Monday, July 31, 2006

Condom Veils and Slippery Nipples

What a whirlwind of a weekend! We will just call Saturday the day of all things bridal, since it included the bridal luncheon and the bachelorette party. Both were extremely eventful, so let me see if I can give you a brief recap without offending anyone. Someone once told me they thought bloggers were very narcissistic. I have decided that is only because you have to talk about yourself all the time. If you talk about anyone you know in detail, you will invariably offend someone.

Anyway, the bridal luncheon was scheduled at noon on Saturday at McCormick & Schmick’s on the Plaza. Those in attendance were Heather (the bride), Heather’s mother Sherry, Sherry’s friend Sheila, Heather’s sister-in-law Amy E. (her personal attendant), and Amy and myself (the bridesmaids).

Most of my trouble came beforehand when I was trying to choose what to wear. Being a stay-at-home mom, I don’t have a lot of dresses. When I pulled out the dress I planned to wear, I discovered that apparently I spilled something down the front of it the last time I wore it and didn’t realize the dress needed to be cleaned. Crap!

Then I pulled out dress number two. Well, f*^# me! Apparently, every dress I own has a spot on the front of it. At that moment, I decided to start wearing bibs whenever I go out to eat. Finally on dress number three, I got lucky. The only problem was that dress #3 was a little short. If I bent over, I would moon everyone, but at that point, I didn’t have much choice. Amy was at the door to pick me up, and I had to wear something.

I pulled on the dress, and we started out the door. We had almost made our escape when Eric yelled, “Whoa! Do you really want everyone to know you’re wearing hot pink panties?” Double crap! I had forgotten to change underwear to go with the light blue dress, and you could see my underwear right through it. I ran back to the bedroom and switched underwear, and finally we were off.

We were running a little behind, but I felt better when I received a frantic phone call from Heather who was running later than us because she couldn’t find her strapless bra.

When we got to the restaurant, they sat us in the middle of the restaurant where everyone could hear us (and see my ass in the unlucky event that I bent over to retrieve a napkin. But at least my ass was now covered in light blue panties to match the dress). Anyway, my voice carries, and Sheila has one of the most booming voices I’ve ever heard, so the innocent people eating lunch were in for a treat.

Amy and I immediately made a faux pas when we began discussing the upcoming bachelorette party to which Heather’s mother was not invited. We didn’t realize her mother didn’t know about the party until we received “the look” from Heather followed by several icy stares from her mother. Heather’s sister-in-law just chugged her wine, looking like she was quite used to any situation that may arise.

Then Sheila started in. When I mentioned that my son liked to eat pop tarts with blue frosting, the woman told me how I was going to make my children diabetic since I was already plying them with sugar. I’m sorry, but as any mom knows, you give your kids what they will eat, and most of the time you’re in such a hurry that you don’t have time to make a four-course breakfast. That comment was followed up by Heather’s mom talking about the “bad mothers” who allow their children to watch portable DVD players in the car. Amy and I just looked at each other, since we’re both guilty on that count. I just laughed and told Sherry she had no idea how much easier a DVD player made a six-hour car ride.

Then our food came. Sheila took one look at my Caesar salad and said she would never eat a Caesar salad in a restaurant because they use raw eggs in it and you could die from food poisoning. Apparently, she saw a story about it on Dateline. Honestly, at that point, if someone would have brought me a full bottle of wine, I would have just drank my lunch.

We stumbled through the rest of lunch with a few more icy stares, inappropriate comments and awkward pauses and went home to rest up for the bachelorette party, which was at Tasso’s Greek Restaurant – complete with a belly dancer, and lots of plate shattering.

There was another bachelorette party in attendance. We called that bride “Skanky Ho” in her tight white jeans, black tube top, tiara and feather boa. Heather looked much better. We made her a condom veil and had her wearing a light-up penis necklace. Not nearly as trashy, right?!

We had a great time at the restaurant, but the service was incredibly slow because apparently our server was also the bartender. We did a few rounds of shots, complete with a Greek Bluzo shot (which I think was just blue Nyquil) and a round of Slippery Nipples (or is it Buttery Nipples?). Heather tried to get her pictures taken with many of the men tooling around the restaurant as she could. And honestly, none of us recalled Greek men being so hot! I certainly don’t remember any hot Greek men when I watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding, but most of these guys were yummy. At one point, one of the guys pulled Heather and Skanky Ho on stage to do a Bluzo shot, and then the belly dancer gave them a lesson. Little did they know that Heather has previously had belly dancing lessons, so she was way ahead of Skanky Ho.

After about three hours at Tasso’s, we headed across the street to The Piano Room. We were the only people in the bar under the age of 60, but at least we could hear each other talk. I felt waaay too old when I complained that the music was too loud in Tasso's. I don’t recall loud music ever being a problem 15 years ago.

Anyway, the piano guy took some requests and played Moon River and a few Beatles songs for Heather. I ordered a Long Island Iced Tea, the two pregnant ladies ordered Shirley Temples, and I think everyone ordered Heather a shot. Heather’s mouth wasn’t quite big enough to go around the glass to do a blow job shot (see above photo), but luckily they’re just as good when you sip them. Amy E., Cassandra and I showed off our bar trick of tying cherry stems in a knot with our tongue. I truly believe everyone has a bar trick. And we all settled in until Heather was sloshed enough for us to cart her drunk ass home to Jim.

In college, I used to stay out until 3:00 or 4:00 and then get up at 8:00 and go to class. I sooo cannot do that anymore. I got home at 1:00, and got up at 8:00 the next morning because I had to get the kids ready for pictures. Yes, I made an appointment at Portrait Innovations for my children to get their pictures taken on the day after a bachelorette party. Not great timing, I will admit. But, that’s tomorrow’s blog!

Friday, July 28, 2006

Blue's Clues and Sex Toys

When we wake up in the morning, my husband usually turns on the TV in the bedroom. This is his daily ploy to get us to open our eyes so we can finally climb out of bed. Today, the TV was still on Noggin from yesterday. For those of you without kids, Noggin is the modern day Nickelodeon. We have Noggin, Nick Jr., Disney and PBS. There's always something on for the preschool set.

Anyway, they were doing a special on Blue's Clues that had the tone of an E! True Hollywood Story or a VH1 Behind the Music. Now, I don't know about you, but I am a sucker for those shows. If I am channel surfing and come across a True Hollywood Story or a Biography, I get sucked in no matter who the subject may be. I spent one afternoon when Eli was a baby watching a True Hollywood Story on Darva Conger. It was not pretty.

When I saw the same type of show focusing on Blue and Steve, I was riveted. We both were. It seemed to focus mainly on the departure of Steve who was on the show for seven years. He finally decided it was time to go to college and make way for his brother Joe. There was such a huge controversy surrounding Steve's departure. Many people thought he died or that there was something sinister behind it. Personally, I was waiting for them to delve into his hidden heroin addiction until I remembered that this was not VH1. When they interviewed Steve, who looks much better these days with short-cropped hair and a bit of stubble (you go, Steve), the only reason he gave was that he refused to lose his hair on a children's television show.

Hmmm . . . I still think there's more behind it. But I guess I will have to wait for E! to expose his hidden bulimia or addiction to prescription pain killers.
And just for the record, I still think Steve's replacement Donovan Patton (aka Joe) is much hotter!! Take a look at this photo and tell me you don't agree!


Well kids, today's blog was originally going to be about our search for all things bachelorette. Then I realized that Heather reads this blog, so it would really ruin the surprise if I detailed what we bought at Priscilla's for her party. She's just lucky I stopped Amy from buying the penis cupcake tins because Amy really wanted to make penis cupcakes for the party. I finally convinced her that neither one of us had time to make cupcakes, and she seemed satisfied with that.

It's always fun to go to an adult store with Amy. She gets extremely fascinated, especially when she spots the back wall with all the bondage instruments. From clear across the store, she screams, "Oh my God, what's that?!" and heads off to the nipple clamps and vibrators. When she got to the bondage ropes, she looked at me and asked, "Do people really do this?" I just said, "Oh sister, you have no idea." And to her credit, she's always up for experimentation, and left the store with a new toy for herself as well as everything we picked up for Heather.

Not to be outdone, I had my friend Rebecca, who sells Passion party products, swing by the house with her big case of adult items so I could choose a couple of more things for Heather's gift bag. When I was little, my mom had Avon ladies coming by the house. Today, I have my own Passion consultant swinging by with her sex toys. Boy, how times have changed.

I was thrilled that she was having a two for one sale on massage oil, so I ended up getting some things for myself also. Unfortunately Rebecca showed up before Eric and Eli left for swimming lessons. I tried to keep everything under wraps because I wasn't planning for Rebecca to show up before they had left. I parked in the living room since the kids were in the family room, and hoped they wouldn't come in. But no, it wasn't two seconds before Georgia headed in, followed by Eli who immediately spotted some condoms. "What's that?" he asked. I just said, "That is a condom."

"What's a condom?" he asked. Eric looked extremely alarmed at this question and asked how I was going to explain that to a 4-year-old. I just looked at Eli and said, "A condom is what men wear on their penises when they have sex." He just blinked a couple of times and said, "Oh. Okay." And off he went. I looked at Eric and said, "You just tell him the truth."

Eric was giving me a look that said, "I can't believe you're looking at sex stuff in front of the children." Yes, the fact that Georgia kept reaching for Rebecca's vibrators was slightly disturbing. So, I quickly wrapped up and purchased a few items that ranked on the more tame side of the things she brought, and she headed off. Now I just have to wrap everything.

Oh, this is a weird blog. I can't believe I talked about Blue's Clues and sex toys in the same blog. So diverse is my life. Maybe I should make every Friday's blog about sex and motherhood. I wonder how many hits I would get then. Hmmmm . . . .

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Seamstress from the Russian Mafia

Yesterday, was my last fitting for my bridesmaid's dress. For those of you new to my blog, you can read in earlier blogs about my friend Heather's wedding which is coming up in only two weeks, as well as my horror at the fact that I'm wearing a strapless bridesmaid's dress.

I can honestly say that I had been dreading yesterday all week. I was worried the dress wouldn't fit or that there would be some horrible flaw. My appointment was at 3:00, and after the situation with Georgia during my first fitting, I asked my husband if he could take off work early to come home and watch the kids while I went to the fitting. I showed up with my bra and shoes in hand, and guess who was working? That's right - our friend Helga of Russian Mafia fame.

I started over-explaining like I do with everything. "Hi! I'm here for my fitting. My name's Neila, and I have an appointment at 3:00. (pause) It's for a bridesmaid's dress. (pause). It's purple. And strapless. And there better be a bolero jacket with it."

Finally Helga said, "Pink sheet." I said, "Excuse me."

"I need pink sheet!" she said. Oh! f*%# me! I'm glad I remembered the pink sheet. This is the receipt they tell you to bring back when you leave the dress with them. About three people scream at you not forget it, as if it holds magical powers, and they would be unable to retrieve your dress from the underworld if they did not have the pink sheet. But what did Helga do? She looked at my last name on the sheet, and then went over to the rack and pulled out my dress. That seemed anti-climactic.

She shoved me in a fitting room, and said, "You try on. I help." Oh Lord! So, on went the strapless bra-like boustiere thing, on went the shoes, and then I stepped into the dress. I tried to zip it up myself because I really don't like sucking in while a stranger does it, but I couldn't get it. So, I hollered for Helga, and in she came to zip me up. Now you can't be timid about zipping me up, but Helga took long enough, that I was scared to death the dress was not going to fit. I still have Plan B, which is to cinch that boustiere to the next notch, but finally she got the dress zipped up.

When I turned around and looked in the mirror, two things stood out at me. The first and most horrifying was that you can see the shoes. Oh crap! The dress was supposed to be long enough to where you couldn't see our feet! Well, once it was altered, you could see the tips, or the toe part, of the shoe. Remember, we spent all that time decorating the shoes so cute? Well, you couldn't see enough of the shoes to tell they were decorated. You could only see enough to tell they were tennis shoes. It just looks like you're wearing a dark purple bridesmaid's dress and big blinding white tennis shoes. This is so not the look we were going for.

The second thing I noticed was that it was still too big at the top. It gapped open, and anyone invading my personal space would be able to see my bra. Helga said, "I took in lot. Is still too big." How ironic, considering the zipper in the back is fighting for its life. Apparently they didn't factor in that the woman wearing this dress has breastfed two children. It's so big at the top because my breasts hang more to the waist area.

But at this point, I didn't even care. I told Helga it was fine, and I would safety pin it. She would have non of that. "No. No. I fix," and she started pinning around the boobs again. Double crap. I kept assuring her that a well-placed safety pin would do the trick, but she just ignored me. Then, my two questions were, how long is this going to take, and how much is this going to cost? Helga said, "15 minutes. I fix. You wait. You nice lady." Yes, but she still didn't answer the cost part, so I asked again. She said, "I fix. Is free. You nice lady." Free! I heard that. Although she should have said, it's included in the $135 you already paid for alterations. But at least I wasn't going to have to plunk down anymore more money, so I was happy.

Helga yanked the dress off of me and scurried away into the sweatshop area, while I tooled around the store, trying desperately to get a signal on my cell phone. I wanted to call Amy to say, "You can see the shoes. What are we going to do?!" but I couldn't get a signal to save my life. I went back in the dressing room where another woman had arrived to pick up her dress. She was trying it on - a beautiful strapless chocolate brown dress with a bolero jacket. Now, that was how a dress was supposed to fit. I told her she looked awesome and asked if she picked the dress out. She said she was the mother of the groom, and the bride just told her what color to get. Then her eyes shot to me, and she asked in alarm, "This doesn't look like a bridesmaid's dress, does it?!" I assured her, "Oh no! It's definitely a mother of the groom dress. It's beautiful!" It totally looked like a bridesmaid's dress!

Meanwhile, out comes Helga with my dress. "I ready! You try on!" So off I went to my dressing room again to wiggle into my purple dress. Luckily, it fit this time. That zipper is still praying I don't sneeze, but now there is no gapping in the front. Helga was happy and pointed to the door. "Good! Go!" she said. I had been dismissed.

I quickly changed and grabbed my dress. As soon as I was in the car and I could get a signal on my phone, I called Amy and related the shoe situation. She was going in an hour to pick up her dress, but it was not looking good. We were now trying to decide what color of shoes we could get to go with the dress since it's too late to have shoes died. She said cream, and I said black. So, I hung up and called Heather. I started out by saying, "I got my dress. It looks great. There's only one slight issue, but it's not a big deal AT ALL!" I have learned that you do not want to make the bride hyperventilate two weeks before the wedding.

Again, I explained about the shoes, and she immediately said, "Silver! You need silver sandals. That would look great with the dress." I told her that of course she was absolutely right, and called Amy to relate the news. I added shoe shopping to my to do list, and when I got home, I admired my lovely tennis shoes covered in purple roses. I'm determined to find someplace to wear those.

Meanwhile, I'm off in search of silver sandals!

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Locked out

Just when I think it's going to be a boring day, leave it to me to create some sort of drama! With two children under the age of five, that's usually not difficult. I have long decided that I can (usually) only accomplish one goal each day. Whether it be vacuuming, laundry or going to the grocery store, usually I can truly only get one thing completed between all the children's activities. Yesterday, that goal was going to the grocery store.

The grocery store is always an adventure with Eli riding on the side of the cart (ala Bob the Builder) and Georgia refusing to sit down. It doesn't matter how tightly I strap her in, that girl can wiggle out of it. I usually have to do most of the shopping pushing the cart with one hand and carrying her with the other.

Yesterday, my plan was to get to the store early and get it over with. Unfortunately by the time both children got up, dressed and fed, it was time for Georgia's morning nap. When she woke up, it was time for lunch, yada yada yada. Needless to say, we didn't leave for the grocery store until 1:30. I was so hurriedly trying to get us out the door, that I grabbed the kids, grabbed my purse, made sure I had the grocery list, and walked out the front door, locking it behind me.

No sooner did it latch than I had a moment of clarity. I try hard not to curse in front of my children, but the situation definitely deserved an "Oh S*#t!!" when I realized that my keys were still hanging on the hook above the kitchen counter. When I uttered my expletive, Eli just looked at me and asked what was wrong. I told him that mommy just locked us all out of the house. He simply suggested, "Why don't you just use your keys?" Apparently a 4-year-old doesn't understand the meaning of "locked out."

I sat down on the porch and started rifling through my purse, with the far-fetched hope that maybe I stuck my keys in there and forgot. After emptying the contents of my purse and finding nothing helpful, I decided to check and see if my car was locked. Occasionally, I get annoyed with Eric because he forgets to lock my car. If it was open, I could get to the garage door opener.

No such luck! The one time Eric remembered to lock the car! And I didn't relish setting off the car alarm attempting to get in my car. The next thing that went through my mind was the thought that maybe I could break into the house. Surely, it can't be that difficult to pick a lock. Unfortunately I didn't have so much as a hairpin. I know people can pick locks with credit cards, but I had no idea how to do that, and I didn't really want to ruin my front door and my credit card trying.

I looked through my purse again and stared at my cell phone. I really did NOT want to call my husband. First of all, it would have taken him about 30 minutes to get home with the keys, and I didn't want to wait outside in the heat with the kids for that long. Second of all, I really did not enjoy the thought of the amusement he would get out of my unfortunate situation, nor did I relish the idea of listening to his comic take on my ill-fated circumstances.

So, what did that leave me with? Aha! My office! There is a sliding glass door in my office, through which Eli runs in and out all the time. I am constantly on him to make sure he locks the door when he comes in. That morning, Eli went outside through the sliding door to get to his swingset. I could only hope!

I looked at him with optimism, "Honey, did you lock the door to mommy's office this morning when you came back inside?" He looked at me, and I could tell he was trying to decide if he should tell me the truth for fear of getting in trouble." Finally he said, "Um . . . no." I'm sure he was surprised at my shout of, "Thank God!" I picked him up and kissed him!

Only one hurdle left. To get to the sliding glass door, we had to get into the backyard. The gates are padlocked, so when Eli plays in the backyard, I don't have to worry about him escaping.

The thought of climbing over the fence did not appeal to me, but luckily, I am strong even though I'm not agile. I explained to Eli that I was going to lift him over the fence, and he needed to go in through the office door and go get mommy's keys off the hook. I told him he was doing me a really big favor. On the count of three, he went up and over the fence. He ran to the office and opened the door. It really wasn't locked. Yippee! He went inside and I waited . . . and waited. Finally, he came back out and said, "I can't reach them." Ugh!

"Well honey," I said, "It's okay to stand on something to reach them." Again, this is something he gets in trouble for because he often uses his Sit and Spin as a step stool to reach things he shouldn't. Of course, that was the moment he decided to remember my warnings. Back in the house he went. And I waited.

A couple of minutes later, out he came with the keys in hand. Yay!!! He told me, "I had to stand on my Sit and Spin to reach them." I said, "That is okay sweetie! Thank you!" He shut the office door, and came back over to the gate, where I lifted him back over. It was not nearly as easy that second time since my adrenaline was starting to dissipate. I gave him a huge hug and told him what a big favor he did for mommy. He saved us from having to stand out in the heat, and he saved me the embarrassment of having to call daddy. For that, I told Eli he could choose anything he wanted at the grocery store for a treat.

He chose sprinkles - the kind that go on cupcakes. Needless to say, today's chore will be vacuuming. But at least there is no danger of locking myself out of the house while completing that task.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

First Waves

My son, Eli, had his first swimming lesson last night, which is something we have anticipated with bated breath - and not in a good way. He has always been a little timid in the water, and for some reason has been growing more fearful. I think he gets this from his dad, since both of them refuse to put their heads in the water.

I thought his fear would subside because whenever we go anywhere in which there is a pool, Eli always becomes extremely excited. A couple of months ago, we traveled to western Kansas for a family reunion, and we stayed at a hotel. From the second we checked in, Eli was begging us to go to the pool. When we finally took him down to the hotel pool, he started to go down the stairs into the shallow end. When he got in, the water reached his chin. As soon as he realized the water was touching his face, he began screeching like a wild banshee.

Georgia and I were right outside the pool area when this happened in the hotel lobby on a desperate search for coffee. I think everyone in the hotel heard Eli's scream. I raced in the pool area to see what was wrong. Did Eli fall? Was he attacked by wild dogs? What? Eric, looking very embarrassed, said, "His face touched the water."

That is when I decided we needed to enroll him in swimming lessons. I thought, if nothing else, he could hopefully get into the water without a scream of utter terror. So, I signed him up, and for the last two months, we have been dreading that decision, particularly Eric because I already informed him that he was going to be the one taking Eli to swimming lessons.

Well, last night was the first class. I spent all day trying to gear Eli up about how fun it was going to be and what a great time he was going to have. It was not going well. He just kept saying, "I won't like it! The water is scary, and it's going to be cold." I said, "Well, it might not be cold because the sun has been warming the pool up all day." He just looked at me and rolled his eyes. You know it's bad when a 4-year-old rolls his eyes at you.

His anxiety only increased throughout the day, with frequent shouts of "I'm NOT going!" Then his imagination started running away with him. He tried to reason with me by telling me that he was afraid of scarecrows, and there are scarecrows surrounding the pool. I told him I had driven by the pool just yesterday and there was not a scarecrow in sight. That only made him angry. "YES, THERE ARE SCARECROWS, AND I'M NOT GOING!!!" Oh boy.

When Eric got home from work, he informed me that Georgia and I would be accompanying him to that first lesson. I told him that I really didn't think it was necessary for the whole family to go, and I think Georgia and I should just stay home. His response was something like, "Oh, hell no. You're going! This was your bright idea, and I'm not going to be the only one embarrassed when he runs away from the pool screaming that he's afraid of the water and scarecrows." *sigh*

We packed up the kids and headed off to the pool, which was packed with all ages of children ready for swimming lessons. Eli was in the First Waves class, so they were right by the stairs on the shallow end. The parents were banished to the concession area, which was right inside a fence a few yards away from the pool. So, we were close enough if there was an emergency, but far enough away that we weren't readily visible. This inspired some confidence because I really thought Eli would do better if he couldn't see us. However, my confidence was dashed as soon as they called role and got to "Elly." Grrrrrrr.

Eric walked him out to the pool, or should I say, he guided Eli out by the shoulders. When he let go, Eli took off running, but Eric has fast reflexes and caught him. It took the "teacher" and the lifeguard, but they did manage to get Eli in the pool. Eric came back behind the fence with Georgia and I so we could watch the situation unfold.

Luckily it wasn't as bad as I had anticipated because I really was expecting the worst. There were only four children in the First Waves class - Eli, two other boys and a girl named Piper. The two other boys were raring to go. Eli was hanging onto the rope for dear life, bouncing up and down, and Piper looked like she was ready to run. That made me feel better.

They got Eli to blow bubbles in the water, and he practiced the front float and back float. He did those while hanging on to the "teacher" for dear life, but hey - baby steps. When they tried to get Piper to do these things, she vehemently shook her head with a look that said, "I don't f***ing think so!" You go, Piper!

I could not have been more proud of my son! He got so comfortable that he even started splashing the other boys. Yes, that is my child - the only one to be disciplined during swimming lessons. "Eli, no splashing," yelled the 15-year-old "teacher" with the big metal smile. That's about the time Eli spotted us. He looked at Georgia and screamed, "Sissy! Look at me!" Oh crap. We all ducked.

Just a side note - does anyone remember our swimming lesson teachers being that young? Looking back, I guess they were high school kids who taught swimming lessons when I was little, but they all just look so young now!

Anyway, everything was just moving along swimmingly until it came time to put your head in the water. Now, I find it interesting the different way in which they treat boys and girls. If Piper didn't want to do something, the teacher asked her a couple of times, but moved on when she said no. When Eli said no, it was more of, "Come on, Eli, buddy. I know you can do it!" Hmm . . .

Well, when it came to putting your head underwater, no amount of coaxing could get Eli to do it. All I saw was him shaking his head vigorously and saying something to the instructor. I don't know what it was, but I hope it wasn't anything about scarecrows.

After that, class was over, and the kids popped out of the pool, or rather they climbed out with the help of two instructors. I wrapped Eli up in his Scooby Doo towel and told him I was so proud of him and what a wonderful job he did. When we were getting in the car, we asked him if he enjoyed the lesson. With righteous indignation, he responded, "Yes, but they tried to make me put my head in the water!"

It should be a fun two weeks.

Monday, July 24, 2006

Obsessions and Cravings

I know I seem to have a large pre-occupation with children’s programming, and I don’t mean to beat a dead horse, but would someone please comment if they see some serious sexual overtones in Bob the Builder (BTB). I know I’ve discussed the bi-polar Lofty and Stalker Wendy in a previous blog, but since my son has become more obsessed with the show, I think the sexual tension between Bob and Wendy is growing. It doesn’t help matters that watching any television with my husband quickly results in a Mystery Science Theatre-type banter between the two of us. This is how it goes:

Scoop from BTB: “Gee Bob, you and Wendy never take a vacation.”
Me: “That’s because they’re always doing it in the back of a truck.”
Eric: “No. They have to resort to a seedy motel because all the trucks know them.”

And it continues from there. Unfortunately after seeing Team America, it is all too easy to visualize Stop Motion or puppet-type characters engaged in some raunchy sexual activity. For Halloween this year, I’m sure Eli will want to be someone in the Bob the Builder family. I’m thinking Eric can go as Bob’s dad, and I will be Stalker Wendy. I’ll put my hair in a pony tail and pin a restraining order to my chest. It will be fabulous!

Aside from the sexual overtones, has anyone seen the character Spud?

He’s a scarecrow. Am I the only one who thinks Spud looks like the serial killer from a B horror movie? In addition to the Pumpkinhead, he comes complete with a red and green scarf ala Freddy Kreuger! Or maybe I’ve just watched one too many slasher flicks. I don’t know what it is, but he seriously creeps me out.

Other than watching the 24-hour viewing of BTB that runs on our television, I did manage to get a few things accomplished this weekend. As I mentioned a few days ago, this weekend was the details party. Amy, Heather and I got together to get some of the wedding details checked off the list. Amy and I made our shoes. (I truly believe you can make just about anything with a hot glue gun), and we helped Heather with the programs. We were supposed to be working on wedding favors, which are triangular tea infusers. All we had to do was tie the tags to them, which had personal quotes on them. Unfortunately, Heather made the tags rectangular instead of triangular, much to the chagrin of her fiancé. He seems to forget he’s not the bride.

We also managed to polish off a nice bottle of wine at the details party while listening to the Wedding Mix version 2 CD. I think the wine was an immense help. My friend Aaron (my main gay) and I went out for coffee the other night at Beanology, which is an awesome coffeeshop because they also offer booze-ology, aka coffee drinks with liquor. They are sooooo good! My favorite part is that it says on the menu they don’t serve booze-ology until after 9:30 am. Apparently drinking after 9:30 am is okay, but drinking at 9:15 am means you’re a lush.

Anyway, Aaron had gone to the Holy-Field Vineyard and Winery last week in Basehor, KS and brought me back two bottles of wine. They were incredible! I downed one with the girls on Saturday, and my husband and I enjoyed the Port, complete with a slab of dark chocolate as Aaron instructed me to do. He was right – it was an orgasm in my mouth! Nothing can do that like wine and chocolate. . . well, besides ice cream. . . and coffee. Hell, never mind. Apparently, I’m just easy.

Has anyone heard about the new Haagen Dazs flavor? Food TV ran a contest for viewers to invent a new ice cream flavor. We watched it one night last week because there’s really nothing on in the summer, so I tend to watch a lot of Food Network, HGTV and Big Brother 7. Once you get into Big Brother, you can always go to YouTube and find a clip of one of the hot guys taking a shower.

But I digress. The three finalists in the ice cream contest were Toasted Coconut Sesame Brittle (yuck! I hate coconut), Cannoli (this is the one I was rooting for), and Sticky Toffee Pudding, which was the ultimate winner. After they talked about these ice creams so much, I had such a hankering for Sticky Toffee Pudding by the time the show was over, I almost couldn’t take it. I have not had a craving like that since I was pregnant and ate 13 crab rangoons in one sitting.

Anyway, since last week, I have been looking for Sticky Toffee Pudding ice cream everywhere I go. They didn’t have it at Wal-Mart, Hy-Vee, Dillons or Target. Grrrrr! It’s only available for a limited time, so I’m on a quest. It’s bad news when I’m on a quest. At this point, it’s not that I even care about the actual ice cream, but I’m obsessed with the search. I’m so annoyed with the fact that I can’t find it. The more annoyed I get, the more I feel the need to find this ice cream. It’s a sickness – my OCD is on the rampage!

Saturday, July 22, 2006

Tattoo-covered 4-year-old

First and foremost, I would like everyone to know that my dad is doing well after getting a handy dandy pacemaker installed on Thursday. I was quite surprised to hear they don't even put you under for that surgery!! All they do is drug you up on Valium before they start going. I am a fan of the Valium, but if I had to be awake when you're screwing with my heart, there better be morphine or Demerol involved!

My mom called after the surgery and handed the phone to my dad. The first thing my dad said was, "They didn't tell me how long I would have to wait to have sex." I could hear my mom and my aunt cackling in the background, and I knew all was well. They're now at home relaxing, or more likely my mom is trying to force my dad not to do anything for two weeks as the doctor said. We'll see how that goes.

Yesterday was an entertaining day at Gymboree. First, I should explain that my son is addicted to lunchables. All he ever wants to eat no matter what the meal are lunchables. Lunchables are currently being sponsored by Pirates of the Caribbean and come complete with tattoos. I remember when I was a kid, and I loved wearing fake tattoos. I didn't even care what the picture was. Well, these days I care. These Pirates of the Caribbean tattoos consist of a skull and crossbones wearing a bandana or there was one that was a skull and crossbones with a snake wrapped around it. Apparently someone has a fondness for skulls and crossbones. What crackhead thought those tattoos would be a good idea to put in a children's lunchable?!

Eli was just excited to wear tattoos. He didn't really care what they were, so we went to Gymboree with my 4-year-old covered in skulls and crossbones. It was fabulous!

Afterward, I decided we needed to take a break from the lunchables, so we went to McDonald's. Neither child had eaten very well yesterday, and one of the first things I quickly learned as a mother was that if your kids won't eat, you can easily cure that by going to McDonald's. I don't know if it's some inherent trait, but all kids love McDonald's.

Anyway, I ordered Georgia her chicken mcnuggets and Eli his Happy Meal, and we came home to eat. When I pulled out the Happy Meal, guess who this week's sponsor was? Pirates of the Caribbean! Crap! It's following me! Why can't I get away from the Pirates of the Caribbean? Was it the crush I had on Johnny Depp in high school or my fondness for drag queens dressed as pirates? I'm not sure.

Like all kids, the first thing Eli did was pull out the toy. It was a treasure chest with a key. Whew! Okay, that looked harmless enough, so I breathed a sigh of relief. I always make him eat his lunch before I open the toy, so he quickly downed half his hamburger and his orange juice so I would open it. When I did open it and gave it to him, he immediately took the key and popped open the little treasure chest. I then felt a moment of utter exasperation because guess what was inside? You got it. Tattoos! And not just one tattoo like you get in a lunchable - it was a whole sheet of tattoos, and a sheet of stickers, to boot. Eli exclaimed, "Wow!" as I admired the skull with the snake coming out of its mouth, the skull with the swords behind it, and the all too familiar skull and crossbones with a snake wrapped around it. What the hell? It's a children's Happy Meal, for crissake! I'm pretty damn sure this movie is rated PG-13!

When Eli went to the bathroom, I hid the tattoos, and tried to turn his attention to something a little more age appropriate - Bob the Builder. This was not difficult since he currently likes to be referred to as Bob the Builder, which is what he told all his friends at Gymboree. I suppose it's always good to have an alias. That diverted his attention for awhile until he remembered that we were supposed to make Crunchy Munchy Honeycakes. Double crap!! I forgot.

Since Eli's birthday, we have listened to The Wiggles CD, Yummy Yummy (a gift from Nanny and Papa), so many times that even I have most of it memorized. This is actually one of the CDs I don't mind too much, because as you all know I have the hots for Anthony Field (aka the blue Wiggle). Anyway, there is a song on the CD entitled Crunchy Munchy Honeycakes. I'm assuming it's some sort of Australian treat. Anyway, the song gives vague instructions on how to make them and talks about how yummy they are. I'm guessing that any kid who has listened to that song more than once has started begging their mom to make Crunchy Munchy Honeycakes. At least, that's how it worked in my house. So, I got online to go in search of the recipe, which I found to be quite easy since it is located on the official Wiggles Web site.

I quickly discovered a problem. I hate coconut. I hate it with an ever-growing passion. When Eric got home yesterday, I told him that we need to run to the grocery store this weekend to get ingredients for Crunchy Munchy Honeycakes. However, I have decided to Americanize the recipe and replace the coconut with either miniature chocolate chips, or miniature M&M's, I haven't quite decided. Eric is utterly outraged. He told me I can't change the recipe or they won't be Crunchy Munchy Honeycakes. A minor argument ensued. In fact, he's standing behind me reading, and the argument has now started up again. I can't decide if it's good or bad that this is what we argue about - whether or not to put coconut in Crunchy Munchy Honeycakes. I will let you know how that turns out. But here's a hint, I will win.

Today, I am off to the "details" party at Amy's house where Amy, Heather and I will work on any wedding details that need to be covered, such as getting our shoes ready (We're gluing little purple roses to tennis shoes.), and working on parachute place cards. We will be doing this while drinking wine and watching Four Weddings and a Funeral, followed by Father of the Bride. I am also bringing version two of the wedding mix CD for good measure.

The bachelorette party is next weekend, so I should have bought stuff so I could work on the condom veil today. Hmmm . . . it's still early.

I'm off to buy condoms and tulle.

Friday, July 21, 2006

A quiet day at home – Never!

Today was the day I was planning to get the kids out and run errands because it was supposed to be cooler. Well, it is cooler -72 degrees, as opposed to yesterday's 104!! However, I also woke up to torrential rains, thunder, and 60 mph winds. Honestly, I think I would rather get out in this weather than in the heat.

The day is looking up, however. I just checked my e-mail, and apparently I have just won $500,000 in the Nigerian lottery. I can enjoy the money while growing a large penis. It will be fabulous!

Some days when we don't leave the house, we get a little stir crazy, but other days, we just get crazy. Eli loves to create his own games. (A hint into his future? Hmmm. . .) Yesterday, we spent an hour (yes, an hour) playing the new game he invented. You place a plastic cup on my desk and then you take a large stick and push it off behind the desk, complete with me singing "Da Da Da" music. It was actually very fun. We even had Georgia laughing.

Georgia's favorite game right now is peekaboo. I'm not sure why people do this from the time babies pop out of the womb, but even strangers will come up to a baby, cover their eyes and then pop their hands off their face, screaming "Peekaboo." Sometimes it's enough to scare me. But, I digress. Georgia doesn't quite have the specifics of Peekaboo down, but she's close. She puts her hands to her face, and waits for you to say, "Where's Georgia?" before she holds her arms out in a "Ta Da" manner.

When she covers her face, however, her hands don't necessarily go over her eyes. Her hands can go on the top of her head, over her mouth, or on cheeks ala the Home Alone kid, but sometimes she does manage to cover one eye. Either way, when you see her with both hands anywhere on her head, you know what she's doing and if you don't say "Where's Georgia?", you will have one pissed off baby on your hands. This usually lapses into her blowing kisses. I mean, why not? Her hands are on her face anyway.

Yesterday, when Eli and I were playing the cup game, Georgia managed to get a green marker off my desk. She is so stealth, that I didn't even notice it until I looked at her and she had a green mark going up her lip and her forehead. *sigh* Does anyone have any idea exactly how long it takes to get permanent marker off a squirming baby? Well, I do!

While I was working on that project, the phone rang. I may have mentioned in the past that Eli answers the phone anytime he gets the chance. Since he can outrun me, this is most of the time. I have discovered that this is a great way to screen phone calls because he will start talking to anybody. As long as he hears a voice on the other end, he starts going. It doesn't really matter if it's grandma or a lady trying to get us to switch phone services.

Yesterday, I don't know who it was. I just heard him answer the phone and say, "Well mommy's in the bathroom with Sissy. She has green marker on her face. We were in the office, playing with the cup and you knock it off with a stick. And I just watched Bob the Builder, and Bob and Wendy . . . " Before he got too far into his Bob the Builder story, he stopped and looked at the phone. "I must have hit a button," he said and handed me the phone. I listened - complete dial tone. Apparently that particular sales person didn't feel like catching up on the latest episode Bob the Builder.

I better wrap this up. Georgia just woke up, and I have to go get her before she starts banging on the bars of her crib like a prisoner. All she needs is a tin cup and it would be perfect.

One thing I did want to mention in today's blog is the woman in France who got "dooced." Have you heard about this? Dooced means she got fired from her job because of something she wrote in her blog. Like many others, I am completely outraged about this. I have read this woman's blog, Petite Anglaise, and I love her! She is hilarious! She's like a real life Bridget Jones - you have to check her out. Anyway, her blog was completely anonymous (she refers to her daughter as Tadpole and her daughter's father as Mr. Frog), and she never mentioned the company where she worked or anyone with whom she worked by name. Yet somehow, senior management found out about her blog and gave her the axe. Apparently, this company's largest problem is a hard-working single mom with a blog. (The Man is everywhere - not just the good ole' USA.) She is now suing them for two years' salary. You go, sister! I hope she kicks them in the in the self-righteous balls, or bollocks as she would probably say. Check out her blog here. I am also adding her to my Links section on my Blogger page. You can check out the article in the Telegraph about her getting sacked here.

I'm off to get my baby!

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Irrational Fears

I really despise days like this. It happened again. I had my blog about 80 percent completed, and I hit the "Add Link" button, and the whole thing disappeared. On days like these, it's a damn good thing I don't have an axe next to my computer.

Well, Heather's dress is now hanging in the closet of my utility room. I am nervous - very nervous. It's not like I even need a reason to have an irrational amount of anxiety, but I think this is a good reason. Eric wanted to look at the dress last night, and I screamed, "NO!" Heather brought the dress over in the back of her truck, carried it in and hung it up. I have not touched it, and do not plan to touch it unless there is a fire or natural disaster, in which case I will rescue it right after the children.

I think Heather is somewhat nervous about leaving the dress in the same house as small children, but since there is a child lock on the door, hopefully all will be well. I actually think she's a little more nervous about the dress being in the same house as my husband. Last night, when she dropped it off, Eric said he was going to try it on and parade around the house. Even though he was obviously joking, I saw her eye start to twitch. You don't screw with a bride three weeks out from her wedding.

Then, when I went to get coffee today, Aaron said, "I would never be responsible for watching someone's wedding dress. Something's going to happen. What about moths? What if moths get to it? What if a mouse chews through the bag and ruins the dress? She'll unzip it on her wedding day and it will be ruined, and it will be all your fault." I just blinked at him before responding, "I hate you." It's really annoying when I have what I think is an irrational fear about something, and then someone voices it back to me. Because I had already thought about the whole mouse chewing thing, so now that makes me think maybe it's not such an irrational fear after all.

I really need to shut up about that because if Heather's reading this, she's probably flipping out right about now.

Anyway, to calm myself down, I drove to Scooter's for my morning coffee after dropping Eli off at pre-school. You see, my body has a timer on it. If I don't have caffeine coursing through my system by 10:00 am, I get a pounding headache. It doesn't matter if I have four cups of coffee at 10:05 because that is too late. When I pulled into Scooter's, it was 9:30, so I was working on borrowed time. I told them I needed a lot of caffeine, so when Aaron handed me my drink, he told me to taste it and see if it was too strong. It tasted perfect to me, and then he told me that he put "about 6 shots in it"!! I think he's trying to kill me.

The upside of my morning is that Scooter's now offers breakfast and lunch sandwiches! Now that I can go there for meals in addition to coffee, I'll probably never leave. I think I need more disposable income.

This reminds me, I may be switching my blog over to Blogger sometime soon. One thing I have discovered in the last couple of weeks is that I really suck at Web design, so I finally just went with a Blogger template. I am more of a cut-and-paste kind of gal, and I still had to go in and screw with some of the HTML to get it right. We'll see how well it works. Anyway, go over and check out the new interface, and let me know what you think. After I switch over, then I have to figure out how to get some more traffic on my blog. I have read some of the other Mom Blogs out there, and mine is funnier!! Now, I just have to get people to realize they need to come and read it every day! Does anyone have any thoughts on how to do that?

Today is Eli's last day of summer pre-school. I love my son more than anything, but it's been a nice break to have two days a week where I can actually get things done. Next week should be very interesting because Eli starts swimming lessons. He really hates water and screeches like a howler monkey anytime water touches his face, so I'm crossing my fingers that we can get through this with only mild embarrassment.

Also today is my mom's birthday. She is spending it at the hospital with my dad while he gets a pacemaker put in. I know I have complained in the past about a birthday here and there, but how much does this one suck?! My dad's hoping the pacemaker will give him enough energy that he can go out and build a fence. He seems to forget that he's almost 77.

Well, I'm off to do something non-productive. I could clean the house while Georgia's napping, but I would rather work on my mix CDs. I have a mix CD obsession. For some reason, I feel it necessary to have a mix for every mood and every occasion. I have an 80's mix, a dance mix, a feel-good mix, and a mellow mix. I have a mix for Eric, one for Georgia, and one for Eli, as well as Neila's favorite pop hits. Heather knows how freaky I am about my mix CDs and asked me to do a wedding mix that we can listen to when we're getting our hair done. I am on it! Oddly, I thought of 12 songs right off the top of my head. How bizarre is that? Eric thinks I need to add the Dixie Chicks - Ready to Run and Goodbye, Earl, but that's not really the theme I'm going for.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Scary-ass birds

I think it's normal that everyone has an unnatural fear of something, particularly animals. After hearing the news this morning, I am sure one little boy will have an unnatural fear of peacocks for the rest of his life. Did you hear about this? I am sure you all have visited a zoo in your lifetime and have seen the peacocks roaming around freely. Apparently, a family was at a zoo in Oregon, and there happened to be a piece of candy on the ground next to a 2-year-old. The peacock bent down to get the candy at the same moment the child stepped toward him, and the bird went into attack mode. It jumped up on the kid and grabbed both of his shoulders with its talons and stuck its beak in the kid's chest.

The little boy is fine, and the parents are understandably pissed, and the zoo officials are playing up the fact that this "rarely" happens. Okay, "rarely" means that it has happened. I don't know about you, but I would only need to see a peacock jump a kid once before thinking it may be time to review that policy. Apparently the zoo officials don't realize that they are sooooo going to get sued.

Coincidentally, one of my unnatural fears also stems from the bird family. Personally, I think I have watched one too many Hitchcock movies, because I think birds in general have an alternate agenda. However, my main irrational fear happens to be ostriches. Those are some scary-ass birds with their big bugged out eyes!

I do have (what I consider) a good reason for feeling this way. Now, speaking of free-roaming animals, if anyone has ever been to the Exotic Animal Paradise just outside of Springfield, Missouri, you know it is actually a drive-through zoo, so the animals come right up to your car. Yippee. Not only do they encourage you to roll your windows down and drive through a park full of aggressive animals, but they even sell bags of feed at the beginning so you can really get up close and personal.

Eric and I visited this zoo a few years back before we had children, thinking it sounded like a good idea. We bought our big bag of feed, and hopped in the car to drive through the zoo. Everything was going fine and dandy at first. I was okay with feeding the prairie dogs and other small animals, but as soon as the animals got taller than the car, I started to get nervous. I quickly started to notice that those freaky ostriches were everywhere. Apparently they can just roam around wherever the hell they feel like it.

Well, all of the animals just about have an orgasm when they see a car coming because they know they are going to get food. Most of the animals are confined to certain areas, but some of the scarier animals (ostriches) follow the cars in order to get all the food. Well, one ostrich kept following us. That's right, our car was being cased by an ostrich. When I stopped to throw food out the window at something, that's when he made his move. He came right up to my open car window, and stared right at me. Thinking he looked aggressive, I told Eric to drive on. Before he could, the ostrich spotted the bag of food on my lap, and stuck his entire neck and head in the window to get to it. He started pecking the food right out of my lap!

At this point, I started screaming. And I don't mean some feminine, ladylike scream. I mean a terrified-ohmygod-horror movie-I am going to die scream. I was also trying to crawl into Eric's lap to get away from the bird and yelling at Eric to drive away. Unfortunately, he was laughing so hard that it took a few moments for him to regain his composure enough to drive. When he did, I rolled up my window and kept it sealed through the rest of the zoo.

Unfortunately, that didn't go well either, because the animals get very aggressive when they know you have food. If you drive by without throwing any at them, they get pissed. Think the monkeys in The Omen. So, I rolled down my window when we got to the buffalo area, because they were far enough away from us that they couldn't attack, and they're fairly slow moving, and I dumped out the rest of my feed for them. Then, I quickly rolled my window back up. I just wanted to get out of there.

That's when I found out that the zoo officials apparently have a twisted sense of humor because for their amusement, they put the rams at the end of the zoo tour. Now, I know it's not just me because I am sure most people are out of food by the time they get to the end. But the rams saw a car, and here they came. I had absolutely no food left. Well, they're rams. And they were pissed. They put their heads down and started ramming the car. We were going to pay for not having their breakfast. Once again, I was screaming, "Drive!" But it's a little harder when you are surrounded by rams who are trying to tip your car over.

We finally managed to get through and get the hell out of there. We were left with a few scratches on the car, a few pictures, and a big story. Sadly, we recently found out that the Exotic Animal Park will be closing sometime next year. I don't know where all the animals are going, but I would assume to other zoos. Although, I wouldn't shed a tear if they euthanized the damn ostriches.

Anyway, Eric came to me the other day and said, "You know what would be a good family trip? We should take the kids to that drive-through zoo before it closes." So I can be the crazy woman, screaming, "An ostrich ate my baby!!"? I don't think so.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Let them eat cake

Do you ever really want to see a movie, knowing that it's going to be bad. That happens to me whenever there is a new M. Night Shyamalan movie coming out. I either love his movies or hate them. I loved The Sixth Sense and Signs. And last year, I had to go see The Village despite the terrible reviews, only to discover that it deserved every bad thing everyone said about it. So far, The Lady in the Water seems to be following suit with that. The reviews I have read are brutal, yet I still want to see it. Someone please explain to me why I torture myself.

Anyway, back to real life. We are still recovering from birthday party aftermath at our house. I looked around this morning at all the new toys, and realized I have no place to put them. That is the only bad thing about birthdays - more stuff to add to the current stuff and old stuff equals way too much stuff. Maybe we'll just move.

Unfortunately, my husband and I are both pack rats, which is a bad combination. One pack rat should never marry another because before you know it, you are up to your eyeballs in stuff since neither of you are capable of throwing anything away. I think I am going to have to bite the bullet and get rid of some toys. The only problems with this are 1. it's going to take a heck of a lot of energy that I currently don't have and 2. if Eli sees me getting rid of anything, I will have to endure the wrath of a tantrum. There has to be a way around that.

I have spent the morning cleaning out the closet in the utility room because I am in charge of (drumroll, please) the wedding dress! Heather has her final fitting tomorrow night and doesn't want to take her dress all the way back to Independence because she doesn't want it to get scrunched in her truck. So, she's bringing it to my house. I decided the closet in the utility room was the best place for it because the utility room door has a child lock on it, so that is the only place in the house I can be certain the dress will be safe from sticky little fingers. I take my responsibility seriously.

Speaking of the wedding, I did the math today, and discovered something that truly caused me nausea. I made a promise that I wasn't going to talk about periods or bodily functions in my blog, but today is an exception. I counted the days, and I am due to start my period the day of the wedding! Now I not only have to worry about normally fitting into my bridesmaid's dress, but fitting into it while bloated and retaining. This is so not cool! I have come to believe there are forces working against me. Now, in addition to my arms, I have to worry about a bloated tummy and boobs! That's just great!

What I originally planned to talk about today was the story of Eli's birthday cake. That story would have made yesterday's blog way too long, so I'm adding it today. In a previous blog, I believe I complained about the Russian lady taking the cake orders. (I've also complained about the Russian lady at the bridal shop. I'm beginning to believe the Russian mafia is out to get me.)
Anyway, I was right to be concerned. That's what really sucks. I knew all week that cake was going to be messed up before I even went in to get it. First off, I ordered cupcakes - but not just regular cupcakes, pull-apart cupcakes. If you're not familiar with that, it basically means, they arrange the cupcakes into whatever shape you want, and then frost it and decorate it like it's an actual cake. Then you just pull the cupcakes apart and eat them. Great idea.

When I went to pick up my cupcakes, they handed me two containers, each containing 12 plain white cupcakes each with plain frosting. I literally had to take deep breaths and count to ten before calmly saying, "This is not what I ordered." It was a different girl working, so while the devil voice in my head was screaming obscenities, the angel voice was calmly telling me it wasn't her fault. Luckily, the Russian lady was not working or I don't think the devil voice could have been contained.

I explained to her that our theme was Bob the Builder, and I wanted a construction theme to go with that. I had written out the ticket myself, and I believe I was specific. The day I ordered, I even pointed to a cake they were decorating at the time, and said, "Something like that would be perfect." The girl said there was some confusion as to what I wanted, and they didn't know whether to do a pull-apart or not. I was under the impression that's why I provided a phone number, so they could call me if they had any f***ing questions, but I digress.

I just said, "I wrote on the sheet that I wanted 'Happy Birthday, Eli.' How did you think you were going to write that on regular cupcakes?" She just said, "Yeah, that kind of confused us." AAAA!! Then I said that I also asked for half white cupcakes and half chocolate cupcakes, and pointed to the sheet where that was written. The girl sighed because apparently I was putting her out, and offered to redo the cupcakes and said it would take 20 minutes.

So, I tooled around Target with my mom. She was thrilled, by the way, because she never gets a chance to just look around. I kept going back over to see if my cupcakes were ready yet, and 45 minutes later(!!!), the girl was done with them in the design I originally ordered - a pull-apart Bob the Builder theme. It looked great, and luckily they gave me a big discount, so at least I saved money.

I'm sure I will go back to Target in the future because for some reasons their cakes taste so much better than HyVee's. But if the Russian lady is working next time, I think I'll make my own damn cupcakes.

Monday, July 17, 2006

One hot party! (7/17/06)

The temperature on Saturday was 99, and I don't even know what the heat index was, but one thing I do know is that this is the last time we have a birthday party outside in July! I will have to do another blog about all the events leading up to the party, but today I'm just going to tell you about the party itself.

The party was scheduled for 10:00 am Saturday morning at Deanna Rose Farmstead, which is a good 20-25 minutes from here. I set the alarm for 7:00, and planned to leave no later than 9:00 because we had to stop and get ice for the cooler, cement blocks to which to tie the balloons - and I don't mean rocks from the garden, I mean specially designed cement blocks they wrap up in party paper so they can charge $1 a piece for them. I was driving my parents, the kids, and a carload of stuff to carry in, and Eric was taking his own car full of stuff. At 9:00, I was ready, the kids were ready, but Eric and my parents were sipping coffee, reading the newspaper, and half the stuff still wasn't in the car. Nobody even batted an eye that I was running around like a crazy person, screaming, "What are you people doing?! We have to go!" I swear to God, I wished I had a cattle prod. By the time I got everyone out the door and we finished loading the cars, it was 9:20. I was off schedule, and I was not happy.

I had the kids and my mom, and Eric was taking my dad. I stopped to get the cement, and Eric stopped for ice. I ran into Party America, grabbed the cement and jumped in the one line open behind a woman who didn't understand why they wouldn't take her debit card because it wasn't signed. Crap! Precious time wasted!

When we finally got out of there, we sped to Deanna Rose, and the whole time, I was listening to my mom say things like, "Slow down!" or "That was a stop sign, not a rolling stop sign!" Yes, but we were in a hurry. We got there at 9:50, and the parking lot was packed. At Deanna Rose, there is a parking lot in front, and a parking lot further away. We definitely wanted in the front lot since we brought the entire contents of our house with us. This is when my mom said, "I should have brought the handicapped sign from our car." Yes, that would have been helpful.
I illegally parked, stood my mom on the sidewalk, and unloaded all my stuff around her, with instructions not to let anyone steal it. Then I went off in search of a parking spot and luckily got the last one in the front lot. By the time I got up front, Eric's family was there, too, and we lugged in all of our stuff. The time? 10:00. We were there, but we were not decorated - no tablecloths, no balloons, nothing - because the decorations were in Eric's car. He arrived about five minutes later with the first two party guests right behind him.

I should say at this point, that I like to have the appearance of being somewhat organized, and I really hate to be late. I was mortified at the fact that people were arriving when we didn't have so much as a tablecloth out. Eric, on the other hand, looked confused that people were arriving since apparently he thought the party didn't start until 10:30! Aha! This would explain his apathy toward my attempts to rush him. I explained that no, in fact the party started five minutes ago, to which he replied, "Ohhhh!"

With the help of the whole family, we got the tablecloths out, balloons blown up with helium, party favors ready, and the party was on! By this time, I don't know what the temperature was, but I was sweating buckets. It was hot, humid, and I was running around - not a good combination. Stacey came up to me and asked how I was doing, to which I responded, "I am sweating like a whore in church!" I talk loudly, and my voice carries. When I saw the looks I got from a couple of other parents in the corral next to ours, I decided that "whore" was probably not a word I wanted to shout at a children's birthday party.

After that, things went smoothly for awhile. We handed out the tickets, and everyone dispersed to go feed the animals, pan for gold, ride ponies, take hayrack rides, and go fishing. Everyone met back up at the corral and we opened gifts and had cake. Eli fell into the cake while he was blowing out the candles, but at that point, I just found it adorable. Then, we opened gifts, and Eli received so many great things from all of his friends. He got a gumball machine from my parents, and quickly discovered how to screw the top off of it to just reach in and get the gumballs, and a new Wiggles CD that we've already listened to every time we've been in the car. He also got a guitar, and loves to stand on the fireplace and give concerts. This is particularly effective when cousin Emily is here to accompany him on toy piano.

He got lots of Bob the Builder toys, which are currently filling his sandbox, and a Hungry Hungry Hippo game, which I love, I mean which Eli loves.

Anyway, after the gifts and cake, everyone started to disperse, and after having brought everything in, we were now faced with having to carry it all back out. *sigh* We started making trips out to the car, and I came back from the car and looked around the corral. My mom was talking to Eric's mom, people were roaming around. Eli was drinking pop. But there was no Georgia.

This is what I hate about family events. People take your baby away, and you think someone is watching your child, and then later you see you the person walk by whom you thought was watching your child, yet your baby is nowhere to be found. I asked my mom where Georgia was, to which she responded, "I don't know - probably with your dad." My dad has asthma and is getting a pace maker on Thursday, so the thought of him walking around in 90-something heat with Georgia didn't strike me as a good idea. I kept looking around frantically, and finally about four corrals up, half way to the exit, I spotted Georgia, playing inside the gate of a corral all by herself! I shouted, "OHMYGOD!" and ran to snatch her up. She was happy as a clam, smiling as if to say, "Hey mom! Look what I discovered!" I picked her up and did not let her out of my sight the rest of the time. My dad, btw, was in the bathroom by himself.

When we got all loaded up, I took my parents and Georgia home because they all needed naps. Georgia, unfortunately, fell asleep for 10 minutes in the car to re-energize herself, so by the time we got home, she was up and ready to go. It took me an hour and a half to get her back to sleep. Eric and Eli stayed to go fishing. When they did get home, we taught Eli how to play Hungry Hungry Hippos, which lapsed into Eric, Rhonda and I playing Hungry Hungry Hippos while Emily and Eli stood back saying, "I want to feed the hippos now." "Just a second sweetie. Let me beat your father first." Unfortunately, Eric kicked my ass, but I maintain that our floor is uneven. At our next rematch, victory is mine!

So, that was our Saturday in a nutshell. I still have to share with you the story of picking up the cake, and our post-party dinner at Cinzetti's, but that will have to wait until tomorrow.

Rambling Friday (7/14/06)

"You look tired." I think that is the most annoying phrase in the English language, especially when someone says it to me. What they're actually saying is, "You look like complete and utter crap, and that's the nicest way I think I can relay this to you." Doesn't everyone know that 'you look tired' is the universal way of saying, 'I can't believe you left the house looking like that, you troll.' ?

Here's the thing. I am usually tired 90 percent of the time, but I am under the delusion that I look so put together no one could ever tell that I'm running on fumes. I'm sure my friends and enemies alike will tell you different, but I prefer to think I don't look like a walking zombie most of the time.

Not quite as bad is the phrase, "You sound tired." This I can handle just because most days I do sound tired, even to myself. It does not help that the children are trying to give me a cold. The runny nose started with Georgia, then went to Eli. Now that they're both perfectly find, I woke up Wednesday morning with that "ick" feeling. You all know what I'm talking about - that feeling you get when your body says, "I'm getting sick in two days and there's nothing you can do about it." Oh yeah?! I proceed to fight my body tooth and nail, and I drug up! It worked! yesterday I felt fine! Then today I woke up again with the "ick" feeling. Grrrrr! I'm starting off with coffee and we will see how much that improves the situation. I have high hopes, as I truly believe cancer could be cured with the proper blend of strong coffee.

Plus, I don't have time to be sick. I have family in town, and Eli's birthday party is tomorrow. Eric's parents, sister and niece showed up yesterday, and the kids had a great time. If I could bottle an ounce of their energy, I would be set for life.

I thought after dinner, we could all come back to our house and the kids could play while I turned on the TV and saw who got voted off Big Brother. (No comments please - it's my summer addiction.) Now, the more tired Eli is, the more revved up he gets, and he goes until he simply crashes. After last night, I think all kids work this way. It started out with Eli chasing Emily, our 2-year-old niece, through the family room, dining room, kitchen, and back to the family room again (It makes a big circle.), screaming all the while. Then there's Georgia trying to follow them and not get trampled in the process, and she's also smiling and screaming. From there, it went to the kids standing on the fireplace, singing the toddler version of every song they could think of, and then they lapsed into ring around the rosy.

I've decided I should really do this every night because about 10 minutes after Emily left, Eli and Georgia were comatose and slept through the whole night. Woo hoo! That also means I got a full night's rest. Let's see if anyone tells me today that I look tired!

I am now about to get the kids up because my parents will be here in 20 minutes. They're driving up from Wellington today, which is a 3 1/2 hour drive. They called at 7:30, and said they were past Emporia, which means they're only a little over an hour away. And they had already stopped for breakfast! It kills me to think what time they must get up in the morning. Oh, but the memories come flooding back to me of the times in high school, when my dad would come in my room at 8:00 in the morning, on a Saturday, mind you, and turn on my light, shouting, "Get up! You're sleeping the day away!" Grrrr! I'm still bitter.

Anyway, after my parents accompany the kids and I to Gymboree today, we're off to pick up Eli's cupcakes at Target for tomorrow's party. I'm crossing my fingers on the cupcakes. Remember the Russian lady I talked about in the previous blog? We'll see what she came up with.

After that, my parents have told me they would like me to take them somewhere to buy a new computer monitor. I think we'll be there the rest of the day. I have spent countless hours on the phone with my parents trying to explain to them how to "cut and paste," so I can't imagine the experience of buying a computer monitor will go quickly.

I probably will not blog again until Sunday, since tomorrow is the big birthday party at Deanna Rose. It's outside, and they're predicting it will be 99 degrees. I have already received calls from two of my friends asking, "Did you know Saturday is going to be the hottest day of the year?" *sigh* This should go well!

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Smurfette is a hussy! (7/13/06)

My son just got out of bed this morning, and by this I mean Eric went in and literally drug him out of bed while he was screaming. It's always fun to get him up on pre-school mornings. I dread the day he starts kindergarten. The good thing is that we can manage to get him completely slathered in sunscreen and fully dressed before we even have to wake him up.

When we got him into the kitchen this morning, he slapped his hands over his eyes and screeched, "It's too bright!!!!!" He refused to eat breakfast until we got his sunglasses. My son is now sitting at the breakfast table in his swim trunks, Wiggles T-shirt, Scooby-Doo sunglasses and wild hair. He looks like a 4-year-old druggie. I really wanted to take his picture but the hand went up when I pulled out the camera, so he wouldn't let me snap one. Apparently, he's playing the role of celebrity druggie. He's the Robert Downey, Jr. of the pre-school set.

So, I set him up with oatmeal and chocolate milk, or as I like to call it, a young man's "hair of the dog," and came into blog.

I really need to start cleaning. The whole family is coming in town for Eli's birthday party this weekend. I thought people weren't showing up until tomorrow, but I found out last night that Eric's parents, sister and niece are coming today. I told his mom that I can't promise the house will be vacuumed by the time they arrive.

Somebody else let me know if your husband does this, too. Eric told me his parents would be here late Friday. Last night, when he was on the phone, I heard his mom say, "I told you we were coming on Thursday." And he said, "Well, I knew you had talked about it. . ." Excuse me, what?! Talked about it when? He never mentioned that to me or I would have been stepping up the housework. I think he avoids telling me when guests are arriving because he enjoys my last-minute panic - the sadist.

Now, on to the topic I was originally going to talk about, which is children's programming. I know, I know, I let my kids watch too much TV. Trust me, Eli is outside plenty building malls, libraries and coffeehouses in his sandbox. (A true testament to my activities!) But when he is inside, I usually turn the TV to PBS, Noggin or Nick Jr. That's about all he's allowed to watch. We don't do action heroes and weapons because, in my opinion, the kid is dangerous enough unarmed.

I think children's programming today seems a lot healthier than the programming we had when we were little. When I was in second grade, I remember watching Bambi at school! At school, for Christ's sake. What twisted adult came up with that movie? Let's kill Bambi's mother and then show it to a bunch of 7-year-old's who don't even completely understand death. It will be great! They'll cry and be really confused! What the fu**?!

Follow that up with pretty much every fairy tale/Disney movie where the damsel in distress has to be "rescued" by a man. It is no wonder women are so screwed up today after watching and reading all of that crap. We have a nation full of Prozac females running around feeling their life is missing something because some stranger hasn't come riding in on a white horse.

Then if you look at the villains in all the Disney movies from when we were younger - Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, 101 Dalmatians, etc., etc. - they're all women! Is this supposed to give men the idea that women are divided up into two groups - those who need rescued and those who are a bunch of evil manipulative bitches? And we wonder why some men have such a warped view of the opposite sex. Thanks, Disney!

But my favorite cartoon to dissect has to be the Smurfs! I mean, come on people! You have one female Smurf living with a bunch of guys?! My view is that Smurfette was a big, giant whore! Now, Eric and I have argued about this. His only argument is that Smurfette was created by Gargamel. Uh -huh. That is no argument. Specifically because Gargamel created Smurfette to cause trouble for the Smurfs - his way of exacting revenge. Now, I'm not sure why Gargamel was out to get the Smurfs so badly, but that's another blog.

Gargamel created Smurfette to be a brunette and ugly. (See Smurf history.) Then Papa Smurf got involved. With "plastic smurfery," he changed Smurfette into the seductive blond bombshell. Gargamel had nothing to do with that! Now doesn't that shed a whole new light on Papa Smurf?! We know what you were after, you dirty old man! Then Smurfette ditched him, always giving her attentions to Handy. Yes, apparently all that physical labor turned her on.

Sadly, I could discuss the Smurfs much more, but I will stop. I have analyzed that show waaaay too much! But you probably guessed that when I mentioned that my husband and I actually had an argument over it.

Some shows do try to keep current with the times. Everyone knows Bert and Ernie have been life partners for years. Now, we have Diego - Dora's cousin. Come on, no straight guy has hair that pretty. He's a flaming homo!

But for the most part, today's shows seem to be trying to capture the lost innocence of our youth. Yet some are simplistic to the point they're almost ridiculous. Eli watched Oobi yesterday on Noggin. Has anyone seen this show? They're hands. Not even hand puppets. Oobi is someone's hand with eyes stuck on the top of it! Check out the photo. That is the entire show! You never see a person - just talking hands!

First of all, I couldn't get over how fascinated Eli was with it, or the fact that I was strangely mesmerized. So, I immediately called Amy. "Have you ever heard of Oobi?" I asked. She responded. "Oh, yeah. Chase (her 2-year-old) loves it!"

"Yeah, but what the hell is it?!" I asked! "It's a hand! All it is is somebody's hand!" I ranted for a few more minutes, and Amy calmly listened and interjected some appropriate "mmm-hmmm's." I think she's getting used to my diatribes.

I think the thing that bothers me most is, why didn't I think of this?!! Why didn't I pull out a camcorder and start videotaping my hand. Do you ever get the feeling that some things are just so simple that they're beyond you? I'm so consumed by this Oobi thing that I'm going to have to investigate it further. I will let you know what I find!

Seacrest out!

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Trying New Things (7/12/06)

Last night, Eric talked me into trying a new coffeehouse. It was all Eric's fault! I say this because Aaron told me if I went someplace other than Scooter's, he would ban me from Scooter's. In my defense, Scooter's closes at 6:00 or 6:30, and it was later than that. We told Eli if he went five days without wetting the bed, he could choose a prize. Ever since we drove by the new Dunn Bros Coffee, Eli has wanted to go in and get chocolate milk. So, I should really say it's Eli's fault. Anyway, he had gone six days with dry sheets, so it was time for us to pay up. For is prize, he wanted to go to the new coffee place and get chocolate milk or a steamer, he had not yet decided.

I think I've tried most every coffee chain in the city, and so far they rank as follows:

1. Scooter's
2. Latte Land
3. Beanology
4. Black Dog
5. Starbucks
6. Dunn Bros Coffee

I left off Mildred's because they're closing their location in downtown Overland Park, and I'm still bitter. Normally, they would rank near the top.

Anyway, we walked into Dunn Bros, and I liked the atmosphere - stone floors, fireplace, books for kids, and they had high chairs, something the sit-down Scooter's does not have. I ordered a white mocha, and Eric ordered a caramel macchiato - nothing too crazy since they had only been open a week. Eli decided on a mocha steamer, and I specifically told them I wanted it warm, not hot, because it was for my son. It took a manager and two boys who looked like they were about 15 to take the order, but it looked like they had a handle on it, so I went and sat down.

First up - the white mocha. I tasted it, and it tasted like a plain latte. I couldn't taste any white mocha in the thing. Strike 1. It was also so hot that I burned my mouth. This coming from a woman who usually orders her coffee extra hot, so getting it too hot is difficult to achieve. But, even though I like my coffee scalding, I don't like it boiling. Strike 2. Next up was Eric's coffee, and his was actually good. So, we waited for Eli's mocha steamer. By this time the manager, I like to call him Smoky, was outside pacing and enjoying a cigarette.

One of the boys brought me Eli's steamer, and I could tell by feeling the outside, it was as hot as my coffee, so I tasted it, and I honestly think it was hotter than mine. I went up to the counter, and told them I ordered it warm because it was for my son. The look the two boys gave me was a cross between apathy, confusion, and a deer in headlights. One of the boys said, "We could throw a couple of ice cubes in it." Oh no you didn't! Strike 3! I told him that wasn't going to work for me and began to explain how to make a proper "warm" steamer. Half steamed milk, half cold milk - it's really not that hard. Just then, here comes Smoky, who profusely apologized and said they would remake the drink and proceeded to severely chastise the boys. (I'm not kidding - he actually yelled at them.)

A few minutes later, Eli got his warm steamer, and we were off. On our way out, everyone apologized again, and Smoky said, "If they do it wrong, they will make it over. They need to learn how to do it right!" I am thoroughly convinced he took the boys outside to give them lashings after we left. As we got into the car to drive away, out came Smoky to light up and pace some more. I don't think I could work for someone that stressed.

My review in a nutshell is that I have no desire to go back. Eric gives them leeway because they're new (and his was the only good drink out of the three), so he will reserve judgment and go back in a month.

Today, I am continuing the trend of trying new things because I am wearing a tank top. For those of you who know how uncomfortable I am with my arms (see previous bridesmaid blogs), you know I NEVER wear tanks. When I found out about the strapless bridesmaid dress last month, I planned to go on a diet and do my workout video to tone my arms. I didn't think it would that difficult. After all, in high school, I lost 40 pounds in three months by eating 900 calories a day and doing my Jane Fonda workout video every night. I think a lot of hair fell out in the process since I was starving myself, but I looked damn good at prom, wearing my strapless dress. I've come to discover, however, that teenage girls have a lot more willpower than a 30-something mom with a chocolate craving.

But, I digress. One month after learning about the bridesmaid dress, we're only four weeks out from the wedding, and I've gained three pounds. We're now moving on to Plan B, which is to just get comfortable with the arms I have. I know I get to wear the bolero jacket for the wedding, but it's going to be August and hot, so I have a feeling that jacket will be coming off sometime during the evening - especially because I tend to get really hot when I drink wine.

Anyway, I bought three tank tops in an effort to get comfortable with my arms. Today, my goal is to leave the house wearing said tank top. This will be the true test. The plan is to go to Michael's because I need a paint pen and beads. We will see how long it takes me to work up my confidence to get there. Hopefully, I will be so busy trying to control the kids at Michael's that I won't notice whether or not everyone is looking at my arms.

Speaking of Michael's, I just hope we manage to get through the store without issue. Situations tend to disintegrate quickly when we walk into Michael's. Last year about this time, I was there looking at beads because I took a class with Amy on jewelry making. Eli was looking at beads, and I thought he was fairly harmless - until he tried to open a case of about 700 beads. He dropped it, the case broke open, and beads flew everywhere. We were out of there before you could say, "Clean up on aisle 4." I did tell someone on the way out that my son spilled some beads in aisle 4, but we were gone before they could see how bad the mess actually was.

Since then, I can usually keep Eli under control by blackmailing him with candle smelling. He loves to go to the candle aisle and smell all the candles. We do that last and he only gets to do it if he's good throughout the store. So far, so good.

I actually have a couple more stories about Michael's, but I will have to save those for another time. Eli is currently trying to open the party favors we plan to give out on Saturday, and Georgia found a pair of Eli's underwear and is sitting here eating it. I think I better go make breakfast!

Library Escapades (7/11/06)

It's going to be one of those days - I can tell already. My blog was about half written when it suddenly just disappeared. I will now try to contain myself from taking an axe to my computer and rewrite my witty, sarcastic tale of our trip to the library.

That's right, yesterday was our weekly trip to the library, and you wouldn't think it could be such an adventure. But, every week I am surprised by the escapades that actually occur at the library. Usually, I just hold Georgia so I don't have to get out the stroller. After last week when she squirmed out of my arms and attempted to launch herself at the woman on the other side of the counter, I decided it would be a good idea to take a few extra minutes to get out the stroller.

So, here came the Forssbergs up to the library. Eli was steering the stroller, and I had my hands over his so he wouldn't drive his sister into oncoming traffic. When we got up to the door, a man was walking in right in front of us. He walked in the door and let it slam shut on us. Grrrrr!

That has got to be my biggest pet peeve ever, and I am surprised how much it happens. I often go out of my way to open the door for people who need help, and I can't imagine letting the door slam shut on a woman with a stroller and two kids! What possesses people to act like that? It desperately made me want to call this man's mother and chastise her for the way her son was raised. I did open my mouth to shout, "Hey, Jerk-off!" but I stopped only because I didn't want to have to explain to Eli what a jerk-off was. Yay for self-control! That's the hypnotherapy working for me.

After we maneuvered ourselves into the library, we dropped off our Dora DVD and went off in search of another DVD. They were out of Bob the Builder. (They're always out of Bob the Builder.) Much to my. . . errr, Eli's joy, they did have two Wiggles DVDs. I asked Eli which one he wanted, and he wanted both. So we brought home "Whoo Hoo! Wiggly Gremlins!" and "Yummy Yummy!" My thoughts exactly!

When we went up to check out, I was reminded how quiet the library actually is when my cell phone rang. Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal, but it was in the library because of two factors. First, Eric always complains that I never answer my phone, so I have turned the ring up as loud as it will go. Second, I have a specific ring for everyone in my phonebook. That really makes it easy because that way I know who is calling immediately. Plus, it amuses me a great deal. Stacey, who works for the government, has the "Mission: Impossible" theme as her ringtone. Eric's ringtone is the theme from "Love: American Style." Andrea's is "Everybody Dance Now." If you knew her in college, that would be self-explanatory. Heather wanted to choose her ring, so she has the theme from the "Muppets." And Amy's ring is the theme from "Facts of Life." I chose it because when Amy first got her phone, that is what she programmed in for her ring, and I thought it was funny.

Well, it was Amy that called while I was at the library. Again, this is my fault for being so creative with the ringtones. (Did I mention that Amy reads this blog? Not your fault in any way!) I'm standing in line when suddenly the library is filled with, "You take the good, you take the bad, you take 'em both and there you have the facts of life, the facts of life . . . " and it's coming from my purse. Now with some of the antics Eli has pulled in the past, I have become accustomed to people staring at me in public. I think it was the addition of the snickering that bothered me. So, I was trying desperately to locate my phone in my purse. You would think I could just follow the music, "There's a time you've got to go and show you're growing, now you know about the facts of life, the facts of life." Oh, crap!

Aha! There it is! And I hit silent. But the damage was already done. There was still snickering, along with Eli asking, "Who was that, mommy? Why didn't you answer it?"

We quickly checked out, and off we went. Once we got home, my only goal was to get the kids down for a nap. As I stated in yesterday's blog, I was up very early, and I was exhausted. I desperately needed a nap! Because of that, I should have known that the kids wouldn't nap. I think I got Georgia down for about 30 minutes before she woke up to poop. I thought I would just change her quickly and maybe I could get her to lie down with me in my bed and take a nap. I had popped in one of Eli's new Wiggles DVD's, so he was good to go.

I was changing Georgia on my bed, and wiped off her naked bottom. I reached to my left to get a new diaper, and when I turned back, she was lying in a growing puddle. Oh, double crap! "Georgia! It is not nice to pee on mommy's bed!" The elicited a huge grin from her. Girls are much more stealth about this kind of thing than boys are. When Eli was a baby, every time I changed him, I expected to get peed on. That thing is like a fire hose, and the second air hits it, it starts going! Girls on the other hand, don't pee every time you change them. They wait for you to get comfortable in that fact, and then when you least expect it, they let it rip. Then you don't even see it. All of a sudden, they're lying in this huge puddle and you don't even know where it came from! My only comfort is that at least when she pees, it doesn't hit me in the face like Eli did when he was a baby.

Needless to say, I didn't get a nap, since I had urine-soaked sheets and a very alert baby. I was supposed to go to a movie with Aaron last night, as he had secured me a free pass. I called to cancel because I just wanted to stay home and sleep. He was none too happy with me. But considering the mood I was in, he is lucky that I didn't go. I was passed out on the couch by 8:00, but still didn't get much rest because Georgia was sticking her fingers up my nose. When all of us finally did make it to bed, Georgia woke up at 2:30 this morning and wanted to come to bed with us, but not to sleep. She wanted to play. And it starts aaaalll over!

Party, party, party! (7/10/06)

I really hate the times when I can't sleep. You can probably tell this is one of those days since I am blogging at 4:56 in the morning. Once every couple of weeks, I just have a night where my eyes pop open about 2 or 3 in the morning and I cannot get back to sleep no matter how much I meditate or how many sheep I count. After tossing and turning this morning for two hours, I finally decided to get up and be productive.

Eli's birthday celebration on Saturday culminated with a big dinner at Cheeseburger in Paradise. I LOVE that place! They have the best hamburgers in the known universe. When I was listing off places for Eli to choose, I mumbled everything else and made a frowny face, but then I smiled really big and said, "Or we could go to Cheeseburger in Paradise!" Without missing a beat, he said, "I want to go there!" I think all mothers start to develop that manipulative streak after giving birth.

Yesterday was Heather's bridal shower. (That's me and the bride-to-be pictured above. See the photo album for more photos of the shower and Eli's birthday. For those of you looking at the Gramatix site, visit Anyway, I was afraid the rain would keep people away, but only one person ditched, so we had a great turn-out. I promised Heather that I would no longer refer to her as Bridezilla, and she promised me she wouldn't make me walk down the aisle to "Honky Tonk Woman." I consider that a win-win.

Whenever there is any sort of event, I usually just immediately accept the fact that I am going to put my foot in my mouth. Yesterday was no exception. You see, the groom, Jim, has an ex-girlfriend whom he was with for about 15 years, from my understanding. In addition to that, his mother is apparently best friends with his ex's mother, so that makes things a little sticky - especially when I get involved.

I was discussing the rehearsal dinner with Jim's mom when she said, "I don't know if I'm invited to the rehearsal." Heather informed her that yes, she would in fact be there. So (and God knows why), I opened my big mouth and said, "My only tip for you is not to sit there sobbing during the rehearsal like my mother-in-law did or everyone will think you're wishing Jim married his ex-girlfriend." Heather immediately shot me a look that said, "What the hell are you doing?" I had no idea. My mouth was on auto pilot, and my brain was screaming, "SHUT UP!" but there was nothing I could do.

At that point, I felt the urge to try to cover for such an idiotic comment on my part, so I started digging the hole even deeper. I said, "My husband and I often joke that the reason people on his side were crying was because they wanted him to marry his ex-girlfriend." (insert nervous laughter here and visualize Heather shaking her head.) "But I'm sure you won't . . . I think the rehearsal dinner will be fun!" Oh God!

Aside from that minor catastrophe, I think everything went fairly well. Although, yesterday is the first time I met Heather's brother and he has the same looks she does. By the end of the shower, I was getting annoyed that he kept looking at me like I was a crazy person. Yes, I realize that I am a crazy person, but it's polite for people to hide the fact that they know it also.

I think I sufficiently embarrassed Heather with a fun game of "How well do you know Heather and Jim?" She made me take out all the sex questions, so I'm saving those for the bachelorette party. We also made the guests dress Heather's mom and Jim's mom up as brides using toilet paper. For the third game, everyone received two clothespins when they walked in the door and if they uttered the groom's name, someone got to take one of their clothespins. That game got very confusing due to the fact that Heather's dad is also named Jim. How weird is that?! Could you imagine shouting your father's name out in the heat of passion? Double ewwwww!!

Next up on the party agenda is Eli's birthday party, which we will be celebrating on Saturday. I would have had it this weekend, but I thought two parties in one weekend was a little much, even for me. Saturday, we will be heading out to Deanna Rose Farmstead where we rented a corral (yes, a corral). Everyone can enjoy pop, cupcakes and party favors before heading off for the hayrack rides, pony rides, fishing and panning for gold. It should be fabulous!

Then, Amy and I will take on the task of planning a bachelorette party. The only thing we've decided on for certain is we will in NO WAY be having a stripper. When we hired a stripper for Stacey's bachelorette party six years ago, he had butt pimples. It was disgusting, so that was the end of that.

For Heather's bachelorette party, I'm thinking fun, yet not a bar with wall-to-wall drunk people. And I really have no idea where that might be. I am soooo out of the loop. I'm thinking a nice piano bar, but we're not opposed to some karaoke. Eric suggested pole dancing, but we're going to call that Plan B. If anyone has any suggestions, please shoot me an e-mail or leave a comment after my blog. Heather was thinking a show at Starlight would be nice. I'm all for upscale, but I was thinking a few rounds of shots and a condom veil. I think we might need to work out a compromise.