity - and as she pauses to correct herself, I jump in yet again to show off my superior know-it-all knowledge. "It's FRARORITY, not fraternity!"

Everyone stops to laugh hysterically at the know-it-all buttinsky. Many years later, my family still reminds me of this incident.

Serves me right.


P.S.
Yes, I learned my lesson that day. Now I just shut the fuck up let the old people talk without any help from me - they've done it this long, my help is not required unless it's requested. So there.

I get no respect

We are trying to teach Caleb (number one son) basic manners and, for the most part, he remembers his manners. However, this morning while I was lounging on the sofa bed with the number two son I was suddenly hit in the face with a freezing cold Caprisun pouch. I held it up and looked at Caleb, "What do you want me to do with this?".

"You HAVE to help me. I need juice."

"OK, but what's the magic word?"

Confused look from #1 son - then, "HOCUS POCUS POCUS!"

Good enough.

Need a laugh?

My cheeks hurt.

You took a picture of that?!

Sorry for being such a slacker lately. I've been stuck in Science Fair Project hell. I hated doing those projects as a kid and now the schools are assigning these stupid projects earlier and forcing complete parental participation. My poor daughter, she got the short end of the stick when it comes to creative mothers. Her project actually looks like a ten year old did it, not like a ten year old did it with some help from a parent. She actually did the majority of the work, I just helped with the aesthetics - and it was still pitiful. Ahh well, the point is that she loved how it looked when we were done - all the rest is unimportant.

Since I'm feeling lazy, I thought I'd share some of my artsy fartsy pictures with you. I LOVE photography and my family always makes fun of me when they're looking at new pictures and come across pictures like this:


Yes, I realize it's a stick. But it's a stick on the beach and I made it into a black and white picture, which automatically classifies it as art, which they would know if they had taken Art Appreciation in college.*

I also love taking candid pictures of my kids. In fact, I detest staged studio pictures. Try explaining that to old people who actually want to see the kids' faces.



I have no idea why I took this picture, I just liked the broken fence and lonely palm tree.



This is my husband and his brothers this past summer at his older brother's wedding. The picture was the husband's idea, I was the photographer. Somehow we didn't communicate enough, as it didn't come out quite how the husband had planned. (I still don't know what he wanted, he's not mean enough to act anything but grateful.) And, yes, they actually wore those outfits - hats and all. They looked like Pentecostal gangsters, but it's what the groom wanted and it made the atmosphere really playful.


And to prove that I actually do take color pictures, here is a picture of the shrimp boats. How lucky am I that I get to see this kind of view on a daily basis?

Alright, I'm done holding you hostage with my pictures - for now ;)







*Before you think I'm THAT snobbish (and ignorant), I'm only joking. I'd never say anything like that out loud to my family.

Shhhh, listen

Hear that? No? Guess what? Me neither. That means it's quiet and quiet means all THREE kids, the dog and the cat are all asleep and in their respective beds. (Cue the hallelujah choir, but do it quietly). I have about 20 more minutes until the husband gets home and I am reveling in the peace while I can. It wasn't a bad day, just the usual chaos, but it is nice to sit and just be me for a minute with nothing being expected of me.

Apparently this is "DeLurking Week" so make sure you come out of the closet on your favorite boards and let yourself be seen. I'm a chronic lurker, so it's been hard for me. but I've managed to leave comments on at least half the pages I read. My goal for tomorrow is to leave comments for everyone. I'll have to start early, but I should be able to get it done by the time I go to bed tomorrow. :)

Time to start a therapy fund....

My kids are going to be so screwed up when they're older.

The other day Caleb, who's 3, came to me and said, "Mama, I fur stink."

Me: "Your fur stinks?"

Caleb: "Yes, I want some juice please."

Me: "My fur stinks too, but I need a bath, not something to drink."

Caleb: "Please can I have some juice? I'm really, really fur stink."

Me: Unable to speak, snorting and laughing

Husband: (listening in the next room and laughing) "You're so awful - get the poor kid something to drink."

Me: "Come on Caleb, let's get you something to drink."

Caleb: "Fank you! Fank you! Fank you!"


Hopefully he's too young to remember that conversation....

I'm changing my name to Grace.

First, a little background info: I'm such a clutz. I can trip over nothing and I can trip over something while trying to avoid tripping (that's what I call talent). We only have four steps in our house (leading down into the playroom) and I have managed to fall down those stupid stairs several times. I've even managed to slip down the three steps that lead off the front porch into the yard. Most of the time I just laugh because I know I look silly and, let's face it, it's always funny to see someone trip (except for old, fragile people).

Now on to the real story: Last night I was walking through the den with my open laptop and the dog and cat came charging through. Somehow, not only did I trip, but my big toe got caught in my pants leg. As I was on my way down I realized I was about to fall on the baby who was enjoying some late-night tummy time. Soooooo, I sacrificed the laptop for the baby. (As my husband later said, it's much easier to fix a broken laptop than it is to fix a broken baby.) I ended up cracking the screen and it won't light at all. Thank goodness for accidental damage insurance and thank goodness I had just backed up all my info.

Too bad no one was around to see it though. The "good stuff" always happens when no one's looking.

Pity party for one.....

Dear God, if you're out there, pleeeeeeeaaaaasssseeeee let this year not suck quite as much as last year.

Thanks - Me




So is this what having a blog is all about? Living your daily life, thinking the entire day "This is SO going on my blog," and then not being able to think of anything of substance to write about that anyone will care about. (Not that anyone reads this thing anyways, but you know what I mean.)



Sorry, today's just been one of those days that throwing myself off one of the many bridges on the way home didn't seem like such a bad idea. The baby screamed all frickin day and his 3 yr old brother whined the entire time too. For the sake of my sanity, we watched way too much tv today, but I don't care because we all made it through the day.





OK, enough whining. My super duper smarty pants daughter came home with her report card today. STRAIGHT A's and sky high test scores!!!! I am proud of her and I think it's absolutely amazing that my little 5th grader scored high school level and BEYOND in the language sections and on average between 7th and 9th grade for all other subjects. Holy moly what a smart cookie.

Even the "screamin' demon" can have a cute moment.