Sunday, November 30, 2008

Thanksgiving Highlights

Thanksgiving was a huge success. And when I say huge I am talking about the new and improved size of my ass after gorging on extrodinary eats at my in-laws restaurant and several 5lb portions of a sweet potato/banana/pecan/brown sugar with a pound of butter on top casserole that (unfortunately for Davey) will replace marital relations in our house.

The girls did fine, Goldie made playdough with Grandma while Ruby and I passed out at the hotel. Then we went and ate food with Alfredo sauce. That was after the walnut pancakes but before the chicken fried steak. What I am trying to say is that there was a lot of Goddamn food involved.

On our way to one of the meals I was thrilled when my Ipod got old school and we listened to some Sugar Hill Gang. I was rappin' to the beat and also feelin' alright when Goldie announced that "This music! Is JUST AWFUL." Really? That is really something coming from someone who can't remember the lyrics to nursery rhymes and so chants "three blind mice. See how they run. Three blind mice. Three blind mice." ad nauseum. Very interesting. Had I not been in the room I swear I was handed the wrong baby because no child of mine could cast aspersions on Rappers Delight. What's next, Goldie? Are you going to turn on the banana flavored laffy taffy too? You're breaking my heart here.

The way home went fine until it simultaneously got dark and the girls could no longer see their toys and David began obsessively scanning the stereo trying to find the Civil War game. When he was unsuccessful, he made us listen to static. Loudly. For 4 hours. With the children crying, we ended up driving down the freeway with the lights on in the car, singing every song we could think of and then when we ran out of songs we sang them again in a round. It was hard to hear ourselves over the static, but, whatever.

Monday, November 24, 2008


I'm a liar. Yup. Life intervened and kept me from honoring the post-a-day pledge. I'm trying to let it go, but truth be told, I feel sort of crappy about it. I am stopping by early this holiday week to report the highlights of the past week. Make that weeks.

  • I took my girls on vacation by Mahself for a night until my two favorite college girls, Blair and Paigey came to keep us entertained. At first I thought that vacationing with two toddlers would suck, but the lack of suck was a pleasant surprise. They still were, you know, toddlers, but not shitty ones. They had fun, watched movies, played with toys and swam in the resort pool. The bonus was coming home to Davey and the new cabinets he installed while we were gone. I would do this again.
  • I went down to Eugene to party like a rock star for my girl Devin's 30th birthday. She chartered a limo for her and her five favorite people (minus her 7 month old munchable baby, nom nom) for wine tasting. Five girls that don't get out that much+limo+4 wine tastings+5 bottles of champagne+5 hours of dancing+2 shots+6 cocktails=1 girl barfing in the driveway+1 girl peeing in the driveway+midnight call to my husband slurrily describing a dancing incident involving a strange man attempting to grind his wiener into my crack+almost getting arrested at Ross for public intoxication while being forced by a certain newly minted 30 year old who, incidentally had knocked over a rack of clothing and was unable to get off the floor at EFFING ROSS and doyouhearthemcallingsecurity? to buy a shirt that is at least two sizes two small because that girl? Not to be denied the sight of me in a tiny shirt. At least not on her birthday.

Not too bad for three girls who met 12 years ago and used to drink coors light instead of food until we got kidney infections.

Not my proudest moment, but this was just prior to the EFFING ROSS incident. Do you see the laser lights in the ceiling? That is what I call Big Pimpin. Also? Hello double chin. How you doin'?

  • Also? We got a puppy. His name is Fred and he is cute. The next person who tells me that it is a bad idea gets cut.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

To My Daughters

Dear Goldie and Ruby,

Last night was your first Presidential Election. You were oblivious to what was going on except for the fact that the radio in the kitchen was blaring as the T.V. in the family room was set to some boring show that was most definitely NOT SESAME STREET and your parents were each hunched over their respective computer screens frantically clicking that mouse that we never let you touch. Then your Godparents Tia Laurel and Terrell came over and everyone (especially your mother) was tense. We drank a lot of wine and told you repeatedly to BE QUIET ALREADY SO I CAN LISTEN TO A MAN NAMED WOLF.

After a certain amount of parental wine consumption and encouragement, both of you girls were chanting (to the best of your ability) GOBAMA! GOBAMA! and making offerings of Barbies and puzzle pieces to this Obamanite in the TV that was holding your family hostage and apparently also Elmo.

You didn't know what was going on. You don't know how your future was changed for the better last night. You don't know how relieved Mama is. You don't know what this means.

I hope you don't find out for a long, long time my darlings. May you live your life free of worries and full of Barbie dolls and puzzles as long as you may.

Everything is going to be okay.



P.S. Daddy said that I made this happen by sheer force of The Mighty Worry.

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

This blows

I tried to pull myself out of this crappy cold we have and into the world where productive people live. I was unsuccessful. This was evidenced by:

1. Driving across town to drop off my work at the office without remembering to bring, you know, THE WORK.

2. Feeling overly pleased with myself for getting dinner ready for our election night guests, on time no less. Then, I opened the door when they arrived and realized I was still wearing my hanes sleep pants and fuzzy slippers. Seriously. Fuzzy slippers. The only thing missing was my pink foam curlers.

Thank God our guests had a cold too so it was like a snotty Kleenex and blankie fest. Except with more booze. And Tylenol cold.

Monday, November 03, 2008

Live from Cold and Flu Season.......

I have managed to fend off all the illnesses that plagued us last year for the past 7 months with a variety of home remedies mostly involving some combination of garlic, apple cider vinegar, honey, peroxide and sheer force of my will. Also, it is important to note at this time that: 1. No, I do not care that I smell and 2. Yes, these home remedies really work. Alas, something has crawled into my chest and died. My voice is almost gone, but I still found a way to yell out Motherfuck! when I accidentally heard Sean Hannity's voice on the radio today.

Funny how that works.

Sunday, November 02, 2008

I was this close to curling up in my sleep number bed when I remembered that Dude, it's only day 2 of this gig, this is not NaNoblo-DAY. Get yer ass to the computer and your priorities straight.

As I have made it abundantly clear in recent months, I am worn out. Going from a lifetime of 9 hours of sleep at night to 5 or 6 has put me on the edge of insanity. To help counter this, I have instituted Nap Day. This basically means that after church on Sundays, I eat something carby and delicious and then tell my family: Smell you later, suckers, and go off to sleep for a long time. A very long time. The kids take their nap and then watch football with Dad and work on their clothes folding skills and building their Seriously, Be Quiet or Mama will May you Pay Muscles. Today I awoke at 6 pm ready to take on the world and approximately 50% less like to kill someone. Anyway, Nap Day has made life worth living.

In Battered Baby News, in an unprecedented show of Extreme Bad luck, Ruby managed to split her other lip this afternoon in a particularly wild and spectacularly unsupervised game of indoor tag. Tomorrow is her one day a week at daycare and I am sure she will get extra Halloween leftovers because she looks so sad. That is, assuming the swelling goes down and she can open her mouth again.

Also? I still cannot spell Tommorow. I mean, tomorrow.

Saturday, November 01, 2008

Here we go again

I have shrugged off my post-Halloween Snickers and Laffy Taffy hangover in order to to kick off National Blog Posting Month or NaBloPoMo. I have no idea how I am going to pull this off, and so I am just going to lace up my clogs, dig around in the back of the closet to find my blogging mojo and continue my tradition of Excellent Mothering Skills and try to come up with something to tell you about here for the next 30 days.

I will start by telling you that Trick or Treating was a definite success. Watching Goldie with her friend trying to remember to say both "Trick or Treat," "Thank you," and resisting the urge to actually GO INSIDE each house we went to was awesome. Even better, was seeing how, at 18 months old, Ruby trucked along behind The Big Girls and figured it out like a pro. My little baby bundled up in a bumblebee costume was on a Bataan Death March of Candy dragging her bag behind her because, Lady? DO NOT TOUCH MY CANDY. Are you looking at my candy? Are you thinking about my candy? That's what I thought. Now, open this here sleeve of Whoppers and lets get on our way, early evenings a' wastin. Not even falling on her face in Rage Against The Bullshit Handholding moment and splitting her lip stopped her. She walked up to each door and greeted The One With Candy with a shit eating bloody grin and said "Tweeeeeet!!" and grabbed a handful of candy. When prompted by The Manners Police who gave birth to her, she chirped "Welcome!" and hightailed it to the next porch light. She thinks that Your Welcome means: Please, Thank You and You Can Just Give Up Now and Give me What I Want Because You? Cannot Resist The Roob. She is so right.

By the end of the night she let me carry her and napped on my shoulder between houses. When we got back to our friends house and the older girls started trading, my wiley baby figured out that racket real quick. She would steal a piece of someones candy and then when they wanted it back, she offered her own version of Trick or Treat that I like to call Trade or Tantrum. It worked out pretty good for her.

The big one may be able to talk and floss, but watch out for the small one: She'll take your candy.