So grateful for friendly strangers - got all the way to the beach without sunscreen - a lady I'd never met before didn't just let us use her sunscreen, she gave us the entire bottle!
Someone please tell me I'm not the only one who suffers from mother guilt! Just dropped off BOTH kids at school and cried all the way home. Good grief!
Sitting in the living room working on the computer when The Kid runs out of the bathroom and yells, "Mama! Come look! I think my bum just threw up in the toilet!" Being a mother is just outstanding sometimes.
Had several texts from friends regarding a shooting that took place about 400 yards from our back door last night. Turns out it was just a drug deal gone awry. So, I figure as long as I'm honest in my drug transactions, we're totally safe.
Before I had children, there was a girl at church who refused to share her food with her son, insisting that he get his own. I thought she was the meanest person in the world. Now, two kids later, I get it. This is my food. MINE. I just want to eat a meal without having to give up half of it to my beggar kids! Is that too much to ask? Incidentally, you'd think I'd be getting skinnier because of it, but that's totally not the case.
Our neighbor was decked out completely in camo today. Even his undies were camo. I will not reveal how that fact became known to me....
The creator of Talking Tom and other similar apps should be prosecuted by The Hague for crimes against humanity. It's seriously a form of torture.
Do you ever look at your significant other and wonder just how on earth you got so lucky? It must have happened to me about sixteen times this past weekend.
Today I'm the kind of sick where you feel so crappy all you want to do is sleep. But you can't sleep because you feel so crappy. And also because you have children. Why isn't there a manual override shut down button?
Because I hardly ever get sick and because I haven't had a job with a rigidly set schedule in over three years, it makes sense I'd get pneumonia in the week I start one.
Was fast asleep and sat straight up because in my dream husband looked at me and said, "Texas A&M and Ole Miss play tomorrow and you know what? I don't even care." I reached over to feel his head and said, "Who the hell are you?!"
Antibiotic/steroid shot to the bum = maybe the best medical advancement EVER. 24-hours later and I feel 75% better. And that means I might be nice to my family for the first time in a week.
Very best part of work today: out in the waiting area doing free chair massages (come by, I'll hook you up) when a manly-man says to his friend, "I'd get one, but I wouldn't want her to hurt her hands." Hurt my hands, is it? Finally persuaded him to get in the chair where he proceeded to whine for the next 10 minutes about my "excessive pressure". Next up: tiny Asian lady. Same pressure. No whining
I am addicted to a kind of chap stick you can't buy in Texas, so I order it in bulk online once a year. Yesterday, the website informed me that my order would be capped at 12 tubes. Because apparently thirteen is just too many.
Our jack-o-lanted pumpkin lasted five full days in the great outdoors of Texas. It is now languishing in the garbage can out back completely filled with black mold and fruit flies. The Kid sobbed saying, "It's being eaten alive and I can't stop crying about it."
Two weeks of feeling like hell and another round of antibiotics. The good news is this one will not only treat pneumonia, it's also covers meningitis, tuberculosis, and the plague. Score.
So, here I was with my light purple ombre nails thinking I was at the height of fashion (maybe the first time I've EVER felt that way) when someone at work said, "Oh, dude, did you slam your finger in the door?" Oh, brother. And speaking of being at the height of fashion, the Today Show reports this morning that the down vest is back in style! #1 I never knew they were out of style and #2 I just happen to have three of them!
I just found a pen stuffed down my shirt. The troubling thing is, I have no idea how it got there or how long it's been there.
I want to rewind the last two weeks. Being sick, nothing has gotten done. My house is a disaster, clothes are not folded (who am I kidding, they're never folded), Husband has been surviving on fast food, and Halloween costumes that should have been done weeks ago are in various states of completion on the craft table (ok, fine I don't have a craft table, I just wanted it to sound more organized). 'RE-DO, 'RE-DO, RE-DO!
The only good thing I can say about that Texas A&M game is that the time eventually ran out. Thank the Lord.
When The Kid was tiny, she'd do pretty much anything for a round of applause and some encouraging words. The Tater, however, WILL NOT. He's not doing anything that's not his idea. That being said, we are up to eight free standing steps - once he falls down, don't you dare try to set him back upright or you shall suffer his wrath.
I may or may not have been caught dancing in my massage room by the chiropractor. I mean, what else am I supposed to do when I don't have anything scheduled?
Two and a half weeks into this pneumonia thing - I feel better, but #1 I still have a cough like a 2-pack-a-day smoker, #2 I wheeze like a COPD patient every time I climb the stairs, and #3 I want to nap 8 hours daily. Other than that, I'm totally good.
I find it incredibly ironic that Husband, whose favorite activity is staying home to watch TV, is the one who will travel to Dallas, Charlotte, Orlando, and Las Vegas (all without kids in tow) in the space of a year. While I, lover of travel, will stay home watching TV. Probably in my undies. Which will be covered in whatever substance The Tater has found to play in that day.
It's quiet time down to the Peters' house (where The Kid stays downstairs with her tablet, The Tater naps, and mom gets one hour of reading time) when suddenly I hear a giant crash and a weak, "Don't worry, mama, I'm ok!" Turns out The Kid took the laundry basket for a "roller coaster ride" down the stairs. I can't get mad because we used to do the same thing - except in boxes.
Studying my facial wrinkles in the mirror this morning and came to the realization that I'm super proud of them. There are some good memories behind them.
George Jones came on the radio just now and The Kid yelled, "What is this lovely music?!"
Was talking to a colleague yesterday about how old-fashioned her mother is. After some quick math, I determined her mother to be approximately three years older than me. Old fashioned, indeed!