Thanks Mom, I Love You

Mom, I know you read me everyday, and I just wanted to tell you thank you.

Thank you for letting me be me.

Thank You:

for giving words of encouragement.

for giving guidance as a friend and a mother.

for never expecting me to be perfect.

for always being there when I need a helping hand.

for having a great sense of humor.

for being a strong person, but more importantly, a strong woman.

for kissing away the hurt in my boo-boos when I was a kid.

for holding my hand - even long distance thru my hurt as an "adult".

for letting me climb into bed with you all those years I had those terrible nightmares.

for holding me and giving me kisses while I was sick.

for being the loudest to stand and cheer for me.

for kicking me in the ass when I need it.

for letting me make my own decisions.

for supporting me even when I made the wrong decisions.

for helping me when Connor was sick.

for loving and accepting Charles into the fold of our family without blinking an eye.

for never saying anything about my parenting skills or lack there of sometimes.

for helping me when figure out something to calm Lauren when she was sleep walking so much.

for helping me to be a better mother thru you.

for helping me be a better wife thru you.

for helping me be a better person thru you.

Thank You for being my Best Friend.

Thank You for being You.

I love you.

Hey, Thanks For The Memories Asshole

Dear Mr. Postman,

Thanks to you, I know my neighbors much better than I ever wanted too.

I know that one of my neighbors has a thing for all things Victoria's Secret....it's a dude...an old, greasy haired dude that has about 3 teeth and drives some monstrosity of a car that spews blue exhaust due to that amount of oil it burns.

My other neighbors love them some Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes (you too could be the 10 Million Dollar winner) and get frequent invitations to all things having to do with BINGO.

Yet another neighbor has things mailed to her in discrete brown packages....and that is kinda scary for me - because she weighs so much that she has to use a walker to get around. Reminds me a bit of the Michelin Man....and yet I'm stuck with the knowledge that ADAM AND EVE know who this lady is, and she is apparently one of their best customers.

Another neighbor is deeply religious (guessing from the amount of mail I see coming from Pat Robinson)....and I know I'm bad, but I think it's funny as hell that they live next to the ADAM AND EVE lady.

I would really like to thank you for giving me this insight into their day to day lives...but could you do me a favor?

PUT THE CRAP IN THE CORRECT BOX FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. I KNOW YOU'RE NEW, BUT YOU'RE REALLY STARTING TO TICK ME OFF.

My daughter is crushed that I won't let her check the mail any more. I don't want her handling a package from ADAM AND EVE for Pete's sake. That's just friggin sick. When she asked me who that was...I told her it was from some sort of religious organization. What in the hell was I supposed to tell her? ....and I hope to hell the ADAM AND EVE lady is a frequent hand washer because I had to touch her mailbox to put the package in the correct receptacle.

It creeps me the hell out to know that the old dude beside me could be thinking of Victoria's Secret undies while at the community picnic, and his smile is all of the sudden that much more creepy.

Thanks for the nightmares you dumb shit.

You keep this crap up and I'll make the cat piss on your Christmas cookies.

Seconds from Disaster

Boy 1 is 6 yrs old, Boy 2 is 4 yrs old.

Squish Boy 1 and Boy 2 in the same room with the baby, just across the hall from only girl child - must be older (preferably with Mommy Syndrome), stir well with general bedlam and chaos, throw in a few pets for spice (add a pregnant full blooded Cocker Spaniel with separation anxiety if available), sprinkle with more than a dash of motion sickness from each child, generously add extremely curvy back roads. Sit back, watch everybody scream, fight and puke. You now have a day out of my life.

Envy me.

STOP TOUCHING ME! STOP TOUCHING ME! MS. NIKKI! PLEASE TELL HIM TO STOP TOUCHING ME!

Cue rolling eyes and heavy sigh.

This used to happen everyday on the way to and from Daycare/School. Now, noone is allowed to touch anyone while we are in the car.

LEAVE ME ALONE! YOU'RE BOTHERING ME! BE QUIET! GO AWAY!

Cue clenched jaw and frustrated look.

Again, this used to happen every morning on the way to and from Daycare/School. Now, we play the QUIET GAME and noone is allowed to talk to anyone. I get to turn the radio on and sing along - rather horribly I might add - with the music. I have a feeling that they think their punishment has gone on a bit to long, and is a bit to severe. Ms Nikki never threatened to sing along with the Beatles and Nora Jones. They all - even Connor - shoot accusatory looks at me from the back seat.

IT'S MY TURN TO BE UP FRONT! STOP IT! YOU RODE UP FRONT LAST TIME! YOU'RE TELLING STORIES!

Cue banging head against anything available - as long as it will draw blood - then I'm happy.

This stops after I threaten to stuff them all in the trunk or strap them to the roof of the car. To bad I can't banish them all to the back seat. There's only room for 2 plus Connor's car seat and then one in the front. I have to strain to remember who sat up front last - and to find out who sat up front while they rode with Redhead. Heaven help us all if I get it wrong.

MOM! BOY 2 HAS HIS THUMB IN HIS MOUTH! MOM! TELL HIM TO GET AWAY FROM ME! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM!

Cue searching for anything sharp to cut my wrists with.

The only response here? "Lauren, you're grounded anyway. Why are you out of your room. Don't let me catch you again, or you'll stay in there another 3 days. (gives crazy mom look) Try me."

I TOLD YOU TO GET YOUR SOCKS ON. WHY ARE YOU STILL RUNNING AROUND BAREFOOT? WHERE ARE YOUR SHOES? WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING? LAUREN, WHERE IS YOUR BOOKBAG? WHERE ARE THE JACKETS? WHO MOVED THE JACKETS? WHY IS THE DOG OUT OF HIS KENNEL? PLEASE TAKE THAT FROM THE BABY....I SAID TAKE IT FROM THE BABY, NOT SNATCH IT FROM THE BABY. GIVE HIM A HUG AND KISS AND TELL HIM YOU'RE SORRY. YES, I KNOW HIS CRYING HURTS YOUR EARS.....OMG! WHAT WAS THAT! YOU DIDN'T BRUSH YOUR TEETH THIS MORNING! DON'T GIVE ME THAT! I DON'T BELIEVE YOU - YOU HAVE DRAGON BREATH...NO, I DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT COLOR DRAGON YOU ARE, GO BRUSH YOUR TEETH. CONNOR HONEY, STOP PULLING ON THE CATS TAIL.

This is me. This is my morning.

Please, Please, Please, Please...somebody, anybody...shoot me.

How do mothers with more than 2 cope? How do mothers of 2 with kids in the same age range cope? You are goddesses. You can do anything. I wanna be just like you. Goddesses can do everything and anything.....and hey,since you're goddesses, can you supply me with a winning lottery ticket - we need a nanny.

Thanks. 'Preciate it.

This is Owed

Oh Mighty Quinn and Sayre - winners of the Operation: Lose That Ass challenge.

I bow to your greatness.

I am but an infinitesimal worm compared to you.

You wit is greater, your will power more strong, and you snark is more snarky than mine.

How have I lived without knowing you?

How could I ever continue to live and breath with out your advanced knowledge and wisdom due to your ADVANCED AGE. *ahem*

I will never be as good as either of you.

I will strive all the days of my life to be held in the same high reguard (won't take long though).

Please, pat me on my little head as you pass me in the hall or on the street so that I may have inner peace.

I will take comfort in the fact that you acknowledged someone as lowly as I am and will dance with joy shouting and jumping around the fire - because I will then be considered "COOL".

I will be one of the chosen.




um yeah....I meant every word of it too. Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom to vomit....damn, I didn't make it.

I Lost

Well, I've been waiting and delaying posting this trying to get pictures uploaded but it's either my computer or blogger that's not cooperating and I'm already late. I need to get on with it.

Operation Lose That Ass

I lost.

I didn't meet the goal I had set for myself. Yeah, I got in a size 12, but to me, it doesn't count. I shouldn't have to suck it in that hard to get the zipper up causing a rather scary and overly large muffin top to emerge from the waistband of my pants. They were rather handy arm rests though.

So the next thing I should do I guess is start visiting others blogs to see who I have to post some major ass kissage posts about. *sigh* It's my own fault, so I shall endure with good grace (me? have good grace? yeah - that describes me)

Okay victims, I'm off for a visit.

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Should we all vote or should we get Nikki M to decide who the winner is?