The Birdies and the Bees

#2 has been pestering me about the whereabouts of my pee-pee.

As in, "So do you have a pee-pee or what?"

This is a conversation that keeps rearing it's ugly head (in various public places like the bathroom at Ikea and the mall parking lot), so I decided that we would just go ahead and hash out the whole boys-and-girls-are-different-so-deal-with-it thing.

Luckily when he brought up my "inside the butt pee-pee" at Ikea, and the questions about what my pee-pee is called if it's not a "hangy out" kinda pee-pee I was able to put him off, distract him, let's say, with a swift ninja kick to the throat.

Kidding!

I totally just covered his mouth and put him in a Rowdy Roddy Piper sleeper hold knowing that the conversation would undoubtedly resurface once he was at home and revived, so we could talk about it then.

Me: No, Bud, no pee-pee. I'm a girl so my body is different from yours.

#2: Did you ever have one, or was it always not there?

Me: Nope. I was born without one. I have girl parts instead (feel free to chastise my not using the word, but seriously only things to call "it" that came to my mind at the time was va-jay-jay, poohnanie, and vag. All totally inappropriate and I really just don't want him rolling around town talking about my VAGINA. And, he really is "that kid", just believe me when I tell you that).

#2: Did they forget to put it on?

Me: (Curiosity got me here) They who?

#2: God.

Me: No. He didn't forget because he never forgets things. He made me this way so that I could be a lady, so Daddy would want to marry me and make me a mommy (or vice versa in our case: make me a mommy and then marry me).

#2: Maybe you should just ask Him for a pee-pee then(not sure why I'd want to do that since people with pee-pee's have smaller brains. Don't worry, I didn't actually say that even though it's true).

Me: But, then I wouldn't be a lady anymore. I'd be a dude like Daddy. Then you'd have a man mommy (Not totally unheard of, but I guess the visual creeped him out enough to make him stop his absurd push for my increased masculinity. I mean, I already have a mustache, am curiously working on a beard, and have rendered myself medically sterile, what more does he want?). You don't want me to be a man mommy, do you?

#2: Nope, that would be ridiculous.

That's right son, it would.

Feel free to share your birds and the bees talk with me as I'm sure that the need to have a serious one with #1 is approaching.

I intend to put this discussion off for as long as possible, which based on his aversion to discussing the opposite sex in any capacity, could, quite possibly, be forever. And, while I'm not totally against that idea, I'd hate to have the naive loser kid that honestly believes all the bull crap you hear as a preteen about where babies come from (you know, can't happen first time, could get pregnant from a toilet seat, etc).

So, feel free to share your words with me or it may go like this:

Me: So, um any questions about, um, you know, like, stuff? (Breaks out into malodorous sweat)

#1: Um, yeah, no, no questions.

Me: So, you sure, like you know the stuff about, like all that kinda stuff, or whatever?

#1: Yeah, like, pretty clear, or, I don't really need any more.

Me: So, great. Okay, if you like, I don't know, you know, like, come up with something, like I guess you could maybe ask, you know, if you want, or whatever.

#1: Blinks. Stares out window in silence. Bites lip awkwardly, while considering if he should throw himself from the moving car.

Me: So, do you have homework?

So, um, yeah...HELP!

Saturday Swag-urday: Diaper Duty, The Finale

I know, all of you skeptics out there are probably surprised to discover that PBD is still sheathing #3 in the cloth diapers, but, HAHA!, we are!

I still count myself among the fans of the cloth, despite the fact that I have to rinse them in a bucket every day and wash them all by their lonesome in the washing machine each night (admittedly, this part really does suck).

As annoyingly time consuming and sucktastic is this sounds, I'm thinking it's worth it.

We were spending about $50 per month (one huge box of Huggies from Costco for $39 and one small bag of Luvs from Target for $8) on diapers pre-cloth.

Now, we spend approximately $16 per month on disposable diapers (plus another $14 for the G-diaper inserts). We have not purchased any additional cloth ones either (we have 4 regular cloth diapers and two G-diapers in our arsenal).

So, basically, we are saving about $30 a month on diapering (and if you're a stickler go ahead and add in a couple of bucks for running the washing machine a little more, although I honestly haven't seen an increase in the water and/or electricity bills, but we did get new windows so...).

I feel like $20 a month is worth the extra little hassle the cloth diapers cause me. Because, twenty bucks a month adds up to about (I'm no math whiz)$240 dollars a year?

Do you know what I can buy with $240 a year?

Let me tell you:

I could buy this hot little number:



And, I could wear these with it:



And, I could pay for my entry to SITScation so that I'd have someplace fancy to wear my new gear to (although I'd have to save diaper money for like three years to pay for all these things, so I'm thinking I might just potty train him soon to move the whole process along).

But, until I do, I'm gonna keep shoving his booty into the cloth because, if nothing else the things are environmentally friendly, work wonders on his sensitive nether regions, and they are also pretty easy on the eyes.

Still not convinced?

Let me introduce you to Bum Genius.

I know you've probably already met these little heroes, since they are some of the most popular cloth diapers on the market, so I'll keep it short.

Best part about the Bum Genius all-in-one cloth diaper is the stretchy Velcro tabs that make diapering quick and easy for you, and comfortable for baby.

They go on just as easily as the disposables you are used to. They are waterproof on the outside, and they are fitted with an absorbent microfiber core that soaks up all the nasty, leaving baby feeling dry, even if he sleeps in them during the night.

And, they are CA-UTE too!

See...




I try to make sure this one is clean every morning because I like him to have it available during the day.

But, if full on cloth is not your thing, you may be interested in a hybrid that has the environmental friendliness of a cloth diaper without all of the rinsing-soaking-washing-drying-repeat work of them.

Is there such a miracle in this world?

Um, yeah, actually, there is: gDiapers.

Personally, I like this one the most (you know, 'cause I'm sorta lazy) as it allows for the quickest changes, just pop out inner liner, throw the disposable insert away (or flush it even, gasp!), snap in another liner and insert, and off you go.

Easy peasey that's fo' sheezy.

I'm not sure what the g in gDiapers stands for, but if I had to guess, I'd say it stands for gangster because these diapers kick all the other diaper's a**es!

Only draw back to the gDiaper is that you have to buy replacement inserts which are as expensive as regular disposables.

We just try to alternate among the three; we use the disposables when we're out, we use the regular cloth for most of the day, and I use the gDiapers when I think he's about to drop a deucer (barring his mud butt flare ups, the kid is extremely predictable so it's not really rocket science; he eats, he craps, end of story).

And, in the interest of keeping baby high fashion, I would definitely recommend the gDiapers as they are, in my opinion, the pinnacle of cloth diapering couture: simple, sexy, chic (this description worked better when I thought chic started with an S).

Whatever, they're cute!



Or, maybe it's just the model:)!

Want to know what the smart moms say about Bum Genius and gDiapers? Try here for BG. And, here for gD (had no idea they came in black! See, told you, chic!).

And, last thing, for reals this time.

The winner of last week's uPrinting custom greeting card giveaway is (drum roll, bdrrrrrrrrrr.....): Clueless Mama, from Guessing All The Way!

Woohoo! Go Clueless Mama, it's your birthday, it's your birthday!

Too much enthusiasm for some greeting cards?

Yeah, thought so. You won't be saying that when I'm giving away an iPod or a Flip Video camera (one day, so you better stick around!).



Disclaimer: The diapers were free. But, in the interest of being all up front and honest, I should tell you that I won the gDiapers in a giveaway from another awesome blogging mama. Not sure if this changes your opinion or not, but you you should know, how acquired them had no affect on mine:)!

School is Cool?

I know how you enjoy my poetry (not!) so...Enjoy!

Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
You know what I think?
That I just might hate school.

I thought when it started
that it would be great.
I had no idea,
it'd be something I hate.

I'm all for learning.
I'm all for fun.
But so far this year,
I've seen neither one.

But you know what I have seen?
Lots of crying which stinks.
And, if this crap doesn't stop
it may drive me to drink.

In the morning it's fine,
when the bus pulls away.
But, the crap hits the fan
at the end of the day.

Everyone's spent,
at the end of the wire.
And, these kids, they go nuts,
like their pants are on fire.



They fight, they complain,
they whine and they fuss.
And it takes every fiber,
for me not to cuss.

I'm hoping next week
when the routine is set,
that they'll settle down to,
that they won't need to fret.

But, here is my warning,
my disclaimer let's say.
If they don't get it together
there will be Hell to pay.

So, basically, we had a tough first week back at school.

#1 enjoyed it, but spent every afternoon in a exhausted tizzy, barely able to focus on his plethora of homework (seriously, what kind of an evil genius gives a mom second grader a project to do the very first week of school?), adjust to his new schedule, and have the energy for his after school activities (I'm certain that our community is made up of a secret society of evil masterminds who orchestrated a plot to kill all of the "normal" people by making school and soccer start the exact same week).

#2 and #3 spent the week in big brother withdraw (with tremors and all). The first day, #3 actually spent the first four hours crying, followed by a two hour nap, which he followed with additional crying. Awesome!

#2 spent his free time plotting hideous things he could do to Brother(the only name he ever calls #1) the moment he stepped off the school bus. You know, to punish him for abandoning him in the name of education.

See? It's been a VERY long week.

And, to top it all off, I discovered yesterday that my mother-effing-son-of-a-biscuit-piece-of-crap-dirty-rotten-scoundrel of a refridgerator/freezer has decided that keeping things cold and/or frozen is no longer a priority. So, instead of healthily frozen meat and adequately chilled dairy products, it will instead be offering eat-me-and-die options at room temperature from here on out.

Yep, that's right. My less than five years old, stainless steel, side-by-side, water and ice in door, fancy-pantsy-do-a-dancey, WHIRLPOOL fridge/freezer unit is on the fritz.

Less than two days after I go to the grocery store and fill it with all sorts of overpriced goodies, the effing bastard from the depths of Hell decides to up and break, forcing me to relocate all of my perishables to the kindly working fridge of my (lucky for me) willing neighbor and friend.

Thanks a ton, Mom of Girls, have a string cheese on us.

No word on when the no-ice-ice-box will be up and running again, the service man couldn't be bothered to ring me back yet.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Seriously...

People are crazy.

I'm not talking haha-that's-funny-you-so-crazy crazy either.

I'm talking get-away-from-me-you-psycho-raving-wack-a-do-you-are-CRAZY! crazy.

Somehow, people in both of the above mentioned groups get jobs.

Go figure.

I was at work the other day. Minding my own business while attempting to find something worthy of stuffing my face with.

I found myself in the most unlikely place to satisfy such a need: the work cafeteria.

Everyone has had an experience with the "crazy cafeteria lady".

It's like a given that any reasonably sized, hair net requiring establishment be equipped with such an individual.

You know, like the Seinfeld soup Nazi dude.

Well, my place of occasional employment has one (actually, we get the unique privilege of having like three) of these avoid-at-all-costs-make-your-choice-and-get-out-quick-when-she's-in-the-back type people.

Funny thing, is that she's not necessary to avoid at all times, just most of the time. But, if you can catch her on the right day, at just the right time, under the right re-warming lights, and just the right amount of grease fire exhaust, she's really not so bad.

I mean, other than the fact that I'm pretty sure she swallowed a bullhorn (or some other type of unnatural voice amplification device), she can be down right nice. And, funny.

But, I guess I caught her on an off day.

Or, maybe I caught her on an on day.

Either way, it was a bad day for me when I approached the counter (with an audience of waiting patrons behind me) and before I could decide between the chicken ala nasty a** and the country fried surprise she says (in her loudest Redskins' stadium announcer voice), "Hey, Girl, where you gets that mustache?!"

I mistakenly assumed that a) she wasn't talking to me, and/or b)that if she were, then, at the very least, that was a rhetorical question not requiring my response.

I was incorrect.

And, instead of taking a cue from my horror-stricken-OMG-please-say-you-are-kidding face and moving on she continued with, "Yeah, Girl, I sees it. You has a big ole mustache! Oh, dat's funny."

Seriously, I'm dying here lady, and the fact that you're smiling like an effing Cheshire cat doesn't make it better, it only makes it worse because I'm not sure if you're being intentionally evil or if you're really just that unintentionally stupid.

Either way. Not. Cool.

But, she can't stop. Even though I am essentially dumbstruck into an unnatural frozen silence, she goes on, "Dat's cute. I gots me one too, lookit. Mines is just like yours, all dark. Dat's cool. What chu want to eat?"

No ma'am. It most certainly is not cool.

And, you having one doesn't make it okay, it makes it suck even more.

And, when did my personal appearance become an approved topic of discussion for the hair netted, gingham printed shirt wearing, plastic glove clad set? Is nothing sacred?

And, don't try to hustle me through the line now with your smiling, mustached face.

I hate you and your nasty, a** flavored chicken.

As my fellow cafeteria patrons snickered and/or laughed out loud I proceeded to get the pudding and slink back to my unit, but not before she attempted to engage me a conversation about my kids and whether I'd like to put them in a dance crew which apparently only requires the skill of looking cute, while dancing skill is totally unnecessary (just let me leave).

Thing is, I'm totally aware of my "situation" and I'm used to having the crazy nail shop ladies trying to upsale me on a lip wax when I go in for a brow shape up. You know, that's cool, that's their job, and they at least wait until we're in that dingy back room with the door shut and only the dirty pillow to hear their heavy handed suggestions.

I get it. I need my lip waxed and I've done it before, but it hurts like hell and I always look like Marge Simpson afterward so I try not to do it that often.

But, apparently, it's gotten out of hand, to the point that nonprofessionals are getting involved.

So, in answer to the beauty consultant turned cafeteria maven and Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop for the week, here is my favorite summer craft: Making Homemade Face Wax!

Ingredients: sugar, honey, corn syrup, lemon juice (not sure how much of each, but I guess we want it to be sticky)

Directions: Microwave ingredients until they melt together, but don't boil. Add a little lemon juice and stir while it's hot to add a cleansing quality (some mumbo jumbo about lemon acid killing bacteria, yeah, right). Once cool, powder the area you will wax, then spread the wax across the area. Use a cloth to remove the wax or pull it off with your fingers when it dries.

Voila!

Hair free awesomeness.

And, since she more than deserves it. Here is this week's Thank You Thursday card.

Thank you, and you're welcome!





Card reads: Pretty sure you can see it this week. No explanation required.

Wordful (Ooo! Ooo! Pick me!) Wednesday

So, I'm not the only one who does super-cool-totally-awesome-blow-you-away giveaways like this one!

Actually, tons of bloggers offer way better stuff than what I'm able to rummage around for.

Like the SITS chicks (please tell me you know of the most awesome blog site on the PA-Lanet!).

They are the ones hosting the blog conference this October in Las Vegas that I am begging, borrowing, and stealing from everyone I know to attend.

You know, the one I'm planning on selling my self out for at the Bunny Ranch (or some way less well known, way more seedy establishment if need be)?

Yeah, that's the one.

I'm going with BFF to it and I'm so effing excited I could do a toe touch (not the jump in the air kind because that is physiologically impossible, I'm talkin' the bend over and touch 'em kind, which for me is BIG!).

Anyway.

They partnered up with Whrrl.com to do this awesome giveaway that would allow some extra-special-totally-deserving-eager-to-avoid-doing-hard-time-for-prostitution blogger like myself a FREE RIDE to SITScation!

And, all I had to do is make up a super cool story that people would enjoy reading (easy, right?) and post it on their site.

See...

Powered by Whrrl

Cool, right?

And, now I'm entered and I'm keeping all ten of my fingers crossed like constantly and I will probably have arthritis so badly by the time I get there that none of the other super cool bloggers I'm going there to stalk meet will even want to talk to me.

But, even if my wicked witch hands get me ostracized by the cool people, at least I'll have my first overnight trip away from the rat pack over here and I won't even have to rent myself out to some creepy-Roscoe-P.-Coltrane-donkey-booty-car-salesman to do it.

So. Worth. It.

Go! Fight! Win!

So, I'm kinda awesome.

Perhaps you already had an idea about that, but, now other people (like Hubby) are starting to recognize too.

This past weekend we celebrated his 33rd (yep, I said it) birthday.

And, by celebrated I mean I (along with the help from the even-more-awesomer-than-me people at RazorGator and Event Chaser) was able to secure him tickets to see the World Champion Pittsburgh Steelers take on the Washington Redskins at Fed Ex field.

I'm not a huge football fan.

Let me rephrase that. I am not a football fan at all.

Don't hate it, but definitely don't love it.

Matter of fact, the last time I paid really close attention to the goings on on a football field, I was scantily (not really, our uniforms had sweaters, long sleeved sweaters 'cause it was effing freezing during football season) clad in a cheerleading uniform enthusiastically shouting Go! Fight! Win! as the boy I was pinning after ran up and down the field like a rocket.

Currently, I attend sporting events for two reasons:
1. The food, and
2. The between play song action during which you can find me jumping around, stomping, clapping, and chanting the team slogans like a true fan as I desperately attempt to get spotted by the cameras so that I may enjoy my 30 seconds of fame on the Jumbotron. Yes, that was me doing the snake on the ESPN highlight reel last Saturday (kidding, but would totally be stoked if that really happened to me).

But, Hubby.... He's a fan.

Not a fan of the Steelers or (definitely not) the Redskins (he loves the 49ers).

But a fan of the game.

And, even though it was a preseason game, he was elated to discover that he would be a few (hundred) feet away from the likes of Troy Polamalu, Willie Parker, and Hines Ward (and some of those good players on the Redskins whose names he refused to share with me).

And he wasn't the only fan there.

The stadium was filled with the terrible towels of the Steelers and the rally rags of the Redskins (which they gave us for free upon entry, woot!).

It was a sea of gold, and black, and maroon (or whatever shade of red that is)...



There were also the die hard men-women-dressed-pigs, officially known as the Hoggettes...(the hog in the middle is actually me!)



Fun, right?!

Know what wasn't fun, though?

Having to chuck a perfectly good backpack and two umbrellas in the garbage can because apparently they aren't allowed inside of the stadium no matter how hard it is pouring outside.

WTF?!

No umbrellas?

I guess they are afraid that some drunk-off-his-a** Redskins fan could use his rain gear to bludgeon overzealous fans of opposing teams, but honestly, I just wanted to stay dry and not have to spend the entire game looking like this...



Luckily, the rain didn't last much past the first quarter and I was able to eat my bratwurst and my nachos in uninhibited-by-psycho-80s-hair peace.

Most exciting part of the whole night (other than watching the basically naked cheerleaders do their whole stripper dance routine for two hours straight; someone please hire these girls for a reality show, they are DESPERATE) was observing the huge police presence at FedEx Field in action.

It might possibly be the safest place to be in the DC Metro area on game night, provided you are not an obnoxiously drunken reveler.

If you are an obnoxiously drunken reveler, you are in direct violation of the Redskins' 18 page (okay not really, but it's super long, man) code of conduct and you will be tossed out on your ear, or your a**, depending on just how drunk you actually are.

Lucky for me (& Hubby) I wasn't drunk as it ALWAYS leads to bad things (or good things provided that you don't know me personally and therefore would not be directly impacted by my engaging in embarrassing and/or worthy of police intervention type behavior, in which case me drunk is funny).

We had a really nice (until my bloody, evil migraine kicked in and ruined it all) time hanging out together.

I almost remembered why I married the guy!

Want to read more about our outing? 'Course you do.

Check me out on Event Chaser!

Moment of Silence

Today may (fingers crossed) actually hold one.

And, if nothing else, today deserves one.

Because today, #1 headed back here...



It's the first day of school for my happy little second grader.

Can't believe that a few short years ago he was scampering off to his first day of kindergarten.

He is so grown up, all intellectual and articulate.

And, the fact that he will soon no longer be my little boy is driven home (like a wooden stake through the heart) when a fast, bikini wearing, hussy girl streaks across the beach (like a some sleazy sex kitten I might add) and embraces him (against his will I'm sure, he only hugged her back b/c he didn't want to embarrass her), rambling on in that OMG-screamy-screetchy-annoyingly-unbelievably-high-pitched-giggle-infused-girly voice about how "CA-UTE" he is.

Seriously!

I'm standing right here.

I am his mother and I demand that you unhand him at once!

He is not CA-UTE (okay, he is, but you can't say it), he is smart and friendly and a good sport and do you know that he has only lost like one tooth and I still pick out his clothes?!

In the name of all that is holy, unhanded him! Unhand him this very instant or so help me!

And, are you talking about him to your friends???

Honestly, how old are you (eyes narrow suspiciously), because I hate to be a kill joy, but he is ONLY 7! You're at least, what 19? 20?

13?!

You are only 13!

That is hardly the body of a 13 year old!

Okay. Deep breath. Don't tackle her, or drown her, or cover her with a towel.

She knows him. He's allowed to have female FRIENDS. Although, I'd prefer her to be a little more Roseann Barr and a little less Paris Hilton, but whatever, FRIENDS are okay.

But, for the record, if you are a vajay-jay owning, prepubescent, hoochie mama interested in interacting with my SEVEN year old, please fill out an application and you will be scheduled for an in depth interview at my earliest convenience.

Please bring in two photographs (one headshot, one full length), your resume, your school transcripts, and a detailed personal statement outlining your family history and your intentions for my son.

Once you have successfully completed your interview (which will include an in depth personality test and a lie detector test administered by a certified official) you will be placed on a waiting list and will be contacted after his 17th birthday (he needs a date for the prom after all).

Girls who know the lyrics to any Britney song (who I think is awesome, but not like, for marrying my son), have seen, or even heard of The Hills, or want to be Redskins cheerleaders when they grow up need not apply.

I (I mean, he) have standards people.

Want to win custom cards click here (and please don't use them to send to my son, we don't accept fan mail!).

Hubby's Day

Hubby does not enjoy my poetry.

He says he does, but I can tell he doesn't.

That's okay, though, I don't enjoy his retelling of obscure historical events, or when he waxes poetic about lyrics to nontraditional hip hop songs, but I listen anyway, sorta.

So here it is:

Ode to the Man I Love (on his birthday which is today in case you were wondering).



Enjoy.

Here ye, Here ye, friends and foes,
I'm gonna tell a bout a man I knows.

He's my babys' daddy, the man in my life,
I'd protect him in a fight with a gun or a knife.

We've been a team for many years,
We've shared so much, some joy, some tears.

But, I can't really say it was love at first glance,
Think it was more like, hey, take off your pants.

Kidding of course, it was much more than that,
For example, I liked how he looked in a hat.

And, I liked his hands, and his really cute face,
So I thought, I might like to hang out at his place.

After a bit, I knew he was for me,
but he didn't see it, so he tried to flee.

By then it was way beyond to late,
and when he moved we continued to date.

We reunited and have since never parted,
even when faced with challenges uncharted.

We had a baby, we waited awhile,
And, finally we did it, we walked down the aisle.

We had more kids, I got fat, he stayed thin,
He says he never notices my double stuffed chin.

Imperfectly matched though we are we're together,
And, I'm guessing that's how it will be till forever.

Happy birthday, Hubby.

XOXO!

Here to win the custom greeting cards and couldn't care less about Hubby or his birthday??? That's cool. Click here!

Saturday Swag-urday: The End is Near

Actually, it's here.

This is the last weekend of #1's summer break.

Monday is D-day (and D in this case stands for Dammit-gotta-get-up-even-earlier-to-sneak-in-time-alone-with-my-coffee-and-my-blog).

So, to commemorate, or lament, the end of summer, here is a summery shot I took of #2 at Mimi's house this week.



And, I know it was only a coupla short months ago that I was all OMG-totally-freakin'-out-people-what-will-I-do-when-the-dudes-are-eagerly-trying-to-kill-each-other-for-the-summer.

And, you're probably wondering why I'm all sentimental and whiny about them heading back to the grind now.

So, I'll tell ya'. I'm huge into overreacting, dramatizing, and basically putting a lot on situations that involve me and my kids (but mostly me).

It's sorta my thing.

I like to work myself into a frenzy over small stuff, make it seem all daunting and insurmountable. Then, when I overcome it, I feel even more triumphant and those around me are more appreciative of my awesomeness.

Yes. It really does work.

So, here goes my next hurdle...

Getting ready for school!

Kidding, I'm totally done already.

Even got my dudes' stuff labeled.

The nice people over at Lovable Labels, sent us a lovely package of labels to try out.



They stick on shoes, clothing, binders, backpacks, lunch bags. Pretty much every piece of junk your kid hauls to school (and normally doesn't ever haul home) will probably make it back to you if you affix one of these personalized, custom made, bad boys to it. Check them out here: Lovable Labels

#2 doesn't start until...actually, can't really even recall when he starts (go me!), but just so he doesn't feel left out when the big day finally arrives, the happy people at Tattoos for Tots sent him some tattoos (#1 won't go near them with a 10 foot pole because they are "for babies"). He has affixed them to various parts of his body, and he even shared them with #3.

We call this look fish belly...



They have tons of different collections to chose from: animals, pirates, automobiles, fruits, insects, plus tons of other girly, cutsie stuff.

Best part. They have the word on the back, so they're kinda educational too!

So, if your little curmudgeons are bath boycotters like mine, they could potentially wear their educational tat for like two weeks straight.

Seriously, who can't learn how to spell sun in two weeks?!

Genius.

And, a giveaway.

It's been a while, right.

Something from UPrinting perhaps?



How about 250 custom greeting cards (you know how I love stationary)?

There are tons of ways to use these. I like to make invitations to star studded events and fan cards for the dudes to hand out to adoring fans.



Basically, I use them as birthday invitations and Valentine's Day/Christmas cards.

They tend to be a hit with friends, family, and adoring fans alike:)!

Want to win your own set of custom postcards?

Two of you can. All you need to do is:

1. Leave a comment telling me how you would use your winnings.
2. Follow PBD (+1)
3. Follow the Tweets (+2)
4. Tell me I'm awesome (no extra entries for this one, but you know you want to do it!)

Contest ends Friday at midnight and winner will be announced on the next Saturday Swag-urday (8/29).

A Day Trip In Pictures

Yesterday. I did something awesome.

Something totally un-Dumb Mom-ish.

I (and my sidekick, aka Mimi) took my dudes to the city.



Baltimore City.

And, it was so fun!

Don't get too overexcited.

We didn't go anywhere daring (like the bus station).

But, we did go someplace fun!



I know, they don't look like they are about to have fun, but they totally did!

Port Discovery is a huge children's museum and (get ready for this) it's 100% hands-on-action-packed-even-#3-can't-break-it-three-levels of awesomeness.

When we first arrived and realized that to get in we'd have to pay $12.95 per person which came up to like 40 bucks or something (I'm no math whiz, you figure it out), I thought, "This place better be the bomb diggity."

And, you know what?

It kinda was.

After spending a good chunk of the day there I was able to put the cost into perspective: a movie is like $10 and this place was way better than a movie!

There were just tons of fun things to do.

#3 learned to drive.



#2 was able to get some shopping done and ring it up himself (now maybe he will quit jockin' me about it at the grocery store).



And, #1 got to lose himself (literally) in this 3 story monster of a climbing, sliding, crawling apparatus.



There was horse back riding...



Tomb Raiding...



Even a pick up soccer game...



And, while the place was primarily #3 proof, he did get to break something and no one even cared...



Okay, so maybe this one kid cared a little and possibly cried for like a couple of minutes, but that's it, and we totally thought she was done playing with it, and really, she should just be glad I have lightening quick reflexes because they are seriously the only thing that prevented her form being bludgeoned by #3 as he excitedly beat the crap outta this log cabin dealy with a stray stick.

But, other than that. All good.

We decided to enjoy lunch outside of the museum (can exit and reenter as much as you want between 10am and 5pm), you know, to take in some local cuisine.

So, to get a real taste of the inner city, we went here...



It may look familiar, but this was a special, Baltimore flavored version of the golden arches.

They had a custom soda dispenser (and by custom, I mean broke the hell up).



They had vintage, metal legged, high chairs (and by vintage, I mean old as hell, will probably collapse and severe a limb if you put your baby in them).



They had unique facilities (and by unique, I mean dirty as hell, thought for a minute we actually were at the bus station).

And, they even had a sign posted which stated that there was a 30 minute dine-in time limit. Woof it down kids, lest they think we're some kind of vagrants.

We didn't spend a lot of time there (less than 30 minutes, didn't want to cut it too close), and then high tailed it back over to the museum for more fun.

We finally left when #3 demonstrated that he was downright exhausted (he laid on the museum floor and tried to take a nap).

I thought it was a hit.

Actually I thought:

Cost of gas to museum: $20
Entrance fees to museum: $40
Seeing the dudes have unbridled, imaginative fun: priceless

And, then I went to pay for my parking and thought, Ah-Hell-to-the-no!

It was $13! I seriously coulda taken an extra kid into the museum for that price.

Way to ruin it, overpriced-non-validating-mother-thieving-parking-deck-owners.

All thanks goes to CK over at Bab Mommy Moments for encouraging me to think outside the I'm-pretty-sure-I'm-scared-to-go-out-in-public-with-my-kids box. Totally worth it!

My toddler, My teacher

This week on Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop, she asked us to talk about things our toddlers have taught us.

My toddler has done plenty in an attempt to improve my knowledge, skills, and abilities for everyday living and interaction. I can't say he's been successful, but he certainly gets and A for effort.

Things My brainiac-know-it-all-19-month-old toddler has taught me:

1. I'm not very athletic. After various failed attempts at athletic expression throughout high school, I pretty much surmised that organized sports aren't my bag. But, I have had an athletic physique so I just assumed that I could perform athletic type activities with some amount of ease. Not so. Thanks to my toddler being an overachiever in the energy department, I now know that I am quite possibly the least athletic, uncoordinated, inflexible human being on the planet. I get winded just thinking about chasing him around all day, I trip over my own feet when I try, and since he's perfected the fake shake (you know, the shoulder shimmy, spin move) to allude me when I attempt to catch him, I find myself suffering from various "unexplained" injuries. The kid is so quick I seriously thought he broke both of my ankles the other day.

2. I'm creative in the mechanical engineering sort of way. In an effort to make up for my lack of athletic ability, I have devised numerous apparatuses designed to restrain, rebuff, and/or redirect my toddler's efforts to rearrange, destroy, and overtake my life. It's all about using your baby inspired imagination. See...



This is a photo of our entertainment center table thingy. In purchasing it, my main requirement was that it be on wheels so that I could relocate it in the event of an emergency (and, when I say emergency, I mean my toddler). The wheels have come in handy, allowing me to easily turn it around to prevent him from fondling all of the items kept in the drawers (now facing the wall). Sadly, he recently discovered the wheels also and has learned that he can inch it out enough to create the perfect, mom proof, hiding spot. So, back to the drawing board, Mommy.

3. Guerrilla tape is the new duct tape. The stuff can hold an angry rhinoceros (and, again, by angry rhinoceros I mean my toddler).

4. I need coffee. I didn't start drinking coffee until after I stopped nursing #3 when he turned 1 (and became independently mobile). Now, I seriously can not face my day (or my kids) without the stuff. It's like crack, only legal and devoid of the yo-mama's-a-crack-ho stigma that would undoubtedly plague my children for life.

5. I'm slightly inappropriate. #3's first sentence was "Oh, crap!". Coulda been worse, I guess. Definitely coulda been better. I do an awesome job about not cursing in front of the kids (BFF on the other hand is a whole other story!), so it's not that. It's the more innocuous words that I don't think are particularly bad, but aren't necessarily good when they come out of the mouth of a 1 year old. Like, "this sucks" and "that's gay" and "you're an idiot". In my defense (since I'm guessing I need one), 99% of the time it's not my fault (because, let's face it, nothing ever is). It's the bad drivers of the world that make me say nasty things in front of the kids; they require it.

Which leads me to this week's Thursday Thank You (notice I'm quickly running out of thank you cards and am now resorting to child labor for their creation!).

To all the drivers out there who think they are good but are actually hideously bad.

Thank you, and you're welcome.





Card Reads: Dear Bad driver, Thanks for giving me time to paint my toenails, clean out my purse, and compose the first few chapters of my memoirs this afternoon. Who knew I accomplish so much in the (normally) 20 minute commute from my house to work. I appreciate your attention to detail (the stop sign had a chance to actually wave hello, you sat at it so long). I applaud your courtesy (although abruptly stopping in an intersection to let someone in, is not particularly safe). I commend your bravery (however, in the future, you might consider signaling before you cut off a semi). And, you are quite possibly the most law abiding citizen in my county; you never even came close to the speed limit (I bet you get extra point for that one). Congratulations. Keep up the good work, Loser! XOXO, Dumb Mom

Wordful Wednesday

Yes.

It is the same shot. One in color. One in black and white.

I can't decide which treatment I like better (your thoughts?), but this shot is one of my favorite's of all time.

#3's face...

It was our last pre-first-day-of-school trip to the lake (despite the fact that we can walk to it) because #1 and #3 (and inevitably #2) are sick.

Summer colds are the most ridiculous thing ever.

They are just so unnatural.

But, on the bright side, at least #1 should be all healthy as an ox, fit as a fiddle, and raring to go to school come Monday.

Oh, joy.

Time Travel and Windows

The space time continuum scares the crap outta me.

I guess it's a fear of the unknown (or unexplained, or uncertain, or just plain freaky).

I guess I just over analyze stuff too much.

Even with all my wrap-my-head-around-this-to-alleviate-fear effort, normally, I just don't get it.

But, Time Traveler's Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger?

I got it (the good parts anyway)!

I read the book when it first came out back in 2003 and I loved it. Not, like just loved it, but OMG-mom-seriously-you-have-to-read-this-I-balled-my-eyes-out-totally-obsessed LOVED it.

When I heard they were making it into a movie I was pumped (I'm a huge book into movie fan).

When I heard it would be starring Eric Bana (hotness) and Rachel McAdams (how cute is she?), I was even happier because I really like both of those actors (checkout The Other Boleyn Girl and The Notebook, two of my other book-movie faves featuring these two).

Of course I had to take BFF and Mimi to see it this weekend so I could get a good cry in.

And, thankfully, it did not disappoint!

I started crying during the previews (some serious tear jerkers coming out soon) and the tears continued to well up at various points throughout the film, culminating in one huge can't-stop-crying-think-snot-just-dripped-outta-my-nose balling session at the end.

This could be because, in general, I'm a sentimental, overly emotional freak of a woman, but regardless, it got me going.

But, it wasn't all sadness, there were humorous moments, there were joyful moments (which brought tears, too), there was an intriguing plot, and there was genetics (something had to explain the time traveling cutie), not that I really got that part (I think they explain more in depth in the book, but I probably didn't get it then, either!).

It was well worth the $8 (only b/c that's the going rate for matinees around here, which, I think, is ludicrous).

I attribute the success of the film primarily to McAdams's performance (Bana wasn't horrible, but he coulda been more convincing). She did an excellent job with the role; very believable, very emotional, very um, good!

But, don't bother trusting me (I'm obviously no film critic as I just described the acting as "good"), round up the posse and go see for yourself.

Might even consider taking the husband (not mine, but yours). It wasn't too sappy or girly or cliche ridden for a dude to sit through (and possibly enjoy), but, like pretty much ever tear-jerker, it's better with the girlfriends.

In other news...

Yesterday was a REALLY long day.

#3 was hot, tired, angry, and, what's that little buddy? Hungry?


All because...

My humble abode started out Monday morning looking run-of-the-mill-ain't-nothing-special-just-a-little-old-house, like this...



And, ended up stop-the-press-you-sexy-mother-oh-yeah!, like this...



Don't hate, congratulate.

After six weeks of waiting, one reschedule, an unexplained late start, a full day with no AC (it was like 90 degrees here today), and a sick kid (#1 has a wicked, asthma triggering cold right), we FINALLY got our brand, spankin' new windows.

Holla (hate that expression, but so appropriate)!

They are gorgeous!

So, hey, MTV Cribs, feel free to give me a ring now, I'll show you exactly where the magic happens. Might even have some frozen breast milk leftovers in the freezer to share with you!

Wait, what?

That's not cool?

Someone shoulda told Jamal Anderson then!

Teen Beef

So, I am all about beef.

I'm not talking about the USDA sort, I'm talking about the good old fashioned you-got-a-problem-punk-then-say-it-to-my-face kinda beef.

Currently my beef is with (among others) teenagers.

I've had beef with teenagers numerous times in the past for various reasons: movie talking, public cursing, bad driving, excessive giggling, excited screaming, roughhousing at the playground, dry humping behind the amusement park bathroom.

You know, standard, worthy of beef type behaviors that virtually every single teenager on the planet has been or is about to be guilty of.

But today's beef is of a much less innocuous sort.

It's not based on behaviors per se; it's more about preferences.

Specifically their preferences re: fashion.

Particularly boys' fashion, as I only have boys of my own, and am therefore most concerned with this and how it will affect my dudes in the future.

There are a few current trends that I would like to see disappear before my boys start to grow a personal preference when it comes to fashion.

At the moment, I could dress #1 in a monkey suit everyday and he'd probably be fine with that. #2 is oft concerned with if something "matches", though he has no idea what actually does or doesn't ('cause guess what, son, cowboy boots don't match with swimming trunks, I don't care what you say).

I've noticed in recent years that my tolerance for personal expression is dwindling. I don't want to see kids (or anyone, really) wearing whatever the hell they want.

I shouldn't have to be the victim of fashion assault, and at times I am downright offended by how horrible certain members of society choose to look.

My biggest teen inspired fashion "issue" at the moment is the wearing of skinny jeans.



More specifically the wearing of skinny jeans, by boys.

Sagging skinny jeans, no less.

This is wrong on so many levels.

For starters, boys/men should be prohibited from wearing skinny jeans at all. There is no reason why my entire afternoon at the park should have to be disrupted by the distracting and virtually unavoidable sight of your, for lack of a better word, camel balls.

Seriously.

I'm trying to enjoy a sunny afternoon with my children and all I can focus on is the teenage boy loitering on the corner with his man pack about to burst outta his jeans.

Ridiculous.

Furthermore, skinny jeans are not meant to be sagged.

Over sized, loose fitting jeans, yes.

Skinny, fitted, butt hugging, tapered leg jeans, no.

I don't know how you can even take a step with those tight pants wrapped around your thighs like a tourniquet, but it looks ridiculous.

So, skinny jeans=no.

My second beef is with over sized t-shirts.



(And, sorry Weezy, you were asking for it with this one.)
I think this is an urban inspired trend (meaning, they wear it in the hood) which is possibly also regional (never saw it on the West Coast), and not to offend Baltimoreans, but I hate this trend. I really, really do.

I guess I just don't get it. Why would a dude want to kick it in a nightgown all day.

I know that night shirts are comfortable and functional (no need to worry about owning separate attire for PJs), but it really distracts from your gangster look.

The one teen fashion trend that I am hoping will stick around for a bit is the long hair thing.

My guys have long hair.

It's sorta their thing.

Long, luxurious locks of curly beautiful hair.

Right now it's cool. All the guys have the long hair thing going on, so they don't have any reason to feel weird about it.

I'd hate for some silly style like this to make a comeback.



Do you remember the box?

I spent all of 7th grade desperately in love with a boy and his box. And, his was a spitting image of Kid's from Kid 'N Play! Sexy! Not

I mean, really, can you imagine my baby's face with that hair?



Ew. Shoot me now.

Saturday Swag-urday: Pizza and stuff

This past weekend the dudes (2/3 of them at least) were shackin' up with their Mimi and Papa.

We decided to take advantage of the "alone" time (because, honestly, it's like we're alone when we are only in charge of one kid; it's so easy it should be against the law) by doing some virtually-impossible-with-the-antagonist-and-protagonist-locked-in-an-epic-battle-at-all-times around.

We went car shopping (no, we didn't get one yet, but we are so going to; maybe someone wants to send me a freebie to review?!).

And then, we went out to eat.

At a sit down establishment!

See, one kid is e-a-s-y!

We visited zpizza in Rockville (but they have locations nationwide) and it was, for lack of a better word, AWESOME!



Hubby is a self proclaimed pizza connoisseur of sorts, so he's very selective with his pizza, and even he enjoyed it.

The place rocked because they had:

1. Friendly staff. I really hate it when I go into a place and the workers are literally pissed that they have to deal with me. I mean, I sympathize, I hate work too. But, I do my best to disguise my loathing with a bright smile and my cheery work voice. It's the least I can do, ya know, since chances are good I'm not going to do much else. Everyone at the zPizza was smiling and patient (b/c they have a seriously confusing menu with tons of options so I was all over the place).

2. Organic product. Not that I seek out organic dining options, I'm not that committed to good health (see jiggly belly for proof). But, it's like an added bonus because then I don't have to feel quite so bad about giving it to the dudes.



3. Tasty, wood fired crust. To me, it's all about the crust. If you start with a good base then you can slack off a little bit (not that they did, it was all tasty) in other areas. And, I like my crust thin and crunchy (if you don't then this is probably not the place for you). We went for the whole wheat crust (give it up for better health!) and it was deliciously wood-fired and thin and good.

4. Affordable prices: This is not the defining factor for us, but it does make a difference, especially since I feel like I am feeding a team of horses (wait, horses don't eat meat, do they? Okay, I'm feeding mythical meat heating horses) these days. We got a large pizza and two drinks for less than $20. That's not bad since when we go to Burger King it costs us an arm and a leg. Seriously, I took the dudes to BK last week and for just the two of them it cost me $11.78! And, it's not even organic!



5. Choices, choices, choices: The menu is laid out with different steps. You pick your crust, you pick your sauce flavor, and you pick your toppings. We are boring, traditional, don't fix what ain't broken pizza eaters so we got regular, regular, half mushroom/half pepperoni (b/c Hubby thinks mushrooms are poisonous, and I;m watching my girlish figure...NOT!). But, we could have gotten the Tuscan pizza with roasted garlic sauce and truffle oil, or the Santa Fe pizza with chipotle pesto and chicken sausage.

Wanna know more about zPizza's healthy bits?

They use:
certified organic wheat flour in our crust (contains no dairy)
certified organic tomato sauce
part-skim, rGBH-free, award winning Wisconsin cheese
msg-free and nitrate-free sausage and meatballs
msg-free pepperoni
vegetables that we roast in-house
other options: gluten-free crust, soy cheese

Wanna get a discount on zPizza next time you go (since you are totally gonna click on this link and find one near you because I said so)?

Join their ztribe and get a $5 coupon for your next visit.


Just so you know: The pizza was free, but it really was good. Sometimes free stuff sucks; this wasn't one of those times:)!

Pieces

Things have been in pieces around here a little bit lately.

I guess not really, but I've got a lot of anxiety and paranoia going on right now.

I think that's a side effect of not having any curtains on any windows in the house at all. I feel like everyone is watching me.

So, I've decided to do my first Friday Fragment post, because, hey, why not. Besides, I can't think clear enough to write a full post because I keep getting distracted by random movements outside of my totally exposed windows.



First: The Curtains.

They are gone thanks to the unreliable subcontractor's inability to ensure that he had all the necessary equipment in place on the day of the window install we had scheduled for this past Thursday. Apparently, despite the fact that they had a 6 week warning, they did not secure one of the integral parts of the job: the windows. They are supposed to come in today (Friday), but I'm not convinced since they were supposed to come in on Wednesday, too. So, I've spent every night since Tuesday in a curtainless house creeping (and by creeping I mean crawling on the floor or leaping, lightening fast) past my bedroom window to prevent my neighbors from spying me in my unmentionables. I'm not traditionally the most clandestine individual so I'm sure they have seen way more than they could ever want.

So, shout out to all the teen boys in my hood who have pent up sexual frustration to spare, I know you're watching and I don't care.

Whew! I think admitting it alleviated some of the pressure so I can relax. The paranoia was taking a toll on me.

See?



Second: Peepee Pants.

#2 wet his bed last night. By the way he acted, you woulda thought he'd committed some major crime.

At about 3:25 am, the perp was discovered, screaming angrily in his bed. The assailant attempted to allude authorities by thrashing about wildly. Even after his crime was discovered, the alleged, who has been previously convicted of similar charges, proceeded to deny the allegations shouting, "I DIDN'T DO IT! I DIDN'T DO IT! IT WASN'T ME!", loud enough to arouse innocent bystanders (aka #1 who was attempting to sleep in the top bunk). We believe his ultimate goal was to create a sense of chaos and confusion so that he could escape scrutiny. The authorities were not so easily dissuaded, and were able to work together to take the offender into custody (aka their bed) without further incident. No one was harmed on the scene. Officer Mom, however, has asked for a few days of administrative leave following the incident. At press time, this request had not been granted.

I'm not sure why he acts all crazy when he catches himself wetting the bed at night. It doesn't happen often (like a coupla times a year), and it's not like I beat the crap outta him (maybe like the first time) when he does it either. It generally winds up to be a winning situation for him because, since I'm too lazy to change the bed, I usually just change the kid and shuffle him off to my bed, where he begs to sleep every night anyway.

It's really me who gets the raw end of the deal, because once he's in my bed, the make-out session begins.

He starts the cuddling and the cooing, the caressing and the canoodling. It turns into an inappropriate-I'm-your-mom-back-up-off-me-you-pee-stained-freak session very quickly. And, it happens every time (which is why I don't let him sleep with me in the first place). If I'm able to shake him off at all he usually just cloys onto my back and engulfs me with his sea of love.

Actually, I feel kinda like this...



Not cool.

Third: Nightmares.

When he finally tired of my playing hard to get, he drifted off and so did I. Only to be awoken again (at 4:55am) by the most bloodcurdling scream I've ever witnessed first hand.

He had a nightmare.

Sleeping snug as a bug in a rug smack dab in the middle of me and Hubby the kid had the most powerful and frightening nightmare of his life (at least that I could tell).

Something about being torn to shreds by vultures?

It took him (and me) a full five minutes to stop shaking and get his bearings again, after which point he drifted sweetly into lala land.

I (and Hubby, but who cares about him?) was unable to do so and have therefore been up since the butt crack o'dawn.

Today could be bad for me (I don't function happily with lack of sleep) and he may find himself wishing those vultures finished the job.

Kidding! Even I'm not this scary.



Fourth: An unwelcome visitor.

We met this little biblical villain in our yard yesterday.



As far as creatures I normally hate, he wasn't so bad, probably only because he was tiny.

Kinda cute in a would-totally-avoid-running-him-over-in-my-car-but-don't-get-too-close-I've-got-a-shovel-and-I'm-not-afraid-to-use-it sorta way.

Those little nut jobs I live with actually had the nerve, the audacity, to ask if we could keep it.

Um, no. I don't do wild animals (or the dead, or insects, or outer space, or adult diapers).

As a matter of fact, I really don't do too many of anything that requires care, defies my mandates, or stinks if I didn't carry it in my gut for some amount of time.

Dogs and cats are a possibility for the future when more of the former gut dwellers are able and willing to care for themselves (I doubt any of them will ever follow my mandates or stop stinking).

Fifth (and Final): Weekend plans.

I'm getting another mini date with my female friends (and by friends I mean Mimi and Bff) to go see the Time Traveler's Wife. Hooray! So excited because I LOVED the book, and I like the actors in the film so I'm hoping it's good.

In New Moon other news. If you were a psycho-Twilight-saga-obsessed-chunky-butt-mom-of-3-with-stalker-tendencies you may, instead, go see Vanessa Hudgen's new film, Bandslam because they are premiering a New Moon trailer at it.

I mean, Lisa Kudrow is in it too and I really like her so it's not like it would be a complete waste...