Yesterday...

Yesterday...

*I bought bulbs for the first time EVER. From the ORNERY lady that is always running the nursery by my house. honestly. I nearly told her to bend over so I could show her where I'd like to "plant" my bulbs.

*I could have eaten anything not nailed down.

*I finally downloaded a bunch of pictures. hooray.

*I was an ORNERY NIGHTMARE until I worked out. After that it was nothing but sunshine and butterfly kisses till bedtime.

*Went to parent teacher conference (G-Lu is a rockstar!)

*I got trapped in the gas station car wash.

True story. Those sliding garage type doors that they use in the winter SHUT before I could escape. My first thought was REMAIN CALM. Actually, my first thought was YOU ARE SHIZZING ME!! BUT...Libby was with me, and is already a petrified mess in those loud scary washes, so I knew I had to keep my crap together.

After pounding on the escape door (bolted shut), endlessly honking my horn, calling the gas station (busy), and pounding on the one little window to no avail, I was ready to start rationing out my gum and burts bees chap stick for the long winter ahead. I finally had the brilliant idea to call Jeff and have him haul himself up there to offer the gas station worker a piece of his mind, and LET ME OUT. It was at that point (after much searching) that I finally found a nob marked UP. I closed my eyes, smacked the nob, jumped back in my car and put the pedal to the metal.

Longest 8 1/2 minutes of my life.

Tomorrow I will attempt bulb insertion. Can't be that hard, right?

Halloween happened:

But this girl dresses up each and EVERY day:

Follow The Crothick

Libby gets her primary on...

Action and Emotion

It has recently been brought to my attention that I am not very in touch with my emotions.

My feelings.

I don't put a lot of effort into thinking about lame things like "feelings" and "emotions", but if it will make others happy I am willing to give it a go. This is a little exercise I just made up called "ACTION and EMOTION". I need to prove that I have regular people FEELINGS.

Almost DAILY.

I chose RED for EMOTIONS because RED is an ANGRY color, and ANGER is an EMOTION people can FEEL.

ACTION:
Put on real people adult clothes and makeup last night and went to a baby shower.

EMOTION: It made me feel:
Happy I went to the effort. Elated to see old friends, blogging and actual. Immense RELIEF to not be knocked up.

ACTION:
Ate an ENTIRE Winger's sticky finger salad last night at 10 PM last night.

EMOTION: It made me feel:
Satisfied. Happy. Bloated. Mad...I didn't think to have Jeff grab me some asphalt pie.

ACTION:
I SAVED my garden...all FOUR plants... from eminent destruction. (I sprayed weed killer too close on a windy day...live and learn).

EMOTION: It made me feel:
Joyful AND triumphant.
The happiness that only fiber can provide.

ACTION:
We went camping MULTIPLE TIMES this summer.

EMOTION: It made me feel:
Like an early pioneer...
...With a flushing loo, shower, king size bed, and air conditioning.
Mad that the pioneers saved all that cool bonnet action for themselves. Someone really needed to teach them a lesson on selflessness. Confused that they chose the share with the world Horehound candy. That stuff sucks.

ACTION:
I've gone to the gym 4 times this ENTIRE summer.

EMOTION: It makes me feel:
Squishy, puffy, like someone snuck into my closet and raised the CROTCH in EACH and EVERY pair of trousers I own by a full inch.
Well rested.

ACTION:
I've worn make-up and put on real clothes THREE times in the last 7 days.

EMOTION: It makes me feel:
Liberated. Sloppy. Lazy. Like I need more sweat pants.

ACTION:
I SAVED our Puerto Vallarta photos from being lost in the great murky inter web forever.

EMOTION: It made me feel:
Great joy, pleasure, and satisfaction.
Like a champion. Like I am the king of the world.........wide web, and that I can continue blogging with wild abandonment.

That is MORE than enough emoting for one day.

Play It Again Sam

An elderly couple walked into the lobby of the Mayo Clinic for a checkup and spotted a piano. They've been married for 62 years and he'll be 90 this year. Check out this impromptu performance. We are only as old as we feel, it's all attitude. Enjoy! They certainly do.

My personal favorite part? When the cute little old grandma beav stumbles a bit, and the old grandpa beav pauses, turns around to make sure she is dandy before hittin' the keys again.

IT'S GREAT TO BE BACK!!!!

My Basic Problem...

(my apologies for the tiny, crapy pictures. Photobucket is jacked-up today, or punishing me for my blatant disregard for their standards of appropriateness in photography...)


On the left we have half a banana. A delicious, yet nutritious mid-morning car snack for Libbs.

On the right we have brownies. The CRUST (naturally) from the entire side of a 9x11 pan. The go-to choice for Libby's glutenous mother.

I was on the phone with my sister as I realized the depth of my disgusting nature, and I was compelled to snap a picture.

I have a weakness for baked goods.

Any and all baked goods.

If it has sugar, leavening agents, and you bake it, I will consume it.



In other news, Will got a fish for a school project.

He named him Phillip.

He TRIED to pull a quick one on me INSISTED that other kids had brought not one, but TWO fish in for their project. The lady at PETCO thwarted his plans by asking us if we were planning to house his little finned friends in separate accommodations. Beta fish are japanese fighting fish and they WILL rip each other's fins off and MURDER EACH OTHER IN A DESPERATE ACT OF DOMINATION IF LEFT TO CO-INHABIT THE SAME WATERS.

Nice try Will.

I admire your gutsyness.

And punish the slyness.

(in Will's defense, he SWEARS the other kids brought goldfish...who are a free-loving sort of water dweller, not RIP YOUR FINS OFF -BETA fish, but I'm still undecided).

B.M.

I'd like to pretend that "B.M." stands for "book of mormon" or some other lofty and important item. But not today.

Today is stands for Bowel Movement.

BOWEL MOVEMENT.

That's what my mom called it growing up. She's way to classy to call it something crass like POO. She wouldn't use the full correct term, just the initials. You, know, "do you need to go B.M. in the potty, Tyler?" or, "Good job going B.M. in the big girl potty Missy!".

Sorry Ty and Miss. I don't have any vivid memories of my own potty training days. I can only assume I was awesome at it.

I digress.

We are on day NINE of potty-training Libby. Nine. I employed the same method that I used on both of my other kids. The same method my saintly mother successfully used on all SEVEN of her children. It's basically potty-training in a day, and it works. By nap-time the first day they're basically good to go. We haven't used diapers since the first night, and Libbs hasn't had an accident since day ONE. (she unfortunately copped a squat on her dance teacher's floor that day...sorry Heid and Mekall! May santa bring you a Swiffer for Christmas!)

She's awesome. She's a pro. She can hold it. She can go by herself. She adores flushing.

UNLESS...and that is a HUGE UNLEEEEEEES...

...we are talking about poo.

She hasn't peed herself for 8 days. EIGHT NIGHTS AND NINE NAPS...true enough...


but she's pooped herself everyday for nine days. Most days multiple times. MULTIPLE TIMES. What can I say. She's her father's child. She's pooped in the potty twice. TWICE. And I do believe those were OOPSIE POOPSIES.

I'm done. No amount of YOU HURT SNOW WHITE'S FEELINGS WHEN YOU POOP ON HER FACE, or, TINKERBELL FEELS SAD THAT YOU GOT POO AAAALLL OVER HER PRETTY DRESS, or DORA IS CRYING BECAUSE YOU POOPED ON HER AND WE HAD TO THROW HER IN THE GARBAGE seems to matter to my head strong 3 yr. old. I've threatened that Santa will be a no show and she feigns understanding and cooperation...up until she lays her next load.

HELP ME.

Training underwear (we do NOT use the *P* word here...the result is sudden, intense pain and instant humiliation if anyone slips...for the LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY I HATE THAT WORD!)
Anyway....training underwear is disposable. I will NOT scrub, dig, spoon my 3 yr. old's feces out of underwear. I refuse. They are thrown away immediately. No questions asked. No guilt. (sorry all my frugal, poo loving friends, it AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN). But my baby-poops-a-lot daughter is starting to deplete our resources. I may have to go donate plasma to keep up with her bowels, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

Please. PLEASE. Please.

If you have any advice, I'd be a grateful recipient.

Me Thinks...

...that the only people who bowl at noon on a Tuesday are the AARP crowd and those of us with off-track kids. I took a picture of all of the old beavers (it's league day, apparently) but it was blurry. Better luck next time!

...that I love days that I don't see anyone I know...because it allows me to re-wear outfits that work. Putting together outfits that work (ie...that I can move in/shop in/EAT IN/not show butt-crack and/or cleavage in) takes some effort. And we all know how I feel about things that take effort...and cleavage run-a-muck.

...that I love having friends that are nicer mom's than I am. It means that my kids get to do fun things whist off track. Things that I am way to lazy/mean to do without some outside pressure. Bowling, Classic skating, late-nights, whatever. I personally think that having the privilege of enjoying the gift that is their mother for EVERYDAY ALL DAY FOR THREE STRAIGHT WEEKS is gift enough, but whatevs.

...that falling down the stairs in 3 inch boots, and a skirt, and chanelling my inner wookie yell while doing so does NOT make you cool with your kid's friends. It makes them scared.

...that you should never, NEVER let your kids beat you on purpose. I don't care if it's mini-golf, hand and foot, bowling, burping, WHATEVER. I think beating them and beating them HARD teaches them valuable lessons early in life. Lessons like IT SUCKS TO LOSE, and MY MOM IS AWESOME.

...that if it's this cold, mother-freaking-nature should just do me a solid and LET IT SNOW.

...that we need to beef up the outside this year for Christmas. Half of our outside decor blew away last year and by the time we found it (in FEBRUARY...IN AN EMPTY LOT around the corner) we were way to embarrassed to reclaim all the shiz.

...that if anyone can give me ONE GOOD REASON to NOT get a Endometrial Ablation speak now or forever hold your peace. I'm SOOOOO over being in that delicate lady state every 26 days. I'm done. CAUTION: for you faint of heart readers (MEN), if you click on that link you'll see horrifying lady words like PERIOD, and HEAVY, and BLEEDING...in every sentence. Don't say I didn't warn you.

...that something is UP with my man Tiger. (Woods, obviously). Please let him not be part of the scum of the earth that are professional athletes. He's my guy. My DUDE. But only with his hat on. He just looks weird and bald without it.

Have a splendid Tuesday people. I'm off to trim the bangs.