Saturday night after I had gone to bed in a Tylenol Cold induced coma, my dear Chief came to me to tell me that a senior at my high school had been killed that day in a car accident. He wasn't a student of mine, and I didn't know him. But that didn't change how I reacted.

I felt like I had been punched in the chest.

Instantly I am taken back to the night my senior year in high school when the phone rang, my mom called my dad into talk, and then called my little sister and me in to tell us that a close friend had been in a serious car accident. He died two days later. I remember it so clearly because that was the exact moment that I became an adult.

Two short years later I was sitting in friends dorm room when we got that call that one of my oldest friends had been killed that morning in a car accident.

I've been through the same things that his classmates and friends are getting ready to go through. I wonder if a decade from now they will still have a t-shirt hanging in their closet that he left the weekend before he died. Or if his football number will still be ingrained in their mind. I wonder how many of the students in this building became adults this weekend.

I'm also affected in another way. Always before I was on the friend side of things. But now, as a parent to an amazing little boy, my heart is broken for his parents and family. I stayed longer than usual at the sitter's house this morning because Murph had woken and was smiling at me. How do you recover from the loss of a child? If I still can't get rid of a shirt from over 12 years ago, how would I function with that great of a loss? I don't think I would ever recover.

I wonder how many of the students in this building became adults this weekend. And I wonder how many of the adults stayed with their little ones a little longer this morning to sit and watch them smile.

Fleas on my Dog

I'll probably be scarce for the next couple of weeks. Holiday festivites and all of that.

(I'll wait while you dry your eyes)

But before I go.... I wanted to wish you a happy and safe holiday season.

Or in the words of the Chief.... (sung to Feliz Navidad)..... I simply say

FLEAS ON MY DOG. FLEAS ON MY DOG.

I don't really know what else he would say here. I'm normally tuning him out at this point. But you get the idea!

Merry Christmas!

A letter to the Wii scalpers worldwide

Dear Selfish Bastards,

I'll be waiting. The day after Christmas when the demand drops off and you are left trying to get back your purchase price, instead of the over inflated amount you are trying to get on EBAY right now. I'll be waiting.

I OBVIOUSLY don't love my children or spouse enough to pay double or triple the retail price that some of those other "suckers" are willing to pay. They weren't THAT good this year.

I'll be waiting. And not in the freezing cold like you probably did. But in the comfort of my own home.

Signed,

A student of Supply and Demand

Dear Santa

This year, will you please bring her some self-respect?

Love,

Me

Worth a thousand words...

I call this picture...

"So let me get this straight, there's this old guy and he sees me when I'm sleeping, knows when I'm awake, and you're OK WITH THAT?"

and this one

"Back off the gifts and no one gets hurt!"

That's what she said.

A friend today emailed me and at the end said, well I got to go. I have some "chopping" to do. I assume she meant "shopping" but the "chopping" thought reminded me of a funny little story.

I SWEAR it is true.

I couldn't make this up!

Basically it is how I knew I was in the wrong small group at church. My older sister and I were in there because she didn't want to go alone so I agreed to go with her. The timing of this group worked out for us. Unfortunately the other people in there were all couples and all my parents age. The woman in this story was actually the mom of a guy I graduated high school with.

The conversation went a little something like this.

Small Group Leader: Has anyone ever done something unexpected and nice for you?

Friend's Mom: Well when we were dating, Larry used to bring me wood.

(Startled gasp which I every so discreetly turned into a choking fit)

Friend's mom: It was such a nice surprise. He would just show up at my house and have wood.

(full body shaking by me, apparently it was contagious because my sister was catching it too. I didn't dare look at her)

Small Group Leader: Now that you are married he doesn't bring you wood anymore?

Friend's Mom: Nope, he hasn't just shown up with wood in years.

The burns from the lightening strike I suffered that night have nearly healed.

I'm seriously irked.

First of all, who in their right mind makes candy canes that are cherry flavored? Secondly, if they are going to be THAT insane and make them cherry flavored why would they make them red and green? Cherry flavored food should be colored accordingly. (And don't give me that crap about the leaves being green)

I don't like red flavors, I like green flavors. If you know me, you probably know that.

Candy Canes should be peppermint flavored. If you want to make a stick of candy with a different flavor, make it a different shape.

Incase you haven't put it together yet, I was tricked into buying some of those crappy cherry candy canes. I didn't notice the words "cherry flavored" until after I had made my candy.

Ho Ho Freakin Ho

Perspective

I got on the scale this morning and had an e-tif-a-knee. (much the same as an epihany, but with more sarcasm). If my IQ results were the same as my weight, I would be thrilled.

So why wasn't I happier when I saw that I was finally back in the same "decade" I was in pre-Murph? Infact, I'm really pretty close to where I was to start.

I read an except from a Hollywood starlet yesterday who had been receiving flack about some recent pictures showing a bit of cellulite. "We know what you ATE last summer" the mean spirited writers said. She's a size 2. By 5th grade I was a size 5.

Yesterday Murph had his 6 month checkup, and I was happy to hear he had gained 13 ounces in the last month. I had even hoped for more. Isn't it strange how our perspective can change?

I've decided to swim the English Channel. I'm not exactly sure when that will happen. And I don't really have time to start training right now. But when I do, I'm going to be prepared with the extra few pounds I haven't yet lost from the baby.

What would you do with a Drunken Sailor?

Yesterday two things happened that made me laugh.

1) I received an email from Optimus Prime (Transformers) alerting me that my hubby was on the battle front and that my so called "sibbling" might have joined the Decepticons.

2) He proudly told me that he created a new baseball team and named them the "Butt Smellios". Their team nickname is the "Farts"

God Love the Chief!

Sadly, every day I am reminded of why abstinence only education in our schools is NOT working

http://www.courttv.com/news/2007/1130/mother_ap.html

http://www.courttv.com/news/2007/1129/baby_grace_zeigler_ap.html

http://www.courttv.com/news/2007/1121/teacher_ap.html

Tis the season....

Last night we took Murph to our local super duper do it all retail center. This is the same place where I get my truck serviced, the Chief gets his haircut, we buy groceries, and occasionally enjoy a filet o fish. Last night our goal was to get pictures celebrating Murph's first 6 months. He was not amused. He did all right, but our normally happy, smiley could not find the humor in 3 adults making faces and funny noises at him. He looked so darn cute, but alas.... was more interested in his feet than looking at the camera. Good thing we only paid the Low Low price of 6.99. We'll try again next week with his holiday gear on.

Speaking of our trip last night. I noticed a bit of a theme when I unloaded the shopping cart. See if you can find a pattern.

Item 1 (ok, it was really was the ingredients to make item 1 which included chocolate, peppermint extract and candy canes)

Item 2 (a four pack of my liquid obsession)

Item 3 (because sometimes you aren't thirsty)

Item 4 (because Item 2 was only a 4 pack... and let's be realistic, the way I'm guzzling those we really can't expect a 4 pack to last forever!)

Houston? I think I might have a problem. If I keep up with shopping trips like this it won't be long before I'm going to be decking the halls with pants that don't fit!

Hey pretty lady.... got a date for the prom yet?

I'm stretched out and ready to shake what my mama gave me.

I'm a terrible blogger. I knew I would be, but I have even exceeded my own low expectations. Is it possible to exceed in a negative manner?

Murph is walking now. Just up and started running around. We were so proud. Nearly as proud as the first time he said pneumonoultrascopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. (thirdworst, that is for you and the trauma an english teacher once put my sorry non spelling self through. I still don't think I spelled it correctly!)

Ok. I lied. He isn't walking quite yet. But it was my way of making some of you slackers feel bad! =)

The Reason Grandpa is NOT allowed to Babysit Murph

From the Nostrils of Babes

An excerpt from a conversation I had with 4 year old Moses, a boy who goes to the same baby sitter as Murphy

Moses: I was sick yesterday

Me: Me too. I had a stuffy nose. What about you?

Moses: I had a stuffy nose too, but I picked all the boogers out and ate them.

Me (in an appalled voice): Eww Moses! That's disgusting!

Moses (in and equally appalled voice): I know! I didn't do it! My hand did it!

Me: Well tell your hand that's disgusting and not to do it!

Moses: Stop it Hand! That's disgusting!

I can only hope he moves on to pre-school before he has too much of an influence on Murph!

Baaaack to School.... Baaaack to School.....



Ah Fall... That time of year when stay at home parents breathe a collective sigh of relief.


Not to say that they don't just adore their little darlings, who in late May and early June were so sweet and innocent, but as the summer wears on, so do parent's nerves. Sure, the student's vacation is ending, but that of the parent's is just beginning.


For children and teens, the worst part is usually having to wake up and go to bed at certain times. But what other options do they have? They have to be there. So as much as they might grunt and groan, they'll be waiting for the bus with their boots tied tight.

Then you have those of us adults who CHOOSE to go back to school. Either as paid employees, or as paying students. Whichever the case may be, you have to give us a little credit. It takes a big person to be able to walk into a classroom everyday and not want to turn and run screeming back to our cars.

This year I'm torn. I was actually really enjoying my summer home with Murph. I'm torn because I am so incredibly happy to be back at school. I'm around other adults all day long, and I don't smell like spit-up. I feel guilty because I'm not more upset about having to drop off my little man at the sitter. Hopefully I have a redeeming quality since the very best part of my day is picking him up as soon as possible after the final bell rings.

I am 32 flavors

I'm a fan of the singer Alana Davis. I listened to her first CD over and over again. In one of my favorite songs "32 flavors" (yes I know it is a cover of an Ani DiFranco song, but I heard Alana's version first) she sings "One day you're going to get hungry and eat most of the words you just said"

"Of course I'll go back to work!" I'd quickly exclaim. "I wouldn't WANT to stay home" and "I just wouldn't be a good mom if I didn't work" I'd proudly proclaim.

Who knew how quickly Murph could change all of that for me.

In less than 3 weeks I am going to be leaving this little man in the care of a perfectly nice and capable woman. But in the last few days I've been brought to tears by the thought of putting his care into her hands. I know him you see. I'm the one who can tell the difference in his cries. I'm the one who has comforted him and loved him and worshiped him.

I'm going to miss him. I'm not going to be there when he wakes up smiling from his nap. I won't be there to hear him giggle and coo through the day. And it won't be me who is there to pick him up and comfort him when he cries.

"Of course I'll go back to work", I say begrudgingly.

Who knew that one of my 32 flavors would be crow.

There was a woman who swallowed a fly....

I don't know why she swallowed the fly, but I think it might have something to do with the fly crawling down in the straw of her chocolate coke from Sonic.

And it wasn't so much that she swallowed the fly, but actually more accurately chomped on it a little bit thinking that it was a strawberry chunk.

What would a strawberry chunk be doing in a chocolate coke you ask? It wouldn't! She normally gets a strawberry banana smoothie and was confused! So back off jerkface!

Insomnia anyone?

Murph can't sleep.

More accurately, Murph WON'T sleep.

He fights it with all he is worth (which in my book is quite a lot)

This is NOT something he inherited from my family.

It is 3:45 am and he is bright eyed and bushy tailed.

"Put them in their crib," they say.

"It won't hurt them to cry," they say.

I've decided that "They" are masochists.

Have "They" ever listened to the heart-breaking, increasingly desperate whimpers/hysterical cries of a 5 week old?

Me thinks not.

So I will continue to break every parenting rule there is--I hold him too much, I let him sleep on his tummy, I put him in my bed with me, on my chest even, and at 3:45 am I consider giving him just enough Baby Tylenol to take the edge off.

Introducing....The Baby Bear (also to be known as Murph)

Murph arrived a few days early, proving to be more of his father's child than my own, since I am never early for anything. But definitely has my nose and ears. He has the Chief's blue eyes for now, but somehow I think they might turn brown.

He's such a good little guy. He wakes up in a good mood and just looks around smiling. His personality is just so mellow. Let's hope it stays that way!

Last night we tried to add his handprints to his baby book. I now understand why the nurses at the hospital didn't do this at the same time they printed his little feet. We now have a black smear where his hand print should be. The worst part was that he likes to put his hands in his mouth. At one point before I could get all the ink wiped off he had this little smudge right below his nose that made him look a little too much like a former German ruler! I know his dad and I both have quite a bit of german heritage, but that was a bit much!