Click on album for pics.
Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving holiday!
 |
| Thanksgiving '10 with Grandma Rosie - Ohio |
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Giving Thanks in Ohio
Normally, it's Cleveland we head to when visiting with Terry's family - but this year we switched it up and booked a last minute flight to Piqua, where most of the family was gathering for Thanksgiving.
Click on album for pics.
Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving holiday!
Click on album for pics.
Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving holiday!
Monday, November 1, 2010
Hooray For Halloween!
This weekend was a bit of a Halloween extravaganza... Friday afternoon I took the girls to Terry's office for a costume contest, loads of sweets and some ghoulish fun! The place was decked out. That's fo sho. Mad Hatter was their theme this year, and WOW, they did a fantabulous job. The girls had a blast!
Costume contest
The little girl on the far right won 1st Prize. She was an aquarium. It was AWESOME!
The Queen of Hearts and her little warm pig.
My favorite!
Rah Rah!!
With Ariel and Tink balloons. Grace, look excited! Tink has wings!
Neighbors and Friends. :)
She was scared of fire crackers, but wanted a pic with Death.
Hope your Halloween was spoooktacular!
Friday, October 29, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Skillet Ready in Nine Minutes!
The Bulging Worm: Just good old-fashioned, albeit nasty, nature. If nature had a 1-800 customer service number I would have called her and bitched about how my stomach almost digested a see though, overweight worm with a face. It had eyes y'all. And they were big. And black. And STARED AT ME.
The Taco Bell Glove: Disgusting. Imagining how that even happened had to be left up to my imagination. Which ran wild and left me feeling even more grossed out.
And now.. the trifecta:
Last night I cut open a bag of Bertolli Shrimp, Asparagus and Penne and tossed it into a skillet. The last thing to slide out was NOT a piece of shrimp, asparagus or penne pasta. One of these things was NOT like the others.
I picked up the unidentified frozen item and knew exactly what it was. I called Terry's name and brought him the foreign object I found in our frozen dinner. I asked him to tell me what it was. He held it in his hand. Twirled it around. He smelled it and said, "It's wood." I said, "From what?" He said "Follow me." I followed him into the office where we have a huge fake ficus tree in an enormous wooden basket. He said, "It's from here." He held it up to the basket then said "No, wait. It's not, it doesn't match." I said, "That's because I FOUND IT IN OUR BERTOLLI DINNER."
For serious. A chunk of wood. It's now actually two chunks of wood because Terry couldn't leave it alone and had to play with it, finding a way to prove me wrong about it being a WOOD.
But he finally agreed.
HOW? How on Earth does a piece of wood end up in a sealed bag containing frozen food?
I'm okay with the grub worm, that was understandable. I'm even okay with the glove wrapped up in my burrito, shit happens. But WOOD? Off of an assembly line? You can't convince me it's a portion of a wooden spoon an Italian Bertolli chef was using to stir his latest creation of Bertolli favorites. Unless Unilever Corp. actually employs real chefs in their factories. A bunch of frozen vegetables and shrimp are shipped to a factory, sent down a line and shoved in a bag. There should be ZERO possibility anything other than food entering the bag.
I'd love to know where this piece of wood originated. Terry ate the meal anyway. I, however, promptly dumped my portion in to the trash can. Who knows what that thing is! It's coated with a bit of a purple-ish stain which in my opinion isn't a color on the color wheel.
I called the 800 number on my bag was informed their food is manufactured in 'nests' at different sites then frozen separately, and that it is most likely wood off of a pallet one of the vegetables was shipped inside.
They are reimbursing me in the large cash amount of $8.00. Which is almost double what I paid for it.
Score. Anyone for a Chic-fil-A sandwich with those super big funds? I'm buying!
Also, I suppose the wood is better than what this unsuspecting lady from New Zealand found when she emptied a bag of frozen Green beans.....
Yes my friends. It's the decapitated head from a tiny little field mouse. Kind of cute, eh?
I'll take wood any day.
That's what she said.
The Taco Bell Glove: Disgusting. Imagining how that even happened had to be left up to my imagination. Which ran wild and left me feeling even more grossed out.
And now.. the trifecta:
Last night I cut open a bag of Bertolli Shrimp, Asparagus and Penne and tossed it into a skillet. The last thing to slide out was NOT a piece of shrimp, asparagus or penne pasta. One of these things was NOT like the others.
I picked up the unidentified frozen item and knew exactly what it was. I called Terry's name and brought him the foreign object I found in our frozen dinner. I asked him to tell me what it was. He held it in his hand. Twirled it around. He smelled it and said, "It's wood." I said, "From what?" He said "Follow me." I followed him into the office where we have a huge fake ficus tree in an enormous wooden basket. He said, "It's from here." He held it up to the basket then said "No, wait. It's not, it doesn't match." I said, "That's because I FOUND IT IN OUR BERTOLLI DINNER."
For serious. A chunk of wood. It's now actually two chunks of wood because Terry couldn't leave it alone and had to play with it, finding a way to prove me wrong about it being a WOOD.
But he finally agreed.
HOW? How on Earth does a piece of wood end up in a sealed bag containing frozen food?
I'm okay with the grub worm, that was understandable. I'm even okay with the glove wrapped up in my burrito, shit happens. But WOOD? Off of an assembly line? You can't convince me it's a portion of a wooden spoon an Italian Bertolli chef was using to stir his latest creation of Bertolli favorites. Unless Unilever Corp. actually employs real chefs in their factories. A bunch of frozen vegetables and shrimp are shipped to a factory, sent down a line and shoved in a bag. There should be ZERO possibility anything other than food entering the bag.
I'd love to know where this piece of wood originated. Terry ate the meal anyway. I, however, promptly dumped my portion in to the trash can. Who knows what that thing is! It's coated with a bit of a purple-ish stain which in my opinion isn't a color on the color wheel.
I called the 800 number on my bag was informed their food is manufactured in 'nests' at different sites then frozen separately, and that it is most likely wood off of a pallet one of the vegetables was shipped inside.
They are reimbursing me in the large cash amount of $8.00. Which is almost double what I paid for it.
Score. Anyone for a Chic-fil-A sandwich with those super big funds? I'm buying!
Also, I suppose the wood is better than what this unsuspecting lady from New Zealand found when she emptied a bag of frozen Green beans.....
Yes my friends. It's the decapitated head from a tiny little field mouse. Kind of cute, eh?
I'll take wood any day.
That's what she said.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
I'm An Artist. It's What I Do.
I've been practicing with Halloween make-up. I think I'm getting pretty darn good.
Last year I was only able to get as far as mastering freckles. I will say though, the nine of them I delicately painted on Ava's cheeks completely transformed her into the most awesome of Strawberry Shortcakes. And if you're thinking freckles are easy to apply, they are most certainly not.... If you go too big, they are moles. If you go too small, they are age spots, and that just doesn't look right on a four year-old. Even the shade of the freckle matters. Too light and you can't see them. Too dark and they are too dark. It's very complicated.
I'm always evolving, so this year I was ready to challenge myself with one of the hardest and most elaborate of Halloween make-up creations. The Bruise.
I will not give away all of my secrets, but will share a few hints.
Take for instance the mixture of colors I used. There is an assortment of yellow in the middle, blended with a hodgepodge of colors from the olive and lime green families. I even dabbed a bit of amethyst and bluish-red around the edge near my elbow for a point-of-impact look.
It's pretty fucking awesome.
Last year I was only able to get as far as mastering freckles. I will say though, the nine of them I delicately painted on Ava's cheeks completely transformed her into the most awesome of Strawberry Shortcakes. And if you're thinking freckles are easy to apply, they are most certainly not.... If you go too big, they are moles. If you go too small, they are age spots, and that just doesn't look right on a four year-old. Even the shade of the freckle matters. Too light and you can't see them. Too dark and they are too dark. It's very complicated.
I'm always evolving, so this year I was ready to challenge myself with one of the hardest and most elaborate of Halloween make-up creations. The Bruise.
I will not give away all of my secrets, but will share a few hints.
Take for instance the mixture of colors I used. There is an assortment of yellow in the middle, blended with a hodgepodge of colors from the olive and lime green families. I even dabbed a bit of amethyst and bluish-red around the edge near my elbow for a point-of-impact look.
It's pretty fucking awesome.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Waking Up To New Yard Art
You have an old, rusty and chipped wrought-iron dog that adorns your front porch.
You also have a husband who thinks that it simply cannot go another day without being made-over with a fresh can of spray paint.
You see your husband carry the wrought-iron dog from the front porch to the back yard. Along with spray paint and rope. You secretly wonder about the rope.
You don't really give a shit, and go to bed because it is night time.
You wake up the next morning and while making coffee in your kitchen you look out the window and see this.
You take a closer look.
You anxiously wait for hate mail from your back yard neighbors informing you you're a super weird family and that your kids are no longer permitted to play with their kids.
You also have a husband who thinks that it simply cannot go another day without being made-over with a fresh can of spray paint.
You see your husband carry the wrought-iron dog from the front porch to the back yard. Along with spray paint and rope. You secretly wonder about the rope.
You don't really give a shit, and go to bed because it is night time.
You wake up the next morning and while making coffee in your kitchen you look out the window and see this.
You take a closer look.
You anxiously wait for hate mail from your back yard neighbors informing you you're a super weird family and that your kids are no longer permitted to play with their kids.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Work It Out
I have a girlfriend, Brandey who talked me joining her at a Pilate's class she takes one day a week at the Y.
I agreed and have been fairly good about going. I love it. It's slow, and I like the ab work/stretching and it's just my speed.
I've been fairly petite my entire life and have always struggled with building muscle. In 9th grade gym class, while every single other girl in my grade lifted weights, I couldn't lift THE BAR without weights. For serious. I had a spotter and everything. I was a pathetic weakling. So, now that I've had kids and am older, I'm making an effort to not be such a pathetic weakling.
Since Brandey took the initiative to invite me to one of her Pilate's classes, I decided to switch things up and ask her to join me in another class at the Y. Even though she works out multiple times a week and probably has no time to fit anything else in... I asked. She agreed. The class description seemed right up my alley: toning muscles via low-cardio exercise. May I remind you, Pilate's is like the most low-impact exercise on the planet and I figured this new class would be about the same. I'd rather build muscle than lose any weight.
We showed up to class. The first thing I noticed was a Beyonce song blaring from a radio. Loud as hell. That should have been my first clue as to how bad of a TRAIN WRECK this would become. I see people setting up those step things, and getting out like 8-10 lb. dumb bells. OH JESUS. I expressed my concern to Brandey, who laughed at me as she started jumping to and fro on her little step-thingy. Moving hands up and down, and left and right. And OH MY GOD Y'ALL. I am sooooo NOT COORDINATED. I jumped onto my step-thingy and tried to keep up but WHY IS EVERYONE MOVING SO FAST?? And why am I sweating after 11 seconds of jumping up and down with total lack of rhythm?
At this point, Brandey is laughing hysterically. Seriously. To her, it's a breeze and was keeping up no problem. I on the other hand... fainted when the instructor yelled for us to jump off of our little step-thingies, and instructed all of us to GO RUN AROUND THE ENTIRE BUILDING.
TWICE.
Ex-cuh-uuuuse me?!?!
I didn't sign up for this shit!!! I don't .... RUN! Maybe when I'm taking my kids to school, I run... to get their little butts inside and in their seats as quickly as possible so I can meet my friends for breakfast, but I don't like, run run. Brandey made me do it. I ran around the building...almost twice. All the while sweating bullets while everyone else was leisurely jogging and some how talking all at the same time. I could barely breathe and felt like my intestines were forcing their way out of my abdomen wall. How the hell is this classified as LOW-CARDIO?!?! I get thru the running. Whew. We are now back inside on the step-thingies. Jumping to and fro. Except I can't get the rhythm down and out of like twenty people, I'm the only one confused on which leg goes up/down and which arm to raise when, and now I'm having to add kicks and struts or whatever the hell they are called and I'm a total mess. Brandey is now trying as hard as she can to not laugh. And failing miserably.
And then, my worst nightmare comes true: the instructor calls me out. "Hey, in the back! Don't worry girl! You'll get it! Not everyone goes at the same speed!" Which I'm sure is code for: You're embarrassingly pitiful, so please get the hell out of my class because your flailing arms are distracting everyone.
It's 9th grade all over again! But this time Beyonce is on the radio and I'm sure they think I dance like this too! (Which I don't by the way. Right friends?!?!?)
I'm failing miserably, then the hellish instructor squeals: "AROUND THE BUILDING AGAIN!"
And this time, I am to stop at the basketball court and toss a basketball back and forth to a partner while running sideways. Doesn't this bitch know that if I can't master a simple old-school jazzercise move like jumping to and fro on a step-thing, that I will in NO WAY be able to handle this new task?? I try. Brandy is laughing at my failure (in a loving manner, I assume) and barely sweating. Bitch. OMG. This is like boot camp! This isn't toning and slowly utilizing your core to build strength and stamina!!
I apologize, but I will not inform you of how the remaining 45 minutes of class went. Mostly because by that point I'd thrown my step-thingy back where it belonged and stumbled out of there in search of an EMT.
I agreed and have been fairly good about going. I love it. It's slow, and I like the ab work/stretching and it's just my speed.
I've been fairly petite my entire life and have always struggled with building muscle. In 9th grade gym class, while every single other girl in my grade lifted weights, I couldn't lift THE BAR without weights. For serious. I had a spotter and everything. I was a pathetic weakling. So, now that I've had kids and am older, I'm making an effort to not be such a pathetic weakling.
Since Brandey took the initiative to invite me to one of her Pilate's classes, I decided to switch things up and ask her to join me in another class at the Y. Even though she works out multiple times a week and probably has no time to fit anything else in... I asked. She agreed. The class description seemed right up my alley: toning muscles via low-cardio exercise. May I remind you, Pilate's is like the most low-impact exercise on the planet and I figured this new class would be about the same. I'd rather build muscle than lose any weight.
We showed up to class. The first thing I noticed was a Beyonce song blaring from a radio. Loud as hell. That should have been my first clue as to how bad of a TRAIN WRECK this would become. I see people setting up those step things, and getting out like 8-10 lb. dumb bells. OH JESUS. I expressed my concern to Brandey, who laughed at me as she started jumping to and fro on her little step-thingy. Moving hands up and down, and left and right. And OH MY GOD Y'ALL. I am sooooo NOT COORDINATED. I jumped onto my step-thingy and tried to keep up but WHY IS EVERYONE MOVING SO FAST?? And why am I sweating after 11 seconds of jumping up and down with total lack of rhythm?
At this point, Brandey is laughing hysterically. Seriously. To her, it's a breeze and was keeping up no problem. I on the other hand... fainted when the instructor yelled for us to jump off of our little step-thingies, and instructed all of us to GO RUN AROUND THE ENTIRE BUILDING.
TWICE.
Ex-cuh-uuuuse me?!?!
I didn't sign up for this shit!!! I don't .... RUN! Maybe when I'm taking my kids to school, I run... to get their little butts inside and in their seats as quickly as possible so I can meet my friends for breakfast, but I don't like, run run. Brandey made me do it. I ran around the building...almost twice. All the while sweating bullets while everyone else was leisurely jogging and some how talking all at the same time. I could barely breathe and felt like my intestines were forcing their way out of my abdomen wall. How the hell is this classified as LOW-CARDIO?!?! I get thru the running. Whew. We are now back inside on the step-thingies. Jumping to and fro. Except I can't get the rhythm down and out of like twenty people, I'm the only one confused on which leg goes up/down and which arm to raise when, and now I'm having to add kicks and struts or whatever the hell they are called and I'm a total mess. Brandey is now trying as hard as she can to not laugh. And failing miserably.
And then, my worst nightmare comes true: the instructor calls me out. "Hey, in the back! Don't worry girl! You'll get it! Not everyone goes at the same speed!" Which I'm sure is code for: You're embarrassingly pitiful, so please get the hell out of my class because your flailing arms are distracting everyone.
It's 9th grade all over again! But this time Beyonce is on the radio and I'm sure they think I dance like this too! (Which I don't by the way. Right friends?!?!?)
I'm failing miserably, then the hellish instructor squeals: "AROUND THE BUILDING AGAIN!"
And this time, I am to stop at the basketball court and toss a basketball back and forth to a partner while running sideways. Doesn't this bitch know that if I can't master a simple old-school jazzercise move like jumping to and fro on a step-thing, that I will in NO WAY be able to handle this new task?? I try. Brandy is laughing at my failure (in a loving manner, I assume) and barely sweating. Bitch. OMG. This is like boot camp! This isn't toning and slowly utilizing your core to build strength and stamina!!
I apologize, but I will not inform you of how the remaining 45 minutes of class went. Mostly because by that point I'd thrown my step-thingy back where it belonged and stumbled out of there in search of an EMT.
Monday, October 4, 2010
To See NOTHING, Press Play
A whole new season of prime time TV has begun, but I'm still watching the same shit as last year.
Several weeks before all of the season premiers started, I hopped online and watched previews for every single new show on the prime time lineup. Every. Single. Show. I found 4 or 5 that looked good, and set the DVR to record the first episode of each. The week of the premiers we left for the beach and upon returning from vacation, I sat down one night with an ice cold beer and turned on the TV. I pressed LIST and waited to see the hilarious goodness that I hadn't been able to see the week of vacation.
Nothing was on my DVR list. Let me check again. Right. NOTHING.
I stared in shock, as if it was actually a big deal, but COME ON! The SEASON PREMIER of new prime time shows ARE A BIG DEAL! I knew I had set it up to record correctly, so I knew it wasn't something I did.
Then I saw it.
The plug leading from the TV was NOT IN THE FUCKING WALL-SOCKET THING.
O.M.G.
Terry!
He UNPLUGGED the TV so we would 'save energy' while on vacation. Yes. I'm serious.
Uhhhh - - In all the 7 years we've lived in this house, he has NEVER done that. EVER. And he chooses the one week where all kinds of new shit is on TV. Needless to say, I started a huge fight and bitched and moaned all night long. Pleasantries.
But now, It's no biggie. Cuz I've seen the 2nd episode of all of the new shows and there's not one we like.
Except The Event. Which is completely cheesy, but I can't not watch for some reason.
In tonight's episode, the FBI agent was impaled by a steel shank thing in her chest, given two aspirin for pain, the steel shank thing was yanked out and she shuffled on back to work like nothing ever happened.
Several weeks before all of the season premiers started, I hopped online and watched previews for every single new show on the prime time lineup. Every. Single. Show. I found 4 or 5 that looked good, and set the DVR to record the first episode of each. The week of the premiers we left for the beach and upon returning from vacation, I sat down one night with an ice cold beer and turned on the TV. I pressed LIST and waited to see the hilarious goodness that I hadn't been able to see the week of vacation.
Nothing was on my DVR list. Let me check again. Right. NOTHING.
I stared in shock, as if it was actually a big deal, but COME ON! The SEASON PREMIER of new prime time shows ARE A BIG DEAL! I knew I had set it up to record correctly, so I knew it wasn't something I did.
Then I saw it.
The plug leading from the TV was NOT IN THE FUCKING WALL-SOCKET THING.
O.M.G.
Terry!
He UNPLUGGED the TV so we would 'save energy' while on vacation. Yes. I'm serious.
Uhhhh - - In all the 7 years we've lived in this house, he has NEVER done that. EVER. And he chooses the one week where all kinds of new shit is on TV. Needless to say, I started a huge fight and bitched and moaned all night long. Pleasantries.
But now, It's no biggie. Cuz I've seen the 2nd episode of all of the new shows and there's not one we like.
Except The Event. Which is completely cheesy, but I can't not watch for some reason.
In tonight's episode, the FBI agent was impaled by a steel shank thing in her chest, given two aspirin for pain, the steel shank thing was yanked out and she shuffled on back to work like nothing ever happened.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Hello. I'm Rocky.
I enjoy leaping out of gift bags with great momentum.
I enjoy disappearing under the couch then scaring the shit out
of people when I re-appear on top of their unsuspecting feet.
Also, the mole on my nose needs to be checked out. It's starting to look a bit atypical.
I'm very bendy. The lady ferrets love me.
This is my blue leash. It's a harness actually. Which cracks my shit up.
The other thing that cracks my shit up is the fact that I suddenly become paralyzed when my leash is put on.
People try to wear me like a scarf and make me perform tricks.
I don't like that shit, so I pretend I'm gonna bite their faces. And they freak out.
But then they grab me as hard as they can and squish my fragile little face against
theirs - so I pretend like I'm giving kisses.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
My Little School Girl
Today is the first day of Ava's last year in preschool.
Her very last year.
She's smart. She's sarcastic. She tells a good knock-knock joke. She's emotional. She's kind. She's responsible. She's cautious. She's talkative. She's quirky. She's honest.
She's mine.
Her very last year.
She's smart. She's sarcastic. She tells a good knock-knock joke. She's emotional. She's kind. She's responsible. She's cautious. She's talkative. She's quirky. She's honest.
She's mine.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Aww SCAT! Today Was The Best!
Check out the little BFF's. Aren't they cute?
Grace and I concentrate on our landing's while Ava makes eye contact with the camera.
Grace checks out the cottonmouth UP CLOSE with a magnifying glass larger than her entire face.
After close examination of the picture below, I realize Ava's looking at a diagram of "SCAT OF NORTH AMERICAN ANIMALS." Because every child needs to know the difference between Frog shit and Wolf shit when stumbling upon it in the woods. I never knew scat was the literal term for shit, and I love the name! SCAT. Say it, SCAT! Now when I'm running late or just jammed my finger in my car door I can shout out "OH SCAT" or "SCAT THAT HURT!", and my girls won't know I just cussed!
Scat is a cute word. Who knew poo poo could be so cute?!
Hey Grace, which bug scares Mommy the most?
Why, that's correct honey! It's the big ass roach with long wings and razor sharp pincher's!
She's so smart.
Oh, hmmm. Wait.... Maybe the bugs that scare Mommy the most are these dozens of CRISPY LOCUST SHELLS inside of a Classico spaghetti sauce jar.
Inside of a CLASSICO SPAGHETTI SAUCE JAR.
Here's a Bobcat taking a rest after being given a sedative cocktail and a lush purple bath towel to relax upon killing and eating its prey, then roaming the mountain side all day.
Every paleontologist needs a shovel, dust brush and pigtails.
"I'm finished!!! Finally, I'm a Beautiful Butterfly!" -Heimlich from Bugs Life
Sloshing through nature and the precious Eco-system for a picture. It's the Wildenhaus way.
Daddy and his Lovies. Minus the one taking the picture.
There I am! I love you Muppin!
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Little Miss Fickle
Every once in a while I stumble upon a certain remark or quip I say that infuriates Grace beyond belief.
Example #1:
Grace: "Don't bodder me. I'm not in a dood mood."
Me: "Oh Honey, you're just tired."
Grace: (head spinning around like little Regan on the Exorcist) "NO I NOT! I NOT TIRED MOM!!"
After an entire day at the pool, running errands, no nap, scorching triple digit heat, my girls will insist they aren't tired. They might be complete emotional wrecks, complaining and arguing, but "Mom! We are NOT tired!" For some reason it's something they refuse to admit.
You bet your ass they are tired. You bet your ass I'm tired!
Both Ava and Grace are pretty emotional, but Grace takes the cake in that department. She takes two cakes actually. Poor thing will cry at the drop of a hat. Terry calls her his Little Teacup. She's fragile and easily breakable. If we look at her wrong, she'll just fall apart...and usually, her emotions are at their peak after a bath. During a bath actually, she starts the meltdown process. I have no idea what it is with bath time, but I don't remember a day when she exited the tub without an attitude. It starts with "We wanna teep playing, no washing yet!" Then comes the "I don't like being wet!!" What is she, a cat?? What kid doesn't like getting wet?! Then it's "I'm told!" Then (while flailing on the floor, dripping wet and stark naked) it's "Why you not dressing me?? I'm feezing"!
Ah. Yes. Bath time. It's super fun.
Example # 2:
I'm a little teacup, short and stout,
Here is my attitude and this is how I pout.
When I get all pissed off you better look out,
Ask if I'm in a bad mood and I WILL SHOUT.
-Grace
Example #1:
Grace: "Don't bodder me. I'm not in a dood mood."
Me: "Oh Honey, you're just tired."
Grace: (head spinning around like little Regan on the Exorcist) "NO I NOT! I NOT TIRED MOM!!"
After an entire day at the pool, running errands, no nap, scorching triple digit heat, my girls will insist they aren't tired. They might be complete emotional wrecks, complaining and arguing, but "Mom! We are NOT tired!" For some reason it's something they refuse to admit.
You bet your ass they are tired. You bet your ass I'm tired!
Both Ava and Grace are pretty emotional, but Grace takes the cake in that department. She takes two cakes actually. Poor thing will cry at the drop of a hat. Terry calls her his Little Teacup. She's fragile and easily breakable. If we look at her wrong, she'll just fall apart...and usually, her emotions are at their peak after a bath. During a bath actually, she starts the meltdown process. I have no idea what it is with bath time, but I don't remember a day when she exited the tub without an attitude. It starts with "We wanna teep playing, no washing yet!" Then comes the "I don't like being wet!!" What is she, a cat?? What kid doesn't like getting wet?! Then it's "I'm told!" Then (while flailing on the floor, dripping wet and stark naked) it's "Why you not dressing me?? I'm feezing"!
Ah. Yes. Bath time. It's super fun.
Example # 2:
I'm a little teacup, short and stout,
Here is my attitude and this is how I pout.
When I get all pissed off you better look out,
Ask if I'm in a bad mood and I WILL SHOUT.
-Grace
Monday, August 16, 2010
Scareapalooza | 1999 - Present
For years Terry and I have taken turns attempting to scare the living shit out of one another, then laugh hysterically in the other's face if we succeed.
It's true love people. True love.
Yesterday, I'm minding my own business, sitting in our office wandering the Internet, when I hear the door to the garage slam shut. Terry is walking toward me with the girls trailing behind. He presents to me (ONE INCH FROM MY FACE) a clear container housing a monstrous WOLF SPIDER. For a brief moment, I actually leaped out of my skin and came close to severing my spinal cord with the back of the chair trying to get away from him and the Furry Monster. Why must it have FUR?? And bunches of eyeballs? And stare at me with all of them while telepathically relaying the fact it's about to slither out of it's temporary habitat, jump across the room into my hair and burrow inside my brain?
Terry's up, one nuthin'.
I give the man credit, his patience and level of creativity with this game are exceptional.
Last summer I was outside in the driveway washing my car and came back inside sweating bullets. I approached the kitchen island and reached for the drink I had previously made. Upon lifting the glass to my mouth, I found a LOCUST'S EMPTY EXOSKELETON hanging by its crispy front legs from the side of my glass. I had no voice for the next two days as my vocal chords were shredded due to my responding with repeated violent shrieking. And hitting. There very well may have been hitting involved. Most likely. Probably.
He takes complete advantage of me. He knows bugs are my weakness. Even dead ones. I mean, who's to say they can't suddenly come back to life as you're reaching with toilet paper in hand to pick them up!? I just don't risk it. He's the Bug Getter. Dead or alive. It's in our marriage agreement.
Even my Grandmom has taken advantage of my fear of anything with more than 4 legs. She's chased me around with a cockroach in her hand, all six legs wriggling and wings flapping as I screamed bloody murder and threatened her bodily harm. She just giggled then flushed it down the toilet. I didn't pee for days.
Speaking of peeing... ha ha...years ago at our old farm, we had a little guest house we would hold birthday celebrations and summer gatherings inside. One afternoon, we were all inside the house when we heard my Grandmom scream. She busted out of the bathroom yelling that something had "brushed up against her" while she was using the bathroom. Uhh Muhh Gawd. We went to take a look and found a big ass water moccasin swirling around in the toilet. That would have kept me from using that toilet forever if that shit happened to me. Never mind that tiny cockroach. Heebie jeebies, much?
I have successfully scared the shit out of Terry only a handful of times. There was the time I jumped out of a dark hallway after he thought I'd long gone to bed. That got him good. RRREAL GOOD. He looked like an Olympic Gymnast leaping backwards at least 5 feet.
(I preface this next story with noting I have a slight obsession with Q-tips and use them everyday, pulling and twisting the end then attempting to feel the inside of my brain.) Terry and I lived together in an apartment while we were engaged and after us staying in and drinking a bit too much, I emerged from the bathroom with one of my trusty Q-tips in hand, blood running out of my ear and down the side of my face. I ran up to him and told him I'd shoved it in too far and felt something burst and was in excruciating pain. Knowing that he couldn't drive and I was in need of serious medical help, it was hilarious, and to date, my best scare yet. I allowed the fear simmer a little while before I let him in on my fun with ketchup.
To date, he has definitely won more Scare Awards than I have.
But that's okay because as much as I hate the game, I love it.
It's true love people. True love.
Yesterday, I'm minding my own business, sitting in our office wandering the Internet, when I hear the door to the garage slam shut. Terry is walking toward me with the girls trailing behind. He presents to me (ONE INCH FROM MY FACE) a clear container housing a monstrous WOLF SPIDER. For a brief moment, I actually leaped out of my skin and came close to severing my spinal cord with the back of the chair trying to get away from him and the Furry Monster. Why must it have FUR?? And bunches of eyeballs? And stare at me with all of them while telepathically relaying the fact it's about to slither out of it's temporary habitat, jump across the room into my hair and burrow inside my brain?
Terry's up, one nuthin'.
I give the man credit, his patience and level of creativity with this game are exceptional.
Last summer I was outside in the driveway washing my car and came back inside sweating bullets. I approached the kitchen island and reached for the drink I had previously made. Upon lifting the glass to my mouth, I found a LOCUST'S EMPTY EXOSKELETON hanging by its crispy front legs from the side of my glass. I had no voice for the next two days as my vocal chords were shredded due to my responding with repeated violent shrieking. And hitting. There very well may have been hitting involved. Most likely. Probably.
He takes complete advantage of me. He knows bugs are my weakness. Even dead ones. I mean, who's to say they can't suddenly come back to life as you're reaching with toilet paper in hand to pick them up!? I just don't risk it. He's the Bug Getter. Dead or alive. It's in our marriage agreement.
Even my Grandmom has taken advantage of my fear of anything with more than 4 legs. She's chased me around with a cockroach in her hand, all six legs wriggling and wings flapping as I screamed bloody murder and threatened her bodily harm. She just giggled then flushed it down the toilet. I didn't pee for days.
Speaking of peeing... ha ha...years ago at our old farm, we had a little guest house we would hold birthday celebrations and summer gatherings inside. One afternoon, we were all inside the house when we heard my Grandmom scream. She busted out of the bathroom yelling that something had "brushed up against her" while she was using the bathroom. Uhh Muhh Gawd. We went to take a look and found a big ass water moccasin swirling around in the toilet. That would have kept me from using that toilet forever if that shit happened to me. Never mind that tiny cockroach. Heebie jeebies, much?
I have successfully scared the shit out of Terry only a handful of times. There was the time I jumped out of a dark hallway after he thought I'd long gone to bed. That got him good. RRREAL GOOD. He looked like an Olympic Gymnast leaping backwards at least 5 feet.
(I preface this next story with noting I have a slight obsession with Q-tips and use them everyday, pulling and twisting the end then attempting to feel the inside of my brain.) Terry and I lived together in an apartment while we were engaged and after us staying in and drinking a bit too much, I emerged from the bathroom with one of my trusty Q-tips in hand, blood running out of my ear and down the side of my face. I ran up to him and told him I'd shoved it in too far and felt something burst and was in excruciating pain. Knowing that he couldn't drive and I was in need of serious medical help, it was hilarious, and to date, my best scare yet. I allowed the fear simmer a little while before I let him in on my fun with ketchup.
To date, he has definitely won more Scare Awards than I have.
But that's okay because as much as I hate the game, I love it.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Here Kiddie Kiddie Kiddie, Wanna Ride?
I took Ava and Grace to the mall this morning, along with two friends and their kids. We met in the kiddie 'playscape' area that consists of a 3-foot high enclosure with a slide too small even for The Little's, (remember them? weren't they cute?!) and a plastic car that only one and a half toddlers can fit inside.
All of us moms have been waaaaiiitttting to walk into our mall one day and see a BRAND NEW PLAY SCAPE! Complete with modern toys, a slide that can take more weight than a newborn baby, and I dunno, just some new shit! Rather than this old shit that's been there way too long.
We walked into the mall this morning and instead of seeing a new dreamy play scape for our kids, we see a brand new HUGE-ASS CAROUSEL. In the MIDDLE OF THE MALL. Directly NEXT TO the old-ass play scape. Sure, it's new. But it's also not free! Like our old-ass play scape we love to hate, but still use all of the time anyway because we are cheap and lazy and like to sit while our kids play.
I'm sorry, but you just can't meander thru a mall with children under 10 and attempt to pass right by a HUGE-ASS CAROUSEL without stopping. Children are spazzy, and will freak out and point all once to the enormous and completely out of place carousel and make you take them on it.
So now.... not only do us moms sit while our kids play on an old-ass play scape made for 10 month-olds, we are now forced to fork over money for an over priced dizzying spin around a merry-go-round.
We actually got a good laugh when upon entering the ride, we read some strict rules for 'proper riding'. Which included NO HIGH FIVES to other riders while ride is in motion. I'll admit, it was so much freakin' fun that near the end of the ride, I gave Grace a silent, tiny high five pat, while I was holding onto her. No one noticed. Thank God! I hope they don't review their surveillance video.
Our laughter quickly subsided when we realized that not only does this carousel have the run of the mill pretty ponies to choose from, it also gave you a choice between a demonic killer monkey from a Stephen King movie or a devil-red, pissed off wild boar. With tusks.
Who is the freakazoid that designed this thing? Not one single child rode on either of those creepy animals. The hellish monkey has forearms that are entirely too muscular and would most likely be used to rip off your face. And the devil-red wart hog thing is in mid charge - ready to flip you in the air, then gouge you in your heart on your way back down.
But... there was one amazingly pretty pony.
Although, The Freakazoid named her "Willie" for some strange reason, it appeared he gave her a few overnight treatments of Latisse for a bit of a lash boost. Just look at those lashes! So lush!
All of us moms have been waaaaiiitttting to walk into our mall one day and see a BRAND NEW PLAY SCAPE! Complete with modern toys, a slide that can take more weight than a newborn baby, and I dunno, just some new shit! Rather than this old shit that's been there way too long.
We walked into the mall this morning and instead of seeing a new dreamy play scape for our kids, we see a brand new HUGE-ASS CAROUSEL. In the MIDDLE OF THE MALL. Directly NEXT TO the old-ass play scape. Sure, it's new. But it's also not free! Like our old-ass play scape we love to hate, but still use all of the time anyway because we are cheap and lazy and like to sit while our kids play.
I'm sorry, but you just can't meander thru a mall with children under 10 and attempt to pass right by a HUGE-ASS CAROUSEL without stopping. Children are spazzy, and will freak out and point all once to the enormous and completely out of place carousel and make you take them on it.
So now.... not only do us moms sit while our kids play on an old-ass play scape made for 10 month-olds, we are now forced to fork over money for an over priced dizzying spin around a merry-go-round.
We actually got a good laugh when upon entering the ride, we read some strict rules for 'proper riding'. Which included NO HIGH FIVES to other riders while ride is in motion. I'll admit, it was so much freakin' fun that near the end of the ride, I gave Grace a silent, tiny high five pat, while I was holding onto her. No one noticed. Thank God! I hope they don't review their surveillance video.
Our laughter quickly subsided when we realized that not only does this carousel have the run of the mill pretty ponies to choose from, it also gave you a choice between a demonic killer monkey from a Stephen King movie or a devil-red, pissed off wild boar. With tusks.
But... there was one amazingly pretty pony.
Although, The Freakazoid named her "Willie" for some strange reason, it appeared he gave her a few overnight treatments of Latisse for a bit of a lash boost. Just look at those lashes! So lush!
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Barbie Styling Salon
Barbie's little sister, Skipper, goes to the salon for a haircut.
2007 Limited Edition "Skipper" Barbie
Skipper's hair extensions.
Introducing: The "Diva" Barbie!
Get ready for a FABULOUS time,with the NEW 2010 "Diva" Barbie
Featuring:
Multi-colored summer dress and matching shoes.
Large white hair bow. (Not pictured)
Insanely kissable cheeks.
Attitude for miles.
Also includes:
Pull-string with sayings such as: "Tan I have some tookies?" "Look! It's stinkling outside!",
and "I tan do it, I pumice I'll be tarefull."
Order now. Supply won't last.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
I'm Throwing Up My Hands In Disgust
I found the cutest bedding set on Friday at Target. I bought bright white sheets to go along with it and hurried home. I tossed everything into the washing machine then made our bed with it, and beamed with happiness at my purchase. It looked so great! Less than a day later, Ava puked all over it. She stumbled into our room at 1am, which is really out of the ordinary for her, snuggled up next to me, told me her stomach was hurting, then just as I could hear her gurgle, she puked all over the bed. I jumped up and tried in vain to hurl (hilarious pun) her around and point her projectile down toward the carpet. That didn't work too well and I basically shoved all of her hair into her face while she barfed all over our bed and floor. My vivid, bright white sheets and comforter were now soaked in regurgitated chocolate milk and macaroni noodles. Hey, I figure if I've gone this far with dirty details, I might as well take it to the end. I like to paint a picture for my audience. I'm artsy that way.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Dace Wose
For as long as we can remember, Terry and I have had to physically lay with Grace in her bed until she fell asleep at night. That was our doing, of course, but it became quite an ordeal and it shaved a huge chunk of time off of our evening together. One of us would stay with her, watch her fall asleep, then attempt to exit her room with the agility of a ninja as to not awaken the sleeping princess.
Let me tell you how excited I am to say those days are OVAH.
It took a few nights of adjusting, but now she goes to bed like a big girl, falls asleep on her own and we finally get our evening back.
Last night, a few minutes after tucking her in, Grace walks up to us on the couch and says,
"Mommy, tan you tie this sting around my wobe?" "Sure, honey. Now please get back to bed."
She disappeared back down the hallway into her room.
Ten minutes later we found her like this:
Let me tell you how excited I am to say those days are OVAH.
It took a few nights of adjusting, but now she goes to bed like a big girl, falls asleep on her own and we finally get our evening back.
Last night, a few minutes after tucking her in, Grace walks up to us on the couch and says,
"Mommy, tan you tie this sting around my wobe?" "Sure, honey. Now please get back to bed."
She disappeared back down the hallway into her room.
Ten minutes later we found her like this:
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Santa Barbara | July 2010
I'm back from sunny California and my oh my, I can't wait to share how much fun I had!
It was such a FANTASTIC trip!
For my very first time in CA, lemme tell you how lucky I am to have had it be Santa Barbara I visited first!
I will forever compare the next city I visit in Cali to sweet SB. It definitely set the bar high as far as beauty is concerned. The beaches were gorgeous, coupled with bright blue skies, cool breezes, and mountain/ocean views. Three days to wander around and find great lunch spots, boutiques, and a seat on an outdoor patio to enjoy one of many frothy and delicious adult beverages.
I flew in with Renae and Jeff on Thursday morning, Melissa and Chris arrived later that evening and Tricia and Laura came in Friday afternoon. So, most of us spent three full days exploring, laughing, eating, drinking, shopping, and relaxing! We managed to get in a ton of play-time before the Big Event on Saturday evening. And I managed to fall in love with Santa Barbara in just those three days.
It was such a FANTASTIC trip!
For my very first time in CA, lemme tell you how lucky I am to have had it be Santa Barbara I visited first!
I will forever compare the next city I visit in Cali to sweet SB. It definitely set the bar high as far as beauty is concerned. The beaches were gorgeous, coupled with bright blue skies, cool breezes, and mountain/ocean views. Three days to wander around and find great lunch spots, boutiques, and a seat on an outdoor patio to enjoy one of many frothy and delicious adult beverages.
I flew in with Renae and Jeff on Thursday morning, Melissa and Chris arrived later that evening and Tricia and Laura came in Friday afternoon. So, most of us spent three full days exploring, laughing, eating, drinking, shopping, and relaxing! We managed to get in a ton of play-time before the Big Event on Saturday evening. And I managed to fall in love with Santa Barbara in just those three days.
Brett and Annemarie were married at the Firestone Winery in Santa Ynez Valley on "Seven.Ten.Ten."
I must say, the wedding location was absolutely stunning, as was the bride, sweet Annemarie.
Mr. and Mrs. Brett Bollman - Check out her shoes!!
Brett and Annemarie!
Tricia, Melissa, Laura, Me
Dinner at Hungry Cat!
Drinks on State Street
The water was fuh-reezing!
Beautiful scenery every where I turned...
Oh Yes I did. And it was FUN!
The Bride and her girls!
My favorites: bougainvillea and alstroemeria in the Gardens at The Biltmore / Four Seasons
Wine tasting at Firestone
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