Medieval torture device or 21st century butt-slimmer-downer? Hard to say right now.

I’ve had the same paint on my toes for two months.  I doubt anyone but me notices it, but my pedicure is now representing the greater redneck population.  It’s chipped to the point that more nail is showing than paint.  I’m too Type A for that to be ok.

They would have been fine if mother nature had flipped the switch and just picked one season or the other, but due to her schizophrenia, I had to keep switching between sandals and boots.

So I bought some polish remover but talked myself out of buying cotton balls because I knew I had bought a bag not long ago.  Guess what I couldn’t find when I got home… the stinking bag of cotton balls.

I do this sometimes – put things in a new safe place, but end up hiding it from myself.  So I took a deep, frustrated breath and went on a mission for the missing balls.

I sat on the bathroom floor and pulled every last thing out of the drawers and cabinets, only to learn that I’m a hoarder.

I found the tube of toothpaste I bought months ago that I was sure got left at the checkout counter.  I found about a thousand hairbands that have hidden themselves in the back of every drawer.  I found the booger sucker the hospital gave me when my son was born.  And good Lord the lotion, I have enough lotion to be soft and scented for years.

What I didn’t find was a stinking cotton ball.

So I went to the closet and pulled every last thing out of it, only to learn that my condition is worse than I thought.  I have 4 sets of sheets that don’t fit any of our beds.  Airplane blankets from a trip I took 10 years ago.  A box full of prescriptions I never finished and tube after tube of sunscreen.  Apparently, I have a lotion compulsion.

All of that to say, a 15 minute chore took two hours, two bags of donations, a bag of trash and I still have a redneck pedicure.  But I’m laying in bed with a glass of Bailey’s & cream and Netflix and don’t care anymore.

#MissionMissingBalls

#RedneckPedicure

#DistractedByNetflix

#CarefreeThanksToBaileys

#WildSaturdayNight

I am completely biased, but I have a brilliant little girl.  She sees things in ways I never have.  She calculates numbers in a way I never will.  I can’t wait to see what she does with her brain and brawn.

That’s why it is such a shame that she suffers from amnesia.  She can’t remember that I asked her to clean her room.  She has trouble with the concept of putting dirty dishes in the sink.  And, more recently, she is forgetful when it comes to taking a washcloth into the shower before stepping into the spray.  More often than not I hear a “moooooooooooom” come from the bathroom around the eight minute mark of her showering.

Today, as she was getting in the shower, I was sitting in the kitchen with my boy discussing Greek mythology.  He’s six and knows far more than I did, even after joining a Greek organization myself (I can still recite the Greek alphabet before the match burns my fingers though).

Here’s how the conversation went:

Me – “I’ll bet you $1 she forgets the washcloth.”

Boy – “I’ll take that bet.  I’ll be right back.”

Me – “Whoa.  Where are you going?”

Boy – “I have to go to the bathroom.” (said with a trickster’s smile)

Me – “No way dude!  You sit back on this stool and wait for it.”

Boy – “Aw man.  What if I really had to pee?”

Me – “Go outside.”

We wait about five minutes and hear the quintessential call.  “Mooooooooooom, can you get me a washcloth?”

Me – “Ha!  Pay up short stack!”

Boy – “What!  You were serious?”

Me – “I want cash, wee one.”

Boy – “This is not how I usually do business.”

Bahahahahaha!  I let him keep his bill in exchange for the belly laugh.

#RiskyBusiness

#StreetSmartsWillTakeHimFar

#SmartGirlWantsInOnTheBetForTomorrow

 

I’ve told my children for years that I don’t care what instrument they play, as long as they learn to play something.  But before you play the saxophone with Kenny G, the ukulele like Israel Kamakawiwo’ole or bass for Aerosmith’s revival tour, you have to learn how to read music.  The best way to do that? Piano lessons.

So once a week they take piano. They are actually pretty good (said the proud, completely biased mama).  And I don’t even make them practice, they like sitting down and playing, which brings a whole new kind of music into the house.  I absolutely love it!

During my daughter’s lesson today, my son whispers that he has to go to the bathroom.  It’s still pretty cute when he whispers things to me because on a normal day, he’s fairly quiet.  When he “whispers”, however, he sounds like he’s been sitting in front of the speakers at a White Snake concert and has no control over his volume.

So I walk him to the rest room and sit on a bench to wait for him.  “Can you come sit in here mommy?  Pleeeeeeeeeeease?”

I’m such a sucker for these little people I live with.

I go in the stall and there sits my boy, doing his business and smiling like the Cheshire cat.  But I love the little goofball, so I lock the stall door and breathe through my mouth for a while.

Lucky for me, Captain Chatty has multiple conversation topics to discuss so we dive right in to recess, why lunch isn’t long enough and, of course, which Pokemon character would make the best pet.  The normal.

I bait him with silly questions to keep him laughing and talking, because even through the stench, I love listening to his little ideas.  He was almost done with his duty when he looked down and without missing a beat or taking a breath he said:

“I know they could climb trees but we have a fence.  And a tall fence so it doesn’t really matter.  But if we got a pool we would have to make sure he could swim.  He may be able to swim already.  And man, my pee pee is stuck to my leg… huh.”

He said it like it belonged in the conversation so it took me a minute to process.  By the time I clued in, he hit me with a HUGE smile and said “Look at it.  It’s really hanging on there.”

I knew men were preoccupied by this particular appendage from an early age, but it just seems a little early for my baby to have pee pee pride.  But I’m not a man, I guess I can’t understand this one any more than men can comprehend labor pains.

C’est la vie.

#Men

#MenAreFromMarsWomenAreFromVenus

#BoyMom

Below is a link to one of my all time favorite songs, “Over the Rainbow” by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole.  Enjoy!

 

Clearly, I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer…  the cleaver is.  

I rarely crave sweets, but my aunt made a sweet fruit dip that I would gladly shove my face into a bowl of and lick clean.  It is absolutely worth all 10,000 calories and having a marshmallow-sticky face.

I was trying to be lady, however, and use a spoon (I won’t next time).  I stuck my hand in the dishwasher to grab a spoon to eat a heaping dollop or five, but the cleaver got me first.  I feel like this is Jenny Craig’s way of telling me I didn’t need a taste of that incredible sweet treat in the fridge.

I don’t know Ms. Craig or have any connection to the program, it seems she’s just that good.

Well played Jenny.  Well played.

#SweetSacrifice

#ThatDipIsWorthThePain

#ImGoingBackInAfterTheBleedingStops

 

 

 

 

 

Have you ever woken up feeling like you are still in your dream? A dream that was so “real”, you feel like it was an actual chapter in your quirky personal biography of twists and turns that will, hopefully, make you (in)famous one day.  The details are alive in technicolor in your head – the people, the feel, the emotion… it’s all there.

I dream almost every night and usually remember every little detail.  That’s quite a few years worth of useless information taking up seriously sparce and scattered real estate in this brain of mine.  

Meanwhile, I get in the shower and can’t remember if I washed my hair or not, so I have to wash it again.  Thankfully, a little Pantene goes a long way.

Even now, hours later, the person I dreamed about is running through my head in movie-trailer-like clips… but I can’t remember shutting my computer down at work today.

And where are my keys?

#LivingTheDream

#MemoryBrainStrain

#PanteneSmellsAmazing

I would like to officially denounce my previous post, “Beast Mode“.  Between the twenty degree weather and the wind that knocks the breath right out of you, my leg hairs grow an inch every time I step outside.  I’m fighting the good fight, but by the end of the day I know the goosebumps have won.  A friend mentioned braiding them, maybe even adding beads to really shake things up … I double dog dare you!

So cheers to being prickly for a little while during this March madness weather.  Hopefully Mother Nature will wake up from her drunken coma and warm things up soon.

#MarchMadness

#SaveTheRazors

#UseThatTimeToFillOutYourBracket

#GoosebumpGrowth