Birthday Boy

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My son just asked me if we could build Tatoinne in our living room.

Also, I am now looking up on the youtubes how to put the buns in the sides of mah hair. Because Princess Leia, you know.

Also, Darth Vader will be coming over, Saturday. I do hope the house will be tidy enough. He likes a tidy house.

Also, I am now trying to staple Yoda ears to the dog.

Ok, just kidding about that last part but the doggie Yoda ears are sooooo cute and they will not STAY ON because preshums doggums keeps shaking his doggie head.

HE IS MESSING WITH MY PLAN.

Birthdays follow a basic template. It goes like this:

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I can’t help it. I have this weird propensity to always say, “Let’s just keep it simple,” and then something in my brain sort of snaps and fizzles and I start creating a Death Star out of paper mache and hope. Red’s birthday is Saturday and I’ve been tweeting at Harrison Ford for TWO days now to make a surprise appearance and he STILL hasn’t gotten back to me.

Here is the culprit behind all this:

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The bat costume is there because I was in a hurry and couldn’t find a picture of him without a costume. Also, we do costumes a lot around here. Keeps it real.

But, the cuteness? Don’t let it distract you. He’s a master at manipulation.

I must go. Tatoinne wasn’t built in a day, you know.

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Have Yourself a Merry Little- Oh Never Mind.

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So. Christmas is over.

Not really, I know. Christmas is really an all year long thing, as you well realize. But right now, that’s just one Hallmark card short of rubbing it in a little bit. I can’t help it. On December 26 I find myself in a taking down of all the decorations frenzy. Our kitchen seems to offer up only one food group anymore – fudgey items – and I seem to crave… salad. Who knew? If you eat nothing but pie and cheese for a week that spinach might start calling your name?

Also, taking down Christmas decorations is weird. It’s like, I love all the sparkly bits all over the house, but keeping them up just REMINDS me that the sparkly bits will need to come down. It’s like visiting Paris and knowing that in a day or two you will be getting on a plane and ending up in the Newark airport. So, let’s just take down all the sparkly bits now. Let’s squash those hopes of Paris, ca va? Paris is overrated.

My boys greeted me this morning with this nugget: “So, what’s the NEXT holiday we’ve got, Mom? And, are there presents.?”

Speaking of presents, right now I am listening to this:

“Red! RED! Whack the droid with your lightsaber! Use the force. THE FORCE, RED. NO, NOT THAT FORCE, THE OTHER ONE. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY, WHACK THE GLOWING CRYSTAL THINGIE WITH YOUR FORCE!”

USE THE FORCE AND THEN RUN AWAAYYYYYYYY!”

Yep. We drank the Kool-Aid. The boys got a Wii for Christmas (we’re only a few years behind on technology. We take it slow here. Just a few months ago both boys were running around with the BOXES to their dad’s iphone pretending they were their OWN phones. It was kind of pathetic. I wanted to encourage them on being so creative and imaginative but I also felt a bit embarrassed about it all.)

And, I know for a FACT that no Jedi would EVER whack ANYONE with the force and then run away. That’s just silly talk.

Also, there’s this rather illuminating bit of marital knowledge: When you tell your spouse, “Really, there is nothing I want for Christmas. Just skip the gifts, ok?” you must remember this later. You must remember that you said it and you believed it about as much as you believe that elves make cookies in trees and that The Walking Dead is gonna have a happy ending. You need to maybe clarify this statement next year like this:

“Ok. I’m going to tell you that I don’t want any presents. But, when it is 7:35 am and I’ve had about four hours of sleep and the boys have reached a sort of unwrapping frenzy that makes you think of really cute sharks circling in the water, trailing ribbons, I might want a small gift. Just a wee morsel. Something shiny. Like four thousand dollars.”

I told the husband “no gifts.” And then, of course, I got him candy, a Popular Science magazine that he will never find time to read, and a gadget that doesn’t work. And for me? Nothing. Nada. He really actually listened to me.

This is so very rare.

Why is it he does not listen to me when I say things like, “Honey? There is a spider the size of New Jersey in the laundry room?  I tried to friend him on facebook, but he says he’s not on social media and could he just eat me instead? COULD YOU COME HERE AND SMUSH HIM????”

Nope, he doesn’t hear me when we are all about to be ransacked by big, hairy legged monstrosities in the laundry room. But he TOTALLY is all, “I’m the best listener EVER when presents are involved.”

My husband says there are too many caveats in marriage. Too many unwritten rules added to the written rules. I tell him that’s what keeps it fresh. Being married to me is your very own Clue game, only no one dies by candlestick.

The only recourse is to eat some of the candy that I had bought him. I am so over wanting salad now. There is peanut butter in the candy so it’s healthy.

So, my afternoon will be spent with a chocolate hangover and that weird, “there is too much down-time now” kind of feeling hanging over me like a needy roommate. On one hand, I want to deal with the roommate by washing all of her clothes and cleaning house from top to bottom. But the other half of me wants to watch my boys’ bludgeon each other with the Force and run in weird circles in that prancy way that Lego Star Wars characters do.  At one point it looked like Obi Wan Lego guy was doing the Hustle.

And… Lego Star Wars has won the battle for now. The force is strong with this day.

 

Momsie’s Annual Top-Ten Thankfuls!

Here’s what you have been waiting for, all year!!!!! I know you have. Me too.

Gratitude is the best reset button EVER. I belong to a facebook group where we post, every day, five gratitudes, and did you know? Every time I do it, I feel better. Even on the no good, very bad, worstest days ever. Gratitude is a multi-vitamin for the soul, I tell you.

So, here goes. My annual Thanksgiving Day Top Ten Thankfuls:

(In no particular order, because I’m doing this right after I had some coffee and a Clariton and I am totally squirreled out right now):

  1. Squirrel One and Squirrel Two. Might as well keep it in the rodent family right now. img_57831
  2. Also, of course, head squirrel, the hubster:

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4. Lemon Bars. I know. Kinda random. But really? Everything has been all pumpkin spice all over the place and I’m so over it. Let’s start a new thing – Lemon Bar Season! It could happen.

5.  That The Force Awakens did not rely on bad CGI and there was no Jar Jar in it.

6. My mom’s oyster dressing. I know that I mentioned this before, but it bears repeating.

7. That Black Friday will be over soon.

8. This guy:IMG_5652He has hopes that one day he will be able to FIT in that box. But, as he keeps getting fatter, and the box stays the same, I admire his optimism.

9: This:

 

10: Also, God is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.  And he is good.

Amen?

Amen.

 

Bonus #11:

Sober Momsie. I just am who I am supposed to be when I don’t have alcohol in me. I operate better.

I know, some would say, “Really?” But, if you knew me before you would not argue, believe me.

 

Happy Thanksgiving.

 

 

Princesses and Pirates and Popcorn.

Ok. I guess you could say I am a Princess kind of person. I don’t necessarily like pink or tea parties or even tiaras (those are fun on birthdays because then people bring you presents) but if I had to choose…

It’s really by process of elimination. I cannot climb ropes. I don’t like high places. I certainly don’t get all this general swashbuckling about. It’s beyond me. I might be able to swash or buckle, but certainly not both at the same time.

I can rock a mean black eyeliner though. And an eye patch. But that’s another post for another day.

Last week I had two extra boys at my house. We were busy. It was a Star Wars day, which meant we were playing Star Wars legos and Star Wars tag and Star Wars bikes and Star Wars pretty much anything as long as there could be a Luke and someone with a blaster. Steve the cat was Chewbacca. I always got to be Leia. That kind of thing.

It was all fun until that dreaded time after lunch where everyone gets Tired of Each Other.

And then, that’s when I decided to snag them with my Secret Weapon: Princesses.

I know. I know it’s a stretch, stay with me.

I explained that I had been asked to review THIS, which I brandished at them with much flair, and Princessey splendour.swan-princess-dvd-754x1024.jpgThere was some silence. And then I offered popcorn, and they shrugged and said, “Ok!”

I know. This doesn’t sound very promising but here’s the deal: I love watching movies with my kids. And I grew up on Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty… and let’s just say those don’t get a lot of play at our house. And this afternoon, my boys sat and watched a princess become a pirate and this was what they did:

 

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They were totally into it, y’all. Total silence. Except for small-boy inhalation-munching of popcorn.

And also this: WHY is there a basket of laundry in EVERY picture I ever take? Curse you, laundry. Diva photo-bomber.

 

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The movie had pirates. It had weird beasties. It had high seas and music and adventures and also some moments where we all got the giggles. I snort-laughed at one point. That is a really, really huge compliment, by the way. It means I am invested in the pirates and beasties, which doesn’t happen all time when watching with my boys. It also means I need to work on my social cues, but that’s another post for another day.

Hey, Swan Princess, who knew?
It was all rather surprising.

Popcorn, a movie, pirates, princesses, and a basic lesson on how we shouldn’t pile on expectations. Done. All in one afternoon.

 

The Force is With Me. Sometimes.

This post was brought to you by:

ALL CAPS and Overdramatization!!! Wheeeeee!!!

Ok. I gotta warn you.  I am going to do something on Momsie I’ve never done before.

I’m going to blame it all on Star Wars.

I have to. It’s the only way.

Let’s start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.

Yesterday I:

1. Ran three miles. Ok, two and a quarter and then kinda lurched the rest, but I’ll call if running if you will? Ok? We good on that? Ok.

2. Then, I made breakfast for two kids and actually managed to CLEAN UP THE KITCHEN BEFORE WE LEFT THE HOUSE.

3. And do you know what we did when we left the house.? I put TWO MORE children in my car (they are friends. I didn’t just grab random children, ok?) and we all went BOWLING.

4. And THEN we went and had a very healthy lunch at McDonalds. I sat on the other side of the glass and watched them run around like little rats in ratty Thunderdome. I ate my salad and contemplated my life choices, but you know.

5. And THEN: I decided to take them all shopping for back to school stuff. Well, I just bought stuff for my actual children, but you know.

Backpacks and shoes. So, now that our college fund is totally depleted, I bring them all home and make them snacks (healthy! I promise!) and by heavens I DESERVE A FLIPPING PARADE OK?

Where is my parade? Where? Maybe just a small one? Couple Shriners? One politician in a car much cooler than he is? PLEASE?

Nope. What happened instead:

There seemed to be a problem with one of the backpacks. And by “problem” I mean:

R2-D2 STOPPED WORKING. (“MOM. He’s upposed to light UP and blink at me! He is JUST LIGHTING UP. DER IS NO BLINKING. WHERE ID DA BLINKINNNNNNNGG?” And then he just looked at me as if I could just WAVE my hands over the thing and WAZAAM the blinking back in the backpack. Say that fast three times. And, by the way,  I so wish that was wazamm thing was a thing. Moms could use that thing, sometimes. But I guess that would make me Harry Potter, and it is kinda tricky, that. I mean, I liked the books and all but not sure Jesus would truck with me becoming a wizard. Anyhow. I’m kinda swerving on this, right?

Right. Anyhow. Back to R2.
IMG_5677.jpgLet me also explain that BOTH boys brought home the SAME backpack. And now ONE is not working. And, as you know, that means that ONE kid is now really REALLY Def Con 5 UPSET. The other one is smirking. And then you know that thing that you do, you moms? Where you try to comfort and pat one AND glare at the other one? Well. This maneuver is complex and I MIGHT have fumbled the ball a bit.

Oy vey.

I had figured to just do what Solomon did. Just cut the other one in half and it’s all good. I mean, it’s just STARING at me.

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Help.

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Is it just me, or??

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I dunno. Maybe it’s just me.

Anyhow, I settled the backpack issue. Don’t ask. It might have involved the negotiation skills of Atticus Finch. And also a Nutter Butter. But you know.

And THEN, the husband got home from an after-work-go-have-a-beer-with-the-colleagues thing (he’s a total normie and for that I am so grateful and he really did probably have at most a BEER or TWO like he said) but holy Corona, he leaned in to kiss me and I smelled it. Alcohol. And my eyes narrowed to tiny snakey slits of anger and judgement and I swear we both heard a rattle. Because I CAN judge at this point. Do you know WHY?

Do ya? Do you know WHY I CAN JUDGE NOW?

Because it’s past five o’clock and it’s been a DAY and I NEVER GOT THAT PARADE.

Also, I made tuna and stirfry for dinner because my children wanted to act like I was feeding them plague food again tonight.

So, the husband tells me, after a nice, healthy dinner paired with a side serving of snake, and a lottttt of soy sauce,

“Dear. I love you.”

And I responded with:

“That’s because you HAVE to. You’re MARRIED to me. That’s, right, Drinkie McDrinkerson. You are STUCK. WITH. ME.” (rattle, rattle)

AND then. As he slowly trudged up the stairs he called down, “Yes. I am. And I am blessed.”

“YES YOU ARE MR. DRINKY-PANTS. YOU ARE SO BLESSED.”

Like I said. This behavior was all R2-D2’s fault. Perhaps, if we had gotten the Captain America backpacks like I had SUGGESTED NONE of this would have EVER happened.

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AND WEAR MY BACKPACK. MINE. NOT THE ROBOT ONE.

 

The road to Slugville is wide and slimy.

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Friends, I am now on day two of my re-route from Slugville and I have to tell you, it has been one orange construction cone after another.

Actually it’s been ok. But not great. Like, I am not all that jazzed about it. Because, Slugville is so easy.

This road? Away from Slugville? It isn’t easy.

So, let me just say this isn’t one of those posts where I’m gonna turn it all around for a glorious big finish, and you end up all “Heck to the YES! I too am feeling so TOTALLY ON FIRE WITH IT ALL! I’M A ROMAN CANDLE OF MOTIVATION!

I TOO SHALL FIX ALL THE THINGSSSSS!”

Nope. Not really that kinda post.

I have continued on my slow clunking along. I’m getting more sleep. I’m reading more happy things, things that feed the soul. Life is just basically putting one foot in front of the other.

So, yesterday I got an email that was a big “NO” to something I had tried for. Here’s a hint: It’s like a speaking gig? One that rhymes with “Bed” but with a “T?”  And also? I can’t come.

I was so disappointed. I really wanted to be able to write this to you, today:

“Oh my gosh! I have been so in a FUNK lately. But yet, here is this big, huge, gigantic wonderful email that is telling me I am chosen. Like, I AM THE CHOSEN ONE! Too much? Too bad Star Wars movie? Well, whatever. REDEMPTION is ALL UP IN HERE, y’all! It was all for a REASON! The sadness! The slime! I got through it and here is the big huge fat REWARD! YEA ME! This is how life works, y’all. You do the time and then, BOOM, Obi Wan is at your door waving a big, fat, Publisher’s Clearing House check and life is all unicorns and  kittens and endless guacamole!!!”

And here’s the other thing, though,

I didn’t make it by two people. Two. I was like so close.

The guy who emailed me was very nice. He was encouraging. He told me to try again. And I was all, “But I didn’t get it! How can I try again when I am so upset!? I am UPSET! There is no pulling up by bootstraps here! I was all Anakin Skywalker in my head for a moment! Chosen. One. Did I mention this is UPSETTING!”

Y’all. Two years ago, if you had told me I would have missed getting a Bed-with-a-T talk by two people I would have laughed at you. A kinda crazed, maniacal laugh. The kind where you throw your head back and cackle, like Vizzini in Princess Bride does. INCONCEIVABLE.

I guess the thing is this:

I am still trudging along. I am moving slow in traffic, past all those annoying orange cones, and did you know?

You aren’t supposed to speed in a construction zone.

Oh. And?

All of life is a construction zone.

OOOOO. That’s good. I think I will have to make a meme.

Yea… and then Glennon will tweet it and I’ll be famous! By the end of the day! That’s right! IT. COULD. HAPPEN!

Oh good God.  I need to get a grip.

I’m gonna go clean the cat box, people. That always tends to bring me smack back into reality.

 

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Terrible No Good Very Bad Day. With Whining.

Brace yourselves. Today is for whining.

This post is all:

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WHOA THERE MOMSIE. DIAL IT BACK. NOBODY WANTS TO SEE THAT.

Ok, I promise you, I am not at “Whining Anakin.” And, yes, did you know? The internets is just this fabulous. All I had to do was google “whining anakin” and up popped sixty majillion pictures because EVERYONE HATES HIM.

(This is a terrible tangent, I know, but it’s therapy. Thank you. And please don’t go.)

All right. Here goes. The other day I posted a couple vids on my facebook page of our road trip home. It was fluffy stuff. The husband was singing some song from the 70’s and I was bored bored bored, so, as most people do when they’re bored: I posted stuff on facebook. It’s what we do. We can’t help it.

It seems, also, that people cannot help posting mean comments.

Oh, trolls. I was so not ready for you.

So far, on my beloved Momsie I have not had many issues with the Trolling Ones.

Here’s the deal. The vid is not really all that … flattering of me. Did you know? I am not all that gorgeous when sitting in a car for 6 hours surrounded by junk food and wrappers and 70’s music and highway?

And also this: I am just not all that gorgeous. Boom. It’s true. I don’t mind. I like my face. I think I am in the “Cute and Loveable” level of face- appearance and that’s cool. I don’t really try to be Hot any more, by any standards because who has time for that crap? And also, my husband still calls me his “widdle freshums” which, honestly? I have no idea what that means but it seems kinda flirty so I’ll take it.

I have chins. Most people have just one. I have multiples. It’s like twins. With chins.

Doubly blessed, then?

I have HAD these chins since I was minus one year old. Back then, at baby-hood, the chins thing? So not a problem. Let me show you:

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Now, if that’s not a widdle freshums I don’t know.

But guys, the chins are still there. And even at my teensiest weight (read: before wedding, must fit in dress weight) I had them. And, really? The only way to get rid of ’em would be to SUCK THEM RIGHT OUTTA MAH FACE AND DONT YOU KNOW IT I HAVE RESEARCHED THIS.

You can even see it in the videos. At one point I am holding my chin with my hand (and yes, the angle was awful. What have selfies taught us, people? Shoot from above! Shoot from ABOVE! Any sniper will tell you that!

No. No chin-suckage will happen in this post, I promise you. And neither will it ever happen in my life because EW and also CRACKAMILLION DOLLARS.

So, my chins and my HUGE FRECKLES (read: sun spots) are a part of me. We’re buddies. We’re LITERALLY stuck with each other. So anyone who has to comment on that is kinda… well, stating the obvious, right? Which means… you are kind of dumb or mean or both.

There. I said it.

I know everyone is all frazzled up about gorillas right now. A week ago it was bathrooms and prior to that Starbucks cups and etc. And damn people, could we all just relax? I think perhaps the internet has spawned a great big fat, multiple chinned monster in a lot of folk: the I WILL JUDGE WITH MY TYPING folk.

Anyhow. I was so whiney about it earlier, the trolls who came and puked all over my page. But now? I’m kind of glad. It at least gives me a moment to realize this:

It could be worse. At least, if I really wanted to, I could suck my chins right outta there.

But you can’t suck away mean and dumb.  That crap holds on.

Good luck with that.

Phew! Whining done, and thank you for listening. Carry on with your day.

Oh, and always remember:

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