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    Kids. They never listen.

    January 12, 2009

    natepizza

    You have some questions right now.  Yes, The Baby has a butter knife in his right hand.  Yes, that is a quart of motor oil to his right.  The food getting spit out of his mouth?  The pizza from yesterday that he found somewhere that he was properly advised NOT TO EAT because it is a day old and would taste like crap.  Which apparently was not believed.

    I then went downstairs to upload the pizza debacle.  When I came back up stairs, I found this.

    table

    Technically it is the dining room table but it is still in the living room from New Year’s Eve.  Yes, that happens to be a 5-gallon bucket of deck stain on the dining room table.  It has to warm up to actually be put on the deck because you can’t put deck stain on a deck in weather under 40 degrees.  It was colder than 40 degrees where the stain was in the garage.  Grant it, it’s colder than 40 degrees on the deck.  Hey, I’m not the mathematician in the family but 2 plus 2 is looking a lot like 5 right now.

    The stickers on the reading glasses?  So Dad knows which ones are the correct ones.  Not to be confused with just trying them out at the store to see which ones are best.  Let’s just buy 4 pairs and play the “I CAN’T READ” game every single time a pair goes on.  Or at least 75% of the time. The crumbly mass The Baby is sitting upon?  Hot crushed red pepper.  He was actually sneezing.  Pink earphones?  In a package when I saw them last.

    The Republican haircuts?  I know the craze is to make your child look unwashed by letting their hair grow long and unruly.  We like to use clothing as a conversation piece about whether these children ever get bathed.  And when someone has vomited in the barber shop just a couple of days before, they do their best to make sure you aren’t coming back any time soon.

    mirror

    There are an incredible amount of hand prints on that mirror, right?  Those prints are from a year ago.  My husband keeps his stash of his beloved Windex well-hidden.  Oh, who am I kidding?  I can barely keep the fam in clean underwear and socks.  Clean a mirror?  Surely you jest.

    feet

    Nasty feet with unclipped toenails?  Check!  On the table?  Check!  Not just on the table but the nicest table cloth.  Interestingly enough, no one even hedged or looked apologetic when I busted them.

    It’s not even 10:30 yet.

    Jess is very concerned about what we intend to call The Baby when we have the newer, more important Baby.  It’s clear The Boy is a disappointment.  We may as well get a jump on moving beyond the middle child and focusing on the child that is most important, Baby #3.  If you have an opinion (as I know you do), let me know in the comments what you think the name should be for The Baby and for this little rug rat that is determined to come out via my belly button.30weeks6days

     

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    Happy Friggin’ New Year!!!

    January 1, 2009

    I am so hung over.  You know when you go to a party and all night everyone is drinking and a) no one thinks to put a pitcher of ice water on the table to keep the natives hydrated or b) even makes ice so now everyone is drinking drinks without ice?  And that crappy hostess is you? And you get hung over because now you have eaten salt-laden goodness for a total of like 6 hours and you haven’t had anything to drink other than illegal sips from someone else’s Anchor Steam because wielding your very own beer after you have pried your fat pregnant belly under the table is just frowned upon by even the loosest of folks?

    I’m too old for this.  I laughed so hard last night I actually laid my head down on the dinner table and cried.  That might have been when my husband started his falsetto/vasectomy voice across the table or maybe when I was rehashing for the 6th year in a row the story about my gay ex-boyfriend’s emotional breakdown of nuclear proportions in my kitchen one New Year’s Eve and BeBe didn’t think it was funny because she was drunk thanks to that Trader Joe’s Sparkling Limeade and vodka concoction and then someone asked if Carl and I used to date?   Which we never dated but we did have that marriage pact and then Carl got emotional and thanked Derek profusely for marrying me.  I really can’t pinpoint the crying party but I do think the top half of my bra was hanging out my shirt for the better part of the night and when I commented on it, Amy said, “who hasn’t seen them?” That would be my girls, which were hanging out the top of my bra.  The crying in laughter was definitely NOT when Carl strayed from our 8 year New Year’s Eve script and brought up my ex who threw about the Baby Jesus or his reference to my church as “The Pickup Church.”  or the reference to my match.com years.  I mean days.

    The Cake Lady spent the better part of the night being “on” and hobbling around on her bum knee due to an unfortunate mini motorcycle accident and then there were all manner of “bum” stories.  Who knew “bum” meant so many different things to so many people.  PopPop offered again to birth my child for me and while I am sure he is an excellent plumber, I mentioned I may have to pass on that one.  The Husband was forced to tell The Boy to stop “grating the guests” which could have referred to either The Boy’s attempts to use an actually cheese grater on Tom’s arm OR screaming loudly and annoyingly in a manner which would have suggested that bedtime would have been helpful, say, 3 hours earlier.   Dinner wasn’t on the table until 9, the host was pissed off because his grilled tenderloin was cold (so you are saying I should have started the green beans earlier?) and his exact helping of potatoes dauphinoise wasn’t cooked enough (mine was org@asmic, thank you very much) and I think he was still pissed off because of the damn vasectomy from last month.  Seriously, get over it.  By 11 he was hammered and then he was really funny, which is why I married him.  Which is not to be confused with the vasectomy, which is why I am staying married to him.  Derek did his best to share the marital disharmony by making Amy her very own bucket of popcorn from my brand new popcorn maker that Tom did NOT buy for Amy for Christmas and I don’t know if they fought on the way home because of it.

    Matt and Deb waxed wistfully nostalgic about their kids growing up so fast and college applications and we folks with small children looked at them like they were crazy.  Because they are.  Time has stopped over here.  So much so that when the clock struck midnight, we missed it.  It was only at 12:01 that someone realized.  No, wait.  I think that means that time is moving faster.

    I need a Gatorade. Happy 2009!

    Go on over to PBS Supersisters and tell me your best impossible NY resolution.   And just know that that 50 pounds is going to be 60 by March, at the rate I’m going.

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    The land without Internet, also known as Idaho

    August 21, 2008

    I’m not deaf.  I’m ignoring you.

    Just kidding.  Actually there is absolutely no internet in all of Idaho.  OK, the rumor on the street is that there is dial up but I would rather lie down and die of an internet-void-induced-coma than dial up.  God bless the nice people here at Java on Sherman for the free wifi.  I would move in here but my husband would be against it.

    On a lighter note, PBS Supersisters launched.  Go over there and leave a comment.  Because it could not be more rocking over there.  It’s PBS, People.  Can you believe it?  I’m freaking out.  I feel like I was pregnant and have given birth.  Except I was pregnant for 17 months.  Which would make PBS Supersisters just shy of an elephant pregnancy.  But it is the CUTEST baby elephant you have ever seen.

    I miss you all terribly.

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