Fuzz & Fluff

Beauty in Furr-Form

It occurred to me this evening that I haven't blogged since the new year began. I have lots of happy things to dwell on right now, which is an incredible contrast to some of last year's life changes (see most-recent blog post for details). The holidays were extremely tough, but I had work to keep me busy, and friends to keep me sane ;) Thank God for my babies! They reminded me to keep my spirits up, and I sailed into the new decade quite hopeful... and I haven't been let down. Persistence and patience *sigh* are wonderful qualities. While my persistence is nothing short of one of my finest qualities, patience does not come naturally to me. Quite honestly it doesn't come to me at all. But somehow I've managed to practice it over the past few months. Patience pays off. :0) *big happy smiles*



As I sit here with my new-ish-to-me Himalayan kitty cat, Sasha, I realize that if you have been reading my blog for a while (I've made it past the one year mark, by the way! *self pat on the back... or ass... or wherever*), you probably know that I'm an animal lover. Yes, I have degraded helpless pets in the past by writing mean stories about them, but deep down, I love them to pieces. Sitting here with my lovely Sasha, I can't deny it... I'm smitten with a cat ^^= ♥!

Sasha became part of the family on December 9th of last year. She's been with us for over a month now, and she is an absolute delight! She's good with the kids, although I have decided against getting her declawed, due to the fact that the poor little fluff needs to play defense now and then, and the fact that a kneading, loving cat is just, well... natural. While I have had pet cats declawed in the past, it strikes me as funny now, as we tend to not de-fingernail (or de-toenail, for that matter) humans, unless they have been incredulously naughty (in the bad type of way, not the rawrrrr type of way)... so why subject our poor kitty to the ripping out of the claws. I'd rather not.

As I tend to get off-track, let me get back to the subject at hand, Ms. Sasha. I first learned about the dear poof ball from my best friend Anne. She mentioned that there was a kitty hanging out way out in the country, in the cold and snow, and although Anne's friend and her neighbors were feeding Sasha, she didn't have a real home. This went on for a few weeks. One night Anne sent me a picture of her, and I instantly became giddy! It had been over 5 years since I had a kitty... and I happen to LOVE Himi's and Persians, so this was like a dream come true. I did have plans to get a kitty this year, and that is still the plan (yes, Sasha will soon have a brother or sister... unless they are fond of each other, and then that's just incestuous and gross)... I just didn't count on a beautiful purr baby falling in my lap like she did. I'm thankful for her.

The night Anne took the kids and I out to meet Sasha, I was excited. I had a bit of guilt, because I was intent on waiting for a pet... but as soon as I saw her, I fell in love. I had to have her! She had to come home with me! She was needy for attention, and just beautiful as could be. She looked like an angel, and she had to be mine.

I bought the bare necessities for our girl... litter box, liners, litter itself, a bowl and food. Sasha was a hair skiddish at first (she found comfort under the Christmas tree and hiding in some duct in the basement), but she soon came around! She is now miss sociable Sasha. Everyone that stops over loves her! And it melts my heart when she sits in the window seat in the early mornings, watching the kids and I scoot off for the day. Nearly every morning I hear "bye house, bye Sasha" as we're driving down the road. She's just as much part of this house as our house is now, if that makes any sense. Basically she's a fixture. She moves, but she's a fixture. Huh... moving on... fixing to move on... jeez, just move... :P

While I'm on the topic of pets, my lovely-as-he-could-possibly-be boyfriend sent me a link tonight to a video on youtube. I watched that video, and then I stumbled onto several more. If you are an animal lover, you will find pure enjoyment just from watching this 41 second video by Parry Gripp. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X2F4EFYM_MA&NR=1

And this is the video that made me dig for more: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SMWi7CLoZ2Q&NR=1

And one more... if you are a cat lover, you will appreciate these very useful flushing felines... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hcuv9RuO0NE

Check out youtube for more. The bunny at the end of video number one made me giggle and cry at the same time.

So, in closing, as you've probably heard, people who have pets are happier people. Statistics suck, in my opinion, but this I happen to believe. I truly missed having pets in my life. I'm happy someone neglected their beautiful cat... I'm sorry she spent so many nights in the cold... but I'm happy she became OUR house cat :) She'll be spoiled rotten for the rest of her 9 lives.

Helk! Helk! Can you hear me Helk?!

Me and My Brit-Brit

One of my best friends Brittany is getting a puppy. I am happy for her. While I had an overwhelming urge for one of my own a while back, the feeling has passed. I now want a cat. I don't want a cat right at this moment. I'm quite happy to live with my children (animals) for the next few months, and then maybe adopt a little creature of the feline variety. We'll see...

So back to Brittany, or Brit as I like to call her... Brit's puppy-to-be is blind. Poor pup. He's rather cute. He's a bit too young for Brit to bring home, so she has conjugal visits with him now and again (:P). The bad thing is the pup isn't only blind, he's deaf too (and Brittany will have no idea with a conjugal visit entails or means for that matter.:P). I suggested naming the dog Helen Keller. Brittany was not so keen on this name choice due to the fact that the pup is in fact a boy. So I suggested Helk (short for the lovely Helen)... I think it's rather discreet, unless you know the reasoning behind the name, and it really doesn't matter what in the hell ya call the damn dog, cause he's can't hear your damn calls or read your blessed lips anyway. Bless his little heart.

Arm Candy

Later this evening, on our girls' night out, Brit broke the news that she would be getting a different puppy now. Helk will be going to live with a woman who will take him to nursing homes, etc. as a therapy dog. I will not mention the comments I made regarding this dog labor, due to upsetting the general, not so easily-amused public. It was quite funny though (to those of us with sick minds). Let's just say it had something to do with the dog not knowing where in the hell he is at the moment, is going in the future or has been in the past. What a sad puppy life. I realize that people manage to adapt to their surroundings and limitations (I am living proof!), but jeez!

Now don't think I'm evil. These are just my own very distorted, disturbed thoughts. I love pups and dogs. I happen to love blind dogs, deaf dogs, dumb dogs, evil dogs, loving dogs, shmooshy-faced dogs, poofy dogs, rat-looking dogs, mini-me dogs, striped dogs, spotted dogs, plain jane dogs, slut dogs, male-whore dogs, rabbit-chasing dogs, lap-swimming dogs, scrap-eating dogs, kid-friendly dogs, crotch-sniffing dogs, boot-eating dogs... but the one thing I can't stand? Poop-licking dogs. Anyone or anything who will eat their own dung? Disgusting! So if you partake in poo, you are not on my friends list. Delete me from your Facebook, your contacts, your life... cause I don't roll that way ;)The Innocents...

Brit, take good care of your dog with 5 senses. I pray Helk will have a beautiful life... *stifling very rude comments*... I wonder if laser surgery has been tested on dogs? Everything else has...

:P

Cryptic, I know.

Until next time,
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.

Pet Cemetery

I once killed my brother's sick iguana Damien trying to force-feed him kale with tweezers. He got me back by frying my hermit crab on top of his hot TV. Pay back's a bitch.

We had 2 bats out in our garage a while back. Joel yelled at me to come see them. I went to look, but with the whole blind thing going on, I could just see little black specklets. He did get the camera & zoom though, so I could see a picture of them. They were baby bats. I was amused and freaked out at the same time. Joel went at them with a broom. He managed to impale one, but couldn't find it to dispose of it. That freaked me out more than the living bat. Two weekends ago we cleaned out our garage (a 5 1/2 hour project) due to the big move coming up. I tip-toed a bit, just knowing I would be the one to find the dead bat (the live one has since escaped). No bat. I'm convinced the neighborhood bull frogs found him & carried him to safety. My question is... since we've had bats... if I call them my pet birds, does that make me goth? I have the skin for it... I had the birds for it... I'm pretty sure if I start wearing black, suck on a blue blow pop for a while and don't wash my newly black/purplesque hair for 3 weeks I'll be goth. Please advise if you are up to date on current 'dark' trends. I'd really like to sell myself as a goth chick.

Evil Cat

A few years ago, my parents had a cat, Callie. Callie was a calico cat. Imagine that! Callie was a cool cat... fat (the best cats are fat) and PSYCHOTIC! She purred persistently, and licked! She licked a lot! She liked to rub her head on our necks and faces (this is fabulous if you have allergies like I do). Callie would be purraciously rubbing herself on someone, and then Yeoooooooowwwwwwwwwshamalamabingboom... sink her claws right into ya. She liked to nibble too. Her nibbles were psycho nibbles, not love-me-tender nibbles. But mostly she loved to scratch. Damn cat. I believe she was shipped off to the farm. She had a pissing problem too... poor thing. I'm sure a coyote came along and ate her.

Innocent my ass

That brings me to Mittens. Mittens was a tabby cat. I was quite young when we had Mittens, but I believe I have a grasp on the Mittens story, or at least my own perception of it. You see, my parents, my brother and sister and I (along with our many living pets and the pet cemetery in our back yard) lived in the boondocks as some may say. If you are un-Ohioan or high-class, you may not understand that term... we lived in the wilderness... the country... a house between four corn fields. Basically, we could easily be described as The Children of the Corn living in Pet Semetery. Both movies... freaky as hell by the way. So, not to get off topic, at night there were coyotes around our house. Mittens took a 4-legged stroll one night and came home with exactly 3 mittens, 3 paws, 3 pads and a bloody stump. Mittens hobbled like a champ. If there were special Olympics for cats, she would've been a shoe-in, or a mitten-in more appropriately. Years later Mom and Dad told us that Ms. Mittens died behind the chicken coop (yes we had a chicken coop... with no chickens :( ... I believe another coyote toted Mittens off and ate her other 3 legs for dinner and she was unable to swim home, due to the drought. But that's just my version.


Matting... a common Persian problem... :P

One of my dreams, allergies and all, was to have a Persian cat... a cat with a face so smooshed and mangled-looking that people would ask if it hit a tree going 80+ miles per hour. The smooshier the better. After Joel and I got married, I saved money, in lieu of paying our electric bill, to save up for my dream kitty. We wound up with 3 of my dream kitties... Visa, the smooshiest of them all. Visa was a red-point Himalayan. If you don't know what that means, don't worry, I won't bore you with the details (just know that I know more than you do :P Anyway, Visa was beautiful, and smooshed to high-heaven! Then there was Bonnie, a grey Persian with a horrible attitude problem. She was gorgeous, so I didn't much care that she was a royal bitch. Angelica was the last. She was a cute little calico Persian kitten with a semi-smashed face (looked like her face had ran into something soft, like a couch or a bean bag chair at high speed). The one point I hadn't considered when we bought long-haired, high-maintenance cats... hairballs! Oh my, did we have hairballs! Excessive hairballs. Hairballs that stretched a good ruler-length across a room. The cats all had different color-points, so we could monitor who was puking the most. Sure, we could get the cats shaved, cut short or waxed, but that defeated the whole purpose of having a Persian, smoosh-faced mutant cat. I suppose I didn't brush them enough... I'm glad I've grown and learned... my kids wouldn't be nearly as cute as they are if I neglected their hair for 3 months at a time. We just shave their heads instead... much easier to maintain.

As to not bore my readers, I will tell you about my past pets, including my cat Jinx, in moderation. Mutt, Scruffy, KeeKee, Zach, Taffy, Snickers, Mama Cat, etc... rest in peace... and in pieces.

Will add pictures of my actual pets at a later date. :P

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.

Piss Sticks & Baby Blues

Abbigail Diane

Aiden Richard

Logan Michael

When I started to blog, I had no idea how I would ever choose a topic and stick to it. Thankfully I've realized that flouncing from topic to topic is just peachy. That way, there is a little something for everyone.

For instance, if you didn't have a big huge puddle of love in your heart for yesterday's poop post, I've decided to get off the poop track... get it? Poop track... hehehehe....

Moving on... to THINGS that poop... my children :)

Back before babies, I didn't know what kind of Mother I would be. In the back of my mind, I knew I wanted kidlets. Joel & I waited a few years to try. Don't get me wrong, we were practicing to try.. we were just taking precautions.

Once we finally did decide we were ready for babies, I couldn't get pregnant. We tried, and tried and tried... and after a while, taking my temperature, holding my ass up in the air and hoping that the little squirmies would get to the proper place got old. Sex was monotonous. If my temperature spiked, I would get so excited! I even charted online, and soon became very aware of what was going on with my crazy non-baby-making body...

The truth is, after a while I started to feel like my body was broken. I was in pretty good shape, I ate right, exercised and played by the rules. Getting pregnant can easily become an obsession when the stars just aren't aligning.

I no longer cared if I'd be a good parent... I just wanted a baby. We bought so many pregnancy tests, we could've easily paid for a cheap college tuition. And time after time, I either got no line where there should be a line, a negative sign where there should be a positive, or the incredibly evil "not pregnant" on the digital piss stick. My emotions were like a roller coaster. This went on for months & months...

One day I woke up and feeling a little queasy, which I had finally realized was me WANTING to feel pregnant and not a real sign of a growth, I stopped at Kroger on my way to work. I bought a cheap pregnancy test. I was too poor at this point to buy an expensive one, or even a two-pack of value piss sticks, due to my obsession with my own pee.

Rather than waiting until I got to work (I worked in Columbus at the time), I just went right to the Kroger bathroom. I had held myself off from peeing all morning, so I REALLY had to go! I had always heard that first morning urine was the best! And I wanted the BEST pee possible, especially with my icky queasies.

The test was positive.

There were 2 lines. This was a miracle. I got really excited, and started jumping up and down... in the bathroom, and out of the bathroom... right up to the brand new Starbucks, which had just been added to our Kroger. The barista must have thought I was a lunatic. I know I had craziness written all over my face.

At that point, I held the stick up in her face, and said, "does this mean I'm pregnant? Is this real?... She started giggling, looked incredibly amused, and told me she had seen a few of those sticks in her lifetime, and yes indeed, I was pregnant.

Joel had just started the police academy the day before. We didn't have cell phones at the time (how in the world did we function without them?) so I drove right over to see hm at work. He worked at Ashely Furniture at this time, his go-between job after plumbing and before the cop gig.

Joel didn't seem overly excited. I was crushed. He just stared at me, hugged me and smiled... but not an overly excited smile. Just a smile. I was ecstatic! We had been waiting for SO LONG! How could he not be shouting it from the rooftop? I wanted to beat him.

I later found out that Joel was just overwhelmed. He had started his new job not long ago, had started the police academy yesterday & now, after so many false hopes & negative tests, I was pregnant. Little did he know that just two weeks later we would find out there were two growths in my belly... little baby beans... Abbigail & Aiden.

I chose the name Abbigail, because I loved it. I decided to spell it with the 2 B's, because when I 'shortened' her name, I didn't want to have to add a B to the traditional Abigail. Why bother shortening if you have to add a letter later? :)

Joel chose Aiden. I liked the name, because Carrie on Sex & the City had a boyfriend named Aiden... John Corbett. Not only did I think John (aka Aiden) was hot... I also loved his name. So Abbi & Aiden it was.

I'm not going to get into the nitty-gritties of the pregnancy. More power to the woman who love being pregnant... I HATED IT! For such a long-time wish, I sure hated the process. But the outcome was so incredibly worth it.

Logan was a huge surprise... a true gift, although I didn't realize that at first, as I was beating my head against walls, cursing the doctor for telling me I would never get pregnant 'without help' and crying profusely, because unlike last time, I wouldn't be a 'skinny pregnant person'...

Yes, it took the idea of Logan a while to grow on me. I wanted to name him Gavin. Joel didn't care for that name. After much deliberation, and realizing that if I didn't come up with a name quick, Joel was going to name our child after an EverQuest character, we decided on Logan. I love the name Logan. I think it sounds nice with Abbigail & Aiden, too. My little cutie-bugs.

In the beginning, I was a fabulous Mom. I was extremely patient, and didn't let much get to me. After a week, I was a crazy woman. I had a bout with post-partum depression, which I'm not ashamed to admit, and it took me quite a while to find my place at home again. I felt like babies had invaded my home. Their toys, clothes, bottles, blankets, diapers, Baby Einstein.. everything... was just everywhere!

After finding my place as a Mom, I became a rather good, albeit flabbergasted parent. I'm still that way today.

Just tonight the kids were throwing toys into the crock pot full of water in the sink. Earlier today, they all decided to shake juice onto their heads, making them look like dirty mop heads when I got home. As I've explained in previous posts, they like to make food concoctions in the play room, and flush hotdogs down the toilet. Aiden called "Joel" instead of Daddy or Dad. Abbi once said damn-it and I couldn't help but laugh hysterically. Tonight I told Aiden to drain his lizard, something most Moms would never say to their kids.

We are definitely not your run of the mill, traditional-type parents. I enjoy being crazy, and have been accused of being random and "not right". I like that. I want my kids to learn that life can be fun... and they don't have to 'fit in' to be awesome people!

I'm glad I thought I would suck as a Mom. I'm glad we couldn't get pregnant right away. I'm glad I thought I was broken, and I would never see a positive piss stick in my lifetime. All of these things have made me a better parent... and a better person.

And I'm proud of that.

When Life Throws Poop at You, Finger Paint!

"When Life Throws Poop at You, Finger Paint!" -by Me.

This isn't a new topic that no one has never mulled over. In fact, I've learned that, in every day life, a lot of folks discuss dung. You know, BM, @n@l ooze, diarrhea, etc. Whatever type and no matter you may call it, there is a whole lot of poop-talk going on in this world.

If you work in geriatrics like I do, poop is a constant discussion. People either poop too much, don't poop enough, can't poop at all or play with their poop. That's just how it is.

As I've mentioned before, it's a bit glorifying to know that famous people poop on the same thrones we do... no one is exempt. That fact should make you happy! Famous folks get gas pains, poop bubbles, runs and turtle heads just like the rest of us! Yep! On the set of a movie, Brad Pitt may just have to run to the chamber pot and drop a load... cool, huh?

If you live on a farm or work with animals, poop is also always on the daily to-do list. Dung can be absurdly funny if you have an open mind. Horse apples, for instance. Seriously... you don't find that term to be fanatically funny? If not, you may not enjoy the list below. If so, read on... this just might make you snort a little... it worked for me!

I will start with the somewhat funny & move to the outrageously hilarious:

Poop Terms:

An Artifact: Mostly solid poop appearing to be normal at first glance. Once flushed, however, fecal remnants attach to the bottom of the toilet for the next pooper to discover. (Admit it, this has happened to you! I take pride in knowing it has happened to each & every one of us!)

Before I move on, I have to throw this out there, because I've always wondered. Do models who do not eat and/or regurgitate their food, actually poop? Something to ponder. If one doesn't eat, does one defecate? Hmmm...

Moving on...

Cabbage Poo: This is poop which comes out of the bum green. (I have noticed that grape Koolaid causes this type of dung in many children, and most adults.)

Cajun Poo: Poo that burns on the way out of the bum...

Cantaloupe Poo: A turd that is as wide as it is long, and makes a huge splash once it hits the toilet. (Think of it like little divers... that can really, really cause an ouchie.)

Ghost Poo: Poo that disappears once it hits the toilet. Kind of haunts ya... wondering where it disappeared to...

Salad Shooter: A form of loose poop that sprays out of your bunghole at a fast & furious pace.
(Think of Heidi Klum... yep, I bet she has had a spray or two in her lifetime...)

Spaghetti Poo: Turds that are so smooth and thin, they actually curl in the bowl. (Meatballs, anyone?)

Underachiever Poo: Poo that is so small, it wasn't worth pooing at all. (In moments like these, skid marks may be a back-up plan... perfect if you are driving down the road, and you just don't feel like wiping with a leaf.)

And my very favorite poop term, which I have never heard of or contemplated before this evening:

Upper Deck: This is where you take the top off of the back of the toilet and poop in the reserved water so that the poop is trapped. Every time the toilet is flushed afterwards the toilet will be filled up with fresh poo water. (This is so hilariously disgusting... I can't imagine ever doing this, but if you really don't like someone in your family, or someone at work, I suppose it could be great fun! Just remember... you'd have to have a very sick mind to pull this off...)

Now, onto poop synonyms. I have heard a lot of hilarious turd terms over the years. Here are some that have stuck with me (LOL) and some newbies I intend to use for years to come...

Poop Synonyms:
-Drop the kids off at the pool (my husband uses this term often)
-Drop anchor (I like this one... a lot!)
-Drive the Browns to the SuperBowl (New one for me... I plan to share this with my friends who are Cleveland Browns fans)
-Pinch a loaf (I find this phrase to be extremely gross, but after reading this blog post (if you've made it this far), you probably don't believe a word I say about all things disgusting...
-I have a turtle head pokin' out (Wicked giggles)
-Growing a tail (hehehe... imagine a grape Koolaid poo combined with a spaghetti poo...)

If you have other pooping synonyms, feel free to share them in the comments section.

I'm truly not sure how this poopy post will go over... after reading message boards related to poop, I've noticed that many people have a bur up their butts when it comes to dung talk. I warned you... hehehehehe....

Another poop quote:
"It might do the world some good if those with poop predicaments would start logging their logs" -also by Me.

On a side note, I want everyone to know that this topic idea did not come out of thin air (like a ghost poo)... the baby has pooped SO many times today, it has been utterly impossible NOT to think about poopy-butts.

If you have a sick, deranged, grossly twisted mind like I do... you completely get this, and won't have anything but sickeningly funny comments to add.

If you are a nose-pinching snoot, guess what? We know you poo, too! You can run but you can't hide! We know you have the best dung-drops of em all...

Oh Poop, I gotta run...



Resources:
http://www.workpoop.com/glossary.html
http://www.maclife.com/forums/topic/45074

Over the River & Through the Woods...

Our Seemingly Normal Family :)
Read on...

This past couple of weeks has been just a trip at our house! As I previously posted, my children had a wonderful time with everything cold... the refrigerator incident... http://kellysoriginals.blogspot.com/2009/06/water-coffee-creamer-baby-carrot.html

We have also had a hotdog & Cheez-its flushed down the toilet... I'm so thankful it wasn't a braut or a steak, cause I'm not sure it would've flushed without assistance, and I sure hate having toilet water splashed up at me...

The kidlets also took a sneak peek into my purse, ate all of my 3-hour mints (they should be minty fresh for the next 5 days), made a swimming pool out of orange drink, little people & a bowl... not to mention they found my new unopened pack of gum and impacted their mouths with it.

The joys of being a Mother...

Here are some pictures from the past couple of weeks. I will add captions for the full Kelly-esque experience... I'm not adding pictures of the toilet, because that would be, well... weird...
Enjoy...

Gavin DeGraw Concert in Fort Wayne, Indiana. This was our 3rd Gavin concert within the past year. We were lucky enough to get front row again, which is just absoluely awesome for a blind gal like me...
I could actually see him... and grope him... and bite him... ya know, if I wanted to. ;)

I came back from my 9-day hiatus from work to a brand new computer, which I immediately decorated with Denis Leary. It's so nice to have him at the office every day! We've really bonded...

The kids & I played house. I was the baby. Abbi was the Mommy. As you can see, my sons do not like to be dressed. They like to show off their abs day in & day out... SO into themselves... ;)

Aiden being absolutely illegal. Abbigail does not like anyone in her room. Everything is very neat & tidy, and princess-y... If things are out of order, her toddler OCD kicks in & she goes through the roof.
Aiden likes it...

My friend Amy & I had a girls' night out. I was thankful. Amy chose my drink for me... a peach Sangria. It was a little piece of heaven.

I'm adding this photo because I know my husband reads my blog, and he likes boobies.

My wild babies before the 4th of July Party. This was the day of the Cheez-It incident AND the gum/mint incident.

The party we went to was just absolutely awesome! They had a pond with a little beach for the kids to play on & Mommy's to relax on. In my mind, I was on the beach... sunning in a lounge chair (no sun that day), enjoying the sand (most-likely bought at Walmart), having hunky waiters bringing me fruity drinks (my Diet Coke tasted better than ever!).

We took a walk down to the river through the woods at the party. That reminds me of a song...
Anyway, Logan was taking in all of the wild life, mosquitos, scenery, etc.

At the party, we also played Cornhole (that sounds SO Ohio!, bounced in the blow-up 'castle', jumped on the trampoline and when we got home, we enjoyed the Prospect fireworks right from our front yard.

Ups & downs, and ins and outs... it has really been a great past couple of weeks!
It just took me typing it all out to realize it.
:) -Kelly