Dude, can I borrow your truck?

I'm moving. Yep, I'm making the switch to wordpress. Why? I Do. Not. Know. I set The Boy up on wordpress to that my blogless family could comment on his blog without it being an ordeal and decided it would be a good idea for me too. It was late. There were templates and widgets. and so it is. It is hard to let go of the very convincing Elvis impersonator, but the times, they are a changin'. And since no one actually reads this blog, I figured what the heck.

Do me one big favor though...all of you blogexplosion flybys and googlers searching for "Yo Mama" jokes....

Please visit my new blog to read this about my son...and take a second to do something small to you, but big to a boy. Thank you.

And now I'm off to pack.

Roses are red. Violets are blue. My daddy's farts smell like....

Overheard while making dinner...

The Husband and The Girl discussing (of course) farts.

The Husband: Daddy's farts don't stink. They smell like roses.

The Girl: (with nary a pause) Yes they do! They smell like dead roses!

and also...

The Husband: Our computer server at work is having issues.

The Girl: Really Daddy? For real? (her new favorite saying)

The Husband: Really what?

The Girl: Your computer has shoes?

Get it? Issues...shoes...Ba dum bum!

The Girl. The comedian.

Phonin' it in

I have acquired a new hair color. Not on purpose. I needed a new box of hair dye. My husband called from the store. They did not have my color. I picked a new color over the phone. Yep.

I checked out the box when he got home. It was red. Really red.

When I put it on my head it was dark. Really dark.

I was afraid I was going to look like this.

I don't do goth. I mean I'm pale, but not on purpose or anything.

When I washed it out it looked like the shower scene from Psycho. As the red water pooled around my feet I checked my self for machete wounds.

It turned out ok. The Boy actually said he liked it. And he doesn't notice anything.

Maybe I should make all of my beauty descisions by phone.



The Girl had her big tea party for her two Grandmas today. It had been in the planning for 2 weeks as a homeschool project. She made invitations, placemats, learned how to set the table, and how to be a good hostess. We made cookies from scratch (still surprised hell didn't freeze over) and tiny little tea sandwiches. We all dressed for tea.

My lovely little hostess greeted them at the door, thanked them for coming, and took their purses. She passed out cookies and sandwiches like a pro. As she daintily nibbled her sandwich, she belched. Loudly. And burst into gales of 3 year old screeching laughter. When jelly dripped on her arm, she licked it off like a cat. She ate a sugar cube and licked the peach preserves off of the knife. She gave herself a sponge bath with her cloth napkin and water glass.

It was the best tea party I have ever been to.

Note: In the pics of The Girl, note the eyeshadow. She could not choose between two shades of pink so she used them both. One on each eye.

Love Hangover

I'm getting off to a bit of a slow start this morning. I'm exhausted. Of course with yesterday being Valentine's Day, I spent the night doing very little sleeping and a whole lotta' screaming.

Wink. Wink. Nudge. Nudge.

Yeah. Right.

I did do very little sleeping...due to the three and a half year old hogging my pillow, and digging tiny little toes into my stomach and/or back.
I also did plenty of screaming thanks to The Husband.
I yelled things like...
"You're snoring again!" "Would you please roll over?!" "ROLL OVER!

Snoring is so hot.

I'm glad I no longer buy into the Valentine's Day hype, or I may have felt let down.
Who needs a romantic dinner....I prefer the Mexican pizzas, eaten off of paper plates, each lovingly poked, prodded, and fingered by The Girl.
Who needs a night of passion when you can stay up late watching some financial advisor on PBS and crawl into a bed to find your spot is being hogged warmed for you?

Not Me. Nope. Passion schmassion.

I did, however get a gushy card from The Husband....and even better than that, a whole pound of Scotch-Mallows from See's candy. Yum. I think I'll keep him.

Side note: The Sport's Illustrated Swimsuit issue came out. Beyonce is on the cover. In an interview she said she loves the magazine because they feature "real women...with real curves"
Um...what now? Real women? Real curves? Uh, yeah. Shut up. When the scrawny wisps of girls found in those magazines face deciding whether to tuck their tummy roll into their pants or let it flop over, when they put on jeans and are confronted with the disturbing "swish, swish" sound of thighs rubbing together, or when their breasts sit on their laps when they are not wearing a bra...then, they can call themselves "real women". Hrumph.

Check please....

A little background...My step-dad is in the hospital, in the ICU. He had a liver transplant about 2 years ago. He has fluid around his lungs. He has been in the ICU for over a month.

A few nights ago we loaded our freak parade in the old SUV and headed off to Red Robin. My daughter(3 yo)was wearing a full on Princess costume, pink My Little Pony Tiara, striped knee socks, and black Hello Kitty penny loafers (?). My son (9yo)carried a large bottle of Tums (long story).

During dinner my daughter asked if she kissed Papaw (my step-dad) if she could "catch his sick." I assured her that she couldn't and she asked why not. I began to tell her that some kinds of sick you can't catch from people. "Like cancer, you can't catch. And like So-and-So's diabetes. You can't catch," I assured her.

She seemed satisfied and sat silently absorbing the new information. Then my son piped up with...

"Genital herpes is a disease."

Blink. Ahem.

"What?"

"Genital Herpes is a disease...and there is no cure."

An expectant hush fell on the tables surrounding ours.

"Erm...yes....it....is."

But then I recovered. A bit.

"Yea, but you can still hike, kayak, and rock climb."

So the commercial says.

Hellooo? Anybody there?

Well, after a short ...cough... 9 month...cough...break, I have decided to revisit the old blog. There is some dust and cobwebs, but I think I can fix her up. A few adjustments and she'll be good as new...which, for those (5 people) of you who remember, was not that good anyway. See, should be an easy job.
It only took 15 tries for me to remember my blogger password and here I am.
Not much new to report...just that we are back in CA, I sold my store and started one online, and oh yeah...I homeschool both of my lovely little offspring.
So what's new in the bloggosphere?

The Party's Over

This was posted in the blog exchange here a month ago, but in honor of my daughter's birthday, I've updated it to use here. Does that count as an update? C'mon, cut me some slack...I'm in the middle of selling my business, trying to sell my house, I planned and prepared an Ariel/Princess birthday party, and my mother-in-law is visiting.
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My daughter’s birthday party went off without a hitch this weekend. She turned three. How in the heck did that happen? As cliché as it is, I swear it was just yesterday that she was a little blob of baby, screaming bloody murder in her car seat, smearing strained carrots on her high chair tray…sleeping peaceful baby sleep on my shoulder, fascinated by the spots of sunlight on the carpet. Now she goes to preschool. She traces her name and learns the names of the planets. She has a backpack almost as big as she is that she insists on carrying herself.
“I can do it, Mama. I am bigger.”
As we pack to move, I am sorting things to give away that we no longer need. My baby’s stroller went away yesterday. We used to takes walks to get lunch together with that stroller. We would stop along the way so she could pick flowers or watch a lizard dart away into the bushes. Now she can push her doll in it.
“Look, Mama. This is my baby. We are going to the store. See you later.”
Tiny clothes go into a bag. They are for someone else’s baby now. I tie the bags closed – and then rip them open again retrieving items I can’t bear to see go. The striped shirt that needed washed every night because it was all she would wear. The sleeper with the million snaps that drove me crazy every diaper change.
“Mama, I got dressed. I put the tags in the back. I did it myself.”
I remember waiting for her first smile. Hearing her first baby belly laugh. Was it really so long ago?
“Mama, wanna’ hear a joke? Knock knock. Who’s there? Mickey Mouse’s underwear.”
I remember her asleep on her daddy’s chest. I remember her nestled in the crook of his arm.
“Mama, when I get big I want to marry daddy…and Briton at school.”
The time has passed so quickly. Who told her she could grow up? I scoop her up and cradle her like a baby.
“Mama, I’m not a baby. I am bigger.”
“Yes, you are bigger, but you are still my baby.”
“No, I’m not. I’m big.”
And it’s true. She is big. And smart, and funny, and stubborn, and beautiful. She is everything that makes being a mom worth it. She is my little girl who is speeding toward adulthood at light speed. I want to stop it, or at least slow it down, but I know that I can’t. I cherish the memories of her as a baby, but each bit she grows adds new memories. And I know I’ll cherish those too. I’ll file them away and pull them out when she uses the car and leaves it with no gas or borrows my makeup and “forgets” to return it.
“Mama, hold me like when I was a baby.”
I lift her and cradle her in my arms, her long legs dangling. And time stands still.

June Blog Exchange - What's In a Name?

This post is part of a June Blog Exchange on the theme "What's in a Name?" Click hereto read more. And, if you'd like to participate, email Kristen at kmei26 at yahoo.com.

It's time again for the blog exchange. Which means for me, the only time my blog actually gets updated lately. I would like to welcome Elissa from Punk Rock Parents....

What's in a Name??

We agonized over what to name our new puppy. He was nameless for way too long and we tossed around a ton of different names, combination of names, and we eventually ended up with "Mr. Buck-a-roo Fantastic". Yes we struggled for weeks to come up with that name. Then a few years later we were forced to name our unborn baby. The boy name can easily to us, but the girls name was a whole different story. After about 4 ultra-sounds we didn't know for sure that we were having a girl but the odds were high. When it came to naming a girl I left it entirely up to my fiancé. I did not want to do to my daughter, what my Mom did to me. I was named Elissa. Not Alyssa or Alicia, but "Uh-lee-ss-uh." My name is not strange or too unusual; it is not exotic or foreign. I have met other women named Elissa and we share our ever-enduring hardship. No one can ever pronounce the name correctly. I think that I have been called Alyssa more than my actual name. Infact I have been at my job for 2 years. I work in a small office with one other person. When I answer the phone I always say my name and YET, my co-worker still calls me Alyssa. I am just tired of correcting her. I am tired of correcting everyone. Every time I went into a classroom it was always the same. It would be time for roll call and everyone' name would be called. "Jessica", "here" "Ben", "here" and then "Alyssa" after making sure there wasn't an Alyssa in the class I would say "It's Elissa". I never got to say "here". I didn't want my daughter to go through that but I didn't want her to be named "Mary" either. So the job was left to my fiancé. Just days before our daughter was born he decided on a name. Sophia. I was afraid that it would be too "girly" and when I called my newborn daughter Sophia for the first time it was strange. She is one-year old now and I feel like she has really become "Sophia". Not because there is a certain personality that "Sophia's" should fit, but because she is developing into her own. Now I watch my sister struggle with naming her twins, who are due in September. She has a boy and a girl on the way and she is stumped on names. I hope she knows that their name will not define who they are.

Elissa aka Punk Rock Mom! I am the ultimate multi-tasker. My daughter, Sophia, just turned 1 and since she was about 4 months old has been coming to the office with me. I am a 28 year old and will be getting married in 24 days!