Yo Momma!

Can I just take a moment of your time to tell you why I'm so wonderful?
I knew you were wondering.
No, really.
It's ok to admit you've been wondering about me.
I wonder about me all the time.
And, the source of all this wonderment is having a birthday!

HAPPY Birthday Maternal Boy Grandma.

I am trying to keep this light because I am premenstrual and really don't need to add additional emotional issues.

I'm making my Mom some Lime-Coconut Cupcakes, that also may be the premenstrual thing.

Dear Mom,

(dangit, I'm crying already) You don't have to correct spelling, grammar, and punctuation in this letter. Consider it my little birthday gift to you.

The other day when you were "helping me" with my sewing project. And, no one is really fooled by the term "helping me" we all know it's a code word for "doing it for me". And, we were laughing, kinda, about my water being shut off (once again, a topic for another post) and you asked me if I appreciated that you can laugh with me, kinda, about life's little tragedies and what would I do without that?

It started me thinking, dangerous ground I know; but, it made me think about all the things a mother and oldest child share. Neither one has ever filled the role before. You had never been a mom, I had never been a kid. But, somehow we helped each other through it.

I love living across the street. I love your sense of humor and your potty mouth when I'm trying to use you as incentive to get my boys to quit swearing. Sorry that despite your best efforts they learned about 50% of those words from me.

Thanks for letting us raid your pantry, and your swimming pool, and your generosity.

Thanks for all the quilts you have made for so many. If a quilt is a comforter and a comforter is symbolic of the holy spirit, then you have brought a little reminder of the spirit into hundreds of lives; but, mostly mine. Everyday.

You taught me to reason and apply real, working time logic to every situation. You taught me that logic will nearly always result in a hearty snort of laughter. There really aren't too many situations that aren't best defined by a good laugh.

You taught me to cook by letting me try and by eating whatever I made, sugary fudge, cakes that got dumped upside down in the back of my car.

You were always there to talk too. That is the lesson I need the most right now with my sons. You taught me to just shut-up and listen to my children. We all long to be really heard, and when we listen to our children we find them listening to us.

Mom, the beating of your heart was the first sound I was conscious of. Everyday I thank God for the beauty of that heart. You are the most beautiful women I know. It's an honor to be your daughter.

Happy Birthday!

Better hurry over and get a cupcake before they are all gone and all you got was a letter you can't don't have to correct.

Moving On!

I came home from my 10 hour Friday shift, sat down at the computer next to Adorable Hubby, asked him if he'd read my last post and this is what he said, "Yeah, I didn't think it was that cute!"

Just then the post came up with only 1 comment (thanks Smee). "Apparently I'm not the only one who thought it" he finished his comment.

Nice!

Let's move that poor cute challenged post down the blog a bit and I'll try again next week.

Only two more days of January! Hooray!

February promises to be a much better month.

Overheard

I've heard some funny comments lately and I just know you're needing a little something to put a smile on your face.

I'm not a big fan of blond jokes, unless we can all agree that blonde is more a description of...oh whatever, you get me. Right!

A lady struggling to fill out paperwork shaking her head in disgust, "I'm dumber than a blonde, box of rocks!"

Ha! That's DUMB!


Mummy McTavish this is for you.

Two of the people I work with lived in Australia for a while. On Australia Day I was at work when one of them brought in a package of Tim Tam's for us to try. The other co-worker who had spent time in Australia forbid us to eat a Tim Tam like it was, "Just another biscuit".

He mixed a cup of hot chocolate, we didn't have any Milo, then explained the process of biting off both ends, sucking hot chocolate through the Tim Tam like a straw just until the beverage touched our tongue, then popping the whole thing in our mouth for a chocolate rush so intense it sent shivers down your spine.

One of the girls he was trying to explain it to just didn't get it. As he was trying to clarify the process his cell phone rang, "Gotta call ya back, I'm trying to explain a Tim Tam Slam to a blonde!"

Ha! That's complicated!

OK, on to other hair colors.


A coworker has lost some weight. I was complimenting her on how good she looks when a fellow coworker chimed in to emphasize the compliment. "Yeah, she's a hottie with a naughty body!"

Ha! That's working with a lot of blonde 20 year old's!

Seriously, moving on!


My sister Jenny and I escaped my waterless house (a subject for another post) to see the movie Legion. This is an end of humanity, apocalypse, themed movie that we went to mostly for it's mockablity. It was deliciously mockable.

Dennis Quaids character, offering a steak and beer to a woman who's husband had just been killed by humans turned into flesh eating zombies, "Just because it's the end of the world doesn't mean you can't eat."

Ha! That quote deserves a t-shirt.


My #3 son is a know it all. And quick witted. And Funny.

#8 also known by the nick name fostie (endearment for foster child, depending on who's using it) still has, "baby of the family" status; and, as so, frequently get's protected from #3's barbs.

Sunday #3 suddenly decided that #8 was being shown extra love, due to his protected status. "Hey, being the fostie is cool. Let's switch. I'm the fostie now and #8, you know everything. "

Ha! That's insightful!

I was reading back through some past post's this week.

The comment most likely to repeat itself, "Way to let it all hang out there."

Ha! That's me, baby. Lettin' it all hang out.


Hope you found a smile.

Happy Birthday

I am blessed with absolutely wonderful friends.

Today one of them is having a birthday!

MANDI is AWESOME!

*She makes peanut butter bars so good one bite will curl your toes!

*She is real, try annoying her and find our how real she gets.

*Mandi loves to garden as much as I do. She tours my yard two or three times a year and really sees it. Her yard is like mine, a work in progress. I love that. She even offered to let me borrow her gardening books to get me through January... that's true friendship.

* Mandi is a wonderful writer! I envy her blog posts. Plus, she can punctuate! I am sworn to secrecy or I'd send you over to her blog.

* Mandi is beautiful in that natural, I don't get that I'm drop dead gorgeous, way!

* Mandi is funny, she makes me laugh. Amazingly, she says I make her laugh!

I could go on and on!

Thanks for being my friend Mandi!

Happy Birthday, I didn't follow through with my original plan to wake you up with a birthday cake and a camera so I could post a picture of us.

I know how you'd feel about that plan.

Aren't you glad I overslept and have to go to work?

My lack of organization and follow-through is my gift to you, until I finish the totally awesome gift I'm making for you and Paul that is.

Love ya!

Mondays Muttered Mumblings

Peanut Butter cookies for breakfast! Yum!
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BFF, Suz is sick. Sad. I wish we still lived in the same town so I could take my peanut butter cookies over to share.
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Peanut Butter cookies can cure pneumonia, right?
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Working on a birthday gift for a friend. Birthday tomorrow, hope I get it done. Probably won't. Lame! It's a shared gift for her and her Husband, his birthday is in February, Phew, extra time.
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Shh, don't anyone tell them!
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Watched Watchmen with Adorable Hubby. Really enjoyed it. Read the graphic novel last fall.
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One of my deeply held secrets is the type of movies I enjoy, definitely not Chick Flicks...well except for mocking purposes.

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I guess it's not that deeply held of a secret if I blogged it, aye?
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Obviously in an odd mood, what you can't see is that I have a headache, rarely ever get headaches, and my sinuses hurt.
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Probably Peanut Butter cookie poisoning. Call waaambulance, stat!

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Off to eat more cookies... and work on my birthday present project, might even watch a movie;)

It's Happened

The other day I watched my sweet crazy neighbor Acel, my boys pronounce his name so that it sounds like ace hole.

Now, anonymous and easily offended readers you may as well stop reading here because I love my neighbor Acel and his adorable but certifiably dementia addled wife Oral, and no, I'm not even making up those names. I wouldn't trade them for any other neighbors, except if my BFF Suz or the Nurse Boys or McTavishes wanted to move into their house, then my neighbor devotion might fade a bit but until that happens, which will be never, traitors, I am utterly devoted to Acel and Oral (You just can't say those names together often enough) so just stop reading now if you are feeling the need to condemn... Erhmm, back to story...

So, I was watching Acel as he broke up the ice that forms along the curb when it snows and doesn't get driven over. He comes out nearly every afternoon to chip and hack at it then spread what he breaks off out in the middle of the road so it will melt. I was thinking that older folks are a lot little odd.

That led me to a tangent of Acel and Oral stories, which include my 12 and 13 year old helping Acel irrigate from 12:30 AM - 2:00 AM and the stories he tells them...yikes. And, Oral's many trips across the street looking for her 2 year old twins, whom she is sure Acel gave to me, "That old *%##%^@#$%^!" Or, the multiple times she has walked unannounced into my house, at any hour, in any weather, dressed only in thin pajamas and flip flops, with a stack of towels and a package of Kotex because she dreamed I was bleeding to death. Yeah, you're telling me! Certifiable!

Yet despite their antics or perhaps because of them they are some of our favorite neighbors and we're pretty sure that the five gallon ice cream bucket with a bow on the handle, filled with potatoes and oranges on Christmas morning was from them.

So today I was coloring my roots, I know, I too am stunned that I have gray hairs, and therefore was wearing my fuzzy blue bathrobe with a towel pinned over my shoulders by a hair clip, I had coloring goo in my hair and halfway down my forehead. I was waiting patiently for the clock to say, "times up, jump in the shower." When, the doorbell rang, the dog started barking and #4 answered the door to a salesman.

There was a time I wouldn't answer the door if I hadn't showered and dressed for the day. There was a time when I wouldn't set foot out of my bedroom without a bra on.

Today I stood in my open doorway, wearing a bathrobe/towel ensemble, gooey hair, forehead turning a lovely shade of Dark Reddish Brown, dog shoving his head between, around and through my legs to get at this fascinating stranger, and chatted about milk, people I knew who had worked for Winder Dairy, his wife going to dental hygienist school and whether she might be able to get a job at the hospital where I work with the darling young salesman whose' dark slightly curly hair, gorgeous eyes and square jaw could have landed him a job as Clark Kent's double.

When I said no to his offer of everything free he had, plus no sign-up fee, gave him my phone number to call back in May, grabbed the dang dog and closed the door #4 stood shaking his head. "You do realize you just carried on a 10 minute conversation with a total stranger dressed in your bathrobe?" He said.

It occurred to me as I showered the coloring goo out of my hair, "It's happened, I am dangerously close to being as crazy as Acel and Oral."

Remember That Really Great and Unannoying post I Was Working On?

This isn't it.

My Daddy grew up in Oregon, he had jobs as a lumberjack and a Christmas tree farm/lot worker and probably some other similar jobs that contributed to his fashion sense.

During the spring, summer and fall while working as a landscaper, Daddy wore navy blue sweats, white t-shirts, and white tennis shoes. Everyday. Dressing up for church involved navy blue dress pants, a white shirt, tie and black dress shoes. In winter months Daddy would mix up the navy blue and white look with navy blue sweats, a navy blue sweatshirt, a navy blue stocking hat, and brown work boots.

What Daddy lacked in fashion variety he made up for with an exciting array of tools. One never knew if the big guy in dark clothes and a stocking cap would be cleverly accenting his outfit with a pick, a shovel or going all out with sawdust, a chainsaw and logs on the front porch in our suburban neighborhood.

I have inherited Daddy's fashion sense, I wear a lot of black and brown, it's slimming don'tcha know. And my suburbanite neighbors never know if I'll be sporting a rake, a lawn mower or a snow shovel.

Yesterday it was a rake. We never got around to raking the leaves last fall so, whenever the melting snow reveals a pile of leaves I rake and bag, wearing my black sweats and a stocking hat. Only mine is PINK, with matching gloves. Thanks Boy Mom-in-law.

I Am Working On a Great and Really Unannoying Post, I Promise!

But until then I'm just throwing out some random dullness, coming down of the holiday sugar high, stinks.
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Not that I resolved to go off sugar for the new year I have finally learned not to resolve to do anything doomed to that degree of failure. It's just that there was A LOT of sugar over the holidays, A LOT! I can't keep up the sugar high on my own so unless the neighbors will help out like they did during the holidays I'm doomed to the have boxes of Christmas decorations stacked in the living room until February and Christmas lights hanging off the house for Easter.
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I really get frustrated when I put Healthy Child to bed and get woke up at 2:00 AM by Croupy Coughing Till Barf Spews Child. Poor thing! Me, not him, he got cuddled, rocked and medicated. I cleaned mucousy barf off my freshly laundered sheets, searched for medicine, and rocked a sick baby who coughed in my face.
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The other day #7 woke up walked out of his room wrapped in a warm blanket, gave me a drowsy hug around the legs and said, "Mom, I want to call Lilly." Lilly is my friend Suzie's little girl.

"Honey, I don't know if Lilly is even up yet." I said.

"It's not fair Mom, you get to call Suzie any time you want, Lilly is my friend and I jus wanna talk to her right now!" What a sweetheart!

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Then I overheard #1 on the phone with his sweetie who lives several hours away. "I'm sorry you're sick!" I heard him say tenderly, "I wish I could be there." He listened to her response then said, "I don't get sick, I'm tough! I just want to wrap you up and keep you from chilling and hold your hair when you throw up!"

What the... This kid nearly passed out on the last trip to the Doctors office. And, once during a dinner party at our house, pooped his pants then was so disgusted by the clean up process that he threw up all over our only bathroom. Yeah, he's a toughie that one.

I plan to remind him often of this overheard conversation in a few years.
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Wow that last sentence ended badly!
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I have made only two new years resolutions this year.

1. Stay off the scale, I am not defined by a number. So far this one is going well, I just gaze sadly at my beloved scale and twitch a little for the first 20 minutes of each day.

2. Learn to ride a Rip stick. I may not be defined by a number on a scale but, if this resolution doesn't go well, I may turn out to be a statistic...in the emergency room. Nevertheless, every night I picture myself at the skate park, wearing my Harley Davidson tank top, impressing all the thirteen year old boys with my sweet Rip Stik moves. Yeah baby! I'll be video taping my success, so be looking for that. 2010 is gonna be awesome!
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I'm pretty sure I have seasonal depression.
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I can receive phone calls but not make any since noon yesterday. Weird!
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Cleaning out my Christmas decoration tubs I came across a bag of unassembled Santa Clause's. I am guessing they are 11 years old. One of my crafting moods gone cold too soon. Any who, it brought to mind that I held a little blog contest where I promised to make a handmade craft and send it to some people in 2009. Won't they be thrilled to get a Santa in January 2010? Strangely I'm feeling kinda proud of myself for finishing up this 11 year old project and finishing up my first and last blog contest in one crafty extravaganza, I may even include some candy cane hearts. I know, I know, I have some major procraftination issues.
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And now I'm going out to rake leaves before it snows on them again. I think that exercise and fresh air are REALLY important when sugar detoxing while battling seasonal depression.

Don't Hate Me

Really crafty people make me throw up a little, I get jealous, how do they find the time, who do they copy... what ? People have original crafting ideas. Now that really bugs!




Today I got crafty! What can I say? Please Don't hate me!



Aren't these amazing. They say no two are alike. No of course I didn't make them! I said I got CRAfTy not CrAZy!


These are mine! I can do nearly anything with a hot glue gun, including making left over candy canes into adorable valentines hearts for my treat tree.


This is the treat tree, it is a favorite of friends and neighbor kids during the holidays. It's debuting as a winter/Valentines day tree this year. Try not to be too jealous of my cleverness and the crocheted Mr. and Mrs. Frosty made for me by Adorable Hubbies Grandma, and the winter tree I concocted by not taking off any ornaments that weren't specifically Christmas.


Also ignore those tubs of Christmas Decorations that STILL aren't put away because in my efforts to reduce the bulkiness and clutter in my decoration boxes I became infected with seasonaltreeitis which my doctor assures me will be cured as soon as all the candy cane hearts are eaten and I have to think up ornaments for a new season.

Babies

Today when I walked into the family room I found my two babies cuddled up in the chair watching Dora.

Ahhhh! Love my babies!

Top 10 for 2010

Thanks Dave, although really, do you own the intellectual rights to the whole top 10 idea or did you copy it too? Hmmm a 2hours sleep and way to much sugar, thought, which will no doubt define the subject matter of this post.

Top 10 reasons I can't wait for school to start.

10. Fourteen year old dipping a plastic fork repeatedly in my scented candle.

9. Being told, "I'm STARVING!" 733 times a day.

8. Being counseled by same STARVING child that Reese's Peanut Butter Cups should be served after twisted Cheetos. "Cause it's desert don'tcha know!"

7. Taking 5, eight years old and youngers to Wall Mart on New Year's Eve.

6. Watching peoples faces as I encouraged 5, eight years old and youngers to line up like ducklings and follow Mommy Duck through Wall Mart...quacking!

5. Picking up TOYS and gloves, and boots and socks and papers and wrappers and toys and coats and twist ties and spent batteries and shirts and shoes and coats and did I mention TOYS.

4. Whining!

3. Wrestling!

2. Sugar highs!

1. Hearing, "I'M BORED!!!" 1 trillion, billion, kazillion, times a day.

How's that for a positive upbeat New Years post? Don't answer that.

Happy Freakin' New Years.