Monday, October 26, 2009

I Love... Mondays

God edition.

I love prayer. I love feeling the touch of the Holy Spirit when praying for someone, the fall of tears like a cascading mountain stream, seeing God move.

I love the call of prayer, feeling led to be used. I love how it has it's own strength, it's own hope, it's own power, it's own life. The only requirement of me is to listen, to hear it, and to be obedient.

I love the rainbow of colors that blanket the ground as I look out my window across the park. Now that fall has zoomed on by, the rain and cold coming swiftly and endlessly, there has not been much opportunity to enjoy the autumn colors outside. The cold temps have caused all the leaves to fall rapidly. So they lay, in golden glory, like a beautiful blanket. I will miss their rustle, but I enjoy them still.

I love worship. Music, dance, prayer, praise. I love acoustic guitars and low range voices.

I love this event.

I love seeing God at work, in my faith, in my family, in His provision, His hearing our cries.

I love seeing my girls play dress up, wanting to me to put on music, and then dance with daddy.

Your turn. Leave me a comment about what you love. Or blog your own post and leave me a link in comments. I love to hear about what you love.

Smile. It's Monday.

Have you ever seen your child pick ABC gum off the floor/a picnic table, pop it in their mouth while you just looked the other direction? Ever had your child miss the toilet in public, get urine on their clothing, and just tell them, "too bad. Deal with it"? I certainly haven't.

Feel free to join in on the cathartic and fun share-apy over at MckMama's place. Express your need to be daringly transparent, having no shame about your motherly imperfections by telling about all those things you "didn't" do.

And without further ado...

I did not put my child's pants on backwards this morning, and not realize it until we got home from one of the school drop offs.

We do not have 2 drop offs and 2 pickups today. Because K-12 has a 2 hour late start and Preschool does not, this does not mean that I will make 3 trips to school before noon. I also will not have shuttled 4 kids not my own, plus my two, back and forth from school today. None of this makes me feel like a taxi, and I did not wonder if this is training for having teenagers.

On Saturday, while having a mom's night out with a friend, we did not experience a short burst of uncontrollable laughter that nearly made us both pee our pants, and did not slightly disrupt the awesome coffee house singer. We did not enjoy it one bit, either. The laughter or the music.

We did not both feel like we stayed out too late, as we are not getting old to the point where midnight is late. Neither did it feel weird to leave our homes at 9 pm. We're party animals. We always go out that late.

Well, that's all I got for now. I'm off to the school for the third, but not last, time today. Please check here for my own creation of share-apy with another great "I Love... Mondays" post.

Friday, October 23, 2009


Oooohhh yeeeeaaaah. I need this. This washer / dryer combo. Ya know, to be matchy matchy.

Now I don't think I would put it in my living room like these poor people did. I mean, we may not be of the highest means, but we do have a laundry room. A main floor laundry room, even. (Never ever again to the basement will I be sent!) It's not pretty, but regardless, I spend a LOT of time in there. And maybe I would be more excited about it if I had a pair of these puppies.

When I read the description, the words "Powerful, deep steam cleaning removes dirt and pesky stains, and also saves you time from having to pre-treat clothes," I was hooked. I have to have it. Then I went on to read about Vibration Reduction Technology. WHAT? You mean I wouldn't feel like I was in a cheap hotel with a vibrating bed when the washer was spinning after I went to bed? Finally, the Extra. Large. Capacity. almost made me faint. Twenty-eight towels? You mean I could wash all our towels at once? in one load? And the jeans? bedding? my huge mountain of coloreds? Balderdash. Not possible... Is it?

I might faint. Oh, to discover such technology, so close to my fingertips, and so far from my grasp.

A girl can dream, can't she?

Thursday, October 22, 2009

How scary am I?

VERY SCARY! And I'm not talking about Halloween masks, here.
What is a Scary Mommy, you ask? I believe a Scary Mommy is a mother who doesn’t leave the house wearing lipstick at all times. A Scary Mommy loves her kids to death, but will admit to feeling totally overwhelmed and exhausted by the gig. A Scary Mommy doesn’t really care what other people think, and a Scary Mommy thinks that all mothers win when we admit our weaknesses. How would you describe it? It’s up to you!
I stole that from Scary Mommy's blog. She's having a Scary Mommy contest. But I'm not doing this for the contest. I actually don't really like contests or giveaways, because I never win and it's just one more thing to "fail" at. But I do like good ideas, blog ideas, ways to bitch complain about my life and make it seem funny. Because sometimes, a girl just needs to complain. I feel a little bit better by telling you all how worthless I am as a human and parent. It's kind of a confessional, and it's good to get it off my chest. I am very much a verbal processer. And I'm crabby today. (Or, at least I was when I wrote this the first time. It has now been edited to take out the, um, edge, and refashioned in a "Not Me" sort of way. Just in case this would ever get into the, ahem, wrong hands.)

Can I just say it's a good thing none of my family members ever read my blog. They would be mortified. And I would hear about it.

Here are just a few ways I have been less than perfect... today. Or at least this week. But mostly today. Except for the underwear bit.

And ladies, if you know me *IRL, this NEVER happened. Cuz if the cops come knocking on my door, I'll be shooting yours down!... Kidding.   *In real life

  • I have never had to give a child a spanking before school.
  • I have never started yelling before I was even out of bed, much less down stairs.
  • I have never left a baby, unattended, in a high chair so he would quit bugging me / stop climbing on me / so I could get away from the crying / so I could get some work done / so I could be on FB. For an hour.
  • I have never left some children at home, while I took others to school (which because it's only 5 blocks away would mean I'd be gone about 5-6 minutes). My husband may or may not be at home during these times. Sleeping.
  • I have never forgotten to change my underwear. Or put on deodorant. Or brush my teeth. None of these would be regular occurances, especially not the last two.
  • I have never had the cops called on me for leaving my children in the car. And for the record, the stupid idiot who called in actually had the audacity to tell the cop that I really had only been gone for 2-3 minutes, but that they were still concerned. Well, if that would have actually happened. Which of coarse it didn't.
  • I have never yelled at my child that he "WILL go to school like it or not," and then cried (secretly) moments later when, with crocodile tears, he said he "wasn't any good at doing those papers." Something like that would not break my heart.
  • I have never told off a pediatrician (not mine) that he didn't know the history of my child and I didn't feel bad about the decision to delay vacc's, and that is NOT why my child is sick with a cold. And that you don't knock a mother's instinct. He did not just then shut up.
  • I do not have a problem with piles. You will find no piles in my home. All surfaces are crisp, clean, crap and dust free. Wait. What's dust again?
  • We never live out of piles of (folded) laundry on the couch, dryer, and clothes basket.
  • I mop regularly, and I fully believe that it's not done right if it's not done on hands and knees (*snort* yeah, whatEVER!). I would never resort to a Swiffer WetJet just so it looked clean.
  • I don't avoid crafts so that I can avoid the extra cleanup.
  • I have never wanted to own a BB gun for the sole purpose of shooting at passing motorcyclists who wake up sleeping babies with their loud pipes.
  • I never forget to brush my daughters' hair. They beg me every day to brush it and put in ponies and I deny them. To end all our torture, we have all not decided that just cutting it off would be the best way to go.
  • I have never had my friend walk into my house while I was missing pants or shirt or both, seeing me in all my fat, shameless glory. I do not love her because she still loves me anyway. And brings me presents.
  • I do not need some serious inspiration as 'keeper of the home.' I am full of drive to make my home the best it can be. I am passionate about taking the utmost care of my family. I have not thought about getting a job just so I could pay someone else to come clean my house, even if my job was cleaning someone else's.
  • I do not regularly spend the day just so overwhelmed with fighting, tantrums and crying that I do essentially nothing (productive), then race the last 15 minutes before hubby gets home making it look like I did something.

I love my children, and I love my husband, but there is certainly a lack of understanding of how hard this job exactly is. How endless and demanding, how selfless you need to be. How it feels to put everyone else first, yourself last, how you can never really "get away." No, I don't have his job. And it's a tough one, for sure. I just wish I could "take a day off" sometimes. The thing is, I do miss them when I'm gone (eventually).

But while I'm here, I can be






Monday, October 19, 2009

It's nice to know...

... someone's reading.

To quote:
"Diverting the internal traffic between the Writer as Angel of Light and the Writer as Hustler is the scribbling child in a grown-up body, wondering if anyone is listening."
~Herbert Gold, Elder Statesman of The Beat Generation~
I often wonder, "is anyone listening? is this boring?" Well, apparently My Heart keeps coming back for more tales of All My Monkeys. She has also, graciously, awarded me with... dunt da-da DAAAA...

Thank you for appreciating my thoughts, drivel, crazy tales, ramblings and extra-wordiness.

I have always enjoyed writing. And reading. I have always love words. And language. I totally rocked spelling and vocab tests back in those days. I did have a poem published once (albeit in a jr/high school creative arts publication). But nothing so prestigious as this. :D

So thank you, madam!

You can read about the origins of this Superior Scribbler Award at The Scholastic Scribe.

I would like to pass on the priviledge to these 5 lucky bloggers:

  1. The Gypsy Mama - so eloquent

  2. Dovi's Life - crazy, funny, super shopper

  3. Buried With Children -  dedicated blogger, mom to triplets + one

Of course, as with every Bloggy Award, there are A Few Rules. They are, forthwith:
  • Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
  • Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.
  • Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award.
  • Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!
  • Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.
Check these ladies out, and leave them some bloggy love!

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Mocha bologna shoes and other silliness

How did chicken cross the chicken ride?

Lasagne poopy shot.

I know!

--Jokes by KJ

I remember when I started dating my husband. His daughter was 4 1/2 yrs old, and had hit the "inventive sillies" stage. It's a great phase. I just love hearing the unique things they come up with in their experimentation of words as they learn the concept of jokes and such, but more than that I love hearing the belly laughs that come from their own amusement of their silliness.

The Beautiful One, now 14 then 4, came up with the saying Mocha Bologna Shoes. And it stuck. To this day, we still use it. As a term of endearment. Silly endearment.

Will I remember lasagna poopy shot? I don't know. But I surely can't wait to hear the next one.


Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Me on film.

There's a new movie coming out about my life... sorta. haha. Kidding.

Sounds right up my alley. But should I drag the husband.... hmmm... Probably not.

Monday, October 12, 2009

I Love...Mondays

Each day has beauty. Sometimes we need to try harder to find it. I know I do. This is my effort to combat those blahs and blechs. I'm setting my mind on things above, those things that are true, lovely and pure. Things that are excellent or praiseworthy, I'm thinking about those things.

I love Mondays. I do. It's not a lie.

I love my morning "coffee," my cobalt blue mug, leaves, color, nature, God, my children, snow, my children eating snow, beautifully captured photographs, a good eye, a new perspective, black and whites, my love-hate relationship with my camera. I love blur, also known as bokeh. I love encouragement. I love prayer. I love my husband. I love my husband's old, soft, worn-out white tshirts. I love contrast.

I wish I knew how to manipulate photos to increase color saturation, so that the colors were more vivid. Like I see them. Or to make them truly black and white. I would love that.

Things I love today, in pictures.

I would love to hear what you love. Leave a comment?

Monday, Stinky Monday

I have nothing better to do. Obviously. You most certainly could tell that by looking at my perfectly organized, spotlessly clean and tidy house. Just so you know, it's Monday. I'm sure most of you did not miss that fact.

Potty training is a funny thing. Not really, but stick with me. An unexperienced person might think that potty training is merely "training" a child to do their business in a toilet. That is SOOOO not the case. It is so. much. more. Think of all the steps that you take, without thinking, when you go to the bathroom. First of all, there's actually going to the room one calls bathroom. Sometimes (certainly not our house) there is a closing of the door. Then, pulling down of pants, sitting on the toilet, and doing the deed. But don't think you're finished there. After pulling up your pants, usually the next step would be to flush the toilet. In my house, ALL parties (including Hubba Hubba) must close the lid. And it does not irk the heck out of me when company misses this step.

You might find this an unncessary step, but when I lived in the country where the water was the color of ground up carrots, I didn't want even my cat (now gone) to drink the stuff. Hubba Hubba, the then BoFro, had no issue with complying. (just so you don't think I had to train him too. He's highly untrainable, that one. Am I digressing? Nope. Not me.) Anyway.

These days, it's a good measure to take to prevent things from falling into the toilet, especially considering it may or may not have been flushed since last used. Or, to keep toddling infants from playing with anything that might be in the toilet. ahem. Once the toilet has been flushed, lid closed, you now must wash your hands. Of coarse, everyone that has been trained by me, amazingly completes all of these steps, every. freakin'. time. they use the john, so I would never walk into the bathroom to find my baby of 14 months playing with and (no I'm Not going to say it, wait, yes I am) eating fecal matter. Feel free to grab the nearest waste receptacle and gag your guts out. I'll wait.

So obviously, this morning, when I was checking on a certain little boy who was not putting on deodorant did I find my infant child swishing in the bowl. I most certainly wasn't incensed and then quite relieved upon seeing that there was NO fecal matter in the bowl. ooph.

My not quite six year old does not have body odor the likes of which could fell a large man.

Enough gross. Revive yourself. Grab some ginger.

One of my favorite kitchen utensils is the pizza cutter. It wonderfully slices cleanly and easily thru most things. I have discovered that life is much easier if I bring it along to places where I know it will be used (not to exclude the mall, because plastic knives are worthless, and there tends to be lots of eye rolling when I ask the pizza guy to cut that ginormous slice up for my 2 yr old). So last night when packing for a church meeting, which included free pizza, I did not pack the pizza cutter first, before sippy cups, diapers or bibs, all of which were not afterthoughts once on the road. Nor did I have any such thoughts that surely someone would notice my genius and declare me some sort of supermom. I was not right, and this did not fluff my ego. Because my ego does not need fluffing. The real story is that I am a super mom. And you should all bow down and admire my highly imperfect ways.

Pizza cutters are also attractive toys for small people (and by that I do not mean midgets). They are essentially safe, and so I didn't balk when my 14 month old was playing with last nights pizza cutter. Even after I noticed a piece of pepperoni still on it. However, when he started banging it on the window I decided it would be a good idea to remove the offending object (pizza cutter, not pepperoni) from the perpetrators hands. This did not cause my little bugger to throw a major tantrum, the kind where they conciously throw themselves, almost in slow motion, to the floor, roll around a bit, flailing and kicking their feet. I do not marvel every time at this phenomenon, wondering where they learn these things, and why this would be inate behavior. I most certainly did not have the desire to laugh when he paused to check out my reaction. Seeing none, he did not just stop.

He is not now in his bed for a nap.

Thanks for the share-apy, folks, compliments of MckMama. Now, I'm gonna go outside and take some pics of snow on leaves, and hopefully include them in an I Love... Mondays post. No, I did not just say SNOW, on October 12. And this is not our second, and second measurable snow, of the year. Where did fall go? Oh, yeah, same place as summer. So hey, check for that post, and join me in I Love... Mondays. Back in a few!


Friday, October 9, 2009

Oh dear Jeans

Dear Mr. blue jeans manufacturer/designer,

And I call you Mr. because obviously you are a man. A man who does not have curves, and does not understand the make up of the female form. Especially of the large female form.

See, sir, a woman has curves. You know, roundy parts, plump parts, parts that stick out farther than others. Otherwise know as the tush, booty, arse, back (as in "baby's got"), and butt. Now, I should commend you on your current use of the "stretch" fabrics on the market today. That is wonderful, and considerably more comfortable than non-stretch forms of jeanswear. It certainly helps in other areas you have not accounted for, such as thighs, or for some, those grossly huge calves. Much to my dismay, however, you seem to have forgotton one thing: what stretches out, doesn't always come back in. It's stretch, it's not elastic.

In the case of blue jeans, this poses a problem when, after wearing for about 6 hours, the jeans do not stretch back, and immediately start their descent down one's backside. A teenage boy might find this feature "totally hawt." A thirty something woman, married mother of many, does NOT want her arse hanging out for all the world to see. After multiple episodes of childbirth, followed by months that could be counted in years spent sitting on that deliscious posterior while breastfeeding child after child, the rumpus becomes quite a bumpus. And while it's nice to have that stretch factor in jeans to save oneself from having to go purchase more clothing we don't want (only because it would need to be a size or twenty larger than we would like) the stretch is now working against us.

And herein lies the main problem with your jeans. YOU NEED MORE THAN ONE FREAKIN' BELT LOOP IN THE BACK.

Maybe you are unfamiliar with how a belt works. Let me explain. Though it can be purely decorative in purpose, occasionally belts actually are needed for holding up one's pants. This creates a cinching effect. If there is only one lousy belt loop in the back, the belt goes right up over the top of the jeans, making them wildly uncomfortable, and absolutely ridiculous looking.

So, may I personally request the addition of at least 2 more belt loops, or at minimun one with a repositioning of the second, to any jeans you plan to make in the future. This will make the jeans more practical for those bootyliscious mamas like myself. It will also help keep my children from placing their fingers or dropping toys down my butt crack while changing the littlest tot's diaper, since the top of my pants is riding somewhere below the moon. (No, moo-ing, people.)

Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter.


Big Booty Mama.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Blue, but not totally dreary

Cheeks just "drank" a bit of granulated garlic. Her complaint, "my mouth is burning." My thought, maybe the garlic will keep an impending cold at bay. And I laugh. Cruel mommy.

It is Homecoming Week at school this week. Not that my kid has any idea what that means, or that there's even something called homecoming, he does know his mom has dressed him up a little weird so far. Monday was "Closet Vomit" day. He wore a brown, blue and white plaid shirt with a yellow and blue striped tie. Yesterday was "Crazy Hair" day. We went more punk rock, with a blue spikey do, but who's checking. Today was "Hat Day" (they're not allowed to wear hats during school). The next two days will see little participation from us, unless my clean laundry pile turns up a green John Deer shirt for Blue and Green School Colors day, and we ain't got nothin' to wear on Sports Jersey day, clean or dirty. We're not sporty here. Maybe we could borrow something from Uncle Timmy. Hmmm... or not.

Though props to the Minnesota Twins who won two great games in a row, catapulting them into World Series territory. (Hey, it's hard to avoid it. If you don't here about it on every bloody news report, at least 27 people have something about it as their status on Facebook. MN sports seem to be making headlines this week as even a friend from Atlanta GA mentioned something about our Monday Night Football game. Jeepers. Farve who? Oh, that guy that doesn't even know how to say his own last name right? Yeah, cuz the R sound should come after the V. Duh!)

On the blue hair, if I had to recommend something, I would not recommend the spray in stuff if you're looking for longevity. When I picked him up, his scalp was still bright blue, but the hair was rather faded old-school Oompa Loompa looking. Next time I will try out the colored mousse. Though that may take longer to wash out. This stuff was easy. And may I just say how excited this kid was about coloring his hair blue! Seriously. Too funny.

And yes, that is a fat lip he is sporting. This is what happens when you goof around in the dark when you should be laying quietly in your bed sleeping.

For some reason, the center function is working strangely here. Oh well. And does this pic have a blue hue to it or is it just me? I promise his lips weren't blue when I was taking the picture.

Speaking of hair... someone... ---^ needs a haircut. Good golly. This same someone  has also gone from mostly crawling to mostly walking. He is also sporting the latest in boogers- running-down-your-face. Truely lovely. I love this season. This very very excrutiatingly long season. No, not winter, but the Booger season.

And speaking of excrutiating... one year molars suck. (Sorry, it's true.) For everyone involved. Poor boy (and poor mama who had to listen to it) cried, bawled his head off, inconsolably so, for 2 hours yesterday morning, even after doses of both ibuprofen and tylenol. Thought I was gonna lose my noodles. I'm sure I lost brain cells. I would have rather lost them drinking a nice glass of wine, but felt it inappropriate to pop the cork at 8:30 in the morning. Maybe next time I'll do that, now knowing what's coming.

In other news... nothing.

Today the sun is shining. It's been... what... a week and a half? Rained every day. Summer took forever to get here, and only lasted the month of September, minus a few hot days in May and June. Then, all of the sudden, the coolness of late autumn barfed all over us, bringing rain and unseasonably low temps. Tomorrow... more rain. And some flurries of snow this weekend, they say. greeeaaaat.

Oh wait. I take that back. News is I've finally moved into my new bedroom. With a door. Hallelujah. I have even gone up to my room, in the middle of the day, just to lay on the bed and hang out in my room. Because it has a door and it's quiet. Ahhhhhhhh. God bless America. or whatever.