But I Would Like To Coat Him In Swarovski Crystals...

I just noticed a phenomenon of sorts last night at dinner.  I ran into an old school friend and her family on my way out of the restaurant and when she saw me coming she grabbed her infant daughter and slung her on her hip to greet me.  This had ME scrambling for one of my OWN brood to fling onto my hip in response. 

So whats up with that?

Too bad for me, Cristian was already out the door and my mom had an unbreakable grip on Miko.  Or rather, Miko had an unbreakable grip on her…his Bamma.  So there I stood making the small talk and cooing over my friends baby and I had NOTHING TO DO WITH MY HANDS.  They just hung there.  I gripped my purse, hung my thumb in my pocket, crossed my arms, put my hands on my hips and finally just stood there clutching my hands together.  There was no baby for me to fiddle with while I spoke.  No distraction to distract me.  And the worst part about a babyless hip is the EYE CONTACT.

Omigosh.  I actually had to make consistent eye contact with the person with whom I was speaking to.  HORROR.

On my way out to the car I sort of reflected on the whole thing and it had me wondering…whatever possessed my friend to snatch her baby out of the high chair in the middle of her meal and insist on holding her while we spoke? 

What is this compulsion that we have as mothers to display our children as though they were the newest Prada bag?  

I don’t know what the driving force is behind this behavior but I do know I’m guilty of it. 

And Miko is, hands down, the most expensive accessory I currently have in my possession.

So SUCK IT, Prada.

How Much Is That Troll In The Window?

 

Roy:  MIKO!  Stop doing that!  You’re the reason all our window blinds are jacked up!

 

Me:  Leave my little window troll alone.

Bootylicious

Miko. 

He bit my butt.  IN CHURCH!  I said, he BIT.  MY.  BUTT.  IN CHURCH.

I want to say that it was a love bite.  Or maybe he was just that hungry.  Either way, I was standing there pretending to sing when I felt the warm embrace of little chubby arms wrapping around the backs of my legs.  I got that instantly warm and fuzzy feeling.

It was then that I heard Roy urgently hissing…DON’T YOU DARE BITE HER …! 

And suddenly razor sharp chiclets were sinking into the meatiest part of my butt. 

I might have squealed as I whipped around, thereby extracting my butt from the clench of the world’s smallest human teeth.  But who knows?  Except all the other parents in the Baby Room. 

THEY probably know.

From that point on, I was laughing so hard I was shaking.  Looking around…I never thought MY family would be the nuttiest family in the Baby Room.  But I should have known we’d find success eventually…in SOMETHING.  The kid bit my butt.  HIS OWN MOTHER.

The nerve. 

Sunday Morning

8:50am

We woke up with all the time in the world or at least with more than sufficient time to make breakfast and dress the kids for their Easter pictures which would be taken at noon.  Having said that…we decided to engage in some private marital activity.

 

9:10am

I know its only 20 minutes later but Miko decided to wake up.

 

9:15am

I hop in the shower.

 

9:25am

We start cranking up the breakfast machine.  Orders are coming in for pancakes and cereal.  We realize we have no milk so Roy runs out the the store.  We still have PLENTY of time so we’re in no rush.

 

9:40am

The milk arrives and breakfast is served.  I start scrambling eggs and toasting bread for Roy and me.  We still have almost two hours left to dress ourselves and our spawn before we need to leave the house.  We eat a leisurely breakfast.

 

10:00am

I start applying make-up.  Humming a tune as I pride myself on how we’re making such good time.  I love not being rushed.  Roy sits down to watch MTV.

 

10:01am

Roy comes running down the hall.  It is actually 11:01.  The cable box remembered one important fact that we had not.  DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME.  Son of a bitch.  I have exactly 30mins to finish dressing myself and tagteam the kids into their Easter gear.  Holy Mother of God.

 

11:01:30am

Cue the Flight of the Bumblebee background music.  We’re running around the house like our asses are on fire.  THE DRESS GET THE DRESS!  CRISTIANS TIE ISNT A CLIP ON WHAT THE FUCK!  MIKO COME BACK HERE!  MIKO!  COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!  CRISTIAN STOP DANCING YOU’RE MESSING UP YOUR JACKET!  HAIR, PEOPLE!  I NEED A HAIR LINE FORMED!  MIKO!

 

11:20am

Iliana is first.  Her hair is spritzed, brushed and the obligatory pink bow is applied.  NEXT!  Cristian’s hair is spritzed and brushed to one side.  Then liberally coated with hairspray.  Although he’ll swear I sprayed more of it on his face than his bangs, I can firmly attest to the fact that HE IS TOTALLY LYING ABOUT THAT. 

NEXT!

Miko’s hair is spritzed and parted on the side with a traditional comb-over.

 

11:25am

Children are assembled in living room for pre-picture pictures.  Fruit snacks are offered to Miko to keep him standing in one place.  I’m sure this is how they take the pictures for those 12-month monkey calendars.  Bribery and threats. 

 

11:29am

We’re out the door.  The kids are piling in the van and Miko is being strapped down…er…I mean…strapped into his carseat. 

 

11:30am

Iliana remembers that she forgot her Squirtle in the house.  I run back in.

 

11:31am

I run back out.  Roy remembers that he left the diaper bag on the table.  I run back in.

 

11:32am

We’re on our way.  We have less than 30mins to make it to the mall.  Beads of sweat are emerging on our foreheads.  I crank up the air con.

 

11:59am

We roll into the mall parking lot and since we don’t actually have an appointment, Roy instructs me to hop out and sign us in.  I am nearly about to protest by saying that two minutes isnt actually going to matter IS IT??  But I decide to be an obedient wife instead.

 

12:02am

I have successfully signed us in.

 

12:04am

Another family shows up just one minute before Roy and the kids arrive.  Which means that YES, two minutes would have mattered A LOT. 

 

12:10am

We proceed to the back to start what will surely be a torturous 30 mins of pleading with our children to smile and sit still.

 

12:30am

The photographer exclaims that this is the easiest childrens photo shoot he’s ever done.  Our kids are being perfect angels.  AND THEY’RE SMILING!  ALL OF THEM!  AT THE SAME TIME!  Roy and I are stunned.

 

12:45am

We’re walking out of the mall and we high-five. 

 

 

What The Subtitles Looked Like...

Yesterday in the car…

Me:  I SWEAR CRISTIAN.  THIS IS THE LONGEST RED LIGHT ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET.

Cris:  Mom, you’re overexaggerating.

Me:  I never overexaggerate.

Cris:  You’re doing it again.

Me:  Cris, I’ve been all over the United States and I promise you this is the longest red light in the country.

Cris:  You haven’t been to Wisconsin.

Over the weekend…

Cris:  Why must you hit me in order to be happy?

Miko:  *SMACK*

Over the weekend, Part 2…

Iliana:  HEY CRISTIAN I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO PULL MY TOOTH OUT?!

While bowling…

Cris (while passing out bowling balls):  I’m the ball conductor.

Roy (to me):  I thought that was your job? 

Similar To Erecting A Monolith

We finally know what it felt like to build the pyramids.  Erect Stonehenge.  Assemble Legoland.

We had lofty aspirations of mounting a TV on the wall, in Miko’s room.  Many nights were spent sitting on the porch discussing this.  Many mornings were spent with the Higglys and the Wiggles and the Doodlebops.

It was time to make a change.  It was gonna feel real good.  Alright.

Yesterday after church, Roy and I were rushing home for some nookie time when I had the idea that Nookie Time might be more easily achieved if Miko had a dang TV in his own room.  You know…we were hoping in vain that the subliminal Beethoven looped into Little Einstiens would drown out any other…ahem…noises.  So I offhandedly mentioned it and suddenly Roy was on a mission.  Lets call that mission…Operation Nookie Freedom.  And we foolishly thought that it could all be accomplished with about an hours worth of labor. 

Instead of going straight home to spend 5 minutes of Nookie Time behind a locked door with two unsuspecting children wrestling just outside…we greedily relished the thought of spending a whopping TEN MAYBE EVEN FIFTEEN minutes of Nookie Time with both unsuspecting children quietly watching TV in their OWN rooms.  OH THE JOY.

So we bought the following necessary items.  TV, DVD/VCR combo, and a TV Wall Mount.  Oh yeah, and an hour long Little Einsteins video.  Not that we needed an hour.  Heh.

And then we raced home with lofty ambition and a scorching case of horniness.

Approximately FIVE HOURS LATER…the task was completed.  Aside from missing and/or broken pieces of the wall mount…there are now about 20 holes in the wall because we stubbornly refused to purchase a stud finder until about halfway through the ordeal, the TV cord was too short to reach the plug, and the wires were initially incorrectly connected.  Yesyes, and aside from all that, my husband nearly pulled out all of his lovely salt and pepper hairs. 

And the best part of all??  When it was all said and done, we breathed a sigh of relief for the FIVE MINUTES THAT MIKO ACTUALLY SPENT IN HIS ROOM WATCHING HIS NEW TV.  What the frack.

Life is so unfair.

Oh The Things You Can Doo-Doo

Okay I don’t have anything too significant to post right now other than announcing the commencement of Miko’s potty training.  He did the Poo in the toilet last night.  If you have never cheered for the Poo…you’re not missing much.  Cheering for the Poo involves a lot of clapping and excited exclamations about the Poo and how wonderful the Poo looks floating in the toilet rather than being smeared all over your own ass. 

But when you’re a mom you are the official Poo Cheerleader for Team Poo. 

 

OH MY GOSH LOOK AT THE POO!  YOU DID THE POO IN THE POTTY!  I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!  YOU DID POO!  IN THE POTTY!  LOOK AT IT!  ITS POO!  AND ITS IN THE POTTY!  POO IN THE POTTY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD THE POO IS IN THE POTTY!

 

And so on and so forth. 

I actually had to restrain myself from videotaping the Poo with a subtle reminder that years from now I wasn’t REALLY going to want to remember the first Poo exactly how it was.  My faded memory of the Poo will be just fine, thank you.

 

This Is Me Being Sarcastic...

Thank GOD my cousin called me during my family dinner last night so that my brand new ring tone of WHOOP THAT TRICK loudly assailed the ears of, not only my parents, but also my mother in law and my GRANDMOTHER. 

And as I tripped over myself to answer the phone before it WHOOPED THAT TRICK one more time, my mother was inquiring…What is that?  Whats that saying? 

Meanwhile, my husband…the one ally I can always count on…was gleefully instigating further questions by loudly hooting his own inquiries such as…YEAH WHAT IS THAT SAYING??  HUH?  HUH?

 

Note to self…change your frickin ring tone if you don’t want your elderly grandmother to know that you are amused by phrases such as WHOOP THAT TRICK. 

Furthermore, your husband has been naughty.  Very.  Very.  Naughty.

Their Combined Happiness Only Cost Me Sixteen Dollars

Today was Miko Day.
The first item on our agenda was getting Miko's little mop trimmed. Since we were at the mall, we decided to forego our usual kids only hair shop for the standard mall salon.
Miko exited with something like a monk hair-do.
But I figured thats okay because he's not even 2 years old yet so there isnt much that could make him look funny. I mean...whats the basis for comparison, you know?
Next on our list was getting Miko a new pair of SNEAKERS. I opted for the slip-on checkerboard Vans. Roy fully supported this decision as they require no tying of any laces. We are very much against tying of the laces. YOU WANT SHOES WITH LACES YOU CAN WAIT 'TIL YOU'RE OLD ENOUGH TO TIE THEM YOURSELF. Seriously. Who can tie little bitty laces at 7am every morning with Squirmer McGee flipping and flopping like a freshly caught trout. Forget it.
On our way out of the mall we had to pass right by KB Toy Store and DANGIT if I didn't fall for the old...YOU-GOTTA-SEE-THIS-MOMMA-COME-HERE-COME-HERE-PLEEEEEEASE. While Roy's feet grounded to a halt and his head started flicking back and forth in ABSOMOFRICKINLUTELY NOT mode, I became one of the mice in the pied piper fairy tale...nose to the sky, eyes glazed, feet floating unknowingly over and around mall obstacles.
ITS A TOY STORE AND I CANT HELP BUT BE FASCINATED.
And there at the front display rack was a PLETHORA of Teen Titans dolls. Big bobbly-headed, soft and squishy and indestructable versions of the TEEN TITANS. The best part? The flourescent orange sticker on the front was subliminally indicating to me that these little mo-fos were DISCOUNTED.
My mind started clicking from lack of use as I scanned the characters. Is there one for Miko? BEAST BOY! Is there one for Iliana? STARFIRE! And obviously there was one for Cris because he was already greedily clutching SPEEDY to his chest as if to say...IF YOU SAY NO I AM RUNNING OUT OF HERE WITH THIS THING STRAPPED TO MY CHEST AND YOU'LL HAVE TO HAVE ME ARRESTED BEFORE I'LL LET GO.
And $4.99 is SO MUCH CHEAPER THAN BAIL.
I had to look over my shoulder to see if Roy was watching me. I looked at the register. EMPTY. This had to be a sign. I snatched the dolls and headed for the cashier.
For the entire drive home all the little children in my van were blissfully content and more specifically they weren't bugging me.
CAN YOU EVEN PUT A PRICE ON THAT?!

All The Cool Kids Wear Glasses

Cristian had a vision screening at school the other day and we were informed by the sourpuss that he needed to have an eye exam. His response to this news? MUST EAT MORE CARROTS. IMMEDIATELY.
I finally took him in today and he had a very pleasant time playing the "video game" and peering through the lens contraptions, which he genuinely felt made him look like Anakin Skywalker.
He even interrupted the doctor once to say...HEY MOM THIS THING MAKES ME LOOK LIKE ANAKIN SKYWALKER, RIGHT?!
The doctor revealed that, although his vision was not too bad, glasses would help guard against eye strain, which could weaken his vision over the course of time. SO. We were escorted into what the doctor lovingly referred to as THE OPTICAL BOUTIQUE and we proceeded to glance right over the Spongebob Squarepants frames and moved right on to the kid-sized Nike frames.
The doctor enthusiastically pointed out the flexibility of the frames by bending them like a Twizzler just before consumption.
We were sold.
Durable? Check.
Athletic? Check.
High score on the cool factor? Check.
225 dollars? WHAT THE CRAP?!
I looked down at my newly bespectacled child as he fluttered his eyelashes at me. And I went about the motherly business of justifying the purchase. After we added the indestructable lenses, which packed the indestructableness of all the X-Men combined...I was looking at $170 out of pocket. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY DOLLARS.
There went my trip to Paris.
Just prior to our boutique foray, Roy had arrived with Miko, who immediately lowered his head and tried to ram it into a rack of cheap econo frames. Thusly, Roy escorted the bad kid outside and therefore was not available for consultation. Left to my own devices and with one long lashed kid excitedly bending the hell out of the sample frames, I sucked in a pint of air and my mouth formed the following words with all the theatrical effects of slo-mo.
"Weeeeeeeee'll taaaaaaaaake theeeeeeeeeeeeem."
I briefly recall a crash of thunderous doom resounding in the interior cavity of my skull.

Cristian, if you lose those glasses, I will double-hand your bare ass straight into next week.

It's Beginning To Look Alot Like Christmas UP IN HERE

This is what I did on Black Friday when I should have been in a department store somewhere biting somebody's hand so they would drop the last Tumbling Tigger Doll left on the shelf.

This took me the better part of 3 hours, I think.

Roy initially thought my ornaments were overkill but when I threatened the safety of his right nut, he quickly reiterated and assured me that my tree was truly quite perfect.

Good boy.

This is a close up of my tree. Fascinating, I know.

Since I don't have a proper mantle, I think this device is the best invention since...tampons.

The elf shoe with the bells belongs to Cris and the one with Santa on it, is Miko's.

The two on each end belong to Roy and me but Santa never brings US crap.

This is Mr. Santa Claus.

I just added him to my collection this year.

Miko and he quickly became the bestest of friends.

Probably because they're the same height.

This is my Gingerbread Man.

He sings We Wish You A Merry Christmas and I must be about 10 years old because I have an undeniable compulsion to stick my finger in his mouth while he's singing.

I CAN'T HELP IT.

Payback's a BITCH

I've been known to apply liberal doses of heckling to both my mother and my sister so it should be of no great surprise to me that they would one day decide to tag-team my ass.
And really. It's just ALL GRACE'S FAULT. Ever since the iconic Grace decided to befriend me, I am often found singing her praises and its true Grace lives a couple thousand miles away and we've never actually met in person but still.
I can't help but brag on her.

Grace went to the Depeche Mode concert last week!

Grace sent me those Ikea finger puppets!

Grace has the COOLEST stationery EVA!

And so on and so forth.
So yesterday I was out on the town with my mom and my little sister and we were cruising in my van (heh) and listening to the new Depeche Mode CD that Grace sent me a few weeks ago. And from there...things went a little downhill.

Sister: This new Depeche Mode CD is so awesome. Who burned it for you? Joyce?

Me: NO NOT JOYCE! My friend Grace!

Mom: Oh! Your IMAGINARY friend, Grace?

Sister: YEAH! Dude! She's a total George Glass!

Me: George Gla...

Sister: Yeah, George Glass. Jan Brady's imaginary boyfriend. George Glass.

Mom: Yeah! HAHAHAHA!

Sister: You probably burned it your OWN self!

Me: !?!

My biggest concern over the whole thing was...really...who the hell remembers GEORGE GLASS.
Sorry Grace! I know you aren't imaginary and THATS ALL THAT COUNTS!

Holiday Fever

It's beginning to look alot like Christmas. I mean besides all the holiday merchandising and the early decorations that have managed to creep into my living room....I have the requisite pre-Thanksgiving cold. SON OF A BITCH. Every year, right around this time...WITHOUT FAIL. I get a muthafrickin cold.
WHY OH WHY SWEET BABY JESUS.
I'm getting tired of grossing everybody out everytime I blow my nose. I am tired of my non-phlegm producing cough. Is there anything worse than a non-phlegm producing cough?! WHY THE HELL AM I COUGHING IF I CANT EVEN EJECT MY OWN CHEST CONGESTION?!
Oh the injustice.
At least this year my nose isn't stuffy because when my nose is STUFFY I can't even taste all the glory of my mother's Thanksgiving Feast. And THAT, my friends...is CRIMINAL.
I can't actually remember the last Thanksgiving that I WASN'T sick. Isn't that strange? It's like my body knows exactly when to turn against me to destroy any joy I might derive from stuffing my face with the only home-cooked meal my mother is likely to make all year long.
I can recall the Thanksgiving I was pregnant with Cristian...SICK. The Thanksgiving I was pregnant with Miko....SO SICK THAT EVERY ORIFICE IN MY HEAD WAS CLOGGED AND MY NOSE WAS ONLY ALLOWING 5 MOLECULES OF AIR TO BE INHALED EVERY 30 SECONDS. And all the Thanksgivings before and in between. SICK SICK SICK.
I can recall laying on my mother's bed wrapped in polar fleece, in a medicated stupor, waiting for the 12:00pm cattle call to the dining room table where I would poke mashed potatoes and turkey into a gaping mouth that I couldnt close for fear of suffocation.
I believe this is how it has played out most years.
I've got two more days until FEAST DAY and my current cold has dwindled down to successive throat clearings and occasional nose blowings.
There may be hope for me yet.

PLEASE GOD.

This Is A Cece Update

Son of a BITCH the holidays are fast approaching and I am so short of time. I've been taking Cris to play practice every night so by the time I get home its late and I'm grumpy and tired.

Not too much time for blogging activities.

I've got blogger burnout until 2006 probably. I'll definitely post some pictures soon though.

A Couple Of Snaps From Halloween

Not Harry Potter and Belle.

The Wildcat.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JARHEAD!

The sign on the door to the private room at Riviera's read...

"Reserved for Cody's night of drunken debauchery."

And what a fine night it was!

Frank, Sonia, and Cody.

Cody and Sonia prepping for debauchery.

This had to be the biggest fucking shot I have ever seen.

Mike, Cassie, and Cody

Cody...we love you, bro.

Next weekend...ROAD TRIP!

Birth Control Works

This morning at around 6AM...

Me: I just took that pregnancy test and guess what.

Roy: What.

Me: YOU HAVE FAILED TO IMPREGNATE ME! Slacker!

And I should also mention that as a Catholic, my Confession should have alot to do with repenting for using the Pill. But really...is it that bad? I mean...at least I haven't murdered anyone. Yet.

I'm very relieved that the effectiveness of the Birth Control Pill stands somewhere around 98.7% because quite frankly...these kids are sucking my very soul out of me.
Financially speaking.

Well and literally too.

Besides. I only have a set of bunk beds, therefore any new kid would have no place to sleep.
I'M JUST JOKING FOR CRAPS SAKE.

So yesterday at the store, Cris is sitting in the back of the cart inspecting the contents as I've thrown them in and he picks up the pregnancy test that I had just tossed at him...I MEAN...into the cart and asks with a sly smirk on his face....Are you PREGNANT, Mom? To which I replied....NO. Why. Do you really WANT another one of these? And then I stabbed at the air with my finger in Miko's direction.

Having dodged THAT bullet somewhat, I should have known better than to throw the package of KY in the mix. Cristian picked THAT one up and had to inquire....Momma, what is INTIMACY? GAH! Without answering his question, I simply threatened to eject him from the cart if he kept snooping.
I'm just glad he didn't read that part about rubbing it in and warming up your partners INTIMATE areas.
Or the part about rubbing it all over the PENIS. Or the part about how it was okay to use it with a CONDOM. Cripes.
What the hell was I THINKING putting that pornography in the cart with my inquisitive 9 year old?!

And truth be told, judging by the continued smirking on his face...he had a pretty damn good idea of what the word INTIMACY means.
But luckily he probably just thinks its got something to do with kissing. Heh.

Who Needs Adamantium Claws?

Nuk Pacifier: $2.49

Old Navy Lanyard: $2.00

Plugging your kid's piehole for 25 complete minutes

of tranquil peace and endless sunshine: PRICELESS

Far be it for me to lull you into the false sense of security of thinking that I am in fact, the best parent in the world.
Nono. I am, after all...human.

Although I would claim super powers if I could.

It does take some sort of skill to balance one 35 pound squirming child on your hip while clutching several bags and air humping your purse until you find your house keys hiding at the bottom before you can even open the door to your home.
Yes, my friends. That is talent. Can I get a high five up in here?

And how about the ability to carry on an intelligent conversation while simultaneously threatening your kids with physical harm and eternal imprisonment while they pop up and down like a whack-a-mole game without the padded mallet.
Fuck super powers. I rock.

And the pacifier is my weapon of choice.

Is Nothing Sacred?

My maxi pads. He calls them pull-floats.
Here's Roy and me at Wal-Mart...


Me: Hang on! I gotta run to the other end and get some necessities.

Roy: What are you getting? Party snaps or pull-floats?

Me: Pull-floa...DOES IT MATTER?!

This Is What You Do When You Aren't Cool Enough To Live In California

While Grace was kicking it with all the COOL KIDS at her BBQ, we decided to hang out, drink beer, smoke cigarettes and wait for her to call our loser asses.

Cody, that sly devil.

I wonder if he's telling Grace his disgusting stillborn baby joke.

YOU'RE GOING TO HELL FOR THAT, DUDE.

Here's Roy talking to Grace on the phone.

He's hot for her.

Then again...so am I.

Mike and Nina THOUGHT there were talking to me.

But they were really talking to THIS guy.

Whoever the hell he is...

This is the part where Cody passed out.

Or it could have been the part where he talked to Grace and fainted shortly thereafter.

It may also be the part where we staged his collapse from allegedly consuming too much alcohol...just we could look cool.

We may not have been at the party in Cali but we had each other.

To cry on.

WE LOVE YOU, GRACE!

More Pictures Of The Kids...

Introducing Shark Boy and Lava Girl...the unequipped versions.

This is how they spent Friday night.

But at least they weren't all up in my grill

while I was trying to get my freak on.

Heh. Hehe. Hehehe.

It just so happens that we found a sleepsuit in Gargantuan Kid Size...which equates to a boys size 10 or something.

And did this kid want it?

Hells yeah, he did.

Just a small case of arrested development here...

He's a Cowboy. On a rocking horse, he rides.

And he's wanted...fully alive.

Okay I totally ripped Bon Jovi there. And I'll admit...it sucked.

But would ya LOOK at this kid??

I swear I could just dip him in powdered sugar

and eat him whole.

My Children Of The Corn

On Saturday, Roy and I are taking our spawn out to the cornfield maze. I'm not sure why we think we want to take Miko along...but I'm sure its just because we feel obligated.
Being that he's our kid and all.

So this place is basically like a labyrinth cut into a cornfield and I'm hoping to run into David Bowie while we're out there instead of those freaky kids from Children of the Corn. In fact...I have my fingers crossed that the ONLY freaky kids out there will be my own because I can at least spank them. Heh.
Have I ever mentioned that my own children slightly scare me?

But anyway.

There are tons of things to do out there like...hay jumping and other stuff that can get a kid super dirty and trip up my Dirty Kid Phobia. They can also inadvertantly poke their eyes out with long sticks of hay and I'm not really looking forward to that inevitable part of it. Additionally, there is something called a cow train, which I hope will amuse Miko, even if its only for a few split nanseconds.
Other listed attractions include a corn box (WTF?) and a pumpkin patch.

Probably the most interesting part for me will be the lure of the Country Store, as I will take ANY readily available opportunity to shop. But with my luck it will suck and I'll walk out of there with 3 corn shaped magnets that say something cheesy like...

I GOT LOST IN THE CORN AT THE CORNFIELD MAZE

MERCEDES, TEXAS

And I really don't need to spend $5 a pop on that.

BUT IF I HAVE NO OTHER CHOICE, I WILL.

Damnit, I will. And thats the sad truth.

The rules of the corn maze are that you have to go by some little quiz they give you in order to get the appropriate directions out of the maze. And you aren't supposed to CUT THROUGH THE CORN either so it's supposed to take just under an hour to complete.

Okay. My prediction is that this is going to be REALLY SUPER DUPER FUN for the first 20 mins or so and then Roy and I are going to start fighting about which is the correct quiz answer and which left is right and then the kids will start disappearing into the corn and randomly reappearing which will scare the absolute crap outta me and THEN Miko will start squawking for release from his rolling cage so he can join his evil corn brothers and sisters who are lurking right around the next corner with their shiny sickles and scythes.

WHY AM I ALREADY SCARING MYSELF?

We are going in the late morning hours of BROAD DAYLIGHT. But then...in the scary corn movies...people die in broad daylight too, don't they?

Okay screw it.

I'm not going into that damn corn.

You can find me on the cow train.

The Following Events Which Occurred At The Weekly Scout Meeting

Ms. Den Leader: I would like for everyone to stand and introduce yourself! Tell us your name, what school you attend and what you like to do or something about you!

Tommy: I'm Tommy. I go to San Martin de Porres Catholic School. I like soccer.

James: I'm James. I got to Silva Elementary. I like baseball.

Richie: I'm Richie. I go to San Martin de Porres and I like football.

Cristian: My name is Cristian and I go to school here. I like to snoop around other people's houses and it is a well known fact that I am smarter than all of the girls in my class.

D'OH! But as if that wasn't bad enough, he also asked if he could bring a concealed weapon to the campout to "kill the animals".

Can I get a muzzle for this kid?!

Half Nekkid Thursday

Still In The Game...

Or...

Can Cece Still Come Out And Play Half Nekkid?

And Why Exactly Can't You Read My Mind?

There's a reason why my husband doesn't like to "pick things up at the store" for me. There's a reason why I would rather drag myself out of a medicated stupor or pull my injured body into a store using only ten fingers and my teeth. The reason?
I'm one picky bitch.
God bless the man who puts up with me on a daily basis.
I could paint him a picture. I could describe the label verbatim. I could tell him exactly...EXACTLY what I want...and he would still come home with the wrong thing.
Every. Time.
You see...if what I am looking for is unavailable...I will scour the store looking for an acceptable substitute and people...this could take hours. So if my husband goes to a store and can't find the exact product I have set my heart on...I will ACCEPT NO SUBSTITUTE. Unless he doesn't BRING a substitute home. In which case I'm all like...WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST GRAB WHATEVER?!
Hard to please? Me? Never.
Someone once suggested that he just call me before he leaves the store. Obviously that someone wasn't married to a woman like ME. Do you wanna know what our conversation would sound like if he called to tell me he couldn't find what I sent him out to find?
It would go something like this.

What do you mean its not there? It's ALWAYS there.

No. I don't stock the shelves but I KNOW. It is ALWAYS there.

Are you looking EXACTLY where I told you to look?

Right. Look again.

Did you really look again or are you faking it?

Well is it the one with the green stripe?

NO I DIDN'T SAY BLUE LINE, I SAID GREEN STRIPE.

The STRIPE?? Is it GREEN??

Then thats not it.

I don't care if they all have BLUE LINES...I want the GREEN STRIPED ONE.

GAH!

And so on and so forth until the man finally loses his mind and tells me to SUCK IT. Then I get mad and he gets madder and I still don't have my whatchamajiggy with the GREEN FUCKING STRIPE.
Let this be a lesson to you men of the world. The woman. She gets what she wants.

And furthermore, the blue line does NOT look like the green stripe.
Got it?

TA MUTHAFUCKIN DA!

Look at this. I'm blogging right in the middle of an ass sandwich. Ya'll should be so lucky! Here she is in all her MILFiness.
This lady has like...I think 4 or 5 kids. Unless a couple of them belonged to someone else.
Either way.
When I grow up, I wanna be a Soccer MILF.

What Soccer Game?

Tomorrow I am going ASS HUNTING.

It'll be a long shot with my crappy digital camera but I should be able to catch that fine booty in my scope and shoot a panoramic view of all its glory.

Ya'll KNOW you wanna see the Soccer MILF.

You KNOW it.

A Star Is Born

GUESS WHAT?!
NO! I MEAN IT!
GUESS!

OKAY FUCK IT, I'LL TELL YOU. CRISTIAN SCORED THE PART OF CHIP IN BEAUTY AND THE BEAST! I AM SO FUCKING STOKED RIGHT NOW THAT I CAN'T STOP TYPING IN CAPS! AND IF YOU DIDN'T KNOW, I HAVE BEEN SHOUTING LIKE THIS EVER SINCE 2PM WHEN I FOUND OUT!
IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE ME ASK GRACE!
I CAN'T STOP SCREECHING ABOUT IT! I'VE GONE FUCKING NUTS IN THE HEAD! I CAN SING, I CAN DANCE, AFTER ALL MISS, THIS IS MUTHAFUCKIN FRANCE!

*gasp kaff kaff

I feel like someone slipped me some crack and I smoked it when I wasn't looking. You see? That made no sense whatsoever! Grace and I started a countdown shortly after 1pm. At first I wanted to strangle her for reminding me every few minutes that I still had 45.6 MINUTES LEFT before I could call the theater for the results. And then...37 FUCKING MINUTES to go! And then...23.7 MORE MINUTES! But its Grace after all, and Grace could shave my head while I was sleeping and put my bra in the freezer and I would still adore her.
So thats about the time I started shivering and bouncing in my task chair. We were all given STRICT instructions NOT TO CALL before 2pm. And I'll be damned if I was going to piss off the Director. He might have scratched Cristian's name off of the list until it was nothing more than a blotch of black pencil lead and paper fibers. Okay, no he wouldn't because he is ABSOLUTELY LOVELY AND WE LOVE HIM AND WE THINK HE LOVES US.
Uh...we hope he does anyway.
Cris and I had been on our BEST behavior for the past two days during auditions, which is no problem for me...but was a pretty daunting task for someone like Cris. That is to say...someone who eats a tank of sugar everytime I turn my back. But no. We sat in complete and utter silence...we amused ourselves with shadow puppets...we pretended we didn't have mouths or souls just to maintain the utmost respect for the others auditioning. And when the girls in the back got giggly...WE PRAYED TO GOD AND THE IMMACULATE HEART OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY that the Director wouldn't think it was US.
Ahem...Director Man. IT WASN'T US.
And despite this...Cris and I had the best time ever. It's not often that I get to sit next to my son for nearly two hours while he hugs on me and tries to eat my shadow wolf with his shadow hawk. And by the way...my shadow wolf totally kicked his ass.
But nevermind that.
It's written here for all eternity so I won't gloat about it.
Except to say...my shadow wolf was a cold blooded killer and his shadow hawk was NO MATCH AGAINST IT'S EVIL DARK SHADOW POWERS.
Where was I?
So like yeah. Cristian scored the only kid's part in the whole play and I have been walking on air since 2pm. Its now 10:30pm so if I don't deflate soon, Roy will have to stake me next to the bed.
We also had a Cub Scouts pack meeting tonight and Cristian went around introducing himself and shaking the hand of every kid he had never met before. Which gave me pause to wonder...WHO CREATED THIS CHILD?!
If it wasn't for his general stunning displays of misbehavior, I might be scared of him because sometimes...the kid is just TOO good.
Luckily, any fears of him being created in a lab on a spaceship and artificially inseminated into my womb while I was unconscious were washed away during the meeting when he pegged me in the head with a paper airplane and left his bazillion dollar cub scout hat behind and then tried to blame it on me.

Yes, he's human.

But I SWEAR he's still perfect.

BREAKING NEWS

OH SWEET JESUS.
The most disgusting thing in my entire parental career just happened. I CAN'T EVEN BRING MYSELF TO TYPE THIS.
Okay. Whatever. I'll tell you.
I was getting Miko ready for his bath and I whisked away his diaper with my customary flourish and then I looked down and reached out to retrieve the cluster of potpourri that I spied on the rug and LO AND BEHOLD IT WAS A TURD. It was straight up POOPpourri. And I grabbed it. I thought it was a motherfucking piece of scented wood and I GRABBED IT.
WITH MY HAND. MY VERY OWN HAND.
Did ya'll get that? I GRABBED IT WITH MY OWN HAND.
Oh dear Lord. He pooped on my floor.
Naturally I squealed for back-up from Roy. I stood Miko off to one side, near the tub and we directed our attention to extracting the poop from my shaggy bathroom rug. Meanwhilst, BEHIND OUR BACKS, Miko proceeded to finish his pooping spree ON MY FLOOR. I had just sent Roy away and was turning around to dunk him in the tub when I noticed he was standing in his own poop. HIS OWN POOP!
STANDING IN IT!
More squealing commenced and Roy had to come back in so we could tag team the biohazard spill that was all over our bathroom AND our baby.
It was horrific. Never in my life have I ever been the recipient of baby excrement that has not been contained inside the crisp and sterile receptacle we lovingly refer to as Hugglies. Never have I had my very own flesh tainted with the foul waste of my children. It was a nightmare I'll not soon forget.
On the flip side, Miko was rather taken aback by the whole thing...as if to say...My POOP offends you? Lady you ain't seen the half of it.

Note to self.
Do NOT kiss Miko's toesies tonight. DON'T FORGET.
Toesies...off limits.

Soccer MILF

On Saturday morning we awoke bright and early and headed out to Cristian's soccer game. Naturally we dropped off Baby Godzilla with his Gramma, as the heat and open fields would have been too much for his fragile grip on self-control. We settled comfortably onto the wooden benches and waited for the game to start.
At this point, I don't remember much.
What I do recall is that Cristian scored two goals and gave me his customary "that one was for you mom", as indicated by his pointing my way. And I may recall that we were totally winning the game...although that part would be vague.
What I DO recall is that one of the soccer moms was coaching from the sidelines and pacing back and forth, back and forth...right in front of us and HOT DAMN, I could not take my eyes off of her exquisite ass. I wanted it for myself. Not for me to munch on or anything like that, no no. I wanted to replace MY ass with HERS. It was divine. She was wearing some fitted yoga pants with a short sleeveless t-shirt and she even had the nerve to occasionally CROUCH right in front of me as she hollered instructions to the clueless little boys who were running back and forth across the field.
I SAID SHE WAS CROUCHING. I swear it winked at me.
Now let me explain. Her ass was not only perfect but the combination of the thong panty lines and tight fabric stretched across it...made it undeniably scrumptious. I TRIED to watch the game. Really I did. I wasn't even worried if Roy was as mesmerized by her ass as I was. And I later found out that he just wasn't as impressed and was purposefully avoiding eye contact with it for fear that I would bust him.
WELL, I don't know which kid SHE belongs and I'm sure I am NOT looking forward to being hypnotized every Saturday morning by her roaming trunk space.

And THAT is a damn lie. Is it Saturday yet??

The Parents Who Spawned Me

Well here they are. My mom and dad. They're basically nerds. Sometimes they wear matching jean jackets and I call them the Denim Duo. They're a little bit cute and a whole lot of strange. Wait a minute. I just noticed how HIDEOUS my dad's shirt is! Are those FISH?!

My dad and Miko are sharing a tribble. Apparently Cristian hadn't noticed this as it is HIS tribble and all kinds of hell would have broke loose. I bet it tastes delicious. Even more so because at any minute, Cris could have come around the corner and busted them.

I really love my mom's eyes. And I am still terribly upset with her for not giving me a pair like them. Amongst other things, this is the woman who actually ENJOYS changing diapers. And boy do I thank GOD for her.

How Was MY Weekend?

The Saturday morning soccer game was canceled due to Hurricane Rita, so I lolled around in bed until Miko came to step on my head and head-butt my shoulderblades. After dressing the troops and loading everyone into the Van, we went to the BSA office where I plunked down $80 for a new fucking Cub Scout uniform. EIGHTY FREAKING DOLLARS. GAH.
And the shit doesn't even have a GAP label.
Having spent my life-savings, we decided to watch an early movie, so we dropped off the boys at Gramma and Grampas house and yelled something about being back next week as we squealed out of the driveway.
After that and somewhere in between a trip to the Shrine, a side stop at Wal-Mart, and the drive to my mother in law's house...SOMEBODY GAVE ME THE FREAKING EYEBALL. We got to Roy's moms house and sat down to watch Cops and suddenly, I had a migraine and I felt like I was going to totally puke up all that glorious buttered popcorn I snarfed at the movie theater.
Roy had to take me home AND COPS WASN'T EVEN OVER YET.
I moaned and groaned during the entire drive and Roy brought me into the house and tucked me into bed. It was then that he decided that due to my sudden onset of illness...SOMEBODY must have given me Ojo. Which means...I got the Evil Eye. And it's my guess that it's really all Roy's fault.
I saw those bitches at Wal-Mart eyeing him up and hatin' on me.
So there you go. I ruined our Saturday night. I was in bed flipping and flopping and Roy was all alone in the living room, drinking beer and watching Cheaters.
Due to cautionary measures on my part, I slept late (since the HeadButter was busy headbutting his grandparents) and didn't do much of anything on Sunday, other than pick up Thing One and Thing Two and bring them home where they proceeded to drive me to insanity until Roy came home from work and we dunked them into the tub and dumped them into their beds.
After that, we watched a thrilling special on The Food Network about the Spamarama Festival in Austin.
A big fucking party in honor of Spam? BLECH.
But while I was sitting upright in the bed...my face a mask of horror, Roy was licking his lips and taking notes. I spent the rest of the evening pouncing on him and pushing him off the bed. At one point, I even shoveled through the covers towards him as if I was a huge shark. A REALLY huge shark. With beady eyes, glinting at him over a mound of floral comforter...

What are you supposed to be?

A shark.

*blinkblink

*POUNCE

It was all fun and games for me, but I was really interrupting his Spam show. AND HIS NOTE TAKING. By the time I snuggled into my pillow on Sunday night...I felt pretty damn good.
Who knows why?
It sure as hell wasn't the Spam.

Psycho Paparazzi Mom

So this weekend the kids had to contend with Psycho Paparazzi Mom all up in their grill trying to snap candid family photos that will live forever. Here's the first one I took of Cristian and Iliana.

The first of THOUSANDS.

Sometimes Sith Happens. I should have known that Darth Miko would have more midichlorians than even Master Yoda.

So THATS why he's so bad...
Do you have any idea what kind of acrobatics I had to achieve in order to get all three of them to sit still for TWO FRIGGIN SECONDS so I could take a picture?! CRIMINY.

Further proof that Miko is a Sith Lord, cleverly disguised as a baby Wookie.