Pigs' Tales

2011-11-29T15:17:00.000-05:00

Would like to add one more thing to my list of things I'm grateful for: heated car seats. Even though it was 75 degrees just the other day and I spent most of Thanksgiving break walking the neighborhood in shorts, it's freezing today. Snowing. Spitting. FAH. REEZING. It's still November! Okay, this is not going to turn into a weather post, I promise, just had to vent for a moment. [full body shiver]

I bought a fuzzy blanket today. Ooh, still kind of on that topic, aren't we? Let me try again.

Hmm. It turns out that the weather has impeded my thought process. Body focused on staying warm. Will check back when defrosted. Must go search for Baby Jesus....he appears to have gone rogue again.

Ho ho ho...

2011-11-27T20:04:00.003-05:00

As is tradition, as soon as the turkey is put into the fridge, the Christmas decorations must come out. I'm a big fan, though, of removing all of the fall decor before bringing out the jolly. The mixed messages of my neighbors this week have been confusing at best....four large pumpkins on the porch, a harvest mailbox jacket...and poinsettias, candy canes and Christmas lights.

I shook it off and plowed through my own boxes of joy. It took most of a day, all told, to get the big stuff up and running, primarily because I spent hours smacking small hands and uttering statements resembling the following:

1. "Put Baby Jesus down! He is not a toy!"

2. "Balls are for hanging, not throwing! Hang it! Hang it!"

3. "Pigpen, you can't put all the ornaments on the same branch. Stop moving the ones I already hung. Get off the ladder. "

4. "Stop touching Baby Jesus!"

5. "No, God isn't in the nativity scene. No, that's a wise man. No, that's a sheep. Where's God?" Sigh.

6. "GUS! What's in that stocking? What's he eating?! Get his head out, he's stuck. Ohhhh, gross. Last year's Reeses."

7. "No, God and Santa are not the same. Why? Because. They aren't."

8. "WHO TOOK BABY JESUS? Put him back RIGHT NOW!"

9. "Stockings aren't really socks. No, really they're not. Get them off your feet. Now."

10. "No, Christmas isn't tomorrow. It's a whole month away. A whole month of this fun."

Obligatory Thanksgiving Post

2011-11-24T20:11:00.000-05:00

Obviously, I'm grateful for the usual stuff. But I'd like to take a look at the top ten things I don't think would appear on someone else's list.

1. My Chi. Yes, it's first. It's THAT important.

2. Flip flops. A year round item, less optimal this time of year, but still indisposable.

3. Sunshine. I have to see it to be totally happy. Cloudy days are a buzzkill.

4. YMCA Childcare. My kids actually like it, and I am in good shape and less stressed.

5. My library card. Free books. No brainer.

6. My toaster oven. At least 50% of my "cooking" takes place in this bad boy. And I can have instant tasty nachos in a flash.

7. The DVR. Without it, my children wouldn't be so confused by commercials or the concept of live television. Without it, there is no way I would remember to watch shows. Probably ever.

8. My 7th grade "computer" teacher. While I did master that Apple IIE, I also learned how to type. Fast.

9. Cataract surgery. Hi, I'm 80. But I can see again.

10. My sleep mask and my body pillow, Phil. Good sleep is the gift that keeps on giving.

King Gus

2011-11-23T21:17:00.000-05:00

Wanting an update on the Gus, are we? I'm so glad we've stuck to our roots around here. Let's see. The dog's most recent escapade involved the sixteen pound bag of dog food that I purchased last week and placed in a "safety zone" atop my dryer. [Relevant note: Gus weights approximately twenty-two pounds] Imagine my surprise when I arrived home from picking up the kids to find that Gus had pulled the (16 pound!) bag down from the dryer, dragged it into the family room, cleverly opened the bag and eaten his fill of it. He lay sprawled on the carpet, legs akimbo, tongue lolling from mouth as his tail lazily wagged as if to say, "I got your dryer. What else you got, Ace?" He's been on a strict diet for ten days now. He no longer looks as though he might burst at the seams.

His favorite delicacy of late is Crayola crayons. He does not discriminate based on color, wrapper or location. Any crayon will do. Our yard boasts the prettiest selection of dog poop of anyone's around. Children line up at the fence in hopes of catching sight of a rainbow nugget. I hear they are trading them on the school bus black market for silly bandz. Word on the street, for realz.

Finally, Gus has developed the same distaste for Pigpen that he held for Piglet back in the day. I found this old post written by Gus the last time this phenomenon occurred. Of late, he's taken it to a new level. Gus is an older, wiser beagle this time around, and he's become somewhat...jaded. His eyes narrow when a child approaches and he cringes slightly when a wee hand gets too close, wincing at the touch. He would never think of hurting one of my darling children, but he's definitely learned to communicate. Unfortunately, his primary form of communication is urine. When we moved here, I recall Gus dropping a deuce in Piglet's doorway after a particularly active day of pestering. But now? He's using Pigpen's bedroom like a litter box. The dog now pees in there at least once a week. Just in Pigpen's room. Which is upstairs. Where Gus never goes. The dog is smarter than people give him credit for.

I don't think Gus will ever surprise me. It does, however, anger me knowing that right now he is burrowed under the covers of my neatly made bed showing me who's boss. All of the furniture in the family room is occupied by people....the audacity of my family to sit upon his thrones. Clearly, Gus wears the pants around here. At least someone is wearing pants.

Pants, Klass and Gravity

2011-11-22T15:08:00.001-05:00

Y'all, I have the CRAZIEST story to tell you! I have spent the last six weeks kidnapped by pirates! I mean, you know that I would never bail on my beloved blog for six weeks without an extremely valid excuse, right? So, there were these pirates. Well, they were more like bandits. Yes, bandits! With masks and angry voices. Well, maybe closer to gypsies. Yes! I was held hostage by a band of gypsies who took up with the carnies from the local fair back in October. And I tried to give them my children, but they refused to take them and they TOOK ME INSTEAD! Do you know what it's been like living on the lam? Moving as weary nomads from county to county? All I could think about the entire time was you, my dear readers. Your plight, not mine. I suffered for weeks....angst filled weeks! Lucky for you, I escaped. Just today, in fact. Tuesday, it is, too.....we know that all weird things happen on a Tuesday, right?

Okay, that's clearly a lie. All I've got here is that I think my children are slowly eating my brain. They are getting smarter and I am getting dumber by the day. I can't remember how to use big words, much less string sentences together in a meaningful way. I'm having to look up recipes to cook from and use a dictionary to write. (Unrelated sidebar: Go to dictionary.com, type in "manure" and click on the speaker icon. It's totally worth your time.) It's all very sad. So expect this to be random. In fact, to aid my poor, struggling brain, it will be in list format.

1. Pants. I want to talk about pants. As in, why will boys not wear them? Personally, it has never crossed my mind not to wear pants. Get out of the shower....PUT ON PANTS. That's just what I do. It's how I roll. But around here, that's just crazy talk. First of all, underwear is never, ever a given. I have to actually look down my children's drawers before they leave for school to make sure they are not going commando. At least once a week, someone is sans underwear. If they are wearing underwear, it's often on backwards. I let this go...not my problem. But pants?! I firmly believe in the wearing of the pants. Especially when I can't be sure I'm there everytime someone needs something wiped. I won't go into detail about the poop that I had to clean off of Piglet's bedding last week. Just trust me, it wasn't good.

2. My imaginary basement room. I'm kind of excited about fixing up a room in my basement. It's a room we haven't really used since we moved here. It's windowless and cozy and kind of a strange size and I want to turn it into a comfy little den of sorts. A TV, some comfortable couches and maybe a little bar. Not a real bar, like a furniture kind of bar. Something so my friends don't have to put their wine bottles on the file cabinet like we do now when we're keeping it klassy. You know, next to the FM radio with the big antenna, under the flashing Icehouse sign. Beside the futon. Near the pyramid of beer cans. I can't stop. You get the picture.

I'm thinking something maybe like this:

But maybe a smidge bigger and taller. Won't that be fun? Right now I'm only up to paint colors, but it's fun to plan out. Next up: PILLOWS AND WALL DECOR. Hold onto your hat.

3. The last completely unrelated topic was my trip to Kohl's last night. I don't generally frequent Kohl's in the evening hours, but I had little dilemma that involved $30 in Kohl's Cash that I wasn't going to let go to waste. It was a quick jaunt through the store to find what I wanted, but things went sour in the check out line. As it turns out, I was $2.44 short of spending all of my cash, and you know I can't let that slide. My fatal error was reaching for a roll of wrapping paper to even out my total. Did you know that removing just one roll of wrapping paper from a box holding the rolls upright can cause gravity to launch an unstoppable chain reaction of toppling wrapping paper boxes? True story. The box holding my roll toppled to its side, taking out the next two boxes of wrapping paper, the third of which collapsed atop the rope indicating the line for checkout, which subsequently brought down the two poles attached to the rope.

*crickets chirping*

Yup. That was me. Last night at Kohl's. So awkward.

So there you have it. I hope you feel completely caught up on my life. I will try to fill in a few gaps if I can get back to writing more regularly. My brain definitely needs the exercise. Throw me a bone and let me know if you're still out there. Maybe I should go back and pick up Halloween in there somewhere. Next time.

Ca$h Money

2011-10-01T16:05:00.000-04:00

Okay, okay, okay. Sorry I've been MIA on the blog, but WOW. September sort of exploded. September has been a wild few weeks of baseball and school starting and coupon menus. Colds and allergies and catching up on everything I couldn't do over the summer. Appointments, appointments, appointments. Did I mention that Gus ate an entire box of Vanilla Wafers? Well, that was just yesterday, but still. Oh, and then came the neighborhood yard sale.

Yard sales are sneaky things. When the idea comes up, it seems like a really great and fairly simple concept. Then you get neck deep into pricing and sorting and dealing with the crazies and you remember why last time you said you would NEVER DO IT AGAIN.

People who yard sale (as a verb) are a unique breed. There is a vulturous quality to these folks that is just not present in regular people. Large signs at the neighborhood entrances state boldly in big black letters that the sale begins at 8am. This apparently means that they can start trolling the streets at 7:15am jacking up traffic and leering into garages.

I learned a few new things at this yard sale:

1. If a strange man reaches for your calculater and starts to do number tricks, look away. Better yet, find something busy to do. Something, anything. And do something while you wait.

2. Yes, that really was a Members Only jacket. And the Reeboks were originals from the 80s as well.

3. If, perchance, a woman saunters up your driveway wearing a mini skirt and high heeled scrunchy boots, you're probably going to have to see her plumber's crack too. Trust me on this one.

4. An exceptional number of yard salers utilize Blue Tooth technology. Not in a "checking in with a dealer to see how valuable your stuff is" kind of way. More in a "this is my accessory and this is how I work it" way. Related: Gospel ring tones are more common that one might think.

5. If you are to pack up all of your remaining items for charity, tie the clothes into bags and neatly arrange this donation near your house, this does not mean you have actually closed your sale. What this means, in fact, is that if you are to drive across the neighborhood to deliver a piece of furniture to someone, you will return to your home five minutes later to find your driveway swarming with people digging through your donation pile. Checking out what's in your garage. Eating your Rice Krispies and wearing your bathrobe. There is something very wrong with people.

6. People are bananas. You can be offering to sell a $40 unused brand new in the package blender for $2.00 and they will offer you a quarter. And argue about it. And make you question your reasoning in pricing something so outrageously high.

Soooo....that was an unusual two days. The whole concept of spreading your old, ugly, often embarrassing house rejects about your driveway for public viewing seems like a bizarre thing to do in the first place. And yet - all up and down the street, there we were. Did we really think somebody would want those Happy Easter candles with the Easter one missing? The green pillows with strings hanging out? My rusty polka-dotted lounge chair? The bottles of Dulcolax? OH, BUT WAIT - THOSE SOLD. My box of hair color for men did not.

Such a strange concept, the yard sale. If you hear of me thinking about doing it next year, please refer me to this post.

Oh, look.....dirt!

2011-09-07T22:26:00.000-04:00

After reading this post and laughing hysterically for approximately two days, I was moved at baseball practice today to begin taking mental notes on what is going on in the head of my almost-five-year-old during his second baseball practice today. I imagine it went something like this as a series on thoughts:

1. Look at all that dirt!
2. Hey, where's my friend?
3. Hey! Pigpen's playing with toys! No fair!
4. Why am I here again?
5. This dirt remind of ant hills.
6. Holy crap! What if there's ants in my shoes?
7. My foot hurts.
8. I'm hungry. I'm getting a drink.
9. What coach?
10. Oh. It's my turn. What are we doing?
11. My feet are stinging. I think I have an ant bite.
12. Ooh! I can twirl with this bat! Wheeeee!
13. Whoa. I feel sick. Is it my turn?
14. PIGPEN IS EATING! I CAN SEE HIM!
15. Why is this guy throwing balls at me?
16. This helmet is hard.
17. Ooh! That's a funny sound.
18. I need to tell my friend to knock on his helmet.
19. Where's my friend?
20. This dirt is fluffy. I wonder if I can make a pile?
21. QUIT THROWING BALLS AT ME!
22. I hit one with the bat. Whew.
23. Run where? What? Why?
24. This base is soft.
25. That kid is chasing me!
26. What is second base? Huh? WHAT?!
27. Hey! Cleats make patterns! Where's my friend?
28. It's like rainbows.
29. It's cloudy today. I wonder what's for dinner.
30. Pigpen is eating AGAIN! No fair!
31. I'm thirsty.
32. I want to blow on this dirt.
33. Why is it so soft?
34. THAT KID IS CHASING ME AGAIN!
35. This base is soft too. Jump. Jump.
36. I like how the dirt puffs up when you jump on it.
37. What happened to my glove?
38. Where is Pigpen? Does he have stickers?!
39. I'm not having fun.
40. Where's my friend going?
41. He's going to his mom! I'm going too.
42. MOMMY IS SO MEAN!
43. I'm thirsty.
44. I need my hat.
45. This one doesn't knock as good.
46. What do you mean no kicking dirt?
47. Coaches are mean.
48. This ball is slippery.
49. Where's my friend?
50. I'm chasing him! Catch the ball!
51. Ooh, cleats are tricky.
52. This dirt feels good.
53. My feet sting.
54. Oh, no, Pigpen is NOT eating my string cheese!

Et cetera. It's no two year old train of thought, but it's pretty much all Piglet could talk about today. I'm not sure baseball is a) for him or b) for me. Let's wait and see.

Name My Prize

2011-09-05T20:34:00.000-04:00

What, WHAAAAAAT?! Do you know what day it is? Do you? I'll give you a hint....it's been 111 days of summer break and this Mom of the Year right here has survived it!

[pause for lengthy applause]

It's such an important evening to me, that I am moved into song. A little free verse, perhaps. Ahem. Hem, hem...

Twas the night before preschool
The bags packed and ready
Lunchboxes are full
And mommy is steady.

Focused she is on the tasks to be done
Extra clothes, order forms,
Checked off one by one.

In the morning, the summer will end at long last
Long hot days in the sun, a part of the past.
Mommy smiles as she dreams of fall days yet to come:
Solo shopping, long showers, time with number one.

Even Gus is excited, it's there in his eyes!
He can't wait til the morn to wave bye to those guys.

No more swim team or pool dates
Or water gun fights...
Early bedtimes and schedules
Are Mommy's delight!

Okay, that kind of fell apart there at the end, but I'm sure you get the sentiment. Just picture me skipping about and kicking my heels together. Add a little perma-grin and you've got it. The boys are so ready to go back to school. The repetition of summer (gym, pool, gym, pool, gym, pool) has gotten to everyone. It's time for a change! A new time! Some freedom! Ahhhhh......

So, what should my prize be for surviving 111 days with a three year old and a four year old? Hmmm?

Forehead Fungus. Of course.

2011-08-25T21:33:00.004-04:00

Picked up a prescription cream for Pigpen’s latest malady today: Forehead Fungus.

Me: Hi! I’m here to pick up a prescription?

Cashier: [squinting at label] Ummmm…okay. Hang on.

Pharmacist: [appears at drive thru window, leaning out]: Um, hi. Do you have any questions about this….medication?

He whispered this last line, glancing around lest someone overheard him.

Pharmacist: Do you know how to apply it?

Me: Uhhh….I just rub it on his forehead, right?

This is all very shady. I’m wondering about the caliber of fungus that Pigpen has acquired.

Pharmacist: Oh, this isn’t for you?

Me: No. For my three year old. Fungus on the head. [gesture at Pigpen and his fungus]

Pharmacist: Oh. [looks at label again] Interesting. Okay, then. Have a good day!

Me: [baffled]

As I drove off, I glanced at the label. At the huge black letters: VAGINAL ANTI-FUNGAL

Ohhhhhh…..Awkward.

Ouch. Again.

2011-08-22T14:22:00.000-04:00

I've somehow managed to injure myself again. If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you are probably nodding your head with lack of surprise. I'm at least not injured in a "sink shattered on my foot" or a "threw out my shoulder teaching writing" kind of way. Not even in a "cut the end of my finger off on a mandolin" manner. Just your average 'ol "don't know how I did it, but it hurts" way. I have some weird strain in my calf that's been there for a couple of weeks. Someone at the pool casually mentioned that she hoped I didn't have a blood clot and sent me into a frenzy of frantic Dr. Googling (not recommended).

Anyhoo, I did some slow, lame old lady walking on the track at the gym today and stretched it for all I was worth. Still hurts. I really prefer an injury that just goes away. And one that doesn't cause the elderly to look at me with suspicion.

I need to get it better by Friday because I have been invited to a weekend in the mountains! Without kids! Did you hear me? I'm going to back up and say it again. Imagine a slow whisper: without kids! Heeee! I haven't enjoyed a girls' weekend since last year's wedding crashing debacle. I'm going to have to straighten up and pay attention because this weekend is going to be a lot more active and a lot less girly than my spa and make up filled getaway. For this one, I need to bring active wear and water bottles. Bug spray and tennis shoes. And let's be realistic: a first aid kit and my crash helmet.

My goal for the weekend is to not be injured. Also, to not watch any children's programming about garbage trucks, construction or dinosaurs. I'd like to eat a grown up meal or two with flowing conversation not punctuated by barking orders at my children regarding manners, toilets or language. I might like to read a book without pictures and take a shower without spectators. Hey! I might get to take a poop by myself! What will that be like?

*pondering solo defecation*

Did I mention that we're going zip-lining? Squeeee! I'm pretty excited. Pray that I don't get the faulty harness or forget to do something important. Like hold on. Now, back to nursing this pesky calf. Suggestions accepted.

Worthy

2011-08-21T21:34:00.000-04:00

You know I think about you every day, right? These long, lonely absences are weighing on me as much as they certainly are on you. Every day, little things happen and I think, "Ooh! Blogworthy!" and then they flitter out of my head like the rest of my thoughts and I forget them. I am genuinely sad that I'm not going to have much record of August on the books, as this is the closest I will get to keeping baby books for my children.

I have to fight a war against my brain trying to block out these long days filled with squabbling and dirt and toys with small pieces. The human brain is obviously programmed to forget these early years, or our species would have died out a long time ago. I suspect that's what happened with the dinosaurs. The mama T-Rex was all, "If I have to deal with one more Triceratops carcass left on this floor, there will be no siblings for you!" Then you know what happened after that. Shrug. Just a theory.

The one that made me laugh today(quietly behind my hand, of course) was Piglet coaching Pigpen on a kid's iPhone game. He was about to come out of his skin wanting to just do it for him, and all I could hear was, "Pigpen! Tap that! TAP THAT, Pigpen!" If you are of my generation you are chuckling to yourself. If you are my mother, just nevermind. *whistling*

I've been spending a lot of time working on the Common Cents Meals stuff. It's actually really fun, which is embarrassing as it is probably the most publicly nerdy thing I've done since writing and performing the Writing Rap for my students before the Writing Test each year.

[Ten minutes just lapsed as I probed my brain to remember the rap. The girls at my first school used to jump rope to it on the playground because I WAS THAT AWESOME. They called me Miss Mix-A-Lot. Okay, they didn't. That was a lie.] If someone can give me a beat-box in the comments, I'll throw down some lyrics.

I have digressed beyond recovery here. Where in the world was I? Eh, I have no idea. I'll reset my brain tomorrow. Was this worthy of posting?

Our First Very Formal Interview with Pigpen, Aged 3 and 2 months.

2011-08-04T18:13:00.000-04:00

How old are you? 3

When were you born? In Texas.

Where did you come from? I didn’t tell you.

What is your dad's name? Daddy.

What does your dad do? Go to work.

What is your mom's name? Mommy.

What does your mom do? Take care of us.

What do you do at school? See our friends and nice teachers.

What are you scared of? Crocodiles

What is your favorite thing? I like to paint.

What is your favorite color? Blue.

What is your favorite food? Grapes! And hot dogs! And watermelon. Do we got some watermelon? We might have to buy some.

What foods do you not like? Acorns.

Where is your favorite place to eat? At Chepe’s!Are we gonna eat at Chepe’s today? Are we gonna go to a restaurant? Why not?

What is your favorite animal? Baby hippo!

What does Daddy say to you? Don’t run.

What does Mommy say to you? Don’t run either.

Who is your best friend? Hope. I like Hope.

What is your favorite movie? Dirt Monsters.

What is your favorite toy? Tinker Toys. We were looking for some.

What are your favorite things to do? Go outside and dig. And see Kimberley and Kylie.

What is your favorite book? The Three Little Pigs. And the bad, bad wolf.

What do you want to do when you're grown up that you can't do now? Reach food in the pantry.

What do you want to be when you grow up? I want to be this tall. And be a grown up. Mommy, are you a grown up? I want to be as tall as Uncle Daniel.

Where do you want to live when you grow up? In the study.

Are you going to get married? What?

Are you going to have any kids? Yes.

How many? This many! [five fingers]

Boys or girls? Boys!

Who will clean the house? Me.

Who will take out the garbage? Me and Daddy.

Where is your favorite place to go? To Chepe’s!

What's something you think kids should be allowed to do? Be a good boy.

What's something you don't like? Acorns.

A Very Formal Interview with Piglet, aged 4 years, 11 months

2011-08-04T09:32:00.001-04:00

How old are you? 4 and a half

When were you born? Texas.

Where did you come from? Georgia.

What is your dad's name? Daddy.

What does your dad do? Work.

What is your mom's name? Mommy.

What does your mom do? [long silence] Take care of you! (Pigpen: "Are you the babysitter, Mama?")

What do you do at school? Play on the playground.

What are you scared of? Snakes.

What is your favorite thing? To help Daddy work.

What is your favorite color? Purple. Orange. (Pigpen: "No, I like pink! Hey look! A birdie!")

What is your favorite food? Tacos! Mostly because of sour cream.

What foods do you not like? Chicken tenders. I don't even like chicken tenders. (Pigpen: "Look at that birdie! Awwww! Hi birdie! Can I have chicken nuggets?")

Where is your favorite place to eat? Chepe's! They have sides of sour cream.

What is your favorite animal? Giraffe-ies! (Pigpen: "And I like a baby hippo! Look, another birdie!")

What does Daddy say to you? Do you want to go to Lowe's with me?

What does Mommy say to you? Be good.

Who is your best friend? Vivian. Only Vivian.

What is your favorite movie? McQueen

What is your favorite toy? Typewriter. (Me: You don't have a typewriter. Piglet: What is a typewriter?)

What are your favorite things to do? Cut down trees. Go down the water slide. Play.

What is your favorite book? Mickey Mouse. But the handle broke off, but Daddy fixed it. I didn't actually break the handle off. It wasn't me that did it. What are you typing?

What do you want to do when you're grown up that you can't do now? Hmmmm! Dig holes that are very, very deep with a big boy shovel.

What do you want to be when you grow up? An engineer like Daddy.

Where do you want to live when you grow up? Here. Here, here.

Are you going to get married? No

Are you going to have any kids? No! I want to stay here!

How many? No, I want to stay here!

Boys or girls? I'm here! Mommy, are you even listening to me?

Who will clean the house? Me. (Pigpen: "No, I want to do it!" Piglet: "Absolutely no.")

[At this point, Piglet reached over and turned off my computer and some unmentionable parenting occurred. We will resume now.]

Who will take out the garbage? Me!
Where is your favorite place to go? The pool.

What's something you think kids should be allowed to do? Saw! With a circular saw!

What's something you don't like? I don't like.....hmm. I don't like daddy to say no.

(Pigpen: "Piglet, are you almost done? Can you come get in my rocket ship?") And so my day resumes...

HAWT. Duh, it's August.

2011-08-02T21:59:00.000-04:00

Well, hey there! If we were fraternizing on Facebook, I'd surely show you a screen shot from my iPhone of our weather forecast. That, or a picture of the dashboard temperature reading in my car. Lucky for you, we're not on Facebook and I'm not (actively) trying to be annoying right now. I just wanted to gripe about that for a paragraph or so. Scrolling through ye olde Newsfeed gets really boring just looking at pictures of everyone's phones. I mean, YES, it's hot. But, hellooo? It's August? Isn't this what everyone wanted when we were all snowed in back in January? I love hot weather, frankly. I'd take this hot mess year round if I could. I'd rather sweat than shiver anyday.

[Panting from exertion of rant.]
What else is new? Well, not a whole lot. I've been trying to not throw up from the skeery nature of throwing this menu planning idea out to the Internet. I've been attempting to train and retrain my wild children who are a little tired of each other and still have a good five weeks before preschool starts. I've been at the pool and the gym pretty much every day to try to maintain my sanity. How about you? What's up, peeps?

Oh. Em. Gee.

2011-07-31T15:37:00.001-04:00

Y'all, I've up and done it. After months of hemming and hawing about whether or not I think it would work, I've gone and started a wee little business like thing. A service, if you will. One which creates menus for people based on the local sales at Publix and writes a grocery list for them containing the best deals worth their time for breakfasts and lunches too.

Oh. my.

It's a lot of work to write the menus and make all the lists, but I really don't mind doing it if it will work. I've always wanted something I can do from home and if this was to work? It could be it! It could, it really could! It probably won't work. Sigh.

OH, MY.

I've been spending a lot of my computer time setting up a blogsite. And Facebook. And Twitter. There's just so many places to put things these days! Deep breaths. Assume meditative stance.

If you would like to take a gander at my little project, it's over here: Common Cents Meals. Just hanging out over there, all new and fresh. Tell me what you think? I'll be over here, throwing up in my mouth.

Actual Conversation From My House Tonight:

2011-07-29T21:16:00.000-04:00

Pigpen: I have to poop. [assumes position on potty]
Daddy: Piglet, go to bed.
Piglet: No, I want to see how many inches Pigpen's poop is.
Me: [snort]
Pigpen: Look! [points proudly at own stool]
Piglet: Whoa! That's big! I'm glad it's not any bigger or it would smell even worse!
Me: [collapsed in heap of laughter on floor clutching stomach]
Daddy: Hoo! Lord! That smells to high holy, Pigpen!
Pigpen: [grins proudly] I'm a big boy.
Me: [Gasping for air, still in hysterics]
Piglet: Where's Mommy?

Hey, um....has anyone seen Pigs? Hmm.

2011-07-20T21:44:00.000-04:00

Well, obviously, I made it to the beach. And obviously, I had no internet connection. Okay, that's a lie. I had no time to blog. Well, that's not really the truth either. See, there was this huge octopus that walked up out of the sea and typed eight-legged emails to all of his friends using my computer. I kept trying to get to the keyboard. "I have to write a blog post!" I told him (with desperation in my voice, natch). I hung in there after he whacked me with his tentacles, one after another. But then he got a little too close to comfort to my new bionic, de-cataracted eye and I got uncomfortable. I resigned myself to sitting idly by while he borrowed my computer for seven days. You understand, right?

Here's the rundown in photos of what I would have written about had I had access to my computer:

First, it's important to begin each day with a lively run. Children possess ridiculous amounts of energy and it is good for their disposition if they expend some of that energy. Nicer parents would have told them how far to run. We found it more entertaining just to see how far they would go. We're still not sure who won.

Next, of course, comes digging. Planning, trenching, and more digging. This project below was the result of the efforts of three grown men. Piglet and Pigpen assisted and learned.

And upon completion, they critically surveyed their work, and excitedly watched their hole fill with shark pee.

After a display of manliness, it was time to pick up the ladies. Young Lily Margaret was the focus of their attention this year. She taught them a thing or two. Pigpen has waaaay more game than Piglet.

I like to wrap up each day with a photo session in which Piglet pretends he's in a magazine ad and laughs gaily into the wind. Pigpen looks on with confusion.

Pigpen redeems himself by skipping jauntily into the sunset.

After dinner, a round of mini golf is in order. The boys averaged 16 strokes on a 3 par course on each hole. Somehow, Piglet managed to score a hole in one on the last whole, earning a free game. We will be saving said game for next year.

At last, we do a little of what I like to call Beach Sleepin'.

And aside from a little wave riding and boat riding, that's what you missed. We will now return to our regularly scheduled program.

These deprived children are clearly bored.

2011-07-09T22:12:00.000-04:00

Ah, Saturday. So good to see you, friend. Another fun-filled day is complete.

Today, I had the privilege of going to The Wal-Mart. As it turns out, The Wal-Mart also does not carry my book. While they had an impressive display of hunting manuals and NASCAR literature, they were not heavy on pop culture reading. I had the pleasure of people watching for a good fifteen minutes while the family in front of me checked out. It was one of those inappropriate games of "Just How Do These People Fit Together?" as I observed the woman (40?), the two obese, yet scantily clad, teenage girls (15?), the emo/camoflaged sullen teenaged boy (17?) and the baby (18 months?). Such a challenge! The woman must be the mom, but to whom? Is the baby hers or one of the teenagers'? Is the boy the son or the baby daddy? So many variables, such interesting, fitted, shiny attire. Really, a lovely wait in line. Alas, I am never to know.

The boys crammed in at least a week's worth of activities into a day as they played golf, had a picnic, played on the swingset, rode the Gator, picked up pinecones, and built a home for squirrels from a sandpile.

Above, Piglet takes a swing. He chased every single ball and brought it back on foot. He was literally asleep in less than one minute when I put him to bed.

Oh, and I forgot their trip to the fire station. Because this day really needed just one more little thing squeezed in, right? They got to sound the siren, squirt the hose, and explore the truck. Small towns have options big ones don't, I suppose!

And now is the time on Sprockets when I sleep. Mr. Pigs and I are taking turns getting up with the boys this week and tomorrow is my turn. For some reason, when we travel our children wake with the sun. Unfortunately for us, the further east we travel, the earlier that sun comes up. Urgh. I'll come to you next from the beach! My stomach just sank envisioning how early the sun comes up at the beach.

That's right, I said "Moist Carpet Flap"

2011-07-08T22:54:00.000-04:00

Hey, look! I'm almost on vacation! Well, if by almost on vacation you mean spending 3 days at my inlaws house in the cowntry (yes, you have to spell it like that, it's that far out) with two children who wake up at 5:30am (that's in the morning to you!) along with - yes, really - local roosters. Sure! I'm on vacation! I think I'm suffering from some blinding delirium.

While I attempt to recover my senses, please enjoy this shot of my father in law's worm farm. He keeps it well fed with cornmeal and table scraps and covered with a moist carpet flap. Hold your dinners, now.

Speaking of the worm farm, the boys really enjoyed using said worms to go fishing:

Okay, well, Piglet had a large time. Pigpen wasn't so sure about grabbing hold of his fish. This is his "For the love of God, take the picture NOW, woman! Can't you see I'm touching a fish? I'm dying inside!" face:

So that was pretty much day one, save some tractor riding, Gator riding, golf cart riding, lawn mower riding, bike riding, and yard pooling. You know, in matching wife beater gifts. Oh, and I was mighty impressed to note that the local post office (the one right beside the town's single blinking caution light) was still draped in icicle lights. Yep, in July. Government building. Mmmm hmmm. *whistling*

The reason I passed the post office was in my search for my book club book that I bought through Amazon and it didn't arrive until after I left home. (The Happiness Project for those interested) I was surprised to find that the stores two towns over (only stores, seriously) do not sell books. I'm sorry, the CVS did have an impressive array of Harlequin romance novels and something called "The Breast Book" which I didn't not examine too closely. Tomorrow I'm going to drive 30 minutes in the other direction to The Wal-Mart (when there's only one in a 100 mile radius, you have to add the "The". And capitalize it.) in hopes of finding one of them new fangled book things.

My shopping fail left me with an overwhelming urge to buy something, so I filled that need with coupon-purchased (natch) shampoo, sunscreen, and some shiny green nailpolish. Green? you ask. Green. A peppy, bright green. I'm going to the beach, who cares? And frankly, I think it's perky, summery and cute. Apparently not. The following are the comments I received back at the homestead, in order:

MIL: "Puts me in the mind of gangrene."

Mr. Pigs: "Hideous."

FIL: "Mercy me! What got after your toes?"

Piglet: "Will you do mine?"

Sigh. No tolerance for anything new or different around here. That ought to bring you up to date. Beach in two days. Until then, friends.

General Malaise

2011-07-05T20:51:00.000-04:00

Well, I disappeared there, didn't I? I've had time to write, but haven't felt up to being amusing or even snarky (!!). Sometimes life isn't funny, and that really bums me out. It took me ten minutes to write those three sentences, so clearly I'm not good at expressing this side of life. I'll just move along.

My old pal AMP blew into town this weekend. For months, we've been planning a stellar getaway, one remniscent of our college days, our young single days, our freedom! Yeah, well. The best laid plans can be waylaid by a bad case of gas and an overwhelming urge to sit in bed eating junk food while watching The Soup. It seems that with age we have developed a new set of priorites: a satisfying amount of quality sleep and good food.

Today has been one of those back to reality days as I skipped bathing, spent the entire day organizing and packing for our beach trip, and alternated between disciplining my wayward children (hitting, spitting, attaching the word poop to the end of every sentence) and my beagle (gobbling pieces of poop from an unflushed toilet). So, one might say it's been a poopy Tuesday.

My apologies for the gap in posting. I will try to get back on board next week at the beach.

My happy place.

2011-06-21T15:08:00.000-04:00

MommyProf and Katielady requested the porch. The porch is our favorite little hang out spot from March through November. Then I decorate it for Christmas and shut her down for 3 months of winter. This seasonal take down usually sends me to my sad place. The porch represents sunshine and beer and friends and beer and a fan breeze and beer and watching the kids play without having to be involved in the actual elements. And beer. Of course.

This view looks out onto the deck where Mr. Pigs sweats and grills whilst I sit inside the porch and perch delicately on a bar stool. I have a lot of plants who are super happy out on the porch and get most fussy when I bring them back inside. This view also features Gus's doggie door, a large part of his canine independence. He digs it. The tall bar table on the right is my life guard stand. It's tall enough that I can keep a responsible eye on the chil'rens while engaging in the adult end of a happy hour playdate.

This view looks out into the other side of the yard and features our dining table, where we eat dinner most of time. Assuming it's not 95 degrees with 90% humidity (not raining) as it was the other night. Piglet and Pigpen were most chagrined to have to eat indoors. The torment we put them through is truly inexcusable. Not surprisingly, I just noticed a scantily clad Pigpen in the right side of this picture. No one ever has on appropriate attire in this house.

My favorite porch time is evening when there's not so much blazing sun. The birds are noisy, the windchimes, well, chime, and the iPod can play some tunes. It's a happy little blog place. Or book place. Or chatting place. It's my happy place.

Homework at the End

2011-06-19T21:33:00.001-04:00

Well, lookie here. Back to this again, are we? I simply must come up with something new to talk about aside from these pictures. I have in my head a great deal of things to say about showering by myself. Or the lack of solo showering that I am allowed. It's swirling around in my brain, maybe 1/3 written. I'll get to that another day.....this is easier.

Tasha wanted to see unusual books I have. Well, if you know me at all you won't be surprised what I found looking in just one bookcase. I'm sure if I really made a valiant effort I could come up with more, but this was just too easy:

Laura B. asked to see the pile of books in my To Be Read pile, the short version of which happens to reside on my nightstand. There is a secondary pile that accumulates in the study and phases in as I finish books up. I like to have options when I lie down to read at night. I have never in my life read one book at a time because I'm always in the mood for something different. I bring you my bedside pile of "Reading Currently":

Well, was reading currently when I took this picture last week. From the bottom up, The Purpose Driven Life....my Sunday School class in Texas read this probably five years ago, and I remember liking it, so I am giving it a whirl again. It's not going to get read in the 40 days it's supposed to, but I figure it's my second time reading it. It's like auditing a class or something, right? Then, the non-fiction, textbook-style Exploring Harry Potter. It was written after the fourth book came out, so it's a little weird to read the predictions of "what's coming next!" when I know what happened. Good for some non-fiction if I want to pretend I'm scholarly and wise. I am sure to nod gravely at the predictions that are correct.

Next up, Anne of Green Gables. I could read this book a thousand times. From the looks of it, I probably have read that book a thousand times. That copy has been around since the 5th grade. I have another, newer copy, but I'm kind of attached to the old broken in one. It's sort of my comfort book. I like to retreat to the world of Diana and Gilbert and follow Anne around in my head.

Okay, the next one is pretty lame. It's called Queen of Babble, and you might note that in my sidebar I have listed two other books from the same series. The other two I listened to in the car, and I have to say, these books are much better to listen to than they are to read. When I read the book, it makes me feel like my IQ is dropping. That's not a very hearty recommendation, is it?

Tina Fey's Bossypants is my next one. I'm supposed to have it finished for my book club meeting this Friday, but I'm not sure that's going to happen. I was looking forward to reading it, but it's not nearly as funny as I thought it would be. It's entertaining, but it's not the book I've been picking at night. I suspect it would be better as an audiobook read by Tina Fey. But, it's cute. I'm sure I'll finish it at some point.

The top two I have just finished, and I liked both of them a lot. A Soft Place to Land is the second book I've read by this author this month; the first was called Bound South. I saw Bound South reviewed in a magazine and wasn't disappointed, so I went for the second one. My only complaint was that Meredith College (my school) was mentioned in both books in reference to the sororities that women joined there. Except there are no sororities at Meredith and thus, I was annoyed greatly enough to debate emailing the author to gripe. I decided against it since I enjoyed the books. The other one up there, The Dry Grass of August, I also picked up from a magazine reference listed as a book one might like if one liked The Help. Which I did. A lot. It was good as well....same time period, same civil rights issues, more serious than The Help, I thought. Less light. But a good read!

I feel like I've just done a book report. Or seven. Since I finished those other two books, I have since added in one called A Watery Part of the World, another magazine recommendation. Since I obviously thrive on recommendations, your contribution to this fine book report can be to leave me one or two of your recent reads that I might like. Go!

Waste Not, Want Not

2011-06-14T22:03:00.000-04:00

Okay, so Laura B. wanted to see the stash. Well, this is only the basement overflow stash. Other things are scattered throughout the house in more convenient locations, but these are things that I don't use as often or can't give away readily. I keep a bag in my pantry for the food pantry stuff. And the toilet cleaner and Kleenex stash reside upstairs. I rarely use paper towels, so we go through them slowly, hence the basement pile.

The rest of it is dish soap, dishwasher detergent, a zillion things of Vitamin D, deodorant, and first aid kits. I can't give away all that Vivarin to save my life and no one wants to admit that they want the poise. Or the Dulcolax. Other upstairs stashes also include a laundry room full of detergents and fabric softeners, as well as my boys' bathroom cabinet filled with Johnson & Johnson Buddy Bars.

Now, what I do NOT have is a stash of toilet paper. I have a price threshold for all products. I will not pay more than $4.50 for a 12 pack of double rolls in the toilet paper category. This can be challenging to find, so I don't actually have a stash of the two ply. The reason that I am sharing this with you is to help you understand the internal rage which bubbled up inside of me when I found two rolls of brand new toilet paper which had been dunked into the toilet and hastily hidden in the bathroom trash can tonight.

SOMEONE will be using those two rolls of toilet paper. Oh, yes. They will be used. Currently, they are drying on my kitchen counter. OH THE RAGE.

Why are pants so hard?

2011-06-13T22:14:00.000-04:00

Hoo boy! I'm recovering from sticking my finger into a smear of what I suspect was ear wax lying stealthily in wait for me in an undisclosed location. Shudder. I don't think I'm over it yet. Gack, gack.

Distract me with picture posts! This one I thought was kind of neat from Katielady, though I don't think my kids have the same kind of eye as hers might. I give you: photos snapped by Piglet. Oh, and one at the end by Pigpen because he was feeling left out.

1. Naturally, he started with the dog. The one he proudly calls "My puppy" to anyone who will listen. Gus is a fast fellow when surrounded by preschool types and he zipped out of the shot faster that Piglet could snap it.

2. A very, um....artistic? Ish? shot of chairs. Bar stools, to be precise. And a wet, used, discarded swim diaper on the floor in the background. Keepin' it klassy.

3. Once Pigpen saw Piglet with my camera, he had to get theirs. In this first-ever-tried shot, the two boys photograph one another. Gasp! Clearly, they are genius children. Note Pigpen wearing his smack your mama they're so cute unkies. Please croon in unison.

4. Naturally, Pigpen had to have a shot at the camera. After an amicable swap, Piglet agrees to be in Pigpen's photo. Why is no one wearing shirts in my house? Do you know how many times each day I utter the phrase, "Why aren't you wearing pants?" Way more than I think to be normal, I'll tell you that. I have never had a problem with wearing pants. Shoes, yes. Pants, not so much. Please pardon my partially dressed clan. They do not get this habit from me.

This brings us to the end. Would be lovely to hear from you. Just hanging over here. Doing your bidding and all.

Augustus Mortimer, aged 10

2011-06-12T22:09:00.000-04:00

Ah, back to ye olde picture post. You know, this thing really does keep me going. Gives me a topic to write about other than, say....how I'm going to wring Piglet's neck if he doesn't snap out of this evil phase he's going through. That would be the one in which he acts like a hormonal teenager laced with rage about 50% of the time. Wild moods swings, plus lots of hiccups, so I'm thinking maybe a growth spurt. I've just never seen such an emotional growth spurt. But enough of my struggles! Let's get to those pictures.

My long time imaginary blog friend The Mighty Favog has requested lots and lots of Gus. Now, I realize that Gus doesn't get nearly the action that he used to around here, but he is no less present than ever. Tonight, in fact, I had to call the emergency vet to confirm that Craisins are not poisonous as compared to their cousin Raisins. (They are not.)

So, I bring you Gus. Lots and lots of Gus. Also, what I imagine that he is saying in each shot:

"These kids. Hooligans. Common street trash. Can't appreciate a dog's right to rest. All the poking and the prodding. Give a dog a break. I'm exhausted."

"Something good has got to come my way. I'm not moving from this spot. Table scraps or excrement. I've got to get something here."

"Vet?! What vet? Whatchoo mean, vet? Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?"

"Ride in the car? What? Um, YES PLEASE!"

"Again? Seriously? You're as bad as they are."

"Maybe they won't recognize me...."

And that, friends, is about all that Gus does. His days are filled with relocations from couch to chair as he tries to escape those dastardly youth. And about four times a day, he takes a romp outside to poop in the middle of the grass (not the woods) and howl at the pack of hound dogs that reside in a dog pen back yonder through said woods. And then, he rests.

How to Potty Train Your Toddler Boy

2011-06-10T15:37:00.001-04:00

1. Ensure that washing machine is in full working order.

2. Procure a bottle of Resolve and several rags.

3. Dig out "lap pads" that some thoughtful relative gave you when you had a newborn. Place them craftily upon any surface on which your toddler boy dwells. Do not forget the car seat. [Friendly tip: these are also awesome to have in car for wet bathing suit rides home from pool.]

4. Put your toddler boy in tiny underwear so cute you could slap your face.

5. Fill toddler boy with large volumes of juice. Teach him to chug. Chant accordingly as though at basement fraternity party.

6. Wait.

7. If he has successful attempts at the little potty, see step eight. If he continually wets himself and pleads for diapers, abort mission. Repeat, abort mission. Try again in a month or two.

8. Award said toddler boy with something he values. Have on hand large supply of candy, cookies, stickers....any bribe is acceptable. Regular rules do not apply in the realm of potty training. Dental health is irrelevant.

9. Watch child run for potty multiple times. Be prepared to scream, dance, cheer, and leap about as though possessed following each and every Important Event. Shower child with goodies. Dance some more. Call grandma. Tell strangers passing by.

10. Watch child race for potty while holding his backside. When the Official Most Important Deposit is made congratulate self. High five child. Shake your money maker.

11. Have a beer. The fact that it is 10:00am is not important. Your toddler boy is becoming Trained. Life is good.

12. Place at least two pairs of tiny underwear and a pair of shorts in your purse. Things happen. Also, they're fun to pull out at parties.

Picture Requests, continued:

2011-06-08T16:20:00.000-04:00

From MommyProf: Things I miss from before I had children. She gave me permission to use an old picture, so I stole this one right off of my own blog from Summer 2006. This means that I was pregnant in this picture, which I don't miss, but look at the luxury! The floating! No one hanging on me! Bliss. And I'm pretty sure that about an hour after this picture was taken, there was probably some form of Sonic ingested. Ahhhhh.....

Now, let's be real. Things really aren't that different. I still go to the pool every day. I still get to turn brown and collect daily doses of Vitamin D and float in the water. I'm just doing it with some extra luggage, more snacks, and a pool noodle or two. Something I have now that I didn't have then is a completely legitimate excuse to be on the water slide. And also to speak sternly at other people's children if they are endangering my own. Heh. Bring on my bathrobe and shaking cane.

A brief break from the photo assignment...

2011-06-06T18:29:00.000-04:00

Having just completed a five hour drive home with my husband, beagle and two preschoolers, there are some things I would like to talk about. Namely, a bit of the game that sometimes sends me into a spiraling depression: Then vs Now.

Then: On long car trips, I would read a complete novel. Sometimes two!
Now: I read aloud the contents of the DVD holder and Mr. Pigs' work emails. Then I take dictation as I send replies.

Then: I would bring along a soft pillow and relish in a leisurely nap en route to my destination hurry the trip along.
Now: I pray that some child - any child! - will drift into a nap. And then that the other one won't wake him with needless headphone-driven yelling.

Then: I would engage Mr. Pigs in a rousing match of Name That Tune! or Sing Those Lyrics! as we radio station hopped our way across the country.
Now: Mr. Pigs listens to staticky sports talk, the boys watch riveting construction videos and I listen to bits and pieces of a book on CD whilst breaking up various fights, meeting everyone's demands, and trying not to get carsick from turning around backward.

-Hmm. This is sounding rather negative. -

Then: I would take pictures of funny signs and talk about them on my blog ("Tender Sacks Only $3.99! or "Eat here! Get gas!")
Now: I seek entertaining Facebook Check-In locales that make me laugh. (Today's included "Quaker Steaks and Lube" and "Concealed Weapons Permits")

Then: I would gently retrieve Gus from his pallet of blankets which lined the backseat for his traveling leisure to walk him and offer him water at each and every stop.
Now: Gus is so happy that we remembered to take him. He rides door to door in his crate in the "way back" of the car. There are no stops for Gus; these are reserved for children to pee. He is thrilled at the upgrade in which he no longer has to ride at the feet of Pigpen and receive toys to the skull.

Now, wasn't that inspiring? I am considering a daily inspirational calendar of sorts. Perhaps a "Things to Ponder" devotional type deal. I hear that's where the big bucks are.

Fine Quality Viewing, Right Here

2011-06-02T15:28:00.001-04:00

Photo request by Laura B.

Okay, it was hard to narrow it down to which section of my queue looked the least embarrassing. I should be ashamed that I have 79 episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse recorded. I know I really should. I should! I'm not. I should also probably be embarrassed about my allegiance to Gossip Girl (Again, not.) or the fact that I'm 16 episodes behind on The Office.

I think what I'm most embarrassed about is that there are only 31 hours and 24 minutes of time left available on my DVR and I have 150 hours. Well, that was enlightening for all, wasn't it?

Since we've launched a TV discussion, I'll go ahead and state for the record that I love Glee, Modern Family, and -YES - America's Next Top Model. There, I said it. It's a guilty pleasure. But you know what I'm waiting for, don't you? I am yearning, YEARNING! for Big Brother to start in July. I just can't get enough of that show. I am super pumped already.

I'm actually quite behind on my TV viewing as I've been doing a good deal of reading lately, trying to stay on top of my 50 books a year goal. I'm right on target; just finished my 20th book at the end of May. (A really good one, by the way. It was called Bound South. I also finished Saving CeeCee Honeycutt from someone's recommendation on here, thanks! It was good too.) If you have any more book suggestions for me, leave them here! Do you like how I ended my TV post with a paragraph about books? I call that talking nerdy.

Bernard? Big Joe? Hoot?

2011-06-01T16:17:00.000-04:00

After being ever-so-gently nagged at the pool today about a lack of Facebook posting and a lack of blog posting, I elect to start on my picture post. You know, the one that only got like 3 requests. I remember [Cue dramatic soap opera style music] in the days of blog yore, when my picture posts would generate many, many requests and pictures. Alas, the fault is my own. [End music. Insert WAH WAH horn.]

So, the requests. Firstly, my owl. I have to say, he's really doing his job well. The offending bird has definitely cut down on his racket. I feel that I should name the owl, as he is rather a part of the family now. Name requests being accepted. Isn't he menacing?

Must awaken sleeping boys worn out from their morning of aquatic fun. I am 15 minutes past my own 4:00 rule as is. I will return with the next request....the always fascinating DVR queue! Be riveted! And make more requests to keep me going.

Bird Brain

2011-05-22T21:23:00.000-04:00

I am shamed by the tragic lack of posting of late. It was a matter of surviving the end of the school year with its parties and prizes and money to send in and assignments....for me. A couple rounds of company and a lack of sleep didn't help the blogging out any either. Excuses, excuses, I know! OH FOR SHAME.

As I sit here blogging blissfully from the screened porch, I am reminded of why I am suffering a lack of sleep. Between the hours of 6am and 8am and the hours of 8pm and 10pm it is a veritable aviary out here. I don't know what these birds are talking about, or why they must do it right outside my bedroom window, but they are here to tell me about it. It sounds like some sort of extraordinary nature soundtrack. A cacophony of tweets, shrieks and jabbers echoing through the woods.

Here's what I suspect they're saying:

Squeaky Bird: Yo yo yo! What's up bird friends?!
Repetitive Bird: Not much! Not much! Not much! You?
Squeaky: Hey man, you see that fake owl she put up? What's UP!
Repetitive Bird: Almost crapped pants! Crapped pants! Scary bird!
Loudmouth Bird, definite New York accent: FAKE OWL! SO WAL MART!
Squeaky: Let's go bother the dog! First one to make him howl gets dibs on pooping on the lattice!
Repetitive Bird: What dog? What dog? What dog? Scary bird!
Loudmouth: Oh, IT'S ON.

Or something like that. They are impressed enough by my fake Wal-Mart owl to stay off the deck, but not impressed enough to shut their beaks. I suppose this is an improvement over the bird we had in Texas that flew into our bathroom window every morning at daybreak until his beak bled. That was a really irritating.

Have I really written this much about birds? Who cares about birds? Let's talk about me.

Preschool ended on Thursday until September 7th. [cue dramatic crying] The pool opened yesterday and we have already been twice. [cue dramatic homage to pool gods] These two pieces of information might be all that you hear from me for the next three (3) months.

Holy cow. I just sat here for ten minutes in a heart racing stupor thinking about how many days there are in three months. (92) Plus the seven in September and the 12 in May. That's 111. Eeesh. That's a lot of days. I'm going to refrain from counting hours. Let's think happy thoughts.

I need my usual "it's summertime and I need blog inspiration" inspiration. In the past I have kicked off summers with a photo request post. However, I've been told that my commenting system has been a gigantic fail lately, so the odds of that working are slim. If you feel so inclined, suggest for me something you would like to see a picture of. My world is narrow, so be creative. Please do not request to see a picture of my bird because there is only one way I'm going to shoot that guy.

Next time, I'll get it myself.

2011-05-11T21:07:00.000-04:00

Me: I'm hoooooooot. Can you turn on the fan? Hey! [poke, poke]

Mr. Pigs: Mmmmmmmm.

Me: HEY! Fan? It's hooooot.

Mr. Pigs: Okay.

[Repeat 3 times]

Mr. Pigs: [climbs out of bed, stands, turns on bedside lamp, returns to bed.]

Me: Um..? HEY. [poke] Fan! Turn on the fan! What's with the light? Turn it off.

Mr. Pigs: Oh. [Turns off light. Returns to sleep.]

Me: DUDE. I need me some cool fan breezes here. Pleeeeeeeease turn on the fan?

Mr. Pigs: What?

Me: FAN FAN FAN!

Mr, Pigs: The red light has been on for two days.

Me: Uh huh....okay. How about that fan? What red light?

Mr. Pigs: The one on the ceiling. At the place.

Me: Hey, how about if we turn on the fan?

Mr. Pigs: [stumbles out of bed to lightswitch, turns on overhead light and fan.]

Me: Augh! Too bright! Too bright! Turn it off!

Mr. Pigs: [Light goes on, off, on, off. He stumbles back to bed.]

Me: Thanks!

Mr. Pigs: For what?

One might ask after all that why I don't just get up and turn on the fan myself. In my mind, it's going to wake me up too much and then I won't be able to get back to sleep (clearly not a problem for him), but by the time I cipher through all of his sleep talk and poorly followed instructions, I'm sure I would've been better off just to do it myself.

Just Two Things.

2011-05-02T21:48:00.000-04:00

1. Pigpen is obsessed with The Three Little Pigs. No joking. As of today, he has learned to make pig snorts. I am physically incapable of not laughing at him doing pig snorts, and he knows it. It's really putting a crimp in my ability to discipline him. I will try to get a video up.

2. Speaking of crimping....on Saturday night I had an 80s skating party for my 35th birthday. I'm not going to lie; it was pretty awesome. And so was my outfit:

Am I smokin' hot or what? You should have seen the looks the teenagers were giving us. The night went well until I busted a move right onto my tailbone, saving myself with my hands....now incredibly sore. Other than that it was a super fun night. Eddie was shocked to hear that I was celebrating a birthday. I'm pretty sure this is the first since my 21st? Oh my.

That's all I've got right now. Pig snorts and jelly bracelets. Work with me.

Broken

2011-04-25T21:40:00.001-04:00

My new blog idea is to keep a list of everything my kids break. Just to have an official record for later when they whine about how I should give them money. I was going to write it down here, but I realized that my sidebar is probably not long enough to accommodate the list.

I told Piglet about the list I was keeping and how I wasn't buying him any new things until he could go a week without destroying something. He's broken something almost every day since. When I mention adding it to the list, he freaks out. "Nooooo! Don't put it on the liiiiiiist!" So, even though it's imaginary, maybe it's working? Probably not.

We're going back to the money jars this summer for reinforcing positive behaviors. I mean, they need some source of income to supply money for the things I plan to fine them for. Example: We have a gate at the top of the stairs. This gate exists so that when/if my children stumble to the bathroom at night, they won't fall headlong down the stairs in the dark. The gate is only closed by foolish children who then yell that they're stuck and who has to walk up there and open it? ME. And I don't like stairs. So this summer there's going to be a 25 cent fine for gate opening. Et cetera.

I'm not sure exactly how I got on this runaway topic. I was here to apologize for being absent. I've been pretty busy testing out my new eye. It's still a little weird, some flashing and spots here and there. The doctor says I can see the side of the new lens. Um, EW? Shudder. I just want to see and not really think about how I'm able to see. The weirdly lopsided vision is different and weird. I can't get used to not reaching for glasses in the morning or taking contacts [both] out before I read at night. It's really wild to be able to see the clock when I wake up at night. I'm pretty sure that the last time I was able to do that, I didn't know how to tell time. That's about all the update I have on that topic.

Off to start a never-ending list of all things broken in this house. Maybe I should just start with tomorrow.

I Can See Clearly Now, The Rain is Gone.....

2011-04-19T20:42:00.000-04:00

The cataract removal #1 is complete. Y'ALL. I can see colors! Leaves! Textures! I even reduced the font on my computer screen to a nice 12 point!

It was a strange experience. They gave me the "I don't care drugs", but they failed to give me quite enough because for quite some time I did care. And hear. And see. The seeing was mostly lots of pretty colors and swirls and rainbows. The hearing was weird. I heard, "You have a really deep [somethingorother] canal in your eye." and "Hey Dr. SoAndSo, give her some more [fancy drug name]" and then.....

I woke up being wheeled to my dad's car. Hee. I guess I needed some more drugs. The rest of today has been flashy and sparkly. I looked in the mirror once, dripping in eye drops, and saw my own eye sparking and lighting up. Um, WHAT? I ran to the family room and made my mom stare into my eye. She saw it too. This is one weird procedure. Turns out that since my eye is still so dilated you can actually see the shiny new lens in there. Weirdness.

When I ran that by my doctor, who called me to check on me - nice, right? - he chuckled and said that while yes, that was true and normal, he'd never had a patient notice it before. He complimented my youthful observant nature. He seems to really get a charge out of my age. It's making me feel quite young and spry. I wonder I was also the first patient to ask him if I could drink a beer.

So....that's all I have to report. For the first time since about the second grade, I can see without a contact or glasses in my left eye. It's extremely bizarre to go from a -8.50 to fully sighted. My brain is so confused. Now I'm in a little pickle with my glasses, as I can't see out of the left side unless I pop out the lens. I think a trip to Lenscrafters might be on the agenda tomorrow!

"I've never really said this to a patient before, but..."

2011-04-15T21:55:00.002-04:00

This is how my eye doctor began to awkwardly explain to me that I had to take a pregnancy test before he would clear me for cataract surgery. Apparently, this situation doesn't come up often. This situation being 34 year old women with working reproductive organs in for cataracts.

So that's where I've been! Tired of typing/reading with one eye and staying away from the computer. That coupled with my new iPhone has kept me off ye old machine! (New iPhone is fun toy! If you have favorite apps, please share!)

Somewhat unrelated side note: Do not play tennis with one eye. The depth perception issues are not your friend.

Long story short, I'm having cataract surgery on Tuesday. They even gave me a pair of those old folks' wrap around post-surgery shades! There are so many possibilities for those bad boys I don't even know where to begin. I'm considering doing a calendar: Me, Pigs, month by month posed in seasonally appropriate scenes wearing the cataract shades. Would you buy it? Tell me you would.

I apologize for my absence and I promise to have copious stories after I get my eye back. Please cross your fingers, sing carols to the eye lords, and dance the Sight Restoration Kicky Jig that this surgery will work and I will be able to see more than a white cloud from my left eye.

Woof.

2011-04-05T22:22:00.000-04:00

We survived the storm. It was loud, flashy and bangy, but no trees fell on the house and nothing caught on fire, so I consider that a success. My lack of sleep from staying awake waiting for something bad to happen severely affected my judgment today. I decided - today being Tuesday - that this would be a great day for erranding and catching up.

We:
Delivered a book to a neighbor
Delivered coupons to a neighbor
Delivered cat treats to a neighbor
Delivered a check to a neighbor
Returned books to library
Bought $55 of gas (!!!!) for my car
Went to the bank
Bought groceries, saving 52% (not bad for having two kids with me)

Then we came home and had lunch. Just to complete the Tuesday, I decided to take them up to the outlets and buy them their yearly pairs of Crocs, which are pretty much the only shoes they wear all summer, which is the only reason I'm willing to pay for them.

Are you as excited as I was?? It was a thrill a minute. I didn't clean anything today. I should probably feel bad about that. What kind of stay at home mom/housewife am I? Just a slob, I am. To add to the mess in the house, I now have to go chase Gus a few laps. I made the mistake of giving him a rawhide bone to entertain himself and now his head is about to explode with excitement. He can't just eat a bone, he has to hide it. In the last two hours, it's been in Piglet's closet, under a couch cushion, behind a chair in the living room, and (my favorite) under my pillow. He's on the brink of exhaustion, but he can't rest. It's hard to be Gus.

Auntie Em!

2011-04-04T21:41:00.000-04:00

Why do days seem so much longer when a child gets up at 6:30am? Oh, wait...because they ARE. Pigpen, I suppose, was just so excited about beginning spring break that he popped up out of bed before the sun came up. I was not nearly as enthusiastic as he.

After dragging around for an hour or so, I got some coffee in me and started moving. We were at the gym by 9:30 and I was ready to pump it. After a week out on puke leave, it was tough to jump back in. But I rallied! I even took the boys to the park afterward where I acquired a really fetching workout top-shaped sunburn. You'd think 86 degrees would be a clue for me. The boys didn't get burned...my theory is that they move so fast that the sun can't catch them.

The day can't stay merry. You can be sure that I had to clean up some poop. Let me preface this story by saying that my kids eat a lot of fruit. I mean, a lot of fruit. Pigpen won't touch a vegetable, but he lives for fruit. As a result, my children manufacture what we call soft serve. There are not a lot of turds spotted around here.

Well, during nap I had the NERVE to take a shower. (!!) Unfortunately, when I got out, I heard Piglet calling desperately that he needed to go to the bathroom. I bolted upstairs and sprung him to the bathroom where he....didn't quite make it. There were blobs of...matter....in places. Floor, bathmat, underwear, shorts, leg, wall. It was a mess. And I got to clean it up in my bathrobe with my hair still in a towel. Mmmmmmm.

There's nothing else I can tell you after that. Mr. Pigs is working late. There is a storm headed this way, which the weatherman just told me cheerfully contains massive wind gusts and baseball-sized hail. We have had several hail-related storms in the last six months and we are looking into a roof replacement from damage. (About a third of our neighborhood has already replaced. Apparently, there is consistent damage around.) So the guy was supposed to come today, but rescheduled for tomorrow with this pending storm in mind. He sounded like a kid on Christmas. It sounds like my roof is about to blow off. I'll be glued to the weather for the next two hours in case we need to relocate to the basement. Wish us well.

Spring Break.

2011-04-03T20:50:00.000-04:00

You'll notice that's a period up there. Not an exclamation point, as you may have seen in days of yore. Days of yore being the years I was a teacher when spring break meant tropical vacations, road trips with friends, shopping, and sleeping in. Now I dread spring break like the plague. What's the big deal? some might say. You do it for four months every summer every day!

Alas. There are some key differences. The big huge one - clearly - is that the pool isn't open. The pool makes everything okay....the sun, the Vitamin D, the energy burning off, the exercise, the socializing opportunities - all good. Spring Break is the time when all of our friends leave. They're at the beach, the mountains, Disney World. The grandparents have voluntarily taken the children so our friends can go on adult vacations to tropical locales. I will begin and end this paragraph with...alas.

So, that brings us to: no school, no pool, no friends. Swimming lessons are over, playgroup is canceled. I will throw in that because I'm a masochist I decided that I would attempt to potty train Pigpen this week as well. This choice isn't really mine, I'm doing it for Pigpen's teacher who likes to mention to me that he is the only child in his class not potty trained. I like to politely mention in reply that he is the only child in his class who isn't 3 and won't be until the end of June. But I said I would try.

Try I did. For two days we've done it all. Elmo underwear! Potties! Flushing! Rewards! High fives! Make bubbles! It's like a fire hose! Can you hit the floating Cheerios? Stickers!The child wants diapers. The child is also some sort of boy-camel hybrid because he can hold his pee, he just has some irrational fear of the toilet. [If you own a boy whom you have potty trained, you may feel free to begin analysis and suggestions at this time. If you own a girl, I don't want to hear about it.] So here's what he does:

Underwear on. "I have underwear!" Pigpen proceeds to show his underwear to anyone who will look at it. He is so skinny that the 2T tighty whitey briefs gape around his legs. His pants now fall off because there is no diaper to hold them up. Piglet is incredibly tired of looking at Pigpen's underwear. "Yes, Pigpen. I see your underwear." He is beyond bored with Pigpen's potty training.

Pigpen then holds urine like a camel holds water. He stands at the potty over and over again, not peeing. Many hours pass. He should be swelling like a balloon. He grins. Naptime arrives. I put him in a diaper, sure he will just urinate in bliss in his diaper. He sleeps for two hours. Diaper is dry. Not five minutes after he has re-acquired underwear, he pees all over the place. Drawers, shorts, socks. Sigh. This happened twice today and once yesterday. Nary a pee in the potty yet. In two days. I'm debating if I'm going to give it one more day or just call it quits until school gets out.

Tomorrow and possibly Tuesday Mr. Pigs will be working late. Can you hear the excitement in my voice? I'm ready to pull out all the stops. All the art projects I've been stashing away are coming out. There will be cooking. There will be Easter egg hunts. There might even be water play. It's supposed to be 86 degrees tomorrow, so Pigs might be whipping out the bikini, pool or no. Er....I gotta go, um, shave my legs. Wish me luck. (With the week, not the shaving.) (Well, maybe the shaving too. It's been a long winter.)

Ahoy there!

2011-04-01T21:01:00.000-04:00

Well, it turns out that reaching 1000 posts isn't good for my health. (Thought it was lovely to hear from all of you. I liked the creepers the most.) Just about the time I achieved that milestone, I contracted the dreaded stomach flu from my main disease carrier, Pigpen.

Based on past experience, I can't have a stomach bug with normal 12-24 hour expected results. No, no. I have to get all dehydrated and lose feeling in my extremeties and not be able to keep anything in my system and puke until my body is juicing my organs and I wind up in the ER on an IV kind of sick. It really does keep things lively, I tell you.

Sooooo, that's where I've been. Eating toast, bagels, plain noodles, and crackers since Monday. I'm about to try my first real meal and I'm hungry, but nervous. Pigpen, by the way, had this virus for about three hours in a small way. Piglet had a stomach ache. Mr. Pigs had a fairly hearty 6 hours of it, but no puking. Me? Shudder.

In other health news, I learned last week that my left eye is ripe for cataract surgery! I kind of can't wait. I get to actually have the vision in that eye corrected. Did you hear that? I won't need glasses! Okay, well, in that eye anyway. Ooh! Do you think I'd look good with a monocle?

I'm here to tell you that there are not nearly enough pictures on the Internet of pigs wearing monocles.

The downside of the cataract (aside from the fact that I am 34 years old and have cataracts, if that's not obvious) is that it has really slowed up my reading. My entire left eye is useless. It's like looking through a cloud. I can see things that move, can't really identify them, aaaaaand that's about it. No faces, no words, no type. So my right eye deserves a vacation. Maybe when I get my senior status pair of cataract sunglasses, I'll take it somewhere tropical.

I'm here to tell you that there are not any pictures of a pig wearing cataract sunglasses in a tropical locale on the Internet. I have to stop playing around on Swagbucks. Oh, hey! Shameless plug, since some folks seem to have forgotten the joys that are Swagbucks, I'm up to 41 gift cards now. That's 41 times $5 of free Amazon money, which is, ummmm....$205? Ish? In about a year of searching? Have you joined? Then use it. If you haven't joined, then join here and get 30 free Swagbucks. You didn't know you were going to read right into a commercial, did you? Surprise! But really, do it. It's free money.

My left eye is tired of being squeezed shut, so I'm going to sign off. Wink, wink. (Do you think I'll look like a pirate?)

One Thousand??

2011-03-24T09:44:00.000-04:00

I just happened to notice that today marks my 1,000th post! Who knew when I started this little blog in 2004 that it would hang on through my teaching career, two pregnancies, a move, and the always-refreshing world of parenting? We've tracked Gus through the years, gotten way too much information about my various, unlikely injuries, and had very deep, frank talks about all things poop.

Six and a half years ago, there were a bunch of us blogging about, but slowly many have dropped off. People have asked me why I keep doing it when everyone else has moved on to Facebook and Twitter. The main reason is that I have the worst memory known to mankind. While my mother can remember things from when she was two years old, I can't remember things from last month. I can go back and read through, say, March of 2006 on my blog and it reads like someone else's life! It's fantastic. I need to have the whole thing printed up so that I have it as a reference. I've used this blog to figure out dates injuries occurred for insurance purposes, settle arguments, track car purchases, look back to see when a certain trip took place....all very handy for a memory-impaired gal like myself!

My favorite part of the blog is that I have made friends. Now, Mr. Pigs laughs when I mention a certain friend and he'll say, "Now, who is that?" I'll casually tell him where they live and that, oh, I haven't really met them, per se, but I know them better than some friends who live next door. Back when blogs first got big, I met Jen, Carrie, girlfiend, Nicole, and MommyProf. There have been more picked up along the way, including people from my real life who jumped on board and have held their own.

Getting too rambly now. Blogging is cathartic. Writing is good for me and helps me practice. Having a record of my days is really important to me, especially now that I have two kids, one dog, and no brain. Someday, I want to look back and remember all the cute, embarrassing, and questionable things they have done and that baby book is just not going to happen.

So, help me celebrate the ONE THOUSAND POSTS I have written. Tell me who you are and how long you've read. Where you live and why you're here. Your social security number and date of birth. Just kidding. But I do want to know you're there.

High five!

Oh, Mighty Eyeball, Giver of Sight,

2011-03-22T21:30:00.000-04:00

Finally have much-anticipated eye doctor appointment with opthamologist #6 tomorrow. If you could please cross your fingers, pray, do a tribal eyeball dance, wish upon a star, think good thoughts at 11:11, don't step on a crack, whatever.....that would be awesome.

Oh, if you do a tribal eyeball dance, could you tell me what it looks like? I really need my eye back.

I'm pooping rainbows here.

2011-03-20T21:43:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking for three days. My sister challenged me to write a post without complaining. Seriously? How am I supposed to do that? I thought and I thought. Did I mention that my inlaws were here this weekend? That's not complaining, merely mentioning. In passing. You know. I could also mention that Mr. Pigs is sick as a dog, so it's like I have three kids. Oh, plus a wounded dog who is still on bedrest. Still just mentioning. Here comes my non-complaining blog post. I believe you will find it most boring, but THIS ONE IS FOR YOU, KATIE.

Ahem. Ahem.......a-HEM.

Over here in the gentle rolling hills of suburbia, the darling children and I spent a lovely weekend together with their grandparents. It was super fun, even though their daddy was a touch under the weather. They were generously gifted with many special treats! My house was filled with the sounds of laughter and the adorable clutter of an entire fleet of tiny plastic dinosaurs under foot - how sweet is that?? The darling little tooting songs from the musical party noise makers just added to everyone's delight. And who wouldn't laugh at how the boys handled there only being one punch balloon? Ha ha, those little stinkers!

Little Pigpen is such a joy. He does the cute, cutest thing....he keeps saying funny bathroom words at the dinner table! It makes him laugh and laugh and his time outs are really so very short....he probably enjoys them! And let's not forget Piglet. He was such a big boy at the urgent care this weekend when we went in for his ear infection! I'm so happy that he'll feel better that I can hardly even tell that the Omnicef makes him act like a wildlly hyperactive criminal! He is SUCH a hoot.

We all got a big laugh when a crying baby was seated beside us at the restaurant last night. We've all been there! I gave Mr. Pigs a loving, knowing smile....glad it's not us! We actually ENJOY the sound when it's someone else's kid! And Pigpen thought it was an absolute riot when the child threw up on the floor. He was even smart enough to announce it to the entire restaurant! Is our precious Pigpen a percocious little bundle, or what?

It was really a fan-tabulous weekend. The boys didn't break any major appliances! We can't wait for more Omnicef-filled fun this week! Love to all! Hugs all around. XOXO

There. You happy?

I bet mine's cuter than yours.

2011-03-17T14:48:00.002-04:00

Yesterday was not exactly what I would describe as a banner day, but I will confess that it was anything but boring. I had had this gnawing, nagging pain in my side since Monday. I blamed my stellar session on the ab machine until it didn't go away. Took self to doctor.

Doctor became most excited about something out of his routine and challenged himself to diagnose me before laying a hand on me. He was strangely chipper, but I rolled with it. His guess involved an ovulatory cyst on my left ovary. Lots of exclamation points. Diving in to prove himself right, he stopped to compliment my uterus. You read that right. My doctor told me I have a small uterus. It's cute, he said. We will henceforth refer to it as my Cuterus.

Long story short, he was right. I have a 5cm cyst that is "perfectly normal" and "makes him happy because my parts are working". Umkay. I guess that's why he gave me the Percocet.

So, following my appointment, I met a friend for lunch. As we were seated, I remembered that I had turned down a lunch invitation from a small group of people at this same place because I didn't want to go. I remembered at just that moment because the waitress seated us directly across the aisle from them. Um, hi. I'd like to order a plate of Awkward? With a side of Uncomfortable with Sheepish Sauce? Thanks.

They smiled and greeted me as though nothing was strange, but after lunch came over to give me a hug and to note that I was busted. But, okay....here's the thing. Number one, I realized during lunch that the invitation I had turned down was for TODAY, not yesterday. I remember because it said to wear green. Therefore, I do not think I am busted in any way. Did I mention that this is Mr. Pigs' supervisor's wife? Yeah. Go me.

So, if that's not enough, my inlaws are coming this weekend, my bookclub is imploding because of various bouts of ineptitude on the part of people who are not me, and I can't see out of my left eye. Despite being told that it's fine, my brain is fine, everything's fine fine fine, I CAN'T SEE. This, to me, is not fine. I am returning to the neuro-opthamolagist on Wednesday. Perhaps he should take another gander at my brain. Everything from my left eye is completely cloudy and blurred, with or without contacts. I can't read a book, a computer screen, or see the TV. I just know my white cane is coming any day now.

On that cheery note, since my triple dose of ibuprofen has kicked in, I must go clean three bathrooms. RAWR.

Not so smart

2011-03-16T22:08:00.000-04:00

I was going to get on here to gripe about how my new car has had three (3) separate issues this week, two and a half of them being completely not my fault.

Here's the short version because I'm considerate enough to realize that you will probably not be able to sleep tonight unless you know the follow up of this story. We'll do bullets to conserve time and wordiness. (HA HA! Like I can control wordiness!)

Driving in the rain, I got a flat tire. I had run over something my husband tells me was a wood screw. It made a hole. It was, fortunately, patchable and I didn't have to buy a new tire.
Driving in Atlanta rush hour traffic, exiting highway via ramp. Stopped at end of ramp behind Toyota Camry which had a gap in traffic about 87 miles long in which to go. He went. I went, while checking to make sure there was space for me to go. He decided not to go after all. I hit him. Bang. Sigh.

Though slightly off topic, still related, my brother-in-law hit a coyote on his way into town to visit us that same night. Did $2000 of damage to car. Also unfortunate.

While I was grocery shopping in Kroger with my kids, the erroneously named "Smart Key" up and flatlined. Not deprogrammed, not dead battery....completely malfunctioned. Do you know what this means? A smart key is so smart that you can only open and start your car while you are holding it. And it is WORKING. So, although my car was perfectly fine, it had to be towed 25 miles so that they could give me a new Smart Key. Seriously. Did I mention that my car filled with groceries? Dairy? Chicken? Oh, and two preschool boys? One of which got warm and kept falling asleep in his car seat, thus ruining nap? I had to call a friend (three or four, actually, until I found one) to come fetch us all. How would you like to win that prize? Which lucky friend gets to drive crazy, crabby Pigs, her two piglets, all of her groceries, a car seat and various bags all the way to her house? It's the LUCKY WINNER!

I would like to start a petition against the alleged Smart Key. A key which will malfunction and not allow you to drive your car is really not that intelligent. How is it that there is no back up plan? There's an actual "real" key that slides out of the smart key that will open the doors, which is how we got in, but it will not actually start the vehicle. Poor planning? I think so.

Here's to everything happening in threes! May I be finished!

You always, always wait. Always.

2011-03-14T21:58:00.002-04:00

It seems that it's time to re-confirm my membership to the Selfish Food Hoarders Anonymous roster. I've written about this before, but apparently I still suffer from the condition.

I was out to dinner with a group of friends on Thursday night, when I was struck with another aspect of my condition. Though the food sharing situation was fully under control, the wait service was apparently not. When you combine the food hoarding instincts with my ~~slight frugality~~ insane cheapness, it becomes a deadly and somewhat debilitating combination.

The skinny: I ordered a $14 plate of pasta, thinking "this pasta better be make-me-drool-good and dream-about-it-later-memorable". It arrived. It was fine. I ate about half the plate before excusing myself to the restroom. Do you know what's coming? Do you?

The waiter took my plate. Not my empty, ready-for-the-dishwater plate, no no. He took my seven dollars worth of perfectly average pasta and threw it away. I thought my heart was going to fail me on the spot. I don't blame my friends for this, this transgression is a serious wait staff issue. You do not remove someone's plate without their permission. If the person is not there, you WAIT. It's your JOB. You're a WAITER. That's what you DO. You WAIT.

Deep breaths. Cleansing thoughts. I can taste the pasta. Just as I could the next day when I had no leftovers to which to turn. I tried to soothe myself with the memory of the restaurant's 84% sanitation grade.

I am posting this, and particularly the historical link, for anyone who may find themselves in a food sharing situation with me. After sharing this story with a friend this morning, she is now afraid to dine with me, but - I think - glad that she has gained awareness of my condition.

Big money.

2011-03-10T14:28:00.000-05:00

I went into Piglet's room to get him up from quiet time and he greeted me very enthusiastically. "Mommy! I have a surprise for you in my pants!"

Snicker.

It took a few seconds to compose myself as he fished my gift - a bent up Goofy card - from the waistband of his Lightning McQueen underwear. And then he launched into the next segment.

Piglet: "Mommy! I've been reading in my toy catalogue! And I found two playgrounds that I want. One for my room and one for the yard!"

Me: "Do you have any money?"

Piglet: "I knew you were going to say that, so I got out my wallet and all my money!"

He proudly counts out his four (4) dollars and proceeds to show me the $249 and the $459 playgrounds he has carefully selected.

Then we practiced counting. By tens.

Piglet: "Oh. That's not going to work then, huh?"

A Very Formal Interview with Piglet, aged 4 years, 5 months

2011-03-10T08:48:00.002-05:00

How old are you? 4

When were you born? In Texas
Where did you come from? Georgia
What is your dad's name? Daddy
What does your dad do? He works
What is your mom's name? Mommy
What does your mom do? She types. And gets dinner ready. And sometimes take a shower.
What do you do at school? I have recess and go to the ballroom and work on papers and play.
What are you scared of? Nothing.
What is your favorite thing? Going outside at school.
What is your favorite color? Purple and pink.
What is your favorite food? Pizza and french fries and chicken nuggets.
What foods do you not like? I don't like carrots. Well, actually, I don't like broccoli. And I don't like enchiladas. I just like tortillas and salsa.

Where is your favorite place to eat? Restaurant. Chepe's!

What is your favorite animal? Frog

What does Daddy say to you? I don't know. He says I love you.
What does Mommy say to you? I love you. Nothing else.
Who is your best friend? Lily and Jacob

What is your favorite movie? Lightning McQueen

What is your favorite toy? Froggy

What is your favorite thing to do? Read books.

What is your favorite book? Annie and Jack (Magic Tree House)
What do you want to be when you grow up? A construction worker. I want to build houses.

Where do you want to live when you grow up? With you.

Are you going to get married? No

Are you going to have any kids? No, cause I'm a construction worker!

How many? no kids

Boys or girls? I don't have kids!

Who will clean the house? Me, cause I'm construction worker!

Who will take out the garbage? Me!

Where is your favorite place to go? To Publix. To get a cookie.
What's something you think kids should be allowed to do? Get dirty.

What's something you don't like? Banana bread.

Still waiting for it to feel like home.

2011-03-09T15:22:00.000-05:00

I've always heard that if you live somewhere for a year, it begins to feel like home. I agree with most aspects of this rule, but for me it's when I find my friend who laughs when I do. This time, of course, being when something is bathroom level funny.

This idea has been rolling around in my brain (lots of open space up there) for a couple of days. I was at a meeting the other night and had to excuse myself due to the excessive flatulence I had been holding back for two hours. Upon exiting the building, I expressed my (GAS! ha ha ah! See? FUNNY.) reasons for leaving the building to a friend with a snicker and a hearty giggle. She said she just didn't get that. Sigh.

How is bathroom humor not funny? Pigpen has clearly inherited my bathroom humor. Mr. Pigs was reading to him the other day from a Winnie the Pooh book. Everytime he read the word "Pooh", Pigpen guffawed mightily and yelled, "He has poo pooo!!!" And I promptly doubled over in hysterical laughter. Every. Single. Time. Giggling now! Still funny. Poop is timeless.

How many times have you read about poop on this blog? I just typed the word poop into the search box in the top left corner and can't count how many poop posts came up. Now THAT is a label I should put on my blog posts (clearly for statistical reasons only) to keep track.

It's hard to live for the bathroom funnies when you are raised in a house in which the "F word" was fart. My mother just cringed reading that. She's probably planning a public slap on the wrist for me as we speak. My sister is laughing and glad it's not her who said it. My sister and I used to taunt her by singing at dinner, "Beans, beans, they're good for your heart, the more you eat, the more you......" and we would just leave her there hanging. About to come unglued.

So in the interest of pleasing my mother, I will call it a BFF that I am seeking in Georgia: a Best F-word Friend. I know several perfectly nice, good friends who are definitely not going to be my BFF. I've only had a few BFFs in the different places I've lived, but when you know one, it's a permanent relationship. The only one I will expose publicly is my pal Carla of Texas/Nebraskan fame. This one is easy to understand when I tell you that we were pregnant together. For ten months. During the summer with 42 days over 100 degrees. The amount of unpleasantness we experienced together far surpasses any sort of regular BFF relationship and ascends (descends?) into Best Nasty Friend territory. Perhaps a TMIBFF, if you will. I will leave it at that.

When I count them up, I think my BFFs total 5. This number clearly does not include my mother, but I like to pretend that it does, so I make sure to freely include her in any emissions or discussions I need to have. This inclusion is rarely appreciated. So, until someone steps forward, it's me and Pigpen. Tootin' and gigglin'. Poopin' and snickerin'. We're going to attempt potty training in a couple of weeks over Spring Break. Should be a real poot. Er....hoot.

[giggling to self]

Oh, the brightness!

2011-03-08T21:32:00.000-05:00

I am making a very serious effort to surface. I realize that I need to purge my brain when I find myself driving around composing blog posts in my head. You have no idea how many Really Awesome Posts you've missed out on that took place solely in my brain, only to be discarded in favor of swim lesson schedules, potty training ideas, and the dog's medicines that can't be mixed.

Doing some editing work for a friend and writing the newsletter for the neighborhood has left me sick of the computer. I haven't even been on Facebook other than to reply to a thread or two that keep popping into my inbox. Gasp! Who am I and what have I done with me?

There have been some really exciting developments around here, the most important of which is that Mr. Pigs took down the single bulb fixture in our tiny little potty room (water closet, if you're feeling fancy) and put one in with TWO bulbs! Hot dog! I can read in there without blinding myself! It's the small things that keep me going.

Speaking of reading, after tearing through the Hunger Games series in about two weeks, I have fallen into a reading lull. I need something new and exciting to get into. I'm still reading the True Blood series in the background of several things. Just finished a Jodi Picoult book I didn't like (Picture Perfect) and started The Girl Who Played With Fire. But it's a long one. I need some shorter ones to help me along. Some no brainers.

I do have some super interesting stuff to say, but you're just going to have to stay there, perched on the edge of your seat, until I have a few more brain cells to work with. I'm shooting for tomorrow. Hold me to it.

2011-03-01T21:31:00.000-05:00

I'm still here, really.

Highlights:

Computer time being dominated lately by stupid neighborhood stuff that I shouldn't have volunteered for.
A couple sets of company, including a visit from Cousin Lucy.
Pigpen got sent the director's office at preschool today. Oh, for shame. We have spent today in a state of lockdown punishment.
Gus has slipped a disc in his neck for a second time and is on strict bed rest, requiring much medication and specialized bathroom breaks which all involve me. Said disc slipped when jumping into or out of my bed. Noted.
Book club read Hunger Games this month. If you have not read this addictive trilogy and need an easy, fascinating read, I highly recommend it.

That is all.

The trouble continues...

2011-02-15T21:30:00.000-05:00

I thought our health issues of yesterday were over, until Pigpen awoke this morning without use of one of his knees. As in, he couldn't bear any weight on it and wanted me to carry his 30 pound self around the house. Clearly, I didn't send him to school and instead took him back to the pediatrician (where we sat in the well waiting room this time, thankyouverymuch).

We got to see Old Experienced Doctor, for which I was grateful, and he made me happy when he declared Pigpen's cheeky blemish to be of a non-Staph nature. Unfortunately, he was rather befuddled about the nature of Pigpen's random knee event. I'm sure it was particularly difficult to diagnose with Pigpen climbing all over the exam room, running, and jumping about, as his Advil had kicked in and apparently cured him.

Never fails.

OED stuck with it though, and noted the swollen and warm knee compared to his regular skinny cold one. He said that occasionally an infection (sinus, we assume?) can cause inflammation in large joints. I have never heard of this. I still think it sounds really, really odd. I'm to keep him on ibuprofen today and tomorrow, let his antibiotic work, and then see what happens. Umkay. I'm not really comfortable with plans like these. I like a nice black and white "do X, and Y will happen" kind of plan.

As soon as he woke up from nap, his Advil had worn off and he couldn't even stand on that leg again. It was so sad and pitiful. Poor, poor Pigpen! His official diagnosis was "toxic arthritis". Isn't that a horrible thing to place on a wee two year old? Harsh.

Here's hoping to a better tomorrow for the little booger.

Amblyopia: can you define it?

2011-02-14T21:28:00.001-05:00

Well, a Happy Valentine's Day to all of you! I hope your day was filled with doctor's offices, suspicious wounds, and grocery shopping! Oh, wait....that was mine.

Pigpen started Valentines by waking me up almost every hour last night moaning. He had (maybe?) a low fever and some sniffles, but he has been over his cold for several days. We began our our day of love by spending 45 minutes in the sick waiting room at the pediatrician's office with the flu-ridden, Gatorade-clutching, feverish set. Have you ever tried to keep two boys, aged 2.5 and 4 from touching, breathing, climbing, and.....um, being themselves? It's not possible.

You should have been witness to the flurry of hand sanitizing and hand washing and wet wiping that took place when we - finally - got an exam room. Shudder. Long story short (too late), he has a minor sinus infection....and possible staph. In a sketchy looking abrasion on his buttock. SERIOUSLY?? So, we're watching that.

Later that day, just after lunch, I was telling the boys how Valentine's Day was for boys to show their affection for the most important girl in their life. (At this point, I was pointing wildly at myself with both hands.) Piglet's eyes lit up and he said, "LILY??" Awwwww. Burn. While Lily is an excellent pick (though miles out of his league, if we're being honest), come on! You'd think I'd get at least age FOUR. Sigh.

Later in the afternoon, I got the best series of Valentine's presents from Mr. Pigs. First, I got to go to an appointment at the neuro-opthamologist alone! They had squeezed me in, so I got to wait for a whole hour in the waiting room! By myself! With a book! While Mr. Pigs took the boys to swimming lessons! I then got to find out that I:

a) Am cross-eyed
b) Have ablyopia
c) Have pie shaped sections in each retina from which I cannot see.

How about them apples? My eyes are a train wreck, but good news? My brain is okay! Well, ish. Then I luxuriated in a 45 minute commute home during bumper to bumper stop and go rush hour traffic. Alone. In a car. By myself. Squee!

Mr, Pigs bathed both boys and put both to bed alone as part of my Valentine's present. AND gave me a pair of pajamas that match! Score. A Happy Valentine's Day to you.

Hi, I'm 85.

2011-02-05T21:35:00.000-05:00

After squirming while my opthamologist blinded me with a bright light shined deeply into my dilated left eye for many, many moments, I heard him mutter to himself, "Well, I'll be a son of a gun!" This comment followed a two and a half hour appointment during which he pledged to figure out what was wrong with my left eye which has vexed me since May.

Well, after his backwoods Georgia-esque utterance, he started to use some really big fancy eye doctor school words to describe the large, rapidly growing CATARACTS IN MY EYE. Now, this isn't technically news, being that I've been told several times that I have cataracts and they are possibly my only ticket to vision correction being that no doctor in their right mind will perform Lasik on someone with a -10 prescription.

But when we add the cataracts to my arthritis, my tendency to develop pneumonia, my kidney stones, my bladder which has been described as "70 year old", my hip's occasional slip, my trick neck, and my geriatric acne, MY LORD, HOW OLD AM I? Not to mention that my hair has finally passed the "occasional gray hair" stage and entered the "okay, you're too old to wear your hair this long unless you dye it" stage.

And then he told me that my left eyelid doesn't close all the way when I blink, and he wants me to see a neuro-opthamologist. Sigh. I'm a never-ending source of abnormal medical conditions. What will it be now?

Anal Sacs. Not to be confused.

2011-01-26T14:35:00.000-05:00

Well, I couldn't write something nice about Gus and then have him not do something high-maintenance, could I? Right after I published that, he started acting very strange regarding matters in his...um, backyard. Rear exit. Um, area. Place.

I took him into the vet for his usual anal gland expression (MMMMM! Let's go eat lunch!) only to be called back into the office. The vet showed me where his anal gland had become full (normal), become impacted (not good), and BURST THROUGH HIS SKIN. Did you read that? His anal sac burst through his skin and fur. And oozed out.

So, now he's on antibiotics and a steroid and I -the horrible dog mommy - get to spend 5 minutes 2-4 times a day holding a warm compress on my dog's anus. Mr. Pigs has given this task entirely to me without even a hint of wanting to help. Poor Gussie.

The worst part of the vet's lecture to me was having to listen to her say the words "anal sacs" over and over again. Do you know what the words "anal sacs" sounds like when my vet says it? Just mull it over a few times and you'll come up with it. I managed to keep a straight face through the whole visit, but laughed out loud when she gave me the pack of literature entitled "Everything You Never Wanted to Know About Anal Sacs".

Do you have any idea what kind of sketchy hits my blog is going to get from this topic? I can only imagine.

So, that's what I'll be doing if anyone needs me. Holding a warm cloth just beneath my dog's tail to allow his rupture to seep anal gland fluid into my hand. And then I'll go cook dinner and tend my children.

Where's Gus?

2011-01-23T21:13:00.003-05:00

In case anyone reading has been around for a while, you might have wondered how 'ol Gus is doing. I remember back in, you know....yore when he was my only child, aside from the 45 or so ten year olds I spent my days with. Gus used to get a lot of press around here. Now? Well, not so much on the blog, but in real life, he's still just as present as ever.

Gus will be reaching the ripe old age of ten in May (that's 70 to him), and he was starting to slow down a bit. A lot more sleeping, pretty lethargic, you know...old dog stuff, I figured. The vet took a gander at him during his check up and told me he had some thyroid stuff going on. She put him on some doggie meds and doggone if that dog isn't acting like a puppy again. He can sprint 0-60 across the backyard after a squirrel just like when he was 2.

He's still constantly in trouble for eating things he isn't supposed to, most recently crayons. ("Mommy! He's going to have funny colored poop!") He still hasn't touched wasabi since the incident in Texas, but cleans the floor under Pigpen's chair after every meal.

The only manner in which he is showing his age is His Schedule. His, mind you, not mine. The dog has enforced his own old man schedule, complete with early dinner and bedtimes. Here's his schedule of choice:

7:45 Wolf down chow and old man pill. Go outside. Howl.
7:50 Nap in mommy's bed.
8:45 Clean up the floor after Pigpen's breakfast.
8:50 Exhausted. Nap all morning. Avoid boys.
12:00 Go outside. Pee. Howl. Look at sun. Bark.
12:30 Clean up floor after Pigpen's lunch.
1:30 When mommy descends stairs from putting boys down for nap, twirl in circles like lunatic until dinner is served. Yes, dinner. Followed by a nap.
4:00 Clean up floor after Pigpen's snack
4:!5 Go outside with boys. Run from them. Bark at anyone walking by. Dig joy hole. Howl. Pee.
4:30 Nap while boys are outside.
7:00 Clean up floor after Pigpen's dinner.
7:45 When mommy descends stairs from putting boys to bed, twirl in circles like a lunatic until old man pill is served with some kibble.
7:50 Head straight to mommy's bed. Lounge under covers and snuggle with mommy until 10:30 when forcibly removed by daddy from bed for outside pee. Courtesy howl to rile up hound dogs through woods.
10:30 Relocate to dog bed in laundry room. Pout. Sleep until morning.

It's a dog's life they say. I think Gus has it down to a science. He may be a little grayer than you remember him, but here's how I found him last night when I came to bed to read:

I'm pretty sure we live in his world.

All Statistics 100% Accurate

2011-01-21T14:43:00.001-05:00

I want to talk about discipline for a minute, primarily because it is the one thing that wears me out the most. I'm going to throw out some very real sounding, possibly believable, statistics here, which are completely based on ~~fact~~ my own observations of others' children. These fact-like statistics refer only to the toddler set because I realize the tables with turn 'round about....3rd grade.

Roughly 3% of boys are born well-behaved. These are the boys who talk in an inside voice, play quietly with toys in the manner in which the manufacturer intended, and will sit and look at books, marveling at the illustrations, perhaps making meaningful connections to other literature they have enjoyed. The other 97% of boys are cave people. Of this 97%, approximately half are forced into civilized behavior via militaristic means of discipline while the other half are left to retreat back down the evolutionary chain with wild abandon. You never see a boy who is just "kind of bad sometimes". They are either cave people, soldiers, or the rare natural born perfection. (I've only met one of these in real life. It was like watching a member of an endangered species at the zoo.)

Then there are kids like mine who are still in the boot camp phase of their military training. This phase means that they are 37%-68% cave people, a range depending on variables such as the phase of the moon, the proximity to the witching hour (4-6pm, coincides with Happy Hour. Coincidence? I think not.), and the amount of appropriately scheduled sleep the caveman has received.

Personally, my goal is to have the well-trained soldier, but getting there is an uphill battle during the toddler years. Those wise folks with older children tell me that the final result is worth it if you can survive living in sergeant mode for 4-5 years, and I have to admit that those trained soldiers were always, always the ones I coveted on my homeroom roster.

And so, this is how I spend my days. Training, training, training. Redo, fix, try again. Do it until you get it right. Use a napkin! Say please! Are you going to miss that privilege? Wipe that up! Slow down! Mouth closed! Hands where I can see them! Not for climbing! We DO NOT wipe that on there! Walking feet! Hospital corners! Okay, just kidding about that one. Mostly. I do fancy a nicely-made bed.

What about those other kids?

Well, I didn't mention the girls, but 92% of toddler girls are born gentle creatures, playing with toys as the manufacturer intended, and traveling in a socially appropriate manner from one destination to the next. Sadly, for those parents, their time is coming. Later on, when our cave people are properly militarized, their girls are going to start with the attitude, the drama, and the friend-slaying. Pray for them.

In case you wanted an overview of the remainder of the decades-long follow up studies, here's how it breaks down. The half of the 97% of cave people who are left untrained become the kids I don't want in my classroom, to say the least. As for their effect on society, it varies. Roughly 25% of that crowd become the bad boys that girls love. 9% become class clowns, 31.61% become various forms of hooligan, criminal, or social misfit. My extensive and detailed research has indicated that the aforementioned original 3% of boys who were born well-behaved is probably going to get beat up by the 31.61% of trouble I just mentioned.

Nine plus one....carry the one...plus the five...that adds to.... bygones. These stats are sound. I've got a whip to crack.

Downright Positive and Perky

2011-01-19T21:41:00.000-05:00

Not being confined to the house for six days has brought about a new perspective. It's one of perkiness! And festivities! Well, okay, that's taking it too far, but I can say nice things. Want to see? I was somewhat inspired by my friend Aims' post about her girls growing up and how happy it made her and I have to agree. I know a lot of people who don't want their kids to grow up and want them to stay babies, but I am ALL ABOUT growth in the areas of "helping me" and "doing things for themselves so I don't have to". These categories being very formal and official, naturally.

Here's the part where I'm going to be positive. I'm not going to talk about how Pigpen can't sit properly in any piece of furniture or eat without dropping something on the floor or flinging milk. I'm not going to talk about how Piglet only puts clothes on backwards and sometimes forgets to wipe after pooping. I'm going to talk about all the things they CAN do to make my life easier than two years ago.

Pigpen can put his clothes in the hamper and his diaper in the Champ. He can clean up most of the messes he makes. He can put away the bibs and the rags when I fold laundry. When I empty the dishwasher, he puts away anything plastic and all the kid silverware. He can put on his shoes and bring us a book if we tell him the title. He can put on his buckles to his booster seat or car seat. He can "read" the right words on pages of a picture book. He can count to 12 and then say 13 about 8 times. He knows about half of his letters, his favorites being M for Mommy, E for Elmo, and G for Gator. He likes to sing Taio Cruz's "Dynamite" and requests Lady Gaga a lot. He can turn the TV on with the remote, as well as pause or fast forward a show.

Piglet can dress and undress himself and make his bed, both of which he is expected to do before he comes downstairs in the morning. He can clean up a room as well as I can, as he is very persnickety about things going in their correct places. He can let the dog in and and out as needed. He can listen attentively to chapter books, do jigsaw puzzles and build anything from Legos, Lincoln Logs, or his gear set. He can put away his laundry into the right drawers, and he folds all of the washcloths, rags, and pants from the laundry. He can take care of 98% of his own bathroom needs, and fix his own hair so that he looks exactly like my 62 year old father. He puts away the silverware when I empty the dishwasher and moves laundry from the dryer to the couch for me. Finally, and most impressively, he can sing all the lyrics to Miley Cyrus's Party in the USA.

He cannot, however, move his hips like yeah.

Reading back over that, my kids kind of sound like slaves. But I think they need to be properly trained. Otherwise, if I wait and try to teach them this stuff as teenagers, they'll tell me no. And we can't have that. Mama needs to sit more.

We are having SO MUCH FUN!

2011-01-12T21:53:00.000-05:00

Coming to you live from my living room. You know, where I've been SINCE SATURDAY. Hey, want to hear a funny joke? What happens when you live in a wee metropolis of approximately five million people and they all share ELEVEN snow plows? Oh, wait....that's not really that funny.

Okay, so it's not all bad. If you enjoy things like being trapped in your house with your 2 and 4 year old cavepeople who don't know how to walk or sit or talk in an appropriately volumed voices, then okay. Maybe it's fun. Perhaps you enjoy frigid temperatures and the sounds of people sledding and screaming outside your windows at 11pm. If your husband is used to being trapped inside his home for 5 days with two small cavepeople while he's trying to work, maybe that doesn't cause him stress.

But it kind of does us.

Mr. Pigs got desperate today and decided to try to get the car out. Now, if you noticed the pictures I posted yesterday, you can see that we live on a bit of a hill. Well, he pointed his front wheel drive Honda Accord straight down that hill and went for it. He even got up the opposing hill, but failed to clear the final mountain out of the 'hood. Drat. He attempted some snow chains before slipping back home, shame-faced, and parking in the cul-de-sac at the bottom of the hill. He hoofed it back to our house and spent another day not getting enough work done.

Gus is terribly bored. He's started rooting around, hunting under the snow. He can walk on the top frozen layer without breaking it, but if he digs down, he can walk under it. Today, he brought home a chewed up, mangled chipmunk/mole/mouse critter in his mouth. The whole family has taken a couple of steps back down the evolutionary chain.

I really felt like I'd gone back in time when neighbors started bartering in the streets. Apparently, a gallon of milk for a bottle of wine is fair trade. I mean, not that I'd know. I just heard somewhere.

That's really all I can leave you with. We've sledded, stomped snow, and slid on ice. We've colored, we've built forts, we've done Play-Doh. All the laundry has been done, toilets are cleaned, granola bars baked. Puzzles have been put together, Memory has been played, Skype has been chatted. We've given haircuts, taken bubble baths, and raced garbage trucks. I'm not sure what tomorrow brings because I'm fresh out of ideas. . I miss mail and UPS and Amazon shopping. Well, okay, let's be honest. I miss the Amazon deliveries. The shopping I've done.

Today the sun came out and Piglet said, "Mommy! The sun's out! Can we drink the milk now?" My rationing is starting to take a toll. I'm ready for someone to bring me a mule to pull me to the grocery store. Or the gym. I should probably start at the gym.

Now accepting tips for amusing small cavepeople during a snowtastic good time. Did I mention that school is canceled all week? Just checking.

Busy cultivating my snow hat head.

2011-01-10T15:51:00.001-05:00

Back soon.

Dorms, Bungholes, and War

2011-01-05T16:07:00.000-05:00

Recently, a friend said to me that they assumed I was an introvert. After my head finished spinning around and the hyena laughing stopped, I realized they were serious. It would be hard to imagine myself as an introvert, but today, I think I'm going to give it a whirl. It seems that today is not the day for me to be around people. Any people. I'm done with people today. I'll let Piglet and Pigpen stay, but that's it.

I really thought today was Tuesday; I even checked the calendar to be sure. Alas, it's Wednesday, and if you aren't in the mood to listen to me complain then scram. (I channeled Oscar the Grouch there, did you pick up on that?)

A morning perusal of my inbox began the unnecessary escalation of my blood pressure. See, I collect rent and schedule rentals for our neighborhood clubhouse. It's a small, easy volunteer job that shouldn't be a big deal. BUT, there's a couple who fancies themselves the king and duchess of the subdivision or something and they are making me insane. All I have to do is put the checks in their mailbox. Simple, right? Except I'm not leaving $400 in their mailbox, not knowing if they're home. Hellooooo? It's FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS. So, I email them. I email again. I try all four known email addresses to no avail. I call their home phone. I call their cell phones. I leave messages. I do everything short of setting myself on fire in their front yard and blowing on a bugle. Nothing. They are too good to respond.

Therefore, I started my non-Tuesday Tuesday by sending this email:

Hi Duchess and King,
I never heard back from you on my last email. I am putting checks in your mailbox today. I am not comfortable going around town with $400 of checks in my car. PLEASE let me know that you got this and the checks. We may have to come up with a new system to communicate because this is clearly not working. I'm assuming you're in town since there was a meeting last night and you sent an email.
Thanks,
Pauper Pigs

Today (six days after original contact was made), the Duchess emails me that she's home and will check the mail. Now was that so hard? Was that SO hard for someone who is a stay at home mom for her HIGH SCHOOL SOPHOMORE? Just wondering.

Then, THEN! After racing around doing the Preschool 500 to get the boys to school on time, I had to zip down to Atlanta to make our second 10:00 meeting to close on our house for our refinance. Yes, I said second. Because we had the same meeting scheduled yesterday and they called us just before the meeting to say they didn't have the necessary papers together yet. I'm sorry, what? You've had a week? You scheduled the meeting? So we RE-scheduled for today.

You won't be shocked to learn that they were not, in fact, ready today either. And we were there. In their office. We refused to leave and sat stubbornly while they "ten more minuted" us for AN HOUR until I had to leave. They never did get it together and said they would courier them to our house later. [Insert colorful expletive of your choice here.] [Add unnecessary punctuation: ?!?!?] Did I mention that they had the most annoying child-voiced receptionist? Did I tell you that she referred to herself in the third person as "The Diva" and has her first granddaughter due any moment now to her unwed daughter who has been living with her baby daddy for two years? Did I tell you she gave me way too much information?

Exasperated, I left without actually closing on my home and raced around town frantically finishing about half of the errands that I needed to get completed. Picked up the boys, got them to quiet time/nap and sat down to relax. Ten minutes later, I was nearly knocked out of my chair when someone tried to beat down my front door. Now, I have a sign which indicates "Please knock! Thanks!" because my kids are sleeping, the doorbell makes Gus lose his mind, etc. Apparently, as AMP politely suggested, I need to add some details to this sign. My new sign would be as follows:

Please knock, not in a manner indicative of structural demolition. I would suggest a gentle "tap, tap tap". Your fist should not be engaged. Your goal is not to make my dog bark. Best, Pigs

Who was at the door, you ask? The lawyer from this morning's great debacle of a closing. He walked into my house without being invited and talked in a shouty man voice despite being told my children were sleeping. Rude. Rude, rude, rude. I don't get people today.

Usually, people are my favorite thing and I like to surround myself with them. Engage them in conversations. Shoot the breeze. If you need me today, on this Wednesday masquerading as a Tuesday, I'll be in my hole. Shaking my broom.

Superpigs

2011-01-03T21:16:00.061-05:00

Hey, guess where I went today? To the grocery store! Are you shocked? Are you? Are you? I'm so super I actually went to TWO grocery stores today. Don't worry, I can feel your jealousy seeping through the screen. Unfortunately for my kids, I had to take them along on account of this inconvenient time shortage we're experiencing this week. Said time shortage being caused primarily by a lengthy lack of preschool. Leeeengthy.

Piglet is none too thrilled to be coasting around Kroger in our pimpin' racecar cart alongside his free-wheeling, brake screeching, horn honking two year old brother and brews himself right into one of my favorite things: The Public Meltdown. Now, some schools of thought like to say that when kids do this in a store, you should abandon your cart of goods and leave that moment, thus teaching the child that you will not put up with such hooliganism.

Pause. Let's think about that for a minute.

I'm sorry, but who exactly does this solution punish? Do you really think your four year old is going to care that you've just left the grocery store ahead of schedule? Are you kidding me? Please. This punishes me and punishes Kroger. How? Well, let's see. We're halfway through the grocery store, there's a cart full of food that, if abandoned, is going to spoil or have to be put away by some unsuspecting employee. I came to the grocery store with intentions of leaving with, um....food? Which we will not have unless I complete my shopping mission. Ridiculous. I do not abandon ship. Er, race car cart.

I digress.

There were were: Happy honking two year old in car cart. Angry, writhing four year old being dragged (Carefully! Mind broken collarbone!) from car cart and deposited into baby seat up front with seat belt. And me. Let's not forget gym clothed, sweaty me clutching $50 of coupons and white-trash-growling at Piglet through clenched teeth for all I'm worth. But then, it happened.....I developed magical powers, right there in the laundry aisle between the Tide and the Woolite.

I took a deep cleansing breath and recalled Piglet's new, if somewhat obsessive and unhealthy, interest in all things law. And I embraced it. "PIGLET!" I hissed, mob style. "You need to CUT. IT. OUT. RIGHT NOW, or Kroger is going to have to call the police!" He froze, his eyes darted left and right and doggone if that kid didn't clam right up. Pigpen even stopped honking to see what was up. I relaxed. Began pushing the cart again, congratulating myself on such a brilliant manuever. This Mom of the Year plucked some Angel Soft that was about to be 16 cents off the shelf and tossed it giddily into the cart. I steered into the main aisle.

Y'all.

I'm not lying even a little bit when I tell you that three uniformed police officers from the sherriff's department turned the corner out of the Little Debbie aisle and walked right past us. It's like I had hired them. (Which I totally might would if that sort of thing wasn't an inappropriate use of police time.) Piglet took in the hats and the handcuffs and the belts and nearly stroked out right there in the cart. His breathing got all funny, and he started asking me things in this wobbly, panting whisper. "Mommy? Are we almost done? Can we go now?"

He was perfectly angelic for the rest of the trip, and later at the next grocery store, he quietly chastised Pigpen as we rode around the store. Pigpen, be quiet. Pigpen, use your inside voice. Pigpen, don't cry, don't cry! I could not have asked for anything better. I mean, finally, something I threatened has meaning!

How long do you think this will last? Have you ever abandoned a cart?

I'd Make a Good Movie Critic

2011-01-02T22:19:00.001-05:00

Went to see Harry Potter 7 today! Had a glorious time by myself. Mostly, just because I was by myself, not so much because of the theater experience itself. I have come to a solid conclusion that there is no point in going to a movie with other people. Why, why, WHY is this considered a social event? When I go with other people, I feel obligated to communicate...giggle, elbow, you know. Socialize? But it's not the place. I don't get it.

You know what else I don't get? Taking a little kid to that movie! I'm sorry, but I spilled popcorn and ~~almost~~ peed my pants when that snake came at me from the screen. Who takes kids to see that? Call me a scaredy cat, but that movie was SKEERY. What makes it scary is [this is the part where I'm going to start to sound like a crotchety old lady. If you will, picture me in a bathrobe, waving a broom on my front porch while I say this] that movies are WAY TOO LOUD. Like, ear-shattering, make your heart get off rhythm too loud. Why is this necessary? Do people really like this? Who are these people?

I know I said I had a good time, but the whole movie experience is confusing to me....perhaps because I don't go often in lieu of activities more quality in nature. Like Gossip Girl or America's Next Top Model that I can watch right from my own bed at a reasonable volume. And not sitting next to a member of the Great Unwashed. Hey, let's talk about that.

The man in line in front of me had clearly sat up in bed this morning, slapped his hand to his forehead, and said, "I'm going to see a movie! Right now." And he stood up, slipped his feet into his Crocs, and drove his car to the movie theater. He stood in front of me, trying to rub yesterday's stubble off of his face while he pondered the show he wished to see. I stared, unabashed, as he thoughtfully scratched the western region of his south side and I thoughtfully took in his entire appearance.

Clearly, the man was a back sleeper, judging by the wicked toucan-like bed head he was sporting from behind and the location of the wrinkles in his wife beater that was hanging sloppily out from under his acid washed jean jacket which had been jauntily thrown atop his night wear. His kelly green sweatpants with the elastic ankles didn't offer any significant clues, aside from poor taste, but I suppose they did coordinate with his Crocs. You know, THE ONES HE WORE IN PUBLIC.

I was fairly relieved when he didn't choose to see Harry Potter, but mightily skeeved knowing that his type was wandering freely about. Whenever I sit in public movie chairs, I start to get that creepy lice paranoia. I mean, everyone writhes and wallers in movie chairs, and it's just shudder-worthy to think of coming in behind someone like Toucan Sam from the movie queue. I felt no shame when I pulled my hood up on my head after sitting. It made the experience a bit more comfortable. Well, that and the hand sanitizer. The theater was kind enough to let me tuck my shaking broom under my chair for the show.

Now that I've completed my analysis of the general public and public movie-going practices, I will say that I enjoyed the movie. I haven't reread the 7th book, so I had forgotten a lot of the plot, which made it more exciting. I'm still so, so sad about Dobby dying and I missed seeing actual Hogwarts in the movie, but it was well done, I thought. The guy that plays Ron Weasley seems to have FINALLY figured out acting here on the last movies and his comic timing was really cute. And, unless you wish for me to wax about how dirty and dusty everything in the wizarding world is or start in on British teeth, I'll just stop there. Can you tell what a great time I had? I really, honestly did. This is just how I show joy.

Pigs' 2010 Reads

2011-01-01T22:21:00.001-05:00

I am beyond vexed that I didn't make my yearly goal of 50 books because there was plenty of time for me to do so. The problem was that I don't know where the end of December went. One day, I had a whole week left, and then all of a sudden, it was January. Someone took the end of December. And I had read 49 and a half books. Blast!! I still elect to maintain that my reading aloud to Piglet every day should count for something, so in honor of that, I bring you #50:

50ish: The majority of the Magic Tree House series, by Mary Pope Osborne and Ralph S. Mouse, by Beverly Cleary

There you have it! Voila! Now, perhaps a brief opinion and my thoughts of each book.

49. Dead as a Doornail, by Charlaine Harris (True Blood Vampire series. My, um, bathroom reading)

48. Alexander and the Wonderful, Marvelous, Excellent, Terrific Ninety Days: An Almost Completely Honest Account of What Happened to Our Family When Our Youngest ... Came to Live with Us for Three Months, by Judith Viorst (Listened to book on tape. Really funny if you've ever stayed at your parents' with kids)

47. Anastasia Absolutely, by Lois Lowry (Favorite middle school ish series)

46. Anastasia at This Address, by Lois Lowry

45. Swapping Lives, by Jane Green (Listened to in car. Light read about single woman switching lives with woman with kids in burbs)

44. Mini Shopaholic, by Sophie Kinsella (Uhh....super light reading)

43. Pants on Fire, by Meg Cabot (Lighter than above)

42. Last Night at Chateau Marmont, by Lauren Weisberger (Good read)

41. The Help, by Kathryn Stockett (Awesome read! A book club book)

40. Here's to You, Rachel Robinson, by Judy Blume (Middle school follow up. Bleh.)

39. The Late, Lamented Molly Marx, by Sally Koslow (Funny!)

38. The Cardturner, by Louis Sachar (Love this writer. Miss teaching.)

37. The Hour I First Believed, by Wally Lamb (Good, depressing, loooooong.)

36. Dead to the World, by Charlaine Harris (Bathroom. Vampires.)

35. The Manny, by Holly Peterson (Soap opera esque, but I liked it a lot)

34. The Wednesday Sisters, by Meg Waite Clayton (Really good. Would make good discussion book.)

33. Flyaway Home, by Jennifer Weiner (Was okay. Read for book club. Liked author better in earlier books)

32. Restoring Grace, by Katie Fforde (Good. Too British. Interesting renovation stuff.)

31. Same Soul, Many Bodies, by Brian Weiss (Past life regression. AMP got me hooked. Fascinating.)

30. Driftwood Summer, by Patti Callahan Henry (Good.)

29. Club Dead, by Charlaine Harris (I poop a lot.)

28. The Last Summer (of You and Me), by Ann Brashares (Good in a teenager way)

27. The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson (Book club. Really liked it. About to start second one.)

26. Many Lives, Many Masters, by Brian Weiss (More past lives. This one started it.)

25. Along for the Ride, by Sarah Dessen (I like this writer. Nothing deep here.)

24. Heart of the Matter, by Emily Giffin (Average.)

23. Living Dead in Dallas, by Charlaine Harris (Potty. Vamps.)

22. Keeping the Moon, by Sarah Dessen (teen)

21. Perfect Fifths, by Megan McCafferty (I read the first four in this series, but it's lost steam for me.)

20. Nanny Returns, by Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus (Liked it.)

19. The Carrie Diaries, by Candace Bushnell (Kind of a let down.)

18. 3 Willows, by Ann Brashares (Cute)

17. Just Listen, by Sarah Dessen (Teen)

16. Miss Understanding, by Stephanie Lessing (Good one. Pool book)

15. The Art of Racing in the Rain, by Garth Stein (Book Club. Good, but a tear jerker)

14. Identical Strangers, A Memoir of Twins Separated and Reunited (Non-fiction, fascinating!)

13. The Next Thing on My List, by Jill Smolinski (I liked this one, it was light, but good.)

12. Dead Until Dark, by Charlaine Harris (Wow. I read a lot of vamps in the bathroom)

11. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, by Mary Ann Shaffer (Book club. Terrible. Don't read it.)

10. My Horizontal Life, by Chelsea Handler (Funny, but too raunchy for my pristine mind.)

9. L.A. Candy, by Lauren Conrad (Strangely fun to read. Thought it would be dumb.)

8. Lock and Key, by Sarah Dessen (Good(

7. Going Rogue, by Sarah Palin (Gave me a girl crush on Sarah Palin.)

6. A Piece of Cake, by Cupcake Brown (My book club pick. Read it if you haven't. It was a lively meeting.)

5. It Sucked and Then I Cried, by Heather Armstrong (Can't go wrong with Dooce)

4. Audition, by Barbara Walters (Very long winded, but the early years were interesting.)

3. Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons, by Lorna Landvik (Book club pick. Eh. Didn't really like it the first time I read it either.)

2. Small Town Odds, by Jason Headley (Like this one a lot. It was kind of a random pick.)

1. Practically Perfect, by Katie Fforde (Cute. British. House renovation.)

Pigs' Anatomy

2010-12-30T22:36:00.000-05:00

Well, since Christmas wasn't lively enough, Piglet decided to spice things up yesterday by taking a nap. If you've read for very long, you know that Piglet has always been quite opposed to sleep in most forms. He dropped his morning nap at 9 months (Pigpen kept that one until 19 months), he dropped his afternoon nap a few months after he turned 2 (Pigpen is still going strong with that one at 2.5), and he only sleeps at night "to make morning come faster". His words, not mine.

So, after all of our holiday traveling hullaballoo, the boys swung dramatically from the overtired stage (involves awakening at 6am, being hideously cranky for many hours, then being wild at quiet time) to the catch up stage. The catch up stage involves sleeping in, long naps, and any naps at all from Piglet. Which brings us to yesterday when he decided to catch some zzzz's during quiet time. Unfortunately, he caught said zzzz's on the edge of his bed, instead of in the middle where he normally slumbers. He was sleeping so deeply that he fell - dead weight - to the floor, landed on his shoulder and screamed bloody murder. Probably not a great way to wake up from a nap that you didn't mean to take.

Soooo....several phone calls later, I got a sitter to stay with Pigpen and took a writhy Piglet to the children's urgent care. He was adorably scared about what was going to happen to him, his little shaky voice kept asking, "Am I going to be okay?" and "After they take the picture, can we go home?" After a couple of x-rays and some gentle poking and prodding, the verdict was a broken collarbone. Shudder.

If you know me at all, you'll know that I have an extreme case of heebie jeebies when it comes to collarbones. A full body tremor just tore through me when I typed the word, and I had a blinding flashback of my sister pinning me to the floor in fights and grabbing handfuls of my collarbones to make me shriek and say uncle. Or when she would stick hers out, make them pronounced and grab at them like handles.

Oh, dear Lord. Too much detail. Please excuse me a moment while I vomit. I am switching to the word "clavicle".

Piglet, fortunately, is much tougher than I am. Once they set him up with a little strap doohickey to hold his shoulder in place, he just wanted to go home and eat some yogurt. He slept all night last night and took it easy today....the only glitch when we had to take his shirt off last night. That problem was quickly solved by cutting the side out of an undershirt and avoiding shirts that don't button or zip. Apparently, the collarbone is a good bone to break, as it heals very quickly. He's only banned from sports for two weeks, much to his relief.

To wrap up our family health news, I had a CT scan today for the first time since the one I had in the hospital right after I had Pigpen. (Boy, I've been around a lot of radiation in the last 24 hours!) I went poking back in my blog to June 2008 when Pigpen was delivered early due to my first round of pesky kidney stones. I got a good laugh out of reading the month of June. [Sidenote: my memory is so bad that I can't remember things that happened in my own life. When I read old posts on my blog, it's like reading someone else's writing. I even laugh when I'm not supposed to.) ANYWAY. I had a CT scan and the news is good! I'm kidney stone free! Well, mostly. He said there's one in my left kidney that's 3mm and should pass on its own, should it decide to move along. Whew.

And the best news? All of these procedures took place AFTER we met our deductible, but two days before the new one starts! Yahooo! Now, I'm off to reread June 2008 and read my People magazine. I simply MUST see Neil Patrick Harris' new twins.

Teaching is Hard.

2010-12-28T13:25:00.003-05:00

[Piglet and Pigpen eating YoKids and YoBaby yogurt, respectively]

“Pigpen, what kind of yogurt do you have?”

“Baby!” [points to baby]

“No, Pigpen. Mine has a girl and yours has a baby, but what KIND is it?”

“Babyyyyy!”

“NO PIGPEN. Babies are not food. Granola and tacos are food. Not babies.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“Mine has banana pictures on it. See? What kind is yours?”

“BABY!”

“Mommy! Pigpen isn’t listening!”

Me: Gee, that must be tough for you.

Christmas with the Faaaaam-ily

2010-12-26T21:07:00.000-05:00

Last year at this time, we firmly declared that we were not going to travel at Christmas this year, with the exception of lunch in Charlotte on Christmas Day to see my 100 year old grandmother. We reaffirmed this declaration at the beach last July. You might be amused to know that I just returned today from a 3 day whirlwind travel extravaganza in which we drove from Atlanta to Greensboro on Friday, Greensboro to Charlotte, then Charlotte to SC on Saturday, and then home today. During a snowstorm. Of course, Atlanta chooses to break its no White Christmas since 1882 streak while we are running around the Southeast having the Christmas that we did not travel.

There were extenuating circumstances, primarily Mr. Pigs' mom's knee replacement in November that pressured us to guilt travel during these, the best Santa Claus years. But next year? I'm saying it here: WE ARE NOT TRAVELING FOR CHRISTMAS. There. That proclamation was as strong as the one I made on here declaring that I refused to take my children to the library for six months (still holding on, deal's up in April).

Highlights of the trip include the following:

Being able to stretch my legs all the way out in my new car.
Being able to put Gus in his crate in the back of the car so that he is not pelted with toys, cups, and shoes when lying at Pigpen's feet.
Using heated seats. This move is glorious on a snowy day.
First trip with Pigpen and Piglet both bed-dwellers. So many people in house they had to share a room. Did not go well.

To elaborate, we put them to bed in separate rooms, then moved Piglet to Pigpen's room after they were asleep with intentions of them sleeping all night.

HA HA HA.

Pigpen began calling me at 12:15, juuuuust as I had drifted off to sleep. He wanted to tell me hi. Piglet awakened at 1:59, at which time he stood on his bed and looked out the window and made heaps of racket. After three rounds of this behavior, he was evicted from the island, dragged to our room and forced to sleep on the floor. Except he did not sleep. From 2:15am until sometime around 5am, he asked questions. He moaned about his face hurting. He mourned this pain ("Why is this happening to meeeeee?") Why, you ask? Because he had a piece of cake after dinner. Just one piece of cake sends him over the moon. Pigpen had also had a piece of cake, some candy, and copious amounts of Reddi-Whip, courtesy of my father - the man who didn't let us eat sweets until we were 12, but that's another story.

Blearly-eyed, we headed to Charlotte, where my cousin and I campaigned to have our Christmas get together moved to any day that was not actually Christmas so we could stay home and play Santa. After lunch, we aimed our car at SC and made it by 3pm. And that is when I need you to imagine a loud "Wah-wahhhhh....." sound as Christmas cheer skidded to an abrupt halt.

We had entered The Misery Zone. I mentioned earlier that my mother in law had knee replacement in early November, prompting the need for us to travel this year. Okay, fine. No problem. But it's hard to not feel Scrooge-like when you are pelted with every complaint under the sun. Complaint isn't even an accurate word. What's a word that means making sure everyone around you knows just HOW BAD you have it in case they weren't paying attention the first 52 times? The first two hours sounded like this (and I am not exaggerating, I was typing these notes as I listened):

"Y'all cannot imagine the misery that I am in every minute of every day."
"I don't know if I'll ever be alright."
"Maybe this time next year I'll be a little better."

At this point, I jokingly interjected, "Maybe we should just cut your leg off, since it's causing you so many problems?" My humor has never been appreciated in that neck of the woods.

"Pigs! Don't say that! Do you know I have to take antibiotics every time I go to the dentist?"
"The pain, oh the pain. I have to do these exercises, 20 of them. [does one] OHHHH!! You just don't KNOW how much this hurts me."
"I can't take any more of the narcotics. Advil doesn't even touch it. You just can't imagine this constant pain. Every minute, I'm suffering enormous pain."

And later, just to force me to practice keeping a straight face:

"Your dad makes way too many bowel movements. It is far more than is normal. And they smell absolutely foul. Do you think he has a gluten intolerance? I bet that's what's wrong with Pigpen."

I have no idea how Pigpen got dragged into that one.

Then came the snow forecast. This nearly brought the world to an end because there was NO WAY we could drive home on snowy, icy roads. Somehow this panic brought about a lively round of Who Had is Worse, in which one of Mr. Pigs' parents would try to one up the other on things like home insulation, indoor plumbing, and the like from their childhoods.

Some bold moves:

Breaking the ice to check the chickens
Milk the cow before school
Outhouse
Driving the school bus before school
I was just in so much pain all week. I didn't even eat until yesterday. Actually, I haven't eaten since my surgery.

Okay, that wasn't a part of the game, but it was the game point at which time Mr. Grandpigs conceded loss.

I gratefully headed to bed around 10:15 last night, still exhausted from the night before. Pigpen woke up at 12:16am to tell me hi, and I got to sleep the remainder of the night. Well, until 6:10am when Pigpen woke up ready for the day and jumped into bed with Piglet, much to Piglet's annoyance. I dozed to the sounds of the boys racing up and down the hall and Pigpen opening to door to come stare at me closely and say, "HI MOMMY!" until I heard the familiar sounds of Gus yelping, whimpering and hollering.

Mr. Pigs came to tell me that Gus had eaten a grape. I don't know if you remember, but two summers ago, Gus ate a box of raisins and suffered kidney damage (PSA: raisins and grapes are poisonous to dogs), and the vet sternly warned us that even one raisin or grape now could kill him. Well, my inlaws forgot and put a bowl of grapes on the bottom shelf of the fridge and 'ol noodle neck Gus got him one. I went leaping out of bed to spend the next hour trying to pour hydrogen peroxide down Gus's throat. I sustained six scratches and one bite before Gus first pooped, then puked in the bathtub. Finally, we gave Gus a bath and re-fed him his breakfast that he lost rather viciously.

And, THAT, my friends was my Christmas. We drove home in the snow today and made it just fine. I am very much looking forward to having a good sleep in my own bed under my electric blanket. I hope yours was just as merry.

Man-YURE and other holiday treats

2010-12-23T22:53:00.000-05:00

There's just something about December that keeps me from posting on this here blog of mine. Could it be the stress? The buying? The partying? The mania that is my house? That's a big fat yes right there. Right now as we embark upon our fake Christmas Eve (last year the kids won't get the whole "it's not really Christmas" thing), I'm wound.pretty tight, as my darling husband likes to say when I get hyper and stressy.

We just spent a mere hour wrapping/assembling/gathering Santa goods, nearly two hours shorter than last year when we were up until the wee hours fighting with a racetrack and a big wheel. This year's assembly item was a workbench, which Mr. Pigs threw together in no time, while I spent far longer than I will admit assembling a simple PVC pipe soccer goal.

We are packed, loaded and ready to go after Santa happens in the morning. You know what we're going to go in? MY NEW CAR! Waaaahooo! Once we realized a couple of weeks ago that we were going to be traveling at Christmas after all (not our original plan, mind you), we got serious about the car hunt we've been dragging our feet on since our September road trip to the beach. I get a little misty-eyed when I realized I've been blogging long enough to have bought my second car in the course of this little blog. I know this because I went schlepping through my archives looking for a particular detail from my last car purchase and found a description of my last car buying event. I like to keep a car for a while due to my abhorrence of car payments. So, I kept 'ol Lucy the RAV4 for six years. I was sad to let her go (and it didn't help when Piglet announced on the way home in the new car, "Mommy, I want to keep your old car forever and ever."), but we had completely outgrown that car. Feet on the backs of seats, no room for even one extra passenger, car seats 4 inches apart, knees in the dashboard. It made for great car trips. You have no idea how relaxing they were.

My new car is pretty awesome, though. It has real grown up features like heated seats and a smart key and a DVD player (Holla!!). I'm not used to it yet and it will be awhile before it has a name....I'm not even sure the gender of this car yet! Gasp! Hopefully we will not have to test the powers of snow handling this weekend as we drive all over the Carolinas in what is predicted to be a white Christmas. Ugh.

I must go finish up some packing and get myself to bed before the wild 'n crazy holiday travel marathon begins tomorrow. I will leave you with the argument that Mr. Pigs and I had the other night that still has me laughing. Mr. Pigs was about to pop an unwashed mushroom into his mouth and I stopped him and said, "Don't eat those, they haven't been washed. You know they grow in manure!" and he began to laugh hysterically at the way I said the word manure. I was soundly unamused, as I have only heard it pronounced this way, and he is notorious for pronouncing words some backwoods country way and having no idea that it may be incorrect. He delicately sounded the word out his way, and I heard: "man-YURE". Seriously? I promptly pulled up my friend dictionary.com and heard the proper pronunciation. If you want to be amused for a minute, just go listen to the dude say "manure". Then imagine us playing it eleventy hundred times in the kitchen and pressing the button each time we walked by the computer just to hear it one more time and laugh some more. The passion in his voice just cracks me up.

Aren't you glad you read to the end? Merry Christmas!

Brrrrr!

2010-12-11T21:45:00.000-05:00

Tis the season to be off the blog. I can't believe this is my first post of December! I bury my face in shame. Actually, it's just the first post you are seeing in December because I'm sure you're interested to know that I have THREE blog posts which I started this month....just never finished. What follows is the update for which I'm sure you've been biting your nails for days now.

The main thing going on around here is that it's unseasonably, freakishly, Canada-style cold up in here, and it has been this way for a week now. Some might say that this is a grand thing because it makes it feel Christmas-y, but I've always been more of the school that I like wearing shorts while decorating for Christmas. Much less cold that way. And I'm trying really, really hard not to complain about the cold when my pal Aims has actually, for realz been transferred from Houston to Alaska. I'm trying really hard to think of her every time I say I'm cold. Sadly, this week only gives me sympathy for her trapped in a house with two toddlers because it's too cold to play outside. Do you know what happens to my kids when they can't go outside? They turn into wild animals. Like, wild, jumping off of furniture, literally bouncing off of walls, tackling each other and the dog every 30 seconds kind of animals.

One sample morning, yesterday:

After breakfast, I began to get us all ready for our playgroup. I chased Pigpen up the stairs to change his foul diaper and had our daily discussion as I changed him on his new big boy dresser.

Me: Ew. Poop is yucky in diapers. It goes in the potty.
P: Big poo poo! [Looks in mirror to see it. Is impressed with self.]
Me: Do you want to put poo poo in the potty?
P: No.
Me: Why not?
P: Poo poo in potty I get M&M's!
Me: That's right! Don't you want M&M's??
P: Yeah! Want candy!
Me: So, you're ready to go use the potty?
P: No.

I mean, every day we have this conversation at least three times. He knows what to do. He's not interested in doing it. He likes for me to change his diapers. And I very much do not want to be changing poop in underpants. It's just ten times worse. So.....we wait. He has to be potty-trained by next September or he can't be in 3 year old preschool. Goals are important.

Following this fascinating conversation with my two year old, I came across a rogue hair on my cheek. This was clearly unacceptable, so I dashed off to the bathroom for the tweezers. This was where I found Piglet standing at my vanity with dark pink nailpolish painted carefully onto both cheeks like Indian war paint. He grinned. I shrieked. I began swiping nail polish remover on his cheeks. He shrieked. His cheeks are chapped from the nasty weather and his disgusting habit of chewing on his coat. No one was happy, and Pigpen was missing.

From the kitchen, I heard squeals of delight and the sound of dog food being poured into Gus's bowl. I raced to the kitchen to find Pigpen had made his way into the (child-locked) cabinet containing the massive bag of Beneful and was feeding Gus scoop after scoop of kibbles, to Gus's delirious delight. I have no way to know how many cups of food he fed Gus, but I'm pretty sure the diet is off.

I dragged both kids with me to the bedroom so that I might finish off this dastardly face hair once and for all. They began to play some bizarre form of house, yelling things like, "I'm the daddy! You're the mommy!" "No, you're the mommy! I'm daddy!" It went on for several minutes before I screamed out in my state of insanity, "WHO'S YOUR DADDY!?" just to amuse myself. They didn't laugh. They're really not fun people.

We eventually made it out the door and headed to our playgroup, which met this week at the Best Place Ever. Tucked away inside a McDonald's that looks 40 years old and rundown on the outside is the most glorious indoor playground. It was brand new. There was a whole wall of windows and a sliding door that blocked us from the other patrons seeking peace. There were biscuits and french fries and coffee! There was free wi-fi and 80's music. I'm not even lying a little bit when I tell you I haven't been as excited about a place like this since roller rinks in the 80s. Okay, the beach on a school day. My favorite bar in college. The grocery store on sale day. THIS WAS THE BEST THING EVER. I let my kids run, climb, scream, and go maniacally wild for 2 straight hours. And, hello? It was FREE!

Later that day, I sat my kids down in front of the TV and forced them to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Forced. Wouldn't give them snack or let them watch anything else on TV ever again until they watched it. Piglet asked, "How much longer til this is over" approximately 9 times during the movie. When it ended, his heart was not warm. His spirit was not lifted. He wanted to watch Diego and eat Cheez-Its. I am already Greatly Troubled by this generation. Vexed.

To round out a Super Fun Day, I brilliantly decided to take my kids to the car dealership during the witching hour. I was so caught up in packing scads of snacks which they went through before we even got out of the car, that it didn't occur to me to bring any toys. This mistake is how I found myself in the Hyundai dealer folding their 20 year/200,000 mile warranty pamphlets into paper airplanes, boats, and basketballs. This mistake also led to be allowing Piglet to play with my fingernail clippers, pretending they were a tool to fix the stroller wheels. Planning, planning, planning....so important.

I still have no car. Well, I have my same very small car that I have had since before I had kids. It has grown smaller and smaller and smaller, and the tires balder and balder. It has reached a critical level of danger and compression of space. When we travel with the dog, Gus has to sit at the feet of Pigpen and wince in fear at the toys he knows are going to be thrown upon his head. The adults have to sit with their knees scrunched up against the dashboard to make room for the carseats, and the kids kick their feet on the back of the front seats. It's terribly unpleasant to travel and we have just found out that we are indeed going to be traveling for Christmas this year when we thought we were homefree to stay, well...home.

This has rambled long enough. Time to retire to my books. Look at me! I'm up to 47! I think I'm going to make it. I know I kind of cheated with my last two, which are middle school ish chapter books, but I love, love, love those books and they are a nice end of the year treat. Plus, I've read at least 25 Magic Tree House books to Piglet and I really thing those should factor in as well. TTFN!

One minute per year of age.

2010-11-30T20:59:00.000-05:00

This is the point when my husband (with complete sincerity) says, "I have nothing to wear. Can you go to the dry cleaners tomorrow?"

I'm sorry, seriously? There's like twenty shirts hanging there. and most of them are white, blue, or white AND blue. He looks exactly the same every single day. It drives me almost as crazy as when he says his hair isn't doing right. It's half an inch long and has looked identically the same every day for the last, oh...eight years. It must be very subtle, these problems.

In other news, probably becoming repetitive, I found out that elves like to do what they see kids doing. So, here's Simon in Time Out. So, I don't really need to tell you about the last two cold, rain-filled days we've had, do I?

I haven't heard appropriate commentary regarding Simon or his photos, so you're stuck with them until you say otherwise. Off to sort out all the stuff I've bought the boys for Christmas this year.

Now I'm Hungry.

2010-11-29T22:35:00.000-05:00

Forgot a rather significant part of the weekend: decorating! Decking the halls. Trimming the homestead. Making Mr. Pigs say things like, "If you put one more Christmas thing in here, it's gonna be too much." Or, "How about we skip the Nativity scene this year? I'm afraid Pigpen will throw baby Jesus." (A valid point.) It was bedlam and a whole mess of messes, but it's done. After the boys finished hanging the ornaments all one on top of the other and 4 to a branch, my OCD and I had to sneak back in there after they were done to straighten the mess out. The big news is that this year Pigpen realizes that the balls are for hanging, not for throwing, so we're making real progress!

I've been having a bit too much fun with Simon the elf. In an effort to get Piglet to believe in him, I'm trying to be good about producing elf antics. The boys were wanting to know what his name was, so one night, he did some artwork:

The next night, I didn't get around to finishing folding a load of Piglet's clothes, so Simon got a little playful in the tighty whities. This one actually elicited a laugh from Piglet the Stoic and he even admonished Simon a little bit this morning:

Tonight, I was getting the boys' lunches made for preschool tomorrow (SQUEEEE! Preschool's back! They've been out for 11 days!) and I remembered that elves like to do whatever the kids like to do. In the morning, they will not find Simon until we get in the car for preschool:

Safety and survival first: he's buckled in and has his lunch box. We'll see how that one goes over. Soon, I think he's going to make a trip to the North Pole to report in to Santa and he might need a nap when he gets back. Maybe he'll bed down in the crib. Still seeking ideas of pranks for Simon to play or places for Simon to be found. I'm hesitant to do the really messy ones because my kids aren't old enough to clean it up yet. I know people who put flour on the floor and had them make snow angels and people who wrote their elf's name in lipstick on the mirror.

Hmmm. in other news, Gus thinks he's a cat. He's taken to stretching out on the arm of "his" chair in an effort to seek solace from Pigpen's loving, but pokey, fingers:

I have scads of things to do this week, SCADS! Gotta wrap up all this Christmas shopping, use all these expiring coupons, and....I'm not sure what I really have to do, but for some reason, my errand list is ridiculously long this week. Hmm. Maybe I should just skip it. If it's not important enough to remember? Anyhoo. I have a book club Christmas party on Friday and I get to take any book I want for the White Elephant exchange. There are so many choices I don't know where to begin! Do I pick a favorite book? A book that's a joke (have a good one in mind for this)? Make a political statement? SO MANY CHOICES. I'll just roam around a book aisle tomorrow. It's been so long since I purchased a book that I'm not really sure where to start. I'm such a PaperBackSwap and library junkie. I heart the waiting list at the library.

This seems like a good place to stop before my head begins to spin out of control. I had just calmed myself down by making a list, my most soothing activity. Oh, except for apparently cooking. Today was one of those 40 degrees and raining kinds of days, and though I ventured to the gym and Kroger this morning with the boys, we were not going anywhere this afternoon. I did everything but stand on my head to entertain them (even an indoor popcorn movie picnic, HELLO? Mother of the Year right here!) and they were still horrible. These boys are such little cavepeople that if they don't get outside at least a couple times a day, they start to regress back down the evolutionary chain. By bedtime, they were pretty much beating their chests and eating raw meat. And, back to my point, to soothe myself, I began cooking. I made roasting chickpeas with parmesan cheese, which are lovely and crunchy and salty. Then I began to clean out the fridge. I chopped and froze all of the leftover Thanksgiving turkey. I eyed the cranberry sauce for a few minutes before deciding to add it (strained) to banana walnut muffins, which turned out PDA. (Pretty Darn Awesome) I take great satisfaction in using up a good leftover. Like the other night when I learned to make potato patties from leftover mashed potatoes....holy deliciousness! I want those again, but this time with garlic and sour cream and rosemary mixed in. Okay, now I'm destressed, but hungry. Off to the pantry.

Puke Rogue Grass Digging Amen Elf Cynicism Film Mysteries. Right?

2010-11-27T23:08:00.000-05:00

Well, somehow I mistakenly fell ill with the stomach viral goodness that's easing its way around my house. Nothing says fun like stomach bugs before Thanksgiving. I managed to rally on Thursday and eat a plate of butter-laden, sugar-laced goodness, so it worked out okay, but I was for sure down for a whole day in case anyone missed me. (Say you missed me here.)

You know what happens when I'm down and out? Mr. Pigs gets sneaky about things around the house. I happened by the back door and heard a shovel scraping the driveway. A peek outside revealed Mr. Pigs DIGGING UP THE GRASS. I'm sorry, hi. Who does that? He went and dug up a long patch of grass in a spot where he no longer wishes there to be grass and I do wish there to be grass. Why didn't he ask me? Because he knew I'd say no, he said. Darn right. So one hilarious driveway argument later found Mr. Pigs grumbling to himself as he attempted to put the grass back. Cue many jokes from my dad about Mr. Pigs aerating the lawn. And I won't mention the two hour bathroom paint job that I said would take four hours that wound up taking five. When I was supposed to be decorating for Christmas. Whoops, just mentioned it. Okay, bitter hour is over.

In other Thanksgiving related news, my kids are kind of obsessed with saying the blessing, a rather strange thing to be obsessed with, right? I mean, clearly things could be worse, but it's quite a commitment they have. I must get a better video soon. Piglet announces that it's time, they clasp their little hands together and squeeze their eyes shut, Pigpen screwing his whole face up so he can still peek out while they bless. Piglet begins reciting the blessing, with Pigpen chiming in only on the capitalized words: God is GREAT, God is GOOD, Let us thank him for our FOOD. By his hands we all are FED, thank you for our daily BREAD-AMEN! The bread and the amen are rushed together in a race to get there first. And it's not an amen, it's a "Somebody give me an a-MEN!" Southern Baptist tent revival kind of amen. Makes me laugh.

We've also introduced the Elf of the Shelf for the season. His name is Simon. Is the SNL Simon song going through your head now? Because it's my chronic soundtrack now. I think having the elf checking up on your kids' behavior and reporting back to Santa is genius, however I didn't anticipate having quite such a cynical four year old. "He can't be real, he's just a toy." "He can't go tell Santa what I did because he's a stuffed elf." Sigh. So, I've had to really amp up the storytelling and the role of magic and the excitement of it all. I'm making tiny bits of progress. I did hear him scream from time out today after he bit Pigpen (???), "Don't tell Simon!!" so maybe he's starting to believe. My Santa days might be limited, and they've only begun. I think I've done a good job so far, but I'm going to have to keep it up every night to make a believer out of this one. So far, Simon has been found driving Pigpen's school bus:

And writing his name and a self-portrait? I totally would've bought this stuff as a kid. It's hard work parenting Piglet.

Therefore, I submit my request to you, the readers, for the 30 or so more ideas I need for antics of the elf to make Piglet a believer. Thanks in advance. You're such pals.

I will wrap up here by telling you that while I have written this post, I have engaged in supremely nerdy behavior. Mr. Pigs is away at the Clemson game for the night, so I spent the evening synchronizing my When Harry Met Sally DVD with my pal AMP's When Harry Met Sally DVD in New York. We did various spot checks on key dialogue to make sure we were still synched up throughout the viewing as we chatted on the IM. After thoroughly evaluating the film, we were left with one question we were unable to answer: Why, WHY, was is necessary for a couple to have separate phone lines on either side of their bed? Remember Marie and Jess each talking to Sally and Harry, respectively, at the same time? Is this some 80s/90s thing we don't remember? I'm flummoxed.

Could this post be more random? No, it could not.

The Law.

2010-11-22T21:30:00.000-05:00

Piglet is obsessed with the law. If I want him to do something, I just inform him that it is for sure, most definitely a law, and he will oblige. So far, eating breakfast with a shirt on is the law. Making your bed before coming downstairs is the law. Answering when mommy calls you? Law. Anytime I ask him to do something, he says, "Is that the law?" Why yes! Yes, it is.

The downfall comes when I'm driving the car. "Mommy? Are you going the speed limit?" Errrrr.....yes. (Now I am.) Mommy? Are you speeding? There's a police officer. Is he giving people tickets? Are they going to jail? (No, you just pay a fine.) Is that the law? YES. It's kind of endless. I found some cute signs in a store the other day that are a stoplight, a stop sign, and a detour sign. I'm thinking about easing the transportation theme in his room over to law enforcement. I'm surprised he hasn't written me a ticket yet. Santa is bring him a police costume that Santa may have picked up 75% off at Target after Halloween. His head will probably explode on Christmas morning. Best to tell him that's against the law.

In other law-related news, I had a really annoying snafu with my property taxes that I mentioned a couple of weeks ago. To review: the county now charges a percentage based fee for paying online, which wound up being $86, as opposed to last year's $3 "courtesy fee" which I found annoying at the time. Clearly, I huffed and puffed a bit before deciding to mail that bad boy in with one of those old-fashioned and highly expensive stamp things.

It was mailed on a Friday, due on a Monday. Should be a piece of cake, being that it was local, in-town mail. HA HA HA. You know nothing is ever that easy. After stalking the website and my checking account for a week, I called last Thursday. The man who politely asked how he could "hep" me told me that as long as it was postmarked by the due date, I had nothing to worry about. Imagine my irritation when my taxes finally showed up on their website as paid, but with a $34 fee due. BAH!

I called in again and got a very lovely woman this time who asked how she could "hep" me. She pulled up my file and found that the envelope was not delivered to them until the following Friday (that's four days late. I don't DO late.) and, AND?? That it wasn't postmarked. "Honey, that stamp is as clean and fresh as the day you slapped it on there." So there's no proof that I mailed it on time - or three days early! I'm so vexed. Annoyed. My only consolation is that the $34 is cheaper than the $86 convenience fee that I would have incurred had I paid online. VEXED!

I'd better not tell Piglet about this. He might turn me in.

Great Green Globs of Greasy Grimy Guacamole

2010-11-21T21:47:00.001-05:00

Facts:

Stomach bugs always begin at night, usually after parents have fallen asleep.
Guacamole looks about the same coming out as it did going in. True story.
Two year olds should not be allowed to consume an entire plate of guacamole, no matter how excited the mom might be that her kid is eating something green.
Beagles have no sense of time. When you go into their [laundry] room to do 3am laundry, they are certain it's breakfast time and may run around the house like wild, manic, starving creatures.
Vomited guacamole does, in fact, wash out of duvet covers.
Duvet covers seem like a good idea until you have to wash and iron them.
Two year olds are spunky, chipper, and fancy free in the morning when aforementioned parent is trying to reclaim her 3 lost hours of sleep. Apprently, vomit does not affect toddler mood.
Final fact: There will not be pictures attached to this post. You're welcome.

Other drifting unrelated thought: I wonder if any of the Magic Tree House Books #1-40 that I've read aloud to Piglet should count toward my 50 books read. Ponder.

Fast Forward

2010-11-19T22:53:00.000-05:00

See? I was blogging so well, and then....I traveled. Wah....waaaaaaahhhh. But! There's good and bad here. I'll do a Cliff Notes drive by of my week and catch back up. Try to jump back on the wagon and all. First of all, after my race to Charlotte and back for my suitcase containing all of my worldly possessions, I had lunch with a former fourth grade student who is now a freshman in college. Want to feel old? Go do that. But it was really great to see her all grown up and catch up on what happened to the rest of my former students. She told me she was impressed that a) I didn't pick her up in a minivan, and b) I used the word "ghetto" in conversation. I'll take it.

Saturday morning, I headed north to visit my pal Eddie and her boy toy. I left the chil-rens with my parents, pressed play on my book on CD, and took off! When I found myself lost in Tight Squeeze, Virginia (for real, this is a place. They even have a Tight Squeeze Business Center), I realized that perhaps I hadn't been paying attention too well. A mere 20 minute detour and I was on my way. Somewhere along the trip, I also crossed Difficult Creek and wished I'd had my camera out for these classic photo ops. Alas.

At Eddie's house? I got to shop, go to an art gallery showing, have an adult dinner, sleep in my own bed, and shoot pool for the first time in, oh....10 years. (I'm still supremely awful.) It was all pretty relaxing and fabulous until I got the voice mail from my mom. "Um, Pigs? Piglet sort of just threw up. Twice. All over his bed and covers and pajamas." OF COURSE HE DID. Wait til I go away for a mere 24 hour visit, and he has to make me all guilty and worried. He puked again at 1am, in case you were wondering. You know why? Because he ate four pieces of pizza for dinner. Yep. That'll do it every time. Shudder. And guilt.

I hightailed it home in the morning, bathed both kids (I swear they smelled like puke), and finished my trip with a visit with Baby Lucy, the boys' mutual one year old crush who just visited us in October. The crush remains in tact, as they talked about her for the next two days. Drove back to the ATL on Monday with my mom in tow. I like to import her once or twice a year to get good face time and some built in adult companionship in my preschool-heavy world. It's been lovely. Nothing too blog-worthy this week, unless you want a play by play of my haircut or my eye doctor appointment.

My book club met last night on The Help, and it was honestly the most interesting conversation I have heard in a long time. I had to leave early because my sister and brother in law blew in from the north for a night en route to Florida and I had to get home to see them quickly before they blew out again. It was hard to leave, though, because I wanted to talk about MORE THINGS! I loved that book and wasn't done with it. I'm still seeking a couple of follow up meetings. Maybe I'll crash some other people's book clubs when they discuss it. You know, like the old folks at the library? When I see that book come up on the agenda, I'm just going to crash the meeting.

Anyhoo, got home last night, led sis and BIL to guest room, prepared to crash, went to check on Pigpen to find him with a 103 degree temperature. SIGH, SIGH, SIGH. Took him to the pediatrician today to find him with some sort of sinus dilemma involving green snot and, strangely, diarrhea. Who knew? We're back on antibiotics for the first time since the tubes and adenoid surgery. And there we are. All caught up on the Clearly Important Parts. Will be jumping back on wagon.

PS - I noticed this evening that I am only 8 books away from my yearly goal of 50 books. I'm halfway through my book on CD in the car and my pooping book in the bathroom, so really it's only six books I have left! It's so in my reach this year that it's alarming.

Nostalgia

2010-11-12T23:17:00.000-05:00

After a 3 hour round trip drive to Charlotte this morning, my dad casually mentions that he'd like me to clean out my closet. Oh, and load Microsoft Office onto his computer. And mom needs help with an Amazon package. None of that is terribly interesting, but the contents of my closet were tremendously entertaining! (For me. You just have to read about them.)

A few highlights:

First, we picture my teeth molds. As in, this is what I would look like today if not for modern orthodontia. Let us all take a moment and thank the Lord for modern orthodontia.

Next, we are featuring my Pizza Hut hat. This is the only one I found, probably the lone wolf after the other 75 flew out of my trunk when I was rear ended in a car accident. My boss gave me a new hat every day I worked because I hated wearing them and "forgot" every time.

Merlin! Remember Merlin? I need not say more. Piglet desecrated its memory by talking on it like a phone. The 80s were horrified and have filed a complaint via Etch a Sketch.

More with the teeth. I'm not sure what my obsession with teeth was, but I couldn't bear to part with them once I figured out the tooth fairy wasn't real. The big ones with roots were a gift from the dentist, but I can't remember if they are the four permanent molars I had pulled, or my wisdom teeth. A life mystery, I tell you.

And, holy Bon Jovi, it's my cassette tape collection!

And my one remaining record. I tried, but could not locate the Cabbage Patch Kids' Garden record that we used for tunes when roller skating in the basement.

The real treasure, though, were the six boxes of letters I found. I had forgotten how much we used to write! Many are from my first couple of years of college before everyone consistently had email. I could spend hours going through these letters, and probably will at some point. It really makes me want to pick up a pen and write some folks some letters. It's a shame that stamps are practically 50 cents now. And that letters are a weird novelty thing. I mean, my roommates and I wrote letters over breaks! Eddie and I wrote to each other weekly! There were whole back and forth conversations in letters that continued week to week! There was a FIGHT between my two best friends that was kind of horrible and got mailed to me to keep me in the know. Letters from home, telling me to save my money and here's a bill and don't forget to send your grandmother a thank you note. Letters from friends from middle school and my sister, who made envelopes out of maxi pad ads from magazines. It's like a different world....hard to believe HOW different it is now, only 15 years later.

This was terribly disjointed writing, but it kind of matches the randomness that I uncovered in my closet. Now what to do with these t-ball trophies and this old recorder?

Gas.

2010-11-11T23:14:00.000-05:00

Today's post should be called "Are you serious?", but I haven't written it yet, so let's see what happens. Today I embarked upon one of my favorite adventures: traveling with toddlers. And a beagle. Let's make that the Gassy Beagle and just jump right in there. Gus....emitted.....fumes everytime he stood up, adjusted, or turned around on the five (5) hour drive. This may be the last time he is allowed to sit in the front seat next to me. It was most distracting, but the boys were remarkably good, so I should really be tolerant of the dog gas.

I should back up and mention that while the boys were in preschool this morning, I had the luxury of packing the three of us in peace. I packed everything neatly, crossed things off lists, made sure that I didn't forget the boys' bathroom stuff like I did last time, it was beautiful. Pretty sure I skipped around some. I remembered to pack things that were pure genius. Belts! Matching shoes! Pajamas! Conditioner! Perfectly perfect. And so quiet! I neatly loaded the car and was off.

I picked up the boys from school early and set off for a fairly easy trip. Aside from Piglet shaking Pigpen's arm during his nap ("Are you alive Pigpen? PIGPEN??") and fully opening an umbrella while I was driving, it went fairly well. We made one rather urgent stop for Piglet to pee on the side of the road at a truck stop (always keeping it klassy over here), and from there we busted right on through. "Made good time!" I muttered to myself, Clark Griswold style, as I began to unload the car. It was several minutes later, that I realized my error.

I had left an entire suitcase in Atlanta. That would be the one with my shoes, my hairbrush, all of my makeup, medicine, toothbrush, flat iron, my GLASSES! Did I mention my SHOES?! Perhaps this would be the time to mention that not only am I going to see Eddie this weekend, but I am also meeting a former student of mine tomorrow for lunch. A student whom I haven't seen, oh....since she was TEN and she's now in college and I HAVE NO SHOES OR HAIRBRUSH! Not to mention I can't see. And I've been having all these problems with my contacts for months now and I'm not supposed to wear them that long, and I have no glasses. OH THE HORROR.

So, now? Instead of relaxing at my parents' house in the morning? I get to drive back to Charlotte (1.5 hours) and back home again (another 1.5 hours). Thank goodness, Mr. Pigs is going through Charlotte tomorrow on his way to his parents' house and can bring it. But I'm still going to be unclean and besmirched. This is just an obscene waste of time. And gas. But at least, I won't have Gus gas on this trip, I suppose. I'm pretty sure this post will now be called Gas. Wish me luck.

More Fascinating Stuff You Were Dying to Read.

2010-11-10T21:34:00.000-05:00

Well, since you asked, this morning Pigpen was up at 6:48am.....a drastic improvement over the last few mornings. And Piglet? After his night of debauchery that last until 10:15pm, I had to go in and wake him up at 8:00 for school. It's improving! There are signs! Tonight they were both asleep at much more reasonable hours.

Highlights of today? Piglet managed to dump a wheelbarrow full of rocks over onto himself, while simultaneously pulling Pigpen down with him and get his ankle hung in the basketball hoop. I would explain what happened, but frankly, I have no idea. Both boys spent a significant amount of time in time out this afternoon. (Unpaid advertisement: if you haven't read/used 1, 2, 3 Magic, get a copy. It's the simplest, most straightforward thing ever. All you have to be is consistent and it works.)

It's such a blessing that Pigpen gets time out. He's so, so, so different from Piglet. Piglet took forEVER to understand the concept of staying in time out and always had to be sent to his room when he left time out. But Pigpen just stands there pitifully for his full two minutes and wails like his dog died until he hears that beep. Then? He squeals with glee and comes skipping out with a huge grin on his face like the world is a brand new place. Same with the big boy bed. He has yet to get out of the bed! He goes to bed at night or nap....and lies down in the bed! And stays there until he goes to sleep! And then?? In the morning or after nap? He wakes up and sits up in bed and quietly calls me, "Mommy? Moooooooommmmmy? All done! Mommy?" until I come and get him out of bed. It's craziness. If I didn't have Piglet to deal with, I'd hate me.

Pigpen is making up for his good behavior with his new skill of turning off light switches. Constantly. Usually when I'm trying to, well, SEE. Very irritating. But he's cute and stays where we put him, so we'll keep him.

In less interesting news, I went to pay my property taxes today and thought I was being all clever paying them with my Upromise credit card so I'd a) get the free college money and b) basically defer payment of said taxes for a month. Sadly, I got there to find that they charge a 2.5% "convenience fee", which was described on the tax bill as "nominal". I do not consider $86 to be nominal. Seriously? $86 for using a credit card? Are you kidding me? So I had to engage in the mad scramble to make sure the payment gets mailed and there on time and the money is actually in the bank to pay said taxes. What a pain.

Finally, we are headed home to my parents' house tomorrow. Piglet is nearly out of his skin with excitement; he's been counting the days for a week now. Please think kind thoughts of me as I journey five hours alone with both boys and Gus tomorrow afternoon. I'm praying for a Pigpen nap and Piglet interest in the movies I picked out at the library today. I hope, I hope, I hope.....

You! With the Hair!

2010-11-09T22:16:00.000-05:00

My day began at 6:08 this morning, my boys' chosen wake up time. Will they never adjust to this blasted time change? I need to point out that I'm used to my kids sleeping until 8, so this is pretty painful. At least today was a preschool day, so I had something to focus on as I dragged out of bed. Since I was up so early, I went ahead and jumped in the shower, thus making time for my Trip to the Mall. (Or Aunt Eddie's Mothership as Piglet calls it.)

While I was in the shower, I mulled over my dream last night. I dreamed, very clearly, that I had given birth to a third child, another boy (natch) whom I elected to name.....are you ready for this? Quaker. I purposely named a kid Quaker. I have no idea. Went to bed hungry? Dreamed of oats? Dunno. Best not to dwell too much on it, right?

Screamed into the parking lot at 8:47, dropped those kids off, and was outta there before the clock turned 9. Then I remembered that the mall doesn't open until 10. OF COURSE. In lieu of fun shopping, I came home, folded laundry, emptied the dishwasher and changed sheets. Aren't you jealous? Well, I should've just stuck to the housekeeping because the mall was terribly stressful.

I had a very specific mission: jeans at the Gap, check H&M for sweaterish wrap thing/something to possibly wear to Christmas events, and scan Pottery Barn for markdown deals on which to use longstanding gift card. Simple, right? I made it through Pottery Barn (two lemon topiaries for $14!) and H&M (one sweater thing) before I was attacked by Lunatic Hair Freak from the Flat Iron Kiosk.

For reasons I can't explain, kiosks weird me out anyway. People are always hocking something, trying to get you to do weird things in the middle of a mall....remember those water massage tables? Massage chairs? Eyebrow waxing? Braids? Make up application? It's just too much. This small, zippy, perky girl spots me and darts across the floor to attack me.

It's like she was looking for me: Ooh! Long, straight hair! She'll buy this! I politely took the card she thrust into my hand and tried to walk away, but she grabbed a strand of my hair and started straightening it! For real! She had me by the hair. "Um, I just did that this morning, but thanks!" I tried to squirm away from her, but before I knew it she had made a curl in my hair. Like a long, boing-y curl. "Look!" she squealed. "It doesn't brush out!" She combs the curl while counting her strokes. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Look, still there, good as new! Even if you wet it, it will stay! Six, seven, eight...." I believe she went to 15. People were staring. All I could think of was lice.

Why not walk away, you might ask? Well, she had me. I was stuck there with one -ONE! - curl on my otherwise straightened head of hair. "Um, you gotta take that out. I have to go." I smiled politely. She just kept talking. She was selling me this thing half price, giving me a free travel one, a free bottle of heat protectant. It was endless. It wasted 20 minutes of my life, and I could NOT for the life of me get away from her. Finally, I convinced her I was just going to the Gap to think about it and told her I had to walk right past her on my way out, and I busted a move to get away.

I was half scared she was going to follow me to the Gap. I found my jeans and got out of there Quicky McFasty and headed to my car like a criminal. I walked all the way down to a Macy's, went up their escalator, and doubled back over the Flat Iron kiosk, hugging the wall, lest she spot me up above. It was stressful. I may have bad dreams.

That is, if I ever get to sleep. It is 10:06pm right now and I just had to go up to Piglet's room and help him a) down from his dresser, where he climbed because he "wanted to speak directly into the monitor to call me", and b) back into his zip up pajamas, which he took off to "check and see how his toe was doing, but he couldn't get them back on." Do you know WHY my four year old is up at 10pm? Because he took a nap today. Why? Because he was up at 6:08am. Why? BECAUSE OF THE TIME CHANGE! It's the worst vicious cycle. And we are traveling home Thursday through Monday, so that will only make it worse. I just give up.

Until these kids get back on a normal schedule, you may have to hear about what time I have to get up each day. Promise.

(Lots of parentheses coming up.)

2010-11-08T21:45:00.000-05:00

Today was a beating. The good news is that I quickly finished up The Help last night....the bad news is that I have that book hangover where I miss all the characters and keep thinking about it all day. And wishing there was a another chapter coming up. I am excited about my book club meeting on this one. We always bring food in the theme of the book, so I'm trying to decide on my best Southern cooking dish. Perhaps a big 'ol banana puddin'. Mmmmmm.....

So, as I predicted for the last few days, both kids were up by 6:20am today. Pigpen actually woke up at 5:30, but Mr. Pigs thankfully talked him into another 45 minutes of shut eye. Sadly, that means I've been awake since 5:30am two days in a row now and this simply does not set well with me. I don't feel clever, I don't feel witty. I have brain fog. I'm more inclined to berate my children than laugh at them....with a few exceptions. In my sleepy stupor today, I began to pick up on how MANY (many, many, many) questions Piglet asks all day. I mean all day long. He never stops with the questions. Nonstop. And usually loud and occasionally in public.

Just a handful from today: ( I want you to pause and think about how you would answer each one.)

Mommy? How come there's so many storm drains?

[Seriously. Is there a right answer? Because it rains a lot?]

Mommy? What makes it rain?

[Sigh. Science. Meteorology. Clouds. God is watering the trees. I invoke God a lot lately to explain nature.]

Mommy? What do you call it? That thing when ice cubes fall from the sky?

[Hail. It's called hail.]

Yeah. Is that why there's garages?

[YES!]

Mommy? Can turtles climb trees? Do they live in swamps? Can they crawl out of their shell? Why do they have a shell?

[head spinning from rapid machine gun style questioning]

Hey, are there sharks in swamps?

[No, salt water, fresh water, yada yada. Gills.]

Are gills like a snorkel?

[snicker. YES. Picturing various types of fish swimming about in ocean with snorkels and flippers]

AUGH!! Mommy! [grasps at self] There's something in there! It's not pee pee or poo poo or my wee wee!! [Flails about in carseat}

[Interesting. It passes.]

Mommy? Why can't we teach Gus to use the potty? Why can't I pee in the yard anymore?

[It's against the law. Discuss law for a while. He spot police car]

Mommy? Why is that policeman just driving around?

[He's making rounds to make sure everyone is following the rules.]

What? What's rounds? Rounds?

Pigpen: ROUND ROUND ROUND ROUND.....FAN! [squeals]

Hey, Mommy? How do trees stand up?

[Discuss root systems. Water. Back to God watering plants.]

Those questions are just ones I remember off the top of my head from our drive to the YMCA, which is a mere five minutes away from our house. Just the tip of the iceberg. There was also a barrage of questions about an old lady on one of those scooter things in Kroger. (Embarrassing.) There was also a four attempt redo on proper exiting technique from the playcenter at the YMCA. (Very embarrassing, but necessary. They like to go tearing out of there like wild, crazed maniacs. We totally practiced walking properly over and over until they did it right. I went all school teacher on them. Very publicly.)

And, finally after I made them chocolate chip cookies for snack (See? I can be nice.), Pigpen got chocolate all over himself and Piglet freaked out, "Mommy!! Pigpen has a chocolate booger!!) I dislodged the chip from his nostril, much to Piglet's relief and Pigpen's annoyance. Delightful creatures to eat with, they are.

To wrap up, I'm catching Pigpen's cold, which I am VERY vexed about. I'm sucking down Vitamin C and zinc and am in total denial of illness. Just looking the other way. Head in the sand. What cold? Have way too much to do this week to be sick. Nope, not gonna do it. Nuh-uh. Preschool resumes tomorrow and perhaps that will be healing to my immune system. I just need a good night of sleep!

I compliment y'all on your improved commenting of late. Look at us all getting back to the way things were....me writing? You talking? I like it. The convo is much better when it's not me doing all the talking. Need a topic? Give a good answer to one of Piglet's questions that I can use next time. Thanks!

Help!

2010-11-07T21:48:00.000-05:00

I forgot to mention last night that after we returned home from the Clemson game, Gus was so bent out of shape about being left all day that he tore outside like a furry tornado of destruction. He raced up the yard, down the yard, released a few courtesy howls, and then ate a bird. Not ate a bird in the sense that he caught a bird and killed it, but more in the sense that he happened upon some dead bird that probably perished from some wasting avian disease and fell out of its nest in my yard. So, he ate old, previously perished, possibly infected bird. While running from me. Feathers everywhere.
Fast forward to last night when the time change wacked everything out as I predicted it would. Piglet was up in his room for hours picking at his toes and messing around instead of sleeping. Pigpen woke up at a ~~bright and early~~ dark and dreadful 5:41am....for the day. Lucky for me Mr. Pigs got up with him. Rather, he went into his room and let Pigpen "read" to him for an hour until Piglet woke up. I couldn't fall back to sleep because my internal clock is all screwed up now, so I took a leisurely lay in bed and read and read and read in The Help, which I cannot put down for anything. It's the reason this post is going to be short because I MUST finish that book tonight. More digression.

When I finally rolled out of bed this morning, I got to start my day by cleaning up puked bird. Because the bird wasn't gross enough the first time, I got to enjoy it in its vomited form.

Day was spent moving furniture downstairs, rearranging a room, cleaning up after all of said rearranging. While relaxing during nap with The Help, Pigpen fell out of his bed and shook the house with the crash. Poor peanut....so sad! Cooking, cleaning, and teaching the boys how to play Cootie rounded out the rest of the day. One major meltdown over a lack of footed pajamas ended the day and now all is well. Two sleeping kids and I'm on my way....just as soon as I finish this book. Will try to return tomorrow with witty anecdotes and clever prose. (har har)

PSA

2010-11-06T22:00:00.000-04:00

Clemson vs NC State game today. I like to harass Mr. Pigs when this game comes up every year by threatening to wear red and black in support of my college years. Going to a women's college renders one something of a free agent in the world of sports affiliations. In college, NC State was my go to team, but alas...I married Clemson. I have already digressed in the first paragraph! This cannot bode well for the remainder of this post.

The game, being one of the noon variety, means - in Clemson terms - that you are supposed to be parked, tailgating and beer drinking by 9am at the LATEST. Me, being of the realistic and practical variety, said HECK no and we rolled in at a shameful 10:15am. Mr. Pigs was publically flogged, and we quickly resumed normal activities. Somehow, the way we work things winds up being that the menfolk go to the game (insert Tim the Toolman grunts here) and us lady folk tend to the young 'uns.

I would be referring to the five (5) young 'uns ages 6, 4, 4, 2, and 1. The 6 year old and the 1 year old are of the sweet female persuasion and no trouble at all, but the three boys in the middle there are impressively noisy and rowdy, as boys are made to be. Before the menfolk ditched us for the game, we took the kids to watch the parade. It was Military Appreciation Day, but I'm pretty sure that Piglet and Pigpen were appreciating something else all together:

They were completely mesmerized and didn't move from that spot until all the pretty girls in tiny amounts of clothing has passed by. Once they shook off their stupor, we headed downtown, where it seemed like a good idea to take the kids out to lunch. This is where the story gets a little embarrassing and kind of awkward.

My friend and I were actively seeking an adult beverage in addition to our lunch (good for parenting), so we wheeled out two strollers plus three more kids up into a sports bar. Well, I'm pretty sure these folks hadn't seen kids in there in maybe, um, ever and we just rolled up with five. The guy at the door gaped openly and goes, "Are y'all gonna be drinking?" We smilled and said, "Yes, please" and he gave us both Over 21 bracelets with the name and number of a local DUI lawyer on them. I suppose he didn't feel the need to card us, with the strollers and baggage and all, but I have to say it was rather disappointing.

After unearthing their one (1) highchair and tucking us into a corner booth away from the students who were opening staring at us, several employees watched us like we were caged monkeys. I'm pretty sure they'd never seen kids dump salt shakers or throw food on the floor. I know for a fact they've never heard a four year old boy announce to the room that he had to go poo poo. And the girls in the bathroom with us had probably never heard a four year old boy detail his defecation experience through the stall door in and effort to keep me posted.

By the time we left, I felt like we were probably a walking PSA for the campus. Our exit would have only been appreciated more if we had thrown out a big handful of condoms into the room upon our departure. Our herd managed to make it back to the tailgate site after much dilly-dallying ("Come ON, Piglet!) and treasure hunting ("Quit picking up trash, Piglet!), and yelling ("Watch out for cars!!"). Both boys played hard and passed out on the way home.

For those who don't have kids, this is a recipe for disaster. A 5:00 nap will ruin any child's bedtime, but the one day you really don't want that to happen is the afternoon before the fall time change. While the rest of the world is enjoying their extra hour of sleep, children still wake up at their regular time. Therefore, for the rest of the week, what used to be a 7:30am wake up time will now take place at 6:30 in my house. So, instead of getting an extra hour of sleep, we will get an extra hour of day on Sunday, in which to entertain two boys, cranky from a lack of sleep. Does the irony kill you? Because I am extra amused.

You pick.

2010-11-05T21:49:00.000-04:00

What'd you do today? I'm sitting here, ready to bloggity and - nothing! I have no idea what I did today. I started walking through my day and it seems like I did a lot, but not one thing blog worthy. So, what is the appropriate thing to do? I'm going to need your opinions. Because before I even write this, I can tell you that my day was as boring as snot (actually, that's a terribly simile because snot is terribly interesting and somewhat amusing, and sometimes even destructive). Are you ready to judge? Here are your choices: don't write or write about boring day.

Ahem.

Began day with Piglet waking me up at 7:03am bringing his STUPID RATTLE BEAR to the bathroom with him. This racket also awakened Pigpen. Piglet has been long forbidden to bring this insanely loud bear out of his room, so the bear found itself in time out isolation atop the fridge for two days. Day begins.

Pigpen's big boy furniture is supposed to be delivered today. They were supposed to call me yesterday with delivery time. Did they? Um, NO. I had to call them at 8:30am. The gentleman on the phone told me my window was 11-3. I told the gentleman that there could not be a worse time for the delivery of a toddler's new furniture. He did not care. Man had already left in truck. Blast.

I took advantage of my 9-11 free time by - what? Oh, yes. Walking on foot in 40 degree weather with both boys and dog to hand deliver boxes of pancake mix to the mailboxes of neighbors who responded with interest on Facebook to my pancake surplus plea. Bad, bad, bad idea. Pigpen cried the whole time and walked with his arms out like the kid from A Christmas Story because apparently, his coat, which was Piglet's, did not get a lot of use in Texas.

Anyhoo....Pigpen got tired, Piglet got to wandering, and Gus got downright vagrant, so we headed home to finish the errand in the car. I chatted up two friends and drove past the same woman walking the neighborhood enough times to make her think I was a pedophile. I went to the bank! And deposited a check! Isn't that exciting??

Then, then! I came home and awaited the furniture. Waaaaaahoo. Lemme tell you. While I did, the boys played in the yard and I called Blue Cross Blue Shield. This would have been fine and good if Pigpen hadn't turned the hose on himself in aforementioned 40 degree weather. Soaked winter coat, soaked pants, soaked shoes. Fantastic. And? The worst part was that I had to chastise them in a nice voice because I had an insurance company on the horn who could have zapped CPS on my tail. Oh, the wrath.

Found out we're still not at our deductible for the year on insurance. $371 to go. SIGH. Pigpen met his individual deductible months and months ago. Bygones. And again, uninteresting, sorry. I will continue. Where were we? Oh! Wet children not being beaten.

Of course just as I was about to prepare lunch, the furniture truck shows up and I have to meet them at the door straight up redneck with a Pigpen on my hip wearing only a diaper and a Piglet in the background having dressed himself in camo shorts. The furniture was installed in the Big Boy Room amid much oohing and ahhing over the drill and screws. Check. Lunch was next. Check. (And, yes I DID feed my kid Rotel dip left over from last Saturday's Halloween party, thankyouverymuch. Waste not, want not, people.)

Kids to bed for one nap and one quiet time. I cleaned up the house, paid bills, and couponed a bit for sport. Mr. Pigs home. Boys are awake. You know what that means? Time for Friday afternoon haircuts, white trash style....stool, old drop cloth, and nekkid. First Piglet, then Pigpen, then Mr. Pigs and ship them all into the shower together whilst I clean up. Zip, zap, just saved $45.

Snacks, basement playtime, and a refi on the house. Kids' dinner, baths and bedtimes. Sushi for dinner and packing up for Clemson early in the COLD, COLD, COLD morning. And that, my friends, is my crazy-excited existence. So you vote. Worth it? Or shoulda just gone on to bed? You judge.

**And by the way? I've been blogging an AWFUL LOT lately. Has no one been remotely impressed? I blame Mommyprof.

Come on. Everyone's doing it.

2010-11-05T14:11:00.000-04:00

Today is Mega Swagbucks Day at Swagbucks.com! (Okay, every Friday is, but cool, right?) Search like you always do on Google or whatever, and you can win da big moneys starting at 20 Swag Bucks and up. Have you seriously not signed up yet? Even after all my pushiness? SIGH. Join here, please. (you get 30 swagbucks when you sign up) Remember the best part is you can get a $5 Amazon.com gift card with only 450 Swagbucks. Hello, Christmas??? (No offense to friends and family, but yes, your gifts are quite possibly being purchased with Swagbucks this year.)

That is all.

Hard work unnoticed.

2010-11-03T17:08:00.000-04:00

Me: [mopping kitchen]

Piglet: PIGPEN!! MOM B AND POP B ARE COMING!!!!

Me: What? No they aren't!

Piglet: [gestures at mop] But? But, I thought?

Me: Oh, come ON. I mop more than when people visit.

Honestly.

Boo!

2010-11-01T22:34:00.000-04:00

Halloween is over! Not that I have anything against Halloween, but there was just waaaay too much going on this year. I agreed to help plan the Halloween block party a while back, which turned out to be a lot more work that I had orginally bargained for. 172 people, a DJ, a chili cook off, and copious arguments over port-a-johns, to wear or not to wear kids' costumes, chili cook off voting rules and prizes, a scavenger hunt to plan, hide and orchestrate only graze the surface in the category of Unnecessary Drama around this 'hood. The proudest party moment was definitely the cops showing up at 7:40pm with a noise violation. I feel like that means I did a good job.

Then I had to make a costume for Pigpen because he decided he wanted to be a Clemson basketball player, something that doesn't really exist in a 2T. Okay, an 18-24 month. This poor child will never wear proper clothing. Piglet declared himself a tiger a long time ago, thus making my life easy for a change, especially after I found him a $60 costume on sale on Amazon for $12.99 with free shipping. Yes, please! Here's the gratuitous cuteness:

What entertains me the most about this picture isn't the make you gag adorable-ness of the kids (clearly.) or the Head Wound Harry look that Pigpen's sweatband gave him, it's the expression on the boys' friend Peanut's face. She stood there, angelic and smiling - and STILL! - for, oh....359 pictures or so. My kids? Look different in every picture, and not in a good posing, America's Next Top Model kind of way. More in an ADHD crackpot, spastic boy kind of way. In the above shot, they were supposed to be standing in a tidy row, smiling. Like this:

Of course, that one only took 300 shots to capture my two standing vaguely where they are supposed to, but note Angelic Girl Child still in appropriate formation, as requested. Then, of course, Pigpen has to turn on the charm and chat up his Peanut. This is a classic How YOU doin' kind of shot.

Please be sure to note the homemade basketball collection bag that I sewed up for Pigpen just hours before take off, post-Halloween party planning so that he would have something in the basketball family upon his costume that I wouldn't have to chase down the street when he dropped it. Clever, right?

Also clever, the coordination of costumes. For those not regionally aware....Clemson and Auburn are both tigers, so Piglet was the tie of the trio. Dig it?? Okay, enough about the costumes.

I forgot to mention that my in-laws came for a visit amid all this chaos. So, I baked my father in law a chocolate mousse birthday cake in addition to the food I cooked for the party. Think: massive bowl of chopped onions, pot of chili (I got second place, yes, I did!), platter of ham/cheese gooey delicious sandwiches, vat of Rotel/cream cheese/cheddar/sausage heart attack dip, and assorted other random items. The kitchen was a disaster, but the food was deliciousness. Oh, and of course the carving of the pumpkin and the roasting of the seeds. Then I stopped cooking and went trick or treating.

Hence, my general fatigue. On that note, I crash. Also? There's no school today or tomorrow, just to mess with my head a litte. AWESOME.

And how do you feel about that?

2010-10-29T21:30:00.000-04:00

I don't know what it is, exactly, but people like to tell me things. Perhaps I should have continued my psychology degree in a therapeutic manner, and I could actually be getting paid for listening? You know I have been searching for some paying work. Maybe next time someone starts talking to me, I should gently put one hand up and say, "I'm sorry. That's going to be $50 an hour, please." Really, that's a steal over a regular therapist, am I right? It's a shame I'm completely unqualified.

So things like this happen all of the time, but today's example was at Hobby Lobby. (Cousin Eddie is snickering to herself right now because she swears I go to Hobby Lobby almost daily. This assumption is completely false, it's just that when I DO go, somehow it's often share worthy. I digress.) I walk up to the fabric cutting counter, which I'm sure has some official name among those in the fabric know, and notice that the fabric cutting lady is sniffly and clearly has been crying. Have overwhelming urge to cheer her up.

Instead of responding to my light, breezy humor, she begins to unload on me while cutting my fabric. Her five year old's baby daddy fell off the house last night and crushed his heel bone and might never walk again. [Unrolls my fabric] Her five year old son knocked out both of his front teeth in a bizarre sporting accident involving a pole and he ain't eat since Tuesday except some apple juice. [Measures my half yard.] Her 27 year old son done broke his arm last week and is getting him a cast tomorrow, and so she has to watch his kids, her grandkids, who she mentions are (interesting!) the same age as her son. [Neatly snips my fabric into shape.] She really wants a blueberry milkshake from Chick Fil A, and asks me if I think her son could drink one.

??????

This example isn't an uncommon event in my life. I suspect that somewhere on my forehead in a language I can't see is tattoed "Tell me more." Or the like. Now, don't get me wrong. I love talking to people, particularly people I know and care about, but the stranger thing can be overwhelming sometimes, particularly when you factor in my awkwardness. And sarcasm not always caught by people who don't know me.

And now? Look at me. It sticks with me all day. Here I am, lying in bed at night thinking about that woman's baby daddy and his heel.

Sometimes, though, talking to strangers has its perks. Like today at Publix when the guy who walked my groceries to my car saw my carseats and said I looked way too young to have kids. (Swoon!) Or when I chatted up the Wachovia lady on the phone this afternoon about where she lives and how she likes her job, and she removed $70 in fees that were totally my mistake. Or my friendly convo with the manager at the CVS about couponing and she offered to put me on a preferred list where I could pre-order my sales purchases and they would never even hit the shelves! No more rain checks! Holla!

Good with the bad, I guess. But people do tell me a lot of weird stuff. I must give off some sharing vibe. Somebody tell me what's tattoed on my forehead. Sucker? Speak to me? Sing it, sistah!? Odd.

My Baby!

2010-10-24T21:35:00.001-04:00

Well, the day finally came. At 18 months (December 2009), Pigpen climbed deftly out of his crib and was instantly labeled A Climber Extraordinaire. I swiftly turned his crib around backward, so the high side faced out and the sides were blocked by the side walls of the little nook that seemed made for a crib. This maneuver bought us another year of Pigpen in the crib. This period of time, we call Our Extension. However, as we know, all good things must come to an end.

In the last week, Pigpen has managed again to climb out of his crib - have no idea how - four different times in his sleepsack and all, so it's clearly time for a Big Boy Bed. My parents were in town for the weekend, so they rallied and helped us do the big switcheroo, which went a little something like this....see if you can follow:

Pigpen has been living in the room which we called The Nursery. Across the hall is the room which we painted in Big Boy Colors and outfitted with a Big Boy Comforter and a stack of Big Boy Accessories. (Those things have all been sitting there for about a year, since he was properly jailed in the crib during our extension.) Obviously, we called this room Pigpen's Big Boy Room. Clearly.

So, in an hour's time, we took the mattress off of the poster bed in the BBR and moved the headboard, footboard, and side rails to the Nursery (they are girly and white and scalloped). We placed the full mattress on the floor of the BBR and attached bed rails while washing new (Sports! Balls!) sheets. We reassembled the bed in the Nursery after moving the existing chest of drawers to one side to be with its matching dresser. The contents of each closet were switched. A mattress and box springs that have been at the ready for a year were moved up from the basement to the Nursery/new guest room. Bed was remade with comforter which conveniently matches Nursery colors and curtains. Bookcase was emptied of Pigpen's books and moved into the Nursery closet until it is decided where it will go for sure. Probably basement playroom. Books moved into large Rubbermaid container and placed in Pigpen's BBR for his perusal. Rocking chair moved from Nursery to BBR. Black out liners sewed into curtains for BBR. Sheets (Balls! Sports!) placed on mattress on floor and big boy comforter laid atop. Voila! Excitement abound.

Today, Pigpen took his first nap in his BB Bed. He was not so sure about this change. "Crib? Crib?" he asked. I reminded him of the climbing. I wound up having to rock him to sleep for his nap and then put him in the bed, but tonight? I put him down awake and after a couple of visits to reassure him that I was still here and the addition of a night light, he's sleeping in his very own big boy bed! It's the cutest thing ever on the monitor, that little peanut all cozied up in a bed with blankets and pillows:

Yes, I totally just went and took a picture of my sleeping child with a flash. Put it on my Mother of the Year Application right after "Allows child to pee in backyard" and "Laughs when kids fall down". BUT ISN'T HE ADORABLE?? I like that he chose to sleep with the Barney book. And how he's hugging his cup. I'll post a picture once we get his room all put together.

Oh, speaking of, we bought his Big Boy Furniture today. It will be here next week, so that give him a couple of weeks to get used to the bed while it's on the floor. In a moment of weakness and the true spirt of Wanting to Get Things Done, I decided that Sunday afternoon at 4pm was a good time to take two kids furniture shopping. HA HA HA HA! The saleslady was super nice, complimenting my kids' behavior. She somehow failed to notice that I had been plying them with food the whole time. They ate pretzels, raisins, lollipops, and fruit snacks before my purse masquerading as a vending machine ran dry. Then the children became delightful. I signed the receipt and high-tailed it home.

And as a final funny, when we drove past one of the larger malls on our way to the furniture store, Piglet casually asked, "Mommy? Is that Aunt Eddie's mothership?" at which point I nearly peed myself laughing and frantically began tapping out a text at stoplights to Eddie. We must stop talking in front of this child.

October, in pictures.

2010-10-21T15:18:00.000-04:00

A picture post, to pass the time. This is the gist of October, thus far:

Just chillin' by the manhole.

Pigpen practices his mad scooter skillz.

Safety first.

Piglet was thrilled. Pigpen was terrified. Fun for all involved. The country fair.

And now with the flying...

It's weird....like I can picture the future. Where's the bail bonds sign?

Aunt Beth and Uncle Shawn brought Cousin Lucy.
Fortunately, we're not really related 'cause there were some
kissing cousins.

Aw. And then I like them again.

Say yes SIR!

2010-10-20T17:48:00.000-04:00

Pigpen: OOK! It's Awnee Mount!

Piglet: NO PIGPEN. It's Sawnee MOUNTAIN. [sighs] And that's not even it.

Pigpen: Awnee MOUNT!

Piglet: Pigpen! It's not even a mountain! It's a hill!

Pigpen: Mount. Mount. Mount.

Piglet: Pigpen, say it's not a mountain.

Pigpen: Yes.

Piglet: Say yes SIR.

Pigpen: Yes sir.

Me: [laughing while driving]

This post was apparently brought to you by Swagbucks. And the local sheriff.

2010-10-18T22:21:00.000-04:00

Spent today trapped in the house with two kids, mostly because I was trying to get Piglet well enough to go to school tomorrow so I don't have to forfeit my 9:15 tennis match. Priorities!! So we played outside, we did playdoh, we played in the basement. There was laundry, Goodwill sorting and recording on a tidy chart for tax purposes, grocery list making, and meal planning rounded out the morning. I finally took a shower for the first time since Friday, so that was a key moment for all involved, especially since Piglet informed me last night that my hair does not look good in a ponytail.

It was a pretty uneventful day, but since SOME PEOPLE (looking at you, MommyProf) have mentioned my lack of posting in public forums, I am trying to to better. Do you see what you were missing out on? It's really hard to stop reading, I bet. I bet the suspense is killing you to know what's next. A not-so-shocking tease: It involved a grocery store. Brace yourself.

I'm pretty sure the two teenaged boys who checked me out - upon rereading, I will clarify I mean using a cash register, not looking at my goods - at Kroger were not at all impressed by my "Reading is Sexy" t-shirt. My clue came when one pointed at my shirt and said, "Seriously?" to the other. I'm relatively certain that was directed at my lack of, um....appeal. Sadly, that was post-shower too. Ah, well. I was just excited that I only spent $28 on groceries this week and saved 55% in the process. Go me! And, SheSpeaks sent me a $10 Amazon gift card today too that I added to my $25 Amazon money from Swagbucks. I am rolling in free money.

Hey now, speaking of, if you aren't doing Swagbucks, get on it. It's so easy - just use it instead of Google and earn money for searching. I've been using it for about a year and a half or so and I've earned eighteen $5 cards to Amazon. I would tell you how much money that is, but I'm too lazy to multiply. If you haven't signed up, sign up here.

And if you signed up before, get on it! Earn those points! (Except you, Laura B. - you rocked out on points! Impressive.) So you know, when I went to go fetch the code for that banner? I won 8 Swagbucks. You doubters. Okay, didn't mean to go all commercial sales on you there, got distracted.

Just to finish of the randomness that is this post, I will share with you a portion of an email I got today that cracked me up. I'm signed up to receive messages for our neighborhood watch that are trickled down from the local sheriff's department (think Barney Fife).

(Just won 5 Swagbucks searching for that picture, by the way.) So, they send out this message, some names changed for my own amusement:

Note: Remember, this was considered newsworthy enough to email to the whole town.

The Podunk County Sheriff's Office Community Relations Unit has received a number of telephone calls and emails in the last few days relating to a white male driving a Red Dodge Dakota pickup truck from the Country Creek area.

We have spoken with Country Creek PD several times. They have interviewed this man in the alert about 10 days ago. Country Creek Police determined this man committed no violation and is no threat to anybody. They are familiar with him and where he lives. The complaint is that this man talks to himself using a puppet and he ride around the North HeeHaw /Country Creek area in his truck. He has not been seen and Country Creek Police have not had any calls about him in almost two weeks.

There is an email making the rounds advising this person is a registered sex offender in Farmtown. The person that was identified in the red Pickup and the sex offender who lives in Farmtown are two totally different people. The man in the truck and the man identified as the sex offender on the email link have different names, they just both happen to be older white males.

So, once my hyena-like hysteria subsides, this is where I'm confused. Are we concerned that there is a sex offender driving around? Are we worried that people are confusing these two fine gentlemen? Are we worried that puppet dude is missing? I can't tell if this is an APB or an Amber Alert. I'm confused by the fact that puppet dude has been MIA for two weeks, yet the PoPo talked to him ten days ago.The capitalization of Pickup leads me to wonder if there is a missing vehicle or just a generic pickup, as opposed to the more specified Red Dodge Dakota. Or is this just a commentary on the fact that "they just both happen to be older white males." Is this a warning against racial profiling? And what about this puppet? I just want to read it again and again, but everytime I do I find another grammar error that makes me laugh some more. I would love to hear any theories you may have come up with!

Fire! Sickness! Malaise! Oh, and some cheer.

2010-10-17T22:00:00.000-04:00

So, somehow I managed to catch my toaster oven on fire while making dinner tonight. I neglected a tortilla I had tossed in there for picky Pigpen and gotten busy with my quesadilla extravaganza. The next thing I knew, there was smoke pouring out of the toaster oven and when I opened the door (hello, oxygen!) the thing burst into flames all the way up into my cabinets. SERIOUSLY?

Naturally, I panicked and starting screaming out the back door to Mr. Pigs, "FIRE! FIRE!" He thought I was yelling spider, which wasn't entirely irrational of him, but he booked with purpose inside nonetheless. I yanked the cord out of the wall and it sort of fizzled itself out. No damage except for a strong residual char smell that I can't get rid of.

The smell takes me back to my dorm fire of '96 when an extension cord to a dorm fridge caught a rug on fire and torched a good part of our hall in the middle of the night. I've decided I must have died in a fire in a past life because ever since I was a little kid, it's always been my biggest fear. You'd think I would have paid my dues with that dorm fire. I mean, we lost clothes, shoes, luggage....I had a milk crate melt, my good posters were charred. The worst was the goldfish I shared with my roommate basically boiled. Poor Sebastian.

I digress. I lost a perfectly good tortilla tonight and now I'm not sure if I should use the toaster tomorrow. My gut feeling is no. Maybe I'll give it a test run in the driveway or somewhere safer than my counter. Anyway....

My house is sick. Piglet was up all night coughing, and therefore I was up alongside him, watching him cough, feeding him honey, administering inhalers, setting up humidifiers. I slept in this morning and took a two hour nap this afternoon, so that means I'll be up half of tonight wired. I am hoping this is the cold Pigpen has last week, and not a new one that he will get. Mr. Pigs has it too, which adds to the misery. Aren't I full of cheer and good news tonight? Aren't you glad you stopped by?

I'm going to think of something cheerful.

I got a check for twenty dollars for trying some diapers for a research company? My new thing, aside from being the cheapest person ever as far as saving money, is trying to actually earn some. I'm doing the market reasearch stuff...taking surveys online.....I babysit my next door neighbors twice a week after school. What else can I do from home? I do have 3 mornings a week that I could do something, but I can't figure out what I could do just three mornings a week. I'm perplexed. Would love any creative suggestions from y'all.

Please tell me the odds.

2010-10-14T22:17:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, I had a bizarre experience at the doctor's office. You see, once preschool begins, I begin scheduling appointments willy nilly to attempt a health catch up of sorts. Dentist, OB, dermatologist, urologist (just now following up on those pesky kidney stones from 2008), and yesterday, a physical.

Since I had to fast for the blood draw, I made the appointment for 9:15, one of their earliest. Stomach churning, I arrived 5 minutes early. And then proceeded to wait in the waiting room, watching CNN pull miners out in Chile for a good 45 minutes. After being called into the exam room, I finished about 75 pages of a book, while shivering in my sexy exam gown, tied in back. All that was left for me to read was a Rachel Ray magazine. At this point, I could have cheerfully eaten my own arm I was so hungry, and I had additionally developed a pounding caffeine headache complicated by sinus pressure from not taking my allergy medicine. Did you know that Rachel Ray's magazine is pretty much entirely pretty pictures of food? Yep. True story.

It was in this state that I finally met the doctor and had the fastest physical of my life. I was then shuffled off to another waiting room to await my chest xray and blood draw. Still in my gown, I spot someone I know. OF COURSE I DID. It was a strange connection, though. It was my favorite cashier at Publix. Me being me, the crazy coupon chick, I was instantly recognized and we shared a friendly, awkward, be-gowned moment of greeting. We quickly launched into some hardcare coupon chat, sharing Publix strategy and whatnot when the story got weirder and more uncomfortable.

I'm not lying to you when I tell you that the manager from my Kroger was ushered into the same waiting area and sat down in her hospital gown. Guess who also recognized me? And spoke of coupon wizardry? It was the most bizarre.....awkward....we'll go back to bizarre again....experience. I suddenly felt some anxiety, as though my husband had just met my boyfriend. CNN continued to hum in the background as the pulled more miners out in Chile and suddenly, I felt a connection to that guy in the mine whose wife and girlfriend both showed up at the rescue site.

I introduced my Kroger manager to my Publix cashier and giggled nervously as I confessed that I was a dual shopper. A deal hog. A non-loyal customer. Oh, FOR SHAME. And to have my moment of comeuppance in a hospital gown tied loosely in the back? What are the odds?? Please tell me the odds. It's impossible. I must have dreamed it.

It's going to be one uncomfortable grocery transaction at Publix tomorrow. I'm not sure I'll be able to look Chloe in the eye.

IN THE LIBRARY!

2010-10-13T20:53:00.000-04:00

Had severe lapse in judgment today and decided to take boys with me to the library. During the witching hour. After they had just completed simultaneous meltdowns over who got to get in the car first. I'm pretty sure we're no longer welcome in the local library, based on the scathing glares I got from three different librarians, not to mention the eye rolls and blatant stares from various patrons.

All of the horrific behavior of late has stemmed directly from the need to be first. "First" and "front" are very big things in our house right now. Piglet is currently grounded from being all things first and front. He is also grounded from his blue chair and the right to have his door unlocked at night, but those are other events entirely.

Piglet teaches Pigpen everything he knows, both good and bad. This can be good when it comes to Pigpen knowing his letters and sounds, good when Piglet miraculously talks Pigpen into tasting olives, noodles, and green beans, but bad when it comes to first. As soon as I put on a pair of shoes or jingle my keys, there is a sudden explosion of pounding feet, hair pulling, and cries of, "FIRST! FIRST!" as a blur of boy races to the door. And then the car. And then the car seats. First to each place holds some place of honor in their books. They will literally tear one another's shirts off in order to reach the car first.

And don't get me started on the bathtub. We have to trade nights on who gets to sit in the front, or there will be a knock down, drag out tussle in the tub for the front seat. Why? I have no idea. As far as I can tell, there is no advantage.

But, I digress. There we were: post double meltdown, headed to the library. I gave my usual speech: You walk, you whisper, you carry your own books, you only use a computer if they're free and after we've selected books. Agreed.

Once freed from car seat buckles, Piglet tears into the library, Pigpen on his heels. There is squealing. Now, I am tickled pink that my children are excited about the library. As a child who counted down the days until the Bookmobile came to my neighborhood, I can get on board with some good old fashioned reading excitement.

This was not the case.

We walk into the library. Once in the very center, Piglet declares loudly, "I want a computer!" Pigpen yells, "First!" and they're off, me chasing behind them, shhing for all I'm worth. I grab them by the hands and steer them over to the reserved books section where I simply must pick up my pre-selected, reserved literature. They balk. Piglet begins twirling on a pole. Pigpen begins strategically pulling out the name labels from the reserved books and tossing them to the floor. I hiss like a cat and snatch their arms nearly from the sockets as I drag them to the children's section.

Piglet skidded into an available children's computer. I relaxed. At least here, we were around our people. Well, sort of. I noted that OTHER people's children (girls) were sitting primly at the computers following the directions on the games, typing, drawing with the mouse and all of this? Silently. Pigpen had just discovered a rocking chair and was trying to rock to infinity and beyond while Piglet, on his computer, was aiming the mouse at the screen and shooting with it, as though it were a gun.

I decided to cut my losses. I grabbed a pile of random books for Pigpen, another for Piglet and took off. Pigpen then dissolved into a screaming heap of tantrum on the floor because Piglet was carrying some of HIS books. The horror. I somehow forgot my bag with which to carry said books and had to juggle a pile of 15 books, plus a writhing, wailing Pigpen before an audience of people who appreciate books and silence a lot more than a kicky, shrieky two year old with bird hair.

The check out went just as smoothly as the rest of the event. It's like I've wronged my own people. MY PEOPLE. I am horrified. I swear here and now on this blog that I will not set foot back in that library with either of them for six months. That's April 13 at the earliest. Hold me to it.

"Ma'am, it looks like you done kilt it." -Appliance Repairman

2010-09-29T12:28:00.003-04:00

I paid him $65 to tell me that. Tragedy has struck my home: I have killed my dryer. One minute, it was drying just fine, the next minute, it was kaput. Done. Dead. The repair guy quoted me $238 to replace the timer. Is that really worth a fix on a 5 year old dryer? I dunno. How much does a new one cost? I dunno. What I DO know is that I can't go to the gym anymore until I buy a dryer, unless I plan to go in my jeans without a sports bra. I also know that none of us are going to have anything to wear to Piglet's 4th birthday party on Friday or to the Clemson game on Saturday. TRAGEDY, I tell you.

So, Piglet is having the first birthday party he's had since he was one, since I'm such a great mom like that. He has requested a football cake, which I taught myself how to make on Sunday for good practice before the real event:

Cute, huh? I'm making another one tomorrow. That one got sent to work with Mr. Pigs so that I wouldn't eat the whole thing. My self-control only works if there are no options around here.

We went to the beach last week with my parents for a fun trip. The boys got to miss school because, hey...it's the beach. The beach in September is so surprisingly nice. Mid to high 80s temps, no crowds....very fun. Here are the highlights:

Massive construction projects occupied most of the beach time.

This looks so forced I can't even fake a caption.

Playing a bizarre pretend game in which they took turns putting each other to bed.

What would be a really cute picture if daddy didn't have a beer can in his hand.

It's not a true Pigs vacation until Piglet pees in public somewhere.

This has nothing to do with the beach, it just made me laugh to find Pigpen in the dog bed.

So those are the highlights. Now I have to spend the next two days baking cakes, preparing goodie bags, and finding a good deal on a dryer, stat. Any suggestions are welcome. Or coupons. Or gifts of love.

Rah Rah! Sis boom bah!

2010-09-12T16:56:00.000-04:00

Guess what preschool starting did to the blog? Somehow it snuffed it. I've only had 3 days of freedom so far, and it was as though I had to cram an entire summer's worth of me/errand time into those three days. I can't adjust to the idea that I have this until May. I'm sure I'll settle down soon and come off my high.

Not too much news to report. Pigpen and Piglet both had great first weeks at school. They both like their teachers and Piglet has several friends in his class from last year that he was super-excited to see. The big news this week (aside from getting to go to the grocery store by myself....squeee!) was that daddy took Piglet to a Clemson game yesterday. He's big into Clemson and big into football.

Last night he got home from the game, exuberant! Elated! Thrilled! Ecstatic! I scooped him into my lap and demanded a rundown of the day. I couldn't wait to hear what he thought. "I saw the CHEERLEADERS!" he exclaimed joyfully. Great, I thought. My all boy, dirt digging, construction loving, ball throwing, rough neck of a child OF COURSE loves to look at the girls in the short skirts flitting about. I rolled my eyes at Mr. Pigs, who was shaking his head in disdain.

After 20 minutes of dialogue about the cheerleaders and none about football, it began to take shape for me that Piglet was not admiring the cheerleaders....he wants to BE a cheerleader. He says they wear bathing suits and have pompoms. This morning, he came downstairs for church in his swim trunks, a monster truck t-shirt, and a tobaggan - his version of a cheerleader's uniform. Manly. Imagine Mr. Pigs' pride.

It's pretty comical if you know Piglet in person at all because he's not particularly effeminate. It appears the phase is already passing because this afternoon, he and Pigpen were taking turns running touchdowns in our dining room. He handed me the orange pompom and told me I had to be the cheerleader because I was the girl. I gave it my best, but I hate to break it to him that I'm not exactly cheer material either.

Preschool Starts Tomorrow!!!

2010-09-06T21:19:00.000-04:00

Twas the night before preschool,
The bookbags were packed.
All the lunches were made,
And the children were sacked.

As Mommy suppressed her bubbling cheer,
She made lists, she made plans
There was no more fear!

No more grocery store meltdowns,
No more hot playground fits,
Juggling two kids at the doctor
Is totally the pits!

But no worries, no fear!
Mommy's day's at last here.
You'll see a grin on her face....
'Til the end of the year.

A Very Formal Interview with Piglet, aged 3 years, 11 months

2010-09-01T12:54:00.000-04:00

How old are you? 3

When were you born? In Texas

Where did you come from? Texas

What is your dad's name? Michael

What does your dad do? He works with tools

What is your mom's name? Pigs

What does your mom do? She types on the computer and stays home when daddy plays golf.

What do you do at school? Play with toys and make pictures

What is your favorite color? Pink and purple, not red.

What is your favorite food? Tacos.

What foods do you not like? Sandwiches, hamburgers and hotdogs

Where is your favorite place to eat? Chepe's

What is your favorite animal? Monkey

What does Daddy say to you? You can help me work with tools.

What does Mommy say to you? I love you.

Who is your best friend? Tornado. (stuffed dog.)

What is your favorite movie? Nemo

What is your favorite toy? My toy saw, but I don't know where it is.

What is your favorite thing to do? Go outside.

What is your favorite book? The Magic Tree House dinosaur one.

What do you want to be when you grow up? A garbage man.

Where do you want to live when you grow up? Here. In our house. Because I'll get to work with a drill and daddy's old saw. And I'll get to exercise with you and daddy when I'm big.

Are you going to get married? No

Are you going to have any kids? No, I'm not going to get married!

How many? 1

Boys or girls? Boys. I want a lot of boys.

Who will clean the house? I will.

Who will take out the garbage? I will.

Where is your favorite place to go? I'll take my kids to Chepe's for tacos.

GROWL.

2010-08-26T15:15:00.000-04:00

I would just like to inform all of the rude people out there that it is BAD MANNERS to announce that you are going to visit someone for a weekend a mere 18 hours before your arrival.

That is all. I have to go clean my entire house.

Fish

2010-08-25T21:20:00.001-04:00

So, Pigpen had his adenoids removed and tubes put in this morning and it was surprisingly simple and went really well! I left at 6:30am to have him there by 7:30am for his 9:30am surgery. He was super excited about the dump truck, the crane, the school bus, and the basketball hoop. These things were the only things he was able to discuss after the surgery.

They put him in this adorable wittle gown and me in this not-so-adorable head piece/hair net. I carried him into the OR, he breathed yummy gas and ZAPPO, he was out. I was shooed to the recovery room and 15 minutes later, they brought him to me, all passed out and drooly. And sans adenoids, I assume. He didn't puke on me or wake up screaming as I was warned he might do, he simply opened his eyes, demanded a waffle and passed back out for another 15 minutes. Then we went home. Voila! Surgery.

My only concern is that I can't decide what to do about the stupid ear plugs that the ENT seems to think are life or death. Everybody I ask says don't bother, unless it's a lake, but this guy says he should even wear them in the bathtub! Sigh. I get the part about if they are diving because of the pressure, but here's the thing. My kids are like fish.

We are at the pool almost every day. Piglet swims completely independently at age 3 and Pigpen is solo with a pair of water wings at age 2. They go on the slide, jump in the water, you name it....there's no fear. So, Pigpen DOES put his head in the water, but his water wings that are bigger than his head keep him afloat. So, when he plunges down the waterslide headfirst, he's always under for a second or two before he pops up. So, what to do? What to do? I gotta decide fast because that turkey is probably going to want to go to the pool tomorrow.

Now accepting thoughts and advice on the topic.