A Guide to Enjoying the Holidays: The Art of Pissing People Off :)

Let the Trampling Begin... :)

I didn't partake in the Black Friday madness today. I did, however, have a pissy moment at the gas station at 7:45 this morning, where a man, obviously going through his midlife crisis, pulled his pimp car up WAY too far, blocking my gas pump and his. ASS! I'm sure his 20-year old girlfriend sent him out for tampons or something, and he realized almost too late that she ran his new red sports car out of gas while she was out partying last night. I'm positive he was having a pissy morning as well, but seriously! I just wanted some gas, Ass!

I remember going Black Friday shopping several years ago. I don't remember all of it. I do recall being extremely friendly to the evil shoppers, and them NOT appreciating my happiness whatsoever. I was fine with that. You see, I like making people happy, but if it's impossible, I am quite happy with pissing them off with my happy demeanor. Either way, I'm happy. It's their choice if they don't wanna turn that fuckin' frown upside down! Asses!

One year, I was wrapping paper shopping at Walmart with my friend Anne right around Christmas time, and our fellow piss-filled shoppers were just lovely, and full of holiday joy. Hateful stares and covered carts, the pissies holding on for dear life to their cheap-ass Bath and Body Works wanna-be $5 gift sets and Puking & Pooping Elmos, or whatever the current HOT item was! I remember being so thoroughly amused by these rotten-to-the-core Walmart folk I started to shake my wrapping paper roll (Disney Princesses... HOW did I remember that?) at them... and it didn't stop there!

When we got out to Anne's car, I proceeded to roll my window down and shake the roll as she was driving. I hope I gave some people some laughs! I'm sure most of the idiots thought I was psychotic (they're not too far off), but they didn't realize that being crazy-happy is much more enjoyable and fulfilling than being down right spiritless. Seriously, can you imagine one of those frowning fogies holding a wrapping paper roll out of the passenger side window, shaking it at passing traffic, laughing uncontrollably, and wishing the local news station was there to photograph their holiday joy? No damn way!

Christmas, and the entire holiday season (I'm quite fond of 8 Crrrrrazy Nights as well. Thank you Adam Sandler), has always been a joy to me. You see, we spend hours upon hours wrapping dozens of gifts that will be ripped apart within seconds (unless you have one of those annoying family members who just HAS to save the "gorgeous" gift wrap). And the whole decorating the tree on Christmas Eve thing? What the hell ever! My tree is up and ready to rock RIGHT NOW... I'm not going to decorate a stupid 7' tree (plus the 2 smaller ones I have) and leave it up for ONE FREAKIN' DAY! Seriously?!?! Why torture yourself? That's stupid!

One of my best friends, who shall remain nameless, once set her Christmas tree up and just never took it down. I like this idea. While I enjoy looking at the individual ornaments each year (they all have a story) and ooohing and ahhhing (or vomiting) over the memories attached to each of them, just carrying the damn plastic tree out to the shed fully decorated, and dragging it in once a year for a month or so, sounds rather appealing. And just think! There will be new ornaments each year! I'm sure creepy crawly creatures, and rodents of all types would find their way into the fake-as-snowman-poop tree. Hmmmm *pondering*...

All joking aside *manly burps* ;), I do love this time of the year. I also think it would be MUCH more spirited and fabulous if evil people would just stay home and hibernate like bears. I understand, grouchy grinches, that you don't care for holiday crowds and picked-over cheap-as-hell gifts (because the economy has screwed us all, and no one has any damn money to spend this year)... HOWEVER! It's not all about the stuff! My kids have toys in the bottom of their toy boxes I could wrap up and they would never even remember that they existed before this.. AND clothes?!? Kids don't look at clothes when they open them... they just rip them out of the box, and throw them as far away as they can to make room for MORE USED TOYS! YAY!

See, there are solutions to all of your holiday predicaments. Feel free to post questions below for holiday-inspired cheery advice. I promise to answer within a timely manner... and ALL questions will be answered BEFORE Christmas 2010.

Everyone, cheer the hell up, and Happy Holidays!
Kell :)

Happy Tears

As many of you know, we are moving. The garage is packed with bunches and bunches of yard sale items, which will be traveling with us to our new home (bigger town... bigger yard sale turnout). We also have a crazy amount of trash bags filled with items not even a 1 cent price sticker would make someone feel guilty enough to buy, and we have been adding these into our regular trash pile on Tuesdays when those hulk-armed trash truck guys, bless their hearts, come to visit our curb.

So we have a big section of yard sale items, a bigger section of black plastic & a medium-sized "keep pile" filled with trinkets and necessities and impulse purchases we have learned to love, and can't part with.

This "keep pile" gets me into trouble. I reminisce. I sit and look at old purchases and get weepy. The can is what REALLY gets me in trouble. No, I'm not talking about the commode, though that subject has ventured to the surface quiet frequently in my blog-life. I'm talking about the photo can. You know those popcorn tins you can buy at Christmas for people you a) really don't like or b) have no idea what to buy, and don't feel like spending any real amount of your hard-earned money on? Well, we have one of those tins, popcornless and full of old pictures.

I can't tell you how many times this week I have made excuses to go out to the garage. I go out there and pull up two of our extra-ugly old dining room chairs (yard sale pile, if you're interested). I use one chair to sit on, and one to pile photos on. They depress me.

I seriously used to be a bean pole... a tiny little thing with a nice rack (the rack remains), pretty blonde hair and a wardrobe I was proud of. Because face it, when you are a size small/medium, you can buy just about anything you dream of in the clearance section.

I felt truly depressed all day today. This should be one of the happiest times of my life. We are getting out of the renting cycle by buying our first real home, I'm going to Vegas in a couple of months with good friends, my babies are starting preschool and we survived a week of VBS, my husband is on day shift after many, many moons of thirds and on and on and on....

So why am I feeling so blue? I go through these phases. I suppose people who jump for joy at the mere glimpse of an oven mitt they haven't seen in ages, or an extra box of Christmas decorations they find in July, are gonna find a valley every now & then.

I decided to just let myself bask in my blues today... stay in my jammies, take a few naps, pack only when I wanted to pack and leave the mundane household crap to my husband. After all, every day isn't like this... but once in a while I think it's forgivable.

In all honesty, I would be happy to sit here & pinpoint my problems for the whole world (or at least my 35 loyal readers) to see, but I can't. I know the few problems I do have are nothing compared to the issues other folks are going through.

I'm going to post some of my pictures now... some of the photos that make me sad. It's my way of soaking it in, sucking it up and letting it go. Enjoy...

In Windsor, Canada... see Detroit?
This was my first real trip away from Joel after we got married.
I went with my friend Linda. We went to a strip club called "Danny's".
I'm still looking for the pic of me with my stripper.

This Santa was a perv, and I had bad hair... but I was happy...

What in the hell was I thinking?!?!?!



Teddy & I. I still miss Teddy... a lot.



This was me ready for my Junior Prom in my room at Mom & Dad's house.
My fascination with hot famous men started really young...
I loved this Prom dress.



Mom putting my veil on before the wedding.
CROCODILE TEARS..... Wahhhhhhhhhh!



Chris & I with our Cabbage Patch Kids.
I believe in the end, we probably all owned 25 Cabbage Patch Kids.



At my thinnest... a few years back.
Would ya believe I still thought I was fat?
Duh!



I thought I had a huge fat roll in this picture.
Double Duh!



On our honeymoon




Why didn't anyone tell me how terrible my hair was? :P




This was when I was running, doing the WW thing & in the best shape... oh, and orange from self-tanner :P



Joel with Teddy...
More sobs....... Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!




Fishing with Dad on vacation In PA.

I'm going to go burn the can now. Goodnight.

Potty Mouth

Today was a frantic day for my family. Okay, I'm lying through my teeth right now. It was a frantic and traumatic day for me... and miss Abbi.

We started our day at 5am... sorta. I hit snooze, after waking up and realizing the baby was snuggled up against me as close as he could possibly be. He had teetered in at some point during the night, and I hadn't even noticed. What a love. I couldn't move. I just laid there. Now, whether I actually wanted to snuggle with the baby at 5am, or just use that as an excuse to sleep 5 more minutes, I can't tell. I know, but I won't tell you... :P

That brings me to the wake-up. I hopped out of bed.. literally, because at some point a giant semi (toy) also teetered into our bedroom and plopped it's big square very-hard-plastic ass onto the floor right where I step to get out of bed in the mornings.

Thankfully I had gotten my shower the night before, after my husband graciously made my roots the color they were meant to be... red... not the blonde God graced me with. I'm still a bit peeved at him for making me a natural blonde. It SO doesn't go with my skin tone. We'll have a talk once I get up there to meet him... Lord willing.

Anyway, I still felt rather clean from the shower I had taken last night, so I threw on my scrubs, added a few curls to the fro and painted my face. Not bad for 5:30am, I suppose.

I then packed myself some healthy goodies for work, filled 3 sippies, threw some diapers in the make-shift diaper bag (I finally threw away the lovely pale pink designer-knockoff bag Joel preferred :P) and tip-toed back to wake the lovies up.

Aiden was first. He popped out of bed like he had just realized his sheets were either frozen or on fire. He immediately went out to the living room. I turned on the light, and he gave me an evil little stare. "Mommy, this is WAY too early." "Join the club Aiden... this is how Mommy & Daddy feel every weekend day." Note to self: Tomorrow, wake Aiden up by screaming in his ear.

Abbi was next. She was a little slower than Aiden, but she knew what she had to look forward to (and fear) for the day, so she hobbled out to the living room, too. She had a mini-tantrum over her dress (too many buttons... wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh), but she recovered quite nicely. So I went to wake up the baby.

I shook him a little... not in a baby-shaking syndrome way... in a loving, get-the-hell-up kinda way. He turned over onto his belly, snoring happily. I jiggled his cute little baby leg. He sat up pissed. He started whining and I had to giggle. This was payback.

The getting-out-the-door process went rather smoothly, and we were on the road by 6:15am... off to Papa's house. The drop-off was drama free. The kids love Papa. They even got to see Mama for a quick minute before she left for work.

I got to work and fretted all morning... stomach ache, nausea... I thought I could seriously vomit. But I didn't. At 8:35am on the nose, I left work and met the kids & Papa at the church. First day of VBS. First day I've ever dropped my babies off ANYWHERE and left them. Sure, the grandparents watch them and we have a couple of very trust-worthy friends who have babysit, but this was entirely different.

As soon as we got to the church Abbi was in full-blown OCD mode. I wanted to cry. We registered. She asked me where the bathroom is. We got name tags. She asked me where the bathroom is. We met the teacher's helper. She asked me where the bathroom is. We showed her to her mat. She asked me where the bathroom is.

You see, Abbi did not have to pee. She has a major issue with potties. She must know where they are, how the door closes, who will take her, if she is strong enough to open the door & if it is just 'kinda loud' or 'really loud' when the potty flushes. Preschool starts in a few weeks, and this has been her main concern. The potty.

The teacher (who will also be her preschool teacher) helped to calm Abbi down. This whole time Aiden was being a champ. He was excited.

The teacher's helper showed us to the restroom. Abbi was satisfied after the teacher's helper promised her that if she had to pee, she would show her to the bathroom. Mission #1 accomplished.

Mission #2? Will Abbi be picked up. Mind you, we have never left our kids. We would never leave our kids and the fear Abbi has about us leaving her is extremely real and a bit odd to me. I assured her over and over and over and over again that Papa would be there to pick she & Aiden up at noon. I imagine she asked her teacher the same question 50,000,000 times throughout the day.

I told the teacher on the way out I was going to go cry. Abbi stared at me but didn't start throwing a fit or sobbing. I would cry enough for the both of us...

So I got back to work and had to auto-pilot myself through the morning. My stomach was REALLY aching at this point. I was shaky. I was a MESS waiting for noon to come. I couldn't wait. I couldn't wait to call Papa and find out if the kids had done okay. I had lots of faith in Mr. Aiden. I prayed I wouldn't get a phone call about Abbi. I didn't.

Noon came and went. I waited til 12:30 to call, so I could talk to the kids too. Joel called me at one point and I panicked. I just knew something was wrong. Nothing was.

The kids were SOOOOO excited when I talked to them! They had a fabulous time! I'm pretty sure they didn't even miss me, which makes me want to shout from the rooftops and cry profusely all at once. Day one done, 4 more to go.

VBS was the topic of the night... all we heard about. Logan is a bit too young to go, so he stayed with his Papa all day. He probably loved the attention. Trying to fight for attention when you don't say much, and have twin crazy children as your siblings, must suck.

Tonight we drove into town. One of the kids' favorite things to do is to go through the car wash. We save this for special occasions (I almost said rainy days, but that wouldn't be appropriate) and cabin-fever days. The van gets washed about once every couple of months. (Seriously, it was eight freakin' dollars and it didn't even BLOW DRY the damn van! RIP I tell ya!)

We're driving through (it was nearly dark and it WAS dark inside the car wash) and the baby just started WAILING. Big old sick-cow wails... seriously, he sounded like a wounded animal. From his perspective, I could see why he was so outrageously scared. Tiny Logan (alright he's not all that tiny, but compared to me he's an ant) versus the big car wash machines. I felt for him.

On our way home I couldn't help but think about the scary things in life. If we fear things as adults, can you imagine how small children feel? The world is HUGE to us, which makes it GIGANOURMAMUNDUS to them. We stopped for a train, and I realized how scary a train could be. I just prayed that if it derailed, it would derail off the other side of the track. Trains = Scary.

We got home and Abbi pointed at a giant bug on the wall. She called me over, and it was a GIGANOURMAMUNDUS mosquito. GIGANOURMAMUNDUS mosquito = Terrifying.

See what I'm getting at? Life is full of fear. We spend hours a day avoiding them, making people feel better about them, facing them & beating them. I just pray the train doesn't derail, the mosquito doesn't suck our blood and the toilet doesn't suck our asses down with it.

Life is damn scary. We'll never get out of it alive.

It's not worth worrying about. That's just how it is.

The end = Petrifying.

Enter with Caution... Tree Huggers Welcome

My life in cars...

Mom's 90's GrandAm... yep, I hit a pole with it.

My punishment for running into the pole. It backfired... I loved my little car!

Our current car... a Lumina from 1492.

But OUR tires are not as pretty as the one's above. See?


Our current van... a Chevy Venture... we still owe $100,000,000 on it! YAY!

My future car... a 1970 Volkswagon Convertible Beetle... in Pink!

My other future car... a red BMW... I may have to cut off my legs, but it will be worth it...

I'm a tree hugger.

I have hit many stationary objects in my driving life. In driving school, I was more interested in impressing my absolutely edible driving instructor than I was learning to actually... drive.

Somehow I made it through the class & then went on to take my driving test... 3 times. I did fabulously on the written exam, but guess what? The written exam doesn't mean a damn thing if you can't actually drive. I hit cones the first two times I attempted the driving course. The 3rd time I hit a cone, but it didn't actually fall over. It just weebled and wobbled without falling down. So the teacher, get this, passed me! Woot Woot!

Every time I failed that test was like a slap in the face. Mom took me to Delaware (the town in Ohio, not the state, although I thought about it) because we heard a nasty rumor that there was an evil instructor in Marion, our town. We drove home the first two times, the non-passing times, and I'd cry and cry... I was NEVER gonna be able to drive. Damn cones! They were way too damn close together! SUCKERS!

You have to know me to understand why me driving is such a fear to so many of my family members & friends... and sometimes even myself. I'm blind... honestly, I'm blind... did you know you can be blind and still be able to see? Basically, if you see really sucky and squint more than you don't to see perfectly normal-sized objects, you are blind... legally. If, like me, you can't see a damn thing at night, and even when you put your glasses on or contacts in, you're still squinting to see the golden arches 1/800th of a mile from McDonald's, you are positively blind.

Every time I go into the BMV to renew my license I get squirmy, sweaty, silly and stupid. Seriously! I take my number from the maddening little number-machine and sit there, in the presence of Marion folk talking about the current drugs they are taking and who their dealers are. It's always a lovely errand to run. When they do finally call my number, normally 6-8 hours later (okay, I'm exaggerating a bit, but it feels like it!), I walk a fake saunter up to the desk, my head held high, full of fake self-confidence & enthusiasm, smile sweetly and put my head up against that little machine... and GUESS! That's right, I can't see any of it, so I guess. I pray my 6th sense will kick in, and I'll recite the correct letters... or numbers... hell, I don't even know if they are numerical or alphabetical... I've never seen them. It's always the same story. The chick or dude looks at me blankly, and as if they don't know what in the hell to do with me, they just stamp me as 'daylight restricted' once again. Almost 14 years of daylight restrictions. Believe it or not, I'm quite okay with that. I realize how lucky I am to be able to drive at all. Although I am blind, I can see... sympathy vote? YEAH BABY! Driver's License? YEAH BABY! I shouldn't but I do! Nah Nah Nah Nah Nah Nah!

So the day I finally got my drivers license, I got home and my mom reluctantly let me drive over to La Rue, a little town about 15 minutes from our house. My little sister went with me. Looking back, I realize my mom must have prayed on her knees the entire time we were gone. I can't even imagine my kids driving. The mere thought of it makes me grip my chair in panic, and I hear that feeling won't ease up as they get older. They're never driving. I just decided that. :) Aw, I feel better.

So anyway, Tara and I were on our way to La Rue, windows rolled down, listening to "California Knows How to Party" by 2PAC. I thought I was extremely cool listening to that song over and over again in Mom's red GrandAm. That car was hot at the time... not hot as in stolen... hot as in HOT! Even though I couldn't see the boys I drove by, I liked to assume they were admiring my car, my music & my skills. I'll never know.

We got to La Rue, I pulled into the parking spot, and BAMALAMA BOOM BOOM, I hit a pole. Yep, head-on, ran right into a pole... first day I had my license. It cracked Mom's license plate cover. Accident number ONE. Luckily, probably because I'm blind, I didn't get grounded, chored to death or stood in a corner. I think I got the sympathy vote on that one. :P

Not long after the GrandAm incident, I came home from school to find a little grey Plymouth Horizon in the driveway. I believe it was a 1987 model... not new, but new to me and I LOVED IT! I had to push on the gas just the right way to get the car to start, and there were tricks to driving it, but to me, that was more special than driving a normal car. No one could just jump in my car & drive it! I was the only master! The master of the Horizon! Yeeeeehawwwwwww!

There have been several driving incidents over the years involving me and various cars. Over the past few years, I have hit more mailboxes than I care to admit. Oh, hell, I don't mind admitting it... I have hit an average of 10-15 mailboxes, some in succession. It's not that I don't drive with caution... I truly do... I use more caution than the average driver due to my lack of vision. I do, however, focus on not going left to center, which in turn makes me hit mailboxes. You see, it's really not my fault. If the lanes were wider, I'd be fine. The town of Prospect is a dangerous place... small lanes. They aren't even really lanes... they're tiny little tightropes, just begging for you to mess up and hit something.

That brings me to my next story, or confession if you prefer...

A few years ago, pre-babies and in my skinny-mini days, I led Weight Watchers meetings. That's right... I was a leader! Scary thought, eh? Anyway, one Monday night after our weekly meeting, I decided to pull left out of the Southland Mall (which is a beautiful mall by the way, if you ever decide to take a field trip to Marion :P). It was dark. There was snow... and no lines whatsoever on the road. Everything was snow-covered. I turned anyway, and got into what I thought was the turn lane. I looked behind my right shoulder to see if there were any cars coming, and while I was looking back to my right, I was veering to my left. I ran head-on into a mini van. I immediately felt terrible. The driver got out of the van... a chick around 30. She had a few kids in the van, and I soon found out she had no insurance and no driver's license. She was busted, and it was all my fault. It was very cold that night, and when the deputy got to the scene, he asked me to sit in his car. When he called in my driver's license, the dispatcher read off my information, and then added "DAYLIGHT RESTRICTED ONLY" in a stern tone. BUSTED! The cop didn't even know what to do with me. He said he didn't know what to charge me with, if anything. He told me he'd be at my house the next evening at 7pm. UGH! 24 hours to dwell on what was going to happen to me. I just knew I was gonna go to jail, get beat up cause the Marion hookers and druggies would think I was stuck-up and prissy, then be put on house arrest for the rest of my days on Earth... I scared myself half to death... then the cop got there.

Mr. Nice Cop didn't charge me, although after further investigation, he explained to me that my driving after dark is just like someone driving without a drivers license at all. The crime I committed was one step below a felony... the highest misdemeanor possible. I was a criminal! Fortunately I wasn't convicted. And I rarely drive after dark now. :P Just sometimes...

So, the freshest incident in my mind occurred this past Sunday. My husband was doing a little job at my boss's new house. Hubby & boss's hubby went to get a part at Sears, and I decided to take the kids to get pizza. Backing out of the long driveway was a challenge for me, as long driveways always are. I veered off the path twice and had to pull forward and re-group. After my second re-group, I started to back up. My backup assist started beeping really fast, and then WHAM BAM BADALADA BOOM BAH, I ran smack-dab into a tree. I'm a tree hugger. The kids thought this was incredibly funny, and begged me to do it again. . I was too anxious to get out of there! I was afraid my boss could hear the crash from the house. I didn't even care about the van... after all, it has a missing side mirror due to a prior mailbox jumping out at me and several scratches from my friends & I running into other cars, etc. Yeah, that's right, I tend to hang out with other crashers... and they're not even blind! :P

I did feel that I should call hubby after tree-hugging, so I did. The worst part of this whole situation? The guys had been talking about the possibility of me hitting that tree even before I hit the tree. Nice of them to tell me. :P Joel assured my boss's hubby that I had backup assist so I should be fine. See, normally backup assist starts beeping slowly, and the closer you get to the car, tree, person, curb, monkey, barn-yard animal etc, the faster it beeps. It failed me Sunday. SUCKER!

I've been pulled over various times. I've only had one speeding ticket, which a haggy female trooper on St. Rt. 23 gave me one time on my way to work in Columbus. She was out to get me. I wasn't going THAT fast... 15 over is nothin'! Joel has told me of crazies going over 100mph in a 55 zone. My speed seems quite normal compared to that. Jeez! ;)

One time I got pulled over coming home from Marysville. I was following the flow of traffic on Rt. 4, going nearly 70mph in a 55mph zone. A deputy passed our long line of cars coming from the opposite direction. I slowed down a bit, saw him pass and then inadvertently sped up again. He flipped on me, pulled me over and let the long line of speed offenders in front of me speed along their merry way. I pulled off onto a side road, as to save myself from the pure embarrassment of it all. As soon as I parked, pretty lights sparkling behind me, who do I see? My dad. Yep, Dad pulled right up to the stop sign I was sitting beside. Oh the horror! I cried and cried! The cop asked me what was wrong, as I had been acting perfectly normal, and then suddenly lashed out in convulsions and full-on crazy-woman-ness. He let me go.

This year on Easter I, once again, was going 70mph in a 55 zone. Joel was home sick with bronchitis, and I had never been pulled over since he became a cop, so I wasn't sure if the cop-wife-magic would really work for me or not. Aiden sat in the back yelling that he didn't like the policeman. I was horrified. The cop asked me for my license, title & proof of insurance. I had my license, but none of the paperwork he asked for was to be found. I spit out "man, my husband is a cop... you'd think we'd be better organized"... he let me go. :P

So, although I've had many bouts with cops, polls, cars & bark, and the vehicles I've driven have the torture marks to prove it, I'm still alive, believe it or not.

I'm thinking of getting a driver... any volunteers?

Water, Coffee Creamer, Baby Carrot, Parmesan, Chocolate Sundae Anyone?

I'm used to my heathens. Like all kids, my children throw tantrums (yeah, don't tell me yours don't), smile wickedly when one of the other children gets in trouble... and their favorite thing to do? Play with things that are off-limits.

When they were little, the babies would open a gift (well, actually, we would open it for them, because they were born with ADD), and play with the box and/or eat the wrapping paper. No! They didn't swallow it. Sheesh! Give me some credit here.. I just let them gnaw on it a little. But they have always been more amused with household objects and packaging than an actual toy. That's just how they are. Give them a cardboard box, and some bubble wrap, and they're occupied for hours on end!

So, today is the last day of my 9-day hiatus from work. I laid the kids down for their nap earlier, and rather than tweeting, facebooking or emailing, I decided just to take a nap. The house is pretty much clean, I had chatted the hell outta my facebook and twitter friends, consciously decided to not do the work I brought home 9 days ago, and allowed myself to just veg. Aww... the couch...

I fell asleep quickly and woke up, what seemed like minutes later (it was actually 2.5 hours later) to Aiden yelling at me. I wasn't comprehending what he was saying. I'm normally a light sleeper, so those damn children must have tip-toed and whispered to do the damage I was about to see..

I heard Aiden yell at Joel. See, Aiden calls Joel, well.. Joel. He doesn't call him Daddy anymore. We think it's funny so we don't correct him (yeah, feel free to comment on our parenting skills. I can take ya. ;) Anyway, I heard him yell, "Joel, you can sleep longer if you want to, but Logan made a HUGE MESS!", and then I heard a door slam. Aiden was furious! I started laughing. He sounded like a miniature version of his mother & father combined.

So, I finally comprehended the twins telling me that Logan had made a "huge mess". I stumbled out to the play room/sun porch and about died! Then I started laughing like a full-on lunatic! ALL, and I mean ALL of the condiments (and many other refrigerated items) were sitting there. On the backboard of the basketball hoop, which they had placed on the floor, was a whipped up concoction of baby carrots, 10-12 bottles worth of water (we had NO water left in the fridge at all), hazelnut creamer (that kinda pissed me off, cause that's my favorite), Parmesan cheese and chocolate sundae syrup. See picture above.

Surrounding this lovely brew were emptied water bottles, ketchup, pickles and other various items which are off-limits, unless we are actually, well.. eating.

We decided the best punishment for such a sickening mess would be to make the children clean it up! The carrots were extremely slimy and gross, so this punishment did wonders! One by one, they carried carrots into the house. Aiden grabbed a jar of spaghetti sauce at one point, looked at me desperately and said, "Mommy, can you carry this? It's way too heavy for my little boy hands"... I laughed hysterically. He didn't find this funny at all. Someone had the strength to traipse out to the porch with the spaghetti sauce, so that person could obviously carry it back to it's home. He walked to the fridge like he was carrying a big box of horse dung, not a little sauce jar.

Aiden's comments left me startled. I was so amused, it was impossible for me to keep a straight face. Joel did the disciplinarian thing. He laughed in between, but unlike me, he was very careful not to let the kids see his amusement. I don't have that kind of control. And I certainly wasn't leaving! This was free entertainment!

Aiden screamed at Logan, "this is SO terrible. I'm SO disappointed!".. HA! As if he hadn't had a thing to do with it! So, we finally concurred that all three children played a part in this very organized, hilarious condiment scheme.

I couldn't help but spring some tears, and maybe a bit of pee, when Joel opened the window on the porch, and just threw the whole damn backboard outside... after the kids had cleaned it up. Joel doesn't get rattled very often, so this whole scene was extremely funny. The kids looked shocked. I know what they were thinking... "why did we just clean that up if JOEL was just gonna throw it outside?"... hehehehehehehehehe!

I asked Aiden why they did it... "cause it was fun Mommy"... and did you have fun cleaning it up? "Yes Mommy, I did"... wicked laughs! I couldn't take it! Joel says, "so, since you enjoyed making the mess and the cleaning up, will you enjoy the spanking you all are going to get?" Aiden: "No, but I won't cry"... Joel: "Oh yeah?" Aiden: "Yeah, cause you won't spank my butt, you can just smack my hand JOEL, Ok?" I couldn't hold it together at all.

Aiden looked over at me finally and said, "Mommy, I guess you're gonna have to go to the store and get some more of that cream for your coffee and water. I guess we can't eat tonight." Please remember, Abbi & Aiden are 4.5... they are twins... they are GOING to get into trouble. You know that saying, "what one doesn't think of, the other one will?" Well, it's amazingly true people! Logan, who is 2.5 is the tag-along. And the blamee. He doesn't talk much, so if the twins do something and they know it isn't right, Logan did it. They're learning... that we are a very smart Mommy & JOEL... not Daddy. Hehehehe!

Abbi sat on the couch pursing her lips, wanting a kiss. I laughed. Logan sat there holding his little tiny ass. I laughed. Aiden told JOEL he was sorry... I laughed. The kids were spanked. I didn't laugh, but I did as soon as they were done crying.

It was a fabulously entertaining evening here! No treats though. That broke their hearts more than the spankings. Aiden apologized several times tonight. He was very worried about the lack of water in the house. Little does he know we have faucets. He was also concerned about my morning coffee. I'm concerned too.

Tonight was, by far, the worst and the funniest event of my kiddos' lives. I'm glad it happened. I needed a laugh.

Mother's Day: Damn It

It's Mother's Day! It's 2:21pm, I'm still in my pajamas (heaven!) and my kids are quietly watching a show (Powerpuff Girls... ugh) before naptime. In all honesty, we all still have our PJ's on. I decided this morning not to do anything today except relax, read, enjoy the babies and do whatever came to mind that did not involve work, other than the necessary diaper-changing for our 2-year old. Since then, I've loaded the washing machine 4 times, the dryer 3 times, I've cooked lunch & I've unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher. I'm sitting here sweating from helping the kids pick up their toys (in conjunction with a very hot house) and I wouldn't have it any other way...

When I became a Mother, I realized how incredibly huge my heart could stretch! I remember the first time I heard each of the babies cry... Abbi and Aiden 4 minutes apart, and Logan exactly 2 years to the day later. There is nothing like those memories. They say never to let your memories be greater than your dreams. I believe that, but I also believe that such memories can never, ever be surpassed.

That brings me to my Quote of the Day:
Sweater, n.: garment worn by child when its mother is feeling chilly. ~Ambrose Bierce

I interpret this quote two ways, and I believe that both are true. Firstly, I believe that it is meant in a literal sense. If we believe it's cool, we automatically grab a jacket, a sweater, etc for our kiddos. Depending on the Mom's OCD level, she may also grab earmuffs, a scarf and snow boots. Hey, it's March, but you never know... it could go from the 60's to snow in 0-60 seconds. I happen to be in Ohio, where this is not far-fetched whatsoever.

I often help the kids get dressed and ready to go, check myself in the mirror by the door (I placed it there intentionally) and realize I forgot to fix my hair. Even more often, I start to walk out the door, only to realize I haven't put on my own shoes. It makes me laugh thinking about it. And a coat or jacket? Forget about it! Rarely do I leave the house in layers. But the kids... that's a completely different story. They are layered up like little onions... Once again, I wouldn't have it any other way. :)

I also interpret the fabulous quote of the day... here's a reminder... Sweater, n.: garment worn by child when its mother is feeling chilly. ~Ambrose Bierce to mean we struggle to protect our children. I, like most Moms I know, do not want their children to hurt... ever. We don't accept that other children are 'just mean'... that does not make it acceptable that they are mean to OUR kids! When we hear a story about a child being beaten, or worse, we automatically put ourselves in the position of the parent, and cannot imagine the deep pain they are feeling. We just want to protect them.

Before our babies were born, I never understood unconditional love fully. In an instant, one single solitary moment, we are taught so much. The more children we have, the more our hearts expand. It is absolutely accurate that we don't have to divide our love between our children... our hearts just swell more and more... and enable us to love each child more and more, unconditionally.

I must close this entry by telling you that my 4-year old daughter said, "damn-it" for the first time today. Although I do drop the occasional 'bad' word (see nearly all previous blog posts.. lol), Joel & I are very careful not to drop those words in front of the kids. Today I realized they are going to hear and learn these words one way or another... it made me a little sad when she said it, but it made me laugh, too... many more bad words to come, I'm sure. My heart will continue to swell, and to hurt, more & more...

Motherhood is so achingly sweet.