Ma Boyz

Every Mama wants to raise a Mama's boy, but no one wants to marry one. It is one of life's great conundrums. But it's really not my problem. While I do hope to raise productive leaders of the future, I'm also quite okay if this Chipmunk decides never to leave home. It is no secret that I hope he marries an orphan. And I don't care if it makes me a two-timing hussy, I've got two boyfriends.

Somebody hacked a friends Facebook.

They proceeded to share this link on my wall.


"Heyy, for the past few weeks I have been trying this new
weight loss product I saw on Oprah and CNN. You should check this out
too I have lost some weight already on it, and I hear many others have
too.Heyy, for the past few weeks I have been trying this new
weight loss product I saw on Oprah and CNN. You should check this out
too I have lost some weight already on it, and I hear many others have
too."

If there is anything I hate worse than a spamming hacker, it's a spamming hacker who calls me fat. Twice.

Oh, to be three! A post-birthday post.

To recap.
Scrunch turned three yesterday.
What did she want?


"Strawberry Shortcake and fruit snacks."

What would it be like to get everything your little heart desires? Not to mention be completely and entirely thrilled with a box of fruit snacks.

We are still in the phase where other people have birthday parties. And I kind of like it like that way. I'd rather spend money on kids I like (mine) vs. kids I have to tolerate for three hours while I pray their parents aren't late to pick them up (sorry). (but true).

It's a day for family and traditions.


Strawberry milk and crumb donuts. A new one we're keeping.


Balloons. This one Porkchop could get used to.

Bowling. Her choice.

Wearing the hot vest mom knit. My choice.

Birthday wishes from [insert your name here].

Mr. and MiniMister

The park and a 24 point inspection. My three year old does a better job than the Nissan dealership.

I

Proof I was there.

Further proof I was there.

My view during dinner.

Sitting next to the fish was icing on the cake.

Except she hates cake. So she got "white ice cream with a cone" instead.

"Holy Gosh! It's fruit snacks!"
"It's Strawberry Shortcake. I just can't believe it!" shaking her head back and forth.

And if Porkchop could talk..."Thanks for having a birthday, Sis. Mine next."

There's a birthday in the house!!!

Wonder of Wonders

I am still not allowed to talk about the fact that I am going to be naming my new niece/nephew Razmatazz so I don't really have a whole lot to say. But I would like to note that it was so nice of she and her husband to keep with the family theme of having every child that enters our family be a bloody miracle! No pressure on any other grandkids to come... 

If you're up for the discussion we really like Dericka Ezra Razmatazz as a name. We voted. It just sort of rolls off the tongue. And just in case you wondered, Scrunch still says it's a boy and that it's her best friend. She also told me that the Social Security Office was her favorite place, so I wouldn't necessarily bank on anything she tells you.

How is Gwen by the way? I hope your fetus has a nice day. Oh and Happy Birthday Jess! Get ready my dear, soon it will be all about your kid and nothing about you. I also hope you realize that I will take your kid to the zoo and let them do things you tell me not to, and I will knit them a felted Yoda hat, and I am sorry, but I will get not so secret pleasure when you chop your Catherine Zeta Jones hair into a short mom do.

I do not love Sundays.

Wake the kids up early so they can be cranky, while I yell to get us out the door, so we can drive 35 minutes to be late and pace in the halls for two hours staring at the prickly burlap walls.

I'd have made a crappy Pioneer.

There is Knitting in Heaven

Because there is no time in Heaven. No time = more time = more knitting. It's a rather simple thought process to follow, really. And I'm so very pleased to have come up with it because the list of things I'd like to knit this year is getting longer and longer and longer and is more like the list of this things I'd like to knit in my lifetime. Or in the next.

I signed up for this 11 in 2011 group on Ravelry. The goal is 11 shawls/scarves/or any other neck wear. My goal includes using 80% stash (aka yarn I already own) to complete this. I'm on #2 now and I love it. It reminds me of knitting at the beach which is where I started this badboy before I got distracted by having a toddler and an infant, and working, and pumping, and maybe washing a dish or two, or cleaning a toilet.

Then I signed up for a Hemlock Ring knit-a-long. No to be confused with the Citron knit a long that I committed to last year, which has been added to my 11 in 2011 list. I don't want to even talk about the Kelmscott knit a long.

And then I told Husband I'd knit him some hiking socks for his trip this summer.

About, um... now! is the time I should to stop committing to knitting and just start knitting. But then I need to build a lightbox so I can take beautiful pictures of all the things I've knit. Or hoped to knit. Yes, there will be really good lighting in Heaven too.

Quotes

I have read some things lately that have made me really stop and think. And stop and think about cross stitching or embroidering them or having them tattooed somewhere. But there is only so much time/space for another embroidered pillow. I can't do wall to wall wooden vinyl signs. Well, I could.. but we'll just say I can't. I thought I'd share two of my favorites. Mostly so I can come back, read them again, and think some more.

"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." - Plato

"We restore, rebuild, and make whole those parts which nature hath given, but which fortune has taken away. Not so much that it may delight the eye, but that it might buoy up the spirit, and help the mind of the afflicted." - Gaspare Tagliacozzi, Father of Modern Plastic Surgery

98% Adorable, 2% Only Cute Cuz It's Your Kid

• It was cute oh, say, the first three hundred times, but by 798 it's not as cute, but still pretty cute all the same: 

Scrunch- What do I start with? K. What does 'Papa' start with? P. What does 'Mommy' start with? M. For some reason she knows what Porkchops name starts with. What does 'banana' start with? What does 'red' start with? What does 'coupon' start with? (So funny to watch her play coupons.) What does 'apple' start with? What does 'turkey' start with? And so on down the grocery store aisle...


Porkchop- This, ahem..., darling little trick where he bangs his bottle against the crib rails at 2a.m. to let me know he's hungry. Just like a little prisoner against the jail cell rails.

• Brothers and sisters. No one can punk them but you:

Scrunch- To Porkchop, "No one wants to be friends with you." She then proceeds to put away all the toys all the time because, "He might choke." She just doesn't want him touching her stuff. She thinks everything is her stuff.

Porkchop- Pulling Sister's hair is awesome

• Funny if it's not your kid:

Scrunch- In the grocery aisle..."I want a special treat." "You did not earn your special treat." LOUDLY so everyone is sure to hear, "I WANT TO EARN MY SPECIAL TREAT." "That's good. Next time you can do that." "NO ONE IS FRIEND'S WITH ME! YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND." Oh, yes. We were that family in the grocery line. And I had coupons.
Porkchop- He screeches just like a baby teradactyl. Just like one. Even in church. Even better during the Sacrament.

• Funny even when it is your kid:

Scrunch- A man (and our home teacher) walked by us as we were trying to quietly stand at the back of the chapel  and bounce Porkchop to sleep on Sunday and just loudly enough for the last three rows to hear, "MOM!! IS THAT GOD!?" "No honey, that's not God." "IS IT GOD'S DAD?"

Porkchop- Screeching like a teradactyl anytime Ani approaches the high chair.

• Ani and Jedi's Current Favorite Person...

Porkchop. Hands down. The never ending food source. Scrunch makes them play hide and seek and tries to put lipgloss on them.

Fat Pants

I went to buy some.

I scoured both a strip and regular mall. I came home with the softest t-shirt EVER and a cozy sweater. I would wear it every day. And that is not an exaggeration. I would have bought every color I could find, but it was just the one on the clearance rack.

Back to square one and a new day of shopping with a mission.

Nada. Zero. Zilch. Most depressing shopping excursion ever.

I came home with dumb bells. Cute pink bells.

Over cold pizza I Googled my tee-shirt to find out if I could order some more. Why is it so comfy you ask? Turns out it's a maternity top. It's made for two.

I don't really want to talk about it.

Glad I bought the dumb bells. 30 Day Shred anyone?

Wicked is as wicked does.

As in wicked Witch of the West or wicked cool? Or both?

I am wicked for contemplating a piercing for more than a second. It was never the piercings. Just the haircut. Scrunch said it looks like Tinkerbell so I guess blonde is still a possibility.

On the Job

I stepped on a hard plastic toy headed into the bathroom.

"Ouch!" and "Damn!" came to mind as I looked down to see what it was.

Hey! That sorta looks like me! If I were a Little Person that is. And by that I mean Fisher Price, not the p.c. term for a dwarf. Although I am related to a dwarf by marriage. But anyway... 

Cell phone in hand. Short cropped do. Flip flops. And I haven't determined if that lunchbox is filled with Craisins and pretzels or if it's her Madela Pump In Style. On closer inspection I'm not entirely sure it's a female, to tell you the truth. And her shirt looks like she just got home from some spicy tropical vacation. 

No, definitely not me, just another occupational hazard that comes with the job. Do you have any idea what the OSHA handbook would look like for a Domestic Operations Manager? And sick days? No sick days. The benefits package is payed out in handprints and jelly globs. In my case, scrubbing toothpaste off the bathroom door.

I'm on my fifth day of nursing a cold. I think I could just kick it if I could stay in bed and sleep whenever I felt like it. And after months of months of tedious work and wishful thinking, Porkchop learned to nurse the same day he was weaned. It lasted two short minutes, until the little piranha about took it off! Worker's Comp Claim, anyone? Nuh uh.

I asked my 99 year old patient last week what her secret was. "Change husbands often and don't have kids." She was emphatic about it.

I am 0 for 2. But who wants to live that long without them anyway? This is the hardest, lowest paid, most hazardous job in the world, I'll tell you what. And I signed up for it. Even if it kills me.

Pink it's my new obsession.

Do I dare? Oh, yes thank you. I think I do.

Catch-all Catch Up

• The computer is currently and temporarily in the room we are sleeping in so there's been a damper on my nocturnal blogging. No more 3:24a.m. time stamps. Instead, I've spent too much time oogling Three Irish Girls' Lookbook. It's not as kinky as it sounds, but how do I tell my Husband I want Three Irish Girls for Valentine's Day?

• There is nothing more annoying than a Winter cold. Except maybe waking up to the sound of Fran Drescher from The Nanny's voice. Since that has never happened to me, mostly because I don't have a nanny, the cold takes it.

• I think my job is perfect fodder for a comedic sitcom. In a sick twisted sort of way. Me, bee-boucin' in purple scrubs in my Mini into the nastiest, dingiest, third world country-esque mobile home park on the West Side. 

Me- "So, is there is anyone else here in the day who might be able to help you?"
"Sometimes Billy-bear is here."
"Who is Billy-bear?"
"I let him sleep on the floor at night when it's cold."
"Is he here during the day?"
"No. He stands in front of the store during the day."
"Ok. Is anyone else here?"
"Sometimes Dennis is here."
"Oh, who is Dennis?"
"Dennis just got out of prison and doesn't have anywhere to live yet so I let him sleep on the couch."

So, what you're telling me is that I'm sitting here waiting for the homeless man and ex-con to come check your blood sugar? Awesome sauce.

• For some reason Scrunch didn't want to read a book with pictures this morning and brought me 'Beezus and Ramona.' My favorite part was, "Beezus felt that the biggest trouble with four-year-old Ramona was that she was just plain exasperating. If Ramona drank lemonade through a straw, she blew into the straw as hard as she could to see what would happen. If she played with her finger paints in the front yard, she wiped her hands on the neighbors' cat." What's my kid's name again?

• When I showed her what the alien ship looking thing in her Doctor's kit was, I heard myself say, "Only Mommy checks reflexes, okay? Do not check your brother's reflexes, do you understand?" Did I just say that? Um, yeah. I've also said things like, "Do not put your feet on your brother again!" and "Please give the knitting needles back to him." From her I've been woken up to, "Mom! Come and get us!" Us? Oh, hello. Why are you in your brother's crib?

• When I walk by her room and see these poofs, it makes me happy. Perhaps in my bliss I should check that she is in her appropriate sleeping place, besides just staring at the ceiling.

• Dog pile on Mommy!

• My hair is way too long. That will be remedied this Wednesday and should give me a 2lb. jump start on New Year's weight loss. 

• I love this picture of my kids and their Grami and Gramps. Classic.

Frickem, Frackem!!!!

In a moment of less than brilliance I tried to do two things at once. First mistake. Biggest mistake was when those two things included calling my insurance and pumping.

Neeaaaoooowwww!!!!......

drip.

drip.

drip.

That is my milk supply dwindling down to almost nothing. And just a few hours ago I was boasting that egg-nog makes me a moo like a bell to Pavlov's dogs. For the love!!!

I don't think I made a new friend today. The unlucky, English-as-a-second- language, customer NON-service rep tried to pass me off to her supervisor, but he (conveniently) is unavailable in meetings until four this afternoon at which time he is to supposedly calling me back. If he does, I'll shave my head. So help me! How much money are we betting on this one?

I've tried being nice, playing by the rules. It gets you nowhere. From here on out it is Miss T, Type A Bi-otch from another planet!! Good times over here on my end of the phone, let me tell you.

No worries. My milk is back. Like a non-compliant diabetic balancing their blood sugar bouncing between licorice and insulin, a handful of chocolate chips and marshmallows does wonders for both my stress and the milk.

And Scrunch? No worries there. The one mini candy cane I gave her to ensure a few minutes of quiet while on the phone turned in to four and getting to watch Lilo and Stitch. She's perfectly happy.

The clincher? I'm having a physical tonight. Read-having my blood pressure taken for a life insurance policy. Good times. Good times.

Somebody blog. I'm bored.

I went to bed shortly after the kiddos. It's 1 am and I feel like I've had a full night's sleep. Oh, wait. I have. Now I'm up. And I'm bored. My blog reader list look exactly the same as it yesterday. So disappointing when that happens...

I'm between projects and due to a recent furniture swap my sewing machine isn't quite ergonomically accessible, yet. I'm sitting here in the front room contemplating shades of gray and was a little too close to getting the blue tape out when I thought about Joyce.

"I check your blog every day. I'm so disappointed when there're nothing there."

Sheesh. No pressure.

Joyce is checking from a wi-fi hot spot from Stanford's children's hospital. Her son has undergone two open heart surgeries in ten days. She has been at his bedside for almost a month. This is not her family's first time through this, and they are still a long road from being done.

I don't/can't/don't want to imagine what that's got to be like. Lame and sucky come to mind, but that's not really very helpful, is it? It's been several months since i spent much time with her. Even longer since my days of puking in the bushes and putting an end to our running together, but Joyce was among the first to sit in my family room, love on my baby, and tell him he was beautiful and perfect. I will always appreciate her for that. She also told me once that i made the greatest cupcakes she had ever tasted. And this girl knows her cupcakes. I suppose the least I can do is share some link love. For those late (or early) nights up when you're bored and limited in what you can do...

Cake wrecks
Bakerella
CJane
NieNie Dialogues

And if you would, leave me a favorite go-to link in a comment. Or write a blog post. Or both. For the two of us.

And the New Year's Resolution is....

"It's not done till it's overdone." -Dad

I said yes when I should have said no. I didn't until the pile on my plate got higher and higher until it became hard to balance it all. My stress levels shot up, my patience dwindled, and I became unbelievably tired. I decided I needed to start dumping things if I was going to make it. I said, "Thanks! But no thanks!" to Joy School. And "YES!!!!!" to "Would you like to be released from your calling?" Thanks to mi familia my bathroom got really, really scrubbed, the laundry folded, a head start on the garage- I was starting to feel balanced and like a sane woman again! (I'll always have work and pumping if I start to get too far ahead.)

Then all last week I hemmed and hawed about New Year's Resolutions. The list got longer and longer. FlyLady's Seven in 2011 became three different lists with seven things apiece. It totally defeated the point, and it didn't last two days.

I was three seconds from calling Holly.

"Hey, it's me. I suck. Two days down and I've blown every resolution on the list."

Instead I thought, "I'll text her later." And started thinking and kept driving.

All that thinking while driving in the rain paid off because this is what I came up with.

This is bullcrap. I'm not lazy, or fat, or unproductive. I'm doing the best I can with what I've got. Why do I even care that not every dish is washed and put away before I leave the house? There are dishes because I fed my kids breakfast. We are leaving because we are going to go have fun today. No one is even going to see those damn dishes. And if they do, guess what? That's what yogurt looks like.

That's how I came to my New Year's Resolution. Sure, there are things I'd like to be better at. Routines I'd like to settle in to. Daily tasks I'd like accomplished. But mostly I'M NOT GOING TO FEEL GUILTY WHEN IT ALL DOESN'T HAPPEN!!! So long as I'm not lazy, fat, or unproductive I'M NOT GOING TO FEEL BAD ABOUT IT! I will not apologize for the Legos. I am going to quit bitching to my husband that I clean, and clean, and clean only to have to do it again an hour later. I want to play, and play, and play and then pick it up at the end of the day. Or not. The house will be clean, not spotless. I will be fit, not have a six pack. Meals will be edible and healthy, not gourmet. I will say "Thanks, but no thanks!" when I instinctively want to say, "Why not?" I will do the best I can with what I've got and not expect more than that.

Here's to a Happy New Year!

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu!!

Oh, 2010. I almost feel bad for you. Was anyone sad to see you go? I mean no offense, but you were kind of a giant pain in the butt. And my butt is bigger since having known you. See yourself out.

Hello 2011. I mean...Hi my new best friend! Play nice, k?