Calgon Ain't Gonna Cut It

The eye twitch is worse than ever. The kids accidentally spilled a smoothie on the cable box today and we are now cable less. Then Trenton found a bottle of red food dye (I swore I threw them all out after Easter,) and decided to pour it all over himself and Aiden. It also got on the carpet. Somebody clogged up the bathroom sink with an unknown substance. But it was all okay because I was going to get the night off.

I got ready for my friend's baby shower. I took a shower. I did my hair. I even plucked my eyebrows. Life was good. I said goodbye to the family and drove off into the sunset. I only got two miles away from home when my husband's truck started acting up. I had to turn around and go home. I am sitting here, at home, with the clogged sink, stained carpet, broken cable box and seven wired children. What did I do to deserve this? This calls for a poster:

Screw the Calgon...somebody just knock me over the head with a frying pan.

Friday Fifteen: Hotness Factor

I am a mom (see the snot on my leg?) I am a wife (see the beer... I mean cook book in my hand?) But dammit, I am also a female. Which means that I find certain gentlemen appealing in the aesthetic sense. To you simpletons, that means "HOT." It has been awhile since I've done a list type post, so I'm doing one specifically for the ladies. Not only am I going to list the 15 hottest celebrity males (according to media sources and my own opinions,) I'm going to give all of you ladies (and gay males,) a nice visual as well! Make sure that you cast your vote for the winner, in the comments section. Here it is, my list of 15 of Hollywood's Hottest:

Leo Di Caprio was my teenage crush.

Baby faced men are hot.

Orlando Bloom

Pirates (real or fake) are hot.

Ricky Martin.

I think he is gay and still hot.

Ryan Gosling

Have you seen The Notebook?

Buy it now, thank me later!

Hot.

Will Smith

Funny is hot.

Vin Diesel.

Face is okay, body is out of control.
Hot.

Jet Li.

The ability to kick several asses at once...is hot.

JohnMayer.

Face is so-so. His singing makes him way hot.

Johnny Depp.

Timelessly hot.

Jude Law.

Seriousness is hot.

Brad Pitt.

Hot on so many levels.

Angelina is an idiot for not marrying him.

David Beckham.

Made soccer worth watching.

Only guy I acutally want to see in a speedo...hot.

David Boreanaz.

Made vampire slaying look hot.

Donald Faison.

Bald is hot and funny is a plus!

George Clooney.

Older man kind of hot.

Okay. I'm sure that not all of you would agree with my choices, but that is why it is my blog. Ha! Cast your votes for the winner in the comments section.

Does Anyone Have A Sharp Stick I Can Borrow?

The kids are off of school for four days. That, however, is the least of my problems. What has my panties in such a tight twist that it is giving me diaper rash, is this uninvited twitch in my left eye.

The twitch started back in March. It was right about the time that our SN episode aired. At first, I thought it was a physiological reaction to my stress about the show. After a few weeks, when the craziness died down, the twitch remained. It is not constant, but comes and goes as it pleases. It tortures me with its presence, much like a bad roommate. You know, the one who never pays rent, parties all night and refuses to move out? Yup, that's my twitch.

I've considered my options. I could go to the eye doctor, but I'm pretty sure that he will tell me that there is nothing he can do for me. Waste of time, waste of money. I can wait it out, like I have been doing for the past two months. I'm not sure how much longer I can wait. It is driving me nuts. I'm going to have a twitch in my right eye, soon, because of the stress that the twitch in my left, is causing. Daniel told me, "It beats getting poked in the eye with a sharp stick!" If it will stop this damn twitching, I'm willing to give my eye a good jab or two. There is nothing more insane looking than a skinny lady, with seven kids in tow, who has an obvious eye twitch. I have a baby shower to attend tonight and I'm considering buying an eye patch and dressing like a pirate.

The Case For Our Canine

Satan must be wearing a parka and sipping cocoa this morning. My husband was arguing with me about the dog, last night. Get this...he wants to keep the dog. Wha???

This is the same man who forbade me to get a dog in the first place. The same guy who calls the dog various bad names. The same one who complains about the dog being on the couch because he cannot stand the thought of sitting on dog butt cooties. He is outraged when she chews on his shoes and curses my insistence on bringing a dog home. The dog is scared of my husband. She cowers when he walks toward her. Where in this last paragraph, do you see anything that would even slightly indicate that my husband would not jump at the chance to boot the dog out our front door?

Yet, there we sat, bantering about why we feel the dog should go/stay. I couldn't freakin' believe what I was hearing. He finally admitted that she is a good dog and he feels better when she is around because she barks when she hears a noise outside. She isn't a typical yip yappy little dog who doesn't know when to shut up. She only barks when strangers come in or she is alerted to something outside. He likes that about her. What about the butt germs, the chewing, the fact that she is a dog and he hates dogs? Apparently that is all over shadowed by her built in defense mechanism. Should I tell him that she nibbled on the kitchen cabinets, yesterday? Not if I want her to live to see her new home. No amount of barking will save her life from the wrath of a man who has had his cabinets chewed on!

Renewal

This is poem that popped into my head as I was looking at today's painting for Christy:

"Renewal"

A new wind blows
it sweeps away
the fog that loomed within.
A new sky shows
it gives me hope
that I can smile again.
A new field grows
full of flowers
they bloom a happy grin.
My heart, it knows
that times are changing
pain will not always win.
So life bestows
a change of seasons
time to let joy back in.

Refreshing!

Don't you hate when the house gets quiet? Like when you're trying to do something and keep the kids entertained, when suddenly, the sound of silence sets off an alarm, letting you know that the kids are no longer being innocent? It really sucks for me because, for some reason, my inner alarm is slow. By the time I realized that the kids were not watching "Barbie Island Princess" this afternoon, it was too late. Mischief and disaster had already ensued.

When I found the kids in my closet, they were pretending to camp out. No harm in that. I took them back out to the kitchen and gave them some lunch. But....when I went to get them some juice, I noticed that the big bottle of Gatorade was missing. Hmmmmm....my little ones do not even like Gatorade, which could only mean one thing. I went back to my bedroom and found the bottle of fruit punch flavored Gatorade next to my dresser. It was empty. The dresser was wet. I sighed and opened each drawer, in search of the contents. My underwear drawer had been hit. Every damn pair of undies is now a nice shade of red and fruit punch flavored.

I can get angry, or be glad that my crotch will never be dehydrated. The next time my husband is thirsty I can literally offer him a drink from the fountain of life. How convenient is that? He's happy, I'm happy. Okay, sorry. That was too much. Anyway, this little scenario has brought a whole new meaning to Gatorade's slogan" "Is It In You?" Not yet...but I'm sure if they poured it into the tampon box, it may very well be in a few weeks!

Was It Fate?

Have you ever met somebody who makes you believe that your meeting was on purpose? I met my friend, Christy, right after we filmed Supernanny, by chance. Her family had also just filmed for SN. What are the odds that we would meet? I dunno, but that was only the begining.

Christy and I have become friends over the past few months and her friendship has been equally (I think) beneficial to the both of us. We could relate more than anyone else, to the stress and roller coaster ride that was the experience of filming Supernanny. We had a little support group, just the two of us. I cannot tell you how relieving it was to be able to turn to another person, knowing that they knew exactly how you felt.

Christy is a unique and beautiful soul. She is gifted in so many ways and touches many lives with her gifts. Her outlet is painting and she also writes poetry. Although I write poetry pretty often, I had not painted in years. She inspired me to pick up the brush and use it to convey feelings that couldn't be put into words. The therapy that comes from art is freeing, to me. Although I am not great at it, the release is incredible.

Christy has been there for me through some tough times and brought me the hope that I needed to get things back in order, spiritually and mentally. She will never know just how much her friendship means to me, but I do. The painting I'm posting today, is a message that has been lying in wait, in my heart. It looks a little strange, but there is a reason for it all. It depicts the seed of hope that Christy planted in me and how that hope has grown and manifested peace in my life. My hand print is there to show that my peace comes through my writing and painting. My left hand is the hand that I use to do so. My heart leads the way. My friend inspired it all. Thank you, Christy.

I'm Your Bitch

I often wonder if my mom reads new blog posts, on here, while holding her breath. I can imagine her thinking, "What's it gonna be today, kids getting injured, harsh criticism of others or TMI about her sex life?" My poor mom. Yet, she still reads this blog faithfully. Even when I imply that her and my grandma were part of the bitchery that went on at our elementray school PTA. I actually did not mean to say that they were the bitches (who would ever say that about their own mother and grandmother?) but the ones who witnessed it, first hand.

Anyway, I am pleased to say that I escaped the clutches of PTA commitment...almost. I managed to pawn off the Vice Presidency on the lady who I thought would do a great job and everyone agreed with me. I also managed to avoid the position of Secretary (snore) and Treasurer (me handling money? not a good idea!) I ended up getting nominated and voted into Fundraising Chair, which I like the idea of, because I think this means that I choose the fundraisers. Down with selling wrapping paper!!! I vote for a moms in bikinis car wash! I may very well be the only one out there, though.

So life is good and I feel okay about my role in the parent club. I chose not to wear the "Nobody likes a controlling bitch" shirt. Actually, I didn't choose. My husband forced me to take it off before I was allowed to leave the house. Maybe if I had worn it, everyone would have hated me and nobody would have nominated me for anything. I'd have been off the hook completely! The controlling bitch part of me, however, could not have allowed that to happen. I have no desire to be the chief, but I have to have a say in something. I think I'm going to add to my shirt and make it read:
Front: "Nobody like a controlling bitch..."
Back: "unless that bitch is me!"

When Estrogen Gets Ugly

When I was in elementary school I remember, all too vividly, the PTA. My mom and grandma were very active in my school and always took part in the ongoings of the PTA. Those women were ferocious bitches when election time came around. Actually, they were bitches all the time, but turned ferocious at the mention of presidential nominations. I distinctly recall the rides home from school, my mom and grandma heatedly discussing Mrs. So and So, the dirty whore (not their exact words) who thinks that she deserves the presidency. The NERVE of that lady! Who the flippin' fallopian tubes does she think she is any damn way? Drama was alive and well at Farjardo Elementary and I'm not referring to the liberal art of acting.

Tomorrow is my kids' parent club meeting. We will be nominating and voting on board members. I will be wearing a huge sign on my forehead that says "No EFFING Way." See, I'm not an apple that fell anywhere near my Macintoshy mother. I have no time, energy or desire to be a slave to the school. I love to help, but hate to drag my demon spawn to school and keep them from destroying the copy room while I do fundraising stuff. I'd rather just give the school a few thousand bucks (if I had it) and call it a day. Furthermore, I could care less who holds the title "President" and is boss of the parent club. Lots of women think that being the president of PTA makes you the automatic boss of the world. Nothing irks me more than a power hungry mom who has no other life to speak of and aims to control other women by holding a title at the local PTA. I always feel compelled to ask them, "Uhhh, who gives a fu@k?"

Our current president is a man. He's wicked awesome at being president and doesn't get all power trippy and make me want to smack him back down to reality. Our current VP, Joy, will be resigning...dammit. She was also a person who had a genuine interest in bettering the school and was not a bitch or power hungry. So far, nobody at the parent club is like that and I'd like to keep it that way. Even the person who I plan to nominate for the new VP position is cool. I'm trying to decide if I should bring this whole power/controlling bitch issue up at tomorrow's meeting, and how to go about it. I'm considering wearing a shirt that simply says, "Nobody likes a controlling bitch." Think it will accurately convey my feelings without offending anyone? Oh, who am I kidding? I don't care if I offend anyone. I guess the apple didn't fall too too far from her mother! Wish me luck at avoiding getting sucked into a position that keeps me from blogging. I mean, I'm all for the welfare of the school and my kids, but not if it gets in the way of my blog! It is all about priorities!!

Huh?

Okay, I got some of my crap done. The rest can wait until later. I had to tell you two things.

1. I drove by the "B" Mc Donald's today and noticed that people would walk up to the door, look at the "B" rating, then proceed to enter the building. WTF? Do they think that the "B" stands for "Best" or "Blue Ribbon Quality"? Do these people not care about cleanliness, quality or ratings? Apparently not. Yuck.
   
2. Phillip asked what the "B" in the Mc Donald's window was for. I told him that it was the new letter on McDonald's report card. Now he calls it "Bc Dognald's"... too appropriate!
   
3. My mom called me this morning. She said that she would take Dakota, if we really felt the need to give her a safer home. Please understand a few things: My mom loves animals about as much as my husband, which is not at all. My mom also had to put her own dog to sleep after it attacked my oldest son, about two months ago. I'm not sure what is driving my mom to offer her home for Dakota, but it is about the sweetest thing I've ever witnessed her do. I called Daniel to tell him about the miraculous offer. Do you know what he said? "Well, let's no be hasty. If she gets hurt again, then we'll give her to your mom" Another WTF moment. He doesn't even like the damn dog! Was he being serious that he wanted to wait until Dakota got hurt again? That's like saying, "Let's wait until Daniel Jr. gets attacked by another dog and then we'll teach him about dog safety and keep him away from dogs."

Am I right or wrong? I'm going to pack Dakota's belongings up, cry some tears, talk to the kids about it and then take her down to my mom. It is the right thing to do for Dakota and my mom, since we are the reason she lost her own pet. Oh shitballs, that was three things. Oh well, consider it a bonus!

It's gonna be a rough day, show me some love by clicking here, please.

I don't have time to think of a title.

The week keeps getting better....I'm lying. At this rate, I think I will need to up the Lexapro dosage by the time summer break kicks off.

Aiden did not need stitches, thanks to my butterfly bandaging skills! I'm nearly a pro at avoiding stitches and it only took 9 years of practice. Trenton had a serious case of Fakers Flu, yesterday. So he is grounded, but at least the van stayed barf free!
I did get to attend Bunco, last night, but I forgot about my article dead line for the Rancho Parent newsletter. While I was picking up the Bunco food, Daniel called. Apparently, the kids hurt the dog's leg. Is it just me, or does it seem like somebody is always getting hurt around here? I am going to take her to the vet and then find her a home that does not have seven hellions who find it acceptable to wrestle with an eight pound dog. Or maybe I'll get rid of the kids and keep the dog. The jury is still out on that decision.

I have a shit load of stuff to do today and no desire to do it. My eye is still black from where Ella head butted it, so I dread making any public appearances. I'll have to figure out how to grocery shop, pick up lizard food, take the dog to the vet, the boys to guitar lessons and Marlie to Girl Scouts, all without leaving the comfort of my own home. Or maybe I'll just be realistic and wear sunglasses.

Shitballs. I just remembered that today is Grandma's birthday. I'd better figure something out quick. Maybe I will drop the kids off at her front door with the injured dog in a wrapped box. The boys can practice playing the guitar for her, the dog will be her present and I can get some errands done. Of course, I do want her to have a happy birthday, so maybe that isn't a great idea. Any advice would be much appreciated!

Hope is for chumps.

I am hosting bunco tonight. As life usually happens, Aiden just split his knee open. He needs stitches. I started getting the kids ready and the phone rang. Trenton is in the nurses office. He just barfed at school. I'm wearing jammies and my hair looks like I styled it with an egg beater. Aiden is on the couch, demanding more ice, crying that his knee hurts and being a grouchy patient. Reed is eating a packet of hot cocoa, under the kitchen table. I'm not too sure where Ella is, but at least she's not whining in my ear, as has been the case all day.

Hopefully I can find a semi clean outfit, tame my mane and pick up barfy Trenton and the rest of the school aged crew. We are all going down the hill to see Dr. Perez and possibly get some stitches. I am out of barf bags, so hopefully Trenton can keep from douching the car with vomit. Hopefully, I can still make Bunco tonight. Hopefully I win so that I can pay for the therapy that I am going to need after today. My hope is strong, but I can hope in one hand and shit in the other and I'm pretty sure which one will fill up first.

So Get To Church Already!

Think about this story the next time you feel like complaining about the inclement weather and how bad it sucks to get caught in the rain. I will certainly be thinking about it come this Sunday when I feel like cursing the whole idea of church.:

A sixty year old woman was rescued from the ruins of a building in Thailand that had been destroyed by the recent storm. The woman had been buried for eight days and survived by drinking rainwater that, somehow, made its way to her location below the rubble. What kind of building do you think she was found trapped beneath? A temple.

This is a reminder that sometimes, the things that can feel like a pain in the butt, serve an unseen purpose.

Sunny days...keeping de- velopment at bay!

I think we can all agree that PBS is designed to be an educational television production company. I also think we can all attest to the good that it has done in at least one of our children, am I right? That is why I am so pissed that they made a newer character, Baby Bear, talk with a speech impediment. What the hell are they trying to do to me? I have 7 kids who all have their own little quirks. Aiden happens to be tongue tied and it creates a huge impediment in his speech. We are seriously trying to correct his speech because his teacher is never going to understand what he means by "I weewy want yemmon yoaf!"

Lately, Aiden's will to self correct has really waned and I couldn't figure out why. Then, as we watched Sesame Street this morning, he told me that Baby Bear is his favorite character. Well no shit he doesn't want to change his ways! It makes total sense to me now. They make this adorable little bear who cannot pronounce his "R" to be the poster child for laziness. "Hey, if Baby Bear doesn't have to talk right, why do I ?" And while we are at it...let's just call Cookie Monster's obsession with all things round and sugary, what it really is... a fast track to obesity. He is going to have some issues when he reaches puberty and the other muppets start making fun of his muffin top (and I'm not talking about the pastry!) What's next, a leopard with ADHD who refuses to take his meds and bounces up and down the street, having temper tantrums and throwing his fellow muppets against the walls? How about an overly bossy buffalo who forces all of the other muppets to play whatever she wants to play and then blows up when they run away crying? Why only ruin one of my kids? Why not just go for the gold and enable all of our shortcomings? The least they could do is show Maria taking her Lexapro, so I can feel better about my vice, as well!

"Normal" Is A Relative Term

Our new neighbors are moving in. Not the ones beside us, the ones behind us. I heard the kids talking to someone, yesterday. They have always told me that they think there is a ghost living in the house, so I had to see if this ghost had actually materialized or if they had gotten some tabs from the ice cream man and were having a bad trip. So I jumped up on our play set and took a look. Sure enough, there was a little girl standing in the yard.

So there we were, all seven kids and me, peeping over the wall and attempting to find out if the little girl was actually accompanied by adults or just another abandoned child, left to roam the streets of Hellsperia. She would not answer any of our questions. She just stood, staring wide eyed like she'd seen Satan himself. A few seconds later, her mom walked around the corner. She was...normal looking! "Oh, hi!" I started the soon to be awkward conversation. The same look of terror fell over her face, as the one her daughter wore. "Ummm, are you the new neighbors?" She managed a "Yes," but the look in her eye was very fearful. Maybe it was the fact that eight people were hanging over the fence and invading her privacy to the Nth degree. Yeah whatever, I was just so excited that they looked normal. "That's great! You look normal! Are you staying? If you ever find one of these guys (pointing at my dirty faced heathens) in your yard, would you just toss 'em back over? Thanks! My three year old can scale a brick wall like you wouldn't believe!"

Her jaw sort of came unhinged. She actually took a few steps backward. Shitballs. I had scared her. There went any chance of becoming friends. Upon realizing my crime of scaring the shit out of her, we said a quick goodbye and descended back into our own yard. I saw an alarm company and a window blind company in front of their house today. I think it is safe to say that she may be normal, but I doubt the feeling is mutual.

Neener, neener, neener!

You know why my life (as a stay at home mom) rocks today and yours (as a whatever it is you are) doesn't? For many reasons:

1. I am typing in my bikini, catching some rays and sipping a smoothie. What are you doing right now?
2. I can pick my nose, fart, accidentally bite my own finger while shoving licorice in my mouth and yell "Fu@k! Fu@k! Fu@k!" and nobody (over the age of four) will witness it because I'm in the comfort of my own home. I'm sure that Ella will have a new favorite word after that little incident!
3. If I really wanted to, I could put all the kids down for a nap and catch a few winks myself. Is there nap time at your place of employment?
4. I do not have to deal with crappy co-workers or bosses. I'm the boss and that's the way I like it.
5. I can safely online shop without the fear of getting caught.
6. My kids are at the age where I can bribe them to get me a cold drink, so I don't have to get up off my butt.

Yup, I'm lovin' my job today. I'm sure that tomorrow will be hellish, so I'm just going to revel in the joy and relaxation that I only occasionally feel in being a stay at home mom!

A Crummy Election

Let's get our minds off of impending train wreck that will be this year's presidential election and do something fun! Joel, the author of Crummy Church Signs, is hosting a caption contest. We all submitted our captions, in response to a specifically bad church sign and now it is time to vote for your favorite cation. I am in no way endorsing my own caption, for fear that I will be verbally pummeled by fellow candidates. I am only suggesting that you pay the site a visit and engulf yourself in a few moments of hilarity. All of the captions are pretty damn funny! Then, vote for the caption that you like best. I will have no way of knowing who you voted for, so do not feel obligated to vote for me. No, I'm serious. I'm not implying that you should not vote for me. I'm just urging you to pick your favorite caption based on personal preference, instead of allegiance to your favorite blogger. (Even though I love all of you for always showing your loyalty and friendship.)<br/>.
Okay, that's enough sucking up for one day. Now, click on any of the links provided in this post, to get to the contest. Then make sure you subscribe to Joel's blog because he posts funny church signs on a daily basis. I never knew that religion could be so stupid and funny at the same time! Happy Monday!

Nurture Lost

Death is an amazing thing. It elicits so many different feelings and reactions. Hearing of the passing of someone we are not close to, may bring about feelings of sadness and sympathy for the surviving family. When death claims a life that we are touched by, the emotions run deep and the reactions can be unpredictable. It also provides lessons for all of those who witness it. The lesson I learned from it, last week, was that sometimes the unfortunate grip of nature can never be released by even the most concerted nurturing.

The Prescott family lost a person who Daniel and his brothers had been rather close to. He was a childhood friend and although he led a troubled existence, the boys knew that it was not all his choosing. This person loved to be around the Prescott family, as most people do, because they are very welcoming to anyone and function normally, which is rare these days. As they got older, the boys parted ways with this person because he was headed down a dangerous path of drug use and crime. Daniel has told many stories that involved this person, so I know that his friend's tragic death must have affected him, even though he will not talk about it.

Daniel and I are very different in how we deal with our pain. I must purge myself of my emotions, or they eat me alive. Daniel bottles his up and sticks it on a shelf because it is what he is comfortable doing. I always tell him that his method is going to lead to high blood pressure, but he never listens, stubborn ass. Our stubborn nature often leads to these discussions where we try our damndest to change the other's view, but it never happens. I know that he will never allow himself the freedom of emptying out his emotional dumpster. That thing has to be huge! We also argue the nature versus nurture theory. The loss of his friend, proved a perfect example of how one can over power the other.

His friend was adopted by a minister and I'm sure that he and his wife did everything they could to steer their son in the right direction, but some things are just innate. The difference between the Prescott kids and their deceased friend, is that they had a good biological start. They have two parents who conceived children out of love, never battled drug addictions and provided a stable and disciplined environment for their family. Their friend did not have the same beginning. Even though his adopted parents tried the best that they could to help their troubled son, it was fruitless. They told people at the funeral, that at least they had the knowledge that their son was finally at peace. It was something that he never experienced during his time on earth. It just goes to show that nature versus nurture is such a load of crap. In the end, both contribute to the outcome of a human being. Unfortunately, nature was just stronger and no amount of nurture could change their friend. May his rest bring peace to the family who chose him for their own and dedicated their hearts and lives to loving him.