Lucy in the sky with diamonds

So I have not been sporting my wedding ring much lately and my supermodel good looks have been suffering a bit as well.  Let me put any rumors or theories to rest.  My marriage is great.  Fantastic actually!  I can see why a few people have asked if everything is alright...I look like hell, dark circles under my eyes, a catatonic stare and, as of late, no wedding rings.  Again, let me reiterate; Chuck and I are fine, really we are, that being said, I believe someone is out to get me.  I have this nagging suspicion someone is slowly killing me. I can't prove this hunch, but, I think it is Emily.  Yes, my darling daughter may just be the cause of my demise.  When Chuck called home the other morning I told him I believed I may be living my last day here on Earth...that I was not long for this life.  Let me lay the case out against Emmie and you can decide for yourself...

Why do I believe Emily is slowly killing me?  Well, there is no one big thing but many, many little things that when combined together are not compatible with life.  Let me start at the bottom and work my way up.  Literally, I am starting at the bottom.  My feet. So I know it is typical a woman's foot may grow during pregnancy.  Mine did with Sara, my first child.  They went from a 6 to a 6 1/2.  Fine, I can deal with that.  When I was carrying Anna my feet stayed put at 6 1/2.  So I figured that would be it.  Nope, with Em they grew again!!  Now I have a 7- 7 1/2 depending on the shoe.  Now I really don't care about the actual number, but, I have tiny bird ankles...the only thing on me I can confidently describe as tiny!  So when I am forced to wear a size 7 1/2 shoe my feet not only look as if they are ensconced in a cement block, it kind of feels that way too.  It does something to my center of gravity and I am constantly tripping over my own feet.  It makes me wonder?  Was her plan to take me out in some "accidental" trip and fall?  Either way I am putting Jim Sokolove's number on speed dial.

Now moving up a bit to my belly.  Or the misshapen blob that holds the place of what used to be my belly.  I am not going to revisit the 'hole in my belly' fiasco, and I don't want to call anyone out on that but, Emily may have some ownership on that one.  So my stomach has settled into this terrible squared off formation.  I guess this  is what people refer to as the "new normal".  My new normal belly looks like a block sitting atop two normal looking legs.  Picture if you will, a lego person.  They have a normal head, a squared off torso and regular legs.  If push comes to shove and I ever find myself out of work I think I have a decent shot of making it as an extra in the next Lego's movie.  Everything is Awesome!!  I have so many scars on my belly and thanks to Emmie my stretch marks are EPIC!  The other day Anna asked why my belly looked like a raisin.  I gave the standard mom answer, "oh those are a badge of honor...blah, blah, blah...bullsh*t, bullsh*t, bullsh*t".  Then it hit me.  I have seen those Youtube videos where a hawk comes down and swoops up a baby...what if on some extremely rare occasion my belly were to see the light of day...which would never happen, because I have way too much respect for my fellow human beings to subject them to that..But what if?  Would an eagle, hawk or better yet, a vulture mistake my belly for a plump, ripe raisin and swoop me off for dinner?  Is that how she is going to "off" me?  Turn me into bird food?  God this baby is good...

My misshapen belly still looks pregnant and surprisingly only fits into maternity pants.  Fine, whatever.  Not really, because, even though it fits into maternity pants that doesn’t mean they look good on me.  My belly, though huge again, is a deflated version of its pregnant self…meaning it is not taut and does not look round and smooth in the high waisted slacks.  That presents a bit of a challenge…enter my maternity spanx.  Remember those from blog posts past?  I am forced to wear the spanx under my pants.  Those do not come without risks.  So, if Emily’s plan of turning me into bird food doesn’t work out there is always the chance I will die from severe internal organ compression due to the spanx, or if it is a particularly hot day, spontaneous human combustion is always on the table.

Since becoming pregnant with my dear, sweet Emmie girl I have been sprouting weird, random hairs.  Don't get me wrong, I am not becoming the bearded lady or anything but my tweezers are in high demand these days.  She did something to my hormones that have made my eyebrows try their hardest to become a uni-brow.  So her previous plans to get rid of me may have failed...so her thought is turn me into a Sasquatch and have Bo-Bo come a huntin'...or even better, I may be mistaken for the ever elusive chupacabra.  For her it would be a win-win...if I were to be captured she would be rid of me and rich beyond her wildest baby dreams.  I am sure there is a handsome bounty on a real, live chupacabra.  

So now for the reason I am not wearing my ring...I have been suffering from carpal tunnel.  This started when I was pregnant with Emily.  I just thought since I was so huge my girth must have been cutting something off somewhere.  My arms and hands would go numb when I would try to sleep.   I thought since I was still carrying around the extra weight that was still the issue.  It has become unbearable lately; Aleve and wrist splints aren’t cutting it anymore.  I ended up at my doctor’s the other day.  She is sending me for an EMG.  I am not sure what those letters stand for and I refuse to Google them because I am afraid the ‘E” might stand for electrical.  I would rather just go into the appointment ignorant, and, if they shock my hands into submission so be it…I will just deal with it then…why add to the stress and worry about it for the 3 weeks leading up to it?  If you do know what the “E” in EMG stands for, good for you, please keep it to yourself.  I would like to think the “E” stands for Easy, like Easy Muscle Guidance or something similarly blissful sounding.  My doctor did say there is a good possibility I will need surgery to correct this condition.  It is quick she said.  You will be in and out in a few hours she said.  Have you met me? I said.  If you know anything about my past medical history, you will know nothing is easy.  I told her I would end up inpatient for 4 months nursing a whopping case of MRSA and would eventually need bilateral, above the elbow amputations.  Of course for dramatic effect I am saying this with my arms bent at my elbows kind of flopping them around.  I ask Anna if she would still love me if I looked like this and she said, “Yeah, you won’t be able to hug me anymore but you could pat me on my head with your baby arms”…God I love that kid!  She truly is my mini-me!  So for the next 3 weeks I have to wear the braces as much as possible.  Translation; for a few hours each day after the kids go to sleep.  Why don’t I wear them?  1.  I look stupid wearing them in public.  Yes, I know that is not the strongest argument. 2.  They are really hot and make my arms sweaty and smelly.  Again, I am aware that is not the best reason either.  Finally, 3.  They make me have Lego hands.  You know what I mean?  4 of my fingers are permanently cupped into a circle with my thumb all by itself directly opposite them.  A Lego hand.  It is next to impossible to function with a Lego hand, I can’t prepare bottles for the baby, change her, wipe, cook, etc., etc.  So I now have Lego hands, add to that my Lego belly/body from a few paragraphs ago and I am steering clear of the new Lego Land store in town.  All it would take is one smile from Emily and I am sure she could convince her two older cousins, Declan & Aidan to pick me up and sit me on one of the Lego displays.  Have you seen how those things connect?  Unless someone picks me up I will have a circular, plastic nub up my ass and become a permanent fixture in their window display.  Well played Emily, well played!

Since having Emily my eyesight has gone down the sh*tter.  I am the not so proud owner of bifocals now.  I hate them and try as hard as possible to not wear them.  If I go to long without them my eyes start twitching.  An eye twitch can have several unintended consequences; if I am glancing at someone while this happens they may think I am coming on to them, not good for many reasons or, the twitch may cause such a distraction I walk into something, drive off the road or dig my own eye out in a fit of rage.  It is true when they say having a baby changes your life.  Emily has changed my life in ways I never expected…

Still not convinced she is trying to kill me?  Need a few more examples?  OK, remember back to my post about Emmie just stopping nursing?  Just quit.  One day she was done.  That had a whole host of repercussions in itself.  Little did I know her quitter attitude would end up with me in an MRI scanner.  I had several instances where my vision got a little funky.  A portion of my vision would get fuzzy and then a spot in the center made everything look as if I were looking through a kaleidoscope.  Now, I am not a doctor or a nurse but even I know that is just not right.  I end up getting an MRI and seeing 3 doctors for this.  Like I have time for this crap? Anyway, turns out they are ocular migraines.  Get this; caused by a shift in my hormones from no longer nursing, thanks Emily, and from a lack of sleep.  So to clarify for you, since they are caused by a lack of sleep there is absolutely nothing I can do to fix this except get good, quality sleep.  So basically I am screwed.  I guess I should just change my name to Lucy, you know in the sky with diamonds?  Cuz I am now the girl with the kaleidoscope eye.  Lack of sleep may be the manner of death she is angling for now.  Thoughts?

Exsanguination?   Perhaps.  I have proof, albeit circumstantial that Emily may be trying to have me bleed to death.  The other night I was making her a bottle at about 3 a.m.  Don’t judge!  I know she is too old for a middle of the night bottle, but I am in survival mode these days.  So I have the annoying wrist guards one, I am trying to hold Emily without dropping her and I am fixing the bottle.  Emily sees my vulnerability with my Lego hands and she slams the sharp, plastic formula container on my finger.  She would not let go.  I wanted to scream but I didn’t want to wake the other kids lest feel the wrath of Sara at 3 a.m.  So I am trying to be all sweet as my finger is starting to bleed and I am seriously getting a plan together for when my finger tip drops to the floor.  Do I put it on ice?  Or is it milk?  Should I call 911? Or just drive myself?  Fortunately she relented and a Band-Aid was enough to keep me alive.  The little vampire struck again the next day when she lifted up my shirt and dug her dagger finger into my belly button.  Drew blood and gave me a good scratch.  If you have never experienced a baby’s sharp nail inside your belly button, I am going to let you in on something; it hurts like a son of a bitch!!!  Fortunately I survived those assassination attempts.  But she is not giving up.  I swear she should hang out with Edward Snowden…she is that good.  She will look you straight in the eye all while plotting your death.  She knows that I am on to her and she has changed up her M.O.  Now, Emily has become even more devious.  She has begun hatching plans where it will look like I am responsible for my own undoing.  Case in point, the other night after everyone went to bed I was in the kitchen minding my own business, read between the lines; sneaking some ice cream.  The baby started to cry so I threw the ice cream in the freezer, bowl and spoon included.  It takes a good 10 minutes to get her back to sleep.  I put her down and go get my frosty treat.  I sit down on the couch, get the DVR teed up, pick up the spoon a la Bob Dole and one of his pens (believe it or not I was actually wearing the wrist splints)  and take a bite of the ice cream.  No word of a lie my effing tongue sticks to the metal spoon.  I sh*t you not when I say it was stuck there for a sold 3 minutes.  Now it hurt like a mutha trying to get it off but I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of my life.  I thought about calling out to "Thuck" aka Chuck but then I would have to admit I was eating ice cream at midnight.  I just had to wait it out and let it melt.  I am not positive, but, I think I may have heard Emily giggling in her sleep.

Bye, Bye Miss Amerigold Lemon Lavallee

OK, so it doesn't have the same ring to it as Miss American Pie, but, we did bid adieu to our beloved pet guinea pig earlier this week.  As with everything in my life it was not without drama.

So let me set the scene;  I was working off of a solid 23 minutes of sleep within the past 2 days...  Migraine from H-E-double hockey sticks and about as much patience as a toddler in church.  As you can see the day was off to a fantastic start.  I sit and eat my breakfast with Em and notice the guinea pig was still sleeping.  Huh, that was odd, but not unheard of.  The girls set up a food stand.  They came to me first thing in the morning demanding I bring their craft table outside, they were going to set up a lemonade stand because they needed money.  They wanted a bubble gun.  I told them we needed to plan for a lemonade stand, we needed to get some stuff to I don't know, make lemonade!  Oh, and having cups on hand would be a good idea too.  They could not be bogged down by the details so they came up with a plan of their own.  The girls set up the food stand.  2 snack sized bags of chips, two Go-gurt squeezable yogurts, one random cup yogurt and a half eaten bag of wheat thins.  Yup, that is what my kids decided their customers would like.  They made a sign for their food sale.  It was hand drawn and cute as can be.  It advertised watermelon, grapes, cake and a banana.  Nothing they had in stock in their display.   Each item was priced at a dollar.  They stuck the sign in the ground about 25 feet away from their table.  Oh, and they set their table up about half a football field away from the street.  On a hill.  Now, I am not knocking their business model, but, it is safe to say they had no customers that day...

So back to the guinea pig.  While Sara and Anna were setting up shop they got hungry.  I peeled them an apple.  I placed the core in the top of Miss Amerigold's cage.  I would do that so she had to work for her treat, kind of make a game out of it.  She didn't come right over and grab it.  Man, she must be tired I thought.  I was pacing around the house all night and she was squeaking every time I would walk in the kitchen.  She must be sleeping in I thought.  The girls were outside yelling, "food sale" to every car that sped by, Emily was scooting around the kitchen and despite the migraine, no sleep and messy house, life was pretty good in that moment.  I walked by the pig's cage and it all fell to sh*t in an instant.  She wasn't "sleeping in"...she was DEAD!!!!  AHHHHHHH!!!!  I immediately call Chuck at work.  Get rid of it was his response.  Now, I know he is not a fan of pets, except really expensive salt water fish, but I thought he would at least say, poor thing, or something.  He told me to throw her away.  I can't do that.  So he then suggests I dig a hole and bury her in the back yard.  No friggin way!!  Last week the girls and Chuck saw a huge snake out there.  Chuck said it was the biggest garter snake he has ever seen.  He said he could feel bones in it's back.  In my mind the second he finished that sentence summer was officially over.  No more playing in the backyard.  I am serious in my fear of snakes.  If a snake were attacking one of my off spring you can bet your ass I would not be going out there to rescue them.  Instead I would immediately call HLN and report myself to Nancy Grace.  I would even give her the headline, "Breaking News!  Snake Mom casually watches out the window as her baby is eaten by a reptile".  I would be known as Snake Mom for eternity.  Kind of like 'Tot Mom", 'Microwave Mom', 'Hot Car Dad'...gotta love her nicknames.  But I digress...so I told Chuck there was no way in hell I was going out there with a snake on the loose.  Much less carrying a dead rodent...its primary food source.  That is asking to be attacked.

 So now it is early in the day and I have to deal with this myself.  Awesome.  F*cking Awesome. I call the girls in and let them know we have something serious we need to talk about.  We are all sitting on the couch and I gently tell them.  They burst into sobs.  Sara runs into the kitchen to see if I was telling the truth.  Anna is heaving uncontrollably.  Then it happens...in between sobs, "mom, can we get a new one?"...UGH...I knew that was coming but I honestly thought it would be a good day or two before the requests started.  Nope...it was maybe, MAYBE 38 seconds.  They are screaming, sobbing and snorting uncontrollably.  So the baby is terrified and joins in.  Remember my migraine from the beginning of the story.  Yeah?  It is still there so I just sit in the middle of them and cry too.  They cried for a solid 2 hours.  They decide it is time to put her into a box.  I find a very lovely Nike shoe box that should accommodate a guinea pig quite nicely.  They get a blanket to put in the bottom of the box and we head into the kitchen to prepare the body.   I am not quite sure how long ago she left this world and what the cause of death was, so I am a bit hesitant to pick her up.  I send the girls out of the room to go look for one specific blanket to put over her.  As soon as the leave I grab the ramp from her cage and try to quickly nudge her into the shoe box.  Well, for the first time EVER, Thing 1 and Thing 2 find something in record time.  They walk in and find me desecrating the pig's corpse by trying to flip it into the box.  I can't accurately describe the look on their faces, it was a cross between horror, disgust and sadness.  Anna asks me accusingly, "what are you doing?"  It was more of a statement than a question.  I don't answer.  I just put the ramp down, take one for the team and pick Ms. Amerigold up.  She was stiff as a board.  So that answers the time of death question.  Hours ago.  We put her in the box, they give her some last pats and cover her up with the blanket.  I send them in to wash their hands.  Now what?  I have a dead guinea pig in the house.  Unless Samuel L. Jackson comes over and throws me up on his shoulders there is no way I am going in the Mother Effing yard, with the Mother Effing snakes.  I can't very well leave the box on the kitchen table.  1. That is gross and 2.  I have two very curious cats.  So I place the shoe box in her cage, roll it back under the air conditioner and turn it on full blast.  It is a hot summer day after all.

So the crying and carrying on lingers.  Anna keeps saying how she was going to play with her today.  I am thinking yeah, right.  Today is the one day you had plans to take her out and play with her?  I know that sounds cynical on my part but get this;  The day before the girls and I had a little chat about how we really needed to make some decisions on what to do with the pig.  Unless their friends were over they hadn't been showing any interest in her lately.  I told them they needed to step up to the plate with her or we needed to find her a new home.  They swore up and down they really loved her and they promised to take better care of her.  I guess right before bed Anna asked to take her out to play.  Chuck told her it was too late, do it tomorrow.  So what does the little sh*t do after this Come to Jesus meeting?  She up and dies.  Now, did she do it to spite the girls? Possibly.  Did she do it because the thought of moving away from our loving family was just too much?  Maybe.  We will never know.  Sara kept saying over and over, "but we fed her last night"...now, please know that she did not starve to death.  I took very good care of her.  Everyone else, not so much.

 Every now and then I would see one of the girls opening the box to pat her some more.  It was heartbreaking to see them hurting.  We decide to remember some of the funnier things that Ms. Amerigold did, like pee on our Elf on the Shelf.  That seemed to help for a few minutes.  Sara is all upset because she said her friends were going to play with her on her half sleep-over.  She needed to get the word out.  She said she was too upset to call anyone.  She asked me to put a message on the computer to let people know.  So I say I will.  She hounds me to do it and then stands over my shoulder as I compose Ms. Amerigold's obituary.  It was short and sweet, but of course Sara wants pictures.  So we put some pictures on and hesitantly I hit "post".  I was hesitant because earlier that morning I read 2 posts about young children dying from cancer.  (Which is so unbelievably sad and so frustrating because there is little to no funding for childhood cancer!  Please keep that in mind next month and help spread the word to your legislatures to increase childhood cancer funding!)  So I felt very sheepish posting about our deceased rodent but I knew it was important to Sara and her grieving process so I posted it.  Another important piece was burying her.  Chuck dug a grave for her next to Maddie's, one of our cats that has passed on.  It was all too much for Anna.  She erupted into tears again so I took her inside.

Anna ended up in bed with me after crying herself to sleep.  She woke up several times during the night and would cry some more.  Then morning came and she seemed to be handling things relatively well.  She asked why Ms. Amerigold's cage was on the porch.  I told her that we put it out there because we thought it might sad for them to see it empty in the house.  She asked why it was empty.  Where was Ms. Amerigold?  Oh for f*ck's sake!!  She forgot she died!  I had to tell her all over again!!   AHHHHHH!!!

They seem to be over the acute stage of their grief.  They have moved on and begun lobbying me for a dog.  A 45 minute car trip the other day turned into a full on assault of a "we want a dog" chant.  They are constantly looking up different dogs on Google Images.  Last night they were on a Newfie kick...Barbara L.  that is why you probably noticed an uptick in "likes" for pictures of James.  They threaten to grab the phone and tell who ever is on the other end I am the worst mother in the world because I won't get them a dog.  Poor Ms. Amerigold, she isn't even gone 2 days and they have moved on from her...to a completely different species to boot!

We did spend 2 nights in a row in the pet store, per the kids request to "just look".  So we are nosing around and come across the "Fancy Rats"...well not only did I have to guide my children through the tough life lesson of losing something you love, I also had to have a discussion about the birds and the bees.  Albeit abbreviated.  The fancy rats were having a 'date night' if you will.  Sara points to the rats and asks why is that one just laying there?  What is that rat doing to it?  Now, I am all for answering my children's questions openly and honestly but, really how does one explain oral sex among rodents to a 4 and 6 year old that less than 24 hours ago buried their pet guinea pig?   You lie of course.  So I said they were wrestling.  The recipient of the services then jumped up and took the other one from behind.  Anna says, "huh, that one is a much better wrestler...he is winning".  At this moment I glance around looking for a camera...someone, somewhere has to be setting all this up.  I can not make up my day to day life.  I have said it before...I think I am starring in some warped remake of the Trueman Show.

So, who knows maybe I am the worst mother in the world, but I'll tell you what,  I am missing that little critter more than I thought I would.  I cut some strawberries yesterday and I brought the caps over to her cage only to find an empty space.  Instinctively I grabbed a carrot out of the fridge tonight to give to her and had to remind myself she wasn't there.   So Rest in Peace Ms. Amerigold Lemon Lavallee...I hope you are having fun in the great big guinea pig cage in the sky.

Things I REALLY, REALLY LOVE...

1.      Climbing over a baby gate in the middle of the night only to get my foot stuck at the last second and having to imitate Keanu Reeves in the Matrix in the hopes of not landing flat on my arse.

2.     Having someone seriously ask me if I ever have a “normal day” only to be hit by the realization that no, no come to think of it I never have a normal day… and I may unknowingly be starring in the sequel to ‘The Truman Show’.  I always wanted to be in a movie.

3.     Realizing that Emily must really, REALLY love Chuck and me.   She loves us so much she wants to spend all day and ALL NIGHT hanging out with us…it’s like the Aerosmith song...she doesn’t want to close her eyes because she doesn’t want to miss a thing.  Isn’t that sweet?

4.     Waking up in the middle of the night to Sara standing next to my bed silently staring at me kind of like that creepy kid in Poltergeist….scares the sh*t out of me EVERY TIME!  

5.     Getting up to pee in the middle of the night, taking care of business and realizing there is NO TOILET PAPER!  AGAIN!!!  Why can’t anyone ever replace the roll?  I really love that…really I do.  I especially love it because we store our extra T.P. outside of the bathroom.

6.     My T-Rex arms and how they are just a bit too short to softly place Emmie in her crib…I love waking her up every single time I try to put her to bed.

7.     When I come home from work, make myself a quick dinner and just as I sit down to eat it one of my littles comes in and asks if they can have the same thing….9 times out of 10 it is the last of whatever I am eating so as their mom I have to give it to them only to have another sad dinner of Raisin Bran.  Gotta love Raisin Bran!

8.     Getting ready for work and as per usual, running late I notice that “blank” is missing.  Blank can be;  my brush, my shoes, my umbrella, my lip gloss, my hairspray, etc. etc.  No one ever knows where the item is but surprisingly a day or two later it will turn up in someone’s room behind the curtain, under the fish tank, in their bed…you get my point.  Love, love, love that!

9.     Coincidentally the day we have our driveway dug up to fix a broken water pipe, our water pressure goes and our toilet and washing machine break.  The water company informs us it was not caused by anything they did.  Hmm, all of our plumbing is just fine at 8 a.m.  they come and start working at 8:14 a.m. and by 9 a.m. nothing works anymore.  God I just LOVE coincidences!!!  You know what I love even more?  Expensive coincidences!  They are the BEST!!

10.     Lastly, you know what I really, really love? That my 10 month old has already chosen her career.  Today while at the beach she was practicing standing up by holding on to the pole of the beach umbrella.  Emily loves to dance anywhere, anytime.  Add the umbrella pole to her cool butt shaking moves and voila...WE HAVE A POLE DANCING STRIPPER IN OUR FUTURE!!!  Hey, that's one we won't have to help put through college!  I really, really love that!

It's a bird! it's a plane! It's....it's.....my underwear!?

Huh?  Underwear?  OK, let’s back up a bit.  I was recently complaining to Chuck I didn’t have any comfortable underwear.  I have had 7 abdominal surgeries, 3 this past year alone, so I have a road map of scar tissue on my belly.  Emily is 10 months old now so maternity undies slide right off the second I pull them on and regular underwear rubs up against the scars and is very irritating.  Now, combine that with the fact that I have kind of let myself go, clothing wise if you will, since the baby was born and you have the perfect storm of nothing fitting properly, things that do fit way beyond their prime (think stretched out elastics, holes and mystery stains) and the rest out-of-style by a good half decade or more. 

Back to my underwear.  First, let me preface this with the following statement; my husband is AMAZING!!  I could not ask for a better husband or father for my girls.  Please keep that in mind while reading the next few sentences!!  Chuck ordered some new underwear for me online.  He bought ones that were supposed to be super soft, yoga pant like so they wouldn’t rub on my belly scars.  Unbelievably thoughtful, right?  Well, a few days later the package arrives and Anna and I open it.  I can honestly say I have NEVER laughed so hard in all my life.  These things were HUGE!!!  They were the entire length of my outstretched arms.  Now, I know you are all thinking, yeah, but you have T-Rex arms Erin, they can’t be that big.  TRUST ME!!!  Without missing a beat Anna announces that they must be giant’s underwear.  They were so big I took a picture of Sara and Anna in them.  Both of the girls in the same pair!  One in each leg hole with room to spare! 

So I had already taken them out of the package and I wasn’t sure what the return policy would be on opened underwear so I started thinking about what I could do with these massive sets of britches.  I tossed around a few ideas; slip covers for the cat ravaged furniture, a shade awning for our porch, fold them and keep them in the linen closet (they may be a bit more practical than a table cloth when drying off after a shower) or use them as crib sheets for Em.

After thinking about it for a bit I came up with the perfect idea!  If you go way, way back to an earlier post you will see that I am a closet doomsday prepper.  OK, so I am not really a prepper…I am just fascinated by the show.  I always thought I should have a “GO” bag at the ready just in case the apocalypse came upon us.  These undies could prove invaluable in a doomsday scenario.   My betrothed didn’t just order me 1 pair, he got me 6!  So if I take one pair, a half pair might be sufficient, but take the pair and sew it into a ruck sack.  I could close off the leg holes and use the elastic waist band to fashion some handles.  OK, great so I have my GO bag, now I need to fill it with things that would help me and my family survive in the event of Armageddon.  The other 5 pairs of underwear would be a great place to start.

These enormous briefs could be used for shelter…just stick a large branch or two inside of one and you have a tent. Sleeping…string one up between two trees and voila, you have a hammock big enough for my entire clan.  If we need to quickly jump out of a plane or off a cliff, hey, it’s the end of the world, it could happen, just put your arms through the leg holes and as you jump the ass end of the undies would catch enough air to help you stick a smooth landing.   Water closing in on you?  No problem!  Fill them with sand, spin it around and tie off the end and there you have a sandbag.  Hungry?  Again, the undies can help with that…dredge them along the bottom of a river and it makes a nice net for catching fish.  Of course you can’t face the end of the world Naked and Afraid (another one of my guilty pleasure shows) so take 2 pairs of underwear; 2 upside down would make a nice jumper…from what I have seen in the magazines those are all the rage these days.  There are so many uses for this extra, extra large lingerie that my hubby got for me…a sling to carry the baby, toys…take off the elastic waistband and make a Chinese jump rope, hang one from a tree and throw coconuts through the leg holes like a bean bag toss…in my scenario we are on a tropical island.  I could go on and on.

But I won’t.  Why?  Because I was able to return them.  Of course that wasn’t without issues…so I take them back and of course I get the cashier with a super loud voice.  He asks why I am returning the underwear and I tell him that it is slightly larger than I need.  The register he is using breaks down.  We need to move to the next one at the customer service booth.  At this point there are a few people behind me, he calls in for help and again I am forced to state why I am returning them.  For the love of Christ this register sh*ts the bed…so now we are on to register #3 and now the manager is involved…so yet again I have to verbalize why I am returning the underwear to an ever growing crowd of impatient shoppers.  I was ready to just take the bloomers home and be done with it…but finally, finally Mr. Loud Talker gets the transaction processed and I can take my embarrassed self and do the walk of shame through the sea of pissed off customers…as if I had anything to do with the registers breaking!!

In case any of you were wondering I did get some underwear in a more reasonable size, but in an effort to always be honest with my faithful blog readers, I have to confess, I never did try the underwear on that Chuck got me…I was terrified that they might actually fit!!!

Did that really just come out of my mouth? General Family Announcements

There are many times I want to call one of my family members out on something, but, in an effort to protect their self-esteem I just make "general family announcements".  That way no one is put on the spot and made to feel bad.  Here are a few of the recent General Family Announcements I have had to make;

* "If you need to get something out of your nose please use a tissue, do not wipe it on your dress".  Feel free to substitute dress with; wall, couch, floor, ceiling (we have bunk beds), dance costume, toilet paper roll or me!  Sadly, I have had to use all of those in place of dress and many more!!!

* "If you poop please flush it down the toilet...no one wants to see it."

 * "If you do manage to poop on the toilet please use toilet paper to wipe."  On more than one occasion I have found a floater and mysteriously there is no toilet paper with it.

* "If by some miracle you do remember to use toilet paper to wipe your poop please for the love of God flush it down the toilet and not leave it in the bathroom trash!"  I think I need to hold a remedial toileting class over here.

* "No one is putting soap in anyone's butt crack!"

* "This is supposed to be the summer of fun damn it!  Can you all stop crying and have fun for Christ's sake?"

* "No putting your finger in the kitty's bum!"  This wasn't truly a General Family Announcement...this was directed specifically at Emily.  Our cat Lucy is all black except for her bright white balloon knot (that is how I refer to her butt hole...sounds a little more pleasant, right?)...Emily has made it her life's mission to try and get her finger in there.  In Em's defense the cat does prance around with that thing glowing like a flippin' bulls-eye.

* "It's quite a life we have carved out for ourselves here.  How about we leave it all behind, move to Montana and just live in a shack?"  Again, not a General Family Announcement...just a question Chuck posed to me last night and without hesitation I said a resounding "YES"!  Not sure if he meant taking the kids with us or alone, again, my answer was a resounding YES!

*"If you lick the powder off a donut please either eat it or throw it away...don't put naked, wet donuts back in the box."

* "Tampons are not toys."

Face down, booty up...Timber? Yeah, not exactly like that!

OK… I did find myself in that position the other day but, as you can probably guess it was not in the sexy Kesha/Pitbull kind of way.  Nope…but it is quite the story anyway.  So we recently got one of those bright blue, above the ground pools that are popping up everywhere.  It has been the best $250 we have ever spent.  If you know me then you know that I am a complete believer in spontaneous human combustion and I am entirely convinced that is how I am going to meet my demise.  I think I may have blogged about that exact subject a summer or two ago.  But back to the story.  We have been using the pool a lot.  Now I am all for reusing a towel for a swim session or 2, but Sara and Anna just think that is disgusting…especially if the towel is still damp from the morning swim.  So we have been going through towels at an alarming rate.  The other day I went to the closet to grab a towel before jumping in the shower.  We had no clean towels…they were all either in the hamper or in the washer.  It was not an optional shower…I was getting ready for work.  I had to come up with a Plan B.  Soooo, I grabbed myself a table cloth.  Yup, I was going to dry off with a table cloth.  Fortunately we have a ton of those at the ready at all times…not because we are fancy folk…quite the opposite, my children can be gross and they have ruined our dining table so we are forced to use table cloths 24/7.  I used to buy pretty ones but I learned quickly to buy sensible ones that are exactly the same on the front and back.  Why you ask?  Oh, that is easy…when it gets dirty I can brush the crumbs off and flip it over and get a few more days out of it.       So, I take my shower and I wrap myself up in the table cloth.  Truth be told, they are not very absorbent…but in a pinch they will do.  Also, in an effort to be completely transparent this was not my first time wrapped up in a table linen.  Sadly, I have had to do this about 3 times in as many weeks.  Now, I am not advocating the use of a perfectly good table cloth as a towel and I am sure Martha Stewart would vomit if she saw me disrespecting the cloth that way, but feel free to use my Plan B whenever you see fit. 

So of course in the midst of showering the girls need me for 20 different things.  So here I am wrapped in a nice maroon brocade making my way into the kitchen to see what Sara’s snack emergency is when my foot gets caught up in my make shift towel and I fall, you guessed it, face down, ass up on the kitchen floor.  As I am laying there thinking about where I went wrong in life, I bleep you not, Anna steps over my legs, comes up to my face and asks me if she can have a drink…living the dream my friends, living the dream.

So back to the spontaneous combustion…I hate the summer…I get really hot, really fast.  On another recent day I took a shower at about 7 a.m.  I did not have to be at work until 11 a.m.  From the time I showered until I had to drive to work I had to get all 3 kids breakfast, get them dressed, drive Sara to school, run to Walmart and drop the kids off at my mother in law’s house.  I did have a 20 minute span at home before dropping Anna and Emily off.  Thank Christ because my shower really didn’t “take”.  I was sweating and really getting kind of musky.  I took a mommy sponge bath (washing up with baby wipes)…come on, you know you have all done it.  But I still did not feel fresh enough to be around the general public.  Now, most people would grab for a bottle of perfume to give themselves a little boost.  I don’t have any perfume.  I haven’t in a while.  I used to be such a perfume addict.  I am a total 80’s girl at heart; I think Design by Sebastian is hands down one of the all time best perfumes EVER!  I did graduate to a more exotic scent while living in Spain…Carmen was my scent of choice in the 90’s.  It was spicy and had a little kick to it.  I am pretty sure it was more for a middle aged senorita having a mid-life crisis than a twenty something but I didn’t care.  No one else had it and that made me want it even more.  I would buy a big bottle and when it was empty a year later I would book a flight back to Barcelona to stock up on Carmen and Bollycaos.  How you doin’ Joaquin?  I hope you said that in Wendy William’s voice.   That came to end in the mid 2000’s.  I met Chuck and my priorities changed…I opted for Light Blue…easily accessible here in the states.  After the kids came along I was a total mom and started using $10 body sprays instead.  Oh, the glamorous life of a mother.  Oh, so back to the reason I don’t have any perfume…the NICU is scent free…since I really don’t go anywhere other than work I have no real reason to buy perfume.  So, to make my long story even longer let’s recap….I was hot and sweaty…1st shower didn’t take and my mommy sponge bath didn’t leave me with a fresh feeling.  What the heck was I going to do?  Yeah, I was going to work and yeah, I know the NICU is scent free but technically B.O. is a scent and not a pleasant one.  I needed to do something to mitigate my rank because it was not fair to subject my co-workers to such an unpleasant smell for 8 hours.  I looked around and then the answer to my problem appeared right in front of me.  OK, not RIGHT in front of me, but on the kitchen counter.  I grabbed the bottle of Febreeze, sprayed it and walked right through that ‘Fresh Rain’ as if I were walking through a light sun shower on a beautiful spring afternoon.  I swear I could hear birds chirping and frogs croaking.  Problem solved! 

Sometimes I amaze myself with my ability to remain calm and rational in crisis situations...I mean discovering an empty linen closet and finding a way to dry off and finding a way to smell fresh and clean when there is no time for a 2nd shower without missing a beat.  That takes great skill.  I am giving you all permission to use a table cloth as a towel and Febreeze as your new fragrance…I am sure none of you will ever admit to it but, I am just as sure at least one of you, when faced with similar adversity, will remember this and take control of the situation and to that I say, “You’re Welcome!!”

My double chin may quite possibly have saved my life!!

Now that is a sentence I never thought I would type.  However, it might just be true!  I am not a psychic, but, I think Emily may become a professional rock climber.   Emily is already 8 months old!!  I am throwing up a little in my mouth as I type that!!  She is no longer a newborn.  She is scooting now and pulling herself up.  She refuses to crawl though.  If put her in the crawling position she screams as if we laid her down in acid.  She does however get to where she needs to go.  Ever see a dog sit up as it drags its ass across the floor?  That is exactly how Emily chooses to get from Point A to Point B.  Good, old fashioned ass dragging.  Some may see that as lazy, I like to think my child is industrious.  Why exert extra energy when you can just cruz along and clean the floor at the same time?  I have thought of potentially Velcroing a Swiffer pad to her ass…not sure if it would technically violate any child labor laws, but, it is pretty ingenious if I do say so myself.

So back to the double chin and rock climbing....Emily is constantly on the go, she has so much to see and do.  Chuck is convinced she is on a suicide mission and we are merely pawns in trying to keep her alive.   She is a scrappy little bugga and can not stand being contained.  One of her signature moves is to crawl up you when holding her.  Much like a rock climber uses any little outcropping to their advantage and climb higher, Emmie uses any appendage or body part she can find to escape your grasp...Nose?  Sure.  Apples of your cheeks?  Fair game.  Eye lids?  Absolutely.  Last night Emily grabbed hold of my neck, right under my chin.  She wanted down NOW!  Her chubby, little infant hands had the strength of 10 babies!!  But for the grace of God and my flabby little wattle am I alive today.  Her grasp was so tight and her fingernails so sharp had I not had a little extra something, something under there she may very well have hit my carotid artery or taken out a jugular.  To think I could have bled out as she ass-scooted away to get hold of a piece of lint, or something equally important in the life of an 8 month old...just makes me shudder.  So today I will raise a Hershey Bar to my double chin and give thanks to that little fat pad for it has given a new lease on life...CHEERS!!!