I don't think the birding society would approve...

I have two bird feeders in my backyard. I have a clear view of them from my sofa, through our big back window. During the warmer months, I sit in the sun room and watch the birds; it's very relaxing. I have a variety of birds visiting the feeders on a daily basis. They include, but are not limited to, Cardinals, Blue Jays, Black Capped Chickadee's, Carolina Wren's, Starlings and several Woodpeckers. Today, however, there was a new visitor. And she wasn't there for the birdseed. As I sat on my sofa, I started to hear the occasional bird slam into the side of my house. After a few times, I looked out the window. That was when I saw her scoop up a poor stunned wren and carry her away. "She" was a Northern Harrier Hawk. It is official....I'm luring small birds to their death.

Shouldn't the house be warmer, then?

So, we have this family member who is a bit of a religious extremist. This person was visiting this past week, and while having a conversation with my husband, said many things (many things that were batshit crazy), but the one thing that stuck out was the following...

"This house is filled with Satan and one of the forms he takes is your game" (hubby plays World of Warcraft).


Who says shit like that?! More importantly, who believes something like that?!

I'm sorry but if Satan is filling my house. He either needs to crank up the heat or start forking over some damn rent money.

out of the mouths of babes...take 4

Me: *looks at * What are you doing?! Are you seriously smelling the dog's butt?
Z: *rolls eyes* Mommy, I'm being a doggy. That's what doggies do.

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My kids were downstairs playing this evening. All of the sudden, Z comes racing up the stairs screaming "Mommy! S's trying to suck my blood!". How do you respond to that? Yelling "S, don't try to suck your sister's blood", just seems a little inadequate.

Are you freaking KIDDING me?!

We bought our house a year ago. Six months after we moved in, we noticed that the basement bathroom had a mysterious smell emanating from it. We've had plumbers coming and clean the sewer pipes, check to make sure everything is working,etc. We wrote it off as being from the big sewer pipe that runs through that bathroom and up and out into the backyard. Through all of this, we wondered where the basement drain was. We just figured the previous owners tiled over it. Well, in the last two months, we had a new surprise...drain flies. Finally, having enough of the smell and of the drain flies, J called a new plumber who we were referred to by Zoe's preschool teacher. He comes in and in a half hour, the mystery is solved. If you go in and look down the drain of our shower, you see cement. The missing drain, that we'd wondered about for a year, is actually back and to the right of the shower "drain". There is no connection. Wait...it gets better. Next to our shower down there, is a laundry sink, the pipe for the laundry sink goes back towards the drain, but again...it doesn't connect. So basically we've had water and sewage (because the drain is a SEWAGE drain) pooling up underneath the shower. Hence, the drain/sewer flies. So, in addition to getting our house ready for my father in law to arrive and getting things ready for Thanksgiving. John and I have to tear out the shower and clean (see BLEACH) under the shower and decide what to do next. What I want to know is how the previous plumbers missed this little gem and how the home inspector missed it. Now, if you'll excuse me...I have to go cry.

The case of the broken jeans

I dressed Z in a yellow shirt and some jeans today. When she came home, she realized that there was a teeny tiny hole in the knee of her jeans.

Z: Mommy! There's a hole in my jeans
Me: yes, I guess there is. It's ok, it's a tiny one.
Z: *sighs* I can't believe you put broken jeans on me!

It's complicated...

J was talking to S.

J: Who do you play with at recess, S?
S: oh, just the Kindergarteners
J: ...you're in the first grade, why don't you play with the kids in your class
S: *sighs and waves him off* it's complicated, daddy

I had no idea....

On Friday nights, my kids usually "camp out" in our basement. They stay up late and watch cartoons until they pass out. Well, this is the first year that all three of my kids really kind of "get" Halloween. They've been telling each other the silliest things, all week long, just to try and scare each other. Well, tonight, they're in the basement and S tells K "If you stay up all night long, you'll disappear. You just fade further and further away...until...you're just gone!". K, of course, came running up here,in a panic, to tell me.

I'm still giggling

Bad Kitty, NO!

I, honestly, wasn't going to blog about this. However, I'm still a bit peeved and need to get this off of my chest. *deep breath*

As you know, I have a cat. Her name is Juicy and she is a shelter cat. We've had her for *counts fingers* about six years. When I went to the shelter to meet Juicy, she was the friendliest cat in the entire room. She purred, she sat in my lap, she nuzzled and talked to me. I was hooked. I forked over the $65 for her adoption fee and signed the adoption papers and took her home. From the moment we walked through the front door, she ceased to be "my" cat. Gone was the purring, the lap sitting and the nuzzling. Oh, there was still talking, but it was of the "I need food/water/clean crapping pan" variety. She is, for all intents and purposes, my husband's cat. Why? I have no freaking clue. Granted, I learned long ago that whenever my husband enters the room angels sing and rays of sunshine escape from between his ass cheeks, but...come ON! How could I not be her favorite?! I'm the one that feeds her, cleans her shit pan and takes her for her vet appointments. I'm the one that buys her those delectable snacks that my husband is so fond of feeding her. Oh, she gives me affection alright. She sleeps at the end of the bed, on my side of the bed. Not because she loves me, though, but because I'm not a freaking giant like my husband is. Trust me, if she could, she'd be all over Chewbauca's side of the bed.

Anyway, I've been sick this past week. No, it's not H1N1, as everyone keeps asking me. It's a cold. A simple run of the mill, wishing I was dead, cold. I spent all of last weekend in a Promethazine w/ Codeine induced coma (it was wonderful. I highly recommend it, if you're in search of a new hobby). During this time and all of this week, I still made sure that the needs of Juicy were met. She even sat with me on the couch, last night, as I watched Grey's Anatomy. I should have figured that something was up when she crawled into my lap and purred. After my show was over, I went up to our room to put something away. I rounded the end of the bed...that was when I saw it. In the middle of my side of the bed laid a giant cat turd. I was mad, yes, but even more so...I was hurt! Why me?! What the F$@% did I do to deserve a cat shitting?! My husband, clearly not sympathetic to my plight, laughed. That freaking sasquatch LAUGHED...at me! All he could offer up was "you must have done something to piss her off". Dude, I haven't done anything to the damn cat. I take care of her dumbass! Needless to say, the cat is wise to steer far away from me, for she just might become a strange stain in the carpet.

I'm so glad that I thought that through

My kids had Parent Teacher Conferences this morning. As I headed out the door, I grabbed an umbrella. It was supposed to rain, heavily, today and I wanted to be prepared. I drove down to the school and as I was getting out of the car, it started to pour...buckets of rain. No problem, I had the umbrella. Unfortunately, it was one that one of my kids had broken and I ended up getting soaked.

Out of the mouths of babes...

Z and I were headed to the grocery store, when this man (talking on his cellphone) cut me off in traffic w/o using a blinker light to boot! As luck would have it, he turned down the same street I was going to and proceeded to run a red light, after speeding down the street. The following conversation took place.

Me: That man is a bad driver!
Z: where did that stupid man go? *with her mad face on and hands on her hips*
Me: I'm not sure...oh there he is..he's going into that church, I guess.
Z: He needs to tell Jesus he's a bad driver!

Squirrely lil buggers...

Yesterday morning, I was sitting at my computer, reading my email. All of the sudden, I heard, what sounded like a herd of Elephants racing through my living room. Thinking it was the cat, I said "Juicy, knock it off". I turned and she was laying on the back of the couch...the sound persisted. I finally realized that it was coming from my roof. I went outside and saw a squirrel batting around a freaking acorn on my roof. Basically playing grab-ass with itself *shakes head*. And they say I have strange hobbies...

Now where the hell did I put that popcorn?

Last night, I had a doozy of a migraine. I'm pretty good about holding off on my prescription migraine meds until absolutely necessary. 1 Relpax and 2 Motrin later, it finally showed signs of subsiding. So, while my husband sat watching the Packers/Vikings game, I popped some popcorn and settled onto the sofa with a book. I began to feel more than a little loopy. I felt like I was drunk, to be honest with you. You know the part where the room moves a little? Yes, that part. I had my popcorn in a bowl and, well, I got thirsty. Not wanting to leave my bowl of popcorn on the sofa, where it might get spilled, I carried it into the kitchen with me. I got some water and was ready to head back to the sofa, when I remembered my bowl! I looked on the counter...wasn't there. I looked in the dining room...wasn't there. I even walked back over to the sofa...it wasn't there. Hmmm where the hell did I put my bowl of freaking popcorn?! "J, honey, did you see where I put my bowl of popcorn?". J looks at me like I'm a moron.

J: is this a joke?
Me: no, I can't find my popcorn. I know I brought it into the kitchen with me.
J: you're holding it.

I look down at my left hand and what do you know...my bowl of popcorn.

Flashback#5

Nothing too eventful has happened, as of late *knock on wood, cross fingers, eyes, toes and throw salt over my left shoulder*, so I have had to resort to posting flashbacks. Luckily for me, there are many!

This is another "pregnant story". I was 7 months pregnant with my oldest. We had a problem with keeping one of our two cats, out of the new baby crib. I had the idea to put clear packaging tape, sticky side up on the crib mattress. With the idea, cats don't like sticky stuff on their paws and maybe this will deter her. She was a tiny cat, definitely the runt of the litter and...well...she wasn't the brightest cat,either, so we were worried that this wouldn't work.

I was sitting down in our den, chatting with my husband via IM (he was at work), when I heard a screech! I ran up the stairs and reached the main floor, just in time to see our cat, BooBoo, haul ass down the steps into the living room, with a HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE wad of packaging tape stuck to her butt. I'm talking basketball sized, so basically ALL of the tape that I used. She ran over our other cat, Nappy (short for Napoleon) and was just tearing around the main floor...screeching like someone was stabbing her to death. Nappy was all puffed out and hissing and I was laughing hysterically, to the point of near pants peeing, in the kitchen. She raced down to our basement, caterwauling and screeching the whole way and finally lost the tape. She never got in the baby crib, ever again.

Flashback #4

When I was six months pregnant with my oldest daughter, my husband thought he would be funny and put on one of my "pre preggo" bras. A little background... I'm 5'3" and before I got pregnant I weighed in at an athletic 130. He's 6'5" and at the time was around 210, so...big guy! The sight of him in the bra made me laugh pretty hard. then he started doing body builder poses and stretches, basically, just being a big goofball. well, he ended up splitting the bra in two, which made me laugh REALLY HARD... so hard, in fact, that I ended up peeing my pants. I had a trail all across our room, through the hallway and into our bathroom, where I sat, still laughing hysterically. To make matters worse, he brings me a maxi pad and says "we don't have diapers yet, but do you need this to help you?"

Words of wisdom from a moron...

Make sure to read the label when purchasing "Cherry Cider". I cannot stress this enough. Take it a step further and confirm, that it is in fact, Cherry Cider before pouring it into your glass and drinking it. Only to find out that it is Cherry Cider's ugly-"tastes like death"-stepsister..."Cranberry Cider" *harf*

I abhor Cranberry Juice, so you can imagine my reaction to Cranberry Cider. What's really sad, is that I didn't notice the label until I had this crap in my mouth. Lesson learned...nah,let's be honest, I'll probably pull the same stunt in two weeks.

Flashback #3

We used to live in Utah...specifically, near Hill AFB. Needless to say, there was a lot of air traffic. This is a repost (copy/paste job) from an old live journal entry I posted Dec. 8, 2006. K was 6, S was 3 and Z was 1.

If there's a hell...I'm going. Especially after today. I lied to my child. I didn't just lie. I lied about Santa. Yes, I realize that telling them about Santa is a lie in itself, but I do think Santa teaches a lesson. Not one about your parents lying to you, but about giving and kindness. Also if you want people to be nice to you, you need to be nice to other people. So, for that reason, we incorporate Santa into our holiday celebrations. Anyway,S is a typical 3 year old boy. He's a pain most of the time, he's also loving and affectionate, but it's mostly all about destroying things, antagonizing his sisters and pushing the limits that J and I set. He's a 3 year old boy. Anyway, I had tried before to explain to him that if he doesn't listen to what mommy and daddy say, Santa probably won't bring him a race car for Christmas. He didn't seem to care. Today while we were getting ready to go to Sam's Club, I decided to try a new tactic. I told him about how "Santa knows" How Santa knows if you've been naughty or good,that he can see everything you do (ok, so I invoked a little Jesus fear there, I'm going to hell anyway, does it really matter?!) Well being the little smart ass he is (yes, I am aware that he is my child.) He said that if he hid,Santa couldn't see him. So he went and hid under J's computer desk. I said "oh S...Santa can still see you. Santa wears special glasses that help him see everything" Anyway, we got out to the van and he was alright, but by the time we arrived at Sam's Club he was acting up a little bit. I said "S,remember...Santa knows". At that very moment, I heard the jets coming in from bombing practice. I gasped and said "oh S! Do you HEAR that?! what's that sound? do you think that's Santa's sleigh or do you think it's just a silly jet?". His eyes got SO WIDE! he said "where's Santa mommy?". I said "I'm not sure, I wonder if he was flying by to do a 'spot check', just to see if you're being really good" He said "I can HEAR him mommy but i can't SEE him. Where IS he?". I said "oh honey,sometimes Santa's sleigh flies so fast you can't see it...sometimes you can only hear it". Oh my bob... he BELIEVED ME! he fell for it hook, line and sinker. I am so proud of myself. I thought I was going to have to resort to telling him that Santa was going to club seals with Baby Jesus or something. Man, oh man, even if he's only well behaved for the rest of today...that trip to hell is going to be SO worth it.

FYI

I've added a bunch of older stories that were posted on my personal Facebook page. So, if you have the time and the desire, be sure to check them out :)

My Murphy's Law Morning

This morning, I swear, was just a comedy of errors. Ten minutes before it's time for me to take the older two kids to school, my six year old son pipes up

S: mommy...we forgot to do my homework!

Me: you had homework?! why didn't tell me that on Friday, when I asked?!

S: I forgot. If I don't get it done, I have to stay in at recess *eyes well up with tears*

Me: *grrr* ok, get your socks and shoes on really quick, so we can get this done.

He proceeds to dawdle *face palm*.

Me: S get your shoes on, otherwise we can't get this done

S: but I'll miss recess! *sniffles*

Me: then get moving

S: *sobbing* you don't love me

Me: dude, seriously, just get the shoes on.

He finally puts his shoes on and we sit down to do his homework. He's in 1st grade, so I was thinking that his homework wasn't going to be anything more complicated than the homework he's had for the past few weeks. I was wrong. It wasn't really complicated, it just wasn't figuring out what time it is on the analog clock pictures. Nooooooooooooo, we have to find a penny. In the age of debit cards, I'm sorry to say, but we don't have a lot of change lying around, much less a penny. I start digging through the depths of my purse (see hell) and find a penny between a used tissue and some "way past it's prime" chewing gum. Question #1: What is on the front of the penny?  The answer of course is Lincoln's head. My son can't spell "Lincoln". I write it out for him on another piece of paper. He still has problems. Seeing that we have 3 minutes before the tardy bell rings, I grab the pencil and write in the answer (leaving a note at the top, for the teacher). I ask him what's on the back, for question #2, he tells me "a building". Well, he's in 1st grade, I doubt he'll know that it's the Lincoln Memorial. I tell him what the building is called and I write it in. thinking we're home free, I read the next set of instructions. Naturally, there are pictures of dominoes at the bottom...we have to cut them out and paste them to the back of the paper and write the number of dots below each domino. It is at this point, I start to wonder just how early is "too early" to start drinking. I then remind myself that I don't drink and start to entertain the idea of taking up a new hobby called "Mommy drinks". I quickly cut out the dominoes, paste them onto the back of the page and we get the homework done with, I kid you not, 1 minute to spare. I tell the kids to get their jackets (it was a little cool this morning) so we could head to school. They'll be tardy, but not much. S gets his on, with no problem, my oldest on the other hand...

Me: K get your jacket

K: I don't know where it is *turning around in circles, looking up at the ceiling*

Me: *rolling eyes* look in the closet, where it belongs.

K: *runs up to her room*

Me: *standing at the bottom of the stairs with my jaw hanging open and thinking "F*CK ME!"*

K: *comes downstairs with her 4 year old sister's jacket on*

Me: are you freaking KIDDING me?!

K: *upset* i can't find it!

Me: *open the hall closet door, exposing her hanging jacket*

K: *still upset* I'm sorry *sniffling*

Me: It's fine, just put your jacket on, so we can go.

K: I don't want to mess my hair up

Me: *bashing head against wall*

She finally gets her hoodie on and we head out the door. The Principal greets us at the walk up. She tells me they're fine, not to worry about the Tardy. I silently thank her, because I have to race back home to get Z ready for preschool. I get Z ready and off to school without too many problems. I then decide to treat myself to a Pumpkin Spice Latte from Starbucks. I figure I've earned it (it's like a happy dance in your mouth!). I drive the mile and a half to Starbucks and there is nobody.in.line! *squeeeee*. I pull up to the intercom.

Starbucks employee: Good Morning and welcome to Starbucks, may I interest you in a Pumpkin Spice Latte today?

Me: *all smiles* yes! you can! I would like *opens wallet to pull out debit card* .....CRAP! ...sorry about that. I seem to have left my debit card at home..i'll have to drive through and come back in a bit.

Starbucks Employee: NOOOOOOOOOO PROBLEM!

Now, I can't back up and leave, because six...count them....six cars are now behind me. I pull forward and realize that there's a woman that was at the window already. I wait....and wait....and wait....they hand her a latte and her change. I wait...and wait...and wait...they hand her a tray full of fraps and latte's and she FINALLY leaves. I drive past the window, smile and wave and leave. I get back home, race inside to get my debit card (which btw was not in my wallet because I took it out, when we went to the zoo, yesterday) and race back out to the car and drive back to Starbucks (hey, I REALLY needed that latte now). There is a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG LINE, now. Of COURSE, there is, because THIS.IS.MY.LIFE! I wait, patiently, and when I get to the window I decide that I want a sausage sandwich, in addition to my Pumpkin Spice Latte.

Me: ...and I'd like a Sausage Sandwich

Starbucks Employee: ....oh, sorry we're out of those this morning

Me: *thinking: of COURSE you are!* oh, that's ok, i'll just have the latte, thanks.

Ok, no big, I'll just go to McDonald's and get a Sausage Egg McMuffin (save me your "ew", you heard the Starbucks Employee, they.were.OUT!). I get my coffee, joke around with the barista while waiting for my "brain in a cup" and head down the street to McD's. I order a Sausage Egg McMuffin, I pay for a Sausage Egg McMuffin. I get home and notice a squirrel stuck on the small roof above our front porch. We have a split level house. There is a small roof above our front porch and then our big, main floor roof, just above that and a little balcony off to the side. Anyway, the squirrel is stuck on the lower roof. He sees me and starts to go beserk "OMG, HUMAN. HUMAN WILL EAT ME!" and starts racing around the little patch of roof. Now, I'm thinking "squirrel dude, just hop onto the balcony, climb up onto the lawn chair and hop onto the roof". He's still pacing. I get out of the car, because my breakfast is going to get cold if I sit there any longer. I open the door and the squirrel shoots up into the air and onto the upper roof. I guess if you're motivated enough...
I get inside and sit down to eat my breakfast. There sits a Sausage Egg BISCUIT.

...and that, your honor, is when my drinking problem began.

I should be smacked.

I went to the store to get a box of popcorn. On my way out of the aisle I almost ran into a rather large woman on a motorized cart. She smiled at me (with many missing front teeth) and I said "oh I’m sorry" and moved out of her way. I’m standing in line in the express lane, thinking about my husband’s late stepmother (I don’t know why). The woman comes up behind me and says "I really hate to ask you this, but could you give me a ride down to X and Y street?”.  There were a million reasons why I should have said "NO", but I looked at her and found myself saying "yeah, sure!" and smiling all while the little voice(s) in my head are screaming "what the FRIG are you doing?!" and "oh my hell I’m so totally going to end up on the news". I tell her that I will meet her at the door. As I walk over to the entrance of the store, there is an older woman wearing a KU t-shirt. She sees that I’m wearing a KU t-shirt and starts to talk about the game today, all while I hide my driver’s license, my debit card and HSA card in my bra (I paid for my popcorn with cash) and wait for the woman. We get to the car (we have a Prius and I made sure to keep the keys IN MY POCKET) And she says "oh, can you take me to Name of Gas Station (gas station that's across the street from the store). I say "ok" and I open the hatch for her to put her stuff in the back of the car. We get into the car and OH MY BOB, the stench coming off of this woman was horrible and I was thankful that I had the a/c turned on HIGH, blasting it away from my face. I wait, while she runs into the gas station to get her cigarettes and make sure that the air is coming IN to the car and not just circulating any more *harf*. She gets back into the car and we’re off. We get half way down the street and she sees her husband, who apparently decided to look for her. Thinking that this is the end of my nightmare ride, I pull into the school parking lot. She says “he can just get in on this side, right?” and she’s pointing to the passenger side of the back. I’m thinking “what the hell?!”. I nod, like the moron that I clearly am. She says “by the way my name is D”, I smile and give her my first name (not the name I answer to) and turn to greet her husband. He had one eye, not sure what happened to the other one, but he also had bottle capped glasses on. I felt that if they DID decide to kill me, I would probably survive. I continue down the street and drop them off in one of the...let's say, not as well kept and maybe a halfway house type building. They get out and tell me “God Bless You”, which makes me feel like crap for thinking the worst. The entire time my heart was pounding. I make it home and it's been ten minutes and I’m STILL shaking and mentally kicking my own ass for having said "yes" in the first place. I did fess up and tell my husband and my parents. I didn't even have my cell phone on me, which was how stupid I was. I generally believe that the majority of people are good people, despite appearances (and in this case, smell), but in this day and age, it just doesn't seem like the smart thing to do...giving strangers rides home. I likely won’t do it again and I’m, obviously, glad that this had a good ending. Again, I still don’t know why I said “yes”. Stupid…stupid…stupid.

Flashback #2

One evening, my (then) boyfriend and I went to Target to check out the clearance racks. Upon entering the store my boyfriend turned to me....

BF: I have to use the bathroom

Me: well, then, GO

BF: nah, I can hold it.

We walk back to the men's section and he finds some jeans to try on and I wander off to the women's section. About five minutes after we split up, this blur that was my boyfriend came whizzing by, hurling jeans at me and all I caught was the word "bathroom" as he raced out of sight. Chuckling and shaking my head, I went back to browsing. About ten minutes later, I hear my name being called over the intercom, asking me to come to the service desk. Thinking that he couldn't find me, I walked towards the desk, but didn't see him...so I began to wander around the store looking for him. Again, I hear my name called over the intercom. This time I walk up to the service desk and tell them that I was paged. This guy, who I didn't know, walks up to me and asks me if I'm BF's girlfriend. I say "yes". The poor guy, obviously, is trying hard not to laugh, and says "your boyfriend had an accident". It then dawns on me....he.shit.his.pants. I smile and say "oh my god, he shit his pants, didn't he? it's ok, you can laugh. did he?". The guy dies and while wiping tears from his eyes he says "yes" and that I need to buy a pair of pants for my boyfriend. I take the pair of jeans in my arms and pay for them and go to the men's room door. I knock and slowly open the door and call for my boyfriend.

Me: BF???

BF: come in here, do you have the pants?

Me: I can't come in there, I'll get in trouble and yes, I have the pants.

BF: *hobbling to the door with only a football jersey on* thank you

I hand him the pants and wait. He comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later and BOLTS out of the store, red faced. I make my own purchases and head out to the parking lot, where he's understandably upset.

Me: what the hell happened?!

BF: I thought I could hold it

Me: apparently NOT

BF: shut UP! I was fine, until I started trying on the pants. Then I felt the "inner push" and thought I could make it. I was squeezing so tight. I made it to the bathroom and into the stall and was fine, until....

Me: what? what???

BF: I bent over to pull my pants down and it just shot out of me all over the wall, behind me, all over the toilet seat and the floor. Oh my god I'm so embarrassed.

Needless to say...he missed his "target" *rim shot*

Flashback #1

Occasionally, I'll have to bore whomever reads this blog with a memory. The first one that comes to mind, took place my freshman year of high school. My close friend, M, was one of our neighbors. She lived in the house behind ours. I was always terrified of our back alley at night. Knowing that some dog or, worse, some bad boogieman would be lurking in the shadows just waiting to kill me dead. So, just like any other night, I raced home across the alley and just as I had crossed the alley into my backyard....FLEW through the air because I had forgotten about the pile of sticks my mom had placed by our garage...and landed on my face...no, slid across the yard on my face. Needless to say, the next day I had a huge "strawberry" on the right side of my face, prompting several school mates to ask what happened. Then upon hearing what happened, felt the need to tell me what I already knew...that I was a dumbass.

Crap

This morning I stumbled out of bed, came downstairs and opened the back door so our dog could go out for his morning potty session. Unfortunately, I failed to check the floor before opening the door, and as a result, managed to smear a fresh pile of dooky boom boom all over the carpet. Good times.

Crappy Drive

The following story, took place on our last trip to Utah to visit with my husband's family.

Well the drive from hell is over. if anyone knows of a way to move Utah closer to Kansas...please, let me know. We left the house at 7:30am. After getting breakfast and my all important coffee, we were able to leave Topeka at 7:45am. I drove the first leg through wind, heavy rain and lightning from Topeka to (a little past) Hays. After that, it was smooth sailing for the most part. We stopped a couple of times for potty breaks for me and Brody (the kids had the potty chair, they were good to go). Apparently, Brody decided to spend more time sniffing around than making sure he was done going to the bathroom. You guessed it. Just outside of Burlington, CO, Brody dropped a deuce on his dog bed…in.the.van! It wasn't so much that Brody crapped, it was J's (hubby) reaction to Brody crapping. I could never adequately describe just how funny it/he was, so I’ll just say you had to be there. I will say this though; it is VERY hard to drive when you are laughing hysterically with tears running down your face. It really wasn’t a big deal until J decided to roll down his window and circulate the stench, so that ALL of us could smell it. I pulled off of the interstate and we scooped his poo out of the van. J picked up the wrong end of the dog bed and got a handful of crap on his hand. I had my back turned, but the sound of him saying "oh my GOD! I HAVE SHIT ON MY HAND!" was enough to alert me to what had happened. He then asked me where the baby wipes were. I ALWAYS pack baby wipes. However, this time I gave him a blank stare and he said "you're freaking kidding me right? Out of all of the things you could forget, you forgot the baby wipes?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” keep in mind, he's still doing this icky ew nasty dance with crap on his hands and I continued laughing at him. "Stop laughing, it's not funny!"...actually, yeah it really kind of is. We had a jug of water with us, so he was fine after a little bath on the side of the road. Brody, on the other hand was cowering in the tall grass that the prairie is famous for. Then J grabbed the leash, just as I said "DON’T" and...you guessed it...he got more crap on his hands. It was just a comedy of errors that is STILL funny this morning. We got back in the van and of course there were a ton of flies in there trying to figure out where that delectable smell was coming from. Well, they soon gave up the hunt for the fresh Brody pie and hovered over on J's side of the window. Keep in mind; I’m now driving down the road while he's being attacked by flies. He opens the window and manages to get half of them out...the other half? All flew back into his face. He said to me, "whatever you do, don't just roll down the window thinking you're gonna get them all out, they'll do this (careens his head and body around to slam into my shoulder)". One of the reasons I adore my husband is his ability to make me laugh...hard. I’m always joking that I keep him around for the laughs and honestly, that's not too far from the truth.
The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. we had the usual, telling the kids to stop fighting/touching each other/looking at each other/breathing the same air/stop putting your feet on the dog/what the hell is that on your face-floor-seat. J took over the wheel at Ft. Collins and we stopped in Laramie to get gas and didn't stop again until Little America.
Z's pants were wet from having spilled water in her seat. So I took her around to the back of the van to get her a clean pair of shorts and underwear. She proceeded to drop trou in the parking lot *face palm*. I got her pants back up and we went into the bathroom, K in tow. K went into her own stall and Z and I shared one. I told K to stand outside of my stall when she was done (I’m paranoid when it comes to public places, my kids and kidnapping). Z apparently didn't hear me tell K this. When K jiggled the handle Z said "mommy, someone's trying to break in! GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR MISTER!” cue hysterical giggling from the other side of the door. After we returned to the van, it was smooth sailing, for the most part. We arrived to our destination around 11:15pm CDT/10:15pm MDT.

So there you have it. a trip, that I’m sure will probably only be remembered as "the time that Brody crapped in the van", but at least it'll be memorable

What IS that smell?!

We had an accident last week with the Prius. While we were both bringing groceries inside, after our trip to Sam's Club, we both forgot about the milk jugs on the floor in front of the backseat. Since it felt like a bazillion degrees last week, well...the jug split and milk spilled onto the carpet. Confident that we'd caught it within an hour or two of it happening and knowing that both jugs weren't empty (one was half empty, the other, not even 1/4 empty), I sucked it up out of the carpet, shampooed and let it dry. It no worky worky. We took it down to the carwash to have them detail the car, they gave us additional instructions...still the smell of dead milk persisted. This morning, I'd had enough. I pulled the carpet up to see where exactly the ick was. It was in the pad under the carpet. Thankfully the pad under the carpet comes right out. It.was.disgusting. I got the hose and saturated the pad, then i walked and jumped on it, so as to get as much of the ick out as possible. I, then, worked some carpet/upholstery shampoo into it, more hopping and walking to agitate and then rinsed. It was much better, but still....so i repeated. the smell was almost gone, but alas, I was out of carpet shampoo. So I doused the pad with vinegar, repeated and thoroughly rinsed. the pad is now hanging in the sun, drying. I shampooed the carpet on that spot, yet again and left the door open and windows down, so it could air dry in the garage. Hopefully the smell will be gone, or at least most of the way gone. lesson learned...ALWAYS make sure ALL of your groceries are brought into the house. Especially when the forecast calls for HOT weather.

Go ahead, laugh. I did...after I cried.

Cletus they c'aint see us!

Yesterday, while sitting at the proctologist's office (hubby had a follow up colonoscopy. Get your pooper's checked, people!), there was a large man wearing a camouflaged tank top and a camouflaged hunting cap. Now, I'm not a hunter...so maybe I'm not up to speed on these things, but isn't the whole idea of camouflage to blend into your surroundings? If he's in the woods, does he really think nobody's going to notice his blinding white arms in the forest? It's stupid, I know,but I had to stifle an unladylike snort and some giggles when I saw him.

...I'm easily entertained.

Mirror...FAIL

I was in Bed Bath & Beyond yesterday and wandered over to the mirrors. I started kicking myself for forgetting to bring my camera phone. Well, today I had to return for something else and I had my phone with me :D

Enjoy!



Just in case you thought the first one was a fluke...

So THAT'S how the schools get playground equipment

I should wear my hearing aids more often...

Ok, so this morning I was telling K and S that they each had a Ziploc bag with box tops in their backpacks. That they needed to give them to their teachers when they get to school, for the box top contest.

On the way to school the following conversation transpires...

S: Mommy, Mrs. H said that if we get enough box tops we can maybe get new playground equipment (they need new equipment, believe me)
K: ooooooooooooo that would be nice.
Me: that would be awesome

a few seconds pass...

K: how do they do that?
S: do what?
K: get equipment from the box tops
S: they take aaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllll of the box tops out to the playground and plant them...and after a couple of days the playground equipment grows big and strong so we can play on them!

I was laughing so hard I didn't even hear K's reply. I finally said "S, honey, that's not how they get equipment. They turn in the box tops for money and then buy the equipment". K started laughing hysterically, I thought she was going to wet herself.

Anyway, that's my "kids funny" for the day.

This must be how cavemen felt

After much discussion and debate over what to do with our see through fireplace...we decided to purchase a gas log set. We didn't want to spend $1300 on the pretty ones designed specifically for see through fireplaces (we're cheap), nor did we want to burn wood (natural gas burns cleaner). Instead we decided that we'd just get a regular vent free gas log set (so we could use it w/ the damper closed, thus keeping our heat). Yes, it would look ducky on the flat back side, but we could get some loose ceramic logs or even some of our Ogden Canyon rocks we brought from Utah. We'd make it pretty. Who's going to see it besides us and my parents? We don't get a lot of visitors and we're not the "entertaining" type.

J and I set to work on installing the gas log set in the fireplace. We figured with his college degree and my infinite brilliance, we could install it, no problem. Then there was a problem. After two hours of installing it and running off for parts that were not included. It.would.not.ignite. We were up until almost 1am troubleshooting. We finally gave up and went to bed.

I woke up this morning, determined to get this stinking thing to work. I tried match lighting... no go. I then decided that the gas was the problem. I unhooked the set and the flexible gas hose. with my trusty cup of soapy water, I set to work, step by step, to see where the gas wasn't getting to the pilot light. to make a long story even longer, the problem was not our gas set up. The problem was the gas log set itself. The gas was getting to the set, it just wasn't going through the log set. I finally told J that he would have to take it back, because it didn't work. He called Lowe's and told them,they tried to troubleshoot over the phone. It didn't work. I told him to let them know that pieces were missing and that it was likely a return in the first place. He took it back. Brought back another set. Opened it up, no hex wrench. Naturally the hex wrench required is one that is a specialty size and didn't exist in the hex set that we owned. we took the gas log grate out, there was paint chipped on the backside. you could TELL it was a return. We rolled our eyes, sighed and put everything back into the box. It was suggested that I take it back, since I'm the more assertive of the two (that's a nice way of saying I'm a bitch, I think.), but as I pointed out, I am missing the all important dangly bits between my legs for them to take my seriously and not brush me off as another "mindless" woman. So, the love of my life has gone back to Lowe's. Hopefully to just get our money back, so we can go elsewhere.

I suppose I could just place our money in the fireplace and burn it instead. At least then I'd have a flame.