Unabashed Product Placement

Some new stuff at shopchunkyrhino -- check it out, and for the Love of Lucifer, give me some feedback!

(I, for one, think the she-skull baby looks like she's got a 5 0'clock shadow, but Shawn thinks it looks great...)

Ranch is the new Crack

For Jax, anyway.

I thought I was bad, using Ranch as my dip of choice for every chip imaginable. I could eat the stuff on anything, and in fact, was known to put together a tasy cure for my midnight munchies in college: croutons and ranch in a bowl (don't knock it til you've tried it).

But I am Nothing, NOTHING compared to my son. I took the kids to Chili's tonight for our own little date night (Daddy's working), and as always, we ordered chips &Ranch, with extra Ranch for Jax. Now, I knew he had a liking for the stuff, but I had no idea how far his addiction goes until I looked over and saw him dipping his crayons in it, then sucking it off.

Laughing, I pulled the crayon away and handed him a chip instead, thinking what a cute little side entry it would make in my next blog post, when I turn to him again and *choking back gag reflex even as I type* found him drinking the Ranch straight out of the ramiken.

I shudder. I don't recall o.d.'ing on the stuff while he was in the womb, but I must have done something wrong, because that ain't right.

The Mommy Drew Mysteries

Do you moms ever feel like you are a real-life detective, solving mysteries left and right on a day-to-day basis? Just last night, as I embarked on the "Search for the Refrigerator Leak", I realized how many of these mysteries I find myslef "solving" everyday.

Just yesterday, there was "The Case of the Missing Binky" (a recurring episode in our household), not to be outdone by "The Mystery of the Broken Toy", or "The Case of the Wayward Husband Who Can't Put His Dirty Clothes in the Hamper".

I swear, we moms could unite and start our own detective agency, kinda like "The Babysitters Club", but without all the crimped hair and day-glo clothing.

Who's in?

Discipline Dilemma

So, Shawn grounded Ryan yesterday for lying. That's our #1 no-no here at Casa de Dysfunction, so I was totally behind his decision to punish her until I found out he grounded her for a week, and was very explicit in laying out the terms of the grounding:

1. No TV
2. No Playdates
3. No books at bedtime
4. No songs at bedtime (the child cannot fall asleep without listening to her radio at night)

Fuckwah?? Hello! Mr. Mom, next time you decide to interfere could you check with me first?? You don't see me running to your restaurant and firing every bad employee I see, do you??

No TV for a week? Fine, I can work around that, we watch too much as it is. No books at bedtime? Again, it makes me a little sad, but okay. The song business? I feel her pain, but she shouldn't have lied, so maybe as she's laying up in her bed, counting crayon marks on the ceiling, trying to fall asleep, she'll actually spend some time thinking about why she's got no music, and hopefully that lesson will stick with her. Fine.

But NO PLAYDATES?? Who do you think I am, Ghandi?? My week is managed through playdates -- I network via playdates, the way you guys "make deals" on the golf course. I work two child-based side jobs, how the hell am I supposed to do that when you've forbidden my child from playing with other kids for a week?

Exhibit A: The Morning Meeting Playdate: This occurs when I need to meet for Mommy and Me, and instead of begging or (gasp!--paying) for childcare, I arrange a meeting/playdate so the kids are occupied while the mommies do business. Which, FYI, I've got one this very morning at 10 am AT OUR HOUSE. Your answer? "Keep her in her room while the other kids are here." Fine, but what you also don't understand is that she's my Social Director. She keeps the kids going so we don't have to break every 5 minutes to give them ideas on what to play next. Good one, Dad.

Exhibit B: The New-Mom/ Friend Playdate: Do you not remember me tellng you I was looking forward to having a playdate with the new people we met at McDonald's last week? The one who has more in common with us than any other kid/parent combo we've yet to meet? Yeah, that one. Looks like that's out the window...

Exhibit C: The Cocktail Hour Playdate: No, we don't drink at these (but that's not a bad idea...), but they do provide the benefits we used to reap from those alcohol-induced gabfests where we girls hash out all the troubles with you men, and that, my friend, is invaluable time spent - invaluable.

So you see, not only have you grounded our little fibber for the week, you've also grounded me, and let me tell you, I'm not that happy about it, and you will be hearing from my lawyer, Mr. Jaxson T. York. Good luck with that one.

Cooking with "Kiki"

Right, so I'm pretty sure I've mentioned my once-upon-a-time cooking show host alter-ego, Kiki. Turns out Cooking with Kiki is about as entertaining as Cleaning with Children...

My grandmother handed down one of her old French Acadian cookbooks, and after allowing Shawn to peruse it, he got his heart set on having Crawfish Pie. "Not a problem," I say, "I'm 1/2 Cajun, it should come naturally." That, and I have the recipe, which you would think should be enough.

You would think.

I have this funny little habit of reading (aka:skimming) everything very literally, not always using that tool most handy to cooks around the world: common sense. So I get to the store and proceed to the Seafood counter to purchase 3 lbs cooked crawfish. Not because it calls for 3 lbs of crawfish, but because I also have a funny little habit of not fully reading (aka:skimming) recipes before I shop, and thus have misunderstood 3 cups to mean 3 lbs. Please don't ask.

Fine fine fine. But wait -- it's Good Friday -- they're all out of cooked crawfish, and Amy gets suckered into buying the uncooked kind instead. You know, the LIVE, creepily, crawling, bugging little-eyed mudsuckers that my sisters and I used to watch, fixated, as they boiled to their demise in our grandfather's huge boiler. Those uncooked crawfish. Ryan about shit herself.

She's not yet been totally inaugurated into the Cajun family history, and as of yet, is still a bit unfamiliar with the cuisine and the fun it entails. No time like the present for a good history lesson, right?

So I excitedly order 3 lbs of the buggers, completely disregarding the fact that I've never personally boiled crawfish before (there must be instructions somewhere that I can skim, no?), and carry on with my shopping list.

Next up is "a bunch of shallots". Hmmm...I'm pretty certain shallots are onions, I think they may look like chives or leeks, so I make my way to the produce section. And I'm looking, I'm looking, I'm looking...no shallots listed on any of the signs...I could ask the produce guy standing right next to me, but that would mean admitting I don't know something, and that is not allowed in the make-believe world of "Kiki". So I turn around and peruse the bulbous-onion side of the produce section. Ah, yes! Right there, little mini-onions labeled "Shallots" -- except, wait, there are two bins with different sized mini-onions, but only one sign above them. Which do I get? The baby one or the bigger ones? And what constitutes a "bunch" of these things? Christ on a Cracker, I guess I'll just have to get some of each and cross my fingers. (That's usually a good plan when cooking.)

Luckily, I have my wits about me enough to grab some boil seasoning before leaving the store, and arrive at home ready to fly my coon-ass colors.

Woopsie Poopsie, I just realized that the recipe called for 3 cups, not 3 lbs...and how do I know how many cups 3lbs of uncooked crawfish will yield?? What if we have a huge influx of unused boiled crawfish just lying around?? And, do you think they could possibly have had pre-cooked, pre-packaged crawfish meat somewhere in the store, and I just didn't look hard enough? Hmmm....


Anyhoo, here I am trying not to flip over this tiny snafu, ignorantly thinking we can just eat the rest of the boiled crawfish, not taking the time to even attempt to Google the conversion of pound live crawfish to cups cooked. I'm a rebel that way. It gives you guys something to laugh at.

I go about boiling the mud-spitters, completely ignoring the instructions to rinse in cold water and salt to make sure they're nice and clean...that probably only pertains to the real Cajuns who pull their own crawfish out of the ditches and swamps, right? Yeah, probably.

Okay, perusing the recipe, and, huh. Time to pay the piper regarding the whole "bunch of shallots" business. I know! I'll call Mom -- she'll know.

(10 minutes later)

Some help she was. she couldn't answer one of my questions. Cajun-smajun. Fine, I'll just Google "bunch of shallots" and see what I find.... Okay, here is a whole mess of them grouped on a vine-like thing like grapes, but surely they can't mean all those onions. Let's see..oh, wait -- here they are! And whaddya know -- they're just like green onions, but with little white bulbs at the end. Slap my mouth and call me Fred, my initial instinct was right! Too bad I didn't follow it, guess I'll just send Shawn to get some at the store. That should only take AN HOUR.

Right. So, the crawfish are ready for me to de-meat them. Unfortunately, I boiled them for 15 minutes, which is about 10 minutes too long, so even if we had enough to eat straight out of the shell, they'd just be nice and soggy, and no one wants soggy crawfish. Also? 3 lbs of crawfish yields ONE CUP of meat. Yikes. The recipe calls for 3 cups. Oh, well. Live and Learn.

I'm not giving up! I'm not giving in to this screaming banshee in my head telling me what a failure I am! I've just spent 3 hours prepping the ingredients for this damn thing, and we will eat it whether we like it or not!

Fortunately, everything is better with Cajun spices and salt and pepper, and although it turned out to be more of a crawfish-flavored rice pie with crawfish bits included, it was still good. Plus, now I know all kinds of things I didn't before -- like what shallots are and the conversion from pounds to cups of crawfish, and you can't just learn those things from, say, the Internet or--oh, wait....Never mind.

Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez!!

Cleaning with Children

First of all, that's a paradoxical statement if I ever heard one. Second, I never knew how fun it could be, given you use the correct materials. Clarification? Non toxic, organic, Greenpeace -certified cleaning crap.

I love the Method cleaning line at Target. Not because I'm hell-bent on being earth -friendly (although I am), not because I'm worried about the health of my kids (although I am), but because the packaging is so pretty! I love the sleek design, the scented window cleaner, and the wood wipes work wonders on my otherwise uncleanable wood floor(plus, when I'm done with the bottle, I can take the wrapper off and use it for something else -- what, I'm not sure, but it will most likely come in handy some day...)

That said, after yesterday, I love them even more for the one reason I should have loved them in the first place : non-toxic. Why? Well, you would sing the praises of non-toxic cleaning supplies, too if a)your 2 yr-old excitedly licked the dinner table every time you sprayed it with the all-purpose kitchen cleaner, and b) amidst lectures and warnings to only use the wood wipes on the wooden table, you turn to find your 5 yr old wiping her face with one of them.

Like I said: it's all about the non-toxic, baby.

...And the Band Played On (aka "What the Hell Wednesday")

Shit just keeps gettin' better on our end, peeps. Took Jax with me to Ryan's kindergarten registration, and now I'm pretty sure we'll all be blacklisted there from now until eternity.

He did okay at first, sucking on the lollipop that they attached to a balloon for him, following the BIG BOYS around, chattering and nodding his head. I was amused to the point of literally being tickled, until he took off for the janitor's closet, and they started bringing the students in for lunch, which meant we had to get up and get out.

Not quite through with my paperwork, I gathered everything up, chased him away from the mop bucket, and herded him onto the cafe-gym-itorium stage where I attempted to coax him to calmness with crayons,. I should have known better, and am constantly amazed at how naive I am when it comes to my son. Of course he's gonna start marking the stage, of course, he's gonna see how far he can jump off the stage, of course, he's gonna let his balloon go and then scream until I climb onto a chair to retrieve it. And this is only 30 minutes in.

We finally make our way to the real line, which is oh, about 12 people deep and serviced by only 2 office staff. In other words, we were looking at a wait. I'm used to this, I don't even blink when he runs around in circles, or puts his feet on the wall, or shock of all shockers -- tries to grab more balloons from the rainbow jungle they've got set up right on front of us. Not even a blink from me, until the elementary mommy mafia start in on him, staring, whispering, laughing...Still, I barely bat an eye. He runs, I chase. He grabs a balloon, I take it back. He heads into the front office to massacre their files, I push them back in an orderly fashion. Same old, same old.

Or not.

At first, all the parents in line are chuckling along, marveling at what a "wonderful ball of energy he is", but then, when he actually puts one of the wrapped lollipops in his mouth, the facade cracks. "Why don't you just give it to him," Mommy Mobster #1 sneers, "he's already put it in his mouth anyway, we can't hand it out now."

"Oh, sorry", I mutter, all at once cut down by her tone and glare. So I unwrap it, hand it to him, and sit him against the wall next to me, where he lasts all of 3 minutes before heading off down the hall again. This is when Mobster #2 approaches me, wielding crayons and paper. Bless her stupid little heart. "Thanks," I smile, thinking, "yeah, right."

I make an effort anyway, sit him down at the wall, put the crayons in his hand, and point him towards the paper. Not 5 seconds after I'm back in line, he's attacked the floor with crayola, and has his feet banging against the quintessential elementary sound-proofing attempt: the carpeted walls. The Mommy Mafia is sitting on the other side of said wall, and all 3 of them quickly come about to see what on earth could be causing such a ruckus. Hmmm, I wonder...

Right about then, Mobster #2 grabs one of the office staff, whispering and pointing in my direction, coming up for air to glance at Jax and say, "We're going to go ahead and move you up in the line so you can get him out of here." Great, just what I need. As if I'm not annoying enough with my own personal little Tasmanian Devil by my side, now I get to cut in front of all the other tired parents who've been waiting longer than me. Perfect.

So up we go, Jax trotting along, me walking with my eyes downcast, mumbling apologies. Then? Well, then they make me wait at the front of the line while the Office Gestapo finishes with the previous parent. So now I get to stand there in front of my child's peer's parents, as they burn my face into their brains, remembering me as the ONE WHO CUT. That should help us make friends.

Meanwhile, Jax hasn't taken a beat -- he keeps right up, attacking the copy machine, being shooed away by Mommy Mobster #3, lurching at balloons that they have left everywhere, dumping crayons all over the floor. So here I go, chasing him around this 12x12 room, making a complete fool of myself as a parent and a human being, giving the people I've pissed off even more ammunition to use against me, when my friend, who I've also cut in front of, but in the worst way -- she was the next in line -- asks me if she can take Jax for me.

I have great friends. I really do, and most of them are always willing to try and help out when needed, but the problem is, I want to keep my friends, and with Jax, it's a crap shoot. I tell her that it's okay, I'll just hold him while I wait, but then he starts hitting me, and rather than spank him and scream, which, you know, is what I do, I look at her and hand him over. So now, not only have I cut in front of her, I've now handed her Satan's Minion to hold while she waits even longer.

Finally, it's my turn to face the Gestapo, and if you thought the staff at the DPS was bad, you need to visit the office staff on kindergarten registration day. If I hadn't already been pissed off at everyone around me, I actually might have been scared. She pulled one of those, "I'm so irritated I can't even talk to you, I'll just gesture until you figure out what I want" moves, which I love, and which really just sealed the deal for me right then and there. All I needed from her was a snap in my direction, and we would be researching Private Schools right now.

Once she finished assassinating our records and my dignity, I moved over to the nurse, ready to get outta dodge, only to be told that Ry still needs one more MMR. Another point for MOTY!!!

I get all the instructions, and then she mentions that if I want to stop by the PTA table to buy supplies early, I am welcome to. Sure, then maybe we'll all get naked and dance the hokey-pokey.

I walk off, eager to grab Jax and get home so I can discipline him properly (relax, I just put him to nap), when the PTA Gang starts calling out, Ma'am! Ma'am, wait!" I turn with a look that can only be described as :ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?? I'd just stood in front of these yahoo's for 20 minutes, chasing down Jax, and now they think I want to subject myself and the rest of the room to more torture? Are the masochists?? I had been on the fence about joining the PTA, what with all the cattiness and gossip I so abhor (outside of my family and friends, that is), but I'm pretty sure that after today, I'll be declining any invitations they may absent-mindedly extend.

Next year's gonna be a hoot, I can just FEEL it.

Bad Mood Dude

Oy vey. I'm not sure if it was the 10:30 pm fight with Shawn last night (I moved his sock drawer without asking him -- ladies, this is a bigger deal than you think - BEWARE), the midnight dealings with both my kids, or the fact that due to both of the previous incidents, I ended up sleeping on the couch. Whatever the reason, Mama Ain't Happy...

Already inundated with trying to get the house back in order ( you'd think it would be easier, but then again, you don't have a Jax ), having to register Ryan for preschool, setting an appointment with the radio sales people for Mommy and Me, figuring out when we'll be able to meet for Mommy and Me, seeing as how we all have kids and no free time, an A/C that's broken AGAIN, and having to get Ry to and from school this morning without murdering anyone, the last thing that needed to come across my desk was the email from a woman whose belongings I have because 1)she left them where I was mistakenly, 2) she didn't come get them from their original location when she said she would, 3)I'm way too nice and agreed to hold them at home for her.

Apparently, she lives on the other side of Austin from us, which means she's, like, 15 minutes away*massive eyeroll in progress*, and feels that's too far to drive. So she's been asking me to hand over the stuff to Shawn to take to work 'cause it's right by her house. He doesn't want to do it because he's Shawn, and cannot be bothered with mundane Mommy-shit, and I really don't want to make him because it's a $4 bag of crap that she should just get off her keister and come pick the shit up for the love of all that is holy.

Let me be clear: I do not know this woman from Adam. I was doing a favor for a virtual stranger, who can't read instructions and screwed up, and now it has come back to bite me in the ever-growing ass. Last week, when Shawn declared his unabashed non-willingness to help me out, I told the woman that he would not be at his location for the rest of the week, suggesting she pack up her mini-van and drive the 15 miles to my house to pick up the items. That was Wednesday of last week. Since then, I'd heard nothing until today, when I finally received a one-line reply stating: "Will he be there this week?"

So now I'm just right there at the edge of "let's go wield a large rifle and hunt a bitch down" (please know I'm kidding -- this is not a threat on someone's life -- sheesh), and I don't know how to handle the situation. Should I lie and say that he won't be there the rest of the year, that the Texas-based BBQ establishment has setup digs in Namibia and he'll be away for a while, or should I just tell her to suck it up and come get them from me, I dare you, or should I turn the other cheek and just ask for her address and deliver them myself?

I know what I should do, but when does "turning the other cheek" turn into " becoming a doormat"? WHERE DOES THE MADNESS END???????

"Wah-Wert"

This is how Jax says "water". Since so many of you commented to me on how funny it is that Jax only says "truck" instead of "car", I thought I'd throw a few more at ya:

Yesterday Shawn was talking to one of his "workers" (as Ryan calls them) in spanish on the phone, and there was Jaxson right next to him, "yidda bolah boody abba nana..." I hate to admit it, but his version of Espanol sounds better than mine.

Also, Ryan and I were writing Thank-You notes from her birthday (I made it within a MONTH -- I really should get a ribbon or gold star or something), and the last one was to Emma and Addie who live next door. To preface, we had been outside the day before playing with the girls when Ryan "accidentally" spit water on Emma (she insists it was accidental, but as you can plainly see by my ubiquitous quotation marks, I have my doubts). Anyway, there we were making out the cards, she dictating while I wrote. Here's how the card went:

'Dear Emma and Addie,

Thank you for my present. My Daddy plays with it all the time in the bath. J/K I love you guys. You are my very best friends ever. I'm sorry I spit on you, Emma. '

Unfortunately, I think it was one of those events where you really had to be there and hear the connotation in her voice, but let me just say that she had Shawn spitting water himself when he heard that one.

I just went to get the kids' birth certificates (under 2 years for Jax -- again, someone send me a cookie or something!), and while trying to coax Jax into obeying while waiting in line, I bribed him with some chocolate-covered altoids. He loves those things, but has a nasty habit of holding them while sucking the chocolate off, resulting in getting more chocolate on his hands and face than in his mouth. I usually don't sweat this, since by now it all just blends in nicely, but when he went diving hands-first for the newly-printed $22 birth certificates, I quickly removed him from the counter, only to turn around and watch him attempt to attack the other unlucky line-waiters with his hands, crying "Methy, methy!!" (that's messy, messy for you toddler-impaired folk.) You never saw a line of people disband so quickly -- the armed guard should use him next time the have to break up a rally.

Invisible Children

Menana had her 15 minutes of fame last night. Our local cable news station interviewed her and her students on the work they've been doing to support the Invisible Children campaign. I'm so proud of her -- and she looks cute, too! Check it out here, then check out our Invisible Children products at shopchunkyrhino -- you may not want to buy, but someone you know probably will, so send it along!!!

This One's For Chaika

Normally I would attempt some funny but inappropriate April Fool's Post, but my dear friend Chaika, whom I did not call for her birthday, regardless of the fact that it's 5 days before mine and she traveled all the way to Austin this weekend to celebrate MY big day, has demanded that I post every day, rather than this once or twice a week bullshit I've been eeking out the past couple of months. So, out of pure Catholic guilt and because I love her and because I miss you internet people, I will be posting every.single.day. from now on. For the next month, anyway.

Anyway, my Big 3-0 came and went without a hitch: we partied with Ragweed and Robert Earl Friday night (despite babysitting snafu's and reported tornadoes), Shawn took Jax and me to breakfast on my b-day, followed by a shopping spree, Ry came home from her friend's house, we all took a 2 hour nap, got up and drove to the lake to greet my party guests and my bed-ridden mother. The woman is a Saint (or a Martyr, depending on which of her children you are talking to -- she insisted we carry on without her, stating that all she needed was to be able to hear us having fun in the next room; that would be enough for her. Christ on a Cracker.)

Anyway, we had a wonderful time, but truly showed our years by all turning in before 11 pm. Some people are SOOO Lame.

So now it's back to the grind, attempting to find time to clean this monster of a house while playing with the kids, exercising, making dinner, fixing the yard, updating chunkyrhino, and designing new tee's. Phew. On top of that, Ninny has knee surgery tomorrow, and I will be happily accompanying her home. Wish her luck and send your love to Big Daddy, who we think has managed to contract the disease that had Menana waylaid all weekend long.

She shoots, She scores

Back to normal, huh? Pretty much. 11pm last night the a/c vent and a portion of our garage ceiling began leaking. Suuuuhhhwweeeetttt. Fortunately, the Circle of Life works it's way around, even into our crazy household: we just got a check in the mail from Jax's ear surgery over a year ago -- a refund for a payment I spent days declaring I had already paid, only to be told, "Too bad, so sad..." So I guess it was meant to be, or something karma-licious like that. Except now it reminds me that we still owe my folks $1200 for the extra expenses we incurred way back then. Here's hoping they understand!!

I've also been receiving requests from people for specific designs on chunkyrhino, which is great, it's just now I have to, you know, FOLLOW-THRU. I did just add the cutest baby skull w/binky, which I may end up altering to add crystals and stuff...take a look and let me know what ya think!!

Plus, Friday night we have tickets to see the Greatest Band in Recent History, along with the Granddaddy of Texas Country, which is so exciting except for one small catch: no sitter lined up for the kiddos. I would normally love to take Ryan, but I'm just gonna have to admit this now: I WILL BE PLASTERED, and knowing Shawn's record with Ragweed, I'm guessing he'll be 3 sheets to the wind as well. Probably not advisable in the Parenting 101 Handbook. So now I'm scrambling to find help with the kids...

Ryan's new bed is creating more headaches than I ever anticipated, as we haven't found a good *cheap* mattress to fit it yet, so she's still camped out underneath it on her air mattress.

She was so funny this morning -- I was trying to cut out a milk jug for her to use as an Easter basket at school -- many thanks to those creative teachers for demanding I attempt to cut molded plastic into an actual SHAPE, btw. Anyway, I must have looked perplexed as I shoved the knife in and out, because while watching me, she declared "All the other Mommies did it, I'm sure you'll do okay, Mom. You'll be fine." She also informed me that the fact that we were late getting it in wasn't my fault (though it was), that it was her fault for not reminding me. At least I can cross that off of my list of things to teach her.

Jax still won't sleep on his own, so we're back to laying out pillows, blankets and extra binkies on the floor near his door so that when the time comes for him to pass out from pure screaming exhaustion, he'll at least be comfy. I really am MOTY.

Back to LIFE

Life is slowly getting back to normal this week...I'm steadily putting the house back in order, the kids are coming out off their Mommy-withdrawals nicely, and I cannot stop gushing about how really awesome Shawn was this past weekend. I know you may be wondering if it's really me typing right now, but seriously, he's been awesome. Either he's remembered how much he loves me, or he's doing something naughty behind my back... I choose the former.

Ryan got her new bed all finished up last night, and now I've just got to set about the task of re-decorating her entire room. Steele gray tubing bed frames don't really scream "Shabby Chic" the way the rest of her room does. As if I need another reminder that she's growing up -- last night we were playing Barbies and she told me I had to play the "Hot" boy at school. HOT. Hot?? Nonononononononono.......

Along with Ryan's room, other areas in the house are in need of attention, especially since my trip to Honey and Pappy's left me with heirlooms. So there's another project to add to the list. (and one I'm very happy to undertake!)

chunkyrhino has really taken off, and I got the best response from the moms-to-be at the Mommy and Me Baby Shower this weekend. We've got our website reserved (thanks Jeff) and now I've got to slowly piece it together, or get someone else to anyway(thanks Jeff).

On top of all this? My 30th is Saturday, and I'm so excited! Can you believe??? As much as I've pissed and moaned about it this past year, I'm really pumped and can't wait to be OLD. (Especially since they're throwing me a party at the Lake and we're gonna see Ragweed on Friday -- anything can be fun if there's beer involved, am I right?)

Still can't find my camera...

...but here's my fave pic so far from NYC!!

(You have no idea how much it cracks Shawn up to see his M.I.L. sippin' on a 40)

400 Dollars

That's how much I've spent at the Mommy and Me Sale so far this weekend. And we haven't even had the 50% discount day yet, either. oops.

Other than the minor coronary I'm suffering at having to explain to Shawn how I spent more at the sale, rather than saved more, I've actuallly been having a great time this weekend. The New Mom's Baby Shower and Mom's Night Out Event were both major successes, and the crowds just keep coming!! When people are trying to sneak in free advertising by canvasing the parking lot during your event and leaving flyers in the bathrooms, you know you've done something good.

If you 're anywhere near Round Rock tomorrow, you've got to make a stop at the Dell Diamond to check out the last day of our Spring 2007 sale -- select items will be 50% off, but they will go fast, so bust a move and get there when the doors open at 11. Don't wait too long. I'm serious. We close at 2, and they way my dogs are barkin', I'm likely to carry you out the doors myself if you're not done shopping by 2:01!!

D'ya miss me??

Hi. I'm Amy. I write this quirky little blog about my life and my family, my kids, my mental breakdowns, etc... Have we met??

Got back from NY on Monday at 4 am. Up with the kids at 8, working on Mommy and Me ever since. I'm sorry to be so short and vague, but time's a-waistin'.

NY was snowy (woohoo! Spring Break! Yeah!!) and all I got are a couple of knock-off bags and fallen arches,swollen feet, & lots of blisters. I went form over function. Big mistake. Big. HUGE.

I'd love to show you pics but I've misplaced el camera, so I'm gonna have to wait for Jet Blue to find it, which you know, should only take a year or so, being JetBlue and all.

We saw WICKED and cried (natch), gave food to homeless people (and cried), and saw the worst comic ever and would have cried, but were saved by this dude.

I missed the kids and only felt guilty every time I spoke with them, Ginger or Shawn -- apparently Jax is much worse than Shawn was, Ginger now understands why I drink, and Shawn, well, Shawn was Shawn, but without someone to make fun of.

Our trip to SAK's left me feeling like the ugliest 30 yr old to walk the planet ("See how this cream diminishes those horrible wrinkles all over your face???"), but I had the last laugh -- I let them make me over to their heart's content, all without telling them I did not have $125 to spend on any cream, I was saving it for my fake Louis (which, by the way, all the Asians in Chinatown no longer carry). Suckers.

We had an amazing view of the Empire State Building out our hotel room, which came equipped with HBO and life-like 5th ward residents mulling about the sidewalk. Not scary at all.

I managed to get us lost in Chinatown, Little Italy, and Times Square, but by the end was able to properly direct some tourists to the R line going downtown, which is more than I can say for the subway attendant.

We didn't make it the St. Patty's Day parade (did I mention it was 28 degrees?), but we did drink and we wore green, so we felt okay about it. Especially since Lea Ann and I managed to flash the city of New York from our hotel room -- it was like St Patrick's and Mardi Gras all in one!

We had the best cabbies ever, giving us advice on where to get the best deals, what the NY "rules" were, and all about what a fraud Guiliani is -- our kind of men!!

Then came Sunday, and while we didn't do Breakfast at Tiffany's, we did take a carriage ride through Central Park, had a hot dog from a street vendor, and ate Godiva inside Trump Tower.

Then it was time to leave (did I mention we flew JetBlue?). Our flight was scheduled for 9pm, got delayed to 9:40, then 10:10, and we finally boarded at 11pm, and taxied until midnight. Fun was had by all.

I love my mom and my sisters, I'm so glad they helped me go on this trip, and I certainly couldn't have done it without help from Shawn and Ginger with the kids. Lots more happened, and I'll be sending quips your way soon, but I've got inventory to enter for the sale, so I must say goodbye for now. Ciao!

Happy Birthday Ryan!!

I can't figure out how to embed the video, so you'll just have to click here. Sorry it's so dark -- the objective was to get the candles, but I was too late...The white blob jumping up and down? Yep, that's Jax.

And now I'm off to the Big Apple so you may not hear from me for a few days...don't wait up!!

How'd I Miss That One??

So here I am, cleaning out my desk, trying to finish up all my Mommy and Me stuff before New York, when I come across a note I had written myself about a conversation Ryan and I had. I don't know when it took place, but it doesn't really matter -- the message is universal:

Me: (looking at a drawing she made for me following a session in Time Out) "Oh, I see. It says you love me and you wish you hadn't said you hate me, right?"

Ryan: "Well, no. It says, 'Goodbye Forever'."

Naturally.

Who Says You Can't Go Home?

Just got back from a road trip with Menana this afternoon. I've been desperately needing to visit Honey and Pappy, and I am fortunate enough to have a husband and MIL who were more than willing to watch the kids so that I could go. (Of course, now Jax wants nothing to do with me and Ryan's spending her 2nd night straight at Ginga's, but who's complaining?)

We stopped overnight Friday in Tomball and stayed with my very own Mrs. P, who welcomed us with open arms and lots of vomit. (She teaches 2nd grade. There was a bug going around. You understand.) Luckily, the ralph-fest didn't start until much much later in the evening, so we were able to get food, drinks, and chatter in long before she took her leave.

We went to out usual chow spot, El Corral, which I insist we eat at every time we pass through town with the hopes of running into my old frind Ed whose family runs the place. You know how sometimes there are just people you connect with? He's one of mine. Anyway, I finally got to see him and had such a good time talking about his family, gabbing about mine, and making plans to meet again. Chaika met up with us a little later on, which Shah was supposed to do as well, but skanked out on me at the last minute. Whatever, I got to drink so all was forgiven.

We did the girl thing and talked and talked and talked...and talked until after 1 am. I love that part of being a chick. I don't even remember what we talked about but I was happy and stress-free for a consecutive number of hours, and for me that's pretty freakin' fantastic.

We took off the next morning for Port Neches, and when we finally arrived, the flood gates opened. It's so hard for my mom to go home and not have her mother waiting for her at the door, and it's so sad to see Pappy all by himself, much less to later find that he no lnoger sleeps in their bed, and now wants us to try and take any of her things we may want before he begins selling it off. She's still with us, but he's accepted that she's not coming home again....I can't even imagine. They've been with each other since they were kids.

The tears came in waves, but in between there was a lot of laughter. My favorite part was when Pappy saw that his next door neighbor had let their dog shit on his lawn. Again.

"No problem," he said. "This happens all the time. I just throw it back onto his yard." At which point he marches into his garage to get his "shit-throwing" stick. He's so into it, too -- making noises, shooting little dog-poo torpedos as far as they will fly. And they did fly. One flew it's happy little ass all the way onto the neighbor's roof.

"Oh shit, Pappy! You just threw the poo on their roof!"

"What was that?"

"The poop. It landed on their roof."

(chuckle) "Well whattya know? Wonder how that dog got all the way up there..."

I LOVE this man.

Seeing Honey was hard, and I knew it would be, but there's just not really anything to prepare you for the tidal wave of emotion that washes over you as you first catch sight of the woman who used to sing to you and read to you and cook for you, now laying paralyzed in her bed. That's hard, man. That's hard.

She's still got some of her fire, though. She's got no qualms about snapping at us that we're being too loud, or telling Pappy to get a move on with her food, or informing you that she loves it when her sister visits, but that"she talks too much." She's got that wit and that's what I remember, that's what I take with me. She's still in there, underneath the weakened legs and limp figure, she's still givin' us hell.

There's a woman across the hall from Honey who I can't stop thinking about. Her name is Mrs. Theriot and she just had her leg amputated after the doctors found gout in her big toe. She's in so much pain and shock -- asking us "Why didn't He just take me?" and showing us her stump, crying, "This is all they left me. This is it." I'm tellin' ya -- if you have any ounce of faith or spirituality in your body, please send up a prayer for Mrs. Theriot -- she's gonna need 'em.

So anyway, we spent the rest of the time catching up and going through stuff in the attic and in drawers and closets...it's just so weird. I know I'm bringing you guys down, but I can't get it out of my head...

But now we're home, the kids are well, Shawn's sleeping on the couch, and I've got a kitchen full of dishes to tackle. Ohh! I almost forgot -- Welcome to the World, Beckett Moore! My girl Lyndsey had her first baby and I'm so happy that now she'll be able to begin suffering with the rest of us...:)

Quit Yer Bitchin'

Lea Ann says I've been sucking at this blog business lately. Thank you, I KNOW. I haven't seen Shawn in 2 days, I had Ry's teacher's bday to coordinate, a house to keep moderately non-toxic, 1001 things to do for Mommy and Me, and I've become the hunch-back of Mommy-ville with all the computer time I'm logging this week. Whew. Complaining can be soo exhausting, right?

Anyway, here's what's up: We had a Mommy and Me event at our local Chick Fil A Tuesday night. The cow was there. Fun was had.

On Wednesday I had the top layers of my two index fingers removed via our dvd player. Don't even think about asking me the how's or why's. All I feel like saying is The Little Mermaid is free and we've since been watching CARS non-stop. And now I'm more certain than ever that this family is electronically cursed.

Today was pretty okay until it was time to deliver Ms. Laura's gift. How cute is that anyway? The kids gave us words describing her, we made a design and put it on a tote bag and filled it with gifts from the kids. ANYWAY, while waiting for the class to return from their Texas Day activities, Jaxson decided to go balls-to-the-wall Destructor on me, attacking other children, breaking into nearby classrooms in order to ransack any and all toys not secured to the wall or floor, then led me and the 9 other mothers waiting in the hallways on a wild goose chase, wherein I broke my flip-flop and thus ended up workin' it hillbilly style in my bare feet. (No worries, I'm from Tomball -- I'm quite used to the hillbilly look) Once I did finally manage to locate and secure the rebel package, he managed to finally successfully fling himself out of my arms and onto the floor. Thank God he landed on his head -- that thing must be made of steel and covered in bubble wrap. Also? He's advanced from slapping my face when angry to pinching me on my cheeks, arms, back, etc.. Little tiny pincer-like pinching. So that's neat.

Anyway, I'm tired. My back hurts, and my brain stopped functioning 10 minutes ago.

Later.

P.S. Here's a pic of my bare foot driving home from preschool. Apparenetly, no matter how swamped I am, I always have time to take meaningless pics of myself while driving. I am that cool.

I Did It! I Did It!!

An homage to Jaxson, and his declaration of success everytime he does...anything. He's realy very cute about it, throwing his hands up in the air, jumping up and down. One day I'll figure out how to work this computer-thingy and I'll be able to post audio, until then, use your imagination.

In related new, I DID IT! Ladies, want your hubby to be a better helper at home? Want him to show some empathy for the hard work you do all day, regardless of the fact that you don't get paid shit? I have the answer: Threaten to get a job!! I used this tactic with Shawn the other night, and boy howdy, how the tables have turned! He even mopped up the floor after dinner last night! I got compliments on dinner, time on my own (without the kids!!), and not one complaint was muttered all day long.

I'm serious, girls. It's the new miracle pill -- tell your man you are giving him 3 months to prepare to step down in his current job, because you are going back to work, and watch the fun begin!!!

When the Shit comes MARCHing In

Last year it was January. This year it looks like our month of hell will be March. Fitting, since that's when EVERYTHING is happening.

I'm so sorry I haven't posted in so long, but like I said...March walked in and I bent over.

Friday was average, I guess. I had the kids signed up for Family Friday at the Y, thinking Shawn and I could get a few hours alone to just, umm, sit. Funny Mommy.

The drop-off went well, but then I didn't see Shawn until just before 6. One of my favorite bits about being married to a restaurant manager is the way they are never able to make plans with anyone other than the restaurant. She is my husband's mistress, and she and I are fixin' to throw down. Except for the whole "Sugar Mama" aspect of it -- I kinda like that he gets paid to be with her, so I guess I'll shut up now.

Two hours with no kids, so naturally we stayed home, drank beer and watched Def Comedy Jam -- not a complete waste after all.

We picked the kiddos up, stopped for ice cream, and had a semi-slumber party in our bed, watching Open Season, and delivering Jax to his bed when he just wouldn't sit still. All the while, Shawn's in his Blackberry, texting his managers who have all gathered at a bar and are requesting his presence. Too exhausted to do anything with me, but he can go out till 3 am with his WORK buddies who he sees, like, ALL THE TIME. Whatever, I'm an awesome wife, so I just smiled and didn't say a word. That's what the blog is for.

Saturday morning hit and the rush was on -- Ryan and her friend Chloe were having a joint birthday party at the mall, and I still hadn't put together the gift bags or wrapped either of the presents. I have no idea why now, but we had decided that 10-12 was a good time to have a party, so we needed to be out of the house by 9:30am. Did I mention that Shawn stayed out drinking until 3 am? Yeah, I don't know why I'm still under the mistaken impression that whenever he's home I'll have help. My life will be so much easier once I realize that he just increases my child:mom ratio to 3:1. Needless to say, we were late and I was stressed.

Oprah devotee that I am, I've really been changed by the whole "Secret" thing and Law of Attraction, intentions, etc, and so have been working really hard lately at sending out positive energy, trying to appreciate each moment for what it is and what it can teach me. Saturday morning showed me that my Yoga classes are even more valuable than I thought -- I was breathing like crazy trying to calm down and stay upbeat, when here comes Shawn with, "Why are you breathing like that? What's wrong with you? You are so weird." Like I said, 3:1.

The party actually was pretty great, and I'm so glad Chloe's mom suggested we do a combo thing, because I'm not sure I could have handled a party on my own this month. The kids had a blast, Shawn watched Jax (which was huge, seeing as how I was ready to let a stranger take him home -- he'd already jumped into the bubble bath that morning after having been dressed), I was finally able to have some "adult" time, chatting with the other moms, when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

"Amy Roberts!" There, smiling at me was my childhood arch nemesis -- the girl who lived across the street and tormented, nay, TORTURED me and my sisters when we were kids. Together with her brothers, they once stole my bike, tried to shove me down the storm drain, bombed our mailbox, and so much more... I'll never forget my mom suggesting I "kill her with kindness", leading to a month of me complimenting her at the bus stop every single morning like the little doormat I was.

"Hi!" I cheerily replied, and we began talking about her baby, my kids, her family, when lo and behold, I looked around and there they all were. All of them. Big Bad Scary neighbors and little 'ole Amy. Have I ever mentioned what a complete wimp I am? My heart was going 100mph, I started stumbling over my words, and all I could end up doing was complimenting every single one of them: "Great baby, nice clothes, cute wife, whatever -- just please don't hurt me!"

It was a sad, sad sight, and one I really wish my sisters could have seen, but not my mom -- Inflatable Wonderland is not exactly the best setting for a Julia Sugarbaker monologue. I love her, but I'm not sure the preschool crowd would understand...

Noon came and we hit the road, a motley crew of four, carrying coolers and presents, balloons and cake. When we finally made it to the house, it was naptime for everyone, since the kids and I had been up since 5:30, just two hours after Daddy got home.

The nap was great, and the kids and I were excited about having cake in the house, so we ate some more while we waited for Daddy to get up. Then we ate some more. and some more. And finally around 5pm, we had to stop because the cake was gone and Daddy still wasn't up. He finally stumbled down the stairs a little while later, asking what all the shouting was for (Jax had been busy, dropping the cake on the floor, popping Ryan's balloons, crying...). Again, 3:1.

Thankfully, Ryan's friends took her back to play at the mall, I got Jax off to bed early and I hit the sheets. Shawn and I hadn't really spoken since I told him he could get his own dinner, so by the time Ryan got back, I was more than happy to let her bunk with me. Big mistake.

It's spring in Austin, and allergies have hit, at least, I think it's allergies. You never know anymore. Anyway, she was up coughing all night long, and when I say all night long, I mean ALL NIGHT LONG. You know it's bad when finally, the nurturing mama in you takes her leave, and all you can do is put the kid in her own room to cough her lungs up so you can get an hour or two of sleep. Meds aren't working, btw -- any advice?

Sunday morning hit, and Shawn didn't have to work until 1:30, so I thought Ryan might want to stay home with him until I got back from teaching Sunday School. "No, I have to leave here at 11:15. I have an early meeting," was his reply. Silly mommy. Just because the schedule reads "1:30-close", I should know better than to assume that means he actually has to get there at that time. After all, on days when he opens, it reads, "5am-3pm", but everyone knows he doesn't get out of there until at least 5 pm. Like I said, I've just got to stop thinking I'll have help when he's home, or that he'll even be home at all...

I manage to get the kids dressed and in the car, I made pancakes for everyone, and we were even early, until I realized I'd dropped my keys under the car seat. Fed up with Shawn, my anger was getting the better of me as I dug around in the sticky nether-regions of the car floor, desperately groping for keys. Then Jax kicked me in the face and it was all over. The positivity had positively run out.

"I SWEAR TO GOD! WHY CAN'T WE EVER JUST HAVE A NORMAL MORNING? WHY IS EVERYTHING SO HARD? WHY CAN'T THINGS RUN SMOOTHLY? AND WHERE THE HELL ARE MY FREAKING KEYS???"

This is about the point when Shawn comes out, wondering why we haven't left yet. "I can't find my keys," I grumble. He then proceeds to ask me where I was when I last saw them.

"You know what?" I say, "this is not the time to start helping. Not when I'm now running late, the kids are crying, and I'm digging through stuck-on food and gum. Not the time Shawn!" At which point I saw my keys, grabbed them, and slammed the car door.

Wanna know his reply? "God, Amy. What's wrong with you? Chill out. I'm going back to bed."

Luckily the church is a ways away, so I had time to calm down, center myself and get ready to teach a room full of 3 yr old's all about God and love.

Class actually went really well, despite the fact that as I'm on the way to church, I get a voicemail from my co-teacher, my friend Angie, that she's sick and won't be able to be there. I am so grateful for that class - I really left feeling much better and renewed, which was needed since I was facing the rest of the day alone with the kids.

Naps were definitely on schedule, as was taking them to the gym so they could play and I could work out, except that when we woke up, Ry wasn't feeling well, so that plan was nixed. Instead, she wanted to play "Ariel". Do you have any idea how much work it takes to play "Ariel" with Ryan? First we have to gather all 11 of her Ariel dolls (please, people, no more Ariel dolls), then she has to tell me what to say, then I have to say it, then she has to say her part, then she has to undress the doll, then we have to sing a song, wash, rinse, repeat. It's exhausting.

But finally bedtime arrived and all went well. Until this morning when I discover that Jax barfed in his bed last night, and I have no idea why. He never woke me up, he has no fever and he's playing like nothing ever happened. I'd have already forgotten all about the puke if Ryan wasn't yelling, "Don't touch anything of mine, you are gross!" and"Get away from me Jaxson, you STINK!" Looks like it's bathtime.

Thanks for letting me vent, I feel much better.

The New Mikey

Ryan: This orange is nasty.

Me: Throw it away, then.

Ryan: Naw, I'll just give it to Jax.

February Snapshot

**Update: I am cracking up over all the horrible typos in this post. I'm telling you guys -- this computer takes so long to do ANYTHING, when I get the chance to type, I have to do it FAST -- it takes me 20 minutes just to log on to the web!! **

Let's get started, shall we?

Just a few of the better pics from the past month (pretty much, the only ones from the past month...)

Here's Ryan playing in our room.

And here she is immediately after she sees just what exactly I was taking a picture of.

BIG DREAMS:

and just goofin' around:

**While you're online, check out Mamarella...

A Little Bait

So here's the tease I have to offer you: Shawn fixed my computer last night, but it is slower than ever and I haven't been able to finish uploading the pics. I was, however, able to upload this. I wish I'd had more time on the camera to capture his full reaction, but it's safe to say Jax was jumping and yeling for 15 minutes straight. Enjoy!

Not That I'm Complaining...

Holy Mary Moo-Cow, things have been intense around here lately! So much going on, so many things working full speed, like Shawn, the man of my dreams with whom I've not been able to sit and talk to (uninterrupted) in a week.

The one thing NOT working? Our computer. Guess who broke it? (Ryhmes with TAX). I'm actually on Shawn's right now, typing this at 12:15 am because I had to wait for him to finish working before I could get on. It's amazing how tied a SAHM can become to her computer. Actually, I guess WAHM would be the more appropriate term now -- I am reeling in excitement over the build of our cheeky little chunkyretail business. I've had such wonderful feedback and reception -- thanks so much!!

That aside, I'm also rockin' with Mommy and Me, preparing for the VIP events and pulling everything together. Normally I'd procrastinate, but seeing as how the sale is March 24-25 and I'll be in New York the 15-18 (conquering my fear of hailing a cab), celebrating Ryan's 5th birthday on the 14th, traveling to Beaumont to visit my grandparents the weekend of the 9th, and throwing Ryan and her friend a co-party on the 3rd, as well as fulfilling my Room Rep responsibilities by organizing Ryan's teacher's birthday gift AND entering my own Mommy and Me sale items online, it's probably smarter to do what I can now.

On top of all that, there are those 2 little people who keep hanging around here, begging for food and asking me to take them places. Jax has been just as destructive as ever, but strangely sweet, and Ryan is just getting over a weekend fever. My mom and Ninny and I took her to see the Lion King yesterday, and the poor thing literally suffered through it. All ended well, though, and she even managed to get me so caught up in all the theatrical excitement that I'm fairly certain I may have promised her I'd build her a puppet theatre in her tree house. Yep, that sounds about right.

As for Shawn, seeing as how I really never do see him anymore, the most I can do for him lately is let him sleep when he can, feed him well, and stay quiet while he's working at home.

Two out of three's okay, yeah?

I have cute pics I'd love to show off, but it'll have to wait till tomorrow -- the usb cord is attached to the Piece of Crap (hereby known as "PC") upstairs, and I was too cheap to buy a memory card for the camera.

Look at it this way: it'll give you a reason to come back.

Where's Hitchcock When You Need Him??

I could have really used his directing abilities today. It was a 2007 re-make of The Birds right here in our very own home...

The kid's bathroom is a no-man's land in our house. Mainly because that's where I stash Jax's dirty diapers until trash day. The weather has been absolutely lovely lately, so I've been leaving the bathroom window up in order to release some of the odor. (Don't bother bringing up Diaper Genie -- he and I don't get along.)

Anyway, their bathroom is upstairs, and for some reason it is a favorite hangout for the neighborhood birds. I don't know what type they are but they're small and they peck out the window screen so that now we have a big giant window-wide hole in the screen, one just big enough for them to fly through should the owner of the house decide to , umm, open the window to let in a little fresh air. Silly owner.

Yesterday I opened the bathroom door to retrieve something and was stopped in my tracks by one of the little buggers flapping about like mad, trying to escape. I started to try to calm him down with my soothing words, until I got too close and all I could think was "AVIAN FLU!!", quickly shutting the door to let him figure it out himself. Aparently he did, because the next time I went in, he was gone.

Not wanting to make the same mistake today, but still needing to air out the bathroom, I cracked open the window just slightly, enough to get some circulation, but not so much that any disease-carrying creatures could get in. Or so I thought.

Around mid-morning today, Jax and I were doing our household chores when we hear chirping and flapping coming from the bathroom. Certain that they must just be outside the window, I opened the door, then shut it immediately at the sight of 2 birds flapping around, flying into the mirror, then the window, wall, and mirror again.

Laughing, I shut the door, glanced at Jax who was looking on in delight, took a deep breath, and worked out a game plan. I don't know how they made it in through that tiny little crack, but it was clear they were not going to make it back out without some help. I was going to have to go back in.

Covering my head, ducking down, but speaking in the most calming tone I could muster so as not to entice them to anger, I crept into the bathroom, trying to get to the window without dying. I was about halfway there when Jax started squealing, one of the brds took off into the house, and I began to scream, lunging toward the window while leaning heavily to the right so as not to come into contact with the other killer beast holding my bathroom hostage.

I made it to the window, freed bird #1, ran out to the hallway to find the other when lo and behold, it started making a beeline straight at my head. Screaming, I hit the ground as it gracefully dove over me and out the window, listening to Jax cackle and yell, "Funny!Funny!Funny!"

And you know what? It really was.

I Am Grateful...

...that Jax is so cute, otherwise none of his pulling-proucts-off-the- shelves-and-throwing-them-to-the-floor shenanigans would seem funny to anyone, and we'd be asked to leave every store we entered.

...that Ryan is so loud, it's like her own little personal GPS system -- I always know where she is.

...that they insist on splashing for the duration of bathtime -- how else would the bathroom floor get clean?

What "blessings" are you grateful for??

Martha Stewart Doesn't Live Here

But I do. And so does my husband. And my kids. And one of us has to clean.

I've been putting it off for soooo long. It seems like such a futile task. One second it's clean, the next it's red and sticky with bits of lint stuck all over.

Using my keen powers of self-trickery I had previously purchased the Mr. Clean Bathroom Wand thingy, as well as some new flushable toilet cleaners and the cutest pair of plastic gloves (Target Dollar Spot), all of which worked wonders in convincing me that what I was doing was fun.

That being the case, I was cleaning for the better part of the day, and left the kids with Shawn, so I don't have any good stories except that Jax's poop is subsiding (did I forget to mention he had a stomach virus this weekend?), he's rockin' his Big Boy Bed, and Ryan had chilled out a bit, but has yet to let go of her passion for slamming doors.

P.S. Check out what I've been working on in my 'spare time'...

TRUCKTRUCKTRUCKTRUCKTRUCK

Jaxson's vocabulary has just exploded over the past month or so -- his words are becoming clearer, he's putting them together for mini-sentences, he's even started counting on his own.

The one prob we can't figure out? Why he won't say CAR. He uses "truck" for everything with wheels, will point out the "car" to you when asked, but refuses to use the word. Shawn gritted his teeth through an hour of NASCAR yesterday just trying to get him to say "car".

Here's what I overheard this morning:

Shawn: "Say firetruck"
Jax: "firetruck"

Shawn: "Say airplane"
Jax: "ayplane"

Shawn: "Say train"
Jax: "train"

Shawn: "Say Car"
Jax:"TRUCK!"

(immediately followed by the sound of Shawn banging his head against the wall...)

Little Baby Jesus is Pissed

This must be what's going through Ryan's head right now. Absent of any other ideas to try to get her to stop this primadonna ride she's on, I've succumbed to the tried and true technique of guilting her into straightening up.

Time Out doesn't work, neither does taking toys away. She's fighting constantly with Jax, pulling, pushing, hitting, teasing and refusing to share. In turn, he's pulling, pushing, hitting and crying when she teases him and refuses to share.

The kid is awesome -- she's got a heart of gold, or at least, that's what her teacher says. I've yet to see it directed at her bro, though. In fact, earlier this week I used that tactic to try to get her to act nicer -- no more playdates until she starts treating her brother as well as she treats her friends.

It's not working.

So I've enlisted Baby Jesus and His posse. "Baby Jesus is watching" has become my new motto, one which was burned into my brain by my mother and she by hers. We're Catholics. It's how we roll. I used to be wary of instilling the guilt complex, but I'm at my wit's end, and she'll have the rest of her life to pull herself out of the self-loathing and fear that will follow.

Earlier today, when I'd used Baby Jesus for the umpteenth time and she still wasn't obeying, I resorted to calling in the big guns. The REALLY BIG GUNS.

Me: "Ryan -- I guess you don't want to go to Heaven and live with Baby Jesus when you die. Looks like you'd rather burn in Hell with the Devil for all eternity."

Ryan: "Yeah, that would probably be more fun."

Spreadin' the Love...

In honor of Dylan Thomas, I am not going gentle into that good night. I love my chunkyrhino shop, and I know many more would love it,too, if they only knew about us!!! My advertising skills and time are limited, and since my faithful followers are few (though FANTASTIC), I've decided to join forces with the gal who started it all (for me, anyway).

Back when I first got preg with Ry, my Mom ordered me a subscription to one of the phalanx of Baby Mags, wherein I read about Mindy Roberts and her blog, aptly and oh-so-covetously named"The Mommy Blog". I loved reading her and loved the basis behind what she was doing, but being a theatre teacher, coach and choir director, didn't really have the time to start my own.

We all know what happened next: I stopped teaching, went a little nuts, and chunkyrhino was born. She inspired me, I still read her religiously, and now I'm counting on her to take me to the next level. (No pressure, Mindy...)

I've signed up for advertisement on her new site, Boutique Community, which looks like it'll be my new favorite place to hang out!! Shop Chunkyrhino is still in full swing, and hopefully, with the aid of my new "teammate", it will actually hit something.

Go visit Mindy, check out the new site, let your friends know...this one's gonna be HUGE!!!!

Weighing the Options

Can you hear me groaning?? I'm being pretty loud about it -- I'm dreading tomorrow morning, because it's registration day at our church preschool.

blllggghhhhh. I'm registering Jax for next year, but the prob is that it's such a good school that people start lining up around 4am to register -- and this is just pre-registration!

My dilemma is: How bad do I want to sleep in vs. How bad do I want Jax off my hands for a couple of hours twice a week? Hmmm....hmmmm......weeeellllll.....huh.

Problem solved.

Happy Global Day of Love!! Peace and Good Things to everyone everywhere!!!

Open Arms

(That title is for you, Lea -- you freaky Journey-lovin' fool). Also, before I go any further, Happy Birthday to the best Ninny there ever was!!! We love you!!

Now back to me (I mean, uh, the family). My life swung back into normalcy today, what with me being able to actually get out of bed unassisted and all. Menana brought the kids back bright and early this morning, muttering something unintelligible and taking swigs from her flask, and right away it was Eat Eat Eat, Mine Mine Mine, No! No! No!, followed by screams, cries and my personal favorite number, Shawn hollering, "Boy! I am gonna DDT you!!"

All before 9 am.

I was very happy to have them home, and easily abided all the ruckus in exchange for hugs and kisses, kisses and hugs.

Then Jax fell down the stairs.

All 14 hardwood of them. Sweet Mary Mother of Mylanta, my heart stopped as I did a little dance at the couch, trying to figure out what to do with Shawn's laptop while simultaneously climbing over the coffee table, unable to tear my eyes away from the tossing, tumbling toddler and the blood gushing from his head.

Shawn and I reached him at exactly the same time, quickly examining his injuries, feeling for knots (2) cuts (1) and bruises (several). Trying to judge whether or not it was ER-qualified, we were abruptly aided in our decision when Jax started demanding, "EatEatEat".

The kid was fine.

It only took me about 2 more hours to recover from that coronary before we piled into the truck to take Ninny's b-day and V-day gifts to her at work, where apparently she was the only one NOT at the bank, for it took us 30 minutes to park, 20 minutes to back out, and 15 more to exit the parking lot. Shawn was not happy. When Shawn's not happy? I'm pissed (unless his unhappiness was my intention, at which point, I would be doing my victory dance in a dark corner very quietly, lest he hear me and attack).

That fight took us into the 2 'o-clock hour, when we opted to take Ry to her acting class early ("since she was so late to her last one, Amy" -- passive-aggressive fighting at its best). Half an hour is a long time to kill in a truck, so Shawn got the kids out to play at the nearby park, when as Murphy's Rule does dictate, Ryan was suddenly overcome with the urge to pee. No open restroom, so he walked her around the corner of the club house and took less than 30 seconds before he, Ryan, and a gaggle of geese came runnin' back towards the truck. Shawn wearing a frown, Ryan with her pants still down, and the geese going crazy. I'm still not sure what exactly went on back there, but I do know Ryan was covered in piss and it apparently had nothing at all to do with the geese -- they were some Happy Gilmore-esque side note.

We didn't make it to acting today, but we did get back to normal and that is worth more than the $50 a month we pay for someone else to teach Ry what I am legally certified to teach her and hundreds of other children myself.

Once again, it all comes down to PRIORITIES.

Don't mind the scratching...it's just me crawling out of my deathbed

This won't be long, because if I focus too long, I start to get dizzy, but I am still here (barely), and am now in the never-ending debt of my parents (my bill just keeps getting bigger) and Shawn. Menana came into town yesterday and picked up the kiddos so that I could flop myself down on the bed and not move for the next 24 hours, while Shawn cleaned, fed and comforted me with dutch chocolate ice cream. Unfortunately, I still feel like shit.

My good-ole-boy homewtown doctor didn't exactly diagnose me so much as throw some prescriptions my way as he boot-scooted out the door. More on the insurance incident later...

Some cheese with that whine??

So. I was in bed at 6:30 pm Tuesday night, still suffering from my earache, exhausted after being up with both the kids since 4:30am. Luckily, Shawn skipped the dinner part of his meeting, so I was able to have Jax fed and ready for bed by the time he walked through the door. Upset that I hadn't fixed anything for him to eat (as I had been told he would be dining out!), Shawn took out his anger by sending Jax in several times during the evening, and even stooped so low as to scream and yell at me because I hadn't laid Jax's binky out where he could find it. Sometimes I wish I was a lesbian.

Anyway, Wednesday didn't go much better, kids were both up again before the rooster's crow, my ear was still achy and I couldn't get a doctor appointment that didn't coincide with picking up or dropping off Ryan at one of her daily destinations, so I just sucked it up, locked Jax in his room (please, he's in his Big Boy Bed now -- how else am I supposed to get him to sleep?), attempted a 30 minute nap while my neighbors were having their trees trimmed (isn't that always the way?), and grudgingly pulled both of us out of the house in time to get Ryan from school.

After the debacle that was Tuesday night, and mostly because he finally got around to fixing the washing machine (BY HIMSELF!), I decided to make dinner for Shawn -- potato cakes, fried chicken and apple crisp. Except? The chicken didn't thaw all the way, as I discovered when trying to pull apart the legs, which would have been okay seeing as how we had back-up pork chops in the freezer that were easily micro-wave thawable if I hadn't covered them with Cayenne Pepper rather than Cumin -- oopsie! He loved 'em, I gagged. But the potato cakes and Apple Crisp? MMMMmmmmmm Good!

So explain to me why WHY he felt the need to fetch a screaming Jaxson at 5:20 this morning, deliver him to my bed (where a fever-ridden Ryan was already residing), and then leave? Why does he do this? Does he hate me? Is this payback for some forgotten crime? Does he secretly wish I was a lesbian, too? Alas, we may never know, for when I ask, all I get out of him is: "What? I was trying to help!"

Yeah, that about sums it up

Yesterday was long and horrible. I have a sore throat and earache, we were late late late for Ry's 2nd acting class, we forgot to get a folder for her, I didn't workout, and best of all, Jax took a big ole poo in the bathtub, throwing it at me at Ryan's insistence.

Where was Shawn during all of this? At an all-day meeting at Cool River, enjoying free lunch and dinner with adults. And he gets to do it all over again today. Some people.

Ramblin'...

I've been hearing some grumblings among my people -- not enough posts lately, and all that mess. Yes, I know, I haven't been bringing the funny as regularly as usual, but things have been a little, shall we say, "crazy" around here this past month, so thanks for all the patience and understanding, butt-holes.

Okay, now that I've ranted, I will grant you your wish: lots of funny, and pics to boot!

Hmmm....let's see....I'll start with yesterday and work my way back, yes?

So, Super Bowl week rolled around and we decided to invite some families over so the kids could play and leave us alone while we drank. Ha. Hah ha ha.

We did drink, and they did play, but the part about leaving us alone? Huh. It amazes me that after 5 years I am still so very naive.

Our friends Angie and Kreg brought their boys, Jayden and Hunter, along with a huge box of beauty products and two shopping bags worth of boy's clothing (they're moving soon, we're reaping the benefits). After spending 30 minutes with Lalo digging through makeup, lotions, perfume, hair products, you name it, we headed out with the guys to get the party going. Soon after, our friends Stephanie and Rob arrived with their little man Stephen, and we really went to town.

We were having so much fun, eating talking, watching, drinking...we were all taken by surprise when Kreg looked up at the stairway and said, "Umm, Ryan's coming down...naked."

Sure enough, there she was in all her birthday suit glory, descending down the stairway like a little miniature naked Scarlett, not at all shy or embarrassed. When asked why she took off all of her clothes? "Hunter told me to" was the reply.

Later when we asked her the age-old questions, "If Hunter asked you to jump off the Empire State Building, would you do it?", she looked at us with the 4 yr old condescending stare of her's and said, "Duh, no. It's much more dangerous to jump off a building than take off your clothes."

If she only knew.

We navigated this obstacle, and were able to get back into party mode until we were summoned upstairs where Jay had peed all over himself and our bathroom floor. Not such a big deal, since he's potty-training, but then we found out they dared him to do it, and guess who was the ring leader?? That little girl is D-A-N-G-E-R-O-U-S, but at least she can hold her own with the boys.

Then, just as everyone was getting ready to leave, Ry came down from her room crying, sobbing, hysterical. We finally managed to calm her down long enough to get her to tell us what happened: "Hunter pulled the head off my Jesus Bobblehead Doll!!! Now God is gonna be so mad at me, and even worse (gasp) Lea will never get me anything ever again!!"

Priorities, people. It's all about teaching your kids priorities.

So that was that, lots of fun, lots of calories, and now we're back to normal. Or whatever.

Let's see...Saturday was boring, I think. Oh wait -- we did go to a really cute birthday party, cowboy-themed, all done by the parents, one of whom is an engineer. (The rigging for the horse pinata was especially cool.) Jax made a splash among all the parents, who seemed unanimously amazed at his level of speech as well as his level of energy.

Yeah, he's great in small doses. It's the fact that he brings the fun from 6 am until bedtime that wears me out. You understand.

Friday was Menana's birthday, and we celebrated with dinner at Rosie's Tamale House, where we again managed to draw attention to ourselves. Strange, I know. Jax was his normal excited self, Ryan was busy seat-hopping and mommy and daddy were throwing back the brews. The best part, actually there were several, but one of the best was when I was bragging to my mom about how hard I had worked out that morning in order to be able to pig out at dinner, when she looked down and said, "Really? That's great! Now maybe you can work on zipping your zipper."

Turns out I had not properly completed my earlier task of visiting the Ladies' Room. (Another inevitable MOMENT -- I told you.)


So that was the weekend in rewind, hope you enjoyed. All I've got left are few funny quotes from Ry and some great pics:

This is how she looked when I sent her to school
on Tuesday morning.


This is how she looked when I picked her up that afternoon. Can YOU find what's missing?



Here's the raccoon we came across in our backyard Wednesday night. He's a big fucker, and not at all worried about us. When we walked outside to take pics, he looked us over, shrugged (I swear!), then went right back to doing whatever it was he was doing.

Ryan's come up with some cute conversation lately, like earlier last week while driving to school when she asked me if Shawn and I would ever break up.

"No, baby. Never. We're doomed to be together until we die."

"But everyone breaks up, Mommy. You guys have to break up, too."

That's right -- I spent the morning listening to my daughter try to convince me to break up with Shawn.

Another day, when we were talking about not letting other kids boss her around (as if that would ever be an issue, stripping incident not withstanding), she said, "I'll just tell them that they aren't the boss of me -- my Mommy is!"

Yeah, baby. I've got it recorded for all of time!!

So that's it. Thanks for all the comments on our chunkyrhino products, btw. You guys really know how to make someone feel loved.

Just do it already

Okay, fine. No one wants to buy our super-cool, super-cute stuff? (except you, Shah, my love)

I can live with rejection, but I'll be damned if I have to pay for it. Since offering all of you non-shoppers such variety is charging my credit card every month, I've decided to scale down our cafepress store, only able to offer one quote/image per product.

Humor me, people. Go over to the store, look at the stuff, and leave me a comment on what your favorite one is. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll have to shut it down all together, and you KNOW how much I hate to admit complete and total failure.

Partial failure? That I can handle.

XYZ

You know those delightful, delectable moments in life when you're flying high, feeling great, ready to take on the world when all of a sudden you realize the proverbial toilet paper stuck to your shoe? My life is a series of those moments.

Take today, for example. Faced with the daunting task of picking up the telephone, I had put off fixing the washer for as long as possible. It's not that I don't want the washer fixed, nor do I love sneaking across the lawn to my neighbor's twice a day with a basket of clothes -- It's just that I hate, hate, hate talking on the phone. ESPECIALLY to people I don't know. Double especially when it's about a subject I am clueless on. But most of all, especially when the experts on the other line are men. (duhdunDUHHHNNNNNN)

All at once, I am reverted back to that awkward 12 yr-old-girl, sucking-ass at softball, cringing as her dad slaps her batting helmet, yelling "Get your head outta your ass!" in front of, you know, everyone. I get clammy and pale (paler than normal, anyway), shaky all over, and all I can say is "hummenahummena".

It's taken me 4 days to even pick up a phone book, an hour to select two businesses to call (which ad is more trustworthy? Which looks expensive? Who will be least likely to rip us off? What is the square root of pi?), another spent calling the selected businesses, attempting to describe the problem: "My husband says it sounds like the belt -- it's grinding, but not spinning," only to, naturally, be chuckled at and informed that: "no, lil' darlin', that's not what it is. It's a Whirlpool, right?" *imagined turn of head for dip spit* "That' s the motor cuff links -- it's what joins the blahbliddy blah to the whodiewhaty..." I can't finish the rest of what he said because at this point I was no longer listening, but writing and underlining the phrase, 'motor cuff-links'.

Okay, so I flubbed my first attempt to sound knowledgeable, but luckily the blame was easily passed on to Shawn. Desperate to save face, I jot down the guy's quote for the part, then hang up to call the other place to compare. 20 minutes of fumbling questions and repeated phone calls to Shawn later, my paranoia gets the better of me and I resort to calling our friend, Handyman Jeff. This guy knows everything there is to know about all this mechanical shit, I feel sure he'll be able to tell me what to do.

Still trying to appear poised and confident, I dial him up, and converse for another 15 minutes on the ins and outs of washer repair and how to know whether it'd the "cuff-links" or transmission. After test-trying the washer, we discover it must be the 'cuff-links', and he gives me the number for a parts store to check on availability.

So there I am, weapons sharpened and ready: my notes from Jeff, my extra-sweet big southern accent tinged with just the right amount of perky, my screaming offspring in the background -- sword and shield and all that nonsense.

I go through the steps, calling out model number, serial number, etc., sharing a laugh with the man on the othet end over Jax's screams, and he happily affirms they do carry the part and it's only $15."

I am thrilled. I am ecstatic. I am Mary Tyler Moore, throwing my hat up into the city skyline, when all of a sudden, he finishes with:

"And by the way, they're called couplings, not 'cuff-links' *chuckle, chuckle* It's a washing machine, not a tuxedo..."