All I wanted last evening was to enjoy my kids and some good politics (the term good and politics are NOT usually synonymous) and let us say I received half of each yesterday evening. J. picked me up from work with Aidan in tow and told me that Obama had paid ooooodles of moolah for a primetime spot on all the major tv channels. Boy was I filled with excitement at the possiblity of seeing his shining face, an adult face-rather than Dora the Explorer or The Backyardigans on NOGGIN types that typically hound my television screen in the pm before bedtime comes for the littles. Pizza leftovers popped into the oven and there I was before the screen, Obama's wide eyed face in mine when...whammo! Aidan pee pees in his pajamas at the dinner table.
Obama and his political quips continued while screams ensued, by way of my hubby who was mostly in shock and utter horror over the puddles that had amassed all the way from our kitchen to the small powder room that houses close to 50 crosses. Pathetic as it is, I tried to continue watching his "Obama infomercial," all while my son sobbed in the toilet. "Accidents happen. Bummer, dude," is some of what I mumbled to him as I tried to hear Obama speaking to middle class Suzie homemaker types (those who will probably already be voting for him). I know it's selfish and this being, in my husband's words "an awful situation," but I felt that I needed to grab this moment with my tv and seize the political day. The pee pee incident had taken over everyone's evening and shadowed over Obama and all of his evening glory.
I walked myself into the small yellow bathroom, after having wiped up the pee pee trail of footprints, wiped my son's tears away and told him that despite having seen only half of the Obama tv special, I love him and it'll all be okay. No pullups necessary.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Christmas?! And we're not even to Halloween yet.
We're at the mall this last Saturday with the children persuasion (post mucho lemonade-o and those wonderfully yummo Chic Fil A chicken nuggests for all), and already the Christmas music was playing and decorations abound. What happened to enjoying one holiday at a time? Isn't Halloween upon us? Can't we enjoy the scary stories, costumes, spoooooky decorations for this time before parlaying into Santaland? Frustration.
Recently I was walking through the Walmart, as all parents do, wandering the aisles of Duncan Hines buttercreme icing, Crest sparkle fun toothpaste and Dora the Explorer dress me up dolls, when I came up to the Barbie area. The epiphany was upon me. Being previously uninspired by the typical witch or bad fairy costumes, I was perplexed over what I should dress as this Halloween. The idea came to me in a Barbie box...Tippi Hedren a la Alfred Hitchcock's THE BIRDS. A cheap green wool suit ($5 from Goodwill), some rips in the pantyhose with spilled blood on the head and calves, a french twist in my not so blonde hair and a crow or 2 attatched to my head and shoulder (um, dollar tree, anyone?) and I'm ready! Well, almost. Fast forward to nearly 2 days before Halloween 2009 and no wool suit, no pantyhose, no crows, but still I'm here with the not so blonde hair and a little blood on my finger from a drive route gone wrong today at work. My kids however have faired better in the costume department...Kenzie to be a tremendous Tinkerbell et Aidan to be Anakin Skywalker (wow-2 years in a row, what a life and money-saver), as inspired by The Clone Wars. Dad and I have relegated ourselved to the ideal that although we are SANS costumeage, the kids will represent the joy that is Halloween in full effect. Sadly, although I can type, I am unable to scan photos a la Mr. computer at this time, so it remains to be seen if you people will ever see what any of us look like. Carlen, I think you know what I look like, right?
Christmas, I will decorate the mantel with great cheer, but not quite yet. Our ceramic Halloween houses and scary decorations will remain for a least a week or two more. I purchased a spooky children's ghost story book that had a tale in it entitled "The Green Ribbon" (note to self: begin proofreading stories before you read to child in the pm, such that you will not cause nightmares). I read it to Aidan the other evening and had him in tears by the end of it (nightmare and screams followed close behind). Yes, I felt awful; however, what is Halloween without a scary story or a ghost or 2? Aidan is okay now and I'm sure more spooky moments await us all on Halloween night.
Recently I was walking through the Walmart, as all parents do, wandering the aisles of Duncan Hines buttercreme icing, Crest sparkle fun toothpaste and Dora the Explorer dress me up dolls, when I came up to the Barbie area. The epiphany was upon me. Being previously uninspired by the typical witch or bad fairy costumes, I was perplexed over what I should dress as this Halloween. The idea came to me in a Barbie box...Tippi Hedren a la Alfred Hitchcock's THE BIRDS. A cheap green wool suit ($5 from Goodwill), some rips in the pantyhose with spilled blood on the head and calves, a french twist in my not so blonde hair and a crow or 2 attatched to my head and shoulder (um, dollar tree, anyone?) and I'm ready! Well, almost. Fast forward to nearly 2 days before Halloween 2009 and no wool suit, no pantyhose, no crows, but still I'm here with the not so blonde hair and a little blood on my finger from a drive route gone wrong today at work. My kids however have faired better in the costume department...Kenzie to be a tremendous Tinkerbell et Aidan to be Anakin Skywalker (wow-2 years in a row, what a life and money-saver), as inspired by The Clone Wars. Dad and I have relegated ourselved to the ideal that although we are SANS costumeage, the kids will represent the joy that is Halloween in full effect. Sadly, although I can type, I am unable to scan photos a la Mr. computer at this time, so it remains to be seen if you people will ever see what any of us look like. Carlen, I think you know what I look like, right?
Christmas, I will decorate the mantel with great cheer, but not quite yet. Our ceramic Halloween houses and scary decorations will remain for a least a week or two more. I purchased a spooky children's ghost story book that had a tale in it entitled "The Green Ribbon" (note to self: begin proofreading stories before you read to child in the pm, such that you will not cause nightmares). I read it to Aidan the other evening and had him in tears by the end of it (nightmare and screams followed close behind). Yes, I felt awful; however, what is Halloween without a scary story or a ghost or 2? Aidan is okay now and I'm sure more spooky moments await us all on Halloween night.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Worth my weight in gold
Since the purchase of my new family friend, Jack the cat, I have not step foot upon my scale. For good reason, apparently. After poop scooping this am, I touched lightly upon it and saw the number...192. How fabulous is that? Not so much.
When I became pregnant with Aidan, I was about 175lbs. This number steadily climbed to 265 by the time I went to the hospital for an emergency c-section (another story for another time, and much more java). I like to say that he was born out of a pint or 20 of the Ben and Jerry's. Imagine everything you eat that is healthy making your eyes and stomach turn...a salad and fruit making you want to vomit. Picture clear enough now? I dropped the weight over the course of 3 years, which included half a year of breastfeeding, my Pompei-Hurricane Katrina (most people ate, I just stopped), and mucho exercise-o.
After our flooded home received a good clean-down with Microban and our handyman, Homer put walls in the first floor again, we became pregnant with baby number 2, Mackenzie. My weight catapulted back to 237lbs., when I'd given birth to her. This weight gain was due to eating only salads and fruit (the reverse of when I was pregant with Aidan), imagine that. I am running a few days a week and trying to eat less carbs, sugar and processed foods and more veggies and fruit. However, after climbing up on that scale this am, I feel rather dejected, seeing as how my scale has not moved from that not so magical number "192" in several months.
Having lost the weight before, I know that the number on my digital scale is not what its all about. The fit of the clothing is paramount. I have successfully made my pants get a bit looser and many of my pre-Mackenzie blouses are fitting again, so I think the inches are coming off. Also, I should mention that I've lost one of my double chins (cha ching!), this will best be represented in our fabulous family photos for the Christmas hollyday. Truly bananas, if you ask me. I don't think that we will be galloping off to Mr. JcPennys this holiday season, but instead Mr. Walmart. I mean, it's just so much more convient to go purchase a gallon of milk product, a box of diapers and go into the photography department in the front of the store, upon exiting to snap a quik pic of me et the famille, all for posterity purposes (as opposed to scheduling an appointment in Metairie, driving 40 plus miles with primped children begging them not to drool or injure themselves and their holiday garments before Mrs. JcPennys snaps the pics).
We have 8 weeks until Christmas, so I do believe that I will rock that scale prior to having to HO HO HO with Santa and the kiddos. If not, I can always resort to my back-up plan...cut the heads off each family member and paste them on a photo of a JcPennys family, all dressed appropriately for the season.
When I became pregnant with Aidan, I was about 175lbs. This number steadily climbed to 265 by the time I went to the hospital for an emergency c-section (another story for another time, and much more java). I like to say that he was born out of a pint or 20 of the Ben and Jerry's. Imagine everything you eat that is healthy making your eyes and stomach turn...a salad and fruit making you want to vomit. Picture clear enough now? I dropped the weight over the course of 3 years, which included half a year of breastfeeding, my Pompei-Hurricane Katrina (most people ate, I just stopped), and mucho exercise-o.
After our flooded home received a good clean-down with Microban and our handyman, Homer put walls in the first floor again, we became pregnant with baby number 2, Mackenzie. My weight catapulted back to 237lbs., when I'd given birth to her. This weight gain was due to eating only salads and fruit (the reverse of when I was pregant with Aidan), imagine that. I am running a few days a week and trying to eat less carbs, sugar and processed foods and more veggies and fruit. However, after climbing up on that scale this am, I feel rather dejected, seeing as how my scale has not moved from that not so magical number "192" in several months.
Having lost the weight before, I know that the number on my digital scale is not what its all about. The fit of the clothing is paramount. I have successfully made my pants get a bit looser and many of my pre-Mackenzie blouses are fitting again, so I think the inches are coming off. Also, I should mention that I've lost one of my double chins (cha ching!), this will best be represented in our fabulous family photos for the Christmas hollyday. Truly bananas, if you ask me. I don't think that we will be galloping off to Mr. JcPennys this holiday season, but instead Mr. Walmart. I mean, it's just so much more convient to go purchase a gallon of milk product, a box of diapers and go into the photography department in the front of the store, upon exiting to snap a quik pic of me et the famille, all for posterity purposes (as opposed to scheduling an appointment in Metairie, driving 40 plus miles with primped children begging them not to drool or injure themselves and their holiday garments before Mrs. JcPennys snaps the pics).
We have 8 weeks until Christmas, so I do believe that I will rock that scale prior to having to HO HO HO with Santa and the kiddos. If not, I can always resort to my back-up plan...cut the heads off each family member and paste them on a photo of a JcPennys family, all dressed appropriately for the season.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Monday breeds much discontent
Deja vu. Have you ever felt like you were Bill Murray and stuck in that quaint little town inside the movie Groundhog Day? Welcome to my life. The alarms on the clocks, the phones all ring and vibrate off the end tables in our bedroom and I feel as though the weekend went by in a flash and Monday is upon me. Our new cat, Jack, meowed at the top of his kitty lungs until I stumbled onto the tile floor and opened the door and acknowledged him. Bill Murray I am not, but I swear to you, it felt like last Monday am.
Our weekday mornings do happen with a bit of haste, both myself and my husband shuffle into our bathroom, doing all the morning preparations that a worker bee should do. Following all of that excitement, it's on to the upstairs of our home, to then attempt with waking the young son that slumbers away so peacefully...until we bring him to the semi-state of conciousness, to rise to higher academia that is his Kindergarten. My daughter is close to follow, rising to the tunes of the Australian group, The Wiggles. Boy, are they a good time. She jiggles side to side singing out "...Dorothy!" as one of us finds a 2T outfit that will make even the small bebes at the nursery say, Oooh la la, you fashionista! (Because you know that's what they say when they see her in her leopard print mary janes and her faux fur vest, I know, it sounds like a fashion victim, but in all reality, kids can get away with those types of outfits.) Eventually, we all make it to the front door, and then the silver Chevy ride that awaits in the circular drive. All the while, grabbing some milk for the daughter and throwing an "extra breakfast" at my son, who eats at school, but apparently is going through a growth spurt and simply needs himself a strawberry nutrigrain bar.
Upon my walking into work, like your typical worker drone, I make the pot o java, apply the M.A.C. makeup and let the good times roll. Thank God for coffee. I think it's my lifeblood, or like that new HBO Drama, TrueBlood. It causes me to move and that can be a productive moment or two, thankfully.
Friday night, yes, the husband did bring the kids to the wonderful world of McDonalds and chicken nugget o'teria began for both my daughter and son. God love him, I think he even purchased the caramel apples just so he could advise me that the "fruit group" was represented. I capped off the day o work-o with an evening at a wonderful seafood dive in the Fat City...second to java is a good meal, anything food related is the way to my heart. We met up with my friend's sister and her friend prior to going to a local bar. That was a good time, particularly when a not so fine, older lookin fella' stepped up to the mike and belted out the Police's, Roxanne. I truly think that was the highlight of my night out sans children. He was the ultimate hot mess. Because it was "Rock Star Friday," it allowed many who were having a good time, the opportunity to grab the stage and represent all that they were and possibly wanted to become in their youth...For this gentleman, his encore topped the night off with a cherry and whipped creme, Welcome To The Jungle. You're in the jungle baby, you're gonna die.
Our weekday mornings do happen with a bit of haste, both myself and my husband shuffle into our bathroom, doing all the morning preparations that a worker bee should do. Following all of that excitement, it's on to the upstairs of our home, to then attempt with waking the young son that slumbers away so peacefully...until we bring him to the semi-state of conciousness, to rise to higher academia that is his Kindergarten. My daughter is close to follow, rising to the tunes of the Australian group, The Wiggles. Boy, are they a good time. She jiggles side to side singing out "...Dorothy!" as one of us finds a 2T outfit that will make even the small bebes at the nursery say, Oooh la la, you fashionista! (Because you know that's what they say when they see her in her leopard print mary janes and her faux fur vest, I know, it sounds like a fashion victim, but in all reality, kids can get away with those types of outfits.) Eventually, we all make it to the front door, and then the silver Chevy ride that awaits in the circular drive. All the while, grabbing some milk for the daughter and throwing an "extra breakfast" at my son, who eats at school, but apparently is going through a growth spurt and simply needs himself a strawberry nutrigrain bar.
Upon my walking into work, like your typical worker drone, I make the pot o java, apply the M.A.C. makeup and let the good times roll. Thank God for coffee. I think it's my lifeblood, or like that new HBO Drama, TrueBlood. It causes me to move and that can be a productive moment or two, thankfully.
Friday night, yes, the husband did bring the kids to the wonderful world of McDonalds and chicken nugget o'teria began for both my daughter and son. God love him, I think he even purchased the caramel apples just so he could advise me that the "fruit group" was represented. I capped off the day o work-o with an evening at a wonderful seafood dive in the Fat City...second to java is a good meal, anything food related is the way to my heart. We met up with my friend's sister and her friend prior to going to a local bar. That was a good time, particularly when a not so fine, older lookin fella' stepped up to the mike and belted out the Police's, Roxanne. I truly think that was the highlight of my night out sans children. He was the ultimate hot mess. Because it was "Rock Star Friday," it allowed many who were having a good time, the opportunity to grab the stage and represent all that they were and possibly wanted to become in their youth...For this gentleman, his encore topped the night off with a cherry and whipped creme, Welcome To The Jungle. You're in the jungle baby, you're gonna die.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Happy Friday, me.
Welcome to the world of blogging. I was inspired to document my life on the page after seeing CATEOPIA, the funny and raw rants of a fellow friend, Carlen and her foray into the land of motherhood. I am a lover of the spectaular Erma Louise Bombeck, a true humorist who was able to put pen to papier in an effortless fashion best documenting the laments of motherhood and life as she knew it. I should hope this goes as smoothly for me.
Tonight, I will be leaving my wonderful husband and two children to enjoy a girl's night out. Wow. He will most probably throw chicken nuggets and french fries at their heads while I am gone, but it will all be worth it. You see, my husband, as kind and phenomenal as he is gets overwhelmed by the children plural. God love him, though. I will pray for him tonight as I have a good drinky poo with my good friend and people watch at a bar in the Fat City. Much better than cable tv.
Mackenzie is my youngest and Aidan my oldest. Our new cat, and newest member of the family is Jack. We are not cat people; however, apparently now we are, after having walked into the local Pet Smart and adopting him from one of the Vet. clerks. "He's a shelter cat, so you're saving a cat life," she said. Me, with my bright red lips and my husband with his sensitive, ponytail picked Jack up and have not let him go since. Mommy and Daddy. On to the children...Aidan was born 5 plus years ago after a tumultuous pregnancy, he's our little Jedi. He looks just like me, and I know its a bit of an ego trip when one has a kid, but he is the exact image of me as a child, just when my mother chopped all my hair off in a bad pixie cut after I wacked off the hair of my best friend. He smiles and I see myself. Mackenzie, on the other hand, has dark hair and darker features, but her mother's stern looks and temperament. She is my doe eyed Dora.
Happy Friday, me. Business almost done for the day and apparently one sign indicated that perhaps I am aging...a loss of vision in both eyes for an extended period this afternoon while eating a burger. Maybe I should become a vegetarian again and this is a sign-? Or maybe I'm just getting older and this is my body saying no no no...No, that's just Amy Winehouse and tonight I'm not going to rehab, just a Ladies night, oh what a night.
Tonight, I will be leaving my wonderful husband and two children to enjoy a girl's night out. Wow. He will most probably throw chicken nuggets and french fries at their heads while I am gone, but it will all be worth it. You see, my husband, as kind and phenomenal as he is gets overwhelmed by the children plural. God love him, though. I will pray for him tonight as I have a good drinky poo with my good friend and people watch at a bar in the Fat City. Much better than cable tv.
Mackenzie is my youngest and Aidan my oldest. Our new cat, and newest member of the family is Jack. We are not cat people; however, apparently now we are, after having walked into the local Pet Smart and adopting him from one of the Vet. clerks. "He's a shelter cat, so you're saving a cat life," she said. Me, with my bright red lips and my husband with his sensitive, ponytail picked Jack up and have not let him go since. Mommy and Daddy. On to the children...Aidan was born 5 plus years ago after a tumultuous pregnancy, he's our little Jedi. He looks just like me, and I know its a bit of an ego trip when one has a kid, but he is the exact image of me as a child, just when my mother chopped all my hair off in a bad pixie cut after I wacked off the hair of my best friend. He smiles and I see myself. Mackenzie, on the other hand, has dark hair and darker features, but her mother's stern looks and temperament. She is my doe eyed Dora.
Happy Friday, me. Business almost done for the day and apparently one sign indicated that perhaps I am aging...a loss of vision in both eyes for an extended period this afternoon while eating a burger. Maybe I should become a vegetarian again and this is a sign-? Or maybe I'm just getting older and this is my body saying no no no...No, that's just Amy Winehouse and tonight I'm not going to rehab, just a Ladies night, oh what a night.
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