It's snowing!

Yep it's snowing. No chance for 40 degrees or even 39 degrees let alone 76. While the Bubba and MothMan are having a ball building a snow fort I'm considering going back to bed until spring.

Drive Time.

We, The Bubba and I, are at hour 1.5 in the bedtime routine. Meaning I have been attempting to get him to go to bed for approximately one and a half hours. I know, I know...I'm a sucker when it comes to bedtime. And it's something that has come about in the past 6 months. For the first 2 years of his life, he went to bed and stayed there 9 out of 10 times with no problems. Now he has learned the age old trick of "Delay". And the determination with which he pursues this is amazing.
I watched an episode of "World's Strictest Parents" tonight, the show where bratty teenagers go to live with a family where the parents don't take any crap from bratty teenagers. And I realized I'd better straighten up my parenting before he's older and he starts acting like some of the fool teenagers on this show. You know the ones. The kids that will tell you their leg is broken and so they can't possibly put their dirty laundry in the laundry hamper. Or that they will just pass right out if they have to make their bed.
Poor little Bubba has no idea that all of his "book", "milk", "pee" is creating a strict parent monster out of me and I will happily tell him when he is 16 and sullen because I won't let him get that tattoo he justhastohavecauseallofmyfriendshavethempleasemom! that if he had just gone to bed without any delay when he was 2, I would just drive him myveryownself to the tattoo parlor.

Wedded Bliss

So yesterday was our 6th wedding anniversary. It was a fun filled day of dryer repairing and toilet cleaning. But I must say that I would gladly slide a trip to the Justice of the Peace in between wiping dried pee off the toilet and blowing dryer lint all over the place to marry my smooch all over again. No doubt about it.

Trick or Treat.

Over the past few weeks I have started a new job, had my car break down 3 times, learned that a favorite aunt had passed away and that some good friends are divorcing. I was quite impressed with myself that all of this had not caused me to hide in the closet sucking on a bottle of Stoli and beating my head against a wall. Then yesterday after I forced The Bubba, kicking and screaming, into a costume he didn't want to wear so we could go to perfect strangers houses and beg for candy, the camels back broke. Well actually the dryer broke. With a still wet load in it and another wet load in the washer. Yippee. So off we go to Grans house with two bags of wet laundry and an unhappy dinosaur. After dropping off the laundry to be dried and convincing The Bubba that he would have fun walking around in the itchy dinosaur head because people he doesn't know would give him candy we were off. For some reason I just wasn't in the mood to trick or treat but I must say some of the costumes were qtp2t. After an hour of begging oops I mean trick or treating we returned to our friends house with a mostly full pumpkin bucket. Victory is ours. And so are the fun size butterfingers. Now I just have to figure out how to make The Bubba understand that he shouldn't take candy from strangers.

Learning is fun. Right?

I'm going to try to link something here and I'm trying to decide what to link. hmmm.....
I guess I'll try to link to my new blog and see if that works for you. Here goes.
If you want to check out my new blog Little White Shed click the highlight.
Sorry it isn't all that exciting yet. I'm working on it. Check back often!

Random Photo

I'm slowly adding photos of Squeal like a Pig Lane.

This is the actual "lane". It began life as a runway for the plane owned by the originally owners.

  

And this is the tire swing installed by the current occupants.

The spiders love it.

I know some of y'all are getting quite sick of my procrastination in posting photos of our current digs, but I really am busy. Sort of. Anywho, I'm going to try to post photos as least once a week. So you'll just have to stay tuned.

Just call me Augustus Gloop.

I have been feeling a little nauseated today. No, I'm not preggers. So I ate a few hershey kisses. Yum. Felt a little better. Thought, "if a few make me feel a little better, more than a few will make me feel much better". Right? Wrong. Turns out that when you have a small bit of chocolate it will help you feel better. Thank you Harry Potter. And if you eat 104 Hershey kisses you will definitely NOT feel better. Yuck!

Retirement Plan

About 10 years ago a girl friend of mine and I were having a few adult beverages at a local bar/restaurant. The area we were sitting in was reached by 3 steps up to a raised platform in the center of the room. As we sat and sipped our cocktails we watched two women attempt to navigate their way down the steps. I know you're expecting to hear that they were drunk and fell down the steps and while one lady did stumble, it wasn't because she was drunk it was because she was 125 years old. It was at this point in my life that I devised my retirement plan. On my 65th birthday I plan to start the day, and every day thereafter with a big healthy glass of orange juice, mixed with a hefty amount of vodka. Then for lunch I will get my RDA of veggies with a big healthy glass of V8, mixed with a heftier amount of vodka. I figure by dinner with all the OJ and V8 I'll be able to enjoy my vodka on the rocks with a lime wedge just how I like it. Lest you think this plan is foolish, let me assure you that I have all the details worked out to perfection including but not limited to the hiring of a home health aide whose main resposibility will be to drive my drunk ass around and get me more vodka. I will continue to follow this plan daily until the end of time, all to be sure that I don't fall down because I'm old. Or at least not just because I'm old, but because I'm hammered.

And speaking of hammered. Unfortunately for me, when Aunt Flow comes to visit she packs a big sledgehammer and at some point during her stay she proceeds to beat the living daylights out of the left side of my brain. I have heard that migraines actually cause brain damage over time so you can bet I'll be sure to use that as my defense when I finally snap. It's also said that the left side of the brain controls verbal ability, attention to detail, and reasoning and the right side controls creativity and flexibility. So I figure with a migraine a month until "the change" by the time I reach 65 I'll be a mumbling, stuttering, mismatched sock wearing, "the sky is not blue" shouting, extremely famous abstract painter, who moonlights as a contortionist. Drunk will be an improvement.

Further proof...

that The Bubba is a reincarnation of a highly trained black ops mercenary. He just tried to put me in a sleeper hold and when that didn't work he pinched my carotid artery until I almost passed out. We're going to play with swords now.

Rest in Peace

Sunday, August 2nd, we lost someone tragically. He was a son, a brother, an uncle, a lover and a friend. And he was all these things so spectacularly I don't have the words to properly describe. Words can't envelope the feelings that he created in all of us that were so priveleged to know him.
We are all struggling so hard to move forward with the thought that he is no longer in our world. The tragedy is, however, all ours, since he lived his life truly, joyously and fully to the last moments.

I'm having good days and bad days and today is a bad day. I'm just so sad that I won't get to see him again in this life. That my son won't get to know him as we do. That my husband will ache with missing him. That we will all ache with missing him.

On the good days I can be grateful to have known him, and for the gifts of laughter he gave us. For the "good energy" he put out for all of us to share. I can celebrate the amazing life he lived, the places he went, the people he touched, and the waves he conquered. The best friends he turned into family for all of us. And especially the woman he loved.

Dude, we'll miss you doesn't even begin to cover it.

I'm baaaack.

IT's been quite a while since I've posted and I've felt only a bit guilty about that. Especially in view of the fact that I only have 2 official followers. Since we last spoke, The Bubba, MotHman and I have moved from Florida to Delaware. The past 2 months have been filled with change. Bubba started preschool then resigned. I started a job then resigned. And MotHman has been surfing every chance he gets. Hmmmm. Seems like he may be having more fun than Bubba and I. We are trying to figure out our life here on the east coast. I'm working hard on a new business venture. I'll share the details later. And no it's not prostitution. MotHman is steadily knocking things off the TO DO list, though it may realistically take him 57 years to fully complete. And Bubba is fully invested in the age old ritual known the world over as "The TERRIBLE Twos".
While all of this change could easily lead me down the road of sobbing, head banging and major alcohol addiction, I'm looking at my life through the lens of fodder for my blog. Not to say that there won't occassionally be sobbing and a little head banging, preferably against a soft surface. And there will definitely be a good strong relationship with "the creature" as our ancestors called it. Speaking of which, it's probably 5 o'clock somewhere.

Note to self

NEVER let Bubba get ahold of a Red Bull. They taste exactly like his toothpaste. And he loves his toothpaste so much he would marry it.

Day Six

The POD was delivered this morning. Bubba packed one empty 5 gallon water bottle and he's ready to go. I bought a Red Bull and I'm ready to go.

True Story

Bubba: (holding his nose) "Ma!"
Me: "Is something stinky?"
Bubba: "uh huh."
Me: "What's stinky"
Bubba: "Poop."

Phrase of the Day

"Cranio-Rectal Inversion Syndrome" - when you have your head up your own ass.

Day Five

Went to the beach.
Got attacked by a dog.
Swam in a pool.
Burnt the roof of my mouth taking a bite of pizza.
All in all a well rounded day.

Day Four

Blitherblitherblitherblitherblither.
Get it?
I'm a Blithering Idiot.

Day Three

It's 6:23am and Bubba has been up for 22 minutes. One guess as to how my day is going to go.

Day Two

So tired.

Day One

MotHman left today for the World Sailfish Championship in Key Weird. So today is officially Day One of my descent into complete insanity. in addition to packing up the house then the "POD", painting the house, fixing the stove, removing and then replacing the bedroom ceiling fan, I get to entertain Bubba at least 12 hours a day. and that's IF he takes a 2 hour nap. All ALONE. So I figure by Day Two, I'll be completely blubbering.

Funny.

From a daily.com interview with Lemony Snicket. How to tell a good bedtime story.

1. Ask your child what the title should be. This stalls for time and spreads the blame if the story’s no good.

2. Name the villains after people who wronged you in high school.

3. When you get stuck, remember Raymond Chandler’s advice: “When in doubt, have two guys come through the door with guns.” The bedtime equivalent is a clumsy talking animal holding a tray of cream pies.

4. At the end of the story, all of the characters should be very, very tired.

5. Don’t bring your cocktail, because you might accidentally leave it and wake your child when you sneak back to retrieve it. Alternately, you may forget about it entirely and three days later someone will find a warm martini on your child’s dresser.

(Note: This has never, ever, ever happened to him.)

Who's a nerd? Me.

I try to get up before Bubba in the morning because even 10 minutes alone is heaven. But this morning I had no sooner brushed my teeth and he was UP and immediately attached to me in the way two surfaces become attached when both are coated with a case of superglue. Needless to say I wasn't thrilled with this. MotHman has worked approximately 12 - 28 hour days for the past 11 so Bubba has been my CONSTANT companion.Did I mention CONSTANT? Anyhoo, MotHman came home for a minute and took Bubba outside. aaaah. So I got busy with Mr.Dyson and then I turned the TV to a non cartoon channel for once and low and behold HIGHLANDER was on. Holy perfect moment. Clean floors, Highlander and Bubba in the care of someone else. Did I mention perfect?
But alas all perfect things must come to an end. I got to watch approximately 22 seconds of Highlander before MotHman returned Bubba and brought along CrazyKid for some fun. So now I'm listening to the wonderous sound of Bubba and CrazyKid trying to pop mylar balloons. Joy.

these boots are gonna walk all over you

So I found a rug for the house wish list and funnily (I don't know if that's a word, but I like it) the name of it is Quinn Felted Shag Rug. For some reason that makes me think that some day I will call it Quinn Felt "Dirt Was Right to Rub on the" Rug.



Aaaaannnnd yummy linen window panels. Get a good look Gran. ;)

Crime and punishment

Normally my patience with The Bubba is at levels I associate with Mother Theresa. I have only used spanking twice and it didn't have the desired affect, so I stick with talking to, taking things away, and timeouts but today I hit my absolute limit of him chasing the Black Dog, who had the pukey and bloody poopy all day yesterday. So right after he swatted her on the head with a pirate sword I swatted him n the butt with my hand. Which I like to think of as a built in pirate sword. Then I sat him on the couch and told him that from now on if he hit the dogs I was hitting him. Way to give a consequence you won't follow through on Ame. All I got from him was a dirty look so I thought "well maybe that will work." But one should never underestimate the power of a Bubba with a vendetta. While I read some emails, he proceeded to poop and pee on the couch. With me sitting right next to him. Now some may say that's par for the course when potty training, but I swear, when I said to him "did you just go potty on the couch?" he looked at me with complete satisfaction in his eyes.

Squeal Like A Pig Lane.

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Please take a look at our new Casa on Squeal Like a Pig Lane.

girl band

I'm considering starting an all girl band.

muchos grossos.

Yay, a new Mexican restaurant just opened in Paradise so I haul the whole fam damily out to dinner. So excited since, 1. I love mexican food and 2. I love love love margaritas. So off we go excited about the prospect of yummy fajitas in MotHman's case and anything with salsa verde and cheese and of course tequila in my case. I think the Bubba was just happy to be taking a ride. So we walk into "Agave" (seriously, a mexican restaurant named after the root of tequila has to be good. Right?) all agog with anticipation and excitement. We get seated and soon arrives the ubiquitous chips and salsa so of course we dig in. My judgement - chips not salty enough, salsa with an odd aftertaste. Still that didn't dampen my excitement over the thought of a MARGARITA! Noone can screw up tequila and lime juice. Right? Right?! Well evidently it can be done. Because I was so very thankful that I had ordered a small (thinking I could have 2 that way.) and didn't have to sit there watching a large margarita slowly sink to it's watery grave as the ice melted. So then along comes our comida. (that's food for you anglos) Muchos Grossos Senorita. The chicken in the fajitas was red. Maybe some special breed of chicken or maybe they were attempting to replicate the mexican flag. Now for all of you that don't know what a taquito is I'll explain. You take your shredded chicken and some cheese (cheddar, jack or my favorite, queso blanco) and roll it in a tortilla nice and tight about the size of a cigar, then you deep fry that sucker and yum yum. 

But what they give you at "Agave" (insert snort of derision) is chopped chicken with cheese "sauce" folded into a tortilla just like a buritto then pressed on a sandwich press. Personally I feel that a sandwich press has no business whatsoever in a mexican kitchen. Then they cut it into 3 pieces and served it as taquitos. My disappointment was the size of the Grand Canyon. 

We ate a little, then MotHman asked for a to go container. I looked at him like "WHAT?!" But he just scraped all that stuff right into the to go. And asked for la cuenta. Now let me just reiterate, we had:

Fajitas

Fake-o taquitos

1 Small margarita

1 Coors Light

And the grand total was $52.00

Agave es mucho loco!!!

 

Chairs. Part Trois

So I've solved the chair dilemna for the moment. I had seen some armed rattan and wicker dining chairs at Ballarddesigns.com and they were on sale and I had a promo code and they are offering free shipping, which brought them to $110 each. Great price, no? Well, actually, no. It turns out that though the shipping is technically free, there is a $29.95 processing fee. And if that wasn't enough to make me say Jesus in front of the choir there was also a $30 oversized package fee. Per chair. So while the chairs are a great price at $110 they do not fit my definition of a great price at, let's see $220 + $29.95 + 60 = $309.95.  So each chair was then $154.63. And did I mention that to get them at the $110 price I would have had to buy "Red" chairs and then paint them white since I do not want to own red chairs. So anyhoo, it did at least give me the idea to look at some armed dining chairs. haha, dining chairs toting little AK47s. I should say dining chairs with arms. and that sent me to Target, which then sent me to WalMart, which led me to these beauties than can be left as they are or painted and will be oh so much more comfortable with the great cushions I'm hoping I can convince The Gran to make for them. And since they are "outdoor" furniture I can use them on my porch. That is if I ever have a porch again, since technically the new house (in Deliverance County, on Squeal like a Pig Lane - that's another post) doesn't have a porch. Yet. 

Pants.

Should I worry that The Bubba would be quite happy to go anywhere in the world with no pants on. A shirt? Yeah, gotta have that. Shoes? Absolutely, no outfit would be complete. Pants? mmmm, no thanks. 

any dish will do.

I worry about this one some days.

I also likey.

This is the couch we have. It's a bit greeny sort of grayish and I'm going to work hard to make it appear as "not green" as possible.

This is the couch we want to add to the mix. Yummy down filled cushions.

The chair search is a little detour until we bank the cash to buy the leather couch.  

hmmm....

I likey. And only $299 with the ottoman.

Have a seat

I'm on the hunt for 2 chairs. It's going to be a bit before we have the cash for The Man of the Houses' (here forward known as MotHman) dream couch, so I need a few extra seats for visitors. I've got my eye on the Kipas chair from Pier 1 but it may be too red. I just want a couple of accent chairs to use "for now" that I can also use elsewhere when the couch dream comes true. We're trying to keep it under $100 per chair so if you have a suggestion gently lob it over to me.

 this is the Kipas from Pier 1 Imports 

cave in.

So, yes, I caved. I decided to try to make this blog a little more "readable for everyone". That's not to say there won't be a curse word here or there since, sadly, that's how I talk. You should have heard me when I was preggers, all that testoterone from Bubba surging right up through my words. So anyway, the tone I had set with the previous post was buggin me (and the Gran - haha) so I deleted it. 

Today let's talk about moth balls. Not the male moths reproductive organs but the stinky little balls of god only knows what that have invaded my life. The Florida Mimi has spread them EVERYWHERE. She's raging a war against lizard poop. Not necessarily lizards, just their poop. So anywhere there is poop a mothball is sure to be found. Unfortunately this has caused a pervasive stink all around our house. Thank God it hasn't permeated the inside, yet. The laundry room is filled with them and so there is no lazy happening with laundry chores. I'm terrified that my clean laundry will take on the scent and I'll go out into the world smelling like someone's great great great aunt Mildred. No offense to great great great aunts or anyone named Mildred. 

Time Change Smime Change

The last time change had Bubba up so screwed up I felt like I had a newborn, so I approached this morning like mission impossible. After the requisite diaper change (performed lovingly by the man of the house) I laid perfectly still for 28 minutes, then ever so slowly raised my head only to see a wee arm flailing about in the crib. Head back down and shallow breathing for another 12 minutes. Sliding silently from under the covers I slid to the floor in a move that could only be described as catlike and steathily crawled on hands and knees past the crib to the door. Opening it as quietly as I could, I slid through the miniscule opening only to come face to butt with Yellow Dog's tail which started wagging with ferocity in anticipation of some new game. After making a horrible shush face at her I slid the lower half of my body out of the doorway and popped up like a drunk jack in the box. Yellow Dog not having gotten the hint that this was a mission, not a game jumped up and proceeded to beat the armoir like a drum with her tail. As my heart stopped for fear that the noise would wake Bubba I quickly shut the bedroom door. Looked at Yellow Dog with murder in my eyes and stood statue like for 2 minutes. 

It worked! Ah sweet alone time. And worth every cent of my diginity. 

she could be my twin.

Dontcha think? 

holy crap

Stickers and markers and toys oh my. My house looks like a container ship destined for toysrus blew up in it. Or like a 2 year old was let loose on a rampage. Oh wait that's what happened. I haven't reached my breaking point yet or there would be serious consequences for Bubba-Licious. Instead I just have moments of panic and then minutes of cleaning. The Gran swears that she was able to get my precious 2 year old self to only take one toy at a time out of the playroom. And that if I, in all of my preciousness would dare to try to bring even 1 more toy into the main house she only had to look at me, with a stern yet loving glance and I would toddle my precious behind right back ino the playroom. I've decided that either boys are harder to raise than girls or she was smoking some really good weed.