Archive for March, 2011

Thought this would be appropriate and probably the very best way to catch up with what’s been going on in the House of Crazy.  If anyone still gives a shit.  And I’m not sure why you would….  I suck.  Or not.  Depending on who you ask….  *cough*the*mister*cough*

Here we go….

There’s a baby pterodactyl living in my house.  His name is Tucker.

Tucker is super cute and cuddly and sweet.  But, he’s a mama’s boy.  I’ve never had a mama’s baby.  As a result, I’m ready for baby phase and constantly needing to be held or hanging on my leg to be over.

This ice cold beer is quite tasty.  Mmmmm…….

Avery was diagnosed with ADHD, inattentive type.  They are not recommending meds at this point.  Perhaps I should get them to prescribe and take them myself?  Yes?

There are two new playas in Shannieland…  Two new besties…  KK and Jenn.  KK lives next door and her husband got shipped off to Afghanistan and left her home with two wee ones, so much drinking has ensued after the kids go to bed.  (Much drinking ensued before her husband left after the kids went to bed…  But, we now have adopted some “t.v. nights” along with our normal drinking routines.)  The ‘Hood has gotten even livlier!  Our monitor nights with the Gs are now big gatherings in the street, dubbed “The Neighborhood Watch.”  Which we have a big spray painted sign for stating such…  Making fun of the new nazi regime for-real neighborhood watch…  A story for another night…  Let’s just say someone’s security camera got mooned…   The other neighbors love us even more than ever.  I met Jenn through Avery’s school last year and we hit it off.  She’s a fucking riot.  Seriously, friends.soul.mates.  She probably thinks we are insane.  But, keeps coming around anyway. 

The Mister’s company was sold.  Ugh.  Yeah.  Not exactly turning out like we had planned.  We now may (probably) have to move.  Shhh…….  Not much for him to do in this happening town.  But they’re global.  Ireland and Australia and somewhere tropical sound cool!  However, United Arab Emirates and/or the Czech Republic notsomuch….  Neither does Atlanta…..

Avery just called Henry “big dog.”

We finally did our kitchen remodel.  Just finished up like last week.  Well, the contractors finished up, there’s still a few things left to do…  Loving it!  Why, yes!  I will be happy to provide pics!  I painted the cabinet greens with black granite, slate backsplash and all stainless.  FAB-U-LOUS!

I can wear my skinny jeans.  The anorexia finally paid off.

I have found a new affection for white wine.  Who knew?  I’ve always thought I preferred almost anything else.  Well, okay, not anything else, but you know what I meant…  Definitely never preferred white zinfandel, Hot Damn or Jager.  Or IPA.  ACK.  Or Boone’s Farm.  Now, in middle school I may have told you differently on that one… 

Henry will not stand and pee.  He has to sit.  His teacher, whom we LOVE, called me the other day and asked if we were working with him at home on the whole peeing standing up issue…  I said no, that peeing sitting down was fine with me.  Until we get into public places…  Then the fact that he has to take his shoes off and strip naked, then scoot to the back of the toilet seat, scattering the half a roll of toilet paper that I had meticulously layered the seat with and trailed down the sides so that no bare skin would touch stranger pee germs nearly gives me a heart attack.  Do you know what a germaphobe I am???  Seriously?  There was silence for a few seconds after I went on for a good three minutes describing in full detail how traumatizing the whole ordeal is for me.  Then she said, “Well…  He doesn’t strip naked here.  He sits on the front of the potty with his shoes and pants intact.”  So, I reply, “OH.  Well, that would save me some sanity…”  To which she responded, “Yeah.  Well, then you have to hold his peepee for him.”  Me, “Um, what?”  Her, “You know, to aim it down into the potty…  Or else he shoots pee all over the bathroom.  And me….  Yeah.  That’s why I’m calling.  Not because he sits.  I don’t care if he sits.  I just don’t want to have to hold his little pecker for him.  And I’m the only teacher that will.”  God I love that teacher.  She’s put up with so much from my kids over the years.  She’s moving to Canada after the school year.  I should really do something nice for her.  Like send her on a tropical vacation.  She’s been shat on, peed on, puked on all by my sweet kids and now she has to hold a child’s, other than her own’s, wee tiny kid pecker for him every.time.he.pees.  Bless her soul.

Tucker bites.  Henry.

Tucker channels Henry as a toddler, too…  He likes to hit you in the head with shit.  Hard shit that hurts.

Tucker climbs everything.  Remember those days?  We’ve had many a goose egg at this point.

I’ve also already had to call poison control a couple of times on him.  They love us.  “What’d they do now?”  “I caught him munching down on my deodorant…  I figured I’d give him some juice and crackers.”  Poison Control, *chuckle* “You know the drill!” 

Damn, this beer is good.

I’m addicted to Starbucks’ non-fat white chocolate peppermint mocha.  Heaven.In.A.Cup.  Even at $5.14 a cup…

Henry calls chapstick “Daddy’s lisptick.” 

The Mister and I had a really tough adjustment time with Kindergarten.  Wow.  That’s a lot of damned work for a five-year-old.  And parents of a five year old.

In our defense, she goes to a very rigid, high expectation school.  I guess she’ll be well-prepared for the first grade.  Not sure if we will, though.

I’ve started dressing up more.  Like good jeans, cute tops, cute shoes and jewelry.  I like it. 

However, there is no in between…  Either I’m looking cute, or I haven’t brushed my teeth.  One or the other.

Tivo in my bedroom has dramatically improved my quality of life.  Maybe not so much the Mister’s…  But, hey. 

I just heard Avery ask Henry, “Is that a good choice?”  And I’m not going to see what choice he made…

I joined the gym.  And I go. 

Let that sink in a minute…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I know, right!??!

As a result, I can now kick you in the jugular.

My friend Jenn made me start going and I thought I was going to have to kick her in the jugular about 20 minutes into my first kick boxing class.   However, I hung in there and now am addicted to various classes.

Did you know that you can pretty much drink every day if you exercise?  Those calories just become null and void. 

However, working out hung over sucks.  And you reek.  I think.  At least that’s what I’m assuming from all the other moms in the class…  Either they are sweating out the previous night’s alcohol or they get drunk so they can make it through the class…

Laura has head lice.  My head itches like a mother fucker every time I talk to her.

I had to go over there last week and go through her head like a fucking monkey.  Twice.  It was fun.  NOT.  But, I do feel sorry for her.  Her kids keep bringing it home from some obviously nasty street urchin at school.  Even though they say lice do not like dirty hair.  Yeah, right.  Whatever.  That shit is nasty.

I hope none of us ever have head lice.

My dad is dying.  Like now.  It’s very sad and maybe part of the reason I feel the need to drink heavily this week.

I wish pot was legal…  Thank god there are no policemen next door.

I have to pee.

Okay, better.  

Beer time!  

Okay, better.

Crazy is still crazy.  Maybe even crazier.  One’s level of craziness has a way of not improving with time…  Unfortunately.

Mema is still hanging in there.  Sweet Mema.  Bless her heart.  She’s been bed ridden and requires two people at all times to be with her.  But, she actually knew who I was last weekend.  It was awesome.  I love that sweet woman.

Want to know another perk of the gym?  If you are being a bum and don’t feel like fixing your hair or putting on makeup, all you have to do is put on your exercise get up and nobody looks at you like you’re a lazy sack of shit.  They look at you like, “WOW!  She’s been to the gym…  Wish I could get my lazy ass to the gym…”  So, all those moms you see running errands and meeting with teachers in their ‘work out clothes’ are just fakers.  They are most likely lazy asses just like the rest of us. 

I traded in all my holey granny panties for cute ones.  I’d forgotten what sexy panties do for a person…  Give you wedgies…  But, you really do feel all sexy.

Except when your baby waddle hangs over the fronts of them.  That cute little bow is completely hidden by a flap of dangling elephant skin.  So.Not.Attractive.  So I have to be careful about the styles I buy.  And I got a consult for a tummy tuck…  And a boob job.  You’re welcome Mister.  Now we just have to replenish the bank account from our kitchen remodel…

Tummy tuck…  Ha.  I tuck that shit every day.  Into my pants. 

Then we’re going to Mexico. 

The Mister is very, very, very, VERY excited about getting to look at some real-life boobs.

I’m more excited of getting rid of the turkey waddle that is my belly.  It’s seriously pleated.  Three 80+ lb pregnancies, c-sections and gluttony did a number on that bad-boy.  I could weigh 73 pounds and that shit will still be hanging there. 

I just fussed at my kids for squirting capris suns on the carpet.  Who’s supposed to be watching these hoodlums??? 

So I let them go outside to eat popsicles so I could blog in peace.  Oh wait, it’s dinner time…  Woops.

Now I remember one of the main reasons I quit you.  It took up too much of my time.  I’m a much better mom now that I’m not on the computer for hours every day. 

Shit.  They also just destroyed Avery’s very clean room. 

Maybe I should start blogging at night.

And on that note, I think I’ll go “cook” dinner…  And drink some more beer.

P.S.  Upon finishing this blog entry, I found the bathroom floor completely flooded.  Guess Henry didn’t make the right choice afterall…


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And that would be Queen Avery.

My uncle sent us a King Cake straight from a bakery in Louisiana!  And he sent Mardi Gras crowns, masks and beads.  My kids are going nuts with it all.  Thank god they don’t realize that you can show skin to get more beads…  That’d be all I need.  Henry already has no problem walking into the front yard with his junk jangling.  Plus, i have no more beads to hand out…  He’d just be streaking for nothing.  We already have enough needless nudity around here, thank you.

Anyway, according to Proclamation 4,762 set into place by Queen Avery, we will have a party and parade today.  She’s also determined that nobody can have the baby in the King Cake but her, since she’s Queen.  She’s not getting the whole tradition of the King Cake trinket…  Whoever gets the piece of cake with the baby in it gets to be king or queen.  But, since she’s already made that Royal Declaration, I guess it’s a moot point.

She also decorated a Mardi Gras house, whatever the hell that is.  She made it out of a cardboard box…  It’s pretty cute, actually.  So not sure if she’ll sit in her Royal House and watch and wave and hoard beads or if she will actually be participating in the parade…  She may just be expecting us to parade around her all afternoon while she directs us from her throne.

Whatever we do and however it goes down, Mama is going out after our parade for my own Mardi Gras partay.  It’s GNO in Shannieland tonight.  I’m in need.  Too much going on.  Overload.  Overload.  Overload.  I’ll fill you in later…  But, for now, I’ll just say Happy Mardi Gras and load you up with some pics of the kids parading Her Highness, Avery the Mardi Gras Queen of Everything.

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