When the day ends with locking your keys in the car and not being able to take #1 son to ice skating, you know your day sucked. Thankfully, my mother in law was around to take #1, otherwise massive tantrum would have capped my day. Lousy meeting, lousy coirkers and a STILL not sleeping #2 child makes for a craptacular Monday. I need to start playing the lottery.



That’s me, on vacation, drinking wine, without a care in the world. Well vacation such as it is with 2 young kids. Still we’re not home doing chores or working for The Man. A break is a break. The glee on #1’s face by having “9 stay home days” is completely worth it. Though we just got the rates for next summer’s beach house and I nearly fell over. It’s the first year in many we have to go during peak season because #1 will be in kindergarten next Fall. Good God going with the masses is expensive.

My son, the eccentric

#1 son has a costume fetish, specifically super hero themed costumes. He’s not allowed to wear them to school, except for the Halloween celebration, so he gets creative with his everyday clothing, such as blue shorts and blue tee to look like Superman. But lately he’s been adding musicians to the mix. After seeing a block of Genesis videos (Land of Confusion, I Can’t Dance) he asked for dark pants and a white shirt so he could be Phil Collins from I Can’t Dance. Today, he wanted to be Pink. Yes, Pink. We heard her new single in the car last night and downloaded it from Itunes when we arrived home. He decided that he wanted to look like Pink does in the album cover that goes with the single. So it was green shorts and a black top. Thankfully, Pink has gone back to blond hair, which #1 son already has.

Please don’t make me go to school…

These words uttered by #1 at bedtime tonight, with tears. I can’t tell if we’re heading into another emotional growth spurt or what. He wants to quit school and have 100 stay home days. Don’t we all?

You know the worst part? I would kill to be sent to a place where I got snacks and lunch at certain times each day vs. looking at the clock at 2pm and saying “Shit, I forgot to eat lunch again.” A place with an enormous playground where I could run around (eh, who am I kidding, I’d prefer a bar), a definite nap time EVERY DAY (heaven), and the most stressful part of my week is what to bring for show and tell on Tuesdays. Little dude has no idea how good he has it.

I know, it’s all about perspective and my little homebody much prefers chilling in his PJs and hanging out in the family room than going to school most days. Other days he’s begging us to take him incredibly early. But the tears get me every time. I would love nothing more than to call in tomorrow and have us all chill at home. Not going to happen. We’re taking vacation in 2 weeks and that means I have to run around like a crazy loon at work just to enjoy those precious few days off. Then I get to run around like a loon upon my return to work playing catch up. Oh yeah and I have several TPS reports due, like yesterday.

Happy Birthday to Me

Today is the celebration of my birth, Yippee! Except that Hurricance Hanna has literally put a damper on the festivities. Our original plans are scrapped, we’re stuck in the house, the baby is clingy and there’s no birthday cake. Yet. #1 son and TH are supposed to remedy this problem soon. Provided the rain subsides even a little we’ll go out to dinner.

Not that I expect parades and grand parties at my age, but birthdays have become very ho hum, just another day. Granted, having a birthday is better than the alternative, but after one’s 21st birthday, they mostly just don’t matter. I think next year I am going to wear a tiara all day.

The Worst Sound Ever

One of the worst sounds to a mom’s ears has to be the continuous , thud, thud, thud then “WHAAAAA” as one of the kids falls down the stairs. Yes, that was us this morning. #1 son forgot to close the basement door, #2 made a beeline for said stairs and their mother is an idiot and won’t be winning Mother of the Year this year. (Every year something comes along and thwarts my chances.) #2 is perfectly fine, he just scared himself to death. #1 son felt horrible as did their mother and we had another talk about closing the basement door even if #2 son isn’t even in the house, so we get into a better habit. The boys are 4 years apart and I have forgotten just how quickly a newly mobile baby can get himself across the room.

Why Doesn’t She Get a Hairbrush like the other Girls?

I know I don’t fit the desired demographic of The Hills viewership, but I got sucked into the marathon Sunday on MTV. The new season started Monday night, so MTV was getting everyone geared up by playing last season’s episodes. Several things jumped out at me as I watched the train wreck unfold:

1. Lo’s hair is a rat’s nest. Every other girl (and guy) has perfectly coiffed hair, yet Lo looks like she spent twenty minutes in a wind tunnel prior to her scene. Please someone buy her some product. (Says the woman that spends fifteen minutes on her hair, tops.)

2. They all spend a lot of time warning each other about one another. Brody warns Lauren about Stephanie, Lauren warns Audrina about Heidi and on and on. I’m a female so I am well aware of the bitchiness in friendships, especially in the early twenties, twit years. But seriously, until one of them is hiding WMDs in their fabulous home, just let it go. Unless the cast of The Hills has been living under a rock between seasons, they’ve undoubtedly watched their own show and read US Magazine, so they already know who’s a jerk and who isn’t. (Well, it may be hard to tell who isn’t a jerk.)

3. Each time Spencer appeared in an episode, I thought to myself, “Could he be a bigger jerk/moron/(insert your own word here)” and thirty minutes later in the next episode I would find out that the answer to the question was yes, he could. I have never seen someone with no redeeming qualities. He’s gross, rude, boorish, gross, manipulative, repulsive and did I mention gross? I find myself needing Botox and a hot shower after his scenes because I can feel my face making that wrinkly ewwww face and he leaves a dirty, soap scum residue.

4. While I realize these people have jobs, sort of, do they really expect us to believe those entry level jobs pay so much that the twits can go out every night, wear designer clothes and live in to die for homes that are very well put together? I may be in the minority but I would like to see how real twenty somethings live. (Eating Ramen, going through the couch for loose change for beer, crying in front of the ATM-okay so maybe that was just me)

Before anyone says I’m just jealous (the #1 retort to snarkiness on the internet) I will be honest, I am only jealous of some of the homes because there is not one battery operated, plastic, light up, noisy toy in any of their living rooms.

A Perfect Saturday Morning

With the exception of a too early waking (I’m looking at you #2 son) this was a fabulous Saturday morning. The highlight being our trip to the farmers market. Where else can we get the following: buffalo burgers, buffalo sausage, grape tomatoes, cucumbers, tomatoes, corn, basil, onion, fresh yogurt, fresh bread and a watermelon for $40? Certainly not at the big name grocery store around the corner. The yogurt was so awesome that #1 son asked for seconds (which normally only occurs when there’s chocolate involved-so my kid) We’re morons. The farmers market is local and open every weekend. Yet in the seven years we have lived in this area, this was only our second visit. I think that will change and become part of our weekend routine. Eventually #1 son will stop whining, “It’s so hot.”

Oh What a Beautiful Morning-Hah

You know the day is not going to go well when you’ve uttered the “F word” 5 times before 9:00am. Reasons for such colorful language include:

– Completely screwing up the checking account. It’s hard to transfer money from one account to another when the money is not there.

-Obtaining more evidence that your work environment is a mix between Dilbert and Office Space. The level of incompetence and whining is staggering. My almost 5 year old whines and tattles less than these folks.

-Realizing (again) that you yourself have been incompetent in the grocery shopping department as your stomach yells out to anyone who will listen. Maybe a pat of butter followed by a coffee creamer chaser isn’t so bad?

My Newest Time Suck

Since I don’t have anything else to do (insert heavy sarcasm here) I joined Facebook, mostly because I am incredibly curious. How else can I check in (spy) on people I had not thought about in 10+ years? Of course since I signed up three days ago I have spent a significant amount of time looking up people from my past. I get really irritated when I find their profile is set to private, unless I want to befriend them. What fun is that? I don’t want to be friends, I just want to see their information.  My husband encouraged me to just start adding friends, which creeps me out for some reason. He has no problem being a friend whore and has the numbers to prove it (1,666 and counting). I also didn’t include a picture in my profile, not because I am embarrassed of how I look, but there could be some crazy stalker out there. I know, a little dramatic. But it does freak me out a little bit.

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