Murphy

This is Murphy. I am not a fan of rats...but from the front, Murphy is the cutest thing ever. From the back? Murphy has the biggest set of nuts I have ever seen...and a freakishly long tail. No thanks.
He isn't ours...he is part of my friends zoo...cats, dogs, rats, a spider, and a bunny or two.

We spent Friday evening there...

Something is gonna getcha!

I have been doing some boo-hooing lately. You know...random health issues that make me realize I might not be invincible. First it was the "OMG you have a hernia...no wait we're taking your colon" and then it was the "I know you love the eye doctor, here is a corneal ulcer." Throw in a "coughing so much your abs hurt" cold...and last but not least "We know there are abnormal cells on your cervix, but we are going to use a knitting needle and rake to take more samples" trip to the gynecologist.
Please. I could drown in the pool of tears I am crying over all of this. Poor Poor me. In fact, I have said "can a girl get a break" in the most ghetto tone I can muster. I mean, an eye infection and a colon-ectomy and cough/cold AND an abnormal pap? The world might end.
None of it is life threatening. None of it. But all of it is bringing me down. I am still sleepy from the colon surgery. (wait. Maybe I am just lazy.) I can't shake the cold. Or the eye thing. (shout out to dr. cutie!) and the abnormal pap was just the cherry on top.
So...yesterday at my shrink appt. I was telling her all about it. And I can identify why the colposcopy freaked me out. I was on the table and the dr was talking about an outpatient surgery that he wanted to do in order to remove the cells. I kept thinking "he is saying minor surgery. he is saying outpatient. But they said very similar when I went in for an alleged hernia and came out 12 inches of colon and an appendix lighter." So my freak out was kinda normal...or at least understandable. But my woe is me...Eeyore attitude needed to go. And...my shrink kinda told me that.
She started telling me a story about how sad her father was when he found out he had bladder cancer. I felt bad for feeling bad for myself, when obviously, her dad was worse off than I was...but she was going somewhere...she basically said that her sister, after a week of him being sad and woe is me-esque, told him that everyone dies from something. And fuck if she isn't right. Everyone dies of something. So...rather than sit around, waiting for something to kill me...maybe I should stop feeling sorry for myself, feel grateful that nothing that is wrong with me is life threatening, and get on with things.
You know, cause something is gonna getcha.

discovery channel is good food

The following took place moments ago.

Big: "MOM!"
Me: "what?"
Big: "That make up that you smear all over your face? it is made of PIG FAT."
me: "uhm...what? Oh...right...the discovery channel...k thanks for sharing."
Big: "Yeah. GROSS. And? Do you know what HAM is made from?"
Me: "pig fat?"
Big: "No MOM. PIG. PIG."
Me: "right...I have heard that before...must be true."
Big: "Do you know what part?"
Me: "The rooter? or the tooter?"
Big: (coming close enough to whisper...)"THE BUTT"
Me: "Good to know. Thanks."

I bet he will never eat HAM again.

drinking and hiding easter eggs don't mix

Last night was a big night out for me. It was a "make up" St. Patrick's Day party. Last week's was cancelled for some reason that I am not completely sure of, but that is ok. Every day can be St. Patrick's Day for me, I don't care.
I spent most of the day leading up to the big bash, cleaning, taking kids to egg hunts, baking cakes, coloring eggs, etc. So, when it came time to don my "Everyone loves an Irish girl" tee shirt from Target, and hit the streets looking for a pot of gold, I was more than ready.
I met my friends at a local pub. It was by no stretch of the imagination, a pub. But let's call it that for shits and giggles, k? I had already bought a ticket...and so I was granted admission to the par-tay. Some of the local favorites were hanging out...oh...look, there is my 65 yr old neighbor over there...let's not make eye contact...everyone was already established at a table in the back. The "big" buffet, that the tickets promised, was actually a table with a few things...and GREEN chocolate flowing from a fountain. I found this completely disturbing...but indulged anyway. It was fun. There was a lot of laughing...some boy nipple comparing...more laughing...much drinking...at one point, I busted out the "robot" move from my 8th grade dance moves. There were some other fun things...then, I found myself looking at a girl/woman's ass that I didn't really know. She was bent over...and her butt was BEGGING me to smack it. So! SMACK! omg. I didn't! Turns out I did. Not sure who was more embarrassed...but I didn't say "...gave that big booty a smack..." which is what was playing in my head...so I guess I should consider myself lucky! I also spent a lot of time looking at this one redhaired man wearing a leprechaun hat. No sir. YES SIR!
So, my friend JKLMNOP walked me home...and it was upon entering the house, that I remembered I had to hid eggs and make the baskets. Not a good idea. Hiding the eggs involved me wrestling them out of the dogs mouth, because he apparently thought they would taste good. Making the baskets didn't go so well...especially since I would get one made up, have to stop to wrestle the dog, and then fuck it up when I tried to finish. I ended up stacking the shit inside the basket in no organized manner, shoved eggs further under the couch than the dogs head could reach, and called it a night.
I was, of course, not done. At the top of the steps was Little, with a tooth in his hand. Uhm? How did you lose a tooth in the middle of the night? He says he wiggled it. I couldn't be sure that the toothfairy had any ones left, so I mumbled something about it being too late tonight, but that the toothfairy would be stopping tomorrow. Turns out, I did have some ones...so it was all good.
I woke up this moring to find 6 texts in my in box. 4 were from Cheryl. The most recent one said "Dude. You HIT on my brother." Clearly, she was texting the wrong person. I remember talking to her brother, but hitting on someone, I think I would know. A few more texts confirm that I MIGHT have hit on him. Which is funny, because of about a million things. Also, she thinks he was being retarded and that I am fine. No hitting. We did giggle that we could be related...but only 1/4...because she and her brother have recently discovered that they don't share the same dad...and neither of their dads are the man that they called "daddy" when they grew up...but that is for another day...
Oh. I also confirmed the robot dance and the ass smacking...those seem to be for true.

Funny shit

someone sent me the link to this yesterday...and I cannot stop laughing...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGZxaDKmtwE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5KVbjpFVe1w

These are two of my favorites!!

Hip bones and tattoos

Dear Tiny Girl in line in front of me at the CVS,

Hi. I know you don't know me, but I couldn't help but notice your lovely tattoo. I know it is only March, but God bless you, wear that crop sweatshirt and those low rise jeans.
When you turned around to say something to your friend behind you, I know you heard me gasp. Your hip bones. And that flat little, stretch mark free belly. Lord. I wanted to grab you by the hand and take you over to Starbucks. I wanted to tell you a few things...
Like how no matter how strong that maternal instinct is, do not birth children. I know that sounds harsh. But, you'll thank me someday. Those hips will disappear faster than you can say "the condom broke." Even if they return, they won't be the same.
That flat little belly? Also will disappear. In its place? Something we 37 year olds refer to as "the Pooch." Don't make me show you mine. You are too young to see it. Just take my word for it. No matter what anyone says, stretch marks DO NOT GO AWAY. Do you want to take the risk of getting them? NO MA'AM. Just don't have babies.
Also, since I am sharing my wisdom with you. That tattoo there, on your back? I hope that is your dad's name. or maybe your favorite pet. If it isn't, start saving your money now, because you are going to HATE it once you two break up. I know, sweetheart, you two will be together, forever. But when forever gets here, you are going to want to have it removed. Just sayin.
One more thing...all the make up? You don't need it. The eyeliner MIGHT be a little dark...just tone it down a little bit. You have a pretty face. Show it.
You don't have to thank me now...
Love,
You, twenty years ago.

Meme in pictures...

I have never done one of these before...so forgive me if I fuck it all to hell. I stole it from Tori...not really "stole" because it is a Meme and frankly, she TELLS you to do it...so do it, already!

It is a meme in pictures...
How do you do it?
Go to http://www.photobucket.com/
type in your answer to the question
insert the picture into your blog...

sounds easy, right? Let's just see how it goes.

1.) What is your relationship status?


2.) What is your current mood?


3.) Who is your favorite band/artist?


4.) What is your favorite movie?


5.) What kind of pet do you have?


6.) Where do you live?


7.) where do you work?


8.) What do you look like?


9.) what do you drive?


10.) What did you do last night?


11.) what is your favorite tv show?


12.)Descibe yourself...


13.) What are you doing tomorrow?


14.) What is your name?


15.) What is your favorite candy?

You say it's your birthday....

Today, Little turns 7. I can hardly believe that you are 7. I remember very vividly the day we found out I was pregnant. We had tried for some time, to have a second baby...and we didn't seem to be getting anywhere...so we stopped trying...situations changed and we started to try again...and just like that, he was on the way!
Pregnancy #2 was not as easy as #1. I spotted early...was basically sent home to rest and see what happened...I cried a lot. I didn't want to have a miscarriage. I wanted to have a baby...sonogram after sonogram confirmed that you were growing. Long about 13 or 14 weeks, when we should have been able to hear your heart beating, we didn't. I had to go home and wait until the next morning to have another sonogram to make sure you were still alive. Probably the longest 12 hours of my life. As soon as the doppler hit my belly, your heartbeat was there! Tears of joy! You gave me such trouble when you were in my belly...and you continue in that spirit!
I had a few "false alarms" before I went into actually labor with you. One false alarm involved a little tinkle and an embarrassing conversation with the gynecologist. (Who hasn't accidentally peed themselves and then gone straight to the gyno because you are IN LABOR!) I didn't think I would ever have you after that episode. I even threatened to NOT LEAVE the doctors office without the baby. (I have since switched doctors...I may have had a "label" at that one...)
The day my water DID break...I thought it was just another "tinkle" incident. Who knows what goes on...the only thing I knew was that I hadn't had a shower and couldn't possibly go to the hospital until I had taken care of that. When I finally got to the doctor and was kind of scolded for taking so long, we were sent to the hospital! You were born about 4 hours later!
Every single day has been something new with you. You have a silly, unique personality. You had the curliest, blond hair...the bluest eyes...the sweetest smile...the hair isn't curly...or very blond anymore, but the eyes and the smile...they remain the same.
Do you remember your "jumping off the couch" incident? The one that resulted in my "mother of the year" trophy? You broke your foot...but you kept right on jumping...so I didn't take you to the hospital. How was I to know?
How about the time you tried to roller skate down the sliding board and got MAD at me for making you take them off?
Or when you and your brother locked the cat in the bathroom and I had to take the door knob off so that we could pee?
Or how your favorite word was "jackass" for a long time. (maybe it only SEEMED like a long time to me!)
Or how last summer, when we were at the hotel for Chris and Jen's wedding, and the fire alarm went off, the first thing out of every ones mouth was "where is Little?" You potentially COULD have done it, but you didn't!!
I love you, baby! I love you for the sweet, adorable little boy that you are...and the young man that you are becoming. I love the fact that I know the craziness and fun is only just beginning. I love how this morning, when I was hugging you and squeezing you and commenting on how old you were getting, you looked at me and said "hello? you're 37. THAT IS OLD."
Tomorrow, we are having your 'cosmic bowling' party...and I am quite certain that I will be boozing by 8pm tomorrow night, but I hope that this is the best birthday, ever...and that next year is even better!
I love you, baby!! Happy birthdizzle!

shopping fun

Tomorrow is Little's 7th birthday. I am certain not to forget such event, simply because he won't let me! We have been counting down the days since the middle of February...and that is fine, I do the same. I told him that we would be going shopping to pick out his birthday gift and he could pick what he wanted. *within reason....Would you like to know what a 7yr old thinks is *within reason?
First we get to Toys R Us...I am already beat from a day at work and cooking and cleaning...but it is 7:15 and I still have a birthday gift to procure. He wants to look at bikes. and skateboards. and motorized Razor scooters that cost $300 and are entirely OUT of the reach of reason. He rode a couple of bikes around the store...which entertained him, while I took a quick cat nap on the bench. One of the bikes had "handle bar brakes" which Little is not so familiar with. The end result was a small scream and a near miss in the aisle that involved another little boy. Where was that kids mother? I tried to get him to buy into "guitar hero" and frankly, it was only because I wanted it. HE wanted an actual electric guitar. Not so much. There were some tears. He stopped proclaiming that I was the best mom, EVER. I suggested we head over to Walmart...
On the way to Walmart...he remembers that he wanted a "wap-top" aka laptop. I remind him that we are talking about gifts that are *within reason and a wap-top is not. We stopped at Best Buy to prove my point. Again, I tried for the Guitar Hero. (good news...Rock Band for the Wii will be out before Christmas, start standing in line now!) Then...we finally went to Walmart. Walmart. Had the same bike that we saw for $100 at TRU for $68. I'll take that. It is orange. It has handle bar brakes. He didn't hit anyone at Walmart. We bought it. In the check out line, the little girl in front of us was checking out his bike. They talked. She clearly dug Little. He was cute. I told him later that he couldn't bring home a girl that he met in the checkout at Walmart.
Now for the funny part...and really, who didn't see this coming?
We get the bike out to the car. The CAR. The SATURN. There isn't a lot of space in the Saturn, and what space there is, is taken up by a butt load of crap. I try to put the bike in the back seat thinking that Little could ride shotgun on the way home...he managed to survive the first 7 years, he would be fine. Not to worry, the bike wouldn't fit in the back seat. After much wrestling, I got it back OUT of the backseat and popped the trunk. Yeah. It wouldn't fit in the trunk, either. Much wrestling, swearing, yanking, yelling, giggling...and then I decided to put down the back seat. In theory, that sounds like I am using my head. In reality? Not so much. I couldn't get the bike far enough IN the trunk to need the seat down. More pulling, pushing, swearing, sweating, and begging...finally, it was IN the trunk. However, the trunk? Wouldn't close. More swearing...and of course I don't have a string or anything to tie the trunk closed with...so I get an idea...I use the plastic bag to tie the trunk shut. Off we go...Little in the back seat, hanging on to the tire, afraid that the bike is going to fly out at any moment. I tried to assure him that all of the tugging and pulling and swearing that I did was exactly why the bike would NOT fly out. However, I was certain that my random shit that was in the trunk, was going to fly out and leave a Hansel and Gretal like trail on the way...
We made it home. Little rode the bike around the livingroom until the dog barked and I yelled.
Happy Birthday, Baby!!

a disclaimer

Ok...so...my husband is very much a republican. Very. Much. I know...but this isn't even why we have problems...anyway...I like to think of myself as a free spirit...kind of vote on the issues, not the party...which worked out well...but a few years ago...when we were "allegedly" getting a tax credit to be mailed out, in addition to our regular tax refund...you remember...this was the first time they did it...I mockingly said "The day I receive that check in the mail is the day I become a rep." Well. Hot damn. I got that check in the mail...cashed that bitch...and came home to my husband on the couch with a voter registration form beside him. He had lovingly filled in most of it for me. I signed it...not because I wanted to be a rep...but because I am nothing if not a girl of my word. So...I am rep. In name only.
I voted for Clinton, both times...which brings me to today...He is speaking locally here tomorrow...and I am thinking seriously about taking Big to hear him speak. I think that it is important for him to be involved in current events...well...the mere mention of this has caused my husband to have heart palpitations...I am actually afraid to mention it to either my father, or my father in law, for fear of either sending them to an early grave or causing them to call children services to take the kids from me...
I just want to say...if something happens to any one of the 3...I had nothing to do with it.

Memories...

I was just hanging out over at Jennsylvania...and she talked about how she got loaded up and sent an email to a friend of hers...and it reminded me of the night...not so long ago...when I was on my way to getting trashed...and sent a text to someone who might not have been the intended recipient...and then proceeded to sing karaoke (Britney-Toxic...I had been working on that...) in a NON-karaoke bar...and giving a lap dance to my son's pee wee football coach...ok...there was a reason...I wanted to know what it would take to get him to be captain for the next game...and then proceeded to do a bump and grind routine on this poor guys leg. I don't think I threw up. However, on the ride home, when I said "turn left here" I really was thinking "turn right" and proceeded to yell at my friend's husband for turning wrong...(he is less than fond of me, to this day.) The next day...after a long shower and a big cup of coffee...or 10, I got to the game, just in time to see my son standing at midfield with the coach and the other 2 captains for that game. The coach txt'd me from midfield to make sure I saw it. Yeah...momma shook her money maker...but it paid off.
It took me a while to get beyond the embarrassment. We now refer to this as the "night of the lap dance..." or "stripper Jodi"
But...hey...it worked...and frankly, I am going to have to keep my girlish figure, because I can totally see needing to pull the lap dance out for Little. Only, that will be a little bit more tricky...since I am thinking that he will need the help at school. Wonder if they would install a pole in the cafeteria?

go away

go away...eye infection.
I had to go to the follow up eye appt. today...or as I am going to call it from now on, "the old bait and switch."
Gone was Dr. Hottie. In his place? Dr. Not-so-hottie. He was so mean about my eye infection. I think he really thought I was getting a kick out of having it...like I LIKED going to the eye doctor or something. (I want to know who told him...)
Anyway...Dr. NSH yelled at me...told me that my eye health is very important...and then promptly upped the antibiotic. Which had a $25 co-pay instead of $5. Plus, since he is my EYE doctor...not my PCP, he is considered out of network, so that set me back $60...plus, when I was at the drugstore waiting for my medicine, I bought chocolate easter eggs and diet coke...and a magazine...but I did take my blood pressure...(I feel like I might be 7) The whole thing irritated me.
Oh? And freakily enough? As I am waiting for my name to be called so I could pay for all this loot...I hear "Sugar free vanilla, non fat latte" which is my nickname, apparently. Turns out, the girl behind the counter at the pharmacy used to work at my favorite starbucks. Funny. And a tad bit frightening.

couple a things...

1. If we are driving FORWARD...and you, lady in the big white SUV in front of me, decide that forward isn't working out for you and you suddenly stick it in reverse...DO NOT get bent when I flip you off and beep the horn. Just because YOU want to go backwards, does not mean I want to, as well.
2. If you have a tendency to fall down and get bruised on your legs/thighs, it is probably NOT a good idea to wear your micro mini with the fuck me boots and no stockings. To work.
3. If you WANT to wear your big furry blue boots because it is snowing out, I get that. However, I don't get why you don't immediately change out of them. You have to know how ree-dick you look.
4. If you want to smell like a stripper, fine by me. If you feel the need to freshen up that ever fresh stripper smell in the bathroom while I pee, that is NOT fine by me. So you know...perfume at walmart is NOT a deal.
5. If you want to argue with your husband/boyfriend/paperboy, that is also fine by me. If you do it while I am seated in the cube next to you, don't get mad at me because I laugh when you become enraged that he won't pick the damn dog up at the vet. Even if it IS his dog, it is still funny. (this one you might have to trust me on...)
6. One 7 yr old + a Yosemite Sam video + 2 plastic pistols = a scratched cornea for me. (full contact parenting is something I subscribe to)
7. A scratched cornea = a trip to see Dr. Hottie, the eye doctor. I know I joked about sticking a fork in my eye, but never did I dream of sticking a plastic pistol in my eye. Who knew?
8. A scratched cornea hurts like a mother fucker.
9. Add a cold and you have one unpleasant bitch.

myth busters

I woke up a little early today...Sunday...so there was coffee and cinnamon rolls and cleaning and webkinz...then I decided to grocery shop...since it was still early and no one was awake here...I busted out to walmart...which I hate with all of my being...but you can get a shitload of stuff for not a shitload of money...and I am willing to compromise myself for some extra cash, yo.

The whole way driving to walmart, I kept thinking...it won't be crowded...it is early Sunday morning...no one will be there. Right. Not so much. In fact, if it is possible, MORE people were there. And, they were meaner. Clearly, these folk needed to be heading to the church...not Walmart. I don't understand why, but Walmart seems to bring the mean in people out. And. The bad in kids. Why do kids think it is ok to scream and cry on the floor at Walmart? Get your ass up. That floor is dirty. And? I don't want to hear you. So...we have mean people and screamin kids. Oh joy! Can you say where are my meds?

I cannot believe that I thought it would be less crowded on a Sunday morning. Perhaps I thought everyone was at church...but alas, I was wrong.