Ye Olden Times Harken Upon Us For the Future May Soon Be Passed. (Or Possibly Not, Whatever).

In light of the recent zombie apocalypse threat, we have taken to teaching our children important survival skills. You know, in case we need to depend on only ourselves. Compound style, like the Kennedys, but with less space and more post-apocalyptic mayhem.

Example number one, gardening. (By the way, can you believe how much it's grown?!). The fourteen pole beans, twelve cucumbers and sixty-seven cherry tomatoes I anticipate harvesting would surely carry us for several hours, at least.

Casey is my farming guru.

Example two, hygiene. The children are now tasked to clean their clothes in the river swimming pool and hang them on the line pool fence to dry. It would be tragic if my sweet babies were mistaken for zombies because we forgot to clean our clothes. This is no longer a threat.

Jonathan has nearly reached mastery.

And finally, hunting skills. The children must be able to seek and attain their prey in as little time as possibly with minimal noise or disruption so as not to alert zombies or other post-apocalyptic creatures to their whereabouts.

Stephen is especially skilled.

This is My Life.

[Scene: Obstetrician's waiting room. I am trying to
schedule my next appointment, the room is packed,
a line is forming and the kids are getting very antsy. ]

Jonathan: "Mommy, I hafta pee."

Mommy: "Just go in your diaper, I'm trying to make an appointment."

Jonathan: "Oh, okay."

[A few moments pass...]

Jonathan: "Mommy, some pee dripped down my legs."

Mommy: (Still ensconced in deep debate with the scheduling staff). "Okay, we'll put a fresh diaper on in the car."

Jonathan: "Mommy, now it's a big puddle."

Mommy: (Not daring to look up). "Jonathan, did Daddy put you in a diaper or underwear this morning?"

Jonathan: "...underwear." "Oh. I just peed my underwear, Mommy."

Overheard...

Mommy: "Boys, don't lick the cart it's dirty."

JJ: "Mommy? I clean?"

Mommy: "Yes, you're clean."

Casey: "I clean too?"

Mommy: "Yes, you too."

...

JJ: "Hey, Casey!"

Casey: "Yeah?"

JJ: "Want to lick my tongue?"

Casey: "Okay!"

[and then they did. and i didn't know whether to laugh or cry. so. i laughed so hard i cried.]

Why Co-Sleeping Sucks.

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p.s. Yes, I am that gorgeous in person. Eat your heart out.

p.p.s. Contests galore! You can enter every single day here, here & here!

Deep Thought for the Day...

Why is bathtub poo never solid enough to scoop...
but never runny enough to send down the drain?

(Casey & JJ circa January 2009)

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p.s. There's still time to enter!
p.p.s. Join here now, my first contest starts tomorrow!

Poor Little Surgery Baby.

Thanks everyone for the sweet well wishes! Surgery day sucked, but it was to be expected. The procedure was originally scheduled for when Jonathan was much younger (and therefore less mobile) but fate intervened with multiple ear infections, and so we landed here. In month fifteen. When he never. stops. moving.

Happy baby, pre-surgery.

We arrived at Nemours (love them) promptly, as our previous experience was efficient and timely (yes, apparently this runs in the family. fun stuff.). But, unfortunately, the schedule was running behind, so our 8:00AM slot turned into a 10:00AM. Boo. Try explaining that to a fifteen month old who hasn't had anything to eat or drink since dinner the night before.

We were understanding though, as last year it was Casey's unexpectedly difficult surgery throwing their schedule into a tizzy. And the staff there is wonderful. They did everything in their power to help distract and entertain little J.

Not-so-happy baby, post-surgery.

When he finally went back, the procedure was quick (about an hour) and uneventful (yay!). He was brought to us from recovery pissed as hell and wanting to go home! After a sippy cup of juice and the removal of hep locks and monitors, we were off. The afternoon was rough with a lot of screaming (he was NOT cool with the no walking until late afternoon orders) and sobbing ("mommy, hurt!"). But he was increasingly happier and more mobile throughout the evening, and by bedtime (with a little help from codeine laced Tylenol) he was nearly himself again.

Fingers (and toes) crossed for today.

Happy baby, post-post-surgery.

Holy Inappropriateness, Batman!

So, several months ago I encoutered a woman at the zoo wearing a skimpy little bikini. Granted, she was near the kiddie splash zone, but STILL. It's the zoo. Not a waterpark. And it's a KIDDIE splash zone. So... totally inappropriate, right?

Hah.

I thought so too.

Until I saw this.

At the mall.

In the kids' indoor play area.

Yeh.

It's a demi-cut underwire, in case you were curious.

Nice Melons!

Guess what smells like fish?


No, not that type of fish. More like this...


Well, let me tell you... We spent a very lovely long weekend with my parents and Aunt Sally & Uncle Doug in South Florida. We went fishing (see first picture). We played dinosaurs...

We laughed and were silly!


The only hiccup (or so we thought...) was a split lip on Casey's part. (ouch!) But in true boy fashion, it didn't slow him down!


But then... we came home... to the smell. What can only be described as Long John Silver's gone terribly horribly wrong, this stench permeated the entire house and had no distinct source. It was beyond wretched.

We searched and searched but couldn't find the rogue diaper, or fish, or dead moose that was causing such an assault on our home and smellers.

Until.

Until, I stepped in it. Slimy, putrid and sticky. I followed the puddle to a drip on the counter where there was a larger puddle. A big, smelly dead fish-like puddle. With no apparent source! What was going on here?! I moved the crock-pot out of the way to see if there was something behind it. Nothing. I moved the fryer out of the way. Nothing. I moved the cantaloupe.

OH MY GOOD HOLY HELL THE CANTALOUPE HAS TURNED INTO A ROTTING FISH!!!!
Seriously, folks. Apparently, after a week, cantaloupe returns to it's natural state as a dead liquid sea monster. And guess what else is really awesome? Granite is pourus and permeable. Mmmmm. Which means the stink remains. So, I'm taking suggestions on how to get rid of it. And I'm not opposed to fire or sledgehammers. Seriously, folks.
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p.s. In the interest of full disclosure, I totally photoshopped makeup onto my face in that first picture. Which is why I look like a 1st grader who raided Mommy's lipstick drawer. But trust me, it's still better than the original.

p.p.s. More WW here & here.

Consider Yourself Weaned.

About .4 seconds after Hubs took this picture, JJ bit down. Really effing hard. It's not the first time he's tested his teeth on me, but it is the first time since he turned one. And that was my threshold. No more boobies for you, kiddo. You're done, did.

Hey There, Random.

I have no words for this. Ok, that's not true, I have plenty of words. Few, or none, of which are appropriate for this blog. If you're curious, this was hanging on the wall at Florida Hospital East in Orlando (does that make it more or less bizarre???). I'd love to hear your thoughts.