Ho! Ho! Ho!

We saw Santa yesterday!

Yes, I realize it isn't even Thanksgiving, but have you seen the lines for Santa at our mall in December? Seeing Santa before we put up the tree is now our new tradition and apparently it's becoming everyone else's tradition as well because we still waited in line. On a Monday afternoon. I shudder to even think how busy old Santa will be this weekend.

Poor old Santa had his lap full this year. Adam was able to ask for his own toys this time (a truck in case you were wondering), Jacob taught Santa all about WebKinz and didn't ask for anything Thomas for the first time ever and I think I heard Elizabeth ask for a pair of shoes.

So now that Santa knows what everyone wants, he needs to get off his ass and start shopping.

Seven Months

Elizabeth is seven months old today.

She apparently didn't want to miss a minute of her big day because she woke up at five a.m. ready to celebrate.

She also sprouted a brand new, very first tooth for the occasion.




Seven months old!

Shouldn't she be sleeping through the night by now?

Six Things About Me

Mommy Daisy tagged me for a Six Things About Me Meme. I know you are dying to know six more things about me so here goes:

1. I get along better with men than women. When I was in college I lived in a coed dorm for three years on the same floor with most of the same people. Most of those people were guys. They were easy to get along with, they watched out for me like a sister, and the lack of catty games was heavenly. I lived in an all girl dorm my first year and it was like night and day. I'd have disagreements with the guys and we'd argue tooth and nail, but we'd still be friends the next day. That never happened at the girl dorm.

2. I am a Pi Beta Phi (secret handshake to anyone else out there). I was, and still am, definitely not the sorority type, but I was a bit of a follower freshman year and my dad thought a sorority might help me get adjusted to school and look good to interviewers so I stuck with it. I pretty much went to the mixers and hung with the frat guys, but not in the same way the other girls did, I was always the little sister, drinking buddy, does-she-like-me go between and that was a-ok with me.

3. I love Alton Brown. You know, the dude on Food Network from Good Eats and Iron Chef and Feasting on Asphalt. He got me through many a colicky night. I secretly hope I run into him at restaurants around town and we can sit down and have some drinks and shoot the shit. The fact that we have both eaten at Mulates in New Orleans is some sort of degree of separation and we're practically friends now, right?

4. I have a serious addiction to WebKinz. Yeah, I like to think I'm doing it for my kid, but the games at the arcade call me like whiskey to an alcoholic. The good news is that my kid has tons of kinzcash all the time.

5. I have really, really bad eyesight. Even the Lasik doctor was impressed with my level of near-sightedness and since he's been performing that surgery for many years now, it must be pretty bad. Without my glasses, I can only see colors in front of me. I cannot wait for the Lasik.

6. I love cheesy movies. If it's up for an Academy Award, I probably won't like it. I can usually find all my faves in the five dollar bin at Wal-mart. If it has Will Ferrell or Adam Sandler in it, I own it. And FYI: I got the name Jacob from the movie Richer or Poorer and Adam from Blast From the Past. Virtual kudos to anyone who even knows who was in the movie Richer or Poorer.

More Milk Please Mommy

Adam said a sentence yesterday.

Well, more like a phrase, but still, four words strung together to ask for something.

Hallelujah!

He's been receiving an hour of speech therapy once a week since July. In July he could say only five words: mama, dada, sister, cat, and choo-choo. Now, he's saying so many new words each day I can't even keep up. I've even had to tone down my traffic rants after he started calling all the trucks asses.

But at almost three years old he should be speaking in sentences.

I'm going to count that as a sentence.

My baby is finally talking. He was just waiting for something useful to say.

What Could've Been.....

Lynsey requested the Brad Paisley story......

I moved back to West Virginia in 1998. The husband, although he wasn't the husband at the time, lived in the town twenty miles north of my old hometown and I decided to live in sin with him because my parents hotfooted it south three months earlier. I liked it there because I didn't know everyone like the hometown and, likewise, they didn't know me.

I took a job teaching gifted kids at an elementary school in town and got to know the teachers. I loved the teachers there and looked forward to lunch everyday to get the good gossip and learn more about my new hometown. I started getting bits and pieces about the fourth grade teacher's son being away at a college in Nashville and trying to make it as a singer. I wondered why she didn't put her foot down and make her kid major in something "real" and, honestly, imagined a long-haired, tattooed, honky-tonk singer making his way from bar to bar every weekend trying to make ends meet. Now, none of these teachers knew that I was living with a guy. I didn't think it would look good for the teacher to be shacking up, so I just omitted Derick from all conversation alltogether because I am not a very good liar. So when the fourth grade teacher came in one lunch to tell everyone her son would be home for a couple of weeks another of the teachers suggested she bring him in and introduce him to me because he was soooo cute and I was soooo single and oh, my golly, wouldn't we have a great time together! I had no idea how to get out of that one without giving myself away, so I finally just told them all that I had recently met someone and was not available for blind dates and that was that.

A couple of months later the whole town was all giddy crazy because the hometown boy had released his new CD and it was selling like hotcakes. I assumed it was just a little local CD until I was flipping through and caught the end of the "Who Needs Pictures" video on CMT and the name Brad Paisley flashed up and I eventually put two and two together and realized, duh, Mrs. Paisley's son! He wasn't hairy. He didn't look like a drunk barfly. He was cute. And selling CDs. All over the country. For lots of money. DOH!

So that's how I came thatclose to Brad Paisley and didn't even know it at the time.

I Quit

To the Male Members of Our Family (You know who you are),

The white, round, porcelein thing in each of the bathrooms is a toilet. That hole in the middle is where you aim. That is where the pee goes. The pee does not go on the floor, in the tub, or on the walls. Aim for the hole.

That silver handle at the top of that toilet is very cool. If you press it, it makes a cool noise and you won't believe what happens to the water! You should try it sometime. Believe me, you won't be disappointed.

This letter is to officially inform you that, as of this moment, cleaning pee and flushing toilets is no longer a part of my job description. Please become familiar with the toilet technology as soon as possible so that you may take over these tasks. Thank you.

I Blame NaBloPoMo

Apparently Diego wasn't too interesting today......


This is what happens when I try to post every day.

I Miss You Eighth Street

This morning I watched the new Brad Paisley video that was taped in my old hometown a couple of months ago.

It was good. I enjoyed it. It showed the Eighth Street sign. I used to live on Eighth Street. I thought that was exciting so I ran and got Jacob and showed it to him and then I got all teary sad remembering Eighth Street.

Eighth Street was fun. I didn't realize it at the time, but it really was. My best friend was across the street. I could walk to work. There was nothing better than watching my friend's kids love on our doofus dog or wave at me from their front steps. I miss the mailman actually dropping the mail on our porch and snow days and the fricking Big Lots. I miss my friends and my family and my old white house. I could barely see to drive my kid to school for the tears.

But then it dawned on me.

Did they just show the corner of Eighth Street on that video?

I lived near the corner of Eighth Street.

DAMMIT! Could my dream of Brad Paisley knocking on my front door have come true and I wasn't in my house to live it?

Oh, now I'm just pissed.

One more reason I hate Texas.

Obligatory NaBloPoMo Post

So far so good, but I'm starting to feel like those girls on that air freshener commercial who agreed to write a song for the thirty days the thing kept working. Hmmm.....what can I write about next?

I got all three kids dressed and ready before the 7:45 deadline this morning, loaded them all into the car, turned the key and got nothing. That car was dead, man. There I was, dressed and hair combed, all wasted because I unloaded my mini-crew and scrapped school today. We've actually had a pretty good day. Jacob helped me clean the toy room without one complaint. He also dusted and swept the floors and folded towels. I was all patting myself on the back at how well I have taught him to help out around the house when he mentioned his real motive: Santa. Hey, if the bearded one keeps my house picked up for the next month, I'm all for it. I really have enjoyed his company today, so much so that I was imagining what it would be like if I scrapped school for the rest of the year and homeschooled him. Then Adam and Elizabeth both pooped all over everything at the exact same time and I came back to reality and realized no way, not now.

For the sake of NaBloPoMo, I am taking requests.

Anything you want to know about me, just ask. I have 18 more days to write this month and there's just so much mother-in-law bitching a person can do.

Why We Don't Let Daddy Use the Camera

It was baby dedication day at the church this morning.

All I wanted was a picture to remember it by and this is what my husband took.

"This isn't a photo shoot!" was his reply when I asked for one stinking picture of me with my kids.

He wasn't kidding.

So here is the baby dedication picture.

Grand ain't it?

I Think I Like Sushi Too

My husband likes sushi.

He adores sushi, actually. He would divorce me and marry it if he could.

The kids and I, not so much.

Yesterday he went to the fancy grocery store and picked up a load of sushi for his lunch and asked his mother if she'd like to have some too and she said she'd try anything. Heck yeah, because she tried my brie and couldn't get enough of that, figured sushi must be just as tasty.

So he fixes them both a plate of sushi and he explained the pickled ginger to her and she tried it and liked it. What he forgot to explain to her, though, was the wasabi.


You know where this is going don't you?

She thought the wasabi was guacamole.

She loved guacamole at the Mexican restaurant earlier this week.

She ate a huge spoonful of wasabi.

She completely flipped out.

I had to leave the room.


I am the meanest daughter-in-law ever.

A Place For Everything

Do you have a place at your table?

When you sit down as a family to eat, does everyone just go to their place?

We do here. I mean, no one assigned seats or anything, but we just all sit in the same place every time. It's the same thing at my mom's house or at the lake. You just know where your place is.

When my mother-in-law arrived last week and we prepared to break bread together for the first time, she went to my chair. No big deal, really, as she doesn't know where we sit and, honestly, I'm not that much of a shrew, it's just a chair, but the husband stopped her dead in her tracks and pointed her to another seat and let her know that it was my spot and she'd need to move, and she did. Then.

Since then, though, she has transformed my place into her own personal communication center. The next day she spread out her bible, her notebooks, her writing pads and pens, her address book, and our phone and neatly organized it into her place. She's there pretty much all day long talking on the phone, writing letters to her friends, and reading. In my place. At first she'd move everything at meal time, but now, it stays and she stays and I end up eating in the corner with an aloe vera plant poking at my head. It really does feel like this is her passive/aggressive way of pushing me aside and making herself front and center and I don't like that. The chair she can have. I just don't like her taking over my whole place.

Day Six?

How long has my mother-in-law been here?

Geez, it feels like forever.

It makes me really wish we lived close enough so that she'd never have to spend the night, but at the same time, I am so very glad we live so far away so I don't have to deal with her on a regular basis.

I am just very ready for this visit to be over.

She broke a picture frame trying to straighten my pictures.

She let Adam paint himself with non-washable paint when she was supposed to be "watching him".

She yelled at Jacob for hugging her while she was eating.

She dragged Adam into the house by his neck when he followed her outside.

She piled all her smoky clothes into Elizabeth's crib stinking it all up.

She hates my dog.

She ate all of my brie.

Yeah, I'm a big baby. I really wanted that brie.

The good news is she is leaving next Tuesday. I knew she wouldn't be able to last three weeks. The kids are driving her nuts and ruining her "vacation".

I knew those kids would come in handy one day.

A Little Late....

But in honor of NaBloPoMo and the daily post, I give you pictures.

Elizabeth and Jacob in the same jammies in the same spot six years apart.

False Alarm

Boo!

I won't be getting the Lasik after all.

At least not anytime soon.

They won't do Lasik on nursing mothers. Something to do with hormones and crap.

It would have been nice if my eye doctor had notified me of that little stipulation when I met with her last week and informed her four separate times that I was, indeed, still nursing.

I've been dilated and measured twice in two weeks and will just have to do it all over again in eight to ten months.

Yeah, would've been nice to have that information FIRST!

My Early Christmas Present

I guess the husband is feeling awfully grateful that I haven't yet packed my bags and fled the country, because he has offered to liquidate some of his savings so that I can have Lasik surgery.

YEE-HAW!

Could I possibly be close to seeing in the shower again? Swimming? Seeing the clock at night?

I go this afternoon for the pre-op appointment and if they determine I am a candidate, I might be spectacle free by the end of the week!

Well, probably next week, but hey, that's still good.

I used to be afraid to have this done. Afraid of going blind. Afraid of side effects. But, damn, I've had three c-sections. I can do this measly little outpatient eye surgery.

And the fact that all of these appointments will be getting me out of the house for large stretches of time is just an added bonus.

The Annual Christmas Card Photo Fiasco

Monster In Law Day One

My mother in law is here.

Oh, super joy!

I am witnessing my husband losing his spine little by little.

It's agonizing really.

Currently, she's tying up our phone line calling every single person she knows back home to let them know she's in Texas. It's hot in Texas. And her daughter in law ain't too friendly, but she can cook.

She's on hold now so her elderly aunt can go to the bathroom.

Thank goodness for cell phones.

She woke up at 4 a.m. How do I know this? She barreled into our bedroom and made her way to our bathroom, MY bathroom, and went about her business. Loudly. She went out of her way to the other side of the house to use MY bathroom rather than the clean one right next to Elizabeth's room in which she is currently residing. My husband didn't see anything wrong with that. There go another two vertebrae.

Guess who gets to stay home alone with her all afternoon. Come on, guess!

Shoot, I may take up smoking before it's all over with.

The Halloween Post or NaBloPoMo: Day Two

Gawd, I hate Halloween!


Even as a child, I just never understood why in the world people would want to knock on their neighbor's door and beg for candy. It boggles the mind, really. A holiday where we ask our neighbors for outrageously priced goodies and if they don't oblige, we vandalize their property and the cops take a vacation for a night. I still don't get it.

But of course, if everyone else is doing it.....




Anyway, in case you didn't already know it, Halloween is NOT my favorite holiday. Maybe I'd like it in a nicer neighborhood, but I just don't enjoy a day where the hoodlums are actually allowed to cause a ruckus. And the fact that I used the word ruckus, just shows you how old and unHalloweeny I've become.

We took the kids to the church for the annual shindig. Thankfully, we were not involved in the handing out of candy this year, so I didn't have to educate the urban youth on the value of politeness and good manners. I did feel sorry for the poor saps who did though. I mean, how freaking hard would it be to have your kids say thank you to the old people funding their sugar high? And again, please respect the No scary costume sign. If I wanted my kid to see someone with open guts or ten year old prostitutes, we would have trick-or-treated at the trauma center downtown. I am surprised that we were neither egged nor poop-bagged this year, because when we returned home the begging was still in full force and we spent the evening trodding around in the dark since we had no candy, didn't want to keep the kids up, and dang, shouldn't Halloween have a time limit? If we turned on a light, the kids (and adults) were drawn like moths and kept ringing the bell as if they would just melt on the doorstep if they didn't get one more fricking candy bar. Have you tried bathing a baby in the dark? It ain't easy. Yeah, Halloween isn't my favorite holiday.

But I had a banana and bananas are delicious:



How can it be Halloween again? We still have candy leftover from last year. I remember only having boys to wrestle last year. Only two. How did we make it without the girl?

Yes, I had no bananas last year.



But now I do and for that I am glad.

NaBloPoMo Take One

And so it begins.....


NaBloPoMo. I am going to post every day in November. Just like everything else I sign up for, I imagine all the fun it will be, then it sneaks up on me and I realize, what the hell did I get myself into?


No, it will be fun. Really. If it kills me.


So, you thought I'd start off with the Halloween recap didn't you?


Not so much. I'll get to it, but not today.


Do you see this?



This is where my son slept last night.

In an unmade bed with a sleeping bag and a mattress pad for covers. Not even a pillowcase, poor guy.

I washed Jacob's sheets yesterday. I did not, however, replace them onto the bed as my husband assured me with many false promises that if he bought the bunk bed, he would take care of all bedding issues for the top bunk.

I let him know three, no maybe four, times yesterday evening that the bed needed made before bedtime. He had to have seen it as he read books to the boys in there before they went to sleep. I stupidly assumed it had been taken care of. I was wrong. I could not believe when I went in this morning to wake my child and saw him curled up on that old, uncovered pillow on top of a bare mattress!

I guess we are in the middle of a sheet standoff because I am sure he is expecting me to do it today and, honestly, I can't. I have no earthly clue how to make that damn bed. It's hard. I won't do it. I did not want that stupid bed. I will not make that bed. I want the old bed back. The bunk bed sucks.

Don't worry. I won't make him sleep like that another night. He can sleep in Elizabeth's room, so I guess that means Mamaw will have to sleep at a motel. Awww.

Halloween tomorrow, I promise.