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Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Puff Daddy.

Is there some 12 step program for Puff addicts? If there is, I need to enroll my child STAT. She has no restraint. I give her a pile of Puffs thinking surely these will last her, and then I look over at her the next minute and they’re all gone. Well, most of the time, that is. Some of them end up other places like in between her toes, in her hair or on her cheeks.

Case in point...


If I don’t give her the puffs quickly enough, she will stand at my legs and whine like a starved stray dog. Here I am, mother-of-the-year, just enabling her addiction by keeping her well stocked with the various flavors of Puffs – blueberry, strawberry, and her personal favorite, peach (which smells like cat piss to me, but whatever).

Oh well, I guess there are worse things to be addicted to. Vienna sausage, for example. Or Spam.

Monday, August 24, 2009

10 Month Photo FAIL.

12 3 4

567891011 12 13141516 1718 19

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

We are a part of the rhythm nation.

Who has rhythm? Certainly not me.

I used to dance ‘til dawn. And I was quite good at it, to be perfectly honest. I had rhythm, I had stamina, I had the ability to drop it like it’s hot without dropping it and not being able to pick it back up again. So, will someone please tell me why I’ve been channeling my inner Elaine every single time I try to dance now?

You may be wondering why I'm even dancing at this point, me, a 31 year old mother of 1. Well, there's a simple explanation for that - my child loves music and loves to dance. I figure, why not dance with her? She can learn from a pro, and then maybe she can drop it like it's hot. Although I'm not sure I want my daughter dropping anything like it's hot. Truth be told, I don't even really want to know what "it" is. I digress. The other day I was dancing with Anna to Michael Jackson - her favorite artist - and I realized that I no longer had rhythm. If I had on a pair of mom jeans and a short, soccer mom haircut, I'd totally win an award for Doofus Mom of the Year.

If Anna could speak, she'd be bowing her head in embarrassment and saying something like, "Mom, PLEASE stop!"

So, where's the disconnect from the rhythmic dancer of yesteryear and Mrs. Mom Jeans of today? Is this how it's supposed to be? I guess so, huh? There aren't many middle-aged women out there who can shake it like Shakira. I guess at some point you must trade in your dancing shoes for a pair of Easy Spirits. I just didn't expect it to come this quickly. I must try to hold on just a bit longer, so I will work at it. While Anna is napping, I will turn on Michael Jackson and try to be a part of the Ryhtym Nation once again.

Oh, and totally off topic, the winner of the "Caption" contest for wittiest caption is…

Wait for it...

I've decided to give 1st, 2nd, 3rd place because there were some really good ones!

3rd place: “I KNOW this song is about me” by Meg
2nd Place: "Anna practices her Steinmart smile" by Mandie
1st Place: "Warning: objects in mirror are as vain as they appear" by Berg

I really enjoyed all the comments, though, so I hope no one has hurt feelings.

Here's this week's Picture of the Week - I'd love to try this again with the caption contest. I think it's fun, plus I truly enjoyed meeting some of the "lurkers" and look forward to hearing from you guys again (hint, hint).


I will post Anna's 10 month photo fail session in a day or two. I'm a total slacker, as usual. At least I have the photos taken already - I just need to edit them and post them. Be on the lookout!

Friday, August 14, 2009

No longer half baked.

Thanks to Sears, my oven is now fixed. I must say that I’ve never been more impressed with another company’s customer service department or technicians. Sears Cares reached out to me through my blog after reading about my House O’ Horrors. They scheduled a technician to come out to my house, they ordered the parts for my oven, and they fixed it up good as new.

For a test drive, we baked some brownies (no special ingredients for you Woodstock fans out there) and they turned out perfectly. That’s because I’m an excellent baker. Uh, Betty Crocker and I are excellent bakers, that is. Oh, and because my OVEN WORKS! So, thanks so much Sears for doing what you do best. What should I bake next? Any suggestions?

Monday, August 10, 2009

Babeh vs. Kitteh.

Let me preface this video with a disclaimer.  No kittehs were harmed during the filming of this video. Before any PETA activists come banging down my door, I can assure you that my stout cat likes the rough stuff which is why she kept coming back for more.  I broke up my babeh and my kitteh before it got too ugly. 

Anna has finally started learning how to properly pet a cat. However, the learning process is slow going. That's very apparent in this video. Baby steps, baby steps.

(Note: Looks like this SoapBox program is not working very well. I will upload the video elsewhere and replace it tomorrow. Sorry about that!)

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Picture of the week – Caption Wanted.

So, I’ve decided to start posting random pictures every week. That’s my job. Your job is to help me come up with something pretty and witty and gay to caption beneath the picture. BTW, that was a throwback to an old song, so don’t be gettin’ all PC on me here.

Who is up for the challenge? Better yet, who reads my blog? I'm challenging you to not only post a witty caption for the picture below, but to also introduce yourself in the comments section. I love "e-meeting" new bloggers, so come out of hiding. I know you're out there - SiteMeter tells me so. I'm scared only one person is going to post, so I'm really going out on a limb here. Can I count on you to let me know who you are?

I'm totally stealing this from my good friend Mandie, btw.

So, here's the picture to be captioned this week. Once again, Anna was caught looking at herself. My, my, my. Whomever (whoever?) comes up with the wittiest caption will be mentioned in my next blog post, so think hard, k? ;)


Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Don't spam me, bro.

Looks like my friends and I have a spammer on our hands. S/he has gone through nearly all of my posts and left his/her company website URL in the comments section. I don't tolerate this nor should any of you. I have now disabled my open comments and will review each one prior to releasing it on my blog.

So, if you see signals3_t5 posting on your blog, please delete all comments. S/he doesn't deserve any of our hard earned site traffic.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Clean up on aisle 12.

So, I’ve been MIA for a while with my blog.  Bad blogger, I am.  You see, my life is pretty boring, not much news to report.  I’ve been super swamped at work – that’s the truth.

Let me enlighten you on my most recent shopping experience. Let's begin.

When the only food in your house is a bag of 4 month old moldy grapes and bread that is one month past its expiration date, it’s time to go shopping.  I hate to shop.  I avoid it at all costs.  So, I will dine on popcorn, Ritz Crackers, olives, cheese, my child’s Puffs and Yogurt melts, occasionally some of her bananas and pears and Kraft Cheese slices.  When all of that runs out, I have to force myself to go buy food.  It’s not a pleasurable experience, but I try to make the best of it while I’m there.

So, I pick Anna up from daycare after work today and decide to hit Winn-Dixie since it's the closest store to where I am. As soon as I bring my child outside, I smell crap. Her crap. The problem with Anna's crap is that it's the most pungent, repulsive crap on the planet. I don't know why my child is so ripe, but I'm going to assume it's the peas and green beans and move on. I figure, hey, no biggie. I can just change her in the parking lot of Winn-Dixie, and then she'll smell all fresh and clean like she's supposed to, and I will once again regain my status as mom-of-the-year.

There's a problem with this logic. The problem is this - Anna's daycare took all of the diapers out of her diaper bag and put them into her bin. That's great for them, but this leaves me stranded with a child who smells like a horse pasture on a 100 degree day. Delicious.

I go into panic mode. I try to think of what Macgyver would do in this situation, but then I realize he’s a man and wouldn't have done a thing. No offense to my one male reader. K? So, I decide to just say the heck with it and make my way into the store.

The wind was blowing the right way, so our trek to the store was pleasant. As soon as we walked through the automatic doors, horse pasture smell hit me like a ton of bricks. I decided at that point to basically run through the store like Mighty Mouse. Salad - check. Bread, check. Water, check. Chips, lots of chips, check.

All the while we're leaving poo vapors all over Winn-Dixie. I feel sorry for anyone within a 10 mile radius of Anna's foulness. I was immune to the smell at that point probably because my nose hairs and other important senses had been burned away.

We finally make it to the register to check out, and I noticed a young mother standing in front of me. She was so well put together - perfectly tailored skirt suit, matching shoes and purse, manicured nails, highlighted hair. Her kids didn't smell like poop. I looked down at my raggedy jeans and flip flops, unmanicured nails and toenails, felt my unhighlighted hair and realized at that point that I really need a stylist PRONTO. Actually, I need a personal shopper since I hate shopping so much. I need someone to go to a store for me and pick out an entire ensemble and then take my head off and go get my hair highlighted since I hate doing that, too.

Classy lady left. Then it was my turn at the register. The nice man standing behind us was too kind to hurl or gag in front of us even though I know he wanted to. I did notice, however, that he kept moving further and further back from us. Oh well, what are the odds I'll see him again? In this small town, probably pretty high.

I did manage to get out of there without making anyone pass out or vomit, so I guess that was an accomplishment. My poor child made one more wonderful attempt to stink up my car until we finally got home, and I could change her nasty diaper w/ salad tongs and sterile gloves.

Edited to add: Before anyone calls CPS on me, Anna's diaper wipeout wasn't nearly as bad as I made it seem in this blog. I like to embellish for story telling purposes. :) Also, I was in and out of Winn-Dixie in about 10 minutes, so she wasn't in her poop diaper for too long - I promise.

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