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Thursday, July 28, 2011


One of my KK Mommy friends posted this today and it touched me so I wanted to share. *sigh* If only they were small and sweet again.

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth
empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
hang out the washing and butter the bread,
sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
...She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
for children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton


Have a great weekend.

Thank you JS.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Our poor tree.

I wrote last year about this tree. Take a look HERE. Seems a little silly to put so much emotional importance on a tree but I do. I think this tree is a significant story teller that runs parallel with us.


Let me add a little back story and maybe you can see it. In my and husband’s relationship there have been a few bumps. Nothing catastrophic, but bumps big enough to jostle your brain when ya go over ‘em. Who hasn’t?! It seems whenever we have something major happen everything major happens. So, we built a new house and were moving crap over daily and in the middle of the mess a huge storm hits our town. Tornados nearby, rain coming sideways, and lightening that was scary close. Ya know, summer storm, Midwest style. I thought sure with everything happening we would have lost the tree. She was a bendin’. Nope. It stood. Strong and tall and I looked at my hubbs and thought “just like always we are gonna make it”. Then two days later a second but not nearly as ferocious storm blew through and took our tree with it.


Leveled to the ground. Again! This tree does this about every five years. So do we. I cried. A lot. Then I started over analyzing the symbolism. With all the stress of the five-million-and-two things that we loaded up on our plates, my lover and I had been fighting quite a bit. Is the tree trying to tell us that some storms you can weather but some are just to big to withstand?! Or was it saying here’s a fresh start for you? Just call me neurotic. Some people take advice from tea leaves. At least mine was living.

Well… running true with the tree speak we have moved on, started fresh. We have cleaned up our old mess (well…almost) and have begun to grow a new life from the ground up in a different place.


(insert sad faces)

Let’s just hope this new house’s tree isn’t a sign of anything. It was a straight-up pain in the ass then immediately it died. Puleeze! Really?!?

And of course, before i got a pic (stupid camera. STUPID battery.) the magic tree fairy (aka: project manager) came and replaced it. Maybe that is a sign! Ugh.

So now I have little to no worries a (surface survey) and I just pray the grass here is not the fortune teller. Premium Kentucky Bluegrass my foot! More like poopity-poop-poop. Poop. Although the grass does kinda feel like me right now… crabby and a little “broad”.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Wanna see some pictures?

I am totally not a photographer. At all. That being said… shall we?! Here’s what the last nine months have looked like:



Please try to focus on the reason for the season instead of my half-wit facial expressions. Yes. As a matter of fact my tongue is out and I have indeed not bothered to brush my hair. Huh.



Incredible. In November we celebrate my nephew’s birthday.






“Playing” with our Christmas loot. Um… that is a volcano. You’re welcome.



Let the building begin!


This is the one I made for my baby’s 4th birthday.








We were waiting for the much anticipated port removal.


Almost done!


DSC02622 DSC02619

Hello Summer!



Check out my sexy mutha-*bleep* with his cold blooded jewelry.


And… this is what happens when you hand me one! Ack!

Do you have any idea how hard it is to come up with just one (ok, sometimes two) pictures to sum up an entire month? Why nine months, not six, or twelve? Dunno. Deal.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Been a long time…

It has been since Easter since I posted?!?! It has been since Easter since I posted.

We have had a whole truck load of crap happen, I probably have about 27 funny things to tell you, like 16 not so funny, and at least one that will make you cry tears of joy. None of those things will be posted right now though. I am simply too pooped. Plus that would mean organizing my stack of post-its. Too hard. Especially when I can’t find my stapler, my favorite bra, or about three dozen other things since the move. Never been too organized, now it bites me in the ass.

Piled high on top of the move is summer (aka: boys parked in my face), my '”fun job” that sucks a big one, a lay-off that turned into out of town work for my dear husband, and my car just up and gave me the finger. The friggin’ clutch went out. I want to scream. Instead I decided to pout. We had loads of wonderful family activities that needed attending this weekend and I was stuck. With my sweetie out of town the weekends get crammed full of shit we hate (him working on the old house, me at work) instead of the things we really want to be doing (spending time with friends and family, or hell just enjoying summer for five minutes).

Today I surfed the net for solutions to the car disaster until one of eyeballs actually fell out on to my keyboard. Don’t worry, it was the one that recently survived pink eye not my good one.*

*in a tiny little side note: whenever anyone says “pink eye” do you immediately think “poop on your eyeball”?! I do. I did. Till now. I did not have poop anywhere near my face. I am a compulsive hand-washer. Sort of. (remember the scene from Knocked Up when they all got pink eye from farting on each other's pillows?! I feel better)

My dear sweet sister showed up and informed me that we needed to get out of the house and do something fun with the boys for just once in their poor deprived lives. That was at like 1:00. So by 4:00 we started really thinking about what to do. The public pools around here (well not really around here anymore since “here” has moved) have special cheap-o rates after 4:00 so since it was now only 99° instead of 105° we suited up.

Pay attention… this is where it gets good… in string bikinis!!! BWAaahahaha.

No seriously.

We totally did.

We dug around in my swim suit pile and finally decided on the little ones. Why? ‘Cuz we are obviously of diminished brain capacity. Obviously.

I have two things to tell you about this ridiculous decision:

  1. We are not the adorable 20-somethings that these suits were originally purchased for.
  2. If you ever want to feel better about your physical appearance you should head over to the public pool.

Knowing these two things led us to the conclusion that we are too old to care what anyone really thinks. That and she has a tropical vaca coming up and she and a thawed out chicken have the same color skin. So my sis, her blissfully happy new b’dunk, our three pasty boys, and my scarred up nasty (think shark bite or mauled by tiger) belly jiggle all got in her car. I made her promise to make a whooper-whill whistle if one of my nipples popped out and then made her practice it with me for insurance. God forbid she mistake it for another bird call. She rolls eyes and comments on my mental handicap.

We arrive. Pay. Throw our crap on the first empty chair. Undress. Suck in… and head for the water. I don’t have the required stomach muscles it takes to hold the kind of blub I carry. Little sis meant what she said about not caring about what people think and is sitting down. You can’t suck in and sit. F*@#. Oh well.

In an hour and 20 minutes my insignificant stomach muscles are sore from trying their hardest. My thighs are rubbed red on the inside from the weird way I was walking trying to minimize the jiggle. We have been splashing and playing the entire time. The boys were having fun. The water feels great and so does the sun. Having a great time.

Until… she swims up to me and giggles “thought you might wanna know your suit is see through”. Really? Really?!?!

Not only did I not hear the whistle we rehearsed but she waited an hour to tell me that everyone could tell within a millimeter exactly how my nipples look?!?! Aaahhhh!!!

Top that shit off with a trip to Wal-Mart in goofy half wet swim covers with three over tired and hungry boys and I was almost in tears looking for a happy pill.

No. There are no pictures to go with this post.