tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10274977515658854102024-03-13T21:18:23.010-05:00cookiedoodooDancerSingerActressMakeupArtistWifeAndAsswiperAmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-31538942406771192842012-05-02T11:01:00.003-05:002012-05-02T11:07:43.672-05:00OLd Man Slippers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj54-SHVDlh1bERAkv7OEIR8Ru9MrG7ePe0CtIPKAIrwpU7IVKPhK_wixUnH6HV8zHAkYhh1ZIJZGYkBLwHDQeuquXiorsUI4N0lt4Gbzkox2nS93t1YLKroUXr23pBTny-vO8dVYPnXU02/s1600/old+black+man+slippers.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj54-SHVDlh1bERAkv7OEIR8Ru9MrG7ePe0CtIPKAIrwpU7IVKPhK_wixUnH6HV8zHAkYhh1ZIJZGYkBLwHDQeuquXiorsUI4N0lt4Gbzkox2nS93t1YLKroUXr23pBTny-vO8dVYPnXU02/s320/old+black+man+slippers.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5737967013010496962" /></a><br /><br />Spencer has chosen his shoes. You know, all two year olds go through this phase. First it was the Fireman rain boots. Then, the shirt had to have a trash truck on it or he wasn't gonna wear it.<br /><br />Now it's the old black man fleece slippers. And MUST be worn with socks. Pink toed crew socks, or we ain't goin' nowhere.<br /><br />No offense to any old black men. At least they aren't the Adidas shower sandals and socks.<br /><br />Straight up Ghetto.<br /><br />Holla.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-52214121231825724022012-04-16T14:34:00.003-05:002012-04-16T14:41:00.465-05:00Public peeing and pooping<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhSmk8spMPBNJwOLopF-Q0dtrjMJNjDKY4cvAPeaIMYv6GW6letlbQ708HJFP-YAW1Cyxz4vmL3ammfG1f6gXzOFHitonHeRZnAfx0fCltxnbAZoQWDn68Nx9LmwR3ccYBZl5MJ9VI8wOg/s1600/giant+poo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhSmk8spMPBNJwOLopF-Q0dtrjMJNjDKY4cvAPeaIMYv6GW6letlbQ708HJFP-YAW1Cyxz4vmL3ammfG1f6gXzOFHitonHeRZnAfx0fCltxnbAZoQWDn68Nx9LmwR3ccYBZl5MJ9VI8wOg/s320/giant+poo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732084296021318706" /></a><br />No No No I didn't poop on the beach (or poop at all, in public), but I HAD to pee, and we were at the park and I had to get Harper to museum school, and she had to pee, so I let her pee between the car doors, and her peeing made me have to pee, and so I did. <br /><br />It was either that or schlepp all my kids AND puppy to a 7-11 or someplace, get out of the car, get them into the place without the whining "I want I want Gimmee Gimme candy, Slurpee...etc" and actually getting to the bathroom in time.....<br /><br />Argh. <br /><br />I used to just pull over to a convenience store and go, but you can't leave your kids in the car while you go in and pee, so you have to take them in, which is SO time consuming and expensive, what with the candy, and the fact that Spencer always unwraps something, or opens a bag of chips, or spills something....<br /><br />What a day. How humiliating. I hope no one saw, like this poop person taking a whale sized dumperoo on the beach.<br /><br />And I didn't wipe or wash my hands. Bad example.<br /><br />Don't judge.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-33193467777679493482012-04-10T23:22:00.002-05:002012-04-10T23:30:35.709-05:00Veins<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinEUhxxCbA5QkflRc_UE-_mFxvtUt5mhboqqqj5bMrHk_0r-ZgXHe4oL1Ail9dJfqL2TmO3R7NLuw374I0ePmkpLvvt94PEeuUMkjToof7GPhu8cUgO3ASCkLT1ETHg_l3Faz5ZeVwfnnC/s1600/spider%252Bveins_1-1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinEUhxxCbA5QkflRc_UE-_mFxvtUt5mhboqqqj5bMrHk_0r-ZgXHe4oL1Ail9dJfqL2TmO3R7NLuw374I0ePmkpLvvt94PEeuUMkjToof7GPhu8cUgO3ASCkLT1ETHg_l3Faz5ZeVwfnnC/s320/spider%252Bveins_1-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729995870195495266" /></a><br />Okay, I know I am usually posting about kid shit, but man my leg veins are bugging me. They don't hurt, but man....I'm not vain about the exterior, I've gained weight since I popped out these kids, but SHIT. Veins. I have some nasty spider veins on the backs of my thighs, hear me?<br />Googling vein removal, vein laser, vein clinics, spider vein removal, sclerotherapy.....<br />Dude.<br />I have had them for a while, but I tried on shorts at the Gap today, and DAMN. Shocking, and I think the mirrors there are pretty flattering, yes? <br />Okay, should I start a savings? Dermablend is fine for photo shoots, but at the pool? No. I must do something.<br />PS. Jelly beans.<br />Good night.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-21494857163605951212012-04-07T18:39:00.003-05:002012-04-07T19:01:41.339-05:00Jelly Beans, chards of glass.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK5Ups-dfZwdqeKDLo96l5aPwGbW3lNZ4cK_OXhCqAdXGMR4rCIqH6V6EzkvrCYkLgtmjsM7TuCUZqrAzTnIOtn8qBQMGymMg6tfmFqvJ6SuxhQ5FkFdZ2O6leGYjovSw2Y12lNrqxIuIP/s1600/BrokenVase.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK5Ups-dfZwdqeKDLo96l5aPwGbW3lNZ4cK_OXhCqAdXGMR4rCIqH6V6EzkvrCYkLgtmjsM7TuCUZqrAzTnIOtn8qBQMGymMg6tfmFqvJ6SuxhQ5FkFdZ2O6leGYjovSw2Y12lNrqxIuIP/s320/BrokenVase.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728813325588897890" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixAP03w18iiOCj3khxUgK8t4Hk8hTn1OP6MuKoHExbeqxlLkZ-H9_4Assz21DaK6DbF5bHum6WV4iEyqLTTTUa0pVJkE835oDuc3wF-W-pqwoXl8BFGzuOZEOH2mluOSIKqroQNhb5puIw/s1600/IMG_5143.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixAP03w18iiOCj3khxUgK8t4Hk8hTn1OP6MuKoHExbeqxlLkZ-H9_4Assz21DaK6DbF5bHum6WV4iEyqLTTTUa0pVJkE835oDuc3wF-W-pqwoXl8BFGzuOZEOH2mluOSIKqroQNhb5puIw/s320/IMG_5143.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728808752800289858" /></a><br />So did you know we got a puppy? She's really cute! Harper named her Cupcake because we brought her home on my birthday.<br />I feel the need to tell everyone that because I think it's a shitty name. I like to name dogs nonsensical names, or actual names. I would have named her Pippa. I like that name. But Cupcake she is.<br />So, being that it's Easter, I thought I'd put a jar of jelly beans on the entry table. It's a round crystal vase. It had been there for all of 2 minutes and I heard a CRASH! I ran in there(barefooted) and saw Spencer and Cupcake picking jellybeans out from the huge chards of glass and eating them. Spencer had a HUGE chard in his left hand and was eating jelly beans with his right. <br />Spencer is going through a phase that no matter what is in his hand, if you try to take it, he tightens his grip. I had to be smart here to avoid bloodshed. Amazingly he handed it over, but it was not as easy prying him away from the jagged buffet.<br />I put him up on the kitchen counter next to the monkey cookie jar full of fruit roll ups. That'll keep him busy.<br />Puppy went in the backyard.<br />I picked up most of the large pieces of glass, and then wrapped my hand in duct tape to pick up the tiny chards, and I ate a few jelly beans.....yes. Yes I did.<br />I vaccumed up the rest of the glass, and that was that.<br />Spencer is completely unscathed. Amazing. <br />I expect Cupcakes poop to be very multicolored. and sparkly.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-40618213407252142652012-03-14T12:16:00.002-05:002012-03-14T12:29:08.468-05:00Harper McEnroe<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjfe1S7wWZ0d_ENVhcw3AW1GOKESmPK-oGgFjXxLQCkv0gvfvHeYze8SFVg945X_6D6kDh_n9kJJeQ63iIY9esh_XezHYneYjQDrsShXjJh8mswAYZBIa3aHTzzwuTl6pi8zJyoceQeYUK/s1600/john-mcenroe-420-420x0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 305px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjfe1S7wWZ0d_ENVhcw3AW1GOKESmPK-oGgFjXxLQCkv0gvfvHeYze8SFVg945X_6D6kDh_n9kJJeQ63iIY9esh_XezHYneYjQDrsShXjJh8mswAYZBIa3aHTzzwuTl6pi8zJyoceQeYUK/s320/john-mcenroe-420-420x0.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719803354309774562" /></a><br /><br />Little Big Mouth got in trouble for saying "I'm ready to kick BUTT, Coach!" at tennis yesterday. He told her to find another way to express herself, and while she is sitting and thinking about it, she will not be able to play for 5 minutes.(An appropriate time out for a 5 year old)<br /><br />She threw a crying fit, and stomped off the court to the bench, and threw her Dora the Explorer racket at the net.<br /><br />"That's another 5, Harper"<br /><br />"BUTTHOLE!"<br /><br />She missed the rest of practice, but has a private lesson on Thursday, and he said if she can think of another way to express herself by then, she can play.<br /><br />Poor Harper. She's got a fucking dirty mouth full of shit, poopie, buttholes, and boobies.<br /><br />Maybe I will stuff a yellow tennis ball in her mouth before class Thursday.(Or a pingpong ball)<br /><br />In Spencer news, He likes Barbies, specifically taking off their clothes and putting them in his trucks.<br />He can put together a 3 word sentence now." Weedle Weedle Butt Kiss" "Gamu Gamu Ga" and "Mama a truck side"<br />He is obsessed with the trucks still, and it has crossed my mind more than once that he's developing a tick about them. Every other word is truck, and no matter what the topic is, he can find a way to fit the word truck in.<br /><br />"Goodnight Spency, I love you"<br /><br />"I love you too mama"<br /><br />"Firetruck"Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-26031993034628499942012-03-07T19:52:00.003-06:002012-03-07T20:01:57.654-06:00Oldest trick in the book.Miss Harper was dying to have a Blue Bell cotton candy ice cream bar after she ate a sufficient amount of dinner.<br />She would take tiny bites, and ask,"Now? Have I eaten enough now?"<br />"A few more bites" I said, and resumed my conversation with Jeff.<br />She was being a good girl and not interrupting, so she just excused herself to the bathroom (she usually goes potty about halfway through a meal, like clockwork. )<br />She came back, took a few more bites and showed me her plate again.<br />"Okay Harper"<br />She runs to the freezer and delightedly gets a bar for herself, and one for Spencer, who gobbles down everything cause he's a growing boy, and hasn't met a food he doesn't like.<br />Jeff then excuses himself from the table and shouts from the bathroom...."Looks like someone threw some black beans, tortillas, and chicken in the toilet!"<br /><br />Sneaky little girl was putting bites in her napkin and threw it in the toilet, but doyhead forgot to flush it.<br /><br />I glared at her across the table, and she just smiled that dimpled smile, continued to eat her ice cream, and I told her I was very dissapointed in her. "At least hide the evidence by flushing the toilet, amateur".Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-63959332491338670182012-03-06T20:24:00.002-06:002012-03-06T20:27:45.318-06:00Dirt.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl_YA72pVjxy5KNIqbkspdfqU3KXYSVgvCO60xDj4I7CEc8jeO0SM88QLwISL9m1EDI9KhEwSCxedGJbZh72yjK_nyKUhtMYkTUNBJ2mlFhdBMYW02UwSYJpien8AG1tki1Q9yAqQSPQlO/s1600/IMG_4422.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl_YA72pVjxy5KNIqbkspdfqU3KXYSVgvCO60xDj4I7CEc8jeO0SM88QLwISL9m1EDI9KhEwSCxedGJbZh72yjK_nyKUhtMYkTUNBJ2mlFhdBMYW02UwSYJpien8AG1tki1Q9yAqQSPQlO/s320/IMG_4422.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716976244754411154" /></a><br />Suki dug a huge hole in the center of the huge pile of dirt, and then proceeded to dig in all the beds. Dirt is everywhere.<br />Not sure how to fix it, leaf blower? Broom? Euthanasia?Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-30834438931902631202012-03-05T22:39:00.002-06:002012-03-05T22:52:47.918-06:00It was a long day so...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD9_Y43NvHwNf78OS34ufnkz4yoMM5ng5gC6N3I-GRKq5aC20zRTRYlvrqVmgEel6Q62xgSnwdJXbtFogAxbKc_0DN56QWDb37BsdwDQTNlPlzgVmuxw_6ueYPpYcLyi97f6x3605Gnupz/s1600/IMG_4425.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD9_Y43NvHwNf78OS34ufnkz4yoMM5ng5gC6N3I-GRKq5aC20zRTRYlvrqVmgEel6Q62xgSnwdJXbtFogAxbKc_0DN56QWDb37BsdwDQTNlPlzgVmuxw_6ueYPpYcLyi97f6x3605Gnupz/s320/IMG_4425.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716642540575721314" /></a><br />I am not going to take the straws out of the lids of the sippy cups before I throw them in the dishwasher.<br /><br />I am not separating the whites from the colors and the darks. C'mon now, why can't they all just get washed together?<br /><br />I am NOT cutting the crusts of your sandwiches. No one makes ME a damn sandwich. Eat what's made for you tomorrow. No shapes either. Know that I love you from my daily actions, hugs, kisses, activities together, not whether I cut your damn sandwiches into hearts or crowns or "H" shapes!<br /><br />You are not getting whole chips, just crumbles.<br /><br />You are getting water. Plain old water. In a bottle. Not a pink one. Call me Mommie Dearest.<br /><br />Tomorrow I will clean this house, make your beds with clean sheets.<br /><br />Clean your clothes, and hang them up in your closet. Pair your socks.<br /><br />The things we do for you. Name them, mommies. The things that are just done. No one seems to know how they get done, but if they are not it would all fall apart.<br /><br />Good night mommies, and all others who do those little things to make someone elses life a litttle easier. We don't really do it for thanks or applause or appreciatation. We do it out of love.<br /><br />Shit. I can't leave the crusts on. It's so much prettier with it in a heart shape. And a truck for Spencer. :-)Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-69872422182689652422012-03-04T20:03:00.004-06:002012-03-04T20:46:42.695-06:00Schedules, dammit.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji0ETjkReAt-0l4YCT39ZGpdToozEPVMBzfZCu7fYIKYgyGpNvHci8HWps2SPbSY11sbPfDc7apGAIKX8GddGrd6JLbudypOLixnB_-bX_6JQmLrRepaTSzsmlrkFdXBx-_cZn-L79M_5i/s1600/100601Dishtowel3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji0ETjkReAt-0l4YCT39ZGpdToozEPVMBzfZCu7fYIKYgyGpNvHci8HWps2SPbSY11sbPfDc7apGAIKX8GddGrd6JLbudypOLixnB_-bX_6JQmLrRepaTSzsmlrkFdXBx-_cZn-L79M_5i/s320/100601Dishtowel3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716238935225390546" /></a><br />Is it just me?<br /><br />Harper and I are touring an elementary school tomorrow, and I want her to be well rested. Jeff took her to run "a few errands" and they left at 4pm. He got her home for supper at 7:15.(She usually eats at 6)<br /><br />Her bedtime is 8pm on school nights, and although Mondays are usually our slow mornings, we have to be there tomorrow at 9:30.<br /><br />Now I know 9:30 doesn't seem that early, and I know it's REALLY late considering how early I will have to have her at school in the fall, but I'm not in that phase yet, so don't judge me or tell me I "have a rude awakening when she gets to kindergarten".<br /><br />I drop my kids off to their preschools at 9am. I usually look like a mess, but they are dressed and lookin' cute, then I go back home and get myself ready for the day.<br /><br />Tomorrow I have to get Harper and Spence up, fed, dressed, and myself up, fed, and dressed, and Jeff, my 3rd child, up and fed. And I have to do it by 8:45. I want to give myself extra wiggle room for potty emergencies, not knowing where to park..etc<br /><br />I think(KNOW) men don't think about schedules when it comes to kids and things like this. I am sort of convinced, however, that it helps to keep kids comfortable. Not eating dinner 5 minutes before bedtime, eating at the same time everyday seems to eliminate tantrums night waking, wetting the bed...etc etc.<br /><br />When it comes to parenting:<br /><br />I am a "plan ahead" kinda person. Jeff's not. WAY not.<br /><br />I'm a "think things through" kinda person. Jeff's not.<br /><br />I learn from my mistakes. Jeff is suprised every time the kids cry and writhe and scream at bathtime when it gets pushed back 30 minutes. I'm not, and I will fucking tell him so and we will yell over the kids writhing and screaming and crying and it escalates, and we are all tired and screaming and then expect the kids to just magically go straight to bed after all of that crying and screaming and writhing and arguing.....<br /><br />Parenthood is hard. Being married to a man is hard when you are trying to be a mother. Men just aren't wired the same way we are, tno matter how hard we try to change that, it only frustrates us more. My particular frustration today is schedule.<br /><br />I am nervous about tommorow, and it is coming out sideways. Does that make sense? That phrase may be of my own creation, "comes out sideways". What I mean is, I feel one way, but act another. Anger comes out as nitpicking, frustration comes out like anger. I am worried about tomorrow, but instead of just calmly saying that,(HAHAHAHAHAHAHA) I yell at Jeff about something else. The dishes, kid's bedtimes, how he cleans up the pee pee Spency made on the kitchen floor with a dishcloth...you know, important shit here, folks. (The dishcloth was from Williams Sonoma, in my defense)(Use a fucking paper towel and some spray cleaner!)(It's URINE)<br /><br />It's SO not important, but when I am nervous or anxious about something, EVERYTHING seems HUGE. Little shit that doesn't matter, and won't matter, and I even KNOW it doesn't or won't matter, MATTERS when I am tired, or anxious, or worried about something in the future.<br /><br />I best stay right here, and chillax. I married a good man who forgives me when I wig out over dumb shit that doesn't matter.<br /><br />LIke planning ahead, and leaving with plenty of time for emergencies when you have kids.<br /><br />Who knows, maybe the husbands have a good bead on things, just go with the flow.<br /><br />What the FUCK am I talking about?<br /><br />It's wine time.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-31713953644552210952012-03-03T11:56:00.004-06:002012-03-03T21:50:47.633-06:00this is going to be fun<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinDPGE2M4KDXGh6XB8HQNAXvYXSxenAdecptTngx0iDaLb4hheLvfivXi6r8AHAhnbdTIySVrba8k8N-1oelW9cyLrkDbcNQj69L3nQh4Dyb1HNIPJJ5OB71JePL9K9u0bP_qsxXhh22p6/s1600/IMG_4401.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinDPGE2M4KDXGh6XB8HQNAXvYXSxenAdecptTngx0iDaLb4hheLvfivXi6r8AHAhnbdTIySVrba8k8N-1oelW9cyLrkDbcNQj69L3nQh4Dyb1HNIPJJ5OB71JePL9K9u0bP_qsxXhh22p6/s320/IMG_4401.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715731705376089554" /></a><br /><br />Yep, 6 cubic feet of garden soil was dumped in the back today to fill our flower beds. Sandy loam, volcanic something or another, and manure. Yes, doo doo. <br />I'm out of here with Harper to go paint some art, so Jeff's on his own with this AND Spencer. I will get a report later.<br />Does anyone have any Lysol? Purell? I don't think I have enough for the probable mess it will cause.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-73205650411323209052012-03-01T13:12:00.001-06:002012-03-01T13:14:31.410-06:00Wow<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiW7aPnIwabvAZfhea780wppFNohPn7eQH0oe3bS5HxSSwVQoT_67lazITPxZGBlZ06DpcMIQ4AQpEhvVcGbhjI1zHvKtLzqegrlbTBPZhpb710kdYyYwLonViNAKMjJC65QwxwC2d43WM/s1600/IMG_4347.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiW7aPnIwabvAZfhea780wppFNohPn7eQH0oe3bS5HxSSwVQoT_67lazITPxZGBlZ06DpcMIQ4AQpEhvVcGbhjI1zHvKtLzqegrlbTBPZhpb710kdYyYwLonViNAKMjJC65QwxwC2d43WM/s320/IMG_4347.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715009175889679090" /></a><br />Those Diaper Dekor bags are fucking LONG.~SpencerAmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-17992011535187258942012-02-29T23:49:00.003-06:002012-02-29T23:55:53.964-06:00Random something I don't wanna forget.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOPejx3HeWYC5csKSMCzLZeMj1E63PbrD3BS0Q_4TxeOrTkCxLzij8B5cIPozo0R6WCjO4aXAsZyIXKPueqeRIfPODvxv_bn74DUs_gTmJItKp7WWjSgIzBTDO87zcuIKPpAvZCJF_Yqy4/s1600/HUNGRY+COUSIN+2.png"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOPejx3HeWYC5csKSMCzLZeMj1E63PbrD3BS0Q_4TxeOrTkCxLzij8B5cIPozo0R6WCjO4aXAsZyIXKPueqeRIfPODvxv_bn74DUs_gTmJItKp7WWjSgIzBTDO87zcuIKPpAvZCJF_Yqy4/s320/HUNGRY+COUSIN+2.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714803125987754146" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />jelly /jel·ly/ (jel´e) a soft substance that is coherent, tremulous, and more or less translucent; generally, a colloidal semisolid mass.<br /><br />"You are just so tremulous, argh" (Insert eyeroll)<br /><br />"What a colloidal semisolid mess you are, DAMN!"<br /><br />"Well, I would describe that as more or less translucent, don'tcha think?" (This is would say when I don't know what to say.)<br /><br />"Well Golly GEE Boo Boo"Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-83404110038648051232012-02-29T22:21:00.006-06:002012-03-01T00:04:41.313-06:00Another Epic Spencer day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNDUsn5CLZg2birMVUmWcYK5o-pvS5xCLXJqXEDwPXJsBGkIXEXBsXLHnr9wJYShEoTvEA3oAGB_5HsKhXlxeo-2tBh0S-uZtuNtvoCa1dDnwfIQ8cE2ilUlPttwjXDTvT90RxR2P7wDg_/s1600/SPencer+and+Jeff+Pots.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNDUsn5CLZg2birMVUmWcYK5o-pvS5xCLXJqXEDwPXJsBGkIXEXBsXLHnr9wJYShEoTvEA3oAGB_5HsKhXlxeo-2tBh0S-uZtuNtvoCa1dDnwfIQ8cE2ilUlPttwjXDTvT90RxR2P7wDg_/s320/SPencer+and+Jeff+Pots.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714805552727685106" /></a><br />Cute little booger<br />Things that used to be frustrating and maddening, are now fodder for my blog. Nice.<br /><br />Deep breath in.....long cleansing breath out... fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu<br /><br />Spencer wakes up. I am in the shower so Jeff puts him in our bed with a bottle(after we discussed last night, that since he's 2 now, morning bottles aren't necessary, and are keep him from eating his breakfast)<br /><br />Jeff gets on the computer.<br /><br />A few minutes later, I get out of the shower, and smell the pungent stench of death. Yes. Poop. Doo Doo. BLOWOUT. In our marital bed. Hey, At least it's on his side.<br /><br />Throw sheets in wash(while nude, boobies flopping, wet out of the shower, and I am yelling at Jeff to help, but he is somehow deaf now)( I realize now he is outside and feeding Suki, so I decide not to kill him)<br /><br />Get Spency cleaned up and myself dressed, and hair dried. Get Spency changed into clothes for the day.<br /><br />Start breakfast : Eggs, English Muffins with cream cheese and jam, and some strawberries.<br /><br />Realize I fucking loaded the dishwasher, but forgot to run it. Damn. Leave the dishes in the sink(I hate that, can easily ruin my day)<-----I know I know.<br /><br />Harper gets up now. I have breakfast in the table and Cran Apple in her favorite glass, and Spency is eating eggs with his hands despite the fork he has and the knowledge of how to use it. I go to make my juice: Fennel, Celery Root, Beet, Lemon, Green apple.<br /><br />Harper needs a fork.<br />Spencer drops his juice<br />Harper doesn't like the English muffin so wants cereal instead<br />I ignore her request and go get her clothes ready.( she's in her pajamas)<br />Jeff is in the shower now.<br /><br />Fast forward to getting them to the car.<br /><br />Harper is picking those yellow flower looking weeds for me on the way to the car and trying to hand them to me, but I am holding Spencer's basket, my purse, my water, Harper's backpack, so I ask her to hold on to them until we get to the car.<br /><br />We get in the car, and brrrrrrrap. Poop again. Damn he has terrific timing. I decide he will wear that until we get Harper to St Stephens and change him there. It's only 6 minutes away, don't call CPS.<br /><br />So we drop Harper, Change the dookie diaper, and go get some plants for the front of the Cleaners.<br /><br />Lowes is a fun place for a 2 year old boy, but I really wanted to get in and out. Damn those fucking John Deere ride on mowers out front. All lined up, with their sippy cup holders. Spencer gets on, and I thought at one point, "I could seriously go in, get what I need, leave him here to climb on the "trucks" and come out and get him, and he'd never even know I was gone"<br /><br />Don't worry I didn't. But I thought about it. Contemplating brief abandonment in a parking lot, I was.<br /><br />So I pried him from the John Deers and his happiness, and we went inside, screaming and crying like I kicked his puppy. I put him in the seat part of the cart, and the plants went in the basket. I found a really cute hanging plant of these grape like succulents, and hung it from the side, I also got a bag of potting soil, because Jeff didn't think he had enough for these large new pots.<br /><br />When I get up to the checker, this man comes up to me and says, "Are these yours?" My credit cards, Zoo Pass, Museum Pass, Driver's license, Lowe's card, Debit card had all been left in a trail, much like the one in Hansel and Gretel, from the succulent section to the front register. "Thank You so much sir! SPENCER, you rascal!" He was still holding my wallet which he had stealthily removed from my wallet, sneaky little booger.<br /><br />He fell asleep in the car while I planted the pots, and woke up just as I was finishing. Yes I left him in the car, we were right there, I was right in front of my car, which had the windows open. Ga! Another opportunity for you to call CPS on me. You bitches.<br /><br />So I didn't have to pick up Harper until 2:30, so we went to the Gap. I needed a few shirts, and Spencer's jeans are way dorked out and flooding. He seemed to be acting alright, just perusing the finery, checking himself out dancing to Human League in the big mirror, trying on platform sandals. Nothing major.<br /><br />I get what I need and went to pay, and "BOOM CRASH SMASH." I walked over there and he is quietly, and with great focus, putting on a pair of shoes off the mannequin who is lying headless, neck down with an arm detached a neon pink cardigan sleeve holding the detached. Luckily the sales people where cool ,and said, "You killed her! and took her SHOES"<br /><br />Spencer simply said "Like Shoes"Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-58976326244064372362012-02-27T22:25:00.002-06:002012-02-27T22:53:36.366-06:00Gimme a break Angelina!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgncctrrJAEs7AJwdiiLDnE0etWM9K9h743iB1j44MEO15Pma8I2ikqZ_VGooNhJZ9r8zSPRoL4kSYGeFqhDsZB1v_gl_tiDuew6PY0nNqgUa-P28L-mqoEfRIWM-ZXkJbPmv6y3gZczCzj/s1600/Angelina+Leg.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgncctrrJAEs7AJwdiiLDnE0etWM9K9h743iB1j44MEO15Pma8I2ikqZ_VGooNhJZ9r8zSPRoL4kSYGeFqhDsZB1v_gl_tiDuew6PY0nNqgUa-P28L-mqoEfRIWM-ZXkJbPmv6y3gZczCzj/s320/Angelina+Leg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714045050133753890" /></a><br />With that damn sexy smolder and "the leg", and the lips, ARGH, I am so sick of her skinny ass. Just go screw that hot husband of yours, adopt more babies and get fat. Just stop making us all look at your sultry, "everyman's fantasy" self. Save the world and wear all black and be all statuesque, but do it somehwere else. OH and now her "leg has gone viral" I'm just so over her. We know your sexy, we get it. Just be an over the top hot mom of 7 in private, okay? Stop showing off. Bitch.<br /><br />End rant.<br /><br />Today, while I was grillin' dinner, Spencer and Harper were riding around the backyard in the "Arctic Cat" a power wheels Jeep with an arctic spelunker theme. It has a shovel that hooks onto the front in case you get stuck in a cave or something and have to dig your ass out.<br /><br />Anyway, I see them stopping, Harper bossing Spency to get our, use the shovel to pick something up and put it in the back and get back in. They repeat this a few times, and I get the instinct to walk out there to see what they are putting in the back.<br /><br />Dog shit. Land mines. Petrified poop.<br /><br />Suki is an 120 pound Akita, so her poo is about the same size as mine. Gross. I tell them to stop, and poop shouldn't go in the Jeep, yuck, get it out of there, so what do you think Spencer does?<br /><br />Yes. Yes he did. Bare handed picks up the dookie and chucks it in the yard.<br /><br />NONONONONONONONONONO!!!!<br /><br />****************************************************************************************<br /><br />I wore my turquoise jeans for the 3rd day in a row today. I picked them up off the floor where I left them last night when I put on my sweats, and wore them again. I knew with my schedule, that I surely wouldn't see the same people I saw yesterday or the day before.<br /><br />Just museum school and then the museum, then home. Sounds safe, right? Nope. I had to stop at the store, and ran into someone I saw yesterday at the Food Truck Park. Damn. I tried to hide, but then I thought she wouldn't notice since I had on a different tshirt.<br /><br />"Oh My God, I meant to tell you yesterday when I saw you those jeans rock, and I wanted to ask you where you got them!"<br /><br />"Target."<br /><br />Busted.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-23059760437551347582012-02-26T11:34:00.003-06:002012-02-26T12:36:29.011-06:00Watching the Cowtown Marathon in my slippers, bunny ears and eating bacon.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWBjnOALuwaeLwsU1x2KUXrFkLOEPYya7FjSGv3T4h9sPZiimDeQR-uIWktLJO4Ic2xWds7lOZE-4NN5AOiXEirjNAUwgV7Wg4x0fO7SUt7A_37gwVTWj3MUxlfxbRqX1Rfm8gl-ob88A/s1600/IMG_4302.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWBjnOALuwaeLwsU1x2KUXrFkLOEPYya7FjSGv3T4h9sPZiimDeQR-uIWktLJO4Ic2xWds7lOZE-4NN5AOiXEirjNAUwgV7Wg4x0fO7SUt7A_37gwVTWj3MUxlfxbRqX1Rfm8gl-ob88A/s320/IMG_4302.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5713514493643867378" /></a><br />So the Cowtown marathon runs right in front of our house, and we had some neighbors over for breakfast, and we ate really unhealthy food, and watched them run and be healthy.<br /><br />We took the kids outside, all in our pajamas, and cheered them on. I got tired just yelling "GO Run! You can Do It!! Keep it Up!!" all while shoving donuts in my mouth. Some dudes down the street had a firepit, keg, and HUGE speakers blaring the theme from " Chariots of Fire" and "We are the Champions"<br /><br />I have serious bedhead. Since I cut my hair, when I wake up, from lying on either side throughout the night, it becomes a fauxhawk. Not a good look on a donut eating, pajamawearing, almost 43 year old mom, so I concealed my hair with a set of oversized bunny ears.<br /><br />Spencer's party yesterday was a success, and the recycle lady said nothing about my Keurig, whew. It was a great day, all the kids and adults had fun, and I was crowned a great hostess, and they ran a marathon in my honor today.(A little known fact, but entirely true, read the small print of your entry form, bitches)<br /><br />One of our friend's little girl barracaded herself in Harper's room and held Harper's lizard, Lizzie, hostage. Her daddy tried to open the door, and have to give it a shove, because she had stacked a few chairs up against it, and was putting the top on Lizzie's habitat when he finally pushed his way in. Their exit was one of those, "See ya! Gotta go!! Thanks for the great time!!" exits that we all do when our kid is not entirely excited about leaving a party/playdate/bouncehouse/park. Kicking and flailing, carried out like a battering ram and shoved into a car seat.<br /><br />We saw a few of those yesterday.<br /><br />Harper got solitary confinement(time out) for putting a wad of play doh in someone's drink, and telling them to "drink it so you can be in my secret club".<br /><br />During this time out, which was served in a metal lawn chair out by a tree, I gave one of the moms the grand tour of the new renovations, had a hot dog, a beer, and chatted with some other friends in our bedroom. My sister in law came in and said,"Um, Amy, Harper is asking for you"<br /><br />15 minute time out served by my 5 year old. Evil mommy, but I told Harper I was very proud of her for sitting there the whole time.<br /><br />It was later revealed by my niece that Harper was instructing other kids to bring her cake, drinks, and chips.<br /><br />Way to go, Harper has minions. <br /><br />So Spency is 2 now. Terrible two. And terribly adorable.<br /><br />I am planning to fake sick later so I can lay in bed and watch the Oscars.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-37226053885205448952012-02-24T22:58:00.002-06:002012-02-24T23:20:24.292-06:00Like they care<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Mp52KPUe424MqCQQCW1vCPWrUf89h1pzgIJzB4Okqk3kk5uyYqkrKtx2ET5WW3RWocfRcvE7cpppw_aSj-epqqGOf18lmYgjnTYAcrCmgf-3iTz9aDynfmDRDNarGfva3vFOSSiwsjwa/s1600/recycle.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Mp52KPUe424MqCQQCW1vCPWrUf89h1pzgIJzB4Okqk3kk5uyYqkrKtx2ET5WW3RWocfRcvE7cpppw_aSj-epqqGOf18lmYgjnTYAcrCmgf-3iTz9aDynfmDRDNarGfva3vFOSSiwsjwa/s320/recycle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712938772702934034" /></a><br />So I am throwing a party for Spencer tomorrow, and I have been cleaning obsessively, why? We all do this, don't we?(Or am I the only one, and think eeveryone does, but really I need to be on a stronger dose of OCD medication)<br /><br />It's just gonna get jacked up tomorrow. Please please God, let me relax, and not worry about the mess. <br /><br />Spencer is OBSESSED with the garbage and recycling trucks when they come. I heard from my friend Julie, that a friend of hers in Dallas did this: Call the city, have them come, do a little presentation on recycling, and you get a truck! The kids get to get on the truck, and it's not a garbage truck, but a recycling one, therefore they assured me it won't have semen, fecal matter, or bong water on it.<br /><br />(It may have bong water, cause maybe some TCU dudes think, in their haze, that bong water can be recycled somehow.)(Or semen from reusable condoms)(and dookie skidmarked shorts) <br /><br />Surely they will bring a truck that is pristine. Sparkling. Shiny. <br /><br />It's difficult, recycling.<br /><br />Pizza boxes:no.<br />Wine bottles: yes<br />Milk cartons: yes, if rinsed and washed out.<br /><br />Okay here's my thought, if you are rinsing and washing all these bottles and cans and shit, aren't you wasting water?<br /><br />Also. On the outskirts of my brain, I am worried that the recycle presentation people will walk in my house, in their hemp shoes, and see my Keurig coffee maker that I love more than Jeff, and judge me for using the super convenient pods.<br /><br />My vegetable friend, Halie, doesn't use them. She re-uses the little filter thing that comes with the Keurig(for when you run out of pods) (Doy)I think that's great and all(because she is more than likely reading this and will see if I call her names or anything) But the great thing about the fucking Keurig is that there is no mess. No coffee grounds, it takes very little time to make them........I am making excuses. <br /><br />There I go. Fuck it. I love my Keurig, and if hemp wearing braless broom skirt Birkenstock lady doesn't like it(that's what I picture the recycle person to be wearing)(maybe she will have a recycle emblem emblazoned on the back of a green cotton shirt, I don't know)then she can recycle my pods by fashioning them into a pair of earrings!<br /><br />Maybe that can be a craft we do at the party. Keurig pod necklaces made from the abundance of bamboo growing in our backyard.<br /><br />PS I have done virtually no planning for activities, Suki is 120lb licking machine(our doggie) and kids will no doubt be traumatized by her, and we don't have enough hotdog buns.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-84869515080042246482012-02-23T12:29:00.003-06:002012-02-23T12:55:21.539-06:00The Lottery.Okay, so we didn't get into our very first choice of elementary schools, which is TESA. (Texas Elementary School of the Arts) I called the school, and asked. <br /><br />Out of 150 applicants Harper was 107. The odds are even higher for Alice Carlson, the only other "school of choice" we applied to. I really hope we get in there. If not, we can try to transfer into Lily B Clayton or just go to our designated school, Westcliff, which doesn't suck, but there are better schools, and I'd like to give it my best for her sake.<br /><br />I hope I am not putting negative energy out into the world over this, but I have a bit of anxiety. It's just Kindergarten, but Harper is more than prepared, and I know what that kid is capable of when she's bored. I worry that if she is at a school she's not excited about, she will hate school, drop out, become a hooker or a porn queen, andit will all be because I didn't get her into the right kindergarten and she will resent me for it, and not come to my lavish 75th birthday party.<br /><br /> Everyone thinks their kid is a genius, well, most people, I don't think Judd Nelson's character in the Breakfast Club's folks were this nervous about kindergaten placement, do you? Me neither.<br /><br />But Harper, she's special. Those that know her,can see that she is really special, and it's really not all because of my parenting, she's just on the ball. <br /><br />She's not going to be satisfied with duck duck goose or making macaroni necklaces, she is ready to read, fascinated with letters and words, and "what does that say?", and "what do the letters F...U..C...K spell, mommy? It's written on that train over there, is that the train's name?"<br /><br />So I am staring out the damn window to see when Dice(our mail carrier, yes that's his real name) shows up with the mail. and eating some really crappy tortilla chips from Costco. They said organic, but that's not always a good thing, take it from me.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-40498600469482290492012-02-23T00:50:00.001-06:002012-02-23T00:50:20.538-06:00<a href="http://www.someecards.com/usercards/viewcard/0e69e132aa1a7d9d806e69e01294fd6e"><img src="http://static.someecards.com/someecards/usercards/1299699952880_5277547.png" alt="someecards.com - For Lent I'm giving up masturbation, but still have every intention of using my vibrator when we do it doggy style." /></a>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-55651249614986210802012-02-23T00:13:00.002-06:002012-02-23T00:16:24.878-06:00a 2010 nuggetSo yesterday we were at the grocery store and I saw an aisle with no line so I rolled my screaming baby and toddler over there. <br /><br />The checkout lady said,"M'am, this man is trying to find his credit card and he's been looking for 10 minutes, so you may want to go in another line" <br /><br />The man looked to be in his early 50's, and was dressed like a salesman, Polo shirt, khakis, and I noticed he had a monitor on his belt buckle. I said to the checker,"Is that an insulin monitor? I think he may be diabetic, and he seems disoriented" <br /><br />(Meanwhile, Spencer and Harper are silent. Seemingly listening to the exchange, Harper is especially riveted) <br /><br />The checker asks me if I think she should call 911, and the man starts to wander around like he's drunk. He slurs to the checker,"No I just need....no....I will...can I get...." <br /><br />Having no idea what to do, this other guy walks up and starts talking to the man. He knows him. He says he works with him, and he probably just needs a coke, can he have one. <br /><br />They get him a coke and meanwhile they have called 911 and they tell him they are on their way. They get him a chair, set his things aside, and I look over to Harper who has her hands clasped and says, "God, please help the man with diarrhea, let the fireman save him" <br /><br />Everyone that heard her giggled, and we got our Jalapeno peppers, cream cheese, and steaks and left. <br /><br />On the way to the car, she said,"Mommy, can you die from diarrhea?" <br /><br />I said, "No Harper, not right away, but that man has DIABETES not diarrhea, and that's serious" <br /><br />She said, "Like Pop Pop, he ate too much candy, and has diarrhea, and one time when we went to the zoo, I ate too much cotton candy and I threw up all over my carseat, and it was pink, and I cried and got scared..... (endless blather ensued)" <br /><br />Fast forward to today. <br /><br />"Mommy?" <br /><br />"Yes Harper" <br /><br />"Is the diabetes man from Albertson's all better today?" <br /><br />"I don't know, you want me to call Albertson's to see if they know anything?"(sarcastically) <br /><br />"Yes, I think so. Then we can go to the zoo, okay? And this time I won't eat too much candy, mommy, I promise" <br /><br />"Okay Harper, but first let's get ready for school" <br /><br />She's so damn crazy. I love the shit out of her sometimes. <br /><br />******************************* <br /><br />And damn Spencer wants me at 3am. last 2 nights in a row. I'm going to bed right now, it's 8:08pm. <br /><br />The whole Williams family is going to the State Fair of Texas tomorrow for some deep fried anything. <br /><br />This year's favorites: Deep Fried Coke, Deep Fried Frito Pie, Deep Fried butter. And an ice cold Dublin Dr Pepper<-----Texans know what I speak of.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-76450376496058656592012-02-22T23:35:00.002-06:002012-02-22T23:49:44.209-06:00From 2008 when I turned 39So today was my 39th year bday. <br /><br />Hooray! <br /><br />I woke up and got Harper and brought her back to bed with me and nursed her...I kinda drifted off to sleep a little longer, and then she wanted to switch...she says "that" when she wants something over there, and says "ziss" when she likes what she has already. <br /><br />So I deduced she wanted "that" boob. <br /><br />Jeff got me flowers, he must have gotten them yesterday but they were on his pillow with a card and some chewy sprees(my fave) <br /><br />He leaves for work at 6:30 so I wasn't up yet. <br /><br />Harper took another long ass nap this morning from 9-12:30!! I have to get her up earlier on Friday, for music class<br /><br />She can sleep in the car. <br /><br /><br />Harper was at the club from 1:30 to 3 so I could go do makeup for a pregnancy photoshoot. The woman was about 5 foot 3 and I swear her belly stuck out a full foot and a half. She's having a girl. It looks like she's having a basketball. I have never seen such a round belly, and neither an innie or an outie on the ol belly button, just smooth, no belly button at all, not even a crease. <br /><br />I remember hearing about test tube babies back in the 70's(when I was about 6 or 7 years old) having no belly button, and that you could tell if someone was a test tube baby by looking at their belly button. We went around checking all our friend's belly buttons to make sure they weren't "one of them" <br /><br />Sounds kinda freaky science fiction movie material....but I would have sworn it was the truth. <br /><br />Believe it or not, I had a wild imagination when I was a kid. <br /><br />I told Nicole Clark I was the Bee Gees sister, and that they came to my house and slept with me in my room at night after they finished in the recording studio. I had imaginary conversations with them sometimes. I am glad baby monitors didn't exist back then.<br /><br />Edwina Dorsey and I used to hide in her parents' pop up trailer and pretend we were hiding from our fans because we were secretly rock stars, a duo of 7 year olds living in Fort Worth...and we were British. We spoke with accents and everything. I wish I had tape recordings of some of our conversations. <br /><br />Barbie and Ken always went camping, and had wild sex parties in the garage. They always danced to "I get Lifted" by KC and the Sunshine band...I can remember it like it was yesterday, and that song still takes me back. <br /><br />I told Mariah Rowe that Andy Gibb gave me this ring I had. It was just a cheapo play ring, but I told her he sent it to me because he wanted to marry me.(She didn't know that the Bee Gees were actually my brothers, and that would make Andy Gibb my brother too) <br /><br />I had a jump rope that had mushrooms for handles and I used it as a microphone, and I would stand in front of my mirror and lip sync to Donna Summer Live and More...even that parts between songs where she's talking and stuff.. I had that shit memorized! I woul duse the rope part and whip it around just like Donna Summer. Damn I wanted to be her SO BAD! But not now, she looks like Rick James now. <br /><br />I hope Harper gets that gene. I really had fun with my friends making stuff up. And just playing in my room lip synching and stuff. Pretending. Being a kid. <br /><br />Not sure how this journal entry turned out the way it did, but it just flowed out of me. <br /><br />Must be because I am 39 and stuff. All grown up. Not.<br /><br /><a href="http://s28.photobucket.com/albums/c240/amycuster1/?action=view&current=Andy.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i28.photobucket.com/albums/c240/amycuster1/Andy.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />Shadow Dancin'Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-90552751555769025312012-02-22T23:01:00.003-06:002012-02-22T23:34:17.198-06:00A few nuggets originally posted in 2008A Staple in My sammich:<br /><br />I got a sandwich at Loafin' Joe's with a STAPLE in it. I thought it was a chicken bone at first, but it was an italian sub. <br /><br />Jeff let them know about it, and they asked if it was toward the end of the sandwich, Jeff said "no, in the middle" They said, "Well, we thought if it was close to the end it was from when they stapled the bag" <br /><br />...WHAT? It was inside the sandwich. I almost barfed. <br /><br />They said, Please let us make it up to you, "free sub on your next visit"....No thanks. <br /><br />"Loafin' Joe's"....should have known better with that name. <br /><br />I like The Great Outdoors anyway. Locally owned sub shop.<br /><br />Amyisms:<br /><br />"Her forehead is so high, it is more of a 5 head" <br /><br />I have a lot of little phrases I use regularly: <br /><br />If someone butts in to a conversation, I call them "Mrs Buttinsky" <br /><br />And if someone is snobby, I call them Snooty Snooterton <br />or smelly: Stinky Stinkerton...or Nerdy Nerdlebaum for someone who is really dorky...but they could also be Dorky Dorklestein <br /><br />Somehow Jewish sounding last names seem nerdier to me, I guess because the nerdiest guy I have ever met is Josh Finklebaum...I mean, that's freakin NERDY. The only way that could be nerdier is if his first name was Erkel or Farfel Or Fiefel.....Feifel Finklebaum would be WORKIN a pocket protector and tape on his glasses. <br /><br />Jeff and I went to eat Jamaican food tonight, and they had a gift shop with a baby Rastafarian hat with fake dreadlocks attached to it. We put it on Harper, but fuck if I didn't have my camera, and the one on my phone doesn't work. I almost peed myself laughing, so did Jeff and so did the owner who was Rastafarian, but had a star of David earring. Why?<br /><br /> Harper slapped him five. "High Five, Rasta man!" <br /><br />It was 15 dollars..I may go back and get it. (the dreadlocked hat) It was Rastarific. So was the chicken curry. Jeff had oxtail. It tastes like brisket, but really cinnamony or something...herby...I dunno...spicy.. <br /><br />I think there was weed in the food. <br /><br />I recently heard the term "Stinky McStinkface" on an Orbit commercial, and I thought my phrases had been overheard and used in a commercial without my permission.<br /><br /><a href="http://s28.photobucket.com/albums/c240/amycuster1/?action=view&current=HillCOuntrykiss.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i28.photobucket.com/albums/c240/amycuster1/HillCOuntrykiss.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-15655752836034577662012-02-22T10:08:00.000-06:002012-02-22T11:49:53.232-06:00Originally posed in September 2009(pregnant with Spencer)Posted: Mon Sep 21, 2009 7:00 pm Post subject: <br />Oh man, as if my boobs didn't hurt enough already, they have somehow, over the last few days, gone up ANOTHER cup size, and my nipples feel like someone poured acid on them, they hurt SO bad. <br /><br />Time to bust out the lanolin again. <br /><br />When I take off my bra, the weight of them almost makes me fall forward. Seriously. It feels like when my milk came in last pregnancy. <br /><br />I am in the 2nd trimester now, why do they still hurt so bad? <br /><br />I am showing. Definately. But all people say to me is how HUGE my boobs are and how great they look <--that's a double fuck you smiley <br /><br />In Harper news, we had a really fun morning. <br /><br />We went to drop off the construction drawings at our builder's house, then to the car wash(she loves the carwash) and then to the bank. <br /><br />At the bank Harper had "had it" with mommy's errands apparently, so she decided to unhook the elastic strap connecting the poles together for the line maze. "SNNNNNAP!" Everyone in the bank(all 5 of them) was laughing, but I was just trying to talk to the teller. <br /><br />"Harper, come here" <br /><br />she doesn't seem to hear me. <br /><br />"Harper...(glare) NOW." <br /><br />she goes and squirms under a fucking chair. <br /><br />When I finish my bank business, I have to go grab her leg to drag her out from under the chair. She is screaming bloody murder. Once I get her out, she winds up and belts me one right in the face. "SLAP!" <br /><br />I am fuming, and I give her "the look" <br /><br />Hysterics ensue...."DADDDY I want my DADDY!!" as I am walking, head hung low, carrying this wild animal legs flailing out of the bank. <br /><br />I get to the car and finally wrangle her into the carseat and I tell her, "No more candy, no more gum." <br /><br />More tears, more hysterics. I decide to drive to the cleaners to go see JEff. <br /><br />Jill is there with Isabella(my niece) Harper somehow snaps out of her sorrow....."Isabella!!!!" <br /><br />how the tides change. She's a piece of work, that Harper. I wanted to sell her to the circus today.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-91513861960085103462012-02-22T08:30:00.000-06:002012-02-22T08:34:29.995-06:00Art of the day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBzoTUt3JdzkqOAFdanbd3W8_mqXUiV6lZ6AsEjCShhtaBJ-NHE_BYFRHfCaN1C3nt88GkDAXf18vKVqCio3WOf6ICbcXwrMQmIjbtYKakDT2uth_FpgNUojlvEgT4xYMQTjU35UMUzPwt/s1600/George+Washington.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 248px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBzoTUt3JdzkqOAFdanbd3W8_mqXUiV6lZ6AsEjCShhtaBJ-NHE_BYFRHfCaN1C3nt88GkDAXf18vKVqCio3WOf6ICbcXwrMQmIjbtYKakDT2uth_FpgNUojlvEgT4xYMQTjU35UMUzPwt/s320/George+Washington.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711967666641050402" /></a><br /><br />So this is George Washington, if he had on lipgloss. Drawn by Harper, February 21st 2012.<br />I like his pink shirt with the heart on it. He really should have worn that everyday. His eyes are also very close to his hair.<br /><br />She's got a mad future, my little Harpsichord.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-57567758690543044602012-02-21T23:48:00.000-06:002012-02-22T00:19:04.302-06:00My kidsHarper is just like me, only "in my face", exposing the most annoying and most adorable(nothing in between) personality traits, but on a much more adorable level. Harper is, without a doubt the most intelligent, and most God connected human I know. I simply love her, and get frustrated with her all at once<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsP1P2nmkbZtNx-mwh5rvSzP77nddrYtW-_vJ5vT0nOHcOhCjM8SuTv7yVNHLxew7xi110pkH5qCh9J-SmRTMIXc6JkH0xmQDZ2Jn61H6fKTjWzAj_uFB-uCYBi3Oy_cuqCZP4XARzDKM/s1600/IMG_4185.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsP1P2nmkbZtNx-mwh5rvSzP77nddrYtW-_vJ5vT0nOHcOhCjM8SuTv7yVNHLxew7xi110pkH5qCh9J-SmRTMIXc6JkH0xmQDZ2Jn61H6fKTjWzAj_uFB-uCYBi3Oy_cuqCZP4XARzDKM/s320/IMG_4185.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711839844703412018" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjBhzm3DqeUnqozFFE1jmqxdI9Le2U2xZ8yNGGwCFRmXPtOgAhs_TIxWKvWAETcGkhPuKD7gWlZ_jdht7kL5AxpUE__xel4i7J-POPq9oWB_yEWH3Lp13cvKfrFcvklwTCFWiwNLrNL2k/s1600/Spencer+2+Years.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjBhzm3DqeUnqozFFE1jmqxdI9Le2U2xZ8yNGGwCFRmXPtOgAhs_TIxWKvWAETcGkhPuKD7gWlZ_jdht7kL5AxpUE__xel4i7J-POPq9oWB_yEWH3Lp13cvKfrFcvklwTCFWiwNLrNL2k/s320/Spencer+2+Years.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711833189150240178" /></a><br /><br />"Doo face poopypants homewrecker extroidornaireismshits".<---covering up that I can't spell.<br /><br />See, Spencer is sitting in a photostudio with his Woobie and Monk. He seems to be smiling, but what he is really doing here, is trying to be cute and removing the plastic pricetag from this truck he is holding. "awwwwwww he sho loves dat truck, huh??" the lady photographer says.<br />Yes, he does. I would like to point out that I frown upon shoplifting, even by little sneaky bastards such as these.<br />I grabbed that toy out of his hands after we got this shot and carried him like a freakin' screaming ass battering ram, out of the Buy Buy Baby and into the car.<br />I really needed to go to Sprouts, but it was not to be today. I will try to get Jeff to put them to bed so I can go get what I need from the store later.....and sit in my car and text, or look at Facebook on my phone.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027497751565885410.post-4412497865265430082012-02-21T23:28:00.000-06:002012-02-22T01:12:57.308-06:00Shmecky BaleckyI would like to tell you this post was back in 2007, when I had but one kiddo, who, at this posting, didn't talk, move, object...etc.<br /><br />Here we go:<br /><br />So we had a pretty good day today. We went to the zoo with Harper and it really was a relaxing time, Jeff wasn't on my nerves...well.. if he would JUST put the spoon in from the FRONT rather than from the SIDE, he wouldn't get peas ALL OVER HER FACE....but, I kept my mouth shut. You would have been so proud of me. <br /><br />The old lady that lives across the street has had some sort of surgery to her face, I think a facelift. Mrs Wolfe. <br /><br />Mrs Wolfe is kind of one of those neighbors you want on your side. She's mean and has lived there forever, and calls the cops on people who park facing the wrong direction. <br /><br />Well, I have taken to feeding Harper outside on the front porch. If she is distracted, she seems to eat more, and is much less squirmy. It's the "popcorn in the movie theater" thing... you eat and eat and all of a sudden it's gone and you don't remember eating it...KWIM? Well it works for babies, so if you are having trouble getting them to eat in a highchair.... <br /><br />Back to Mrs Wolfe. She came out with her wig(I KNOW IT"S A WIG!!) all discombobulated and askew, and a bandage wrapped around her face, under her chin and over her forehead. She had obviously though before walking out to get her paper(at 6:30 pm) "I better put my wig on! I might look pretty awful if I don't" <br /><br />OMG! If I was a car driving by when she walked out I would have surely wrecked. She looked so freaky! She should just leave that shit on until Halloween! <br /><br />I probably should have gone over there to help her, or to see if she needed any help, but in all honesty, I didn't want to scare Harper, she surely would have lost her marbles! <br /><br />So Harper and I sat out there and Harper ate her Sweet Potato Chicken dinner and Pears and Blueberries for dessert. She ate it all, what a good girl she is. <br /><br />That's about it. Isn't that enough?<br /><br /><br />Mon Oct 15, 2007 10:36 pm Post subject: <br />Still no teeth, but she has to wear a dorky bib everywhere from the drool. What the heck? <br /><br />I know every baby is different, but no crawling and no teeth yet here...the anticipation is killing me! <br /><br />She sits up, she will reeeeeeeeeeeach for something and then pop back to sitting or just grab what she wants and roll over onto her back or belly and play with it. Then she will roll somewhere else. <br /><br />She will sit indian style and reeeeeeeach forward and fall on her face sometimes and then she will whimper a little and then she will push up on her hands and look around then roll back onto her back or side. <br /><br />I can tell where she''s been from the drool trail. <br /><br />She can't just roll through her life like that, eventually she will have to crawl, scoot, or something, she has to figure out how to get to that position where she can get to crawling. <br /><br />And Amy must capture it on video. I have so much of Harper's non walking life on video. Her un mobile life. Things will get interesting when she can move about. <br /><br />I am willing to bet once she starts darting about I will become a freak waiting for the knives to fall from the counter, or for her to eat the dogs food, or for her to crawl into the bathroom and lick the toilet.(my deepest darkest fears.) I will live the rest of my life on edge. <br /><br />"DDDDDON't touch that!" <br /><br />No NO NOOOOOO! <br /><br />I think we mayhave found Harper's favorite baby food. Summer Vegetable Dinner. Damn she was ravenous, she was grunting for more! MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!! She ate an entire 4oz jar and then had some blueberries and pears for dessert. And two big boobies full of milk to top that off...that chick is down for the count. <br /><br />I wonder what she's resting up for? Will she wake up and smile at me with a "grill" and then hoist her self out of her crib onto the floor and run into the kitchen and make herself a bowl of Cap'n Crunch? <br /><br />Shit I hope not. I would trip out.<br />_________________Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04524989994811975876noreply@blogger.com0