Yeah, I'm slacking, but, I have an excuse.

Remember those art classes Lennie signed me up for as a Christmas present? Well, I recently started going to them and I think I finally know what I want to be when I grow up: a starving artist - except with the 32 Hershey bars, I'm not exactly starving...and I'm not quite an artist.

But, at least I love it, and for so many reasons. For example, I get to drive for 30 minutes by myself to get to my class. While a 30 minute drive alone in a minivan may not seem like a treat, to me, it's fucking awesome. I don't have to listen to Bearenstain Bears or Frog and Toad CD's. Nobody asks me 5,000 ridiculous questions that always start with "Why," and there's no arguments to settle. Just me and some cool ass music. Yeah, so if you pull up next to a white minivan and there's a crazy lady in the driver's seat who seems to be screaming at no one and having a seizure, don't worry, it's just me and I'm only singing.

Then, once I get to class, my teacher is an amazing, funny, and easily likable lady who instructs in the kindest and simplest way possible. I get to paint my little heart out for 3 hours once a week and it's like a mini-vacation for me. It's so soothing and stimulating at the same time and I finally feel like my brain is being used for something other than a collection bin for nursery rhymes, quick recipes, and the answers to where everybodies' stuff is in the house. "Your glue stick is in your pencil case in your backpack, which is in the laundry room, behind the door, hanging on the hook (for the third time)."

The art class and my vegetable garden are really making me happy right now. Hopefully, I will have some small measure of success with them. Here's what I've been working on so far, it's just the first step, I have many more hours to go with this one.

Wordless Wednesday...almost

Here's to hope

Hershey and Smuckers, no no no

Thanks for all the well wishes! Little Ella finally seems to be on the upswing. We took her to the doctor on Saturday and it turns out she has bronchitis. I swear, this time of year I just want to pack everyone up and go live on a 1000 acre ranch somewhere, where the only viruses that can find us are viruses that can crash my husband's Blackberry.
Ok, instead of blogging, I really need to be running off the chocolate bar dipped in peanut butter I ate for second dinner last night...and possibly again tonight. Damn you, Lennie, for buying 32 Hershey bars from BJ's. I know you called to ask me if I really wanted you to buy thirty two chocolate bars, and I said, "No problem, I have willpower when it comes to chocolate," but as it turns out, I don't. And, I blame you. After 14 years together, you should know these things.

The best part about growing up is the access to NyQuil

You know, I've been thinking tonight about Ella. She has a nasty cold, and it really has to suck to be a baby with a cold. All she wants out of life is to just suck her damn thumb and go to sleep, but she can't. Everytime she eagerly slips her tiny pink thumb into her mouth and starts to contentedly suck away, the picture of perfect blisss, her moment of peace is abruptly destroyed by the startling lack of air when she tries to breathe in through her plugged-up nose. Damn. That's like having to pee really badly, and you just get a good stream going when all of a sudden someone busts down the door and you have to try to stop and grasp frantically at your pants. It's just not natural. I think we take complete peeing for granted, just like we take being able to breathe out of our noses for granted.

Also, she can neither blow her nose nor snort all the goodies down her throat. I have to suck the snot out for her with the bulb of torture, while HOLDING HER ARMS DOWN. The only way she can express her frustration is to cry, which also hurts because she has a sore throat from having to breathe through her mouth all the time.

That pretty much sucks and blows. Poor baby Ella, Mommy understands.

What is Light without Darkness?

I've just figured out that Wednesday is the evil but necessary glue that holds the rest of the week together. It's putridness makes us appreciate the sweetness of Saturday so much more. Not to mention the fact that every damn newscaster on CNN keeps saying, "Happy Hump Day." It makes me want to die every time I hear it. Remember 'Legend,' that awesome Tom Cruise movie from way back? Yeah, well, Lord of Darkness = Wednesday.



Also, it's about 42 degrees and rainy here today and I am generally feeling a little tired of all the Wednesdayishness.

So, here are some fresh young things that are helping to tide me over until Spring, or at least Saturday.

A lemon blossom from my kitchen (which smells like a drop of heaven)


Pumpkin seedlings.


Strawberries


Begonias, which unfortunately is on the decline because I haven't yet figured out how to care for a begonia.

I said "young and fresh," didn't I?

Earn 2 Bucks, the hard way

For the last few years, Sayde has had this pitiful looking small grey tooth taking up real estate in the front center of her mouth. I think the "grey" part had something to do with an overly enthusiastic Jake chasing a tennis ball on the driveway, and deciding that rather than run around the toddler, it's quicker to just go straight through, thereby causing the unfortunate toddler to land tooth-first on the driveway. And, we won't make mention of whom the tennis ball thrower was, okay, Lennie?

But, I'm on a tangent. So, thank God, on Friday night, the shabby little tooth was finally loose enough for me to yank out of Sayde's mouth. I was not sad to see it go, and apparently, neither was she. She held out hope that the Tooth Fairy was going to leave her one hundred dollars, and to ensure it, she placed a bribe underneath her pillow. In addition to the tooth, she left a plastic baggie with a heart colored in red crayon, with an Ariel eraser and a ginormous plastic ruby ring. I guess the Tooth Fairy would have rather had a bottle of wine, some chocolate and a new pair of heels though, because all Sayde got was a dollar wrapped in a little paper heart.


Friday night



Fast forward to last night, when the kids were in the bathtub and I was folding laundry a few feet away. One minute, they're splashing around having fun, the next, Sayde is frantically shrieking, "MOMMY! MOMMY!"

I looked over to see Sayde holding her face, her hands dripping with blood.

The hell?

"Mommy, Connor kicked my other tooth out!" She was hysterically giggling - to the point of psychosis. On the contrary, Connor was speckled in blood, and trying to submerge himself in order to hide from what from his point of view, was likely a very very bad scenario. Since there was only about 4 inches of water however, he wasn't going anywhere. But, luck was on his side last night. I mean, how often do you kick someone's tooth right out of their friggin head, and they're deliriously thrilled about it? Wrath of Mommy avoided in one bloody toothless smile.

Oh the curious relationship that is Siblings:

You kick the tooth from my head
Bathwater churning, swirling red
Thank you, brother.

Sunday night

PS
Sayde tried to up the ante last night by leaving a Dora the Explorer Doll, driedel, coloring book, and a snake stamp underneath her pillow. The tooth fairy left her a stiff neck and one crisp dollar bill.

Blog Slacker Says What.

What?
Exactly.

Some random mid-week thoughts:

I started a garden this week. It's something I've wanted to do for years, but we've never been settled enough to put some roots down (hey, did you get that? Sorry I had to). But now that we are home for good because, as Connor likes to say, Lennie's job is "nothing," I am finally able to make it happen. Just 2 days ago, I started the seedlings, and already I have lettuce sprouts. The motherly feeling of watching those little seeds spring to life is akin to giving birth, only with less screaming. Plus, the dirt doesn't need to be sewn back together after the lettuce pops out. Oh well.

What's up with the octuplets mom's lips? Inject much? No money for food, surviving off of student loans & website donations, but lip collagen galore. Come on. Who am I to judge though? I just spent two hours scaring the crap out of myself by watching Ghost Hunters International on the Sci Fi channel, instead of solving the mystery of why Sayde "can only breathe out of one of(her) noses." Also Connor wanted to know why "one of the Star Wars cut off the other Star War's hand," and again, I was unavailable for answers. What kind of mother am I?

A tired and grouchy one. And one with a throbbing jaw because dentists are sadistic.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. That peanut president who knowingly sent putrid food into the marketplace, is a total Scumbag. Why are there people like this walking the earth?

Sometimes Mommy is an Asshole

Dear Connor,

Remember the other day, when I asked you to throw a piece of paper away in the trash can underneath Daddy's desk? Then, how you crawled into the dark hollow, and just as you reached the deepest part, Mommy said, "But watch out for the monster!" and you jumped 4 feet backwards in 0.2 seconds and stared at me with wide eyes?

You weren't really sure if there was a monster because the logical surface part of your brain tells you that there's no such thing as monsters and Mommy is just teasing you. But then, in the deep imaginative center part of your brain, there is an uneasy 'what if' that is taking root. WHAT IF? What if there really is a hungry monster living underneath Daddy's desk just waiting for delicious unsuspecting children to go crawling underneath?

So you stood there and looked at me, with the piece of paper still in your hand and said, "Mommy. There are no monsters," in a rather unconvincing way that seemed more like a question than a statement. And I said, "I know, kiddo, Mommy was just being silly. Now, can you throw that paper away, please?"

And so, with much more respect for the dark otherworldly creatures that may be lurking under Daddy's desk, you cautiously crept toward the garbage can. That is, until Mommy screamed, "DON'T LET IT EAT YOU!"

Yeah... sorry about that one.

Hug-a-Saurus

Today, Connor is having his Valentine's Day party at preschool. Last night, we spent about 45 minutes at the kitchen table writing out all the Valentine's cards. We just went down names on the class list, one after the other while Connor told me whether they were "good listeners" or "bad listeners". That is, until we got to Meredith. Connor stopped, smiled, and said, "I like Meredith. She's my girlfriend." Then, he raised both arms over his head and said, "I love her thiiiiiiiis much."



Dear Meredith,

If you break his heart, I will hunt you down and make your life a living hell. Envision this: on Valentine's Day, you'll get a heart shaped box filled with empty wrappers. I'll bite the head off of your chocolate bunny on Easter. Your jelly beans become my jelly beans. Peeps? No Peeps. You don't even want to know about Christmas. Consider yourself warned.
Now have a great party, you crazy kids.
Love,

Connor's Mommy

My gift to you today: Corn Poop

How many days wearing the same clothes is too many, because I'm entering day 3 now and I'm starting to think that's pushing the limit. I'm not depressed again - I just don't care that much this week. I'm hanging out with an 8 month old all day who likes my sweatshirt because she can chew on the cords while I carry her around. Bonus. In a perhaps not so covert mission to encourage me to hit the shower, my wonderful husband took all three kids out for a few hours to give me some time to "just hang out" (and cook dinner), and I had all these wonderful aspirations of running, showering, finally putting away the laundry that's been sitting on the couch since Monday, and yet...no.

Instead I think I'll turn on 'Jaws' for the 8 millionth time in my life for some background scenery, while I tool around on my laptop. There's so many productive things I could be doing right now, but muted Jaws it is. I'm sticking it to The Man.

I really am going to cook dinner later though, and so I think I'll share with you one of our favorite 'tried and true' meals: Corn Chowder. And I promise, the morning after eating this meal, you will have the most enjoyable bowel movement of your life - smooth like chocolate soft serve. Now, with that in mind, here's the recipe. It's easy, like the poop.

1 bag frozen corn
1 large potato (cubed) I don't peel
1 yellow onion (chopped)
1 can chicken broth (or a couple of bullion cubes)
1 cup milk (we use skim)
1/3 cup cheddar cheese
1 T flour (or more if you like a thicker soup)
S&P to taste
Bacon to garnish

Chop up your onion and let it sizzle for a minute with some Pam in a Dutch Oven over med heat. Before it gets browned, add the chicken broth and potato. Let it simmer, covered, 10 mins. Add most of the bag of corn (enough so that it is all mostly submerged in the broth), and let it simmer uncovered for 10 mins more. Meanwhile, nuke the bacon (we use turkey bacon).

Mix the milk, flour, S&P together with a fork & pour into the dutch oven. Let the soup thicken for a couple of minutes, and then add the cheese. Once it melts, you're done. Crumble some bacon on top and dream of regularity.

Excuse me while I hop in the shower before Lennie gets home - I really do smell.

Mama said Knock You Out

Yes, that's right. Lennie and I spent this weekend in Tampa, where we collected seashells on the beach, went running, went to the movies together, and I got into a fistfight. But, more on that later. We also went to (get ready because I'm going to sing it:) The Suuuuperbowl La La La Laaaaaa! Since Lennie is still technically on the Browns' roster, and those days are rapidly coming to an end, I figured it would be my only chance for a long long time - if ever - to go see the Superbowl, la la la la. Plus, we haven't been away together without kids since Sayde was 13 months old. So, even though the Red Bitch was in town, we had a great time doing all the stuff you take for granted when you don't have kids, aka, peeing without an audience.





Oh, by the way, if you are ever in North Redington Beach, swing by The Frog Pond for breakfast. Holy Yum. After Lennie and I snarfed down an omelet the size of France, and a fruit plate that rivals the Chiquita Banana lady's hat, we were off to the game. We got there plenty early (5 hours early) so that we could walk around the NFL Experience, and get price gouged. We waited on a 10 minute line just to get IN to the *tent* store, and once inside, we discovered not only was it 1,000 degrees, but the acceptable price for a sweatshirt is apparently hundreds of dollars. So, empty handed except for a $10 beer (which was worth every penny), we wandered over to the stadium.

Our seats were about 2 rows from the very top, so we ambled up up up the ramp and walked along the concourse looking for our section. Whoops, you can't get to this section from this side of the stadium, so back down down down the ramp we went on our way to the opposite side.

If you have ever been to Raymond James Stadium, or watched a Tampa Bay Bucaneers' game on TV, you will be familiar with the pirate ship, which sits in one of the endzones:




It's pretty cool, except for one little oversight by the designers. In order to get from one side of the stadium to the other, 72,000 people have to squeeze through a concourse that suddenly shrinks down to about 10 feet wide in one section. Needless to say, this creates a bit of a logjam.



Here's where the fistfight occurred. Now, let me just preface this by saying that I abhor confrontation. I am typically a mild mannered suburban mom who smiles and waves at people while I putter around town in my minivan. However, I have now learned that I have a darker side and can suddenly turn into a screaming lunatic at a moment's notice. Lennie and I were inching our way through wall to wall bodies, smiling at the people trying to squeeze through and bonding over how much it sucked, when it happened: I felt a hand on my butt. "Ok," I thought, "It's really crowded. It could be an accident." Then, the mystery hand squeezed my butt... twice. Without a thought in my head, I whipped around to face the man directly behind me.

"How dare you," I snarled.


He immediately put both hands in the air and said, "It wasn't me." Guilty. And that's about the time when I LOST MY SHIT.

Here's me, face to face with Mr. Grabby, placing my right hand on his douchebag neck and shoving as hard as I can (which I'm pretty proud to say caused him to stumble back a few feet) and screaming, "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!"

A circle cleared around us, and a lot of people began yelling. That's when Lennie jumped in and I think pulled me out of the way so he could have some words with the disgusting pervert. The rest of it was kind of a blur...I hear rage tends to do that. After spending a few minutes convulsing with adrenaline, I decided to not let it ruin the game for me. But, I am still hoping the pervert got hit by a bus later that day.

After the unexpected discovery of a backbone, I also stood up for myself when someone cut in front of me in line to buy a t-shirt. I know, it was a big day for me. We also got to see The Boss, which was pretty awesome. Plus, the actual game was not too shabby either.

Minus one moment of guttural furor, the weekend was beautiful. Many thanks to Poppy, La La and D for watching the kids for us while we were away. We had such a good time, in fact, that we decided to expand our family. Meet "Prime" and "Sally".




We thought Sally was dead for a while. As it turns out, she is only shy.

Isn't it Ironic?

Definition of "missed opportunity": When a woman puts the kids to bed, cleans the bedroom, dons silk lingerie, lights candles, and comes downstairs at 9:00 pm only to find husband has fallen asleep on the couch. Woman tries to wake husband up, but to no avail.

Next day, woman gets her period. Not just a little 'ah what the hell we can just put a towel down' period - NO - more like 'recently stopped breastfeeding and now hormones are making up for approximately 17 period-free months by trying to cram the sum of all periods into one 5 day span'. No towel will do the job here, not even a ShamWOW. Husband spends week kicking himself and cursing womankind.