I'm a winner

Well, I'm a winner in more than one sense of the word, but this time?

I won a KICK ASS T-SHIRT!! Awwww YEAH!!!!!



It's from Go Girly or Go Home. I'm stoked to wear that puppy!

Thanks Go Girly Girls!!!!

Where's the poop (repost)

Originally posted last June...But I'm lazy and off for a girls weekend (SEEE YA SUCKAH'S!) so this will have to do.



I'll tell you where it is.

Yeah.

I'm a mom and can talk about this shit (pun intended), so no apologies.

So Big Kiss is doing fantastic w/ the whole potty training thing. We went for a "well kid" check up a week ago and Dr. O gave him the speech on how he's a big boy and should not wear diapers anymore. THANK YOU Dr. O! Big Kiss looked at him in amazement and nodded slowly. That night we put him in big boy undies (which is very odd, that lil bum is not all puffed out by a diaper anymore!) and haven't really looked back.


He's a lil afraid of crapping, tho. For the past 6months, while in diapers, he preferred to go into the bathroom, close the door and say (grunting) "I'm not pooping!" - then he'd open the door and say "I need to change my bum." And now, with no diaper - we've had some issues.

Pee, no problem. He stands to pee, which I'm told is the best way to teach boys - and currently loves to wiggle around to make the stream move. And he loves to pee on the rocks outside "like Daddy" [any visitors, sorry you have to know this fact- I promise said rocks are not anywhere you'd be walking].

But poop? Well he's done it maybe 3x on the pot, a few others he's so stressed we give him a diaper - job done - and back in the Diego undies.

Last night we're having dinner on the deck and he's naked except for his shoes (don't want slivers, now, do we?) and is going up & down the stairs to pee on the rocks. I'm actually cheering him on b/c the more he feels that "need" to go - the better we all are in the end.

Anyway, he hadn't crapped all day and I knew the evening was going to be either a fight to sit on the pot or a (weak) diaper situation.

Lo and Behold, he's on his way back up the stairs from peeing, crys out a little and then we see it.

He shit on the deck.

Fanfreakintastic.

I calmly told him "it's OK, not to be scared, but we do not poop ouside, right?" "Right." "You're going to go on the potty next time, right?" "Right."

And I then turn to see my 6'4" 220lb husband about to faint, he's like "that is about the most vile thing I've ever seen."

Seriously? I mean Seriously? You've been changing asses for 3 years and every other flucking minute you're scooping up dog shit in the yard - and this is vile? (we had this conversation out of Big Kiss' ear shot).

Anyway - what a way to end a lovely summer evening, huh?

We're building memories, people. Memories.

Medicated, in style

Guess what this?

It's a handy dandy pill case for whilst traveling...need a motrin? A birth control pill? An antidepressant? what else do I have in there?

Heh.

What the feck, if I'm going to insist on medicating myself, I'm doin' it Big Pimpin' Style. (and we all know, pimpin' ain't easy...)

Bump on a dog...

I think the Kiss mascot is sick :( He's been shedding a ton of hair, losing weight and has a bump on his chest. We're getting it looked at. He's only 6.


He was our first baby.



Forget the fact that he ate a recliner.




And a couch.



We love him and - well - just pray he's OK, yah?



***Update. Vet checked it out, took a sample right there and said it's just a big ol' fatty benign tumor. It's big, and close to his thyroid, so they'll keep watch on it, but he's OK. The shedding is just cuz the summmer started so late. Shhh, don't tell, but Mr. Kiss cried when he called me to say all was well...

Honest Crap

What the hell, I was *awarded* with this thing and so I'm doin it. Thanks JenJen. I doubt I'll tag anyone else because I suck like that, but here goes.
1. “The Honest Scrap” award is not one to hold all to your self but it must be shared! sorry, I suck at #1 already. I should call it The Honest Crap!
2. The recipient has to tell 10 true things about themselves in their blog that no one else knows.

So here we go. I'm not sure where this may lead me...

1. My thumbs are short and stubby like big toes. I'm told they're just like my Grandad's

2. I didn't get to meet 3 of my grandparents, and the one still living when I was born only was around for a couple of years.

3. I steal pens in the office. Like if someone has a kick ass pen and leaves it laying around? I totally grab it and then use it w/ pride - knowing they may catch me at any moment.

4. I'm a "wrapper" when I wipe. I need to wrap my whole hand. I'm not a folder. Or a scruncher. We don't need no code browns on Momma's hand!

5. When I was 4, I was the flower girl in some distant cousin's wedding and I refused to walk down the aisle. Instead? I skipped. They tried to get me to stop a few times, but then just let me go - and of course I stole the show.

6. I took a year off after high school and I worked at a Dairy Queen, Jiffy Lube and a travel agency. THAT sucked, so I went to college.

7. Some days I don't think about my brother who died. I don't know if that's good or bad or what, but it's true.

8. I'm fighting depression. And weight gain. I've hinted at that - but maybe haven't flat out said it? Thing is - I act like I'm totally fine so many around me wouldn't have a clue. Well, the weight thing is sorta hard to hide...

9. I never thought I'd be a good mom, but I kick ass at it.

10. I am currently obsessed w/ the color turquoise.

Did I make it? 10 things? That wasn't so bad.

Is this thing on?

I had a fun, drunk, no-kids, exhausting weekend.

Be back - maybe - w/ the sordid details.

Now? Coffee.

Toothpics in my eyes.

I did not sleep a mutha f'n wink last night.

Well, maybe I'm exaggerating a wee bit.

But I slept VERY little. Mr. Kiss was out for his basketball league, and he has today off so he went to the bar after - which left me in blissful silence.

For 2 hours.

Then the chaos ensued. Lil Kiss was calling out, every hour or so - teeth? I don't know. But it sucked.

All the while, I'm trying to do laundry and pack (the boys are visiting G'ma and G'pa this weekend, ahhh yah!)...clean the kitchen, upload pictures and drink.

I finally fell into bed around 11, and realized there was a shitton of laundry under me. So I'm folding that (except for Mr. Kiss' - his now gets tossed to his side of the bed) and Big Kiss comes in.

"I have to pee."

And he waits for my permission (a phenom I will NEVER understand. You gotta go - GO!) When he saunters in to the bathroom, he's pullin his undies down and then he stands there, does the Male-Pee-Lean and scratches his butt.

Lovely.

I think I finally dozed off around 12.30, just in time for Mr. Kiss to come rumbling around like a bull in a china shop. And was dealing w/ Lil Kiss all night long.

Life as a mom of young kids. It's pure bliss, isn't it?

It's really happening

Amembah this Blah Blah Blah post?

Well.

Methinks the docs finally got their paperwork together and this kid is STOKED.

I'm makin changes, people, makin changes!

(p.s. I'm deliberately cryptic here - I may write about it when it's over)

Rippin Good Times.

We had the busiest weekend. I survived. Mostly by alcohol intake.

This morning, Big Kiss was coming down from the High of the weekend I think: he slept late, was a whiny bitch, threw a tantrum on the sidewalk, calmed down then was skipping (break my heart) and fell and busted his knees. Both of them, ripped up. Ensue MONSTER tears and screams. He didn't want a bandaid. He didn't want to wash it. That was super fun, believe me.

So I had to leave him screaming while I headed on home.

Why did I have to go home, you may be pondering? In my rush to aid my crying busted-knee child, I ripped my pants. Not because I, too, fell, but because they just don't fit anymore.

Fucking AWESOME.

Mundane.

If looks could kill? And if you could SEE the look on my face right now? Well, you'd all be dead.

Sometimes? Husbands are douchebags. Sometimes? Husbands are clueless. Sometimes? Husbands are just a disco stick. For real.

Whew. That felt pretty good.

A'ight. Last night I took my kid and his BFF to a 4 yr old's birthday party. 6pm party, running and jumping at an indoor rubber room till 7.30 - cake at 8. It was fun, yeah, but my kid is usually in bed by 7. Last night was an 8.30 night - and he managed to stretch it to 9.

At which point, I had to wash dishes, laundry and blankets and do all kinds of other crap for the short-notice guests arriving THIS EVENING. Oh, and also? I had to cancel weekend plans w/ my friend and other people. Last minute. I'm not that person. I feel like a dipshit when I do it.

I forgot to eat dinner (party central, and the cake wasn't coming near my mouth). So the cham and wine I had while running about the roost made me nice & drunk.

And this morning, I felt the aftermath. Oy.

What-the-fuck-ever. I'm getting thru today (god knows how) and am preparing for a family of 6 to invade my home in - oh - 4 hours.

I'm thrilled.

That's All.

I exercised twice yesterday. Thrice, if you count jumping in puddles w/ my kids.

Go ahead, do something stupid.

That's all.

I'm Pro-Soldier

Got this from my old lady auntie. She's married to a retired vet. And her son served for many years. I don't know if it's true that a soldier wrote it or not, but I like the message.

Let me also say I was hooked on the MJ Memorial today - and tried hard to keep the "he was an ICON with his music and truly amazing" thoughts present - and not focus on the wacko / pedophile stuff. It was a really touching memorial. Well, except for the fact that Prince #1 was chomping gum the whole time. Meh. He's a kid.

Anyway - this something I believe should be shared. I'm not pro-war, but I'm pro-soldier. Does that make sense?

THIS WAS WRITTEN BY A SOLDIER IN IRAQ .

I was just watching the news, and I caught part of a report on Michael Jackson . As we all know, Jackson died the other day. He was an entertainer who performed for decades. He made millions, he spent millions, and he did a lot of things that make him a villain to many people. I understand that his death would affect a lot of people, and I respect those people who mourn his death, but that isn't the point of my rant.

Why is it that when ONE man dies, the whole of America loses their minds with grief. When a man dies whose only contribution to the country was to ENTERTAIN people, the American people find the need to flock to a memorial in Hollywood , and even Congress sees the need to hold a "moment of silence" for his passing?

Am I missing something here? ONE man dies, and all of
a sudden he's a freaking martyr because he entertained us for a few decades? What about all those SOLDIERS who have died to give us freedom? All those Soldiers who, knowing that they would be asked to fight in a war, still raised their hands and swore to defend the Constitution and the United States of America .

Where is there moment of silence? Where are the people flocking to their graves or memorials and mourning over them because they made the ultimate sacrifice? Why is it when a Soldier dies, there are more people saying "good ridence," and "Thank God for IEDs?" When did this country become so calloused to the sacrifice of GOOD MEN and WOMEN, that they can arbitrarily blow off their deaths, and instead, throw themselves into mourning for a "Pop Icon?"

I think that if they are going to hold a moment of silence IN CONGRESS for Michael Jackson, they need to hold a moment of silence for every service member killed in Iraq and Afghanistan.

They need to PUBLICLY recognize every life that has been lost so that the American people can live their callous little lives in the luxury and freedom that WE, those that are living and those that have gone on, have provided for them.

But, wait, that would take too much time, because there have been so many willing to make that sacrifice. After all, we will never make millions of dollars. We will never star in movies, or write hit songs that the world will listen too. We only shed our blood, sweat
and tears so that people can enjoy what they have.

Remember these five words the next time you think of someone who is serving in the military;

"So that others may live..."

Realllly?

I'm dressed really cute today. Like good hair, cute dress and my sunkissed cheeks make me look 'put together'.

Why is it, then, that I feel like a complete sack of turd? Ugh. I need to change my 'tude (and my eating, drinking and exercise habits).

I'm so good at faking it, it feels natural now.

The Gutter

My momma friend has a brand new refinished basement. With a full f'n bar. We had a girls night out, but in.

In the Gutter. What happens there stays there (so I won't mention the comparing of nipples, motorboating, kissing to share lip gloss, dispensing pharmaceuticals or talk of c-rings.)




eating coolwhip. Off the floor. With a fork.

Thursday's a good day for random, no?

I'm really not that "up to" blogging today, but here's some little tidbits.

One of my biggest fears in life is becoming THAT friend - the "cute, funny, chubby" friend. Nothing against chub, at all, but I've always been smaller and well, I've got some "lazy" chub hanging around and it's starting to get to me.

I'm getting a massage tomorrow. My local spa sent me an e-mail, only $55/hour - I mean, please, I've spent more on dinner! It's like giving it away!

It's raining. AGAIN. But today? There's some super major thunder-boomers and lightening cracks involved. Which I totally love - but only when I'm home, in jammies, on the couch. When I'm in a parking garage? Not so much.

We have tomorrow off. Work and daycare closed. Let me just state - for the record - if it's raining, there may be some major meltdowns all around. And medication - for me.

I love liplicious frozen blackberry lip gloss. In professing this love, I've also discovered they make a gloss in Carrot Cake and S'Mores. I have an addiction.

I'm going to a bachelorette party in a few weeks. The bachelorette is the sister of one of my good friends. I'm not invited to the wedding or the shower - but they know I'm a kick ass fun time and well, just wanted me along. Where are we going you may wonder? To a strip club. Where girls strip. This is after manicures + martinis, dinner, and a potential trip to Hogs & Heifers to throw our bras.