Yes, I AM A Smart Ass

I drove down to Richmond yesterday to pick-up my Victim (aka Charles). Seems he had a little accident in his work vehicle. OOPS.

...and because I love him soooooo very, very much......and because I'm a cheeky broad....I had to fuck with him a little bit.

"So, you had a little accident in your van huh."

"Yep."

"What did your boss say?"

"He said 'Shit happens.'"

"They gonna clean it up for you?"

"Yeah. Shouldn't be any problem really. There wasn't that much damage."

"Damage? You caused damage?"

He looked at me like I had a wart on my nose. "Damage normally happens when you have an accident."

"That's normal for you is it?"

"That's normal for anybody."

"Well, I'd have to say that when someone has an accident in their vehicle, they don't tell their boss. "

"Only if they're stupid they don't."

"Sweetheart, I don't know how close you and your boss are....but a normal person doesn't tell ANYONE when they have an accident in their vehicle...but you may want to get checked out by a Dr.."

"I did go to the Dr. They gave me a urinalysis and a breathalyzer and I blew a 0.00. The urinalysis results should be back next week sometime."

"Did they check you for a urinary tract infection?"

"Why in the hell would they do that?"

"Because if you pissed in the van, then you definitely have a problem. I mean, it's okay if you want people to think you were in a wreck or something instead of having some sort of bladder control problem. There's a lot less humiliation in having a wreck than having "an accident", especially at your age."




I'm telling you, he has got to love me to have been around me this long.

You Always Told Me It Built Character

Why don't you just shut up.

I'm so damn sorry your leg hurts, but what the fuck do you want me to do about it?

Should I pour on the sympathy? I get sick of that really quick you know....and you're worse than the kids with you whining sometimes - you know that?

I didn't see you feeling bad for me when I had tendinitis from my ankle to my hip and could barely walk.

I didn't see you feeling to terribly bad for me when I broke my poor little pinkie toe and I hobbled around for a bit.

I didn't see you feeling bad for me when I had multiple hairline fractures thru my feet and legs and was in a lot of damn pain.

I didn't see you feeling bad for me when I was at home with the kids and ALL of us had a nasty stomach virus. You went to work and left me at home to take care of everyone - vomit and diarrhea all around. You just fucking left me there feeling like death to take care of everyone - including myself.

...and now you want me to take care of you. AWWW. Poor baby.

Suck that shit up and drive on.

I don't feel bad for you.

Take some Extra Strength Tylenol and go away.

I have two children, not 3.

....and make your own damn Dr.'s appt. You have 2 - two - cell phones. Pick one of those bad boys up and make your own fucking appointment. I have a job too.

All Kinds Of Stuff

OMG!!


BWWWAAAAAHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *deep inhale* hahahahahahahaha

*wipes tear* haha....ha

I found this blog yesterday and I can't stop laughing. It comes to us via Trouble - maybe some of you know her...she had started this blog and I had NO idea.

Annie is always referring to morons on her dating message boards and what not - and now I have a glimpse of idiotic advertising....or is that advertising for idiots...or maybe idiots looking more idiotic to attract other idiots....hmmm, I don't know....but I'm gonna read every last damn one of those adds because I LOVE to laugh.

Thanks Trouble.

_________________________________

Our blogging bud Mel in Orygun needs your vote to get paid to blog. Chickie needs some love - so get to clicking on the badge and vote for her - she deserves it.







________________________________

Lauren asked me what a "dick" was the other night and almost had a damn coronary. After I could breathe,I was sorely (excuse the pun here) tempted to show her a picture of her father...but she asked what a dick was - not a dickhead. There's a fine line there.

WHAT????!!!!!

_________________________________

Charles got all mushy on my last night and told me he thinks about me all the time. I told him that plotting of ways to kill me doesn't count. He said that was fine - because he was thinking of ways to maim me, not kill me.

Thoughtful fucker isn't he.

UPDATE

Thanks to one of my blogging buddies, I realize that I have been remiss in keeping everyone up to date on family....and that is part of the purpose of this blog (keeping my family up to date on my family....yeah, I make sense).

So, I'm going to put aside the post planned for today and update you all instead (now's the perfect time to slam one of those RED BULL things)

I'll start with Charles...aka Boogerhead, Victim, Slave, Perfect Man, Shit Head or Fuck Face. (Hey Grandma, please don't read those last two). He's doing very well. He keeps his sugar in line like a good man so I don't beat him.....what?.......you know he's scared of me.......I have children and I know how to inflict pain. We are doing very well. He keeps me laughing and we have a good time together.....and then he gets dressed.(on second thought grandma, please don't read this entire paragraph)

Connor is doing very well. He's mid-thigh on me now and is saying so many new words, it's hard for me to keep up. He is such a STRONG willed person. STUBBORN as the day is long. Time-out doesn't work for him and it concerns me that I have to pop him as much as I do, but at the same time I'm glad he's that way. It makes me happy to know that he won't be anyone's doormat, but it sure makes teaching a lot more difficult. He still only has 9 teeth and he'll be 2 in early May. I'm just about to the point where I'm going to take him to the dentist to see if he was born with anymore teeth buds in his gums...I'm really getting concerned now...no, I'm not kidding. Poor kid can barely eat a cracker. He can't chew it. It just sits in his mouth until it gets soggy and then he swallows.

Lauren...I don't know where to start. I had done 6 or 7 lengthy paragraphs on her and deleted them. Let's just say that she's a lot like her mother was at that age and I'm not enjoying it. I would like to send out a big raspberry to my mother for cursing my children to be just like me. I'm on the look out for gray hair.

She is up to my shoulder now and she's only 8 (I'm 5'7") and yesterday I looked at her pants - the ones I had bought her in Dec (they were a little long)and they are high waters....OMG.

In other news.....

I am getting a guy to come and service the treadmill on Tuesday to make sure everything is A OK with it so I can start exercising a bit. I know it runs, I've already turned it on...but it's been in storage for a couple of years so I want to make sure there's no problem before I put my over weight and lumpy ass on it. I'll be going out today at lunch to buy walking shoes and a sports bra (I hope they make them in extra huge - nothing like a huge uni-boob to turn your man on). I went this weekend and got a pedometer....my only concern now is if I'm going to show up on the Richter scale.

The plan right now is to get up earlier and do my thing then. The alarm goes off at 6 am and I don't usually drag my butt out of bed until later - about 6:30 or sometimes 7 when I've been staying up with Charles The Night Owl....but I'm going to have to get out of bed at 5 or so to do this. I'm excited. I'm ready to look great and feel better and have more energy....and to be able to do this with out surgery and crystal meth ....well, it's an overwhelming feeling I can tell you.

That's about it.

Love you all

Angela

Moving Day

The trip to Georgia went well.

We got lots and lots of cool and expensive stuff we would never have been able to afford on our own. I would gladly post pictures for you so you could see my pretty new Thomasville leather furniture, but I've been to busy sitting on it naked, making farting sounds (real and imagined) and leaving ass prints on the cushions. (your welcome for that visual)

We drove back home on Saturday night, and got home about 5:30am. Super Kid decided that he didn't want to go back to sleep, so I stayed up with him after driving all night. Then Charles woke up about 10:30 (or more to the point, I woke him up) and he decided to move the truck (big moving truck - 16fter) around to the back of the house to get everything in thru the sliding glass doors...and THAT is where the problems started.

You see, when we were in Savannah, we spent the days outside in short sleeve shirts soaking up the sun (it did wonders for my psoriasis- practically cleared it up in just a couple of days) and enjoying the breeze. When we drove home, it was sleeting - there was a quarter inch on the ground when we pulled up the driveway...quite a change wouldn't you say.

By the time Charles emerged from the bedroom, we had an inch of snow on the ground on top of the sleet and more snow was expected.

Charles, with is deft maneuvering capabilities did his thing, and promptly got the moving truck stuck in the yard. I don't mean it was kind-a stuck, a little stuck, sorta stuck, can push it out with a firm breeze stuck, that bitch was plain stuck.

The 2 inches of ice that we had had 2 weeks ago had just melted a few days before and then the sleet and then the snow, but it wasn't cold enough to freeze the ground and that big ass truck SANK into my back yard - all 4 wheels, especially the back 2.

He tried backing it out, digging it out, putting boards underneath the back wheels to help it out and he even kicked it a few time and cursed at it in a strange tongue to try and motivate it out...but nothing worked. The only options left to use were:

1 - call towing company to come and pull it out

2 - use his work truck to try and pull it out.

We chose option 2.


You've seen those white work vans around haven't you? That's Charles' work truck.
Imagine if you will, a puny,pasty white van pitted against a 16ft Budget rental moving van loaded with: a fridge, a washer and dryer, a treadmill, a TV, a TV stand, heavy couch and 2 heavy chairs with ottoman (footstool to those folks I grew up with) and one redneck in the cab. That redneck BTW was Charles.


Budget Truck We Rented

VS



Charles' Work Truck

I was in Charles' work truck. He had tied the two trucks together with some straps and chains that we use to cut down trees and told me "Go slow."

So I went slow, slow and steady, and listened to all the creak-creak-creaks and groans from his truck, petrified that I was going to rip out the undercarriage and he was going to remove my ass at the neck for messing up his work truck. While I did that, Charles slammed the Budget truck in reverse and put the gas pedal on the floor....and that wouldn't have been so bad...except that he had the drivers side door open and was leaning WAAAAAAAYYYYY out to look at the back of the truck...and he got mud all in his face and all over the inside of the truck....and that really hampered my ability to drive...because tears blur my vision and I almost lost conscienceness due to my inability to take a breath.

In the end, I pulled him out of the hole in the back yard...and when I went to go look at it...I saw this.....


China

Wow

My husband sent me flowers. A dozen long stemmed red roses, with a vase and a little teddy bear to go with 'em.

He sent them to me at work.

I'm BLOWN away.

We've been together for 10 1/2 years, and this is the first time that has happened. He's picked me up a couple here and there every couple of years, but they have never been delivered, and never have I gotten any at work.

My office is filled with their sweet scent. My credenza is suddenly the most beautiful piece of furniture in the room.

The card that came with it read:

TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE. FROM THE MEN IN YOUR LIFE. CHARLES AND CONNOR.

......

He can have the damn TV that reaches to the ceiling. I've got flowers...and a perfect man.

Quinch Your Thirst

"So, you want to go out to dinner?"

"Sure. Where do you want to go?"

"You pick."

"Okay, how 'bout Applebees"

"Sounds good. I'll see you about 6?"

"Okay, I'll meet you on the front steps."

The commander dismissed us late that day but I've always been fairly low maintance, and only had to shower and change and brush my hair and I was ready. I had a no nonsense hair cut - short to save me time and harrassment about my hair touching my collar and I didn't wear make-up then (I miss the flawless skin of 21). I was ready in 20 minutes.

I meet him on the front steps to his barracks, which were across the quad from mine, and he drove us to Applebees in his silver Thunderbird that he treasured.

We talked and bantered and bullshitted. Somewhere in all that smack-talking, Charles told me that I had better watch out or he was only going to order a cup of water for my dinner. I laughed and gave him a look that said "Yeah sure."

We arrived at Applebees and seated ourselves. The talk flowed about all the different dishes we loved there and how it was a favorite restaurant of both of us. I told him to stop copyin' me. He threatened me with a cup of water. I smiled and lit a cigarette.

We were in the back of the restaurant, hiding in a booth, enjoying the dim emptiness and we were easy with each other, relaxed and we talked about work and people at work.

The waitress arrived and gave us menus and asked for our drink order. I quickly interjected "I'd like a Coke please. He'd like a glass of ice."

Her eyes almost popped out of her head...just like Charles' were.

"A glass of ice?"

"Yes please." I don't think she could quite grasp what was happening....and for that matter...Charles couldn't either...his eyes were on the verge of rolling down his face and landing in the condiment organizer. She flicked her eyes to Charles and then back to me.

"Just ice? No water or anything?"

"Hmmmmmm" I said, pretending to think about it "No, he just wants ice."

She nodded her head vaguely and muttered something that sounded like OK, but I could be wrong, and walked away.

Charles was still sitting across from me with bulbous eyes and a slack jaw. I grinned and waggled my eyebrows at him.

"You ordered me ice?" The incredulous look on his face was giving me endless joy.

"Yes, I did."

"Think you're funny do you?" he couldn't stop the smile.

"Yep. You deserved it and you know it...threatening me with a glass of water. You're just mad that I thought of the glass of ice and you didn't."

It was then, at that moment, that both of us knew that we'd be going out more...but we didn't know that the other felt that way at the same time until years later when we rehashed that infamous first date.

I liked it that he could take a joke.

He liked it that I joked with him.

Apparently, we're perfect for each other.

Happy Anniversary To Me

Yesterday was my anniversary. I've been married for 9 years.....9 long, painful, smelly years.

Years filled with flatulence, burping of the ABC's, and dirty underwear on the floor right by the hamper. Years filled with the toilet seat up, the toothpaste cap off, and beard and mustache trimmings in and around the sink.

Years of having to put up with wads of papertowel all over the house, shoes in the middle of the floor and hogging the remote control. Years of enduring the torture that is Nascar...or most any sport really. Years of him swatting me on the ass and saying "Good game."

Years of playing "What will my farts smell like if I eat this?" and "How many body parts can I grope while she runs past me?"

Years of watching him walk around in his old stretched out Hanes he won't let me throw away while scratching his ass. Years of him shaking his willy at me to "get me in the mood", and offering to help me with my headache.

Years of him telling me "You're fucking special" and kissing me on my forehead. Years of him laughing at me when he claims I did or said something stupid (that doesn't ever really happen btw).

*sigh*

It's a damn good thing the sex is still good huh.

Quality Time With My Man

Hubby and I went to town today. That's a big event in my house. Hubby never wants to go anywhere on the weekends and he SUGGESTED it. I wasn't going to tell him no. I'm usually the one asking for us to go together and he's usually the one making up excuses not to go.

We went and got Super Baby a new pair of shoes, a new ballist for the kitchen lights, a filter for the shop vac, and a few other things that needed to be picked up.

It was a wonderful day. Lauren was spending the day with S next door making soap, going to the movies and eating large quantaties of junk that I don't let her eat, and Super Baby was in a very good mood and kept smiling and he even tried to wink at me while we were having lunch.

It was warm and sunny and had just the right breeze and I had my husband with me and my son, and my daughter was living it up raising cane and I felt full inside you know?

That is until after lunch.....

Charles farted the smelliest fart ever to explode from any human's ass EVER ...I even gagged a little....and we were in the car...and my window wouldn't roll down, and we were moving in heavy traffic so I couldn't just throw the door open. Even he was making that "ick" face (and you know it's gotta be bad when a man thinks his own fart stinks cause they usually don't seem to mind...they just sit in it and try to rate it on their own personal scale of Odoriforousness). The other windows in the car were already down, but the Green Cloud of Doom would not be dispersed and hung around like 70's fashion on my 6th grade english teacher.

My one good eyebrow started to twitch involuntarily - that quick jumpy twitch that you usually get in the corner of your eye and the only way it will stop is if you pull on it until your eye turns to slit and then you suddenly realise you shouldn't be doing that because you're over 30 now and wrinkles are starting to settle in and you're HELPING them by doing the eyeslit manuever so you put up with the jumping and contemplate some form of suicide instead - you know what I'm talking about. (that is possibly the biggest run on sentence in the history of man - no applause please)

"DAMN CHARLES!!!! You made my EYEBROW twitch!!"

He was suddenly so happy. He started laughing and clapping his hands and yelled "YES! YES! I CAUSED NERVE DAMAGE!!!"

I hope I left a really big, PAINFUL bruise...on his privates.

GOAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We now have four adults, 4 children ages 8,6,4, and 17 months, 2 goldfish, 2 hermit crabs, 3 dogs and 4 cats in my house. Oh, correction, make that 2 cats (one is mine, one is Stinky and Redhead's). It seems that Charles treated our 2 Tom cats as furry little footballs last night. Punted them right off the back porch, and he kicked one so hard that one even landed on the grill (or actually slid down the lid). Then he showed true man wisdom by telling me about it.

I won't even go into the "conversation" that ensued. Let's just say that he won't be doing that again because he wants his testicles to stay attached to his body. I'm still mad...seething actually.

I know some of you may find this funny when you visualize the cats flying through the air with stunned expressions on their faces and then hearing the "THUNK" of one of them as he made contact with the grill. Rest assured, I don't find that shit in the least bit funny.

My poor kitties. I love my cats - treasure them even. I even had a cat rattle when I was a baby. Me and cats are a package deal. If you don't like cats - then you can pack your shit and go 'cause I'm gonna have me a kitty...PERIOD. I let them sleep on my pillow and pet them in my sleep... SHUDDUP.

Both of the kitties that Charles scored a goal with just showed up at my house one night. The first tom cat (who we ingeniously named TOM - a beautiful tabby cat) came out briefly from underneath the house today and I was able to check him out. He didn't seem any worse for wear. I'm sure his ribs are a bit sore and I'll be taking him to the vet to be checked out as soon as I can coax him in the cat carrier. I was foiled in my attempt to do that today when Charles came out on the back porch and the cat saw him. Apparently, it was to much for Tom (flashback for him I guess...like a bad trip on acid...or so I hear), and he beat all four feet getting the hell out of dodge. Can you blame him? I shot Charles the stinky eye and shoved him, and I don't mean I shoved him in any playful sort of way either.

The other tom cat - black as pitch (we thought about naming him "Midnight", but that name has been done to death, "Turd" had also crossed my mind but I didn't want Lauren going to school telling her friends that she pets her Turd, so we named him Night, which very quickly changed to Night-Night)and looooves to eat. He came to the edge of the yard (about 20-30 yards away) and sat there looking at me and slunk away when I called him. I'm guessing he's the one that became intimately acquainted with my grill...what do you think?

In my house, there are a few things that are just sacred. ONE - my animals. TWO - Charles' Nascar races. THREE and FOUR - don't pertain to this conversation.

There will be a reckoning, you can bet your sweet ass on that. NO ONE TOUCHES MY ANIMALS. I have this funny feeling that all his Nascar races are going to be deleted from the DVR, ALL VHS tapes will be erased and his fucking #3 Dale Earnhardt throw cover is going to mysteriously disappear, along with his favorite Nascar mug, his sorry ass Nascar collectible bullshit that is collecting dust sitting on top of the mirror of my dresser,the fucking latch hook Nascar Checkered flag I've been doing for him, and just for fun, I will purge all traces of "Adult Entertainment" from this house just to piss him off. He will tune into his race next week to find that I have locked his sorry ass out of it and only I have the password. I'm also going to screw around with his Nascar bullshit that he keeps on line.

Oh yeah, I'm a pissed bitch. You just don't treat animals that way. He WILL learn.

Oh, and I'm sure you are wanting to know why he kicked the kitties....we finished cleaning out the den late last night and found that one or both of them (definately not the other one.."Jezebel" we call her "Jazz" - she's very skitish and won't go anywhere in the house except for my bedroom)had crawled into a couple of the boxes and used them for a litter box. We also found a couple of piles of kitty poo one on some folding chairs and one on his very expensive golf bag that he never uses. One of the boxes that was treated with such malice was family pictures...some of those are baby pictures of Lauren that had been blown up AND FRAMED and they can't be replaced. We had some of them professionally done. I'm hoping the frames afforded some protection, I'll be taking a look later in the week. I just can't bring myself to look right now.

To be honest, I'm pissed about it myself, but that doesn't excuse his behavior as far as I'm concerned.

Maybe I wouldn't be so pissed if he had taken the cats and showed them what they had done and put them outside or whatever, but he just went into the bedroom, snatched the cats off the bed where they were sleeping, and watched to see how far they could fly.

SHHHHHHHHH! It's A Secret

Sorry, I forgot to put up my OLTA update yesterday.

I gained a pound damn it. Sayre and Factor - HUSH. LOL

It really isn't my fault. I blame Charles. He came back from NC with a German Chocolate cake. He also came back with Out Of This World Cookies. Everything was home made and scrumptious.

I didn't want to eat all of that stuff. He made me do it. He forced the yummy moistness of the cake past my lips. He crushed cookies into itty bitty crumbs, shoved a funnel down my throaght and made me swallow.

I was outraged. I couldn't believe he would sabatage me in that way. I'm hurt beyond all words (are you buying any of this? I'm curious - cause I'm laying this on pretty thick).

I took drastic measures to lose some of these terrible calories that have magically turned to fat and attached themselves to my rearend. Do you want to know what I did?

I SHINGLED THE ROOF ON MY SHED. I'm not kidding.

I have often passed a group of builders swarming over a skeleton home and knew that it was hard work, and felt sorry for them working in the heat, but never really gave much more thought than that to it. The only thing I can say at the moment is OUCH.

OOOOUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

My ass hurts. My legs hurt (specifically my hamstrings). My wrist hurts. My back hurts. My knees are killing me. I'm one big ball of whiney pain.

Do you feel sorry for me?

NO??!!!!

You are wrong. Just wrong.

Huh? What was that?

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Don't tell anyone it's really all my fault. I'm looking for sympathy points here. What do you mean you aren't giving me any?

Fine, see if I share my cake....I MEAN...see if Charles shares his cake with you. Yeah...his cake....

East Coast Living

I had thought about breaking this up into 3 different parts, but that is going to take entirely to much effort and I have shit to do. Read some now, and come back later and read the rest if you can't stand to read it all in one go. (lazy ass)


I love living here on the east coast. Really I do. I've lived further inland and have visited as far west and north as Montana - and it was beautiful, but I like living here. Lots of trees, lots of green shit all over the ground (the animals have upset stomachs) and I can grow an ass load of flowers and shit if I can ever manage to keep the friggin Japanese Beetles from killing every damn thing (notice how I blame them).

There are a few disadvantages to living over here:

1 - Inbreeding. Laugh if you must, but it's a friggin reality. You know the story of somebody's cousin gettin' hitched to one of his cousins? Yeah well, I have a distant cousin that did that. I'm not kidding. They are second cousins and they have offspring. No shit. They were fully aware when they tied the knot. Apparently, it didn't matter. Their kids have 6 toes (okay, NOW I'm joking - or maybe not - I've never met their kids or seen their feet - of course, If I had seen their feet with out actually meeting them that would imply that they are detachable or they've been severed and either thought is just a little to "out there" for further contemplation)

2 - The BUGS. Oh My God. I have wolf spiders around my house that are as big as my palm. I'm not kidding or exaggerating. It's plain nasty.

We also have Japanese Hornets, Yellow Jackets, Bumble Bees, Carpenter Bees, Honey Bees, Wasps, stinging flies, biting flies, horseflies, gnats, mosquitoes, fleas, ticks, a BILLION species of moth, Black Widow spiders, Brown Recluse Spiders (I just found out the other day from one of my clients that there have been a rash of those biting people here lately), red backed spiders, regular black spiders, garden spiders, Japanese Beetles, cicadas, Katiedids, June Bugs, Beetles, cockroaches, termites, grasshoppers, crickets, camel crickets and any other kind of insect that "The Big Cheese" decided he wanted to torture me with. (Thanks for that God - 'preciate it).

I live in a cloud of DEET, go through endless cans of bug spray and I'm starting to seriously consider having an affair with "Bubba" (cause that is one guy the can chew some Hubby Bubba - even if he only has one tooth) the pest control guy to cut down on the monthly costs of treatment. Hey, it's all about home economics and tightening the budget belt. This is just one of ways they don't teach you in school or talk about in expose magazine articles. I mean, I've already seen his crack - you'd think he was a damn plumber with the way he shows it off or something, and you really know a lot about a guy after you've seen his crack.

3 - Storms. I hate storms. I'm scared of Thunderstorms. (insert wussy jokes here) I hate it when the storms roll in with low hanging clouds and the thunder shakes the house. I'm constantly walking to all the windows in the house - back and forth, back and forth, to look out of the windows. My x-bastard said I looked like a caged puppy - to wit I responded that I wouldn't be waggin' my ass in his direction anytime soon.

Hurricanes and all Tropical Storms suck big donkey dicks. They throw out tornados for fun and that just doesn't endear them to me. I want to keep my shit thank you. I won't appreciate having to crawl out from underneath the ruins of my homestead and walking a mile down the road with the baby on my hip to pick up old bank statements and deny that any of the other rubbish is mine so I don't have to pay to have it removed.

Ernesto the Pesto hit here this past friday. It wasn't to bad. I was expecting worse to be honest. It turned east before we got the full wallop and so we were spared the horribleness of the eye of the storm.

I worked all day and left at exactly 5pm. I was worried about some of the low spots flooding out on the roads for me to get home, so I drove as fast as was safely possible and beat feet to the house. I stopped by the little country store that is 2 1/2 miles away from my house and picked up a gallon of milk and a couple packs of cigs and went home. No worries.

I walked in the house and there was no power, no phones, no nothing. DAMN.

You may remember that Charles has been out of town in NC. We were also still expecting the worst of the storms in a couple of hours. So there I was, in the house with Lauren (who is also scared of storms) and with super baby, a dog, three cats, and I'm sure an endless variety of creepy-crawlys that had managed to squirm, wriggle and bore their way into my sactuary to get out of the rain. Did I mention it was starting to get dark? Yeah, the fun factor went right off the scale.

Like I said, it wasn't to bad. We got a lot of rain - which we needed and that was about it...except there were no lights and no phones. Super kid had mercy on me and went to sleep for the night at 7pm - an unheard of phenomenon. Lauren and I made a great big pallet on the living room floor and I read her some of The Hobbit until the lighting was bad enough I had to stop before my eyes exploded.

We made shadow puppets in the flickering candle light and watched the storm whip the trees around a bit.

The lights came on about 9ish and Lauren jumped up and down and yelled "MOVIE!" - so that was the end of the quality mother-daughter time.

The phones didn't come back on until about 6 or so Sunday night. Did I mention I have dial up? Did I mention that I read blogs EVERY DAY???? I was about to DIE. Hello, my name is Nikki, and I'm addicted to the internet.

I was FORCED - do you hear me? - FORCED to spend quality time with my family. Now they think I love them or something.

Famous Quotes

Being a wife and mother (as so many of us are)

I have heard myself say interesting things:

Lauren, pick the wedgie out of your butt for goodness sakes. If you're so hungry that your butt is eating your underwear, grab an apple.

Connor, Honey, Sweetie, Baby, could you save the whole peeing all over a parent thing for Daddy?

No Lauren, a poncho, a sweater and a pair of shorts with sandals doesn't match.

(Talking to my brother when Lauren is a month old) It's hard to believe that one day, this beautiful person is going to call me a bitch.

No honey, that's not a poop stain on my underwear.

What was that sweetie? Oh, it's because Mommy is a republican. Can you say RE-PUB-LI-CAN?

Charles (using last name)if you slap me on the ass and tell me "good game" one more time....we're going to have a problem.

Who knew my mom was so smart?

I would LOVE to take a nap.

Gitchie, Gitchie, GOO!

WOW! I've never heard anyone fart quite like that. (talking to Connor)

Um, Charles? Is this supposed to happen to baby boys? REALLY? Well uh...which way do I point it so it doesn't break off?

Go.....son......just..... AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! (to prevent swearing in front of the kids)

I hate it when the dog humps the stuffed animals.

No, it's not a special occassion. Put that away.

I know you've got a couple. Come clean.

Cleanin House - Changing Things

I preppin' the house for some long term guests to come and live.

Over the 8 years hubby and I have been married we've accumulated a lot of "stuff" and never really dealt with a lot of the paper stuff. We've just let it stack up and collect dust, squirreled away in boxes, boxes stacked in the backs and corners of closets.

When we moved in this new house, those boxes moved into my Den and have stayed there quite happily, never bothering anyone (except me when I walk by) with their peaceful and carpet protecting existence. Over time, they have gotten friends to keep them company. The bassinet that Connor grew out of, the Christmas ornaments and Christmas tree boxes (to make room in the closet in Connors room when he moved into his room), and any other sort of bit that your house collects and you just can't bring yourself to really go through and throw away.

Now that I have friends coming to stay for quite a while, they have to go. The Den needs to be cleared out so that we can have room for all 8 of us that will be living in my house, room for the furniture they'll be bringing for extra seating.

I have cleared out eight boxes so far and have found an old CD that I bought six years ago and could never find. I've gone thru and saved obscene amounts of military documents and have even put away old military uniforms that Charles wants to keep for some reason. I found all the old awards for Charles and I and he wants to put endless amounts of holes in our walls in the computer room to show them off (called a vanity wall - one for him, and one for me). I have found numerous stray pictures that have somehow not gotten into the photo box and I can't resist looking at them and feeling the memories and smiling at most of them.

I found the letters that Charles wrote to me while he was deployed to Albania, and the ones I wrote to him. I have found the frillies and sexies that I used to wear pre-babies and ker-trashed them. A ton of Lauren's pictures and papers from school and daycare and craft projects galore, most of them dated for saving. I found a love letter from an old boyfriend, the one and only man that really broke my heart - not even my ex-hubby did that - and I kept it too.

I found a couple of issues of my high school newspaper that I used to write for, my by-line proudly showing. I found a plethora of recipes and patterns for things I've always wanted to try, things I wanted to do. Old jewelry has surfaced, things that I had thought lost forever. Pictures we still haven't hung and decorate-y things that I don't want anymore.

I have given all the baby clothes that Connor has out grown to the daycare center that he goes to and have also given them his old bouncy chair/walker thingy. I gave his old baby swing to the director there, she just had her first grandbaby and carries a picture of her around in her pocket at all times.

In the mean time, school has started so I'm back to my hectic schedule of rush-rush home, play, cook, clean, check homework, take care of cats, take care of dog and do it all RIGHT NOW! RIGHT NOW I SAY!

Lauren has fallen into the old routine of giving me drama when I tell her to go take a bath and grumbles about having the earlier bedtime with no movies to watch at night.

Connor has moved out of the baby room on to the toddler room at daycare and I can't help but feel sad and happy and sad again. My last baby is growing up and it's going to fast.

Charles is still working hellish hours to make sure we stay caught up on the bills, getting home between 9-12 every night 4-5 days a week.

I'm feeling a bit melancholy - it's probably just the damn hormones.

Just Another Day In Paradise

MA MA! MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA!

I looked down and there was my cute little man, arms stretched high, wanting me to pick him up.

He's feeling kinda puny so I walk over and pick him up, give him a snuggle. He puts his head on my shoulder and pets my arm - like a dog.

He sits up, looks at me, and pukes warm, chunky, wetness down my front. It runs down my shirt, in my bra, down my stomach, down my legs and pools at my feet.

"Lauren honey, get me a towel NOW please. Connor just threw up." Connor starts to cry.

"What Mom?"

"Get me a towel please."

She brings me a dish cloth. "No honey, I need a towel." She runs over with a snow white, relatively new towel. "No Lauren, I need an old ragged towel, please hurry" Connor stops crying and puts his head on my shoulder, the one not covered in vomit, and pets my arm. "Ma Ma. MAMAMA" more arm petting and a kiss on my shoulder.

The smell of vomit is starting to get to me, and now the wet warmness is turning to wet coolness and I can feel chunks of something in my bra - and it has nothing at all to do with what God gave me to put in it. I was still in my work clothes - a new white shirt.

Lauren arrives with an old towel and runs like hell for the other side of the house holding her nose. I semi-spread out the towel on the floor and stand on it, at least we were in the kitchen and not on the carpet.

"Lauren, please, could you get me another one?"

A look of horror fills her face.

"Lauren, I need another towel please and I don't want to get this on the carpet. Please get me another towel." I'm starting to get upset. I'm the one that got thrown up on after all and she's horrified I want her to bring me another towel.

She comes back with another old towel, pinching her nose for all she's worth with her thumb and forefinger, the rest of her fingers are curled claw like and digging in her face. She's pinching her nose so hard, the tip has turned fire engine red, like she's trying to rip it off. I roll my eyes at her.

I put Connor down on the towel on the floor and strip him, laying his clothes beside him, throw the diaper away, and dry him off. He lets me know what he thinks of this idea by showing me his tonsils and testing the highest note he can hit. I strip as well, down to my birthday suit, some of the vomit had gotten on my underwear somehow and I gag. I dry off and bundle the clothes in the second towel, pick up Connor and head for the washing machine, leaving the other towel on the floor until I can scrub it.

Next I head for diaper station, no need to tempt fate for additional ickyness.

"Lauren, could you please unplug the fryer? I don't want the food to burn" I laid Connor down and he knows what I'm getting ready to do. He protests and it hurts my ears. I get a better view of his tonsils.

"Mom, you're naked"

"Yes Sweetie, I know. Please unplug the frier."

Lauren unplugs the frier and stands watching me. I wipe Connor down with a few hundred wipes, no time to give a bath now, I'm cooking dinner.

Freshly diapered, fresh long shirt, Connor is happy - for now. "Keep an eye on him please Sweets, I need to put some clothes on." She looks at me in that "Mom has lost her mind" kind of way - she's not used to seeing me stroll around the house naked and is scared that Connor will hurl on her. "He'll be fine Sweetie" I say, and hope it's true. I don't want to find out if Lauren is a sympathy puker tonight.

I go wash quickly in the sink, get dressed and head back out to the short people. Connor is sitting in the bean bag with Lauren reading him a book. I plug the frier back in. I hope the squash is okay. Fried squash is a pain in the ass to fix, it takes so long, I damn sure don't want to have to redo it.

Connor walks over to me and throws his juice cup at my feet. If I didn't know better, I would think he was offering me some. HA! He looks at me, he looks at the cup, he looks back at me. I can just see the words in his face "What the hell is taking so long mom? Fix me some juice already." He's so full of charm, even at this young age.

I give him some Pedialite, he's had loose stools all day. He throws the cup down at my feet again. I look at him, he looks at me, and goes back to Lauren with another book in his hand, leaving the pedialite at my feet. That boy is his daddy through and through. I wish he liked popcicles.

I put the chicken in the oven and get the vegetables ready for steaming and scrub the floor.

Charles arrives home just in time for dinner. I hand him the baby as soon as he walks in the door. "Please give him a bath, I need to shower and then we can eat."

Charles kisses me on top of the head and asks one of those questions that only smart people can "Bad day?" "Can't you tell by my freshness?" I say.

Baby all fresh and clean, Mommy all fresh and clean, we arrive in the living room together. Lauren is asleep on the couch.

"You know that you get to stay home with him tomorrow don't you." I say.

"Just another day in Paradise baby." he smirks.

Yeah, lets see if he says that when a diaper explodes and the baby pukes all at the same time. I'll make the appropriate noises over the phone, and hang up, glad that's not me.

Dear God,

Sometimes, you let really good things happen.

Like yesterday, when I went to CVS I found two really great books for Lauren. Journey to the Center of the Earth, and Around the World in 80 Days. They were only 2.99 a piece! I snatched them up and did a funny little dance. They were hiding behind one of those displays that hang from the aisle on those plastic doo-hickeys, on the bottom shelf. I just happened to drop my keys, bent to pick them up and something caught my eye. Hard backed with an illustration every few pages, I was taken back to the first time I had ever read them. I hugged them close and grinned at the cashier as she tucked them in crinkly plastic bag and pushed them towards me.

After I picked up Lauren, I showed them to her and teased her just a little bit. I made airplane noises and pretended they were flying over her head while she jumped for them. "Sorry" I said "These two books are only for people who really love to read...only for people who love a good story about adventure. I wonder who I'll give them to hummmmm?" She almost tackled me. She has devoured several pages of Journey to the Center of the Earth already. "I'm going to leave these in the car mom, right here, beside my seat, so I can read some every afternoon and every morning." So that's where they live now,in my console, eagerly awaiting her return, so that she may discover the treasures inside.

Thank you for giving her the love of reading. Thank you for giving her the imagination to enjoy them. Thank you for my daughter, she's my angel.

My mother is now living in Montana. She and her husband have been dreaming of finally being able to live there for many years, and you finally made that happen. I miss them but she's happy, so it's okay. I get to talk to her all the time. What's even better is that she has now got a camera phone so I can send her pictures of my short people all the time. Last night I sent her 2 showing Connor slinging food from here to there and my Lauren looking beautiful and sweeter than sugar.

Charles got that nice raise and now, all of our medical bills are paid off. We no longer have to worry about bankruptcy. I don't pace the floor at night any more, and cry in the shower where no one can hear me. I don't squish my kids in extra hard hugs because I feel guilty for not doing better by them. I squish them extra hard because I love them and treasure them.

We will finally get to take the kids places instead of just being homebound - not even being able to afford gas for free activities. I'll be able to take Lauren shopping for school clothes instead of just a shirt or pants and shoes here and there, skipping enough lunches and saving every single penny to save up for them. I don't have to worry anymore if I need to take Connor to the Dr, if I have enough money to cover the co-pay in the bank, and how I'm going to afford the prescriptions that he always gets. I don't have to worry about the electricity being shut off and people taking me to court. I don't have to worry how I'm going to afford a new car battery if the one I have now suddenly dies. I don't have to worry about making the tank of gas I have streeeeetch as long as possible because we don't have the money for any more, I can turn on the AC and not feel guilty.

I'm still deeply in love with my husband. I love him more and better than I ever have. We are constantly re-discovering each other and spend countless hours depriving ourselves of much needed sleep talking and joking like teenagers. We talk of important things and issues in the world and sometimes, we talk about nothing at all and fall asleep at night holding each other.

Thank you for sending him my way. Thank you for sending me a man that loves me for my intellect, my spirit, my sense of fun. Thank you for sending me a man with a sense of humor, who is capable of such sweet, fierce love and believes his word is his bond. Thank you for sending me a man that respects me, my opinions and decisions.

Thank you for sending me a MAN.

Connor is doing so great! I never drempt that he would be doing this well after he was so sick for so long. Even now, he has dual ear infections, but I can't tell. He's not cranky, or fussy. There's no fever, no loss of appetite or pulling of the little ears. He's happy. He giggles and likes to face dive into the bean bag and baby wrestles with his daddy. He gives such sweet drooly kisses and when he hugs me, he squishes his whole baby sized body against me and snuggles into my neck. He pats my arm and makes adorable baby noises and it makes me feel like I couldn't possible take another breath and have it better than the one I was holding right at that moment, only to find that it is better, that it is some how sweeter and more life giving.

I couldn't even imagine this a year ago.

Thank you for my son.

Thank you for being there with me though all those really tough times. When I was in the shower, the washcloth pressed firmly to my mouth, tears mingling with the spray. When I hit my knees, for the first time ever, when Connor was going in for surgery, not even 2 months old. How I screamed and prayed and shouted in anger at you when he would stop breathing, getting ready to do CPR on my infant son, who we had tried for so many years to have, who I was was watching slip away in front of me. When Lauren was 8 months and then again at 2 and she was soo, sooo, sick and I didn't know what to do. When things between Charles and I got so ugly, I packed his bags for him and told him he either needed to get himself together, or get out, all the while I felt my heart had been ripped from my body and I was bleeding freely, leaving a big pool of love on the floor. How he hugged me, and held me and took his suitcase back in the bedroom and we talked for hours and slowly got ourselves back together and things have been wonderful ever since, even after all this time.

Thank you for all you have done, because I realize that while life doles out challenges to us all..to me and mine...you have been beside me, and in me, and I was never alone.

Thank you.

Yawn

I'm not a movie goer but I went with Lauren today to the movies. We had hoped to see Garfield 2 but no such luck.

Instead, we saw Barnyard. Yes BARNYARD.

This would have been a great movie if I was 2. Alas, I am 32 and it just didn't do it for me. I fell asleep in the movie theatre. Yes, I fell asleep. I'm not exactly the type you want to take to the movies unless there's explosions and shit, especially if the movie we go to includes cartoon animated cows with thumbs. Yes, that's right cows with THUMBS.

After the movie, Lauren and I went and got school supplies and I bought a new hairdryer and then we came home, where I again, went to sleep. (sad isn't it, that I can still be worn out and still think about my hair)

I even slept in this morning. I didn't wake up until 11! I never sleep that late. The latest I can pull off is 8am and then I just feel drained because I slept so long, but today, I slept until 11, cat napped in the movie theatre and went directly to bed when we got home.

I woke up at midnight and was greeted with the scariest kitchen ever. Seems hubby had a hard time holding it together watching little man all day, then having both kids while I was sleeping, and to top it all off, he had to cook dinner too. My kitchen looks like hell detoured thru it. The microwave looks like something exploded in it and I'm considering just throwing the damn thing away instead of having to actually clean it. We don't have a power tool that is that heavy duty.

I'm scared to go back in there. There's empty soda cans, plastic wrapping from something or other, wads of paper towel, dirty pots stacked 3 high and the floor looks like someone dropped some green beans and did the river dance on top of 'em. I'm not even going to talk about how the trash can...never mind.

The living room doesn't look much better. The only thing I can say for it - there doesn't seem to be any green beans on the floor - but everything else is. It would appear that Charles couldn't muster the energy to tidy up in there. Toys are strown from here to there and two of the blinds have broken slats - baby head high. I'm guessing that Little Man wanted to look out the window - what do you think?

The Laundry Room smells funny. I don't know what happened, I'm not going to ask cause I'm pretty sure I don't want to know. I'll just wash whatever that is in the laundry basket and shut up about it. I'm pretty sure though, that I didn't wear that shirt that's sitting on top of the washing machine today and now there's a big pink stain on it. I have no idea what that is. It's kind-a scary to be honest because I can't think of a thing that we have in the house that would leave a big PINK stain. It doesn't look like washed out blood.

The dining room. OY. The most I can say for it is that it's still there - and so are all the school supplies I bought. Tablets and pencils and crayons and glue and new book bag all over everywhere. I can't see the top of the table - and it's not because I'm blind - though, I'm wishing I was at the moment.

The dog won't seem to leave me alone. He keeps pawing at my leg and whining. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was scared of something.

The cats have all been giving me accusitory looks and I'm not quite sure what I did. Maybe they think that they are the only ones who should get that much sleep in one day. I dunno. But I'm watching them, AND my ankles just in case.

I've peaked in on the baby, and he seems to have all his body parts and isn't covered in poo and/or vomit and smells like he had a bath. I haven't gone into his bathroom yet because I'm scared what I might find.

Lauren is sleeping peacefully - TV blaring at full volume and candy wrappers on her floor. It's painfully obvious, from when I went to kiss her cheek, that daddy didn't make her brush her teeth before going to bed. I'll shut up about that too though, because she seems to have had a bath - I think.

Charles is asleep in the recliner in a position that looks like someone knocked him out cold and he just happened to land on the recliner. There are dark circles under his eyes and drool is dribbling down his chin. Yeah, he's sexy.

Me? I'm hiding in the computer room, delaying the inevitable of cleaning up. I'm using the excuse that it's late - or early - and I don't want to wake anyone up. Yeah, I don't want to wake anyone up. That's my story. I'm using that one.

And You You Wonder Why I Am The Way I Am

An especially endowed lady client leaves the office...

Nikki - Jim! OMG! Did you see that lady? She has obviously had those things done.

Jim - Why do you think that?

Nikki - Because no bra in the world pushes your boobs up until they touch your chin.

Jim - Well, that's okay with me. I enjoy artifically flavored food.

*********************************************

A conversation between hubby and I, after he refused to see reason...

Nikki - Alright! This is the part where I pluck you in the ding-ding.

Charles - This is the part where I pluck you in the ovary.

Nikki - Oh! (covering abdomen) YOU'RE GOING TO PLUCK ME IN THE OVARIES?

Charles - What was I supposed to say? That I'm going to pluck you in the clitoris?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Charles talks to Connor while he's whippin up dinner. Charles says "I'm gonna teach you how to cook little man. All the ladies will love you and want to keep you around...

Nikki - You know the only reason I keep you around is because you're a good cook.

Charles - You know the only reason I keep you around is because you have big boobs.

_____________________________________________

On my birthday, the office threw me a little party. They got me a cake and they all signed a card.

There are 4 other people that work in my office, one person signed Happy Bithday Nikki, another signed Happy 21st Birthday Again, one simply signed his name, JIM however, lovingly signed

Happy Birthday Bitch.

No one has seen him since.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Riding down a back road and I read a street sign incorrectly...

Nikki - Well, don't I just feel stupid!

Charles - Stupid...ER

CAUTION - Bitching Ahead

Super Baby is sick. Sigh. It started out with Pink Eye. Went to the Dr., walked out with a prescription for eye drops. He says "He can go back tomorrow. These eye drops will fix him right up." EXCELLENT! I called the boss man, told him I'd be in tomorrow. This was Tuesday afternoon. I haven't been back to work yet. (incidentally, I stayed home on Monday because I felt like regurgitate crap) That means I've been to work a grand total of a half of a day this entire week. (did I ever mention how much I despise staying at home?)

I called daycare on Wed morning to let them know he would be coming in that day equipped with a Dr's note saying it was alright. "Does he still have discharge coming from his eye?" "It's just a bit watery. It's from the eye drops." "I'm sorry Nikki, but he can't come back until his eye has stopped watering." "But I have a Dr's note." "I'm sorry Nikki, we just want to make sure that the other kids won't catch it." Well damn. I understand their concern, but honestly, I have a friggin Dr's note. So I stay at home with him, and we both nap A LOT but he seems fine and I'm happy that he's letting me nap because I feel SO MUCH BETTER with all the sleep I'm getting. Later that night, I have a surprise waiting for me when I pick him up from his evening nap.

A cranky, squirmy, feverish, coughing, sneezing, mucus producing little baby. Okay, little dude caught my cold that explains why he was so happy to nap. Poor little guy. I give him lovies and sing to him and cuddle him and give him lots of kisses and it'll be okays. I feed him and he eats great. He takes medicine A OK and I put him down for the night.

My thoughts? Lets see how he is in the morning, maybe I'll get lucky and can go to work. I get up in the middle of the night, fever is down but he's sleeping a bit restlessly, I check him again at about 3 am, stuffy little nose, fever is back up. I wake him up and give him medicine and we sit in the recliner and watch TV for about an hour until he finally goes back to sleep and I fall asleep with him, both of us there in the recliner cuddling. I wake up at 7am, with a screaming baby and vomit all over me, the recliner and the carpet. (did I ever mention how much I despise staying at home?) If I may quote one of my favorite blogs - OH THE JOYS.

I clean everything and everybody up and catch hubby on the way out the door. "Can't you stay with him today? I NEED to go to work. I don't want to get fired for pete's sake." "I can't, I'm teaching assistant in a class today." "You're teaching a class? Since when?" "Since the other teachers assistant called in sick. I've been trying to get this gig for a while." FUCK. "Charles, I love you, and I'm glad you got this position BUT I NEED TO GO TO WORK. When you go in today, tell them you can't make it in tomorrow BECAUSE I NEED TO GO TO WORK." "I'm off tomorrow." "Works out well for you then doesn't it" (yeah, I was a bit cranky and this would fall under the heading of bitchyness)

I call boss man - I can't come in, Super Kid is vomiting - he has his daughter take a message. WONDERFUL - that means he's not happy. I mean really, if you were him wouldn't you be a bit pissed? If I was the boss, I know I'd be a more than a little bit frustrated, but, what can I do?

So here I am, it's noon and I have just managed to take a shower after stinking of vomit, clorox and carpet shampoo. Little dude is napping and is keeping everything down just fine. His fever just broke so he should be fine tomorrow when daddy stays home with him.

Why does it always work out like that? Why does he always get to play and goof around and never have to deal with cranky stinky vomiting baby?

I ask you - Where is the justice?

Please Help Contribute To The Suffering Of Man

Specifically MY MAN.

He's got it comin. We all know that. I have spent my time thinking, thinking, thinking and have come up with ZIP, ZILCH, ZERO, NONE, NADA ideas on how to get my beloved Boogerhead back.

I'm depending on you, dear demented reader (and I know you're demented, otherwise, you wouldn't read me) to help me top Charles' gloriously good practical joke.

I have decided to start a contest. The grand prize with be (trumpets and fanfare) NOTHING. Why nothing? Because I don't have shit to give you, and I'm not a member of paypal. Sorry.

You will however, get to "see" Charles' reaction in my play by play accounting that I will give you right here.

Please leave all ideas in the comments section...please, I'm desperate to top him. (does this sound like begging? - cause I am)

Feel free to put the word out if you are so inclined on how to one up him. BOMBARD me with inspriration (no poo please)

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Addendum - Feel free to ask as many questions about Charles as you deem necessary. I will answer what I can.