Ahem...I have an announcement to make

I have a friend.

She's real and she reads my blog.

She also plays with Pretty Kitty and becomes rather annoyed.

Naturally, I'll find more things to amuse her and piss her off.

Just so she can call me in the morning before my first cup of coffee (as if she is ever awake before me) and return the favor.

But then again...maybe she better be nice. I do bring her the morning coffee when we make the Great Escape in October.

Crud, now I better tread lightly...she's the one who drives on the Great Escape. Wait...I'm the one who made the Great Escape possible. Ohhh...she's the one who has better shopping for sales technique. Dang....I get the "I have younger children and need the Great Escape" corner. Uh-oh..she has MORE children. Wait.....Mine are WAY more high maintenance. Shoot...she's got the whole husband home by 5pm thing going one. Ooooh....I get to claim "I have two dogs AND adopted your Guinea Pigs!" Slam...she's got the whole teenager thing going on where-as all I get is the wanna be teenager syndrome.

WAVES HI!

Wow

I don't even know where half those places are, but apparently there is some far off countries hanging over here. Ok, rephrase..I don't know where any of those places are. Well...I know the states, but other then that..my geography pretty much sucks.

Thanks whoever you are. Or wherever you are.

Maybe I should invest in a flat map that is actually labeled just so I can "travel" on occasion. The whole circular thing could confuse me a bit since I would have to compare the locations to a flat map.

I have looked at the counter before, but I never really paid complete attention to it other then to see how many "clicks" I have made on my own blog. Which is ALOT and a bit depressing considering I am me and this is my blog.

Anyway, I thought it was cool that I had "out of town" visitors and since I am still bored and mad...I figured I would post something nice instead of the bitch fest I just posted.

Oh, and for whatever reason I cannot figure out how to make my font larger. I used to know,it was right up there with "bold" and "italic" button. Now it's gone and you probably really don't need glasses if the font is super tiny. Visit your eye doctor anyway, they want to make money too ya know.

I'm bored and I'm Mad

Those two in combination do not work out well for me. In a pathetic attempt to stay out of trouble, even though I am itching to say my peace...I'm cruising blogs and getting lost in other peoples lives. Theraputic to a degree. Better then playing with Pretty Kitty, who is also becoming boring.

So here I am, wasting time cruising blog land and doing absolutely nothing productive.

When all I really want to do is tell a certain group of people that they are idiots on a power trip and need to clean out their butts so they can see past their noses. Bit drastic, slightly over the top. But in my current state of mind...whatever.

When you have people volunteering their time, helping you keep things running smoothly...you should really treat them better and be thankful they are there. They take some of the load off of what your paid job description is. They keep some level of peace and make your paycheck a bit easier to obtain.

You shouldn't treat them like crap, demand that they play by 80 million rules (although a few rules are perfectly acceptable) and then make a pathetic attempt to pull the rug out from underneath them just because they have found other places to also hang out, enjoy life and make friends.

So what if they use the new place to vent about their volunteer position. So what if they are HUMANS and need an outlet to get rid of their fustrations. So what if they refuse to turn their back on a friend that you felt crossed the line of rules established on your own personal site. It's no different then hopping on your IM and slam festing out a bit of aggravation with each other or emailing each other about how a particular volunteer is behaving or wondering what to do with a nuisance that you never really liked anyway and wouldn't mind seeing get booted.

You have your method...others have theirs. Yours is no better and no more "private" then theirs.

I'm going back to blog land.

Play with the Pretty Kitty! Sound helps

adopt your own virtual pet!

I've been tagged by Enigma

6 Weird Things Tag

"Write 6 weird things about yourself on your blog and then you're supposed to tag 6 more people."

How's that for direction? Six weird things. Gotcha:

1. I argue with myself. Daily. Over stupid stuff and I rarely win.

2. I love painted fingernails, but often walk around with one hand painted and the other not due to time restraints. On the same note, I am infatuated with tattoo's, but refuse to have one due to the pain factor (and you will not be able to convince me otherwise)

3. I can't stand anyone touching my feet, but I will let PDQ paint my toe nails an array of colors.

4. My house has to be re-arranged in order for me to feel as if it is clean.

5. In order to fall asleep, I have to rub my feet together. You might not think that is weird, but my husband does and also finds it annoying.

6. I have no clue how to read my site counter. It's a map and I failed geography a couple times over.

I'm tagging anyone who wants to be tagged. Just leave me a message if you feel like playing the game so I can come see your answers.

Only a parent.

Not for the faint of heart and that's all the warning I am giving. If you are brave enough to read on, then you deserve and have earned the laugh at the end.

Let me preface my story with this: GROSS.

Last night, I called PDQ to dinner (hot dogs and chips in case you health nuts are interested) and when she didn't come scampering down the stairs, I calmly walked to the bottom of the steps to further exert my voice and yell at her to get her butt down the stairs for dinner. She yelled back that she couldn't because her butt was currently stuck to the toilet and she wasn't getting up until I came up. Intrigued, up the stairs I went.

Upon arrival into the bathroom, she calmly showed me some toilet paper with blood on it. My first thought was "She is only 9 and a handful as it is, she cannot be starting her period yet!" She quickly eased my mind and loudly exclaimed that she is pooping blood. Just like that. No theatrics, no tears...nothing but a weird smile on her face and a show and tell of bloody toilet paper.

Oookkkaaayyyyy.....this one is new. She's had some wierd medical conditions before, pooping blood not being one of them. After a bit of a heart hammering and a "whatdayamean?" I get this:

"Well, I had to go poo (said with slight elevation in voice at the last ooo) so I sat on the toilet. As a general rule, I look in the toilet to make sure there isn't anything that shouldn't be in there, in there. I saw a few splots of blood, so I wiped my front and that was just yellow. Then I wiped my butt and this (shoves toilet paper in my face) is what I got."

oookkkkaaaayyyyy......thanks for that.

After a bit of wondering what to do and a few questions about whether the pooping hurt or not, we decided it might just be a rip in her rectum and we will keep an eye on it. She wasn't worried (in fact, she seemed a bit delighted), there was no pain and it wasn't bleeding anymore. Consulting with my husband, we took the wait and see approach (maybe not super brilliant on our part, but our gut wasn't screaming EMERGENCY either).

This morning, she hollars down with excitement "Mom...there is more Bbbllooo-uuud!" and damn it...she sounded down right estatic about the event! Up I go into the bathroom for yet another round of shoving toilet paper in the face along with question and answer. Ok...small poop, not as much blood...but let's call the doctor anyway and get you in.

Wait...they might need a sample.

Who better to toilet dive then mom? After sending my hand into the depths of toilet, digging out the golden (or should I say brown) poop and holding it up for PDQ's viewing pleasure and a bit of enjoyment on hearing her natural gag reflexs kick in, I made the comment that I had no place to put the poop and it certaintly wasn't staying in my hand!

I look to the left and what do I see? PDQ's drinking glass. Not sure who dived first, but I know that I won the round because in plopped the poop. A small voice from behind me stated "If this is what being a mom is all about, I don't think I want to be one anymore." (I have officially found the perfect birth control method!)

We get to the doctors and he tells her that he is going to have to do a butt exam. Later, she told me that wasn't exactly her idea of a good time and I told her to just wait until she does get her period and has a GYN exam. She literally turned 5 shades of green and then went whiter then any white I have ever seen.

The results are in and she has a rip on her rectum (as we figured) and has also extended her intestines. So she is required to use a stool softner for awhile so her intestines can shrink back to normal and her rectum can heal. All this because she was constipated and forgot to tell us so we could treat it.

When I asked her if she felt better knowing where the blood was coming from, this is what she said:

"I'm glad it's not my period and that I don't have to go to school today."

Ooookkkaaay.....I get the period part, but school?

"We had that field trip today to the cultural center to listen to orchastra music and they told us we couldn't move and must sit with our legs crossed the whole time. I didn't want to go."

Oookkkkaaayyy....so butt bleeding is better then an orchestra HOW???????

Only a kid would like at the bright side of a butt exam, butt bleeding and having to be on a stool softner for the next 3 months or so.

And they say women are confusing?

I have this need to make sure everything in my house is clutter free and completely organized. Well, almost organized. Ok...just organized on sight level and you probably shouldn't be brave enough to open drawers or cupboards on any given day.

As many of you know, organization isn't exactly conducive to home improvement projects that call for remodeling an entire upstairs during a long duration of time. Especially when storage space was limited to the room you are currently remodeling. Which means all items from said room land in your living room based soley on the idea that it is classified the largest room in the house.

Now, in this living room I had large blue rubber maid containers, a dresser (huge!), desk (not so huge) along with the basic living room variety of furniture; couch, chairs, end tables, book shelf, coffee table and a tv unit. So the available space for all this extra crap was pretty darn limited. But in it went anyway. Piled up on the desk, the dresser and shoved behind the chairs and stuffed under end tables. Walking ability in this room was at an all time hazard and really should have been condemned.

After much begging and pleading, husband decided to open up the attic for me and allow access to store all these rubber maid containers. Great, except we didn't have a step ladder to get up there and up until this point, our weekly remodeling allowance was being used for important things like wall framing, nails and the occasional beer. Well...that all changed this week when we went out and bought a step ladder, which I promptly placed under the grand attic opening and decided today was the day to shove whatever I could possibly find into said attic.

After hauling container after container up the stairs and handing them off to my husband in the attic, I discovered that the back room was basically empty now. Having that empty, I then realized that I could fit that HUGE dresser back there and even the desk and I would be able to have my living back, clutter free and in complete working order.

I asked my husband to move the larger dresser with me because of it's size and not wanting to scratch up the floor along the way and to my horror, he BALKED at helping. Yes, he actually told me NO. He NEVER tells me no when it comes to my re-arranging furniture throughout the entire house and has always helped me, even though where I put something is never where it stays. After a bit of "WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO???" comments, he agreed to help me with a scowl on his face and a very long dragging of the feet.

Once I accomplished a total scrub down in my living room, re-arranging the furniture and basically giving out a sigh of relief, I told husband how great I felt. This was accepted with the "look." The "look" is normally only given when I do something he extremely disapproves of (which isn't all that often) and just doesn't know what to say to me. I was baffled beyond belief. For the life of me I could not understand why my need to have an organized and clean living room was upsetting him so greatly. So I do what I normally do and let it slide for the day.

Fast forward to last night when I told him that I know he doesn't understand my need for clutter free living space or how cleaning out the living room made me so happy and I got the "look" again from him. Not being able to stand it anymore, I finally broke down and asked him what the heck was wrong with me wanting a nice living room. He likes a nice clean living room....so what the heck was the big deal?

His comment? "You moved my dresser and all my clothes to the back room, which is one step closer to the back door. Before you know it, the clothes are out the back door and so am I."

I never laughed so hard in my life, which of course brought on the "look" that means I hurt his feelings. I told him that if I were to send him out the back door, I would be kind enough to actually pack his clothes, sell the stupid dresser and give him the uncomfortable and much hated couch to go along with him on his new adventure. I most certaintly would not gradually shift him out the door and the entire reason his clothes are downstairs to begin with is because his dresser cannot go into the girls room since he is up so darn early in the morning and never remembers to get his clothes the night before. Furthermore, I had to remind him that once our room is done, all of his stuff goes back up stairs into the newly renovated closet that will have special space for all his clothes.

He smiled and said he loved me.

All I can do sometimes is just look at him and shake my head.

I asked, now I have to play

Grabbed from Spin the Moon and thought it was a pretty cool idea:

How many times has someone on your friends list posted about something and you were really confused, but you didn't want to ask because you knew you SHOULD know? How many times have you felt 'guilty' asking a close blogger friend a question that should be 'obvious'?

Well, here's your chance. If you've missed a few things, missed an entry and are confused, ask me any thing. Even something EXTREMELY basic, like where I live! I'm not allowed to get even slightly irritated at any of the questions - we've all missed things before. In turn, though, you must repost this in your own journal. ;)

Proud Mom Moment

I am really proud of PDQ for becoming a self thinker and I am also proud of husband and myself for raising a self-thinker.

I always thought that one's spiritual path was something that they must find themselves. As a parent, I figured my job was to teach my children about the many different paths that can be taken and about the path both I and their father have followed. We have discussed many different beliefs with my daughter with an open mind and explained to her that the path she follows is something that she must choose. Her spiritual walk belongs to her and it doesn't necessarily need to be the same as either her father or myself.

This past weekend, she took a step in the direction of the path she has been on for a very long time. PDQ has been a Christian since she was born and came out proclaiming her love of Jesus. We have taught her about many different faiths and although she was facsinated with them, they never waivered her belief that Jesus was her savior. Athough she is only 9 years old, she has been trying to find a church that she was comfortable attending for a few years now. She has visited a few different churches within the Christian faith and has had a very hard time finding one that brings her closer to Jesus and God.

This weekend, she attended a non-denominational Christian church with her "aunt" and had a wonderful time and wants to start attending weekly. The Pastor of this church is a wonderful woman who teaches about a loving and accepting God and according to my friend (PDQ's "aunt") has a wonderful ability to help others understand the messages of Jesus even if you are not a Christian. This church is not in the business of judging others or their beliefs and they are open to anyone willing to come and listen. They are not there to condemn, but are there to lift up. For PDQ's first church, I am so glad that she decided this would be a good fit. It goes hand in hand with some of my teachings about Jesus and Christianity to her as well as how one should not judge anothers spiritual walk lest you be judged in return. Which will be very important in my family since we don't all believe the same thing.

I am very proud that she has decided to follow her own spiritual path, guided by God and doing what is right for her regardless of what her parents believe. She knows my beliefs are in God and follow the teachings of Jesus even though I don't believe he was the son of God and she knows her father was born into the Catholic faith (although somewhat waivering right now). She was secure and brave enough to come forward and say "I need to do this for me" and then followed through with it.

Part of my pride is for her and I guess a part of it is for us as well. Her coming forward, even though her father is waivering and her mother believes differently means that as parents, we have actually done a good job teaching her what we wanted to teach her. It means that she trusts us enough to love her even if her beliefs are different from ours and it means that she is a self-thinker. Willing to follow herself and her plan, even if it is different from others. To me, as a parent who had everything dictated to me as a young child, that is very important.

My wish for her is that she continues to follow the spiritual path that she has discovered and it help her to grow and become an even more wonderful person then she already is.

I love my daughter and am so proud of her.

Liars

There are a few things that aggravate me, but nothing more then coming up against an outright liar. Someone you know is lieing to you and they know that they are lieing to you.

From my standpoint, there is never a reason to lie to a person. I am not talking about telling a friend you like their shirt when you really don't based on the shirt fitting their style and not yours.

I am talking about downright lieing. Making something up in order to get out of a situation that you either do not wish to participate in or should not have been involved with.

Just tell the truth, it will work to your advantage!

Napping in the car

What an interesting concept. I always thought napping in a car would be relatively easy for young children. They are in their seat and all they need to do is close their eyes. Right? Wrong.

Apparently, to nap in a car a child must throw a 5-10 minute fit that includes kicking the seat, unplugging the DVD player, yelling that they need to go potty (even though they just went a full bladders worth within the last hour and have had nothing else to drink), tossing around shoes and basically letting everyone in the car know that they are down right pissed off about the whole situation. Of course, I am talking about myself...lol...no, not really. I am talking about Ms. RB (naturally).

I'm not exactly sure why she felt the need to put on such a display of affection for naps each time she felt the urge to sleep. But she did. Four seperate days, two down and two home, we experianced the joy of Ms. RB's "I WANT TO NAP, but your GONNA pay" fits each and every time she was ready to fall asleep.

It would start with a quiet "I need something" (seeing a trend here) in a low whisper that you could barely hear. Then, she would demand a pillow for behind her head and become extremely upset when she realized that pillow just wasn't going to do her a bit of good because of the car seat. Which would require a loud scream at PDQ for stealing her pillow (who didn't) and a few kicks to the back of the car seat. Once she figured out how to work her toes and unplug the DVD player, I finally got smart and started to remove the screen from the back of the seat and that created even more drama. "I WANT my TV!!!!" Eventually, she would quiet down enough for me to speak with her, sooth her a bit and off to dream land she would go.

PDQ on the hand, simply just cannot sleep in a car (her words, not mine). Of course, imagine our suprise when we looked back and she had nodded off into slumber on a few occasions. Unlike Ms. RB, PDQ is a seasoned traveler, so for once the drama was not in existance. Which was a nice change, even though Ms. RB seemed to be channeling whatever drama PDQ could have created and did with even more gusto then necessary.

I' m not sure we are going to attempt such a trip again anytime in the near future. We might stick with the 3 hour trips that we make a few times a year and stop pressing our luck. Then again, we might have a momentary lapse of idiocy and pile everyone into the car again at some point thinking what great parents we are for broadening their horizons. When in reality, Ms. RB will be thinking what a great kid she is for broadening OURS.

I should have known better (hotels and sleep issues)

One of the very first things I learned on this trip was that Ms. RB must be allowed to run off energy prior to entering the sleep zone while staying in hotels. This is also something that must be done at home, so where my brain was while on vacation is anyone's guess.

We get to the hotel on the first night of our trip around 7:00pm and my darling husband decides that we can find a restaurant all on our own without directions. After an hour tour of Springfield, Il worst section where we had the pleasure of viewing abandoned houses, business's with chain link, topped with wire and barred windows...he finally decided to turn around and return to the hotel for directions. Good thing too, we were in the completely wrong area of the town for decent eating choices.

So, we find a place to eat and sit there for over an hour enjoying the ability to sit or stand at whim without having to remove seatbelts and possibly get ourselves killed in the process. Then we return to the hotel. We knew that this hotel had a pool, but it closed at 10:00pm and our return time was 9:45pm. Husband and I were very tired, Ms. RB and PDQ were very dissapointed, but off to bed we were going.

Or so we thought.

PDQ fell asleep quickly and without any fuss. Ms. RB on the other hand, didn't. She needed something! She needed LOTS of somethings. Over and over again. First, she needed to play, then she needed some juice, then she needed PDQ to get OUT of her bed. Then she needed to TV and I think at one point, she might have needed a snack. All I know is that this kid needed lots of different stuff for over 2 hours. And that is exactly how she said it too...."I need something" over and over again to the point of driving us nuts. Finally, after much fustration of trying to get this kid to sleep, we put her on the couch. According to her, this meant she could get up and wander around the hotel room at whim.

At one point, she was behind me and I didn't even realize it, husband looked over my shoulder, freaked me out and when I looked there was little pyscho quietly sitting behind me staring at me. Naturally, I screamed. Which started the chain reaction of her screaming and then husband laughing at both of us.

After about 2 hours of our little darling creating chaos for us and not getting any sleep, husband took the two seater couch (which I am sure was very comfortable-snort) and Ms. RB and I slept in the bed. Well, I tried to sleep, she was so over-tired and exhausted, she would sleep for 15-20 minutes and then wake up crying. So I had to sooth her back to sleep and try and keep her quiet so she wouldn't wake up husband, PDQ or our neighbors on the other side of the paper thin wall. I am pretty positive our neighbors thought the kid was never going to be quiet and go to sleep and got even with us by setting thier alarm at exactly 5:15 and then hit the snooze button about 20 times.

Naturally, once morning hit, Ms. RB was ready to go, all bright eyed and bushy tailed. The rest of us? Well...let's just say that one looked like the return of the living dead, the other had cramps in his legs and the only well rested person was PDQ because she has the uncanny ability to block it all out when she is sleeping.

Lesson learned.

Ms. RB has way to much energy to be cooped up in a car for more then an hour and requires a whole lot of exercise and hopping around prior to attempting bed time in a hotel. So on the return trip, we stopped earlier, ate a quick dinner and spent over an hour in the hotel pool before retiring to our seperate rooms. Husband had one by himself (the snot) and I had the other with both girls. Luckily, Ms. RB fell right to sleep. Great for her because I on the other hand had the pleasure of sleeping in a king size bed and my portion was the teeny, itty bitty part right next to the edge. I couldn't sleep due to fear of falling out of bed. Husband, he had a great nights sleep!

I hate Walmart

'nuff said.

(ok...gotta say more!)

You enter the Walmart zone and you immediately loose three hours of your life, a whole bunch of money and feel like you just visited the "House of Insane and Totally Off the Wall People" tent at the county fair.

People get in that store and all of a sudden is a free for all with no an ounce of respect for anyone but yourself. Forbid you don't get into that cereal aisle before the other person! All the 80 gazillion boxes of cheerio's might be snagged up before you even have a chance! Nothing like a cat fight trying to get through the THREE out of TWENTY open registers! Me first, Me first, Me first....you last...I will hurt you if you even considering glancing at that register lane.....!!!!!

If one more person runs into me with their metal elephant, I will show them exactly what kind of damage an animal of that caliber can cause!

I hate Walmart!

Common phrases heard yesterday while shopping

1. No honey, we are not buying the Atari system. I understand that you enjoyed it as a child, but we have a trip to make and I am NOT calling my brother and saying we can't come because you decided to make a return trip to your youth.

2. Sorry honey, we are not buying the Playstation II CD that has all the Atari games on it.

3. No PDQ, we are not going out to eat because I just spent your dinner on Narnia and the Pink CD. Be thankful I loved you that much.

4. No honey, I am not spending $300 some odd dollars on a double disk portable DVD player when we only need ONE.

5. No honey, we do NOT need a game chair that reclines and plays sound next to your ear.

6. No PDQ, I am not going to buy you the Bon Jovi cd so you can listen to the ONE song that you like when I can download that song from the internet for a measley 99 cents.

7. ACK...Honey...put that back. We do NOT need a complete 2nd xm radio system, we already have one! I know it would be easier to install a new one into the caravan, but a Roady would work just fine. No...I don't need.....(sigh) thank you for seeing my point.

8. Ms. RB, get back here right now!

9. PDQ, stop picking on your sister.

10. Ms. RB, stop aggravating your sister with those sounds.

11. Honey...PUT THAT BACK! We DO NOT NEED that! I thought you agreed that a complete system was not worth the money when we already have one?

12. No honey, for what we need, $200 for a portable DVD is just not worth it.

13. No PDQ, I am not getting bulk frosted flakes breakfast bars so you can gorge yourself within the first hour of the trip, throw up and make us all miserable.

14. Sorry Ms. RB, we can't stay here and watch the rest of Ice Age. I know it's on TV, but it's only so you can see the picture quality.

15. STOP...Ok...well you might as well just lay down and pee your pants now! Are you trying to drive me nuts and get yourself run over?

The trip hasn't even started yet and my family has turned into complete monsters. There is a reason I shop alone.

A very GOOD reason!

My time is running out

In exactly three days and a few hours, I will be plopping the family onto the wagon train and heading into the realms of "Family Vacation" (said with sonic boom).

Sometime ago, I had this abs0luty brilliant idea to pack up PDQ and Ms. RB along with my husband and travel just about halfway across the United Stated to visit my brother and his family for exactly three full days, not including the arrival day. At which time, we will then re-pack the entire family back into the caravan and make the return trip home. I have a sinking feeling that this is not going to be one of my better ideas and might border on ARE YOU FREAKING INSANE ideas.

Here's the deal; PDQ will be perfectly fine. We shove her into the back of the caravan, give her a whole bunch of battery operated gadgets and her crochet which will amuse her for hours on end. My concern is Ms. RB, the things that amuse her for hours on it are not compatible with traveling. Play Doh and blocks. She loves Play Doh with a passion and we are considering purchase stock in the company. Blocks are the only thing that keeps the child calm in moments of chaos. Last I checked, building houses out of blocks is very difficult in a moving car (yes, I did the experiment) and Play Doh for a child who likes to roll it into little balls and toss it into the air is not something I want in my caravan.

So I am left with only DVD players, paper and crayons/pens. She loves to draw, but that doesn't last a very long time and she loves Dora. I am not too sure how long husband and I will be able to handle listening to Dora over and over again. We would get her a headset for this happy family trip, but she can't stand to have anything over her ears for a long duration of time. So the headset would either end up on the floor in a fit of anger or strangle her. Not sure I am willing to take the chance, although put me in the car, give me a few hours of Dora and anything is possible.

See where I am at here? I'm completely screwed. I know exactly what is going to happen. I am going to be dealing with a cranky 3 year old, listening to Dora and trying to catch pens and crayons as they fly threw the air. Top it all off with the fact that she is now potty trained, and this trip is turning into a disaster before we even begin.

I also have alot to do before we hop on in the caravan on Wednesday for our completely insane trip. For example:

Pack luggage, which requires all laundry to be completed
Buy snacks and drinks which require a trip to the store
Purchase a DVD player and borrow another one from a friend, make sure they are hooked up and ready to go
Make sure house is clean
Empty cat box
Clean piggy cage
Find the girls Easter baskets
Show neighbor where all animal food is located and how to navigate through the house without knocking boxes onto her head
Have husband hook up XM player into the Caravan
Make sure batteries are bought and ready to be used for PDQ's gameboy and CD player
Which reminds me that I need to pick up the new Pink CD (Stupid Girls is hysterical...you might want to purchase one yourself)
Make copy of Pink CD for PDQ so she doesn't ruin mine again
Purchase a few books for me so I can escape the in-caravan chaos as needed
Maybe pick up a cheap CD player for me so I can listen to the Pink CD and not listen to my husband grumble about my music choices.
Get everyone up and out the door on Wednesday morning without forgetting important things like toothbrushes or the dog.
Print out Directions because otherwise we will get lost

Ok, I think that is it. Most likely there is more, I just can't remember them. Pathetic part is that I only have 2.5 days to complete all this crap and then we are out of here.

What the heck was I thinking? At least I will have amusing stories for when I return. I can't blog there because I don't want to give my computer whiz brother the ability to follow me around the internet. So I will have to store up all the happenings into my thought keeper, try to remember them and then come home and share them.

Nothing Scorned like a 3 Year old who doesn't have green socks

ACK!

(will explain later)

Ok, later is finally here and be warned that I am cold, cranky and just a tad bit on this side of ready to climb out of my skin and find a new host. It's raining again, I can't get warm and my head must have been screwed on completely backwards that day I decided that our upcoming trip of driving 17 or so hours with a three year old would be a splendid idea and great family bonding time.

Officially, I have changed Ms. RB's name to "the highness" after yesterday. This must be said with a deep bow and a majestic sweep of your hands and nothing less will do.

For the record, I don't do three year olds very well. If truth be known, I don't do four year olds very well either...but I have another half year before that rant starts. Three's are sweet and cuddly creatures one minute (aka; when they are sleeping) and a creature from your worst nightmare the next (aka; when they are awake). They are bossy little dictators who have no grasp on the human language and insist that they are always right and you are always wrong. They want what they want NOW and nothing less will be accepted. This goes on until such time they discover that they too can put full sentances together in proper formation and pronounce words that others can understand. Until such time, I am stuck with a kid who cannot communicate, wants to communicate and becomes fustrated every other second of the day because she cannot communicate.

To make matters even more interesting, this is the age that they crawl so far up their mothers butt it would take a microscope and some plyers to find them and extract them from their mothers grasp. Mommy must do EVERYTHING! I did say EVERYTHING, right? Daddy can't do a damn thing, cause he just isn't good enough. PDQ better not look at her wrong or all hell breaks loose. Mommy is IT. If the highness wants down..mommy better drop that pot of boiling water this MINUTE and get over there get her down. If the highness wants a bannana...mommy needs to peel it for her. Highness wants a certain show? Mommy better forget about her own need to pee and move on in and figure out which show the highness wants. Daddy offers to help and the scream is remarkable similar to a pig getting butchered the hard way. "Mommy Do" and that's that!

The highness woke up yesterday in a happy-go-lucky mood that lasted approximatly 5 minutes. Count em'...FIVE...one, two, three, four and five. That's it. That's all I got for the rest of the day. First, she wanted her green socks. Ok, that's swell..but she doesn't OWN green socks. NOBODY in this family OWNS green socks. She screamed, she cried, she yelled and basically let the entire world know that she wanted her green socks or else someone (read: me) was going to pay dearly.

It took me the entire freaking morning to convince her that she didn't own green socks, but she did own BLUE socks. But they were dirty and cannot be worn today(and I do mean dirty--as in she missed the toilet AGAIN and peed on them and they were not washed again). Wanna know what that the highness did? She marched into the laundry room, yanked her pee stained, dirty socks out of the laundry bin and put them on. Insisted that they were what she was wearing and proceeded to stand by the door until it was time to leave and take PDQ to school.

Horrible mom that I am, said "FINE...you want to wear pee stained socks that are BLUE? Go for it, your highness (full bow), I'm not gonna argue with a 3 year old over SOCKS!" Off we went.

This morning...guess who wanted their green socks? Yup, the highness did. Lucky for me, this time I actually out-witted her and put them in the washing machine so she couldn't find them. She settled for pink socks on her HANDS.

I swear, if she wakes up tomorrow and insists on green socks again...I'm driving myself to Walmart, buying RIT and dying every bloody thing that child owns in green. When she asks for Pink, I'll just tell her tough luck...Pink doesn't exist in her world anymore and she now has green and that is all she has, so she better figure out a way to deal with it. Of course, that will come after the bow, the plucking from my legs and the stiff shot in my morning coffee.

AARRRRGGGHHHHHHHH!!!

Have you ever realized

that you have the same conversation as many times as you have kids, just during different years?

This morning on the home from school, Ms. RB decided to inform me that the music was too loud (as if No Doubt could EVER be too loud!), should be shut off and it better happen NOW.

Ok, she would have a point, except it was barely on whisper and the only reason she was insisting is because I refused to turn the cd to number 3 (her favorite and comical to listen as she sings along).

I politely (or not so politely, depending on who you are, your sense of humor and your mood for the day) informed her that I was the driver, it was my car and I could have it as loud as I wanted (and promptly turned it up). Of course, that sent her into a spiraling mass of hysterics that consisted of hitting the back of my seat over and over again with her tiny size 4 shoe.

At which time, I informed her that the cd was stuck and I couldn't turn it DOWN or OFF and the logistics of the situation call for the all mightly, all knowing mommy to make the caravan decisions that resulted in her compliance (just like that...word for word). She says? "Ok mommy."

That's it. That's all it took. Over and done.

Rewind 6 years earlier and then replace Ms. RB with PDQ. Add in a bit more drama, some tears and a whole lotta "I don't like you!" or "Your being mean!" and my all time favorite "That's NOT FAIR!" (yes, she was using these complete and rather cute-gag- sentances at age 3, plus a few other choice ones that cannot be repeated on a family blog such as this ;O).

It took stopping the car on a busy highway, getting run over by a mack truck, being scraped up off the side of the road by a vulcher who then flew me to his nest and proceeded to feed me to his baby vulchers--finding my way out of the nest and getting picked up by the police, booked for attempting to poisen said vulchar and spending a long night trying to convince the other fine ladies who were currently residing behind the bars...that I did NOT want to be their play thing...to get PDQ to STOP HARRASSING ME about the darn radio (cause back then, it was either radio or 8-track--depending on the car I was traveling in...no, I'm not that old...just my cars were).

Anyway...same conversation/different child. Makes me realize that they are all out to get us, they have this stuff placed into them way before birth and quite frankly...if given the chance, they would rule the world.

Kids....bbwwwaaahhh! And I still have to take PDQ for her hair cut (or style as she so kindly puts it).

Cars

I have owned many cars in my life, but I really don't think that makes me a car snob. Especially considering the type of cars I have owned. I tried to count them at one time, but I think I missed a few...so here goes:

1971 Chevy Nova Hatchback. Loved this car. It started out as my fathers in 75' as a used "family" vehicle and slowly worked it's way to my brother in 84'. At which time, he had a brilliant idea to bondo and prime it silver. He graduated highschool in 86' and the car become mine. Right after I received this glorious gift, the doors stopped working. So it was like driving a butt ugly version of the General Lee since I had to climb in and out the windows. The Chevy was finally laid to rest after a few "accidents" on my behalf. The first one was a deer, which required a new hood. Prior to the deer incident, the hood was opened by pins with the occasional help from my friend and yours...duct tape. Unfortunately the deer created the cadaletic converter to catch fire on occasion and also gave me the ownership of a new hood. Now, nobody taught me how to properly open a car hood that was not held together with ducktape and pins. So, the thing caught fire right before Christmas in a mall parking lot. The fire consumed the entire vehicle, which resulted in a marshmellow roast by my fellow firing fighting friends.

Then I moved on to a Pontiac. I have no clue what year this beast was made in, but I do know that it was old, drove rather fast and made of good old fashioned steel. The reason I know this is because of an experiment a few friends and myself attempted one night. It involved a field, a few trees and the gas pedal. The car survived, the tree's did not. It's also the car that I found a Pink Floyd "Wall" copied tape in and was forever an altered girl. I'm not really sure what happened to that car, I'm sure I had nothing to do with it's downfall.

After the Pontiac bit the dust, I moved on to my fathers Mercury. This wasn't a fancy Mercury by any means. Think small, old and lots of little compartments to hide things. It also leaked oil on a daily basis and it was a standard. My first introduction to race car driving happened in this little beast as it was also fast and changing gears became a favorite past time of mine. I know what happened to it, I forgot to put oil in it one day and blew the engine. That will also become a favorite past time of mine.

Right around this time, I also owned a Mustang, that I ended up breaking the sunroof on due to leaving the keys in the car and thinking my 110 pound body can fit through the open sunroof. It was red and also a standard and I loved it so much. It had great pick up speed, which helped me win a few street races. I also drove a Capri around this time (which is nothing more then a horrible knock off version of the Mustang), but it was my dad's and never mine.

I am sure there was another car somewhere in here, but it obviously holds no fun memories for me or stupid stunts, so I will just move on to the next Mercury I bought. It cost me about $250 hard earned bucks and was HUGE. Think 70's sedan, but driven in the late 80's/early 90's. There was no style to this boat, other then it only lasted about 3 weeks before I threw a rod through the engine one night on the way home. I left the dumb thing sitting on the side of the road and strutted my stuff up the highway to get home. Luckily, I was only about 2 miles from the house and it was warm out.

Once that thing bit the bullet, I promptly moved on to a Horizon. Little tiny car, BIG electrical problem. I drove it for a few weeks and promptly caught it on fire at work. Imagine my suprise when a co-worker came yelling into the office "A CAR is on FIRE!". First thought of mine? "Cool...wonder who's it is?" as I slowly meandered out to the lot to check it out. The next words out of my mouth "Shit! Not again!"...yet another weenie roast for my fellow fire fighting friends.

On to another Pontiac, which promptly died from some unknown affliction and onto my "box car." I can't remember the year it was made, but it was a Zephyr. Nice one too...blue, boxy and bench seats. I felt very tall and elegant in this bomb and drove it for at least a year before I kindly donated it to a friend for her first experiance in a demolition derby.

Moving on to the wonderful 4 door Chevy (not hatchback), that became my first "family" car. I loved this thing. Green mean steel machine. The bench seats didn't move at all, so I had to use a pillow behind my back in order to reach the peddles. My husband convinced me to sell it when we received a Nissan from his sister. He claimed unsafe...but compared to the Nissan? The thing was a tank and nothing was going through that metal baby.

The Nissan gave me a few headaches when I discovered rocking chairs do not fit in the front seat, which creates the need for windows to crack and split in order to make room for said rocking chair. That rocking chair turned out to be the most expensive thing I ever bought from the Salvation Army and it wasn't even re-finished yet (nor do I think I ever did re-finish it...another issue I have).

At this point, my husband had hopes that I was mature and responsible enough to own a "real" car. His idea of real car didn't exactly mix with my idea of a real car. One day, he came to me and said "Honey, I found a great car and could you see what the insurance would cost for it." I said "Sure, sweetie" and then asked him to walk on over to the bank and see how much a loan would be (wierd..since the car only cost about 2G...but whatever..we weren't and still are not, rich). Next thing I know, he is coming into my office with a big grin on his face saying he just bought me a car. WHHAATT???? I haven't even seen the thing yet and he is already on purchase phase? I automatically decided I would HATE that car, no matter what. I didn't pick it out, so I didn't want it. Fast forward a day or two and it's now time to pick up the un-seen/not wanted car. This thing is a 4 door sedan made in the decade that I was living (automatically taboo with me), it's white and it's standard. It's a Subaru Legacy. Ok...I refused to drive this car until the Nissan finally rusted out the bottom and I was beginning to resemble Fred Flintstone. That's when I finally agreed to drive the "bring me into this century Legacy." And drive, I did. For four years. I grew fond of that car, but it's life span was slowly coming to an end and I knew if I didn't work quickly, I would end up with something I never even knew existed.

I wanted a caravan. Well, that's all fine and dandy, but most of the caravan's were pretty new, made recently and now that you know my car history...husband wasn't all that sure it was a good idea. Plus, I have a bit of problem that makes driving a tad difficult for me. Depth Perception. I suck at it. In case you don't know...caravans a big. they are long. They have an ass end that never ends. I still wanted it. After much searching and convincing my darling husband that I can be responsible, I don't blow up everything I drive and I am now a mature adult....we bought the caravan.

Now, for the record, he started the whole "let's ruin Misty's caravan...her pride and joy...the thing she came to love most" campaign. It started with a battery that was left in the back for a few days and how the heck was I supposed to know battery acid leaks from batteries? We ended up ripping out half the carpet. Then, in a moment of kindness, I took it upon myself to push someone else's vehicle out of MY way. He broke down on the way to school, he had a big metal boat and he was in my way. So I kindly agreed to give him a shove. That shove cracked my front fender. Directly after, I decided it would be great fun to hit my neighbors vehicle that was parked right next to me (too close for someone with depth perception issues) and cracked the side of the front that holds the lights in place.

After all this, I decided I needed to begin the new vehicle campaign. Convincing husband that in two years, a new vehicle should be mine. He has his concerns, but I am pretty positive if I keep hounding him, I might win out. I currently am drooling over the Pacifica. Husband calls it glorified station wagon, which I disagree on...it has a SUNROOF and a built in DVD player! How can *that* be a station wagon?

I have alot of work ahead of me, lot's of convincing and a bit of groveling. I think I can manage, I got the caravan afterall.

Another Fun one swiped from Mysti

Your Birthdate: March 30

You have the type of personality that people either love or hate.You're opinionated, dramatic, intense, and very outspoken.And some people can't get enough of you - they're totally addicted.Others, well, they wish you were a little more reserved. Your strength: Your flair Your weakness: If you think it, you say it Your power color: Scarlet red Your power symbol: Inverted triangle Your power month: March

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

They are both SPOT on! Or so I think anyway, but I am a bit inflated...so what do I know?

Be aware, the links do not work. If you want them, check out Mysti's page, her link is under my favorites on the left hand side (scroll down past my archives)

Fun!

I found this on Mysti's site and have no qualms about stealing it from here. The links don't work, so if you want to try it out..check out Mysti's page. Her link is in my favorite on the left hand side below the archives. Sorry about that...not sure what I did wrong.

You Are 52% Open Minded

You are a very open minded person, but you're also well grounded.Tolerant and flexible, you appreciate most lifestyles and viewpoints.But you also know where you stand firm, and you can draw that line.You're open to considering every possibility - but in the end, you stand true to yourself.

How Open Minded Are You?

Moving on Up...to the Top (close enough anyway)

I have gone from dishwashers retrieved from dumpster diving expeditions, to a brand new Kenmore/Quiet 3 dishwasher, freshly installed right where it belongs.

This thing had a sticker on it and came with a receipt. Not a trumped up one either. I actually had the pleasure of picking it out yesterday.

Of course, as a small portion of payback...I did a bit of drooling over a Bosch Dishwasher that was stainless steel, inside and out. I ran my fingers over it lightly and gazed at it with this look of longing in my eye. I flirted with it, I offered to marry it, if only it would just hop into my car and come home with me, where we would live happily ever after. Of course, that is where my wonderful husband had to draw the line. Some mumbling about understanding being left for an appliance salesman...but it's just not right to leave a man for a dishwasher.

I figured he deserved it after the whole DDE of his, which was nothing more then an attempt to avoid taking me to the store and purchasing a dishwasher.

Once we got the lovely NEW machine home, husband asked what his priorities were today. I informed him the room could wait...the dishwasher was now top priority. It must be installed and fully operational by the time I woke up from my nap. After two trips to the local home improvement store to get a part he "accidentely" threw out with the dumpy dishwasher, it was ready to go. Gently waking me up from my nap...he informed me that my request was completed and could he PLEASE go and listen to the Bush race? Of course, I said yes, as I ran full speed two steps into my kitchen to view the glorious piece of equipment. (in other words, I cleaned, did some laundry and listened to him swear worse then a sailor for two solid hours while he installed, went twice to the HI store and then heard a "it's done...I'm oughta here to listen to the Bush race while I install insulation in YOUR room." stomp, stomp, stomp.")

Boy was I happy as a clam in salt water. The thing sat shining at me from it's final resting location. In all it's glory and push button operating panel. Of course, I made a big show of opening it up, putting dishes in it (clean or dirty...I didn't care...it's a DISH WASHER and it's BRAND NEW! Something was going in it, by golly!). Moving the rack around, altering the silverware tray position, exclaiming loudly about what a beaut it was. You know...the stuff us women do when faced with a brand new appliance that has never been used in another persons house before.

It's mine...All mine! If I had the brain mentality or the energy to look for instructions, I would put a picture of snoopy doing his happy dance right here.

April Fools Day

The idiot is staying.

Go Figure.

He creates depression and anxiety in bloggers everywhere and then comes clean one minute after midnight stating that this was his feeble attempt at humor. He oughta be blended...I'm sure he will fit since he has lost a few pounds on his all-liqued diet.

In any case, our daily (sometimes 10x a day) laugh fix is still available and apparently going strong.

The only reservation I have about the Idiot sticking around is that my Campaign for Idiot's Dad might have to come to an end. Which is a sad state of affairs indeed. It would have been very enjoyable seeing where the Idiot got his humor from and how it evolved from just a wee boy to the mighty Idiot with a keyboard that he has become today.

The Idiot claims that his dad received the extremely warped sense of humor from him. I find that doubtful since dad's usually come before Idiots. But whatever...if proof isn't willing to be offered up, there really is no way of us ever finding out the truth.

Hat's off to you Idiot. Thanks for sticking around and thank your dad for passing on his wonderful sense of humour. I am assuming you received your writing skills from dear mom? Thank her as well....it's always a joy!

(Happy April Fools!)