I'm Busted!

Wonder if this is going to fix my feed. Heard that it would. Not sure I believe it. But, hoping something will work!

Wordful Wednesday: Meet Spidey-Shark

This is Spidey-Shark…

Spidey-Shark is super-extra-crazy smart (although he may want to consider another pair of footwear).

See, he knows all about outer space (that’s him pointing out the Moon)…

But, Spidey-Shark knows other stuff too.

Like how to do some pretty sweet jumps…

And how to pout just enough to get his mommy to do exactly what he wants…

Gotta love some Spidey-Shark!

P.S. Come back tomorrow for a HUGE, like Jessie-James-is-a-cheater-just-like-Tiger HUGE, reveal on pBd. You DO NOT want to miss this (meaning I don’t want you to miss this so if you love me like I love you then you’ll come back)!

P.P.S. Still time to enter the Extract Giveaway to win a copy of the DVD for your viewing pleasure.

Mom Tip Tuesday: Let’s Talk About SEX Baby

Welcome to another Mom Tip Tuesday, the go to source for moms seeking ways to up their awesome.

This week’s topic is a big one; something I’ve been thinking about quite a bit lately: Having “The Talk” with The Dudes.

And, don’t try to act all innocent with me, you know exactly which “talk” I’m talking about.

Yeeeaaah. THAT one.

One of my main fears about being a mom to a daughter was the sex issue.

What to say, when to say it, should I use a diagram, get a book, a film?

But, when I realized that it would be just The Dudes, I sorta let myself off the hook.

I mean, that’s what Dumb Dad is for, right?

To teach them all about dude stuff (seeing how I’m in charge of pretty much everything else!)?

So, I’ve been talking to him about it lately.

Just sorta encouraging to do some recognizance with #1, find out what he knows, or doesn’t know about the whole thing (he is 8 after all and I figure someone, somewhere has shared with him some misinformation by this point).

And yeah, looks like he’s gonna be useless with this.

His idea of having “The Talk” is to wait ‘til they’re like 15, take them out to the garage, and say something along the lines of, “So, uh, you know about chicks? Got any questions?”, and pray that they are too embarrassed, too surprised, or too advanced to ask him anything.

Not cool.

You can’t wait until they are full blown chick magnets dudes (aka gone through the most excruciating parts of puberty) to have the becoming-a-full-blown-dude talk with them.

You have to ease them into things, so they know what to expect and what’s normal and how they should respond to their new feelings and dude parts and stuff.

After reading this post from Makes Me Wanna Holler, I sorta let Dumb Dad off the hook a bit, and decided to give him some more specific guidance.

Already we’ve sorta started the dialogue, mostly in regards to what’s appropriate (since #2 needs to repeatedly be reminded that, while girls love to be complimented, it’s not really okay for him to rub BFFs butt and tell her it’s “SO AWEEEsome”). And, we talk about sensations feelings, and the incessant hands in the pants, and just everyday stuff like that.

But, I’m looking ahead to getting more specific. Middle school will be here before I know it, and I’m thinking we should have it before then? Or maybe after then? Or, possibly during it? Not sure???

Because, I can avoid IT for as long as I want, but I’m guessing it ain’t gonna go away.

Is it?

Not likely, right?

I’ve not quite come up with what we’re gonna say (aka what he’s gonna say after I’ve coached him sufficiently)when the time comes to debunk the babies-come-from-Mommy’s-belly-because-God-puts-them-there-because-he-wants-to myth, but I’ve got a long list of what I’m NOT gonna do.

Since, you know, I sorta specialize in that; knowing exactly what NOT to do.

So here you have it, Dumb Mom’s Guide to Ruining Sex for Your Kids, ensuring that if they are getting some you’ll be the last one to know about it.

5. Show them this video.

If Sex Ed PSAs Were Realistic -- powered by Cracked.com

4. Let this guy tell them.

3. Provide them with porn condoms a Wet Wabbit sex paraphernalia without a valid explanation. Giving them a box of condoms and telling them to read the product insert sheet or “Google it” may seem like an easy-I’m-off-the-hook-because-Google-knows-everything, great idea, but lemme tell ya, it’s not. The Internet is a scary place for the sex novice; not only are there images that would scare an average human, but it’s a hotbed of misinformation. Besides, you want to break into a hot nervous related sweat have a dialogue with your children about this whole sex business. You want to be the one to provide them with factual information, to answer their questions (no matter how off the wall awkward and weird they are), and to give them the opportunity and the ability to be open and honest with you about their emotions and physical feelings. They may seem all a-ok when they are with their friends, but seriously, learning the ins and outs (pun intended) of this is spooky sh$t and you want to be a part of every spooky experience your kid has, right? Or, you could leave it to that over grown man child in your son’s gym class. You know the one that makes you think that the hormones in food have done some serious work on him because you’re pretty sure that he’s hookin’ up with your slutty neighbor he has David Beckham’s body and the facial hair of Joaquin Phoenix when he went nuts? Or even more scary, you could let your kid’s high school version of these guys fill him in (because every high school has these guys).

From what I can tell, they know as much about the responsibility and emotional strain that comes with having an intimate relationship with another person as I know about open heart surgery. Basically, anyone who calls it boning, laying pipe, banging, smackin’ it, hittin’ it or “pounding vaj” is probably not an option.

2. Forbid it. This approach will likely guran-freakin-tee you that before nightfall your 14 year old will be dropping it like it’s hot under the bleachers for some random classmate whose last name she may or may not even recall. Kids have a strange habit of getting super interested in all the crap you don’t want them to do, so your best bet would be to have an open conversation about the issue and not go getting all crazy forbiddy and stuff. Crazy forbiddy rarely gets the results you want. Maybe temporarily, you know, until they figure out how to get the nails outta their window and the boot off their car. But then, when they finally get some freedom (aka go to college) they are the chicks pole dancing in the campus pub and showing their bajangas on those Girls Gone Buck-Raving-Nasty-Ho-Bag Wild shows. So make note: anything you forbid sounds to your kid like something exciting, awesome, and grown-up which makes it the exact thing they wanna do.

1. Avoid it. As in don’t bring it up ever and don’t encourage them to bring it up either. No matter how awkward, embarrassed, or silly you feel about it ,it’s better to have the lines of communication open than to shut them down completely. Because the misinformation is out there. People willing to take advantage of their naiveté are out there. And, opportunities to explore are out there. They will find out what they want to know with out without your assistance. And being a member of the abstinence camp doesn’t get you off the hook; you still have to tell them what it is that they are NOT to do. So decide how you feel about it (do you want them to consider wearing one of those no-sex ring thingys?), think up what you wanna say about it (will you start with a joke, show them a video, get a pamphlet?), pick the right time (preferably before they graduate high school), and go for it. Because while having “The Talk” is uncomfortable and hard and possibly embarrassing for both of you, it’s nowhere near as embarrassing as finding out your 12 year old is knocked up or that your 14 year old son is gonna be a baby’s daddy by spring break.

Still need help doing the right thing?

Check out the Midwest Teen Sex Show. It’s hosted by a mom of three boys who has had some pretty interesting experiences. It’s not what you would call sex ed, but it’s certainly informative and funny. And, you all know how I feel about funny.

For a more educational look at sex education, try Puberty from Head to Toe. It’s written by a current health/sex-ed teacher and I’m telling you, I had to Google some of the words she uses, you know just to be certain, for like research purposes or like, something.

Good luck!

Have a Mom Tip you want to share?

Link it here…

Make New (i)friends Monday: The Daily Dribbles

Kmama is her name.
Daily Dribble is her blog.

She's got a husband,
two kids and a dog.

She wears many hats
in her daily life.

She's a mom and a worker
and JDaddy's wife.

But what I love
most about her site.

Is that she's funny
and can really write.

So check her out,
go stop on by.

'Cause my girl Kmama,
is super-funky FLY!

Oh, and most notably she won the Fugly Face Photo Contest a few weeks back which is really her main claim to fame.

She actually wrote this post for me back then and waited patiently like the sweet, understanding, forgiving bloggy buddy that she is then totally bugged the crap outta me for like 5 weeks or something absurd begging me to post this. She was all blowin' up my email, Tweeting me incessantly, freakin' Skyping me like a mofo. Seriously. Pretty sure she is borderline obsessed with me or something. Insane. Possibly she is insane.

So yeah. Just to embarrass her for fun remind you of who she was, here is her winning shot...



Luckily, she looks at least 63% better than this currently. Go ahead to The Daily Dribbles and see if I'm lyin'!

And, without further ado, give it up for the one, the only KMAMA!

I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be happy or sad that I won the Fugly Photo Contest. Hmm. Well, I’ll go with happy because winning is winning, right??

I’d like to thank the Academy my followers, my mom and dad, my dog, my husband, my sons…oh, and my ex sister-in-law for making me wear that, what can only be described as, HEINOUS rented bridesmaid dress. For the love of all things holy, I can’t figure out how that ever seemed like a good idea. Ever.

Anyuglydress, I’m flattered to be crowned the winner of the Fugly Photo, and to also be featured as Dumb Mom’s (i)friend this week!! Yay me.

Now, because I’m just a small fish in the big sea that is the blogosphere, many of you may be wondering who I am. I am Kmama, a thirty-something wife, mother, and career-woman, just trying to find a balance between the three.

Let’s examine that statement in more detail. First of all, I’m a wife. I’ve been married to my wonderful husband, Jdaddy for over 7 years. He is my better half. We met in a way that I am not yet brave enough to disclose on my blog, however, if I’m pressured enough, I just might crack. ;-)

Second, I’m a mother. I have been blessed with two amazing little boys. Buddy is 5 years old and is my payback child. He’s the pickiest eater ever, is moody and stubborn, is not a morning person, and can’t stand any item of clothing that might be scratchy or lumpy. I have no idea where he got any of those traits. *smirk* On the other hand, he’s got an amazing personality, awesome dimples, and leadership skills that will serve him well in the future. Buster is 2 years old and is completely opposite from Buddy. He is pretty much happy all the time, is the best snuggler ever, and is so very laid back. While Buster’s looks resemble more of me and my family, he definitely has his daddy’s personality.

Third, I’m a career-woman. I work full-time, outside of the home. I knew at an early age what I wanted to do when I grew up. I’m now doing it, and yet, I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I love my job and I love being able to support my family to achieve the things that we want to be able to achieve. It’s empowering.

Now, that last little statement…the part about “trying to find a balance between the three”?? Well, I’m not so good at that. And that’s where my blog comes in. My blog is my outlet, the way that I make it from one day to the next without going insane. So if you’re looking for a little snark and humor (my two favorite personalities), come on over to The Daily Dribbles. And if snark and humor is also your thing, you might enjoy my “Thank You Very Much Thursdays.”

Oh, and finally, if you’re here at PBD’s because I sent you, FOLLOW this woman. She’s an amazing, creative blogger that often times leaves me in awe. Not to mention the fact that she hosts great contests and giveaways!

Extract: The Movie not the Food Additive

If you are here to see if you are the big winner of the handmade clutch bag courtesy of Julia Sherry Designs you will either have to a)read this entire post, or b)skip to the end.

Now, I’m sure some of you will just go ahead and go with choice B because you really just care about the bag. But, be warned, if you go that route you will miss out on the opportunity to win the next giveaway.

So, yeah. You’ve been warned.

Anyway.

Remember this guy?

Yep, Jason Bateman.

One of the many former teen stars whose pictures I would rip from my cherished issues of Teen Beat and plaster on my wall to swoon over and dream about.

That was during what I’ll refer to as my Heartthrob Phase. It was the phase right before I moved into my scary-looking-dudes-in-beanie-caps Thug Life Phase, at which point photos of Kirk Cameron, Jason Bateman, and the two Corey's (RIP CH) were replaced with photos of MC Brains (whatever happened to Mr.. Oochi Cochie Lalala?), BBD (not sure why because they weren’t even remotely attractive), Naughty by Nature, and LL Cool J (timelessly sexy, right?).

While most of these people have disappeared from the limelight entirely, Jason Bateman has recently enjoyed a large amount of success on both the little screen (not sure why Arrested Development was cancelled because it was seriously one of the funniest shows on TV; Michael Cera can do no wrong) and the big screen (making funny appearances in Juno, The Break-up, and Hancock) alike.

Not too long ago I was given tickets to a pre-screening of the movie Extract by Miramax (yep, got to sit in specially marked seats and everyone thought I was some sort of Miramax executive; so awesome) starring Jason Bateman, Ben Affleck, Mila Kunis. Also making an appearance were some other less accomplished semi-lebrities Kristin Wiig, J.K. Simmons, and that one guy from the new 90210.

I thought it was funny.

Like really funny.

I actually wrote my original review on it here: Dumb Mom’s Review of Extract the film not the food additive.

Did you read it?

Basically I said something about it being LOL funny and then I think I compared it to The Hangover or something.

A few weeks ago it happened again. I was contacted by some movie industry exec (aka the PR people for Mike Judge, the dude who made Extract) and asked if I’d be willing to host a review/giveaway of Extract the DVD. You know, because even the movie industry gurus are starting to stand up and take notice of pBd and Dumb Mom’s commitment to awesomeness.

Naturally, I was stoked to do it because ever since Blockbuster store fronts bit the dust, Dumb Dad and I have little access to home movies (and yes, we’ve heard of Netflix, but he will not bite the Netflix bullet; something about being forced into by the economy or something). Thought this would be a wonderful opportunity for us to enjoy a funny, adult film together (he didn’t go to the premiere with me; I took BFF instead).

It took us two nights to finish it (not because we didn’t like it, just because #2 was being all needy that night and kept getting outta bed for “potty” and “water” and because his “back was all itchy or something”), but finish it we did.

And what’s my second time around review: It’s still funny.

Maybe not The Hangover funny like I initially advised, but still funny.

Let me state, for the record, that I am no movie critic. Honestly, when it comes to feature films I’m about as discriminating as Cookie Monster when it comes to cookies.

Usually, I’m just happy to be enjoying something that doesn’t rhyme or have a grate-on-your-last-nerve theme song to go along with it.

In all my years of movie watching I’ve never even walked out of a film. Even Wishmaster 3. Even Wild Things, you know that creepy Kevin-Bacon-shows-his-bacon-soft-porn dealy from the 90s?

So yeah, my standards are low.

But, I know funny (seriously, do you even read my blog?), and I’m standing by my initial review of Extract as being firmly planted in the funny category.

Want to see?

Because you know I’m giving it away.

Two in fact!

Two Dumb Mom followers will be rewarded with a DVD copy of the film.

All you have to do is:

1. Follow pBd.

2. Leave a comment giving me a movie recommendation (because lately all I’ve been watching is New Moon and I need to mix it up a little before I turn in to a freakin’ werewolf).

3. That is all.

Now for the announcement you’ve all been waiting for!

The winner of the handmade clutch bag is…

RITA! From Fighting Off Frumpy!

Yeah for her!

And, if enough of you check out Julia Sherry Designs (and blog about her an Tweet about her and tell her she’s so totally awesome) perhaps she will go ahead an sponsor another pBd giveaway.

RanDumb: ROFL!

Decided that since I’m not feeling particularly inspired or creative today I’d share some stuff from other people that I found humorous and RanDumb this week.

Hopefully you too will find yourself ROFL, but I can pretty much guaran-freakin’-tee that these are 100% funnier than anything I coulda come up with.

Just one of those day, ya know?

But, before I introduce you to these, can I just tell you that I think I need an intervention.

Not for blogging, silly.

No, not for food.

OMG, not THAT either.

It’s just that I’m addicted to lists.

Have you not noticed?

I number everything: Ways to have successful birthday parties for preschoolers. How to know if you’re a Dumb Mom Blogger. How to survive the emergency room when your doctor is a d-bag with a toddler.

All numbered.

Oh well, guess it just works for me.

And, like some smart people who know smart people stuff always say, “Why fix what ain’t broken?”, or something like that.

On that note please enjoy: RanDumb: The ROFL Edition featuring people who are so much funnier than me it’s like almost not even funny.

1. Tosh.0. Despite the fact that Tosh is sometimes sexist, often racist, possibly homophobic, and always inappropriate, Tosh.0 is one of my all time favorite shows ever. If I need to laugh I just put on one of the 75 episodes of it that Dumb Dad has saved on the DVR. The fact that Dancing with The Stars didn’t record because the stupid things are hogging up all the free space ticks me off pretty bad and makes me wish explosive diarrhea on him. But, I have to admit that when I encounter gems like this, I come pretty close to forgiving him.

Tosh.0
Video Breakdown - Suicidal Door Diving
www.comedycentral.com
Web Redemption 2 Girls, 1 Cup Reaction Demi Moore Picture

2. LOL Cats. I don’t usually find cats humorous. Some times they’re creepy. Some times they’re gross. And, some times they’re borderline cute in that so-ugly-it’s-cute-way only cats and premature babies can pull off. But, funny, not so much. Except, this one time, when this really annoying girl from school came over and she picked up my cat, and it jabbed one of it’s evil, poison dipped claws into her chest. And she was all upset and like red over it. That was funny. And so is this…

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

3. But dogs. Dogs are like chimps, pretty much always funny.

4. See…

And you can save the comparisons to my kids. I already know.

5. The People of Wal-Mart. I’m starting to think that they are really more sad than they are funny, but still. I laugh. Just because sometimes laughing at inappropriate things is fun. And we all do it. Anyone who laughed at this scene in The Hangover can consider themselves guilty of that little pleasure. Anyway, back to Wal-Mart, be careful with the video if you’re at work or in front of your kids who you’d like to NOT grow up to be potty mouths, THERE ARE NAUGHTY WORDS LIKE F#CK AND SH$T AND BIOTCH in here. But, if you’re not bothered by cursing when necessary comical (and if you watched The Hangover I’m assuming you’re not) it’s funny and true and sad and scary and the exact reason why I don’t go to Wal-Mart's in towns that have a total population of less than like 50,000 people. Safety first.

Now. Run along and have a pleasant weekend, but not before you leave me a comment enter my HANDMADE CLUTCH GIVEAWAY that ends tonight.

And, as an added bonus if you tweet a link to this post (not the giveaway one, THIS one) I’ll hook you up with a free entry, just cuz I’m freakin’ rad like that.

Dr. Emergency: You’ve Been Warned

Affirmation: a declaration that something is true.

According to Wikipedia’s definition of affirmation, “it may also refer to a positive judgment: in logic, the union of the subject and predicate of a proposition” (whatever the crap that means).

Basically, when I think of the word affirmation I think of positivity, of acceptance, of confirmation that I am awesome right.

And, honestly, being right is all the affirmation I need.

This week’s Writer’s Workshop has asked us to share an the affirmation that makes us feel better.

For me, it’s not telling myself I’m beautiful or smart or thin daily that makes me stay the course.

I mean, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid and even myself can’t convince myself that any of those things are true.

For me the only thing that works is knowing that I’m right.

Confirmation that I am money is really the only thing that motivates me to keep going.

And, quite frankly, there is nothing greater than having the pleasure of knowing that I purchased the right garage door opener even when Dumb Dad said I couldn’t, or of being at practice on the right night even when Dumb Dad said I wasn’t, or even of knowing that #3 was a boy when Dumb Dad said he wasn’t gonna be.

But, it’s not just about being right where Dumb Dad is concerned (although it mostly is because I find little in life more pleasurable than being able to say “in yo face” to that man); it’s about being right where EVERYONE is concerned.

It’s sorta just my thing.

And, I appreciate it when other people have a similar need (unless the other person is Dumb Dad, because we both can’t always be right and being wrong all the time would get really frustrating for him). A need to do the right thing, make the right choice, reach the right diagnosis.

Apparently, not everyone is as committed to being right as I am.

Apparently, not being right is just as fulfilling to some as being right is to me.

Scary, but true.

So, if you read my blog (and you should, I mean, what are you waiting for? A personal invitation? Fine. I’d love for you to follow my blog, subscribe to my RSS feed, stalk me to the ends of the earth and back, show up at my door with money and gifts and tickets to Justin Timberlake concerts. How about a bribe gift? Fine. Go ahead and enter my handmade clutch giveaway from Julia Sherry Designs. Everyone can be bribed with handbags, right?!).

Like I was saying, if you read my blog, then you know that #3 required a visit to the ER this past Sunday.

Calm down.

He is fine. And, if you missed that post and you’d like to know what that was like you’re gonna have to read: Dumb Mom’s Guide to Surviving the Emergency Room ‘cause I’m not telling.

Back?

Kay. As I was saying he is mostly fine.

He still has some lingering little issues, but he is definitely on his way back to health and wellness.

Which is good.

I mean super natural good.

But, the fact that he is fine now does not mean that the misdiagnosis we received in the ER is entirely a moot point.

I am not one to cry foul, or file a complaint, or even make a big stink out of it.

But, I do give warnings.

And, if you are anyone other than my kids, I only give them once.

So Dr. Emergency (name changed to protect his identity), consider this your warning.

Thoughtful, selfless, amazing human that I am, I am NOT reporting this incident to your superiors. For your sake I will keep this between us, because if I know them (and, for the record, I sorta do), they would not be happy to learn about this incident, and you, Sir, would have some explaining to do.

So since my lack of initiative and free time to be tied up in hospital bureaucracy and evil spiritedness is limited, a letter should suffice.

And, yes, you may Thank Me Later.

Dear Dr. Emergency,

First of all, let me share with you that #3 is on the mend. He is still not 100% back to tearing up the pavement with The Brothers, but he’s definitely on his way. So thank you. Sorta. Thank you for taking a moment (literally A MOMENT) to pop your head in and check on my little man. He’d had a rough go of it, we both had, and we were anxious and exhausted and frightened when we met. So, I appreciate you taking time from your busy schedule (although, isn’t it the case that the ER is like almost always busy?) to spend a few seconds (literally, like less than 60) examining my burning-hot-with-fever baby. I’m sure there were numerous other people patiently awaiting your attentions (however the ones on either side of us weren’t examples of that) and, while I realize attending to patients in the ER is your job, still, I’d like you to know that appreciate it. Now, that being said let me share a little beef I have with you. My kid didn’t have an effing ear infection, dude. Seriously, unless that thing can be gone, without a trace, less than 12 hours post diagnosis, then you made a mistake. Or you just flat out lied. Our primary care doctor (aka Baby Doctor), in her attempt to not make you look like the pathetic, imbecile that you seem to be, provided this explanation, “Perhaps he was afraid, because the fever was so high? So he gave the antibiotic just in case?” Perhaps. Only here’s the thing, we don’t take antibiotics “just in case”. We take antibiotics “because we have to”. And, I understand that many people would be upset to wait in the ER for hours with a lethargic, irritable, exhausted baby only to go in the back and have them say, “It’s a virus. Take two Tylenol and call me in the morning,” we are not those people. I may be a Dumb Mom, but I’m not a dumb human (especially not in comparison to the mental giants assigned the bed next to us on this fateful trip). I understand how antibiotics work. I appreciate the distinction between viral infections and bacterial infections (and I don’t need you to call them “buggies” so I understand). I realize that medical science is not miracle working, and that sometimes you just don’t know (pisses me off, but I get it). So, in future, do us all a favor and don’t guess. Don’t give my child an antibiotic just to shut me up in case and think about spending more than half a minute in the room with us to make a diagnosis. I know time is money we really aren’t that important tight schedule busy night someone’s sicker you were under a great deal of pressure (but, that’s part of it, right? Working in the ER is a stressful job.). Which is why, this is between us. I’m not sending a copy of this to the president of the place. I’m not even going to share your name with the World Wide Web anyone. This is for you. As a warning. Because things are okay. But, should #3s whatever-he-has turn into the Bubonic Plague or some creepy mind altering infection that leaves him sterile or paralyzed or worse it will be on like Donkey Kong. I will find you and you will cry. There’s something to be afraid of, and you’ll need a lot more than a 10 day course of amoxicillin to throw me off. XOXO, Dumb (but not stupid) Mom

Okay readers, bring on the affirmations, in the form of comments if you please:)

And, feel free to link up your Thank Me Later posts as well!

Well, if the Linky thingy isn't working (because I can't see it, so maybe you can't either?) just leave your link in the comments and I'll add it when the bloody thing stops tripping.

Wordful Wednesday: So NOT Dumb Edition

I haven’t shared a list of So-No-Dumb stuff in ages.

You’ve missed it, I’m sure, so I’m bringing it back just to mix things up around here.

You know me, keeping it fresh, keeping it real, and keeping it so-not Dumb!

It’s a way of life people!

So-Not-Dumb Things Dumb Mom Loves (but only for like the moment, because Dumb Mom is a fickle, flighty thing and is easily distracted by shiny things; just because you aren’t dumb today, doesn’t mean you won’t be tomorrow!)

1. Spring. I L-O-V-E spring. The budding flowers, the thunderstorms, the soft sunlight. All of it. Except for the incessant pre-dawn chirping of the birds. And soccer practice. And mud. And wind. And maybe like one or two other things. But other than that, I totally love spring. Because even though the water at “the beach”* is still beyond too cold to get into (not that I do anyway, beach water gives me the willies) we can at least go there. And rub some sunshine on our faces. And after Snowpacalypse 2010, we could use a little sunshine.

2. Easter. I’m all for any holiday that features a mythical being. Christmas, Easter, and… Okay, so I guess it’s just Christmas and Easter, but whatever, I like both of those. Because they are fun for me the kids. Dumb Dad and I hide eggs (not the hard boiled kind because I’m anti egg coloring), and make a ridiculously elaborate map with clues and stuff to their baskets that is frustrating as crap takes them all day to find. And, we get dressed up, and go to Mimi and Papa’s for dinner, and like every three years or so we even go to church!** Good times. Best part though is that I get to shop for super cool stuff to put in their baskets. This is gonna make the cut this year thanks in part to my buddies at Dancing Bear Toys.

Looks like a BLAST, right?!

3. Bubbles.

But only when the weather is nice enough that they can play with them outside. Because bubbles and tiled flooring is a bloody-embarrassing-possibly-loss-of-consciousness accident waiting to happen for Dumb Mom. Plus they have the ability to make afternoons that start off like this…

turn out like this…

Magic.

4. Awesome doctors. Like Dr. Kidney who is hands down the best nephrologist in Maryland. I was gonna interview him and talk about screening for kidney disease and taking care of your kidneys and other boring mundane medical type junk you probably couldn't care less about stuff. But then I decided to not to (as The Dudes like to say) because pictures are way mo betta. So here he is, Dr. Kidney, my listen-to-me-and-you’ll-live-for-ever-kidney-care-specialist-extraordinaire…

I swear to you, if you live in my area, and you need a nephrologist he (and his partner) is hands down the best choice, and I would know.***

5. People who give me awards. Like Brea from Brea’s Befuddled Brain and Sarah at The Stroller Ballet (among a few others I’ve been remiss in mentioning) because they are sweet and they come here and read my RanDumbness and tell me I’m Lovely or Beautiful or whatever even though they know I’m not gonna answer the questions or follow the official award rules and regulations or even give them to anyone else. Not because I don’t intend to, just because I just don’t. So thank you. I do appreciate them. Swear I do.

6. Potty trained two year olds. Who are doing pretty stinking’ great at not having accidents. Except for that one time, at Joann's (sorry Joann’s patrons and employees, I was totally gonna go back and clean it up, but we had to change and then we had to, like, go, so um, yeah).

7. Organization. Thanks to the likes of the Closet Tailors who hooked up the Dumb Family pantry. I’m not able to provide any before pictures because I forgot to take some the sight was just too hideous to share, but the afters are pretty much speak for themselves, see…

I ask that you ignore the duct taped basket prominently displayed in this photograph and instead, focus on the awesomeness of the shelving instead.

8. Cake Foot. Because if you have enough cake to throw it on the floor and dance in it, you must have access to a whole butt load of cake, which in my book, is SO very not dumb.

9. Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel Soundtrack.****

It is not gonna make your ears bleed (okay, maybe it will, but not a lot, and only on like one or two songs) and it allows you to capture videos of your kids doing the Stanky Leg their best moves. You gotta love how for reals #1 is in this video, as if he’s really doing something!

10. Made up descriptive words and phrases. Like “super-natural good”. A term coined by #2 meaning, so good you can’t stand it. As in, “Mom, deez cookies are super natural good.” Or, “super-natural-blah-blah-blah good”. Also coined by #2 and used to express something even better. If something is “super-natural-blah-blah-blah good” it is so good it makes you senseless. Literally, you nearly lose your mind it’s so good. As in, “Mom you were da meanest mom earlier, but now since you wet (aka let) me pway my DS, you made me feel super-natural-blah-blah-blah good and dat’s why I wuv you.” Seriously doesn’t get better than that!

*It’s actually a strip of sand along the lake we live at. But, for all intents and purposes it’s a beach to The Dudes.

**In my defense, I’ve been working at the hospital for the past 4 years and, since I work every Sunday, and people are always sick, and the place never closes, and sometimes I feel like a POW when I’m there I pretty much always work on Easter, making church a near impossibility for this Dumb Family.

***See above to clearly understand that I have intimate knowledge about all of the doctors in my area so if you have a nasty case of hemorrhoids need a recommendation, I’m your girl!

****Dumb Mom Admits it’s Free: Standard disclaimer in case it’s not obvious. As with previous posts, a copy of the Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel was provided to me for my use free of charge. Additionally, I will receive monetary compensation (aka cash, cold, hard cash) for my participation in this project through the WB WOM team.

Guide to Surviving the Emergency Room

Welcome to another addition of Mom Tip Tuesday.

A day especially designed to allow me to share what I know with all of you in my ever-changing-but-always-awesome series: “Dumb Mom’s Guide to the Child Centered Universe: helpful tips and tricks for moms with kids so smart they make her look sorta dumb”.

After another frightening eventful crack-head-attended visit to the emergency room this weekend to treat #3, owner of the highest fever ever, I figured I’d share my reluctantly acquired knowledge with all of the first time moms out there who have yet to experience their first trip to the ER with a bloody injured/feverish/hacking-up-a-bloody-lung/screaming-bloody-murder (and yes, pretty much every visit to the ER involves blood) infant or toddler.

So, enjoy today’s edition of Mom Tip Tuesday.

Dumb Mom’s Guide to Visiting the Emergency Room with a Child*

1.  Stop.  Drop.  And Roll.  The first step in making a trip to the ER is deciding if you really need to be there.  Obviously, if you have your toddler in your left hand and his pinky finger in your right, the choice is obvious: saddle up and roll out, or better yet, call 911.  They know what to do with a pinky fingerless two year old and chances are good that, if you are screaming, crying, running, jumping, or shaking your fists at the sky, you do not.  Leave that sorta stuff to the professionals.  But, if your little person is coughing and feverish and not all cracked-lipped and gasping you may find yourself hemming an hawing about what to do.  Go to the ER and pay a $100 copay for them to tell you he has cold?  Or wait it out ‘til morning?  Tough choice.  And here is my advice: trust your instincts.  If this cold “feels different” then it probably is.  Better safe then febrile seizing.  Believe me on this people.  They may not be harmful long term, but they are effing S-C-A-R-Y like nobody’s business.  And I’m talking, screaming, crying, running, jumping, or shaking your fists at the sky, scary.

2.  Be Alert.  Now that you’ve arrived to the ER, you have to be alert at all times.  The ER is a pretty spooky place, friends.  I’m talking antibiotic resistant bacteria, crack-heads-on-the-loose, why-is-that-dude-naked-wrestling-the-cops spooky.  It’s pretty much just like a scene out of a really stereotypical movie featuring stereotypical characters.  Basically this means it’s just a microcosm of the entire US of A.  Actually, it seems a little more frequented by the dregs of society (as for some reason they tend to get into more emergency-room-requiring situations than your everyday citizen), but at some point in every person’s life he or she is going to need the services of an emergency room.  Therefore, on any given Sunday (we actually were there on a Sunday night), you are likely to find the awesome waiting impatiently with the less than awesome members of the community for the one thing we all need to get better: morphine valium Prozac? antibiotics.  Point is, shield your baby (you really never know when your stretcher could be violently pushed into the wall by the meth head they left totally unattended and highly agitated right next to yours), be prepared to fight (the insurance company, the seriously-is-now-the-right-time-for-a-bag-of-Combos complacent triage nurse, or the random line-jumping bystander), and bring you hand sanitizer (for obvious reasons).

3.  Bribe them.  Start with the triage nurses; they hold the key to the ER kingdom.  They are like the evil gatekeepers of the secret controlled substance promise land.  But don’t try to do it with cash (pretty sure it’s immoral if not illegal, plus you can’t afford them).  Instead do it with 1)a pleasant, all be it urgent, attitude, 2)accurate and honest information, and 3)just a little bit of acting.  Let me explain.  I work at the hospital (even spent a year in the ER) and there are a few behaviors that get you pushed to the back of the list.  I’m not saying anyone is gonna let you die because you are a nasty biotch, I’m just saying that the people who come in ranting, raving, falling on the floor, cursing, screaming, and acting like full blown fools generally don’t get taken seriously.  What they do get is treated like the psycho-raving-lunatics they are, and a security escort, in case they need to be “subdued”.  So, if you want to ensure that you and your child are seen promptly and taken seriously, get your facts straight and your emotions under control.  But, a little acting sick doesn’t hurt either.**

4.  Be a good historian.  Time matters when you are dealing with an emergency.  So, make note of the interventions you tried at home, and ensure that you accurately record the time you tried them.  It makes a difference when he had his last dose of Motrin.  And, it does matter if you gave him one or two teaspoons.  Additionally, you need to be honest and comprehensive when sharing your child’s medical history.  A fact that may seem insignificant to you, may be the key the doctor needs to accurately diagnose your little dude.  Remember, you are not a doctor (unless you are) and neither is Goggle.  Give them all of the information so they can get it right.  They still may not, but without the whole truth they don’t really stand a chance.

5.  Calm the hell down.  I can’t say that I listened to  much of what Papa used to tell me as a girl, but he did say two things that I try to always remember in an emergency situation: Pay attention and DON’T PANIC.  Panic helps no one.  It scares your kids.  It causes you to make mistakes.  It entirely prevents #4.  It makes you difficult to deal with.  And it could easily lead to your demise (or your child’s).  So just don’t do it.  Dumb Dad is a panicer.  He doesn’t want to be.  He’s trying to stop.  Lucky for him he has me to keep a level head while he is effing going nutso trying to control himself. 

Have a Mom Tip you’d like to share?

Be my guest and link it below!

P.S.  If you are wondering if the universe is literally trying to kill Dumb Mom rest assured that you are not alone.  I too am questioning exactly how long it will be before I lose the good fight as this week alone I suffered the most painful event since having a baby, a health insurance debacle, a nasty mud-butt-involved virus, and a trip to the ER for an undeniably ill 2 year old.  Go ahead, call me a super mom, I friggin’ deserve it!

*In case any of you are wondering, #3 is presently a-ok, but he was super-duper sick and feverish (104.3) Sunday with  an ear infection.  I.  Know.  Who knew ear infections could even make you have a fever that high?  And, he was a delirious-fever-talking mess.  He saw fairies or angels or something that had him speaking in tongues.  He had the rolling eyes and the twitchy legs and Dumb Mom and Dumb Dad and Pediatrician of the Day were all pretty freaked out

**Babies and young children are usually seen before older people with similar symptoms just because they are more vulnerable so, rest assured, that even if Mimi your mom comes in and goes all Lifeguard (aka crazy-lady-from-the-hood) on them, they will probably still help your kid in a timely manner.

Make New ifriends Monday: Stranger but no Danger

Welcome to another Kidney Month inspired post by a wonderful woman who gave her kidney up to save a stranger’s life.

I know that I am not that selfless.

Not for a stranger.

One of The Dudes, Dumb Dad, Mimi, Papa, Bruncle, even BFF, no doubt.

But a stranger?

No. I don;t think I could give my kidney to a stranger.

Well, I guess I probably would give up one of mine for a stranger seeing how they are on a slow march to being useless anyway, but you know, not if they were good.

I’d like to sit here and tell you all that I would; that I’m really that awesome of a human, but I’m pretty sure that I’m not.

I’m too much of a coward for anything like that.

I mean, I don’t even give blood for crying out loud!

The needles. And the pain. And the time. And, and, and stuff.

But, I do have one of those little sticky thingys on my driver’s license that says, “Should Dumb Mom get smashed by a bus, feel free to cut up what’s left of her and give it to the highest bidder, for cash. Cold. Hard. Do-you-want-this-colon-or-not? cash.”

That I can do.

This…

Not so much.

Contributed by Kidney Mama

I got a survey in the mail this week from the National Living Donor Assistance Center asking me about why I decided to donate a kidney last year.

It wasn’t a family obligation, and it wasn’t a matter of religious conviction. The choices on their survey that came closest were about moral obligation and the simple logic of living donors as a way to ease the kidney donation shortfall.

Before I considered donating my kidney to a stranger, I had always thought that if someone I loved needed a kidney, I would be tested. Once I learned how low-risk kidney donation surgery was, and that people live very well with just one kidney, I thought, “I could do that. I am healthy and unafraid, and I should do that!”

So I started on my quest. I found a living donor in my community and a few on the Internet and asked lots of questions. I asked one of them to help me find a recipient, because I really wanted to know the person so that I could be sure he or she would be able to make good use of it for a very long time.

I decided to get tested for a 45-year-old man who was active in his community, advocating for the poor and elderly. We talked on the phone just once before I found myself in a really interesting position.

We had gone to our respective doctors to get blood drawn so that his transplant center could perform the first round of compatibility testing. Interestingly, the transplant center called me to tell me we were compatible.

I said, “Did you tell Anthony? What did he say?”

“Oh, we can’t tell him. It’s your private medical information,” they said. “We can fax you a release, and then once you return it, we can tell him. Or you can tell him.”

I couldn’t pass up that opportunity. I looked in my cell phone for Anthony’s number and called him.

“I have news,” I said. “We match!”

Silence.

“So let’s do this,” I said, hoping to get him to say something.

Silence.

“Anthony, are you there?” I asked, thinking that maybe my cell phone had dropped the call.

“I’m here,” he said.

More silence.

“I hope you know … I think you know … I hope you know … I hope you know what this means to me,” he said.

I told him that although I couldn’t know what he was feeling, I was really excited about this adventure we were about to have.

And an adventure it was. I had more medical tests in the next several weeks than any person is entitled to have. Some made me laugh; some made me squeamish. I didn’t think that when they asked me to collect my urine for 24 hours, it would be a gallon and a half. Or that I’d have to keep it in my refrigerator.

At any rate, with the test results in hand, my doctor and I felt confident that I was in excellent health, and I felt very confident in my decision to donate.

Meanwhile, my friends objected strenuously to the whole idea, and everyone kept asking me if I was afraid. Truthfully, I never was. I felt certain that everything would go well, that somehow, my good intentions would create a positive outcome.

Good intentions got me nowhere with the transplant staff, however, who viewed a stranger donation as, well, strange. But they satisfied themselves that I was not crazy and was not being paid to give, either of which would have disqualified me under their rules. (My opinion: There is no bad reason to donate a kidney and save someone’s life.)

Clearing all the paperwork hurdles had brought Anthony and me closer, and by the time the surgery arrived, it was as though we were partners on a complicated project that was finally coming to fruition.

At 5:30 a.m. on Thursday, June 25, 2009, we met at the hospital to begin pre-surgical tests. We were both beaming. By 8 a.m., we were in the OR, and by 3 p.m., we’d each pestered enough nurses to learn that the other was doing great.

Anthony’s recovery began immediately. His surgeon told me my kidney was, um, producing before they’d finished closing the last incision. Something about a racehorse.

I visited Anthony as I was about to be discharged, and though it had been just over 24 hours since the surgery, he looked and felt 100% better.

He’s continued to improve over the six months or so since his transplant and has been able to travel to see family and friends for the first time in years. I have a clean bill of health, and only a few tiny scars.

I’m so glad I decided to be a living donor. I didn’t think I’d become an advocate for living donation, but the more I learn, the more important I realize it is.

For example, I didn’t know that less than 2% of kidneys from deceased donors are usable. If everyone in the country signed an organ donor card, thousands of Americans would still die each year waiting for a kidney.

A lot of people have told me I’m a hero, and it is well-meant. But “hero” distances everyone else from the act and gets them off the hook. What I did was simple and obvious and motivated by my belief that human beings are by their nature interdependent and responsible for each other’s well-being.

Though I couldn’t fix the world, I could do this one thing and make it a lot better for one person. I am forever better for having done it.

To learn more about living donors, visit my website, www.kidneymama.com.

Cent Saving Saturday: Heavenly Handmade Handbag

If you think you know me then you know how I feel about handbags.

You know that I am obsessed with smelling them and holding them close and rubbing them all over my naked body owning them.

You know that if I were John Mayer then handbags (never to be mistaken as pocketbooks or purses because those are what my grandmother carries) would be Jessica Simpson.

They are like cocaine for me people (not that I do now or ever have done cocaine, or crack, or smack, or crank, or gonja, or any other illegal substance of any sort; please recall that I am dumb, not stupid).

Anyway.

Some of you love shoes.

Or jeans.

Or little figurines.

Or Twinkies.

But, me, I love handbags. Handbagshandbagshandbagshandbags (spins in circle and throws them into air being careful to dodge the large, leather, heavy-bottomed ones to prevvent injury and possible loss of consiousness).

So, the fact that I discovered the most awesome Etsy seller EVER who hand makes these adorable, gorgeous, couture-inspired clutch bags should come as no surprise.

And, let me tell you people, they are Ca-UTE!

See?!

All trendy, and fashionable, and unique and stuff!

Do you even know anyone else with a bag this spectacular?

Okay, maybe you do, but still it’s not THIS spectacular bag.

Now, if you are anything like me you have set a standard in the awesome handbag department that your friends and frenimies alike expect you to live up to.

You are that chick whose bag gets noticed everywhere you go.

You can’t stop at the store or run into the gas station without the clerks and the other shoppers complimenting your bag and asking you where you purchased it (which you lie about right? Please tell me you don’t give up the secrets to ametures just because they ask nicely and attempt to bribe you with a compliment. You have to be stronger than that!).

Point is, people like us can’t just show up to playgroup/PTA/your co-op day with any old Target bag (although, I’ll admit, they do have some really cute ones for this summer, right?!).

No Old Navy number for us ladies.

We need something special.

Something unique.

Something spectacular.

Because people are looking to us to see what’s what on the handbag front.

We are awesome handbag role models; trendsetters, pioneers!

And, as we all know, with great power comes great responsibility.

So, lucky for you, I’m giving this one away!

Thanks to Julia Sherry Designs who is the genius behind these high-quality clutch bags, Dumb Mom (who would really just love to make up an alias and pick herself to win this little number) is offering you fellow handbag aficionados the opportunity to win this NYC subway inspired clutch.

All you have to do is be a follower of pBd on the blog and you are entered to win.

No other requirements.

Although if you want to follow me on Twitter and Facebook I’m not gonna get in your way. And, if you want to go check out Julia Sherry Designs and tell me which one of her bags you’d love to have you can do that too. Because, I know that if I could pick any one of her designs to bring home to Casa de Dummies wrapped in plastic to protect it from the warzone we call home it would be this one because it is Fab-O.

Ready to enter?

Just leave a comment telling me you’re a follower and that you’re entering to win by Friday, March 26, 2010 at midnight (my time, not yours, unless you also live in the Eastern Standard Time Zone and then it’s still my time, so there!).

Good luck!

*Must be a US resident to win.

RanDumb: Relief

Thank you to everyone who was kind enough to stop by and wish me a speedy recovery yesterday.

You should know that I have gotten some much needed relief in the form of a visit to Dr. Kidney. 

Seriously, that man is a witchdoctor and I love it.  In all fairness though, his intervention was not needed in this particular instance as my sculpted machine of a body worked through this on its own.  But still, he knew, just by looking at me (and my labs and my scans and stuff) what was wrong with me.  I love knowing that my medical professional’s medical degree is legit and that he’s not one of those weird dudes who set up a practice in a storage unit.  Whew!

Anyway it’s done.  We can all move on and get back to normal around here at pBd.  Rest assured that while it was fun, my venture into shark infested waters politics and controversial topics is over.

It won’t be happening again any time soon.  Well, provided my health insurance company doesn’t attempt to have me killed again.  In which case, it’s on.

pBd is a carefree place for the happily dumb. 

We don’t care about religion, or race, or politics, or other super important stuff that gets people all pissed, here at pBd. 

All are welcome to enjoy Dumb Mom for the dummy that she is. 

Everyone is encouraged to laugh and enjoy the trials and tribulations Dumb Mom faces as she attempts to navigate life with three super human super geniuses who outsmart her on a daily basis (don’t you just love it when Dumb Mom talks in the third person?  It’s like a vicious cycle once it starts, because strangely she can’t stop).

And awards.  You can give Dumb Mom as many awards as you want.  See…Brea knows what’s up!

So long as you keep your expectations low.

Expect to laugh, expect to smile, expect to cry when you realize that you too are a dumb mom.

But, don’t expect to be enlightened (unless my ignorance serves as a break thru for you) or inspired (although it is my hope to be someone’s inspiration, someday) or informed, unless it has to do with hip, cool products for kids and moms. 

Or couture.  This Dumb Family LOVES couture.

We don’t get to buy a lot of it, but we would if we could and we (aka ME) don’t sacrifice when it comes to shoes and handbags.  Some things are just necessities.

Shoes, handbags, and health care reform, people, that’s what Dumb Mom is about.

And tips.  Mom Tips.  You know, the thing I do on Tuesdays, and encourage you to do as well?

Anyway here’s one: Care.com is hosting a FREE weekend starting today and running through Sunday (3/21).

Are you not familiar with Care.com?  Are you not in need of an awesome babysitter so that you can ignore your children with a clear conscious or a reliable pet sitter or a non-threatening-in-a-I-will-beat-you-if-you-mess-those-depends sorta way grandma sitter (yep they have those too!)?

I do.  Or I did.  And I used Care.com to find her.

At least look at it.  Just for this weekend, since it’s free, and I know how you all feel about free!

Anyway, how about a classic RanDumb post today?  You know, one about other people being dumb for the world to see?!

Enjoy!

Five Things You Should Be Relieved About Today

5.  That you are not the Hitler/Mussolini/Stalin Baby.  Seriously, it seems funny when you are sitting at home all bored and post-partum depressed, but when you take it on the road for the world to see you just seem mentally unstable and creepy.  Even if some other mentally unstable and creepy person pays you a whole butt load of cash for your mentally unstable and creepy manifestation of art, it doesn't make you appear any less mentally unstable or creepy, nor does it distract from the fact that one day your kid is gonna see it and know that she is the child of a mentally unstable and creepy person and, in fact, she could be one too.  But, I guess you can do a lot of mentally unstable and creepy crap and get away with it if you just call it art.

4.  That you may have tripped, or stumbled, or perhaps even fallen at a blogging conference in front of 85 Power Moms, but at least you didn’t do it on TV and burn up any hope you have of becoming the next Tony Perkins.  Who decided that wheels on chairs was a good idea?  They have lead to so many unnecessary accidents.

 

3.  To NOT be the balloon this dummy decided to shove himself in.  My favorite part is when he get’s inside and says something like, “Well, I’m inside, what now?”  I know.  How about GET A LIFE!  Or a wife.  Or a friggin’ job.  And then I felt bad, so just watch the video and promise me you won’t try to do this at home.  With your kid.

2.  Well, I was gonna say the mom this is being sung about, but then I remembered, YOU ARE!

1.  Anybody competing in Shell’s and Supah’s Dance Yer Bloggy Off, because thanks to my “situation” this week I was unable to school you on Cotton Eyed Joe.  You don’t even wanna know how lucky you are that my kimono was on the DL list this week.  Next week.  It will be brought.

Come back tomorrow for a fun Cent Saving Saturday weekend and don’t forget to head over to Kerry’s for our weekly The View Blab Fest.  It’s about sex and drugs in the form of Jessica Simpson and Sex Rehab.

Health Care Reform for This Dummy

Relive a day?

Yeah-no.

I don’t have any days I’d like another shot at, Mama Kat.

Because a)the days that suck are forgotten the EXACT moment they end, and b)as I’m arguably as close to perfect as you can get while still being human, I don’t make mistakes or have regrets EVER so yeah, I’m good.

Yeah-right.

Honestly, I can tell you way more about the days I DON’T want to relive, because they sorta stick out in my mind.

Like yesterday.

Because it sucked.

Badly.

Like, on a suckiness scale of 1 to 10, 10 being as sucky as a day can possibly be, I’ll say yesterday was a good strong 7.

Not the worst day ever, but so ridiculously far from the best it’s not even funny.

Okay, so maybe it’s a little bit funny (or I intend to make it seem that way), but still.

Here’s the bright side of this whole sucky-suck-day-from-sucking-Suckville, I learned something!

That’s right peeps, in the face of adversity and hardship, Dumb Mom got out her thinking cap and had herself a think.

And you know what I decided?

That health care reform is important, that’s what.

Now, I know that pBd is not the place to go for political debates, social consciousness, or discussions about morality, but you know what, today it’s gonna be.

Sorta (because you are not allowed to disagree with me or disprove my theories, I don’t like that so I’m forbidding it entirely).

Now that the ugly has come to call on Dumb Mom I’ve decided to get involved.

Well not involved, involved, more like involved-by-telling-you-my-story-because-I-want-to involved.

Because that’s what I do.

I don’t make posters (because I have the penmanship of a 5 year old), or join campaigns (unless they offer free babysitting!), or donate money (by I do donate my old shoes and handbags when I gorgeous new ones!), or go on exhausting freedom marches (holy walking Batman! These 4-inch-heeled boots weren't made for walkin').

I tell stories. About myself, because myself is awesomethat's pretty much all I know.

So how about I tell you one about how Dumb Mom came out of her self-centered cocoon of self centeredness and decided that there is a such thing as civic duty and social responsibility and, contrary to what she used to believe, it doesn’t start and end at that voting poll every four years in November?

Okay, so maybe sharing a story that I really just want to share because I’m peeved doesn’t actually qualify as performing my civic duty, but still, in the civic duty department it's all I got.

So, yeah…

Yesterday, actually three days ago, as I was chauffeuring #2 to school I felt something in my back.

A tickle. Not of the happy, fun sort.

It was the other sort.

The sort that tells you something may not be quite right. Not really time to panic, but definitely time to pay attention.

So I did, and it got worse, and then it got better, and then it got MUCH worse, and then I called my doctor, and then it got a little better, but then it got worse again, so I made an appointment, and I went in, and I peed in a cup, and they said they wanted me to have a CT pyelogram to check the old kidney and see if it was busted up.

And that is where the crap hit the fan.

Because that is when my health insurance had to get involved.

Now. Here are a few things you should know:

1. Dumb Dad is a professional. He doesn’t stand at one of those corners downtown and wait with a group of dudes for other groups of dudes to come along in pickup trucks and take him to a work site for a day. And, he doesn’t work for cash or get paid under the table or even with a 1099. Actually, he is an employee of our federal government so his job is W-2, 401K, 2 legit 2 quit.

2. Dumb Dad has been employed by his employer for a whole butt load of years. And, he’s in good standing at his job too. Not on probation or anything cooky like that.

3. We have health insurance, which is paid for through Dumb Dad’s employer. It’s not through the state and we don’t get it for free. We pay. A lot. Of cash.

4. We have had the same insurance carrier for 8 years.

5. We effing hate them and are convinced that they are trying to kill us. Mostly just me, but sometimes the kids too (Dumb Dad has been to the doctor twice in the past 8 years both times for hurting his ankle; his pretty much immune to every germ known to man. Plus when kids get sick around here he encases himself in latex and only touches them if ABSOLUTELY-FRIGGIN' necessary).

My main beef is that I see no reason why the insurance company should be allowed to decide if or when or how I should get my medical care.

I get that they need to be notified and kept up to date on my health related goings ons.

But, do they really need to “approve” a visit to urgent care? If I have time to stand around and wait for a referral, maybe the situation ain’t all that urgent!

Just sayin’. That’s why I go to the doctor, right?

I mean, if it’s really just up to the insurance company why don’t I just cut out the middle man and go directly to them with my ailment and they can tell me what to do for it?

Would be a huge time saver for people like me who don't have time to be doubled over in pain, sweating like I stole something sick.

Seriously. Because today, when my MEDICAL DOCTOR suggested that I get a CT scan, know-it-all-insurance-company-from-Hell said, “Are you sure she needs that? Today? Really? She can’t wait until, say, Monday? Why? Is she dying? Like actually dying?" Because if not…?”

And then, I had to hurry up and find someone to watch The Dudes and get my tail straight over to the CT scanning place so that they could take it today because if not then I’d have to wait. For days. Until the insurance company decided that I really need it.

And that’s not the first time this has happened.

They’ve done it with chest x-rays and prescriptions and visits to specialists.

And, I realize that “The Obama Plan” is not going to address this specifically, but it is supposed to address another problem that keeps me locked to this bloody-effing-insurance-company-from-Hell: “the end of discrimination against people with pre-existing conditions”.

Because as you all know I have one.

And because of my pre-existing condition I’m unable to ditch the crap-company-that-is-trying-to-off-me for one that will give me more freedom and access.

Because despite the fact that I rarely ever have issues with my kidneys, and that I am otherwise as healthy as a horse, no one wants to take on this land mine of a body because apparently it's about to blow.

So I’m stuck.

And that sucks.

Because, contrary to what some believe about people who are in favor of health care reform, we aren’t unemployed, and we’re not illegal immigrants, and we take care of ourselves, and we pay our bills, and we contribute to society, and we aren’t trying to get something for nothing, and I don’t want you to get less, but still here I am, sitting in pain, sucking down Tylenol, waiting to see what my insurance company my doctor is going to do next to figure out why my left side hurts so badly I can hardly breathe.

So yeah. That’s my story.

And it made enjoying #2’s official birthday pretty friggin’ difficult.

But I did it, because I love him and I wanted his day to be special and I secretly hope that one day he will realize just how awesome of a mommy I was and he will thank me for it (with a house, or a car, or a cruise, old people like to cruise).

I’m not gonna hold my breath for that one, because serving KFC and a Hostess cupcake may have gotten the job done, but I doubt that it will be winning me any mommying awards.

Lucky for me his standards are pretty low and he enjoyed it thoroughly.

Better luck next year little man!

Link your Thank Me Later Thursday posts here, I will visit and leave lovely comments on each and every one of them (which is not even hard since only a few of you do it anyway!)

Wordful Wednesday. St. Patty’s Day Boy

5 years ago today #2 was snatched out of my belly. Literally, yanked and pulled and wrenched from my insides, c-section style.

I wore green socks. He cried a lot.

He’s been mildly disgruntled ever since.

And, while #2 is most definitely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my most challenging, intense, and aggressive child, he is also my most affectionate, personable, and downright funny one as well (although #3 is giving him a run for his money in the humor department).

Every day is a surprise with him; sometimes good, sometimes, not so much.

But I can’t imagine life without him.

He’s got middle child syndrome like a mofo which apparently means he’s supposed to be an attention seeking brat with an inferiority complex.

Great! Because he is and I freakin’ love every single one of his screaming-louder-so-they’ll-hear-me-bones (only FYI #2, you don’t really have to scream because I hear you. I’m just ignoring you right along with the rest of ‘em!).

He is unique in every since of the word, from his obsession with couture to his desire to be in the circus, actually to own a circus, in which he is the star.

For years he has been quite interested in the idea of marriage.

I’ve written about it before, because it concerns me.

Not a lot. But enough.

What’s more concerning though, is the fact that as of late he has developed quite an attraction towards the opposite sex.

He says it’s because they (and by they he means all girls and women) are so “attracted” to him. Oh, and because, “grils have nice wong hair”.

Hubby finds his interest in the opposite sex encouraging.

I find it creepy. But as long as he doesn't feel anyone up again, I’m trying not to make such a huge deal of it in hopes that his remarkably-early-girl-crazy phase is replaced by an obsession with something a little more reasonable, like Matchbox cars or action figures (but not WWE. I friggin’ hate that crap. Unless The Rock is making a comeback. Then, I’m down. Seriously, I would watch that man eat Jell-O he’s that hot).

But, in case this is just a sampling of what’s to come when he hits puberty, I’m taking it upon myself to find him a suitable mom-approved mate.

It’s the least I can do.

And from what I hear it works!

The whole arranged marriage thing.

Here’s a little tidbit you may not have known: India has a divorce rate of 1.1% compared to a much, much higher rate in the US. Pretty impressive, right?!

Some argue this fact is directly related to arranged marriages.

While rational Dumb Mom believes other, cultural factors are involved, slightly-irrational-unnaturally-possessive Dumb Mom says that arranged marriage is the wave of the future.

I’m betting that come 2035, when I’m ready for #2 to get hitched, all the cool kids will be doing it again. You know ‘cause trends come back. Especially the good ones. I mean, just look at stirrup pants. Bet you thought those were gone for good, but here they are all happily hooked under your foot and tucked securely into your shoe. Point is they made a come back because they were sorta awesome and the same thing is bound to happen with arranged marriages and I intend to be a pioneer.

Besides, I’m certain all of us will be much happier if I get to pick The Dudes’ wives as it’s really the only way to ensure that I get to maintain creative control of their lives.

Might as well start with the most eager of the bunch.

Name: Keeps it a Secret for the sake of intrigue. You can call him #2

DOB: 3/17/05

Birthplace: Somewhere in Maryland

Address: Casa de Dummies

Interests: grils (aka girls), giraffes, video games, debates (aka arguing with his mother over bedtime, showertime, dinnertime, and the like), fancy socks, dressing like a pimp snazzy, UFC (aka battling with his older brother), dirt, peeing outdoors, the color blue, the letter W, number 26, chicken nuggets, French Fries, shakin’ what his momma gave him, watching contrails, roller coasters, lollipops, leaf collecting, Simon Cowell, carnivals and the carnies that run them, cucumbers, Ben 10, discussing fight sequences, Nacho Libre, Mexican stuff, heroes of the super variety, chocolate milk, Miley Cyrus songs, attention, and anything that smells like cotton candy.

Doesn’t enjoy: long walks, crying babies, venomous snakes, little brothers, scary stories, being blamed for stuff, pizza, being ignored, loud sounds, bad drivers, raw milk (aka white milk), bad guys, waiting in line, just waiting, the color brown, hamburgers, the unknown, schedule changes, people who don’t follow through, people who don’t RSVP, doctor’s offices, sucky goody bags, being framed, shirts for Christmas, barf.

His idea of a good time: running down the street to catch the ice cream man, buying an overly sugary treat he doesn’t eat and jumping in puddles. Bring your rain boots even if it’s not raining, just because.

He’d like everyone to know that his dad loves him so much it makes him sing, they enjoy coloring together and he thinks he’d fight off a wolf for him. His baby screams so loudly he could win a screaming contest. Brother has great ideas and he protects him from bad stuff. And, his mom cries because she loves him so much. That is all.

When he grows up he will be a teacher, and a car fixer, and a fireman, and a farmer, oh, and also a ninja. And, as previously mentioned there will be a circus; he will be the star.

If interested in pursuing a union between your daughter and my son, please send photos and background info to seriously_are_you_effing_kidding_me_you_freak@gmail.com.

I hope he finds the perfect wife one day, but for now I just want him to keep being my slightly-disgruntled-but-a-blessing-all-the-same five year old baby.

Happy birthday, Pickle!