What Goes Around Comes Around

I have so many,many nicknames for my short people that it's hard to imagine that they know their own names.

For my daughter there's - Blond Child, Little Bear, Itsy Bitsy, Shrimp, Sweets, Angel Bear, Lovely, Crack Smoker, and I'm sure a couple more that I'm forgetting.

...it's the same for my son

His various nicknames are - Super Baby, Super Kid, Hero, Super Hero, Midget, Little Dude, Evil Baby, Charles the Second, Crack Baby, and again, there's probably a few more I'm forgetting....but let me get on with the story.

This past weekend, Connor decided that he was extra, EXTRA, EXTRA, bored and wanted to play in my little sewing basket....which is really a plastic bag from Walmart....and I gently took the BAG OF DEATH away from him that was filled with EYESIGHT DAMAGING NEEDLES and RESPIRATORY INTERRUPTING, BUT OH SO COLORFUL STRING and told him "I don't think so Crack Baby. You don't get to play with this. No touching please."





and because he's my son, he responded with





"Mine! Crack Mommy!"





Oh yeah, I want a thousand more just like him.

HI HO CHARLIE!!! AAAWWWAAAAAAYYYYYYY!!!!!!

Years ago Charles, Lauren and I flew to Montana from Germany to visit my mother.....about 7 or 8 years ago I think it was.

I loved Montana. Gorgeous. Just gorgeous...

...anyway, mom took us to an outdoors store. You know what I'm talking about...good store for hunting, fishing, camping...I don't remember the name.....and as we were walking around and just having a general "look-see" Lauren, in all her cute adorableness saw a stuffed horse and fell in love with it.

I refused to pay for it...if I remember correctly, that stuffed horse was 20-30 bucks.....and I love my short people and everything, but there was no way I was going to pay that kind of money for a stuffed animal.....so grandma and granddaddy did (because they smoke crack).

On the way home, Lauren asked what she should name her stuffed horse. I think I offered up the name of "Fred" or something along those line. Grandma offered the name "Charlie".... I'll never forget the mischievous twinkle in her eye, and the grin on her face when she was doing it. I immediately protested, but it was to late...Lauren was taken with her Grandma, so Grandma got to name him....and Charlie Horse became her bedtime buddy, her playmate, her comfort.

Fast forward to Spring '07. I get a phone call from school....Lauren has had her first experience with a real Charlie Horse and claims that she can't walk....I even had to put her in the school wheelchair to get her out to the car.

She's fine by the time we get home, a bit sore, but okay.

"Here, my lovely little cripple. Eat a banana. It'll help."

"A banana?"

"It's good for you. Hush and eat, unless you want another Charlie Horse."

Lauren sits carefully on the edge of the couch and looks at Connor's toy box. Her stuffed Charlie Horse is languishing on top. I see her looking at it and I start cracking up. It's gonna hit her any second now.

She chews slowly, I can see the wheels turning behind her little eyeballs. She cuts her eyes at me...

"WHO NAMED HIM?!!!" she exclaimed hotly

"Your Grandma named him. It wasn't me. You can't blame this one on me." I threw up my hands and pressed myself back into the chair cushion.

"Why didn't you say something?

"I did!!! But you were two and you agreed that his name should be Charlie. No amount of talking I did made any difference."

She gave me such an accusatory look, it was so venomous.....and then she looked back at her Charlie Horse and didn't say another word about it.

Later that night, when she thought I was absorbed in cleaning the kitchen, my back turned to her...she snuck him back into her room. I heard her softly say.

"It's okay Charlie Horse. I still love you even if you are named after a cramp."

It almost killed me to wait until she was down the hall to start laughing....

7 years later, she had finally gotten the joke.

I'm Feeling Good

I can cook.


Now I realize that I may be getting way ahead of myself here, especially in light of my online confession here...but I think the ol' brain has finally assimilated some information on how not to burn food.

I've been on a really good..uh...good food cooking streak for a while now, and that just doesn't happen. I usually pump out something palatable ...oh....I'd say...about one dish (dish people, not meal)every 2 weeks or so.....but I am really topping myself here lately (not that I'm ready to go onto Hell's Kitchen or anything).

Last night I made the yummiest chicken ever. It wasn't dried up like old cardboard like it usually is....it was tender and juicy and it wasn't raw in the middle or burnt on the outside....the juices fairly burst from the chicken when we cut it. The mashed potatoes were perfection, the green beans were GREEN and had not withered in the pot from lack of stirring. The cucumbers were sliced in uniform pieces with no gouges on the sides and the sweet tea was just right.....and to think, I didn't even have to lock the children up in their rooms or duct tape them to the floor so I could accomplish this.

I also made a home made blackberry pie last night...my first pie ever....and it tastes wonderful....and I don't even like blackberries! I will however admit to calling my mother in law at least 5 different times to assist me. I can say whatever else about the woman...but she can cook like no body's business.

The night before last, I made the most tender and mouth watering cubed steak that God could think to grace the earth with. The rice wasn't crunchy, the broccoli was just right and I served that with fresh sliced tomatoes and onions. I damn near had an orgasm half way thru dinner.(and no, that didn't upset the hubby, he was happy....said it just meant he wouldn't have to work as hard later)

The ultimate test was this evening though.

I went to the store and got a lemon cake and frosting, and decided that's what I would have for my birthday. I went home, started mixing and suddenly realized that I didn't have any oil for the recipe...in a daring and clever move...I decided to substitute 2 egg whites for 1/3 cup of oil....and that was when it struck me like a bolt of lightening....it was time to confront my one true nemesis...the culinary creation of evil!!!!!!!...the bundt cake.

Laugh if you must. I have failed so miserably at these things over the years its just pathetic (more pathetic than my normal cooking if you can imagine that). My one true claim to fame has been cupcakes....it is after all.....hard to screw them up.....but I was feeling confident after the resounding success of the blueberry pie...and dug back....WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY back to the back of the cabinets and pulled out my two bundt cake pans.

I was in a quandary. Which one should I pick? I chose the green one over the orange. I have failed at my last 3 bundt cake attempts in the orange pan......sprayed with Pam....and poured my smooth delicious looking batter. I had changed the position of the racks in the oven....something that I have just taken to doing frequently (I think this has a lot to do with my recent successes), slid the pan in, and set the timer.

There was nothing to do but wait, and wait and wait. I resisted temptation as much as possible to open the door and peak in. The last bundt cake fell AND burnt because of my compulsion I think.....and 38 minutes later, I pulled out the most beautiful bundt cake ever. It wasn't just lovely in comparison to my usual cooking....it was lovely in general. It looked like something normal people would eat....and I was proud.

After a dinner of left over cubed steak, chicken, green beans and rice, I cut a small slice of cake.....cake I had left unfrosted.....the first unfrosted cake I have ever made. I admired the smell, color and the moistness....noticed it was a little dense for my liking BUT! it hadn't fallen....I picked up my fork, anticipating the zing of the lemon....and the phone rang. DDDDAAAAMMMMNNNNN!

It was my mother in law...calling to check and see how the blueberry pie came out....I gave the phone to Charles and sat back down. I quickly cut a piece and scooped it up with my fork.

It was wonderful.

I gave everyone at the table a bite of my cake...finished every last crumb on my plate...looked at Charles and said

"You only had to wait 10 years for me to learn how to cook."

he chuckled

"I think I'm just going to sit here and be smug for a while. I feel awful proud of myself"

"You did good baby"

"Yeah, now if I could only learn to keep a good house"

"Don't get ahead of yourself"

"Ass"

*sticks out tongue at me*

He Learns From the Master

My life is complete now.

I have everything I need. I have done what I intended to do on this earth and I can now go meet THE BIG CHEESE with a clear conscience.

I have taught my son to cuss.

Yeah.

I try not to cuss in front of my kids, but it doesn't always work...and really it could have been anyone who taught him that word, but I really think it was me. I mean, he used it with such CONVICTION and FEELING - it had to me - there aren't to many people out there that can use vulgar language like I can - it's my medium.

Reminded me of the time when Lauren was about his age...I put her on my lap to show her how the computer works so she could play some simple games, she turned around, put her cute little baby hands on my face and said "Mommy, you are such a bitch."

Now, while that may be true...she's not allowed to point that out until she's a teenager.

Connor took a completely different approach to try and get my head to explode from shock.

Let me set the scene for you.

Happy baby in the living room playing with stuffed animals...kiss-kiss, kiss-kiss - throw, giggle. Happy baby takes off clothes and beats himself in the stomach while yelling BELLLLLLLYYYYYYYYYY. Happy baby looks a picture book. Happy baby plays with big Tonka truck - picks it up and drops it on his previously happy baby toes. Happy baby is no longer happy and proves this by saying. DAMN! DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN MOMMY! while stomping his feet and then kicks Tonka truck again hurting his un-happy baby toes. Another chanting litany of DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN follows.

I can not move. I'm in shock - I'm totally shocked. I'm shocked he didn't say Fuck. That is, after all, the word I use the most.

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.

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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.







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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????!!!!!

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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.