Well

Needle and thread do not appear to be friends of mine either (see previous entry about heat bond failure).

What was kind of cool is that I got down my grandma's old sewing box for supplies and it was neat to see all of her old buttons and spools of thread and to use needles that had been threaded by her (yes, I'm too lazy to even thread my own needle). The box still sort of smells like her too, so that was a nice memory, albeit far too mushy for here.

I *believe*, and the true test will be tonight, that hot glue may be my friend. Let's hope so because I glued that son-of-a-bitch up one side and down the other.

little kid is in a real mood today. I think I've got about a .5% chance of getting him to wear his parrot hat tonight. Fucker. I worked hard on that hat. I HAND SEWED the beak. I turned it inside out and back right side out and stuffed it and everything. No glue, no heatbond. It is the proverbial cake topper and if I have to, I will hot glue it to his head.

I was going to iron "wench" onto a shirt and wear this flow-y cotton skirt I have with a bandanna and hoop earrings. But I can't find a shirt or a bandanna and I'm really kind of over the whole Halloween thing already. So that will probably fall wayside along with the tote bags and pirate ship wagon. They were awesome ideas though. I did try the whole ship thing, but me and box cutters just don't mix and Mr. Ashley wouldn't stop working to help me. Something about a career and a paycheck, blahblahblah, I don't know. Way to ruin Halloween Mr. Ashley. Kidding, kidding. (mostly).

Here are some preview pictures, since I have a photo shoot early in the morning and I know you'll all be chomping at the bit to see the Ashley boys decked out.


Here's the one millisecond that the parrot hat did stay on his head. He also has tail feathers. Hopefully, I'll get better pics tonight. I'm also hoping that I can get him to wear dish gloves on his feet so they look like bird feet, but he has hidden one of his Crocs and I'm not sure I can make it happen with his tennis shoes. That's right, rubber gloves on his feet because he doesn't look ridiculous enough as is.


and the raddest pirate ever.

Okay everyone, I'm back to the battle between me and this dirty house. I'm losing, as usual. You all have a happy Halloween and hope for little kid's sake that he wears that damn parrot hat.

P.S. Any snapshots that I share are not indicative of my talent as a photographer. Unless I'm doing a little "photoshoot" sort of deal, I'm using on camera flash and my pics are just ordinary snapshots like everyone else because on camera flash sucks goat balls.

Happy Halloween!

Best Halloween costume ever!

So today is the big day. Pumpkin carved? Nope. Tote bags made? Nope. Wagon transformed into ship? Nope. Parrot costume cute as hell but falling apart now that it's been tried on once? Yep. Heatbond is not your friend, people. I'm going to have to attempt to reinforce with thread or something. Damn it!

Today we will make mummy dogs by wrapping hot dogs in strips of crescent roll and then painting tiny faces on them with ketchup and mustard and hopefully I'll muster up the energy to drag Big Kid out for a MUCH NEEDED hair cut. Then tonight we'll do the obligatory block of trick or treating before joining the Baptists for their Hallelujah Night festival (because it kicks ass, not because we're religious or anything).

Hope you all have fun and get lots of candy!! I don't know about you all, but I deserve some candy after all of the preparation that goes into this crazy ass holiday.

Jack Hole

Can I just confess here that I have ZERO DESIRE to go pick out a pumpkin, prepare an area for destruction, cut open said pumpkin, and scoop out ooky gooky pumpkin guts?? None at all.

In Search of...

A personal assistant. Must be able and willing to do dishes, wipe butts and highchair trays and scrub toilets. Cooking and serving skills a must. Patience for 98467583 "why?"s and the ability to endure Chutes & Ladders is preferred. Cat-like reflexes and nerves of steel required. Salary consists of room and board, a few smiles and the occasional "You're pwetty".

Hmmm...I need a wife. I watched a documentary about polygamy last night and I kind of got what they were saying. Can you imagine how nice it would be to have someone else around to help out during the day? I think I could definitely work out some sort of daily nap for myself if there was one more adult in the house. She couldn't be Mr. Ashley's wife though, she would have to be mine. I would pick her and I would be the head of the household. I think this is a brilliant idea.

I'm thinking of looking for someone who doesn't speak English so I won't have to deal with any catty bullshit and to make sure Mr. Ashley doesn't love her more. Although that actually may make him love her more....hmmm. You know, for more naps and less "why?"s it may be worth it. Besides, I do want her to be pretty. I'm not having an ugly wife. So I think a language barrier would be my best defense. Plus, we'd be bringing some culture into the house. This is freaking genius, I tell you!!! I think I could sell Mr. Ashley on this one.

I Prefer Laziness

Life is just totally crazy all of a sudden. All these people calling me and wanting stuff and needing me to call them back, emails that have to be returned, research that has to be done into pricing and products, appointment book that has to be kept up with. It's like I have an official job all of a sudden.

Which, don't get me wrong, is a good thing. Mr. Ashley and I were in preliminary discussions regarding me getting a night job while things suck so bad financially. Trust me, you'd rather have me photographing your children than serving your food. I just thought it would be a more gradual transition. And that maybe there would be less phone time. I was trying to keep it to no more than 2 appointments per week and I'm already booked through November if I stay firm on that rule!

At least it is a good kind of busy.

I've been working hard on the costumes. Yesterday I ran to the mall to get the fleece ski cap at The Children's Place. I saw them there last week and this week they swear they're out. We are in South Florida. It's only October. We haven't had it dip below 83 degrees yet. I just have a hard time believing they sold out of snow hats. I searched every store in the mall that carries kids clothes and not ONE had ANYTHING that would work. I almost cried.

I swung by K-Mart because everyone on the bargain board is hunting for this playhouse for $30. I thought for sure my ghetto ass K-Mart wouldn't have any and if they did they'd be full price, but I GOT IT!! For $30! YAY! This will be a huDge part of little kid's Christmas. While I was there I also found a red ski cap and some Suavitel fabric softener for $.50. Then I swung by the Dollar Tree and found the perfect red fuzzy pimp-like hat that fits little kid and would be THE COOLEST parrot head ever, but he won't even let me get it near his head. Damn him.

I worked on the parrot head ski cap all night long and I think it's pretty cute. I even sewed and stuffed a beak. However, I think he has too much dignity to wear such a thing and I may have a fight on my hands. This is definitely one of those costumes that he will look back on one day and ask why the hell I did that to him. Sorry, but all the "good" moms make their kids costumes, I have to do it at least once. I may ditch the tote bag idea, that may have been a moment of overachieving, but I still hope to decorate the wagon into a pirate ship. We shall see.

Okay, little kid is in time out and is starting to get pissed. He realized yesterday that he can climb (read: fall) out of his crib and now he pretty much holds us hostage at bed time and time out because now we have to worry that he'll decide to free himself if he gets mad enough. What am I going to do with this kid?? Big Kid slept in a crib until he was 2.5 with no problems. Leave it to little kid to be swan diving to the floor below at the tender age of 14 months. I better go rescue him before we're 3 for 3 with head injuries. I swear I'll be back one day with something funny.

The Feather

in the post below is from my attempts at costume making. That's right, we're back in the saddle with the parrot costume. I went to Wal-mart and got my stuff and I begged and whined and pleaded with Mr. Ashley to draw the felt feathers for me and he did. There's an excellent chance things will turn out okay in that department. I still need to iron everything together and dye tights yellow, but I think it's going to happen.

Oh! I want Big Kid to have a hoop earring. Can anyone think of a cheap, easy way to do this? I don't even know where to get fake earrings and I don't want to be paying a lot for it. I wonder if the local costume store would have one?

Not So Great in Emergencies

So today was my day to wake up with the little kid. I dragged my pillow and blanket out to the couch and struggled to stay conscious while he ran around and terrorized things. Big Kid woke up and I got him some breakfast and reclaimed my couch territory. little kid was in his room and I figured he was probably getting all of the diapers out of the package, throwing wipes around or yanking clothes out of his closet, so I figured we were A-OK.

All of a sudden, I heard one of those cries. You know the cry I mean. The kind that makes your stomach lurch and gets your adrenaline pumping. I swear I flew to his room, made it there in a single bound. I looked around and didn't see him immediately and heard his screams from the corner next to his bookcase. I spot him reaching for me and notice blood all over his face, all over his shirt, all over the stuffed animals around him. Then I see the heavy Disney water globe on the floor next to him.

As I picked him up blood was dripping into his eyes and from his nose and was all over his mouth and hands. It got all over my shirt and was dripping onto the floor. Apparently, my maternal instincts kicked in because all I could do was scream:

MR. ASHLEY!!!!! MR. AAAASSSSSHHLLEEEYY!! OMG! OMG! OMG! NOOO!! MR. ASHLEY COME HERE QUICK. AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. OH GOD OH GOD NO. THERE IS BLOOD EVERYWHERE. HELP ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Which naturally summonsed him to me in a single bound. Within milliseconds he had a paper towel and little kid.

Mr. Ashley: Ashley, hold his arms. (applying pressure to the wound)

Ashley: OMG OMG, IS HE OKAY? PLEASE TELL ME HE'S OKAY.

Mr. Ashley: He's okay. He may need some stitches. Please, just hold his arms.

Ashley: STITCHES?? NOOOOO. NOT STITCHES. NOT ON HIS FACE. OH GOD NO.

Mr. Ashley: Hold his arms.

Big Kid: Do you see dis owange fedder? A buwd must have come in da middle of da night and left dis clue dor me.

Ashley: IS HE OKAY? OMG. IT'S SO MUCH BLOOD.

Mr. Ashley: Hold his arms. Please, just hold his arms.

Big Kid: Daddy, did you hear me? Dat I found dis clue? Dat da buwd left me?

Ashley: WILL HE HAVE A SCAR? OH MY POOR BABY.

Mr. Ashley: I heard you Big Kid, okay? I heard you. Your brother is hurt. Ashley, hold his arms.

Ashley: OH GOD, OH GOD. I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS.

Big Kid: I'm just twyin' to tell you dat a buwd flew in here over da night, while I was sweeping and he left dis fedder dor me as a clue. I'm just twyin' to tell you dat. Okay?

Mr. Ashley: OKAY. Ashley, hold his arms!

Turns out he just has 4 puncture wounds to the head and he may have bit his tongue or had a bloody nose too. Ugh. I feel so bad, but I didn't think he could reach the snowglobes and he loves to listen to them when he goes to sleep. I guess he climbed the bookcase and pulled it down. It's a Lady & The Tramp globe and a little barrel of sticks broke off and impaled him in the forehead.
So, we've learned a couple of things this morning. 1. little kid can climb his bookcase. 2. Mr. Ashley has the patience of a saint. 3. Big Kid is not nearly as empathetic as we give him credit for. We generally view him as being overly sympathetic to sad situations and people's injuries and illnesses. 4. And most importantly, I can't be left alone with these kids. I clearly cannot be trusted in a panic situation.

Um....

What was I thinking when I decided that I was going to make the little kid's parrot costume?? I don't even want to go to Wal-Mart to get the stuff I need to make it. I'm totally flunking on Halloween this year, hardly any decorations, no crafts, I haven't even made mummy dogs yet.

I saw that Monogram Momma had some good suggestions for me and I agree that in theory I should be capable of this, but I'm just not so sure. Next time I get some crazy idea like this, please remind me of my serious crafting limitations and my tendency towards laziness, verging on slothfulness.

More Google Fun

Some highlights from today's keyword analysis:

What does Ashley have on her calendar for Thursday--Fresh Prince of Bel Air schedule

I need to poop

Pinch penis hold pee really bad

I want to be regressed back to babyhood by my mommy

Ashley's Playboy


Do I attract some weirdos or what?? Good golly. Do you think these people that found me through these weird google searches read my post on google searches today and knew that I was going to know that they're googling about pinching their pee-pee or loving their mommy in a weird way??

Monsters in the Closet

I know I've sucked at entertaining you all so far this week. Remember the photo shoot I had the other day? Well, I showed the pictures to the mom and she loooooooooved them. She posted the link on a mom's group board and within 24 hours I have booked FOUR appointments. She's also interested in a photo book, a photo purse and birth announcements, so I've been running all over the internet figuring out what to do about all of that.

While this is all seriously great and exciting, it makes it hard to be lazy or sit around and chat online with friends all day. In case you are all worrying that I will get rich and successful and have nothing to bitch about...have no fear. There's always something to bitch about. I have kids. Two of them.

Speaking of the little punks, Big Kid is sick again. This is seriously inconvenient as I desperately want him to go to school and since LK and I had playdate plans for this afternoon. So much for all of that. Another day locked up in this sty.

Anyhoo, my girl Fluffy Windover brought to my attention that you can check Statcounter to see what people googled to get to you. Hers cracked me up so I started paying attention to mine. This is how people in the last week have found me:

Craigslist Vera Bradley Java Blue (Someone with good taste in purses)

Sloppy Joe's toga Fantasy Fest pics (So fun! Been there, done that, have toga pics to prove it!)

Pervy stories blog (What?? I'm not that pervy)

My penis is really big for some reason Ashley loves it!! (Um...someone googled this? For real?)

The biggest zit ever (Sorry 'bout your luck. I thought mine was MRSA Staph, but it wasn't)

How much of the Master Cleanse do I drink? (NONE!)

Herpes info website ahms (Sucks to be you)

Kim Kardashian, closets (Googling yourself again, Kim?)

Fat arms (DAMN IT! I KNEW my arms were fat. I don't want to be famous for it)

Kim Kardashian closet (This has to be the same person as above, right? Two people can't care)

What it means to hear angels singing (It means you've done too much LSD)

Photos of snakes in women's womb (Wh...wh...what?? HOW did they end up here??)

Pierce Brosnan spanking (A kindred spirit)

Master Cleanse no poop (Just quit already)

Warm saltwater to poop (Seriously, DON'T DO IT)

So if any of you freaks have stuck around, please do explain. Particularly the big penis person or the freaky snake person. Why, oh why, are you googling these things? Whatever compelled you to click on my link?

I told you all that there were weirdos around here.

Dear Kids,

Big Kid--
-No, I cannot make you a Krabby patty.

-Yes, I do know I just need a bun, an oven, some lettuce, some tomato and a jelly fish. You've mentioned that before...400 times today. These items are currently unavailable and even if we had a pantry full of jellyfish, I would not be making Krabby patties.

-Yes, there is a rule against singing "It's a Small World" over and over and over again. I just made the rule. If you don't cease and desist immediately, you will never go to Disney World again.

-Yes, you should be able to wipe your own butt now. You are 4. You are practically a computer genius. Take some tp, wipe, wipe again, and flush. That should cover it.

-No, you can't go to school today. The Jews have taken the day off and left me all by my lonesome. Trust me, I wish you could go even more than you wish you could go.

-Yes, Quiet Time really is defined as time WITHOUT TALKING. Said time should last more than 20 seconds.

-No, I have no idea why the tv doesn't work correctly. It's a piece of crap, I'm tired of explaining it.

-No, you CAN NOT jump on the couch. We go over this about 65 times a day.

-No, you will not be playing with Play Doh because you make a big mess and I'm tired of cleaning it up.

-Yes, I agree little kid "wooks exhausted" and I am also looking forward to his afternoon nap. No I'm not going to put him to bed every time you command me to (even though I'd like to)

little kid--
-Yes, I really mean it when I tell you to stay out of the fridge 900 times a day. I don't want a fridge lock. I also refuse to have a toilet lock. Just knock it off, k?

-No, you CAN NOT yank my pony tail repeatedly. You are causing me physical pain on top of the mental anguish you put me through daily.

-No, I don't really enjoy kisses that involve tongue. Sorry, just don't.

-No, I don't want to help you up onto the couch so that you can yank my ponytail, jam your fingers into my eyes and attempt to pull down the blinds.

-Yes, when I put you in the high chair, I plan on feeding you very soon. I have never put you in there and left you without food, so I'm not sure why you need to scream before each meal every single day.

-No, I cannot have your food prepared prior to putting you in the highchair because you will squeeze my legs and scream and that makes me nuts.

-No, you cannot grab Heidi Louise by her fat and drag her around the house. I won't blame her if she bites you. I want to bite you too.

-No, it really wasn't cool when you took Mr. Ashley's box of business cards and chucked them into the laundry room. Not cool at all.

-No, you cannot call me MUM. It is weird to be yelled at by a little English imposter all day long. It's Mama or mommy. Mum makes me sound old and prissy.

Please kids, seriously, GIVE ME A FREAKING BREAK. For your own safety and for my health, just chill. Play with some of these toys littering our home. Enjoy each other, that is why I had two of you. Anything, ANYTHING, but harrassing me.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Yours Truly,
Your Crazy Ass Mother

A Boring Sunday Post

Can I just say that "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" is one of the funniest shows on television right now? I laugh out loud every single episode. I can't believe I don't hear more people talking about this show. So if you haven't seen it, watch it. It's on FX Thursday nights at 10pm.

Also, did anyone see the South Park video where they parodied Chris Hansen in "To Catch a Predator"? I seriously almost peed my pants. He kept saying, "Please, have a seat" and the voice inflections were dead on. We all know I think he's completely do-able, or we should know if we're loyal readers from way back. Even his cartoon self was cute. I got excited because I found a Youtube video of it I could post here but apparently it's been removed because of Viacom and their copyright regulations. Blahblahblah.

I don't really have anything interesting to say right now. It's 8am and I'm up with the kids because Mr. Ashley says it is my day to wake up with them. Technically, I think it is his day. He did get up with little kid 4:30am yesterday morning, but I think that counts as a middle of the night/sick kid wake up call. He got to go back to sleep and I had to get up at 8am yesterday, so I'm getting ripped off here somehow. So I've already cleaned up spilled milk, rescued little kid from the hinges of a folding chair and broken up two fights and I'm going to be alone with these brats all day while Mr. Ashley works on the condo, for the second day in a row. Lord help us.

At some point Joy had asked where she could send me something she thought I'd be interested in. I broke down a while ago and got an Ashley's Closet email address. I can't promise I'll remember to check it regularly but maybe if it was filled with treasures and love letters daily I would consider it. It is Ashleysclosetblog@yahoo.com. So feel free to send me naked photos of yourself or scandalous confessions or money.

Have a good Sunday. It's going to be a long one for me.

What Grown Ups Do

Big Kid: I need to get in da waundry woom.

Ashley: No, I put up the baby gate so little kid can't go in there.

Big Kid: I hafta get in dere dough, I hafta get some cweaners.

Ashley: Why do you need cleaners?

Big Kid: Because dat's what you do when you are a gwown up. You use cweaners and do you know how you know when you are a gwown up?

Ashley: How?

Big Kid: When you can say "Oh God Man" and stuff wike dat. Because kids can't say dat. I twied to say dat a coupla times and I cannot because I'm just a kid.

I Look Like This Today

I have the biggest zit ever on my forehead and I'm pretty sure it is connected straight to my sinus cavity and maybe even my brain. I cannot leave it alone and I'm almost positive Dr. Ashley is going to have to do surgery today.

Dear Kim Kardashian,

Who are you? I keep seeing you in magazines and on The Superficial, mostly about your big ass and some sex tape you made.

How bored are we as a country if we're even noticing you? What have you done that merits walking down the red carpet and attracting paparazzi?

I am not a fan of this "Rich kids being famous because their parents have money" trend going on lately. Paris and Nikki were bad enough and don't even get me started on all of those brats on The Hills. Blah. At least Nicole Ritchie's dad is famous, but that's even a stretch.

We do not need you celebutards taking up our time and the precious space in rag mags and gossip blogs. If the paparazzi weren't bothering with you turds we might see more shots of Matthew McConaughey without a shirt or perhaps we could finally get down to the bottom of this whole thing with Tom Cruise. How/Why/When did he get so weird?

I won't be watching your reality show and will probably never solve the mystery of why you're famous to begin with, because I really don't care that much. I predict you'll get fat and in a year (maybe a year and a half) no one will even remember that you exist.

Yours Truly,
Ashley

Intewesting

Lately the Big Kid has been having some crazy dreams. The other day he told me that a monster pushed him in the potty and he fell down and he was calling for me but I wouldn't come get him, and why didn't I come get him? So I had to explain (again and again) that this had to have been a dream because it absolutely didn't happen in real life.

So today when he came up to me and started talking crazy talk, I typed it all out as he spoke. This is what he said:

Big Kid: I woked up and saw a sad boy dere and dere were all of dese polka dot wights all over da room but he was still sad but den his mom was dere and she was trying to fix him and den da dots turned owange and wed and yewwow and were jumpin' awound and awound and den Cookie monster baby was eatin' a wot of cookies dat had sand on dem and was changing and changing a wot and wittle kid was changin' too and da sound of him changin' was weird. Da gwirl's mom was doing um, um, his toe, his nails and he couldn't get da nails off and he cwied at his gwirl mudder. He is fixing a kid, a gwirl in my bed. I was sweepin' and he woked me up and I say "How did you get in here?" and he said he getted up fwom my pajamas.

Otay?

Ashley: Okay. That is an interesting dream

Big Kid: Yes, it was intewesting. It was wovely.

Ashley: Did you just say lovely?

Big Kid: Yes.

Ashley: Does lovely mean the same thing as nice?

Big Kid: Yes.

Ashley: Where did you hear that?

Big Kid: I dunno but you're supposed to be talkin' about my dweam. It was intewesting, huh?

First of all, where is he picking up words like lovely? The other day he said something was swell. Did I give birth to a reincarnation of The Beav? We don't talk like that around here.

And what is up with these dreams and this crazy talk? I'm beginning to suspect a substance abuse problem. For one second I thought maybe he was psychic and seeing ghosts, but then he got to the baby cookie monster part and totally lost me.

My photo shoot went excellent today, by the way. The kids were GORGEOUS and super photogenic, way easier than ugly kids. No funny pervy stories either, everything was on the up and up and the pictures are fantastic (if I do say so myself). I wish I could show you, but once again, the internet pervs ruin it for all of us. Thanks pervs.

One More Thing...

I have to add that I really like the increased comment activity around here. Did you see all of the comments on the milk post? Holy Cow. Half of them were from The Renee, but still. Speaking of The Renee, she pointed out that Udder is spelled incorrectly in the cow photo, super duper smarty pants that she is. I swear I knew that. I was testing you all and The Renee passed. Yep, definitely just testing you all. (Honestly I was too distracted by the cow's weird arms. Whoever did that could've done a better job IMO and the spelling just proves that).

Anymoo, I love the comments. Seeing them all lined up in my email box is like Christmas morning. Also, y'all some funny bitches. So keep them coming, it definitely brightens my day and I think it makes it more fun around here for everyone.

One more thing because I keep forgetting to ask you guys. I want to make Big Kid a trick or treat tote bag that says "Surrender the Booty" but Mr. Ashley thinks it is inappropriate for Hallelujah night. I don't think the Baptists are pervs like that, he IS going as a pirate. I could see if he was dressed like a disco pimp or Colin Farrell or something, but that should be fine right?

I'm going to make little kid one that says "little kid wants a cracker" since he's going as a parrot. Do you know it is virtually impossible to find a red long sleeved hoodie without Osh Kosh, Baby Gap or FUBU scrawled across the chest or Elmo on the sleeves? I'm hoping he'll keep a ski cap on and I can make the parrot head on that, but there's certainly no guarantee of that happening.

Also (I know, this is getting long), I want the little kid to have bird feet. I told this to Mr. Ashley earlier and he said, "and why would you want him to have bird feet??" because I guess he's not thinking Halloween 24/7. My original idea was to find bedroom slippers and cover them with scaly fabric and somehow make bird toenails but then I was thinking I could just have little yellow booties that would fit over shoes and have toenails on those. The problem is I cannot sew. I can Heat Bond. Well, I've done it once. I do have a sewing machine. Is this beyond my capabilities? If so, tell me like it is. I'm guessing elastic would be involved, and that's what scares me.

Maybe I should just stick with the bedroom slipper idea.

What a Day

Big Kid woke up in another bad mood. He was just really mopey and sad and not that funny at all. He was swearing he didn't want to go to school. Mr. Ashley took him anyway and he solemnly stomped down the hall and approached his teacher with downcast eyes.

Mr. Ashley said Ms. Sharon was very concerned and wanted to know what was wrong but he wouldn't tell her. Finally she said, "Big Kid, did you stay up too late again?" and he sheepishly replied, "Yeaaaaah".

Um, hello?? You were in bed by 8:00pm, you little punk.

What the heck else is he telling these people?

So that was a weird revelation, that he's out there besmirching my image as perfect Bento boxing mother. God (and The Jews) only knows what else he's shared. Damn him. I totally had Ms. Sharon fooled.

On top of fun surprises like that, little kid has been sick and has been a real joy to be around the last few days. I think I may have mentioned before that little kid was an abnormally clingy baby. He practically had to be evicted from the womb when he stayed longer than his 40 week lease and he's been complaining about it ever since. Up until last month I was still carrying him in a sling everywhere we went. Not by choice, I think we all know that I don't really fit the definition of the "attachment parenting" type, he forced me.

Although it was sweet to always have my little koala cuddled to my chest for a year, I have to admit that I was pretty happy when he started walking and began testing his independence.

Well, we have regressed back to the mama/baby kangaroo stage. Except now he can chase me around the house. First he drops to his knees and puts his hands over his eyes. Then he gets the lower lip and his chin puffed out and quivering, the he collapses in a heap of sobs. If that doesn't work (because frankly, it's getting a little old and I'm becoming immune to it), he gets to his feet and angrily marches over to me, grabbing me around the legs, burying his face into my knees and wailing while looking up at me in desperation. It's all very dramatic.

The only consolation is if I'll pick him up immediately and snuggle him to me. Not any of that on-the-hip crap either, a full on hug with his face in my neck. It's really , really sweet...just not all day long. Sometimes I HAVE to prepare meals or use the restroom. When he's really inconsolable I have to sit on the couch and snuggle...for about 2 minutes until he realizes he's not being evil so he has to start grabbing for things or pulling my hair or jerking on electrical cords but still howls when I try to put him down. It's just charming.

So today when he wanted to play on the screen lanai I was like HELL YEAH. He likes it out there and it is completely kid proof and has a play house and some toys. I can mostly see it from the kitchen so I opened the sliders and washed the dishes while he played happily. I could see that he was sitting on a chair backwards and was shrieking and giggling at something in the corner and when I saw both cats about 1o minutes later and realized it wasn't them that was entertaining him, I stuck my head out there

AND SAW A SNAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Holy freaking crap, I seriously almost pooped my pants. I despise snakes. I scooped little kid up and ran back in with my heart pounding and my adrenaline pumping and made Mr. Ashley go kill it. Yeah, yeah, call PETA, I don't freaking care. If I could pick one creature for extinction it would definitely be snakes (with sharks as a close contender). I still DO NOT see how it got in there. little kid thought it was pretty cool though. Ugh.

I did escape to run out and buy something I need for a photo shoot that I'm doing tomorrow and while I was out I found Hello Kitty Bento boxes that were 2 for $1.00 at Ross. They also had Thermos ones with the boxes and a little fork in it's own compartment for $2.99. I know I don't have any girls (boy, don't I know it) but it was too good of a deal to pass up for $1. Think I can decoupage something onto it? Will a Hello Kitty Bento box make him catch "the gay"? Any advice on how to make this thing over would be appreciated.

So, about the photo shoot, it's my first in-studio shoot. I am excited and nervous. Remember good ol' Sonny boy? I think I have an admirer. He emailed me at 1:05 in the morning after our lesson and told me how much he enjoyed it and how great it was to see me again. Then he called two times the next day to see if I wanted to come into the studio on Friday because he could spend some extra time with me. Then his partner emailed me to say he was really looking forward to meeting me and would be there Thursday too, and then Sonny emailed me yet again to re-confirm. Mr. Ashley is not so thrilled that he has paid this guy to "perv out on his wife" as he says. I say if it could lead to free studio time or a successful business...it's all in good fun.

Wish me luck! I should be preparing instead of detailing my every thought of the day for you. I guess I'll get to it.

Quick Question

Why the hell is milk so expensive? It's $4 a gallon here. Last time I checked, there was no shortage of cows. I want to know what is going on. Something so boring and essential should not impact my grocery budget. For $7 more I could get a bottle of wine. (Yeah, I'm a cheap date)

I call shenanigans.

I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE

Oh my God, I am so tired and Big Kid is making me crazy. HE WILL NOT STOP TALKING!! And everything requires a response or he repeats it. In the last five minutes I have been forced to:

*Look in an imaginary mirror and evaluate how I look (like shit, in case you were wondering.)

*Play Simon Says (he absolutely does not get the concept of this game.)

*Observe and comment on his dancing skills (seriously, not to be mean, but that's not dancing.)

*Play a modified charades game with him drawing shapes and me guessing (almost all wrong too, since I wasn't really watching)

*Watch him write on an imaginary easel, complete with imaginary paper changes between each letter and him explaining that he was using his "dinger as a pen" each and every time and confirming that I realized that (Luckily I only had to watch the first few before catching on that we were doing the alphabet in order, so I was able to start this post and appear to still be participating)

Thank the Lord, Mr. Ashley just stopped working for a minute to go watch cartoons with him. In case anyone thinks the poor child is in desperate need of attention, please see previous post about Play-doh, music time, and orchestra AND know that we put up the Halloween decorations today and sang Yo Gabba Gabba songs.

So, I've done more than my part for the day.

New Look

So today I sat down to update my blog roll and got way sidetracked, as usual, and decided my blog needs a whole new look. I doubt this is it, but it's what I managed to come up with today. So bear with me and any wacky changes you notice around here and feel free to offer your opinion on what you would like to see or if you hate what's been done (not that it will necessarily change anything).

Alas, I did not get around to the task I set out to accomplish but it is higher on the to do list now. little kid is sick, I'm coming down with something and Big Kid has been talkative all day long. He's insisted on Play-doh, music time, and imaginary orchestra, where he is the conductor and I am whatever instrument he commands me to be. This is how we started our day:

Big Kid stumbling out of his room.

Ashley: Good Morning!

Big Kid: How tum you said dat to me?

Ashley: Said what? Good morning?

Big Kid: Yes, don't be talkin' wike dat to me.

Ashley: I'm just saying good morning, don't be rude to me.

Big Kid: Don't you say dat. I got pee-pee all over me and I'm just wakin' up. It is not a good mornin' dor me.

Ashley: Sorry about your luck.

So that's how we started our day and it's gone like that pretty much the rest of the day, with each of us taking turns being the crabby one. We are a regular barrel of monkeys around here today.

I hope to be back later, but no promises. I DO promise that my blog roll will be updated before 2008. I'm pretty sure.

Old Cow in Uno

Tomorrow is Mr. Ashley's birthday. I convinced him not to go to the condo today because he's been working his butt off and really deserved a bit of a break before the week started back up again. He kind of just wanted to lay on the couch and watch football (and mope, in my opinion) and instead I convinced him that we should go out and get a bite to eat. He was reluctant, but I had to go to Target anyway (down to the last diaper and little kid poops every 2 hours it seems) and convinced him it would be good to get out.

So we choose Uno's Pizza, family friendly establishment that it is. We actually sat and laughed about the year and a half we couldn't go out to eat because Big Kid was a Restaurant Terrorist and wondered if we'd suffer the same fate with little kid. We waited for our pizza. And answered 897 Whys?. And were forced to play tic tac toe and explain the Cryptograms on the kid menu to him. And played Peek-a-boo and accosted the waiter for crackers for little kid. And waited some more. Finally, the natives were getting restless. Little kid started trying to get out of the highchair and Big Kid was vying for my attention and asking where our pizza was every two seconds.

To entertain them I pretended that I was going to eat the nasty moist crackers in little kid's sweaty little palm that touches poop daily. He would pull it away at the last minute and laugh heartily and I'll admit, the laughter was punctuated with a happy shriek every now and again, but he wasn't crying or screaming and I wasn't being loud. Big Kid started getting a little excited and was trying to get in on the action and he shrieked with laughter too. I told him let's use our inside voices and he kept chattering and laughing, but all in all, typical 4 year old behavior and not excessively loud.

So, all of a sudden the lady in the booth behind Mr. Ashley stands up and turns around awkwardly. She stands there for a moment, eyes darting around the table, looking seriously nervous. It was a weird moment. She looked like she had stage fright. Then she focuses on Big Kid and says,

"Would you PLEASE be quiet?" in a loud, snotty tone.

I know it seems cliche and like a cheesy movie scene, but I swear to you the whole restaurant went silent. Everyone was stunned. Our waiter was behind me, there was a family next to us, and an old couple behind them and everyone froze. The old couple had been complimenting the kids just moments before. I looked over at them and their mouths were open in shock. It was several seconds of "What the fuck was that?" kind of quiet. Then I went from stunned to seething.

Mr. Ashley: Are you kidding? Is she kidding?



Ashley: No, NO. He's being a normal 4 year old. You're the rudest person I've ever met. You have no right to talk to my child...

She turned her back to me and slid back into the booth and our waiter approached us.

Waiter: What's going on?

Ashley: (Loudly) She just stood up and told my child to be quiet. He has been perfectly well behaved and she has no business speaking to my child or telling him what to do when we've got things under control.

Waiter: No kidding, she did that? They've been fine. We have wild kids in here all of the time and these two have been great. (Looking at Big Kid) Don't even worry about it, big guy.

Big Kid: How tum, um, how tum she stood up and she said dor me to be quiet?

Ashley: Don't worry about it. You have been a good boy. I asked you to use your inside voice and you did. She just has bad manners.

Waiter: You're fine, buddy, you can throw things at her if you want.

Ashley: No, he can't.

Waiter: Okay, yeah. No you can't.

...AND WE STILL DIDN'T HAVE OUR PIZZA. Soon little kid got pissed and was starting to get loud.

Mr. Ashley: I'm going to take him outside.

Ashley: No, you aren't. (Mind you, he still wasn't bad. I do take him out once he's truly disruptive. We've gone home mid-meal many a times. But he was loud enough for her to hear) If she hates kids, she can move. She came to a pizzeria, a family restaurant at 5:00pm on a Sunday and apparently expected to not have to see or hear children. How dare she. It's your birthday. We are staying.

Lucky for her, the pizza came right then and we sat there furious and debating further confrontation, while I silently challenged her tablemate to look at me. Mr. Ashley was still in total disbelief and was pissed. I saw her complain to the waiter, who shrugged and then they got their check and left.

It was one of those situations that once it was over I thought of everything I should have said and done, and how she would have realized what an asshat she was and the whole restaurant would give me a standing ovation and she'd be forced to apologize to Big Kid and pay our tab.

The rest of our night was marred by her audacity. If you really have a problem, and for some reason you just can't request a new table, speak to the parents. Quietly and not in a snotty tone. I still would have been irritated, but not livid.

So, that was definitely a bummer. Mr. Ashley wasn't thrilled with the Super Target excursion either. Also, he forbade me to get him a gift and he has to work tomorrow. So I'm going to try to be a good wife and stay off the computer and clean up the house since I took all weekend off (stay at home mom hours are ridiculous). I'm also going to wake up with little kid AND take Big Kid to school. Ugh. I wish I could've just bought him a present instead, way more fun and definitely easier. I need my rest.

Celebrities as Ordinary People

Pamela Anderson as a 4th grade teacher

See more here! I LMAO when I saw these. I particularly liked the Ann Coulter one, bitch that she is. Do Republicans even like her? Who IS her target audience? That's a whole nother post, just go look, there are lots of funny ones.

Update From Not So Shy

Wow, I was just joking. I really had no intention of offending you or your family. I definitely gleaned from your blog that Big Kid is really smart, funny, inquisitive and has a loving and caring family. I am in no way a perfect parent nor did I mean to infer that. I certainly didn't expect to start some firestorm. I definitely won't be commenting anymore. I still love your blog. Sincerely shy again.

And this is the problem with the internet, my friends. Had the comment in question been said at a real life playdate, in a friendly and joking manner, I probably would have laughingly said something like "Or I could save my sanity" and would have moved on and never thought of it again. But online you can read things in so many different tones and my years of experience on Babycenter have tainted my view because there are Perfect Parenting Police on every board (and shockingly, I'm often their target).

So while the comment was kind of annoying, I don't believe you really meant it to be and I admire that you came back and responded. You definitely handled it with grace and I hope we can still be "friends". I don't want my dear readers/friends to feel like they can never offer a dissenting opinion and I certainly don't want less comments (wink, wink, you guys know I'm a comment whore), so I am sorry if I read this as snarky and reacted as such if you were joking (it did seem kind of snarky though).

I totally understand your reluctance to comment again (clearly you are not an attention loving weiner gobbler who was just glad to be in the spotlight) but I would love if you changed your mind about that and even added your name one day so I could "know" you (because I do "know" and recognize my commenters, I even notice when you guys are MIA). You just may want to utilize some smileys or lols or something.

No hard feelings here, I hope you can say the same.

Dear Not So Shy Anymore Commenter,

In response to my "What Will Become of Him?" post, you wrote the following:

Dear Ashley,They call it an idiot box for a reason. You raising an idiot or a really smart Big Kid? Guess what? You keep the box off as much as possible and he will be creative, learn to read, ask why, can wes, and not pester you to buy all that bullshit they are marketing! Save a brain and save a bundle at the bank! Sincerely, not so shy anymore commenter.

It's so nice to hear from you! While I appreciate your unnecessary concern, I am quite confident in Big Kid's creativity level and brain power. Have you heard some of the things he makes me pretend? Did you miss that he's already reading, doing 2nd grade level math, counting to 100, making graphs for fun, knows all of his calendar months and has a fairly good vocab of both French and Spanish, among other extraordinary things for a 4 year old? He can also install software and customize your desktop and icons, and he'd be happy to do so. Oh, and I get plenty of "whys" and "can wes" even with the tv on, trust me, he talks all day long, television or not. Isn't that what 4 year olds do?

You must have missed that our television died. We now have a borrowed 27" that only works 30% of the time due to our satellite dish issues. Not that it really changes anything between you and I, I just thought maybe you would sleep better at night knowing my kids don't get to watch television 70% of the time, unfortunately we just don't get to pick the times. And you know what? He's fine! He's smart and creative and personable and independent.

As far as commercials go, I have been blessed. He is just now realizing that those things showcased on tv are available for sale and when he asks for them, he wants them for his Emmers or his friend Julian. He has never asked me to buy him something he's seen on tv. And if he did? No biggie. I'd tell him no, like I do for everything else.

Clearly you missed the point of the whole post. I did what I had to do and luckily it worked for us. We couldn't afford a nanny or daycare at the time, we thought we were in a great position with me working from home. We had no idea it would turn into such a demanding career and that it would be nearly impossible to "keep it on the side" as we had originally planned. It was important for me to be with him through his babyhood, and although he did spend too much time in front of the tv according to the AAP, he was home with his mom and I did spend every free moment I had with him and worked my butt off during naptime and bedtime.

Once again, I appreciate your concern but I've got it handled. I do wish your one and only comment didn't have to be so....well, annoying. But you've got to do what you've got to do, and apparently what you've got to do is tell other people how to raise their kids. Keep up the good work! Unfortunately, this mission wasn't successful but maybe there are other mommy bloggers out there eager to take parenting advice from an anonymous stranger. Good luck with that!

Please, stick around. I do love comments and maybe if you stay awhile, you can collect enough information to turn me into Department of Children and Family Services and save my children from a lifetime of being chained to the boob tube.

Yours Truly,
Ashley

What Will Become of Him?

I am very concerned about little kid's intelligence. He doesn't watch television, EVER. Not for one second, not even when he's pushing all of the buttons and putting a child lock code on. I don't understand it. We own just about every Baby Einstein movie. We know Noggin's programming schedule. I used to put his baby seat right in front of the big screen, just like with Big Kid, but did he watch? No, he cried and screamed.

How will he learn his letters without Leapfrog's Letter Factory? Who will teach him his numbers, if not Sesame Street? He has no chance at Spanish without Dora and Diego. Let's face it, unless something changes with him, he hasn't got a chance at succeeding in life.

Sure, I'll try to send him to The Jews, but they won't be fawning all over his geniusness like they do with Big Kid. Someone pointed out that they might not even take him if he still answers to "Jesus Christ Kid!". (Note to self: stop calling him that. They must take him. They are his only hope.)

You see, I was a work at home mom for Big Kid's first 2 years. A real job too, not this Pampered Chef sort of crap. A serious, high stress, long hours, detail oriented, responsible job where having someone yelling "Wook at my penis" (Big Kid, not Mr. Ashley) in the background was damaging to my credibility. So Panasonic stepped in.

Panasonic was his nanny, his tutor, his playmate, his friend all in one easy to contain, no muss no fuss 52" box. She showed him the world, helped me teach him about life and brought him a posse of characters to entertain him each day. He was enchanted.

Do I feel kind of bad about it ? A little just because I'm supposed to, but it worked for us. He has no signs of ADD, is able to concentrate and focus and knows all kinds of crazy stuff. Ms. Sharon told Mr. Ashley that she got goosebumps today when he read all the words on a worksheet she was having them cut out and that she can't believe how much he knows. I'll take the credit, but I'm not so sure I can honestly say I deserve it. And when Panasonic died and we were without tv for a few weeks, his mourning period was short and he was a normal kid again, albeit a little more annoying because of his constant "whys?" and "Can wes?".

So anyway, what the heck is going to happen with little kid? Surely one day he'll be interested, right? I don't get a free pass from Elmo this toddlerhood, correct? I just can't imagine. I might have to send him to the Temple at 2. For his education's sake, I swear. Not to get a break from being his constant source of entertainment and abuse or to save poor Heidi Louise from being tortured daily. Not to get a break from the screeching. Not to get the house to myself a few blessed hours a week. Yes, for his education, for his intelligence, for his future. Since he won't just sit down and watch some tv like a normal kid. I have one year to convince Mr. Ashley. Wish me luck.

Plam Street

Poor Catfish misspelled Palm Street on her rehearsal dinner invites. Everyone knows that kind of feeling, the initial panic, the frantic wondering if you can somehow change things, the sad resignation that they're just going to have to go out that way. Please assure her that 1.) 95% of people won't even notice. 2.) The other 5% will think it's funny because she is notorious for her spelling. 3.) As long as there is liquor at the rehearsal dinner, everyone will soon forget. 4.) One day she'll be able to laugh about it. The invitations are so nifty, I think people will be more caught up in looking at the beautiful plam leaves on them.

Or, as Matron of Honor (damn I'm old), perhaps I will sneak down there the night before the dinner and change the street sign to read Plam. Yes, that is what I will do, I will don my ninja gear and reflective letters and I will fix this for her once and for all.

Is This Thing On?

It has recently come to my attention that on average less than 1% of you comment. Why is this? I don't believe you even have to register now that anonymous comments are allowed. Do I not inspire you? Don't give me that "I'm not funny enough" b.s., because I'm not looking for you to be funny, although I do have some seriously funny commenters. A simple "LOL" will do.

My only pay is your friendship and the attention (well and free sex toys and one check, but whatever, it's not paying the bills). I love "my people". In fact, if I win the lotto I'm going to rent a cruise ship and take all of my readers on a big Ashley's Closet cruise, but you won't be invited if you haven't left a comment. I even bought lotto tickets this week. So speak up!

Dear Creators of Yo Gabba Gabba,

Big Kid watches your show religiously. I am writing you today to inquire about your inspiration for this series. More importantly, who you got it from, how much it cost, and can I get their phone number?

Seriously, I can't be the only mom out there thinking that this show was created to drop acid to. You were on something when coming up with this. Hell, those kids on the show even look drugged. What is up with their dancing? And who picked out those outfits??

I know each show cost you no more than $12 to produce and don't get me wrong, the Ashleys appreciate your assistance in getting Big Kid to eat all of his food (There's a party in my tummy, so yummy! so yummy!) and in brushing his teeth (Spit out the water, and rinse out your brush!). Not to mention, we about pee ourselves laughing every time he goes into what looks like an epileptic seizure and yells "Wook at me, I'm bweaking it down!". Breaking it down indeed. I am just slightly concerned that perhaps there are hidden drug messages that I am missing (hook me up friends). Or maybe you are Japanese? That's the only other possible explanation.
Yours Truly,

Ashley

P.S. Tell Biz Markie I said hi. Every time I see him on the show I have to sing "Oh baby...YOU, YOU GOT WHAT I NEEEEEEEED, but you say he's just a friend, yes you say he's just a friend, Oh BaBEEEE YOOOOUUUUU....." Excellent casting, along with your other characters.

I Heart Jews--UPDATE

Someone on one of the parenting forums I (shamefully) belong to is under the impression that I am anti-Semitic. I thought now would be a good time to reiterate how I feel about the Jews:

I, Ashley,
*Send my child to Jewish pre-k at a Temple
*Love the Temple
*Think they are all nice
*Marvel at the high percentage of thin Jews
*Envy the holidays
*Think the history and culture are fascinating
*Admire the way they care for Big Kid
*Am impressed with the things they teach him
*Get annoyed by the no pork or meat & dairy combo rules, it stifles my Bento boxes
*Question the insane cost of tuition
*Am unable to decipher the Hebrew Big Kid learns
*Enjoy the Shabbat Shalom song they taught him

So, I think this should adequately settle the matter. I love the Jews. We don't agree on everything (such as what makes a good sandwich), but we have a really good thing going.

Public Service Announcement

Why You Should:

Beat Your Kids: A How To Guide

Freaky Friends

So when I was 23 years old, I was hired as a marketing representative for a title company. Being pretty, friendly and talkative were literally in the job description. I basically hung out all day, drove around and chatted with realtors, and went to lunch dates and cocktail parties and drank. Not a bad job.

I spent a considerable amount of time lounging around the office and feeding the koi fish in the pond that the building was built around. I wore mini skirt business suits and high heels every day and I was young and skinny. Every freakin' time I went out to feed the fish, this pervy old guy named Sonny would come out and stare at me and would occasionally approach me and attempt to strike up a conversation. It was really annoying.

So today I had my photography lesson. It happens to be at the building my office used to be in. I walk in and who is the photographer...but good ole' Sonny Boy. I never would have guessed because he goes by something different as a photographer and we had never met in person as photographers. I tried to pull it off like we hadn't ever met, but Sonny couldn't be fooled, he knew exactly who I was. I was a little irked that this is the guy I'd be alone with for an hour, but whatever, he's a great photographer and I'm lucky he's giving me the time of day.

So he takes me upstairs to his studio and goes on...and on...and on about boudoir photography. I do not encourage him at all and keep redirecting back to my specialty which is children's photography. He goes to show me some lighting techniques...and picks up a whole stack of nudie shots as examples.

Look buddy, there are normal photos all over the place. Lots of lighting examples. I don't want to look at girls' boobies with you, sorry I just don't. I acknowledge the artful photos with great lighting and ignore the trashier ones and once again attempt to redirect and he launches into all the reasons women like to have boudoir photos taken of themselves (mainly so that when they're 70, they'll have memories of how hot they were. I get this, no explanation needed, I have lingerie pics of myself and I know why they were taken) complete with tales of the boudoir pictures he's seen of some of his colleagues' wives and how great they looked. Interesting. He also goes on to tell me him and his partner are "having a lot of fun" doing this (I bet you are, you old coot) and that women feel comfortable with them since they aren't "creepy perverts" (uh, yeah you are).

So that was a little weird but we did finally get to other subjects and the weird vibe in the room settled to a reasonable level. I learned a lot and I think Sonny and I are going to be good friends, if he stops hinting that he wants to take naked pictures of me. My one hour lesson did end up being close to two hours, so I can't complain, even if I did feel like I needed to shower after leaving.

I know you all want to hear more about my lingerie photos, so I will indulge you with the tale. I was in my wedding lingerie when Katy aka Catfish insisted that I should let her take a picture. I'm so glad I did because I looked freaking HOT and Mr. Ashley was thrilled to get the photos. So thrilled he hid them in a book...and then forgot what book he stashed them in. We have a very large book collection, they could be anywhere. I have looked for them, but haven't encountered them yet.

Once I lent Harry Potter to a friend of his and he had a conniption fit and was positive that the photos were in that book and that he was going to die and/or murder his friend if he saw them. He rushed over to his house and checked the book and luckily they were not there. Harry Potter? So he may have hid them in a children's book? So at any time, nearly nude photos of me could resurface? That's really great. What a fun surprise that will be. Note to self: do not lend or sell any books without thoroughly checking each page.

Oops

You want to know what sucks worse than painting the condo? Painting it twice.

I may have neglected to tell you all, but the other day when I went to Home Depot I checked out the "Oops" paint rack and found 2 gallons of Ralph Lauren paint that were a nice khaki color and were only $5 each. I really thought the gods were smiling down upon me.

So today after my photography lesson, I went over to the condo to do some more painting. The guest room was 90% done, so I opened up the other can and did all of the trim, up around the ceiling, the corners, and touched up a few spots that needed another coat. As I was finishing up and looking around in satisfaction, I noticed that the corner I had started in was dry and was a different color. The main color was more of a brown khaki and the color I just did was a green khaki, even though both spots on the cans were IDENTICAL and the wet paint looked IDENTICAL. Not so identical. Oops is right.

So I repainted the room with a light coat of the 2nd gallon since I had barely enough left, and I suspect I have a big streaky mess on my hands now. Sherri and my mom both said to insist that it is a new technique of faux painting and Mr. Ashley has promised that he'll have a friend come paint it again because I've done plenty, but I'm really ticked about it. I just want to check something off of this neverending "to do" list.

Then I came home to find that my 12 year old weiner dog, Heidi Louise, has an enormous growth like thing on her side. She's super lopsided, I'm afraid it may be an enlarged liver or something. She has Cushings disease and has been deteriorating. Unfortunately, she's been last on the list of my "to be nice to" list because I'm worn so thin and I'm afraid I'll be paying for it soon. At the very least, I'll be paying a hefty vet bill. Hopefully the bill will be the most painful part, I just can't handle more bad news.

Speaking of bad news, my MIL is in town. I don't have to see her because I haven't been talking to her this year. I was starting to let up on that around the boys' birthday but today she has managed to extend her sentence by at least another year. She never learns. You all would love the sordid tale, but Mr. Ashley would kill me and I'm trying to be nice to him.

So suffice to say, not a good day. A couple of good things happened today but I'm going to post those in a whole nother post so that we can move on from my whining and hopefully onto some funniness. Funnyness? Is that even a word? It is now, spell it however you'd like.

Numbers for the Day

4 spills cleaned up
1 rice steamer lid broken (thanks little kid)
1 foot cut
1 bandaid needed
19 drips forming the trail of blood from kitchen to bathroom
52 letters of the alphabet written (upper and lower case, each on their own sheet of paper)
200 bathroom breaks
6 cups of that God awful Lemonade-like crap
4 time outs for little kid
1 "What da hell is dis?" from Big Kid
1 time out for Big Kid
12 hours alone with kids
3 meals served
2 cups of warm saltwater consumed
1 load of dishes done
1 load of peed on bedding washed (thanks Big Kid)
13 loads of dirty laundry ignored
2 episodes of Sponge Bob watched
1 session of hosing poop off of little kid
149 "Why?" questions answered or ignored
5 bites of food chewed and regurgitated
3 butts wiped
2 dogs fed
0 cats fed (sorry cats, I'll get right to that)
1 handful of dogfood ingested by little kid
13 snot rags thrown away (poor little kid)
3 consultations with Sherri regarding the Master Cleanse nightmare

Eating food again....Priceless.

Master Cleanse Diet: Day 2

Breakfast: So far, so good. I'm drinking my lemonade right now and I can tell I'm going to be really sick of it soon. The worst part is the caffeine withdrawal. I have some real sleep issues as it is, add waking up a couple times of night to go potty, waking up early with little kid (who also apparently had poop issues over the night), and no caffeine and you've got one tired, crabby Ashley.

Someone commented that they didn't know when they would have 10 free days to do this...which made me realize that Mr. Ashley's birthday is Monday and I really could have planned this whole thing better. I'm doing it with my friend Sherri and we were excited to start, so oh well. We'll see how it goes. That was pretty stupid of me though.

Lunch: I'm hungry again but I think it's mostly because I know I can't have food. I'm still doing great but I did chew up a piece of cantaloupe and spit it out during lunch and I did make out with a ranch covered carrot (no biting, just a little lick). Since I didn't do the saline flush, I had another cup of the tea midmorning and no ill effects from that yet. I will keep you posted.

6:00pm: I pretty much feel like shit. Supposedly, this is the detox phase. I'm tired and I have a headache (probably caffeine withdrawal) and I'm hungry. It didn't help that I made Mr. Ashley and the boys dinner in the crock pot and it smells so freaking good I just want to go outside and sleep so I don't have to smell it. I just tried the saltwater flush again and I just can't do it. I choked down 2 cups and that's just going to have to be enough. My tongue is also a fuzzy gray color, which is supposed to be a sign of toxins leaving (or some such shit, who knows). Sherri left a comment that made it look like she was about to quit and I called her and straightened her out and we are still in this together. Ugh.

6:40pm: Exactly why am I doing this again? I don't know if these extra 15 lbs are worth it. Maybe after this 2 day wake up call I could just trust myself to eat normally and exercise? Yes? No? Maybe so. It could still be considered a jump start. This is just brutal. I just tried to mix another glass of the lemonade and I'm gagging at the smell. Plus, I'm almost positive that pork loin in the crockpot is the best meal I've ever cooked it smells so freaking good. Almost 2 days without even a bite of food, that's just nuts. I don't know, I've got a call into Sherri in the hopes she can tell me something to make me feel better (like "let's quit!")

7:34pm: Yep. Best pork loin I've ever made. Best cantaloupe I have ever had too. And this vitamin water, it's freaking delicious.

Upon more research I learned that the average woman (and we all know I'm more than average, but still) loses 12 lbs from the diet and gains 6 back. So 6 pounds? Screw that. I lost 5 lbs from just quitting Coke and walking. And the whole detox thing? Screw that too. I'll just get on some anti-anxiety meds or some uppers or something.

Keep on keepin' on, my sweet Sherri. I'm just going to try to convince everyone that muffin tops are the new 6 pack. Do you hear that everyone? Muffin tops are hot. Wash board abs are not. Make a note of it.

Master Cleanse Diet: Day 1 Updated

So, today I begin my Master Cleanse adventure. Last night I drank my senna tea, so it can begin "scraping" the insides of my colon (too much information, I know, get used to it). This morning I drank my quart of luke warm salt water. Actually I drank 3 cups of it because I just couldn't choke down that last cup. Lordy. I do not recommend drinking luke warm salt water, in fact I think I'm only going to be attempting that 3 days a week (if even). Now I am ready to poop myself to mental and physical health.

My mom is quite sure I am going to die from undertaking this adventure. "No one can go 10 days without eating food," she says. Beyonce can, I say. "You're not Beyonce," she replies. That's true. I did run this by my doctor and she didn't even act like I was crazy, and she knows for a fact that I am crazy. If I were going to die, I would hope she would have said something. My mom is not so sure she would have intervened.

I know some of you were concerned with the maple syrup factor, since it says right over there in my sidebar that I hate maple syrup with all of my being. It turns out real maple syrup isn't nearly as sticky or smelly as that high fructose corn syrup crap. I have not yet sampled the actual "lemonade" that I will be living off of for the next 10 days, but right now I'm hopeful.

And yes, you do all have permission to laugh when I crash and burn. You'll have to excuse me now, I have to rush myself to the restroom, the saltwater must be working.

Update 1: Yeah, the saltwater is working. Let's just say I've gotten A LOT of reading in today. I'm almost done with Dean Koontz's "The Husband" and I just started it two nights ago. Let's hope I'm not still peeing out of my ass at parent night tonight at the Temple. I know you're all cringing at my description, but there is just no lady like way to say it.

On a positive note, the lemonade is really good! I can't believe how good it is. I'm still feeling hopeful.

Update 2: It's 3:42 and I'm hungry and irritable. I'm often irritable though, especially lately, so there is no telling if this is the result of the diet or my sucky life. I'm having another glass of lemonade. Luckily, I haven't needed as much bathroom time, but that was a nice escape and I am kind of missing my book. I have JUST realized this means no wine. Holy shit, what have I done.

I Don't Need to Poop

After pretending to eat 126 different combinations of various play food (after working my ass off at the condo all day again), I finally had to put my foot down:

Ashley: No more please.

Big Kid: Here's your apple samwich.

Ashley: No apple sandwich for me thanks. I'm feeling pretty full after all of that other food.

Big Kid: Hmmm. Maybe you need to poop.

Ashley: No thanks, I'm fine.

Big Kid: If your tummy is full and you need more room, all you gotta do is go poop. Otay? (reaches hand around to my butt and makes a grabbing motion with his hand)

Ashley: What are you doing?

Big Kid: I'm just getting some poop out, dat's all. Hold on a sec.

Ashley: That's gross, don't do that.

Big Kid: Don't worry mudder, I will frow it in da twash and wash my hands when I'm all done.

Ashley: Great.

Big Kid: And then you will eat some more samwiches.

Ashley: Wonderful.

Did I tell you that the Jews got him sick? I knew they would, sooner or later. But they had to go and do it this week, the week of parent night at school and two playdates. I've been completely isolating myself in real life lately and finally accepted an invite to a former girl crush's (I'm pretty sure we love each other now and are true friends, even if I am hard to get a hold of) playdate Tuesday and a playdate/baby shower combo for some other woman I really like on Thursday, but no, my kids have green goopy snot. This also probably means no school tomorrow which is a major bummer for everyone involved. Thanks a lot Jews.

Right now Big Kid's legs are tied together (I did that) and he's slithering across the floor like a snake and making me pretend to be scared. I'm really tired. I just want to scream in annoyance, not in fake terror at a tied up 4 year old slinking along hissing.

Please let bedtime come soon.

The End

Tonight Big Kid wanted me to read him this whole long ass Cars book. I tried to be nice about it, and started off enthusiastically, but the second he looked away you can damn sure bet that I skipped a whole bunch of pages. Blah, blah, blah, you've seen the movie, who has this kind of time, you can't even pay attention this long. No guilt here.

Things I Learned Today

*When Mr. Ashley described the condo as trashed, he was not exaggerating. If anything, he was understating the situation. I saw the condo for the first time since scumbag whoreface moved out and I would call it outright vandalism. The only thing that kept me from falling to my knees and sobbing was the piss stained concrete and my fury derived adrenaline. Unbelievably, it was even worse yesterday. Mr. Ashley and my mom spent some time cleaning it up before I saw it so that I wouldn't track that bitch down and kill her. I still might.

*If I had to choose between using the bathroom in a frat house and using the bathroom in the condo, I'd pick the frat house. At least in a frat house there is only a chance you'd catch an STD from the toilet seat.

*I am capable of manual labor, but I do not enjoy it. I can paint, spackle, caulk, pry up piss and shit stained carpet tack strips, put stuff in dumpsters and lay laminate flooring. I think I am also capable of murder and came up with quite a few "perfect crime" scenarios while I scrubbed dog crap off of the walls.

*If you go to Home Depot in a dress and without a man, you will get stopped every aisle by helpful employees who are not only willing to tell you which aisle an item may be in, but would like to personally escort you there. As soon as your husband shows up, they will magically turn back to their regular selves who refuse to make eye contact and turn around and run if they hear you say, "maybe we should ask that guy."

*No matter how nicely I ask, my mom will not give me Scunty McGunty's new home address, even if I promise that I'm only planning on returning her dirty dishes and rotten food to her.

*The walls of the condo are surprisingly not drywall. They are actually made of sponge. So even if you do find some unopened paint cans in the garages of various friends in a color that would be suitable for a rental condo, you will only be able to paint 98% of a room and then you will run out. Even in the smallest of rooms. You will not know this until you have painted 98% of a room.

*The Dirty Whore does not ever walk her dog. Although this was pretty obvious from the 900 sq. ft. of completely saturated carpet, three different neighbors approached us to inform us of this. Then when the maintenance worker saw me hoisting piss stained carpet tack strips into the dumpster, he correctly guessed, "D-6?".

*My brother still cares for this disgusting skank, but is fully aware that she is to be kept far away from me at all times and is not welcome at holidays, on my boat, on the island we go to or downtown on the very off chance that I should happen to be there. He also knows that be better never ever get this piece of white trash pregnant.

*Even if I am absolutely exhausted, with a sore back, swollen feet and red, blistered hands, I cannot resist having a little taste of freedom if I have conned someone else into watching the boys. I am planning on doing the Master Cleanse diet on Monday (crazy, huh? More on that later) so I drug myself to the other side of town to hit up a health food store.

*I am really not comfortable talking to strangers about impacted fecal matter and the effect senna tea will have on said fecal matter. I don't want to hear the terms "scrape, feces, colon and cramping" in the same sentence. However, some people have no qualms about discussing such things, even in the aisle of a grocery store. Weird.

*Whenever you need alcohol the most, inevitably you will be out of it. I did manage to hunt down one sad glass of wine, the bottom of a bottle that was opened too long ago, but whatever...it's this or rubbing alcohol at this point.

Randomness

Did you see Deb on the Today show? God, if I didn't hate her before, I sure would like to now. How the hell does she have arms like that? She's skinny AND toned. She was cool as a cucumber up there in front of millions of people. She was also fabulously dressed, thanks to her Pretty Woman shopping trip at Neiman's. She wrote all about it on her blog and posted a link to the show, so go read and watch and fall in love with her, but don't forget who introduced you. Don't forget who you loved first.

A few people wanted to know what happened with the Halloween ordeal. Being the nice mommy that I am, I decided it wasn't worth fighting over. It's (supposed to be) a kid's holiday and he should be the one having fun and I'd just return the pirate costume. I rushed to Disney.com and bought the Buzz costume and rushed to Ebay and bought a green alien costume and a green alien backpack and was very pleased with myself for not procrastinating like I do every other year.

Well today my mom asked him what he was going to be for Halloween and he said he was going to be a pirate. She told him she thought he was going to be Buzz and he said that we didn't have any money for Buzz, so he was just going to be a pirate now instead. She told him she was pretty sure we were going to return the pirate and get the money back and that I had already bought him the Buzz costume and he said no, he really just wanted to be a pirate and that was what he was going to be. I came home and we talked about it and he does indeed want to be the pirate, even tried it on (WITH the hat), and it doesn't look as gay as I thought so I guess we're back to plan A. Now what to do with all this freaking Toy Story stuff? Ugh.

Someone also asked about the weiner cutters. First let me say that I do NOT recommend that you get the whole weiner cutting thing started, as it is messy and annoying and not as cool as you think it is going to be. My mom got them from Ebay, I have this one among others. Maybe I should post a really random ebay auction: 1 Buzz costume, 1 green alien costume, 1 green alien backpack, 5 weiner cutters all for one low price!

I am still doing the Bento thing and Big Kid loves it. Ms. Sharon told me that she also loves it and finds herself looking forward to opening his lunchbox and seeing what will be in there each day. I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm the best mom in the class. She also told me he's the smartest kid in the class. Those weren't her exact words, but that's what she meant. They are uber impressed with his skills, as they should be because he is exceptional (no sarcasm or jokes here, he really is).

Remember how a while ago I said I thought they said something about not mixing meat and cheese? But then someone pointed out that would mean no Hamburger Helper and I decided that I must have heard wrong because that just couldn't be possible? Turns out, it is possible. They sent a note home saying no peanuts, no pork or ham, no meat and dairy combinations. Come on people. Maybe you should just send a list of what he can eat because he is a sandwich kid and if you can't have peanut butter, meat and cheese is pretty much your only other option. I will indulge them on the pork thing (is salami included?) but I am just going to hope that my star shaped turkey and cheese sandwiches dazzle them too much for them to even notice that I'm breaking the meat/cheese combo rule. The kid has to eat.

He is in the bathroom singing a song about Shabbat as I type this. My little Irish Jew!

Today Mr. Ashley and I went over to the other coast to get flooring for the rental condo that my brother's ho-bag girlfriend trashed. We found some guy on Craigslist and met him at a warehouse where he sold us Pergo brand laminate flooring for .69 a square foot!! I'm still on a total bargain high. That piece of shit condo now has nicer flooring than our home. Now if someone will just rent it, buy it, or burn it down, we'll be all set.

Okay, enough randomness for now. I have more to say (can you believe that?) and I'll be back later.

How Crazy is This Bad Nanny Blog?

I Saw Your Nanny (It's not porn)

Dear Adrian Grenier,

Really, you'd better not.

Truly Yours (seriously, anytime),

Ashley

I Want to Touch Matt Too

My friend Deb is going to get to touch Matt Lauer's abs! Well, probably not, but she is going to be on the Today show on Thursday! How freaking cool is that?? You know, I'd probably touch him anyway, inappropriate or not. I'd wait until near the end so they couldn't kick me off or have me escorted from the building but I'd just go for it. He is too cute.

Go read her blog. She's one of those girls I'd really like to hate. She's skinny, pretty, funny, smart, rich, leads an interesting life, has 2 front loading washers and dryers, blah, blah, blah. I have really tried to hate her, but it's just too hard. Which makes me want to hate her even more, but once again, no can do.

She also gets married every year. To the same guy, of course. How romantic, freaking barf.

Discustin Piwates

Ashley: Look Big Kid, your pirate costume came!

Big Kid: Oh no, I'm not bein' a piwate.

Ashley: Yes you are.

Big Kid: No, I'm not. I'm bein' Buzz Whiteyear.

Ashley: No, you're being a pirate. This pirate. And little kid is being a parrot and your wagon is going to be a ship, remember?

Big Kid: Mudder, no. I cannot be a piwate. No. I'm not bein' dis.

(grabs costume from my hands)

Ashley: Then I guess you won't have a costume, because I spent our costume money on this pirate outfit that you said you wanted.

Big Kid: (Begins to cry. Not tantrum crying either, genuine sad, quiet crying).

Ashley: What's wrong, why are you crying?

Big Kid: I just don't want to be a piwate.

Ashley: Why not?

Big Kid: 'Cuz it's just discustin'.

Ashley: It's not disgusting. It's a cool costume.

Big Kid: It's not cool. It's a piwate.

Ashley: Whatever.

Big Kid: It's a discustin' piwate and I'm throwin' it outside.

(marches to the front door, Mr. Ashley intervenes and puts him in time out)

Several minutes later:

Ashley: Want to come out and have lunch?

Big Kid: No, mudder. I do not. Pwease-

Ashley: I'm making hotdogs into funny shapes with the new weiner cutters. You can have a penguin or a flower or a octopus or a crab...

Big Kid: No...uh...Did you say a cwab hotdog?

Ashley: Yes.

Big Kid: Okay.

Ashley: Come out and apologize to me and daddy.

Big Kid: No. I don't think so. I'm not sowwy.

Ashley: Then you don't get a crab hotdog.

Big Kid: (sadly) Okay.

(He emerges a few minutes later, shuffling and puffy eyed)

Mr. Ashley: Do you have something to say to me?

Big Kid: Yes. I'm sowwy.

Mr. Ashley: Do you know what you're sorry for?

Big Kid: No.

(They stare at each other for a moment)

Big Kid: I just don't want to be a piwate. I just want to be Buzz Whiteyear or an ice cream cone or a robot, but not a piwate. Not a discustin' piwate.

Now, although I don't agree that the costume is "discustin'" , I do think it's a little more gay looking than I originally thought. I'm even less thrilled about Buzz Lightyear than I am a pirate, and he can forget the ice cream cone. Buzz Lightyear wouldn't be so bad if little kid could be one of those green three eyed alien things, but I don't even know where to begin with that. I hate that he's getting to the age where he can pick his own costumes, it totally takes the fun out of it for me.

By the way, I cannot recommend weiner cutting. YUCK. Do you know what it's like to have weiner juice running down your hands? You probably do, you filthy thing. Yuck, yuck, yuck. Of course Big Kid loved it, so I'm probably stuck with it now. The crap I put up with around here.

Don't Forget Me

I have been a bad blogger and email friend lately and I apologize for that. As you all know I was having serious technical difficulties, now my computer is completely dead and my online time is seriously limited.

Please forgive me for not commenting on your blog, emailing you, participating on your board, etc. I miss you all dearly and look forward to the days of sitting on my couch with my laptop and hanging out with all of my "imaginary" friends again.

Please go read my friend Gretchen's blog, but DO NOT love her more than you love me. She is very funny and lovable, but I have caught her several times trying to replace me and/or divert attention from me and we just can't have that. She has funny kids too. If Big Kid hooked up with one of her daughters, we could probably get a movie deal. At least a reality tv show.

Also, read Vanessa's blog. She is a hot, talented, single mom who lives on a tropical island and has been pursuing a singing career. It's fun to live vicariously through her dating escapades. She was updating us on a weekly message board thread and I've tried to get her to post some of that so you'll all have the full soap opera and cast of characters, but I don't know, something about being a single mom, working full time, having a social life, blahblahblah. Since it's an ongoing saga, it's best to read her blog from first entry to last.

And, my dear Kate is very, very funny and an excellent writer. A tad inappropriate at times, but that's what I love. If Kate and I were "real life" friends, there's probably a good chance we'd end up in jail together. Maybe I'm wrong, it's just a hunch, but it could be wild.

Edited to add: Cake! I didn't even know Cake had a blog, but I've been wondering where she was and tracked down one of her old comments. I have done this in the past and it showed a profile but no blog name so I didn't think she had one. But I clicked something else and she does. I'll be reading it tonight.

Edited Again to add: Sasha!! How the hell did I forget Sasha? (answer: it's Pinot Grigio's fault) I love Sasha, she's a fellow Bargain Boarder. Go read, she's very funny and also has amusing children!

Speaking of MIA commenters, Dana are you out there?

It's been hard for me to check other blogs (I did check out Monogram Momma, but she met Martha! I had to stay posted on that) but as soon as I get my laptop back I'll be checking everyone's who commented me with theirs and I can't wait! I'll also be updating the blogroll and adding the advertisers.

Can you tell how badly I miss my computer? Really badly.

Reaction Time

You know, I love the little kid and all, but that child makes me sympathize with child abusers. I'm not saying that all children who are abused deserved it, I'm just saying I can see where if you are not quite there mentally and you were saddled with a particular type of child that it would be easy to slip over that rocky precipice of mental health.

Little kid spends his whole day figuring out what makes me nuts and doing it. Do you see me smashing this cookie into my hair? You see this right? It's messy and I'm going to sob when you take a washcloth to my cookie encrusted head. Oh, that doesn't bother you? You have no reaction to that? What if I smash it into 10 million pieces and throw it into the air like confetti while making an inhuman sound capable of shattering crystal? Yeah, that's what I thought. I knew you wouldn't like that. Note to self: add this to the daily list, it's a keeper.

Today we went to the dermatologist for a spot he has and he tried the cookie in hair thing, no reaction. Tried wiggling out of the stroller, no reaction. Ripping up a magazine, no reaction. Throwing paci on the floor and demanding it back...wait, that's starting to get old. She's beginning to crack. What if I throw it into the air and add the screeching? Then screech more when she won't give it back. Then screech louder when she tries to distract me with patty cake or itsy bitsy spider. Ohhh yeah.

See her looking around nervously? Shushing? Speaking through gritted teeth? HaHA! We've got her!! Wait, did she just shake her finger at me? I don't like her tone. That's abuse, ABUSE, did someone see it? Maybe if I start sobbing, big lip quivering, belly shaking sobs someone will notice how she is treating me. Oh, now she feels bad. But I can't stop, she treated me so terribly. Maybe if I hyperventilate a little she'll truly see the error of her ways. Awww, now the nurses and office girls are all fussing over me. They see her for what she is. SCORE!

Don't try to tell me that is typical baby behavior. I know it sounds pretty normal, but if you saw the way he stares at me, that mischievous glint in his eye, when he is pulling his crap you'd know what I mean.

And the screech? You don't even know. It's the reason he thinks his name is "Jesus Christ Kid". It is this perfect, even pitch. He hits this one note that just makes your ears want to bleed and when he hits the sweet spot, he just doesn't quit. He even does it with a smile sometimes.

He's lucky his smile is as cute as his screeching is ugly, or I probably would have slipped out of the exit door at the end of the hall today. I saw it there, calling my name, beckoning me to sweet, quiet freedom but I stayed because I'm a good mom. Or maybe because it would've been too easy for them to track me down and return him. Whatever, same thing.