Big Butt's So What

"Why can't you tell a secret to a whale? Because they are blubber mouths."

It seems there is a new saying going around school these days and my girls, never one's to be left out of a trend, picked up on it. "Big butts so what?" If my translation skills are still any good, I believe that it means something close to "big deal," or something like that. After hearing it eleventy dozen times, I decided to nip this puppy in the butt bud and put a stop to it. Unfortunately, this seems to be as difficult as telling them not to take another breath. What can a mother do? "Moooom, I'm hungryyyyyyyyy!" I turned to my eldest daughter and replied in my ever-so-grown up and sophisticated way "big butt, so what?" Hey, turn about is fair play, ya know. I got a delicious sense of satisfaction when she gave me a dirty look and stalked off into the other room.

Ramblings from he week of October 24-31st

Last weekend I managed to clean the beta's fish tanks (Twinkie, Rags and Dude Jr.). They look so much better. Beta's are very easy to take care of. They don't bite, bark and are house trained. You feed them once or twice a day and you don't need to use a filter, or keep the water at a certain temperature. I swear, they recognized the sound of my voice. "Dude, Rags, here she comes. Look really cute and she might give us another snack!" Funny thing is, they started out as the girls pets but really have turned out to be Mamma's boys.

Speaking of snacks, I would like to see the statistics of the amount of money families with children spend on snacks each year. Why do we feed our children snacks? Think about it (stay with me here). We give them three square (*cough*bs*cough) meals a day. Why do they need any more food? I suspect they do it to annoy us, and we cave in because we get tired of the whining. I once asked Moobear if she would care for some cheese. After all, it would go well with the "whine." Mother's come up with the most clever things to say. Unfortunately, I was not blessed with this talent.

Our typical snack conversations go something like this:

Child: Moooooooooooom! (Note to readers: This is something that is generally shouted from one end of the house to the other, and you are usually in the bathroom when you hear it).

Mom: WHAT??!!! (you yell, not to be outdone).

At this point, said child will move in closer to you and ask that typical question that most parent's hear in their sleep.

Child: Can I have a snaaaaaaaaaaaaack? (Do you ever notice how this question is voiced in a nasally irritating twang?)

Mom: No.

Child: Whhhyyyyyyyyyyy??????? (another annoying word)

Mom: It's too close to dinner.

Child: I'm staaaaaaarving!

Mom: You can have an apple.

Child: But I don't want an apple.

Mom: Then you must not be hungry.

Child: Moooooom, I'm staaaaaarving.

Mom: I told you, you may have an apple.

Child: But I don't like apples

Mom: That's funny, you ate two for dessert last night and had one for breakfast.

Child: I just started not liking them at lunch.

Mom: Alright, alright! You can have an apple or a piece of cheese.

Child: But I don't like that kind of cheese (care for some wine?)

Mom: Well, those are your choices, take it or leave it.

Child: Fine. (said child adds to the effect by letting out a long suffering sigh and stomping out of the room).

Five minutes later, the same conversation takes place. We can't win, can we?

Speaking of F.I.N.E. I am one. Fooked Up, irrational, neurotic and emotional. Do you even wonder why? Besides the daily snack drama, I also have to deal with a child that apparently doesn't know the difference between clean and dirty clothes.

When we do the laundry, we'll take her stuff and put it on the dresser. I had been after her for a while to put the clothes away. Finally, she went into her room muttering about how "uptight' I was (hang on honey, it's only going to get worse). When she came out of her room, I noticed she had changed clothes...again. "Did you hang your dress up?" I asked. "Yep!" she responded. Good girl, I thought. We are really getting there. Did I ever mention I was full of crap?

Later on I went to her room and noticed the dress (the one she said she had hung up) on the floor. I just simply picked it up, walked over to where she and her friends were sitting and held out the dress. She wisely got up and took the dress from me and went to her room to (I thought..remember, I'm full of crap, and gullible too) hang it up.

The day moved on and I was blissfully unaware of anything amiss. I went to sort out some laundry in her room, and what do you know? There was the dress that she had told me she had hung up. In the dirty clothes. In her laundry basket. Rolled up in a ball. As I continued to sort the clothes, I noticed that there were some of the clean clothes in the DIRTY clothes hamper. To add insult to injury, they were still folded. Stupid, stupid child. Doesn't she realize that if you are going to do that, you need to roll the clean clothes up, throw them on the floor, and stomp on them with your dirty tennis shoes? And people wonder why I drink.

Halloween Humor

Since it is October 31st, the official day of Halloween (please, don't get me started on that again). I thought I'd share some humor with you.

Q: What do you get when you divide the circumference of a jack-o-lantern by its diameter?
A: Pumpkin Pi.

Q: How do you make a witch stew?
A: Keep her waiting for hours.

Q: What happened to the guy who couldn't keep up payments to his exorcist?
A: He was repossessed.

Q: What do you call a person who puts rat poison in a person's Corn Flakes?
A: A cereal killer

Q: How do you mend a broken Jack-o-lantern?
A: With a pumpkin patch.

Q: What do you get when you cross Dracula with Sleeping Beauty?
A: Tired blood.

Q: Why was the mummy so tense?
A: He was all wound up.

Q: How do you know if a ghost is lying?
A: You can see right through him.

Q: How is a werewolf like a computer?
A: They both have megabytes.

Q: Why don't witches like to ride their brooms when they're angry?
A: They're afraid of flying off the handle.

Q: How can you tell when a window is scared?
A: They get shudders.

Q: Why didn't the skeleton dance at the Halloween party?
A: It had no body to dance with.

Q: What do you say to a ghost with three heads?
A: Hello, hello, hello.

Q: When does a skeleton laugh?
A: When something tickles his funny bone.

Q: Why is a ghost such a messy eater?
A: Because he's always a goblin.

Q: What happens when a ghost gets lost in a fog?
A: He's mist.

Q: What do you call a ghost with a broken leg?
A: Hoblin Goblin.

Q: What do you get when you cross a were-wolf with a drip-dry suit?
A: A wash-and-werewolf.

Q: What is a vampires favorite mode of transportation?
A: A blood vessel.

Q: What do you call a skeleton who refuses to help around the house?
A: Lazybones

Q: Why did Dracula take cold medicine?
A: To stop his coffin

Your tag is out

I am a Bush supporter but thought this was funny. This is courtesy of my darling sister-in-law.




Shoelacing Methods

And I thought I needed to get a life. Here I was, wrapped up in teaching my kids how to tie their shoes, and I come across this.

You have to wonder. This link was snatched from Supermum's site. I couldn't resist.

Road trips

No need to worry about those long road trips any more. Cut your time in half by eliminating the need for a potty break.




For the full, fascinating story, and instructions on how you can order one of your own, look here.



So that my friends just about sums my thoughts up. I'm sure I've missed something but I'd imagine I'll post about it in the future. I've got a couple of pictures to share from Halloween but I need to upload them and I'm just not in the mood right now. It seems that we forgot to take a picture of Meelie No in her costume. Honey, Dad lost the camera in your sister's laundry basket. It got hidden somewhere between the clean and dirty clothes.

Would y'all care for a snack? I've got some good wine to go with it.

Is there an echo in here???

I realized that I haven't updated in an entire week. That's not to say I didn't have anything to write about, there has been plenty. We have been busy this week, with activities almost every night. After I got the girls settled in for the evening, I just didn't have the energy to post. I'll be catching up off and on during the day as time permits. First I need to run the normal errand type stuff and get Meelie-No's bangs trimmed.

No, I don't do them myself. The last time I did that gave new meaning to the words "45 degree angel." (Honey, really it's not so bad. Just walk around with your head tilted to one side and no one will notice.) So, I get it taken care of at Wally World. It's cheap and it keeps the bangs from covering her eyes like they are now. But I have to admit, it's easier to explain why she walks into stationery objects when the bangs are longer.

I cleaned, and cleaned, and...shopped!

You were perhaps expecting something different?

I worked all day yesterday on the house, and verily I say unto you, my house is now a palace, until the wild masses of midget terrorists Moobear and Meelie No brought every single child in the neighborhood over. I quickly stepped into Mommy Mode, which I reserve for the day in which I find myself in difficult situations with children swarming around me. "Smoothies for everyone!", I cried. " And then I prayed to the man up above that I had all of the proper ingredients. I set everyone to work, sending Master Nick over to the china hutch to retrieve the special wine glasses for the occasion. (Mind you, these were one's that I had gotten at Beal's Outlet for 20 cents a piece and they are plastic). Yes, I know...I'm such a spend thrift, but nothing is to great for my little angels and their gaggle of compatriots. I assembled everything and quickly made up the smoothies. Whilst the blender was whirring away, I began to plot my next step which was to get them out of the house so I could finish up what I needed to do. This way, I felt, I could at least enjoy a clean house for about 5 minutes. After smothies were poured, and brite, neon (my eyes!) straws passed out, I sent them on their way. They were all to walk along our street, drinks in hand and make observations. The first of which was that the boys were to count the number of trucks and the girls were to count the number of regular cars. I then informed them that they were to report back to me with the answers and to collect their next assignment, as well as get more smoothies. They were also aware that I knew the exact number of cars and trucks on our street so they'd better not mess up. Ok, I told them that but they bought it so that's good enough for me. As they were rushing towards the door, I shouted "No running allowed. You might slip and fall, and the glass will get smashed and you'll cut yourself on the plastic and need stitches. And how would I explain THAT to your mothers?" They all giggled because they are kids, and heck, I made the smoothies and I am the one who has ownership of the pitcher so they knew they must do as they were bid.

I'm happy to report that it worked and I didn't have to think of anything else for them to do, because as they were filing in the door with their carefully calculated numbers, the mother's began to call and ask that I send them home for dinner. My day was quite successful. The only thing I needed to do now was attack the children's rooms.

I began that task first thing in the morning and I was in my ruthless mode. If I didn't recognize it it was thrown out like a worthless boyfriend. I had about 75% of Meelie No's room complete when my friend Sharon called. You remember her? She was the one who had sex on the beach. She was in search for a candle and wanted to hit Beal's Outlet. I began to twitch violently, wrestling with my inner self. I knew that I was committed to finishing up the girls rooms today. But, I argued with myself, I could finish it when I got home. I began to whine to my inner self and eventually I just stopped listening. The long and the short of it was, I went with Sharon.

I hit paydirt. This wiped away any guilty conscience that I had about not finishing the girls rooms, and leaving my husband to deal with the little rug rats angels. I am happy to report that I paid full price for nothing. I have been trained by Sharon (a world class bargain hunter) to look and look hard for those things that are marked down. I got three vinyl table clothes, each for under 60 cents a piece. I'm tired of washing placemats, and I have young children, so this was a no-brainer. I have started to put together my sunroom, which will have the theme of Litehouses. I found THREE items (two of them 60% off and one 95% off) that I can use in that room. I also found a sweat suit for my youngest ($4.00) and a skirt for my eldest ($3.29). I felt elated, invigorated. No bargain would get past me!!!!! Oh, I also want to mention that I am always in search of hair accessories for the girls. I hit paydirt. I came home, I was happy, the kids were happy, and my husband was happy that I did not spend the money needed to pay the bills.

The children's rooms may still need work but by gosh, I settled for nothing but the best bargains. I am a mother. I am a bargain hunter. I am so damn sore from all of the work I did yesterday that I can barely move. But hey..it doesn't matter...I bought two bottles of Ibuprofen the other day during a buy one get one free sale.

What Kind of Blogger are You?

You Are a Life Blogger!

Your blog is the story of your life - a living diary. If it happens, you blog it. And make it as entertaining as possible.

What kind of blogger are you?

Clean up! Everybody Let's Clean Up!

Anybody with school aged children, especially younger ones, has probably heard that little ditty. For some inexplicable reason, it's running through my head right now. At least it's a change from the normal Christmas tunes that my eldest daughter has been belting out every day. She's in chorus this year, and they are practicing for the Christmas Concert (I beg your pardon, I meant to say "Holiday Concert").

Today I woke up and made the decision that this was to be a major clean up day. My husband has to work, the weather is nice outside, and I just feel this primal urge to clean. Mind you , this is not a regular occurrence. I should learn to never make these types of decisions before I've finished my first cup of coffee, but so far, I keep on doing it.

It really needs a good clean. Well, actually, it really needs a thorough pick up, and then a bit of a clean. Some areas more than others. I walked into the kids bathroom to set up their bath and looked in the mirror. For a split second I thought that old age had finally caught up to me and my eyes had gone seriously bad. It was just the mirror. Nothing that a little Windex won't fix. How in Heaven's name can a mirror get so dirty in no time flat? I think I need to start making the kids brush their teeth outside.

I have a confession to make. I was out in the garage foraging around and organizing (ok procrastinating) and the little darlings thundering herd of children in the neighborhood began arriving, immediately clamoring around me, wanting to know if Meelie No and Moobear could come out to play. I told them that the girls were taking a bath (true statement, see above mirror comment). But I didn't tell the girls that the kids were waiting for them. I'd like to enjoy the quiet, and at least have part of my house picked up before the little tyrants the mass arrives and makes a mess of my attempt of making my house presentable.

I don't know what it is about our house that draws children. I will never admit this out loud, but I don't really mind it being "the house of choice." I like it that the kids have fun here. I suspect it's because we have good snacks and a trampoline in the backyard. I don't mind them playing their music on the CD player..loudly. It's probably a combination of a lot of things...plus the fact that they are fascinated with my boogers.

Halloween Woes

No, this is not some ditzy mother's post about what my children are going to be for Halloween (that will come later). It seems that the Camden County Board of Supervisors has been approached by the Bible Thumpin Right Wing Religious Sector, who want to change Halloween this year to Saturday, October 30th. They don't believe in letting their children run around as Witches and Goblins on the Sabbath. Pardon my ignorance as I am from California, but this whole thing is just wrong.

Halloween is a day that my children can dress up as whatever they want to be, run from door to door, collect too much candy, get a stomach ache and stay up a little past their bedtime. This is a day for the children. Please don't preach to me about the origins of Halloween. We are in the 20th century folks. We've moved passed that.

Wake up and drink your Koolaid. If you don't want your child to go trick-or-treating, fine. Keep them home. But don't you dare tell me that I need to move a holiday to support your out-dated, religiously fanatical beliefs. The next thing I know, you'll be telling me when I should celebrate my birthday.

I am mother, hear me ROAR! And if that doesn't work, I'm gong to take my booger and throw it at your shoe.

First Crush

For those of you who don't know me, I'm blessed with having a 10 year old daughter. Moobear is experiencing her first crush. While this can be considered somewhat cute in many family atmospheres, I am here to tell you that in my house, it is a lesson in kid-speak. What is kid-speak, you ask? It's my firm belief that every household with children, has some form of the language that only astute, or seriously intelligent beings can even comprehend. I thought I was one of the aforementioned, but then, I have always been a bit delusional. And full of crap.

I, being the seriously involved parent, know all of my children's friends, enemies, nutritional habits, phobias, favorite television shows, disgusting habits, and frogs. About the frogs. I'll get into that later...some day.

The "crush" started off innocently enough. I noticed Moobear working feverishly on a piece of paper, and when I walked into the room, she immediately turned it over.

Me: Whatcha got there?

Moobear: It's personal

Radar, radar....child is hiding something. Radar, radar...must find out what it is.

Me: Can I see it?

Moobear: Promise you won't laugh at me?

Me: Absolutely.

So she comes over and sits on my lap and shows me what she was working on. I immediately wiped all expression from my face (in other words I didn't laugh or say something like "oh, how cuuuuute"). The piece of paper had Joe Futuresoninlaw written all over it...with little hearts, and sayings such as "The future Mrs. MooBear Futuresoninlaw."

I asked her all the pertinent questions such as:

1. Is he cute?
2. What does he look like?
3. Is he nice?
4. Does he have good bone structure?
   
5. What are his grades like?
6. What are his aspirations for his future career?
7. Does he own a car?
8. Does his family have money?

After gathering all of my data, I deemed him sufficient son-in-law material and sent her on her way to get ready for school.

That night, as we were eating dinner, I asked her how her day went. She immediately told me that she was really mad a "H" but was still her friend. Here, my loyal readers, is where kid-speak comes in. I pity my poor husband. The brave soul put on a good face and pretended that he knew what the hell was going on. I gave him ice cream as desert for being such a good sport.

Moobear did not want to use names because she didn't want her father to know who she was talking about. Go figure...we girls know how that works. After all, I am "the mom who knows all about her child's life" so I should be able to follow along and fill Dad in later. Did I mention I was full of crap?

I have tried to capture the gist of the conversation below, and to the best of my knowledge, this is what Moobear said.

"K told JM that H liked JM. M told JM that H had a booklet about JM. M told H that M liked JM. M got mad at H for telling JM that M liked JM. M found out that JO liked JM, so M told JM that JO liked JM."

Follow that? Good. I got an email from her teacher today. Seems the fifth grade girls are lacking focus this week. I've decided that JM has a lot to answer to. Now if I could just figure out what all of this means......

Icon Wars

This provided me with endless entertainment. If that wasn't enough, I showed it to my children, who thought it was the funniest thing since Mom sneezed and a booger flew out of her nose an landed on Meelie No's shoe. Wouldn't you know, the size of that booger keeps growing and growing. Like Pinocchio's nose on Viagra. And of course, they tell their friends, and so on..and so on.

Oh yeah, like I'm really looking forward to being on Ripley's believe it or not.

Check it out!

Bahama Mamma and Sex on the Beach

My girlfriend took me up to Savannah on Sunday. Why? Because she wanted to show me what it was all about. It's a popular place to visit, and now I understand why.

We started off the day by visiting Keller's Flea Market (we are physically incapable of passing up a Flea Market and this one is absolutely HUGE!). One word: OH...MY...GAWD! What a fun place! It's a mixture of junk, cheap stuff and some really nice goods. I, on the other hand, only bought a drain strainer. I know, I know, too much excitement for one entry. Lest you think I'm a wild spender or a woman on the edge, let me explain some things.

We have a septic tank. Ergo, we have no garbage disposal. This strainer is wonderful for catching all of the crap little scraps of food that you miss so that they don't go down the drain. Or, and this is my favorite, you FORGET we are all mindless dolts that you no longer have a garbage disposal, and can't dump crap little scraps of food down the drain and go ahead and do it anyway. Each and every member of my family has done this (excluding the fish). Of course, I have an excuse. I had children, lost all of my brain cells and am in a never-ending search for my car keys.

Please don't get me started about the puppies we saw there. I told my husband to thank his luck stars that I didn't walk in with a new addition to our family (or was that additions?).

After the visit to the flea market, my girlfriend drug me away from the furry creatures, and we made a quick stop at the Outlet Mall there. Like flea markets, Outlet Malls are a "must see" in our book. Then again, Beals Outlets are too. Shopping is the name and bargain hunting is the game. But I digress and should save this for another post. Like I said, after the flea market and after the mall, we headed on up to Savannah and spent most of our time on River Street. There are an abundance of shops to visit, and so many restaurants to chose from. We had allot of samples at a couple of candy shops (where we got to watch them make it and we drooled so much the manager had to ask us to leave before we scared the customers away). We even visited a peanut shop. So many nuts, so many flavors (no, I'm not talking about San Francisco).

Warning to readers: If you ever see a Wasabi peanut, for the love of God,
don't try it. If not, you'll have the added health bonus of never having
to blow your nose again, which wasn't as bad as the shape my tongue was in, nor the fact that I had no visible sign of lips left. I did not heed the warning. When I came too, the paramedics told me that they couldn't perform CPR on me because there was a three alarm fire coming out of my ears, and am excited to report that I'll have no more nose hairs to remove.

Simply put, Savannah, at least downtown, basically consists of what I'll call two stories, with shops/restaurants, etc. on each level. Cobblestone or brick streets run throughout the city, and old warehouses are the residence of the shops. The floors in the shops include concrete, rugs or a mixture of both. It's a good thing to watch your step when walking either inside OR outside. The stairs to get down to the lower level, or vice versa, are vertical, and way to high for any sane person to attempt to climb and if you think I'll ever do that again you're crazy very high. On the upper level, there are many walkways that take you from the main road to the shops. Since it was difficult to see anything when crossing them because I was crawling on my hands and knees crying like a baby for someone to shoot me because my head was level with the clouds, I often wondered just how much I really wanted to visit the shops on "the other side."

One of the high spots (and there are many) of Savannah is a place called Wet Willie's. Imagine a slurpie shop with any flavor imaginable...with a kick ass amount variety of alcohol, in large quantities. I tried the Bahama Mamma, and my girlfriend has Sex on the Beach (I can see your minds working here). Good stuff! I'm happy to report that after about 24 hours, the walls stopped moving.

Tomorrow's Topic

Bahama Mamma and Sex on the Beach.

Daddy's Musings

1. Life is grand when your child decides that eating off of the cafeteria menu at school is cool. No more making lunches (PB&J at o'dark thirty).
2. Any more than three children is a mob (Note to readers: We have an average of 6 kids over at a time. I suspect it has something to do with the trampoline in our backyard and good snacks).

Meelie No Musings

1. My friend thinks that everyone's house is really small because she lives in a castle. She really does live in a castle cuz I visited her house.
2. Nick barfed on the trampoline tonight. Maybe he has a little sickness in his tummy. He should go to the doctors (Nick got accidentally "butt slammed" by his sister. Enough to knock the wind out of anyone, much less his last meal).
3. I'm a good eater. I eat anything. Moobear is getting there. I love Italian food (tortellini for dinner tonight. Little hungry Meelie No?).

Wings over Camden

Went went to a scaled down version of what could be called an air show today and enjoyed it very much. One of the advertised attractions was that children could get plane rides for free. The adults would have to pay $15 each, but I still considered that to be a good price. I wasn't planning on riding in an airplane, even though my father was a private pilot when I was a child, so you would think I'd be used to it. You might say I got a case of cold feet (or, as my kids would say...chicken butt) when we arrived. I would prefer to claim it was because Moobear didn't want to go because she was afraid. I am a mom after all and I MUST support my children. I couldn't very well leave her on the ground alone now could I?

Turns out, everything was for naught. All of the slots had been filled up. This was a good thing believe it or not. When we got there, we discovered that they were only allowing ages 7-17 to fly. Meelie No is only six, and Seth is only 4. Moobear, who didn't want to go is 10, and Sarah is 7. When I first heard the ages, I thought "uhoh..think fast mom..this is gonna be ugly." On the one hand, I didn't want to deny Sarah the chance to fly, but on the other hand, I didn't want Sarah to fly, because Meelie No would be upset because she was too young to do it. I could have kissed the lady behind the table because she provided me with the perfect excuse I needed. This way, there was no real whining and it wasn't Mom's fault. This can always be construed as a good thing in my book.

The children really enjoyed the Firehouse Exhibit. I think that in their minds, that was by far the best thing of the day. They had a lot of activities for the kids. They even got to go climb around on a Coast Guard Vessel. Their favorite was the "tour" of the "house", which was a small trailer. They took them on a tour, let them watch a little video to teach them what they had to do in case of a fire, and then tested them on it...with real smoke in a room and all. Of course, for the rest of the weekend, I heard all about it and we have been discussing making an escape route in our house.

All in all, I'd say not a bad day.

Note to readers: I have been working on this post since Saturday evening. If it seems that it's a bit disjointed and lacking continuity, it probably is. My mind is in a haze after the weekend.

It's all about the jellyfish

Today's subject matter encompasses a variety of topics which are completely unrelated. Simply put, this means I'm going to ramble on about whatever pops into my head in no particular order. This will surely irritate most of you, and for that, I apologize in advance.

Note to readers: This post is easier to understand after consumption of a vast amount of Rum and Coke (or your choice of sedative) and a bottle of aspirin. Your head will hurt, but you won't care.

Let's talk jellyfish. Why? Relax, I'm getting there.

The girls were sitting outside on the driveway, coloring. That is not to say they were coloring ON the driveway, but on boxes. Their little buddy Austin (possible love interest for Melie No), was there with them.

Moobear, in her typical, no-nonsense fashion, states "Mom! Sarah told me that she saw Austin holding hands with Meelie No!" There were a thousand responses tumbling through my head at this point. All I could muster was "Oh?" (I'm really holding my ground here, doncha know?) Austin then told me that he let my daughter hold his backpack (what a guy!), but she promptly toppled over because of its' weight. I am now not thrilled with my future son-in-law. Always quick to reassure, Melee No pipes up with "don't worry mom, we aren't romantic." I was vastly relieved as this meant I would not be planning a wedding in the near future.

Back to the jellyfish. I'll do my best to repeat this conversation verbatim, but realize I was deeply traumatized by the explanation.

Austin: Have you ever gotten stung by a jellyfish?

Girls: No.

Austin: I have (his chest puffed out).

Girls: What did it feel like?

At this point, I know I should have just stood up, went back in the houuse, and gotten a glass of wine. Being inordinately nosey, this was of course, beyond my capabilities. It wasn't hard to talk myself into staying.

Speaking of talking to myself, I'd like to mention that this is something I do on a regular basis. I mean, I've gotten it down to an art. It starts when I get up in the morning. I begin conversations that help me plan my day. I discuss what I need to do, and in what order. It continues when I drive into work. I must confess that I get a lot of funny looks, but that's ok. What do people expect? I am from California after all. Thankfully, I can control the urge for stimulating conversation with myself while I'm at work, though I have been known to talk to my computer. This stimulating conversation continues on through the evening, until I close my eyes and drift off to la-la land.

Some people would question this behavior, and perhaps believe that I am seriously in need of a long stay at Happy Meadows. I, on the other hand, have no doubt that I am perfectly sane. I ask myself that question all the time. An my answer is always yes! One good thing about talking to yourself is that you never lose an argument. If you do, call the Manager at Happy Meadows, he'll leave the light on for you.

OK, on with the jellyfish. This might be a good time to review the earlier comments about jellyfish in case I have totally lost you. While you're at it, go get yourself another Rum & Coke.

Note: Remember, these are Austin's words.

Austin: Well, I was at the beach and I went into the water. All of a sudden something bit me. It was like a pinch. I thought it was a crab bite so I got out of the water and took a look at it. It was this red bump. Then it really started to hurt. And the bump go bigger and redder. Then it started to sorta turn purple, and it started t swell. And it was really hurting. Then I started to cry (the girls issued words of never-ending support at the agony he must have endured. I, on the other hand, just sat there thinking that if I knew what was good for me, I'd stop the flow of words coming out of his mouth.)

Austin continues: So I walked over to my dad, and I showed the bump to him. He told me that I'd gotten stung by a jellyfish. I was really crying hard because it was hurting so much. So he told me that the best way to make it stop hurting was to pee on it" (thank you Austin's dad). And then he stopped talking. It was obvious he was waiting or a response. I just sat there fighting for composure with my mouth wide open (the gnats around here love it when that happens).

Amelia then chimed in with "Ew, that's disgusting!" (I guess the romance is off)

In conclusion, I'd like to end this entry with some sage advice.

1. Never read my posts without consuming large amounts of alcohol and aspirin.
2. Never listen in on children's conversations.
3. Never talk o yourself in front of anyone.
4. Never respond to your child when they say "pull my finger."

Oh wait! Number 4 is for another post. What is it about bodily functions that fascinate a child so much? Dare I examine that one closely? I think not. Just look what happened with the jellyfish.

I will not eat this Sam I am

I will not eat them, they are not round,
I will not eat them underground,
Please, please, please take them away,
I won't eat these dumplings any day.

But Moobear dear, they're good for you,
They'll make you cute like Winnie the Pooh,
What's this I see, you lift your snout,
I can not stand it when you pout.

I will not eat them, why don't you?
I do not like this Winnie the Pooh,
At least I am not twitching my eye,
I still won't eat them, hear me sigh.

Go off I say, into your room.
Climb into bed, please do not loom,
If you'll not eat these dumplings today,
No ice cream for you, I say, I say!

So in conclusion, a battle was fought at dinner time between the evil parent (She Who Must be Obeyed) and Miss Idontwanttoeventryanythingnew. We have a rule. You do not have to like it but you must try it. Let's be fair here. The portion I gave her was no bigger than a teaspoon. Granted, it did have a carrot in it, but I purposely left out the celery. How lenient do you want me to be. I reiterated the fact that all she had to do was try it (eat the teaspoon I gave her), and I would make her something else. She resisted, I wouldn't budge. She whined, I asked her if she would like cheese to go with that. She cried and said I was mean. I agreed and told her it would only get worse. She said she hated me. I told her that it was ok. I loved her enough for the both of us. She got mad. I held my ground. She went to bed. It was a quiet night.

On the other hand, Meelie No loved it. She took one of the biscuits and made a sandwich out of it, and ate it that way. Then had another biscuit to mop up the sauce. Go figure. Hey..at least she at the carrots.

A little bit of humor: I was browsing my husbands blog tonight and saw that he had some good answering machine messages on it. My favorite on is this:

Hello, you are talking to a machine. I am capable of receiving messages. My owners do not need siding, windows or a hot tub, and their carpets are clean. They give to charity through their office and do not need their picture taken. If you're still with me, leave your name and number and they will get back to you.

You can view the post here.

And that, my friends, is it for tonight. At least for now. The battle of dinner will soon begin again. We are having left over pork loin roast, some rice and salad, fried apples for the girls and one of those icky veggies. Round 2 coming up!

I feel like chicken tonight!

No..not like the real thing. I am happy to say that the operation was a success and all of my feathers have been removed. I feel so liberated. I no longer have the urge to eat chicken feed...I can't say the same about chicken feet though.

What I was referring to was chicken and dumplings. It's been ages since I've made anything like that. Now, in this post "made'" is a term I use loosely. I did it in a crockpot. Ok, ok...I confess (but don't tell Martha), I was shopping at Wallyworld this weekend and saw "Crockpot Chicken and Dumplings." Me, being no dummy, said "hmmmm...interesting." (Is that a brilliant thought or WHAT?) Again, I am digressing (what's new...I do ramble don't I?). I decided to give it a try and it's cooking away. I love the smell of things you cook in a crockpot. Just walking in that door, taking a deep breath, becoming intoxicated with the aroma coming from the kitchen. Unless of course you are 10 years old.

Moobear: What are we having for dinner?
Me: Chicken and Dumplins (notice the southern accent?)
Moobear: But I don't like chicken and dumplings.
Me: But you've never had them (I told you I hadn't made them in a long time)
Moobear: I know, but I still don't like them.
Me: Well, you have to try one, and you have to have some chicken and carrots to go with it.

On a side note, she jumped at the chicken part...and nearly made it without gagging on the carrot part. I have two children. One that eats anything, and one that doesn't. Can you guess which one Moobear is?

Moobear: How big are the dumplings?
Me: I promptly showed her using the necessary hand movements.
Moobear: She immediately began negotiating for a smaller size.
Me again: She didn't win.
Moobear: But moooooooooooom!
Me: Yes my love, my life, my reason for living?
Moobear: She gave me that rolling eyes thing that kids do. Whyyyyyyyy?????
Me: Because you need to learn to eat new things. Things that are healthy. They do not include Spaghettios, Top Ramen, hot dogs or macaroni and cheese. I know this is difficult for you to understand but one day you will thank me. And for the last time! Ice Cream is not part of the 5 basic food groups!

At this point she went off to do something, non- mom involved, muttering at how mean I was and that she was going to starve.

You know what the really evil thing is? I had this saying that just kept popping through my head. My girls chant it a lot and I don't know where it comes from.

"I'm the Queen of the Caaaaastle, and you're a dirty raaascle."

And before you ask, no, I've got no idea why that keeps popping in my head. Oh gawd! The voices have started up again!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got biscuits to pop in the oven, kids to snuggle (albeit Meelie-No is now crashed), and, well, real life stuff to do. Can you imagine that?

Did I tell you that I found my car keys in the pickle jar this morning?

Replan! Replan! Replan!

As my friends know, I'm a financial analyst. One of the accounts I take care of has, how can I put this, seriously blew past their budget in just one week.

Side note here, I'm not an accountant (bean counter). Just wanted to make that clear. I am a planner, scheduler, forecaster, estimator, proposal writer type.

Last week I had gotten together with the manager, supervisor and business group lead (BGL) to discuss a recovery plan. Due to the hurricanes, we had become seriously behind schedule. I needed to know from them, just what we were looking at in terms of hours/headcount. I didn't even want to think of the damage it was going to do to the dollars.

We sat down and got a week by week/month by month plan. We overran this particular item in a seriously bad way last year and had to go in for variance funding, (please Mr. Navy Boss, we need more money) so this year, (naturally, my boss decided that I needed to take this account now) we are going to be tracked very closely. Even more so, now that we are in recovery mode. Not a big deal. Just a bit more work which I don't mind.

Well, this morning I pulled the actuals to see how close we came to our plan. I wish I wouldn't have. I immediately sent an email to the manager/supervisor/BGL, as well as my own supervisor and BGL.

Hi all you lovely people who want me to lose my job,

I have just pulled last weeks actuals and it seems that we are a bit off in our numbers. It only took the paramedics 5 minutes to revive me, but I'm ok now. I just need to take it easy. I've developed a twitch in my right eye and am hearing voices. But hey..it's ok, really. The doctor said with proper medication and weekly visits with my psychiatrist, that I will be able to resume somewhat of a normal life.

It seems that you have seriously blown past your budget for the month in just one week. Man, you are good. I've been doing this kind of thing for a long time and I've never worked with someone so talented. I'm still trying to figure out how you nearly TRIPLED your planned overtime. I'm sure that my hearing aid must have been turned off when you gave me your recovery plan. Was I mistaken in thinking that part of your plan was to do shift work, which would mitigate your overtime? I'm recommending, that perhaps, this would not be a good time to go ahead and hire the extra FIVE people you wanted to bring on board in November until we get this straightened out. Do you think there is any way that we can delay bringing the 4 that you submitted offers to this month until say, July of next year? Ok..maybe I'm overracting just a tiny bit. It is my greatest wish that your people are going to take a lot of vacation, and soon, even though you are seriously behind schedule. Got anyone scheduled for surgery?

Sincerely,

Your now psychopathic analyst

And that my friends, was how my day started. I've updated my resume and am prepared to go out into the world and present myself.

Yo! Dude! Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, special orders don't upset us, all's we ask is that you let us serve it your way!

So it goes!

Nine Inch Nails or NIN

No, not the musical group, but I must secretly confess to enjoying their music.

Moobear had a sleepover on Friday night at a friend's house. She had a great time, but came home Saturday afternoon with seriously long (fake) nails, makeup on (let's not forget the bright red lipstick) and interesting clothing (let's just say I could have fit her sister in the jeans she was wearing). The top she was wearing was one of those long flowing types that reminded me of Woodstock days gone by. Of course, she added to the effect by wearing a huge t-shirt underneath it, and adorning herself with beads, both around the neck and on her wrist. She completed the look with a colorful hair twist.

I consider myself a modern mother, and encourage my children to express themselves....to a point. This one pushed on the border of even what I consider to be a little over the edge. Suffice to say, when she asked me if she could go outside and play with Michael, I had to think fast. In retrospect, I felt that nothing she was wearing was too over-the-top. I was hoping that my neighbors would cue into the fact that this child of mine (whom I am absolutely convinced was switched at birth) was in dress-up mode. If that didn't work, I figure they'd take the attitude of: Well, what did you expect? They are from California, the land of the fruits and nuts!

So, I took current inventory on what I was dealing with:

1. Pants big enough and long enough to house the Empire State Building.
2. Long flowing top, with room upstairs to house what she doesn't have right now.
3. Large t-shirt, down to knees which hides the fact that she doesn't have anything to house in the long flowing blouse.
   
4. Nine inch nails
5. Costume jewelry
6. Hippie hairdo
7. Enough makeup to work on the corner of Market and 3rd.

Now, let's factor in that she is only 10 years old (just). She LOVES to play dress-up, albeit not in the way I had imagined. To keep this short, I told her she had to put a belt on. There will be no pants worn where the crotch goes down to the knees damnit! Obviously, this is still just dress-up for her, because all she said was "ok." I got off easy on this one I think. I shudder to think of the clothing battles that lay ahead. Did I tell you she has an 8 1/2 women's size foot? And that she likes to wear my shoes?

Please...let's not talk about how long it takes me to find a matching pair of shoes in the morning.

Mozilla and Blogger

Seems that Internet Explorer doesn't support some of Bloggers functions. Big surprise! NOT! As time goes on, I've noticed that IE really sucks. Sorry, but it does. The list I have is endless. One of the nice features of Blogger is that it has an edit mode, which makes posting something just as easy as whipping out a document in MS Word (oh man...did I say MS?) I'm fully capable of coding my own posts, but it's so much quicker to do it the simple way. There are allot of other browsers out there that are very good, no doubt. I just happen to have Mozilla on a couple of my machines, and started to use it. Especially once I realized that it supports Bloggers many functions.

Why is this important you ask? No real reason. Just makes my life a little more easier. :D

What are your favorite browsers?

I love my Sister-in-Law

I know there aren't many folks out there who can say that, but for me, it's true. Miss C. is one of those types of people that I can be completely honest with at all times, and she never, ever turns away. That's not to say when she thinks I'm more full of stinky stuff than a Christmas turkey that she won't get in my face and tell me so.

Take last week for instance. I got a curt, well thought out email from her. I'd been wallowing in self-pity for too long and she was the one who was honest enough to bring me out of my funk. She told me "point blank" that I had hurt her because I hadn't communicated with her in a long time. Now, me and Miss C. aren't all that great at emailing back and forth on a regular basis, but when important things happen, we do. I had failed miserably in that aspect.

I'm rather myopic when bad things happen around me. For example, my folks got hit hard by one of the many hurricanes blasting their way through here, and had allot of damage to their house. I mean ALLOT. I didn't tell her that. My husband got a job, albeit part-time, but I didn't pass that on. Her birthday came and went without a peep from me (or my husband, but he already posted about that on his blog). Let's be honest here. I was an asshat. And she told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was an asshat.

Belive it or not, I really love her for it. I needed a kick in the pants to stir me up. Engough was enough.

Miss C., I'm an asshat, but I'm glad you love me anyway.

Now, I'm off to fix the midget terrorists my darling children an their friends some lunch. Would you like pickles on that burger?

Asshat

I love that term. It encompasses a variety of meanings throughout life. I first heard this term when a particular blog written by Rachel Lucas was brought to my attention by the other guy that lives here, sometimes known as my husband, or on a particularly bad day, asshat (but that's for a different post...love ya hon).

I love that term. Now, you can't go walking up to your boss and say "you know what, you're an asshat." That's not what I would call a good career move. If you do this, in the future you might find yourself saying "would you like fries with that?" Of course, if you lost your last job because you called your boss an asshat, you probably won't do well in people oriented industry. "You want to hold the pickles on your hamburger? Don't be such an asshat. You get the burger the way it shows up on the menu. No have it your way here dude."

Now, I've got nothing against Rachel. She seems like a terrific person and she absolutley adores her dogs, which brings her way up in my book, such as it is. But, she pretty much writes about all the political stuff happening, and that kind of thing. Now me, I'm not into that, though from time to time, I do read the newspapers, roll my eyes, and get on with my day. I really can't be bothered. I rely on my husband to tell me when it's time to pack up the house, and move to a different country. I mean really, I've got better stuff to do. Like wipe snotty noses and play bend and squat (picking up interesting things that are left in the wake of my terrorist children). You can get in alot of deep knee bends that way.

But I digress. Rachel, and others who have a wonderful, witty, intelligent and sometimes frustrating (they piss me off) writing ability on those type of topics are quite different from what I write about. Me? I'm just a mom. Ok, I'm a working mom. Ok, I'm a...well, this could get long so suffice to say, I'm not interested in politics. I'm not interested in the fact that Mr. Bill did not have sex with that woman. I'm not interested in the fact that Kerry is an asshat (there's that word again), with a revolving platform. I leave that kind of thing to the proffessionals, husband included (he has a whole list of them on his blog). Oh, I do have very strong opinions on the war on Iraq, but I really don't want to write about them here. That's not what I'm about. Well, at least right now.

My life revolves around my kids and my work, trying to keep the family intact, and battling anything else that gets in my way. Whoah..you say to yourself. She's is one boring woman one cool chick. The nice thing about it is, it's my blog so I can write about what I want. I'll leave the dirty stuff to the controversial one who has a desk in here as well.

So, where was I? How the hell should I know? I know I had a point. I think I left it with my car keys.

So..I mentioned that Moobear is gone for the night

And I got sucked into a sleepover that I didn't realize was going to happen? So, we decide, ok..let's take the kids out to eat for something special. I mean, what the hell? Why not? In all actuality, it was a hit. There is this Chinese/American buffet downtown that is awesome. Turns out the kids think so too.

Course..tomorrow, I'll most likely pay for this adventure into foods I shouldn't be having. Truth be told, I've been paying for a while. I'm in a funk and I don't know why. Why the hell am I making myself suffer? If I keep it up I'll land flat on my back in the hospital again.

I'm just so pissed!!! What the hell did I do to deserve this? You ever get that way? I'll get back on track again. I suspect I just needed a little bit of, oh, I don't know..guess you could call it rebellion.

One day I was fine, next..going on vacation with my husband, sans kids, first time since oldest was born. Second day of vacation...hmm...abdominal pains...next day, drive back, go to doctors. Have ultra sound two days later...wait a WEEK for results...no, not what we thought...get scheduled for CT scan..next day have scan..whooopss...baaaaaaad thing. Get transferred by ambulance, emergency surgery indicated. Whoops...good Dr. says...lets try no food/no drink..for a week..massive antibiotics. Long in the short..after the longest week of my life (with a hell of a lot of support from my family)..I get out of hospital. Still on antibiotics..can't walk (weak)..nauseous from drug...about 4 weeks later things pick up. Long in the short of it...Doc Cut-Me-Open wants to wait to see how things are.

Now..I wait. Gotta say..things aren't looking the greatest...course, right now I ain't helping matters any.

Too much stuff going on...gonna make it get better..yes???

New Distributed Computing Project

I've started a new Distributed Computing project called FAD now that Distributed Folding has finished Phase II. Not sure how I like it yet. The stats don't update very often (few times a day) and I'm not sure how that will coincide with my "statsaholicwannabe" personality. Truth be told, I want something I can run, that will contribute to science, AND not take alot of my time. In other words, install it, set it up, and let it run. I don't have the time to babysit it, nor do I have the time to leaf through pages of FAQs to find out how to set it up best on my system. Get this...I have a life. :) One outside computers. And my kids figure into that life alot more than anything else. More on this later as I have time to analyze what I think about it.

Another thing to point out about this is that I only use my boxen. Well, mine and my lesser half (when I can talk him into it). I don't have the luxury of running computers from my work (drool...ah, I'd be queen), nor am I working for a relative (Daddy?) that lets me run clients from there.

Don't get me wrong...Borging a computer is fine. But...well, that's for another post. I just don't like the idea of the way some folks go about doing it.

D-day is coming

Well, it's past 6:00 pm. The lesser-half should be arriving soon. Got any good ideas about how I should tell them about and unexpected guest for tonight?

Some folks call me sarcastic

Hey..there isn't a sarcastic bone in my body...well, ok, if you look a little bit I'm sure you'll find some. You ever work with folks who do nothing but complain about work? Hello dunderbutt..if you are that unhappy, go someplace else. I don't have time to listen to you. Venting is one thing. The group that I am in at work does their fair share of that. It's cool though...cuz...ya know...we are still there and able to have fun...and let me tell ya..there is enough stress in there to cook a turkey in 1.5 hours.

I love my job...but damnit...I wish they'd stop counting on me. I've just got two new assignments..which excite the hell out of me but now "I'm" stressed because I have no clue as to what's going on. It's like that when you are learning new things. I have to say that a bunch of lightbulbs were going off the other day. I'm starting to get a handle on it. I'ts gonna be a bumpy yet fun ride.

Moobear's 10th Birthday Party

I won't add anything here except for the fact that everyone had a great time. The adults on the other hand, had to take pain killers for a few days.

The Party

I sooooo regret not trying out that slide.

Well, at least now they are cleaning

The little terrorists who have weaned their way in my home are now in for a night of suprises. One of which is: "Meelie-No, if you want Little Miss to spend the night you have to clean your room."

Heh...damn thing is, they are excited about it and having fun. Thing is, I could tell them they need to clean the toilets next and they would be happy about it.

So it goes.

I've been had

Whoever said that children don't have the brains that God gave a box of rocks is fooling themselves.

My eldest midget terrorist, Moobear, is off having a sleepover at a friends house. My youngest, Meelie-No, of course, immediately had a problem with this. "It's not FAIR." You know the picture.

I little later, Meelie-No and Little Miss (Meelie-No's buddy) came over and asked if they could have a sleepover at (this is what I thought they said) Little Miss's house. They came back from asking appropriate parents, and Little Miss was wearing a backpack. Filled with her clothes.

Me: Little Miss, why are you wearing a backpack?

LM: For the sleepover.

So, tell me...am I gonna say no now? Little Miss's mom has been led to believe that I have ok'd the sleepover. The girls are excited about it. Let's forget the fact that I was looking forward to an evening sans kids. That doesn't come into play.

The cards have been played. The dealer is waiting. You know how it goes. What I would like to know is just what I'm gonna tell my husband who is blissfully unaware of all of this while he is at work.

Me: Hi honey! Guess Whaaaaatttttt?????????