San Dimas High School Football Rules!

It's like, computers.

Here's the sum extent of the assistance I was able to provide to Boodle today with her computer stuff:

Boodle: Mom, I need help.

Me (bellowing from the big green chair): What's the problem?

Boodle: I got the sound to come up, but the screen is black.

Me: Well, turn it off and then back on.

Boodle: I tried that.

Me: Um, that's all I got.

Few minutes later, during a game of Go Fish with Loodle:

Boodle: Mom, the chompers can't get the marshmallows through to the exit portal. And the exit portal won't even tell us how many guys are in there.

Me: Huh.

Loodle: I'll go help her.

Me: I was gonna say.

I've Been Tagged!!!!

I'm so excited! My first meme! I keep seeing them go around, and because I have no initiative of my own, I've just been waiting for someone to tag me. I'm passive that way.

Thanks, Meg.

Okay, so the rules are:

1. Link back to the tagger
2. Post the rules
3. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
4. Tag six random people at the end of your blog.
5. Let them know they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

And Awaaay we go!

1. I have a weird thing about setting temperatures to even numbers. I CANNOT set my thermostat or car heater to an odd number. I even try it every once in a while, and I can't do it. I have to change it back. I recently revealed this to my MOPS class, and they helped me to realize that I cannot set the microwave to an odd time, either. I had no idea, and now I'm concerned.

2. I voraciously read romance novels. Now, I'm fairly discerning, so I don't tend to buy the ones with naked people on the front, but still. Important literature it ain't. But I LOOOOOOOVE to read a romantic story where it's ALWAYS happily ever after, because it's rare in real life.

3. I get my hair colored, not because I don't like the natural color, but because that natural color has been taken over by gray hairs. At 20 years of age (man alive that was a long time ago), I started going gray, and used to pull them, but it's gotten to the point that I have to go in every 4 weeks to get my roots done. 36 is not exactly spring chicken, but still. It stinks.

4. I love to sing. Like LOVE love, not just hum along absentmindedly. HOWEVER. I do not do it well. at. all. Doesn't stop me. I even have a knack for singing songs just like the original artist, which FINALLY has paid off. I can whip The Man's behind at Sing Star and Rock Band (singing portion only-I suck at guitar and drums), and he doesn't lose at ANYTHING. He even loses to Boodle, which is delicious.

5. I got my driver's license when I was twenty, on Halloween, and my driving instructor was dressed as a pig. As we began the test, a young child ran out from behind a building right in front of my car. Luckily, I hadn't moved yet. Then, during the parallel parking portion, a dog began chasing a cat around a tree right next to my car. The instructor abandoned that part of the test, much to my relief. I got 100%, thank you very much. (The Man only got 98%. Loser.)

6. After we got married, I used to wake up in the middle of the night and begin bizarre, nonsense conversations with The Man. I rarely remembered what I was trying to say, and usually ended with me realizing I was talkin' crazy talk and going back to bed. There have been a few freaky incidents where I was physically trying to do stuff, like sweep spiders out from underneath his body. WTH? He really enjoyed that one. Since I've recently learned to sleep more soundly (in an effort to ignore my children when they wake up in the hopes that The Man will deal with them), I haven't had any more of these, but they sure were fun for all.

That's it. I tag:

mama db
Mr. Orange Caboose
scrapcat
melissious

On Wednesdays, I'm a Cheap Date

Went out last night with two girlfriends from the 'hood. Went to Bennigan's for dinner, to which I had never been, and then to the mall to see "27 Dresses".

I had no idea I was such a cheap date when I planned the outing. Bennigan's has $5 burger nights on Wednesday (a HALF POUND burger for $5!!!), and the theater has movies all day Wednesday for $6.25. To all my California readers: Nyanyanyanya hahahahahaha!!! No more $12 movies for me, suckers!

Ahem.

Anyway, the movies was a typical chick flick, and we loved the stuffings out of it. It's nice to go to movies with folks who just want to sigh at the romance of it all, and not delve too deeply into plot and character development. Just ENJOY the pretty people, and know that all will be happy, shiny and a wee bit sparkly in the end, okay?

I get enough reality in my own life, thanks. Like this reality of Texas: While the movie prices rock on Wednesdays, the Starbucks closes at 10 freakin' pm. In L.A., I could go out at night and get coffee, Tito's tacos, or a Pink's hot dog. All at the same time, if I wanted it. And oh, now I really want it.

California readers: please forgive my taunting and send a girl a care package, yo.

Wordless Wednesday

Fashion Tuesday

Dance Class Couture


By the way, I never ask for this pose. I whip out the camera and she immediately strikes this stance, complete with the chin down, eyes turned up look. I don't know where she gets it, but she's WORKING it.

And yes, in Loodle-land, this outfit will go from the dance studio to a light lunch at Flores Mexican Restaurant to the grocery store with no additional accessories needed.

The Great Silky Tag Massacre of 2008

Boodle is a thumbsucker. She's seven and a half, and sucks her thumb. I feel for her poor soul because I sucked my finger until MIDDLE SCHOOL. I also wet the bed until then, which made me the hit of all slumber parties, let me tell you.

Boodle is going to begin having some dental treatments to give her more room for her big girl teeth to grow in, and during all this, we're supposed to get her to stop sucking her thumb. The expander that the orthodontist is going to put in should help, but I'm dubious.

The thing about her thumbsucking is that she doesn't just randomly pop it in. She only sucks her thumb when she feels something silky/satiny. We call it silking in our house, and she's even got a little square of blanket called her silky.

The thing that most people don't realize is that about 80% of girls' clothing tags are made of this same material. I can easily keep her from taking silky to school, but she recently discovered those "tagless" shirts that are all the rage are actually putting the tags on the side near the bottom of the shirt, easily within reach of her searching fingers.

So, today, without telling her what I did, I viciously cut all the tags out of her clothing. Oh, the carnage. Silky little carcasses everywhere. I have to dispose of them in a manner in which she won't see them. Tin foil? Wrapped inside a banana peel? She's pretty observant, so it has to be good.

The downside of this is going to be when I pass things down to Loodle, I will have no concrete idea of the size of several of the items. The tagless ones have the sizes printed on the back, but everything else, I'll just be eyeballing it.

Oh, the drama we are about experience. Whenever we even skirt around the topic of putting silky away, the tears, tears, tears, tears. I don't have a clue how to get it away from a seven year old who will not fall for the silky fairy needing it for someone else's baby.

Wish us luck.

Words of Wisdom

So I'm trying to jazz up the home a little bit at a time, mostly because it needs a little kick, and partly because Bunco Club is meeting here in February, and I want the place to look decent. Which part of that sentence bothers you more: that I'm trying to impress people, or that I belong to a Bunco Club? Yeah, I can't decide either.

Yesterday, I bought two small pictures to hang on either side of the window in the formal living room. In preparation to hang them evenly, I measured the distance from the side wall to the window. I found that the window is not centered on the wall.

If you knew me at all, you would realize that this is unacceptable. Things must be centered. Seriously centered. I HATE, with the heat of a thousand burning suns, to have things uneven. Drives me crazy. Messy is acceptable, uneven is disastrous.

Boodle was attempting to help me hang the pictures, and was getting exasperated with my indecision about where to hang them (centered on the wall? Equidistant from the window edge? Equidistant from the wall?).

She finally said, "Mommy, why do you like to have everything perfect?"

I said, "I just like to have things hung evenly and nicely."

Boodle: "What, and have everything like it's in a castle?"

Me: "Yeah, castle's are cool, right?"

Boodle: "But you wouldn't want to live in one all the time, right? They're just not comfortable."

Me: "Point taken."

She brings me back down to earth just when I need it. It takes a seven year old to remind me what we're all about here in the BD household.

And no, I didn't hang the pictures yet, because you can't fight your own nature on too many fronts.

A Day of Firsts

Today, I went to the gym. For the first time this YEAR, anyway. I've been a total and complete slacker since November, which coincides with the date of my last trainer appointment. Odd. I didn't work up much of a sweat since the trainer wasn't there to torture me, but at least I went, and I'm now a little sore, so it had to be worth something. Okay news was I only gained 4 pounds since November. It's a miracle, after all those Red Robin french fries. And Meg thought we were done with the french fry taunting.

Today, I washed every single one of the dirty dishes in my kitchen. Yes, this is a first, because I had to wash large items by hand, and that pretty much never happens. Hey, I have counter space!

Today, I tried Bar Keeper's Friend on my stainless steel sink, and it worked wonders. No, they didn't pay me for this post. I'm just really excited to get the ugly stains out of my sink after 5 months of looking at them, and now you can be excited for me, too. Come over. I'll show you.

Tonight, I dressed up to go to this place in town called the Cool River Cafe, which I have learned is a giant meat market, and I don't mean the kind that sells sirloin. It was a Mom's Night Out event, and I didn't pick the joint, but I had a great time anyway. As a 36 year old married lady that doesn't drink, I was not the target clientele. I have not felt so old since well, last week when I went to the hairdresser to have my gray hair dyed. Luckily, my other mom friends are ancient like me. Luckily again, the only men to hit on us were probably a good 65 years old.

And they were HOT.

I've Got to Stop Now

Apparently, I cared more than I thought about the appearance of my blog. Oh, vanity. But I started playing around and look what I've done. It's really difficult and creative to simply go get the last photo you edited and plop it on the top. Check my mad skillz, yo.

Maybe I'll get so crazy about this that I'll change the header DAILY.

Or maybe I'll realize that I barely post a few times a week as it is and I've got to get up early tomorrow and it's nearing midnight AND I'm a LUNATIC who has now broken the Wordless Wednesday rule three times.

Wordless Wednesday

(Okay, I already broke the wordless part by talking about the new layout earlier. Sue me.)

I Feel A Change Coming On

Things look a little different around here.

I know next to nothing about blog templates, and frankly, I just don't care that much about learning because I don't invest much emotion into the look of my blog. I got tired of the darkness of my background, however, so I went to Blogger's template page and picked the one that had my favorite color of green. (You should see me pick horses at the race track.)

If nothing else, it will make it more pleasant for ME to read.

These Don't Mix Well

What do you get when you mix The Man playing Rock Band and BD trying to finish her Bible study lesson before class in the morning?



The Ramone's Ezekiel Bop.




We might have added a dash of stupid into that mix as well.

Fashion Tuesday

Here is the view from my back porch on this cold, cold dreary day:




Here is the view from my front porch on this cold, cold dreary day:




Here is a view of what Loodle has deemed appropriate to wear for this cold, cold dreary day:




It's kind of a pick me up, really. But wait, there's more! (please read that with Marisa Tomei's accent in My Cousin Vinny, because that's how it sounds in my head) Here's a view of what was deemed (by me) NOT appropriate to wear outside on this cold, cold dreary day, hence the red velvet:




And here's a view of what this one wears pretty much every day, which won't get her much mention on Fashion Tuesday, but Boodle insisted she be photographed:



Four points:

1. I don't know why Loodle has to wear the super shiny tights OVER the leotard. I just know it looks really rad.

2. Boodle's use of leggings will not garner any kudos from the ladies over at Go Fug Yourself, but they might take it easy on a seven year old.

3. I don't know why they chose to pose as rock stars with microphones, other than the fact that they simply view me as stalkerazzi at this point.

4. Striking a pose like this, Boodle guarantees that she won't be allowed out of the house until she's 23.

Not So Extreme Home Makeover

So, I posted before about my home envy, and someone said pictures are required. Well, fine. Here are the front and back rooms for your perusal. Feel free to suggest wall color, decor addition, anything besides replacing furniture, because Santa? He wasn't that jolly this year.

Before I start: yes, I do have TWO living rooms and TWO dining rooms. There's a formal area, and the area in which we actually live. In our part of Middle of the State, Texas, you cannot build a house without formal rooms. Then, you move in, and meet your neighbors, and they all proceed to tell you how informal everyone is, and that you will NEVER USE THESE ROOMS. EVER. But as they are the first thing you see when you walk into my home, you can't just leave them empty or covered with toys and crafts.

And to head off The Man before he leaves a comment to the effect, I told him already he could have a Gauntlet II arcade game in here, but he's too wussy to buy one.

Okay, now I'm ready.

ENTRYWAY


That wall? It just keeps on going. It's a big-a$$ wall. And I've chosen to place a ridiculously tiny chalkboard/key holder on it. I think it might need a little something more. And the wall color? Get used to it. It's EVERYWHERE!!!!!





FORMAL LIVING ROOM


See the picture on the couch? It's a Monet print, and we've had it since the days of no money, or taste really. I've got in back up on the wall, but it just doesn't work. Notice the lack of tables, chairs, etc. It's just the couch, and a floor lamp tucked behind the corner behind the couch. The couch used to be rotated into the corner to the left of the window, but we moved it so we could put the Christmas tree in front of the window. I'm toying with leaving the couch here, because that would allow me to put a sideboard behind it and give the dining room some storage.




FORMAL DINING ROOM


I don't actually mind this room, because what more can really be done in a dining room that has no room for more furniture (except maybe that sideboard)? If The Man were more handy, we would have already raised the ridiculously low light fixture, but his solution would involve twist ties, so there it sits. It actually became ridiculously low because we bought the bar height table, but still.

Question: If you've got carpet, should you still put an area rug down under the dining table, or even in a living room for that matter? I can't figure that out.




FAMILY ROOM


Why yes, that is one big, honking entertainment center. Not only am I addicted to television, The Man designs video games for a living, so the three game systems we have are "research", you see. Since he does adventure games, I can't figure out what research can be done playing Rock Band, but he assures me it was a necessity.

And wouldn't you agree (PLEASE agree with me) that that TV is WAY too small for that spot? Don't you thing a much LARGER screen would be more appropriate? Me too! Alas, that rascally Santa forgot my $50,000 check AGAIN this year.






This sideboard belonged to my Grandmother, and I love it. It's Ethan Allen, but by know means valuable, since it's currently housing even more craft items for the kids. Yes, there is much more besides what's in those plastic drawers. I lobbied after Christmas to have this moved into the girls' playroom, but was outvoted. Damn you, democracy!





Have I mentioned before my not-so-secret love affair with my big green chair? Oh, I have, and you're sick with jealousy? Well you SHOULD be. It's a chaise and a half, and if you sit in it, it's impossible to get up, because I had it custom made and paid them extra to add a secret ingredient that forces you to become lazy and tired and unproductive on contact. ESPECIALLY if you place a laptop in your lap and pull up Google Reader. It's REAL. Ask anyone.





What? That precarious stack of crap? Yeah, that's mine. The little table next to the green chair was too small to hold it all, and the ENTIRE OFFICE THAT IS JUST FOR ME, is way too many steps around the corner from the living room to ever be able to move all that into.

Do you notice? Another living room with no coffee table. Ever since we had kids, The Man has lobbied against them, but I really want to put one here. Think of all the space I'd have to spread MORE of my crap!



BREAKFAST AREA


What can you say? It may be small, but at least it's drab. And what's up with this light fixture? Awkward much?

The table cloth is industrial strength vinyl, since the craft projects are so close and the paint is so not washable.

There it is. Do your worst. Actually, do your best to tell me what to do. But don't let it go to your head.

Um, Pardon Me

Now, being far, far away from the diaper days, I shall have very few, if any, opportunities to post about, um, poop. However, this one I just couldn't NOT share.

Was killing time today at the toy store with the girls before heading to a cousin's house to hang. Both Boodle and I needed to use the potty, so we headed to the back of the store.

I, for reasons that shall remain undiscussed (you're welcome), took a while longer than the girls to finish up.

Loodle would not stop her interrogation as to WHY I took so long to come out of the stall.

After trying to circumvent the questions, I finally turned to her and asked if she REALLY needed to know why I took so long in the potty.

She said yes, so I proceeded to explain in detail what my problem was, and asked if she still really needed to know that.

She looked at me kind of horrified, and I said something snotty like, see you really didn't need to know.

As I turned around, I noticed that during my detailed exposition, Boodle had opened the bathroom door and held it open, waiting for us. As I walked out, I saw at least three families, with children, looking at stuffed animals not 15 feet from the doorway.

I'm pretty sure THEY really didn't need to know why I took so long in there either.

Hey, Kids Can't Vote!

Went to the local Barnes and Noble with The Man and kids after dinner tonight. Whilst the younguns were reading some books, I perused the early reader section since Loodle is getting more advanced and could use some new material.

Among the usual Step 1 books about Barbie, and Step 3 books about The Golden Compass, were two books placed front and center, each cover consisting of a giant face. One was Hillary Clinton and one was Barack Obama.

First off, um, an early reader book about presidential hopefuls? I know my kid is smart and likes a variety of topics, but I don't think Obama can compete with Angelina Ballerina.

Second, I called The Man's attention to the books (I couldn't pick one up and mock it because there was a mom standing there actually READING the book, and I don't want to offend in person). After smart mom left, he picked up and thumbed through the Clinton one, and was surprised to find out how much she struggled during her husband's romantic entanglements with a younger woman.

IN A KID'S BOOK IN THE EARLY READER SECTION! FOR 5 TO 8 YEAR OLDS.

YEAH, I'M YELLING!!!

I have to, HAVE TO, believe that the book was simply misshelved, except it was the exact same size as the other early reader books and was at most 40 pages.

Now, if I were a responsible conservative mom I would have brought this to the employee lady's attention, since she was right nearby, and demanded it be removed and replaced with Strawberry Shortcake stories. Instead, we gave them our Republican dollars for a book about horses, a Barbie coloring book, and a discounted tin of Crock Pot recipes and I came home to blog about it.

And third, why no books about Huckabee, Romney, McCain, Guiliani, Thompson? Or even Ron Paul, for crying out loud. He's from TEXAS!

Those were probably deemed to scary (or boring) for little ones.

Boomchain

The point of the news story I read tonight was the first birth that any local can remember in a small town in Alaska. However, the gist of the story for me was the name the father chose to give his child.

Boomchain.

Boomchain.

Boomchain.

I can't stop saying it. Boomchain. Apparently, the father works in logging and loves boomchains. According to the story, a boomchain is a chain used to connect ends of logs in order to form a log boom. Which helps in the making of log rafts.

I'm doubtful of the story's accuracy, because boomchain doesn't have an entry in Wikipedia, and if it's not in Wikipedia, it doesn't exist.

All it comes down to is it's a kid named after a chain. Who has a mother who allowed this to happen. And I STILL can't tell if it's a boy Boomchain or a girl Boomchain, although the middle name is Everett, but when you've named someone Boomchain, giving a girl a middle name like Everett is pretty tame.

Boomchain.

I'm now starting to hear it as a backbeat for a sweet hip hop song. Sing it, sistah.

"Boomchain. Boomchain. Connectin' logs wit mah boomchain."

Thank you Grandmaster Flash.

Dumb Parents Ruin Things for the Rest of Us

I am having a hard time remaining calm about this news story. Perhaps there is something I'm missing, considering I'm still reading challenged. Apparently, they are going to remove children's cough and cold medicine from shelves because parents are giving their children the wrong dosage.

They are removing medicine to help with cold symptoms, not because it's inherently dangerous, but because parents are too dumb to read/call the doctor/follow directions. Can they not just put a giant printed box on the back that says something to the effect of "RTFM!"? Yet again, the government saving all of us from the lowest common denominator.

Fashion Tuesday

I've been toying with the idea of posting a weekly photo of Loodle in each of the crazy outfits she picks out for herself. After reading BigMama's post about her daughter's unique style, I decided to go for it.

First, a little background. Loodle has been dressing herself for at least two years now. I am basically the kind of parent who is lazy, er, who is all about teaching their kids independence. Doing things all on their own is big around here.

The struggles I have are the choices that are made that go against every fiber of my being. How is it possible to let your 4 year old go out in an outfit entirely made up of stripes, none of which are the same color or run in the same direction? INCLUDING the shoes?

How do you communicate the utter wrongness of a green top with black sleeves combined with purple skirt, light blue tights with dark blue flowers on them, and brown Hello Kitty boots? And a random clip hanging from one side of the head? And 5 bracelets? And lipgloss that appeared as if from nowhere?

The answer of course is you can't. Especially when faced with the response of, "But Mom, I don't LIKE to match." Well, there you go.

Now, there's also the conundrum of weather appropriateness to contend with. Luckily, we have lived in Southern California and Central Texas, so I can get away with suggesting that a jacket be worn in 50 degree weather, and then letting her decide whether or not to follow my advice and suffer the consequences. Luckily, there have been one or two times that I can refer back to in order to remind her why we should listen to mommy ever once in a while.

The only times I veto outfits are when the clothing is A) too revealing, (No, I don't buy halter tops and short shorts, but when they want to wear a ballet outfit or bathing suit to the park, I have them throw on shorts/pants/skirt over it and call it good.) or B) When we're going to church, because I just can't let anyone go to church wearing a Bethany Beach tank top and shiny purple shorts. I do have standards.

Now, for the inaugural post on Loodle's fashion, I have to say this outfit is not too outrageous, it's just blindingly jarring in it's color scheme. Enjoy.





Here's the aforementioned green top with black sleeves, paired with hot pink denim. Why yes, they are IN FACT bejeweled hot pink denim pants. And the black Mary Janes are a staple for her, but sadly, you cannot fully appreciate them buried in our dead, dead grass (hey, it's WINTER for crying out loud). The sad thing here is that I actually think she almost pulls this off, which tells you how far afield some of her other creations stray.

These Comments Are Awesome

I'm trying to broaden my horizons in the kitchen, and have been perusing the website allrecipes.com. Before trying a recipe, I will read reviews to see if any serious modifications were suggested.

Frequently, I'm astounded by the comments left by people, especially saying how great the recipe was, who then proceeding to detail the 87 different things they did, the 32 extra ingredients, and the additional 14 minutes they added to the cooking time.

Really? Can someone please just try the recipe as is, and report back to me what sounds better for next time? THAT is helpful. I've culled a few gems for your amusement. You're welcome.

On cooking a three ingredient crock pot rump roast in which you dump the three ingredients in a crock pot and cook for 8-10 hours:


"I also didn't have a can of beef broth so i used 3 packets of beef bouillon and also added a packet of dry onion mushroom soup with two cups of hot water as suggested previously. I also rubbed the beef with spicy montreal seasoning. The gravy was delicious. I only allowed this to cook for 5 hours so this was not as tender as i expected it to be. I probably would have rated this a 5 if i had let it cook longer."

(What a dumba$$ the original chef was to not post a recipe for Five Hour Tough Beef upon which you could have bestowed your beloved 5 star rating)



"Fantastic Recipe! I changed a few things... salt and peppered the beef, floured then seared it on all sides. Added chopped onions to the bottom with a dash of dried garlic flakes. Then, I put the meat in the slow cook fatty side down and added baby carrots and scrubbed new potatoes. I poured a simmered through mix of 1/2 can mush soup, two kinds dried onion soup, water and 1/2 a cup of good wine."

(C'mon, that's ALL you could come up with? I would have also added tomatoes, leeks, chocolate shavings and a pinch of baby powder to give it the extra zip you were looking for)



"Absolutely fantastic! Beef falls apart, gravy is delicious. I did add potatoes, celery and carrots half way through and it all turned out wonderful. Thanks for sharing!"

(There's actually not much wrong with this comment, except since I'm reading-challenged, I thought she wrote "beef balls")



"mmmm..mmmm.. awesome.. really.. very easy to co0k.. defines the words "comfort" and "fo0d""

(I copied and pasted, so the disturbing use of zeros and quotes was not my idea. I guess she was trying to disguise words to avoid perverts who "cook food")



"Very good!!! I used eye of the round roast"

(wtf?)



"very good, very easy. I made it during a big storm for family that didn't have power and everybody loved it."

(this is awesome on many levels, the main one being that comments are supposed to inform me of the deliciousness of the recipe, not the appropriateness of what to bring to a blackout)



"How much easier could dinner be? I made this just as instructed. It was wonderful. We didn't have any leftovers."

(THANK you!)

What a Difference a (Half) Day Makes...

From a wonderful, funfilled day yesterday with my eldest, to a day in which I want to lock her out of my house. In just 12 short hours. How is that possible? The intervening hours were spent SLEEPING, for crying out loud. Shouldn't we wake up refreshed and ready for more comaraderie?

And did you KNOW there was that extra "a" in comaraderie? I didn't, and apparently, neither does Blogger, because it STILL doesn't like how I spelled it.

Oh, that's because it's supposed to be "camaraderie". That's still too many "a's", in my opinion

What was I talking about? Who cares anymore.

I didn't throw her out, btw, but I took the longest shower known to mankind and left The Man to deal with her.

Then we went and ran the girls around the tennis court for a while, after which we all took a nap, save Loodle, who attended Dell's School of Computer Sciences. Otherwise known as playing an I Spy game on the laptop. For an hour and a half. But it's making her a geeeeeenius. At finding an anchor in the clouds. That WILL come in handy someday.

Man I'm losing it today. Wish us luck at bedtime. Naps are never good for bedtimes, by the way, after the age of 5 and before the age of 56.

I can't stop. Did I mention that the girls acted up so much that I doused them with water from my water bottle in the van on the way home from dinner? BOTH of them. Boodle cried. It was awesome. Maybe NOW she'll take me seriously.

Back up off mah grill.

I'm done now.

Oh, I Feel So Much Better

For all parents out there, you must read this post by finslippy. It will make you feel like the best parent in the world by comparison. Or at least in a league with other buffoons.

My Day With Boodle

Boodle is my eldest daughter, and every once in a while she requests alone time with me. Since I get time with her sister all during the week while Boodle's in school, I always oblige this request.

Today we took off at 11:30am and didn't return to the house until 7:30pm. Eight uninterrupted hours with my big girl. It was awesome. Lately, our relationship has been less than relaxed and enjoyable. Her mood after school is dangerously unstable, so I go from being on eggshells around her to yelling and sending her to her room. On the weekends, she's competing with her sister for our attention, and usually ends up with the short end of the stick when she can't deal with life and lashes out.

So, it was a refreshing change of pace to just have a RELAXING day of doing whatever the hell she wanted to do. No agenda for me. No errands, no schedule, no expectations.

First, we went to California Pizza Kitchen for lunch. Mmmm, smashed pea and barley soup. "At a pizza place?" you ask. Why yes. What's the problem with that? During our lunch, a large party of preteen girls came in from a Prosti-Tot party at Libby Lu, and Boodle was eying them enviously. I didn't want to get into the myriad reasons that I loathe and despise everything about that store, so I just kept talking to her about other stuff and didn't get into the wonder of trashtastic makeovers for 8 year olds.

Next, we went to Pottery Barn Kids, and she and a little boy played with a firetruck for about half an hour. I browsed the whole store and bought nothing because I still have a mortgage to pay and can't afford $150 for a child's comforter.

In this store, they were selling a box of 16 crayons for $5 (they were the no roll kind, but still), which led to Boodle deciding she needed more crayons (437 is not a high enough number of crayons at home, you see). I told her she could get many, many crayons for just a dollar at Dollar Tree, so we were on a mission to find one.

On the way there, we saw signs for Zilker Park, a big park in our town that is near a river, and has a huge playscape and a mini train that runs around the park. We detoured and spent an hour playing, making a new friend, and feeding ducks and learning to skip rocks at the river. Oh, where was my camera when I needed it?

Of course, you can't just stand on the shore of said river without venturing in, and after getting pretty darn wet, it was decided that a new outfit was in order. I had just visited a Burlington Coat factory that was next to a Dollar Tree, so voila! Next stop on our trip was determined.

After picking out a (cheap) outfit, she decided upon leaving the store that she was mostly dry, so she was going to save her new outfit for school Monday. Me = sucker. We tooled on over to McDonald's for a pick me up snack of french fries and ice cream, cause I'm healthy that way. We then hit the dollar store for a basket full of crap, which Boodle paid for with her own Christmas money, so I was guilt free.

Next, off to Main Event for some drug tripping, er, indoor glow-in-the-dark mini golf and mindless games to win points with which to buy more useless, cheap ass crap that will break/get lost/stain my carpet by weekend's end.

Her choice for dinner was Red Robin, and I rejoiced, since I've been craving steak fries ever since Meg mentioned she was going.

Our last stop was the WalMart, or Wallyworld as I've just heard it referred to. Her idea was to surprise The Man with new windshield wipers for his craptastic car that we were forced to drive. You know, the one with the cracked windshield, license plates that are STILL from California, no Texas registration, piles of dirty workout clothes, and a check engine light that's been on for three months now. Yeah, let's spruce this baby up. She says we should tell him something's different and let him figure out what we've done. Good luck.

What a funfilled, whirlwind day. I was glad to share it with her, having nary a fight, cross word, stink eyed exchange throughout. Good times.

I Have Home Envy

No, that's not quite correct. I have interior decoration envy.

We moved in last April to our brand spankin' new house in a pretty nice area. It was built by a gentleman who could not convince his wife to move to central Texas from New Mexico. I don't pretend to understand a marriage where you can be in the process of building a new home and not have the fundamental decision made of whether you'll actually be residing there. Or not. Um, whatever.

New house + I didn't have to go through the building process - crazy lady from NM = my new home.

Since everything was brand new, unvarnished, unblemished, unuglified, we moved right in and started living here. We made no adjustments/alterations/improvements, save a water softener, sprinkler system and fireplace mantle.

Now, I belong to a Bunco club, whereby we rotate hostess duties, so I've been able to see how others live in our area. Granted, I DO get out and about in other ways, but it's usually to meet folks at the park, or go to the mall or something, so I rarely set foot into their homes.

Um, the other half lives a lot nicer than I do. They do things like paint rooms other colors besides beige. They install hardwood floors in interesting woods instead of keeping the original carpet, which is a great shade of beige. They buy artwork, and hang it beautifully (read: straight). They coordinate vases, candles, knick knacks, etc to match their color scheme. They have nice furniture.

Part of me says, yeah, I don't know how to LIVE in a house like that. Where are the pictures of their kids? Where's the tape marks from where they hung their stockings off the mantle this year? How do they keep their toddlers from knocking over all those vases?

Um, where's your STUFF? The kleenex box, stack of papers that never got filed, art and craft bits and pieces, cd's, dvd's, tapes, dirty socks, dust bunnies, tools, puzzle books, unfinished novels, stuffed toys, remote controls, and where for cryin' out loud am I supposed to put up my feet? Can you tell I'm looking around my family room, naming all the stuff I see?

I know people clean up when they have visitors, but even when my place is tidy, you can still find the majority of the above items around my house at any given time. I don't know how to live in a house that is pristine, organized, and showplace quality. I need a house that you can plop down on the floor and play Princess Monopoly. I need a house where the TV is the main focus of the family room, and all life revolves around it. I need a house where the dining room table doubles as craft space, requiring me to buy multiple disposable table cloths to cover the permanent paint stains. I need a house that my kids can run around in with no fear of destroying valuable artwork, furniture or flooring. I need a house that's lived in, cause man, we live the sh*t out of ours.

However, that other part of me wonders exactly how I'm going to overlook the paint stains, mismatched furniture, undecorated walls, boring paint, and all manner of game system detritus and simply welcome my new Bunco friends into my home.

I hope I can remember that I love this place for all it's homeyness and comfort, and that trying to stay ahead of the Joneses was one of the big reasons we left L.A. to come here in the first place.

Besides, I used to be one of the Joneses, and man are they messed up.

I'm Not Readin' So Good

I don't know what my problem is recently, but I am having to reread things several times to parse their meaning. Seriously simple things. Like a title of Suburban Oblivion's blog that read "20lbs in 25 Days.. Can It be Done?". I read it THREE (3) times as 200 pounds.

First I thought, oh, she must mean she's going to get down to 200 pounds in 25 days. Good goal. Then as I read the entry further, she refers to being a size 12. Now being 5'10" and somewhere between 174-176 pounds, I wear a size 14 on a good day. I starting wondering what body type you've got where you can get into a size 12 at 200 pounds. That's one tall drink of water is all I'm saying.

Then after the third attempt, I realized that I am an idiot.

The most recent one was today when I was perusing the important headlines regarding the Primaries in New Hampshire. *Giggle* Well, actually I was looking at the entertainment section at FoxNews.com. Yes, I read FoxNews, but I balance it out with CNN. I'm fair and balanced that way.

There's a story about poor, poor Paula Abdul having some type of breakdown at LAX. The story refers to her as "Idol" judge Paula Abdul, and I read it as "Idiot" judge. Harsh, even for FoxNews. Then I read it again.

Fair and balanced indeed.

You Can't Take Down Other People's Kids

Took the girls to an indoor bounce house place at the local mall today after school. This place consists of about 10 bounce houses set up with chairs and tables arranged between them, allowing me to sit on my butt while the kids get a good workout.

Now, lest you think I should be in there bouncing with them, a recent incident at some other place prompted our bounce house place to outlaw adults in the houses. Hallelujah and amen. No more guilt for parking myself in a centrally located chair and catching up on my reading. In case you think I'm an irresponsible parent whose child shall be stolen, they have a security checkpoint at the only entrance and exit, so back up off me. And I DO look up every so often and think "Yeah, they're probably still around somewhere, because who would willingly leave this wonderland without a fight?".

Today, the girls discovered some balls strewn throughout the place that can be used in the "sports" bounce house. They were attempting to make baskets in a hoop outside the thing, with often hilarious results. They ran off with the balls and I lost track of them for a bit. Suddenly, Boodle comes running by saying pretty testily "stop it, I said stop it, I don't like that!" Assuming it's her sister hounding her, I look up to see a random girl, probably five or six, chasing my eldest and grabbing and pulling her arms to get at the ball.

I usually assume my kid's in the wrong in these situations, because face it, it wouldn't be the first time she's swiped a ball and been a stink about it. However, there's a certain tone that she uses that I recognize as "Hey, I'm seriously being wronged here, so help a girl out." I tried to use just words to deal with them, but this girl, who was about a head shorter than Boodle, was ALL OVER HER, grabbing her shirt, her arms and anything she could to get at the ball. I then tried to get her attention, using my always effective Stern Mommy Voice, to no avail. Mind you, she was not crying, was not hysterical, was not claiming an injustice. She was just determined to get that ball. I finally tried to just get an arm in between them, and she would not give it up, was pulling on me and not listening to a WORD I was saying. I was simply trying to get her to stop so we could work it out, but it was useless-she just was out of control. I couldn't even manage to get the ball away from them both and try to get them to share.

About this time, I realized that I was either going to body slam her to get her the hell AWAY from my kid, or I was going to do the unpopular thing and just give her the damn ball. Being a reasonably sane person, I finally got the ball from Boodle and gave it to the hellion and she ran off.

During the fracas, one of the workers who normally patrols the area was trying to tell the girls to share, also to no avail. When it was over, I turned to my daughter and said something to the effect that I knew she had the ball, but that the other girl was not behaving right, not listening, and was out of control, so she should just go play in another area for now and let it go. The worker then realized that I wasn't trying to mediate between my own kids, and that this girl was not mine. She and I wondered where the parent was (probably somewhere with her nose in a book, ahem). We rolled our eyes a little and the worker took Boodle off to find another ball.

Hoo-eee, was I mad. How do I deal with this situation and not come off the schmuck? If I step in any further with this girl, I will probably end up in trouble for actually making physical contact, even if it's just to separate her from my daughter. If I take the ball away and give it to the girl, my daughter suffers a big, fat injustice at the hands of her mother.


When Boodle came back by with a new ball, I stopped her, hugged her and tried to explain why I did what I did, and that I couldn't do anything more to someone else's kid who is acting out of control. I told her I was proud of her for not throwing a fit, as she would have done if it was, say, her sister acting like a maniac. However, she seemed to realize that this behavior was way over the line, and that we needed to take it in stride this once. Good for her.

Knowing that I did what I could without causing more drama doesn't lessen the feeling I have that I've done Boodle a disservice in not teaching her how to defend herself physically. There will come a day when some ass kid will push and push, and I want her to know when it's okay to push back.

I feel the need to enroll Boodle in karate, if only to give her the tools to defend herself in the future. If she ever came home to report that she'd been in a school yard fight, and got in trouble for defending herself or someone else, believe me, she'd get an extra scoop of ice cream that night. I got no truck with my kid standing up for herself or others in the face of a bully who just won't quit.

Whoa, do I know how to blow a small incident into monumental proportions or what?

Did I Miss the Lecture?

So I went to tackle the monumental pile of dirty laundry today, and I'm a little concerned about the status of my washing machine. The problem with it is, well, actually it's me. I am EXTRAORDINARILY lazy, and I tend to jam pack the thing full of clothes each and every time I run it, causing it frequently to become off balance, which causes me to run all the way from the other side of the house (did I mention I have a LONG house?) to fix it.

Apparently, this is bad for the washer. Who know. Well, I did, but have been continuing to treat it this way for the past 5 years. It's finally rebelling, as all 5 year olds will. It now rocks back and forth when I lean on it, and even a regular spin cycle causes it to take a tour of the laundry room floor.

So, after scouring the internet (well, just actually checking the first website Google gave to me), I figured out what I need to do, besides get my head out of my a$$ and treat the washer better. Tonight, The Man and I will get down and dirty, and attempt to level the thing again.

Now, for the aforementioned lecture I missed. I went to add fabric softener to the dispenser thingy in the middle of the machine, and it was very slow to drain down into the well part. I've been avoiding cleaning the part where I pour it in, because did I mention I'm lazy? So when you can no longer pour the fabric softener in there because it's so gunked up, it's time to clean it.

I took the contraption off the top for the first time, and discovered what can only be described as moldy vomit inside. I'm sorry. I just am not going to sugarcoat what it looked like, because I was so horrified that I need to share and try to purge it from my brain.

This sludge was sitting underneath the container into which I pour the softener. This in turn has been draining into my clothing for God knows how long (oh He knows, and He's been judging me). Ew. Ew ew ew ew ew. I had to dig my hands into undrained softener and sludge and try to clean it all out, with the washer tipping and wobbling the whole time, and all I can think is "Why did no one TELL me to take this thing out and clean it every once in a while?" Is it another case of not reading the directions carefully? Does everyone else know to do this, and I'm deluding myself in thinking I rock at domesticity?

After spending half an hour cleaning it out and washing the load of laundry two extra times to purge it of all nastiness and scrubbing the first five layers of skin from my hands, the only thing to be done was chuck my dinner plans and take the girls out with The Man to Bamboo Gardens for cashew chicken. Right?

Happy New Year

"C'mon, Lloyd, it's a brand new year!"

So, I've been checking out this website, LOL Cats/I Can Has Cheezburger which takes pictures of animals, usually cats, and puts funny caption on them. As a happy new year to you, I will post my three favorites of at least the last 3 1/2 weeks so that you can see how high brow my sense of humor really is. You're welcome.



I've got this image in my head whenever I begin a blog entry that seems so interesting to me, but turns out to be spectacularly boring.






I can just hear the voice in my head on this one, and it makes me giggle like an idiot every damn time I see it.






I think the hysteria was just building when I finally got to this one, because on it's own it's not that funny, but after looking at pictures for an hour, it was freakin' hilarious.