Mint Chocolate Chip Children

Christmas time takes a perfectly lovely child and magnifies their obnoxiousness times 12. I don't have perfectly lovely children to start with. I also have a rather large number of these behavorially impaired children. I understand now why some animals eat their young.

While we are on the subject of children that probably should've been eaten at birth, the neighbor boy who is in love with Summer egged our trash can this week and has been at our parking lot everyday yelling unpleasant things at me. So instead of beaning him in his fat little head like I so desperately wanted to, I gave him cookies. No I didn't spit in them, although one did fall on the floor. My hope is that his mother might accidentally slip and eat him when she is reaching for a mint chocolate chip cookie.

Santa DOES Shop At Wal-Mart. Told You.

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8th Horseman Of The Apocolypse Set To Ride

I have come to the conclusion that the world is ending. I have come to this conclusion because long ago I decided that there was an 8th horseman involved in the apocolypse whose only job was to smite old people in convertibles.

Today, I saw a record number of old people in convertibles. Nearly enough to keep an apocolyptic horseman rather busy.

Thus the world is ending. I am going to spend this month's rent on take out chinese food so that when it all goes up in a apoclyptic cloud of dust I get to watch the show with a crab rangoon in hand.

Knock Knock. Who's There? Amy Fischer!

Please pronounce the word "tumor" like Arnold Schwarznegger did in Kindergarten Cop. It makes the following so much more humorous.

I recieved word yesterday that the horrid thing that the dermatologist removed from my cheek was not a cyst of any type but the biopsy revealed it was a benign tumor of the nerves. I am supposed to go back to her soon and she plans to go in and remove a larger portion of the area we found it for good measure; optimally they won't severe any nerves in the process or I might end up looking expressively lopsided for a bit. Kind of like I'm from New Jersey and my husband was having an affair with a psycho teenager who had a gun. Get it? It also is going to leave a rather nasty scar she said, but plastic surgery can fix that. Because I didn't really need to use that money in my mattress to purchase the Knicks; I can spend it on plastic surgery instead. Idiot. Ah, well. I've never been a vain one anyway, and with this many kids people will just assume that one of them bit me.

I had a bit of a pity party yesterday after recieving the call. It's been a rough year for us healthwise. The pregnancy was an absolute mess in the end, I about bled to death after the c-section, Dexter's ridiculous voicebox is deformed, and now I managed to grow a tumor on my face. But I'm done with my pity party now. Mostly. I've decided to redirect my energies into being bitter over much more worthy things like my childhood pets than a little facial tumor.

On a side note, I let the people come in yesterday and do Dex's pictures and it went very well. I'll have to share the point in the session where it all went awry a little later today. Yesterday I also taught the girls how to wrap Christmas presents. In hindsight they did VERY good all things considered. I, on the other hand, really didn't do so well. By the end of the dayI ended up mostly under the Christmas tree in the fetal position wishing I had cats instead; big, furry nasty cats. Life would be so much easier and people with cats don't get facial tumors. I said I was "mostly" done with my pity party. I'll let you know when I'm "completely" done.

Feeding Philosophy

Someday this boy is going to sleep through the night I swear. He has to, right? This is, after all, a civilized society and there are laws he must abide by.

This feeding's (which has been going on for several hours now) philosophy is as follows: The Pussycat Dolls are just the new Spice Girls except the Spice Girls could actually dance. Comparatively anyway.

A Big 'Ol Head

I had a friend in Emporia named Eddy. Eddy was very concerned with the size of people's heads. His fave saying of "She's got a big 'ol head" will go down in infamy. That being said, my son has a big 'ol head. Eddy would find him fascinating.

Your Heart Is Filled With Unwashed Socks. Your Soul Is Full Of Gunk.

Poor, poor Michael Mr. Grinch! Anyway, I just agreed to let a man come over to house tomorrow and attempt a portrait of Dexter. Why did I do this? I really must stop answering the phone in the midst of a dead sleep. Now I have to try to locate these people's number and cancel.

I'm making my lists for the trip home. There is a great many lists to be made when attempting to land this family from one state to another and not arrive bereft of underwear, or , Lord forbid, mascara.

The most important list is music to drive to of course. It serves dual purposes. One it keeps the driver awake and keeps the car moving as whoever holds the wheel runs the radio. Secondly, and by far most importantly, is the fact that it will often be blared to inhumane levels to drown out all 5 of the children periodically during the drive. Therefore it must be rather snazzy music as it can take up to 7 minutes of ear numbing decibals for the children to give up hope and quit demanding a 412th potty break this hour or begging to buy a postcard to send to themselves (yes, they do this).

Today, compliments of Wal-Mart Downloads which I highly recommend, I have downloaded the following:

• Christmas Cannon by Trans-Siberian Orchestra - I cannot recommend this song highly enough. It features an actual boys choir and is absolutely beautiful for it. Most today have gone to children's choirs in pieces such as this. It's a shame. Children's choirs are very poor substitutes for an actual boys choirs. I think little girls just naturally sing poorly in groups. I am allowed to say this because I have a group of girls. And they sing poorly.
• Lips Of An Angel by Hinder - I know, I know........... a trashy song about cheating and the lead singer insists on flipping his hands around like he is flaming the night away and is without the good sense God gave him. Good song, though.
  
• Pieces Of Me by Turdmonkey Jones - Actually by Ashlee Simpson but I won't admit to that. When all my housework is done I enjoy sitting by the TV in hopes of catching the news that she's been ran over by a train; no luck so far but each day is a fresh opporunity. I cannot say why I like this song. It's stupid and bubblegumey and just about as lame as they come. Kind of like the SpiceGirls songs you have hidden away on my your computer.
• Black Horse & A Cherry Tree by KT Tundstall - I love this woman.
• Suddenly I See by KT Tundstall - Did I mention I love this woman? This song makes Michael's skin crawl so it is an absolute essential for irritating him half out of his mind while he is stuck in a moving vehicle. I usually do this right after we fight about evolution vs. creationism. A topic that always seems to come up on our roadtrips after we've discussed corndogs, glaucoma, and soap.
• Bad Day by Daniel Powter - Catchy, catchy tune. Too bad American Idol ran into the ground with a spoon. Still a great song.

I'll, of course have to work up an everyday album and then a Christmas only album since its a Christmas trip. This will include the ever popular (and already owned) Christmas by Blues Traveler and the remake of River by Robert Downey Jr. It will also need Same Old Auld Lang Syne by Dan Fogleberg (?sp?). I will fill the remaining space with Amy Grant's stuff, Where Are You Christmas by Faith Hill (my personal anthem) and 3 different versions of the Mr. Grinch song. Because I can.

The Grape Ape's Absence Is Duly Noted

Wise Man Say:
Better to tie up pants with string than face family with bare butt.

You see, I am going home for the holidays and so consider yourself all forewarned that my apparel is a bit, shall we say, ill fitting. However, since you've been warned there is no need to stare. Or point it out after your 3rd glass of holiday spirits. Because the fact is that there are three real possiblities as to why my pants are tied up with yarn. They are as follows:

1. Perhaps I can't afford to buy new clothes. This is not an invitation to point out my excessive number of children or to tell me my husband should get a real job. Both of the aforementioned are completely irrelevant as to why I might possibly be unable to afford a new wardrobe. Maybe I'm a crackhead. Hadn't considered that one had you?
2. Perhaps I was going to buy new clothes but got sidetracked by a leprechaun at the neighboring deli. Or I might be waiting until my post pregnancy body decides what exact shape it is going to take on this time around. Those of you who have had kids can empathize with this. Every pregnancy leaves you like a shapeshifter for about 6 months.
3. Perhaps I already bought new clothes and a dingo ate them. All of them.

While we are on the subject, I do not have a coat either. This, however, is easily explained. You see my Aunt Donna gave me a wonderful purple fur coat some years back and that had been my coat since. It was lovingly referred to as the Grape Ape, and it was highly revered in this household. Unfortunately, during the power outage, one of my well meaning offspring laid the Grape Ape on a burning candle (a Yankee Chocolate Chip Cookie votice by the way) and it went up like Chernobyl. We were extremely grateful that Michael and I got to it in time as to avoid burning down the entire building (thus severely angering the people who live below us), but we did not get to it in time to save my coat. So RIP dear Grape Ape. And that is why I don't have a coat.

Up With The Tree! 2006

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A Breeder Goes To The Dermatologist

Could also be titled Saggy Butt Relativism but we'll get to that later.....

I went to the Dermatologist today. I've had a small bump on my cheek since January that was becoming more painful. I was pretty sure that I was dying of skin cancer but luckily for my husband that was not the case. Luckily also for my siblings and parents as I had decided to dole out my children one for each of you.

Long story short, it was an epi something or other cyst. I don't really know as I stopped listening at the point where the doctor announced rather nonchalantly that we would just cut it out today. You know, I don't think any sentence that involves a scalpel and a body part should include the word "just".

Anyway, they did exactly that and I now have no feeling or use in part of my face and am also sporting some bloody stitches and one of those useless round band-aids. The lidocaine should wear off any moment, much to my children's dismay. They are over there imitating me and I am considering not feeding the little wretches this evening.

I will leave you all with a few thoughts presented in a "Dear Doctor" letter format about Saggy Butt Relativism and the practice of Dermatology. Please read slowly as it is quite important.

Dear Doctor,
Please do not end any sentence with "for having had 5 children". Not even the ever popular "you look w0nderful for having had 5 children". It is not a compliment. And I will tell you why.

First, it clues me into the fact that you are in fact deciding if my butt is fat and saggy while you check for malignant melanamos. Patients in general enjoy laboring under the delusion that our medical practicioners are asexual human beings with eagle eyes for medical anomalies but dead blind to physical imperfections. We also like to hope you have an impaired sense of smell. Especially when being nervous makes us sweat. Profusely.

Secondly, it insinuates that all women that have borne 5 children have fat, saggy butts. That is simply not the case. I have met a great many breeders whose body looks 20 times better than the "I've had 2 kids" Mom on the street. You see, breeders can spot another breeder (even without their children in tow) from about a mile away, so we tend to be well connected within the community. The community of breeders anyway. This assumption also clearly indicates that you spend a great deal of your day looking at fat, saggy butts and comparing them based on the number of children the hungry chubass in question has contributed to society.

And last but not least, thus finally, no matter how kind the compliment or how grand your intentions, it is still Saggy Butt Relativism. You are saying that I do actually have a rather fat, saggy butt, but it can be forgiven as I have had 5 children. In other words, if I had this butt and had borne less children then you would just think that I was a hungry chubass. However, since I've had 5 kids you'll kindly forgive it and not whisper about it at the nurse's station. At least not very loudly.

Dexter's Diagnosis - Laryngomalacia

The specialist we saw diagnosed Dex with Laryngomalacia. It is pronounced Luh-Ring-Oh-Muh-Lay-Shuh. If you have a hard time remembering it just think of the French (la) discussing Ringo Starr (ryngo) in Malaysia (malacia). I'm sure that will help you remember it. Because it's such a simple association. Absolutely everybody makes that connection.

Anyway, in essence it's a birth defect of the voicebox. It is in essence floppy, you see, and thus relaxes into Dexter's airway. There is a surgery to attempt to repair (read trim up quite nicely) the voicebox in this situation, but there is a chance he will outgrow it so we have decided to sit on our hands and let him wonk-wonk-wonk-snort-oink-wheeze-snort-wonk his way into puberty. Actually we have the option to push for it with his doc but we'll wait for now.... Although he says he can arrange for an apnea monitor for me and I am seriously considering it as the nights are wonking long.

Dexter's situation is exaggerated because of his retrognathia/micrognathia situation. This means he has a small recessed chin that forces his tongue to the back of his mouth also blocking his airway. There is no repair for that, although they are working on one and Jay Leno is going to be the guy to run telethons for it.

In other words, Dexter has somehow managed to end up with two completely unrelated ways to suffocate! Go Dexter you stud!

On the bright side, his pediatrician's initial prognosis of paralyzed vocal cords was wrong (don't blame her though - Dexter presents a little different than most Laryngomalacia kids). This is wonderful news as Laryngomalacia is not oft associated with the neuromuscular disorders they were looking at before and saves a loads of testing, etc.

Now we just get to let him wonk away.

Christmas Becca's Way . Or Else.

Found this on our pregnancy forum and thought I would throw it on the blog as well. Mainly because I can. I wield that kind of power.

Welcome to the Christmas edition
of
Getting To Know Your Friends. And Possibly Your Family.

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper! Bags are kind of eh.

2. Real tree or artificial? Always fake! Real ones are all crooked and cramp my style. I have a really unhealthy attachment to fake pines.

3. When do you put up the tree? Usually day after Halloween.

4. When do you take your tree down? Usually by February. Usually.

5. Do you like eggnog? Maybe a glass or so. When it's properly boozed anyway.

6. Favorite gift received as a child? My Gameboy. I still keep/play/adore Gameboys.

7. Do you have a nativity scene? Yes absolutely. In storage right now unfortunately.

8. Hardest person to buy for? Usually Michael although our families are difficult because we can't afford anything truly decent and so it always comes off as a mish mash of so-so's.

9. Easiest person to buy for? All the kids. My kids are soooo easily amused.

10. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? Let's see............. I recieved nothing from Michael for several years running. Air is a pretty sucky present. Don't fault him though. I usually spent all the Christmas $$$ on the kids.

11. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail definitely. Complete with obnoxious letter and bad snapshot.

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? Jaws 4. Remember? Sean goes out to fix the dingy on Christmas Eve? Remember? JAWS eats him all while you hear the kids on the island singing Silent Night? Remember? Hmm? Oh, you haven't seen Jaws 4 The Revenge? Very few have.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Normally I plan to try through the year but end up breaking us through November and December.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Yep. Air. I gave it back to Michael.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Peanut Butter Balls & Iced Sugar Cookies assuming a rare steak isn't readily available.

16. Clear lights or colored on the tree? ONLY CLEAR. Colored lights were invented by Satan to confuse the masses. He put them on the market the same year he introduced foil tinsel. It was a busy year for Satan.

17. Favorite Christmas song? Christmas Cannon & Same Old Auld Lang Syne

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Home usually but when we have the chance to travel to our families we do so. We're traveling this year. Because Dexter is 3 months and we like a challenge.

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer? Why yes, I can, including the controversial Pedro.

20. Angel on the tree top or a star? Santa but changing to star this year.

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Both

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year? The whole Santa thing. Why don't I get credit for the hundreds of dollars and thousands of hours spent? Hmmm?

**Merry Christmas Friends and Family!! **

I Need Your Body Heat To Keep Me Warm

Remember how Foghorn Leghorn was always telling that stupid old hen that he needed her love to keep him warm? Yeah. Me too. Just wandering. Anyway.....

The electricity went out at some point after we went to bed Thursday night. I woke up with Baby Snorty Wonk at about 4AM and discovered the situation. I, of course, roused Michael from his dead sleep after locating him beneath the 40 layers of covers we were employing anyway and we began the process of reporting the outage and figuring out how to manage for a bit. A bit...... lol..... we are such naive optimists; I think it is the small town mentality that we still break out on occasion that made us believe they'd fix it lickety split. We really thought there was no way they would leave people turned off during that kind of weather because things like that just don't happen, kwim? Ha. Stupid, stupid us.

Friday was our first real experience of bitter cold although it was just a taste of things to come as the house retained some heat still from the days before. The kids played out in the snow with Langdon seeing his first snow ever (click the link to see some pics) and we eventually wandered out and about to locate some food. Because McDonalds have power and everyone knows the Golden Arches take precedence over residential neighborhoods when it comes to restoring heat. Absolutely everyone knows that.

From there on out it was a waiting game. We spent the nights in the kitchen we had managed to semi-close off, huddled around the gas stove, playing cards by candlelight, sleeping 7 to a bed and watching the temperature in the rest of the house drop so low the thermostat wasn't able to measure it anymore. The lady down the street says her house bottomed out at 22 degrees or so and I would say we matched that if not bettered it as we are on the third floor and have huge windows to boot. We spent the days store hopping attempting to keep warm. We would stay as long as we could until the store owners became suspicious we were just there for heat and then we had to move on. We managed to finish our Christmas shopping, although in retrospect we probably shouldn't have done it when we were so cold because we bought everyone very strange things. Things cold people want but people with furnaces have no real need for. But I digress..............

Tuesday I had finally had enough when it came to Dexter's snort snort oink oink wonk wonk snort snick wonk wheeze oink condition that still had no final diagnosis and so I did one of the hardest things to date and confronted his pediatrician. Now anyone that knows me can imagine how difficult this was as I am more likely to respond with a bad joke if you cut my leg off then get angry, and so going in to pick a fight with an MD wasn't exactly my speed. Luckily I didn't have to do anything too terribly offensive. I called her out and made her listen to him and hold him. As soon as she realized how bad it was she had us in with a specialist within the hour and we recieved a profuse formal apology. Which was nice. Unnecessary, but nice. Anyway, I'll post the baby stuff on a later post, but suffice it to say we ended up having to travel to another town within an hour to see that specialist and once there he said that he was not comfortable dealing with this situation and referred us on to another specialist. We got some answers at the last stop, although it is all still in process a bit.

Finally on Wednesday power was restored. I cannot even describe to you the mayhem that ensued with the kids once they realized what had happened. It's a good thing it came on when it did as Summer had become exceedingly pissed at the situation and had decided to write obscene letters to our electric company; especially when we recieved our monthly bill after no lights or heat for 5 days. I had decided to let her as long as her grammar and spelling were correct.

I think it was a growing experience for our family. Spending so much time in the dark reminded me that I had strayed away from my very reasons for choosing to homeschool in the first place, and I spent many hours scribbling in the dark the beginnings of the return to our core academic theories and beliefs. The entire family finally bore witness to the long nights of apnea fits, constant feedings, and continuous wonking that I go through with Dexter and they became much more understanding of my exhaustion, although they gave him some very questionable nicknames as well. Michael broke out his everyday ingenuity and kept us in lights and heat through the ordeal; it was nice to see this as sometimes it seems he surrenders his everyday common sense in exchange for scientific prowess. Scientific prowess is an admirable thing and has been known to cure disease, however it doesn't fix the sink. Unless the sink has a disease.

Captain's Log Day 5 - Today We Ate The Baby...

....no, not really, although we discussed it. Chubbilicious slept with one eye open. We survived (big dramatic word there) by sealing up the kitchen, gathering around the gas stove and drawing lots on who had to get eaten first if we ran out of frozen pizza (kept frozen on our balcony by the way). This will be short as I work to get the house, family, etc. back in order. After 6 days the electricity has been restored and I must say that everything looked much better in the dark. I'll share the whole story soon, but for now I'll leave you with..................................

Things Overheard In The Dark
December Electricity Outage 2006

Dexter: Oink, oink, snort, snort, wail, snort, oink, wonk, wonk
Summer: Does he ever shut up?
Mom: No. Why do you think I'm so bitter?
Summer: We should eat him. Electricity's been out 4 days. They'd understand.

Mom: Gin
Summer: How you can you tell..... it's too dark to see the cards.
Dad: She knows because she cheats.
Mackenzie: I thought we were playing Rummy.
Mom: Gin.

Dad: After 3 days we get to eat someone.
Summer: (pointing at Dexter) eat Snorty McSnort Snort over there. Then we'd get some sleep.

It's Cold Outside Baby

Yep. We're definitely in a winter storm. It seems to be a mixture of snow and ice with extra lots of the latter. I'm hoping we don't lose power like we did during the ice storm in Shreveport. 2 weeks with no lights, tv, heat, appliances, etc. s-u-c-k-e-d so thoroughly. 15,000 are without power in a community not far from us, however, so I'm gathering the blankets, candles and canned goods just in case. Seems paranoid I know, but you simply would not believe the amount of straight ice surrounding our house right now; there is in fact so much ice that it is piling up. Summer (who from now on will be referred to as the incompetent snow dork) threw a "snowball", read iceball, at Kenzie's face and about put her eye out. =sigh. silly incompetent snow dork=

I'm finishing up my Christmas to do lists, figuring out the monthly budget (if we hope to go home we're gonna have to cut something out somewhere - I'm thinking red meat is always optional), and having to watch Dexter especially close today as he keeps cutting off his own air supply and waking up sputtering, hiccing and oinking. We really should've taken him to the ER and forced the system's hand to get him a specialist but I had no idea this storm was coming. Now I'm hesitant to do so because getting there would be hell and you know there will be a larger than normal variety of ass holes who have A. wrecked their car trying to go 70MPH in a blizzard of ice or B. shot each other (cold makes people lose control of their trigger fingers for all you non- city livers out there). Shiver, shiver, shiver, BANG. Oh, dang, girl! I didn't mean to do that!

For the time being you can pretend you're here with us and by playing some online snow games. Build a snowflake here or pull an everything else snow related here.... happy evening, friends! Keep warm!

Snow Dorks

Our house is currently vibrating as our three daughters rush from window to window waiting for the arrival of the promised snow storm. You haven't fully experienced winter until you've seen the sight of 3 children who have spent most of their childhood in the South (thus no snow for 8 years at a time) with their little noses pressed against the glass trying to differentiate between sleet and actual snow. In fact Summer and Lily can only recall faintly a snow we had on our first new year's eve in Shreveport, but other than that have no real memory of the Kansas winters and snowstorms of their toddlerhood. Mackenz was a baby during the new year's eve snow, and the boys weren't even a beer induced glimmer in their Dad's eyes yet.

Langdon is undecided as to whether he actually cares or not. I do not think he understands what is going to happen. To him snow is the white spots on cartoons the people forgot to color in. He hasn't a clue. And Dexter? He obviously doesn't care. I am watching him as he sits in his bouncer and valiantly and patiently attempts to lift his cheeks of his shoulders. No wonder he has earned the nickname Chubbilicious. I believe he is well insulated against the cold; in fact, I think polar bears would drool in envy at the amount of insulation that baby is packing. Good thing to as we are keeping the heat fairly "normal" and not pumping it up for the cold snap. Fact is that we live on the third floor (top for this building) and have a great many large windows. We could run the heater 24/7, have a $1200 gas bill and not be any warmer really than we are now. I'm making my special stew in the crockpot (aka the only thing I cook decently), we're all encompassed in multiple layers, they're sipping hot cocoa, and I'm considering looking through cookbooks for reasons to turn on our heat leaking stove.

Anyway, because the girls are not particularly normal children, they have assigned themselves a unit study for the day (we finished our social studies exams early this AM). That's right, ASSIGNED THEMSELVES. They are doing a group report with each of them addressing a different aspect of snow (creation, affect, localities). They also have dark colored paper in the freezer getting cold and waiting for the snow to officially arrive so they can capture snowflakes. For crafts they are making origami snowflakes and cut out snowflakes and for music Summer is writing out the acutal lyrics and plans to lead the group in a rousing rendition of "Let It Snow". All of this while all the other kids in the city are celebrating the fact they are getting out of school. My daughters are definitely unique especially with Summer directing traffic; I did not say they are D to the Orks so don't you do so either. At least not out loud. Dex and I plan on hiding from all of the above under a blanket and napping, er pondering the meaning of life.

Fall Of Modern Society Fault of Gnomes & Bionic Woman

The reason civilized world is going to fall and be trampled underfoot lies in family size. Our society is having less and less children while undesirable counterparts (I'll give you a hint: they call us dogs and it isn't an affectionate term for peeps in the ghetto) are actually having more children at an alarming rate. We're talking our meager little families of 2 facing off with families on average of 7 or 8. I won't bore you with the math but even half of those kiddos grow up to be suicide bombers versus business owners then western society and its ideals will be extinct by 2052 (actually I don't have data to back up that date. *wheeze wheeze - Luke I am your father - no wait, I can't back that up either*)

So the question is why is our society in general choosing to forgo children? Hmm? I could point out the obvious like expensive cars, personal freedom, designer clothing, and concert tickets that don't involve the Wiggles, but I say let's dig a little deeper.

The reason we've stopped having children is as follows:

• Gnome Pajamas. No man wants to have sex, thus procreate, with a woman who is wearing flannel button up pajamas sporting gnomes. Therefore I present to you the theory that garden gnomes are partially responsible for the downfall of modern society as we know it.
• The Bionic Woman also carries a notable portion of the blame. Lindsay Wagoner is selling beds that are so comfortable (rumor has it) that people don't want to create little lumps of humanity that force them to abandon their custom sleep number at 2 in the morning for years on end. Damn the Bionic Woman and her Sleep Number Bed!

I know these things. I know these things because my son gets up every night at, oh about, 2:30AM and stays up until 5AM. I have time to work these things out.

Monkey Thought For Tuesday

I read this the other day and I think it's a legitimate question. If we supposedly evolved from monkeys, why are there still monkeys? I mean, think about it, did half the species just not get the memo grow opposable thumbs and exit the trees?

Monkey Thought For Monday

I figured it out.

The difference between you and I is that I don't just go around saying I will someday own a monkey............ someday I really will own a monkey.

Just a thought.

Don't Blink Or I'll Tell My Therapist About The Neighbor's Dog

I've got emails out to several members of my family concerning some genetic information I need in regards to Dexter's condition and I would really, really appreciate it if you would answer it. Thus I am giving notice on this blog that if you don't respond I will publish your name, address, and brief description on the internet telling everyone you ignored me. You don't want this. I have more psycho readers than you think.

For instance, one lady keeps emailing me claiming that she gave me up for adoption 32 years ago and wants to reunite. I'd consider her claim on maternity, however, carbon dating verifies that I am only 28 years old. Unless carbon dating is a flawed science which we all know it is. This would mean that there is a chance I've been lied to about my everything and am now inconveniently late for my scheduled 30 year breakdown and my actual mother sells porcelain unicorn figurines from a roadside stand. If any of that is true blink twice. I am sooooooooo sending you people the bill for my therapy.

Now go check your email.

Black Friday Indeed

Yes, I left the house this morning long before the sun and wandered aimlessly around Target & Wal-Mart bearing witness to the chaos. I also occasionally participated although I assure you it was mainy for amusement value. Normally I'd blather on and on about what all occurred but it was overshadowed by what just happened.............

I'm sitting here playing with my Amazon lists and Summer runs screeching into the room that there is man with a crowbar breaking out our neighbor's car windows. Geez. So Michael and I jump up and go out to the balcony. The thieves didn't see us, but we were at a loss as to what to do exactly. Yell and let them run away? Go back inside quietly and let them continue to damage the car and probably get away anyway? I have no idea when the decision was made, but at some point I yelled something about "Yea you better run M*therF*cker" - which is terrible language - at about the same time the lookout spotted us. And they did exactly that. But not before damaging the neighbor's car and no doubt figuring out which vehicles are ours.

=sigh= So please pray right along with us that these nutsacks don't have the courage to come back and mess up our cars, building, etc. I truly abhor people. Occasionally I look to heaven for an explanation as to why God gave up on the whole 'smiting' thing. It would come in so very handy sometimes.

Note To Self: Don't yell obscenities at thieves with crowbars. Use my big girl manners next time.

Got Milk? Or Should It Be Got Turkey......

..................either way, Happy Thanksgiving from our house to yours!


Now bring on Christmas. Dex wants presents. ;)

Jefferey Is Turkey Of The Year

So far they have watched the Macy's day parade, and consumed in their entirety the cinnamon rolls and massive relish tray. Babies grow up to be children. Children are little oinkers on the holidays. One of them is over their gnawing on the leg of the chair because we ran out of goldfish crackers (I'll Langdon give Langdon you Langdon one Langdon guess Langdon which Langdon one Langdon it Langdon is).

Summer dubbed this year's turkey Jeffrey. I won't tell you why because I firmly believe you should leave this blog with at least the same amount of brain cells you arrived with.

I have done 2 loads of laundry, put together the stuffing, broccolli & cheese casserole, macaroni & cheese casserole, and they are all waiting to go in the oven. I also put together the infamous relish tray (I won't tell you what we call that either - see above). I have done 3 loads of dishes (mostly by hand), 2 loads of laundry and bathed. I also made a Boston Creme Pie.

And I've been up since 2AM with Dexter. Now that I know those noises mean he is struggling to breathe, I can no longer sleep through them. I'm glad to know this so I can consistenly be repositioning him and helping him, but in some ways ignorance was bliss because at least I got SOME sleep before.

Thanksgiving - Giving Notice

One of the neat ladies on our October Babies board posted this and I had to share it here too. I have no idea where she found it originally but it is hilarious. Consider yourself put on notice, people..........


For those of you who are coming to our place for Thanksgiving dinner- Martha Stewart ain't gonna be here!

I'm telling you in advance, so don't act surprised. Since Ms. Stewart won't be coming, I've made a few small changes: Our sidewalk will not be lined with homemade, paper bag luminaries. After a trial run, it was decided that no matter how cleverly done, rows of flaming lunch sacks do not have the desired welcoming effect.

Once inside, our guests will note that the entry hall is not decorated with the swags of Indian corn and fall foliage I had planned to make. Instead, I've gotten the kids involved in the decorating by having them track in colorful autumn leaves from the front yard. The mud was their idea. The dining table will not be covered with expensive linens, fancy china, or crystal goblets. If possible, we will use dishes that match and everyone will get a fork. Since this IS Thanksgiving, we will refrain from using the plastic Peter Rabbit plate and the Santa napkins from last Christmas.

Our centerpiece will not be the tower of fresh fruit and flowers that I promised. Instead we will be displaying a hedgehog-like decoration hand-crafted from the finest construction paper. The artist assures me it is a turkey. We will be dining fashionably late. The children will
entertain you while you wait. I'm sure they will be happy to share every choice comment I have made regarding Thanksgiving, pilgrims and the turkey hot line. Please remember that most of these comments were made at 5:00 a. m. upon discovering that the turkey was still hard enough to cut diamonds.

As accompaniment to the children's recital, I will play a recording of tribal drumming. If the children should mention that I don't own a recording of tribal drumming, or that tribal drumming sounds suspiciously like a frozen Turkey in a clothes dryer, ignore them. They are lying. We toyed with the idea of ringing a dainty silver bell to announce the start of our feast. In the end, we chose to keep our traditional method. We've also decided against a formal seating
arrangement. When the smoke alarm sounds, please gather around the table and sit where you like. In the spirit of harmony, we will ask the children to sit at a separate table. In a separate room. Next door.

Now, I know you have all seen pictures of one person carving a turkey in front of a crowd of appreciative onlookers. This will not be happening at our dinner. For safety reasons, the turkey will be carved in a private ceremony. I stress "private" meaning: Do not, under any circumstances enter the kitchen to laugh at me. Do not send small, unsuspecting children to check on my progress. I have an electric knife. The turkey is unarmed. It stands to reason that I will eventually win. When I do, we will eat.

I would like to take this opportunity to remind my young diners that "passing the rolls" is not a
football play. Nor is it a request to bean your sister in the head with warm tasty bread. Oh, and one reminder for the adults: For the duration of the meal, and especially while in the presence of young diners, we will refer to the giblet gravy by its lesser-known name: Cheese Sauce. If a young diner questions you regarding the origins or type of Cheese Sauce, plead ignorance. Cheese Sauce stains.

Before I forget, there is one last change. Instead of offering a choice between 12 different scrumptious desserts, we will be serving the traditional pumpkin pie, garnished with whipped cream and small fingerprints. You will still have a choice; take it or leave it. Martha Stewart will not be dining with us this year. She probably won't come next year either. I am thankful.

Author unknown

Not So Funny Now, Is It?

Well, friends, Dexter had his 2 month appointment today. It was eventful.

Shots
Got his first set. Let me say that I am still against immunizations. Let me add that DH doesn't care that I am against immunizations.

Weight
The nazi lactivist nutritionist will be relieved to know that Dexter is offically classified as a fatty bo batty. He is perfectly sperical. He weighs 13#. This makes him very high on the chart for size, and finds him very low on the chart for his height. Thus, I repeat, perfectly spherical.


Development
Pedi says he is not where he should be for 2 months. She says he is more like a slow 1 month old. I, of course, took this rather personally but couldn't really argue it. He was, after all, lying there with his eyes crossed and drool running out of his mouth. However, I'm sure this will right itself in time, and I really question there standardized infant performance thingie anyway. Granted, Dex is a little vacant, but we prefer to call it "low maintenance"....

Here, however, is what matters.

The Noise Thing

• You remember how Dex has only cried 7 or 8 times since he's been born (that included his shots today and the delivery room)? Turns out that's a problem. I just thought I was a really good mother j/k but anyway....
• She listened to his cry which is exceptionally low and raspy (he is the baritone of newborns - I always thought he sounded really weird)
  
• Then she listened to the "oinks & snorts" we're always joking about. Um, not good either.
  
• Followed it up with the gasping for air he does when stimulated (in our defense that only became highly noticable in the last week or so and I had an appt. coming up so I waited for that reason)
  

Point is, she believes he has paralysis of his vocal chords to some extent and has referred us to a specialist. She says that jaw problems (his micrognathia) are often hand in hand with throat problems so we should have expected this.

No, I don't want to talk about it. Yes, I'm done having children. I'll let ya'all know when I know something. For the record, I am not amused.

Correlation Between Aging & Use Of Consonants

Dexter looks like his Dad. Dexter naps like his Dad. Dexter has strong opinions on just about everything like his Dad. Dexter currently shares a room with ME like his Dad. This morning at 4AM I found one of the subtle differences between father and son.

Husband: Snore
Dexter: Snort
Husband: Snore
Dexter: Snort
Husband: Snore
Dexter: Snort
Me: Will you both please shut up.
Husband: Snore
Dexter: Snort
Husband: Snore
Dexter: Snort
Me: I hate my life. I'm going to the couch. And possibly running away to play a villain at Disneyland.
Husband: Snore
Dexter: Snort
Husband: Snore
Dexter: Snort
Me: I'm going to go turn the gas oven on and look around inside......... (this was followed by some expletives that I don't have to admit to).

When I grow up I'm going to have my own room. With a memory foam mattress bed that has been pimped out with an adjustable top and bottom as well as featuring the sleep # capability. And it will have flannel sheets which are currently forbidden. And it will smell like apples - also currently forbidden. And I WILL lock the door to said room and press charges against any who enter.

There's A Shark In My Stocking. Or At Least There Better Be.

For my newer friends that haven't been introduced to my obsession with sharks today's your lucky today. Friend? Becca's shark obsession. Shark obsession? Becca's friend. Run, friend, run! My point, lovers, is that sharks eat you. Anyone that tells you otherwise is hoping to inherit your car. Forget all the scientific mumbo jumbo. You are crunchy and taste good with ketchup. They are there to eat you and don't kid yourself otherwise. My theory is backed by the infamous attacks of 1916 and by every other shark attack since, but society is in denial. But don't take my word for it. Go swimming and bark like a seal. Good luck with that, but anyway......

There are moments in life where you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God loves you and wants you to be happy. Those moments are as follows:

• When he doesn't immediately smite you for drinking 3 margueritas and hopping the table
• epidurals - 'nuf said
• Steaks at the Outback, and most important............
  
• When you find out that JAWS has been made into a video game

Click here to go see the trailer for the game. My only problem with the theory behind the game is tha,t as JAWS, you are protecting your home from getting destroyed thus you eat people and destroy waterparks. Oh, PULEEEAAAZE! Your JAWS for pete's sake. You eat people strictly for giggles. Absolutely everyone knows that.

I'll get the game anyway. I just have to. I had sworn off of it when I thought that it was like the long forgotten Nintendo version where you have to hunt the shark. Nerve wracking (I'm a paranoid personality type and can't bear to be pursued even by pixelated fish) and required thought process (I mean, who really can tell north from south and I thought longitude was a type of mood), but if one is the shark and eating people that changes everything completely, doesn't it??

Stocking Schtuffers

Yes, I'm already doing Christmas. I have 5 kids, or have you forgotten? We seem to have a real communication problem you and I............

If you do stockings, or need teacher's gifts, go directly to Target. Do not pass GO, Do not collect $200. They have extremely cool stuff in the $1 section right now. Bath & body stuff, lip balms & glosses, stickers, barrettes, sticker books, and ground cumin. Obviously much better stuff than usual. Okay, I'm totally lying on the ground cumin. Sorry about that.

Seriously, though. Target $1 section always kicks butt in November and then in December it goes to dorky (usually cracked) snowmen mugs and dancing wooden santas that don't dance. Go now. Complete stocking for $12 or less. And buy me something. Thanks.

Suddenly I See

Here's my "thing" for today. I'm short on time as I am training for a job and the amount of courses/modules etc. I am having to work through and test on is enormous. I'm so out of practice with actually using my brain. But I'm sure you knew that. After all, until yesterday I thought Maryland was next to Florida. Yes, I homeschool; don't worry, they have maps and their Dad is a genius.

I removed the video....
one of my favorite songs of all time
but it was slowing load time on the blog
in a serious way.
=sigh=

God Save The Queen

........................assuming my husband is the Queen.

If any of you witnessed the atomic mushroom cloud that just appeared over Kansas, don't worry. It was just my Grandma getting the news that Michael accepted the position in Baltimore, Maryland.

If I had a smilie for this point in my life it would have a hammer stuck in the side of its severed head. On the bright side, she hates my husband more than me. His smilie would have 6 hand grenades taped to its testicles all while melting slowly in an acid bath.

Karma In The Portrait Studio

I actually worked at Wal-Mart Portrait Studios for years, although let it be said that I won several national awards in my time with the company, was a Level 4 and the studios I worked in had the best sales/service/quality averages of our entire districts and usually state. Yes, I'm conceited.

So we went to the Wal-Mart Portrait Studio today. I really, really needed to get Dex's picture taken in a special outfit that his Nana sent (his Dad had his picture taken in it as a baby and so did Lang) before he outgrew it. I labored under no dilusions of grandeur concerning the "portraits", mind you. I hoped for a decent shot or 2 of Dex in his special outfit where he didn't have his finger up his nose or drool smeared across his entire face into both his ears.

We arrived (after calling for an appointment), and were greeted by a very, very, very large woman whose attire resembled Tarzan In The Ghetto (this movie went straight to video and is periodically ran 4 times in a row for 3 days in a row by TNT - j/k). And she was loud, good lord, she was loud. I actually contemplated running away as the idea of going into a tiny space with this woman and a soon to be screaming newborn made me queasy, but I really needed this picture because Dexter literally was in danger of outgrowing this outfit any second. So we go in.

We get the first shot. The infamous "package shot". And I realized right then that karma is a bitch. I always made sure people's package shots sucked so they had to buy the more expensive after shots (hey, we were judged on sales as much as photography and we made commission so cut me some slack). Our package is a picture of Dexter sleeping, cockeyed to the side, slumped over with a huge green pacifier in his mouth and a god awful raggedy grotesquely dirty teddy bear stuffed under his arm all photographed from above thus making his feet the focus of the picture. It was the most hideous thing I'd ever seen, and I contemplated saying No to it, but I remembered clearly the 2 rules of getting discount "portraits" of newborns. For all of my new mommas, here they are from an experienced discount portrait photographer:

1. You can only photograph what is there. If your child is crooked, dirty and ugly to boot, the picture will look show crooked, dirty and ugly. I always enjoyed this rule. I got to sadistically point out to all these delirously happy new parents that the camera wasn't faulty, but there new angel really was that funny looking. Thus, yes, I'm afraid, Dexter really looked like that. Big 'ol huge cheeks sitting on his shoulders with crossed eyes... what can you do, ya' know?
   
2. And rule 2. If you say no to a picture, the next will be 3 times worse, the next 3 times worse than that one, and the next 12x times worse than either of the previous. Don't be greedy. If the child isn't upside down and blue, accept it because your time in the portrait studio is slippery slope.

So I wisely accepted it. And luckily so as he immediatedly began to scream bloody murder. So I feed him a bottle while Summer dresses him (we are the queens of multi-tasking) and we began trying to get the shot of him in the special outfit. I cannot possibly describe what then ensued but suffice it to say it involved a very, very, very large woman in leopard print screaming "SMILE VICTOR!" at my son, whose name happens to be Dexter, all while jumping at him and cussing her cell phone that wouldn't stop ringing. I threw up a little in my mouth.

Dexter did pretty well all things considered. In one shot his mouth his hanging open and he's completely bent in half. In another he is blowing split bubbles and and looking cross eyed at his own nose. In another he his screaming and eating his shirt. In one shot he isn't even in the picture save for part of his bald head and a foot. In the last he is sporting a look of absolute confused terror preserved for posterity (he seems to be thinking, "who is this Victor, and why are you yelling at him??????"). I bought that one.

I'll not be going back there for awhile. There isn't enough Prozac in the world.

This Means War

So I run into the Nazi Lactivist Nutrionist this morning. Not a big deal. I considered making a smart aleck remark about nursing while hanging upside down off a jungle gym but refrained.

She asks about my baby sling - she loves it, blah, blah, blah. She asks about homeschooling - she supports it blah, blah, blah. And then the conversation (per her) turns to breastfeeding. She asks how nursing is going. I tell her for the umpteenth time that I am not able to nurse and rail off the reasons. Again. For the millionth time. Again.

And she says, "Well he'll definitely benefit from your hands on approach to parenting!". She smiles. She follows it up with, "and he'll have all these bright kiddos who WERE breastfed to help keep him company!" In case you can't decipher the message here because her tone of voice is missing from the text, she was taking at jab at Dexter's intelligence because of formula. Again.

This, of course, means war. I'm in all seriousness considering letting the air out of her tires.

Real Men & Rummy

Looks like Rumsfeld has resigned. It's too bad. One of the main reasons I like Dubya is because he surrounds himself with real men like Rumsfeld and Cheney. Real men don't apologize. Real men kick ass and don't bother taking names. Real men occasionally shoot their good friends in the face. You know what? Rumsfeld is a true patriot and he deserves a break from all the bullshit that is modern politics especially with the impending spectacle of the Dems having the house and most likely the senate. God help us all (no, wait, He probably won't considering the direction the Dems will want to take America) and God Bless Rummy.......... we'll miss you.


Also worth noting, real men occasionally eat something the size of their head. I raise real men; none of those pretty boy metrosexuals here. Go Langdon!

Poor Innocent Breastmilk Nazi

Yesterday I recieved a call from a young girl who evidently has decided to make breastfeeding her soapbox. I have no idea how in the world she heard of me, although I suspect the nazi lactivist nutritionist who likes to tell me regularly that Dexter is going to grow up fat and stupid for being on formula (as if I have any control over this as I couldn't make any friggin' milk!).

Anyway, she recommended that I breastfeed Dexter laying upside down off the side of the bed to help compensate for his lack of chin. Yes, she said this in all seriousness. She felt that if more women would look for unique solutions to their breastfeeding problems that they could also breastfeed which offers a unique and beautiful bond that formula feeding just can't compare with. She wanted to give me the opportunity to bond fully with my son. She had so enjoyed the experience with her ONE child. She was just as sweet and innocent as could be; she was absolutely dripping with a sincere effort to save the world through breastmilk.

I was in a piss poor mood and this was just the last straw. I told her that she had interrupted a nap I was taking with the chinless wonder which made it more difficult to smother him in his sleep. I also told her that I was brewing more poison formula in the backroom and she was taking up my valuable time that could be spent attempting to flood my son's system with the formula, er Stupid Juice to fatten him up. I ended my tirade with telling her that I might call her back after I put the animal, er baby in it's cage. I also told her I had 5 children, with 4 of them being breastfed and as soon as she could match that experience factor she should feel free to call me back and we'd have tea. I also added in she should research micrognathia and the ramifications of a massive postpartum hemmorage so she could at least pester people with actual facts and not a telemarketing script on lactation.

And she began to cry. I should feel bad, but I don't. That's not surprising considering what a callous formula feeding biatch I am. As a reformed nazi lactivist myself, I have to say that the tunnel vision it encompasses cannot be defeated until they experience the actual inability to make milk. So I'm putting a hex on her. I hope her boobies wither up and fall off. Good riddance.

Here's pic of my poor, poor abused unbonded with, obese and simple minded child. Poor thing. Life is so damn hard................ ;)

I wonder if I can blame the formula for the fact that his head is perfectly spherical?

Motherhood Complicates The Act Of Blinking

Have you noticed with newborn babies they have the interesting ability to hear adults close their eyes? It's a superpower, and an impressive one at that. And they weild it with uncanny accuracy.

• Baby is so asleep you can shake it upside down looking for spare pocket change and the baby doesn't stir.

• So Mom lays baby down in bassinet &/or crib.

• Mom goes to bed quietly sinks into it and experiences that moment in time (that is unique to new mothers) where laying down in a dark room on cool sheets is so wonderful it surpasses sexual satisfaction, strawberry margueritas, and winning lottery tickets.

And then the fun begins.......

• Mom closes eyes.

• =Baby grunts, grunts, sqallers=

• Mom opens eyes.

• =Baby is silent=

• Mom closes eyes.

• =Baby squallers, screeches, and began sucking its fists. Loudly=

• Mom opens eyes.

• =Silence=

• Mom closes eyes.

• =snort snort chortle moan reooooowrt snort suck suck=

• Mom opens eyes.

• Silence. A pin drops. Mom hears it.

• Mom closes eyes.

• =snort waaah snort chortle suck suck suck reeowrt chortle waah snort snort=

• Mom opens eyes and spends the rest of the night staring at the ceiling without daring to blink.

• Baby finally sleeps 5 hours in a row.

The above is a reenactment. The names of people and places have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved. No animals were hurt in the process, however, the Mom did on more than one occasion consider putting a pillow over the Dad's face to stop the incessant snoring.

Don't Feed Stray Babies

Michael is home all day today and most of tomorrow so I can take it easy after getting my IUD in this morning. It hurt considerably more than I remember it doing last time, and, in fact, at one point I accused my OB of attempting to puncture my lungs.

We're dealing with city inspections on the apartment and having to finagle the system over the number of people living here (common with a large family in the city). It's pretty terrifying actually (the idea of trying to move right now and even finding a place that's big enough anyway) but I think we've come to an under the table agreement with the city to stay put. It's a don't ask, don't tell situation and I pray it holds. I considered telling them that Dexter was a stray (thus couldn't be counted against us). You know, the whole "we fed him once and he kept coming back" thing...............

Political Pinheads

Have you noticed that every other sentence in an election year begins with "I think most Americans are thinking/feeling..........

Every single commentator has the insight to how the majority of Americans are "thinking". It's terribly interesting and pretentious at the same time. The reality is they are trying to stare down the "other side" by condescension. They are trying to break the spirit of those that feel differently by convincing them they are in the minority and it isn't worth their time to vote because they are going to be violently trampled by the opposite end of the spectrum rushing to the polls.

My question is, who the heck is "most Americans" and how do any of us know if we fit this criteria thus being able to truly bring to light what "most Americans" are thinking?

Running The Remote

They grow up so fast! =sniff= Here's Dexter in his Chick Magnet shirt hogging the remote. Pic is courtesy of his 3 older sisters......

Negative. I Am A Meat Popsicle.

Anyone who is a Fifth Element fan (we're HUGE fans) will appreciate why the title is humorous. It is also the answer we are giving everyone when they ask what we are being for Halloween.

Anyway, we don't celebrate Halloween so the girls planned a Harvest Party and I'm helping them carry out their plan today. Let it be said that our trip to the grocery store was outrageously expensive and Michael is going to croak; I know I did. I guess, though, it only comes once a year and today is payday. That's what I keep telling myself anyway.

On the note of spending more $, it seems Summer broke some of the little bones on the top of her foot yesterday and I guess I'm going to have to head to the pediatrician. The reality is that they can't do anything about it, but she is fussing and acting a fool over it all and so we'll go. Otherwise she'll bring it up in therapy as an adult. Trust me. She plans her therapy sessions out in her free time; the girl keeps notes.

Michael left for work at 5AM this morning and isn't expected home until late this evening. He says November is going to be like this. If I had a smilie it would be one rolling it's eyes, hanging out it's tongue with angry eyebrows. I am weary, can you tell? I'm tired of doctorates, post doctorates, and science in general. As a matter of fact, I don't even believe in Science - don't tell Michael though or he'll hit me. I think it's a trick God played on mankind to keep them from figuring out anything meaningful. I mean look at the influenza epidemic of 1918. We've learned to make boobs bigger, make boobs smaller, inject people with radioactive dye, and which parts of the brain must be missing to make a savant, but we still can't adequately address the flu. We're all going to die. I'm kidding. Mostly.

Dexter - All A'Growed

Well, according to my calculations, Dexter has cleared 10 pounds at some point during his 5th week. My extremely scientific approach was to weigh myself holding him, and then weigh myself not holding him. I figured the difference and there you go. Pretty impressive for a baby that has trouble eating, and lost 14% of his body weight at birth.

I'm not terribly surprised though. He is currently eating 6 oz. bottles some feedings and 8 oz. bottles at the other feedings. According to all the baby rearing books and websites he should be taking no more than 4-5 oz at any feeding. Luckily I completely ignore all books and websites about raising babies/children. Have you noticed that the authors/creators of those sites have 1.6 kids at most? What exactly do they think they know about raising children (plural) and under what circumstance are we to assume they gained the knowledge? Hmmm? It's all theory, lovers.

He is also smiling here and there. Of course, it's always with the bottle crammed in his mouth. I suspect this little guy is going to grow up to really, really like meal time. Call it a mother's hunch.

$25 Co-Pays Destroying The Middle Class

Was reading this article today. Here's an excerpt (emphasis mine):

One family feeling the pinch is the Andrew Miller family in Charleston, S.C. With a combined income of just less than $100,000 a year, Miller and his wife say they work harder than ever but are no better off than five years ago. They keep a tight rein on spending, but tiny raises that don't match inflation and escalating health costs are leaving them feeling like they are treading water.

"The (medical) co-pays have jumped to $25 for each visit," said Miller, who has two daughters, ages 10 and 8. "Luckily, we have pretty healthy kids. But our premiums are also going up. We're just getting squeezed here."

Holy Crap! They want to claim that $100,000 is middle class (earlier in the article "middle class" was defined as anyone between $18,000 and $88,000 which is still a wonked out figure), but worse they want to complain that their medical co-pay is $25..... oh, please cry me a river over your $25 co-pay! =sigh= This article is such a great example of how "middle class" is completely out of touch with realistic spending habits, and that pollsters and ridiculous self declared pundits like Lou Dobbs have no idea who or what they are supposedly defending.

Can't afford an SUV? Go into debt and blame the government. Can't afford the house payments on a property that was far beyond your price range to begin with? Blame the government. Have to pay a $25 co-pay for, say, a $37,000 pregnancy? Blame the government. I mean, really, that $25 is definitely what is sending you under. Not the eating out all the time, the $200 jeans, the gas guzzling SUV or $1600 dogs that ride around in purses wearing namebrand sweaters, or even $3000 a month daycare bills. Cause none of those are choices. The government made them do it.

We Won The World Series........

Go Cards. We kick ass. And, yes, we're better than you.............. am waiting on the fireworks to start (they always do fireworks when the Cardinals win a game) I imagine it might be quite a show? since it's the world series.......... We're not far from the Loop and I wager there is a serious party going on there. Can't really say as I have 23 kids and haven't left the house alone, much less at night with the intentions of becoming highly intoxicated, in years........

Michael is out of town on a "retreat". My question is what exactly are they "retreating" from? What in the world do a bunch of overeducated, pompous ass holes have to "retreat" from exactly? That's my question. Not that Michael is an overeducated, pompous ass hole. He just plays one on TV.

I'm off to bed. Dex has taken to getting up again in the middle of the night. I refer to my earlier post about NEVER trusting a newborn. I could begin a rant here about the fall of man and the innate sinfulness of human nature but I think I'll let it go for now; he is after all only 5 weeks old. He is also one of the most placid, peaceful creatures on the planet so I just can't bring myself to complain too much.

For fam & friends: I swear I'll get birth announcements out this weekend. It's been a rough week, and I'm behind as always. You all know me. I was born late and never have managed to get caught up.

Rooting Reflex Gone Awry

You know how newborns spend their entire life rooting around looking for food (I was going to type "boobs" but that would be offensive, wouldn't it?). This is a great and necessary reflex for breastfed infants but the rooting reflex is completely useless for formula fed infants.

Take Dexter (please be here by 2AM to pick him up) for instance. He displays this well. His rooting reflex has turned into a pecking reflex. He pecks everything looking for food - shoulders, remotes, faces, chairs, the floor, oranges.... peck, peck, peck. It is equally amusing and creepy.

This behavior has earned him the nickname Little Pecker, er, I mean Chicken Little.

Dexter Takes On

Today's pics............ hee hee hee....... yes I will start posting pics of all the kiddos soon but Dexter is currently dominating the photo ops these days.

Dexter says Boo! He also says that his cheeks are slowly eating what little chin he has.... Langdon is a spitting image of my family (namely Bronson, how ironic is that?) but Dexter is all Grantham; he is Michael's mini me (although he does have my hair).
(5 weeks)

Pondering what he should be for Halloween........... a ninja? a pirate? a car air freshener???? So many decisions! Life out of the womb is complicated!
(4 weeks)

If We Have Another Child...........

.............it is going to be a girl and I am going to name her Tallulah. My husband claims that this fact alone is enough to justify a vasectomy. I'm simply amazed at how lightly men take their ability to pro-create, and the state of their vas deferens.

We are officially on a full schedule of school, and I can say this because we completed it today. I think the girls were laboring under the delusion that I would be pregnant/postpartum forever and they would slink through their educational years under the radar of math and science.

Speaking of postpartum, I think I will write a book that focuses on the realities and challenges of the postpartum period. I'm always so amused by how pregnancy books brush over this point in the pregnancy/birth experience with no more than 2 paragraphs and some quaint advice about resting when the baby sleeps. No wonder postpartum depression is rampant among modern mothers; nobody freakin' told us that our bellies would look like a 3 week old drowning victim; that we would leak unmentionable things for long periods of time; that days and nights really are interchangable and that it causes a type of jet lag that hasn't been medically recognized yet. Now I'm not actually going to write that book, but somebody should. I can't write it; I abhor society and women in general (unless I know you personally and have decided you don't suck).

Watch for some pictures to be uploaded later this evening. Heaven knows I take a ton of them, but it's been getting to the computer that I've been struggling with. I've also been working on a family website, and a baby site for Dex (started that 7 days post birth but haven't finished it yet), and am gaining ground; will post the links tonight or tomorrow.

So why the sudden burst of energy? Dexter slept 7 hours last night; over 7 actually - closer to 8. I was so excited I about peed my pants. Mind you, I NEVER trust an infant until I've seen the behavior repeated 7 times, so I can't say "he sleeps through the night" yet, and I better get my baking and deep cleaning done today because tomorrow he could decide to wake up every hour on the hour; newborns do things like that because humans are innately naughty creatures.

Birth Announcements En Route

You know, I really must update certain aspects of my blog. Everything leans toward "I'm Pregnant", which I no longer am, obviously. I'm just having a hard time finding time or motivation to do so.

Birth Announcements are going out over the weekend, so if you're related to me in any 'round about way, you might keep your ear tuned for a call (mostly Mom and Nana). Most of my addresses for everybody are years old. On the bright side this will really simplify my Christmas card experience this year.

Speaking of Christmas, that is one reason I am so missing in action at this point. I'm trying to figure out in advance a game plan, and it's a difficult undertaking. The girls are growing up and developing "opinions" and "preferences". Blech. I liked them better when they liked everything; or were at least co-dependant enough to fake it.

That's Not Luggage. That's Your Cat.

There was actually a moronic man who tried to check his cat as luggage at the airport. He didn't seem to understand that the duffle bag would be crushed during the process; his main concern was that the fabric "breathes". Idiots like this run amuck among us, and they can afford plane tickets.

I'm averaging about 5 minutes online a day so please bear with me. There are several blogs I want to catch up on (like Kathy! You must be getting close!) and I owe some emails. I also have a couple of online projects I would like to begin/work on, but I'm a little short on time. I did not realize how much I had let my life, home, kids, schedule spiral out of control during the pregnancy until I tried to pick up the pieces and salvage it. This is gonna take me a minute or two to get everyone back under control and operating in line with the master plan to take over the world.

The girls are doing well on the schoolwork. We've finally found a comfortable schedule that works with our curriculum and I am getting JUST enough sleep to almost participate. Luckily, they are self starters, and where I am dragging at right now, they are keeping up with on their own. Each week we do better though, and by next week I should be on their tails full time. They're really excited about that (dripping with sarcasm for the humor impaired).

Langdon is acting out which isn't a surprise at all considering how drastically his life has changed recently. We really fixated and spoiled him to a horrid extreme, and now we are reaping the fruits of our labor. He is a brilliant, conniving, blonde haired evil genius. It's hard to say no to the charm, but if you manage to, it is even harder to say no when he attacks your ankle like a pit bull.

Dexter is now averaging about 5 hours of straight sleep a night (which is amazing really). He is really a phenomenal baby. I'm thinking God knows what we can handle, and after the difficult pregnancy, the rough start to the school year, as well as Michael working 24/7 he took mercy on me and passed the grumpy baby off on someone else (hate it for ya'). Granted he struggles with constipation, but he's a trooper. And let me add here, that his head is ginormous. They told me that at the hospital, but he seemed so small I couldn't understand what they meant. I do now. His head is like a soccer ball stuck on a pencil. It's quite humorous and I think he'll be a little behind his peers in getting control of that melon.

My Baby Smells Like Calf Starter........

..............and I don't care. Looks like we are officially on formula full time. So, moooo. Sell me to McDonalds 'cause this old cow done gone dry.

Drops In A Bucket

If any of the men that read my blog (ie possibly a brother, and my nickname Little Bastard Jones ia misnomer because I also have a father contrary to unfortunate rumours) are sick of hearing about my postpartum problems, just know that it will end soon. It's very hard for a woman to see around her situation or her bosoms for the first 6 weeks after birth.

So Dexter can't latch on because of his chin. I can't produce milk because I valiantly attempted to bleed to death post delivery. Yet everyday I spend several hours of it with a miniaturized milking machine attached to my breasts in an attempt to force some milk out for him. As the member of a dairy family I must say that I find it very disturbing and have recently had some bouts' of pity for all the cows we did this to over the years; it's not pleasant, just so you know.

Anyway, my breast pump uses these massive wide necked bottles that are larger than Dexter's head (yes a minor exaggeration). And last night it occured to me the problem with these gallon size bottles (especially for women who don't actually produce any milk but are humoring themselves).

With the small, normal size bottles you can pump 2OZ. and feel like you have solved world hunger. It looks like a HUGE amount in there sloshing around. Total satisfaction.

With the monster, huge bottles you can pump 2OZ. and it makes you feel like you just pissed on a forest fire; the thought was nice, but the effort wasn't really worth it.

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Hey, everyone, beyond the boobs......

Summer is slowly recovering, although the blisters have now come full force on her hands. She is extremely miserable, but at least she can see again... -_0

We got stuck in a traffic jam last night and ended up getting back from our "short grocery trip" at about 1AM, and didn't get everything put away until about 2AM, and I didn't get Dexter down until about 3AM.......... We did make friends with a world famous BBQer, and realized that we have crossed the line into a NOVELTY. People counted us repeatedly, and several made comments. I had no idea that such a small baby could tip the scales from "haven't they heard of birth control" to "my god tie them down or they'll reproduce again". I rather enjoy it. People say "Wow, I could never do it" and I get to respond "You're right. You probably couldn't". And go on my way.

I'll leave you with a picture of Dexter with his lovey (a type of burp cloth special made by his Nana) which he will not burp, sleep, or sit contentedly (perhaps I should say confusedly - if that is a word) without. Everyone remember my blanket???? This is so my child.

Don't you LOVE the pacifier? Look closely. You can see up the middle into his fishy mouth. It's hilarious.....

My Balls Are THIS Big.

Summer actually had poison ivy. It now is covering her legs, arms, stomach, chest, and face. It also creeped into her eyes and swoll her left one shut. I think the worst part of it all is the smugness she is displaying through it all that I didn't believe her. =Yeesh=

So that leads into our day. I wake up this morning at 3:30AM with Dexter. He goes back down about 5:30AM and I try to go back to sleep. No luck as my back is hurting too bad so suffice it to say that my day started at 3:30....

Dex gets back up at 7AM (he is in growth spurt and is literally eating us out of house and home), and we drift in and out together in the chair. Works great until some men arrive to mow our lawn (in freakin' October?) and for some reason they decide to get on our roof and irritate the squirrels. So I give in and get up.

I began working through my huge to do list. Pay electricity? Check. Pay gas? Check. Pay phone? Check. Call maintenance about heater? Check. Call for WIC appt. (look I wasn't planning on having to formula feed this little one as I always nurse and we need a little help)? Check.

WIC wants us to come in today. Uugh. This means finding my way around the city to a place I've never been and with 5 kids (I've only gone out with the 5 kids without Michael one other time which was yesterday). But, fine............ we'll do it. I call for everyone to get ready.

Then Summer wanders into the room with her eye completely swollen shut and a look on her face that tells me that I am never going to hear the end of this situation. Hypochondriac that she is, she was right about the poison ivy thing; and now she's blind. So I call the pediatrician and she wants us in there at 2PM. Well, fine.......... we'll do that too.

As everyone gets ready I wander outside to the balcony and realize that it is freezing cold and my kids don't have a stitch of winter clothing or coats (how did the cold weather sneak up me like that? Of course I'm used to Shreveport.........). Okay, so we'll make a stop by the thrift store and see what we can get; I mean we'll be out anyway.

This might have been tolerable but all the meds I've been taking to try to up my milk supply have totally taken their toll on my body (that is still recovering from a c-section and tummy tuck thank you very much) and I have (this is too much information but I just don't care at this point) diarrhea so bad I can't even describe it (grateful, aren't you). Thus I am dehydrated and all the activity makes me start bleeding heavily again and clotting (love the postpartum period). Now we all know about my total phobia of public bathrooms, right? I WILL NOT use them, Sam I Am, and today was no exception. So I spent the entire day wandering around St. Louis, fighting diarrhea, while slowly bleeding to death with 5 kids in tow; one that was blind from poison ivy and one that was only 3 weeks old (we won't talk about the other 3 although trust me they have their hang ups).

Long story short, which it actually hasn't been, this has been one of the most trying days of my life even though the kids were angelic. It was exhausting, overwhelming, and a great reminder of why I have withdrawn from society at large. However, I did manage to almost entirely outfit 6 kids for an entire season, including winter coats, and all namebrands thank you, for less than $85. I'm a bad ass.

Raising Hypochondriacs

So we all know that Summer is a full out hypochondriac. She just can't help herself and we've learned to live with it. Today alone she has diagnosed herself with a mild fever, poison ivy and acne. None of which she has, by the way. It's been a pretty tame week though compared to the time she self diagnosed cancer........

Anyway, I just sent them out to play (much against her wishes as she feels she 's obviously too sick to be outside), and her parting words were, "That's fine, Mom! That's just fine. Go ahead and ignore me. Just remember to put I Told You I Was Sick on my gravestone!"

Blog Roll

I'm working on my blogroll and need links and permission to link to some of my favorite people! So drop me a note here.........

• Princess Jami - Can I link you? And if so, drop me a comment with your web address!
• Kathy - Can I link you? I know it's password protected so let me know
• Suomonona Person - Looks good, btw! Can I link you by name? Keep in mind that no one can view your blog at this point that you haven't allowed. Let me know!
  

Web Nursery - Dexter

Here's Dex's link to his Web Nursery by Growing Family (FirstFoto) site from the pictures that they do in the hospital. It's not VERY exciting, but they are his first pics! Go HERE.

Good Daddy

Good Daddies play Playstation with their newborns so Mom can get some sleep. I'm just saying.... that's what good Daddies do. Trust me. ;)

Real Pants & Being Constructive

Dexter slept a full 8 hours last night. Not bad for an almost 3 week old! Granted it's probably a fluke, but I credit FOX News (I LOVE FOX News btw). I have made a sincere effort to bore him into submission since birth with continuous news coverage. I'd try CNN that would send him spiraling into a depression LOL.

Anyway, I guess this obligates me to put on real pants, attempt some make up and spend the day being constructive. Although we don't want to rush things........ let's just start off with real pants ;)

The girls are taking a few days off from Bible, History/Geography/Social Studies, Language, etc. and focusing on timed math tests. While I can safely say that my girls perform far above their peers in regards to math, there is a gap in their memorization of the tables so we're gonna fix that. I'm paying them off with gum & stickers - lucky for me they're easily amused.

Thought I'd share a photo from when Dex was about 6 or 7 days old. I think his cheeks ate his chin. That's my personal theory anyway! ;)

I Won An Award.... Go Me!

So they gave out awards on our pregnancy forum and had all the mamas vote on it. I won Funniest Mom.................. go me!

Unfortunately I'm going to have to stop posting there so much as time is becoming a valuable commodity, but it's nice to have a ribbon to show for it! :)

Next week is back to the grindstone. We need to catch up some of our schoolwork and it's time to look into some extracurricular activities here in our new city. It's also time to buckle down on potty training for Lang and get him started on his curriculum for this year. Let's add to the list getting Dex to sleep thought the night...... Hmmm, maybe I WILL go fill that prescription for an anti-depressant after all.