I just screamed like a little girl…

It’s been a long week (I realize it’s only Monday).  I haven’t slept much  over the last few days so when I got home from work, I ate three day old pizza for dinner and fell asleep on the couch watching “The Thomas Crown Affair” (one of my all time fav’s – Pierce Brosnan and I have a connection).

Try to put your jealousies of this fabulous life I’m leading aside, this story is worth it.

An alert on my phone woke me up with a jolt.  The sun was up when I nodded off, so it took me a minute to blink away the nap and realize I had been asleep for over an hour.  I rolled on my side in that I’m-too-comfy-to-get-up-yet kind of way…

Y’aaaaaaaaaaaaal, there was a fat, purplish green, 5 inch lizard laying on my pillow staring at me!!

I’m no damsel in distress, I can handle random bugs that come in the house but I will not have lizards watching me sleep!

I knocked the pillow away, which sent the lizard flying and scurrying under the couch, but not before he ran head first into the leg of the coffee table.  It was a hard hit for a little lizard so I bent down to see if it was ok, and the blame thing ran at me on the attack.

It’s time for bed anyway, he can have the sunroom.

I couldn’t make this crap up if you paid me.

#thedogsdidnothingtohelp   #lizardsarenotgoodcuddlepartners   #waitingforhimtowigglepastme   #houseforsale

 

My daughter woke up early this morning to make me breakfast before they leave for their week with dad. An incredibly sweet thought from an incredibly sweet girl. 

She wanted to do it all herself so I was banished to the sunroom, close enough to reference but still removed from the execution. She made my coffee first, it was deliciously gritty and extremely strong to help me jump into my day.

She decided on pancakes and worked so hard on different shapes. When given the options, I chose a medium snowman… 

It took everything in me to choke back the laughter.  Snowman is not the first word I would choose when identifying this image.

We ate the delectable phallic pancakes and got everyone cleaned up but the syrup (and the quadruple espresso) gave us the slap happy giggles, which evolved into a dance off.

Imagine the three palest people you’ve ever met shaking their stuff to “Dynamite” all over the house with brushes and Mine Craft swords as microphones… we were hysterical. 

When it was time to leave, I got big hugs, sloppy kisses, and lots of “love you’s”. 

It took everything in me to choke back the tears. Goodbye is definitely not the first word I would choose to say to my children.

Like many of you, “googling” has become a verb for me. It is my go-to website whenever I’m in need of help with a:

• DIY project that I should have gotten directions for before starting
• Electronics issue when my kids aren’t here to fix it
• My 4th grader’s homework
• A recipe that will turn the last three remaining pantry items into something scrumptiously edible for dinner 
• A gift for that crafty friend who always delivers something thoughtfully amazing, making you feel obligated to use MacGyver-like tactics to make an incredible gift with only a q-tip, old socks and a welding iron

Google delivers every time. 

But when a medical condition presents itself but isn’t doctor visit worthy, please avoid your googling tendencies. 

Weird rash? That’s cancer.

Head ache? Cancer.

Ingrown toenail? You’re going down, my friend, that’s cancer. 

Cellulite? 40 celebs images with cottage cheese thighs.

How does that make anyone feel better?! 

Today’s entry of trivial problems I have #654: the cup you think is empty that you flip upside down into the dishwasher and send a tsunami of dirty water/drink all over yourself, the floor and the cabinets.

The sink was full of today’s dishes so I started throwing them into the dishwasher as the kids started a movie.  I flipped a cup to add it to the top rack, splashing a mixture of milk, coffee grounds and soapy water all over the cabinets, floor and my cozy fat pants that I love.  Teeth gnashing, I took a deep breath and finished loading so I could clean it all up.

The problem was, once I got down on the floor to get the messy milk mixture off the cabinets, I noticed 1,000 other little stains that I had been blind to.  I wiped away the obvious spots, only to find more spots on the cabinets that I thought were white, but up close were disgusting.  So the cabinets got a Clorox scrubbing.

Then it was the oven’s turn.  It just needed a wipe down to get the splash off.  Until I looked closer and saw the ashes of dinners long ago on the inside and grease splatters on the glass top.  So the oven got a Clorox scrubbing and spent some time at 900 degrees.

Last but not least, the floor.  I used a few paper towels to get all of the milk and coffee grounds up and thought I was done.  But as I tossed the towels, I saw how dirty the floor actually was.  So once again, I got my Clorox out and scrubbed the floor, even getting the little corner that never gets much attention and is every spider’s dream hiding place.

So basically, I missed the entire movie and cleaned what can easily be compared to any frat house kitchen … and I’m afraid to really look in the fridge.

#myhandsstillsmelllikeclorox  #nooneisallowedinthekitchen  #papajohnsfordinner  #mykitchenneedsacarwash  #ineedaselfcleaningfridge

 

I sent my child, my first born, my only daughter, my pride and joy, to a sterile room to have a procedure that involves needles, scalpels, anesthesia and bleeding.  

My leg has not stopped shaking and my mind is racing.  I just paid someone to cut into my baby.  Something about that just feels wrong.

I went through an emergency c-section, kidney failure and seizures to bring this child into the world. Now John Denver is serenading me as I “relax” with an awful cup of coffee and free WiFi, while she is in a cold room with strangers poking and prodding her.

To say this child could ask for a pony today is an understatement. We’ll be enjoying ice cream for dinner tonight and watching a marathon of Disney/Pixar movies.

They just came out and told me she did beautifully. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until that moment.  

This parenting gig is tough.

#parentingishard #lovehermorethanmyself #mydaughterisatrooper

Taking a shower with children in the house is always a game of Russian Roulette.  You never know when or how many times you will be interrupted… what or how much they will see… when or how many questions you’ll get about hair growth and differentiating body parts… Unless you need something.

Is it just me or do the children completely disappear when you are in the shower with no soap?

I used all of my body wash the other day and should have replaced it then but was distracted.  Rookie mistake.  So I get in the shower, wash my hair, reach for the wash and got that sinking feeling when I see the empty spot where the bottle should be.

The kids are home so I yell for the girl.  I yell again.  Nothing.  I yell for the boy.  I yell again.  Nothing.  My house is tiny so it’s not like I have far to go, but it’s cold out there and I just shaved so I have no coat to keep me warm.

I yell for the girl a little louder.  Nothing.  I yell for the boy a little louder.  Nothing.  One more time will surely catch their attention, right?  I let out this blood curdling scream that Alfred Hitchcock would be proud of.  Nothing.  Ugh.

I squeeze as much water out of my hair as possible and then do the tip-toed drip dance to the cabinet.  It’s hidden in there, of course, so after leaving my puddle, I race back to the warm water covered in goosebumps and needing to shave all over again.

Shower complete, fresh feeling found, I open the curtain to find an audience of both children asking me for a snack.

Let the body parts questions begin.

We drove home from the mountains today and in the rush of cleaning the house and getting packed up, I forgot to eat.  You mother’s will understand – you make sure everyone in the house has eaten and are reasonably clean, clothed and comfortable, but don’t think about yourself until your stomach makes this sound like a lion cub is growling under water.  And it only gets louder if you are in front of others or in a quiet place.

About a minute into the trip the sky opened up and it started to downpour.  Food became an afterthought because my white-knuckled grip wouldn’t allow bites of anything.  When it eased a bit we stopped at a McDonald’s to let the dogs out and get some grub.  I’m not a fan of fast food personally, I rarely eat it and try not to let the kids eat it too often.  But McDonald’s has one thing I can never say no to.

Their french fries are addictive.  They have invented some kind of crack powder that they sprinkle in the grease that makes them impossible to deny.  After shoving a medium fry down my throat, I begged a few more from the children’s happy meals, making sure to lick every finger to get any grain of salt left behind.

The Mickey D’s crack fries get me every time.  If only they didn’t make your butt jiggle and dimple like they do… deep sigh.

My family’s house in the mountains is my sanctuary. My childhood memories here are what sweet southern novels are made of.  The sun always warmed us, the creek always cooled us, and the country cooking always filled us. 

In nearly 40 years of climbing these mountains and playing in these fields, I have never seen a snake… until today. 

We have to burn the place down now y’all, I’m just devastated.  

It was entirely too close to the house, which means it has been casing the joint. 

It was wrapped around the post on the deck, which means it was probably a boa constrictor exercising the muscles it uses to strangle it’s prey. 

It was as big as my arm, which means it could swallow us whole. 

I sure will miss this place. 

​I may or may not have just used my assets and wit to get out of a ticket… mama’s still got it.

Today’s entry of trivial problems I have #217: the peace and quiet time I get once the kids go to their dad’s house.

Of course I miss my babies, of course I want them all to myself, but I know they are having fun with their dad who adores them and takes very good care of them.

Normally I pack the night with plans, whether it’s dinner with friends, seeing a movie, cleaning out the dreaded closet under the stairs, purging old toys that are only loved after a threat of donation, home hair dye jobs, blackhead hunting and eyebrow tweezing, the wild and exciting list goes on.

Tonight, however, I have no plans.  The house is a wreck, I should be doing laundry… nope. There are dishes in the sink, I should unload the dishwasher… nope.  The bathrooms are actually clean but let’s be honest, a six year old boy lives here so there’s always a little yellow to clean up… nope.

At a time when I would be rushing to make dinner, feed children, clean dinner, clean children, read stories, just trying to make it to that first second of laying down at the end of a long day on cool sheets… here I sit with no babies, no tv, no radio, no dogs barking, just quiet.

I never realized how loud the ice maker is.