Friday, September 30, 2005

Swweeeeet!

I HAD to get my oil changed today because . . . well . . . I'm only 3000 miles over when I should've gotten one. You know that old saying about the doctor's kids always being sick? Yeah, well, the mechanic's wife's As*hole van is always over on its oil change.

Chandler isn't here today, so Kady and the babies and I loaded up and drove into town. Kady had already had a meltdown when I told her I just had to refix her hair. She was SO proud of how she'd fixed it herself and I hated to burst her little bubble, but man, it was something else. Then when she came out of her bedroom in her leather sandals and Strawbaby Shootcake socks with the fuzzy balls on the heels (well, only on one - the other one is ball-less) and I told her she couldn't wear the socks with the sandals, she was crushed. So I relented on the socks. When Abby was her age and would get an independent streak and dress herself rather interestingly, I'd put a sticker on her back that said, "I dressed myself today!" It totally took the blame off of me and people thought it was cute. I am out of those stickers and did I mention my printer crapped out yesterday? So then she came into the living room, hands on her hips, and said, "Momma? Does it weely wook siwwy if I weaw the socks wif the sandaws?" (Did you get that or should I translate? Just read it like Elmer Fudd.) I said, "Yeah, baby it's kind of silly, but there are days I wish I could dress silly, so if you want to wear them you go right ahead." She took them off.

When we pulled into the parking lot at W*M Kady and I spent 10 minutes cleaning out the van. It had gotten pretty bad. We picked up the countless empty Sonic cups, color sheets, Lab School paintings, old French fries, and all of the toys that were scattered about and even though there were still some chicken strip crumbs in the floor, it looked much better. Paul has threatened me to not ever take the van in to the shop messy. They really hate it when messy vehicles come in. He was probably mortified at the crumbs in the floor, but until he gets out there and cleans it, they're probably going to stay where they are. He's got 3000 - nah, more like 6000 - miles to clean 'em up. Or I could turn the kittens loose in there. They'd take care of any crumbs.

The babies were again SO WONDERFUL at Wal*Mart that I can't even begin to describe what great babies they are. Not a fuss, whine or cry the entire time. We did break out the Cheerios toward the end because it was awfully close to lunch and I was trying to ward off evil hungry spirits.

On the way home I noticed garage sale signs out here. Rarely do you find garage sales on rough, country roads way out here in BFE so naturally I was intrigued. By the time I figured out where it was, I realized I was about a mile from my house; I just came in the back way. I picked up a Shrek video, two Veggie Tales videos, some stick on foam letters (Abby's a craft fiend), a nap mat for Chandler and a whole bunch of styrofoam balls (I see 8 Brownies making snowmen soon) and a Hillary Duff CD (Not for me - for my eldest child) for the low, low price of $25. Not too shabby, I thought. And the Veggie Tales movies worked like a charm in bribing my youngest to take a nap this afternoon.

Now I am in the process of cleaning house while everyone's napping. Presently I'm bleaching my shower curtain. I sure hope all that mildew and slimey stuff wasn't one of the kids' science projects because it's gone now.

I feel my momentum slowly slipping away so I really should get back up and start moving again. I took a break because, dangit, cleaning SUCKS and I take as many breaks as I possibly can. Which is probably why my house is never all the way clean all the time. I clean like crazy then take a break and hmh, never start back up again. Hey, I have never claimed to be Martha Freaking Stewart.

"Shower Mildew - it's not a good thing, but no one's died yet." That could be my new slogan.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Just shoot me

I just viewed my blog and discovered I forgot the bullets in the last post which was supposed to be a BULLETED overview.

Oy.

Pretend there is a little dot in front of each one. Mmkay?

Thanks.

That is all.

Bulleted overview

Today was Day #2 of Lab School. There were soybeans in the grain table. That was such a hit that Chandler couldn't even find time to paint and Chandler ALWAYS likes to paint! Kady bawled, squalled and threw a mini tantrum when I told her we had to go home, complete with crossed arms and plopping herself down on the steps while doing her Mariah Carey impersonation and hitting a high C. Yiiiii.

Took both babies to Wal*Mart while the big kids were in school. They were magnificent ANGELS! They were precious and just babbled and cooed and made the trip a total success. I'm sure that not every trip to W*M will be that enjoyable, but I'll always have the memory of today when they're screaming and fussing and making all the little old ladies shoot me dirty looks.

My printer totally crapped out on me today. I couldn't print in any color except red. The Brownies notes about the camp-out were all in red. I wanted them to be multi-colored with clip art and stuff. Instead they were glaringly red and obnoxious and rather boring.

I did Brownies by myself tonight. I don't EVER want to do that again. I didn't realize how much I rely on Sis at the meetings. If it hadn't been for the two totally awesome Brownie Dads I had here I'd have been sunk. The kids were wound up and rowdy and by the end of it I found myself yelling. NOT how I like my meetings to go.

At the meeting, Mr. Diva hooked the trailer up to the 4-wheeler and we headed down the road to pick up rocks to build a fire ring for the camp-out. Jason, the other dad, walked ahead of us throwing the rocks into the road and the kids would get out and put them on the trailer. When we got back to the house I started putting the rocks where I wanted them and the guys told me I was stupid and doing it wrong and whaddaya know, when it was all said and done they built it JUST LIKE I said it needed to be. Ha.

When the last kid had left (well, the ones that weren't mine anyway) I sat down at the kitchen table with my head in my hands, silently berating myself for being a mean, impatient Brownie Leader. Mr. Diva walked in the front door after putting up the 4-wheeler and said, "What's wrong? Kidded out?" I nodded, but just barely. Then I took a deep breath and got over the berating and asked Sam to read me a story about Lon and Ron. They're pigs. Ron and Lon, that is.

The season premiere of Alias was tonight. I'm not sure I'm going to like this season. I think they are going to play up her pregnancy too much. But that's just me. After Alias we watched the premiere of Night Stalker. It was suspenseful, but I'm sorry, the acting was pretty bad. Sadly, I'll watch it again next week.

And now I am going to bed. Today really wore me out. I should've been in bed hours ago. But I wasn't. Eh. Story of my life.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

No time to whine

Mr. Diva ran back and jumped in the shower before me, so I guess I'll use this time to whine.

*I didn't have time to whine today. Okay, so actually I had time to whine, I just chose to use that time to surf blogs instead of write on my own.

*I had to wash Sam's one pair of jeans tonight as soon as he took them off so that the child would have drawers to wear tomorrow because it seems that overnight fall has decided to visit Oklahoma. I say "visit" because it'll be 105 again in a few days, I'm sure.

*There's talk circulating of a GNO on Friday night and when I just now asked Mr. Diva if I could go he blatantly ignored me.

*I didn't get my office organized today like I wanted to because instead of using that time wisely to organize I instead surfed blogs. Oh well. It's not like the mess is going anywhere. It'll still be there when I finally get around to it.

*TaterSis didn't come over today. Gosh, I miss her when she goes off and lives her own life.

*I miss Cousin Stacey.

Okay, enough of this whining stuff. It depresses me.
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I just went outside and the cats were all sitting in various places around the carport. They all had their tails curled around their feet. I love autumn. It's flippin' COLD out there right now and I love it!! If only it would stay this way. But the weather forecast I checked today says it'll be back up in the 80's by the weekend.

The kids and I are planning on going to a Rennaissance Faire this weekend, but I hear it's supposed to rain. That's going to suck if we can't go. But Abby got her birthday money from my mother in law today and she's just dying to go shopping, so I'm sure we won't just sit around and watch it rain if we don't go to the Faire. It would be a kick-ass day if we could actually go to the Faire AND go shopping.

And now Mr. Diva is out of the shower. I know this because I can smell his cologne wafting through the house. That's one thing I really like - the way the house (and he) smells when he gets out of the shower. He says the same thing about me. Of course, I make the house smell like cherry blossoms, not Irish Spring and Obsession.

So this is what it's like to function without caffeine

The coffee pot is gurgling in the kitchen and I'm at the computer, sans caffeine. What has gotten into me? I normally stand at the coffee pot, cup in hand, watching it brew and drip, waiting for there to be enough in the pot to pour into my awaiting cup, which will then be poured into my awaiting bloodstream. The planets must be out of alignment or something. Or else I just stumbled out here inadvertently and didn't have the energy to walk back into the kitchen. I might be screwed when the coffee's done and don't have the gusto to go get any.

My babies will begin arriving any minute and I'm not dressed. And frankly, I'm not sure I have any intention of getting dressed today. It's Wednesday, we have no plans, it's supposed to rain and heck, why waste clothes when my pj's are so much more comfortable. The only thing on my agenda today is to get my GS stuff organized out here in my office and to file the stack of papers a foot high on my desk. I can so do that in my pajamas.

I see headlights coming up my driveway. That means Cute Big Baby's here and I must at least have a sip or two of coffee before they make it into the house. Whines to follow later.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Mommy tears

My Kady started Lab School today. I have very mixed emotions about it. While I am glad she had a good time, the other part of me wants to go lie on my bed and cry awhile.

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I know exactly how many snoozes I have in the mornings before I have to get up and take my shower. I lay my clothes out the night before, so when I get up I go straight to the bathroom and start the shower. I have it down to a science. I don't look at the clock when the alarm goes off, I just count the snoozes. So this morning, I was all caught up in the counting of the snoozes and when the alarm buzzed for the last time and my eyes actually opened and I looked at the clock, I discovered it was 6:25. Which, I knew it was 6:25 before I opened my eyes because, like I said, I count my snoozes and have my morning routine down pat. But upon seeing the red numbers glowing 6:25 it hit me that Paul was supposed to be at work at 7. He gets up at 5:45 and leaves at 6:15. Oops. I threw the covers off both of us and said, "GETUPYOUAREGOINGTOBELATE!!!!!" He groaned and said, "Dadgummit woman! That's the second time lately you've done this to me!" Well, if he'd get his own alarm clock he wouldn't have to worry about me making him late huh. I'm sure I got cussed while he drove 80 to work this morning, but oh well.

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Today was school picture day and Abby had requested that I get her up a little early so I could flat iron her hair. So when I got out of the shower I got dressed then went out to open their doors. The light from the bathroom was shining just right into the girls' room and when I pushed open the door Kady was sitting on a Rubbermaid box full of winter clothes and nearly scared the poop out of me. I screamed. She just fell over giggling like a loon. Abby sat straight up on the top bunk and said, "That's a really rotten way to wake someone up, Mom." Kady was still screeching with laughter and said, "I scared Momma!! I scared Momma!" and then had to run into her brother's room to tell him as well. I'm glad I'm good for a laugh first thing in the morning.

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Speaking of scaring me, last night I was going to steam some vegetables for dinner and couldn't find the lid to my handy dandy Pampered Chef micro steamer. I finally caught a glimpse of it in the back of the cabinet but because I have really short arms couldn't keep a visual on it and reach for it. So I leaned far back into the back of the cabinet and started moving my hand around so I could grab the lid. But instead of the familiar hard plastic I was expecting to touch I touched something squishy. Yes, squishy. Cold and squishy. I screamed. Loudly. And started jumping around the kitchen going "EW EW EW EW EW EW EW I JUST TOUCHED SOMETHING SQUISHY!OH EW EW EW OOHHHHHH THAT WAS SQUISHY PAUL GET IN HERE OH I'M GOING TO FAINT UGH UGH EW EW" I then went to the sink and scrubbed my hands because if it was squishy I was sure it was germy as well and while I scrubbed the skin off my hands I continued to say "EW" repeatedly. Finally, since no one was coming to rescue me in the kitchen where I was screaming and jumping about and cursing I yelled "DOES NO ONE CARE THAT I JUST TOUCHED SOMETHING SQUISHY IN THE KITCHEN CABINET????" Sam came running, going "Squishy? COOOOOOOOL!" Abby came busting out of the bathroom in a towel, shower still running. Kady came running in my direction, but stayed in the dining room and wouldn't come in the kitchen. Finally, Paul sauntered in and said, "Hmh. So you touched something 'squishy', eh? What was it?" Well, if I knew what it was I wouldn't have just screamed that I touched "something" squishy; I'd have identified it in my ranting. But instead of explaining this to him I said, "HeckifIknow, all I know is that it. was. squishy." He and Sam exchanged very smug man-looks and he said, "Well, let's just see what this squishy thing is then." And he knelt down to find the cause of my outburst. I watched his face, trying to see signs of recognition that he'd indeed found the offensive squisher and finally his face kind of lit up and he said, "Ahhh. Yep. There it is . . . " The kids moved in closer and I backed up. He pulled a green foam gripper that goes under my cutting boards out from the cabinet and flung it at me. I swear I started having chest pains. Until I realized it was a green foam gripper thing.

I stood there, chest heaving, as the foam gripper thing laid squishily at my feet. Abby sighed and rolled her eyes as she turned to go back to the shower. Sam goes "Hmh. Real scary, Mom." Paul said, "Ooh that big bad foam thing was going to take your arm off, wasn't it? It's a wonder we're all still alive." Kady, she was nearly hysterical leaning over a chair in the dining room, giggling hysterically and unable to catch her breath. I live in a house full of jerks.

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I took pictures of Kady and Chan at labschool but now the babies are awake and duty calls. Duty. That word makes Abby giggle. You can say "It's your duty" and she'll nearly collapse in a fit of hysteria. Okay, so I digressed. And now I'm going. Crazy.

Monday, September 26, 2005

Penis drama

I hope Jill doesn't strangle me for telling this story, but my gosh how could I not? It's just too good.

This morning Kady and Chandler were playing normally, dancing around, entertaining the babies when I called them into the kitchen for a drink. I got out the small their-size pitcher so they can pour their own milk now and oh, how they were tickled! But as I got the pitcher out of the fridge to show them I noticed that Chan had both hands holding onto the front of his shorts in what appeared to me to be a deathgrip. I asked him if he had to pee and with a desperate look on his face he said, "No. But Kiki, my pee-pee hurts REAL BAD!" I took this to mean that he had to pee so bad it hurt. So I ushered him down the hall quickly so there would be no accident. I said, "Do you have to pee really bad and your belly hurts?" He shook his head frantically and said, "NO! My pee-pee hurts!!" I said, "Well, go pee and we'll see if it makes you feel better." Then the kids dropped his drawers and out sprang a very swollen, angry red penis. Oy vey. I gasped, which is never good for keeping a child's panic at bay and said, "Oh. Wow. That is one unhappy penis there, buddy." He nodded his head in total agreement.

So what does one do when one encounters a penis like that on a child, but consult the backup - TaterSis to the rescue. I dragged her away from the computer to consult. She took one look at that thing and said, "Oh, that is so not normal." Okay, two opinions, both of them in agreement that something was definitely wrong in Penisville. I called the child's mom.

Now, while the vaginas outnumber the penises in the Diva house, I still have encountered my fair share of the more masculine genitalia and well, Sam's has never swelled like that. Ever. I will not comment on Mr. Diva's. We'll just leave it at that.

So after Jill and I conferred and I described exactly how her son's penis was looking we decided that it was probably irritation from maybe not getting rinsed well in the shower last night and I told her I'd put some Balmex on it and keep her posted. Oh and I also checked for a tick, but found no attached parasites to his nether region. God love his little heart, while I very gingerly smeared his little equipment with Balmex he was so brave. I know it had to have been sore. So after I had covered any affected skin with diaper rash cream I told him to kind of keep a hands off approach and not touch it too much. Ha. Tell that to a 3 year old male - "Keep your hands off your package there, buddyroe." Like that's going to happen.

By naptime it was still not right, but not worse either. I sent him off to nap and when Jill called she told me to check him when he got up from nap and call her if it was worse. So after his nap I followed him into the bathroom and when he pulled his pants down this time I not only gasped but bit my lip and tried not to scream. It was HUGE. And even angrier than before. I called his momma immediately and said, "It my son's penis looked like that I would have him at the doctor's office for sure. " That was all it took. She said, "I'll call you back" and called the doctor's office. She got him an appointment for 4 and said she was tying up things at work and would be out to get him shortly. In the meantime I got his shoes on him and fixed his hair. When we got back up to the living room to watch Dora the Explorer he said, "Kiki, what would make my pee-pee do that? Why does it hurt?" I said, "Sweetie, I'm not sure, but momma's gonna take you to the doctor and I'm sure the doctor can figure it out. But I know one thing, that is one very unhappy penis you've got there." He said, "Yeah. And it's unhealthy, too." Definitely.

Jill got here and said, "Chandler, do you mind if Momma looks at your pee-pee to see what's going on before we head off to the doctor?" Heck, he didn't care. He'd shown it off to me all day long. She pulled out the front of his shorts and immediately let them snap back into place. "OH MY GOSH! I wasn't expecting to see THAT!" It was even worse then it had been the last time I had checked it. Poor little guy. He was taking it all in stride and I've gotta give him some serious credit for his bravery and awesome attitude.

Turns out, it was a mosquito bite. He had played outside in his underwear yesterday and evidently some curious mosquito had wandered into Penisville for lunch. So now he's on an antibiotic and has to have cortisone cream applied as needed. The doctor said that because the penis is uhm . . . well, because the very nature of a penis is to expand due to the extra skin on it that when there is imflammation it will just swell and swell and swell to fill up the extra space. She said she'd actually seen worse. Oy.

Mr. Diva was incredibly sympathetic and crossed his legs unconsciously as I told the story. Jill said Chan's daddy actually kind of teared up when he saw it. When she told her boss, a man, that she needed to leave work and why, he said, "Forget the doctor's office. Take that boy straight to the ER!" Seems men are awfully sympathic when one of them has a minor penis issue, but when a woman is in labor and trying to push a head the size of a small basketball through her stubborn vagina they can stand back and say, "Eh. You ain't the first woman to give birth."

Sunday, September 25, 2005

It's just a mess

My living room, that is. Since last Wednesday it has looked like the Goodwill Store exploded in my living room. Today it looks like a slightly disorganized Goodwill Store and less like an explosion has occured here.

I slept till nearly 10 this morning. I'm not sure where my real husband is and what the Pod People have done with him, but if they'd like to leave this new and improved one with me for awhile, I'd be okay with that. I had plans of making a big breakfast this morning, but by the time I dragged my lazy behind out of bed, Paul was halfway through a bowl of Cheerios. Oops. So we're having breakfast for dinner tonight instead. Works for me. I prefer my breakfasty food at night anyway. And forget about me eating a bowl of cereal first thing in the morning. I'd rather not eat than eat cereal for breakfast. There is just nothing better than a bowl of frosted flakes right before bed. I'm sure my dentist would cringe. If I had a dentist. Hmm . . . now I'm thinking that maybe I need to see a dentist . . . wow, digression at its finest today. Geesh.

This morning I stripped my bed, put on clean sheets and then made the bed. Then proceded to pile the bed with various things that have been piled in the floor and on my dresser for awhile now. Part of that piled stuff was winter clothes. So those bags went up to the Goodwill living room. And while I was in the back of the house I decided to work on the small bathroom. After Christmas last year we painted it yellow. Really. Bright. Yellow. I had no theme going on in there and had left up the butterfly curtains from when it had been Ab's bathroom. When Tater, Mom and I were in Branson in June I found a really cute Tinkerbell bathroom counter set (soap dispenser, cup and toothbrush holder), a valance and some stick-on decals that I just HAD to have. So since June they've all just sat on my dresser awaiting the day they were set free to decorate. And today was that day. The bathroom that my husband now showers and shaves in is decorated in lavender and yellow with Tinkerbell and flowers all over the wall. I just can't help but laugh at that. Strangely it doesn't seem to bother him. I think he knows that he and Sam are greatly outnumbered and the estrogen will prevail.

After I finished cleaning and decorating that bathroom I moved on to the other bathroom where I discovered that if you directly spray apple-scented Lysol on pecker-gnats (aka fruit flies) they die instantly.

I am so tired of the fruit flies. I just can't convince Paul that the nonburnable trash should go out more often than he's taking it out. Fruit flies can produce 500 offspring in a few week's time. We've been fighting the little suckers all summer. I have a mind to just call a trash service and have them start picking up our trash this week. I am tired of stinky trash and pecker gnats. I know they are fruit flies and not really pecker gnats, but when I say pecker gnats it makes Abby giggle so I say it instead. I am easily amused. Obviously, so is she.

I went through all of the winter clothes and got all of the too small clothes in one box for the resale shop. Then I took Kady's ginormous mountain of winter clothes and categorized everything. There was a pile for everything - jeans, turtlenecks, sweats, sweaters, windpants, knit pants, long-sleeves t-shirts, sweatshirts, dresses, skirts. Then after everything was in a pile I went through and took out repeats and non-essentials. There was still a lot of clothes. So I went through again and took out things that were even less essential. Still, the child has too many clothes. I filled a super huge Rubbermaid box with all of her winter clothes. Paul says I still have to downsize. *sigh* And he's right. Last year she had this many clothes and all it did was crowd Abby's side of the closet. Plus she'd end up wearing the same 8 outfits over and over. I just need to be tough and really get rid of more. If only the consignment shop lady would pay me up front for the things I take in. Then I could buy Abby and Sam some clothes with Kady's clothes now and not have to wait for her to sell things. I somehow doubt she'd go for that.

My kids have played outside all day. They smell like sheepdogs. I called Kady in to try on a pair of corduroys and she actually poofed out a cloud of dust when she sat down to put them on. Now, that's dirty. Paul finally found a headlight for his tractor and has spent the better part of the day tinkering around in the barn and on the tractor. He'd never admit it, but he's really excited about the hayride that we're doing at the campout in a few weeks. He's been worrying about that tractor and it's headlight for weeks. Now he's out bushhogging and will probably break something on the tractor and then he'll be worrying about things again.

Last night Paul brought me a story that Abby had written. She'd left it on the bar and he nearly spit tea everywhere when he read it.

"My dog Jake by Abby
I got my dog September 28, 2001. My dad got him at Wallmart. He is a good good dog. he never biten anyone but he trid to bite a plumer (plumber) who looked like he hadn't takin a bath in 3 years. Jake is a wach dog. I love Jake."

(And yeah, the guy really did look like he hadn't taken a bath in three years. *shudder*)

Creative spelling just drives me crazy. Back when I was in school we learned how to spell correctly from the beginning. Now they do this creative spelling and amazingly, it works. The kids do fantastically with it and I have yet to hear of a teacher who doesn't like it. But to a perfectionist who suffers from OCD, it just about is more than I can handle.


Last night when we were all outside, Sam and I were sitting on the 4-wheeler watching the girls ride the other 4-wheeler. All of the sudden he jumped down. I asked where he was going. He sniffed and said, "Eh. Just goin' off to mark my territory." His father has taught him so much.

The radio station, Magic 93.9, has 70's Saturday and then on Sunday they do the 80's Backtrack show. So naturally, all weekend my radio is on 93.9. Today Sam was lying in the living room floor watching me go through clothes . He sighed dramatically and said, "I can't get this radio station on my radio." I said, "Oh I bet you do. If you want, I can find it for you." He shook his head and said, "Heavens no. I'm glad I don't get it!"

Saturday, September 24, 2005

Brass Bed

Has anyone who reads this blog ever actually laid someone down on or been laid down on a brass bed? Because I've noticed that it's a recurring object of love-making scenarios in songs and I'm wondering if making love on a brass bed is better than making love say, in a regular wood bed or even the couch or the backseat of a 2005 Dodge Ram. I just want to know. Yeah, it sounds awfully romantic when they say "Lay lady, lay....lay across my big brass bed" and "Come and lay your head on this big brass bed" but are brass beds all that plentiful? And have you noticed they don't just say "brass bed" but "BIG brass bed". Do they only come in large sizes?

Now that that's out of the way and y'all are thinking that I am officially certifiable we'll continue on with regular blog business.
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Tater, Paul and I watched Hitch last night. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I really did. I had heard it was really good (Cousin Stacey recommended it highly. But then again, she and I both had tremendous crushes on Will Smith, so how could she NOT recommend it to me?) and I had heard it was really bad. I'm going with adorably cute and funny and 2 hours of looking at Will Smith was just what I needed. We also rented Spanglish but haven't got around to watching it yet. With our handydandy Wardog Card at Video Giant when we rent a new release we get an older release for free so the kids are taking advantage of their free Scooby Doo Halloween movie right now and Rugrats Halloween is soon to follow.

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Tater is now an official blogger!!!
Yep. She and I were painting the witch for the ring toss and I was sick and tired of painting the stupid hat and I said, "Let's go blog" and she was like all okay with it and started washing out her brush before I could even flip the cap shut on my paint bottle. By the time I got out here she was online and fidgeting in the chair. Without looking at me she said, "I want a blog of my own." So after I scooped my jaw up off the floor and rehinged it, I helped her set up her own little spot in cyberspace.

Poor Mom. Now, in addition to worrying about me she will have to worry about her youngest child. I think she felt like if I ended up chopped up and stuffed somewhere dark and cylindrical that TaterSis would take custody of my children. Now that we're both blogging there's a good chance she'll end up with all five kids. Especially if TaterSis and I choose to go out blogging alone at night.

So stop on over at the Tater's bin and say hey, k? And leave lots of comments demanding that Mr. Tater allows her to get the 'net at home once they move into their farmette!

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I'm listening to Bohemian Rhapsody right now and I gotta say that no matter how rotten my mood is, just hearing this song and picturing Wayne and Garth and their buddies in that car singing it makes me happy.

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I slept in till 9 this morning. I was awakened several times before that and I'm pretty sure the children all had pizza and kool-ade for breakfast because when they'd come in and ask a question I'd just grunt and wave them away. I guess they took the movement of my curls under my pillow as a nod and approval to whatever they were requesting. Hey, I didn't care. Pizza for breakfast never hurt anyone.

At 9:03 Paul came bursting into the bedroom and said "If you're going to that auction it started 3 minutes ago." With only one eye open I said, "Uhhh . . . you know what? Just go on to that auction by yourself." He laughed and yanked on the sheets and said, "I thought you and the kids were going yard-saleing this morning, too." I kicked him. I needed the sleep more than the kids needed jeans. Okay, yes I realize the kids need jeans pretty bad, but I really needed the sleep.

I got up and called Mom and she informed me that the auction started at 10, not 9, so I told Paul if he'd wait a bit the kids and I would get ready and go with him. I spritzed my bed head, fluffed up my curls (Today was one of the days I actually liked the curls because they are pretty easy to retame in a hurry if necessary.), grabbed a piece of pizza and a Diet Coke, slapped on some makeup, convinced Kady that she wasn't leaving the house unless she let me brush her hair and pull it into a ponytail, grabbed my purse and we were out the door by 9:55.

Next door to the auction was a yard sale and I ended up getting Abby two dresses, Kady a Barbie princess dress-up dress and a Snuggli for $5.50. By the time we got to the auction Paul already had a number and had scoped out all he wanted. Mom had also given him instructions on what she wanted him to bid on for her. Sometimes she can get out and bid on things, but since we were there we did it for her. Oh and the minute the kids saw her they had to run and hug her and then she offered to buy them all brownies. She plays the part of Grammy well.

Paul bid on some old BF Goodrich stuff for me. Dad used to work there and Tater and I buy him old stuff from the plant when we can. I don't think Dad reads the blog and I actually hope he doesn't because what I got today is part of his Christmas. There was a box that had a roaster and some old muffin tins in it and I wanted those muffins tins to make crayons in, but they went higher than I was willing to pay so I let them go. There was a portable sewing machine that I had my eye on and bid $30 for, but it went for $60. I found out later that my mother was bidding against me because she was going to get it for me for Christmas. How sweet is she?! Then she kicked herself the rest of the day for not bidding $65 because she felt sure she'd have gotten it for that. I bid on an old sewing machine cabinet with the old foot doohickey (the word escapes me at this moment) for her and got it for $2.50 more than she wanted to pay. I got kind of carried away. The woman bidding against me wasn't about to win it, dadgummit. But the pictures Mom wanted I actually got for $2 cheaper than she wanted to spend so it all worked out.

But the main thing we were waiting around for all day was a copy of Little Black Sambo. Mom had that book when she was a kid and Meemaw used to read it to her all the time. Tater and I have been on a mission for years to get her a copy, but eBay is NOT the place to get one. They go really high there. Mom found a copy at one auction but it went for like $75 so obviously she didn't get it. She had told Paul that she'd go to $20 on it, but since I didn't get the dadgum sewing machine I was prepared to go as high as $40 for her on that book. We waited through a seemingly endless session of little old ladies fighting over turquoise and sterling jewelry until FINALLY it came time for the book. I stood right next to the auctioneer and when he started the bidding at $20 I jumped on it. He looked at me and said, "This lady knows what they go for on eBay!" and no one bid against me and I GOT IT!!!!!!!!! Later he got me off to the side and said, "You realize, you stole that book, right?" Oh I knew.

Mom was tickled pink.

So our mission completed we were done at auction central and went to pay. Mom's the cashier. She said, "You owe me $3 and the rest is mine." I handed her $23 and said, "No. Merry Christmas." Of course, she argued but I told her I'd really hate to have to kick her hind end right in front of the nice little Assembly of God ladies who run the concessions so she'd better hush. She was so happy. So was I.

-----------------

We came back here to the house and Bub brought the Tater Tots over because the Taters had their names in a drawing thing at one of the casinos. They played awhile and then we found The Country Bears on Disney so I made them get blankets and pillows and they were ordered to lie down and be quiet. Withing 5 minutes of the beginning of that ridiculous movie I was snoring and actually woke myself up snoring a few times. I managed to regain consciousness for the last 45 minutes of the movie and laughed out loud when Bonnie Raitt and Don Henley sat at the bar and watched the boy and girl bear sing. (Bonnie and Don were the singing voices for those two particular bears. Pretty funny.) Then later in the movie the bears mistake Elton John for a gardener and as they walk off one says, "You know, that gardener looked an awful lot like Elton John." and Tiny Tot said, "HAHAHAAHH!! Aunt Kiki, that WAS Elton John!" How that child knew who Elton John was I'll never know.

The rest of the afternoon was spent outside. Rita has cooled us down some, even if we're not actually going to get much of her like they were originally saying, and the temperature was actually bearable tonight. The kids rode the 4-wheeler, Paul and I sat and watched them and the dog drank my glass of sweet tea. I bet the poor guy is out there in the yard right now chasing his tail and layin' there all jittery and wondering if any of the cats have a cig he could bum. Serves him right for drinkin' my tea.

------------------

The Taters are still at the casino and Mom is on her way out here to pick up the Tots. She's been at the casinos since she left the auction. I'm feeling totally left out. Last night when Paul went to town to pick up a lightbulb he stopped at one, too. I haven't visited a slot machine since last Monday!!

Forgive me Buffalo, for I have sinned. It's been 5 days since my last gamble.

I hope I didn't offend any Catholics out there. If I did, I apologize. But you gotta admit, that's kinda funny.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

A few questions

Will I ever get to bed before midnight again? I really enjoyed that day a few weeks ago that I was in bed by 9:30, but it hasn't happened again.

Will my living room ever NOT smell like the dog poo my two daughters, while in their father's watchful care, traipsed through in the yard and then felt it necessary to bring the stench into the house?

Why can my husband not just keep an eye on them and keep them from stepping in dog poo? They never step in dog poo when I'm watching them because I actually watch them and say "LOOK OUT! YOU'RE ABOUT TO STEP IN DOG POO!"

Will my foot ever stop hurting? It's been hurting since June. I'm really tired of it.

Why do allergies have to even exist? They make my throat hurt.

Will life slow down?

Do I really want it to?

Am I insane?

Why is my face so broke out right now? I'm not PMSing or anything!

How in the WORLD did four little boys manage to DESTROY my toyroom today? I am thinking we should use little boys as weapons of mass destruction. The enemy will never know what hit them until it's all over and they're standing in the middle of a field knee-deep in Hot Wheels and Nerf darts.

Why do I want to find a sitter for my kids and go do something grown-up this weekend yet at the same time I'd love nothing more than to stay in my pj's all weekend and watch sappy chick movie after 80's movie after Disney movie?

When is enough really enough?

Does parenting ever get easier?

Does being a grownup get any more fun than this?

Why is it that even when life is gunky and I'm cranky that just rocking one of the babies makes it all seem better?

Do the people who are bound and determined to stay in Galveston really think they're making the wisest decision?

Why did God choose to bless me with such an amazing family? I don't deserve them. They amaze me daily.

Why can't Paul just put the mayonnaisey knife in the dishwasher? Heck, I'd even settle for the sink if he just wouldn't leave it on the counter top!

If a train leaves New York at 3pm traveling 55 mph and a bus leaves San Francisco at 4:30pm traveling 62 mph, which one will get to the indian casino faster?

Who would I talk to about making an "-ine" food group? You know - nicotine, caffeine . . . uh, those are the only two -ines I can think of right now.

How much wood can a wood chuck chuck?

Will my kids ever look back at the music of this decade and think "Man, that was some awesome music back then!"? Because the music of the 70's, 80's and 90's is awesome. I'm not sure the music of 2005 can compare in years to come.

What am I going to fix for dinner tomorrow night?

Who was the person that told Enrique Iglesias he was hot when he makes those ridiculous faces on those cologne commercials?

We've got a man down!

Imagine if you will, being out in your driveway on a hot first day of autumn. Are you imagining it? Good. Now picture yourself running around like a crazy woman because you are running late for an appointment and you have to load into your van two very wound-up preschoolers and a 30-pound infant. It's quite a scene, isn't it?

Just as you lean over to buckle the baby into his seat you hear a very loud POP and feel a stabbing pain in your side, right under your left breast. You feel like shouting "Take cover, kids!! We're under fire!" because you're pretty sure in that split second that you have been shot. The pain in your ribcage is worsening. Your breath is coming in ragged pants, sweat has broken out on your brow. You finish buckling the baby because if you have to drive yourself to the ER you want everyone to be safe. Then you step out of the van to assess the wound, expecting to find your shirt soaked in blood from the bullet wound.

Strangely there is no blood and as you stand up, the pain in your ribcage goes away. You reach a tentative hand up to feel the area under your left breast, wondering what is staunching the flow of blood. And then you realize







you have broken another underwire in your white bra.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Oh, my achin' back

Isn't my Tater just the bomb? She cracked me up with her post today. And she even asked if she could guest post, so I took that as a good sign. Last time I had to beg, bribe and theaten before she agreed. And the cute names she gave to her kids - Tweeny Tot and Tiny Tot - those were hilarious. She was more than aghast that I actually use her kids' names on here. Oops. I guess I'd forgotten to tell her that.

I spent from 9am until nearly 6pm today bent over my dining room table, painting that friggin' football throw board. Sis freehand drew a football player, stadium and field for the carnival's football throw. And we spent the day painting it. All day. And it turned out SO good! She is so talented. But my gosh, it took a long time. Of course, if we had been just painting, we'd have gotten it done in no time, but I took time out to change a few diapers, mediate a few arguments, fix lunch, read Rainbow Fish for the 90 milliointh time this week (And NO I'm not exaggerating. I drew the line at once today.), burn a CD for Tater, lay the kids down for naps, keep Cute Baby from eating the baseboards in my dining room (Nope, not exaggerating on that one either. He's so teething.), throw in a load of laundry when Tater dropped a loaded paintbrush in her lap and then fix dinner. And all that before 4. Then the kids got home from school and things got really interesting.

But ya know, as tired as I am and as swollen as my foot is (Day number two with no shoes. Shame on me.) and as much as my back is threatening to spasm, I enjoyed the day with her. We laughed, we joked, we sang, we enjoyed each other. Next week we start painting the witch for the ring toss. And after that, the backdrop for the polaroid picture booth. I'll be painted out by the time it's time to start my yearly Christmas painting. Oy.

Tomorrow is Kady and Chandler's orientation/meet the teacher day at the Lab School. They are both so excited they can hardly stand it. I'm kind of torn about it all. It's exciting for them and they are going to really enjoy it, but at the same time, my baby(ies) are growing up. Chandler will start PreK next year. Kady might, but I highly doubt it. But still, they are both on the verge of being big, bad four year olds and I'm not sure I'm ready for that. But the thought of them turning four is nothing compared to my oldest child turning 9 this year. NINE!! And Sammy will be 7. I find myself turning to the phrase my grandpa's friends used to say to me as a kid - "Someone needs to put a brick on your head, you're gettin' too big." It was corny back then, but now part of me wonders if it's possible. I seem to be fresh out of bricks, though, and they just keep growing up.

Cute Little Baby wasn't here today and there was a big, huge, enormous Cute Little Baby-sized hole in my house. He had his surgery this morning and I was so worried about the little thing and I know his momma was, too, and he came through like a champ and last I'd heard, he hadn't even cried. What a kid. I know his momma is ready for him to get well and stay well now. I'll be glad to get him back Friday. Of course, Friday Cute Big Baby will be gone and then I'll miss him. But my two school kids will be here because they're out of school, so I'm sure I'll stay busy. We'd go to the park, but it's supposed to be so durn hot I'm not sure we will.

Speaking of the weather, tomorrow is the first day of autumn and we are experiencing about 15 degree above normal daytime highs. Normally by this time of year it's around 80. The last 3 days it's been up around 95 with heat indices around 100 to 105. That's just not right. Oh, the leaves are falling, but it's from lack of rain and the extreme heat.

Today I sent Paul to the bank to make a deposit for my Brownie Troop. I had already written the check to the council for our dues this year and needed to get the money in there. Up until now, I've only written one check from the account for cookies last year and the balance has been at zero since March. I noticed I quit getting statements, but figured it was because the balance was zero. But I got a call around 9:45 from the nice lady at the bank saying that there was no record of the account. None. She couldn't even find the number in the computer as a closed account. So she alerted me as to what was going on and told me she'd call me back. When she called me back she still couldn't find it and asked if I had the paperwork on it. Well, of course, I did - I'm Super Brownie Leader, remember? So I got out the paperwork and said, "Oh. Uhm . . . I'm betting that y'all needed these signature cards, didn't you?" She replied, "Uhh . . . yes. Are you saying you still have them?" "Oh yes, right here in my hand. I bet that's why the account was closed, huh?" "Oh definitely." What the? Where the heck was my brain???????? Oh I filed it all away like a good organized person would do, but I filed the documents I was supposed to turn in. I told Tater that there was no way I was ever stepping foot in that bank again I was so embarrassed. Only the nice bank lady called me later to tell me I needed to come by tomorrow to pick up some new signature cards so we can get that account active again. So now I have to go in there tomorrow and let everyone put a face to the moronic Brownie leader who sucks at financial management. Jill, Chan's mom, works at that bank and assured me that really I am NOT the only person to ever do that, but I really don't want to be lumped into the doofus category with everyone else.

Tonight was the season premiere of Lost. Oh, Bub was bein' all Mr. SunshinePants and was saying, "Well, I feel like there were a lot of questions answered tonight." HUH? There were no questions answered! Only new ones brought to the surface!!! My gosh, that's a good show. We opted out on the new one, Invasion. It didn't appeal. I did hear that Alias is on Thursday this season and thankfully it will not interfere with my watching of ER. Since we don't have a DVR that could've been catastrophic. I bet I'd have gotten in shape, though, from running back and forth between the living room and toyroom TVs. And Grey's Anatomy starts Sunday!! Life is now resuming to normal and I have a reason to live. Okay, so I had reasons before, but still you gotta admit that when the new season starts the world just looks brighter and there's a spring in your step. Okay, so maybe that's just me.

We did the bi-annual going through of the new season's clothes tonight. Yeah. That was much fun. After dinner we gathered all five children into the living room. Tater kids on one side, Diva kids on the other. And the chaos began. Sam has grown SO MUCH since last winter and he was throwing clothes over to TotTwo. Abby was tossing clothes to TotOne and TotOne was throwing clothes to Kady. Then I was taking the ones Kady has outgrown and throwing them in a pile while Bub was taking the ones TotOne has outgrown and was throwing them into a barrel. I don't think it was a 55-gallon one, though. We did this through Destination Lost and finished up shortly after the premiere episode began. And even though the Tater family took their clothes with them, somehow it still looks like the Goodwill Store in my living room. I am vowing to get the outgrown ones to the resale shop on Saturday and while I'm there, scope out some clothes for Ab and Sam. Abby has one pair of jeans that is really too big but will work in a pinch, one sweater, two pairs of pajamas and an old RealTree camo shirt that my friend Trishia's son gave her when she was 6 and she refuses to get rid of it. She says she will not hand it down when she outgrows it. I'm not sure if it's the camo she loves of the fact that Seth gave it to her. Either one worries me. Sam has two pairs of sweats, one pair of jeans and about 5 henley shirts. They both outgrew virtually everything from last year. Kady on the other hand could again this year wear a new outfit every day from now till spring and never repeat.

Tomorrow night is Parent/Teacher conferences. I have no issues to address for my first grader. His teacher and I worked through our problems last week. But my third grade teacher is bound to get an earful because my kid who has always gotten A's in everything except English and even it was only a B is now bringing home at least 3 D's and an F every week. Something is not right there. I think the problem is that she is way overconfident. She's smart and she knows it and she gets in a hurry and is sloppy and misses stuff and rushes through papers. But if there's something more I definitely want to get to the bottom of it. If she just needs more focus, we'll work on that. If she just needs to be reminded to slow down, we'll work on that. If it boils down to her just needing a good sound beating, well, I'm not opposed to that either. She's a smart kid and there's no excuse. (Btw, I wouldn't actually beat my child. Just for the record.)

Paul is now turning out lights throughout the house. That is my cue to get off of here and back to the back of the house where there is light. Since our little ghostie has made its presence known I am not fond of hanging out in the dark too awful much. Call me chicken. I'll cluck for ya all day long. I really am not too anxious to face our ghost just yet.

Happy fall, y'all!!

Tater Talks...

I have taken over the Diva's blog for a few moments, because, because.... well I really don't have a good reason why except I am at her house and needed a break from painting props for the fall carnival at our kid's school. As you may know both of my kids (ya know, Tater's tots) have started school, and I am a little clingy to the Diva 'cause I'M BORED!!!!!! I have now volunteered for anything and everything at the tots' school and am seeing if I can keep up with all the things I keep raising my hand for in the PTO meetings.

Funny thing happened yesterday at the Parent/Teacher conference at the tots' school. See the Tater has two tots, my oldest we will call Tweeny Tot and my youngest we will call Tiny Tot, I was in Tiny's class and was talking to his teacher, I was explaining that it was no longer necessary for Tiny to wear glasses and his teacher to my surprise said "I know I read all about it on the Diva's blog." So I have decided that the Diva is a much more effective form of communicating with my kids' teachers haha. BTW Tiny's teacher is also Small Town Starlit if you are familiar with her blog, she rocks!

For those of you that don't know because I don't know how much my sister (the Diva) shares. (obviously a lot) I am one of the few people left in America without the internet. Please don't pity me for I am too busy pitying myself. See my husband is so damn cheap that he thinks it's unnecessary to pay for the internet since he has it at work. One small problem, Muscle Monkey (aka my husband) forgets he won't let me work and I am at home by myself I NEED THE INTERNET!!!! I AM LONELY!!!!

Before I vamoose I must explain the nicknames, see my mother has brainwashed me into believing the whole 50 gallon barrel thing , so I am obviously not immune to the Matriarch's crazy ramblings like the Diva has become, I still think believe that "Fitty", as my sister so lovingly calls him, may possibly be out there waiting for me to reveal my personal info so he can fill one more barrell with my grizzly remains. So I maintain my anonimity until they come out with a really good pill for paranoia.

Well, until I take over the Diva's blog again, take care.

Tater Out

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

My mother

To: Mom
From: Kristin, The Queen of Everything
Subject: 55-gallon drums

Okay, I know you'll get a kick out of this. Or maybe you won't. But I'm sending it anyway.

Hillbilly Mom and Rebecca from Australia have this "war" going on and Rebecca made a shirt with Hillbilly Mom's picture on it:





Somehow I got caught in the crossfire and got a shirt of my own:







To: Kristin, The Queen of Everything
From: Mom
Subject: re: 55-gallon drums

No, I am not offended. Actually it is pretty funny with your picture and the face you are making on the front of the shirt.

Your friend is pointing out the sealing the lid will kill you - NOT IF YOU ARE ALREADY CHOPPED IN TO LITTLE BITTY PIECES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Love, Mom

Monday, September 19, 2005

Champagne wishes and caviar dreams

After the REC Day debacle on Saturday, we hung out here. Yeah, I mentioned that. Sis can't wait to get her satellite TV back. Yeah, yeah, this is old news.

Well, the guys had been working on the farm-ette all day Saturday and Mom's auction was running late, so I told Sis to leave the kids with me and I'd just take them to Mom's when she got home. FINALLY she got done and we headed in to drop everyone off at her house. By the time we got into the derby it was 7:38. It had started at 7:00. 38 whole minutes of derby lost forever. And then, upon entering the gates I saw the Mustang. THE car I was supposed to drive. I slapped Mr. Diva really hard in the chest with both hands and said (very loudly), "THERE'S MY CAR!! THE CAR YOU WOULDN'T FIX FOR ME!!" It's a good thing that I'm prone to outbursts like that and people know I'm teasing because I hit him pretty hard. The deputy sheriff that was standing there laughed his head off. As we were walking toward the stands, after my outburst was over, I just out of the blue punched him really hard in the arm. And the sumbitch punched me BACK! He never punches back! Yowch.

We saw a guy he works with as we were walking up and he said there were seats by him and his wife so we ended up on the second row. Not pit-quality, but still good seats. The derby was awesome. The finals heat was cut-throat, mean, dirty, full of team driving and about 4 cars looked like nothing more than crumpled up wads of aluminum foil when it was all said and done. There were no rollovers and only one fire, but still a good derby nonetheless. The Powder Puff heat was even good.

The ZZ Top concert that Sis and Bub were at was supposed to start at 7:30 and we figured that both festivities would be over with around the same time. Sis called me at 8:45 and ZZ Top still hadn't come out. I voiced my concern that someone had maybe had a heart attack. But turns out they're just jerks. The band that opened for them said, "Y'all better just enjoy us for awhile because until ZZ Top is darn good and ready to come out they won't come out." I don't think they showed up until after 9. I think they're getting a mite cantankerous in their old age. Sis said that she really doesn't think that the two hairiest guys are even the original ZZ Top guys. Like who'd know anyway? They're covered in all that hair and dark sunglasses - why, it would be anyone up there. That's how they've maintained success all these years. We know now. The truth is out, you big hairy mysterious guys.

Some other friends of ours were at the derby and we mentioned that we were going to Shooters afterwards. They said they'd see us there. So we invited Billy, the guy Mr. Diva works with, and his wife, too. So it was looking to be a pretty promising time at the sports bar. I could envision me actually winning a game of darts, getting schnockered and just generally having a good time not feeling old. I was psyched.

We left the derby around 10ish and as we were walking out my phone rang. It was Sis' number and I figured it was her telling me they were done. But instead I heard a cacophony of what I think was "Sharp Dressed Man". I guess Melissa got a similar call with "Legs" blaring into her ear. Oooookay, so the concert was still in full swing so Mr. Diva and I went to the Ku-Ku. I mooched some of his onion rings and watched him eat a mayonnaise-laden burger and only gagged a couple of times. Mayonnaise is one of those things that I can handle only if I don't see it. I know it's weird, but I just can't look at the stuff. My cousin and her little girl came in not long after we did and she said, "Uhhh...you do realize you have no children with you, right?" We laughed and I said, "Yeah. We're not quite sure what to do with ourselves." She said, "I carry a deck of cards with me. When Mike and I find ourselves out without kids and have nothing to say to each other, we play cards." I fear that our days of that aren't too far away.

We headed over to Shooters and most of the gang was there. Melissa and her husband Terry were at the bar and she was playing some computer trivia game-y thing. Her friend Mike was at the bar and he was just being his usual (gay) self. (Not that there's anything wrong with that. He's just gay and we're not and he's flaming and we're rednecks. Sometimes he just doesn't fit in too well, bless his heart.) Mel's brother, Jeff, and his girlfriend came in right after us. Jeff was supposed to drive in the derby, but as he was getting ready to load the car it wouldn't start. The starter went out mysteriously. So he was pissed and ready to drink. Mel and Jeff's dad, Jim, was also there. Jim has been like a second dad to me for 9 years now. I love that guy to pieces, although there are times I'd like to strangle him.

So Mr. Diva, Jim and Jeff sat at a table and started talking cars and trying to figure out if they had enough junk cars in the field to get all of us in the derby next year. I watched Melissa play her weird computer game thing and talked to Mike a little bit, trying to jog his memory as to where he met me because he totally could not remember me. Finally I got tired of standing so I sat with the guys. I always end up doing that. I hang out with the guys. The more I drank the sleepier I got, so I kept drinking thinking that I'd get past that sleepy stage. Nope. I just kept getting sleepier. FINALLY Sis and Bub got there and she started drinking, too. We were waiting patiently for a dart board to open up and when it finally did I was borderline shitfaced. Drunks darts is fun. And I kept inadvertently cheating which made it even more fun. And my sister throws like a girl - a fact that I kept yelling pretty loudly.

After a few games of darts, Mr. Diva and I were a) tired, b) horny and c) he knew that he'd better get me home and take advantage of the horny before the tired took over. So we stopped at the bar to tell everyone bye and they were all like, "Why are you leaving so early?" And Sis, who was feelin' pretty good herself, said, "BECAUSE THEY'RE GOING TO GO HOME AND HAVE SEX!! LOTS AND LOTS OF SEX!" Now at that moment Mr. Diva wanted to just die a thousand deaths and if I were a good wife I'd have just slunkered out the door with him, red-faced and quiet. But noooooooooo, what did I do but shout back, "YES. WE ARE LEAVING HERE TO HAVE A LOT OF REALLY. LOUD. SEX. VERY VERY LOUDLY." Melissa was so sorry she asked. And Mr. Diva had been tolerant till I said I'd demonstrate a few of the positions for them. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me out the door doing his "I am going to murder this woman" chuckle that he probably does more than he should.

And the sex was neither loud, nor was there a lot of it. We were just too stinkin' tired. We should've just played cards, that's how old we felt.

Yesterday when I went in to pick up the kids I ended up staying until nearly 5pm. Mom had flea market stuff to price and Sis is fighting a sinus infection so I just sat with them while Mom priced and Sis sniffed and we visited and laughed and I so needed that. Mr. Diva and Bub were finishing a closet in Addison's new room at the farmette so when the kids and I got back home here I sent them off to clean the toyroom and straighten up the living room. I cleaned the kitchen and started a load of laundry. By the time Mr. Diva got home we had already eaten dinner, so he ate and then we all went out to ride the 4-wheelers.

I think I could've pollenated a national forest with the pollen that was in my eyes after that ride. Pollen, dust, seeds, bugs - you name it, it was stuck in my eyes. We drove down around the neighbors fields which is our usual route, then we went around his other fields, then we went up the road to find our neighbor burning his ditch. So we shut the 4-wheelers down and sat out there and visited with him until it got dark. Then it was back to the house to throw three very dirty, dusty kids into the shower. We were both so tired that he was crashed in the recliner and I was sprawled on the couch and we didn't even have the energy to break out the deck of cards.

I have a GS meeting thing tonight (I think. Right Jennifer?) a GS meeting thing tomorrow night, Wednesday Sis and the kids and I are going through winter clothes then watching the season premiere of Lost, then there's Brownies and Parent/Teacher Conferences Thursday night and we're toying with going out of town to the races this weekend or to Worlds of Fun. And we wonder why we're always so tired . . .

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Curly Squirrelly

Thursday night I went to the Wal*Mart and bought some leave-in conditionery stuff and some gel, as per The Great and Mighty Anna, Queen of Anna Land's suggestion.

oh
my
gosh

Girl, my hair is GORgeous today! I owe it all to you. I am forever your humble servant and sycophant. You rock.

Who knew something so simple could do so much. I can't imagine how drop-dead sexy I'd be if I had the money for the expensive salon stuff.

I didn't curl my hair into individual twisty things like she does because, frankly I just don't have time to do that. I must rush the process a bit; air drying isn't feasible in my life. But I did mix the conditioner and gel and well, I just must say that if you looked up the definition of "curl definition" in the dictionary, I'm thinking that I'd be pictured just under Anna herself. I was standing in the bathroom, admiring myself and my gorgeousness when Sis walked down the hall. She stopped in mid sentence and said "AWESOME hair today!" I was like, "Yah, I know! I am so. hot." She replied with a very valley-girl, "Like omigosh, yes you ARE!"

I've been fighting off the urge all day to just swing my head from side to side, just to draw attention to my hair and the beautifulness of it all. I'm not frizzy, I'm defined, I'm bouncy and well, I'm even attracted to myself today.

Anna, thank you for doing what you did and sharing with me the secrets of your curlarific beauty. We white girls with afros thank you. Or at least, this white girl with the red afro thanks you.

Pole humpin'?

This morning Sis and the kids came out here and then, the kids and I headed to Grove to REC Day. REC is our local electric cooperative. We were running late and had to ride the flippin' Pelivan to the Civic Center. We ran in, registered and voted (for what I'm still not sure) and went around the corner to get our bag of goodies (two ball caps) and then we registered the kids for a free Dell computer. All I gotta say is that after that horrible experience, they'd better win a freakin' computer. Two or three of them at least.

The staff was RUDE and just not friendly. And the newsletter was not very clear as to the schedule of events because we were under the impression that we could register by noon and then enjoy the events and booths. Oh but nooooooo. We were rushed out, didn't get the kids ID'd, didn't get any cotton candy, and barely got a free hot dog. We will not be attending next year.

After that we went to an auction. Have you ever taken five children to an auction? I doubt we ever do that again. I saw like, half of Paul's family. Even his bitch grandmother. I think she's frightened of me. Good. I have been forbidden to speak to her, but whether Mr. Diva had ordered me to not talk to her or not, I wouldn't have. She's one of the few people on this earth that I think I might hate.

So now we're home, Sis is slack-jawed and drooling in front of my television that has more than 3 channels, my husband is fixing a chilidog and the kids are playing outside. And to think I could've been in the pits right now, getting ready for the derby. But no. We're broke and we have a sitter and Bub and Sis are going to see ZZ Top and we're not and if we want to hang out with them we'll have to do it after the concert and that'll be late and even then we're only going to be able to afford to play darts and while that's fun and all I won't have any money to buy any alcohol and just how long can I make this sentence, anyway?

I'm going to go eat a chili dog, too. With extra cheese. Just because I flippin' feel like it, that's why.

Friday, September 16, 2005

Make the noise stop!

Mr. Diva sheepishly asked again last night if we could go to the event with the skanky pole-humping ho's. I told him again, quite vehemently, that if he desired to go watch skinny herpes-laden skanks drag their cooter up and down a pole for his enjoyment, then by all means, GO, fer cryin' out loud. And he, being the thoughtful man that he is, asked "Well . . . if I go, what will YOU do?" I told him that I would probably just sit here in my house with no TV on, no radio on, possibly no lights on, and just enjoy the quiet. He didn't understand why I'd wanna do that, but I assured him that I had no desire to see a former schoolmate hump around on a pole for my husband's viewing pleasure. There are several girls that went to my high school that dance exotic now. (Is that like waxing poetic?) Oh wait, I just checked out the other site and it appears that they are bringing in professional exotic dancers and even a professional porn star, to boot. Oh and lap dances will be available. But I'm bettin' that one exotic dancer isn't going to be able to keep the men happy by herself. They're going to have to have other ones, too. Ya know, maybe I could go and find a few of my classmates for the reunion.

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I totally forgot to mention some of the best redneck saying in my post yesterday! I can't believe I forgot these!!

* "Richer'n two foot up a bull's ass." (That's my favorite. It cracks people up when you describe like, a turtle cheesecake like that."
* "That'd gag a maggot off a dead wagon."
* "It's rainin' like a cow peein' on a flat rock." (Dave in Ardmore had his version of this one.)
* "It was so quiet you could hear a mouse peein' on a cotton ball."

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Okay, so I was telling Mr. Diva about my noisy ghost yesterday and he got all serious on me and said, "You know, there's been some freaky shit goin' on in this house lately." I guess the other day the kids and I were gone when he pulled in. I had left the blinds open to the big picture window on the front of the house. He was sitting in the truck listening to a song on the radio and just happened to glance up and he saw a shadow walk through the living room and down the hall. He said it looked like a man, but he could only see a shadowy form. So he got out of the truck, unlocked the front door and acted like nothing was out of the ordinary. He was kind of talking to himself, which he actually really does, and went to the secret hidey-hole and grabbed the pistol. He then proceded to walk down the hall to run out my stalker, aka Fitty. He just knew someone was in the house; he knew he saw someone walk down the hall. After checking the entire house and closets he came up with nothing, but when I mentioned the strange noises yesterday, you could tell he was really kind of spooked. So am I now.

First thing this morning the lid from a Mason jar went flying off the jar and under the dining room table.

Tell me that ain't some freaky shit.

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Yesterday I told Kady to go put on her brown sandals. She said she wanted to wear her white sandals. I told her that the brown ones would look better and to please put them on. She put her hands on her hips and said, "Momma. If I were the momma in this house I would SO stuff your feet into those ucky bwown sandals and I bet you wouldn't wike it either!"

She told me.

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I really probably could think up more to write but I just realized that the SpongeBob episode playing right now is "The Hash-Slinging Slasher" and it's one of my FAVORITES!!!! I am so outta here.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

I miss my friend

I am typing so fast I may very well sustain a stress fracture in a finger or two, but see, the babies are down for their morning nap and I am never exactly sure how long in duration the morning naps will be. They're usually 45 minutes, but it could be less. Although . . . it's awfully dark and dreary and well dammit, it's just a good day to sleep. I know I'd be if I weren't like, the adult in charge.

Okay, so this daycare business is just rockin' the house and I love it, but dadgum I miss my blogging. I actually have had two evenings that were free and I had plenty of time to be out here on the computer, but night before last I just turned it off and was in bed by 9:40 and last night the computer was unplugged because of storms and I could've hooked it up and blogged awhile, but, I was re-watching the season finale of Lost so I'd get all excited again about the season premiere next week.

Here's how busy and tired I've been - I haven't been to Ladies' Night in two weeks. Yep. I think this job thing is making a responsible person out of me. I haven't been in my pajamas past 6:10 any day this week, and while I don't put on makeup every day, I shower and fix my hair and get dressed and put on shoes. The house is insanely clean, the laundry is caught up and the kitchen is never, ever dirty anymore. It's weird. Mr. Diva is scared.

Tuesday evening was karate, but it was also the first PTC Carnival meeting. I needed to be at both, but that whole cloning thing is still pretty controversial, so Mr. Diva - GOD BLESS HIS SOUL - took Sam and both of Tater's tots to town to karate, then took the Tots home afterwards. I took my two girls to the school for the meeting. It went okay. They didn't do everything the way I want, but I guess I can't be the queen of everything, even though I'd really like to be. I mentioned I am in charge of the concession stand and praise be to God, the manager of Miami's Wal*Mart is a home room parent in Abby's class!!!!!!! That means that the man is a saint and is going to hit up his vendors for our stand supplies and we'll make pretty much ALL profit. WHOO HOOOOOOOO!!! He's a quietly powerful man and I find him strangely attractive. Of course, his wife is just a living doll so I'll just admire him in secret.

Tuesday night it was pretty stormy by the time we all got home so Mr. Diva skipped out on Men's Night (See the responsibilty thing is rubbing off on him, too) and by 9 he was in his recliner reading a book and by 9:40 I was in bed reading a book. I turned off the light a little after 10 and wasn't even aware when he came to bed.

Wednesday is our one evening during the week that we have NOTHING on the calendar. Not only are there no kid activities scheduled, but I take extra care to make sure that nothing extra gets stuck in there on a Wednesday night. Now that the new TV season is starting, we don't answer our phone after 7 on Wednesdays either. Too much good TV on to mess with the pesky phone. Leave a message and we'll call you back on Thursday.

Yesterday was the eye doctor appointment. I couldn't have fit another kid (legally) into my van even if I'd wanted to, but Lord, I wouldn't have wanted to. The back backseat was Chandler, Sam and Kady. The middle seat was both babies with Abby in the middle. She is a Godsend, my oldest child. I was going to take a stroller for Cute Big Baby, but figured it'd be more hassle so Abby carried the big one and I had Cute Little Baby in his carrier and was holding Kady's hand. Sam held Chandler's hand and we all invaded the building. There were 47 gazillion kids in there already so the six I added to the mix really weren't noticed that much. It got dicey, though, when they called us back but Sis stayed out in the waiting room with the big baby, her kids and the two 3 year olds. When I heard her name called for their appointment, I met her in the hall and took the two preschoolers, leaving her with the big baby. The doctor walked in the exam room and said, "Is uh . . . this the Hoover family? Or maybe we should call you a tribe? Or a team? Can y'all play sports? Because I think you've got enough, hon." I just smiled. It's kind of fun to not tell people they're not all mine. Makes 'em wonder if I really am that big of a slut.

The exams went well. Sam is still on the far-sighted side, but not by much. He said that by his next exam, next year, he may very well need glasses. Mr. Diva didn't start wearing glasses until he was 33, but I started wearing them when I was 11, so he could go either way. Abby, strangely enough, didn't change at all this time. Funny that her glasses have always been horribly bad every six months when we saw the other eye doctor, but they didn't change a whit this time. Part of me wanted to be skeptical, but part of me thought that maybe her eyes have just leveled out for awhile. Then when I talked to Sis after her kids' exams and she said that TotTwo didn't even need glasses and TotOne's were nearly double the strength they needed to be, I kind of have to go with the original theory that someone's been making money off of the system by giving out glasses when they aren't needed. *shrugs* Who knows.

Finding out that Abby's glasses are okay, though, leads me to believe that the headaches that are plaguing her daily are from the Zantac. Since they're not from her glasses, that's the only thing I can think of. It's listed as a side-effect and I made sure that she did not know that. The medicine is helping her stomach and she's not having abdominal pain anymore, but the head pain is getting her down now. Poor kid.

Last night after the kids went to bed I fixed Mr. Diva a grilled cheese sandwich with the last two pieces of bread in the house, ate a bowl of frosted flakes, put a load of laundry in and then settled in to watch Lost. After that I stayed tuned for the local news and, as I always do when I watch the local news, I fell asleep during the weather. That's the main reason I watch the local news and then I fall asleep during it. And I always wake up as soon as it's over. So my eyes popped open in enough time to see the 7-day forecast, then I dragged myself to the back of the house, took off my eye makeup, brushed my teeth, fell into bed and don't remember Mr. Diva getting in the shower, much less getting out.

The poor guy hasn't gotten lucky since last Saturday night. And strangely, it doesn't seem to be bothering him. He hasn't even asked.

I said that we're responsible, but I'm thinking that maybe we're just old.

Tonight is Brownies and we're making situpons. (A situpon is what Girl Scouts make to "sit upon" at any outdoor activity. Ours our squares of tablecloth, filled with folded newspaper and then stitched together with yarn. When Sis was a Brownie years ago, they used carpet samples.) Actually only two of the girls are making situpons, the other five made theirs last year. I'm not exactly sure what the five are going to do yet . . . I should really get on that. Then after Brownies I have to fly to town to a parent meeting for Lab School. I have had a child in Lab School virtually every year since 2000 and pretty much know all there is to know about it, but Jill's a Lab School virgin and I'm going with her. I was going to take her out to dinner for her birthday beforehand, but forgot about Brownies. So no dinner. That sucks. I was looking forward to something besides Spaghetti-o's.

Mom's watching the kids Saturday night, even though we're not driving in the derby. Yes, again we have pissed out on the derby. I was angry, but I'm not now. I guess I was kind of expecting it. It wasn't meant to be, obviously. He had 9 days of vacation and chose to not work on the car. Not a whole lot I can do about it - I mean, he's my mechanic and I sure as shit don't know how to put a starter in. So Mom still wants the kids and we're not going to turn down a free sitter. But we can't go out with Sis and Bub because they have tickets to see ZZ Top. Mr. Diva wants to go to a motorcycle/4X4 thing at The Bunker, but the flyer I saw mentioned exotic dancers and the way I figure it, by the time we'd get there the actual events would be over and we'd get there in time for a drunken party with half-nekkid girls and stuff. And nah, it interests me none. I gave him my blessing to go with his brother or a friend or someone, but I just really don't want to drink the famous "Ammo Can of Beer" and watched skanky nekkid chicks hump a pole or whatever it is that nekkid skanks do. Not that all exotic dancers are skanks . . . if you are an exotic dancer and you're not skanky, I apologize if I offended you.

And now Cute Big Baby is awake and standing at the baby gate slobbering and crying. The slobbering won't, but I'm pretty sure that the crying will wake up Cute Little Baby. It's time for morning snack anyway. Hmm . . . sweet potato puffs and Cheerios. Oh and while I'm thinking of it, it's a pretty sure bet that if Gerber makes it, adults won't like it. Those sweet potato puffs were a big disappointment.

Monday, September 12, 2005

And it was Monday once more in the great land of poopy diapers

Today was Cute Little Baby's first official day in my care for all of time, forever and ever amen. Or at least until his parents take him somewhere else. And he's still one of the cutest babies ever. I have two of the cutest babies in my care right now!! Cute Big Baby is big and fat and funny and then Cute Little Baby is easy-going, precious, smiley and when you pick him up he just fits so well right in your arms . . . this was one of those days where I really loved my job.

Chan and Kady and I made placemats this morning. Because you know I got a new dining room table that I love and want to marry, right? So in order to protect the top, the kids and I made placemats for them. I drew their names all cool on cardstock and colored the letters all bright and cheery and then they decorated the paper with stickers and shapes. Then we enclosed the entire shebang in clear Con-tac paper, which to any day care provider is like clear plastic gold. They turned out really cute and gave me some good bonding time with the big kids while the little ones napped. Chan was really upset when he was told he couldn't take it home with him tonight. So craft time is taken care of tomorrow - he wants to make one for his table now. I also let him pick out a special book to leave in his cubby overnight so that we can read it first thing in the morning. Bribery works well with 3-year-olds. Looks like my morning is going to start off with coffee and a story about a polar bear. Which is how every Tuesday morning should start, really.

This morning when I got up there was a frog in my kitchen sink. Imagine my surprise at finding that. Not sure how the little bugger got in there, but he got out when Mr. Diva captured his little green froggy butt and threw him outside. He was just a little tree frog, but still. Ew.

I need to get started on our class reunion. Fifteen years. I am shocked that nearly fifteen whole years have passed since we graduated high school. When the ten year reunion was over I swore I'd never plan another one, but here I am, five years later, getting ready to plan another one. At least I'm not pregnant this time - that was awful. If I don't plan it, though, I'm not sure anyone else will. Not that I'm better than anyone else at planning them, I just don't think anyone will do it. I saw one of the guys I was pretty close to our Senior year at the Buffalo Saturday night. He said that another guy we went to school with was playing golf at his golf-y type place (I guess they call them courses?) on Sunday and that the guy had mentioned something was up at a reunion site. Both of them just assumed it was me - and I wasn't even a Senior class officer! I'm just a nerd with a penchant for organization. Thing was, I hadn't planned anything yet. So in my curiosity to find out who had taken on the big fifteen year shindig I checked out classmates.com tonight. Well, evidently it's left over from the ten year reunion because I found nothing new on the site. Of course, if you want to dig around and read all the dirt on your former classmates and what's going on, you have to shell out money and I'm just not sure I want to do that. If I'm going to plan a reunion I guess I should, but the thing is, unless everyone else shells out the money, it won't do any good for me to shell out the money because you have to shell out the money to freakin' read anything at the site. Gr.

I'm thinking I'll start a reunion blog and then start spreading the word and see how fast news travels.

Wednesday Abby and Sam have eye doctor appointments. I will be taking my three daycare kids and my three kids to the eye doctor. Plus, Sis' kids have appointments right before my kids'. That office will never be the same again. In fact, they may ask us to find another doctor altogether.

I forgot to mention that I got things lined out with Sam's teacher and his AR problem. Turns out the kid had checked out a book that was WAY harder than he ever should've at this point in the year. AND he's not remedial. That was a whole misunderstood, confusing, clusterfucked thing. Now, she might've just been blowing smoke up my ass because I'd called her at home and was voicing my concerns, but she says that he's one of the top students in the class. She said he's just like Abby was in first grade, except a lot more social. She apologized for not monitoring the books they check out better and told me to show him how to find out the level himself and then it wouldn't happen again if he took on the responsiblity himself. (Hmm...shouldn't she have done that?) She also said he wouldn't have to test on that particular book just yet and he wouldn't have to miss recess over it. At least I didn't have to bus' a cap in her ass.

Mr. Diva grilled steaks tonight. That was yummy.

We rode the 4-wheelers tonight. And on the way home went through the field. The grass is really high out there and I discovered that if you drive really fast through that grass and have your mouth open doing a Duke of Hazzard "YEEEEEEEEEE HAWWWWWWWW" that you will get lots of seeds in your mouth.

Yesterday at my Home and Garden Party, one of my friends from my old Pampered Chef days came and showed off her new engagement ring and told how they're running off to - I think - the Bahamas to get married. I am SO happy for her and she looks so happy. She met this guy on the internet and they could like, be on a commercial, I swear. It was online dating nirvana, I'm telling you. So after she left, Mom made a snarky comment about being single and lonely or something like that. I nudged her and said, "Well, you know Lisa met her fiance on the internet. Maybe you should try it out." She said, "Yeah, well I just hope she doesn't end up chopped up in a 55-gallon barrel before it's all over with." Of course, April and Mrs. Coach laughed and several others who read the blog laughed, then Mom said, "Of course, as tiny as Lisa is, it'd only take a 10-gallon barrel for her."

On our girls' night out awhile back, we joked that it might possibly take more than one 55-gallon barrel for us and how embarrassing would THAT be!? The police would be interviewed by the news reporter and the detective would say "Well, we found the victim's remains in that barrel right there. And that one over there . . . and there's another behind the barn . . . and we think that might be more of her over yonder . . ." Yeah, what a way to go out.

Mr. Diva went back to work today. I don't guess I'll have to kill him after all. Not once today was there a mayonnaise-laden knife on my counter top or a glass sweating on an end table. Ahh . . . peace at last.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

What a weekend

I just looked up at my clock a few minutes ago and discovered it to only be 9:40pm. I honestly thought it was closer to midnight. I am so tired it's painful. Literally. My foot is huge again today. I spent all day in a car on Saturday (Okay,well not ALL day, but a lot of it) and then spent the day today on my feet without shoes on. All that adds up to really crappy circulation things going on in my feet. It sure sucks being an old lady at 32.

Friday night I went to bed a hair before 11pm and got up at 4am, Saturday. After our excursion to Edmond I just went back to Mom's in town, Mr. Diva brought the two kids under his care to Mom's and then we went out with Sis and Bub. We were going to go to Joplin to dinner and a movie, but we got a much later start than we had intended so we just stayed in town and, after a yummy dinner at Arby's, went to where else - the casinos.

Sis had had about 2 hours of sleep the night before, both of us were road-weary, but we didn't want to go home. So after we'd lost all the money we cared to lose to any Indian tribe, we went to the new sports bar in town. We pulled into the parking lot and started to get out, but I noticed that we were the only soccer-mom van in the parking lot. And some chick with her thong hangin' out the waistband of her britches was standing outside talking to her boy-band-lookin' boyfriend with his cap turned around backwards. I was not about to go into that place. It was too young and snotty for me, I had a feeling. So Sis suggested the other sports bar in town. You'd think that in a redneck, midwestern town like ours we'd have more country joints, but no, we're overrun with sports bars. And when we drove by the Elks Lodge they were already shut down for the night, so that wasn't even an option. Besides, Mrs. Coach wasn't with us and we wouldn't have wanted to have gone to her favorite bar without her. So we headed to Shooters.

We played darts. And I smoked a lot of cigarettes and drank one whole Schmirnoff. And I also learned that when playing darts, if you actually aim where you throw the darts you do much better. Yeah. Go figure.

We got home here around 2am and by the time we had experienced all there way to experience in this week's Really Loud The Kids Are Out Of The House Sex escapade, we went to sleep around 3:30am. That was kind of fun. Okay, no . . . it was a lot of fun.

Mom had offered to fix a big breakfast for us this morning, so we got up around 8 and we were leaving here by 8:30. Mmm . . . biscuits and gravy, eggs and hashbrowns and I didn't have to fix them. Mom rocks.

I was chewing my last bite and rounding kids up and trying to get out the door because I had a Home and Garden Party to get ready for and my home looked like it belonged in a garden it was such a disaster. Actually, it wasn't as bad as it could've been. I've been keeping things pretty picked up and straightened now that the baby is here. But still, there were things that needed done and I wanted to get them done and get a shower, too. But as we were walking out the front door Mom said she wanted to show me something on her carport that she had bought at the day before's auction. Mom works for an auction company and buys a lot of stuff to re-sell at the flea market. Yes, it's redneck business, but it's profitable.

I ended up leaving Mom's house this morning with a new dining room table and chairs, a new white cabinet for the kids' craft supplies, a table with a lamp attached, three child-sized lawnchairs and a table for my record player. All for the low, low price of $95. The dining room table is like new and I am so in love with it that I could actually see myself marrying it. I have had the dining room table that I grew up with, the dining room table that my parents bought when they were first married, for the entire nearly 13 years of my marriage. It's a great table with a formica top and it is virtually indestructable, but it's old and the finish is dark and it's round and I wanted a rectangular one with a lighter finish. My new table is PERFECTLY JUST WHAT I WANTED.

So tonight after the party I cleaned and filled up the new craft cabinet, put out the daycare kids' new cubbies, rearranged my living room and now I am so tired I'm plumb goofy. But the party was a smashing success and I'm going to get a buttload of free products, the spinach dip was a hit and my house is clean. Well, except for my office, but it's never clean so it doesn't count.

Before I go to bed to rest my ugly, swollen foot, I leave you with an actual conversation exchange between my almost nine-year old and my 88-year old grandfather. Up until then, Sis and I had just snickered quietly or exchanged looks when the two in the backseat would say something funny, amusing or off-the-wall. When this conversation went down, though, we nearly had a wreck because Sis was laughing so hard she couldn't see for the tears and I was completely incapacitated and couldn't have taken control of the wheel for my life. We are such dirty-minded girls.

We were driving in downtown Edmond when we saw an H2 at a stoplight. Papa is fascinated by the new cars on the roads these days and was commenting on virtually every one we saw. Sis said, "Ooh Abby and Papa, look what's up there at that light!" and pointed to the shiny black Hummer ahead of us. Abby snorted haughtily and said, "Why would anyone want a hummer anyway?" Papa said, "Eh, I wouldn't want a hummer. I'd just take the money instead."

Maybe you just had to be there and be extremely tired, but we nearly wrecked that Lincoln over a hummer.

Friday, September 09, 2005

No rest for the wicked, weary and just plain weird

Last night was Brownies - 6 Brownies, 1 Mini-Brownie and three little boys. The little boys got ten kinds of pissed off that they couldn't paint butterflies, too. My husband and brother in law would've killed me. After we painted, we fingerprinted the girls. One of the local banks was giving out fingerprint/ID sheets at the fair so I got enough for my Troop. Ever tried to fingerprint seven little girls who are hopped up on blue Kool-Ade? We kept saying "Noodle arms, girls! Just relax and let us do the work!" They'd just giggle and say "I (heeheehee) CAN'T! (heeheehee) IT TICKLES!! (heeheehee)" I wanted to get all Jailer on 'em and do it the way it gets done in Booking, but we'll be taking a field trip to the police station this year and I really don't want them to run from the place screaming or anything.

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Last night was the first PTC meeting at the school. (Why the had to give it a jacked-up name like PTC I'll never know. Everyone else is happy with PTA and PTO. We just had to be different, I guess.) I didn't go to the meeting. Brownies had just let out, Mr. Diva was griping that he was hungry, I had one kid who still had homework to do and there were still three extra kids in my house waiting for Grammy to pick them up. So Sis, who is in charge of the carnival, went alone. She wasn't happy with me, but hey, two of those kids left at my house were hers, so she didn't have much choice.

Two years ago we had a school carnival and I, being the guru of all things related to concessions, was in charge of the concession stand. I did such a damn good job (I have extensive experience actually) that I am in charge of it again this year. Two years ago it was Sam's class who sponsored it. This year it'll be Ab's class. Then in two years again I'll do it for KD's class and then I will retire from my position as Concession Stand Bitch. Forever. Don't ask me again because I will just tell you no and then I'll bus' a cap in your ass.

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I made Hamburger Helper for dinner last night. When Mr. Diva and I were first married we ate a LOT of Hamburger Helper. I mean, really a lot. We got a quarter of a beef every year and we were really broke and Hamburger Helper was really cheap. As we got older and started having children who required actual nutrition and stuff, we quit eating Hamburger Helper. Well, now our children are so picky that they rotate between popcorn chicken, PB&J, mac and cheese, pizza and grilled cheese and well, Hamburger Helper is cheap and easy and he and I have started eating it again. Oh, Mr. Diva isn't very pleased about this new development, but he is also smarter than I give him credit for sometimes because he has started to comment about it three times and has actually stopped himself. I don't fix it every night by any means, but considering that there hasn't ever been a box of Hamburger Helper in this house - and we have lived here four and a half years - and in the last week and a half we have eaten Hamburger Helper twice, well, that must seem like a lot. I can't wait till the weather cools off and I can put on a pot of stew or chili or beans in the morning. Then maybe the reign of the Helper will end for awhile.

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Cute Big Baby just ate a crayon. A blue one. He has been sitting here in my office floor playing and he's been all happy and laughing and bein' all silly. Then I heard him kind of cough then laugh. I looked down to see blue all around his mouth and half of an Olive Garden crayon in his hand. That oughta make for an interesting diaper this weekend. He must've had it hidden in his diaper and was just saving it for a snack because I SWEAR that thing was not in my office floor when I sat him down.

I'll never forget the time I changed Abby's diaper - she was about 8 months old or so - and found a hard shelled bug. I was a first-time mommy and nearly had a heartattack. The other day Cute Baby ate a pill bug. I just told his mom he'd had an extra helping of protein that day. Funny how mellow I am these days.

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Tomorrow Sis, Abby and I are going with Papa to Edmond to his school reunion. He went to a one-room schoolhouse for the better part of his education. Mom went with him and Uncle Homer up until last year. She had an auction and couldn't make it, so Papa asked Heather and I if we wanted to go. (I wrote about the adventure in my old blog, btw.) We really did have a good time and told them we'd go again with them every year.

Well, Uncle Homer passed away this year. We weren't sure if Papa would want to go without him. And Papa wasn't sure either. But when he got the letter and it said that this would probably be the last reunion, he was bound and determined to go. It's sad really. But everyone who attended the school has either passed away or they're all in their 80's and 90's now. And few live in Edmond. It's just long of a drive for most.

I asked Papa is Abby could go. He was tickled to pieces. She's not quite 9, but I want her to see the pictures and people, hear the stories and more than anything spend the day with her Papa. Sis and I only went one year with Uncle Homer but it's going to be so strange to go without him this year. Getting a barrel of chicken just won't be the same.

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Mom offered to watch the kids for Mr. Diva and I either tonight or tomorrow night. Well, since Papa likes to leave for Edmond somewhere in the vicinity of 5freakin30am, we opted for Saturday night. Of course, we are very very short on funds this week, so I think our night without the kids will consist of a trip to Wal*Mart, a burger at the Sonic and a PPV movie. What a way to wrap up a week. Or I could save us even more money by just whipping up a skillet of Hamburger Helper. Hmmm....

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Tonight I'm doing my time at the Girl Scout signups in town. Everyone took a night and I'm doing my part, but man, am I ever not looking forward to it. Something about sitting in the lawn of a church in a lawnchair with my three kids just isn't all that appealing to me. They are gonna whiiiiiiiiiiine I just know it. I might, too.

Liberating Plankton, part 1

So I'm 45. I haven't dyed or bleached my hair in years and have fully embraced being silver-haired. I have wrinkles - more so now th...