Monday, February 27, 2006

"It should be called Two-thousand Sucks, not 2006"

-- Shawn, on the state of the year thus far for the York family.

We woke up this morning to Pink Eye for Shawn and Jax. Nothing like two sick men-childs to make you wish you were not a SAHM.

The vasectomy is hereby OFF, because Shawn says he doesn't want to tempt fate, what with all the great Karma we've been receiving lately.

I have a feeling it has more to do with that little laser around his family jewels than it is about Karma, but whatever.

Saturday, February 25, 2006

All the Tomball with none of the Mall Hair

I do so love it when a friend comes to visit and gets to see my family in action. I cannot tell you how many times I am asked whether or not I exaggerate (please) the things that happen here, and while I am so very flattered that you all think I have that kind of excellent imagination, alas, I'm afraid it is all very true. Sometimes a little too true.

I finally got Shah (MeShah!) to come visit this weekend. Actually, her brother's baseball tournament was the real reason, but it got her here none-the-less, and who am I to hold a grudge? ( shut it)

Right. So, as per terms of the marriage agreement we signed, because I suffered through that horrendous birthday party for his buddy's kid, he was obliged to come with me and the kids to watch the baseball game Friday night. You'd think this would be something he'd be jumping to do -- good old school ball, cheap entry, great seats, blah blah blah. What you are forgetting is that now he has been on steroids for, like, 2 weeks, and if I ever had doubt about the realities of Roid Rage, I certainly don't now.

Ryan, on the other hand was jumping at the bit. All she needed to hear was that we were going to watch a guy named Ryan play baseball, and she was all over it like white trash on Britney Spears.

I was actually getting excited about it as well, even aside from the fact (or maybe a little bit because) they were playing the school I first taught at, wherein I met one of the only 2 people I've known in my life that I would swear on a bible are actually descendents of Satan himself -- that would be my old boss, a man who encompasses Napolean's Small Man Complex with flair.

A chance to watch my Alma Mater kick his High School's ass? Where do I sign up?

Plus, you know, I like to show off the kids whenever people will let us come around them with our children in tow. Which doesn't happen a lot.

I had no idea Ryan would have quite as much fun as she did, or that I would feel sooo in my element. I've been removed from the Tomball Bunch for about 10 years, and although I only knew about 3 of the people in the crowd, I was with my people.

Let me put it this way: There was Ryan in her camo cargos and Lynyrd Skynyrd tee, making best friends with another little girl named Rylan who was wearing a John Deere hoodie. I actually think there may be a Tomball gene, and these girls both possess it. They played with dirt, ran around, and had the kind of fun I remember having at the ballpark as a kid. Well, except for the fact that Ryan started screaming to everyone, "I WANT TO KISS HARRY POTTER!!!", and then brought me a pinecone and asked, "What is this?" (Which is so so sad to Shawn and me, coming from eastern Texas and all)

The fans of course ate it up. She was amongst her people as well, and they were welcoming her with open arms.

Needless to say, Tomball won, Ryan waited like a little groupie to meet the infamous Ryan the Baseball Player, and then totally shied away when asked if she would kiss his boo-boo (he cut his chin and needed stitches, but a kiss from Ry could cure anything). Later that night as I was putting her to bed, the last thing she asked was, "Mommy, how did they know to have bandaids there for Ryan's boo-boo?"

Uh-oh. We may have our first real crush on our hands, which would actually be very funny seeing as how my first real crush was on this kid's older brother. Ahh yes, the infamous Robby....

Sorry, back to the story.

Anyway, today Renee came over to visit for a while before heading back to H-town, and I am sooo glad she did. She is one of my oldest and dearest friends, reads the blog daily, and got to see first-hand the crazy I describe here every day.

She got to see Ryan pull out the joke pair of red fur-lined handcuffs I got for 1.99 at HEB for Shawn's valentine's gift from the closet and ask, "Mommy, are you ever gonna play with these?"
Then she got to hear me answer, "Probably not, Baby." *sigh* "Probably not."

Color me mortified.

She got to see Jax's slam-dance table manners first hand, as well as his unnerving ability to flirt with his eyes and bring a grown woman to her knees. As she was leaving, she even commented, "I'm really sad to go. I'm gonna miss all the flirting." I'm pretty sure she was smitten.

But best of all, she got to see ME seeing this:

Ryan's idea of a red carpet, which she then walked down very ceremoniously before giving us a tour of the rest of the rooms upstairs:

I'm thinking Shah finally got it, because all she could do was look at me and give me a great big hug. Eventually, she said, "Wow, so this really is normal for you."

This surprising comment from the gal who listened to me lament in 7th grade over what a mess my life was (7th grade, peeps), and how surely one day I would end up with 6 kids and married to a biker named Snake. You'd think she of all people would have at least expected as much, but no; we continue to mystify and will not stop until we've conquered the WORLD.

circa 1988. I'm the huge forehead standing in the background without eyebrows or lips. Just for clarification.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Pillow Talk

Ryan and I were just cozying up on the pull-out bed downstairs around midnight (she had had multiple nightmares, Daddy wanted to actually sleep, and Mommy's legs stick out 2 feet off Ry's bed). As we are snuggling, she turns to me and whispers, "I'm sorry, Mommy."

"Sorry for what, baby?"
"For putting glue on the car."

At this point I'm thinking this is a rollover from her nightmare.

"What do you mean? When did you put glue on the car?"
"Yesterday. I was just trying to fix Cinderella."

Fix Cinderella? What's wrong with her? And what did putting glue on the car have to do with anything? Too many questions, not enough answers, and certainly not enough sleep.

*Nice deep cleansing breath*

"Okay, well why don't we start by determining real/pretend. Are you making this up or did you really do that?" With this kid, you never know.

"Oh, I did it!"
"Okay. Where did you get glue?"
"From the table in the garage where we made our Halloween Monsters." Oh, is that still there?
"Uh-huh. And where on the car did you put the glue?"
"On the door."
"You put the glue inside the door?"
"No. On the outside of the door. Like, where it's black."
"Right. Like on the PAINT?"

*Extra-deep breath*

"Ryan. Elizabeth. York. I do not want to know why. But I want you to know this: If your Dad finds out, you will be in a world of trouble."
"But I just wanted to see what would happen --"
"Stop. You are gonna be so dead."
(giggling) "Well I'm not gonna tell him. Are you?"

*sigh* "No."

(gasp) "I knew you loved me, Mom!"

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Tales from the Crib

So many stories, so little writing ability.

Let's see, would you like to hear the one about Jesus calling our house last night? What about Jax's new slam-dance dinner manners? There's always the one where Ryan pretends to be Tinkerbell and almost kills her brother...hmmm....

...OOH! What about the story where Ryan lead a pack of kids around the 1st floor of the library today in search of Santa Claus, interrupting both a Chamber of Commerce meeting and a private meeting with the sherriff and the mayor?

There's always the one about Jaxson crawling over and on top of moms and kids alike at storytime (while yelling), as his MOTY could only look on in dismay because she was stuck directly underneath the movie projector and, you, know, didn't want to disrupt anyone. else.

Or we could go with the one about Ryan's pushing debacle at the Y.

Like I said, so many stories...

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Pretty In Pink

Well, some of you must have been sending word to the man above, pleading for some good ole fashioned let's- laugh- at- the- York- family's- predicaments- humor, and boy howdy, did he deliver! (Christ. Did I just say Boy Howdy??)

Anyway, yesterday was one of our classic days, invloving poop, social blunders, funny quotes, and as always, motherly un-preparedness. These are, afterall, the necessary ingredients for a classic York Day recipe.

Okay, it actually started Monday morning when I again met with my trainer, aka:The Grim Reaper. Not only did he put me through an incredibly rigorous workout, rivaled only by medieval torture tactics, he also banned me from alcohol. Ha. ha ha ha ha hahahahahahahha. (This is me laughing, crying, wailing, in sheer terror.)

Right. So deep breath and all that jive, I can handle it, I'm a GROWNUP. Sometimes.

Anyway, the day went well, bowling (or not), dentist appointments (wherein Ryan refused to keep her legs still, knocking her feet together to the chagrin of the dental assistant who valiantly kept calm and sweet as she asked Ry every 2 minutes to "Please keep still, honey." When the dentist arrived, all the DA could say was, "We better get going on this one. She's full of energy today." Then they looked at me funny as I shrieked with laughter, a crazy look in my eyes, intermittingly spurting "Today? TODAY?")

Dinner time arrived and all hell broke loose. Well, actually, I got nauseous, dizzy, and Shawn of course became the lovable, supportive husband he is and demanded, "ARE YOU PREGNANT????"

We still don't know what it was; a stomach bug, food poisoning, etc.., but I was in bed at 7pm with fever, chills, barfing all throughout the night. I actually owe a lot to hubbykins, seeing as how he fed, changed, and put the kids to bed all without nary a gripe or curse word. The brainwashing must be working.

Then morning came and I wished I was dead, but unfortunately, I am MOTY, so I had to put on a happy face and well, face the world. Lucky for me, I had Ryan who was sooo Nurse Nancy, asking me if I needed anything, telling me not to worry, "I'll feed Jax and get him dressed, Mommy." If only.

While Ry was at gymnastics, I put Jax in the nursery, swallowed some Ibuprofen, and found a quiet spot to lay down. By the end of her lesson, I was feeling better, but apparently it was the calm before the storm. As I picked Jax up, I saw that he had diarrheaed (?) all over his outfit, which of course, was the only one we had with us, going into a morning of errand-running. (See, this is where the poop and unpreparedness come into play.)

Never fear, any Mom with cash on hand and a nearby Target can solve this problem, which is what we did, but only after receiving numerous glares from other moms as I carted my naked-except-for-his-sister's-jacket son around, chasing that "energetic" daughter of mine. Bribery, naturally came into the mix, as I promised the purchase of a Tinkerbell cami/panty set if she would JUST STAY BY ME.

An hour later (after 3 trips to the potty, one involving massive amounts of toilet paper), we were back in the car and on to our next stop, a fave of all mommies - the Post Office. Just envision Amy trying to fill out a UPS overnight envelope, juggling keys and purse, yelling at Ryan all while lugging an almost-25- pound chunky butt (his, not mine) in arms SCREAMING with pain from previous date with the Devil. It did get better, though, after I found a picture on the wall for Ryan to sit and talk to. (And talk she did -- gestures and all.)

We made it out of there in about 30 minutes, then ventured on to the grocery store, breezed through there, and because of the weather and traffic, I opted to drive the back way home, through 2 neighborhoods. Although this route is a tad bit longer, we avoid fast-moving, angry Texans in big trucks, and with the way the day was going thus far, I figured this was our best bet. About 3 minutes into the trip home, Ry announces, "Umm, Mom? I think we're lost." To which I responded with a 5-minute explanation of alternate driving routes, the importance of automobile safety, and will you please just sit back and be quiet???

That's when I turned around and noticed her eye. You know, THE PINK ONE.

Yep. Pink Eye. Sweet.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Little Miss Can't Be Wrong

We took the kids bowling yesterday and afterwards asked Ryan how she like it.

"I didn't really."
"Why not?"
"Oh, well, you know. The ball goes too slow."

How right she was. Twice we had to get someone to retrieve her bowling ball as it got stuck in the middle of the lane. But to say it was her fault for not pushing hard enough? Pshaw. How dare you even think it!

She's beginning to show this prissy disregard for her contribution in sports a lot lately.

She was putting up a fight about going to biddy ball last weekend, and when we asked her why she didn't want to play, she primly declared, "Because the other team always wins."

As if their winning or her team's losing had nothing to do with her in the slightest, other than she does not get to reap the benefits of being on the winning team. You'd never be able to tell it, though. Every time the other team scored and the parents cheered, there she was, smiling demurely, bowing, and waving to the crowd.

Even when she loses, she wins.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

The Incredible Spotted Man

So we're on the last day of Shawn's antibiotic treatment for his chronic snot-stuff, when all of a sudden I look over at him today and declare, "What the hell happened to your face?!?"

Yes, my friends, it appears Shawn has contracted Jax's HYPOCHONDRIACAL medi-rash. He is covered, nay, swarming with hundreds of little red bumps, to which he responds, "So that's why I've been itchy all day."

And to think, I had just convinced my weary friend Shah that it was finally safe to come visit.

I don't know what the hell is going on here, but I have a sinking suspicion that there are cameras hidden here filming a secret Twilight Zone episode.

As long as we can get a cut of the residuals, I'm cool with it.

P.S. Not that I'm worried about your judgments of me or anything (really, I'm not), I have been trying to get Shawn to take meds all day long, and he is the one stalling. Plus, apparently this rash also gives him wretched gas so I've been holed up all alone upstairs for fear of the smell and possible resulting gag-reflex. Yes, IT IS MY WORLD.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

There I go again...

...committing social blunders throughout the world, even in virtual-reality land.

Check out this post. Be sure you read the comments that follow, and then sit back, roll your eyes, and remember to thank the good Lord that you are NOT me.

(P.S. -- I'm the one they call "robertsgirl1", in case you needed the help, though since you are not me, you probably won't. Okay. I'll shut up now.)

Friday, February 17, 2006

Just call me Buggy

Isn't she "just the luckiest little girl in the whole world"?

Can I just brag on my man for a sec? Although he totally missed on his assignment to get something for Jax, as I had already scored a super-cheap V-day gift for Ry weeks ahead, he won big points for ordering Ry these gorgeous tulips ON HIS OWN, having them delivered and everything. She was swooning. Wouldn't let them leave her grasp, only putting them in the vase when we mentioned "picture". When in doubt, always appeal to the vanity.

Whatever, Ry. I got something I won't even be able to wear for at least 3 more months, so...there!

Wednesday, February 15, 2006


So Jax woke up with a dirty diaper today, and while I was changing him on the floor, he wiggled and smeared poo everywhere. (Linksys has taken over the changing table)

"Why can't we just have a normal day?", I asked Shawn.
"Baby, this is normal," he responded.
"Oh. Yeah. "

No wonder I need Prozac to make it through the day. Woudn't you, if you knew this is what you faced every day for the next 18 years?

I really should just go ahead accept it and move on. We don't need a child-proofed house, we need an us-proof house.

Need some reasons to justify the mood I'm in? Indulge, please...

Ryan has poured lotion all over my sheets today, we've had the carpet incident, all of the window shades in our car have been pulled off (even the back one -- that still amazes me, btw). The neighbors gave Ryan a picture of the three of them playing together for Valentines Day. So sweet, except for the purple lip gloss she JUST WON'T STOP WIPING ON HER EYES. Jax bangs his head on the computer desk at least 3 times a day EVERY SINGLE DAY. I've put up bumpers and blockades and he still finds a way to slam his head on the desk. And then he wails as if he's just been totally flumoxed and insulted by this inanimate object's desire to hurt him.

We went to lunch at a salad bar today with a friend who is pregnant with her 2nd child and stressing the issue of whether or not to keep working. As I shove 5 packs of graham crackers from the salad bar into my bag, she goes, "Oh, so that's how you afford to stay home."

We've been trying to ween Ryan off of sleeping in our bed every.single.night. Without causing a huge midnight scream-fest, and without making her feel unwanted, so we've been making her sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag, a technique referred by several moms. Problem? She's still coming in every night to sleep. The whole hard cold floor hasn't phased her in the least. In fact, it's just helping her come up with more ways to get in our bed. For instance, she knows that if she asks for help getting her pillow from her room, or opening her sleeping bag, that in my state of uuber-laziness, I will just give in and let her climb on in. Or, if she wails and moans, claiming to be "cold", again, she gets a pass. Her favorite technique is just to crawl in without asking or waking us, probably because she knows we won't find out until morning, and by then, who cares?

Jaxson has now been introduced to corporal punishment, and it's not doing anything but pissing me off even more and make him scream like a girl. He thinks he's created a game where he swats at the spoon every time I try to put food in his mouth, even when he's hungry. I suppose he's developed his sick sense of humor from somewhere, and at first it was funny until he started aiming the food in my face. Now I've been told that he tries to do it to the babysitters in the nursery when they are feeding other kids. I've gone the "No" route to no avail, so now I've started swatting his hands away every time he tries something. You've never seen a more insulted child in your life. He stares at me as if to say, "Pardon me? Who the hell do you think you are, you snarky excuse for a mother??" Then he gets that lower lip just a-goin', and WHAM, the flood gates open and we've now got a monsoon on our hands.
Not to mention the fact that the weather man just predicted "cold, dreary, gloomy weather" with no end in sight.
So try to cut me some slack when I say that you'll have to pardon what will likely be sporadic absences in my postings, unless you WANT me to become a pill-popping alcoholic mother. I've got a lot of slack to make up with the recent illnesses, and there is just so much to be done, that I'm not always able to find the funny. And rather than depress the hell out of everyone, I'll just sit tight until something truly hilarious occurs, or until I have another poop story to share, 'cause I know how much y'all love the poo.
Peace Out.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

It's no coincidence that Valentines Day = VD

Not much time to chat, as I have to rush to the store for pain meds. Had my first training session yesterday, after getting the green light from my podiatrist, and now I want to die.

My V-Day gift to Shawn? I let him take my "before" pics. I'm desperate like that.

His gift to me? Even after taking those horrendous photos, he still opted to get me lingerie.

All together now, "Aaaaawwwwwww". (Although I think a more fitting response would be, "Iiiiiiicccckkkkkkk!")

Not too loudly, though -- he doesn't know that I know. It wouldn't kill him to try to hide the surprise somewhere other than underneath Jax's car seat.

Ryan isn't that gung-ho over the holiday. She and I are on the same page with this one. If it doesn't involve blowing out candles or Santa Claus, what's the point?


Sunday, February 12, 2006

"I'm old now, Peter..."

"...far more than twenty." -- Wendy, Peter Pan

Anyone who elects to spend their 25th birthday with me, Menana and Ryan at Cathy Rigby's fairwell performance of Peter Pan deserves an entire post. And dammit, that's just what she's gonna get!

Congrats Ninny! Can you believe it's been an entire quarter-of-a-century? Do you know how many other things were born 25 years ago? Allow me to enlighten you:

Luke and Laura were married on General Hospital. Knowing your fetish with "the stories", I know you'll be excited to about that one. The other marriage of the year? Charles & Di. Did either of these unions last 25 years? Nope. But you did...

What else has lasted as long as ye old dinosaur? *ahem*:

Nutra Sweet

Other trends that went the way of the above happy couples?

You Can't Do That On Television, although somehow Alanis is still around.
Jellies. Oh. God.
The Smurfs. Truly, the greatest loss of all.

And some 1981 songs I'd like to dedicate to my baby sis?

Bette Davis Eyes
Don't Stop Believin'
Super Freak

Okay. That's pretty much all I could steal from Vh1, but here are a few more flashbacks with a more personal touch:

Remember that time I sat on you and peed? Damn, that was funny.
How about when Lea and I used to play cheerleader with you, throw you in the air, and then walk away? Again, classic.
Ooh Ooh! How much did you love it when I forced you to play "Cooking With Kiki" in the bathroom mirror? Or Kids Incorporated on the swimming pool steps?

Ahhhh, yes. Good times. Good times. I can see now why you wish you were young again.

P.S. You do know this is all payback for saying that at 25 you are "too young to be a mom", right?


Saturday, February 11, 2006

Just when you think you're golden, it turns out you're merely mustard-yellow

Ryan's game at 8 am this morning had us all shuffling bleary-eyed, trying to brush teeth, hair, etc, bright and early (read: before the sun). The game went as well as can be expected of a game of "soccer" played by 3 year old's, and afterwards we ventured to Cracker Barrel (or like Ry says, "Barrel of Crackers") for breakfast and scolding by old ladies. (We really shouldn't let Ryan pick up the toys Jax drops on the floor and hand them back to him. At least not without licking them off first. And yes, they should call CPS if they think this is the worst thing we do.)

Finally we managed to get the kids home and were so very excited at the prospect of naptime. Jax had already zonked out in the car, and surely Ry wanted to sleep -- she chose home over shopping, for the love of Nancy.

Ry opted for a movie, and Jax remarkably went down like a lead brick. The lag time between me putting him down and jumping into bed was like 5.6 seconds -- I know this kid, surely he would only be down for a mere 20, 30 minutes. I wanted to get in while the getting was good. My fearless counterpart had already reached snore status.

Can you even believe it? Jaxson Thomas slept for 2 1/2 hours. Holy Freakin' Mother of all that is Holy and Freakin'. God does love me.

Oh, hang on a sec -- never mind.

11 am: What's that, Ry? You want a new movie? *grrr* okay, done -- 'night!

11:15: What? you're bored? Take a nap, or play quietly in your room. We're trying to sleep and I don't want you to wake your bro.

11:20: I SAID QUIETLY!!!!!

11:30: Christ, Ryan, what now? Yes, I will come help you wipe. Those pancakes didn't sit so well, eh? That's okay, baby, just go play and stay quiet! (said in the MOST lovingly manner, I assure you).

11:40: Huh? *sniff sniff* What the ...? Good God, is that shit? all over you? Why is it on your eyelid? And your back? Where are your panties? Bless your heart. c'mon...don't wake Dad, and don't. touch. anything.

Lucky for her, Can't Buy Me Love AND Troop Beverly Hills were both on tv, so all was forgiven.

Friday, February 10, 2006

Nutshell, If You Please

Very well, then. To bring you up to speed, Shawn is suffering from Acutely Severe Chronic Sinus Infectionitis. More or less. The ENT called his Xrays "impressive", meaning he was impressed that Shawn was still up and about, functioning as a normal human, giving the severly compacted nature of his sinus cavities.

What to do, what to do? He's been prescribed Steroids and Antibiotics -- the drugs of choice in the York household. However thoughtful! Let's all hope they work, because should they fail Shawn faces surgery. Good Lord, can you imagine? That man having 2 operations within the course of 1 month? The Earth would surely spontaneously combust!

On the other side of town, it is dreadfully glum outside, so the children and I have spent the day thus far playing at the Y (they played; I hid out in the sauna, locker room, bathroom stalls, etc until the nannies finally found me to demand I take my bugger of a son), Mc Donalds (wherein I allowed Jaxson but not Ryan to play without socks. I know-- I'm a contradiction within myself; An enigma, if you will), and finally we ended with Nanny McPhee, a cheeky take on the bloody art of child-rearing and marrying for money. This would explain my annoying use of the English language in this post, as well as the random spattering of such decidedly British phrases as "bloody", "bugger", and "very well, then."

Hopefully this, too, shall pass, though Ryan is thoroughly enjoying referring to me as "Nanny McFeeve", and every time I do the accent, Jax squeals with delight. It's as if Normal Mommy (stop with the laughter, please) just isn't good enough for the bloody little buggers. Very well, then, I'll be on my bike; or rather, they can get on their's!

(Did I get that one right, UK readers?)

Thursday, February 9, 2006

Today IS National Optimists Day, right?

So I walked into Jax's room just now to see what was making him laugh so hysterically, keeping him from his much-needed nap (he's been up since 6), only to find him covered in poo, courtesy of his diarrhea-diaper.

In his hair, on his face, his ear, his bedding, his stuffed animals, the wall -- everywhere. And there he was, just a-grinnin'.

You know what this means, don't you?

It's going to be one big stupend-errific-ous day!

Wednesday, February 8, 2006

PMS Strikes the Pre-K Crowd

You know how when some kid hurts your kid's feelings and you want to be all, "yeah, well I hear they like to pick their nose and eat their boogers", but you can't because you're the "adult", so instead you have to come up with some After-School Special mantra like "turn the other cheek, blah blah blah", because that's what "adults" are supposed to say? Yeah, that sucks.

No big deal, Ryan's probably being sensitive, but it took all I had not to stick my toungue out and laugh at them. Of course I didn't, but if some bigger kid ever coerces Ryan to unknowingly stand in a pile of fire ants and then brings the other kids around to laugh at her while she tries to frantically rid herself of the blinding-pain-bringers, I swear to God, I will shoot the finger and spread the most horrendous rumors from which said kid will NEVER RECOVER.

What? I was a gullible kid and still carry some scars -- sue me. Just don't screw with my babies.

What Mommy Made

This one is Ryan's, and it was totally her idea. She's cool like that.

Tuesday, February 7, 2006

Stalk My Husband

Please please please help me convince my wonderful, stubborn-ass husband to consult some sort of physician regarding the huge bloody chunks of cartilage he's been hacking/sneezing up since yesterday. Phone him, email, leave a comment -- you have my permission to harrass, just please get him to the doc asap, 'cause Lord knows he's not listening to moi.

*UPDATE* 10:24 am -- Mission Accomplished. We have a double-ENT appt. for both Ry (she has to get her earwax sucked out.yum.) and Shawn tomorrow afternoon. We may very well be the most disgusting family in Central Texas. We'll let you know what they say.


For your grossification pleasure, this week we bring you (drumroll, please)...

HERPANGINA. My favorite part is the pus-filled sores. Gives me a hankerin' for some vanilla custard, know what I mean? I especially liked the way "doc" tried to make me feel better by insisting that it "is NOT Herpes, despite the way the name sounds." Yeah, 'cause I didn't have enough to worry about.

Poor, poor pus-filled- sore-covered Jaxson. Not only does he have to endure living with me as a mother, contriving RSV, ear infections, a horrendous rash, undescended testes, severe dehydration AND the rotovirus, but now we've taken away the ONE pleasure in his miserable little life: eating. He hates to have you feed him, and that breaks my heart more than anything. Mostly because that was my go-to when he was upset, the stalwart in my bag of tricks. Ahh yes, poor, poor Mommy. Yep. That's more like it.

As for Ryan, she was suffering at her Biddy Ball game (for Christ's sake, can we please just call it what it is? Indoor Madness Disguised as Soccer for Pre-schoolers. Don't let the "biddy" bit fool ya.) on Saturday due to the late-nite barf-fest with Emma the night before. Nevertheless, we did get some cute pics:

Feel free to view the rest here.

Shawn's been holed up in a fancy-schmancy restaurant this week for their annual "meeting", to which I say "Bah. Hum bug."

Just to be sure he wasn't having too much fun, the kids and I dropped in on him this morning to inform him of the viral pus-filled sores, et al. Just to give him something else to think about while feasting on steak and such. Watch, tonite he'll come home complaining of a sore throat. I bet my life on it.

Meanwhile, rather than do the obligatory "housework", I opted to make some super sweet tees for the kids yesterday. I'll take pics and post them later.

I know you'll be waiting with bated breath.

Friday, February 3, 2006

It's My Party and I'll Swear If I Want To

We've now had 3 instances of Ryan muttering the F word since I last commented on this subject. While I am dismayed at her foul language, I am at least proud that she always uses it in context (ie: "I can't move this fuckin' gate", or "I hate this fuckin' boot", etc...).

While I understand the importance of setting a good example for your kids, I am also of the "Do as I say, not as I do" school of thought when it comes to matters such as these.

Yes, I curse like a sailor. Yes, I love the way the F word sounds on my tongue. No, I don't love the way it sounds coming out of my 3 yr old's mouth (okay, maybe we do think it's freakin' hilarious, but we always hide our laughter so as not to let on). I've done pretty well these past 3 1/2 years in trying to tone down the swearing, but damn, I AM A GROWN UP. I am I am I am I am! *lying on floor, kicking & screaming*

My days are filled with these rugrats. Gladly, I admit, though definitely maddening at times.

As I type this, I'm also trying to make Valentines cards for Ryan (what? cutting apart the printed cards is hard work), paying the bills online, and watching Scooby-Doo, all while holding Ryan on my lap and intermittently running to Jax's room to supply needed binky and hold-off crying for at least 10 more minutes. I know -- I'm like, so rockin' the SuperMommy badge right now.

I don't buy clothes for myself anymore, which is why in every picture of me you will see either an old hole-infested t-shirt, or some sort of clothing that was cool 5 years ago -- and if you could see my former credit card bills, you would know what a sacrifice this is.

We have successfully decorated our entire home with hand-me-downs, homemade decor, and clearance sale items. Every single room is occupied by numerous primary-colored, totally loud and annoying baby/toddler/pre-school toys.

The only DVD's we own are Disney, Pixar, or Nickelodeon-related. I haven't listened to Mommy music in the car in, like, 2 years. I can, however, sing every single Disney Princess song perfectly on key, word-for-word.

I drive a 4 yr-old Honda Civic covered with those horrid, wretched ugly-as-hell window shades, because we have yet to be able to get the car tinted. I also only have a tape deck. A TAPE DECK. Go ahead, snort. I would if I were you.

And in order to provide this blessed, one-income family lifestyle that we cherish (really, we do), my husband works 6 1/2 days per week, at least 12 hours per day, which means I NEVER SEE HIM. And I really kinda like him, you know?

In other words, give me my random curse words or I WILL KILL MYSELF. Capice?

What's so wrong with telling your kids that there are things Mommy and Daddy can say that Ryan and Jax can't? What's so wrong with drawing a grown-ups/little-kids line in the sand? Even if it is drawn with a Barbie Magic of Pegasus Wand while sipping on a Capri Sun.

For the love of God, WHO IS IN CHARGE???

And don't think Jax hasn't already jumped on the whole "You do it so I can, too" bandwagon. I give you Exhibit A:

Yes, bro, I know Dad supports the whole low-slung jailbird pants movement, but you are not Dad (yet).

Meanwhile, he did manage to sleep through the night for the first time in 9 1/2 months. Big ups to Jax -- it's about damn time.

Also, don't forget about tonight. I will be watching upstairs while Ryan and Emma commence their first sleepover together with the Wizard of Oz downstairs. I'm not at all pissed by being demoted to the upper regions of the household. It is, after all, Ryan's fuckin' world.

Thursday, February 2, 2006

The one where you go, "Well, at least she's got a nice smile."

As if I needed something else to help me feel like crap today, I took the kids to the library for storytime. That went well, until it was time for the kids to play and the Moms to gab.

There's a new Mom today, one who just moved here and has lots of questions. Always ready to, you know, talk, I was happy to oblige. As we were yakking, a few other mom-types gathered and joined the conversation.

We moved from pre-schools to play times, running down the list of where's, when's, and how much's, when I had the brilliant BRILLIANT! idea to plug my husband's place of business.

While I'm not at liberty to divulge where he works, let me just say this: it is AWESOME -- food, environment, everything is AWESOME, and very very popular. Everyone knows this place, and I have yet to meet someone who has been there who hasn't just had wonderful things to say.

Until today.

Like I said, we were talking about places to take the kids, and I threw in Shawn's place, 'cause it's great and all, when ogre mom-type #1 butts in with, "Yeah, but it's so expensive." To which I quickly respond -- "Oh, I know! If we didn't get a discount, we totally wouldn't go. Well, I mean, uh, you know, just not quite as much, you know I mean, probably for just like special occasions and stuff, and blahblah shut up now you freak blah blah blah."

They should really hire me to do PR.

Luckily, I grabbed what little senses I had left and finished with, "Yep, it's big money, but damn, the food is soooo worth it." Yeah, that should make up for the other stuff.

Obviously, I quickly grabbed our things and headed to the circulation desk, where I was met full on by Evil Librarian Bitch. Normally she's holed up in her Evil Lair, but I guess she was looking to flex her Evil Muscles and had joined the riff-raff to commune with the public.

I quickly manuevered the stroller to the other check-out line, which was a good thing, because when I bent to get the books, Jax had christened one with his mouth, and Ryan was looking up at me like this:

Sweet Jesus suckin' on a lollipop.

What the hell happened to my kid? I'm not sure whether to blame Madonna, Boy George, or Ronald McDonald. Or maybe, I should just point the finger at the sweet little girl who gave Ryan the purple lip gloss trinket. Either way, I was a walking bull's eye.

Again, I managed to sneak out unscathed, even as Ryan tore part of their Valentines Day display (we'll file that one under "free speech" -- commercialization, forcing love and coupledom upon the world, and so on). We made our way to McDonalds, because I needed to have a word with The Man, and when we got there we saw the cutest little boy all dressed in a fly little warm-up suit, standing with his Dad who was looking pretty typical in jeans, a grey sweatshirt and brown work boots. Cutest little boy looks at me and says, "Look! Look at my Dad! He's all dressed up!"

Right on, brother. Right on.

Mother F*cker

So here's what happened: my sisters and I, trying to do something extra-special for the parental units on their 30th anniversary, scheduled a weekend trip for them to San Francisco, the destination of their honeymoon 30 years ago.

Not-so-unusually, they decided 2 days wasn't long enough for such a big trip, and could we please send them to Galveston instead?

We should be thrilled, yes? Half the money, all the happiness, blah, blah, blah.

Please, have you met me? No no, I had to get all selfish and huffish and call Mom ON HER BIRTHDAY, not to send warm wishes, but to demand, "what the hell is the deal?"

Long short, I made the woman cry. On her birthday.

And now I'm going to hell.

I'll just say it for you: "Amy, WHY can't you be more like your SISTERS????"

While I ruminate on that one, I've got to go order flowers from "the kids".

When you see Menana today, give her an extra-big HAPPY BIRTHDAY wish, and then please send your condolences to her for having a daughter who is such a freakin' dick.

Wednesday, February 1, 2006

Jon Stewart take me away...

typing typing typing....must keep busy while Jax cries it out...typing typing typing...must keep busy while Jax cries it out...typing typing typing