How Do I Say Goodbye

To a decade!

Can you believe that we are already at the end of the first decade of this millennium?

I mean, it doesn't seem like an entire decade has gone by, which obviously is a sign that I'm getting old because only old people think time is flying by.

When you're young a school year is for-ev-er and a decade is like an eternity.

But, when you’re old, everything seems like "just yesterday".

The most exciting part, for me, about ending this decade is the fact that all of my favorite channels (like MTV and VH-1), and magazines (like People, and EW, and Tiger Beat; ridicule me if you must) are gonna be doing the end of the year countdowns that I love.

I know it sometimes gets ridiculous because when they run out of interesting things to say, they start counting down dumb crap like Top Sirloins of the Decade (although that does sound yummy!), or Best Songs of 2009 that Don't Use the Word Swagger (were there songs in 2009 that didn’t use the word swagger?).

They just get taken too far.

But, for the most part I enjoy them.

I guess it’s just because in general I like to reminisce.

To look back on "the good times", which basically just means the times when I was skinnier, hotter, and less encumbered than I am now.

So, as the decade nears it's end, I thought that it was only right that I take a few moments to reflect. To look back on the last ten years, hang my head in shame, and hope for better.

Dumb Mom's Top Ten of the Last Ten

10. Dumb Mom graduates from college...with honors! That's right, people. Read it and weep. No one ever said Dumb Mom was uneducated. I went to college. I even figured out the system enough to bust As in like 99% of my classes (I got a B- in this class once, but it was so not my fault. No college student can be expected to excel in, or even attend, a class that starts at 8am and meets every day of the week. What was that preparing me for, a job or something?). And, I eventually used my lovely to degree to procure another one. Apparently an Undergraduate degree in Criminology is largely useless in the real world unless you like being called the C word (use your imagination) at least once a week. I thought that was something I’d be up for, but, turns out, it’s really not quite as thrilling as I imagined it would be when I was watching it happen to Clarice Starling.

9. Dumb Mom gives back. As a teacher in the Teach For America Corps. You’ve heard of ‘em. Those super young, do-good kids that want to change the world one child at a time. I was one of them. In Oakland, California. Thanks to 80 knife toting, gangbanging, but surprisingly eager-to-learn youngsters, Dumb Mom learned that her students were amazingly strong people who were largely misunderstood. She also learned that some kids have really scary parents, that some kids are really scary themselves, and that teaching is one of her passions, but she can't hack it in da hood anymore.

8. Dumb Mom gets knocked up. And becomes the pregnant, unwed role model every child from a broken home needs. So, in an effort to not look like the world’s best example of do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do-isms, she quit teaching, and convinced Hubby-to-be that in order to afford a normal life (the SF Bay Area is insanely expensive) in a normal neighborhood a move to 25 miles of Mimi and Papa was in order. It was really the only way.

7. #1 is born. Dumb Mom gets taught a thing or two about being a grown up and is convinced that she should go back to college, get a higher degree, and then vow to never use it unless she has to.

6. Dumb Mom gets married. To Dumb Dad of course, but only after he gets lost, shows up a half an hour late, and gets Dumb Mom mad enough to temporarily rethink her position on marriage (this explains why he got a Garmin for Christmas this year; it’s been a long time coming!). Lucky for him the wine at the venue was super good and paid for in advance which allowed him to be quickly forgiven.

5. Dumb Mom graduates from graduate school. But, because of promises she made to Dumb Dad, #1, and herself has not made any formal attempt to utilize said graduate degree since that very day. But, the paper looks super pretty in it's frame.

4. #2 is born. Dumb Mom begins to think that while motherhood is definitely her calling, it's a very serious possibility that being a mother to this particular child is not necessarily gonna work out. Were it not for a bum kidney “Wedding Wine” would be a daily anecdote for this feeling. As it is, she’s stuck being all creative and crap instead.

3. Dumb Family buys the recession version of their dream home and move so far from Dumb Dad's job that he might as well live in a hole. Everything looks the same in the dark, right? Luckily our seasonal lake view, our beach access, and our super cool sledding opportunities almost make up for it.

2. #3 is born. Ensuring that Dumb Mom will never have a daughter to call her own, unless one of her boys decided to have a gender reassignment surgery, which Dumb Mom wouldn't be entirely opposed to.

1. PBD comes to life 12/29/2008). Changing the world as we know it. Okay, so maybe the World is not changed (or even aware), but still, it was big, for us.

So big, in fact, that we get to test drive tons of crazy cool crap, like Muvee Reveal, which makes awesome slideshows and videos set to music mind blowingly easy.

So easy that even Dumb Mom can do it, which is saying a lot since I’ve not been able to successfully figure out how to center my blog header up there and it’s driving me bananas.*

So, please enjoy our Muvee of the year gone by and then hop your happy little self on over to Muvee (because Muvee Reveal and some of their other more popular products are 50% off!) and check it out for yourself.

And, in an effort stick to traditions here in Twenty-Ten, here is my Thursday Thank You.

To all 503 509 of you who follow my blog but never leave comments so that I can properly thank you while simultaneously feeling like I’m da shiznitz, and read my rants, my raves, and my ridiculousness.

Thank you, and you’re welcome!

*If you know how to do it and want to do it for me tell me using explicit step-by-step instructions I’ll totally hook you up with like some shout outs and what not. Plus I’ll love you forever. I mean, I am currently looking for a lovely blog designer who wants to be my featured ifriend in the very near future and you know, I really only have space for one person of that nature this year, so um, just sayin’ (rubs palms together maniacally).

And, P.S.: Maybe, aside from getting thin, growing a spine, and getting an all expense paid sponsorship to BlogHer (because I really am THAT awesome!), I will fit a blog makeover into my New Year's resolutions. Thanks Mama Kat for reminding me to make some!

HAPPY NEW YEAR

A Casa de Dummies Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all through Dumb House,

little creatures were stirring, much bigger than a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney in a rush.

And Mommy was telling the dudes to please hush.

We watched a movie, a house was built.

I let them eat cookies in spite of the guilt.

Mimi and Papa were staying the night,

so the dudes were trying their best not to fight.

Finally they were rushed to their beds in a hurry,

and Casa de Dummies was all in a flurry.

Hours spent wrapping before I turned out my lights,

and thank goodness no clattering was heard that night.

Morning came quickly, I was sleepy as heck,

but I slipped down the stairs to have a quick check.

Santa had been there and left all the crap,

more than one kid could hold in his lap.

Overhead I heard footsteps, running to and fro,

and I knew that I had nowhere else to go.

The dudes clamored down with grins ear to ear,

just knowing that Santa had already been here.

I thought about hiding it, to teach them a lesson

but figured that would just eff up the blessin’.

Joy filled their faces as they opened their crap

so quickly they moved, they were done in a snap.

They got what they asked for, action figures galore,

Snuggies,

planes,

welding equipment?,

and more.

Mommy got something to make her skinny,

which she needs after eating fudge a plenty.

Daddy got music and a neat GPS,

because he gets lost worse than all the rest.

Electronic gaming toys ruled the day,

and they spent all afternoon engrossed in play.

And lucky for them there was snow on the ground,

so Dumb Dad and Uncle found a hill to go down.

The old guys felt achy, the kids had a blast,

after hours of sledding they were hungry at last.

Mommy made dinner, but burned the meat,

Thank goodness it was still good to eat.

We stuffed our faces and filled our bellies.

We looked just like Santa with our tummies of jelly.

I wanted to rest, catch up on some zzzs,

or snuggle in for some quality TV.

The kitchen was filled with the sweetest aroma,

but I couldn’t break free of my food induced coma.

Finally conscious, I snuck back for more,

at this rate I’ll soon be too big for the door.

The Wii Fit I got will be put to good use,

I’m hoping to lose all this skin that is loose.

My New Year’s resolution is obvious I bet:

to not eat every morsel my fat hands can get.

To slim down my belly and firm up my tail,

but to do it I think I may need a spell.

My first thing to do is get rid of the yummy,

throw out all the things that tempt my tummy.

Remember this face, this fat, chunky sight,

it will be a bit thinner in about a fortnight!*

*Okay, so maybe a fortnight is a little ambitious, but I’m aiming for a new, slimmer version of my dumb self by say Marchish!

Just in time for the SITS Bloggy Boot Camp in Baltimore which I am SO gonna be at.

If I lose weight, and get a sponsor, and a babysitter, and a freakin’ face lift (hello old eyes, where have you been all my life?).

Okay, I’ll go sans invasive cosmetic surgery, but not losing weight is a deal breaker and since I can’t go another year without seeing Tiff and Heather and Mama K, game on

And, I know I’m a weight-loss-girl-who-cried-wolf because I’ve been down this gettin’-in-shape-girl path before, but I’m so for reals this time.

After Vegas and basically making out with Justin Timberlake making goo-goo eyes with my boy JT, I gotta show the world what he saw in me and I don’t want them to have to look through the 10lbs of fat I’ve put on since then to find it.

Peace out, I’m going to eat fudge, puke, and workout on ma Wii.

Cookie Time Tuesday: Gettin’ Biscuit Wit It

Biscuits are a tradition in my family.

My grandma made them, my mom made them (well, technically she still does, just not so much for me), and now I make them (although admittedly, not as often as my grandma, who used to bake them like every weekend and during the week because she was/is a machine).

Everyone loves them.

My grandma also used to serve them with a jar of her homemade, home canned peach preserves.

And that stuff was DA BOMB!

So effing unbelievably delicious you seriously would forgo every other edible oiption in order to have space for additional preserve smeared biscuit-awesomeness.

At least that’s what I did.

So, in an effort to relive my childhood, I have made it a point to perfect the family biscuit recipe.

Not that it wasn’t already perfect, but a few twists have made it more convenient (you know, because I’m just not down for sifting and all that jazz) and more geared to my sugar fiending taste buds (meaning mine are a tad bit sweeter).

Oh, and I’ve kicked the homemade, home canned preserves to the curb.

Too much work for the likes of me.

The store brand type gets the job done.

It’s not the same, but it has to do as I’m not at all interested in spending any time learning to correctly collect, peel, boil, and can fresh peaches for hours on end.

Actually, now that I’ve typed it out and Googled the instructions, it doesn’t really seem that difficult.

And, in an effort to come close to duplicating the taste that is ingrained in my taste buds from childhood, I might actually take a trip down home canning lane next summer.

Maybe.

But, in the meantime, we’ll have to live with the store bought version.

And, due to the nearly-disabling, mouthwatering flavor these bad boys hold, you hardly need the preserves anyway.

They are simply a deliciously added bonus.

I mean look at these things…

View Full Album

Nice, right?

All flaky, and buttery, and sweet.

Not to mention moist, and golden, and buttery, wait did I say that already?

Wanna make ‘em for yourself?

Well, then you’d better ask your grandmama because I’m not give in up the goods.

As much as I want to rock your world with these things, I can’t do it.

It’s a secret family recipe.

Uh oh, did I forget to mention the secret part before?

My bad.

Oh well, it is. A HUGE family secret.

I’d honestly love to tell you, but if I did, I’d have to kill you, and that would really deplete my readership you know?

So yeah, no dice.

But, if you ask nicely enough I’d probably hook you up with it AND let you live, you know, for a FEE!

Make New (i)friends Monday: She's Supah D & She's Here to Rock

Or, should I say, rap?!

Because anyone with a name like Supah D. can only be introduced in true playa-pimp, gangsta-boogie, Sir Mix-A-Lot stylizzle with a rap accompaniment.

It's only fair.

Performed (yes, I performed it to ensure it's authenticity and awesomeness) to Baby got Back (a song every self respecting child of the 90s is familiar with).

Feel free to click on the link and sing along using my much improved version of the lyrics.

I like Supah D and I can not lie.
You other bloggers can't deny.
That when Supah walks in with her hand on her waist
and that round thing in your face you get jealous!

Wanna go up to her 'cause you wanna be on her Skype.

Deep in the blogs she's writin'
I'm hooked and I love her Skypin'!

Oh, Supah, we wanna get witcha.
And take yo picture!

My blog buds tried to warn me,
but them blogs you write make me so horny.

Oh, Rumple-smooth-words, you even have awesome turds!
Well use me, use you me, 'cause I'm obviously your groupie.

I see her bloggin', to hell with roll calling.

She's sweat, wet, losing that sumo suit soon I bet.

I'm tired of other sites,
sayin' Supah ain't dynomite.
Take the average Dumb Mom and ask her that,
she tell you Supah is phat!

So Bloggers! (Yeah!) Bloggers (Yeah!)
Wanna meet my Supah D? (Hell Yeah!)
Then read it! Read it! Read today's guest post!
Supah is dope!

PA face with a WV Booty (insert some mad, funky-fresh, record scratching here)

Supah is dope!

Now, shut yo mouth, Becky!

ifriend post by Supah D. from Adventures of a Wannabe SupahMommy:

WOOO DOGGY !

So PBD has invited me over for a super special IFriend Event at her place cause we're all BFF's now.. yah that's right FORMER PBD BFF'S.. there's a new girl in town... and her name is SUPAH!

What?

ifriend Monday?

For weeks now?

* insert stink face

Ok.. So I guess I'm not all UBER special like PBD ( PLBBBBBTTTT )has made me out to be in her long drawn out emails spewing her love for me. Enough already PBD.. I get it. K?

So.. I'll leave you with my little guest posty and maybe you'll come visit me if you'd like. Ring my doorbell... but if you ring it and LEAVE... just know this. I may be a heffer... but .. I can run. By Golly I can run. So I hope you can too... you prankster mcpranksterston.


Breakin Up is Hard To Doo.

So all my life I've had a hairdresser. And by all my life I mean since college. I'm no debutante. I could rock a puffy cloud dress.. but I'm not debutante material .. I swear too much... let's be %$#^* (^clear.

CJ was my first hair- doo lover. CJ .. was a dude with effeminate scissor hands. I loved him. Was he Gay? I had no idea. It was the question that plagued me for years. He was always so durn stealthy... making me think one minute he was... the next he wasn't. Years. And to this day.. 15 years later. I still do not know. I think he knew what game he was playing.

CJ's real name was CLAIRE. No joke. He admitted this to me in a moment of ... well.. I'm not sure why he told me that fact.. because I seriously.. LAUGHED OUT LOUD and asked him if he were joshin. With some swear words mixed in.

He wasn't.
I quickly shut IT UP for fear of hair retaliation. * in my head though.. i was sayin

" claires' a fat girls name."


All you youngins and non Brat Packers won't get that.

So we had this GREAT relationship. He cut my hair awesome.
Until I became a mom. Then .. I think he was under the impression that because I had birthed children.. I was no longer COOL!

SAY WHUT????

He kept giving me BOBS. ..I coulda put dangly snowflake earrings on and worn a kitty kat sweatshirt to match the styles he was edward scissorhandin'.

I endured for a bit.
Then I experienced the " last straw."

THIS IS HOW IT WENT DOWN.


Let's take a trip back to 2004 when CJ Betrayed me.



So ladies and gentleman, here it is. I have OFFICIALLY with a capital "O" ( and not even the good kind) been BEE –TRAY- YED by my hairdresser, hair stylist, hair cutter- rer- er person, hair designer: WHATEVER , YOU PICK. Yes, my (insert selected word) whom:
· I love dearly
· WHO I have remained ever:

1. loyal,
2. faithful
3. devoted,
4. steadfast
5. dedicated to for almost a decade.

YES, A DECADE. (what can be accomplished in a decade you might ask; WELL THE FOLLOWING
1. it took us 10 years to send a man to the moon
2. it took us 10 years to move from typewriters to palm pilots

CJ -
· Who I secretly planned visits to Pittsburgh around when I was ABROAD.
· Whom my lovely locks ( that I adore, one of my best attributes I feel, one of the only things on my body that aren't fat) have followed through 5 salon moves.

· As well as a rate increase of 15$

Yes, my Hair- doo dresser

HAS CROSSED THE LINE.

Now I feel I OWE you a bit of quick history, you might feel the need to be brought up to speed on the situation. Perhaps you are thinking, WHY SUPAH? Who IS this person who has EVIL- ed YOU? Then again, if you are like most people, you might not.

My lovely locks and I have not always been this chummy. We, at several points in my life just… DID NOT GET ALONG. I have picture evidence to prove it.

Not until I was about 23 did I actually begin to listen to the whispers of my lovely locks demands: Get a good hairdresser.

I agreed and we have since been cooperative. I immensely enjoy my hair, I get many compliments and as mentioned above, it is still one of my best attributes. Still full and thick, nice color and still THE ONLY NON FAT PART OF MY BODY –

So I stumbled up on CJ, a hairdresser from literally another world. He is freakin hilarious. Tells stories that sideline the ongoing cut for minutes at a time while we all double over, keeps up with the latest hair trends, has worked his way up to his own dream salon ( paid for with my loyalty) and is quite possibly gay. He has afforded me wonderfully cool cuts, great chocolaty color, perfect wedding day updos and great conversation for many a year. Alas…

Things had begun to change I noticed the last few appointments (which require friggin years in advance bookings). He jokingly called me a "soccer mom"

*GASPS. And then gave me a really cute haircut, that he deemed

SUBURBAN HOUSWIFE.

*DOUBLE GASP. I laughed and forgave his shortcomings.

And this time as I arrived for my appointment, late in the evening, I find CJ and I BOTH in the parking lot. Oddly he and I vied for the same parking spot ???( him in his 06 cool a$ jeep, me in my tan Volvo cross country station wagon which I ADOREd)

Why he is out and about you may ask when it is indeed, haircuttery time?

Well, he needed a smoke and decided to move his jeep up to the front whilst his client sat under the big blow dry thingy machine thingy.

So we both get out and give big hugs and then he says

, "LOOK AT YOU IN YOUR…."

"GROCERY GETTER!"

Okay are you noticing a theme yet. Some subtle, possible disgruntled feelings towards us little harmless suburbanite, station wagon driving stay at home moms who might attend a soccer game or two. Here and there, every night of the week.? Yeah maybe.

So anyways long story short we have great conversations, lots of laughs, CJ offers a glass of wine ( I decline, due to diet) and then we begin the haircuttery process.

"What r we doing today, he casually asks?"
"Oh, I don't know, I stupidly say, I love the length but it's kind of weighed down. Maybe some bangs to cover up the dent in my forehead! "

Ha ha, we have a good laugh at that, determining all the terribly explicit ways that could've happened.


Anyways good laughs. We're primed for haircut time.
Completely trusting his judgment we move forward.

IN hindsight I notice the following tidbits:

I notice CJ looks tired. A bit PEAK-ED. Perhaps a long day filled with lots of others locks. Perhaps stifling his creativity, ability to do good hair, ability to mulTi-task, perhaps egging on his aggressions towards the white collar folk. ? Don't Know.

I also in 20/20 hindsight, wonder if CJ himself has indulged in a glass or two of the ol' vino.? No breathalyzer available at that moment to test him for drinking whilst hair-doo-ing.


So he begins the cut and I of course have no idea what he's doing, cause I simply rarely look in the mirror. (feelings of inadequacy while hair is dripping wet, slicked like a seal on my head and pores are spotlighted due to fluorescents) Not a pretty picture.

So he's CHOPPING AWAY. He says, "I'm just goinna trim the ends so we keep the length." Cut cut snip snip. This is okay.

He cuts in my bangs. Which I immediately don't like, but am stuck with. At least it will hide my forehead dent.

Then he stops and begins on the top. BIG HUGE CUTS. BIG HUGE SNIPS. The sounds make me look up. As he catches my eye he digresses into a conversation about trying a "NEW CUT" he recently learned on me- the next time I come in.

He's not COMFORTABLE ENOUGH to TRY IT RIGHT NOW ... SEEING as he just learned it this morning.

" And then proceeds to say

" THIS NEW CUT, that I"ll do NEXT TIME... WELL IT'S THE UPDATED VERSION OF THE CUT IM DOING NOW" laugh laugh


Pardon- a – moi CJ?

Am I getting an NON current haircut at this given moment? A DOLLAR STORE VERSION?? PANIC SETTING IN.

"I'm goinna give you some LAYERS on top, to give you some lift." He states.

PPPPP-ANIC. LAYERS???? LIFT??? ON TOP????




Shoot to punchline. All said and done……


I am OFFICIALLY, with a capital "o" a walking image of none other than Miss JOAN JETT! circa 1982

It is inevitable. I will walk down the street and someone over the age of 30 will whisper,

"Oh my god, LOOK BECKY!!! It's JOAN JETT!
THEN they'll let loose.. unable to contain their excitement for seeing Joan Jett;


""AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" (CONCERT SCREAM)
..
.
.
.
.
.dead stop- once they see me.









"She got really fat."


* bo domp ching


It was RiFrickULOUS. And I had to break up with him. HAVE YOU ever had to break up with your hairdresser?


xoxox©
supah

I'll Show You Magic

Christmas Eve is finally here. And, after weeks of anticipation you can't imagine how happy we all are.

I will be off celebrating (aka playing Santa like a mofo and throwin' down in this biotch) and will not be back until Monday with another ifriend for dat a** (not sure why I'm all Snoop D-)-double g with it today, it's a phase I go through from time to time: Gangsta Ma is what I like to call it.).

On that note, today's Thursday Thank You is gonna be all gangsta, sent special to a neighborhood punk kid.

I shoved it in a bottle, lit it on fire, and threw it at his house so I'll have to just type what it said here for you.*

It wasn't handwritten anyway (I know, I'm sorry), but, in an effort to keep myself outta the clink anonymous, I went ahead and did one of those every-letter-ripped-from-a-magazine-and-glued-to-a-sheet-of-nondescript-white-paper numbers while wearing cloth white gloves and a sterile suit (those CSIers are pretty amazing these days).

So here it is, thank you and you're welcome.

Dear Creepy Kid,

I think even you have to admit that I have been more than nice to you since we moved here. I mean, you have a reputation. Not just you, but your entire family, and (in case you didn't know) it proceeds you by quite a distance. So, when you wandered into my yard our first summer here wearing just shorts, combat boots, and a beebee gun and attempted to assassinate me, I smiled and offered you a lemonade. And then, when you were kind enough to teach my kindergartener and my 3 year old the word bitch by shouting, "I HATE YOU BITCHES!" down the street at them,* I forgave you and chalked it up to the fact that your parents are drunk, stoners who obviously don't have very high standards for your behavior. I shook my head, gave you the stink eye, and moved on, after telling my children what a nasty mouth loser you would grow up to be, of course. And, let's not forget the hatchet incident. The list goes on and on, and still, when my sweet, forgiving, naive-to-a-fault son invited you over to play Wii one day, I opened my door to you, gagged a little at your ripe smell, let you in and offered you snacks (and they were the good, individually wrapped kind, too). I didn't even wrestle you outta your disgustingly muddy boots; just let you Wii it up in them all over my living room floor. Never mind that I'm still not convinced you didn't steal the five spot I had lying on the counter. Point is, I've given you the benefit of the doubt time and time again. I didn't bum rush you and smash your annoying little plaything into a million pieces when you pulled it on me in my own yard. And, I didn't push you down and threaten to scrub the sh#* offa your filthy little tongue the day you taught my children how to curse like a sailor. It's not like I didn't want to. Because I totally did, but instead I let it slide. You know, because your parents suck and I felt kinda sorry for you and crap. But, guess what Mr. Nasty. Them days are ova. You've gone too far. You have pushed the things-dumb-mom-will-take-from-unfortunate-children envelope too far. Hate to go all street on you, but telling my kid Santa ain't real is just plain evil. Don't hate on his happiness just because Santa's never bothered to come your way. Maybe you'd have a little more luck with that if you weren't running around like some sorta wood imp shooting at random strangers and calling their children bitches. Just sayin'. Your life may be devoid of magic (and the puff the magic dragon type you have goin' on at your house doesn't count), but that doesn't mean that his is, and you had no right to try to ruin it with your mean words and your potty mouth. Take your hatchet, and your beebee gun, and your oversized boots, and your strange smelling hair and STEP OFF!. Keep your ugly to yourself, kid and give me back my five bucks! Don't let me catch you on the street. Santa may not be the truth, but I am, and I'll show you what it's like to be on a naughty list that matters. Break yourself, fool!

*Kidding! Totally kidding. I didn't actually light the bottle, I just left it on the door step as sort of a warning. Gangsta.

Merry Christmas, yo!

Oh, The Weather Outside Was Frightful

And the fire was so not happening since last season’s soot and logs are still chillin’ in there.

So, what’s a family to do when your street looks like this…

and there’s no hope of going anywhere, anytime soon?

Well for starters, you try not to lose your mind Jack Nicholson style and go all 1980s The Shining crazy on Hubby and the three offspring. 

Let me tell you that 48 straight hours of no outside activity is pretty tough when they are constantly running to the window asking to go outside and play in “da buzzard”, and not understanding why playing in near white out conditions is not safe for them (or fun for Mommy).

But, once said buzzard has run it’s course and you have made dough ornaments for every person in your life, played the Wii, the DS, computer games, board games, and hide and go seek, watched 11 episodes of Handy Manny, 9 episodes of Star Wars The Clone Wars, half of the Incredibles, and about 75% of Shark Boy and gag me with an effing spoon Lava Girl you:

1.  Get out your shovels and go to work, or convince #2 that he probably could eat our driveway clean and watch him give it a go…

2.  Try your luck at making snow angels and realize that in 19 inches of snow that is easier said than done, and not nearly as much fun as you had imagined.

 

3.  Assemble the entire neighborhood for some serious shredding and for once be happy that you live on a ridiculously steep hill that makes it virtually impossible to get out when it snows, but also makes for some of the best sledding in the hood.  Gonna have to charge admission for this next time.

 

 

 

  

Cookie Time Tuesday: I’m Bringing Cookies Back

Only, since I was wholly unsuccessful in my last baking attempt (see when good cakes go bad) I decided to put it in the hands of the youth.

No one is gonna tell some innocent (not always, but this time) preschoolers and a toddler that their cookies suck.

So, I figured we’d have ourselves a little cookie party with Mom of Girls (neighborhood friend we play with constantly and have mentioned on blog previously but can’t find post, so that’s it in a nutshell) and her two little ladies for this week’s Cookie Time Tuesday Showcase.

And these cookies are seriously the easiest, most delicious lovelies you are ever gonna bake.

Here’s what you do.

Crazy Cool Cuttable Cookies

1.  Drop #1 off at school.

2.  Speed to grocery store with a groggy #2 and a pajamed #3 to pick up cutout cookie baking supplies.

3.  Go to first store only to discover that cutout cookie making supplies are unavailable.

4.  Curse quietly under your breath so old lady walking past can’t hear, but just loud enough that #3 CAN hear, and repeat your potty-mouthed-old-lady-offending curse.

5.  Stick your tongue out at old lady after she tsks you (waiting until her back is turned of course; don’t want to have to mollywop an old lady).

6.  Instead of loading children back into car to visit store next door, decide to walk (it looked really close) and enjoy the sun (it’s December, I was wearing a coat, and now, because of the freakishly warm weather I smell like a goat).

7.  Finally arrive at store #2 and purchase the main cutout cookie ingredient: the cookies.  That’s right people, gasp and balk and act all better than me now, but seriously I have a bad track record with rollout cookies and I wasn’t gonna risk screwing them up with 4 five and under cookie-party-anticipating children depending on me. 

8.  In addition to the cookies remember to get icing to decorate with.  And, while we’re at it, better get some extra (WTH?!  Why are these dang things so friggin’ expensive?  GRRRR!) sprinkles.  Don’t want a fight to break out over the one sprinkles shaker (which, now that I think about it, is definitively fall themed) we own.

9.  Pay. 

10.  Realize how close it is to party start time.

11.  Walk back to car super fast (non-stroller-using children will probably need to run, maybe even sprint to keep up).

12.  Buckle children in car.

13.  Drive across parking lot and realize that the Christmas themed cookie cutters are still stored in the attic.

14.  Decide that pumpkins are not gonna cut it (get it?  cut it?!) for the cookie party festivities.

15.  Bust a u-turn in the parking lot.

16.  Unbuckle children from the car.

17.  Go into Joanna’s to find ON SALE cookie cutters you saw on Black Friday for $6.99.

18.  Locate cookie cutters and realize they are no longer $6.99, they are instead $13.99.  Also note the holiday sprinkles at Joann’s are only .99 cents.

19.  Curse again.

20.  Admonish #3 for following in your cavewoman like footsteps.

21.  Wait in a ridiculously long line, in a ridiculously hot store, with a ridiculously loud toddler who is now begging for Pop Tarts and announcing to everyone within earshot that he cut a “poopie-fart”.

22.  Purchase cookie cutters.

23.  Buckle children in car.

24.  Race home.

25.  Spend 10 minutes changing the product of aforementioned poopie-farts.

26.  Give self a sponge bath in sink to wash away the stench generated by running across parking lots in blazing hot sun (it was almost 70 degrees…in DECEMBER!) in a parka, a sweat shirt, and a pair of long johns (and no, I do not watch the weather report).

27.  Roll out premade cookie dough 2 minutes before Mom of Girls shows up, which is just enough time to make it look like you are the picture of hosting awesomeness.

28.  Let the kids go to work…

…which includes allowing Mr.-Fastest-Hands-in-the-East to eat two of his cookies in the raw (which is like a delicacy, right, or is that just sushi?).

29.  Enjoy their masterpieces almost as much as they do.

30.  Thank your lucky stars that you decided not to make the damn things from scratch!

Make New (i)friends Monday: Gourmand in Da House

Sung to the tune of Jingle Bells, well my version of that tune anyway, which I'm told is the tone deaf version, but whatever, you get the idea.

Searching through some blogs
I found one the other day.

I liked it oh so much
so I decided to stay.

It features yummy foods,
so many tasty treats.

Like the best cupcakes
that you will ever meet!

Oh today's ifriend, today's ifriend
she is quite a chef

Go to her house for dinner,
and there'll be nothing left!

Oh! Today's ifriend, today's ifriend
I'm so glad that we met.

You should visit her great blog
and you'll love it I bet!

Convinced at her awesomosity?

Well, I was hoping to insert post, custom written for my readers, by Christine of Maman and Gourmand's here today.

Maybe show off a new recipe of hers, something yummy like her German chocolate cheesecake lollipos, just to make you foam at the mouth and wish you could rock an oven the way she does.

Something gorgeous like these babies (her photos are great too, right?)...



Or, something award winning, like this (yep, she won the Iron Cupcake Apple Challenge which is like a big deal in the cupcake-obsessed foodie world)...



But, instead, I'm doing the post for her, about her, and her family, because instead of spending a joyful holiday season all cooking mouthwateringly amazing dishes and being all festive like, they are struggling with illness, and the possible loss of her step son.

Instead of decking the halls and planning for happy times in 2010, they are watching as James (her step son) is being overtaken by heart and lung issues that have forced him to be placed under the care of hospice.

This will likely be their last Christmas with James.

And they are sad (and frustrated, and confused, and frightened).

I can not even begin to attempt to describe what their family is going through at the moment, and I don't even intend to try.

But, I hope that you will take a moment to visit her blog, and possibly leave her a nice comment, and even steal one of her AWESOME recipes and then come back later and tell her how much you enjoyed it.

It may not seem like a lot, and really it's not, but sometimes it's the little things that people do that count, and that's all I'm asking, a little moment to read about her, and her family, and James just so she knows she's not alone.

And then hug your babies and enjoy the holidays, thanking whoever you thank for the beauty of your life for giving you another Christmas with your loved ones.

*Wanna be a PBD ifriend and share your inner most thoughts, your bank statements, your being your blog with Dumb Mom and friends. Shoot me an email to parentingbydummies[at]gmail[dot]com and you'll be in there like swimwear!

Boom Baby Is Right!

If I didn't weigh so dang much, I'd be literally blown away by how many people were coerced, threatened, or bribed came over to cast their votes for the Merry Effing Christmas Photo Contest this week.

As it is, I'm amazed!

There really were so many great entries.

They all deserve to win.

Only, since my finances are a bit, um...strained (apparently "Santa's" retainer fee has gone up a bit this year) everyone can't get a gift of the tangible-could-be-sold-on-ebay variety.

But...

Remember high school (I'm probably the only person on the planet who actually longs to go back to high school since that is where I left the thin version of myself), when they had those superlatives for the year book?

You know Most Likely to Succeed (aka biggest dork). Or, Biggest Flirt (aka the fast ones getting all the "action"). Stuff like that.

I always wanted to win one of those, just once.

I woulda been happy with anything...maybe Most Athletic.

But I was a cheerleader, and not the back handspring-ing kind, the stomp-clap-stomp kind.

Okay. So I wasn't a cheerleader at first.

At first, I was the Panther (sorta had to work my way up to real life cheerleader, but I swear, eventually I made it outta the suit and onto the field/court in my real skin).



Pretty sure this temporary vocation of mine reflected unfavorably on the rest of my years.

Point is I never won anything.

Possibly because I wasn't outstanding at anything.

Possibly because of the year I spent as the Panther.

Or, possibly because BFF was busy outshining me at everything.

Do you know that freshman year she won prettiest AND best dressed?!

Seriously! Does one person really need two titles?

Anyway, I thought the best way to do this contest would be to give superlatives to the Hall of Shamers because each of you were awesome in your own possibly-dysfunctional-but-ridiculously-funny ways.

And, I don't want you to feel all scorned or left out because you didn't win anything.

So, in random order, because I figure if you wanna know who got the most votes, you can feel free to spend the next two hours counting all 390 of those bad boys.

#1. From When Did I Become My Mom, aka Kids Easiest to Distract and Least Likely to Pay You Any Mind Even if You Threaten to Put Their Photo on the Internet.



#29. From Hiding From the Kids, aka Most Likely to Meet Santa Behind the Bleachers and Bribe her Friends to Keep Quiet About It.



#6. From Confessions of a Semi-Slacker Mom, aka Most Likely to Win the World's Strongest Man Competition.



#18. From The Mommyologist, aka Most Likely to Drive a Truck, Own a Tractor, or Live in a Trailer with his Mom (which may not be such a bad thing if you're like me and have decided that kids leaving home is the dumbest thing EVER.).



#11 From Blogbaby, aka Biggest Diva, but not in a I-only-drink-boiled-water-delivered-in-the-clean-hands-of-newborn-babies sorta way, more in a I'm-bad-I'm-bad-I'm-bad-I-know-I'm-bad sorta way.



And now that they have all been given something that I was looked over for numerous times in my high school history, I will get to the moment you all have been waiting for...

The Big Announcement!

Who's the Big Winner of the First Annual Merry Effing Christmas Photo Contest?

Who will live in infamy (like my girl Supah, reigning soon-to-be-former-heavyweight champion of the blog world in the Happily (un)Haunted Halloween Photo Contest) and be granted the title of Fuglist Foto Family?

Who will get the awesome prizes; the notoriety; the opportunity to own PBD (for a day at least); the chance to say IN YO FACE WITH A CAN OF MACE, MAKE YOU CRY ALL OVER THE PLACE?!

The one.

The only.

BLOOOOOOOGBAAAAABBBBY!

That's right people.

Blogbaby is my (and my expert panel of judges who shall remain nameless for fear of being retaliated against by the losers and their posses less fortunate entrants)choice.

Please take a moment to sulk like babies congratulate her on her big win!

But, she's not the only one who should be celebrating tonight.

Our second place winner, Chief, should give herself a huge round of applause! She has herself quite a following of afraid for their lives devoted readers who all took the time to vote for her repeatedly.

And, even though her snapshot didn't win THE prize, it did snag her the more appropriate gift of the Big Eye Dummy because she definitely has carved herself out a permaplace here at Casa de Dummies for presenting us all with the most outlandish, asstastic photo EVER.

And, last but not least, let's give it up for Semi-Slacker Mom and her band of Christmas card photo saboteurs. She has been named the second loser runner up in this here contest and should wear her badge of shame with pride!

Thank you to everyone who entered and voted and made this contest tons of fun.

I hope some of you will stick around PBD and see what things are like on a regular basis, but even if you don't, be sure you come back around February 1st to get in on our next photo contest.

It's gonna be big!

HUGE!

And, it won't even require you to make fun of your offspring!

Happy Holidays peeps.

BOOM BABY!

*PBD admits it's free: Please be aware that Dumb Mom worked her tail off by spending countless hours in front of her computer searching for companies to supply the gifts given to the contest winners. Everything (except for the copy of School of Rock since no one would give me Jack Black's celly so I could call him and ask him for a copy) was supplied free of charge. You are welcome and will be expected to can thank me later! XOXO!

Just Give 'Em a Chance

Only 14 hours (give or take) left to secure the fate of your favorite fugly photo in the Merry Effin Christmas Photo Contest Hall of Shame.

It is only from this position that will they have any chance (a 1 in 5 chance really) of being selected as the fugliest photo of all.

Because, while I'd like to consider the opinion of all of you obviously bribed, coerced, and/or threatened, and therefore totally compromised and discredited dedicated readers, the ultimate choice will be mine (insert evil laugh...Mwhahaha) and my skilled panel of judges.

After all, it is my effing contest in the first effing place so I can pick whoever the eff I want to win the effing thing, and if you don't effing like it you can go eff yourself, it's only fair that I get to select since you know, my witty captions, my Photoshop skilldizzles (except for those few overachievers *cough* Supah, who did their own cards), my contest, MY BLOG!

So...hurry up and vote for your faves.

To make it easier, I've ranked them here, as they stand at this very moment, so you can change the course of history (you know, by voting for the underdog), or just let the chips fall as they may (or whatever that saying is).

Looks like there is a pretty heated battle for the fifth spot!

May the force be with you!

1. #29
2. #11
3. #6
4. #1
5. #18
6. #16 and #22 tied with 10 each and only outta the top 5 by 5 votes!)
5. #15
6. #14
7. #27 & #3
8. #19
9. #23 & #28
10. #26
11. #8, 10, 13, 24
12. #2, 9, 20, 21, 25, 5
13. #4, 7, 12, 17

Good luck contestants, and please note, there is already another photo contest in the works so should you get stomped mercilessly not be victorious in this one, you will get another chance!

Something New

Getting sick of looking at these pics?

Check out these Sketchy Santas.

Quite possibly the funniest website EVER!

I mean, right next to parenting BY dummies, of course!

But, be sure to come back and vote for your favorite sketchy child right here. You wouldn't want your favorite to miss the top five by one measly vote.

Boom Baby!

This is #2’s FAVORITE thing to say.

He wakes up in the morning…BOOM BABY!

I serve him his dinner…BOOM BABY!

He gets released from prison time out, that’s right…BOOM BABY!

At first, I found it quite comical.

Then it moved dangerously close to the annoying department (especially when he said it after time out, because it sorta cheapened the whole thing, as though he was wholly unaffected by my attempt to impose my silly little rules upon him).

Now I’m starting to appreciate it for it’s ability to up the awesome on the most mundane, everyday tasks.

Can you even guess how much more amazing flushing the toilet is when there is someone saying BOOM BABY as it happens?

BOOM BABY is quickly turning into our family mantra (or motto like Mama Kat suggested for the week's Writer's Workshop. And, so what if I'm cheating a wee little bit, she'll forgive me because she loves me! Right Mama K? You do love me, don't you? I mean, that's just the impression I got when we spent that night in Vegas together. Wait...What?! What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?! I thought you were different. I thought this was special. Like we had something.).

You know, some people say let’s roll, we say BOOM BABY.

So, while the unveiling of the First Annual Merry Effing Christmas Photo Contest entries may already be full of more excitement and anticipation than one holiday photo contest can stand, how ‘bout a little more?

Casa de Dummies style!

Here they are.

In random order.

With captions you will love, or hate, or love to hate.

For your voting pleasure (however, you may only do so once per day!).

Merry Effing Christmas.

BOOM BABY!!!

1. From When Did I Become My Mom?

2. From Adrian’s Crazy Life (get the full story on this one, by clicking the link)

3. From My Life…Badly Written (another with a worth-reading back story)

4. From My Life in Words (more this-is-a-true-story action)

5. From Seven Clown Circus (I added the elf b/c without it, the picture was just too dang cute! It was stifling my funny. My original caption was, “I love Angie even if her hair looks kinda wonky.” That’s just not funny. So, in goes creepy little elf dude and out comes a caption I can be proud of! )

6. From Confessions of a Semi-Slacker Mom

7. From She Says the Darndest Things

8. From For What it’s Worth or Not

9. From Honest To Betsy

10. From I’m Just Sayin’ (who I just realized I forgot to say congrats on baby’s birth to when he was born nearly 2 months ago, because I’m an insensitive idiot who reads and responds to comments via email instead of visiting blogs to check up on people like I should. Sorry, don’t hate me! And, when he’s not screaming because he hates his mommy’s idea of a cute suit, he is quite the cutie, so go take a peek!)

11. From Blogbaby. Where naughty is the new black and gifts for Christmas are so 2000 and late.

12. From Life With Kaishon.

13. From 4 Lettre Words. And, no. It’s not a typo.

14. From Peanut Butter in My Hair. Winner of the Least Likely to Ever Get a Good Picture of Her Kids Award.

15. From Supah Mommy. Reining PBD Photo Contest Champ and resident Overachiever. Obviously I didn’t make this card since it looks all pro-fes-sion-Al.

16. From All You Need is Love

17. From Mom Most Traveled

18. From The Mommyologist (who should get extra points for blog name originality, I think.)

19. From The Daily Dribbles. Another overachieving, contest host shower upper who made her own card just to rub my face in her graphic design skilldizzels because she’s awesome like that.

20. From Night Light Stories

21. From Food Don’t Grow on Trees, owner and operator of one of the cutest sets of triplets ever.

22. From The Triplet Crown, owner and operator of the other cutest set of triplets I’ve ever, who is also crazy brave enough to be pregnant with baby #4.

23. From Superdumb Supervillain (another best-blog-title nominee)

24. From Tracy’s Topics

25. From True Confessions of a Single Mother

26. From Hip as I Wanna Be

27. Last but not least, from The (Un)Experienced Mom

28. The real last but not least, but momentarily forgotten in my exhaustion induced haze, from Measuring My Life in L-O-V-E (who gets an extra vote for being added a day late). Thanks for showing your panties!



29) The real, real seriously this time, I'm like 99.9% sure this is the last forgotten entry from Hiding from the Kids, who has every right to boycott this contest, this blog, and me (aka the worst photo contest hosting blog owner EVER) in general. So, in an effort to prevent being hated on by her plethora of readers, I'm gonna give her 2 free votes just because I suck. Please don't hate me, because then I'll have to blog about it, and I'm WAY too tired to blog right now!



*Official Rules: One vote per person per day. No anonymous voters accepted. Voting will close at 6pm on 12/18/09. Winner and runners-up will be announced 12/19/09.