When I was 16 my grandmother told me my ass was so big she could play poker on it. I cried, and then I got over it. My grandmother is a tell it like it is kind of woman, and if you don't like it, don't listen. Im a bit like my grandmother. I started this blog almost a year ago..with no idea where it would go or who would read it if anyone. I wasn't sure if it would be like my latest diet and fitness plan lasting three days and ending with a tear filled binge fest. But here it is almost a year later, 87 entries, almost 3000 hits a month, its own fan page with over 350 fans...and has even helped land me a real newspaper column. This blog is my sanity, my savior, in a sense my best friend..and I feel like I have let it down.
Due to various reasons, none of which I regret, I have written three posts, posted them, and then deleted them. The first one, I was afraid would offend someone, someone I really didn't want to offend. The second one, was when I was going through a rough patch in my relationship and I blogged about it, my situation changed and I erased the blog...almost as if it never happened. The third one was yesterday, I blogged about an experience in church- and without meaning to it hurt a very dear friends feelings. I erased the post, her friendship means more to me than that post for sure.
What I am getting at though, is that from now on I am not going to erase any of my posts. I am going to be careful as to not hurt anyones feelings, because that is never an intention of mine. I am not a malicious person. I am an honest person though and unfortunately for those people that are in my life..I am also a writer. People may not realise what this blog mean to me. It is not just something silly to me. It is not just another form of social networking. Writing is the only thing that I have found that I am good at, that I feel that I can contribute, that I feel I was put here to do.
Thanks for reading...and if you are my family, or friends...unfortunately for you...you are fair game :-)
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Morons....EVERYWHERE!Over tired- weekend way too short
Need a gun....to shoot MORONS
Don't talk to me...it's monday, and you're a MORON
A.M. came way to early
Monday, March 15, 2010
Lions and Tigers and Dinosaurs...Oh My!
I love my son. This weekend while visiting a goat farm (this is Vermont you know) Little Man walked right up to the big momma goat and said “Hi dinosaur”, then casually strolled away. This cracked me up. Not only did the ugly goat-ette look an awful lot like a prehistoric creature, but the nonchalant-ness of the statement was priceless. Its as if Little Man lives in a world where seeing dinosaurs is a regular occurrence. Lately, he has been pretending a lot- something that I can watch him do for endless amounts of time. “Mommy”, he will say while pointing at his chest “I a tiger”.
“Oh no”, is my expected response, “A tiger! Don’t eat me”. Taking my statement seriously he will change creatures. “Mommy, I a baby”. At this point I must pick him up and rock him, as he says “goo goo, gaga” and squints his eyes. For some reason when LM is in pretend mode he has to have his eyes squinted. Just this last week he has been a tiger, a baby, his best friend, a bed, Elmo and now a goat. He even pretends to be a doll- which is my favorite because he just sits there…squinting, for a good length of time. Maybe there are dinosaurs roaming around in his world. Maybe, in Toddler town squinting means that you can change into anything that you want. Maybe ill ask him if he wants to pretend to be potty trained…
Friday, March 12, 2010
Not again...
I’m not sure yet, if my morning mishaps have become cumbersome and overdone- however, my blondest moments happen to occur prior to my first sip of coffee…what I am getting at is that this is another blog about well…my morning.
I will tell this story a little differently- just to switch it up a bit. Ill start with the result of my AM goof- I think I have a brain tumor- it’s the only explanation, I am not even a real blonde for crying out loud.
Now, onto the events as they happened: This morning was a bit out of the ordinary (my excuse). You see Little Mans daycare is closed for the afternoon due to staff training. This means that PMH is staying home with Little Man so that I can go to work (gee thanks). Because I did not have to get LM up, dressed and brushed this morning I allowed my self an extra 4 minutes to sleep in- 7:30..not 7:26- blissful. Because of such decision, however, I would not have time to make coffee at home- therefore a stop at the gas station becomes inevitable.
I get my coffee, chat with the attendant about the happiness that Fridays bring and make my way to my rig. On my way out of the parking lot I see an old friend hanging out of his company vehicle motioning me to stop and chat…I glance at the clock and see that I am actually going to be on time if I don’t chat- but then again I am never on time so I pull to the right. Window down old friend pops his head into my passenger side and we perform the humanistic ritual of shooting the shit. I want you to know that I have not sipped my coffee yet because it will take another 8 miles for it to cool enough to where if and when I spill it on me while driving I will only walk away with a first degree burn and a stained shirt.
Realizing that I have not seen this friend in AGES I say “have you even met my son?” as I tick my neck in the direction of Little Mans car seat…Little Mans empty car seat. Friend looks puzzled and as I turn to tell Little Man to say hi to mommy’s friend, I realize my faux pas. I giggle…a lot…and then try and explain.
“Oh wait”, I mutter, “I don’t have him”.
Long lost friend furrows his brow and says nervously, “Should you?”
I am seriously considering a cat scan.
I will tell this story a little differently- just to switch it up a bit. Ill start with the result of my AM goof- I think I have a brain tumor- it’s the only explanation, I am not even a real blonde for crying out loud.
Now, onto the events as they happened: This morning was a bit out of the ordinary (my excuse). You see Little Mans daycare is closed for the afternoon due to staff training. This means that PMH is staying home with Little Man so that I can go to work (gee thanks). Because I did not have to get LM up, dressed and brushed this morning I allowed my self an extra 4 minutes to sleep in- 7:30..not 7:26- blissful. Because of such decision, however, I would not have time to make coffee at home- therefore a stop at the gas station becomes inevitable.
I get my coffee, chat with the attendant about the happiness that Fridays bring and make my way to my rig. On my way out of the parking lot I see an old friend hanging out of his company vehicle motioning me to stop and chat…I glance at the clock and see that I am actually going to be on time if I don’t chat- but then again I am never on time so I pull to the right. Window down old friend pops his head into my passenger side and we perform the humanistic ritual of shooting the shit. I want you to know that I have not sipped my coffee yet because it will take another 8 miles for it to cool enough to where if and when I spill it on me while driving I will only walk away with a first degree burn and a stained shirt.
Realizing that I have not seen this friend in AGES I say “have you even met my son?” as I tick my neck in the direction of Little Mans car seat…Little Mans empty car seat. Friend looks puzzled and as I turn to tell Little Man to say hi to mommy’s friend, I realize my faux pas. I giggle…a lot…and then try and explain.
“Oh wait”, I mutter, “I don’t have him”.
Long lost friend furrows his brow and says nervously, “Should you?”
I am seriously considering a cat scan.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
My Morning
I can tell by the way my son wakes up, what kind of a day it is going to be. Some days he wakes up, rubs the sleep out of his eyes, gazes dreamily into my own and says "Hi Mommy". Those are the good days. The days that he willingly puts on his coat and boots while blabbing to me about what he is going to do at "school". Then there are the days that I burn myself on the forehead with the straightening iron because I am startled by the blood curdling scream of "MOMMY" coming from the bedroom. When I go into the bedroom rubbing my scalded forehead, I proceed with caution. I am calm and I speak softly as to transfer my demeanor into the likes of my two year old.
"Hi Little Man, did you sleep well?"
"No, sleep...I want back to bed"
"I know LM, but we have to get up and go to school today, to play with your friends....won't that be fun?"
At this point he is twisting like an alligator that has been lassod. He is thrusting his hips and shaking his head and I know that it is not going to be one of the jolly mornings.
Once I wrestle the beast out of his damp pajamas he slithers away and gets to the side of the bed that is up against the wall. The side of the bed that is hard to reach when I am half dressed with a towel on my head. He sits there naked- challenging me, mocking me, making me sweat.
I remove myself from the situation- I retreat to the bathroom where I finish putting myself together- both physically and mentally.
By the time I get the Little Man into the carseat, I have come close to leaving him all together, or burying my own head back under the pillows.
As I I strap him in I am feeling exhausted, frusterated and near tears. I look at the clock and realize I am running late- now I am stressed.
Late or not, I need coffee if I am going to make it through the rest of this wonderful Tuesday. I pull into the store that I frequent in the morning and as I am getting out of my rig, I glance to the left and am slapped in the face with a large, hairy butt crack that is smiling at me as its owner fills his low (because of the size of said butt) tires with air...there is not enough coffee in Columbia to get me through this day.
"Hi Little Man, did you sleep well?"
"No, sleep...I want back to bed"
"I know LM, but we have to get up and go to school today, to play with your friends....won't that be fun?"
At this point he is twisting like an alligator that has been lassod. He is thrusting his hips and shaking his head and I know that it is not going to be one of the jolly mornings.
Once I wrestle the beast out of his damp pajamas he slithers away and gets to the side of the bed that is up against the wall. The side of the bed that is hard to reach when I am half dressed with a towel on my head. He sits there naked- challenging me, mocking me, making me sweat.
I remove myself from the situation- I retreat to the bathroom where I finish putting myself together- both physically and mentally.
By the time I get the Little Man into the carseat, I have come close to leaving him all together, or burying my own head back under the pillows.
As I I strap him in I am feeling exhausted, frusterated and near tears. I look at the clock and realize I am running late- now I am stressed.
Late or not, I need coffee if I am going to make it through the rest of this wonderful Tuesday. I pull into the store that I frequent in the morning and as I am getting out of my rig, I glance to the left and am slapped in the face with a large, hairy butt crack that is smiling at me as its owner fills his low (because of the size of said butt) tires with air...there is not enough coffee in Columbia to get me through this day.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Mommy Pees...?!?!
We have reached the crucial time in every toddler’s life, that the Mommy and the Daddy have had enough of diapers and wet sheets….the time when the push for using the potty is more important than…well anything really. I am pretty sure that I would sacrifice a cute and cuddly animal or a distant relative if it meant that diapers were a thing of our families past, even a far memory or a lapse in memory all together.
I must warn you that this post is going to contain entirely TMI…but whatever, you know more about me than initially intended anyway, why stop now.
Our bathroom (Oh no this is a bathroom blog) has 2 potties in it. One that looks just like the one in your bathroom, and one that is a smaller version that sings songs and dispenses stickers when splashing occurs. We have tried all sorts of methods for tempting the toddler to the toilet. We have sworn that Mickey Mouse, Thomas the Train and Special Agent Oso all use the potty. We have thrown parties that rival actual birthday celebrations any time he even attempts the feat. And we lead by example, as in the bathroom door in our house is always open while we demonstrate our own, grown up potty skills.
Little Man is very proud of us both. He insists on coming into the bathroom with anyone that experiences the urge while visiting our home. He follows me, PMH, and any of our friends into the bathroom and claps for us, and celebrates every time we …well, you know. I am even told “Good Boy, Mommy!” when I use the potty.
Last night, was the topper though. Little Man agreed that while I was using the big potty, he would humor me and sit his naked little bottom on the sticker dispensing potty. I am convinced that he did this for my benefit, to help me be a big girl. Shockingly (said with severe sarcasm), Pretty Much Hubby used the last of the toilet paper and didn’t replace it. Being that the door was conveniently open while the LM and I sat in company of each other on our matching commodes, I yelled to PMH “Honey, can you bring me some toilet paper?”
“Mommy, what you say?” says the naked baby.
“I said that Daddy needs to bring me toilet paper”
“Mommy pees?”
“Yes, Bubba, Mommy peed”
“MOMMY PEES” he screams.
“Yes, MOMMY PEES, did Little Man pee?”
“MOMMY SAY PEES”
So we may not have the potty thing down but, at least we are polite…..
“Sorry baby, you are right…Daddy, can you PEES bring me some toilet paper?”
I must warn you that this post is going to contain entirely TMI…but whatever, you know more about me than initially intended anyway, why stop now.
Our bathroom (Oh no this is a bathroom blog) has 2 potties in it. One that looks just like the one in your bathroom, and one that is a smaller version that sings songs and dispenses stickers when splashing occurs. We have tried all sorts of methods for tempting the toddler to the toilet. We have sworn that Mickey Mouse, Thomas the Train and Special Agent Oso all use the potty. We have thrown parties that rival actual birthday celebrations any time he even attempts the feat. And we lead by example, as in the bathroom door in our house is always open while we demonstrate our own, grown up potty skills.
Little Man is very proud of us both. He insists on coming into the bathroom with anyone that experiences the urge while visiting our home. He follows me, PMH, and any of our friends into the bathroom and claps for us, and celebrates every time we …well, you know. I am even told “Good Boy, Mommy!” when I use the potty.
Last night, was the topper though. Little Man agreed that while I was using the big potty, he would humor me and sit his naked little bottom on the sticker dispensing potty. I am convinced that he did this for my benefit, to help me be a big girl. Shockingly (said with severe sarcasm), Pretty Much Hubby used the last of the toilet paper and didn’t replace it. Being that the door was conveniently open while the LM and I sat in company of each other on our matching commodes, I yelled to PMH “Honey, can you bring me some toilet paper?”
“Mommy, what you say?” says the naked baby.
“I said that Daddy needs to bring me toilet paper”
“Mommy pees?”
“Yes, Bubba, Mommy peed”
“MOMMY PEES” he screams.
“Yes, MOMMY PEES, did Little Man pee?”
“MOMMY SAY PEES”
So we may not have the potty thing down but, at least we are polite…..
“Sorry baby, you are right…Daddy, can you PEES bring me some toilet paper?”
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Okay- so I had 2 glasses of red last night- but I have excuses and I feel that they are legit .
2. I had a friend come over and I am not rude..had to offer her a glass, which she kindly accepted- and again not wanting to be rude, I could not let her drink alone. Okay, she only had one glass and I had two but I wanted her to feel like she could have 2 if she wanted...which she didn't...but I did!
1. I made stoganoff and it has red wine in it- which meant that I had to buy some, open it and I couldn't get the cork back in (you'll never know if that is the truth).
2. I had a friend come over and I am not rude..had to offer her a glass, which she kindly accepted- and again not wanting to be rude, I could not let her drink alone. Okay, she only had one glass and I had two but I wanted her to feel like she could have 2 if she wanted...which she didn't...but I did! I am not going to let this deter me. I didn't have any glasses of wine on Monday night- which is a feat in itself. Two on tuesday, averages out to be one a night which is much more acceptable (except in my group of friends and family) than a bottle a night which is where I was averaging until two days ago. I am not going to have any tonight or tomorrow and then it is Friday. Friday is fair game. And two and a half days away....and I will be fine.
Wine..to me is like a bad boy..you know the one that you love, but isn't that good for you. The one that you think about indulging in when you are stressed, bored, or just in the mood. The bad guy that is actually good for you in moderation but whom you should never get addicted to or settle down with. I have always had a thing for bad guys...and wine!
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