I blame him

Sometimes Raoul and I will eat dinner at 8 just so we can eat alone, without kids, and fart noises, and arguing over who's spot at the table is better. Tonight, while eating our dinner Raoul told me something about my little P that made me bow my head in shame. Actually, it made me think "hah! That will make a great blog post." But you get the idea.

A few weeks ago, P and her brownie troop went to the Humane Society to look at kittens and find out what they do there. As a thank you for letting the girls backstage, the troop was coloring pictures to send to the society.

Apparently, my precious little Tweedle P drew a dog. Innocent enought right? I mean, we have a dog that we adopted so it makes sense that she would draw one. However, she didn't just draw a dog. She drew a dog with a little bubble on it's backside. Written by the bubble was "fart". Yup, fart. I guess I can understand because Chicken Shit does have a lot of gas. But, I thought she would have enough common sense to know farts do not belong on a thank you card. Okay, that may not be true. Sometimes farts belong on a thank you card but not on a card coming from a brownie troop.

Just for the record, I blame Raoul. Why? Not sure. He is a guy and farting is a guy thing so, yeah, I blame him.


Dear Bitch

To the bitch at the grocery store who stole the last cart:

Let me first say it didn't bother me any that you took the last cart. I just needed a few things and my kids usually stay by me. Just to be sure, I made them hold hands** so they would at least stay close to each other and I could keep an eye on them.

But, on behalf of the women with the half sleeping two year old who you darted in front of, stole the cart away, and then proclaimed, "Huh! I got the last one!!", I have to tell you that you are a stupid bitch. Not only did you know you were taking the last cart, but you knowingly stole it from a women with a sleeping toddler.
I especially loved the dirty look you gave to the kindly older woman who gave up her cart to the woman with the sleeping toddler and pointed out she would just take one of the carts that the cart boy was bringing in. You are so lucky that it wasn't me who you took that cart from because I would have clocked you one and taken the cart right back. No jury in the land would convict me, not a single one you stupid whorey bitch.

A seriously disappointed citizen

Okay then! Now that I got that off my chest, I can tell you all about my seriously crafty project I did this week. Tweedle P has been in a queen sized bed since she was 3. But, because I am a cheep as, I never bought her a headboard. As part of the Hannah Montana room makeover I had decided I would make her a headboard. We thought we were going to make a sweet ass guitar headboard but that was way too much work.

Instead, we picked up some satin and made a padded headboard. Raoul welded a frame and I made the satin panels. Since the walls are going to be gray and lilac, I found some gray and lilac satin to use in the panels. I got a great deal because the fabric store was clearing out Halloween costume fabric. I also found some great buttons to give it a tufted look. The buttons on the purple panels are gray and buttons on the gray panels are purple. P loves it.

Unfortunately, the satin was pretty lightweight and some puckering occurred when I put everything together. And, when I was pulling everything to the back to staple it a seam popped and I had to try to repair it. Considering this was a first attempt I think I did a pretty good job.

**They were thoroughly pissed off that I made them touch each other. So much so that they both put gloves on their touching hands so they wouldn't have to have any skin on skin contact. Then, when we were done and finally got to the car, P threw C's hand down and said, "Thank God! I can't believe you made me touch him!...IN PUBLIC!!!!!"



My first award! ***Updated

I have been tagged with my first blog award by the lovely Tiff. Thanks lady!

So, here are the rules:

1. Link to the person or persons who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.
5. Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.

1) My uncle Deral was an offensive lineman for the Green Bay Packers and is in the Packer Hall of Fame.

2) I was born, grew up, and currently reside in WI. But, if given the choice, I would move to Northern California in a second. My parents lived there for a year when I was 18 and I loved it there.

3) I have two middle names. One is a traditional middle name and the other is my mom's maiden name. My grandpa had three girls and my mom wanted to carry their last name on. I also gave P my mom's maiden name as part of her middle name.

4) I am a third generation Daughters of the American Revolution thanks to my many-greats grandpa Rufus Barney.

5) When I was in high school I was sure I would be a pediatric oncologist. While I am 95% happy with my decision to pursue something that is more 9-5, occasionally I regret not going to med school and get the crazy notion that I should go back. Then I remember I will be 40 before I would finish my residency and decide I am thinking crazy thoughts and open a bottle of wine.

6) I hate giving the kids baths. It is messy and it is uncomfortable leaning over the tub and they let the water get way too cold before they let me take them out. So, I make them take showers even though they hate them just to save myself the headache.

7) and, an extra one just for fun. I HATE Raoul's beard thingy. It is kind of a half beard? I don't like it. He knows it. It hurts to kiss him and, um, do other things. I have begged him to shave it but he won't. I really hate that thing.

Now, I get to tag six more....hmm, who shall receive the honor????

One Small Wish
Aunt Becky


**Update: Raoul just got a bit snarky with me about his "beard thingy" I don't think he appreciated that very much. So I will clarify. He has a goatee without a mustache. I only remember that I hate it when he hasn't trimmed it in a while and he kisses me and it rubs on my chin. And that happened last night when I typed up this post. Okay, I think that is it. I still don't like it but only when it gets a bit too long.

Why I should read blogs after the kids go to bed

Two reasons why I shouldn't let the kids sit next to me while I read blogs.
  • C has been drawing various shades, sizes, and shapes of "poo" since he saw those pictures.
  • P has been trying to figure out why that man wrote shirt under the "poo". Is it because he is trying to convince everyone it is not "poo"?
I covered the t in the word shit and she just assumed it said shirt. Close call.
Okay, now C just told me he has drawn potties and poopers (his words, not mine) in a tub on the whiteboard. He has 3 poopers and 2 potties. Some are green poopers and some are blue poopers. That makes me wonder, what in the hell is that boy passing?

Tweedle C working on his pooper masterpiece. I am sure this will hang in Louvre someday.

The small dark spots are areas of potty. The larger oval spots are the blue poopers. The two large ovals inside the round oval is green poopers in the tub. The lines next to the tub do not represent anything. They are just lines. Hey, I only report what the boy tells me.

It's those damn peanuts again

As you may or may not know, when the boy says peanuts it sounds very much like penis. So it was no surprise last night when poor Tweedle C got yelled at for talking about peanuts. Here's how it went:

C (talking to the dog): Hey, your breathe smells like penus!

Me: Perking up, listening closely but not speaking....yet.

C: Did you have penus for dinner because you smell like penus.

Me: C, we don't talk like that. It is not appropriate.

C: But his breathe smells like penus. Maybe he was licking some.

Me: C, mommy said we don't talk like that. It is not appropriate. Now stop or I will send you to your room.

****Five minutes later****

C: You did eat penus! There is penus butter all over the kitchen. Mommy, the dog got penus butter all over the kitchen.

Crap! That poor kid is going to have a complex about peanuts. I guess I will just add it to the therapy bills.

And now, as promised, an egg donation update. Unfortunately, I have none. My dad was unable to find the information about our hearing loss and has no clue what the name of the clinic was. They just moved and some things are still in their storage unit 5 hours north of their current home. He thinks the information may be in boxes up there but he doesn't know for sure. And, I can't really expect him to remember the name of the clinic as the study was 16 years ago.
So, I have to call the clinic and tell them I don't have the information they needed. I don't know if this will prevent me from donating and I hope it doesn't. Of course, I completely understand if it does as they have no way of knowing whether or not I carry a gene that could cause hearing loss. And, I feel like if they do let me donate recipients won't want a donor that may or may not carry a gene that may or may not cause hearing loss.
How frustrating! I'll update as soon as I know more.


Slacker Here, checkin' in

Hi All! I have been a bit of a slacker lately but I can totally explain. You see, in case you didn't know, I work from home on Mon, Wed, and Friday. On Wednesday, after dropping the boy of at preschool, I ran to Target to pick up some cat litter. Then I ran to McD's to get a giant soda to help me through my day. I forgot my soda in the car until just before 11. I walked up the stairs to grab it and headed back into the depths of the basement to continue working. Somehow, in my supreme grace and balance, I slipped on the stairs and fell to the bottom. After hitting the bottom I slammed my head on the hard floor and knocked myself out. Thirty minutes later I woke up, covered in soda and aching from top to bottom.

It has taken quite a bit of time to recover. My shoulder is still very sore, my ankle hurts when I move certain ways, and the nasty greenish purple bruise that spans from one ass cheek, down the crack, and over to the other ass cheek makes it very hard to sit down.

I never got the flu (thank goodness!) but I did fall down the stairs which may have been worse. I haven't decided yet. I'll let you know when I do.

In other news, it is been cold and nasty and snowy and just plain gross here. I forgot about a birthday party we were supposed to go to yesterday. Luckily my family understands I am not usually a flake and called at 4pm to see what was up. I promptly got everyone dressed (what? You mean to tell me you are dressed at 4 on a Saturday?) and headed out the door. It was a fun party but the kids were little demons. They ran up and down the hallway, refused to eat their dinner, didn't listen to a single adult, and whined like little Tasmanian devils when I wouldn't let then go play in the dark, 35 degree, rainy night. I know, I'm a bitch. An evil bitch who doesn't want her kids to pneumonia. Call social services now! The kids are in danger!

Oooo, and I am totally jonesing (is that spelled right? Ah, who gives a crap) to watch White Christmas. I am not a sentimental kind of person but there are a few things I really look forward to. One of those things is snuggling up under a blanket with hot chocolate (peppermint schnapps optional) and watching that movie. I usually try to wait until after Thanksgiving. Not because I think I should but if the kids catch me watching a Christmas movie before Thanksgiving I will have to listen to them whine about how I won't let them watch their Christmas movies before Thanksgiving and it's not fair and why can I do it and they can't and don't say because I am the mommy because that is not a good reason and blah blah blah blah. Seriously, they live a tormented life. Just ask them. So I am trying to devise a plan to get them out of my hair for a few hours so I can watch the movie without getting caught. I am thinking Benadryl in their milk at lunch......

Okay, I have more but this post is getting a little ranty as it is. See what happens when I fall down the stairs and can hardly move my arm or sit down for days and therefore have a hard time typing? I get ranty. Stop in tomorrow for a donor egg update.