TEQUILA TUESDAY

I woke up early this morning with one goal: finish my final project for school. Turns out my kids had other ideas...

4am
wake up to hubby working on iPad
Punks wants milk
work on school project

615am
Little K wants milk
go to yoga

crazy cuban chats it up with me about doing my yoga in the morning so I can go out at night

realize the shirt I slept in that is now over my yoga top has last nights dinner and Little K spit up all over it.

7am
105* with 50% humidity.
start to sweat
crazy cuban "come on it not hot"
really start to sweat
"class is hard. it called exercise. fat belly in."
sweat pouring out of me
"what you doing? no water for you yet."
start to fling sweat when I bend over
"okay, party time. grab you water"
4 poses down, only 22 to go

830am
put on spit up shirt inside out.
run out of yoga. 
outside humidity feels like inside yoga room. awesome.
play frogger with crazy drivers of south florida
old man with really cool hat in big white caddie that cut me off->  2 points
old man swerving on two lane road while reading newspaper while driving->  -2 points

run in the door
kiss hubby goodbye
Punks in Little K's crib jumping on mattress inches from her head
Little K pooped. leaked onto mattress Punks is now jumping on.
Punks realizes this and throws herself out of crib forehead smashing my nose

1030am
work on project. write 5 words. change diaper. write half paragraph. fix food for Punks. write 9 more sentences. fix milk for Little K. repeat. repeat.

Punks draws on Little K with green pen
Little K thinks this is hilarious

wait on hold for 10 minutes to explain to AT&T why they screwed up our bill again

work on project
Little K on lap. type one handed.
Punks hanging off back choking my neck

1pm
write few more paragraphs. change diaper. few more paragraphs. fix Punks food. come back to Punks at mommy's computer with finger on delete button. -4 paragraphs. how did she even know where the delete button was?

wait on hold for 10 minutes to ask Direct TV why our receiver is out again

Little K screams
Punks is wrapping her head in a blanket

squeals.
pet duck in backyard
feed pet duck. glad he is back after dog nearly ate him for Easter brunch.

giggles.
Punks stripped Little K naked and covered her with baby butt cream
"MAMA MEEE CHANGE BEBE DIAPER!!"

nap time for both babies
shower
eat
work on project

3pm
girls awake
change diapers. snack.

Punks wants to dance.
Little K wants to be held. type paper one handed.
Punks rides dog like horse.
Punks rides mommy's leg like horse 
repeat. repeat. repeat.

squealing.
duck back again.
feed pet duck.

take computer outside 
dog chasing birds.
Punks chasing dog.
dog barking
girls squealing


baths
dinner

hubby home.
"What did my girls do today?"
where do I begin...?

doorbell. babysitter here.
my apologies the house looks like toys r us blew up.
"Punks must clean up ALL her toys before bed."

yeah right

Roccos Tacos: Taco Tuesday
 *ahem*
more like tequila Tuesday...

single goal for tomorrow? 
finish school project.
~SOS~

A TEXAS WEDDING

My sister got married to her perfect match a few weeks ago.  I was the Matron of Honor. duh.  My oldest daughter, the flower girl. again, duh.  

 

Ceremony. 

The perfect setting.  The church was where we grew up.  Attended so many Sundays with our Nana and GDaddy who were so powerfully present, watching over us, giving their blessings alongside God. I don't think I even took my eyes of K the whole time. Except to sneak a glance at Chris once or twice.

Reception.

We danced, we ate, we partied. There were friends, family and peacocks.  The band played for an extra few hours.  Just long enough for everyone to really get their P-A-R-T-Y on.  The boys did the suspender dance. The father of the groom did his break dance.  Everyone did the Texas Two Step. 

There was only one thing that didn't come out perfect. I was only able to spit out half my speech. If you know me well enough, you know I get weak in the knees talking in front of adults.  clarification: I am not an adult. I am worlds away from my parents. my parents are adults.   I can speak to my peers. I can teach math and science to a room full of teenage punks. There are many people and situations I can handle, but not speaking in front of adults.

So, K I apologize. I wrote it out in hopes I could just read it, but it didn't turn out that way. So, here it is.  The speech I intended to say with all my love.

I cant believe my little sister is getting married.  It seems like yesterday she was following me around trying on all my clothes and getting into all of my stuff.  She has gone from my annoying little sister to a beautiful young woman. I look to her and see the kind of person I want to be.  She sees the good in people. She brings out the best in you.  She makes you laugh with her silliness and sometimes complete unawareness of what is happening outside of the Kathryn bubble.  Geographically and otherwise.   Every passing year we have continued to grow closer. I help her with math. She helps me spell.  I tried to explain to her how to kiss a boy and she explains over and over to me how I can take a better picture so that I don’t look so ridiculous in front of the flash. 

She called me a few years ago about a new boy. From the very first phone call I knew he was different. There was this manager guy hanging around the nursery checking on her and the other girls who worked there to make sure they were doing their job right. He was really cute so she didn’t mind him checking in on them.  One day she was excited because he told her she was needed in the kitchen to help him cut the valentines cake. You know, she told me. He does everything. He is the operations manager or something. You know, he handles the operations of the club.  When he doesn’t have enough people in the kitchen he even helps cut cake.  Um, Kathryn I asked… Do you think it is possible he is hanging around the nursery to see you?  And I am quite certain he doesn’t have to cut cake, but perhaps he wants to cut cake with you?

After the cake cutting she and Christopher snuck around Westside for a while. Then Kathryn got her dream job teaching her beautiful Autistic children and they didn’t have to sneak anymore.  So, as Kathryn and I are downing tequila shots at Guadalahara waiting for Christopher to come meet us for their first non secret meeting her nerves were running high. .. I think we may have had a few to many shots to calm her nerves, but none the less it worked. She was being Kathryn in all of her silliness and fun.  Christopher met us, had one beer, laughed at us, picked up the tab and he and Kathryn disappeared for a few minutes.  When she met me back in the car I just looked at her… WELL?  Yep, great kisser she reported happily.

Not to long after that Christopher called me and said he was going to ask her to marry him.  The perfect match made in heaven.  Chris, I am so thrilled to have you as a brother in law and most importantly, a friend. You couldn’t be more perfect for Kathryn. She is the happiest I have ever seen her.  A little spoiled, but I suppose you know what your getting yourself into. right? Congrats to you both. I love you and I know you will live happily ever after.

 

~SOS~

CATCHING THE DUCK

Yesterday morning I heard a muffled scream from Punks as she was pressed against the bedroom window, "MAMA!" One very old duck was waddling around our backyard. "duck" I tell her. I can see the wheels turning in her head.... it is not yellow? it is not floating in my bathtub? "No, mama" she corrects me very calmly, "birrrrd".   We had this same run in the day before when she corrected me on ants. They were not ants, they were bugs.  duh, mama.

10 minutes passed. 20 minutes. Still watching the duck bird waddle around the yard.  Okay, lets go outside and get a close up of this fascinating creature.

"Don't run, you will scare him!" as she sprints out the door all squeals.  Turns out he was not scared.  He opened his wings and let out this crazy QUAAAKKKKK.  Punks u-turns and sprints back towards me, eyes wide.

Plan B. Clearly this duck is used to being harassed by little humans.

I scoop up Punks and we fetch a piece of bread from the house.  Yep, now he wants to be friends with us.

Piece by piece we give him some bread. At that point she was satisfied. On to the next adventure. "Byyyyeee birrrrrrd! seeeee uuuuuu laterrrrr birrrrrd!"

And we did. This morning I pull back the curtains and our little friend was waiting for us.  I have had many dogs, some fish, never a cat and definitely never a pet duck before. Could be an interesting change.

~SOS~

FOR TWO FITNESS

I have quite a few friends who claim they LOVE being fat, swollen, hormonal preggers.  um, huh?  I have had two babies and nothing about being pregnant equals love.  You swell up so big you dont even recognize your own ankles. Heart burn rages. Hormones fly out of control. Your back hurts. Your knees hurt. Hell, everything hurts.

The only thing that made me feel better was exercise. I craved it.  Had to have it. Couldn't live without it. every. single. day.  Right up until the day before birth. I would have gone the day I gave birth if I hadn't gone into labor so early in the day. Every morning before my hubbie got engulfed in his work I would ask, "Soooooo, when can I exercise today?" I could feel the roll of his eyes.  He really didn't have time to take 3 hours out of his day to babysit a crazy toddler so I could exercise, but he did it.  For me. For my sanity. For his own sanity.

So once a day I would head to Bikram yoga or to the pool where I could sweat and get those addictive endorphins pumping so I would be a little less psychotic crazy.  At least for 24 hours or so.

The weeks passed and my belly grew and grew. and grew.  At the pool I would wear a two piece. Yes, I did.  At yoga I wore tiny shorts and a tank top. Why not just a sports bra you ask?  because  There were certain poses that showed off my growing back fat rolls. I have an opposition to back fat.  It is gross.  I bought some XL tanks, but they were so huge and whale-ish.  And then I stumbled on For Two Fitness.  The tanks hugged my belly.  They hid my back fat. They were comfortable. They were super cute!  I fell in love!  Oh wait, something I loved about being pregnant? Anytime you don't feel like a whale when your pregnant equals love in my book.  Even if just for a few hours.

 

Then.

A beautiful baby.  No more swelling. No more bloating. No more heart burn. No more raging hormones.  Fantastic.  Oh wait, I forgot she has to eat every two hours.  even at night.  Sleep deprivation. Poopy diapers. Spit up. Sure is cute though laying there gurgling bubbles at me. Wonder what she is thinking.

I think... I will go back to yoga. Keep wearing my For Two Fitness tanks for now.  Until I lose the baby belly.  Hopefully, people will just think I am preggers, not sporting a beer belly.  you know you care what people think of you too... yes, you do.

~SOS~

MOVING ON

A screaming cry from Little K wrenched me from sleep this morning. After I tucked my heart back into my chest I checked the clock. 3:38am. awesome.

Of course Little K ate and went right back to sleep. I was wide awake so I started to pack. We have been in Texas for a few months, coming from LA and are finally headed out to Florida next week. While it has been a fabulous adventure shacking up with my parents, we must say goodbye. There are a few new claw prints in their hardwood, scribbles on the wall and stains on the couch. We even managed to take down the whole house with the flu passed on from one germy Punks. All of this to say thank you. We are a family that gives.

booties to save the hardwood

I was thrilled to get out of the city of nuts where so many strive for such perfection that they loose the sense of who they really are.  Hollywood is no role model yet everyone wants to be part of the hype. All of this while the homeless guy on the corner jumps out and scares you every time you pass by.  Don't get me wrong, it was much fun in the beginning, but once I had kids, I realized just how shallow the pool really was.

That being said...

I am sure Florida will bring a whole new adventure. When I scrolled the website for our new community, I came across a list of social groups you could take part in. While I might be tempted to be part of the book club, garden club, rotary, bunko club ... um never mind, I have never really been a "club" sort of girl. Oh wait, maybe the Moms Club? Consisting of "a special group of women and children that coordinate play dates and activities to fill our days with a little less stress and a little more fun!"

The International MOMS Club® is an international non-profit organization aimed at providing support for mothers who have chosen to stay home and raise their children. They also have some members that work part-time. Founded in 2002, the MOMS Club® includes member moms of varying ages, with kids ranging from newborns up to school aged.

really?

So, off we are on our new adventure. Thank goodness for my husband. While I have always been independent, I can't imagine the road now without him.  I have high hopes for Florida. A place we will raise our kids and live happily ever after. Maybe without some of the featured social groups.

Kinda like the the booger Punks dug out of her nose this morning and wiped on my leg.  "ahhhh, boogie mama me" Life consists of the good, the bad, the boogie. 

Although I am hoping...

we have made a few friends who can vouch for us before they realize I blogged about them prematurely...

... just in case I do decide to join a featured social group
~SOS~

SHARK BITE

I have a friend. Lets call him L. He is funny. His is kind. He is crazy. He is a Marine. He loves his country and has served two tours in Iraq. He is a true hero.

A few weeks ago his troop was training off the coast of Hawaii. While they were diving a curious baby Tiger Shark decided to check out what they were doing. Apparently the shark came out of nowhere and took a snack bite out of L's arm and another Marine. Then he proceeded to clamp down on a third guy only this time he did not let go.  Little Mister Tiger decided he liked this guy best and swam away carrying the guy out to sea as he was thrashing for his life.

Let us think for a minute... what would you do if a shark started to swim out to sea with your friend? Panic? Freak out? Stare in shock?

L and another Marine swam after the shark. They caught Mister Tiger and started beating on him.

The shark let go and the guy lived. They all lived.

How is that for an ego booster?   

HOORAH!
~SOS~

STRAIGHT UP THE MOUNTAIN

I lived in Vail, Colorado for four of the most incredible years of my life. I was the Activity Director of a private club attached to the ginormous Vail Resorts.  So many activities for the members, yet the snowshoe hike always proved the most popular.  A group of us would hike up Bachelor Gulch Mountain to Zach's Cabin for dinner, hopefully the full moon lighting the way.

One night things went awry.  There was a Marine in the group.  He decided to hell with the trail, he was headed straight up. The quickest route. That made the most sense.  There was wine and a warm fire waiting at the cabin.  Now, if you have ever hiked a snow covered mountain, you know that going straight up a blue slope is near impossible for most.  Half my group started to follow him and the other half was lagging behind.  Everyone gasping for air, me included.  Everyone, except the Marine of course.  My nerves started to tingle.  My blood pressure rising. The group was breaking apart. Dark night. Steep, snowy mountain. Not good.  I had to call for back-up. Forty minutes and six snowmobiles later there were some very exhausted hikers, but everyone made it to the cabin. Once I peeled off my layers and brushed off the snow I was extremely angry pissed. Blood boiling. I hunt down the marine and give him a piece of my mind. His reply: "Wanna go out?" I'm sorry WTF? Is he serious?!? All I could do was walk away.  It would have been unprofessional to smack him.

He stalked called me for a few weeks and I finally agreed to go out with him. We decided for our first date it was only appropriate to take a snowshoe hike, him promising it would not be straight up. He vowed to follow my lead.  So, we hiked and drank wine and ended up at the cabin where we drank more wine and talked for hours by the fire.  After dinner we noodled with the idea of sliding down the mountain on our butts, but in the end we decided it wise to take the Snowcat down. No need to call in the snowmobiles tonight.

The following month, another snowshoe hike.  This time I lit up the trail with bright green glow sticks. Follow the sticks I told my hikers as I scanned the crowd.  The Marine was back. I give him my best "you better follow the sticks" glare.  He smiled back at me. He didn't follow the sticks. And neither did a handful of others. What is up with men and their egos? Once again I call in the snowmobiles to round everyone up and get them to the cabin.

And that is how the adventure has continued on ever since. It has been an incredible journey and although difficult at times, I could not imagine life without the crazy Marine. He is always seeking out the next mountain to climb and never even hesitates to take it head on.

The mountain we are headed up at the moment is getting a lot of attention. It all started with an article he wrote for Ranger Up and snowballed into Alchemist Management. I am so incredibly proud of what he has accomplished so far and yet it is only the beginning.  He continues to amaze me everyday.

a few of the boys

So, we are headed up this very steep mountain. Together. And no matter what lies ahead, he will always be that crazy, hardheaded, punk ass Marine I met on the mountain one dark night eight years ago to me.
~SOS~

THE BUBBLE

I have always had a big bubble. No, I don't mean my backside.  I mean the "bubble" as in the space between me and you.  Why do people not get this simple courtesy? Let me summarize.

1.  I do not desire to smell the onion rings you had for lunch. the deodorant you should be wearing. or the expensive perfume you are wearing. This will make me hold my breath and hope you will go away before I pass out.

2.  Your story is not going to be better understood the closer you get to my face.  Purell makes my face dry, please do not spittle on me when you talk.

3.  Your not going to get through the line faster by taking two steps to my one and your breath on my back is making my skin crawl.

So, here is a good rule of thumb in case you are unaware about personal space.
Women: If your boob is touching me, your too close.
Men: Picture the length of your penis foot. No, the actual size. Multiply by three. Now, you can take off a few inches because we know your still exaggerating.

Do not come any closer.
~SOS~

PHENOMENON

Facebook. A great way to keep up with my 550 people I have associated with at one point or another in my life friends. You can find out who is pregnant, unemployed, in a relationship, married, divorced, sick in the head and so many other things as you prowl the pages. What a wealth of drama information. Tooooo much information sometimes. It is like a real life soap opera. online.

However.

In my opinion. and we all know opinions are like... well, you know.  One thing Facebook needs improvement on is their buttons. At current we only have a LIKE button. So, you can go around and LIKE pictures, comments, status, bands, restaurants, anything really that you come across. Thank goodness if you get carried away you can UNLIKE too.

Still wouldn't it be great if there were other buttons such as WHO STOLE MY PANTS button, MEET ME AT HAPPY HOUR button, or even a GET A LIFE button.

If your a parent you could make use of the DO THE DISHES AND CLEAN UP YOUR ROOM button, GET YOUR ASS HOME NOW button, YOUR GROUNDED button.

You could communicate with your significant other too with a DO ME NOW button, SORRY I HAVE A HEADACHE button, or YES, HONEY. 


wow.

Imagine the possibilities. Verbal communication is so over. Who needs to dial a number and speak when you can just text? Better yet, you can Facebook. Never again would you have to call your husband at work to ask when he might be home. You can just Facebook him.  KIDS AT PLAYDATES and BE HERE IN 10?  Boom. 2 buttons. done.

It seems the times are changing and communication is now faster, more efficient and... brilliant.
~SOS~

COMB-OVER

I really have nothing to say about this except my 3 month old's bald spot is some of the softest skin I have ever touched. I feel bad for her that there is not enough hair to do a comb-over, but she doesn't seem to mind. and yes, that is a birth mark...

NOURISHMENT

What up with Diet Coke drinkers? They are obsessive and crazy and their need for Diet Coke is like a heroin addiction. When guests, friends, my mother-in-law, anyone really, comes over to my house they are appalled that I do not have the silver cans in my frig. What, no Diet Coke? Why can I not understand the goodness of that sweet caramel bubble river? What I do understand is Diet Coke will take the ring right out of your toilet bowl. Yup, just leave it there overnight and let those cute little caramel bubbles do their magic. In the morning, viola. Clean toilet bowl.

If you are one of those crazed Diet Coke drinkers, forgive me. I just do not understand the obsession. How do you even choose which variation of the same drink you prefer?  Some days you feel like lime and other days you feel like cherry?  Or is it a loyalty thing and you only drink Diet Coke with Splenda. no exceptions. And for the love of crazy, are you really going to tell me Diet Coke Plus is good for you because it has B6, B12, zinc and magnesium? When I was growing up, I learned the difference between good food and bad food and I am pretty sure Diet Coke did not appear on the Food Pyramid. I am also pretty sure that it is best to get your vitamins from, ohhh, I don't know, food? Maybe you could have some whole grain cigarettes with your vitamin rich Diet Coke. Some antioxidant beer on Friday night. Pair up your serotonin wine with some cholesterol lowering sausage links.

No thank you Diet Coke, I prefer to get my vitamins from Trader Joe's Chocolate Powerberries.
~SOS~

UM, WOW

I just got my car back from the shop. It has been there for a month. Damn Texas roads are dark at night. The exit ramps should be lit up with some kind of reflectors. or a sign. a street lamp. something. A tree jumped out of nowhere. Nobody was hurt. The dog, a little shocked. Didn't much like the taste of dashboard. or windshield. However, the tree seriously liked the taste of my car. Grabbed a huge bite of the front quarter panel and drive shaft. and the license plate. yum. 13k dinner for tree. My perfect driving record now has a big red slash. blinking red lights: warning!
But this is not my story.

My baby sister is getting married in a few months and I went to the party store to get the decorations for her lingerie shower and bachelorette outing. Ohhh la laa. I walk out of the store in a good mood. oooo-eeee,  this is gonna be good.  

Holy. What the eff? MY CAR!?!?! There is a huge scratch along the passenger side. Seems a red car danced with my car and then took off. Asshole. Someone is gonna hear about this!

Hello!? non-emergency police? yes, someone hit my car and took off. I give the lady on the other end of the phone the gory details of how my newly painted car is in ruins. She assures me that someone is being dispatched as we speak directly to the scene of the crime. Thank you very much I say completely satisfied with myself. This situation is getting handled. I am, however annoyed pissed the car will be going back to the shop. grrrrrr

then .... ohhh shit. wait! um, ma'am....  ummm. wrong car. sorry. eeekkk!

I can feel the roll of her eyes as she hangs up on me. I look at the ground, pretend she is still there and say thank you, goodbye. There are a few people watching my tantrum and at this point I am not sure what to do. So, I gesture at the scratched door and mumble, "that sucks".  Then, I pull my baseball cap down over my eyes and haul my dumb ass across the parking lot to MY still beautiful, newly painted, non-scratched car.

Guess I wont be going back to that side of town again... EVER.
~SOS~

SHOO TOOTH FAIRY

The tooth fairy is one crazy bitch in my opinion. She has two personalities and one of them is straight up mean witch.  Maybe she was an outcast in fairy school. Maybe the other fairies are mean to her and don't invite her to tea. Whatever the reason, she needs therapy.

Yes, she brings treats to little gummied children as they lay sleeping in their bed. The only time, aside from Christmas Eve that children will go to sleep willingly.  For this, she gets a few points. Ohhh, the excitement of loosing a tooth. Children can hardly stand the waiting, with all the anticipation of what the good fairy will bring them.

However, when the mood strikes Miss Fairy, she turns ugly and you never even see it coming. I wish I knew what provoked her. Maybe I could bribe her with more teeth or some chocolate chip cookies. something. whatever she wants.

This morning the wicked fairy thought it funny to hit up Little K while she was nursing. All of the sudden Little K clamped down hard and started teething on me! YIKES  as I attempt to rip myself from her jaws. Little K just looked up at me like, "whats wrong, mama?" I could feel the snicker of the evil fairy.  Show your face fairy. I've got something for you.  A few hours later, she struck again. Little K was drooling and crying with a nice fever to accompany the pain in her tiny gums. Seriously Miss Fairy, just tell me what you want. A new dress? what? anything can be negotiated.

Nope, Miss Fairy is not a nice fairy. She gets her mean on when children are small only to redeem herself years later by bringing them treats in exchange for their little teeth. Which raises the age old question: what does she do with all those teeth? Everyone is happy. for a few years.  You almost forget about her.  maybe that is the problem? Then, wham. She shows up again with no warning wearing her evil grin. Coming out of nowhere trying to cram some more teeth in your already filled up mouth.  Calling them 'wisdom teeth'. Funny fairy. very freakin' funny fairy. hilarious.

Someone please hire a hit man fairy and let's take this bitch out.

~SOS~

WEARIN HIS SIX-SHOOTER

Coming from Los Angeles, Punks is somewhat unaware of cowboys. Houston is packed full of them. Their ranches are somewhere out west and they are anxious to get back as soon as they take care of some business here in the city. We are working on her knowledge of Cowboys. Auntie K and Uncle Chris got her some pink boots for Christmas. Complete with a silver toe in case she really wants to get after it.

Punks and I went to the grocery store this morning.  "mama, mama, mama, oooooook" she points. There he was.  In true cowboy fashion.  Worn out Wranglers, sun faded shit kickers, Texas sized belt. He was missing only the lasso and the horse. He walked slowly past her, tipped his hat, a slight smile. She fell apart in giggles screaming "mamamamamama, mmeeeeee!"

And then he was gone. Through the sliding doors.
In search of whiskey, miss kitty, a place to hang his hat.

TURBULENCE

There are two types of turbulence. One kind is when the airplane drops twenty feet, everyone gasps and looks around to make sure the plane is still in tact. The other is flying with two very small children. 2 months and 25 months. We are moving to Florida. Pit stop in Texas to spend Christmas with my family. Hubby had to drive Mister (our 100 pound yellow lab).  So, I was on my own with the girls, two car seats, a stroller and enough luggage for three weeks in tow.

GRINCH

This year we are spending Christmas with my parents. My mom was just here about a month ago and Punks is still looking for her, in the bathtub, in the closet of the guest room as if I am hiding her somewhere. Punks will let out one of her high volume screams when she sees Nana again.  And we will see Papa who is the other half of Nana and thinks it hilarious to spoil the girls rotten as payback for me being a crazy wild child. 

The fall is my favorite time most wonderful time of the year and yet the kids' birthdays and Christmas Day quickly hit the top of the list as my least favorite. Your a mean one, Mr. Grinch. You really are a heel.  Why am I such a grinch?  your as cuddly as a cactus, your as charming as an eel. TOYS TOYS and MORE TOYS! And as all mom's of girls know, every damn thing is PINK. Punks' room already looks like barbie throw-up. you have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile, Mr. Grinch.  PINK PINK everywhere. ugh. These toys make me crazy not because they make obnoxious noises or because when I trip over them I almost break my ankle or at the very least acquire a new bruise or even because they leave puncture wounds in my feet. nope  It is the packaging and assembly of these horrendous things. you're a bad banana with a greasy black peel.

Lets start with the plastic casing. It is stuck together so tight you need some sort of sharp object to get it open. My husband likes to use his pocket knife which he uses to cut everything from snacks to mail and oh yeah, Punks' umbilical cord when she was born.  And if you have had five a few glasses of wine, the sharp plastic almost always draws blood. When the casing is finally pried away from the toy, you see your daughter's face light up with excitement as she reaches for her PINK toy, doll, noise maker, whatever.  But wait, there is more. There are wires holding this toy to the plastic! Are you effin' kidding me? DAMN! What jack*ss came up with this packaging idea?

You hand the toy to your child. "MAMA, MAMA!" ear deafening volume "WHAT!?!" your a monster, Mr. Grinch. your heart's an empty hole. She hands me the pieces. oh dear lord, there is more. It has to be assembled.  you're a crooked dirty jockey and you drive a crooked hoss, Mr. Grinch. There are directions, twisting, tightening and snapping pieces together and finally it is complete. whew.  

running time... 25 minutes

And then.... along will come Papa with another present to unwrap, plucked from the toy mountain under the tree. he will have a devious smile on his face. the instigator. here we go. again. round two. grrr.  I will give him my most nastiest look. your heart is full of unwashed socks, your soul is full of gunk, Mr. Grinch.

"MAMA, whats wrong?" "Nothing! No more presents for you!"   The three words that best describe you are as follows, and I quote, stink, stank, stunk

 

where is that bottle of wine?
~SOS

TEXAS GIRL

TO ALL MY HOUSTONIANS OUT THERE

Although I don't live there anymore and probably never will again, I still feel a great love for the city where I grew up. We get to spend Christmas there this year with my whole famn damily. Here are some of my favorite things:

NAKEDNESS

It seems punks loves to feel the air on her skin. Last night, using one of her squawk calls, "MAMA, MAMA, MAAAMAAAA!" I finally gave in and went to see what the hell she wanted at 3am. She wanted milk, of course. But what I also found was a completely naked child, no diaper, no nothing and a very wet bed. She then proceeded to use her crib as a trampoline and fell apart in a fit of laughter. a toddler's sense of humor can be a little off sometimes. 

My conclusion is that nakedness is genetic. When I first met my hubby, we used to joke that his friends had seen him naked more than I had. I heard story after story of him running naked in college. Like when his brothers found him passed out in front of the church after he tried to break in with his dog running circles around him in attempt to wake him.  um, your bed is next door in the fraternity house. Even now when the boys get together for their nights of debauchery, you will inevitably always hear the famous line, "Who stole my pants?!" Thankfully, my hubby keeps his clothes on in public now, although not by preference I am sure.

So, I am hoping punks is going through a phase and will grow out of this because if she acts like her father did in college we are in some serious trouble. shooo karma, do not set up shop here.

It fits. Daddy's little girl, she is her father's daughter.
~SOS

FALL TO YOUR KNEES

I haven't said much in a while probably because I am still reeling at the shock of baby girl #2. We don't really have a pet name for her yet. My husband calls her "deuce" but this is not going to stick because of obvious reasons that I will not explain. When I was pregnant with both girls he had the name Leonitius picked out for a boy.  I'm 90% sure he was serious. Only a man would come up with names like that for their child. Perhaps if she were a boy I would let "deuce" slide. However, I would never agree to Leonitius.  Anyhooo, I am still trying to figure out why it feels like I have five children now instead of just two? Having one was fantastic, but throw another into the mix and all I do is change diapers and chase punks while #2 is a permanent fixture emerging from my boob. My brain is not even functioning at half capacity due to the fact I can't string together more than two hours of sleep at a time and if I am lucky a whopping five total for the night. It seems eating, showering (at least before noon) and sleeping is a thing of the past, at least for now. I have not one, but two shadows. I often find myself wondering about people who have more than two children... do they know how children are made or are they just straight up crazy?

This morning as my boob extension is latched on uncomfortably tight, I ask my hubby to please change punks dirty diaper and he says, wait for it... "not what I had in mind first thing in the morning, that is your job" I think I even saw some chest pumping as he was exiting the room.

Now, hold up. I will say I am happy we both agree I am the best candidate to raise our children. It is the most rewarding 24 hour-a-day, 365 days-a-year, non-stop, no-lunch-break or football-Sunday-time JOB on the planet, but I do not always appreciate my hubby's caveman like thinking. Still let us lay this out...

My hubby is a sports agent and so he jets all over the world representing his MMA fighters. He just came back from Germany and is set for Australia in late February. (I am going to Australia, *smile*) There will also be some trips in between to Canada and who knows where else. So, I am in all aspects of the word, a single mom a lot of the time. He negotiates big contracts and rubs elbows with the whos who in the fighting world because, well he manages some of the top fighters. However, when I escape to yoga when he is here, my only escape alone ... I get home and he always has a bewildered look on his face and is generally mumbling something about punks being the tasmanian devil and #2 being high maintenance. #2 is six weeks old. A few of his mumbles as the house is always in shambles: "Honey, you cant get anything done when you have the girls!" & "Please take #2, I have to go to the bathroom!" you held your pee for 2 hours?! The best was when #2 projectile pooped on him while he was changing her and although funny, the joke was on me in the end because I was the one cleaning it up when I got home. So, the short of it is, my hubby can run with the big boys, but two tiny girls bring him to his knees. Good job girls. 

I love staying home with my girls. #2 sleeps in the bed with us much to hubby's disapproval. Last night he really pushed me to put her in her own bed even when I told him it wouldn't work.  Of course it didn't and as soon as I set her down she was wide awake. I went downstairs to show hubby his plan didn't work and he was snoring on the couch. awesome. I banged around a bit and made some noise in an effort to rise him and he snored right through it all. He must have been tired. Imagine that. Meanwhile it took me three hours to get her back to sleep. last time I listen to him.

It would be nice to have a little more help from hubby... especially when both girls are crying, but I wouldn't trade my JOB for the world. I sometimes wish I could take a nap, but Bikram keeps saying in class that the Ardha-Kurmasana yoga pose has more benefits than eight hours of sleep. I think I will go do that pose now. I'm tired.

Signing off for now,
SOS

NEWBORN BABIES ARE NOT AS CUTE AS THEY APPEAR.

The arrival of #2.