Epic Embarrassment!

There is no good lead in for this story so I'll just throw it out there.
Ben peed on the floor of Walmart.

All over the floor.
Right through his pants.

He just let it rip.

I had to change him in the bra aisle using a diaper I had in my purse and a $3.88 pair of sweatpants I grabbed from the kid's department.

His own pants got thrown in the garbage.

Don't worry, I paid for the sweatpants.

Oscar Fashion Wrap-Up

Disclaimer: I am writing this while wearing my walking clothes. All black, messy up-do. I have no business critiquing other people's sartorial choices. But that doesn't mean I won't do it.

Last night was The Oscars!
For me, the awards are merely a long epilogue to the real story of the night, the fashion!
It's not my fault really.
I grew up in Southern California where the newspapers regularly and predictably devote countless column inches and full color inside pages to Oscar Fashion on the Monday following the ceremony. I have VERY strong memories of perusing those quickly assembled pages the morning after the Oscars.
And let's face it, some of the hideous outfits worn at this show endure in the public memory for FAAAR longer than we will ever recall which Documentary Short won the little gold man. Even if the director WAS Kanye'd during his acceptance speech.
See, you already almost forgot about that.

So, let's move on to the fashion.
Let me inform you in advance that I fully intend to ignore all the men unless they wore something truly hideous and inappropriate. I'm looking at you Judd Nelson, but I wish I wasn't.

The prominent hairstyle of the night was overteased messy up-do. The look was rocked by such notables as Sarah Jessica Parker, Miley Cyrus, Kristen Stewart and nominee Vera Farmiga.
It's not a BAD hairstyle. It's a nice change from the sleek, slicked down up-dos we've seen dominate previous Oscar ceremonies. But there is a fine line between messy chic and just messy. SJP.

Speaking of messy. I don't know how she does it, but even in this lovely dress Cameron Diaz gives off an "I'm drunk at the prom" vibe. I'm not a fan of her, so maybe I'm biased. But though the dress is nice, she looks a hot mess in it.












Kristen Stewart, who I expected to look a hot mess, actually pulled off this midnight blue dress really nicely. It's ALMOST too much but stops just short of overwhelming her tiny frame. Now, if she'd stand up straight and stop with the smug looks.














In easily my favorite dress of the night, perennial red carpet stunner Penelope Cruz. This is the perfect color, a nice shape that's interesting without being too weird.















Which brings me to...
Oh Vera Farmiga. I don't know who you are, but I'm talking about you. So I guess you win even though this dress is...over the top crazy.















Here are some ways to wear light pink:

Jennifer Lopez can pull off anything, I'm now convinced. This dress would look ridiculous on someone else. JLo just packed that booty in there and worked it.














Technically I suppose Demi Moore's dress is peach, but whatever. I actually like this look, though it MIGHT be too young for the female Dorian Gray here. I'm convinced there is an aging portrait of Demi Moore somewhere in a Beverly Hills attic. Nevertheless, this dress is ruffly without being too prissy and it's fun and flirty.











Anna Kendrick. I don't love this dress, it SOMEHOW makes this tiny waif of a girl look droopy and saggy. It's far too pale for her skin. It makes her completely fade away. I am not a fan.















Moving on to:

Tina Fey is busting out curves I never knew she had in this dress. I'm not crazy about the one shoulder look in general, but Tina looked great. Love the hair.
















Best Actress winner Sandra Bullock certainly anticipated winning. She even dressed to match her award in this gold dress. It's a nice dress, she looks good. More than that, she looks uncomfortable, stiff. And she's such a fun lady, it's too bad that she didn't bring that playful vibe to the awards. The lipstick is terrible also.









These were merely MILD failures of fashion though, when you compare them to these overwhelmingly ridiculous get-ups.

Charlize! I realize you are single now, but that's no reason to highlight your "assets" with swirling rosettes. Bad Charlize, very bad.















How people continue to think of this woman as a fashion icon boggles my mind. Her hair is a hot mess. Like she snapped a marble rye onto the back and then went jogging. The dress is drapey and droopy and blingy in weird places. Hideous.












Molly Ringwald. You could have done better. I love the dark purple color of this dress with her signature red locks and pale skin. But the Greek goddess thing does not work for her. Shorter, tighter, less snake-like accessories, less excessive sleeve material. Get Annie Potts to help with that.














I heard that this dress had cutlery sewn into it. There's always one totally weird one right? But at a distance, it's cute. She's 25, first-time nominee, having fun. The cut of the dress is flattering. She looks cute, but forks? In a dress? Eh, ok.













Kate Winslet, I really like you! This weird outfit is just weird. Weird mismatchy colors, corset on top and looks like bloomers on the bottom. Not my favorite.
















Maggie Gyllenhaal looks like she threw on a beach wrap and came out to the Oscars. Ew ew ew.



















Only a skinny twig like Diane Kruger could wear a dress that cuts her body into three segments like this. That said, she looks like a blueprint for a magicians' trick. Cut here, here and here.















Suzy Amis, well, she had to wear blue, and the color is nice. But she's TOO tiny and pale for all that fabric. Again with the goddess look going a bit overboard.













Oh, and dear Associated Press factcheckers...
This is Elizabeth Banks. Blonde girl wearing a grey dress. She looks nice. Kind of bland. She could do better.


















and thissss....
...is Rachel McAdams wearing the upholstery from a psychologists waiting room couch in 1987. Yuck. Hated it.


















Amanda Seyfried, so boring. She's young and could have pulled off something with a smidge more pizazz. Also, she's all one color.



















Who invited Morticia?




















Zoe Saldana would have been better off wearing her Avatar costume than this hideous purple and black Beetlejuice looking can-can dancer get-up. Bleh. She's a pretty girl, she doesn't need all that.















And lastly, dear sweet Mariah Carey, showing us what Snooki is going to look like in about 10 years.

I told you it was bad!

We are moving.
Officially and totally.
Mooooving.

We have to try to sell our house in the next three months or it will be auctioned.
I don't know exactly when we'll pack up and head out, but it probably won't be very long.
So if you or anyone you know wants to buy a house in tbe beautiful White Mountains of Arizona, very cheap, let me know!

Yikes!

Last night I was watching Big Brother and working out and I hear shrieking coming from the other side of the house.
I'm not IMMEDIATELY alarmed because it was just ONE kid shrieking and let's face it, screaming bloody murder is pretty commonplace around here. Very rarely is there actually some sort of bloody murder situation going on. Sort of like the boy who cried wolf, I have the kids who scream like they are on fire when the actual "emergency" is that one or another sibling has looked at the toy they have or has thought about looking at that toy or is awake and breathing.

But I digress.
I continued to work out and Bob got up to assess the situation.

The kids were in the toy room. Elizabeth was yelling.

"I saw something climbing on the curtain in the corner of my eye!"

"Was it a bug?" Bob asked. We're currently being invaded by bugs.

"NO! It was bigger! Like a mouse!"

Bob immediately starts hunting down the mouse, finds nothing. Asks Elizabeth, "are you SURE?"

"Maybe it was just my imagination."

Bob tells her if she sees it again to let him know, normalcy returns.

Ten minutes later I hear a chorus of screaming, both Elizabeth and Dylan.

"It WAS a mouse. There it IS!! Daaaaaaaaaaddy! A mouse!!! A MOUSE!!!"

Bob runs back in there. Overturns EVERY SINGLE PIECE OF FURNITURE in the room. Tosses EVERY SINGLE TOY in the room around. Finally finds and stomps the mouse.

Bob: 147 Mice: 0

As he removes the body, Bob proceeds to lecture the children that if their toy room wasn't such an ungodly mess he would have found the mouse much sooner and not had to completely dismantle the room to do so.
This seems to make sense to the traumatized children who were then told that they would have to clean up the mess tomorrow (meaning today).




Uh yeah. Guess who is ACTUALLY going to be cleaning up the mess....

I'm, Apparently, Full of Eggs

Remind me to never blog the words "nothing much going on here"

Today after Show Low Days, I put Benny down for a nap and the kids went running around like uncaged monkeys. Then Ben woke up and we somehow were all hanging out in my bedroom while Bob played a video game.

Dylan was messing around on my work out machine and Benny was crawling toward him and then BLAM! Dylan knocked Ben right in the forehead with the dang Gazelle pedal.
AH CRAPSHIT!

Immediately Ben wailed. I freaked out and grabbed him up. A lump began to form. A big lump.

Dammit!!!

I swooped Ben (screaming) into the kitchen and got an ice pack for his head. He wouldn't let me hold it on there. The lump grew and darkened.

I informed Bob that we would PROBABLY be adjourning to the emergency room. Then we did.

Despite having a child with a head injury I was not immediately whisked into the sacred ER.
After he PUKED on me, I told the bitch ho behind the counter and she said "No worries!" and I said "Bitch please!" No.
I really said...
"Actually he got hit in the head, so I'm quite worried that he just puked on me."

Still, no action from the nurses.

Finally they call us back and we don't even get a room, we get a glorified hallway aka the suture "room" which is partitioned into two "rooms" by "curtains". No, they were real curtains.

On one side is a gal on a bed getting her leg stitched up after a quite nasty fall. Tetanus shot required. Patient privacy is a JOKE!
On the other side is Ben's exam area. There is no bed. There is however, a La-Z-Boy chair.
What???!?

Because there is no bed, I have to hold Ben the whole time. He is angry, hurt and squiggly. THIS part of the day really freaking sucks. Seriously, I've been home for two hours and my arms are STILL sore.

OK, anyway. 100 hours later the PA comes to examine him, by then he's puked again. So it's OFF to a CT scan for us! Yay!

Other than the puking and the total hatred of being at the hospital (which in my opinion is normal behavior) he's acting fine, so I'm not super concerned at this point.
We get to CT and it's just like on House. And I said that. And the CT tech said, "oh baby, tell your mom she's funny." And I wasn't sure if she meant it or if she was being sarcastic. I went with half of each.

Then despite having trained and able bodied people there, the CT tech tried to make ME hold Ben onto the CT scan table thingy...that was an epic fail. He squiggled too much and I love him too much to restrain him.

So that girl who halfheartedly said I was funny got Punk'd and SHE got to wrestle my baby and listen to him holler in her face. Who's funny now?

Then we went back to the room hallway and La-Z-Boy to await the results. About an hour later, and 4000 squiggles and screams, the CT results were in!

It happens so much faster on House.
Anyway, in the hour I waited, I kept hearing part of the M*A*S*H theme song (trivia: It's actually called "Suicide is Painless" which adds to the ultimate irony of this story) being played in the ER.
When a nurse type person finally came into our hallway I asked her about it and she said that the trauma system was set to play the M*A*S*H theme song as an alert tone to let the ER staff know that a patient would be arriving by ambulance or helicopter. Pretty fricking dark no?

Ben's CT scan was clear, no sign of brain trauma or bleed, which I expected given his demeanor, which was normal. As we awaited our discharge paperwork, I heard the M*A*S*H theme song three times. One sick baby, two assaults (one on the Rez).

Shortly thereafter, we were discharged. While I loaded Ben into the car, I saw the helicopter coming from the direction of the reservation. Mr. Assault Victim. As we turned out of the ER parking lot and onto the main road, there was an ambulance. Two minutes later, the other ambulance. Wow. Those ER people were about to get VERY busy.

Since Benny was fine and I was starving, I hit the KFC for a grilled chicken meal. So I guess I went to KGC.

When I got home, I was immediately descended on, like crows to a fresh squirrel carcass in the hot summer sun.

"You're not getting any of MY dinner! You guys ate pizza!" I said.

Dylan eyed my tray like the Terminator.

Chicken. Rejected.
Mashed potatoes. No match.
Cole slaw. Negative.
Biscuit....analyzing....analyzing.....Approved!

"I'll just have aaaaaaaa biscuit!" he said with such glee that I just HAD to split the biscuit with him. What a sucker I am!

Then Elizabeth pulled the same move.

Potatoes. Ew!
Cole slaw. Gross!!
Biscuit. Missing!
Chicken wing....analyzing....analyzing....APPROVED!!

But she didn't speak. She just puppy-dog-eyed my chicken wing until I gave up and let her have it.
Then she wanted my spork! My SPORK!

I gave it to her.

"Mmmmm. Smork!" she said.

My meal plundered and consumed (Elizabeth saved her sMork). I adjourned to the loo, accompanied by Mr. Biscuit Thief.
Since he's potty training, he went first. A trickle at best, but a start!
He examined his work, and was proud.
Then I had to use the loo. I peed.
He was astonished at the loud loud noise!
"My pee was very quiet!" he said.

Then he examined MY work...

"Whoa mom! You're full of eggs!" and he flushed it away. I laughed so hard, I almost peed my pants, but then I remembered, I had just peed and as Dylan says I was "all out of pee."

So yeah, remind me to never say "there's nothing much going on here" ever again.

The End.

Benny's Birthday Bash!

This pic is late but worth the wait!

I smell like this because....

Confession time!!
I usually will only take a shower every other day. The reasons are threefold:
One, more frequent showers in our hard water turns my skin to ash
Two, during the looooong cold winters it's too dang cold to shower every day. I've had my hair literally freeze!
and Three, I have to get up very early to get in a shower before the rugrats wake up and I am NOT a morning person. At all. In any way.


So yeah. As per my usual, I did not take a shower yesterday and fully expected to get in a quick shower this morning before Ben's checkup.
Yeah. No.

The best laid plans of mice and men, eh?

Last night I gave the kids a bath and noticed that even though the brand new bathtub had only been used once before, the water was already brownish even before I put the kids in there. Hmmmm. Ah well, no biggie.

Then this morning I wake up and the water pressure is zilch.
Not even enough to refill the toilet tank. Which is NOT good.

So I called our water company and got a line of bullshit, which I didn't realize was bullshit at the time but now I know it was a total crock of bs!

I mean, why would the water have dirt in it LAST NIGHT if the water "company" claims that the construction workers just hit a main this morning? AND why were there construction workers out digging up road that WASN'T BEING WORKED ON??????

Fishy fishy stuff.
Anyway, shady companies are par for the course here. And we're used to water main breaks. After all the last time the county workers actually WERE working on the road they tore up a main too.

But I digress......
I did NOT get my shower today. And so an overly hairsprayed ponytail got me through the day of errands, school, paperwork, grocery shopping...ugh

What a mess.

Hydrothermal Ablation....yes please!

Disclaimer
This is a lady parts post...proceed with caution.

Monday afternoon I began the process toward getting my hydrothermal ablation (HTA).
I began taking 600 mg of Ibuprofen every six hours starting at noon on Monday. Then Monday night I took some medication that would dilate my cervix.

Tuesday morning I expected to feel weird, but woke up feeling fine.
I went over to my sister-in-law's house with all the kids because she was going to watch them during my procedure AND then pick me up afterwards since I wasn't allowed to drive myself home.
I went over there a couple hours early, and I'm glad I did because on the way there I started to get a horrible crampy feeling. Stupid cervix dilation!

After awhile I was dropped off at the doctor's office. In my purse I had the rest of my medication: One valium and twelve vicodins.

At the nurses cue, I took the valium and two vicodins. This was to relax me for the procedure (a jump ahead....I was still really freaking nervous the whole time).

An hour later, and now fully looped from vicodin (how does Dr. House do it??) they took me back to the procedure room.

I'll spare the horrible gory details here, since you can read about it all here. I was surprised that they actually fill your uterus with the hot water AND that you can watch your insides boil away on a little television as they put a scope in there too.
Fun.

So I'm laying there with bionic vagina watching my uterus be boiled.
Surreal.

The vicodins started to make me dizzy, which started to sort of give me a panic attack and then I was glad for the valium.
The whole thing, including all the prep work on my lady parts, took about an hour. Amy came and picked me up and took me home.
I cried part of the way, I think just from pent-up tension. I wasn't sad, or really even in that much pain at that point.

I got home and was made to lay down on the couch with a heating pad and medicine. Amy stayed with me for awhile then whisked all my children away! Yay!

So I laid on the couch pretty much until the next morning. Taking vicodins and ibuprofens and alternating the heat settings on my heating pad all while drifting in and out of consciousness.

But by Wednesday morning, I was feeling fine. Amy brought all the kids home Wednesday afternoon, which is when, of course, I started getting crampy. But I think that was just the stress that these horrible children cause me. With their whining and fighting and wanting to be fed. Bleh.

But that was that. I'm all OK now and on my own with all the kids!
Here's hoping the HTA takes. I don't know if I could do it again. It was very bizarre.

The juice is loose...

Ordinarily, I'd never ever take a picture** of the inside of my refrigerator.
For one, it's a sad mix of condiments, leftovers and WIC items. I love me my government cheese and milk.
For another, who takes pictures of the inside of their fridge?? This isn't "Cribs"
It's not all Cristal and Red Bull and Fiji Water in there.
Ok, there was one half empty Red Bull.

Tonight I made a special exception.

I was on the computer just a little while ago, when I heard a tiny voice say...

"Mom! There's an orange juice problem in the fridge! It's spilled!"

"Well grab a towel and wipe it up."

"It's too much! It's too much!" Elizabeth yelled.

Fully prepared to arrive at the scene of a vastly over-reported accident...I went into the kitchen, peeked into the fridge, and...

"OH MY LORD! Get towels, get every towel you can find!!!"

My darling son Dylan had knocked over an ENTIRE can of Donald Duck orange juice all over the fridge.
Starting at the top shelf, splashing over the inside of the door, drip drip dripping onto the shelves below and pooling ever so nicely in my veggie drawers.

Gah!

I hurriedly removed every single thing from my refrigerator.
Wow. How long has that been in there?



Elizabeth was my item sorter (counter or trash) and towel hander (hurry hurry!).
It took eight towels, two crochet washcloths and a pillowcase to sop up the OJ.

Sigh.

I am SO buying a fridge lock.

**PS the picture of the fridge was taken after I cleaned up about HALF of the OJ...Notice how it pools in the veggie drawer...

And the Universe said, No!

My friend and fellow Karaoke-ist Christina and I have been planning to go out tonight for about two weeks....
We would go out, sing some songs, have some fun, celebrate my birthday (and hers! We both turned 30 this year) and just have a great night out away from the kids and husbands....

What was that they say about the best laid plans....

I left my house at around 9 pm tonight to head out to the Little Bit Saloon for Karaoke! Whoooo hoo!
First I had to stop to get gas...mission accomplished.
Then as I'm heading back out of town, blam!

Blew a tire.

Caca.

We knew this was coming. We actually expected to blow the tire on the way back from Utah, but never did.
This is my 87 millionth blown tire while driving -- AND not even the best shred yet incidentally -- so I calmly pulled off the road, turned on my hazard flashers and called my husband.

Actually, first I texted Christina who was already at the Little Bit to tell her, egad! I just blew a damn tire, standby!

Bob was empathetic but helpless since I had the car with all the carseats and he had all the kids...oops!
He DID tell me to take his truck when I left...dang it!

I figured, well, I'll sit here on the side of the road until Christina shows up...

Then a DPS (Arizona Department of Public Safety aka Highway Patrol) officer showed up! Whoooo weee! The Cavelry!

"What's the trouble?"
"I blew out a tire," I said through my opened passenger side door.
"Do you know how to change it?"
"No!"
"Is someone picking you up?"
"My friend is coming."
"To help change it?"
"No....she doesn't know how to do it either!"

He laughed and told me to step out for a tire changing lesson...

As I stepped around the rear of the car he said "You do have a spare, right?"

Thank goodness, yes, I did have a spare.

I opened up the trunk and pushed aside a 24-pack of Pepsi, a jacket, an opened up emergency kit (totally useless in this emergency) and I notice that we've left the BB gun in the trunk. And I'm standing there on the side of the road in the pitch black dark with a cop. A cop with a REAL gun.

"It's just a BB gun," I said as I pushed the board hiding the spare tire upward.

"Oh, I didn't even see that," the cop said.

Hmmm, first day on the job officer?
Anyway, we get out the tire, the jack, the lug wrench....and the officer gets to work on my tire.

He gets all the lug nuts off and the tire won't budge.
It. Won't. Budge.

He kicked that tire, shook that tire, kicked that tire again. The whole car was rocking around. That tire did NOT budge.

He must have kicked that tire for 10 minutes before Christina pulled up and through the magic of Friendship the tire finally just knocked loose.
Whew!

Turns out, it was rusted to the wheel...wow.

So we get the very flimsy and lovely donut tire on the car. It's about 40 pounds per square inch BELOW the recommended pressure. Lovely.
The cop reminds me to go no faster than 45 on the donut.

"Oh, sure. I never speed anyway. Don't let my driving record fool you."

We all had a good laugh at that.

As he's putting my exploded tire into the trunk I said "Can you believe we made it back from Utah on that tire a few days ago?"
He said he could NOT believe that at all, it was so badly thrashed.

"Yeah, we knew it would go. We just figured, eh, if we blow the tire we'll just start our new life in Kanab or Page."

Ha ha ha!
I am a freaking laugh riot in an emergency.

So Christina and I decide to stash my car about a mile back down the road at the gas station and ride together to the bar.
I locked the doors and tossed the Book of Mormon on the dashboard to ward off gypsies, tramps and thieves.

Christina and I then headed out to the Little Bit.
She played some pool. We both sang a karaoke song.
Then her husband called and said her youngest daughter had a fever and she had to come home.
Are you kidding me!? After what we've been through already for this night??!?!

But, the call of the Mother is strong and we left the Little Bit very very shortly after we had arrived.
She took me back to the gas station and as she drove off toward a sick baby I went inside to get a 6-pack of beer. This is my birthday celebration dammit! I'm having some beers!

I aired up the donut and took off for home. At 45 miles per hour.
The whole way I was thinking, boy, this just really wasn't meant to be tonight....and then....three streets away from my house...it happened.

The '80s flashback radio station started playing "Hangin' Tough" by New Kids on the Block...
And somehow, the whole night immediately became worth it...

"Ohhhh ohhh ohhh oh ohhh. Hangin' Tough."

Are you tough enough?

This is the post where....

...you all comment and say:
"It's going to be fine" and "It will all work out" and "Things will turn around" and "Here's $5,000! No, I don't want it back! It's a gift!"

Go.

Thrush, thrush...

Isn't it fun to be a mom!?!?

We've got thrush!

Ugh.
It's painful and ugly. It causes white milky looking patches inside Ben's mouth that can spread and become really painful for him. It can even cause nasty diaper rash if you let it get too far!

For me all the pain is localized in my nipples. Fun! Nothing like hot pink, itchy nipples that shoot pain while they shoot milk! Whooooo hooo!

So we went to the doctor this morning and we each got "painted" with Gentian violet, an ages old cure for thrush. Of course, Gentian VIOLET is so named because of its vibrant purple hue.
Yes...I have purple nippys.

Since I won't post a pic of my tender ladybits...here is a pic of Benjamin just LOVING every minute of thrush. You can imagine, if you must, what my breast-a-sez look like...



We are expected to be purple for a few days, perhaps four or five. Joy!

Twas a bad day to be a couch

By posting this I know I set the Newman reproduction clock back by at least six months, but I cannot keep this to myself!

Yesterday was a particularly exhausting day for us. By us, I mean me, because NOTHING exhausts children!

The kids were especially rowdy and when they weren't out in the backyard fighting each other over stupid $2 sandbox toys enjoying each other's company and the lovely day, they were inside the house playing a game Elizabeth calls (appropriately) Run Around In Circles.
This game is great.
They run literally in a circle through my bedroom into the bathroom, then into the laundry room, through the kitchen, the living room and back into my bedroom. Over and over and over. Everytime they pass by me they yell "Hi Mommy!" and keep going. Sometimes Dylan runs over and will hug my leg in the middle of a lap.
I'm not sure what the goal of the game is, but it does burn off some of their ridiculous nuclear fueled energy, so I love it.

While they ran around in circles and Ben napped I worked out for about a half hour. It took me an hour to get in the half hour, but that's ok. I had to pause for diaper changes and laundry and other fun mommy stuff.
Today, incidentally, I'm going to fit in an hour of working out. Two days ago I did 45 minutes, so it will all even out in the end. Hopefully while it evens out MY end.

Har dee har.

Anyway, that was at about 10:30 in the morning.
Bob had taken a load of garbage and junk from the yard to the dump, which always takes FOREVER even though it's about 15 minutes away, go figure. I think he sneaks off the road into the cedar brush to shoot cottontails on the way home, but he'll never confess.

I made hot dogs for lunch but they burned, so I gave the kids the two good ones and ate egg salad instead. I had to use the heel of the bread! Horrible.
Then the kids stole one of my pickles. Thieves! It's just as well, I probably didn't need the sodium anyway.

After Bob got home, we sort of just all kicked it around the house a bit. Dylan is fostering a MAJOR new obsession with the live-action Alvin and the Chipmunks movie. It's a borderline serious problem at this point.
That movie is on constant repeat in his room. He'll come out and say "I want Chick-munks!" over and over until you go restart the movie for him.
I hate to say this, but I miss SpongeBob.
So, Dylan went to watch Chick-munks and Bob, bless his heart, came into the living room and told Elizabeth:
"Dylan is watching Chipmunks right now if you want to go watch it with him."

To which I said, "Yeah hurry, there's only going to be 10 more showings today!"
And we all laughed....

The baby started getting a smidge fussy during the afternoon and was wanting to nurse every HOUR. EVERY HOUR! Dude.
He'd fall asleep for 15 or 20 minutes afterward, then wake up howling. It was truly exhausting even though I was mostly just sitting there strapping a kid to my lady lumps.
I had already planned a dinner of spaghetti and sausage and in a brief moment of baby peace I went and got that started.
While I was putting away dishes, Dylan started yelling "It's poo! It's poo!!!"
Never a good sign.

I went into the living room and sure enough, there was a little poo on the couch. I said "Ok Dylan, it's poo. Get off the couch and don't touch!"
I wasn't sure WHERE the poo came from, and I didn't really care at this point. I got a paper towel from the kitchen and turned back to find that Dylan had SLID off of the couch leaving a lovely POO trail all over the couch cushion.
A ha! That's where the poo came from. He had pooed his underpants.
I didn't cry.
I called in reinforcements, aka Bob, and he took the rogue pooer into the bathroom and cleaned him up (via shower sprayer) while I unzipped the couch cushions and threw them into the washing machine. We were both gagging. Poo is sick.

Poo crisis handled, I returned to dishes and dinner (I washed my hands don't worry!) I had dinner all cooking when we realized that our phone had no dial tone. Again.
So WHILE I nursed the cranky-again baby I called the cable company to find out what was wrong with the dang phone. Long story short, we had to power cycle our phone modem, again.
What a pain.

During that phone call, the timer for dinner went off. After I hung up on the phone guy I told Bob that dinner was ready. I was still stuck on the couch nursing.
Bob made himself up a big plate of food and came back to sit down on the couch.
He set the plate on the arm of the couch.
I said:
"You didn't get the kids anything to eat?"
He said:
"Ah, screw those kids!"
And as he was getting up to fix them some bowls of noodles, he accidentally tipped the plate off the arm of the couch and ALL OVER HIMSELF.
HOT SPAGHETTI SAUCE! Molten hot lava!

There were some bad bad words said and he went into the bathroom saying them, leaving a pile of noodles and sauce all over the couch cushion.
Ugh.
About a minute later he came back out and we cleaned up the noodle mess together. Ugh, what a mess. I unzipped ANOTHER couch cushion and threw it into the washer.
Luckily, there was enough food for everyone to eat, even after the incident.

The rest of the evening went mostly without further insanity.
The kids and Bob went out to water the garden and enjoy the sunset turning the clouds pink. Then they sat in Bob's truck listening to the kid songs on Sirius radio. Eventually, the baby gave up on Boobie Quest 2008 and fell asleep in his bassinet. Bob put the kids to bed and we went to sleep not too long after that, exhausted and lightly scented with tomato sauce.

Mr. Mom?

Last night I went out for karaoke. There was a contest, I didn't win.
But I did rock the heck out of "Sweet Child of Mine" after my big loss. ROCKED IT. The kickass Guns and Roses version, not the lame Sheryl Crow version.
I totally should have won.

ANYWAY.

I left the house and my children in the care of my husband Bob. Eek.
Honestly, Andrea I'm talking to you, how did you go out of town for FOUR DAYS and come back to a home WITH a roof AND a floor? How? You'll have to teach me that trick.

I got home LAAATE last night and went right to bed. When I woke up, Bob had already left for work.
I toured the damage.

CD and video cases all over the house - on counters, on the floors, everywhere.
Plates with crusty food on them all over the house - one was upside down on the carpet covered up by a Dora bean bag chair right next to...
A sippy cup filled with cranberry Crystal Light turned upside down and leaking out a giant red puddle on a plastic step stool hidden behind the couch, I kid you not.
And the shoes! My god the shoes!

Even though Elizabeth is a little informant snitch and fessed up almost immediately upon waking that she'd had two pink Otter Pops for dinner, Dylan had one and Daddy had THREE! she really didn't need to tell me. I knew about it from the tiny pieces of Otter Pop plastic wrapper snips all over the kitchen and the rest of the wrappers gathered by the TV like used condoms circling a full trashcan in a whorehouse.

Oh, and I almost forgot.
The rug in the family room was covered in shredded cheddar cheese.
I have no idea why. I'm still puzzling that one out.

Birthday Party!

*Someone* turned three yesterday and today we had a big party to celebrate the big milestone.

Three candles, one to grow on

There was music, food, dancing, a pinata, cupcakes and PRESENTS!!


Elizabeth got a new bike (replacing the trike I ran over last summer) from mom and dad and a bike helmet and pads to go with it from her Nani.




She got a babies in backpacks.


She also got a Barbie doll and these little girl dolls having a tea party....loooooots of tiny pieces, some of which are ALREADY lost. Yay!



Dylan had fun too!

Spaghetti-Oh My Goodness

Ha ha hilarious!
Originally uploaded by J-Momma.

Dylan thinks it's friggin HILARIOUS to paint himself with his lunch.
It's actually NOT THAT FUNNY.

Now it's bathtime!