Of the DECADE??!

It's the last day of the decade. Of the decade.

It's been one heck of a decade for me, too. In fact, in the beginning of this decade I was a whole different kind of Spaz. I was a Spaz just starting out on my journey of motherhood and adulthood and responsibility and all that jazz.

I rang in the new decade with a tiny infant not even 1 month old in my arms. I remember that New Years Eve so clearly, too. I sat at Jenny's mom and dad's house on her old bed with one of my oldest friends (who I sadly am not in contact with any longer) and he and I looked at my brand new child in amazement.

I was newly married, young and so very clueless back then. I guess I'm still pretty clueless... less young, though. ;)

Over the last 10 years I've divorced a man who loved himself more than anyone else, found the love of my life in The Man, been lucky enough to be the mother to three incredible children, learned to be a grown up, learned to be a mom and a real partner, figured out a lot about who I really am and learned not to be ashamed of it or apologize for it... and realized that I'm still changing.

I've learned that the only thing that really matters is the people you love and as long as they're around you, everything really will be alright.

I've learned to forgive little grievances and to look at things from other people's point of view. I've seen beauty in places I wouldn't have dreamed I'd see it and ugliness in places I'd never expect it.

I've grown up enough in the past decade to realize I have a lot of growing up left to do.

And I truly believe that the next 10 years are going to be better than I can imagine.

My resolutions for this next year? This next ten years? To live my life without petty worries. To live my life without wondering what someone else is thinking. To experience the things I've always hoped to experience and to learn as much as I can learn.

And to stop playing Farmville.

Chickens and Turkeys and Ducks, Oh My!

I've finally figured it out. I've figured out why my house cannot seem to maintain any level of cleanliness, why the laundry is out of control, why this blog has been hopelessly overlooked, and why my kids have had chicken nuggets and pizza as their main staples for the last month or so.

That's right... there is an evil lurking in my life. An evil so powerful, so mind altering, so alluring and seemingly harmless that I have allowed it to creep into my world and take over.

The evil's name is Farmville.

That's right. I said it. Damn you, Zynga Game Network! Damn you!

It started harmlessly enough. I had dabbled a bit in the realm of Facebook games. I'd had a nice time decorating a little apartment in YoVille and had spent some time challenging other sisters in Sorority Life. But I knew my limitations and I could stop at any time.

It was then when I started getting invitations.

"B1 wants you to be her neighbor in Farmville!"

I quickly hit the ignore button. I didn't need to play any other games.

But then the next day the invitation would come again.

"B1 wants you to be her neighbor in Farmville!"

Ignore.

After a few of these invitations I finally got a call from B1.

"Why won't you be my neighbor?"

I began the explanation. Oh, B1, I'd love to but you know I just don't have time for that and I already played a little too much of the other games and I really need to focus on some other things in my life and...

"I need 8 neighbors to upgrade my farm. I need you to be my neighbor."

*sigh*

Okay.... what harm could it do to just be a good neighbor?

And that's how it started.

The next thing I knew I was scouring my friends posts for lost chickens and cows and sheep. I was laying out patterns for crops and calculating what would bring me the most revenue. I was devising strategies and arranging my livestock and clicking and clicking and CLICKING.

I was hastily rushing home to harvest before my crops died. I was fertilizing friends crops. I was accepting gifts.

And my life? My real life?

It was crumbling around me.

I'm vowing now to leave the farm behind me. To stop it, to let it go! It's a new years resolution of sorts. I will not let the farm run my life.

And I'm calling out to you, you know who you are, to put the mouse down! Blink the hay bales out of your eyes and return to your families! It's time to say goodbye, Farmville, goodbye and good riddance.

The post you've been in angsty anticipation of for all this time...

It sure has gotten dusty around here, hasn't it?

I have no excuse for not posting in almost 2 months... life hasn't really been busier than it ever was before (I mean, except for the holidays and all - whew!), there haven't been any illnesses or worse, and my computer has been working just fine.

I just haven't wanted to. I guess I haven't felt like I had anything really important to say lately.

Things around the Spaz household have been busy as usual. November brought us some cooler weather (thank goodness!) and The Man has been busier than ever with his plans to take over the world. In fact, he's gotten so busy that he put in his two weeks notice with the security business just before Thanksgiving and is now focusing all his efforts on world domination.

Thanksgiving was a wonderful, albeit short, vacation to my mom and dad's house in North Carolina where we searched for snow (but didn't find any) and enjoyed the welcome break from Florida's heat.

I managed to snap this great picture of the kids for Christmas cards just before my camera died, never to be revived again.

We made the long trek back to South Florida Thanksgiving night so The Man could report for work the next night and life got back to normal for a little while and then before we knew it Bug was turning 10.

When it hits me that I've been a mom for an entire decade it just boggles my mind. You'd think I'd have a good grasp on this whole motherhood/parenting thing by now, right? Wrong.

Bug had a great birthday at Lion Country Safari with one of his friends from school. We fed giraffes by hand, we saw giant alligators, and of course, lions. The kids frolicked in the water park area and we ate greasy funnel cakes. Of course, I have no pictures because my camera died... did I mention that already?

And then just when I thought I was getting a grasp on the insanity that is my house, Christmas came along to ruin any sort of control I may have thought I had on the chaos. The Christmas tree went up (with much wailing and gnashing of teeth on The Man's part), the kids decorated it all by themselves (and it looked honestly, just about as good as I've ever done), the presents went under and then the day finally came.

At 7 AM (not too bad, don't you think?) we were woken by the angelic voice of Goober. "Hey guys! Get up! It's CHRISTMAS!!!"

And the mayhem began. Wrapping paper and ribbons that I had so carefully put together were torn and thrown into the air. We struggled with clamshell packaging and twisty ties and screw drivers needed to install batteries. It was beautiful. And it was only the beginning.

In total our kids get FOUR Christmases. One at The Man's dad's house on Christmas Eve, one in the morning at our house, one at The Man's aunt's house, and one at my mom and dad's. It makes for three very sugar filled, dazed, and jolly children.

Yesterday I just couldn't take it anymore and I took down the tree and put away all the Christmas decorations until next year. I just can't wait to get my house back under control.

Unfortunately it still looks like Santa Claus and about ten of his elves (and perhaps a couple of reindeer) had a giant drunken party in my living room, but I'll get it under control soon enough. :)

How was your holiday this year?

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

Happy Halloween from the Spaz family! :)

Mamma Mia

When I was growing up my mom was an ABBA fan. It seems like it was every day that I walked home from kindergarten to find my mom vacuuming our little house with Super Trouper or The Visitors playing at maximum volume on the stack system in our family room.

The Piper would always have me picturing my storybooks telling the story of The Pied Piper drawing the rats out of the town. When the intro to The Visitors came on it always sort of scared me a little but then the song would really start and I'd have to resist the urge to dance along with my mom and her vacuum cleaner. Does Your Mother Know had me picturing my dad dancing with my sisters and I at all assorted events and Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! was perhaps the most confusing song of all to me... I mean really, why would anyone want a man after midnight? Sounded pretty scary to me.

When Slipping Through My Fingers would come on my mom would hug me and tell me how it reminded her of me. That song absolutely brings me to tears to this very day.

When I got older and went off to college I had the ABBA Gold CD and my best friend and I would listen to Dancing Queen so loud in the car we got stares from other people.

Now when I listen to ABBA I'm always reminded of my mom and how she used to sing and dance, her energy just lighting up every place she went. She doesn't do much singing and dancing anymore and I can't say I don't miss the way she used to be. But she still lights up a room with her smile.

Oh where oh where has The Man gone?

So there comes a time when we all have to pull up our big kid pants and do stuff we just don't want to do. Frankly, I've really never been good at this. I'm an impulsive girl and I live in the moment. I think of it as a flaw but it's probably done some good things for me in my 32 years.

32... really? Crap.

Moving on.

So The Man has been having some difficulty with his Internet Marketing Empire and his other plans to take over the world aren't quite complete and my eBay store has been basically sucking and the bank accounts sort of started dwindling and then sort of being empty... and it came time to do some stuff we aren't proud of.

Not that kind of stuff. Get your head out of the gutter. Geesh.

The Man had to go get a real paycheck producing job. And since the economy is in the toilet and the unemployment rate in South Florida is something like 15% the whole getting a job thing didn't really go as we expected. He interviewed for a bunch of jobs that he was more than qualified for and applied for everything under the sun and in the end he ended up getting a job as a security guard.

And it's not that being a security guard is some horrible loser job or anything... it's just that it's a bit of a step down from what he's used to doing.

And it's not permanent. He has other things in the works and eBay will come back up eventually and things will go back to normal.

But for now, Mr. Man is spending his Friday and Saturday nights dressed in unbreathable polyester and I'm packing his lunch.

That, combined with him working weekdays (sometimes 14 hour weekdays) on some other hopefully more profitable ventures has The Man out of the house for most of his time. And me left here with the kids by myself.

It's proving to be quite the adventure.

I did mention a baby shower here somewhere, didn't I?

Yep... I knew there was something I was forgetting.

Jenny, being the unconventional girl that she is (and one of the reasons why I truly love her so) didn't want to have a traditional baby shower. Nope... there would be no girls only tea parties for her. She was having none of that.

Jen's party would be an eclectic mix of company complete with a full bar (courtesy of the Elk's lodge), karaoke, and quilt decorating. That's right... I said quilt decorating.

After two uneventful but packed flights I arrived in Pittsburgh accompanied by Shea, a friend from high school and also Jenny's oldest friend. We had a lovely conversation about fresh foods and Heinz ketchup chips with a mentally questionable woman while walking to baggage claim and then Jenny was there to rescue us.

After retrieving Shea's monstrous bag from the conveyor belt (she had to open it to be sure it was hers) we were off to Braddock.

The first stop was the no longer a convent that Shea and I would be staying in for the next few days.

The convent is owned by the mayor of Braddock and is a place where people traveling through or moving to Braddock can lay their heads for a few nights or more. There is a communal kitchen and dorm style bathrooms for everyone to share and sinks in every room.

The rooms are simple and to the point. The window in mine refused to close, though it only bothered me one night when I had to sleep in my sweatshirt and socks. A 24 hour steel mill is located directly across the street from the convent and the constant humming lulled me to sleep every night. Seriously, I need a noise maker with a steel mill setting to get me to sleep, evidently. Rain forest and thunderstorm aren't cutting it.

My lovely shower co-host and super long time friend, Liz, had driven down from Massachusetts so it was exciting to get over to Jenny's house and socialize and see her after years of not seeing her pretty face. Not only that, but Lizzie has a baby bump to ogle too!

The next day was filled with much shower planning and then dinner and an impromptu baby celebration for Lizzie at this little restaurant that served the literal best Reuben ever. (I think it was called Big Jim's - Jenny, correct me if I'm wrong.) Seriously, if you're ever in Pittsburgh go get a Reuben there. That sandwich was so good I wanted to curl up in bed with it. No joke.

Lizzie was pleasantly surprised to get a happy little party for her and a kick ass Reuben.

Saturday was shower day for Jenny so Jenny's mom, Liz, and I were all a flutter in preparation. There was cooking and decorating to be done!

We got it all done and set up just as the first guest arrived at the Elk's lodge and the party was in full swing soon enough. We all ate, drank (virgin pregatinis, of course... oh, and beer), sang (horribly), made quilt squares, and were merry.

A thief named Parkinson's

I don't think I've written too much about my mom here on the blog but the time has come when I'll probably be talking a lot more about her.

My mom was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease when I was about 15 or 16 years old. It started as a small tremor in her left hand and remained relatively minor for several years. Over the course of about 10 years, though, her disease progressed to a more advanced state. A few years ago, when traditional Parkinson's medications started failing her, my mom and her doctors decided she would be a good candidate to undergo a procedure called Deep Brain Stimulation. With this procedure a neurostimulator was placed in my mom's chest to transmit signals to a lead implanted in her brain.

When my mom had this procedure done she had trouble walking and controlling her tremor. She would occasionally just completely freeze and be stuck wherever she happened to be, which was sometimes quite frightening for her.

Last week the battery in my mom's neurostimulator died and we all got a cold awakening to how much her disease has advanced in the past few years. She is almost completely immobile. She is unable to adjust the way she is seated in a chair or lying in bed. Walking more than a few steps is nearly impossible and even those few steps takes what seems to be a lifetime. Not to mention difficulties with bathing and using the bathroom.

Today mom has gone down to Miami to have the battery replaced and is recovering nicely at home. But it has become apparent to the rest of our family that mom needs a little more care than she used to. So it has been decided that I will stay with her while my dad is at work and the Spaz kids are at school.

As much as I worry that there will be days when taking care of mom will be difficult for both of us, I am really looking forward to opening this new chapter of our relationship.

I took a skip through blogland and look what I found!

Stacy at "Shhh... don't tell the kids I'm here..." (don't you love that blog name?) nominated me for this lovely award!

Isn't it beautiful, y'all?

The rules of the "One Lovely Blog Award" are accept the award, post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award, and his or her blog link. Pass the award to 15 other blogs that you’ve newly discovered. Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award.

Honestly, I haven't been newly discovering any blogs lately so I decided to take this opportunity to go ahead and discover some.

So here are my nominees:

As Seen On The Bathroom Wall
Pumpkin Delight
Twenty Four At Heart
Juggling Life
Choosing My Own
Dogs and Jeans
Suburban Bliss
Cheaper Than Therapy
Laid-Off Dad
Okay. Fine. Dammit.

10... that's all I've got for now, Blogosphere. :) I have to move on to my real, much more boring, life.

Why Delta Sucks, in 500 words or less

My trip to the wonderful city of Pittsburgh was lovely, but Monday afternoon I was ready to jump on a flight home and see my family.

Jenny drove me to the airport and dropped me at departing flights, we hugged, and I rolled my carry on into the airport, very happy to be going home.

I got to the little Delta self check-in machine and entered my confirmation number.

"It's too late to check in for your flight."

Excuse me?

I entered the number again.

Sure enough, Delta had been so kind as to cancel my original 4:30 flight and put me on a 1:30 flight without any notification whatsoever. No phone call (yes, they had my cell phone number), no text message, no email.

In fact, the people at Delta couldn't get me home at all on Monday. Nope. I would be staying in Pittsburgh another night.

I was comped a room at the Hyatt attached to the Pittsburgh airport and put on a 5:30 AM flight out Tuesday morning. Delta was even kind enough to give me a voucher for $7 for dinner and one for $7 for breakfast. Thanks, Delta.

I hope you're picking up on the sarcasm here.

I checked into my lovely room at the Hyatt (it really was a nice room and the service at the hotel was wonderful) and decided to order room service.

What can I get for $7?

Um... nothing.

I decided to order a blue cheese burger and fries for $14 (plus a $3 delivery charge and 20% gratuity and I think something extra for the cheese) and jumped in the shower. It was a lovely hot shower with delicious smelling white ginger shampoo and soap.

Before I was even dressed the burger had arrived. I scrambled to get my clothes on and opened the door. And my burger? It came with the most adorable little Heinz condiment bottles!

I ate, Jenny came back and visited me, I sent the little Heinz bottles home with her, and I tried to get some sleep.

Now, the beds at the Hyatt are like queen sized clouds of happiness. But I still couldn't sleep. I began the attempt around 9 and it wasn't until after 2 that I finally found sleep.

Remember when I said my flight left?

Yep, the wake up call came in at 4:00 AM and I was not happy. I managed to pry myself out of bed after my 10 minute reminder call and get my crap together. Back to the airport I went.

I got on my 5:30 flight with no problems and landed in Atlanta to make my connection to West Palm Beach. My boarding pass told me I had 50 minutes to get to gate B12. In Atlanta that means "MOVE YOUR ASS!!! RUN!!!"

We pulled into gate A33 and I hauled ass to get to gate B12.

And when I arrived I noticed that the plane leaving from gate B12 was going to White Plains, NY.

Thanks again, Delta.

I had to locate someone to help me figure out what gate I was supposed to be at and it was then I was told I had to get back to concourse A and get to A2.... the absolute farthest point in the concourse.

As I was hauling ass a Delta Sky Miles representative hounded me to stop and learn how I could get my next flight on Delta for FREE! And I told her I wouldn't be flying Delta again so that wouldn't be necessary.

I hauled even more ass, arrived at gate A2 just as they were boarding, and made it on the plane.

And when we began our descent into West Palm Beach, I had to fight back the tears of joy. It's good to be home.

Bringing Back Braddock

Thursday I got my first taste of Braddock, PA - the defunct steel mill town my friend, Jenny, and her husband have chosen to build their life in. I visited to co-host her baby shower with another friend of ours and Jenny's mom. I'll talk more about the baby shower in another post - because right now I want to talk about the town.

Braddock is a town long lost and just recently found. Even before we officially entered the town neglect was apparent. Everywhere we turned houses were abandoned, boarded up, condemned. Storefronts on Braddock Ave were long ago forgotten and the town took on an eerie quiet.

But when I took a moment to really look, it became obvious that Braddock was once something great. The houses that remain have large bay windows and wide open front porches where one can imagine the occupants enjoying a cool drink and a neighborly chat on a cool spring afternoon. The abandoned churches and schools, all unique in their architecture were once proud and grand - now they find themselves crumbling and exhausted, waiting patiently for the wrecking ball.

Upon even closer inspection, Braddock shows real hope. Sort of like a single green sprout of life in a long forgotten barren field. The town has become a sort of haven for artists and free thinkers. People who take the ruins of the town and create undeniable beauty. Gardens are flourishing in empty lots where rotting houses once stood. Life is being breathed back into this town that perhaps once seemed hopeless for recovery.

Visiting Jenny in Braddock, really seeing what she has become a part of - it makes me proud to be her friend. The people who can see the value there in a town most would simply detour around - well, those are the kind of people the world needs more of.

Leaving on a jet plane

So tomorrow morning I'll be getting on a plane to fly to Pittsburgh where I will be co-hosting a baby shower for one of my closest friends, Jenny.

It seems like only yesterday (it was April 1st) that Jenny called me up and told me she thought she just might need to get a pregnancy test. Maybe.

I, of course, urged her to go get one immediately.

And what do you know? Jenny's preggers. It was a little funny that she found out on April Fools Day.

No really, honey, it's really NOT a joke. Really.

So tomorrow's the day that I get on the plane and all the hoopla can ensue.

I'm really excited because it will be the first time in a long time I'll see a couple of my old friends. And it will be five WHOLE days that I don't have to check homework or make anyone go to bed on time or anything like that. And I got a window seat on all flights there and back and I do love window seats.

But I do have a little confession to make.

I'm totally not a seasoned flyer. I mean, I'm not at all afraid of the flying part. Or the landing part or any of that. I'm just nervous about the whole airport thing. The security and the checkpoints and the "does my mascara count as fluids?" and "will I need a seatbelt extender? the HORROR!" and "what if my e-ticket doesn't work for some reason??" and all that stuff.

It would be one thing if I wasn't flying all by myself. Hopelessly alone.

Another if The Man could actually go through the security checkpoints and stuff with me and all that.

But no. I will be all by myself.

And it's the first time I'll be flying by myself since 9/11. And only the second time I'm flying at all since 9/11. And the first time since 9/11 I'll be flying on a real plane. Cause I sort of don't really count the 19 passenger plane we took to the Bahamas a couple of years ago.

19 passengers... yeah. It was an experience.

So I'm nervous, yes. And I think I might make a trip to the airport bar before I board. Because it's never too early to drink in an airport, is it?

If I could just get a few minutes, I might not rip their heads off as often...

There are times, and those times seem to be coming more frequently than they used to, when I have a strong desire to be able to control my environment.

Having three kids and a dog make that almost impossible. This causes me great amounts of stress.

See, I just want everything to be still. I want everyone to stop moving. I want there to be no noises, no changes in light, no phones ringing, no 9-year-old boy sound effects being made, no tattling, nothing.

I want to be able to sit with my thoughts and think them.

And it really makes me sad that I want it so badly, because it prevents me from enjoying my family as much as I should.

Perhaps I should look into prescription drugs? Happy pills anyone?

The New & Improved Spaz Is Back!

I think I may be able to write again. Maybe.

After a long summer of not being able to pull a cohesive thought out of my head, I think I may be able to blog again. I think that maybe, just maybe, I'm ready to get back into the swing of things.

When I was young I used to think I worked well under pressure. In high school and college due dates and deadlines sort of thrilled me. There was just something about that last minute scramble in the wee hours of the morning, putting a project together and getting those finishing touches in just before the moment of truth, my body running only on adrenaline and caffeine until I could finally just let it all go once the assignment was out of my hands.

I lived for that crap.

These days? Not so much. And blogging sort of started to become an assignment. First it was all the blogging carnivals - Works For Me Wednesday, Sincerely 'Fro Me To You (I don't even know where to find that one anymore... anyone know?)... there were others, too. I had to blog, had to get my post up at just the right time, had to fill in my Mr. Linky as close to the time it was posted as humanly possible.

Then it was the statistics. How many readers did I get every day? How long did they stay? What keywords were they using to find my blog? Where did they come from? How could I get more? MORE MORE!!!

Finally, the straw that broke my camel's aching back, was the Nickelodeon Parent's Choice Award Nomination. I wanted to win win win!!

Except as soon as I felt pressure, as soon as I felt like I needed to get the stats up, get the votes, be a popular blogger... I just sort of shut down.

And thus, a blogging hiatus was born.

So now, I haven't linked up to a blogging carnival in months and my stats are in the toilet and I don't even know who won the Parent's Choice Award Nomination but it wasn't me. And now that all that pressure is off? I feel GREAT.

**It was Tropic of Mom - who is wonderful, btw!**


So here is my promise to all of you three wonderful readers out there. I won't ever let that happen again. Sure, I may link up to a carnival... but only because I really think I've got something to add to it. I'm blogging now because I love blogging, because I think I might have something to say, something to share, something that might make y'all laugh.

That's right, baby. I'm back.

Now he is SIX

ZOMG I'm posting something.

I know it's been over a month since I last posted and it had been a while before that. It's just... the pressure... the pressure got to me.

But you know what? I'll get into that more in another post.

Because today's post is for something else. It's for GOOBER!

Today is Goober's 6th birthday. SIX! My baby, my last child, my youngest. He's six. It boggles my mind how fast the time has flown by.

So, of course, we must have another birth story.

Goober was scheduled. It was a Friday. My doctor wanted me to schedule him for Thursday but I refused, not wanting his birthday to be a day of mourning for the rest of the country. I remember she seemed irritated by that. Whatev.

That Thursday night, as memorial programming graced our TV, I folded laundry and scrubbed the floors. I washed the bathroom, I dusted the windowsills, I made sure every dish was put away and everything in place for when we brought our brand new baby home. I didn't get even a wink of sleep. Because, really, who sleeps when they know they're going to have a new person the very next day??

We arrived at the hospital at some ridiculous hour. It was still dark outside. I was dressed in my favorite maternity shirt and our bags were packed. Sitting in the hospital bed, all hooked up to monitors and waiting for the doctor to get there and perform my Cesarean, I carefully applied makeup and made sure my hair looked great. I knew people would be taking pictures and for ONCE I was going to be prepared.

As the sun came up, family began arriving. Our hospital room was filled with all the people who loved us, all fresh faced and excited. Before long, The Man was dressed up in some weird meshy get-up, and I was being wheeled into the operating room. Yeehaw!

I sort of wish The Man was writing this because his perspective of the whole thing is so much different than mine. His involves blood and a screaming purple alien and a horrible fear that I would die.

Mine is much less gory.

Perhaps from lack of sleep or a bad reaction to the anesthesia or who knows what else, I had to continuously ask my poor anesthesiologist for one of those little barf trays while they prepped me. It never stopped. Luckily I had followed directions and not eaten anything for 12 hours so it was nothing but water. Oh how fun.

It all seems like a blur... not as clear to me as when Munchkin was born. The Man was very attentive... perhaps a little horrified at what was going on around him.... and before I knew it we heard him cry.

And yes, he was screaming and purple, but somehow my heart grew again and made room for another love of my life.

It wasn't a perfect delivery, though. I was reacting badly to anesthesia and caused The Man some huge amount of worry. Poor Goober had a ton of fluid in his lungs that had to be cleared out and all in all we had the nurses running around in a small panic.

Once my vomiting was under control and I was simply an odd shade of greenish blue and shaking uncontrollably, I was deemed a-ok and ready to head back to see my family. Goober was already in the room being fawned all over by everyone.

And he certainly was adorable.

And he still is!

And then there was Munchkin

The summer of 2001 was a tough one for me. I was hugely pregnant in South Florida, which is way too close to the equator for anyone to be pregnant during the summer months. I believe that health insurance plans should cover a flight, hotel, and hospital stay in a cold climate for mothers living in any latitude lower than 30. I mean, most plans cover the epidural, right? Living for months as a swollen watermelon in 90+ degree temperatures is equally cruel.

But I digress.

So I was hugely pregnant, hot, sweaty, a mother of a very active toddler, newly single, and living with my parents.

Not exactly how I had expected my life to be at 24 years old.

Sometime in the first few days of August I acquired a gigantic hemorrhoid that caused me to cry like a baby and beg my obstetrician to induce my labor. I knew my baby was ready, I knew she was overcooked, and all I could think about was getting her out of me.

My evil obstetrician looked through my teary eyed pleas and denied any sort of induction. I was sent home to cry for another week.

My sister and I took to taking long walks in the evenings trying to push me into labor. She bought me Raspberry Leaf Tea and forced me to drink it. We waited. And waited. And waited some more. During one of these walks I said to my sister "If for some reason I have to go in for a c-section, will you come in with me?" And my sister responded quickly, "Of course, honey."

That is what we call foreshadowing, my friends.

August 8th was my due date and I had still had no signs of labor. So I did the unthinkable... the thing your mother may have done back in the 60s and 70s... but the thing that is severely frowned on by today's standards.

I drank castor oil.

And then I spent the next hour or so in the bathroom wanting to die and being just a little worried I would pass my baby right there in the toilet along with everything I'd eaten throughout my entire pregnancy.

But you know what? After that hour was done, I went into labor.

Good, strong, real, contractions regularly every 4 minutes labor.

I arrived at the hospital in good spirits knowing that finally I would be having my baby. I was admitted, it was confirmed that I was dialating, and then the pain really started.

The pain was so bad I actually tried to run away from my body at one point. I literally got out of the bed, bared my gigantic white ass to the room, and tried to run away from the pain.

It didn't work.

While waiting for the saint that was the anesthesiologist to bring me an epidural I screamed at my mother and sister and threw small items at them when they giggled.

And then the epidural came and all was good.

I endured the humiliating "checks" like a champ. Every hour or so a nurse would come in and violate me in ways that I would never allow a man I loved to do, give a report to the room, and walk out.

And then the nurse made a strange face when she "checked" me. And she called in another nurse, who also fisted "checked" me. And they both made faces at each other. And the told me the baby was breach.... they thought....

So then my doctor came in and she also "checked" me and she also made a strange face. And then the nurse did it again and the other nurse did it again and I didn't even have time to be concerned with the fact that I was being passed around like a drunk stripper at a bachelor party because what the hell was wrong with my baby??!

So the doctor ordered an ultrasound machine to be brought in and that's when they discovered that my little girl was preparing to enter the world face first.

All that poking and prodding the nurses were doing, trying to figure out what part of my baby they were feeling, was to my poor little girl's face.

After an hour or so more of labor baby hadn't moved at all and that's when my doctor told me she wanted me to go in for surgery. It was time to get my little girl out... she'd been stuck in the birth canal for just too long and hadn't made even a smidge of progress. There was no way I was going to be able to deliver naturally.

So I agreed. And my sister's face went white.

It was about two milliseconds before I was somehow transported into the operating room and they were prepping me for surgery. I was scared-to-death while they prepped me. I kept turning to the anesthesiologist and asking him to get my sister (who evidently couldn't come in until I was good and prepped) and finally finally she was there.

And as I laid there on my back, my sister looked over the half sheet placed at my neck and said over and over again "Can you feel that??!?" "Are you sure you can't feel that??!?" "Oh my Gosh!" and was great comfort to me in my time of need.

And then there was a huge amount of tugging and pulling... and then she cried. And then I cried. And then they showed me her beautiful face with her bruised little eyes because the nurses had poked them so much while "checking" me and my heart immediately doubled in size with love for her.

And then the doctor said to the nurse "Hand me that bladder."

And that's when my sister asked the anethesiologist "Is it warm in here?"

And then there was much commotion to "GET THE SISTER OUT" before she passed out cold on the floor.

She came into the world at 4:42 AM on August 9th, 2001, weighing in at 9 pounds, 8 ounces (remember how I knew she was overcooked the week before?? yeah....) and today she is EIGHT.

Happy Birthday, Munchkin!

You can't imagine what I'd do to them if I got my hands on them

So I'm taking a hiatus from my unannounced bloggy break to rant a bit. Y'all don't mind, do you?

Lately down here in South Florida we've had a bit of a problem with horse killers. These are cold-blooded murderers sneaking into barns and stables, mostly in Miami-Dade County, and butchering PETS to sell their meat on the black market.

Did you know that horse meat can go for as much as $20 a pound?

And I thought rib-eye was getting pricey.

The latest was a mare, named Bonita, who was likely alive when they sliced off a portion of her chest and her legs and then burned her next to her stable. Her foal was found alive, lying next to her charred body.

Infuriated doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about this. I've been a horse lover all my life and though I understand that horse meat is commonly eaten in many other countries, I can't wrap my head around someone slaughtering an animal, a beloved PET, so inhumanely.

I hope these madmen have night terrors for the rest of their lives. I hope they wake up in cold sweats and hear the screams of their victims in their heads until they die.

Unfortunately, I doubt anyone who could bring themselves to be so cruel has the conscious to feel anything like remorse.

We'll be back to our regularly scheduled happy family blogging soon. Just had to get that out.

Southern Pride or Hate?

There's a community of eBay sellers that I frequent that is currently having a gigantic discussion about whether the Confederate Flag is offensive or not. Many posters are offended, many understand why others are offended but do not look at the flag as anything more than a symbol, and many have a "get over it" attitude that no one should be offended by a flag. The discussion goes on and on, being dropped and rehashed time and time again - because obviously, it's important to some of those posters.

I live in a rural community and it is a normal occurrence to see a huge rebel flag being flown off the back of a pick up truck around here. When I see one of these flags I can't help but feel sorry for anyone who sees the flag and feels pain from it.

Whether or not it means "Southern" to the guy with the flag on his 4x4, it means "Hate" to a huge population of people. Knowing this, it seems ignorant to me for someone to spread such a message. It makes me sad to think that these people think someone else should just "get over" their pain just because it didn't directly happen to them or it happened so long ago or "we're all equal now"... the ignorant viewpoints expressed as to why no one should be offended by such a thing is mind boggling to me.

Racism is alive and well in America today and anyone who thinks otherwise is just walking around with blinders on. I'm happy that my children grow up in a part of the country that is a cultural melting pot. I'm glad they don't blink an eye when they see a mixed couple or a child that looks different than they do. I love that my 5 year old describes people as brown, tan, and peach - but those distinctions mean nothing to him other than a way to describe how someone looks.

It's not easy to protect my children from the hate. I just hope I can educate them enough on how wonderful and special every person is and how deep we all are beneath our skin, that when they finally do realize how much prejudice and hate there is in this world they'll be prepared to speak out against it.

BlogHer made me do it

I'm blogging today because my BlogHer ad contract dictates I must blog at least once a week. I sort of find this laughable because I've never received a check from BlogHer. I think my BlogHer ads have made about $1.29 in the entire time they've been running. And I can't even figure out how to login to their Open Ad Stream thing to figure that out.

But y'all don't care about all that, do you?

To tell you the honest truth, I haven't been blogging because I'm sad. And when I'm sad I don't want to talk much.

I'd like to say that things around my house are all rainbows and butterflies all the time but they're not. This month the kids have been out of school and they're driving me crazy like you can't believe. I am officially the meanest mom ever because I can't tolerate even a second more of the insanity and I snap at them constantly.

There is never a quiet moment in our house. They're either arguing with each other or they're running through the house like maniacs or the TV is on full blast. I want to shove my head under the covers and cry myself to sleep... but if I did that nothing would ever get done around here and I'd only wake up to things being worse.

I envision myself just driving away and not looking back. Is that normal? There's only so much stress a person can take without a prescription for Xanax.

And then there were 5

Things have been ever changing over here in the Spaz household. Friday The Teenager moved back in with her mom and dad. I am hoping that the 7 weeks she stayed with us have given her and her family the break they needed and that they can move forward in a positive direction from here. I love her very much, that Teenager... but I'm glad she's with her family now. I went through a whole lot of Crown and Diet Coke while she was here.

Bug is excited because he'll be able to take her room now... the room that was once my office... that was previously my sanctuary. However, The Man and I have told the boys that Bug won't be moving into the new room until the old room gets clean.

So that room will probably be empty until 2012.

Father's Day was wonderful. We spent the day at my parents house swimming, playing pool, eating grilled burgers and hot dogs, and relaxing. The fathers in our family really enjoyed themselves and that's what it was all about. :)

I've been busy getting my eBay business back in order after a bit of a hiatus. The past several months have been dedicated to liquidating inventory and I'm just starting to add new inventory recently. It's been a lot of work and taking up all of my time recently - so there hasn't been much time for blogging.

Hopefully I'll be able to get things a little more organized in the next few days and get back to the blog on a regular basis.

Day Seventy Seven

So... it's day 77 of my 100 day challenge and I pretty much have to say that my 100 day challenge was a big fat 100 day FAIL.

To be quite honest, I sort of threw out the whole thing somewhere around Day 7. Circumstances in my life went all haywire and I just kind of forgot about it.

Until today. Today I decided to make my Dream Board. About 76 days late... but hey, better late than never, right?

Here's to the next 23 days. :)

It's a Friday Wrap Up!

Monday morning I had the pleasure of escorting The Teenager to a doctor's appointment where we got to discuss painfully embarrassing subjects which involved much red faced giggling on The Teenager's part. Okay, I got a little red faced and giggly, too.

The fun part about the doctor's appointment was that the doctor decided that it would be a good idea to check The Teenagers hormone levels a bit and that, my friends, required about 8 vials of blood to be taken.

And The Teenager assured me that she had been down this road before and would have absolutely no problem with the blood giving thing.

So the nurse came in with her little hand held cart of blood taking stuff and placed it on a little table and The Teenager and the nurse held hands where holding hands means the nurse prodded The Teenager's arm to find a vein and The Teenager asked over and over again how much it would hurt.

While the nurse filled up vials of blood The Teenager watched and continued to say "Oh my gosh, please hurry up, oh my gosh" and the nurse continued to say "Breathe."

And then the vials were all filled up and the nurse started to wash her hands and The Teenager held a tissue to the little spot on her arm and then The Teenager said "I can't hear anything."

And then she passed out.

And The Teenager evidently doesn't pass out like most people do. Not that I'm an expert on people passing out or anything... but in my experience most people sort of go limp and crumple to the floor.

Not The Teenager. Nope... her body went RIGID and she violently kicked the little table and the nurse's little cart of stuff went flying and alcohol pads and band aids and little empty vials and tubey things all went flying.

And then The Teenager sort of woke up and asked if she'd had a seizure... and then she asked us if she was peeing in her pants (she wasn't) and then she told us all that she had to go to the doctor today.

She was a little confused.

Tuesday disappeared. I don't know where it went or what happened. Sorry, Tuesday.

Wednesday The Man and I had a date at Publix. Cause we're romantic like that. It originally started with us just taking a break from the kiddos to do some grocery shopping and get a prescription filled. And then we got almost completely done with the shopping and I realized I had never turned in the prescription.

So I brought the prescription to the window and the pharmacist was all "It'll be at least 45 minutes, ma'am" and I was all "When the heck did I turn into a ma'am??!" and then I was all "So... what do we do now?"

So we decided to put all the freezer and cold stuff back and get ourselves some yummy Publix subs from the deli and have a date. At Publix. By ourselves.

And yanno what y'all? It was pretty nice.

Thursday we debated homeschooling the kids next year. Because we're sort of crazy. And there's this really great program with our state that has real teachers and assistance for home schooled kids and allows kids to advance as quickly as they want to and it would probably be really great for our kids. I even attended an online seminar about it.

And then we decided we'd never be able to give the kids the amount of attention they would need from us at this point. So we're putting that idea on the back burner for another year at least.

Today the kids are cleaning their rooms. Munchkin and The Teenager pretty much are done with their rooms Goober and Bug are wailing and crying as though I have asked them to perform such an impossible task that we may as well just bomb their rooms instead. It'll be a long day.

Where the heck is that soapbox?

I was reading something today from another blogger who feels her identity has shifted due to changes in her life. Is she still a "mommy blogger" if her blog doesn't focus primarily on being a mom? Or if she now has to share custody of her kids? Or if she made decisions that the "mommy blogging community" may look down upon?

And I say who gives a rat's ass?

I mean, really... when I started this blog I didn't really know what it was going to be. Obviously I fit it into the "mommy blog" category since I named it what I did. But over time it has evolved. I have evolved.

And I really think my blog has helped me to do so.

While I realize that a large majority of my life is defined as being a mother, I'm still me. I'm still the person I was before I had children and I won't just disappear when they don't need me anymore. I don't have to revolve my life around my children.

My job is to keep them safe, to raise them to be good people with good judgment and good character. My job is to prepare them to go out into the world on their own and be strong and self-sufficient.

And though that is the most demanding and time consuming job I've ever had, it's okay for there to be times in my life when raising them and providing for them is not my focus. It's okay to be selfish and it's okay to be carefree. And it's okay to think about things that don't involve my children one little bit.

I've never been the type of person who tells other people that "everything I do, I do for my children" or "they're the reason I wake up in the morning" or anything else to that effect. Because seriously? I woke up every morning before they came along and I had a purpose. And if some horrible tragedy happened tomorrow that took my children from me, I would still have a purpose and a life to live.

That doesn't make me any less of a mom - but it certainly does make me more of who I want to be.

I'm only posting because my mommy told me to

That's right - I received an email from my mom (it was sent to my two sisters as well) chastising us for not updating our blogs enough. So here's to you, Mom!

It's another hodge podge... and without pictures, too, because I'm waiting on Aunt M to send me a bunch of pictures. I am a classic camera forgeter.

So Friday I woke up to take Goober to his very last day of preschool. We rushed out of the house and I dropped him off in his footed fleece pajamas (it was pajama day) in 93 degree weather. I did make sure to pack him a change of clothes in case he overheated and passed out at some point during the day.

When I got home after dropping him off I went potty. Aren't you glad I told you that? Then I flushed. Cause my mommy brought me up right.

But nothing happened.

Since I didn't want to wake The Man from his peaceful slumber, I lifted the toilet tank lid myself and was shocked to find there was no water in it. So I jiggled the handle a few times and still nothing happened.

Then I tried to wash my hands. And no water came out.

So I went outside to where our water pump is (we're on a well out here in the boonies, by the way) and I kicked the pump a few times. The pump didn't make a peep. So I called my sister.

Cause that's what everyone should do when they have no water, right?

I called my sister because my brother-in-law is a plumber. He plumbs.

And I love him.

I love him because he came out that afternoon and deciphered that the motor on our well pump had died. And then he and The Man drove way way far away to get the parts to fix our pump. And then they came back.

And then they realized they had the wrong parts.

And the well pump motor store was closed.

So the kids and I packed up to go to my mom and dad's house where the kids swam and I showered (because swimming is like a shower for kids, right?) and played a few games of pool and drank some beer and pretended all was fine at my house.

And then Saturday morning my brother-in-law came back over with the right parts for our pump and gave us water.

As The Man and my wonderful brother-in-law were fixing our pump, the kids and I were getting ready to go to a little local water park for a day of fun with Munchkin's Brownie troop. Right as we were walking out the door, The Man came in all grimy and dirty and threw on his bathing suit to come along with us. Because water parks are as good as showers, right?

We had a wonderful day of fun in the sun which equals sunburn even though we were all sprayed liberally with SPF 70 which evidently washed off immediately upon entering any sort of water. There was sliding, there was splashing, there was diving, and there was lounging. It was an all around day of wet fun.

Until the South Florida sky lit up with electricity and we all decided to get the heck out of there before we turned into electric eels.

Saturday night I got to spend an evening out with one of my best friends at a karaoke bar. And when we walked in to the bar I was unexpectedly greeted with my mother-in-law singing La Isla Bonita on the stage.

And I quickly ordered a beer or five.

And it was all good.

Emotion and a little levity

Tonight I decided to read a few blogs before bed. It's been a few days since I stopped and read any so I'm a wee bit behind.

I read Jason's post about his mother and I had to share it with my readers. If you don't read Jason's blog you should. He's honest and open and warm and funny and understanding and he's one of my favorite bloggers. The kind of blogger that I click on first in my reader when it says he's got a new post. And this post shot straight to the heart...

Jason, your words are like poetry.

On a completely different note, I've been asked how Sudo is doing since I haven't written about him lately.

He's doing fine. Spoiled and loved as ever. He has ridden with us almost every morning to take the kids to school. I'm sure he's going to miss it now that summer is here.

He's all grown up... okay, not really.

Tuesday was all about Goober.

At 7:00 Tuesday night, Goober officially graduated from pre-k.

But first I had to pry him away from the new Hot Wheels Shark Set that his Aunt B1 purchased for him the night before in an attempt to alleviate the guilt she felt for being unable to attend his graduation ceremony.

Goober was okay with that trade.

We gathered in the cafeteria of Munchkin's elementary school to watch Goober perform and accept his diploma and it was one of the cutest little events you ever did see.

And it made me cry just a little bit.

But no one saw... so it was okay.

After the performance, we all went out to Friendly's for ice cream to celebrate our little guy's transition. My dad ordered a root beer float. When it arrived the waitress said "Whatever you do, don't touch that. I'm serious."

And then she walked away.

And we looked at each other questioningly. What the heck?

Then she returned and put a bowl underneath it.

Evidently root beer floats at Friendly's can explode if you touch them. Who knew?

It was a happy night. :)

Summer Shmummer

As we're nearing the end of the school year (tomorrow is their last day!) I'm having a bit of anxiety. I have nothing planned for this summer. I did this last year and I sort of remember being ready to pull my hair out by the middle of July.

I think I may have even uttered the words "never again" at some point.

This year we have the addition of The Teenager to the mix and the possibility of The Man going back to work which will make it probably a little more hairy in here. So I definitely need to get some ideas on how we're going to spend the next 10 1/2 long weeks and I haven't got a clue.

At least the last month or so will be spent running around like a maniac to prepare them for the next school year (back to school supplies, shoes, clothes, and more) so that wipes out a little bit of time. But I'd like to make sure this summer is somewhat memorable so I need to make some plans.

As soon as I get a minute.

Soon.

Tonight Goober is graduating from pre-school (in a cap and gown!) so we're gearing up for that excitement. And next year he's officially going to the big school. Where did the time go?

It's sort of a hodge podge

Last night while talking to The Teenager I realized my dad's words have sunken in. I kept saying things like "Before you know it you'll be 25" and "Make a plan" and "Where do you see yourself?"

And then I sent her off to make a list of where she wants to be in 5 years and where she wants to be in 10 years. And to put it somewhere she'd see it every day.

Shockingly enough, I haven't even made a list like that. But my dad has told me to... probably a hundred times in my life. So I think The Man and I are going to sit down later today and make one. I'm a little nervous that we won't be able to agree. :)

And after the lecturing was all over I realized that I sort of used to like those lectures. Oddly enough, I think The Teenager kind of likes them, too.

Yesterday The Man went for a second interview with AT&T. His first interview was Tuesday and the manager he met with told him over and over again how he would be an asset to the company and how he was recommending him for the position and all that junk. Yesterday's interview was with the district manager where he was given the lowdown on what the job would entail, asked whether he was willing to do all of those things (he agreed to all conditions), and told again what a great candidate he was.

And then, maybe an hour after he left the second interview, he got an email.

Matching applicants with the right positions requires a unique combination of candidate experience, job requirements and timing. While you have not been selected for this particular position, we appreciate the time and energy you have invested in AT&T.

Want to know what I think of that? I think they're bastards. The Man drove not once, but twice, to meet with managers. He dressed the part, looked great, smiled, and kissed ass. He even wore a tie pin. He was told over and over again how wonderful he was and what a great fit he would make with their company. He agreed to all of their terms and has proven experience that fits the position.

And they choose to send him a screw you email an hour after he walks out? Not even a phone call? Nothing? Just a form email? Bastards.

He has another interview next week with another company so we'll see how that goes. AT&T doesn't know what they're missing.

PS - I used rubbing alcohol to get the ink out of the dryer and it worked relatively well. Only a little back breaking labor. It helped to heat the dryer up a bit before scrubbing. I sort of feel bad because I ripped into the boys about leaving a crayon in their pants (cause that's what I assumed it was). Then I realized that there were none of the boys' pants in that load of clothing and then The Teenager fessed up that she thought maybe she might have accidentally left a very small pen in her pants and she was very very very very sorry.

PPS - I'm not going to talk about the sex talk. It was uncomfortable enough the first time. Yowza.

PPPS - I'll post later about the groceries. :) It was sort of exciting. Speaking of saving money, Restaurant.com is offering an 80% off coupon till the end of the month! Enter the code "SPECIAL" at checkout. I got a certificate to two restaurants I've been wanting to try for a total of $4 and the certificates are good for a year.

PPPPS - (I'll type as many damned Ps as I want thankyouverymuch) Don't forget to vote for me! I'm down to like 18% or something ridiculous! That other blogger chick is whooping my butt and I'm not okay with it. Domestic Spaz FTW!

I got nothin...

Is that a BUTT and a NUTCRACKER in the background? Why yes. Yes, it is.

Not to say nothing has happened to me over the past several days... I just don't really have anything blogworthy.

I mean, I could write about how I woke up Saturday morning, my dad's birthday, intending to make him a birthday cake and instead spending the time scrubbing ink from the inside of my dryer.

Or I could talk about how I clipped coupons and read grocery circulars and saved $130 off of our grocery bill this weekend. (Rock on!)

I could mention how The Man and I had a half hour sex talk with The Teenager which was uncomfortable on all sides.

Or maybe how The Man had a job interview yesterday that he thinks went really well and we're anxiously awaiting the results of.

But none of those things really seem to constitute a good blog post.

Meh. I got nothin...

And guess who got to clean up the mess?

When I was about 17 years old I, like so many other teenagers, decided I needed a job. I wanted the freedom and independence that a job would bring. I wanted to get PAID.

So I got a job in a pet store. A lot of people probably think this is a pretty cushy job for a teenager. Those people would be wrong.

Out of all the jobs I've ever had, working at that pet store was probably the most eye-opening of all.

I worked in the back, behind the scenes you might say. In a room behind the puppy cages, behind the fish tanks, behind the aquariums that housed hamsters and lizards and snakes. My job was to keep cages clean, make sure everyone was fed and bathed, keep the back area clean, and report any animals that seemed to be sick.

I have a few stories from my time at the pet store that are totally blogworthy, but I'll start with

The Story of the Teddy Bear Hamsters

If you have ever seen a teddy bear hamster, then you know how incredibly furry and adorable they appear. They're little brown and white poof balls with tiny little hands which they use to hold on to little pieces of food and nibble daintily at. Much like this:

They like to crawl up on your shoulder and tickle your neck and make great little pets for little kids (kids old enough to know not to squeeze the hamster, y'all, not 2 year olds) and are generally just sweet little fuzzies.

Until they're not.

See, one day a man came in to our store with about 10 baby teddy bear hamsters in a bucket. They were the cutest little balls of fluff you ever did see. He negotiated with my boss and my boss bought the little guys from the weird man for some agreed upon price. And then my boss brought the bucket into the back room and dumped all of the little hamsters into the tank with another 10 or so teddy bear hamsters. And then he went back to whatever it was he was doing.

And I went about my work, which at the time was giving baths to squirmy little puppies.

Giving a bath to a squirmy little puppy isn't exactly the quietest task which is why it took me a while before I heard the screams.

The screams of young children who were witnessing a slaughter that young eyes should never see.

The screams of mothers attempting to pull their horrified children away from the sight.

The screams of teddy bear hamsters.

By the time I put a soggy little puppy back in his cage and made my way to where the screams were originating from it was too late. It was a massacre.

There were teddy bear hamster parts everywhere. There was teddy bear hamster blood smeared across the glass on the tank, there were little pieces of fluff and little beady eyeballs scattered all over the tank.

I imagine the scene went something like this:

Cause evidently teddy bear hamsters are sort of territorial. And they didn't like those new babies being put into their tank. And those babies didn't like being eaten so they fought back. With evil little baby teeth and evil little baby claws and by the time it was all over no hamsters lived to tell the tale.

So I must tell it for them.

Hamsters are gangsta. Remember it.

I surely wasn't paying any attention to that Jersey Shirt, either.

While perusing the blogs I love to read I came across a post by Suburban Turmoil about the fashion statements American Apparel has been making lately and this post caused me to go check out the American Apparel website myself.

Now, I've heard of American Apparel. I don't think I've ever purchased from them, but I knew of their existence.

This was my first visit to their website.

And on my first visit... I encountered boobs.

Boobs.

Not a hint of boobs, not some saucy cleavage shots... BOOBS.

Fully uncovered and uncensored boobies.

(You have to view the slideshow on that item to see them... if you must.)

Y'all... I was speechless. I mean... I'd expect boobs if I was browsing the Playboy website or if I got a raunchy pop up or something. But I was a little taken back when I got them browsing Jersey Tee Shirts. I was so shocked I had to call The Man over to see, too.

He thanked me.

And yanno? It made me look at a lot more of their items to see if I could find more boobies. I don't know why. I couldn't help it. I guess the marketing strategy is working. I'm even posting about them.

I didn't find any more. It can be your own personal challenge if you are so inclined.

PS - Please vote for me today! You can vote every day until July 15th. Star ratings and reviews give me bonus points. :)

Just plain beautiful

Today I was cheating on the Blogosphere with YouTube and I discovered someone amazing.

YouTube is featuring KokoKaina today on their Spotlight Music Tuesday. Normally I don't click through to listen to the featured YouTubers (I typically only go to YouTube to see if my favoritist YouTuber of all has uploaded any videos... I <3 her) but for some reason I thought I'd give it a listen today.

♥ And y'all... I'm in love. ♥

Here's the recap from YouTube:

In 2007, Zee Avi began uploading her music to YouTube from her hometown in Malaysia. A year later, she was flown to L.A. to record her debut CD. Enjoy an exclusive acoustic mini-concert from this songstress, along with special video blog greeting to fans.

So I went ahead and clicked through to see what her music was like when she first started posting... cause I'm like that... and this is what I found:



If you're not in love, too, I just don't know what to think of you.

Ah, relaxing lateness...

So this morning when I woke up the clock said 7:45.

Which my body said was way too early to be awake.

Except I should have been out of bed by 6:15.

And let me just remind y'all that there are four (4) other people in this house that needed to be awake at 6:15 and not one (1) of them woke up before me.

So when I looked at the clock my first reaction was to just go back to sleep and let all the kids play hookie. And then I remembered that I'm a grown up and I have to be responsible and all that. That, and I'll be crazy enough with them all home all weekend. No need to add another day on to that insanity.

So I got them all up, got them all dressed and fed, and we leisurely made our way out the door. Because once you're already late it really doesn't matter if you're a few minutes later. There was a great sense of calm not having to worry about getting them all to school on time. It was sort of nice.

I know. Weird, huh?

We dropped Goober off first, which thrilled him because he's usually last. At Munchkin's school I walked her in to the office and we discovered that this is the first time she's been late all year. Which if you knew our track record last year, you'd know was sort of shocking to me. This day doesn't count.

So Munchkin was 15 minutes late, Bug was almost 1/2 hour late, and The Teenager was a whopping hour and a half late to school.

But they're all there.

And the house is silent.

Sweet silence.

PS - Don't forget to vote for me today! Oh... and if you leave me a review I get votes, too!! Please?

PPS - Lisa, I love you, too! :)

100 Day Challenge - Day 16

So yesterday's post wasn't very positive, was it? :)

To be honest, my 100 day challenge hasn't been going perfectly. I've stumbled along the way of optimism and I'm picking myself back up today.

A few reasons why I stopped practicing the Law of Attraction over the past couple of weeks:

1. The Teenager abruptly moved in with us, causing my focus to shift immediately. It's been a bit of a distraction but I think things might be becoming a little more normal... maybe.

How I'm spinning this with optimism? The Teenager has already provided The Man and I with one fantabulous date, which we would have otherwise never had. We went to dinner and a movie and I completely forgot how incredibly important it is to feel like a real person and not just a mom. I almost don't care that Bug didn't get to sleep until 10:30 that night and it was a school night because that date was so worth it. The Teenager is also teaching me acceptance and patience... something I'm sure I'm going to need when my own kids turn into teenagers, right?

2. My arch nemesis, insomnia, has been winning many of our most recent battles. Never fear, though, dear readers, I will win the war.

Last night I took melatonin and got almost 6 full hours of sleep, only interrupted once that I can remember. Though this may sound like a normal person's bad night of sleep, I am thrilled. I'm fairly certain that I can shoot for even more sleep tonight and as soon as my body gets used to sleeping at a normal time I think I'll sleep straight through.

3. Summer is approaching and causing me anxiety. I have no plans for summer camps for the kids because I can't seem to justify spending thousands of dollars a month to entertain them all when both The Man and I are home. Therefore, I must plan some actual activities for them and this is giving me agita.

4. My house is chaotic. It was chaotic before The Teenager moved in but it's even more so now. My office has been her bedroom for over a week and I still haven't gotten my new office (the living room) organized. The Man and I still haven't put about a trillion boxes up in the attic, either. However, since I'm so well rested today and plan to continue this well restedness indefinitely, I'm confident that The Man and I will triumph against chaos.

A little sleep, a little meditation, and a little scheduling and I know it'll all be okay.

And winning this wouldn't suck, either. ;)

The Man is hungry, no time for a title

There are times, I assume in everyone's life, when you just can't seem to get your feet underneath you. It reminds me of a post I wrote back in January when I couldn't get my feet underneath me:

I tripped over an uneven part of the walkway. It was one of those trips where you think you can just take a couple of quick steps and recover, yanno?

Except I couldn't... but once I had already taken a couple of quick steps I was sort of committed to my plan of trying to recover the trip. So I sort of tried to jump for the recover. Except that didn't work and therefore I had to sort of run to recover. Except that didn't work so I sort of ran into the van. Hard. With my face... and neck... and chest... and more. And then I hit the ground. And then I couldn't breathe. And The Man thought maybe I had broken my neck. And then when he realized I was going to live he asked me... "What the hell was that?!!"

And we laughed.

And laughing hurt.

I think it's interesting how something that in January happened in less than one minute of time can be dragging itself out here in May over weeks.

I know if I can't get my feet underneath myself I'll fall... and probably hard. And then when it's all over I'll pick myself up and we'll laugh again. And the laughing might hurt a little bit. But we heal and life goes on.

It's not even that anything momentous has happened... I just somehow got my feet out from underneath me. Just one little trip and all of a sudden I'm heading face first for the pavement.

Oh hey! And don't forget to vote for me!

It's an honor just to have been nominated...

Y'all, I've been nominated for a Nickelodeon Parents' Picks Award!

And that makes me feel all warm and squishy inside. And it makes me feel sorta guilty for being sorta a blogging slacker over the past week.

So I skipped on over to Nick's Parents Connect site to see what this was all about and I had a great time perusing the site! There's loads of information and advice for parents of kids of all ages and forums and other general ways to avoid your real life. Sounds like my kind of place!

But seriously, y'all. I've been nominated... and I want to win. :) Cause that's the kind of girl I am. So please head on over and vote for me. I even put the nifty little vote for me button up there in the top right corner so you can find the place to vote for me easily every single day until July 15th.

I see your HINEY! All bright and SHINY!

The Teenager has some sort of cold. She's all sniffly and "oh, my life sucks" and "the bed is too hot" and all that.

And I'm all "You're going to school."

And then I'm all I wonder if she has swine flu....

And Google said "Relax, Spaz, it's probably not the swine flu because sniffles are not a sign of it."

And I was like "Whew! Thanks, Google!"

And then I giggled because H1N1 looks like "hiney" to me and I'm really a twelve year old trapped in the body of a thirty-two year old.

Thirty-two? Really?

And then I put hand soap, Ricola, and Purell on my grocery list.

UPDATE!
This morning The Teenager still felt terrible but insisted that she was well enough to go to school. School thought differently. They called and I picked her up and took her to the Take Care Clinic where it was confirmed that she does NOT have swine flu. Just the regular one. *sigh*

But some people without brains do an awful lot of talking... don't they?

There will be no real blog today... because I have too much to do and no brains left to think of anything good to say.

I leave you with this:

see more pwn and owned pictures

Now we can all feel better about ourselves. :)

The New Normal

It's 12:35 AM and I'm gearing myself up for a new day in my newly reorganized life. It will be Day 7 of my 100 Day Challenge and boy have things changed since it started!

I absolutely got the office cleaned because the office immediately had to become The Teenager's bedroom. Unfortunately my living room immediately became a disaster. :)

This weekend has been a whirlwind of reorganization and strangeness. I think we are getting closer to a new normal (as Oprah would say) though and it'll all be fine.

We'll leave the house tomorrow morning at quarter to 7 and drop The Teenager of at high school first. Then we'll drop Bug off at his elementary school, then Munchkin at hers and then finally I'll drop Goober at preschool. Sudo will probably come along for the ride, slobbering on us all and going from the front to the back of the van twelve times.

I'll get home a little before 8 and I'll attempt to get some of the stuff that used to be in my office put away somewhere. I'll spend a lot of time on the phone trying to get all the affairs with The Teenager sorted out, probably and maybe I'll even read a blog or two. I'll get some work done and before I know it the time will have gone and it'll be time to pick everyone up. I'll grab Munchkin from her bus stop first and then we'll drive over to Bug's and wait for a few minutes. Bug's bus will show up and we'll all drive to The Teenager's high school and pick her up.

At home The Man will go over everyone's homework and I'll try to get some more work done. Then I'll run to pick Goober up from preschool and I'll start dinner.

I'll grab every available kid who walks by to do a favor for me like get all the stuff off the table that has accumulated there during the day, set the table, make drinks, etc.

We'll eat, we'll clean up, they'll all go to bed.

And we'll start it all over again.

This mommy blog just got a whole lot more complicated

Things are changing around the Spaz household. My niece (we're going to refer to her as "The Teenager from now on) and her parents are having what I guess you might call irreconcilable differences. This isn't a new thing, it's been going on for quite some time. It has gotten so bad that my sister has decided she just can't take it anymore.

So The Teenager has come to stay with us. When I picked her up last night my sister, B1, made it clear to me that she would not be coming back to live with her. It had gotten that bad.

Today we spent a lot of the day moving my office into the living room so The Teenager will have a room to sleep in. We haven't ironed all the details out but it seems that The Man and I will have to instantly learn to parent a teenager.

Bug, Munchkin, and Goober are excited about this change and are having a great time playing with The Teenager. I think I need some wine.

Blog posts should not be written when delirious

Okay y'all. I seriously need a cure for my insomnia. I'm tired.

Seriously.

And don't tell me to not take naps in the afternoon because when you don't sleep all night and you realize you might be able to catch just a little bit of sleep in between 11 AM and 2 PM you do it. You do it because if you don't do it you may just bite someone's head off or fall asleep standing up in the kitchen over a hot stove. Or drive the car into a canal. I sleep when I can make myself sleep.

I laid down to go to sleep around 12:00 AM. I wasn't really tired so I read a bit... until maybe 1:00. Then I tried to go to sleep but sleep would not come so I got up and made The Man a sandwich. I laid back down. I thought maybe I just couldn't sleep because I had so much going on in my head that I should make a list of the things I needed to do so I could get them out of my head.

So I made a list.

And then I laid back down.

I almost fell asleep at one point and then the dog whined and I was awake again.

Around 2:30 The Man decided he was tired and came to bed. I thought for sure I'd be able to sleep then.

Nothing.

I tossed and turned until quarter to 4 when I finally decided to just get the heck up. Getting 2 hours of sleep wouldn't be good for me anyhow.

I read Bossy's Family Tree from beginning to end and every other blog in my blog reader and now it's nearly 6 AM and I'll be getting the kids up for school in 1/2 hour and driving all over creation.

I am tired, blogosphere. I want to sleep. This has been going on for months, my friends... and I need it to stop. In the beginning I was taking melatonin... which worked... but only if I took it making sure I had a full 8 hours to sleep or else I wouldn't wake up in the morning. Now I'm a little afraid my body has stopped producing its own melatonin altogether and I'll forever be cursed with no sleep.

I'm tired... and being tired is not conducive to positive thinking!

Possibly even more blasphemous!

We'll see who you feel is more blasphemous? Me or Florida?

According to this article my very own state is proposing a new license plate.

And it's quite a beauty.

Wait for it....

How I wish I could format this post somehow so you'd REALLY have to wait for it... cause it's just that good.

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Ah yes, I had to add my own little Photoshop touches to that. Because seriously, WTF?

I'm sort of torn on this whole proposition. There's one part of me that says "Hey, if radical Christians want to throw more money into our state by buying these novelty plates while at the same time showing me exactly who to steer clear of on the road, then I'm all for it!"

But wait... the plates don't benefit our state... they benefit Christian based teaching programs. Oh joy!

So then there is another large part of me that wants to jump up on a table and protest this. Hello? Separation of church and state, anyone? I'm a huge cheerleader for it and this just seems not right! What's next? Are we going to change our state motto from The Sunshine State to The Christian State? I mean, if this isn't a state endorsement of Christianity, then what is?

Where's my Buddhist plate? In fact, there's a huge (GIANT) population of Jewish residents in our state... where's the Star of David plate?

Our governor states "I would not veto those" and "If they don't want one, they don't have to buy one."

Thanks Governor Crist... thanks for making it clear where you stand on the issue. I'm sure glad I voted for you.

I think a great point was made by Howard Troxler of the St. Petersburg Times:

My first thought upon hearing this news, as an erstwhile Methodist and reader of the Gospels, was not about the legal separation of church and state in our secular democracy — though this surely violates it — nor whether Muslims, Jews, Buddhists or atheists should now get their own plate — though surely they are entitled, since they pay exactly the same taxes to the state — nor even whether the Legislature should stick to the pressing worldly matters of the day, such as opening up Florida to oil drilling, handing out new tax breaks and protecting old ones in a budget crisis, and otherwise running the state entirely into the ground, a secular task at which it appears to be doing a bang-up job.

Instead, my first thoughts were more about the stories of Christ in the Bible, angrily throwing the money changers out of the temple, and instructing his followers to pray privately in their closets rather than displaying prideful piety on the public streets like the "hypocrites" (which is exactly what he said. Look it up.).

Most of all, I thought about the story in Matthew when his enemies tried to trick Jesus, tried to get him to come out against paying taxes so that he could be arrested. Jesus threw it back in their faces by saying, show me a coin — whose face is on it? And they had to reply, it is Caesar's face.

"Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's," he said, "and unto God the things that are God's."

Since everybody these days claims to know What Jesus Would Do, let me ask a question. Do you think he would want to be mass-produced by Caesar's state, sold for money and displayed on the public streets to gratify an act of pandering political piety?

Thanks Mr. Troxler. I couldn't have made that point any better.

So, I'll try to stay away from the anti-Christianity for a while here at Domestic Spaz. Unless, of course, something else truly ridiculous comes up.