Monthly Archives: May 2011

Yep, a Slacker

So, I’ve been avoiding writing on this thing.  And well avoiding a lot of things, but just in case I look back at this in 10 or 20 or 50 years, I might want to know what I’ve been up to.  So here’s the run-down.
Just got back from Regionals in Indianapolis—Micaela kicked butt and got 2nd place.  (And if you ask me, that girl who is in first place better watch out.  ‘Cause we a comin’ to get her.  Just sayin.’)  And then the next day, Marissa kicked more butt and won 1st place!  Yay, a Regional Champion!
We are getting a puppy, and I’ve been sad.  One of my kids won’t talk to me, and I’ve been sort of thrown under the bus by someone else who has been very important in my life.  I am stuck on the whole weight loss thing, but that’s ok because I haven’t gained either.  And I’m getting back at it this week, because dammit, those skinny jeans a friend gave to me still don’t fit my fat butt.  But nobody better judge me for having a peanut butter malt (or twenty), because if peanut butter ice cream is wrong, then I don’t wanna be right.
And we thought about buying a new house, but then we un-thought it as soon as we realized it would cost a mega-crap-ton to get out of the house we are currently in.  But that’s ok, because maybe the new house thing was a phase to cover up my looming insanity.  I dunno.
So we are staying put.  And we are making it beautiful.  Well, first we have to make the dryer work, because between you and me, I’m tired of hanging my towels to dry.  If I had wanted a laundry line, I would have moved in next to those Little House on the Prairie people.  (I don’t do really well with adversity, by the way.  And by ‘adversity,’ I mean ‘wet laundry.’  I know there are people who have WAY bigger things to worry about, but man, I have wet, damp laundry.  Ew.)
Then, when the laundry gets dry, we will make the house beautiful.  Marissa wants orange walls, and Micaela wants blue, and the boys are getting yet another shade of blue.  Because we dig rainbows up in here.
My headaches won’t stop, and WebMD tells me that it’s either stress or a brain tumor, and I’m really hoping for the stress option.  Because, frankly, I don’t really need a brain tumor right now.
Oh yeah, and I can’t forget this.  We got the first real copy of my book in the mail this weekend.  A real paper copy—with a cover and a spine and pages and stuff!  So that’s been WAY cool, and I have to give Jason credit for helping me with some of all of the organizational-type stuff.  If I were left to my own devices, the original Word printouts would be gathering dust and mildew in our attic, doomed to a life in the dark.
The kids are getting ready for summer break—and I wish it would hurry up and get here, because this springtime weather is wreaking havoc on my sleep patterns.  Seems that every time I fall asleep, I am awakened my a midget-creature-child who is scared of the “funder” outside his window.  Yeah, yeah, kid.  Grab your blankets and make yourself at home in our room.
So that’s what’s going on.  Now that I’m all caught up, I can start telling crazy stories about my kids again and laughing at them sharing their antics right here on this oh-so-public forum!

Beary Stinky

You know how it is when you finally get to put your feet up after a long day?  After all the dishes are done and the laundry is sorted and the kids are fed and cleaned and tucked in?
You sink into your favorite comfy spot and settle in for some mindless programming, and you start to let yourself wander from the stress of the day.
It’s at that precise moment, you really, really don’t want to hear something like the following exchange:
“Mo-ooooom!  Mama!  Mom!”
To which you reply, “What, sweetie?” while you are really secretly thinking, holy $@##$, what can I possibly do to cater to you now?
And then you hear the reply:
“Jo-Jo poop on da bear!”
At which point, you look pointedly at your spouse with a look that says, Sweet Baby Jesus, please tell me I must be misunderstanding what he’s saying.
Except you didn’t misunderstand because your lovely hubby seems to have heard the same thing.  What in the name of all that is holy?
So Jason went on a recon mission to determine if, in fact, one of our children had dropped a giant load on a bear of yet-to-be-determined origin.  And what do you think?
Yessiree, it would not be a typical glamour-filled day in our household if we did not have to make our way through some catastrophe or another.  This time it happened to be poop.  On a bear.
Ok.  You may be asking yourself the same thing I asked myself.  What could possibly run through a 4-year-old’s mind to make him think—at any point in time—that it would be a good idea to let loose and poo on a giant stuffed bear?  Did he not think we would notice?  Did it really seem like a good idea at the time?  Was he abducted by ALIENS who brainwashed him into thinking this was remotely acceptable?!  We may never know the answers to these questions.
I do know this—as Jason finished his recon mission and just as we were about to remove the offending bear, my poor husband managed to plant his foot smack in the middle of a warm puddle of liquid that was on the carpet.  OMG, do we have a new puppy that I’m unaware of?!  WTH?
Needless to say, little Jordan got in a wee bit of trouble.  We firmly explained to him that it was never EVER acceptable to poop on the bear—which I’m pretty sure is a conversation that is not heard in very many households.