Martha frickin’ Stewart…

I hope everyone has a great 4th!  

Sometimes...

A pot left on the kitchen counter to dry, is just as entertaining as a funhouse mirror...

And sometimes...

The dog dresses inappropriately for the season...

but, we love him anyway!

Sometimes...

Sometimes, people on Facebook drive me up the frickin' wall.

Like when they post purposefully vague statuses, like, "I can't believe this is happening again," or the like, and when their friends offer support, and say things, like, "Is everything okay," they reply back with, "Can't talk about it on Facebook."  Or something like that!  Drives me insane.  THEY BROUGHT IT UP ON FACEBOOK...but, then, they can't elaborate on Facebook.  So, why not leave it off Facebook?

I hate when people bring drama to Facebook.  Really hate it.  Which is why when I saw this status, I cringed. Until, that is, I read my "friend's" friend's comment!

Sometimes...I frickin' LOVE Facebook!!

Waxing nostalgia…

Posting pictures of these boys…

Reminded me of these boys…

Man…sometimes I almost miss them…

Six word Saturday...

"Today, I'm really missing the beach..."

As seen in NOLA…

Damn, I love that town!

Things I know now...

Alternately titled:  The shit I wish I'd known then!  Motherhood should come with a manual!

I learned a new mom trick the other day, and I thought I should share it.  I feel it's my duty to share it.  If you already know this mom trick...THEN WHY THE FRICK DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!?

How I came about discovering this one for my mom arsenal:

We decided last minute (as we do so often) to leave Florida on Friday night rather than Saturday morning.  My husband is a beast.  When he gets it into his head to make that trek, he just does it.  He drives his sleeping family across five states and the treacherous back woods of Louisiana...all because he'd rather wake up at home, than go to bed for a few hours at our destination with a daunting drive in front of him.

We threw our weeks worth of things together, stuffed them in the car, purchased a couple five hour energy shots, and headed down the coast of FL for Tejas.

Immediately, The One Who Knows Everything started asking, "Mom, where's my Ipod?"

*Guess he doesn't know EVERYTHING, now does he?!?*


I told him that in our haste to leave, I'd put it in a bag.  Unfortunately (for him...not me) I didn't recall which bag, told him to go to sleep that we'd find it when we got home.

Fast forward twelve grueling hours, (well, from Jake's perspective, anyway...the kids and I slept the whole way, so it wasn't really all that grueling for us), and my love safely delivered us home.  We grabbed our pillows out of the car and all stumbled inside for a few hours more of better sleep.

I treasure my sleep.  I spent many years with those rugrats in the middle of the night, and now that they are more or less independent at home, I tell them that something must be bleeding, burning, or broken if they dare wake me up!

With that threat, Jake and I retreated to our room.

*Yes, I said threat.  Another mom trick.  Threaten your children with anything you can think of.  Follow through on just enough of the threats (preferably the harmless ones that do not involve threats on their lives) so that they fear them all.*

I woke up from my morning nap just a couple of hours later to find our huge rolling suitcase that we'd taken to the beach next to our bed.  I was puzzled.  I hadn't remembered unloading it.  To boot...in the car, it was buried beneath three sets of golf clubs, five beach chairs, three umbrellas, ten hats, five other duffles, and a bag of Frosted Flakes.  I def don't remember unloading all that!

*Yes, I said "bag" of Frosted Flakes.  This is yet another mom trick.  Buy cereal by the giant, off-brand, bagful, and teach them how to make their own bowls ASAP.  Preferably before the age 6.  Maybe earlier if they have younger siblings they can feed for you!*


As I walked into the living room, I noticed the ice chest from the truck was in the kitchen.  I didn't unload that either, and my dear husband was in a well deserved coma!

Intrigued and confused I went around to the kids' bedrooms and to my surprise, found each of their bags in their respective rooms!

WHAT IN THE HELL WAS GOING ON?!?

Using my innate mom detective skills, I bypassed the girl, who, while obedient, taking initiative is not the little dear's modus operandi.  I skipped over the little one, as I didn't think he could physically manage the deed, and went straight to the big one.

"Avery!  Did you unload the car?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

In disbelief, I went to the car and saw that everything, save five beach chairs, had been unloaded.  Even the three sets of golf clubs were safely tucked away in the locked garage.

*WTF?!?*  


I came back inside and praised the boy.  I went overboard praising the boy, for, he'd saved his father and I from the task.  The kicker?  No one had asked him to do it!  He did it on his own.

*WTFF?!?!?  (that's 'what the fucking fuck' in case you haven't seen that one!*


As I glanced back over my shoulder to take another gander at my most favorite child of the day, I noticed that he was playing a game on his Ipod.

In an instant, it came together.  The little punk had unloaded the car because he wanted to find his Ipod.  In another instant, I realized the genius of my inadvertent hiding of his Ipod.

That Ipod was buried in one of many bags in the back of the truck.  Deep beneath the layers of our 9 day vacation, and that boy had to dig through it all to find it.  He didn't want to unload the car, he had to in order to find his favorite thing.

*Meh...whatever works!*

The mom trick:  If you want your kid to do a chore, take his favorite thing, and hide it within the chore that needs to be done.  If his room needs to be cleaned, hide his cell phone behind that pile of shit in the corner that's been there for two weeks.  If the laundry needs to be folded, tuck his Ipod into a pocket of one of the bottom-most pair of pants in the dryer.  If the dishwasher needs to be unloaded, hide the Playstation controller beneath a bowl on the top rack.

Just so you know, your kid may try to outsmart you, simply search for their phone/Ipod/controller, and skip the chore.  Easy fix.  Make them do the chore, then, hide it again and again, until all the chores are done and your child knows you mean business!  

You're welcome!  ;)

Battling Brothers on Bourbon Street...

I took a break from behind the camera, and gave my niece her first lesson in photography.

Lesson #1: Keep shooting, no matter what. Sometimes the best shots are caught between the shots!

Case in point:

This is the face my children make when I ask them to get together for a picture...

It actually started out well...

Until Ave squeezed a little too tight...

It's all fun and games until someone gets put into a choke hold...

More pouting ensued when I yelled, "You guys are causing a scene on Bourbon Street, and that's pretty darn hard to do!"

Jack called his brother an idiot...

Strike that...a stupid idiot...

It's really hard not to laugh at a dude high on mudbugs, with a blue mohawk, verbally assaulting you...especially on Bourbon Street...

A silent threat from the little one, using his eyes as his weapon this time, rather than his tongue!

Working on total mind control at this point, I think...

Success...the little one made the big one fear him...

And he was quite proud of himself...

And, yes...on our way to the Emerald Coast, we took a detour to The Big Easy, and walked our children very quickly in the light of the day down Bourbon Street.  

I found myself saying, "Eyes forward...keep moving...fast," over and over.  

Jack said, at the end of the day when asked what he thought about Bourbon, "I saw a lot of boobs.  And a butt.  And beignets are delicious!"  

While this may have been Lily's last trip to NOLA (she hated the city...she is not her mother's child!), I don't think it'll be Jack's last.  Dude was lovin' it!

Fear...

I will be on the beach in Destin on Saturday...and I'm terrified.

This sums it up...

www.nataliedee.com

Bartender...

"Mom!  I know what song I'm singing for the school Talent Show next year," Jack shouted from the other room.  

"Good, Buddy.  I'm glad you finally came up with one.  Let me hear it."

In his sweet 7 year old voice, he sang, "Bartender...I really did it this time.  Broke my parole for a good time...When I got home it was 6am.  The door was locked so I kicked it in.  She was trippin' on the bills...I think she was high on some pills...."   

He interrupted his own singing with, "Wait...Mom?  Can I say sing about beers and being drunk at school?  Cuz that's what this song's about."  

"No, son.  You can't sing about beer for the school Talent Show." 

The child is 7!  SEVEN!!  We are so screwed!

Rollin...Rollin...

Rollin' down the river...

Jake and I took off over the holiday weekend, to float in a tube, bask in the sun, and kick back a cold one, or two.  

Or ten.  

Or fifty.  

At least.  

It was a rather uneventful trip.  Aside from the high speed police chase, the run in with a giant, burly ogre of a man at the tent space next to ours, nearly drowning from exhaustion while swimming down river, against the up-river current of the wind, all the while hauling the drunken members of our party, and embarrassing myself in front of Skip Ballard, the cussin-est man in South Texas.  

Yeah...other than all that...it was a dull weekend.  

And I can only hope that the rest of the summer can measure up to the kick-ass beginning of it!