because I really can't get enough of myself

The boys dragged the house out of the closet, set it up, and found Two Bits' dolls all on their own.  And then played happily for 30 minutes.  WITH BARBIES. This horrifies my husband to no end. I'm not so worried. Most of their playing involved shoving the Barbies through windows, having them punch each other, or the occasional plummet down the elevator shaft. And of course there's the inevitable boob comments when they came across the naked Barbies.  (There's always a couple naked Barbies in the stash - it's how Barbies work.  Some of them just have to be naked.  You know it's true.) So yeah, I'm pretty sure my boys are masculine enough - even if they enjoy some good Barbie time. * Super Important FYI:    Growing up, my sisters never allowed me to play Barbies with them because "I didn't play right."  I couldn't help it if my Barbie never felt like making out with Ken in soap opera fashion.  I was mu...

Sometimes it's scary to go outside because you never know when a flock of Canadian geese are going to fly over head.  Because, as you know, birds don't stop to use little birdy facilities.  They just let it go.  And who wants to get hit with projectile goose poo?  Not me. Greasy non-washed hair looks so much better under incandescent bulbs versus sunlight. All that natural fresh air out there is over rated.  Why breath that in when my children have fragranced our house so lovingly with the smell of poop and sweaty socks?  Plus, we live near-ish a dairy farm, so if the wind is blowing it's really more just a matter of which kind of poop you want to smell.  At least inside I have a Scentsy burner and an entire brick of "Skinny Dipping." There are rabid wolves out there....somewhere in the world. I might accidentally get a tan and then I'll have to buy an actual nightlight since my skin won't glow in the dark anymore. But mostly... I don't lik...

You know when, after you've eaten, your stomach can gurgle a little bit?  You know how most people don't really like other people to talk about those gurgles, because it's kind of awkward?  My husband missed that memo even though the rest of society seemed to get it just fine. He really can't miss a good stomach gurgle without some kind of lame comment.  Because after 30 years of life, apparently he still finds digestion fascinating. My years of marriage have given me some experience dealing with this (since, you know, he does it EVERY time.)  And instead of getting annoyed, or angry or embarrassed I've come up with something a whole lot better: The Stomach Gods So when I get a, "HOLY COW - was that your stomach?!!!" from Husband (who clearly feels comfortable reverting to 2nd grade amusements.) I just say, "The stomach gods are accepting my sacrifice." or "The stomach gods are angry."  Or sometimes I just roll my eyes - but tha...

I'll be spending a whole week with my sister and her new baby at the end of the month.  But that seems like an eternity from now - you know how much newborns change in 2 weeks. Last friday I pulled out my very best whining, bribery and incessant begging and guess what?  It worked.  Road trip (with two sick kids, but no biggy.)  We got to spend a very fast weekend with my family, and I got to see my new niece. She only has one head.  But it's a cute one. I even got to take pictures of her, even though my sister was still in the hospital.  I can't wait until I go down again and I can play 'Crazy Camera Aunt Lady' again.  Just think, we'll have props and clothes and hats and DAYS to take pictures.  And I'll get to hold her ALL I WANT.  At least that's my plan. (If you want to see the pictures I took over the weekend, I put them on my dorky photog blog .)

My sister had her baby last night!  A baby girl - 7 pounds 2 ounces and 19 inches long.  They named her Alexis. I hear she's gorgeous.  I imagine that she is adorable.  And someone might even use the term, "Udderly Precious" to describe her.  Except that I really have no actual knowledge about how she looks, since no one has sent me any pictures of her yet.  She could have two heads for all I know.  But I bet they'd both be cute as buttons. So do you want to hear the details?  (Of course you do, silly.) I had locked myself in my bedroom and was waching Ugly Betty online.  It was a rough day - I'm perfectly entitled to locking myself in my room the second Husband walks in the door. I was excited to see that my sister was calling me - it was like 8:30-ish.  "I think I'm in labor!" she says.  She told me about the caster oil she drank that afternoon.  She's a brave girl. At about midnight she texted and said, "I'm in lab...

My little sister is having her first baby.  It could be anytime now.  ANYTIME. Besides the birth of my own children, I have never been this excited for a baby to be born. And it almost has nothing to do with the fact that I get to leave my kids for an entire week and help take care of my new little niece.  Although, yeah - a week away from my kids, WHOOOOOOOO!! I keep texting my sister and asking if she's in labor yet.  She keeps texting back, "yeah, you totally missed it.  STOP ASKING ME THAT."  Because like any other woman waiting for labor, she's really tired of the anticipation.  And swollen feet.  And general, horrible uncomfortableness. She did text me when she lost her mucus plug.  And I texted back, "Awesome, what did it look like?"  Because I never saw any of mine.  And then we talked to eachother about how you can say anything disgusting about pregnancy and people get excited, but in real life you'd never even ment...

I'm hiding in my room.  Except that Monkey doesn't get the whole concept of "hiding."  Because he won't leave me alone.  He's handing me deodorant right now.  Yeah, thanks, I smell fine.  (Unlike some days....but what are you bringing that up for?) I was just asking him to get his sister, since, being not quite 2 years old, she really ought to be semi-supervised.  On occassion.  Maybe. As she walked in through the door I started singing, "There she is, Miss America..." in my best fake vibratic opera voice.  And Number Four put her hands over her eyes like they do when the newly crowned Miss America cries on stage and doesn't want her fake eyelashes to fall off. I think Number Four and I make a good pair.  Except when she's in her "Queen of the Universe" mood.  Because I've already claimed that role, and there just isn't enough room for two queens here. Speaking of Number Four, does anyone have any good asthma home ...

You know the saying, "I'm like rubber and you're like glue...blah blah something about saying rude stuff, blah"? (I think I'm missing a few words in there, but the important ones are mentioned.) Sometimes I feel like I'm the glue and my kids are rubber. No matter how many times I fling them from me, they just bounce back and stick (generally to my leg area, unless of course I'm sitting, and then it's a whole body free for all.) Older mothers say, "But you'll miss this stage when it's over!" And I say, "Yeah yeah...I know," as I push a diapered butt out of my face and detach a slobbering mouth from my shin. I know my kids are growing up fast. And I know I will miss it.  Because honestly I love the baby stage best of all kid stages (although 2 & 3 year olds are a crack-up, but come with grown up poop and tantrums.)  And I no longer have a baby, Number Four is an official attitude-itious toddler.  Sometimes I fa...

You know about this, right? I better see your head nodding.  Because OF COURSE you know about Casual Blogger Conference , AND you already have your ticket and have planned the shoes you'll be wearing that weekend. Right? More head nodding? Yeah, I don't have my shoes planned.  I'm thinking I'll be in flip flop mode by then, so you can probably expect to see me there in something casual.  You'll know me, because I'll be the fat chick with ponytails and flip flops. I'm not sure which special guest I'm looking forward to most.  They all look really glamorous and important.  (Which will contrast really great with my chubby ponytailishness.)  I think I'm most interested in the photographers that are coming.  As in, not anyone taking pictures of me, but those who are teaching the subject.  Because anyone who takes a picture of me while at the conference will have to die a slow and painful death.  Either that or your camera will bre...