Let's give 'em something to talk about...

I love a good discussion. I even love a good heated one. A while back, I changed the format of my comments to make discussions a little easier, should they arise...and this weekend, I added something new to my blog.

I have officially set up my Blog Frog community. With me, pretty much anything goes. Whatever you're comfortable talking about...I am, too...plus, probably a little more.

So, when you have a chance, check out my community, comment, add a discussion...or don't...whatever! But, I'd love it if you would!

Happy Monday, y'all!! Since school started back, Monday is my new favorite day of the week.

I ♥ Mondays!!!

Long necks...

Not this kind...

This kind...

To mark the end of the summer, we took off to go camping, last week. We went here...


I had never been, but Jake went as a kid. He kept telling me how cool the real dinosaur tracks were, but, I was having a hard time getting excited about it.

I pictured this one fake looking dinosaur track, preserved, or casted, in a display case. That thought didn't impress me.

Boy was I wrong.



It was flippin' cool. A lot of Texas has had a drought this summer, so the river was pretty well dried up, in many spots. We hiked along the river bed, and these dinosaur tracks can be found throughout.


It's pretty incredible.

The boys were more into catching frogs...


However, Jake, Lily, and I were fascinated by the fossils. These tracks are millions of years old, and they are perfectly preserved. It's a state park, and it's tucked away from any sign of civilization, so, as we walked the riverbed, and saw the tracks, surrounded by nature...I half expected to see one of those dinosaurs to come bounding through the trees.


Thankfully, they didn't...the only dinosaurs we saw, were made of plaster.


It was a typical camping trip. We ate some of these...


The boys had a blast doing this...


Until we saw one of these...


We had a grand ole time. It was a great way to end a wild summer!

Vloggity, Vlog, Vlog...

After a summer hiatus, I am back. I'm participating in this weeks Vlogemo, with Bubbles, at Fort Thompson.

The theme is kids. I went to my camera to upload a video I took of my kids singing and dancing to "Low Rider" on our recent camping trip. While flippin through the files, I came across a couple that my kids did themselves, without my knowledge.

There are some lighting issues that needed to be worked out, but, all in all...I think they did okay. Looks like they know how to use a tripod...er...kinda.

I give you, "O, Brother, Thou Art Stupid." Written, directed, and recorded on my camera, which they did not have my permission to use, by Ave and Jack


My Montage 8/27/09
Boys!!

Screw Disneyworld...

Do you know where the happiest place on earth really is???

MY HOUSE between the hours of 7:20am and 3:30pm, Monday through Friday!!

Yeah...ya heard!

It's magical. It's enchanting. It's mystical.

It's fan-FUCKING-tastic!!

It's peaceful. It's quiet. It's SUBLIME!

I just sit around...smilin'. ALL.FUH-LIPPIN'.DAY!!

There are rainbows. And bright, golden sunbeams.

Yesterday, I swear to God...I saw a fucking unicorn!!

Hangin' with friends today...

I'm hanging out at Sneaky Momma's place, today. I pinky swore that I would watch my mouth, if she just let be her Secret Sneaky Friend. She said yes!! So, expect a lot of pinned up F bombs on tomorrows' post!!

A new era...

Dear kids,

For years, I've looked forward to the day when the three of you would be in school. Allowing me seven GLORIOUS hours to myself, five days a week. I have gathered a list in my head of the things I would accomplish, the dreams I would pursue, and the housework that I would get done, while you were being educated...by someone other than me.

Don't get me wrong...I love you guys to bits! But, I looked forward to a little time for myself. Moms need that. We're better moms when we have it.

So, today, as another school year begins, Jack's first, I was surprised to find a lump in my throat. Part of me wanted to rush back to you, each of you, and hug you one last time. Give you one last word of encouragement. Stay just a little bit longer.

That part of me would love to keep you under my wing forever. Sheltering you, guiding you, protecting you.

But, that's not my job.

My job is to teach you to seek and create your own personal shelter. My job is to teach you to navigate through life's twists and turns unaided. My job is to teach you to pick yourself up when you're down, stand up for yourself when you're right, and back down when you are wrong, and to learn the difference between the two. My job is to teach you to protect yourself. Most importantly, my job is to teach you that you can find everything you need, within yourself.

Avery, I watched you walk in, head held high, shoulders back, without looking back. I didn't look back either. You are a strong one...I don't worry about you.

Lily, you answered your teacher's questions loudly, and clearly, with a newfound confidence. I couldn't be prouder.

And Jack. You were timid, and quiet. Yet, you put on your brave face, as you looked to us for one last reassuring glance from mom and dad. I know you'll do fine.

We still have a long way to go, but, today marked the beginning of a chapter in our lives, when I have to learn to trust myself, as a mother, and loosen my grip just a little bit more, as you take these steps toward your independence.

And kids...while I may not always be right there, holding your hand, please know that I am always close by. ALWAYS!

Love,

Mom

A funny...

One of my big beefs with moms, is that they lie to other moms and tell them how wonderful motherhood is. I think if we quit looking at motherhood like this magical, wonderful experience, we will have a lot less guilt about our abilities and disabilities as mothers. Can I get an Amen???

I heard this somewhere, but, I can't remember where, and can't find it again. It was a comedian, but, I have no idea who...

Before I had kids, and I would see a mom wildly yelling at her kid, saying things like, "What's wrong with you? You just wait until we get home, you're gonna get it!" I would immediately think, That poor kid. What did he do to deserve that. That woman is a witch.

Now that I'm a mother, I see it completely differently. When I see a mom, frazzled, and crazy yelling at her kid, I think, What did that little shit do to that poor lady??

Brain damage...

A couple of days ago, I posted about the Facebook friend request that rattled me. The guy that "friended" me, was actually the twin brother of the guy who almost beat the shit out of me. Same face and all, so stirs up the same emotions.

The actual asshole I dated doesn't have the balls to contact me, and this asshole is, well, obviously brain damaged, and that's why he contacted me.

Jake graduated with these guys, so he received a friend request, too. His was accompanied by a message that read...

Subject: Memories -

"you look like your making some good ones' , good to see you jake, i sware your a proud in me. ensey"

Aside from the obvious spelling and grammatical errors, WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS MEAN????? Does anyone know how to decode shithead-speak?

Brain damaged. This guy is obviously brain damaged. And so am I for having anything to do with this family!!!

Oh, and Jake would like to go on the record saying, and I quote, "My proud has never been anywhere near him!!"

I don't want to be a Mommy-Blogger...

I just want to be a mom who blogs.

I stumbled across THIS little gem, today, and subsequentally lost all faith in humanity.

Here, in case you don't feel like travelling, here's an excerpt:

"So, do you have a heart-wrenching tale of job loss, home foreclosure, medical expenses, or business failure? Perhaps you simply want a vacation or liposuction. It really doesn't matter... as long as your story strikes a chord with your Internet audience, you will assuredly start raking in the dough.

Otherwise known as "cyber-begging," asking for money online is the modern version of traditional panhandling. It involves asking strangers for money to meet a perceived or stated need. In a quote from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia, "Internet begging has the clear advantage to street panhandling in that it can be practiced with relative anonymity, thereby eliminating or reducing the shame and disgrace apparent of begging in public."

THIS is what we're using technology for?

I've seen it, all around the blogosphere, but, I didn't realize there was a "how to" for preying on people's emotions.

I know this is a broad generalization, and there are exceptions, no doubt...but, I've always had a big problem with the sick kid and dying baby buttons that link back to a blog with advertisers and/or a donate button. I have no problem with people making money blogging, but, using your sick kid to lure people to your site??? That's low, IMO.

I think it's a gimmick, it's exploitive, and it offends me.

However, I've had a home forclosed on, a bankruptcy, we all have medical expenses, my husband hasn't lost his job, yet, but it's a possibility, I desperately need a vacation, and a tummy tuck would be lovely after carrying all these flippin' kids!!! Maybe I should try it!!

Last summer...

When complaining about this crazy summer of mine, Jake, always the one to show me another perspective, was quick to remind me, that this summer, as stressful as it was...didn't hold a candle to last.

We had this conversation last week, and I was reminded of it when commenting on another blog...

The Great Lice Debacle of 2008.

How could I forget. Last summer is our measuring stick, for all things catastrophic. And it's a damn good one, too.

Me: "So, Honey, the doc said it was pneumonia."

Him: "Oh, whew, at least it's not lice."

Me: *gasping for air* "Yeah, I know, right!"

Or...

Him: "Avery was up all night with a fever of 104, and vomitting."

Me: "Oh no...you don't think it's lice? Do you?"

Or...

Me: "The doctor wants to run some tests on my kidneys, rule a few things out."

Him: "But, he already ruled out lice, right? Shouldn't we rule that out first?! I don't know what I'd do with out you, if you got lice."

My hair may be falling out this summer from the stress, but, at least it's not falling out from the lice!!

Cellular memory...

It's amazing to me how memories resonate through our bodies. A single sight, smell, sound, or taste can trigger a cascade of emotion, transporting you back to another time and place.

The thought of tequila reminds me of my youth. Learning to hold my own, thickening my skin, and being "one of the guys." It reminds me of hanging out with my best friends, and falling in love with one of them. The smell of it, is another story. The smell reminds me of a hangover, that I will NEVER forget!!

The smell of hospitals remind me of the year we lived in one. They make me feel a little uneasy, a little concerned, but mostly stoic. I learned at a very young age, that life and death strikes in a matter of minutes in the sterility of their hallways. I learned to be ready for anything. I learned to harness hope, bottle up pain, and roll with the punches.

The cool breezes and warm sun of the fall, remind me of Sunday afternoons. Curled up on the couch watching the Cowboys. Lunch in the crockpot, the familiar voices of the commentators echoing through the house. It reminds me of the birth of each of my children. It reminds me of family.

And then...

A Facebook friend request. A name that takes me back to a time when I was young, quiet, innocent, and vulnerable. A face that reminds me of the day that all changed.

Seeing his face...everything inside me twists and knots. I feel a hollowness in my gut, and a lump in my throat. Physically, my heart and breath quicken, my nerves shake. It's precisely the same sickening feeling I had many years ago. When I was alone and scared. The feeling of his hand wrapped around my throat. Staring into his wild eyes. The intimidation of the clenched fist of his other hand in my periphery.

Strangely, as these resurrected emotions well inside me, so does a sense of pride. Of power. Of peace.

FUCK YOU...You fucking piece of shit!!

Alright, so, scratch the peace...

The silver lining...

My hair is falling out.

My stomach hurts.

I don't even remember July.

Did you know that your spit contains the same ingredients as your piss?

I didn't know that.

I cry easily.

I'm not a crier.

But, right now, I cry easily.

So, if you leave a comment, be gentle.

Probably better if you don't leave a comment.

NO WAIT...Leave a comment.

If you don't, I'll over analyze it and think that I pissed you off somehow. Maybe with my satirical "baby Jesus" prayers, or with the Obama Chia thing, or with all the "mother fuckers" on that last post...

I haven't done a load of laundry since May.

My head hurts.

I believe in the devil now.

Because my professor is Satan's spawn.

It's the only explanation.

I think I might be a little stressed out.

'Cause my hair is falling out.

By the handful.

But, you know what?

Every cloud has its' silver lining.

When the kids want something...now, they go to Dad FIRST!

Rock on...

Saturday, one of my good friends from high school and her husband, hooked us up with Crue Fest tickets. While I'm not a hard-rock kinda girl...I am a sucker for concerts. They're something that Jake and I have always done together...and I hope we always will.

When I posted this pic on Facebook, a friend asked me, "Okay, why do you ALWAYS have your tongue out in your pictures? Are you auditioning as Gene Simmons' replacement in KISS?"

To the lady who keeps Poop in her Pocket, I say, "Bite me...it's my concert face!"

At the concert, while Vince Neil belted out, "It's the same old, the same old, situaaaaaaation...It's the same old, same old ball and chaaaaaaaain..."

The dude behind us, sporting a filthy old Troy Aikman jersey, gets down on bended knee and proposes to his sweat drenched, makeup-stain faced, unsuspecting girlfriend. A drunk man with a beer in one hand, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, captures the moment with the bended-knee guys' celly.

Beautiful! "Same old ball and chain," huh?? He waited for THAT song to be played to pop the question??!! Eh...Oh well. To each his own, right?

About an hour later, I mosey to the beer stand for last call, behind me in line is the newly betrothed couple. He stands at the back of one line, she stands at the back of another...already, they are a team, a united front.

I smile, tell them congratulations, and turn back, bracing myself for the $9 I'm about to spend on a fucking beer!!!

Then, from behind me, I hear...

"BITCH!!"

Followed by, "FOURTEEN YEARS MOTHER FUCKER!! FOURTEEN YEARS! I will fuck you up...don't you fuck with me, MOTHER FUCKER!!"

I turn, and to my surprise, it is Cinderella and her prince. They are screaming expletive after expletive at one another, arms flailing, eyes wide...INSANELY PISSED! I don't know what kind of trouble arose in paradise, at the back of the beer line...but, it sounded just atrocious!!

Only one hour later, and the weight of that ring is already causing problems!! I decided the only thing I could do, was offer up a prayer...

Dear, sweet, tiny, baby Jesus...wrapped in your wadded up clothes, laying in the hay, all itchy, but smiling, because you're God's little baby boy...PLEASE hear my prayer.

Please, oh, Lord...strike her womb with an infliction, strike the tails of his sperm, and render them motionless...please dear God, if you do exist...PLEASE prevent them from reproducing more of their kind. And since I am not an evil person, please make this infliction, and motionless-sperm condition reversible, in the event that they get their shit straight, and/or find someone who they love, respect, and cherish to have babies with.

Thank you dear Jesus, that is all...Amen, or whatever.

I'm just a white girl...

I'm just a white girl, who is anything but politically correct...

PHOTO FROM HERE
but, does anyone else find this offensive...and/or FUCKING HILARIOUS???

Eleven? Feels like Twenty...

Eleven years ago today Jake and I got hitched.

In a tiny little chapel on Las Vegas Boulevard, we walked down the aisle, arm in arm. Our limo driver was our witness and a preacher, who was five feet nothing, sporting one of the worst hairpieces I have ever seen, performed the ceremony.

Now that I think about it...I don't even know if he was a preacher. It is more likely that he was a ship captain, who was forced inland for his drinking problem. Or, maybe he was ordained online for $19.95. Who knows...either way, I'm pretty sure our marriage is legal and legit.

A little bit of info about Jake and I...while we are ridiculously happy and have fun where ever we go...things don't always go so smoothly for us. Never have, never will. If something can go wrong with us, it will. But, one of my favorite things about my husband, is that he has taught me to just roll with the punches and adapt.

We are fucking amazing adapters!!!

Joey was almost eight months old, still waiting on his transplant, and well enough to leave him with family and his home nurses. I was turning 21 in a couple of days, and Jake said, "What the hell, let's hop a plane to Vegas and tie the knot. Let me make an honest woman out of you." I said, "Sho..."

We partied with friends the night before we left, to celebrate. I remember falling into bed at about 4:30am...our flight was leaving at 8am, and our ceremony was scheduled for 10pm, that night.

We got to Vegas, checked things out a bit. We were exhausted. We headed downtown to get our license. Fuck it's easy to get hitched in that town!! We were filthy from being in a club all night, and not having time to shower before we left. We were HUNG OVER something awful.

Around 4pm, we decided to lay down and take a nap. We thought, we'll wake up refreshed, shower, then get this show on the road. We carefully set the alarm on the bedside table, pulled the curtains to darken the room, and were out like a light.

We wake to the phone. It's our limo driver. He's downstairs. To pick us up. You know...FOR OUR WEDDING!!! It's 9:15pm.

The alarm malfunctioned. Why we did not simply get a wake up call, instead...I'll never know. Like I said, if it can go wrong, it will...a wake up call would've taken that out of the equation. So, uh-uh...that's not how we roll.

Jake says to the guy, "Uh, yeah, she's finishing up...she'll be ready in a sec...can you give us 15 minutes?"

Fifteen minutes...that's how long it took this bride to get ready for her big day.

I jump in the shower to rinse off. Jake decides to tidy up his goatee, as it is looking unkempt. He shaves a strip with his electric trimmer...and it pookies out. The battery is dead, and we didn't bring the charger. So, he has half a shaven goatee, I have rinsed the dirt off of me, but am still not clean, and quickly dry my hair, throw on some makeup...and in record time, at 9:35pm we are out the door.

We get to the chapel at 10pm, chit chat with the preacher/sailor/techy about the meaing of marriage. Seriously? Seriously? This guy is gonna counsel us?

Aaaaaaand ten minutes later, we were Mr. and Mrs.

Ten minutes...that's how long it took this bride to secure the old ball and chain.

Eleven years, several shitstorms, lots of kids, a few houses, plenty of yelling, and tons of laughing, and I'm happier than I've ever been.

A better day...

Another year under my belt. Whatever. Another year wiser, I suppose.

Jake made my day today...the man knows me too, too, well.

I woke up this morning to find that he left a note on the bathroom door...my first stop every single morning since I have a bladder the size of a fucking grape...

Next was the note on the fridge...as he knew my next stop would be my caffeine fix, my Dr.Pepper...


Last, a note on the computer...


He knows me too, too, well!!

Here's to you...

My house is a wreck.

We're buying and selling on craigslist, and in the process of getting new (to us) beds for our room and the boys' rooms. The amount of SHIT that collects under the beds of children IS INCREDIBLE!!! Utterly disgusting...and incredible.

So, my usually messy house looks like a fucking tsunami has torn through it.

It's a nightmare. I'm covered up with class for the next two weeks, and it doesn't look like my house will be put back together until the fall.

*Sigh*

I'm tired.

All you moms out there who do it all...here's to you.

Here's to the moms who keep their houses spotless and "company ready" at all times. *I require 24 hour notice on all visits, or you will not be allowed to enter the premises.*

Here's to the moms who keep up with their laundry. *Don't judge me when you see me in the same pants for three days straight.*

Here's to the moms who cook three squares a day. *If it weren't for peanut butter, goldfish, cereal, and popcorn...my kids would be dead.*

Here's to the moms who discipline their children without raising their voices. *Try living with my kids...I give you 24 hours and you'll be screaming like a banshee.*

Here's to the moms who have floors so clean you could eat off of them. *I recommend using a plate.*