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Archive for May, 2008

Please….  I promise to provide lots of adult beverages…  

Edited to add:  What if I throw some Xanax in there, too???  (My mom is coming tonight, so it’d be the good ones…)  Or offer up the Mister’s services for some yard or home maintenance?  I would even be willing to get nekkid, if that’s your thing…  Maybe even some nude back rubs…  Seriously, just about anything goes…

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I still have to put some new trim on the curtains to add some bright color, and hang a couple of things, and just add some little finishing touches…  But, here is the big girl bedroom, almost fully complete:

The crafting/playdoh/art area:

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Ignore that my child looks like a little white trash child:

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Ignore that there is shit piled up on the dresser:

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Okay, now I have to put the new guest room together and decorate it… Before our guests arrive… Tonight. And shop from my six page shopping list… And clean the yard, the front porch, the back porch, clean the house AND cook. Nah, I don’t have much to do at all…

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I finished the big girl room!  Well, for the most part, anyway…  I’ll put up some pics as soon as we get back from the store.  I’m out of wipes, pullups, babyfood, formula and beer.  All of the essentials…

Edited to add:  I promise to put up some pics in the a.m….  I am waaaay tired…  Yeah, I know, I suck.

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Please, in the name of all that is holy, stop trying to rap.  Numbers In A Bag is not such a cute kids’ song.  Sorry.  It’s just annoying and it makes me cringe.  You, my friends, are NOT rappers. 

Sincerely,

A mom that really wants to like you…

ETA:  I’m trying hard to find this video so that you, too, may have this horrendous song stuck in your head.  Aren’t I thoughtful?

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That’s what I said to the Mister when I showed him Avery’s latest “art project.”  It either looks like the Flying Spaghetti Monster, who the Mister obviously doesn’t know much about, or an eye.  A monster eye.  Or mitochondria… 

Anyway, when I said that about being touched by a noodly appendage, he looked at me with this strange, frantic look.  Guess that’s probably not what you want to say to the daddy of a little girl if he doesn’t know what it’s in reference to.  It could sound pretty bad and not at all like something you would want your little girl to be touched with…  Sorry for giving you a near heart attack, Mister.

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Must.Have.Help.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Can someone please come to my house and punch me in the face and tell me the next time I do something like this before a party, I’m getting bundled in a sack and beaten with baseball bats.  Actually, I would opt for that at this moment if getting the shit beaten out of me with baseball bats would end with someone coming and cleaning my house and putting it all back in order.  I’d take a few slugs to the head or gut to get out of this.  You wouldn’t believe the total chaos going on in my house…  Chaos that I alone created.  Fucking eeeediot.  

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If I didn’t know before, I certainly know now…

Nothing like a party to make you get stuff crossed off your list. However, something about a party also makes me start all these crazy new lists… Putting waaaay too much on myself and the Mister. We already had ten thousand million things to do before Saturday (like some landscaping, finishing Avery’s ginormous playground thingy, laying the play area with cedar chips or whatever, basic yardwork, cleaning and scrubbing the back porch, cleaning the house, cooking, shopping, decorating, etc…) and what do I do? Just guess… I decide to rearrange.  And not just rearrange some furniture.  Move entire rooms.  Specifically, move Avery’s bedroom into her playroom and set up a new guest room in her old bedroom. Yes, you read that right.

It is WEDNESDAY. What about this do I not understand???? I must love to torture myself because I always do stupid shit like this. D-u-m-b-a-s-s. The Mister is going to kill me. Totally not kidding.  At least he’ll have to wait until Sunday. 

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