Santa Claus is Coming

But, before he does there is a whole butt load of crap to do.

I, for one, still need to shove all the Halloween/Fall decor in a box and lug it up to the attic.

Santa needs to be written to, menus and guest lists must be made, Christmas decorations have to be attended to.

But, before all that I have to consider the dreaded Christmas cards.

The time of year when I dress my kids up, smash them all in front of the fireplace, and then bark at them for an hour to sit still, look at the camera, stop hitting your brother, don't blink, don't scratch, don't pick, don't breath, and in the name of all that is holy, LEAVE THE EFFING HAT ON OR SO HELP ME!

I wind up with a series of these...

The STOP-IT-BRUVER-I-CAN'T-BEAVE shot.


The hey-you-a-cutie-oop-dat's-me-in-dat-mirror shot.


The BANG!-BANG!-BANG!-I-wuv-Hanny-Manny shot.


The sugar-makes-me-drunk shot.


The Mommy!-Mommy!-Mommy!-I-can't-stop-talking-for-two-seconds shot.



Eventually one of two things tends to happen:

1) I get three perfect (except for #3's; but, I'm not mad at him because I think this is the best he can do), separate pictures that I can fashion into a presentable greeting card.



or, 2) I get three separate pictures that are horrifying enough to be funny enough to be mailed, as a joke, to all of our friends and family...



Because separately, they are generally okay.

But together.

Bloody. Nightmares.

So, in an effort to not feel like the most sucktastic mom ever, instead of celebrating your successes, this holiday photo contest is gonna feature your worst holiday card attempts to date.

I don't care about the perfect-everyone's-looking-no-stink-eyes-involved shots that feature a gorgeous tree, perfect lighting, three smiling children and a well behaved dog.

Those do nothing for my self esteem.

I want the baby's-crying-kids-are-fighting-tree-is-tilting-is-your-dog-humping-your-leg? shots that you usually delete.

That's what PBD's Merry Effing Christmas Photo Contest is all about.

It's about the true Hollywood story behind the photo.

The gritty, the ugly, the I'm-pretty-sure-I-hate-you-people shots that make you wonder why you even bother.

Those are what winners, at least for this backasswards (Mimi's favorite made-up word) photo contest, are made of.

Here's how to enter:

1. Email your best worst Christmas photo/card to Dumb Mom at parentingbydummies{at}gmail{dot}com.

2. Include your blog link (if you have one) and your, "Hey Dumb Mom, you can have your way with my photo," disclaimer that allows me to use it on my blog.

3. Follow parenting BY dummies here or on Twitter (@thenagainphoto).

4. Do all this by midnight on December 11, 2009.

Then...

Tell all your friends to come over and vote for your photo so that you can make it into Dumb Mom's Merry Effing Christmas Hall of Shame where you will have a 1 in 5 chance at winning the Ultimate Bomb Diggity Gift Giving Guide prize pack featuring gifts from all of Dumb Mom's Saturday Swagurday posts, plus more!

Prize pack valued at over $200 includes:

1. One Deglingo from Haute Lava.



2. One Ze Super Hero from All New Materials (please consider becoming a fan on Facebook)



3. One hand made coin purse from Julia Sherry Designs.



4. One Cuisinox cocktail shaker from Allbarstools.com



5. One copy of That's not my frog... from Usborne Books.



6. One Zhu Zhu Pet. That's right baby, I've got one and you are welcome to sell it on eBay if you want!



7. One Green Toys Eco-Friendly Cookware and Dining Set from Oompa



8. One copy of #2's all time most favoritest, nonanimated feature film, School of Rock, starring Jack Black.



See, told you this would be better than Black Friday!

If you win this, you won't even need to bother shopping!

And, there's even a runner-up prize that I think it pretty sa-weet to, but I'm not telling what it is yet. You'll have to wait and see!

So...Are you ready?

On your mark!

Get set!

GO, take fugly pictures of your misbehaved children and pets, be proud of your hard work even though they effed it up with their stink eyes and their leg humping addictions, and send them to me where they well be appreciated (aka cracked on mercilessly) and possibly awarded a pretty nice prize.

Happy Turkey Day

Hope you all have a joyful holiday.

Nothing today, but tomorrow is gonna be BIG!

Big news that is way more exciting than getting up at 3am to wait in line for two hours outside of HellMart for a $45 DVD player that you will only get if you can muscle Big Booty Bertha and her boobilicious mama outta the way for it.

Come here instead, it'll be SO worth it!

Oh, and thanks, family, for being you.




You're kinda awesome!

That's What Friends Are For

I'm thankful for lots of things.

Kids.

Hubby.

Mom and Dad that are still kickin'.

Younger brother that doesn't totally suck, at least not all the time.

House with a yard and a garage, even though the piece of crap is probably gonna be broken for eternity.

And. BFF.


Yes, we are dressed the same and yes, we both have awesomely styled bangs.

We've been "together" for like 18 years (I'm not really as old as that makes me sound).

We met in Hanau, Germany circa 1991.

Her dad was in the military, my dad was a civilian who worked for the military.

We met in middle school.

She didn't like me. I thought she was pretty, but sorta mean looking.

Other people thought we were cousins (which is weird because I honestly don't look anything like any of my cousins).

I can't remember exactly how we got to be friends, I'll have to ask her about that.

But, we did.

And, now look.

We're still together.



So, since we're coming up on a time of the year when you're reminded to think about the amazing people you get to share your life with because you're trying to weed out who you absolutely have to buy a gift for from those who don't really deserve one, I'm paying tribute to the one person who's stuck it out with me for double digits worth of years, not because she's related to me, not because she's my baby's daddy and would need a lawyer to be rid of me, but because she mostly likes me.

We're kinda like Whitney and Dion. I'm Dion, though because even though she's rockin' that crazy wack afro, at least she doesn't have a nasty crack habit and a marriage to Bobby Brown in her future.



Blech! I can name at least 12 people I'd rather have to kiss than Bobby Brown.

This is for you, champ.



And, what would a Dumb Mom tribute be without an original poetry selection?

You know how I feel about poetry!

Roses are red,
Violets aren't violet?

You're more than a friend,
you're like a copilot.

We've shared so much
these eighteen years. (Remember NJHS? Dorks!)

We've had lots of fun, (VEGAS!)
and cried some tears. (Not really, huh?)

But, it's not always been
chick flicks and wine. (or really expertly combined mixed drinks)

At first things were strained,
this bond took some time. (So glad you got over that Kenzaki business)

But, after a bit
things turned out just right. (Lucky for you!)

My charms, I suppose,
Were just too much to fight.

Not middle school, high school,
or countries between,

could drive us apart,
we're besties it seems.

And, I'm happy, and grateful,
and really, quite lucky,

to be stuck to a chick
who is more cool than sucky.

It's been real.



Well, mostly anyway.

But, on a serious note, BFF and I have a partnership that makes life much easier to live.

It's not influenced by romance (we've NEVER hooked up, and we don't pillow fight so, Hubby, quit asking) or relation (Mimi hasn't been a part of some of my more questionable exploits, because, and I know some of you would disagree, going to a strip club with your moms when you are like 17 is a little more than awkward).

We're not obligated to stay together, we just do it because we like it.

And, partnerships like this can lead to amazing things.

Like the Path to Peace Project sponsored by Macy's.

BFF and I may not be changing the world like Macy's and Oprah, but we still believe in the power of the partnership.

Do you?

PBD Admits it's Free: As part of our support for the Path to Peace Project, BFF and I received pieces of jewelery that are part of the collection. They are nice. You should check them out. I bet your bestie would love to get one of these bracelets or necklaces for Xmas.

*photo courtesy of those lovely stalkerazzis that keep our live interesting at TMZ

Cookie Time Tuesday

I know, due to recent events, the last thing I should be thinking about is cookies.

But, also due to recent events, it should come as no surprise that I am.

I mean, really, what else do you think someone who gained 9lbs in 3 months thinks about?

But, just to make the cookies less appealing to my cookie-loving-bubble-belly I decided to go with oatmeal raisin cookies.

Because, there are few things in this world I hate more than a raisin.

Don't ask me why, but the shriveled little creatures make me want to barf just looking at them.

So, dumb genius that I am, thought the perfect solution to keeping myself away from the cookie jar, is to fill it with something I loathe.

And, it totally worked for about 5 minutes at which point I realized that I couldn't, in good conscious, post about a recipe for a cookie I didn't even sample.

So, I picked out the only thing keeping these cookies remotely healthy (and, please don't leave a comment about how all of the nutritional value of the raisin is essentially baked out in the oven, because I need something to make these okay) and had a taste.

Lemme tell you, picking raisins outta cookies is WAY easier than it looks.

Wanna try it for yourself?

Dumb Mom's Fatten You Up Good Oatmeal-Raisin Cookies (with #3 on sous chef duty)



3/4 cup butter flavored shortening (regular works too, but I kinda like the butter type)*
1 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp. salt
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups rolled oats

1. Preheat oven to 375.
2. In large bowl, beat shortening on high speed for 30 seconds. Add sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon. Beat until combined.
3. Beat in eggs and vanilla until combined.
4. Beat in flour.
5. Stir in oats and raisins if you don't find them repulsive.
6. Drop dough onto ungreased sheets.
7. Bake 8-10 minutes or until edges look golden.
8. Let cool on sheet about 1 minute before removing.

And, bada bing...



A note about the shortening.

I know it's bad.

I know it clogs your arteries and makes you all fat and goopy.

I.

Know.

but. And, I hate adding a but in favor of artery clogging goopiness especially because I'm all eating healthy mom these days (except for when it comes to cookies, and myself apparently).

BUT. There are three good reasons to go with the shortening.

1. It allows the cookies to stay soft. For days. I'm a chewy cookie girl myself and I hate it when the cookies come outta the oven all soft and moist and perfect and then turn into little cookie flavored potato chips the next day. Use shortening, won't happen.

2. It's only like 3 times per year. I mean, how many times does one require the presence of the perfectly baked, homemade, oatmeal cookie? This is my first batch of oatmeals this year (you know b/c of the raunchy raisins, oh and the fact that I'm pretty heavy into choc. chip). I've heard it's all about moderation, something I am wholly unfamiliar with, but if you have it, a few shortening baked oatmeal cookies a year probably won't kill you.

3. Does it even matter? The three baking options (shortening, butter, and margarine) are all just different shades of the same trans fat evil (this explains it some). Plus, now that Crisco has been reimagined to include NO TRANS FATS its fat content is not much different from that of butter. Just sayin'. If you wanna use it like twice a year to make some funky fresh cookies, don't go beating yourself up about it. Just don't lock yourself in your pantry and eat them all alone in the dark, either. Take it from me, that's not a pretty thing for the kiddies to walk in on.

Make New (i)friends Monday

So, one of the bestes things about blogging is all of the new "friends" you get to make.

Not real-life-meet-for-coffee-complain-about-in-laws type friends, but still, friends.

This phenomenon of on-line friend making needs a name.

This situation in which you may not even know the person's real name or where they live; you may not know how old they are or if they secretly weigh 800lbs and have not left their basement in the past 6 years.

But, despite not knowing all of these facts you know that you like "talking" to them (I write a post, you leave a comment, I respond by email if you hooked your crap up right so that I could) regularly, perhaps even daily .

You know that they are funny, and caring, and that they like taking pictures, but suck at crafting.

You know about their husbands and their children and their IRL friends.

I like to call these people whose lives I stalk mercilessly follow, whose families I've grown to know and care about, whose daily adventures I'm interested in, ifriends (perfect, right?! But don't Google it 'cause some raunchy "adult" site comes up, and don't tell those Mac dudes about it either, they might flip their lids).

People like Angie @ Seven Clown Circus, CK @ Bad Mommy Moments, and Supah D @ Adventures of a Wanna-be Supah Mommy (seriously, ladies, if you don't feel similarly just leave a nice comment anyway b/c otherwise I may lose my mind), who I am inappropriately in love with read daily, send emails to randomly, and would totally go on a girl date with if invited.

ifriends.

Like real friends, but without all the factual information that could creep you out, or the face-to-face interaction that could get tiresome and laborious.

The best thing about ifriends is that they are easy to make, provided you're not a jackhole (so my new favorite word, but I'm not sure quite what it means so if it's offensive awesome sorry!) who gets off on hurting others (aka leaving evil I-hate-myself-but-I'm-taking-it-out-on-you comments all over the place).

Here are my tips for making ifriends:

1. Read their sh**. The worst part about new blog visitors who are seeking exposure (by leaving comments all over the place) is that they don't really read your post. So, I may have written this touching post about how I'm all torn up because my fish died (which really would be sad b/c we've had those little buggers for like 3 years) and ended with a picture of my kid smiling by the tank and they leave a comment that says, "Awesome fish! Hope he doesn't die!" Instantly, not gonna be an ifriend.

2. Be nice. Because there is really no reason to not be. It's not like IRL when some jerkwad at work is constantly eating at you with her annoyingly rude comments and condescending, unappreciative behavior. In that situation it's totally okay if, after weeks of torture, you eventually snap, and tell her that she's an ignorant, self centered, loser with the body of an 8 year old and a kid who bears a striking resemblance to Shrek. Totally understandable. But, not the case in Blog Land. If you don't like what someone is saying (or how their kids look) just navigate away. I get all P-Oed at those imbeciles who have to insult others on their own blog. It's like stopping by my house and telling me I'm ugly and my food sucks. Not okay. Seriously, if you don't like it, or me, or whatever, just. Don't. Read. Not a good way to make ifriends because not only will the person you insulted hate you, most of her readers probably will to.

3. Write good well good? so that people can understand you, include a few pictures, and slim down those ads. Then people will want to visit you over and over and over again. I can name a few people (I'm not gonna, see #2 above) whose blogs I tried to get into reading but couldn't because the writing was sooooo poor. Blogging, if you want others to read it, is honestly, just not for everyone. Some people are just not very good writers (and by writers I mean people able to construct a grammatically correct sentence, not actual writing for publication writers) which means that their blogs are not very fun to read. Thinking hard to muddle through grammatical mistakes is not my idea of fun. That's why I quit teaching (not really, but it wasn't fun then either). Just a fact, not a put down.

Need a little help finding some new ifriends of your own?

Don't mind if I do!

Try these So Not Dumb bloggers whose awesomeness has earned them Dumb Mom's seal of ifriending approval.

That's right ladies, go ahead and wear this badge of honor with pride!

Because you know what? Dumb Mom ifriends are the new black!



Faemom. She's crafty, and smart, and witty, and funny as crap. Mom of two boys with another (of some sex still to be determined I believe) on the way. Worth a read a, definitely one of my besteses ifriends.

When Did I Become My Mother. Real name unknown (to me at least) which proves my point that ifriends don't bother with silly things like names. She's laid back, and easy going, maybe because of the beautiful ocean paradise she calls home. She loves her three kiddos and always leaves nice comments.

Unknown Mami. Whose name I obviously don't know, but whose blog I enjoy everyday, especially on Sundays (go see why for yourself). Plus, her bag face (Book Bag, so effing funny!), photos crack me up!

Smart Pumpkin's Mom. She's the yin to my yang. The up to my down. The smart to my dumb. I'm not even close to being smart enough to explain what kinda knowledge this lady is dropping on us. You'll just have to read her yourself.

Miss Dot's Cupcake Spot. Did somebody say cupcakes? Deliciously-iced-no-wonder-you-weigh-a-ton cupcakes? They are sweet, and show is she!

I'm planning to do this every Monday, but I'd like to feature a guest poster in the future.

You know, 'cause I'm kinda lazy and stuff.

Anyone interested?

Anyone?

I'm putting a Mr. Linky in here so that we can all get to know you potential Dumb Mom ifriends of the future. Be sure to link to your best stuff so we can fall in lurve with you!

A note: Anyone who may, possibly consider writing a guest post for PBD or another blogger can leave a link here. Or, if you just know that you are awesome and want the rest of the world (aka the 18 people who read this blog) to know it, then you can go ahead and leave your links too. You might just end up being one of PBD's new ifriends (to be blabbed about in future posts) because I like awesome. It's sorta my thing.

All I want for Christmas

Whitened.

Not because they're all parchment yellow or anything, but I kinda want to do it.

Since I never have.

Does it work?

The kind you get from the store? Or do I really need to have the professionals do it?

Anyway.

I have been saving the best for last.

The PBD Ultimate Bomb Diggity Gift Giving Guide to beat all Ultimate Bomb Diggity Gift Giving Guides of the past.

Basically, this is the one that you will want to forward to your Hubbies (or parents, or boyfriends, or sisters, or whoever you've conned into getting you a gift this year).

It's taken me all of this time to come up with the perfectest most perfect list that encompasses everything a girl (yes, I am a "girl" so please watch it with the Ma'am crap) like me would want.

Really, I'm just so ridiculously easy to please.

Simply select one of the items from the list and all will be right with the world.

It's when the floral-paisley-mock-turtlenecky-mohair nastiness shows up that I have a problem.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I'm happy that anyone, anywhere ever thinks enough of me to get me a gift.

I'm just sayin', don't be alarmed if you never see me rockin' that alpaca fur poncho dealy you got me last year.

I returned it an got something fabulous instead!

I appreciate the sentiment, it's the actual item I didn't like, see?!

So here you have it: Dumb Mom's Ultimate Bomb Diggity Guide to Giving her a Gift She Will Like Enough to Keep (just pick one, buy, wrap, and deliver)

1. A point and shoot camera. If you know me, then you know that I LOVE to take pictures. I do it every single day and I don't see that ending anytime soon.

If you read this blog, then you may have noticed that on the most important day of my life (barring the birth of my children, and my wedding day, and all that other sentimental type crap) I was rendered cameraless (thanks to the no professional camera rule that is essentially ruining my life) and unable to capture a photograph of the most beautiful man in America serenading me.



So, I don't care which one I get.

I'm a sucker for Canon, so this one will do.

But, I'm not opposed to this Sony one which also gets a pretty good PC World rating and costs about $100 less.

I just can not have JT within tackling distance again and not be able to capture it on film.

2. Jewelry. Not like diamonds or anything fancy like that. I'm more in the mood for something girly, and trendy like.

I found some really awesome designers that I LOVE, to share with you:

Pieces of Girl, Jewelry with Soul.

Shy Siren, who makes the most amazing and feminine looking necklaces.

And, Charitable Creations, where you get to pick a charity to receive 10% of your purchase total, and everything is so cute.

Like one of a kind, stuff? Check out Indie Designer Labels for designers of pretty much everything that rock.

3. Olay. I got the Pro-X Wrinkle Smoothing Cream from Olay Professional to try. It's like some sort of miracle, anti aging cream.

I wish I could show you the dramatic before and after pictures to prove to you that I'm like at least 10% less crackly and crows feet-y, but I can't because I didn't take any befores.

There's a slim chance that the change is all in my mind because I am so desperate to look 29 for the rest of my life, but either way, I'm feeling like I can pass for pretty close to that at the moment and the only thing I can blame it on is my Olay.

Nothing (except for a camera and a pretty necklace) would make me happier than to receive the gift of youth for Christmas.

I just can't see myself splurging on a $42 bottle of youth, although if Justin is gonna be in town soon...

4. A handbag. Because I effing LOVE handbags.

I could honestly put down at lest 8 I want to buy right now, but I won't do that to you (and by you I mean Hubby and anyone else who is planning to send me a gift just to say they care *hint hint*).

There is this one from Julie Sherry Designs, on Etsy, that I adore.



Although, I really like pretty much every one of her bags so it's hard to really choose.

Or, if you really love me. You can check out Rebecca Minkoff and get me any one of her gorgeous bags to keep me happy this winter.


5. Reading material. I am dying for a book to read at the moment.

I've finished all the Twilight ones. Twice.

I've read all about Sookie. All nine times.

I'm going back to my romantic side a the moment with Nicholas Sparks, but I've not gotten sucked in enough to read more than about a chapter a week.

So, I need a new book, and it better be good.

Anyone have a suggestion for me to give as a suggestion? Because without a suggestion I'll wind up with The DaVinci Code because Hubby has been begging me to read that (or something like that) for ages and, in case you can't tell, I'm not really a DaVinci Code type of gal.

Help?!

6. A gym membership. Or something that is gonna help me get thin, because I've gained 9lbs in the past 3 months (how is that even possible?)!

I know!

Crazy, right?!

I don't really feel like I've eaten a newborn lately, but apparently I have.

I mean, I know I've been inhaling indulging in some sweet treats as of late, but 9lbs worth?

I wouldn't even believe it myself were the news not so eloquently delivered by a medical professional.

I'm sure it's a bad sign when your doctor starts a conversation with, "Daaaaaang, girl, have you been gaining weight?"

Um, yeah, Doc, I guess I have.

And, now that you bring it up, I may be suffering from hirsutism (Goggle it) and hyperhidrosis as well, any other embarrassing things you want to talk about?

He really is the most awesomest, amazing MD, I've ever had, ever, but he's not one for softening the blow at all.

Anyway, something must be done.

I've tried to jump start my weight loss again, but puking after every meal is just not doing it for me.

Gotta find a better way.

I'm starting to get depressed about it.

I think the only remedy at this point is to get everything on my X-mas list.

You may think that putting down the cookies and exercising a bit would be helpful, but I honestly believe that if Hubby gets me at least 3 of the 6 items I've listed above, I'll be more motivated, more equipped to lose weight because, if nothing else, at least I'll be happier.

It's worth it, right?!

PBD Admits it's Free Disclaimer: The only thing I got free of charge was a tenny wenny sample bottle of the Olay. The rest of it is based purely on my uncanny ability to locate and identify things that rock!

PS: The winner of the cards is a nonblog owning reader named SoozyQue (her real name is Carmen) who can congratulate my highly calibrated random person picking machine also known as #2 for picking her name outta the hat. Have your people call my people, Sooz!

RanDumb: Wedding Dont's

This week we are gonna discuss weddings.

I know, it's not really wedding season, but during wedding season, I'm sorta busy working at weddings which is where I get some really good insider knowledge about what NOT to do.

So, I'm gonna take some time on this week's RanDumb/Friday Fragments post to share with you some of my insider tips about how you (and by you I mean brides, grooms, wedding party participants, and guests) can easily eff up a wedding.

Apparently, people across the nation are plagued with being chronic Dont's and they consistently make other people's lives, um... difficult.

So, here you have it, from the unofficial, self proclaimed expert on what NOT to do:

RanDumb Ways to Ruin a Wedding (and you HAVE to visit the links or you won't get it!)

1. Don't: Pole Dance. Unless you earn your living by doing so, it is never, ever, appropriate to pole dance in public (if you have seen me doing this, please contact me immediately so that we may settle this privately. I will pay cash money for the destruction of any photos depicting me indulging in this ridiculously fun deplorable activity.).

It is particularly inadvisable to do so at a wedding, unless of course it is your own. And then, it's still not advisable, but at least it's excusable.

Here's what could happen if you don't heed this warning:



Do: Make sure your health insurance is up to date. Because, should pole dancing jump off on your special day, instead of being whisked away on a romantic honeymoon, you may be getting whisked away to the emergency room to have your face x-rayed.

And you were so against that health care reform thingy!

2. Don't: Make it rain. Because throwing cash into a throng of pushing children could lead to your granny getting choked out. I mean, giving away free cash is just asking for an a$$ whoopin' isn't it?

Especially if you live in Tampa, Florida and have your shindig at The Rusty Pelican (seriously, their website says nothing about the Gangster Boogie Beating Package, but I hope it comes with a complimentary bottle of Alize!)

Really, you could even offend people so much that they have to get in their hooptie, drive across town, and deliver a personal beat down to you and your reveling wedding party. No invitation needed.

Do: Make sure you pack heat. Just in case things get crazy and you have to bust a cap in somebody.

Better safe than sorry, that's what I always say.

3. Don't: wear a stupid wedding dress. Because you could easily wind up on a website like this. And, then people like me find your slutty wedding photos, and post them on their blogs, and make you a prime example of what not to do.

No one wants that, do they?

Do: Just skip getting married. Chances are good that you aren't even gonna stay married anyway, so why bother? And, I'm not saying that because you wore a trashy creative dress.

Tons of people get divorced, not just people who look an awful lot like street walking whores.

4. Don't: Skimp on the photographer. When you do your pictures could turn out really bad, and awkward, and, for lack of a better word, ugly.



Then, for rest of your life, every time you look at them you will cry because you remember that you could have gotten a really good photographer, but you didn't because your cousin's boyfriend's sister just got a really good new camera, with the detachable lenses and all, and she said she'd do them for free.

Lucky. You.

Well, guess what, and I'm not just saying this because I am a photographer, it's NOT THE CAMERA!

Just because you have a really nice camera doesn't mean that you will automatically be able to produce really nice photographs.

Not how it works.

Do: Hire a good photographer. Like me!





Or someone way, way, WAY better like...

Beth (one of my favorite people to stalk on Flickr).

or

The Blonde Photographer (one of my favorite people to stalk on Twitter).

You'll be much happier because you won't have to wonder if that shadow under your nose is the result of bad lighting or bad waxing.

5. Don't: Get wasted. The common theme to all of this is that getting totally shredded at a wedding (or anywhere) rather you are the bride, the groom, or one of the other many participants, is largely to be avoided.

Weddings are shamefully expensive.

Drunk people do dumb things.

And, from what I can tell, the two things just don't go together well.

No one wants their two thousand dollar gown puked on, or their $750 cake smashed by their visibly intoxicated, 65 year old aunt who toppled it when she tipped over the table it was sitting on with her impromptu, topless table dance.

If you love someone (or yourself) you won't get sloshed at the wedding or even at the reception.

Because, it's all fun and games until somebody gets elected president*...



*This post was not sponsored by George Bush (although, I'm not entirely opposed to that, GB, have your people call my people) or any of the other individuals included. And, for the record, I'm totally fine with the former president getting wasted (so don't jump all bad on me my Republican readers), it's the fact that he's at a wedding (which will now forever be remembered for being the scandalous video recording sight, thank you very much) that bugs me!

Don't forget to enter here to win the fantabulous cards from Junk Mail Greetings. Have to get your name in the pot by tonight!

That's Fowl

So.

New Moon. *taking deep breaths trying not to hyperventilate*

You all know how I feel about this...



It's like my thing (along with former boy banders turned hotties).

I am just so excited about this weekend.

And, yes. I already have my tickets.

I so wanted to go to the midnight showing, but I can't (bloody little beasts that pretend to be my sweet children from time to time).

After debating the situation numerous times with myself, I decided that it's for the best anyway because the very last thing I want is to have to be wedged in between Teen Becky and Teen Susie, OMGing-movie-rule-violating-Jacob-obsessed gigglebots who have never seen a man (or a man child in this case) without his shirt off before.

I want to marvel in the glory that is Edward without interruption.

I'm hoping all of the die hard fans will have seen the film come Saturday afternoon, or will be waiting until Saturday night to catch it.

Fingers crossed.

But, please don't doubt my dedication to the Twi.

I am still 100% devoted to Edward and Bella and the whole gang, and I take my obsessions seriously.

So serious in fact, that I volunteered to be the Twilight/New Moon expert on my most favorite morning radio show this week.

Go ahead and listen to my gushing summary of the series, but don't bother listening to the everyone's-an-expert haters that follow my review.

Dumb Mom on the Kane Show!

Did you hear it?

Awesome, right?!

Except for one little thing.

Make that two little things.

The delightful sound of my screaming little people that prompted the DJ to ask if I was "murdering children in the background".

Worst part is that their screaming was not even my fault!

It was the ducks!

The bloody, effing, psycho, attack ducks at the park that are to blame for the sounds-like-a-massacre screaming going on.

For lack of a better venue (thought about locking them in the car for my radio debut, but feared some nosy concerned citizen would call the cops on me) I took the dudes to the park for an early morning play.

And, instead of allowing them to play on the equipment (because then they would constantly be calling me for help) I thought it most serene if we took a stroll along the waterway to have a look at the ducks.

Error.

Since the dudes were armed with mommy's-on-the-phone-just-stuff-it-and-shut-it Pop Tarts, the fearless give-me-that-snack-or-else ducks from Hell spied us and decided to make their move right when I got distracted with Kane and Sarah (radio show hosts extraordinaire).

The kids got freaked (as any warm blooded human would if they were essentially landed upon by a flock of overly fed ducks) and began screaming (and running) hysterically which explains the commotion you heard on the show.

Way to go Dumb Mom!

P.S. That little tidbit about me leaving Hubby for R. Patz or JT, totally not true. I would only leave him for R. Patz if he turned out to be an actual vampire. JT...call me:)!

And, hey, Mama K, I'm not sure if that was 1000 words or less, but I'm pretty sure my life will never be the same thanks to the effing ducks. So, count me in for today's Writer's Workshop, um-kay because now I can't call the radio station everyday and harass them to put me on because I'm known as the "Screaming Kid Lady", which is way worse than being "The Cat Lady" or "The Bag Lady", if you ask me!

So, this week's Thursday Thank You is going to go to the Baker Park duck family.

And, they get an extra special thank you from the awesomely amazing Carol over at Junk Mail Greetings.

She creates the most absolutely perfect greeting cards, called Hate Mail, that I never ever want to live without again.

Ever.

So here you have it, Ode to the Ducks.

Thank you and you're welcome.



Inside: (which I'm not even gonna bother to write since the little devils can't read anyway) Dear Psycho Park Ducks, Thank you for making my radio interview, my five minutes of fame, into five minutes of shame. After all of the illegal bread I have allowed my kids to slip to you. After the countless times I've saved your flea ridden necks from being bludgeoned by my one year old. After the time that I actually got down on my hands and knees and saved your stupidly placed egg by covering it with stray bramble! This is how you repay me?! By viciously mobbing my two, young, Pop Tart scented children? How could you? How dare you?! Had I not been engaged in an important on-air conversation I so would have chased you off. You are lucky my fowl little friend. Lucky. But, you're secret bread source is officially dried up. Consider yourself cut off. I'm not dealing with your kind anymore, and you can tell all your friends I said it. Don't let me catch you on the street. XOXO, Dumb Mom

Want to win a set of cards from Junk Mail Greetings?

Sure you do, so you can give them out to all of the ducks that eff with your kids.

All you have to do is:

1. Go visit Junk Mail Greetings and leave a comment telling me which card is the best.

2. Follow me.

Not hard at all!

This is a quick one: Contest open until midnight Friday (11/20/09).

Winner will be selected and posted on Saturday (11/21/09).

Wordful (Time for a Change) Wednesday

It's been quite some time since I've needed to formerly address a child old fashioned letter style.

But, lately, #3, he's been asking for it.

Begging for it really.

After compiling the evidence (included below) I've come to the conclusion that the kid is definitely lacking in a few key areas.

Immediate changes are required to set him straight.

That's where I come in.

I may have been (slightly) neglecting my motherly duties when it comes to basic home training of #3.

But, them days are gone! Ova! Finished! Through!

It is time that he make a few adjustments if he's gonna continue his coahbitation with the residents here at Casa de Dummies.

I, on the other hand, do not intend to make any changes whatsoever. Because, life, life is about adaptation and it's high time this kid had a lesson in that.

Get in where you fit in kiddo.

Dear #3 (and friends),

Please make note of the following changes, effective immediately.

1. Change in management. Until further notice, residents under the age of 18 are not permitted to appoint themselves to managerial positions. Due to the numerous egregious acts committed during periods in which underage residents had assumed such positions, only adults (meaning myself and sometimes Dumb Dad on the occasions when I am unavailable) will be permitted to make decisions for the household.

This includes all dispute resolution:



Furniture rearrangements:



And, extracurricular activities...



2. Change in liability. Ii is hereby proclaimed that all residents who participate in reckless activity are subsequently ineligible to place the blame of any injury they incur while engaging in said activity on Dumb Mom or her representatives (this is not to include Dumb Dad as it is widely understood that a large number of the injuries resulting from harebrained ideas are indeed his fault).

Basically, if you do this...



Or this...



And you wind up like this...



It is not my fault.

3. Change in boundaries. Although the fact that a lock was placed on the gate was meant to be an unspoken agreement that underage residents would not trespass into the surrounding grounds, apparently the following needs to be explicitly stated to avoid further confusion. Underage residents are not to leave the home without explicit notification that doing so is permitted, nor are they to do so without direct adult supervision.

Should a resident be found like this...



He shall, for a to-be-determined amount of time, be relegated to this...



Don't play games with me Mister.

I am the truth.

4. Change in uniform. Underage residents shall be issued a standard uniform comprised of a trendy shirt, cute pants, and sensible shoes. Unacceptable attire includes, but is not limited to, items of clothing that are too small, filthy beyond recognition, uncoordinated, unsafe, specifically meant for the celebration of particular holidays, or from the closet of Napolean Dynamite.



Please take note of the following examples that must be removed from your wardrobe immediately (meaning, you may no longer wear them EVERYDAY!).





5. Change in accommodations. Please disregard previous communications indicating that this is an inappropriate venue for daily activity. It has been approved and can be used as a "playroom" immediately.




Also, please note that Casa de Dummies will no longer be providing underage residents with eating utensils, flatware, or paper products for cleaning. They are a severe waste of funds and have been deemed unnecessary as they consistently go unused.



Wipe it on your shirt, pal, it's what you normally do anyway.

Cookie Time Tuesday

I am a fan of the cookie.

And, when I say fan, I literally mean that I can (and occasionally do) eat them as my whole source of nourishment for the day.

I think that if the Cookie Diet featured Tollhouse and Snickerdoodles I'm certain that I could lose weight, no problem.

But, as it stands, I'm like 96% certain that cookies are to blame for at least one of my love handles and part of my double chin (the rest is likely from pies, chocolates, and sugar infused coffee beverages).

I know you're not gonna believe this, but I really don't eat a lot.

I know, I know, all heavy people say that.

But, in my case it's true!

I really don't even eat a lot.

At least, not a lot of food.

But cookies, I kill cookies. Kill them.

As in, stop it with the oh-no-she-didn'ts because yes I did just eat an entire bag of Chips Ahoy all by my lonesome.

Before lunch time.

But, those days are gone (no really, they totally are. Seriously. I swear.).

I'm not the cookie monster I used to be now that I'm trying to lose 10lbs before Christmas live a healthier lifestyle.

Doesn't mean I can't still appreciate a good cookie from time to time.

Cookie addiction is not like alcohol addiction. You can have one and not totally fall off the wagon. At least I can. Usually.

But, even if I can't be trusted in a room alone with a cookie, doesn't mean you can't and it doesn't mean that I'm not gonna be baking the heck outta some cookies for the holidays.

Because I am. And you should too.

So, let's start now, because Tuesday is a holiday in my cookie lovin' book.



Tonight we tried a new confection, Cinnamon-Chocolate Chip Butterballs (Recipe found in Betty Crocker Christmas Cookies).

Ingredients:
*1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
*1/2 cup powdered sugar
*1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
*1/2 teaspoon salt
*1 cup cold butter
*1 cup mini semisweet choc. chips
*1 teaspoon vanilla
*1/2 cup powdered sugar
*1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Mix flour, 1/2 cup powdered sugar, 1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon and the salt in a large bowl. Cut in butter, using pastry blender or fork, until mixture looks like coarse crumbs. Stir in chocolate chips and vanilla.



2. Use your hands to shape dough into 1-inch balls. Place balls on ungreased cookie sheets 1 inch apart.



3. Bake 6 to 8 minutes until set but not brown. Immediately remove from cookie sheets and cool slightly, about 20 minutes.

4. In small bowl, stir together 1/2 cup powdered sugar and 1 teaspoon cinnamon. Roll cookies in sugar mixture. Shake excess back into bowl. Cool completely.



5. Eat up!



What I learned:
1. I probably used a little too much flour (I'm not a precise measurer) so I added a little water when I started to roll into balls.

2. Using my hands just didn't work for me. My hands nearly sealed themselves together. Use a spoon to moisten the dough some and then it rolls up easier.

3. If you don't have mini chocolate chips go ahead and use the bog ones, they work fine too.

4. Keep thieving baby hands away from the cookie plate and watch them like a hawk or else...



My favorite part about the whole video (which you may have missed because of my loud voices drowning his out) is when I asked him if he stole it and he says no, but then quickly changes his answer to yes.

I guess my lying-is-bad-you'll-burn-in-Hell soliloquies, though intended in large part for #2 (aka professional fibber), have made an impression on him as well.

Way to go Dumb Mom's parenting skills!

And, have fun baking!

The Birth of a Hero

Was 8 years ago today.

My #1 is celebrating his 8th birthday today.

It was on this day that my life became meaningful and #1 will all be my most special boy as a result.

Not my favorite. I honestly don't have a favorite (not a consistent one anyway. It changes daily based on attitude, behavior, and time of day.).

But, my most special because he made me a mommy.

A boy mommy.

And, although it's taken me almost these entire 8 years to realize it, I know that's exactly what I'm meant to be.

A mom to boys.

Which is why I found myself at Medieval Times on Saturday rooting for the yellow knight with my guys this weekend in celebration of #1's big day.



Who knew I'd be so pumped about eating with my hands and battle chanting like a 16th Century wench? (Please note, it helped that Sir Yellow Knight was easy on the eyes and that he chose me, fair maid that I am, to receive on of his battle flowers.)

Who knew that I would be happy spending 20 minutes discussing the pros and cons of using a mace versus an axe in battle?

Apparently someone did. And for that I am thankful.

Please enjoy my Whrrl tribute to #1. He helped me pick the photos (even the unflattering, future blackmail material ones) and he said it looks "really great" (ah, my baby, so succinct!).

Powered by Whrrl

Saturday Swag-urday: For Dads

I'm sick of talking about toys and kid stuff.

Besides, until I sit down and help the dudes compose their begging letters to Santa, I'm all outta inspiration so I might as well start thinking about what I'm gonna get Hubby.

He's the hardest to shop for anyway and I always wind up running around like a crazy person trying to find "the gift" for him at the last minute.

I think I've proven that I'm a slow learner, and this is no exception.

It's pretty much the exact same story year after year.

I am intimidated by the fact that he never wants anything that I can afford (and by I, I mean he, because I totally just use the credit card he pays the bill on anyway, and then I feel bad when the gift is so-so because I coulda just let him pick his own gift since technically it's his money anyway!).

But, instead of starting early and doing research, I actually wait until the last minute, avoiding the task like the plague. Then, I wind up crying on Christmas Day when I hand him his crappy old dress shirt and gift card to Barnes and Noble.

Same story.

Every year.

Without fail.

The hardest part is that he's always all nice about it. He tells me to relax because he really does like books and he really does need dress shirts. And, he tells me that he is just happy I thought to get him anything.

And then? Then I feel even worse because I know that I didn't really think of it. I avoided think of it and that's why he's sitting on the couch with a tear stained, reused gift bag on his lap instead of something he really wanted like, um, er, something else.

So, this year is gonna be different.

I've actually put some thought into what I'm gonna get him (with his money) and hopefully all of my hard work will help you too!

Appreciate this people. You know I HATE doing research!

PBD's Ultimate Bomb Diggity Gift Giving Guide for 2009, Dad Edition

1. A new ipod. The old one is busted. He LOVES music. No brainer. I considered getting him an iphone just for the sake of convenience, but he loves his Blackberry (and we have the little issue of the contract *insert ominous sounding, your life is doomed music*).

2. Play by Givenchy with Justin Timberlake. Admittedly, this one is not entirely for him. I mean, I don't see anything wrong with buying something we can enjoy together. I just figure if he can't look (or dance, or sing, or act) like Justin, he could at least smell like Justin. Because you know what? Justin smells good! Amazingly good! And now Hubby will too.

3. A GPS. Let me just be honest. This one is not entirely for him either. This one is partly for our marriage because I swear if he calls me from Philadelphia again when he was just supposed to be going to the mall I swear, it's over. He was essentially born without a sense of direction at all. He gets lost going to the bathroom at night! And ask for directions? No effing way! He's a classic dude in that regard and it drives me batty! So, GPS here he comes!

4. The Holy-Crap-Are-You-Kidding-Me-I'm-LMAO-Looking-At-You-In-Those-Stupid-A$$-Night-Vision-Goggles. He's still a little depressed that, after waiting in line with the geekier than the geek squad crew for over an hour, I wasn't able to procure the coveted treasure. I'm sure I'll have to sale my soul to the Devil (aka Sony) to get him a pair, but I'm hoping to work out a less eternal deal. We'll see!

5. Some Bar Gear. For some reason, Hubby thinks he's the next Brian Flanagan.



Sorry, Honey, but no matter how many of these little shaking dohickeys I getcha, you are never gonna be able to work a bottle (or your hips) like Tom Cruise. Not gonna happen!

6. New jeans. Think he's been wearing his current pairs since college, or shortly there after. It's time to upgrade a bit because Old Navy Loose Fit Painters just ain't doin' it for me anymore. I wish he'd consider these William Rast ones (can't look like him, but can dress like him, right?!), but he won't. Just on principle. I might be able to get him into these, though.

I think this is it for now...

Still kicking around a few ideas.

He's not gonna get all of this stuff anyway, maybe one or two things, but at least I've put some thought into it. At least I have a starting point and I can go from there.

It's the least I can do to keep from presenting him with another work related clothing item or a yep-this-is-all-I-got-because-I-don't-have-a-creative-bone-in-my-body gift card.

He always gets me amazing gifts (my DSLR camera, my ipod, my laptop for crying out loud!).

The least I could do is try.

And, I am open for suggestions, so if you have any do me a favor and leave them in the comments section, I'm dying over here!

*Obviously Hubby doesn't read this crap, otherwise Christmas would be so ruined (if you are reading today, Hubby, please note that I, from time to time, like to turn my blog into a work of fiction. This is perhaps, one of those times.)

RanDumb

I have a hard time with Fridays.

I'm tired, I'm fed up, and I'm ready for Hubby to be around so that the kids have someone other than me to harass interact with.

I usually do Friday Fragments with Mrs. 444, and I plan to continue (because I totally think this qualifies).



But to make Fridays even easier on myself, I've decided to start a new thingy.

Instead of focusing on my own foolish behavior I'm gonna take a day to focus on that of others.

You know, share the wealth.

I shouldn't get all the recognition for being dumb, other people deserve to be honored as well!

Plus, I'd hate to overwhelm you with my personal dumbness, then you may lose sight of the fact that underneath all of this dumb (and blubber, there's a bit of a blubber barrier too) there is some serious awesomeness.

Serious. Awesomeness.

For the most part, like when I'm embarrassing myself in front of workmen, alienating innocent bystanders, or kickin' it old school, you lose sight of this fact.

But it's there, the awesomeness, silently gaining stgrenth, waiting to make it's debut, and when it does...

I can't even tell you what it's gonna be like, but know that it will be, for lack of a better word, awesome.

Anyway.

Fridays (most Fridays, unless something else comes up, or I'm too lazy, or for some strange reasoin no one on the planet is dumber than me) will be about others around here for a while, and the random RanDumb things that happen around the world (but mostly right here in the great US of A) that remind us that we can't all be mental giants no matter how much we want to.

But, don't get too attached 'cause I bore easily. And, I tire quickly. Guess that's a side effect of being old fat dumb.

Feel free to send me any stories you'd like me to include, I hate doing research so most of my ideas come from my favorite radio show (LOVE YOU KANE! and Sarah and Samy).

They find it, I share it with you. Makes me look smart (okay, maybe not actually smart, but sorta resourceful, maybe?) and you like it (at least I hope you do).



Soccer Goes Gangster

Watch the video.



I know, right? That's some CA-RAZY sh**!

Was she even playing soccer? Looked more like UFC to me, only the other people didn't know they were supposed to be blocking gut punches and kicks to the face.

Now I know why I was a cheerleader (aside from the cute skirts and the boys!).

I'm so not cut out for physical violence. I've always been more of a duck and cover than a rise and conquer type girl.

Social assains who talk crap about your thighs, and your hair, and your attire, I could handle, but those rugged chicks who would get all up in your face, scary!

I mean, there's my dental work to consider.

So, from a nonathlete like myself, I've got a question for you: Have you, or your daughters, ever experienced any type of on field violence? If so, was the attacker punished either by officials or by you?!

Holy Finger Amputation, Batman

Yep, the MacLaren thing.

We've all heard of it by now.

And, to think, some of us (me included) paid upwards of $250 bucks to be trendy and cute with these things.

Who knew that trendy and cute=losing a finger?

Here's a question for all of you trendsetters out there: Now that your baby caddy is death on wheels, what are you gonna do about it? Will you roll Maclaren style ever again? Do you think the Macs will go the way of the Pintos?

Get Skinny Wit It

This week, I heard about this weight loss program that uses Serotonin to help you control your cravings and stuff (read the website, I hate summarizing).

I called because the article said it's like 99% effective at helping you lose around 30lbs. in only 12 weeks.

Seriously?! Even I'm not unlucky enough to be the 1% to not lose weight with stats like that (although they said the same thing about BC...Hello #1!).

Anyway, the doc on the phone answered all my little medical questions and concerns and then she dropped the bomb on me...it costs $1200!

$1200?! That's $100 per week!

If I had that kinda money I wouldn't need their stupid little weight loss plan, I'd just get the fat rolls lopped off.

I feel like the only way for me to be thin is for me to get rich.

I mean, I feel like if I had the money that Demi has then I'd have those guns too...



to go along with those sexy heels.

And, if I had Keira's cash, I'd have a skimpy little, awkwardly fitted top just like this one...



Just to show off my bangin' abs, though.

This is why I don't really feel bad for people like Britney and Jessica who get all gooey guts and then get all whiny about people talking crap about their weight (not that I wouldn't shoot my pinky toe off to have either of their "fat" bodies).

If I had the cash that would afford me the time, and the trainer, and the in house gym, and the celebrity chef, and the cocaine supplements, and the plastic surgery to keep myself thin then I would totally do it.

As it stands, I look more like Missy Elliot (with better hair),



you know before she lost the weight, and gained a since of style, and I can't even afford this itty bitty, medically monitored, FDA approved weight regimine (accepting donations).

I guess I'm doomed to stay Two Ton Tilly for ever.

And, if that's not dumb then I don't know what is!