If you find yourself out of time in the morning, and think it would be a good idea to put makeup on in the car at a stoplight, think again. Might as well just stick your head in your makeup bag and shake it around. If you can't get your happy little self up 5 minutes early to slap on some powder and mascara, don't bother. I guarantee, the look you are going for will not be found in a 3"x6" mirror w/ bad lighting. You're gonna end up looking like and old French whore. FOCUS ON THE ROAD, LADY!!
I've gotta be honest, I got a little bit of stage fright. I felt like Cindy Brady, staring at that red light from the camera, unable to move. What caused such terror, you ask? Well, first I peed...then I posted. Peed, then posted, then watched as over 4,000...ok, who am I kidding? Like I don't know the EXACT amount! 4,158 people read my post. Then retweeted and reposted 77 times. It was exhilarating! But then the pressure set in. I felt like there were expectations...assumptions...and other 'tions' that I can't quite think of right now, but I know they are there.
I've heard of this sort of thing happening before with actors, musicians, you know artsy folk like myself. :) You have a great first album and then you hit the Sophomore Slump. Michael Jackson once said that Thriller was his undoing because he spent the rest of his life trying to top it. Sometimes things just happen and we shouldn't try to top them. We should just enjoy the ride and move on. Easier said than done. I feel ya, Mike. Word. You had Thriller and I... I... I peed.
So hear me now and believe me later! From this day forward I shall write like nobody's watching! And dance like I can't hear the music...or run like I don't need the shoes...or some crap like that. YOU KNOW WHAT I'M SAYING!! I can't always be your hero. I am just little old me. Just a girl, standing in front of a boy...computer, asking it to love her. :) (can you name that movie?! I will be impressed!!)
My goal for 2011 is to be here 3-4 times per week w/ my thoughts, wonderings and queries. It may not always be spectacular or thought provoking, but it will be honest and it will be me.
I realize I've been MIA for about 3 weeks. The shame of it all. :( But the day we went to Disneyland, my mom was watching Adam and long story short, fell down the stairs and broke her leg. So things have been a little busy around these parts, and with Christmas coming...well, ok...excuse out of the way. Moving on...
Back to Disneyland...
"Get your 20-something ASS out of Fantasyland!!" is what I wanted to say. Allow me to wrap up Fantasyland for you young adults out there so that you can move on with your life;
#1 - Prince Charming isn't coming. Trust me. Trust US! (Look at the faces of all the 40-something mothers in line for 45 minutes with their children. Do these look like the faces of women who have been SAVED?! So do us the small favor of taking your "Juicy" butt to another 'land'!) Prince Charming is living in his mama's house playing X-box and hoping for Kinectimals from Santa. Guess what...he's gonna get it!
#2 - The glass slipper might fit, but buy your own damn shoes so you don't have to rely on someone else.
#3 - I'M your fairy godmother and I have an important message for you...GET A LIFE!
Where you should be headed is Tommorowland, as in ..."TOMORROW I needs to find me a job to pay for my shoes so I don't have random TUESDAYS to spend at the Magic Kingdom where I dropped $150 before I reached Sleeping Beauty's Castle!"
And filming the parade?...Really? Really. Gonna TRY to push my baby out of the way so you can see the PEOPLE DRESSED UP AS POOH AND TIGGER!??! News Flash: THEY AREN'T REAL!!!!!!! In line for the Princess Meet & Greet? Really? Nothing better to do? Nada? How about this idea, let me put on my Imagineer helmet for a second and imagine 2 lines to meet the princesses. One line for little 2-8 year old girls and their tired, haggard, want-to-jump-off-the-Matterhorn parents. And one line entitiled, "Pitiful Bastards". I'm thinking a 5-1 ratio. Five little girls to 1 pitiful bastard. Sounds fair. I can hear it now, "Ok girls, it's your turn! And we have 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 sweet little girls...and 1 pitiful bastard."
Please God, let me have this job! I believe me and my wooden spoon are up to the task!
It has come to my attention that there may be some things that I neglected to mention. Not intentionally, I just didn't think about it until one night when a few friends close to the situation, pointed it out to me. And then it hit me. Like a TON. OF. BRICKS!...I could have been Camille Grammer. True story.
So there I was...circa 1991, a fresh faced 21 year old, little Miss Sassy, doing my thang at the Red Onion. That's a restaurant/nightclub that used to be the ONLY hang out in the area. I was just dancing, enjoying a little Vanilla Ice, because... I mean...who doesn't?! Am I right?! ;) When this man comes up to me and says he has a friend who wants to meet me. Hmmmm...interesante'. So I was intrigued because this guy was dressed in a suit, and in a world full of Hammer pants, he stood out like a ho' in church. When we got to the bar...who was sitting there?! None other than KELSEY GRAMMER. I kid. you. not. This wasn't the tidy Kelsey of late. This was the-last-season-of-Cheers-w/-the-long-straggly-hair-and-bad-coke-habit Kelsey. Not attractive. So did I maintain my composure, you ask? Did I conduct myself as though this sort of thing was not unusual and happened to me all the time? But of course I didn't. My exact words were...~insert high shrill voice of a teenager~ "WELL LOOK WHO YOU ARE?!!!". He glanced up at me over his drink and said in his sad, defeated voice, "Who am I?". I said, "You're Frazier Crane!!". So pretty much the romance died right there at the bar of the Red Onion. He bought me a drink and I walked away. ~whispers~ Foreverrrrrr.
So, cut to me having drinks last week w/ some girlfriends and telling this story. When I finished a few ladies where staring at me with their mouths open. What?! This is when they chastised me for not disclosing this tidbit of info on my blog. Never occurred to me!! But then I started putting the pieces together. Camille was a dancer...I was dancing! Camille was a young 20's girl w/ big hair in the early 90's...I was a 21 year old, big-haired girl! OMG! So close! Whew! Kinda made me sweat for a second. Dodged a bullet on that one, my friends! Not saying that Kelsey is unattractive now, but back in the day...eeeek! And I had no desire to be the drug addict's savior. That's God's job, not mine.
So thinking about all of my rantings and ravings about this hollowed out, shell of a woman (Camille, not me!), could this just be sour grapes? The green-eyed monster having its way with me. And it is entirely possible that I have suppressed and suppressed until it has shown itself in the form of beating her Botoxed, so-you-think-you-can-dance-but-not-without-a-pole, insecure self about the head & shoulders. Maybe it is time to reflect. Look SHARI in the eyes and see what's behind all of this Camille angst...aaaaaannnnnnd, we're done. NOPE, no jealousy. Just the overwhelming urge to slap her. :) Thank you and goodnight.
Whomp, there it is. Me, in all my glory. This is what my life has come to. Two degrees, small business owner, wife and mother of 2, and now I will only be known as The Urinator. I accept defeat WORLD!! YOU WIN! I peed the fight right out of me. How did I find myself in such a situation, you ask? Well, pardon the pun but it all started because I was pissed. Literally and figuratively. Let's take a look back, shall we?...~cue wobbly screen and Mike Meyers~ "biddily-doo, biddily-doo, biddily-doo".
So there I was, waiting on the refrigerator repairman for visit # 14. I. kid. you. not. And if you are saying, "Shari! There's a lemon law! Insist on a new refrigerator!!", then I need you to give me your address so that I can come over and punch you in the face. Don't worry, I won't stay long. I'll just ring the bell, you'll answer, PUNCH, back in my car, and I'm gone. I do not have the strength to go into the entire story w/ you, just like I didn't have the strength to tell repairman # 8 what was wrong w/ my fridge. I told him, "You are not Kevin. Kevin is my repairman. He knows what is wrong. Last time they sent Robert. Robert had to call Kevin because he knows what is wrong. Robert didn't know. He called Kevin. Robert and Kevin spent 2 1/2 hours trying to fix it. Needed another part. Kevin said he would come back because he knows what's going on. You do not. I will not tell you what is going on for fear of flying into a rage that I may never recover from. I'm sure your family loves you and will miss you when you are gone. If I have to repeat my story to one more person, that person may not live to tell the tale. Save yourself and go get KEVIN!!! Of course then he said that Kevin could come tomorrow (I'M NOT WASTING ONE MORE DAY!!) and it was already 6:30pm...my window was 1-5pm. Which is why he was here at 6:30pm. They enjoy showing up 90 minutes past the window. I know this. I have done extensive research on this in the form of scheduling FOURTEEN VISITS!!!!!!!!! Now in Kevin's defense, his company has only been on 6 of the 14 calls. The previous visits were split between 4 different companies. None of them spoke English, only Russian. I, unfortunately, do not speak Russian. It's not that I wouldn't LIKE to speak Russian, it just never came up. As a child, had I have known that someday Russian would be imperative to the repair of my appliances, I would have sought books, tutors, scholars, to aid me in my quest. But coulda, shoulda, woulda. I have now come to discover that it isn't that Moscow has a huge billboard that says, "Go to America, Fix Appliance". It's that 4 brothers own 4 repair companies. They share one warehouse and start all of their companies w/ the letter A. That way, when you Google or look them up in the phone book, their company is at the top. (sorry, I'm having a hard time writing right now because for some reason, when thinking of Russia I want to talk in short, choppy sentences. Like...come fix fridge. Fridge no work. Piece of crap. What is borscht? Is it just me?...oh no, wait...Just me. That's better.)
Back to the pee. SO, I've completely forgotten where I was in the story and I'm too damned tired to read what I wrote so here goes...window is 1pm-5pm. At 2:30pm I get a call that he'll be here closer to 5pm. Of course he will. ~rolls eyes~ Now this screws up my program because I needed to go to my mom's house to do laundry. (WHOLE OTHER OPRAH!! Brand new Maytag washing machine is on the fritz, too! Serenity NOW!) AND mom was going to make dinner for me and the kids since hubby was working late. Scratch all that, because now I have to make dinner for the kids and have no clue when hubby is going to get his panties washed. (He doesn't really wear panties, that I know of. I just use that phrase when I'm mad. For example, "Don't get your panties in a bunch", "Calm down, you're running around here like your panties are on fire!" It calms me. It's an outlet. What can I say?) So it's a little after 5 and I finally have 2 seconds to pee. I've had to pee for over an hour, but I've got 2 little kids so it's not always an option. Wouldn't you know, JUST as I start to go...the phone rings. It's the repairman, I just know it!! If I don't answer, he won't come!! O.M.G. I try to stop peeing...wth?...can't stop...too much pee...must get phone...STOP PEEING!!!!...I grab tissue...baby's in the way...MOVE ADAM!!!...OMG!!!...3rd ring...SONOFA$^%&*..."HELLO?!!"...this is when he tells me that he is Peter, NOT Kevin, and I go into my whole "Who do I have to sleep with to get Kevin here ON TIME?!!" shpeel. (It was a dark day, my friends. I'm not gonna lie to you.) And now I'm thinking...why am I wet?...what's wet?...there's wetness...all while having this convo w/ Peter. Then I realize O.M.G. Did I just pee myself? What THE...where's Adam? What's that noise?...OMG! Adam is in the bathroom, splashing in the toilet. Water is everywhere. Or is that pee? O.M.G. PLEASE, somebody knock me out. I want to be unconscious RIGHT NOW. Still having convo w/ Peter...washing Adam...changing MY OWN pants...cuz I peed myself, ya know...still having convo. And now I'm shaking because I'm so pissed. HA! Yeah. That phrase takes on a whole new meaning.
Thank God for mothers because I called my mom, she came and got the laundry, and took it to her house. Peter showed up at 6:30pm, not knowing what sort of hell he was walking into. Fortunately for him, I had my breakdown before he got here and was in some altered state of numbness by the time he showed up. Post Traumatic Pee Disorder. PTPD, for those in the industry. So he installs the part while telling me that he's never done this before. All I could muster was a "that's nice". At least I still had my wits about me enough not to finish w/ a ..."I peed my pants."
about the days of yore...days of your?...no, definitely yore. The olden days. Like the Thriller days. Aaaaahhhh, the soundtrack of my youth. I was a freshman in high school, just made the cheerleading team and was preparing for my very first pep rally. I was thrilled when the Varsity Cheerleaders included us in their dance routine to kick off the school year. We were doing the routine Michael Jackson did in the Beat It video. You know, gang bangers w/ the bandana headbands across the forehead, (this isn't me, by the way. Just giving a visual for those who aren't as street savvy as myself) flannel shirts and baggy pants.
It was important to look cool and make a good first impression, since this routine would be done in front of the entire school. And since we were risking getting our asses kicked by the real homeboys/girls in school who dressed like this on a regular basis. I was a little skeered, I won't lie to you. Cuz they'll cut ya...they'll cut ya deep.
Here...remember this? (Although I gotta be honest, watching this video again after all these years, I couldn't help but think that Michael was gonna get "Beat" for wearing that piano shirt. I mean, really Michael, why not just paint a target on your forehead)
~cue music~ Adrenaline pumping, so excited...and here we go! We start w/ the walking and snapping, you know what I'm talking about! Oh yeah, going good...lookin' fine...snappity snap...freshman year is gonna ROCK...and then...it begins. Homeboy headband starts to fall...raising eyebrows...trying. to. keep. it. up...not...working...slipping, falling...going...blind...and there it is. Blackout. Instead of cool homeboy, I am now a member of 3 Blind Mice. I am completely blindfolded. Dancing in the dark, if you will. Can't see. (Have I made that clear?) But I kept dancing. I knew that routine like the back of my hand, so I just busted a move. I danced like nobody was watching! (pardon the pun) Maybe nobody noticed. But I was suspicious. Definitely heard laughing. It's true what they say about your other senses being heightened. Suddenly, I could smell the fear. Taste the humiliation. Maybe they weren't laughing at me. Maybe someone tripped or fell. But I'd have to wait until the song was over before I could remove my blindfold and see what high school had in store for me. Song ends and I take a peek. And there it is. My first of many public humiliations. Didn't help that my spot was in front of the entire Senior class. Oh well, that's how we develop character, right? And so, a class clown was born. :)
"On a warm fall evening, with a cart bound for Target,
I met up with a mother. We were both too tired for sleep.
So we took turns a starin', at the discounts in the distance.
The boredom overtook us, and she began to speak.
She said, girl I've made a life, of keeping people happy.
Knowin' where their socks were, and Nintendo DSi's.
But if you don't mind my sayin', I'm sick of wipin' faces.
For a taste of that Pinot, I'll give you some advice...
You got to know when to hold 'em,
Know when to scold 'em.
Know when to walk away,
And know when to run.
You never eat your dinner, while you're sittin' at the table.
There'll be time enough for drinkin',
When the screamin's done."
Numero uno! Although I am pleased as punch about the new Super Target w/ the grocery store, pulling into the parking lot I spy a HUGE GRIEVANCE!! All of the cart return thingies are in the front row of the parking lot. WTH?!! Which told me that there were no mothers on that planning board!! So I have a 4 year old and an 80 lb. 17 month old (not really, but he feels like it) that I have to haul WITH my cart cover because...well, just because eeeewww! So we park in the back because every mother knows that if you try to park near the front, some idiot will park so close to your car that you won't be able to get yourself, much less the kids and all the paraphernalia out! The wind is blowing like a banshee and so I will admit that I had a bit of a 'tude going in. I own that. But does that mean I am wrong when I get inside the store and see Kim Kardashian staring at me from People magazine with the headline, "I thought I'd be married by now", and I give an audible, "Oh Kim, SHUT UP!". When my daughter looked up at me I realized that was out loud and not in my head. Although in glancing around, I got a few head nods as if to say, "Go on w/ your bad self, sista!". So on I went.
I do love me some Kim Kardashian, but that kind of whining I just can't tolerate. Lucky for her I didn't see Marie Osmond on Oprah before I saw that cover. I might have had to whip out a Sharpie. (Why, you ask? Oh...no reason. :) ) Poor little Kim is 30 and thought she'd be married by now. Well guess what, Kimmie? I thought I'd be living in a mansion, getting paid to get facials and smile at parties. Oh no, wait...that's YOU! Life isn't fair, but you've gotten more than your share so maybe having to wait a few more years to be married ain't all that bad! (FYI, if I start whippin' out the "aint's", it's time to duck.)
I'd hate to have to add Kim to my prayer list alongside Camille Grammer. Next thing you know, Kim will be married w/ 2 kids, 6 nannies, a butler, and Alice from Brady Bunch. All I can suggest to Miss Kardashian is that she call 1 (800) waaaaaa, or maybe www.stopcryingyoupatheticbaby.com. It's just pissing the rest of us off.
So today I watched the most recent installment of the Real Housewives of B.H. Or as I like to call it...Camille Is Bat Shit Crazy. Immediately following that pitiful, hollowed out, train wreck, I watched Marie Osmond talking to Oprah about the death of her son. And I cried...and cried...and cried. I mean, seriously, you'd have thought I knew her. Although I feel like I do in some way. (I had her Barbie as a kid, so that's something. She had a hole in her hand to hold the microphone, made me think of Jesus, although he didn't have a microphone, but I bet he could sing, I mean...Son of God...pretty good bet being able to sing was part of the package... and Donny had purple socks, but I digress.) But what I knew were those pictures of those chubby little toddler cheeks, and those sweet, big eyes looking up at you...sniff, sniff...(ok, who am I trying to kid?! I'm still bawling as I type this.) Now THAT is a mom. An amazing mother of 8 children who never had nannies, but honestly had a reason for one! or FOUR! A woman who is focused on what's important in life, although I wasn't a fan of the big upper lip, Marie! You don't need a big upper lip! You are beautiful just as you are, so stop it! Lip plumping is ridiculous, and we all can see that it is fake, so it's not like anyone is thinking 'wow, look at those really full, sensuous lips'. We are thinking..."Who the hell just whacked you in the mouth w/ a skillet?". And who wants people to look at you and think that? Cuz then I'm thinking skillet, which leads to bacon, which leads to a BLT, but I'd have to make it on white bread because Kaitlyn won't eat the wheat, I hate to have to buy 2 loaves of bread for the house, she really needs to eat the wheat...and now I've just missed the last 5 minutes of what Marie's said and I have to rewind.
The differences between these 2 women were so glaring after watching these shows back to back. After Oprah I actually said out loud, "What a silly woman you are, Camille Grammer." Sad and silly. (and INSECURE!! HA! There, I said it! You projector!...projecter?...one who projects?...who is projecting upon others the things she feels about herself?...ANYWAY, you know who you are!)
So I had a Target rant that I was going to unleash after I caught up on my shows, but Target will have to wait until later. I was so full of emotion that I had to share. I need to go hug my babies now. Ugh...they are fighting...ok, butt swats and THEN hugging my babies.
Now, I love my husband...don't get me wrong. BUT, what is the dealio with greeting cards these days?! I am BEYOND frustrated. I go to get him a birthday card and heaven help me, but I'm in that freakin' aisle for 30 minutes!! Every card says, "To the man I love...", yeah...ok, I do love him, but what is this...Days of Our Lives?! "For the one who makes my life complete...", "I never knew love could feel this way..." (ok, that one is kinda true cuz sometimes it really blows), "If someone would have told me that in the ocean of love I would meet someone as great as you ...". Oh dear LORD, I'm nauseous over here! Can't you just say, "Hey buddy, love ya more than my luggage, and I'm forever grateful that I don't have to go on any more loser dates. If you could see it in your heart to keep the farting to a minimum, I'd be forever grateful. Happy Birthday!". As I was talking to these ridiculous cards at Target, I noticed some young 20-somethings picking out 'Love' cards. I'm sure I burst a few bubbles as I'm repeatedly saying, "Oh PUUUHHHLEEEZ!", with a fussy baby in the cart and a 4 year old singing her version of Preschool Musical. Well, consider it my Public Service Announcement. Someone has to break it down for these ladies. It ain't all hearts and roses. Most often it's butts and sippy cups. IN that order.
Sidebar: I was shopping at Nordstrom's last week and the salesgirl was about 22 years old. She was talking about her boyfriend who only liked to travel w/ the amount of stuff he could fit into his backpack. (I'm thinking, "What, is he NINE?! That's not a man, that's a boy!) She was trying to convince him to go to either Hawaii or to Italy with her. THEN Salesgirl says, "Yeah, I told him I'd pay because otherwise we'd never go. He would never spend money like that on me." That's when my mouth flew open. As if it was separate from my body. I jumped my little (shut up!) self, right into that girl's beeswax and said, "Aaah, little tip from one who dated for 17 years before finding Mr. Right...if he won't spend money on you NOW, he never will. If you want to dish out that kind of money, take one of your girlfriends with you. You will have a much better time and you will never regret it." Wish you could have seen the look on her face. It's like the clouds parted and she saw the light for the first time! And then, like Spiderman fading into the night, I was gone. My work here was done. Now back to our regularly scheduled program...
I truly think that the people who wrote these cards are not married. That should be a requirement. And I'm talking married for like 5 years, at least! If you've only been married for a couple of years then you can work in the Engagement Dept., or in Newlyweds. You cannot work in the Anniversary Dept! And I believe that Mr. Hallmark needs to separate the Anniversary Dept. into smaller divisions, one being cards for couples married less than 5 years...let's call it the Isn't Love Grand Dept.
Next, we have the section for couples who have been married for 5-10 years w/ young children, entitled Love is Great but I'd Rather Sleep Dept. (This is my dept. :) ) For those who have been married from 10-20 years, Who Does a Girl Gotta Sleep With To Get Some HELP Around This House!?! Dept. And for those fantastic couples who have made it 20+ years we have the I'm Too Tired To Tell You You're An Idiot Dept. ~cue music~ "...there is loooooooove....therrrrrre...iiiiiissss...looooooooooove."
God bless her hard working soul. This poor, unfortunate woman has it tough. My heart truly goes out to her. It's not that I think celebrities (she's married to Kelsey, in case you didn't know) don't have problems, I just didn't realize the magnitude of their problems. How. Does. She. Do. It? Well, I tell ya, she's an absolute inspiration to me. Makes me so thankful that I don't have to try to handle 2 half-grown children with only 4 nannies and a house manager. I was so happy to see that she was able to get away to Hawaii and get some alone time. She looked stressed, and I'm sure she could use the rest...~tires screeching~
HOLD UP, WAIT A MINUTE, let me throw a BEATING in it! (Sorry, the high school cheerleader in me came out of nowhere! She does that when I'm overly excited.) Is she kidding? I know she's not, but I am ready to put a WWF-sized SMACKDOWN on this woman. She needs to be absolutely ASHAMED of herself!! Now I am blessed (that's what they tell me.) to be able to stay home with my children, and I only have 2, which contrary to the popular 80's t.v. show...IS ENOUGH! But as crazy as these children make me, I would not be able to come up w/ enough stuff for TWO nannies, much less FOUR! And my kidlets are 1 and 4! If they were the ages of her kids, looks like 8 & 9ish, I'd be having a freakin' party!
Other than make a sandwich and get some juice...what do these nannies do all day? I tease about wanting a nanny, what mom doesn't. I am known to use the phrases, "Where's the Nanny?", "Call the Nanny!", "I'm going to fire that freakin' Nanny!". But in reality, I wouldn't let her take my kids to the doc...I want to be there. I wouldn't let her get up with my kids in the middle of the night...they need their Mommy, and I need to see that they are ok. I guess I'd let her change a diaper or two, maybe dish out some raisins and juice...that would be nice. But mostly, I think my nanny would sit here while my kidlets nap so I can run to Target. Not really worth paying someone for that. I guess I could have Diaper Nanny, Juice Nanny, Sandwich Nanny, and Nose-Wipin' Nanny. But do I really need this many people standing around staring at me? Listening to me while I talk to myself? ("Tell me you aren't going to do something, when Mommy tells you to. You MOVE when I say move! Who do they think they are talking to? I brought them into this world, and I can take them out!) I say NAY! I like to keep 'crazy' behind closed doors, thankyouverymuch.
Maybe Camille is good for us REAL moms. Those of us that wouldn't trade our kids for a million bucks, but wouldn't give you a nickel for another one. The moms in the trenches who have to get the kids up, out the door...oops, the baby pooped...back in the house, change the diaper...out the door...forgot the lunchbox, pack the lunch...out the door...4 year old has to pee, unbuckle carseat, back in the house...out the door. ( I'm not really out the door yet but I could do this all day, and I have. So let's just stop here, shall we?) If it weren't for Camille, to remind us what a great mom really looks like, we might just be floating aimlessly out in the world. Camille has given us purpose!! Focus!! Drive!! Yes, DRIVE...as in, "let's DRIVE to Camille's house and punch her in the face!" I kid. I wouldn't waste the gas.
But one can't help but wonder, when Camille is in her golden years...how many nurses will her children hire?
For YEARS, and I do mean YEARS, I have searched for a Christmas Tree topper. Unlike my success w/ antenna ball toppers, the perfect Christmas Tree topper has eluded me. Year after year, I feel unmeasurable joy when I'm decorating my tree, until...Topper Time. Ugh. Freakin' Star Topper w/ it's 4 inch cord!! What am I supposed to do with that?! Anyone?! And then there's that clip that will snap your finger right off, if you aren't careful! Of course the star is too heavy so after clipping, you get to watch in horror as it starts to leeeeean. Double UGH! And what about the height? Why is it the tree always goes right up to the ceiling so the topper won't fit (even if you COULD get it on!) without dinging the ceiling?! I don't know about you but I'm NOT A FAN of dinging my ceiling! So all of my happy happy, joy joy of decorating the tree is ruined in the last 5...ok, who am I kidding...30 MINUTES of trying to wrastle (it's a word) with the topper. This is about the point where I consume 2 1/2 lbs of the fudge I've made for Christmas. Ughtothemax.
Ok, so today...this year...will be different. I have found the answer to my prayers! Yes, I have actually prayed for this. Although it comes out more like, "Oh my GOD, PLEEEEEZE fit, you MOTHER%&*%^!! If we can put a man on the moon (and why is it the man on the moon is always brought into it?! Thank God for him.) WHY can't someone make a freakin' TREE TOPPER that FITS and isn't completely USELESS!?!". Those days are over, kids. And speaking of kids...those days are over just in time so that I don't scare my children. (any further.)
Gaze upon all that is wonderful and glorious. All is calm...all is bright...
Why the FRICK didn't someone think of this sooner?!! The angst I could have avoided over the last 15 years! Aaaaaahhhh...this little gem is mine! And for only $16! Thank you Pottery Barn, for anticipating my every need and providing me with free shipping. I shall sing your praises every Christmas from this day forward, til death do us part. Amen.
Btw (By The Way, get with it!), click on the title of this post and it will take you to Pottery Barn Kids where you too, can purchase your own tree topper! Aren't I fancy? :) (and not getting paid by PBK to do this...yet!)
It's official!! It's been a long time coming and I've felt like BRU (Babies R Us) has just had too much of a monopoly on all things baby, so I was stuck. Well NOT ANY MORE!! This is the final straw!
So there I was...w/ a 17 month old who isn't fond of sitting still, a 4 year old who isn't fond of shutting up, and me, Ms. Frazzle McDazzle, who isn't fond of any of this. I'm trying to haul 2 HUGE and heavy baby gates to the check out area with one hand, pushing the cart, keeping track of the 4 year old. ( I guess the constant talking is good for something. Never have to wonder where she is.) They were too big to fit IN the cart and too big to go UNDER the cart. So I mosey'd my way to the front where I could look forward to standing in line with at least 8 other people. You know, the usual. The whole while trying to keep these gates from falling over, playing tug of war with the baby who is ripping the shopping cart cover off of the cart and LICKING THE HANDLE!!!! OMG! I was gagging, I won't lie.
Finally, my turn! I haul the gates up onto the counter and present the checker with my coupons, friendly as I want to be! These gates were $64 each and I had 2 20% off coupons. WELL, the checker said that I could only use 1. Only 1 coupon per customer per day. WTH?!! Exasperated, I said, "Ok, can you do 2 transactions?" (People, you are talking to the girl who worked retail for 11 years. I know how the system works!) She said no. Ok...so I have to go stand in another line if I want to use the 2nd coupon?!! (RIDIC!) She said no, only 1 per person per day!! OK, that is IT!!! I unleashed.
"Miss BRU, I realize these are not your personal policies, but as a representative of BRU, you get to deal with this. How ridiculous is it that a BABY store would make life soooo inconvenient for mothers who, most often are hauling their children with them when they shop here?!! So now I'm expected to load up my children and make a second trip to give you my money?! OOOOOHHH, I don't think so. You can go ahead and put this gate back, because I will not. And you can kiss my $64 good bye because I'm sure Amazon.com would love to take my money. And by the way, will there be a survey I can take on my receipt?" (You know how they are always trying to get you to take those surveys?! Well, HA!! I just spent 15 minutes giving them an earful!...actually and eyefull, but whatever!) If I wasn't so desperate for that gate, I wouldn't have even bought the one I did from them. I may take it back because I got too busy to put it up yesterday anyway.
OH, and another thing!!!! I have used my freakin' "Rewards" card for 5 years now with nothing to show for it! They said if you bought 9 boxes of diapers, you'd get the 10th free. Wellll? Don't you think that in 5 years, with 2 kids, I have purchased more than 9 boxes?!! WHERE'S MY FREE BOX, BASTARDS?!!
So for all of you parents out there, Amazon Mom will send diapers TO YOUR DOOR with FREE TWO-DAY SHIPPING for prices at or below BRU or Target! They also give you a 3 month free trial of Amazon Prime when you join. That gives you free 2 day shipping on anything you order, with no minimum purchase! I have no affiliation with Amazon, other than they have saved me from the treacherous BRU, and for that I lurve them. Oh, and for every month that you spend $25 in the Amazon.com baby dept., they will give you one extra month of Amazon Prime for free! Ok, that's the end of my commercial.
But before I go, one last cathartic 'SUCK IT' to Babies R Us!! You have no power over me, anymore!! Say it with me...Amazooooooooooooooooon!!
It was but one year ago, on a day not unlike today. Sun was shining, birds were singing, and car was dirty. So I drove me and my chitlins through the car wash without a care in the world. And then...the HORROR. RIPPED from his perch while minding. his. own. business. Pooooooor little Pilgrim Mickey antenna ball. ~sniff, sniff~ I panicked! "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SOMEONE TURN OFF THAT MACHINE!!", I cried. I tried to go in and save him, but it was too wet. Too many moving, mechanical parts! I had a family to think about. I couldn't put myself at such risk. They deserved a mother. It was not unlike Sophie's Choice, so I chose. But it doesn't mean that a Thanksgiving season doesn't go by without thinking of him. Just this morning as I went to the car and realized that Mickey Bat ball had to come down, I thought...now what? What do I do? Wherrrre do I go from here? The season is too important to be so cavalier as to throw up a Princess ball, you know? Of course you know. That's just crazy talk! What am I?...An animal?!!...I don't think so. Thanksgiving just won't ever be the same.
So heed my warning! Don't ever go to the car wash by Moorpark College. It's violent and ruthless, and it will rip your balls right off!
Oh people, I have outdone myself, if I do say so myself...and myself says so! I started out making soup, then I thought that all of the ingredients were the same as my pot roast so I did the same seasoning, w/ a hoot and a hey and a HOPE SHA-NA! No idea what it would taste like and then WOWWWZAAAA!!
So since I wasn't planning on it becoming the extravaganza that it was, I didn't take pics along the way. But lucky for you I dug all of the cans and wrappers and crap out of the trash. :) JUST FOR YOU! I can't be responsible for the taste if you use lesser products. I mean, I have standards. Ok, so here goes...
Buy some meat. :) Chuck roast preferably, and I happened to find chuck roast boneless short ribs at Albertson's yesterday. Never knew they existed! But just a regular chuck roast is fine, and it doesn't have to be big. Like 2 or 3 lbs is fine. More if you have a bigger pot. I would recommend cutting the roast into about 6 big pieces. No need to cut it smaller, it will fall apart w/ your spoon when it is done.
There's a printable recipe at the bottom of the page. (I hope!) This is my trial run with that thing so we will see how it goes!
But basically this recipe has all of the pot roast fixin's, carrots, onions, celery, mushrooms, garlic. I threw in some stewed tomatoes just because my grandma used to put them in her veggie soup so I did too. They are big enough to not eat if you don't like them, but they really add a good flavor.
So here are the pics of the good stuff, besides the veggies...
This is the freakin' bomb diggity! It's the seasoning I use for my regular pot roast (which starts out FROZEN by the way!) So I added it to the soup!
Have you seen this man? This is STOCK, not broth! Stock has more flavor because it is cooked w/ the beef AND tons of veggies. Broth just uses the beef or chicken and is more bland. I used one box, plus a little from the second box.
Here's the finished product. Not Martha Stewart, but it is real. You won't wonder why yours looks like this and the pic is so perty!
See that large piece of meat? Thought it would be a problem, but nope! Just falls apart, even with a spoon!! :) My little ones even ate it, THAT is how good it is. Ok, gonna shut up about it's amazing goodness because I hate to get your hopes up, but really...it's like a pot roast and gravy on a spoon!! Do yourself a favor and chase it w/ a biscuit!! You'll be glad you did. Printer friendly recipe
Be still my heart. The excitement...so intense...I can barely breathe.
When a friend posted a picture of her cute Halloween Cupcake Cookie Jar, I literally think my heart stopped. INSTANTLY, I had to gurgle it and there it was...cute as it wants to be...at Kohl's. "Ferb, I know what we're gonna do today!" Cut to...me and 2 kids at Kohl's within 20 minutes. :) Best part? It was on sale AND I had $10 Kohl's giftcard. $30 cookie jar = $7.99, BABY!!
Look at this preciousness! Can you stand it?! (If only I could remember the Ode to a Candy Corn that I wrote last year, I would insert it here.) :) Instead, let us have a moment of silence to reflect upon this treasure.
I mean, really. Its cuteness cannot be measured.
Now some would chastise and say, "Shari, have you nothing better to do on a Thursday afternoon than go in search of a cookie jar?" My answer?...No. No I don't. I see a shoppertunity and I grab it, mister! And it isn't JUST the cuteness in all its glory...let's take a moment and gaze, shall we?...it's the adventure, the search, the hunt!! ~cue Miley Cyrus~ "It's the cliiiiiiiiiimb!"
To the critics, those who do not understand, I say, "Good day. I SAID GOOD DAY!"
What, in the name of all that is pure and holy, am I going to do with myself in 4 more years when Adam is in kindergarten?!!! The thought just makes me GIDDY! Here I sit in this peace and quiet while he is napping and sister is in preschool (mind you, I only have about 90 minutes of this) and I am so happy I'm literally tingling. Literally. Feeling tingles as we speak...uh, type...or I type and you listen, if you are reading out loud...but only do that if you are alone or people will think you're a freak and well...speaking of freaks...MOVING ON!
Where was I? Oh yes, tingles! :) So when Mr. Adam starts kindergarten, what to do...what to DO?!! First I shall go to Starbucks. I believe that's the proper 'kids in school' etiquette for moms. Maybe I'll go with another mom! We could chat. Actually complete a sentence without interjecting with "I'm TALKING! Stop interrupting! Put that DOWN!" Just a nice, quiet chat. Aaaaaah. Then perhaps I will go to Target. Yes, people, it just might get that crazy. :) And then possibly go for a run, then a shower and maybe off for a mani/pedi? Or a nap? I'll clean the house eventually, once the 'new' wears off. Might take a week or so. It's been a long 5 years. Mama's earned it. Hubby made the comment once that when the kids were in school he would retire and I could go back to working full time. I didn't speak to him for 2 weeks. No one did. I forbid it. Sent flyers around the neighborhood informing the mothers of what he said to me. They united, supported, and glared appropriately. He came to his senses and realized he wanted to live.
And oh what a wonderful plan it was. Mother of the Year worthy!! :) Today is the day that we have been waiting for...Tinkerbell and the Great Fairy Rescue hits stores!! So me and my chitlins were going to go out to breakfast and head over to Target to retrieve this glorious treasure. It was 8:15 am and the store was empty. Humming a happy tune, I found some Halloween candy dishes shaped like candy corn (candy corn will earn its very own post in the near future) and a pumpkin, and a little pumpkin headband for Kaitlyn. Life was good and filled with promise. "I love the smell of Target in the morniiiiing!!"
And then...uuhhhh...where's the movie? Tag is there...several tags are there...no movie. Hmmm...dvd...nothing, blue-ray...nothing, special deluxe edition complete w/ a ring, a bracelet, and a brand new car...nothing. Ok, nobody panic. Find Target person...ok, doesn't speak english, no problem...use broken spanglish and thank the Heavenly Father that Tinkerbell is the same in all languages. Manager informs me that NO TARGET STORES have received the movie yet, check back later. Whaaaaaaaaaaa? Listen MISTER! There IS NO 'check back later' in LittleGirlLand!! Do you want to tell this to my 4 year old who is drooling all over herself w/ joyful anticipation? I think not! I had no choice. Like a mother in the midst of combat, I knew what I had to do. It wasn't going to be pretty, but I'm a mom. And it ain't a pretty job most of the time. So I muster up the courage and...off to WalMart we go. "I love the smell of ...um...Wal...errr...well...ok, I just can't do it... it smells like ass in here." But they had the movie. We got in, held our noses, and got out!
I never understood the disdain people held for WalMart. I got the fact that it put lots of mom & pop stores out of business, and that was a shame, but I tried to balance that w/ the fact that it employed a lot of people, gave them health benefits and provided the masses w/ cheap stuff. This was my feeling until a dreaded Wednesday night a few months ago. I was so disturbed that I whipped out a notebook to record my pain right there in the parking lot. I am off to find that notebook because you must hear the story in the whipped-up, frenzied tone in which it was originally written. Stay tuned...
Needed a little retail therapy today so I ventured to Target Fine Imports. As I am perusing, finding tons of crap that I don't need...except that I DO...I remembered a little bug that my sister planted in my brain. It was something she said brought her great joy. I searched and searched, and there it was...feast your eyes...
Do you see this, because I'm not sure that you do. Yes, it is the 4 color clicky pen, big whoop, but wait...look at the fine print...
That's right, FASHION COLORS!!! Purple, pink, turquoise, and lime green!! I bought 2. :) Now I can share in that joy, too. I shall die happy. Oh what to write...what to write??!! Except that I type...oh well, details! I must now excuse myself to go caress all that is...the clicky pen. :)
Now I've stepped in it! Both literally and figuratively, but more on the literal later. (It involves mud, and me hydroplaning across a planter at Target...and it ain't pretty...but I digress.) Hubby informed me that the tire can't be fixed so it's going to cost $870 for 4 new tires. Now all you ladies out there are thinking...just buy one damn tire! And all the men have some super-duper reason why we can't. Like they think THEY are the Nascar professionals...puh-leeeez! When Jimmie Johnson tells me about it, I'll believe it! First I would kiss him...then I'd believe him. :)
My entire life I have been plagued w/ flat tires and all sorts of tire issues. Ask my dad, goes waaaaayyy back to my little bicycle w/ the flower basket and big orange flag on the back. (That flag is still a sore spot for me so leave it alone!) So today I get the kids ready and as I'm loading them in the car I notice that my right rear is flat. (don't be intimidated by my use of 'right rear'. It comes from many years of Nascar, so don't beat yourself up over it. I'm a professional.) CRAP!! Well, as I was walking back in the house to tell the hubster, I noticed something...something that brought me great joy w/ a side order of pride...don't ask me why, but it did. I went from "Oh crap, this sucks!" , to "Hey honey! Come look what I did!". :) Take a gander at my tire...
Those are half of a pair of scissors in there. But that is not what was so impressive. HERE is what I'm talking about...
IN THE WHEEL WELL, PEOPLE!! :) How cool am I?!! Jealous, much? ;) Now hubby will tell you that 'officially' he was aggravated...until he saw the VISION. I caught a glimpse of that little smile. He tried to hide it but I could see it, plain as day. That was pride, my friend...pure pride.
It is but a symbol, given to me from the gods, of my recent mental struggle over how to get mine and Kaitlyn's haircut w/ this little boy in tow. It is as if the universe is saying to me, "Yes, Shari, haircuts suck!" or maybe just a simple "SCREW THE HAIRCUT!". I am at peace. Namaste'.
I should tell you that I once had a AAA tire man tell me that the pliers I ran over, that shaped themselves into a perfect "L", were the strangest thing he had seen in 20 years. ~heavy sigh~...wish I had his number...
And then there was the time that all 4 wheels were stolen off of my new Honda Accord and I woke up to find my car sitting on blocks. True story. Try calling for a tow on that one! Kept having to explain to the insurance guy that..."I HAVE NO WHEELS!!! How can you tow me?!" Had to get a ride to Honda, buy 4 new WHEELS (not just tires!), take them back to my car and THEN call the tow man to put them on the car. I was amazed they could get the jack under the car! Where's my pit crew when I need them?!
I wish I could be one of those people who just blows sunshine and rainbow ponies up your butt, but it's just not me. I do try to always look at the silver lining, and for most things I'm able to do that. Seems like when things are really bad or sad, or tragic, I'm able to dig deep and find the lesson. Maybe I do that out of desperation so that I don't find myself plummeting into the pits of hell, complete w/ moaning and gnashing of teeth. Who knows. But when it comes to the daily grind...and by grind I mean pull your toenails back w/ a pair of pliers, then shove your head in a meat grinder, kind of grind...I just DO NOT have the capacity. My humor is the only thing that honestly keeps me from running my car into a pole. Yes, it's that bad. Now don't start w/ the "Oh Shari, so many people have it so much worse..." yeah, yeah, I know all that. That is all completely true. I'll be ashamed of myself later and then add THAT to my list of failures, but for right now I need to wallow. I need to wallow in the madness of my daily life. The constant screeching (think howler monkey), Kaitlyn refusing to eat, while Adam is eating us out of house and home, the screaming from the tangles in the hair that MAKE ME WANT TO SHAVE HER HEAD, the whining, I could go on and on...and I think I have...so I'm going to stop right here. I know this will pass. And again, this is one of the few thoughts that keeps me going. That it will end and I will never have to do this again. I do not like motherhood right now. There. I said it. So shoot me. (Please!)
The gene that causes some people to need to be needed. I do not need needing. Don't want needing, although I wouldn't mind some kneading...shoulders are kinda tight, but I digress. Some mothers love this feeling, of being needed. When my 4 year old says, "I can do it, Mama. I don't need help", my heart soars. :) Could it be the constant, never ending fatigue that makes me want to jump up and slap my granny, you ask? Possibly. Or it could be the non-stop feeling of being pecked to death by a chicken, the hanging on my shirt, wrapped around my leg, screeching, pulling at my hair, and slapping at my face (that would be the baby, not the 4 year old!) that makes me long for my children's independence? Probably. Cold hearted? Never. I love them deeply and completely, but please stop touching me. :)
There is currently a phenomenon taking place across America and your roving reporter is here to bring it to you! Don't be fooled by media propaganda! The recession is apparently all in our imaginations, because although "my call is very important" to them, they are "currently experiencing high call volumes & longer wait times". Who is 'them' you ask? Well, apparently it is EVERYONE! EVERY flingin' flangin' company from here to the Appalachians is experiencing 'high flippin' call volume'! Phone company, cable company, refrigerator repairman, and even freakin' QVC!! (Yeah, I said QVC! So what?! Wanna fight? I Q...do you?) So business must be good, huh? Since everybody seems to be so busy! Or are the millions who are out of work sitting at home on the phone calling these companies because they are lonely and need someone to talk to? Here's a thought...how about HIRING some of these out of work Americans to man your phones?!! Seems to be a desperate need, unless you think it is good customer service to keep a woman on HOLD FOR 25 MINUTES WHO HAS 2 LITTLE KIDS?!!!!!! Oh, and don't think I didn't write your name down MR. DAVID, aka Customer Care Specialist?!!! I got your specialist right here!!
And I'm breathing...I'm breathing...release...relent...relinquish...recoil...rebar...wth?... reheat?...ok, moving on! I'm not an idiot. (Shut up!) I know they are not really experiencing a 'high volume of calls'. They've just laid off 80% of their staff and are leaving the normal volume of calls up to Skippy and Mr. David, Customer Care Specialist. So just don't lie to me. That's what ticks me off! When that freakin' recording says OVER and OVER that I'm special, they love me, the sun rises and sets on me...blah, blah, blah, it makes me want to HURT SOMEONE. Meanwhile, I've got a crick in my neck from wiping butts and making peanut butter sandwiches w/ the phone in my ear! I would much rather hear the truth..."Due to the fact that business is currently sucking, we've got 2 teenagers w/ attitudes who'd rather be anywhere but here (and have no authority to solve your problems) answering our phones because we only have to pay them in sandwiches and Jamba Juice. We've asked them to please give a crap and speak as though they don't have a mouth full of marshmallows and are on triple the legal dose of Valium, but they are teenagers, what can ya do?! Please rest assured that when business improves, we will hire even more teenagers because let's be honest, they are cheap and we really want to make as much money as possible at the customer's expense. Thank you for your patience, now go shit in a hat." :)
Just needed to give a shout out to all that is ...The iPad!! This contraption has given me complete and total joy all the days of my life!!! Well, since June at least. :) He/She is my buddy, my pal, my love. She is with me daily, when life is good, when things are tough, letting me know that 'Hey Shari, it's all gonna be ok. I'm here for you.' We read together, listen to music, play games, watch movies, chat, you know...all that stuff that bff's do. She has changed my life, and for that I am grateful. Thank you Apple gods for creating my special friend. If I had the money, I would give one to every stay-at-home mom I know! She completes me. (I guess I've decided she's a "she". Now if only I could think of a name.) To be continued...
Kaitlyn has been such a sweet girl lately and yesterday she asked if she could have a Buzz Lightyear doll. We watch that movie DAILY and she has the Jessie that she loves to play with. So today we go to Target and they have crappy little Buzz for $6 and AWESOME Buzz for $35. So after deep reflection, we get Big Awesome Buzz.
Here's the dilemma...the kids hovered over me until I got him out of all that packing, and now Adam won't turn him loose. He LOVES HIM! I'm talkin' pure. man. love. Hugs him. Won't put him down. And when Kaitlyn makes a move towards him he puts a protective move on Buzz and fakes left, then runs past her.
It says the toy is for 4 years and older. There are no loose parts and even if something came loose, all the parts are pretty big. I don't see where there would be a choking hazard. Plus, he's going to play with Kaitlyn's so what's the diff if I go buy him one? I think I'm going to have to or K will never get to play with it. She's sleeping w/ him now. (Ok, that was weird. Forget I said that.) ...I need to go lie down.
Like I have to tell YOU that. But seriously, I think there is something screwy in my brain that I can get so much joy from dishes. LOVE DISHES! Love them. Love. And yesterday while perusing Pier 1 Imports, in a purely supportive role (my sister was shopping), I ran across THIS...
Are you seeing this?? It is a cookie jar!! COOKIE. JAR. And it's a CUPCAKE! (Note the wine in the background. I could have moved it aside, but it too, brings me joy. So he stays.) And you may have noticed that this cookie jar is no longer in the store. That's my counter. In case you didn't know.
I think for you to fully understand the depths of this joy, I must take you back. A flashback if you will. Think LOST, without all the angst...
Two or three years ago I ran across THE cutest dessert plates at Sur La Table. They were SO cute that I had to have 2 sets! Well, technically 3 sets because I felt that my sister needed one. Well, technically I ordered like 6 sets because some were chipped & I became obsessed w/ unchipped plates. It was quite the process (similar to the Soup Cookbook incident of 2010 that I won't get into right now.) SO CUTE that I bought this gift for her 3 months before her birthday and saved it! You should know that I am not good at saving gifts! But this one was so worth it. Are you ready? :) (I'm not feeling your excitement. Step it up, please.)
TADAAAAAAA!! :) Can you stand it?!! Cuz I almost can't STAND IT!! And did you notice?...Did. You. Notice? LOOK!...
Ditto taddaaaaaaaa! It is exactly the same as...the...cookie...jar! I've had these plates for over 2 years and the cookie jar was at PIER ONE, of all places!! You can't find these plates or this cookie jar anywhere online! It's like they were made just for me and now they are gone. I walked around the store holding it, caressing, petting, smiling. The employees kept asking to hold it at the register for me. No thank you. We are fine. :)
Now let us have a moment of silence and gaze upon all that is...Cupcakeville...
As if my heart could take any more, imagine this cookie jar and these plates on top of my birthday table runner I made for the kids...
Have you ever been happier than you are at this moment? I know, me too. :)
I had no idea that other people did not decorate their antenna's with balls. This has caught me completely unawares. Is it because I live fairly close to Disneyland? There is definite ball pressure in my neck of the woods. Especially amongst fellow Mommies. Don't deny it...you know who you are. I see you looking upon my balls w/ envy. Hey, it's no secret where to get them. You just have to put forth a little effort. And by effort, I don't mean STEALING. There is currently an Amber Alert out on my Tinkerbell. Some bastard ripped her from her perch shortly after her movie was released. But Mommy still holds out hope & I'm keeping the dream alive. COME HOME, TINK! I thought I saw her once on the 101, but this Tink was all faded and dried out. Her face was cracking and I could barely look at her. :( Here she is in her Christmas outfit. ~sniff, sniff~ Isn't she beautiful? ~whispers~ Mommy loves you!
This brings me to a note about ball etiquette. People, you don't just slap a ball on your antenna and leave it there to rot! If you are going to just leave them up there for the sun to bake to oblivion, well then you just don't deserve to have a ball! You must follow proper ball rotation, so as to avoid this rookie move. This will require multiple balls, because how are you supposed to rotate if you only have 1? I can't even imagine only
having one. Concept is completely foreign to me.
So, here's a hypothetical...it is March, spring is dawning, birds are singing...what do you do? Well, couple of options...you can celebrate spring w/ a lovely Flower Mickey, OR you can put up Bunny Mickey (of which there are 2 varieties. Use your own judgment, but I prefer the all-white standard Mickey Bunny as opposed to the modern Flop-Eared Mickey w/ the freaky face. But I'm a traditionalist and enjoy the classics. Whatever blows your skirt up.)
Now, since Easter is a shorter time span than spring, I would probably opt for Bunny Mickey until the day/week after Easter, and then whip out Flower Mickey until mid May.(notice that I have 2 varieties. But then again, I'm a professional. Don't put too much pressure on yourself right out of the gate, Rome wasn't built in a day.) Around mid-May we prepare for Memorial Day w/ Uncle Sam Mickey. Beauty of Uncle Sam Mickey (not pictured, currently MIA...trying not to panic!) is that he is relevant from Memorial Day until the 4th of July. Technically, I guess you could keep him for the entire summer since Labor Day isn't far off, but then that would fly in the face of the previously mentioned 'ball rotation'. You are running the risk of Uncle Sam Mickey becoming cracked and blistered. And nobody wants that. So again, I would recommending going to something summery and whimsical after the 4th. Maybe a Princess ball, or a Classic Mickey ball w/ the sparkly ears. Here's my latest 'non-holiday specific' ball.
(Truthfully, summer is an awkward time for balls as Disney has yet to come up with a ball that I feel captures the essence of summer. I have some ideas for Beach Mickey, complete w/ zinc oxide on his nose, possibly a snorkel. If only the powers that be would return my calls.)
STOP THE PRESSES! Ok, I am shaking a little bit right now because in my effort to provide you w/ visuals, I came across this little jewel on eBay. Be. Still. My. Heart. It is the perfect combination of my love for balls AND cupcakes. Sweet, merciful Jasper.
You people are costing me a fortune! Look at thissssssssssssss...
and he's allll mine! :) (I do NOT need an intervention...I do NOT need an intervention.) But I believe I do need a moment...I'm tingling with excitement...can't think...deeeeeep breath. Whew.
So hopefully now you will understand my love of balls. I only hope that revealing this underground Mommy secret will not get me kicked out of the Club. (see what I did there? Club? Totally unintentional! Get it? Mickey Mouse CLUB?! lol Oohhh I crack myself up. :) )
YES WE DO!!! :) As you can see, I had a multitude of balls to choose from. Although I would LOVE to hang Bunny Mickey from the rafters, just for his ridiculous-ness, I couldn't imagine driving in to greet him each day. And then...one spoke to me. (Pssst! This is the part where you scroll down for the big reveal)
So I got out my handy-dandy tool kit. Ah, well...I got a needle and thread. And a tack. I guess it brought out the MacGiver in me.
Figure I can see those big-ass eyes comin' at me from a mile away.
Ok, I just realized I've got a fish on a hook. TOTALLY didn't see that coming. Honest. Like it just hit me right now. :) I so funny.
STOP RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE...look around you...and tell me...do you see THIS? (minus the rip. How did that get there? It's all a blur.)
Here...take a closer look...
Do you see that? What that says? It's manna from heaven, that's what it is. And I cannot find them! Well, I found this one. But it was in a mall kiosk and it was the last one! Target doesn't have it...Albertson's doesn't have it...VONS doesn't have it. I'm throwin' myself on the mercy of the court! SOMEONE SEND ME SOME!!
Please excuse me while I go hide my head in shame. ~mustn't let the crazy show...mustn't let the crazy show...~
The time has come, dear people. If only my computer would download my pics (having an issue & I don't want to talk about it. Ugh.) I could show you some of the balls that are in the running. I decided to tackle this project sans hubby. I figure, I've got Disney antenna balls, thread (being the quilter that I am...was...whatever!), and thumb tacks. What more is needed? Well, maybe a ladder. Guess I could climb on the hood. NO, better go w/ a ladder because the old gray mare, she ain't what she use to be. Ok, I'm off! I'll be back to tell the tale! :)
The story about last night at the Zoovies. One thing I never expected with motherhood was being more excited about taking Kaitlyn to do kid-stuff than she was. I never thought my 2 or 3 or 4 year old would turn into Debbie Downer. Who is this kid and WHO IS HER MOTHER!! Surely not me!! I love to go places and do fun stuff, and LORD knows those moments are few and far between w/ a baby. I always look forward to doing this stuff and seeing it through the eyes of my child. Pbbbtttthhhhh!! (that was the best raspberry I could muster) Anyone have any kids they want to lend me?
It started out fine, a one hour drive to Santa Barbara w/ no traffic! She was asking for ice cream so I got her a little bit on the ride up. Fun, right?! Go MOM! Half way there I get the first ever..."Are we there yet?". Oh geez! Should have been my first clue. But she rallied and was super excited when we pulled into the parking lot! We had a great time looking at the animals on our way to the grassy area. I paid a little extra so she could jump in the bounce house. Again...YAY MOM!
We head up to the grass and that's when it started...there was the faintest stench of animalness. Kaitlyn plugs her nose immediately & makes this squishy face, "Bom, ids dinky." Yeah, yeah, kid. I know. You'll get used to it. "No Bom, id don't dmell dood." I was PRAYING for a breeze! (and let me take this moment to tell you that it was the most PERFECT Santa Barbara evening at the beach that you could imagine! It was 72* at 8pm!!) I tried to distract her. They had Madagascar beanie babies! Hey Kaitlyn, want one? "Do dhanks." (still holding her nose. Sheesh!) What kid doesn't want a Beanie Baby?!! So I got one to take home to Adam.
I find a great spot and get all set up. I have the blanket, the chair, the quilt, licorice, the works! Kid still won't let go of her nose. FINALLY we get a slight breeze and she seems to forget about it. Then she wants popcorn. Didn't want popcorn when there wasn't a line. Now, suddenly, the urge for corn is overwhelming her. Ok, off to stand in line. We finally get the $6 popcorn in a collector tub, (give me a break), and head over to stand in the drink line. Takes for-EVER!! It is almost our turn and Kaitlyn tells me she doesn't want the popcorn. She hasn't had ONE BITE yet. Doesn't want it. (I controlled my urge to dump the whole bucket right there in the trash!) That was the whole point of the drink, to wash down the corn. So NOW I'm pissed! Ok, no corn? Then no drink! We leave the line and go sit down. She is crying of course, saying she's thirsty. Well, the movie is 90 minutes long so she can deal until we get to the car. I probably should have gotten the drink, but at the zoo they don't have lids or straws and I didn't want to deal w/ balancing that drink if it wasn't really necessary. And without the corn...NOT NECESSARY!
Movie starts, she's acting happy, sitting in my lap. There's a HUGE screen on the lawn, weather is perfect, seats are great, sun is setting, and I'm feeling good! 45 minutes into the movie..."I want to go home". WTH?!! I'm zero to pissed in 2 seconds. Fine! I packed that crap up so fast it made her head spin and we were OUTTA THERE! Freakin' kid ruined my fun! I asked if she had fun..."yes"...do you want Mommy to bring you back for another movie next week?..."No, you can bring Adam." $*%&@
Now she usually is in bed around 8:30pm, but most nights she'll sing in her bed until at least 9:15pm or 9:30. Some nights she's not in bed until 9 and then I still hear her around 10. So I thought, big whoop, we sit and watch a movie until 9:30/9:45 and she snoozes on the way home. Well apparently, she is sleepier in the evening than I am aware. She fell asleep in the car half way home. Oh, after downing half of a bottle of water. :( So I guess she was thirsty, but I'm telling you, in my state of mind, if I would have got that drink and she would have refused it...let's just say we wouldn't even have stayed for the opening credits. Mama don't play!
So there you have it, in all it's glory. Everything about the Zoovies is fantastic, unless you are my daughter. If you have the means, you should check it out! I'm still holding out hope for Adam, but in my experience w/ Kaitlyn, that kid ruins every fun thing I ever try to do for/with her. Mama needs an aspirin after re-living that event. Thank you and good-night.
It was a MADDENING day in the Brown house yesterday!!! SO maddening that I couldn't even post about it until I calmed down. I wasted THREE sticks of butter!! AND my house was full of smoke! So bad that when I got home from the store I could smell smoke from the driveway. Then we had to leave and close up the house. That was nice to come home to. Cleaning a disaster of a kitchen and smelling smoke everywhere! Burned cinnamon, pecans and sugar is a lovely stench. But I digress...
Remember the cinnamon coffee cake recipe I posted a few days ago? The one from my fave lady, Pioneer Woman? Welllllll, after waiting all week to make this lovely for Father's Day brunch, I spend my Sunday morning beating egg whites, anticipating the deliciousness. The recipe says to put the cake in a 9x13 or in an 8x11 if you want thicker slices of cake. So that makes me think that the 9x13 is going to have skinny little pieces. Why did she have to say that?!! I was going to do the 9x13 until she said that! I don't want pitiful slices! Cut to the chase...lava overflow in my oven. Cake burning on bottom of oven. LOTS of cake burning! Smoke everywhere and I had to dump the cake. No saving it. It was still raw in the middle but there was so much smoke I couldn't keep cooking it. UUUUGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!! I was soooo mad.
But wait, it gets worse...off to Donut Shop for some fresh cinnamon rolls. I fill a box, go to pay. I'm $2 short and the dude doesn't take debit or credit cards. I just stood there staring at him and then said sorry and left. Off to Albertson's. Cuz you know they are known for their cinnamon rolls. (insert sarcasm and eye-rolling here). I was so pissed!
So last night I get onto PW's website to let her know that her instructions SUCK, only to see that she has changed the recipe. It now says, "bake in a 9x13 or LARGER". Yes, just like that, with the big bold letters. Obviously I wasn't the only one w/ problems and she did apologize. She's still in a timeout for another day or so, & then I'll get over it. (not really, I'll probably hang onto this for a while, but I do love her recipes.)
Thank goodness we were having Father's Day at Mom's house and not mine! We came home to a stinky house and a dirty kitchen. I can't even tell you about my oven. OVENSSSSSSSSSSSS! Because while scraping the ooze and charcoal out of the top one, some slipped down under the door onto the bottom oven. When I opened the bottom oven door to get the ooze, it dripped into THAT oven! OMG!!! Ok, I'm breathing...I'm breathing...And as every mother knows, I'm dealing w/ all this while trying to feed everyone dinner, kids want to play in the baby pool, everyone needs a bath, etc. NOT FUN!!