Know where I can get a good washboard??

In the yearly tradition of "Yay! We got $$ back from our taxes, let's see what breaks down now!!", our washing machine has gone kaput. Just up and started grinding its teeth, flailing its arms about, stomping its feet, declaring "I don't wanna! I don't wanna!"

Shawn says he thinks it's the belt or something, but all I know is I've got a washer full of wet, soapy towels, and I'll be damned if I have to haul them, myself, and Jax Attack to a washeteria with a fistful of quarters. I graduated from college already, thank you very much.

So I figure, why not a wash board and basin? Seriously? If my great-great-great granny could do it, how hard could it be? I'll wear some long itchy skirts and a bonnet and we'll call it a history lesson for the kiddos.

Now if I could just figure out where to put the liquid fabric softener...

Let My People Go

Tonight was Family Night at the York House. Breakfast for dinner, and a movie to boot. We searched HBO on Demand, and decided on "The Prince of Egypt". Yep, the leader of the Jews and Pigs in a Blanket -- the best of both worlds.

Anyway, we were actually pretty excited to watch it; Ryan had just recently learned the story of Moses at preschool, and it was one that has held her attention for longer than 30 minutes, so we were more than happy to supplement the lesson, Disney-style.

The only problem is, the kid likes to ask questions. Lot and lots of questions. Questions of specificity and details so minute that in times like these (aka:when talking about biblical stories) I generally defer to Shawn, oh Private School Punk that he is. It's not that I didn't have a very long, thorough bible-based education, it's just that when it's between me and the Bible Bowl champion of 89,90 and 91, I usually tend to lose.

Apparently, all the BBQ smoke must have clouded his brain, because there turned out to be a lot of questions he couldn't answer, like, when Moses left Egypt, who took care of his sheep? Ummm....

So I did what any good Catholic would do in a time like this, I referred her to her Godparents, Lalo and Jeff, who conveniently weren't at home. On to Plan B.

Once the movie had ended and some of the questions were still unanswered, Ryan and I headed up to her room to read from Exodus on the matter. We got about to the part where Moses is discovered by the Pharoah's daughter and his sister offers to fetch the mother to feed him when all hell broke loose (pardon the pun).

"Why did the mom have to feed him? Didn't the Pharaoh's daughter have food?"

"Yes, but when mommies have babies, they produce milk in their breasts (cringing now just as I did when I said it, btw) for the babies to drink." *wince*

*Can literally see the wheels just a-turnin'* "Well how does the baby get the milk from the mommy's boobs?"

Sweet Jesus. "You know, the baby sucks it out of the boob, Ry."

(Clutching at her non-existent bosom)"Oh My GAHH!! They suck it out of them? How does it get in there in the first place? Does someone put it in?"

"No, when the Mommy is pregnant, her body just sort of produces and stores the milk for the baby to drink."

"Oh, I see. The Mommy has to get the milk or the baby will die. But, did Jax suck on your boob?"

Oh God. "No, and neither did you. You didn't like it and I didn't have a lot of milk anyway, so you guys both just drank formula, and you survived, you little La Leche Nazi. Now close your eyes and go to sleep."

"Mom? What's a Nazi?"

Moses, Boobies, and the Third Reich. Who knew?

Dude. Road Trip.

Who needs a family vacation in order to have fun in the car when your kid's pre-school is half an hour away??? Just an example of the rollercoaster ride we take every morning, today was no different than normal:

The coffee pot broke last night (AAAGGGHHHH), and since I was up with both kids throughout the night, I was in desperate need of a caffeine fix this morning. Shuffling the kids off to the car as fast as I could, I took off (sans bra or wedding ring) for the local drive-thru Starbucks, literally itching for a drink. The whole way there, Ryan was darting me with questions: Are we going to school today? Why are we going this way? How did you break the coffee pot? Why do you need cofee? How? Why? Why? How?

That 5 minute drive alone was enough to drive me mad, which was apparently quite obvious to Ryan, because the minute we pulled up to the order window, she rolled down her window and screamed, "MOMMY BROKE THE COFFE POT AND NEEDS COFFE NOW!!!!!". (Apparently, this must happen to a lot of moms, because the drive-thru chick didn't even bat an eye.)

Once I had my Venti Caramel Macchiato in hand, we were off towards school, a fact which Ryan required confirmation of at least a dozen times. Finally, at the point of breaking, I suggested she chew some gum, only she couldn't let Jax see it, or he would be begging for some as well, which would kind of defeat the purpose. Against every teacher fiber in body, I proceeded to teach Ryan my own special technique of sneaking gum.

"Just start coughing, Ry, and when you bring your hands up to cover your mouth, slip the gum in."

This took 15 minutes to accomplish, what with her repeated questioning of my technique, her need to understand why we were sneaking gum, and her numerous failed attempts,but she was finally successful, much to the chagrin of her future teachers, I'm sure. My bad.

10 more minutes left in our car trip, so I decided to enjoy the silence by turning up the radio. Yeah, I'm funny that way. I was listening to my friend Heather's morning show, when the opportunity to win dinner for two at a really great restaurant came up, available to the 5th caller.

I frantically began to dig one-handed through my garbage-bag-masqueraded-as-a-purse, searching for my cell, when all of a sudden from the backseat I hear, "Hi Menana!"

Much to my chagrin (as well as the chagrin of everyone on my speed dial), I have recently taught Ryan how to dial certain family members by simply pushing and holding their assigned number. Since I taught her this last week, I have discovered her making various phone calls throughout the day, hassling my mom and sisters at work, hanging up when they tell her they'll call her back, then picking up the phone to call them again when she hasn't heard from them 5 minutes later. It's hilarious some of the messages I hear her leave: "Ninny, I really need you to call me back, I have something really for real important to tell you." or "Lea, why haven't you called me back? You said you would call me back, but you didn't and I want to know why." We've got a future phone-stalker on our hands, my friends.

Anyway, as soon as I realize that she has called my Mom, I scream, "Ryan! Hang up the phone!! I need to make an important call! I want to win DINNER!!!!" Ryan looks at me as if I have just shot Bambi, at which point I replay what I just said in my head, sink down into my chair, muttering "nevermind", and keep driving.

Needless to say, I did not win the free dinner.

Anyone want to carpool???

Flattery, schmattery....

So. It's that time again -- Mommy and Me Children's Consignment Sale is gearing up for our Spring 2007 Sale, and this one is proving to be bigger and better than ever. Already, we've reached amazing heights with the response from moms all over the central Texas area -- we had over 2,000 shoppers for the Fall sale -- and now it seems other consignment sales are trying to ride on our coat tails.

I won't mention the other sale's name, but it is pretty new to the area, and has already pissed off Mama Bear by using our trademark slogan (Sell! Shop! Save!) on their website. Naughty, naughty... Why can't we all just get along??

Anyway, this sale is going to be even better than our previous ones -- we've created a Mom's Night Out event with Austin's family-friendly radio station, The River, where we will be featuring free massages, body fat testing, mini-mani's, and more!!! We've also set aside space during this time for all of our new and soon-to-be moms -- lots of cool stuff that I sooo wish I'd had when I was preggers.

The website is open for registration, but the registration deadline is March 20th, so get in now!! Plus, if you volunteer, you get a better shopping time, as well as a chance to make even more money. Consigning is super easy -- we do most of the work for you -- and you will definitely be glad you did when you get your check in the mail, usually within 7-10 days after the sale.

Periodically, I'll post pics of some of the stuff I'm selling, just to give you an idea of the awesome finds you'll see there. Plus, don't forget -- I got Jax a Big Wheels Jeep, in great working condition, for only $50!! As if he would know the difference!!

Check out the website and start listing your stuff now, and don't forget to start writing down the stuff you'll want to shop for when you're there -- it makes your time there so much more worthwhile!!!

Everyone's a comedian...

Here's how Shawn showed his support over the Hair Incident this week. See how quickly you can spot his addition to my to-do list:

Funny funny, ha ha.

That's All I'm Sayin'

Happy now??

Here's what happened:

We've been stuck in the house, or had been, for at least 3 days, me and the kids, while the entire Austin-area was freaking out over an inch or two of ice. I'm hours away from my period, Shawn comes home Tuesday night with a stomach virus, quarantines himself in the master bedroom, which is the only non-child-inhabited warm room in the house.

Chalk it up to too much cold, too much kids, too much hormones, too much cabin fever -whatever the reason, I felt compelled yesterday morning to cut my bangs. Please don't ask me why. I cannot handle trying to explain to one more person why I would do something so stupid, I just did. Anyway, one thing led to another, and before anyone could say "Tinkerbell!", that's apparently who I turned into.

Tinkerbell, Kevin Bacon, Dudley Moore, my mother... I look like a million people other than myself, and while I am trying hard to remember that it is just a silly haircut and that it will grow back, I am having a difficult time.

For someone who thought she was ugly to begin with, this is a new low, one that will take me a little time to dig my way out of. Not to mention the fact that Shawn won't speak to me, much less look at me, and the rest of my family has me on speed dial, worried about me to the point that they're suggesting therapy.

I will be fine. It is JUST HAIR, but I don't want to talk about it again for a while, so please don't ask. The kids are great, the house is messy as usual, and I've still got some of my humor intact, as I will prove by inserting this dandy little quote, which is all that's been running through my head since yesterday morning: "I've used bobbypins to stop the curling on one side..."

It Happened To Me

In honor of all of the salacious "BEWARNED" articles that plague nearly every parenting magazine known to man, chunkyrhino brings you:

How CoffeeMate Saved My Life, by Jaxson York (21mos)

"'Sup kids? How's it hangin'? So, listen, you know how Mommies are always drinking that dark stuff in the morning, and like 10 minutes later they're A LOT nicer than when you woke them up screaming "EAT! EAT!"? Yeah, well, my mom is no different -- the broad guzzles gallons a day, which might improve her mood, but does nothing for her breath.

ANYWAY, I was just sitting here this morning, playing with some friends of mine, when I looked up and saw Moms putting milk in her black stuff and stirring it around. I heard her offer some the other mommy-type that was here, saying something about "coffee mate". Well. I had just finished my 2nd sippy full of water, and that milk stuff was looking preeetty good.

I know how she loves it when I beg frantically, repeating myself with urgency until she does that funny laugh/yell/dance ritual that freaks RyRy out, so I started in with "DRINK!DRINK!", then "MILK!MILK!". Nothin'. It was time to pull out the big guns.

I climbed onto her lap, reached up, and yanked that mug right out of her hands, sending that milky-dark stuff on top of my head, all over my face and clothes. Damn, that shit was hot!

I screamed. I cried. She screamed. She cried. Mom said I was lucky she had put so much of that milk stuff into her coffee, because without it it would have hurt a lot worse. I dunno, it hurt pretty bad as it was...until I licked myself, then all else was forgotten. It tasted so good, I found the wet clothes she stripped off of me, sucking the very last hint of yumminess out of every fiber.

Yeah, so anyway, that's how CoffeeMate saved my life. Tell your friends."

My head is THIS CLOSE to exploding

Some people.

You Asked For It

Okay, lovies. Prepare to sit back and enjoy the first annual installment of RUIDOSO RUMBLE (echo, echo, echo).

Now, I believe I teased you all with the trials we faced on our first day -- lots of poop, burned condo, hardly any snow. Actually, this was mild for us, as you all know. Hmmm, so you want stories...

Let's see, there was the uneventful first day, until 6/7 pm rolled around, and we performed our White Elephant exchange, wherein yours truly received Cranium, which Lea (the gift giver) commanded we break open and play immediately.

So we did:

Can't ya just smell the fun??. Then we took a break, Shawn tried to change Jax's poop ("It won't stop coming out!!"), Big Daddy broke down laughing so hard he cried, and then he called it a night.

This led us to charades, at which Miss Ryan happens to be a natural. She solves the clues and can perform to a tee at the drop of a hat. Our favorite was when she stood still, arms out parallel to the ground, eyes closed. Menana yelled out , "Ummm...Christ?!?"

Ryan, rolling her eyes, replied, "No, Menana. Jesus." I fell in love with her all over again.

But what's best is that wonderful 4 yr old spirit that thinks every victory, no matter how small (or how non-victorious), calls for celebration.

We eventually all padded to bed, eagerly anticipating the next day's snow events, which turned out to be less-than-exceptional.

Remember the snow tubing we were so excited about? Yeah, this one. It pretty much sucked. The wind was blowing so hard we were literally blown away every time we tried to drag our tubes uphill (okay, that was fun), and when we finally reached the top, the Hitler-esque owner was there to yell and scream at us, moving us along like so much cattle being herded to slaughter.

This did not bode well for Mr. Shawn. Used to being the one barking the orders, he quickly bristled, explaining he was waiting for his daughter who was right behind him, but the only reply he got was "MOVE IT!" Yikes.

Now, we are nothing if not loud, passionate people, so of course Shawn retorts, "F*&k you, you a$$. I'm f*&$ing waiting for my f#$*ing family, who happen to be the only other f$&*ing people on your damn ride, so shut the f%*k up!" (I may have paraphrased a bit.)

After a few more insults between Shawn and the owner, he finally moved along, only to be engaged in a 7th-grade worthy stare-down. I'm not usually timid of others while in Shawn's presence (I essentially married my bodyguard), but seeing as how Ryan was playing, we had spent $45, had only been there 30 minutes, and this guy could conceivably kick us out, I was eagerly trying to calm Shawn down.

Lucky for us, Ryan was having about as much fun as we were, so we quickly left anyway.

We made our way back to the house to meet up with Menana and Big Daddy who had taken Jax to Wal-Mart to look for snow boots. Apparently, they had had a similar experience, just different place, different people.

I should preface this little story with a short explanation: 1) Big Daddy is a big, big man, survivor of 4 or 5 heart attacks (I've lost count), who finds it very hard to do anything other than sit at such a high altitude; 2) Menana is old and bitchy (kidding, mom, kidding); and 3) Jaxson is heavy as shit and won't obey, meaning in a place like Wal-Mart he requires carrying and/or restraints.

According to Menana, they had just dragged/heaved Jax all the way through the parking lot eagerly searching for alternate means of transporting his fat little figure, only to be greeted by the ever-present Wal-Mart Senior Citizen, who declared, "Welcome to Wal-Mart, we don't have any baskets on this side, you'll have to go to the other entrance if you need one."

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Dad could barely breathe, Jax was squirming like a stuck pig, and mom's age was creeping into her bones, making way for the bitchy. They trodded ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE STORE, into shopping basket wonderland.

"You guys need to send some baskets to the other side. They're all out over there," she informed Old Lady Greeter #2.

OLG#2: Well, they haven't asked for any yet.

(Here comes the bitchy)

Mom: "Well, I'm telling you. They're all out over there, I just had to walk ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE STORE to get one. The big guy can't breathe, this one's fat as fuck, and I've got Cancer." (Well, maybe she didn't play the cancer card, but she should have.)

OLG#2: "Well, I've got to wait for them to tell me to send them over."

Mom: [Enter long, over-wrought Julia Sugarbaker-esque tirade here]

Anyway, long story longer, Dad said he was just trying to scoot Mom along, telling her to hush under his breath, with was barely making it out as it was, eventually getting them all out of harms way, when seconds later they hear this over the loud speaker: "More baskets to the North Entrance, please. Baskets needed."

Cut to Menana smiling smuggly.

That's just how we roll, folks. The Roberts/York Family: Making enemies across America since 1977.

So the afternoon progressed into another evening of food, drinks, games and insults (another thing we're really good at), until we all pooped out and turned in for the night.

The next morning was on to Ski Apache for me, Shawn, Lea and Ryan, where Ryan attended a kid's ski class and totally kicked ass. I'd have pics to show, but I'm still waiting for Big Daddy and Lea to send them to me, so blame them. Apparently, the skis that took us 2 hours to acquire (including measuring), were too big for Ryan, a fault we only learned of at the end of the 6 hour day.

Ryan: "Please can I stop now? My feet hurt so bad!"

Teacher: " Yeah, these skis are way too big for her -- I'm amazed that she did as well as she did!"

Lucky for her, Aunt Lea was also ready to go, a result of having a monstrous headache due to the 3 times she fell getting off the ski lift. She claims it was mine and Shawn's faults, but we know better, don't we?

By the way, for those of you who know all about Shawn's previous ski trials in Steamboat Springs 9 years ago, when he managed to get taken down the mountain 2 days in a row by the ski patrol, and had himself banned from the mountain until he took ski lessons, he excelled this time, thanks to instruction from the Incredible Falling Lea.

While we conquered the mountain, Ninny and the old folks were tubing with Jaxson, another adventure I'd provide pictures of, if only they'd taken them. Apparently there was some complication involving icy conditions, bum knees, and "only having two hands, AMY!" I swear, they are such lightweights.

This took us into evening, all of us a little sad about having to leave the next day, when lo and behold, God stepped in and said, "C'mon...stay another day. You know you want to!"

We had a snow storm early in the a.m., leaving us snowed-in and calling the rental place to extend our stay.

It was WONDERFUL!!! The kids finally got to really play in the snow, which was awesome considering the first day's playtime only yielded this.

Snow ball fights, sledding, you name it, we did it. Then, 30 minutes later, we were sooo over it, so we retreated inside and punished ourselves with a 4 hour game of Phase10.

Later, the girls headed to downtown Ruidoso for shopping, where Ryan begged Lea Ann to buy her this. That's right, she now owns her very own Bobble Head Jesus Doll.

And that's that. We ate a lot, drank a lot, played even more, and had one of the best vacations in family history.

Now, if we could just do something about that 10 hour car trip...

So sue me already...

I know I said I'd post about the trip, but it's been 2 days now and our Dell Dinosaur is still uploading the pics. You know I don't like to read, much less write, anything that doesn't have pics, so you'll just have to continue being patient.

Also? Just when we thought it was safe to come out and declare Jax to be a sweet, adorable, spunky little guy, he turns back into THE DEVIL. He's learned to climb out of his crib, and does so at every chance. Also, he's been waking up the past few nights screaming, won't sleep with us, won't let us put him down, so we end up laying blankets out on the floor so that at least when he's done slamming himself against his closed door, he'll have something soft to pass out on.

Except? Shawn just went to calm him down, and returned saying he's pretty sure he has an ear infection (he says his ear smells) and that he also thinks Jax has gas (he's pulling up his knees). I don't have the heart to tell him that it's probably just his own breath bouncing back up into his own face, and that Jax loves to, um, bend his knees..? uuuggghhhh.

Looks like I may not be posting pics tomorrow either, unless the doc has a laptop and wifi she'll let me use.

Try this one out, Supernanny

Before I begin, yes, I will be posting stories and pics from Ruidoso, as soon as I get over the mind-numbing effects of dieting. I'm on Day 2, which is 2 days longer than I've been able to stay on any diet in quite some time, and it's a wonder I found my way to the computer at all today. I'm also on my 3rd day with no alcohol, so cut a girl some slack, will ya?

Anyway... took the kiddos to the much-dreaded FLU-SHOT APPOINTMENT today.

Holy God.

I've resolved to be a better mom this year, to try to take each day as it comes, and set my priorities where they should be, instead of where my mind leads them -- novels, fashion mags, shopping, tv shows...

That said, I knew today was all about calming Ryan's fears and keeping her feeling as secure as possible. I am such an over-achiever. First of all, let me just say that we scheduled this damn appt. before Christmas, so it has definitely been a dark cloud looming over our heads for at least 2 weeks now. Even on our trip to Ruidoso, Ryan spent plenty of "alone time" with Menana in her room, discussing her worries, and that the fact that when she thinks of getting the shot, she gets "all crazy in her head", worried that "the crazy will come out."

)Seriously. She should just go ahead and get her own honorary phD, write herself some prescriptions, and start pulling her financial weight around here. The clarity with which she expresses her emotions and thoughts would impress me if it didn't also leave me huddled in a ball in the corner, asking, "Why, God, why???)

Back to the shot. We'd been talking about it for a while, reading some books about going to the doctor, and I had finally gotten her to stop threatening to kill all the doctors in the world. Very big stuff here, kids. I figured I'd do a reward in reverse, take her to get an icecream before the shot, just to show her how much faith I had in her and the excellent job she would do come vaccination time. Sucker bought it hook, line and sinker.

Did I mention I'm the sucker?

Everything was rolling smooth as glass until the nurse came in with the needles, and asked who would go first.

"Ryan will. She's excited to show her brother how easy it is."

Those words set off an alarm of gargantuan proportions: "NO NO NO NO!!! PLEASE! NOT ME!!! IDON"T WANT TO GO! TAKE JAXSON FIRST! LEAVE ME!!! TAKE THE BABY!!!!!"

Top-of-her-lungs-blood-curdling-screams, accompanied with waves of tears, wild thrashing of extremities, and the most labored breathing I'd heard since, well, labor.

"Ryan, we talked about this. It's just gonna prick a little. Want to chew some gum?"

(Don't ask where I pulled that one from.)

*sob, gulp, sob, sob sob* (screams): "Will(gasp) it (gasp) make it (gasp) not hurt?!?"

"Oh yes, yes! It's MAGIC GUM!!" (The nurse and I are now in cahoots.) So we use my body as a veritable straight jacket to hold her still, as she continues to holler to take Jaxson and leave her. Luckily, I've had experience in this arena.

The needle does its thing, she never even feels it, and is so overcome with joy and relief that she starts doing that sobbing/laughing thing that Steel Magnolias made so popular long ago.

Once that was done, Jaxson, who had just earlier been offered as a sacrificial lamb, climbs up, drops his pants, and doesn't even flinch. (I'm thinking he was still numb from the spanking I gave him minutes before in the bathroom for opening the urine cups with his teeth.)

You think I'm exaggerating, I know, but let me just tell you: when we walked out, every single member of the pediatrician's office was in tears, laughing so hard at what I'm sure was shit-gigglingly humorous when heard from behind a wall.

National Lampoon's has nothin' on us

So we've been here in Ruidoso for about 6 hours, and so far Jax has had diarrhea everywhere, the condo we were renting caught fire, we spent $100 on tire chains for no apparent reason, and Ryan has built an 8-inch-tall snowman.

We were hoping for some serious powder on the slopes, but when we got here, the temp barely registered below the 48 degree temperature we left in Texas. This did not hinder Ryan's mood one bit. The minute we pulled up to the house they upgraded us to, she jumped out of the truck, flung herself onto the 6"x6" swatch of snow still sticking to the ground, exclaiming "I love snow! Snow is GREAT! This is so awesome!!!"

She is nothing if not enthusiastic.

Party Hardy

Have just spent the end of 2006 hangin' with my peeps. Took the kids to the bookstore, then to church, and finally ended up at Chili's. After an hour or so of them "charming" every other diner, every server, and even a few bus boys, we headed home for bathtime and an unfortunately unforgettable 20 minutes of perusing The Naked Brothers Band website with Ryan.

Ninny's living it up at at Sandra Bullock's bash, but I'm pretty sure I got the better party.

Or something.

Happy New Year!!

P.S. Want something more entertaining to read? Check us out one year ago. I love this family.

Just counting the days...

...until THIS. Just 4 more to go!!!

From Us to You

Okay, so I know I'm the last one out here to discover this holiday treat, but go on over to mamarella and enjoy anyway!

Very Merry

For all the huffing and puffing, Christmas actually did turn out wonderfully. With a house full of family and friends, lots and lots of fattening yummies, and probably a few too many gifts, we had an extremely blessed holiday.

Shawn worked Christmas Eve, so he "missed" going to church with my family and the kiddos, although really, we only stayed through the gospel, then slipped out the back. Elderly people needed our seats and all, you understand.

Then it was back to the house to attempt to carry on Honey's tradition of gumbo on Christmas Eve. It only took us 2 tries. The first ended with a very burnt, very smokey bowl of roux (not at all our fault, I'll have you know), but the second batch was successful, so kiss my ass, you never tasted gumbo so good, Dad.

Then it was on to the gifts. Baby Jesus In A Manger, we had a lot of gifts, or the kids did anyway: cars, trucks, ipods,laptops,
barbies, barbies, barbies
and lots 0f "ugghh..more clothes..." Ry also scored a dance mat w/dvd, which would be awesome if we still had a dvd player. Oh, I didn't tell you that story? Silly me. I'll have to post about it later...

Santa left a Power Wheels Jeep for Jax (which he got for a steal at the Mommy and Me Sale), and Lion King tickets and a Genevieve doll for Ry (thanks to Ninny for leaving the actual tix at her apt, sending Mommy on a mad dash to print out passable ones at midnight).

This morning was spent laboring over Peppermint Mocha Coffee, Eggnog French Toast and Sky-High Brunch Bake, but not before I regaled Ry with stories of my bleeding foot from the night before -- One hand-me-down table from sis : $0; One dustbuster to clean up broken tabletop: $30; One new tabletop: $100, gashing your foot on an errant piece of broken glass, leaving pools of blood on the garage floor: priceless.

Slowly the rest of the family trickled in, bringing bits and piece of what would be a masterful Christmas dinner.

But now, everyone is gone, leaving Mommy, Daddy, Ry, Jax and Nana sipping warm apple cider, eating gingerbread, and watching Pirates of the Carribean.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!!!

Swanhilda

Ryan had her first dance "recital" this week. More of an informal showing than an actual recital, but it was fun. Ry provided the real entertainment, goofing off at every chance, falling to the ground whenever possible. I have no idea where she gets it from *cough*. One of the moms cried during the performance. I almost reached over to tell her that it wasn't that bad, and would be over shortly, but from the look of pride on her face, I decided against it. Some people.



I could have cried, too. Not out of pride, but because we have a house full of sick peeps. I've been dealing with the horribly-named Herpangina, Ry's had pink eye, and Jax has fevers on and off and wheezing. Took him to the doctor yesterday, where we were told it was a viral thing, just wait it out. You all know how much I love paying money to hear that.

Holiday Spirit

Let me be the first quasi-Austinite to say that the Zilker Trail of Lights BLOWS. That's right, I said it, and I stand by every word. For all the hoopla and trouble you have to go through to get there, the end result isn't all that.

Maybe it's just me, or maybe it was the feeling of being herded like cattle amongst hundreds of others, maybe it was all the cigarette smoke (go figure -- the park is the only place you can smoke in Austin anymore), maybe it was the little girl whose mom let her run amuck, tripping Shawn and almost sending him and Jax (up on Shawn's shoulders) tumbling to the ground. Whatever it was, it sucked.

The highlight of the whole thing was the train ride, which we had to wait until 10 pm to ride, and the fact that during that wait, I made Shawn watch Jax, since it was his brilliant idea to go in the first place.

But I must say, in all my life experiences, I've learned that sometimes the best family memories are the ones where you had to endure some sort of horror together -- like the trip to Flagstaff where we got into a fight with an Indian owner of a gas station, or DisneyWorld, when my mom "had words" with a Yankee. So all in all, I guess it did turn out okay as far as family time goes -- the kids got to stay up late, I got to bitch out a mom, and Shawn just got to spend time with us. How's that for a silver lining?

Let's Just Call It Punishment

Thank you. Thank you very much.

Our Inaugural Return

Grab some popcorn, a drink and sit back and relax: I've got a doozy for ya.

The previous post? That was 9 am this morning. A mere 31/2 hours since his father so lovingly left him in my care, he proceeded to yank the heavy glass table top off of our kitchen table, sending it crashing to the ground as we were quite literally walking out the door. Relax, he's fine.
But our wood floor is not. If we were ever in denial about needing to replace it, we no longer are.

Lucky for Jaxson, I was scheduled to take a Yoga class after dropping Ry off at school, so at least I was able to relieve something -- although I almost got it back, when after telling the class why I was in such a horrible mood, one lady offered up this piece of advice:

"Maybe he's just trying to get some attention."

Yeah, and maybe you'd like my fist in your face. Namaste.

Took me half the morning to clean up the glass, so for those of you still waiting on Christmas cards...keep waiting.

The afternoon actually did get better, Ryan's teacher was so proud of her because when the class realized that one little bot was without a Christmas bell (they read the Polar Express), she offered up hers. Then when we got home, she informed me, "You know, Mom, some people think I'm cool."

"Oh yeah? Who?"

"Me."

Which is always good to hear from your 4 yr old daughter.

Later, Ryan, Emma, Jaxson and I were hanging out in the backyard, and I actually found myself in a serious debate over why the people in the house behind us never ever jump on their 2-month-old trampoline.

Ryan: "They were on it the other day, throwing things at my head."

This led us to another of our favorite conversations: Real vs. Pretend.

After discovering that no one had thrown anything at Ryan, we continued our debate:

Emma: "Maybe they're afraid they'll be tempted by the Devil and start throwing things.

ry: "Why don't we just go over there and just ask them?

Mom: "Naw, they're older and they're boys. You don't wanna mess with them."

Emma: "I had to mess with an older boy today. He was being mean to my friend, so I twisted his arm like this (demonstrates).

"Mom: "So you nun-chucked a 4th grader?" (I have no idea what nun-chucking is, but I'm pretty sure it sounded cool to a 4 and 7 year old.)

Emma: "Uh huh." (Sits. Sighs.) "Good times. Good times."

So that was TODAY. I've yet to touch on What-the-Hell-Wednesday. May I? I'll be brief.

1. Left Ryan's lunch and backpack at home. Had to supplement with convenience-store food.
2. Had a playdate in the sand, which eventually led to an escapade into the wooded picnic area, where Ryan saw an ant and had a nervouse breakdown, nearly throwing her head into a large boulder.
3. Spent 15 minutes trying to chase a bee out of our car, difficult seeing as how all the windows were open and Jaxson's car seat was soaked with fruit juice.
4. Took the kids to the mall to return some items, and Jaxson bit a baby.

Hmmm... yeah, I think that's all. Just your average Wednesday.

Shattered Glass

by Jaxson York.

I don't get mad, I get LAZY

When Shawn comes home tonight and bitches about having to make his own dinner and iron his own clothes, please help me remind him about this morning when he got Jax up at 5:30 am, and then LEFT THE HOUSE.

A little tip as to why I feel mentally ill ALL THE TIME

Scene: Mommy and kids, roaming the aisles at Target. Ryan walks behind Mommy while Mommy pushes Jax. Ryan is pouting about not getting a slushy.

Mommy: Ryan, you need to check yourself or I'm not gonna let you see if Emma can play when we get home.

Ryan: What?

M: I said, you need to chill out or yo're not going to get to play today.

R: What?

M: (sigh) Nevermind.

R: Huh?

M: Just forget it Ry.

R: What did you say?

M: Nothing. Forget I said anything.

R: You're pretending you forgot what you were saying?

M: Christ.

R: What?

...and, scene.

Yee-haw!!

Man, that was rough. I missed you guys!! In fact, I'm crafting some "chunkyrhino withdrawal" items at cafepress -- I'll let you know when they're ready.

I took the kids to meet Menana and Big Daddy at Backstage Steak House last night. Nothing like an evening of screaming, food-throwing, and fork-playing by candlelight. But damn, the food was worth it!!

Now, on to more serious matters:

Ryan wants to act. Like, literally. I've been catching her more and more lately, performing commercials in front of the mirror, acting out little plays in her head, etc... We started talking about it, and she said she wanted to be one of the kids in the commercials on tv, That, and she wants to be in a Harry Potter movie. I broke the Harry Potter news to her, but her spirit didn't waiver -- she still wants to perform.

Now, I'm not at all surprised (nor should anyone be), nut I've been fighting the urge for quite some time now. Having dabbled in the performance arena, I was very wary. Plus, I'll be damned if I live vicariously through a 4 yr old.

But now she's asking to do it, she's always doing it, so does that mean it's time to let her explore that avenue? That avenue being auditions, acting classes, having to deal with inflated egos and demanding divas (and that's just the mothers).

This scares the shit out of me.

Talking Points

Ryan: "Mom, today in Music, G. told me to smell her butt." (giggle)

Me: "Why would she do that?"

Ry: (shrug)"Idunno, I guess she just wanted me to."

Me: "Did you?"

Ry: "Yep. And then she smelled mine."

Me: "That's disgusting."

Ry: "It was fun! Don't forget to tell Daddy when you talk to him on the phone that I smelled G.'s butt, okay??"



Jaxson, in his typical toddler way, is havinf a little trouble with saying his words correctly. For instance:

DRINK = Tink

TRUCK = Guck

And my personal fave:

FATHER = Fucker

He is such a good little boy.

You Better Not Cry

We took the kids to see Santa this weekend. Let's see how that went...


AndHere are the rest of the pics from the Walk of Lights.

Hohoho.

On Not Losing Hope

So. Shortly after that last post (actually, it was 90 seconds), I chopped all my hair off.

I was going to shave it, but I thought that might be more on the side of crazy than I wanted, and I knew Shawn would never speak to me again.

I needed to let go of something. Plus, my split ends were horrendous.

The great effect of this drastic move was not a new haircut, but rather the company of my friend Elisa, whom I called upon to "even out the back". You should have seen the look on her face when she showed up .

Anyway, I got to vent and release a lot of that Mommy crap that builds up (or, as Lea Ann says, "bitterness" -- no one likes her very much) and decided to quit bitching and play. So, the kids and I went to the park, leaving behind a filthy house, long to-do list, and extra diapers.

Here are the pics.

Afterwards, we tried the movies, where it was $1 Wednesday, but as soon as we ran out of candy, Jax was out, soggy diaper drooping, and we were gone.

I then proceeded to attempt a nap, a feat Jaxson was hell bent on prohibiting. So, I locked them out of the house while I cleaned the kitchen (not that it makes it much easier to sweep the floor when your 19 month old is banging on the glass door, snot and tears streaming down his face as he screams "Mommy!")

We got things situated, I realized (too late) that it was the cursed day of the week, resigned myself to the fact that the rest of the day wasn't gonna get much better, and grabbed myself a beer.

I'm feeling much better now.

I Hate the Holidays

I used to love them. I used to get excited and worked up over all the little details, all the special moments, all the lights and warmth and togetherness.

Then I had kids.

With one, it was still fun -- the excitement of fall, the anticipation of family and friends, presents and more.

Now that there are two of them and I'm outnumbered, I can totally understand why the suicide rate increases so drastically this time of year.

Ryan's in school, which means lots of new activities and parties and desserts to be made and treats to be packaged and guilt over not being able to volunteer because of Jaxson, who refuses to accept the term "Sit Still". I love to bake, I love spending time in the kitchen and making yummy homemade goodies. I love giving our creations to our friends and family, neighbors and acquaintances. I do not love how much it costs to purchase all the items needed. I do not love the grocer's exuberance over providing hundreds of foil roasting pans for turkey and such, but no extra foil pie pans. I was THIS CLOSE to having a Steve Martin "Father of the Bride" moment in the store yesterday. THIS CLOSE.

I love spending time with family, I do not love it that everyone in my family is childless, and can therefore afford to do the things we cannot, yet still insist on having us do them anyway. I do not like my inability and unwillingness to say NO.

I love the convenience of credit. I do not love the credit companies.

I love having a clean, inviting home during the holidays. I do not love mopping the floor,then finding it sticky with juice, scratched by rocks, and cluttered with crumbs 10 minutes later. I do not love doing the massive amount of dishes from baking and such, only to turn around and find that the 2- gallon tupperware bowl my husband thought would fit the turkey is now sitting, covered in turkey juice, in the sink. I do not love that.

I love spreading holiday cheer (can't you tell?) by sending treats with Shawn to his employees. I do not love that after a long day of cleaning, re-cleaning, shopping, baking, cooking, and laundry, all my husband can think to ask me is "Did you iron my clothes yet?", and "why are you even making this stuff?"

I love being able to provide a calm, relaxing atmosphere for Shawn to come home to after a bad day at work. I love the clean bedroom, covers turned down in case he wants to rest a bit, the low lighting, etc. I do not love the way he decided to shit all over it by throwing his crap everywhere for me to pick up.

I do not love all the requests for donations I cannot turn down, yet really can't afford. Teacher gifts, aide gifts, "special"(music, pe, worship) teacher gifts. I do not like it when the Fraternal Order of Police calls me to chastise me for never sending in the contribution I pledged. I do not like that.

I hate the people all around you, with their slimy, stinky, rude kids pushing and shoving and running over toes. I hate the commercialism of Christmas, and the fact that everyone completely skips over Thanksgiving. I hate how greedy we all are, how we are made to feel less-than if we don't own EVERYTHING.

I hate "holiday schedules", which throw my entire world into a whirlwind of chaos, leaving Ryan waiting half an hour for me at school because it turns out that yes, they did cancel Spanish class, regardless of what 3 different parents and the assistant principal said.

I hate my dry skin.

But, I hope everyone has a VERY Happy Thanksgiving. Gobble.

Look What We Got!!!

A new camera!! Finally, no more waiting for family and friends to email me pics!!

So, in honor of Amy and Shawn's early Christmas present, here are some photos, which prove that no matter how nice the camera is, if you suck at taking pictures, the pictures will suck.

Running Commentary

Lately, Ryan seems to be more verbal than normal. I never thought it was possible, but when it gets to be around 5pm and you realize that every discussion you have had with her that day has yet to possess a full sentence uttered without her interrupting, you start to catch on.

She is just so involved with explaining things to you, asking you to explain them to her, and reaffirming your explanation with an explanation of her own that does not quite fit, but works well enough that you let it slide just so she will STOP TALKING.

Mom: Ryan, you need to wear a sweater over your leotard to dance.
Ryan: Why?
Mom: Because it's cold and windy outside.
Ryan: It's okay that it's cold, Mom. The cold is good because it helps planes fly faster.
Mom: Oh yeah?
Ryan: Yeah, the cold is good because it's really windy and blows really hard and fast and that makes the plane go faster.


Mom: Ryan, you need to hurry up and finish eating.
Ryan: Mom, it's okay if I go slow eating my pizza. Know why?
Mom: Why?
Ryan: Because if I go too fast I could make myself not breathe and then I would not be breathing and then I would be dead.


Ryan: Mom, you really shouldn't talk on the phone when you drive. Know why?
Mom: Why?
Ryan: Because you could be talking and not see that you are flying and then we would be dead.

I've forgotten the rest. There're so many, and they are sooooo random, they all begin to meld together.

Oh. Except for this one:

Mom: (reading "Harry Potter" aloud a bedtime) ...blah, blah, Harry Potter, blah, magic, blah, blah, wizard, blah.
Ryan: Excuse me, Mom.
Mom: (extremely exasperated sigh) What, Ryan?
Ryan: I need to get up and throw these boogers away. Know why? Cause they're yucky and gross and they're boogers and I don't want them crawling all over me while I sleep! You know, Harry once had boogers crawling all over him...
Mom: Good night, Ry.

Couldn't have said it better, Jax...

My PMDD has reared its ugly, impatient, pissy head this month, leaving me depressed, sad, and bleegggghhhh. That said, I haven't felt like writing much lately, so I'll just offer up some pics from Wurstfest. Love to you all, and I'm sure I'll have something funny for you later -- it is Wednesday, after all.

Thanks, Mom

So I got a call from my Mom this morning. The kids are at the lake and Ryan wanted to talk to me. As soon as she got on the phone and we had gotten as far as "Hi Mommy!", she started screaming and hollering, to the point that the call had to be ended.

When Mom called me back a little later, she said Ryan had been so excited about talking to me, that she was bouncing around and fell and slammed her face against the hard-wood arm of a chair. They eventually calmed her down, telling her to breathe and asking her to smile, which she refused to do. Finallly, she excused herself from the others, declaring that she needed some "private time" to watch Sponge Bob. Then my mom walked into her bedroom closet and found Jaxson hiding, eating breath mints.

Mom: "Amy? This is what happens when you procreate."

Mirror Image

We all know that Ryan is an actress. So I don't think twice when I see her watching herself in the mirror as she's talking, brushing her teeth, breathing... (But it does bring back some painful, painful memories of the make-believe tv show "Cooking With Kiki" I used to performin my bathroom mirror. Painful, painful memories.)

But I was gobsmacked when I caught Jax, my little BIG MAN, mugging in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, wiggling his eyebrow, slanting his eyes, grinning as if to say , "Alright alright alright. Lookin' good Mr. Kott-air. Yeaaah, baby *wink*)

Impressed at how I morphed him into Wooderson, Boom-Boom and Austin Powers, all in one long run-on sentence?

And no, I don't care.

Does anyone know where I can shop for a nice gently used digital cam for not a lot of money? I have failed to protect my current one from my children, and have recently missed out on many kodak moments like Ryan running around with her shirt over her head yelling, "I'm a crazy scarecrow!"

And while we're at it, how the hell do I save my dvd movies to the computer so I can upload them for you good people to see?

Yes, I am that nerd who's not even cool enough to know the cool nerd stuff.

Alrighty Then

Nothing to sober you up after a night of drinking with the neighbors like having them tell you, as they are leaving, "Oh, by the way -- you can totally see into your bathroom window from our yard. 'Night!"

I Am The Pig

I couldn't have said it better, George. (In regards to Jaxson, that is.) The kid's been leaking personality lately, and more than anything he is turning out to be a pig. Another strike against the pedi -- I distinctly remember them stating that once he hit this age his appetite would decrease. That was 6 months ago and we're still waiting.

He will eat anything that doesn't move, and when he can't find anything to eat, he eats his fingers. His fingers. He's becoming the bulemic little girl I always feared I'd have. Was that too crass, even for me? Seriously, we're having to swat him to get him to stop gagging himself, because along with being a pig, he's double-entendred me and also developed into a ham. We are just now traning him to stop sticking his finger in his nose every time he hears the word. (I'd show you the initial nose-picking dinner video if I could figure out how to save the damn thing on the computer.)

I digress.

Really, he has me freaking out. I cannot stop feeding the child. He begs and whines and grunts and squeals until you give him something, and if you try to be strong and resist, because, for the love of God, you just fed him 2 bowls of oatmeal, a banana, granola bar and yogurt, and it's only 8:30 am, he goes for the jugular. My breaking point is about the time he starts slamming his head into the floor. Shawn can go until Jax starts hyperventilating. I wanna be like him when I grow up.

Halloween is SO last month

This is not like me. I typically mourn the passing of Halloween for at least a week, albeit due to a serious candy overdose. But this year?

This year, Ryan is in preschool, dance and gymnastics. This year we had 5 Halloween parties to attend, 3 where we had to show up in costume.

On top of that, this year I decided to test my limits and hold an inaugural Halloween Cook-Out at our house, instead of our normal "avoid middle-school trick-or-treaters by going out to eat ritual". This is a very run of the mill occurence for us -- we are always having people over to eat, usually once a week, if not more often. But, this was Halloween, Amy's Crack Holiday, and I wanted to "decorate". Me. The former DRAMA teacher.

I had a vision, thanks to memories of Haunted Houses visited as a child and a few back issues of Martha Stewart Living: Halloween. Unfortunately, my vision was most likely completed in days and weeks (not hours), and most definitely required a team of trolls to help set up, shop, construct costumes, and clean (not just me, myself and I). When I was teaching theatre, I had classfuls of trolls ready and willing (read: legally required by law) to help me out.

I won't bore you with specifics, but my vision did not come to fruition. The decor was half-ass at best, Jax's costume (should he have chosen to wear it) was ridiculous, and cleaning entailed stuffing closets with crap that I now get to spend my day sorting through.

This year, we were supposed to be The Wizard of Oz. Out of necessity, Ryan was a brilliant Dorothy (pics to come), Jax was to be Toto (complete wih basket), I was to be Glenda, and Shawn would be The Scarecrow, Tin Man, The "Big Head", or the Wicked Witch of the West -- we were still deciding on MOnday night. I was to make all the costumes. By "make", I mean throw stuff together that I've found lying around the house to pass off as abstract versions of the characters we were intending to represent. I'm resourceful like that.

Ry's costume was awesome, mostly because Ninny bought the dress, and I gave in and bought a wig. Jax's costume started out with great intentions -- weeks ago, I purchased a black sweat suit and fuzzy gray and black yarn to create the Toto look, along with a large wicker basket that we would cut out so he could stand inside it. Over the course of many weeks, I was only able to sew the front panel of the hoodie, and saved the rest for yesterday. By 6 pm, when our guests were due to arrive, i was burning myself with the hot glue gun trying to get the outfit to resemble something furry, scrapping the idea of ears altogether. My hope was that when he was in the basket walking beside Ryan, it would just be obvious. I am nothing if not over-confident.

He hated the basket, freaking out until we removed it, then insisted on wearing the hoodie unzipped, looking like a graying Hairy Man in reverse.

Then Trick or Treaters showed up and Ryan gave them all of our candy. At 6 pm. ALL. OF. IT.

Luckily, Ninny brought more, so we escaped near death there, but then Ryan ripped her wig off, Jaxson tore down the street (half naked), Hunter went on a do-or-die mission for candy, and Jayden was the best behaved one in the bunch. This, my friends, was a night.

Lalo and Jeff brought ANOTHER TROLL -- we'll talk later -- Shawn rocked the burgers, and I spent a lot of time admiring my bloody "REDRUM" finger painting in the hall mirror.

So the food was good, friends were good, fun was had, and now it's over and I have 364 more days to screw around and procrastinate before the next one.

I'm thinking ...19??

Let's talk scales, people.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad do you think it is for a mother to spend the majority of her day hiding from her kids, particularly her 18 month old son? And any time not spent hiding out is instead spent yelling, crying, rubbing her temples, and fantasizing about hiding out?

On a scale of 1 to 10, how annoyed would you be if everytime you turned around your 18 month old was throwing something, turning something over, spilling something, dunking something or breaking something? At time of print, he has emptied the entire contents of my tupperware cupboard, pulled down 3/4 of our Haolloween decorations, turned over his bowl of oatmeal, thrown a roll of toilet paper into the toilet, dumped over 2 drinks (neither belonging to him), and broken one candle votive. Perhaps we should make that scale 1 to 20.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how irritating would it be to have to choose between letting your kids scream and yell and fight with each other OVER hearing them scream and yell about not being able to play with each other?

On a scale of 1 to 10, how depressing is it that Ryan has taken to walking outside around the corner of the house in order to talk to me through the open window, because apparently I am just that scary?

On a scale of 1 to 10, how pissed would you be to learn that just 3 days after reaching your savings goal, you found out you were going to have to pay a pest company more than half of that amount to take care of the rat problem that you paid $350 to fix 2 years ago?

On a scale of 1 to 10, how lame are my creative abilities that my 4 yr old daughter begged me to purchase her an actual Dorothy wig, rather than have to wear the one I made, stating, "the one you made is kind of funky. I don't want the kids to laugh at me" ?

On a scale of 1 to 10, how elated am I that tonight is leftover night, and how much guilt will I sooo not feel when Shawn starts pissing and moaning about having to eat re-heated food?

Ona scale of 1 to 10, how happy are you NOT to be me today??

Lord of the Dance

The most shocking of all the adventures we encountered tonight at our local Haunted Hayride was not the creepy werewolf prowling the premises, not Hunter and Jaxson running off towards the woods every 5 second, not even the staged "snatching" of a child from the hayride by a resident witch -- no, the most shocking of all had to be Ryan dancing an Irish Jig while a celtic group played on. It was as if she was possessed, legs flailing, feet kicking, and the look of concentration on her face -- I was floored, as were all the other kids who quickly cleared the way to watch and clap in awe.

When asked where she learned how to dance like that, she calmly threw the following reply over her shoulder as she walked away: "Harry Potter".

Of course he did. (I guess this means they're back "on"?)

Slice 'O Life (aka, What the Hell? Wednesday)

People all over the world are at this very moment pondering the meaning of life. Some will search for answers until they die, others will find their greater purpose and do their best to serve. Me? Well, I don't even have to try.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again and again: I was put here to make God laugh. Doesn't necessarily mean I'm a funny gal, though some think so (thanks, Mom). Doesn't mean I can tell a good joke (thanks, Dad). Nope, The Big Guy simply put me here to jerk around like the Mother of all Pinocchios, laughing His Almighty Head off at the way I handle the crazy-ass situations He provides for me. I am His sit-com. My ratings are off the charts.

Let's just take today, for instance. I knew it was going to be a doozie, because, A)It's Wednesday; B)It's holiday season; 3) It's ME.

Like all minions of Hell, I'd started out with the best of intentions. At the beginning of Ryan's school year, I put my name down to serve on a plethora of committees, one of which was the Fall Festival. In my inane way of reasoning, I'd assured myself that it would not effect negatively on my life or the lives of my family, for the festival is a one-time thing, I'd only signed up to help the day-of, and it was after the Sale, and before Halloween. I neglected to remind myself of my penchant for hand-crafting our costumes and my tendency towards procrastination.

I really thought I'd had everything under control. Ryan's costume, which is the only one that REALLY matters, was 97% done, and I was an ant's ass close to finishing it. Although the head of the festival committee had assured me that it would be fine to bring Jax along, I'd made other arrangements for him, so that I could give my undivided attention to my festival duties (maning the Fishing For Pumpkins Booth).

Then Tuesday hit. I was rippin' and roarin', getting housework done, working on costumes, prepping, prepping, prepping, and then I crashed. 2:30 rolled around I felt like someone had stuffed my head with used kleenex, and it was not a good thing, Martha. I barely -- barely-- drudged through the rest of the day, depending solely on Shawn to pick up my slack, which he did without even one complaint. I was so ready to head off to bed at 6:30 pm, until Ryan's dance teacher called, announcing that since we had missed last Wednesday, she was not able to tell us that this Wedneday would be costumeday at dance, and could Ryan please dress up? Friggenenfrearamen.

So I stayed up and finished Ryan's costume, which realy just consisted of sewing brown yarn onto a head band in an effort to creat some sort of Dorothy-like 'do. (Shawn's idea: "Just spray-paint her head brown and be done with it.")With all the mayhem involved in finishing the costume a day early, I completely forgot to confirm my plans for the next morning for Jax, so that option sadly fell by the wayside.

I woke up this morning after a night of fitful sleep, anticipating the Day of Death, no doubt, crawled out of bed and into the shower. Got the kids off to a good start, made up my mind to bring Jax along to the festival, and deciding to bow out early to get him home in time for a nap before the 7th inning strecth, which is known as "Wednesday afternoon".

Drove the kids to school in a monsoon, but left early so as not to have to rush, which was great since it took us 10 minutes to make it from the parking lot into the school seeing as how we 3 had to shuffle ever.so.slowly so as to all be able to remain under the $3.99 umbrella i got on clearance at Target. We got Ryan off to class, then made our way to the auditorium. Once I got situated at my booth and realized we had 20 minutes until the kids actually showed up, I realized things would not be going smoothly for me. The reason? Jax.

Jax, God bless him, is not like other children. I say this out of pure love, and state it as a fact, seeing as how I watched him continually behave unlike any of the other kids his age this morning, and it was quite the sobering experience, I assure you.

My booth was Fishing for Pumpkins, which also happened to be the one booth from which I could not tear Jaxson away. You'd think I should be happy about being able to keep him so close in a room full of toddler-sized games, but when the game you are supervising invloves water, fish bowl nets, and Jaxson, things cannot be good.

Sure enough, he was happy for awhile, playing frivolously in the fishing trough, until it was time for the school kids to take over and play. Silly kids.

Some of the other moms saw me struggling and tried to distract Jaxson with Velcro Ghost Darts, coloring pages, and mini golf. Silly Moms.

Jax allowed himself to be enticed by the Velcro Ghosts Darts (balls), only so as to be able to pummel the supervising mom with 2 of the velcro balls, and take off with the other one, which he promptly threw into the fishing trough. Strike One.

He gaily traipsed over to the coloring tables, where he grabbed handfuls of crayons, tore off towards the fishing trough and threw them in. Strike Two.

We finally got him focused on golf, until he figured out he could run with the plastic golf club, which he did, and then threw it in the fishing trough. Strike Three.

At this point, the moms sauntered quietly away, leaving Jax to play by my side, since that's what he was going to do anyway. That actually went okay until he started fencing a couple of 2 yr olds with his fishing net, at which point we all decided it would okay if I left early. As long as I took him with me.

At least I was able to get him home early for that nap, got Ry's dress finished, and then we were off again to do the pre-school shuffle. Back to the parking lot, sloshing through the rain, then off to our playdate where I finally finished Ryan's wig with the help of my friend Melanie. The thing is, we didn't exactly use Ryan's head (or any head, for that matter) as a model, so she ended up looking like a cross between Billy Ray Cyrus and Daniel Boone with braids. She LOVED it.

We had just enough time to hustle over to dance, where she was the only girl not dressed as Tinkerbell (I am so serious it hurts), and everyone thought she was darling, or at least that's what they said to my face.

We left the YMCA, it rained some more, they yelled, we all took a bath together, I yelled, Daddy was late, I ordered pizza, they yelled, we ate dinner, Jax yelled, I put him to bed where he yelled some more, Ry yelled that she doesn't like it when I yell because it makes her feel "grown-upish", which apparently means "having to talk and make mean faces", so I stopped yelling, Shawn came home, he yelled about having to have pizza for dinner, made fun of Ryan's wig, and I went to bed.

THE END.

So you see, I need never search for my meaning on Earth. It's all very very painstakingly clear.

Genetic Shit

That's the newest search entry leading to our humble home. And my favorite thus far. Fitting, no? I'm thinking of changing the title of the blog to that very phrase.

Love Lives

Looks like a certain 4 1/2 year old diva and a much older spectacled wizard-boy have split!

Details are blurry, it's a bit confusing (very "When Harry Met Sally", or Ryan, as it were), but apparently the break-up had something to do with the fact that Harry went to Disney World without her.

Stay tuned...

Amy & Shawn, sittin' in a tree...

We just had the best anniversary weekend. Ever. I say that every year, which I personally think is a testament to our marriage, but none-the-less, this one really really rocked.

This was our seca-fifth-aversary (second fifth), and since we didn't do anything for our Aug. date, we knew we needed to kick it up. (You can read my post from our 1st 5th here.)

The actual date was Friday, and we started our morning out perfectly: snuggled with the kiddos in bed, chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, and on to the Y for a workout.

Ginger came over and relieved us from our parenting duties, we took off and had such a nice lunch at Hula Hut, zipped over to pay a visit to our buddy Jeremiah (he was a groomsman), then took off to Buda to wait for Jenny, Lalo and Jeff.

Buda? Buda? Yes, my friends. Buda. Host to the Texas Fire Fest, their annual firefighters fundraiser, headlined by the one and only Cross Canadian Ragweed. We were so there.

All was lovely until we got to the motel and found out our reservations were actually for the site in Austin. Much arguing ensued, fueling a Mom-moment between myself and the front desk clerk, a moment which Shawn quickly deflected, paying for a new room, and ultimately feeding me a few drinks to calm me back down.

The rest of our posse arrived, and we quickly huddled into the car, heading to dinner and then on to the show.

Jenny had connections and got us backstage, where I quickly pounced on Cody Canada, embracing him in a bear hug and exclaiming, "It's my 5th Anniversary!!", to which he laughed, smiled, nodded, and walked away. He totally had the hots for me, until I crushed him with the anniversary bit, poor guy.

The show was amazing as always, Shawn and I got sufficiently hammered; Jenny, Lalo and Jeff made sufficient fun of us, and we all crashed at the motel.

We got some face time with the kids the nect day, until Ninny whisked them away to the lake so that we could have a quiet dinner out, thanks to the gift certs she provided. Great food, good wine, and then Shawn sends me this with the following caption:

"thought you'd like to see the pumpkin I carved your visage into."

I think it might be love.

Four going on Forty

Shawn and Jennifer were goofing off at the dinner table tonight and he made some sort of mean/mad face. Ryan asked what was wrong with him, and Ninny replied:

"Ryan, we've been asking ourselves that about him for years. There's nothing we can do about his face."

Ryan: "Ninny, sometimes you just have to learn to let it go."

And then we spewed our food all over the table.

What-the-Hell Wednesday

I was having such a bad today. PMS, and all that stuff. I kept plowing through, though, which is a side effect of having kiddos -- I can no longer just succumb to the depression, anxiety and weight-obsession and crawl back into bed (still undecided as to whether or not this is a positive side effect or negative).

I just kept going, and it just kept getting worse. Nothing to wear? Fine. I'll apply all the makeup I own in an attempt to look good in sweats.

What's that? The 90 degree weather melted half of it before I got Ry to preschool? Whatever. I'll just go to the outlet to get that discount moisturizer I've been needing, some new shades, and a pair of shoes for Jax. That should do the trick.

Hang on -- did I just miss the exit? Have to drive 3 miles before a turn around? Hmmph. Well, I guess I better call Angie and tell her we'll be late meeting her and the boys at the library.

Shit. I left the phone at home. ugghh. Fine, I'll just rush and skip getting shoes for Jax, 'cause he doesn't really care, and then maybe I'll be a little late for the library, but no big deal.

Crap. Half an hour late for the library, Jax is hungry and crying (again), we just passed McDonalds and my stomach actually spoke to me (even as it was pouring itself over the top of my pants), and traffic is a bitch. No prob -- I'm sure storytime just ended -- maybe we can just go to Mickey D's for lunch and play there.

Except that I've really gained a lot of weight lately. And I did stop my tanning membership, so now I'm flabby and pasty. So maybe Mc Donald's isn't the best idea...I'll just search the library for them and we can talk about it -- looks like they must have left already. Hohum. I suppose I could always just go thru the drive-thru (Jax is hungry, after all).

Oookkkkaaayyy, maybe not. Just passed a woman pulling out of the donut shop drive-thru, greasy hair all tangled around her face, studiously examining her purchase. I cannot become this woman. She's in here somewhere, and she must not get out. I'll just fix tuna for lunch, put Jax down for a nap, then take the food with us to our playdate and feed him there before we go to dance.

God love it, I forgot to wrap the presents I'm bringing to the playdate (overdue new-baby gifts). Fuck it, I'll just throw the wrapping stuff in the car and do it on the way to get Ry.

Motherfucker, cut my damn thumb with the scissors.

Finally get to Ryan, teacher tells me she pinched a little girl today. IN CHAPEL. I'm not sure what my face looked like, but it must have been bad, because immediately the teacher insisted that Ryan really is a sweet, loving child and it was an impulse thing, and she apologized and it's all okay. ("Don't hurt the puppy! Please don't hurt the puppy!") Regardless, I sit down with Ryan in the teen-einy little hallway and discussed the situation. Then Jax throws himself against the wall, trips a mom coming out of a classroom, tears off running into an open storage room full of toys, and goes to town. Breathe, Amy. Breathe. Just get thru the playdate, get Ry to dance, and go work out -- things will feel better after you sweat off some frustration. (And the beer from last night. And the Chunky Monkey.)

For the love of God -- I left her dance gear at home. Alrighty, then. There will be no stress relief, I will die one big ball of tension, but not before we go to this playdate that has been rescheduled a zillion times, so no matter how badly I really want to just go home and sleep, I can't -- plus, I'd hate to think I'd slashed my thumb in vain.

Oh My. Sweet. Baby. Cade. 6 week old new baby hair! 6-week-old new baby ears! And fingers!! And toes! And smell!!!!!! This. This is my stress relief. This was exactly what I was needing. This is wonderful! I think I feel my uterus knocking -- and then...

Then?

Well, folks, then Jaxson mounts their dog and begins dry-humping him.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker

It's not bad enough that Ry has already kissed a boy, starting a snowball of dating, sexual aggression, and marriage.

Now she's moved on to her brother. Witness our conversation over breakfast this morning:

"Hey Mommy? Do you think that when Emma and Addie grow up they will fall in love with Jaxson and marry him?"

"Oh God, Ry. Let's not think about stuff like that now."

"I bet I could make them."

Disease of the Week, pt. II

So Jax had his 18 month check up today. Average height, average weight (huh??), average, average, average.

Except for that whole pesky Neurofibromitosis bit. Yep. Turns out, those cute little "shadow" birthmarks he has all over his body (which pretty much match the ones all over Shawn's body) have us making appointments with a geneticist. Sweet.

I thought we'd run the gammut with crazy genetic shit when we found out Ry carries the Sickle cell trait. Just goes to show if you are related to me, you can never really be saved from some sort of genetic mutation.

One highlight? When she asked Jax to show her his nose, he stuck his average chubby little finger straight up his average runny noe, and produced the most un-average green snot rocket.

Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, doc.

Don't ever let anyone tell you that I am not the greatest mom ever

Ryan ran a fever off and on most of the weekend. Took her to the pumpkin patch anyway.

Jax is still -STILL- without shoes for his freakishly wide feet. Let him run barefoot all over that damn farm. 'CAUSE HE'S A BOY!!! When a couple of moms admonished me due to the fact that there were several antbeds lying around, all I could say was 1) I'm walking right behind him, lady -- he'll be okay and 2) (more mumbled than spoken out loud)..how's he supposed to know not to step in antbeds if he never gets bitten? Sheesh.

All in all, the day was pretty good until Ryan's fever spiked and Jax threw one of his doozies because we would not let him crawl into the pen with the goats.

You give an inch, they take a foot...

Superstition-Pooperstition

We have this ladder. This 8ft-tall rickety old wooden ladder.

This is the ladder I was standing on today when Ryan decided to walk straight underneath it.

"Ryan! Stop! What are you doing???"

"What?!? I just walked underneath the ladder."

"That's bad luck, Ry!"

"Whatever, mom. Nothing bad happened to me."

"Yes, but I'm the one teetering 8ft. in the air on this wobbly wooden death-trap."

"Well I wouldn't walk under any ladders if I was you."

When the voices in my head start screaming out loud

I am THIS CLOSE to throwing Jaxson out the window, onto the bed of a passing truck, and flashing the deuce that I should not even be sitting here writing this to you; I should be delivering him to a neighbor or family member for safe keeping. (For those CPS spies out there -- yes, I am joking. Kind of.)

Bless his whiny little heart, I know his teeth are hurting, I know he's dealing with communications issues, but how does screaming, slapping, kicking, and bursting into flames solve anything? Where oh where could he have developed these non-sensical methods of blowing off steam?

*crickets*

Big surprise. I'm sure I'm to blame, I'm sure I'm getting my due justice and all that jazz, but when is it Shawn's turn to be at fault? When does he get to reap the benefits of the seeds he's sewn? That's all I'm askin', just a little equal division of punishment, kids; a little something to take the edge off of this mind-numbing, red-hot poker they have collectively shoved into my brain.

Another thing -- if Jax hates being around me, which clearly he must (how many gestures of love include hair-pulling, boobie-squeezing and body biting? Wait -- don't answer that, I don't want to know), why does he insist on following me everywhere I go? HOW CAN I ESCAPE????

I keep hoping that one day soon his grunts and screams will turn into words and we can both sit down and have a level-headed conversation about appropriate behavior, boundaries, etc. I feel certain that once he sees things from my point of view, he'll understand my requests and happily oblige.

And then we will hug and dance with the fairies at dusk.

What happened to the figurative "magic hour" in a male's life -- when he begins as a boy, craving his mother's arms, expressing his love with kisses and hugs. How have we gone straight from the birth canal to an angry, raging man in 18 mo old clothes? I'd be pissed, too! What is up with the roughness? And the impatience? And the resistance to any type of PDA? Where is my little boy? Who is this man-child, and shouldn't Shawn be in charge of this one? I handled the girl, that's my area. I've never wielded the Y chromosome, I don't ride waves of testoterone -- why give this crazy puzzle to the one with the least clues? WHY???

God, I need a beer.

You know you're ready for a nap when...

you beg your 18 mo. old to play with your bottle of prozac so as to keep him from falling asleep too soon while in the car to pick up your 4 yr old. A girl's gotta do...

My Mistake

I have been informed that I will never again receive any help from my sister with the kiddos, merely because of the comment I made regarding the messy house I am facing today. According to Ninny, she did the dishes and made dinner, bathed the kids, while Shawn swept the kitchen floor and wiped down the counters. I hereby retract my statement to the contrary in my previous post, and declare October National Ninny Month. If there is anything else I can do to recover from my fatal mistake, please let me know.

(We have a Cross Canadian Ragweed concert coming up soon, and will be needing sufficient babysitting).

Over and out

Mommy and Me is over, and now I can get back to living the rest of my life for a couple of months until we start again for Spring!! This one was huge (which we knew it would be), we drew about 20,000 items and hundreds of shoppers.

That was great and all, except that when you cast a wide net, you tend to scoop up some bottom-feeders as well. You can always spot them, coming AND going. The majority of the consignors are moms like most of us, just looking to sell off their expensive stuff and save money on more expensive stuff (Santa picked up a very cute power wheels Jeep for Jax for $50). Then there are the garage sale moms who will buy anything for a dollar, but when it comes time to selling, they can't get rid of half of it, so they attempt to shrug it off on us. When we reject it, these ladies like to throw hissy fits, unable to understand exactly why we won't take on their mildewed high chair, even as it is leaking rust all over them as they carry it away.

We get them shopping, too, which is good -- we want to be able to give moms a great deal, but there are times when you want to draw the line, like on the group of 5 women, all missing 12 teeth each, all sending a strange stench wafting, and none of them speaking with any type of grammar structure whatsoever. You know what I mean, you can usually hear them arguing over who brought the plastic velcroed money wallet, joking about selling the newborn baby they are toting for 25 cents. Ahh, yes. These are the gems I look forward to every time. I'm sure that makes me a snob, but we all have our cross to bear.

Shawn did a great job ( largely with Ninny's help) with the kids, and apparently he even rocked the Sunday School class like nobody's business (if you consider standing around and glaring at the kids "rocking") Big props to Elisa, Angie, and Ginger for pulling weight as well -- you guys are our VILLAGE!! If not for all of you, I never would have been able to unwind with the rest of the mommies, getting wasted at Chuy's Saturday night, only to come home to a screaming (MOLARS) Jax, who had me up and going at 5 am.

Menana, BigDaddy and Lea spent the weekend at the home of one of the Charger's coaches, treated to the kind of VIP treatment that had mom calling us, exuberant over being able to park "right at the front of the parking lot!" But the highlight was not Dad on the sidelines, or even the Front Row Joe parking space, no no my friends. The highlight was the fact that sitting right behind them was Carlos from Desperate Housewives, who was apparently very nice, very talkative, and very eager to pass his email address on to my cancer-ridden mother -- oh yes, the cancer card was sooo played.

So anyway, the real world beckons, playdates are waiting, and a weekend's worth of no one cleaning is requesting my presence. See ya on the other side.

Walk and talk, walk and talk

Can't talk now. Working Mommy and Me. Lots of stuff, get your butts to the Dell Diamond if at all possible.

**Note to kids in my Sunday School class: Please don't be afraid of the grumpy man who bill be taking my place this weekend. His name is Mr. Shawn. He is not as scary as he looks. Well, maybe he is, but you just let me know if he gives you any problems, and I'll take care of it.

For the rest of you: Ryan kissed a boy in her class this week. To be fair, she did warn us she was going to do it. And then she did. Her teachers says that her only real problem in class is not minding other people's spaces, i.e: she touchs, feels, and rubs up on everyone whether they like it or not.

Kinda like this blog.

Little Black Penny Loafers

Little black penny-loafers, why do I love you so?
Little black penny-loafers, I simply cannot let you go.

Little black penny-laofers, you were his when just a babe.
Little black penny-loafers, imagine the money we could have made.

Little black penny-loafers, only worn but one brief time.
Little black penny loafers, I'm having a hard time trying to rhyme.

Little black penny-loafers, upon the shelf you will go.
Little black penny-loafers, reminding me of the baby boy I used to know.

Little black penny-loafers, when did I become such a sap?
Little black penny-loafers, I think I need to take a nap.

Little black penny-loafers, I don't know what else to say.
Little black penny-loafers, I'll never make back the investment on the money I paid.

I hope you're happy.

Update on "You Heard it here..."

I've been meaning to post the update to my post about Eva and Tony. We found out the week after I posted it that it was Michael Finley (of the Spurs) who got married, not the golden couple. (Thanks, Ang for rubbing my nose in it!!;))

Now kids, I hope this has taught you all a valuable lesson about gossip: NEVER post gossip on your blog unless you are absolutely positively sure it's true!!!