Dec 28, 2008


I'm having a love affair with popcorn.

We used to just see each other at the movies. I would sit in the dark theater, with my hand in the warm buttery tub delighting in my guilty pleasure. Everything was rather innocent back then.

And every once in awhile I would pop some in the microwave. I would tell the kids it was for them. Like a favorite uncle, they loved it when popcorn was in our house.

But then we bought an air popper.

It's been two weeks. Two weeks of never ending popcorn.

First I made caramel corn for my kids' teachers. The good crunchy kind. I thought I could share it. I thought I would be strong enough to give some of my beloved popcorn away.

But then I started to think of excuses to make more. The neighbors needed some, and we ought to make a double batch for our family Christmas Eve party. And each time I would dip in and dive further into the affair.

I also realized how wonderful air popped popcorn with real butter was. It was like finding a deeper more meaningful side to the snack that I desperately craved. The final ingredient to fall completely under popcorn's control. And now I am lost.

Lost to popcorn.

Buttery, caramel, or even coated in red jello, I cannot get enough.

But it's not so bad. Popcorn is good with the kids. It's also healthy to have popcorn in your life (it is high in fiber, you know.) Also it doesn't bother me in bed or dirty too many dishes. Popcorn is easy to make and on adventurous days it doesn't mind if I get creative. I'm thinking about continuing the affair and just keeping my husband around to shovel the driveway and change poopy diapers.

Because popcorn is my lover now.

Dec 26, 2008

you need to see this

So I said that Monkey likes guitars, right? Santa brought him a new one. (He's trashed the old one, since he's a fan of smashing it concert style into the floor.)

He likes all kinds of rock music, but seems to be particularly fond of acid rock (hence the Guns n Roses in the video.) Is it wierd that our toddler has a preffered genre of music? And that it includes Guns n Roses?

Here's a little clip him playing this morning - snowman pj's and pink binky included. I had to slice it a bit, because being an almost 2 year old, he gets distracted. So I took out the distractions and left the guitar parts. And just so you know, he didn't pull out some of his best moves (like playing behind his head or you know, the smashing thing...)

Dec 24, 2008

Merry Christmas, ho ho ho, and all that

I finally finished. The day before Christmas everyone's gifts are done. Yeah, doing a home made Christmas -or what turned into a semi-partial home made Christmas because for the love of macaroni this is taking me FOREVER - was a total DRAG.

I don't care how poor we are next year, or any year for that matter, everyone is getting a store bought gift, even if it's just socks or underwear or I don't know, an 80's poster from Goodwill, whatever, YOU BETTER LOVE IT.

And now my Christmas gift to myself is actually going to bed before 3 AM and, of course, a lengthy sit at the computer to catch up on all the blog reading I missed.

Because I totally deserve it.

The crappiest part about all of this? My kids will probably love their cheapo store bought stuff way better than the stuff I made. Even if I put hours and hours of labor into them, and also some blood because I poke my fingers a lot, which sounds gross, ok, I wiped off the blood, but still, and also I put my soul into these gifts, ok, no I didn't, but I want to sound like I'm giving them really great stuff that they'll probably look at once and then toss, ugh. But hey, atleast it's all done.

Here's some more useless Bastow Christmas FYI: we're totally jipping our youngest child. She's 7 months old, she won't care. And we'll take lots of pictures by the other kids' stuff and tell her that she has always been treated equally when she's a teenager and yelling, "That's so NOT FAIR!!!" I doubt she'll believe the pictures though, and she'll probably scream and slam the door anyway. Because that's just in the teenage job description, right? Plus I feel like screaming and slamming doors can be quite therapeutic on occasion. Also, yes, I am immature. (Like you couldn't already tell? Hi, welcome to my blog.)

Except that the one gift we were going to give her, aside from a shirt (ooooh, exciting) was going to be from Santa and it never showed up in the mail. Which really stinks. I would like to just shrug it off and go, "Oh well, she's only 7 months old, plus she'll get it in a few days." Except that SURELY the other kids will notice. And we're trying to keep the Santa magic alive for our 5 year old and how do you explain that Santa forgot the baby's toy and had to mail it two days later? That doesn't sound magical at all.

So we'll be going to Walmart tonight. On Christmas Eve. Like total dweeboids. Oh except that this is the day that my husband usually waits to shop anyway. Because he's Anti-Captain Prepared Man. And likes to fly by the seat of his pants at the very last possible second. I'm surprised they ever let him be a boyscout, doesn't their motto have something to do with being prepared? Because he should have failed that part. Good thing we don't live in the woods?

And there you have it. My in-laws will be showing up any minute and there is a cheeseball calling my name.


Dec 13, 2008

pieces of my heart will NOT be selling at DI - a follow up post

So you know how a little while ago I posted about getting rid of our baby clothes? No? Yeah, well, I did. That was during my "moody" period, and I was a bit upset about it. Ok, so I'm still upset. But I'm getting better.

Sort of.

I went through all of our clothes and separated them into two piles.

The "Wow, that has some nasty stains, but I just can't throw it away, because how wasteful would I be, don't you even CARE about our earth, so it better go to DI where they can hopefully power wash that out, or throw it away themselves without telling me" pile.

And the "I'll take this to Other Mothers and hopefully get some cash or atleast some more cute kid clothes out of it" pile. (It was a much smaller pile....but still surprisingly large, because we have a ton of old baby clothes, which I believe I already that other post.)

And then I put the two piles in containers (multiple containers) and stuck them in our garage. You know, to hang out until I could actually get to DI or Other Mothers. And you guessed it - they're still there.

I'm so on top of things!! (and yes, those are sarcastic exclamation points.)

Except that it turned out ok-ish. Because today I went through the "Other Mother" pile and pulled out some of the really good stuff to sell on Ebay. Because money. Money money money. No need to comment further.

Ok, that was a lie, I'm going to comment some more about it. Because I don't think I can get much money from selling old clothes on Ebay plus I started most of them off at like $4. But still. SOME money.

And the other pile won't be going to DI after all. It's going somewhere even BETTER. Any article of baby clothing that I cannot sell or trade in will be going to:


That's right, friends. Mexico. The land of the Churro. (Ok, now I've offended all of my Hispanic readers. I was JUST JOKING. There are better things in Mexico than churros. And I doubt that churros even originated there. They're probably like fortune cookies, where Americans just like to make up customs from other countries and sell them in restaurants. Or, in the case of the churro, at the county fair.)

Back to the baby clothes.

Man, you're distracting me tonight. (Of course this is your fault, I'm glad you can see that. Work on that will you?)

My cousin's husband's mother (good connection, right) goes to Mexico for a few weeks every year to visit family. And apparently the babies there don't have much. Or I guess the parents of the babies there can't get them much - because it's not really the babies' faults. Or the parents really. ACK- distraction.

So my cousin and I are sending all of our old baby stuff to Mexico for the poor little babies that don't have poop stained onesies to wear. Ok, so I might take out the poopy ones. But who knows - someone could be really grateful for that, poop or not. Which is why I don't like throwing stuff in a landfill. Even though, yes, that is a poop stain ALL the way up the back. (Sometimes bleach and stain sticks just don't cut it.)

And so now I feel a little better about sending little pieces of my heart away because that's what charity will do to you. And so will Ebay auctions.....just not nearly as much.....and only if someone bids......and sometimes it helps if there is a bidding war. But mostly it's just Mexico that makes me happy.

Dec 10, 2008

guess what?

You know that book that Sue is putting together for NieNie? I got to do the cover.

Can I get a WOOT WOOT.

Want to know what else is cool? The pig in my header is still dressed like a turkey and will probably stay that way until Christmas is over.


Dec 8, 2008

Christmas in bulk

I think Costco should adopt us as their "Secret Santa" family. Wouldn't that be awesome? Except I don't think Costco really does that. But they should. Because I have my list all ready:

1 giganto box of toilet paper

52 boxes of Huggies in sizes 3 & 5 (that should last us a few weeks)

4 bottles of those gummy vitamin bears

A lifetime supply of wet wipes

27 pounds of pre-frozen chicken breasts

5 boxes of corn dogs or chicken nuggets or both

As many cans of fruit and vegetables that can fit into our garage (I'll even move the car, except I don't want canned peas or green beans, because they are nasty, although I'll take some frozen peas and someone pretending that I like green beans.)

27 tubes of cinnamon flavored toothpaste

A new digital camcorder (ours is starting to fossilize)

489 pounds of M&Ms in Christmas colors.

And then just a smattering of the fun stuff that they always throw into the center of the store. I found some really cute jeans for my kids there once. And one time we bought a package of 250,000,003 sheets of construction paper, but now we're all out of the red.

So if you know anyone that works in the "Secret Santa" department of Costco (that doesn't really exist), could you please hand them my list? And tell them that when Santa comes and drops it all off (with his massive delivery truck) I don't even care if his beard is fake.

Dec 4, 2008

maximum occupancy

So I was searching my house, wracking my brain, trying to figure out where I put my daughter's theater slip when I had an epiphany -ok, maybe not an epiphany, but more like a regular idea- about why I am so scatterbrained these days.

I used to remember everything.

When I was in 6th grade I could name everyone my age. The student body wasn't huge, but that was at least 350 people. And just because I didn't actually know them all, or maybe know all of their last names, I could identify almost every one of their faces.

In high school and college I was an expert crammer. I would study right before the test, remember everything with crystal clear precision for a few hours, score amazing grades, and then forget most of it. That information was concrete for those few hours, and tests were a breeze.

This morning I walked up the stairs to grab a pair of socks for Monkey, but once I reached the top step I couldn't recall why I was there. It took another trip back down the stairs to see his naked feet to remember why I had gone up in the first place. This method is good for physical exercise, but forgetting so easily drives me insane.

You could stand directly in front of me, with no distractions, and tell me something while I concentrate on your face. And I will still manage to forget it immediately after you've closed your mouth.

And I've figured out why.

My brain is full.

You know how in conference rooms or big classrooms they have one of those signs that says the occupancy limit? Or like the weight limit on an elevator? My brain is like that. Only I don't have a sign.

And since my brain has met it's capacity nothing else will stick. All information is rejected at the door.

So I have this hypothesis about how I could probably retain some new info if I just make room in there. Except that I don't exactly know how to get rid of things like memories and stray thoughts. Because I definitely would choose to discard some of the things swirling around inside my head. Like, do I really need to forever remember that the butthole of a cell is called a vacuole? That's not exactly useful information for day to day living.

There are some embarrassing or otherwise regrettable life experiences I would gladly trade in for the ability to remember why I am on the top step or where that stupid slip, that I still haven't found, is. Like yesterday when I went to the grocery store and stared, blinking wildly, at a lady from church for 2 minutes straight because I couldn't remember her name, and now she probably thinks I'm some kind of ill-mannered lunatic. If only I could swap out that memory for her name.

Too bad brains don't naturally work like that. Although that would make a great "Fringe" like science experiment - - Obtaining the ability to exchange, delete and acquire information and memories by choice. I would totally sign up as a volunteer (guinea pig) for that.

Or wouldn't it be great if the pensieve in Harry Potter was real? Then I wouldn't have to delete everything, I could just pull out the stuff I don't need for now, and stick it in my swirling memory soup. Except that would also require a magic wand, wouldn't it? I guess I'll need one of those too.

But since neither option is very likely, I must extend to you this warning: If you tell me something, be prepared to get a blank stare and/or no response in return. Because, like I said, my brain is full.

Dec 2, 2008

I can't think of a title so what if we just skip to the post

So I was on vacation for awhile, and I'm not even promising to catch up on all the blog posts I missed. Sorry.

But I fully expect you to read every single word that I type. Really.

While I was on vacation I went with my mom and my sister to see Twilight (my second viewing.) And then we discussed the hotness of each character. Of course with different opinions, but mine is the best, naturally.

I decided to get all obsessed about it though, and I re-read the book before we went. Which doesn't sound TOO obsessed until you hear that I was in a craze while searching the house for my step-mom's copy of the book. I couldn't find it anywhere. I even checked her trunk. (It wasn't there.) Luckily she got home after about an hour (or possibly two hours) of searching. Which left me about 24 hours to read the book, and still socialize with my family.

Did you know that it's possible to read and carry on a conversation at the same time? I think this was only possible for me because I had read the book before. Because I'm pretty sure I get a little cranky if people interrupt me when I'm reading anything for the first time.

Speaking of books, I read one on the way home. With a flashlight, because it was dark most of the way. The book is called "The Hunger Games." I guess it's kind of popular right now too. The plot is actually a little disturbing, considering that someone actually thought this all up. But it was a really good book. And now I'm all bugged because I have to wait for the other books in the trilogy to be written.

Why can't people just write the whole series before they publish so that I don't have to wait. Authors should know that their books are all for ME anyway. So they should be doing what I want. So should everyone else for that matter. Doesn't the world revolve around my every whim and desire? Because I have to say, the world's doing a pretty lousy job and I'm not really getting what I want.

Oh, except that also while I was gone I got to buy our Anniversary/Christmas/my birthday gift: Guitar Hero World Tour. I'm pumped. Except that I'm forcing myself (and the husband) to wait until Christmas to play it. That way we atleast have something to unwrap that morning. And maybe I'll just pretend that I don't already know what it is. And maybe I'll also pretend that the actual Santa Claus dropped it off. And that he also cleaned the reindeer poop off of my roof before he left.

Poop is kind of on my mind because Screamer just pooped in his underwear. TOTALLY GROSS. But as we were buying the usual cartload of diapers last night I decided that there will be none for him. Because really, this is just getting ridiculous. So he gets a pull-up at night and is now forced to wear underwear all day. I think it's going to kill me. I hate this part of potty training. I don't do well with feces. Or urine for that matter. UGH.

See aren't you glad you read every word? It's so worth it...