My Neice is pregnant. Another one. Seems that alot of people are pregnant these days. Glad I had that taken care of. The log ride is closed people. Keep the line movin. I have a particular soft spot for this neice so I offered to throw her baby shower. I love doing things like that. Cuz I'm the cool aunt. Mom #2 if you will. She can't find her mom, My phone is ringing.
So I invited people. Ordered the cake (Another aunt made it and was perfectly fantastic) Made the food, Stuffed mushrooms, Spinach dip, 5 layer Bean dip, Meatballs, Homemade pink lemonade and a neighbor made pigs in blankets. They were toasty and yummy. Pink Green and White. Green tablecloth with pink and white streamer woven together. Very pretty. Should have gotten a picture. Then I thought. "What would be prettier than just a plain ceiling? So I bought 8 pink and white table cloths from the Dollar Store. Put Loser to work and soon had a dining room that resembled a middle eastern tent at Easter. Bunch 1 end and staple to the ceiling and drape it and staple it to the other side and fantastic.
Pink and White candles burning here and there. Green cups to go with the pink and white plates and such. Balloons everywhere. Furniture arranged so everyone could see and speak to everyone without straining.
I provided the crib. Every first time mommy should have a new crib. And it's fabulously pretty. And the crib set. Butterflies and muted tones. So pretty. All in all, a great shower.
However, What no one really knew was that the previous day, I had been feeling the start of the flu. No sleep, Couldn't breathe, Coughing and so tired I could barely stand. And of course the day before is the day that you have to buy everything because procrastination is fun. So I spent Friday running and running around trying to find everything I needed. Friday night? After I had put all the food together that I could the night before, I spent the rest of the night trying to sleep. 3 whopping hours of sleep. Not continuous either. Just here and there.
Drag my butt out of bed and begin getting the house clean and ready for people I had never met before to grace my beaten up house. Mom + sick + stressed + tired = really cranky. People begin arriving and I was feeling like "Okay, I can make it through this, No problem" We sit and gossip as women tend to do. Loser and the boy child run. My niece arrives with her boyfriend's mother, Which by the way stays for a total of about 15 minutes and then leaves. No, "Sorry I can't stay", Nothing. Rude and insulting? Youbetcha.
We eat, Unwrap presents, eat cake, gossip, and for the life of me I felt as each minute ticked by, I was dying a little. I felt worse and worse as the day wore on. Felt so bad that no games were played. No clothes pins on anyones shirts for catching someone mentioning the word "Baby". And my skin felt funny. I couldn't sit still. I was having a really hard time breathing. I finally asked one of my sisters to feel and see if I felt warm. I hadn't had a fever in like, 15 years so I was kind of confused.
She felt and sure enough, I was warm. I call Loser and ask him to bring home a thermometer. (No I don't have one in the house) I sit and try and be a good hostess without getting too close to anyone in the house. Whatever this is, They don't need it.
After the last piece of cake was eaten and the last "ohhh" and "ahh" was over and everyone had gone home. I was left with a 101.7 fever and a messy house. Thankfully, Loser stepped in and had the kids take care of the decorations and dishes and sent me right to a cool shower and bed.
2 days later and I think I should already be dead. Sleep is coming but feels like I am getting none at all.
So here I sit with Harry Potter movies, True Blood episodes, 2 kinds of cough syrup and coffee (The caffine helps open your lungs), and a roll of toilet paper that is making my nose resemble a tomato. And by the way, When you have a stuffy, runny nose, Disgusting things form on your nose ring.
All in all. I loved throwing the baby shower. And I am actually glad the terribly rude, nasty other grandma didn't stay. I would have hurt her apparently very large feelings. This is my house, bitch. Feeling as bad as I did, It was worth it to see my neice have friends and family around her and getting things she needed for the baby. And, I get to be there when she has it. I get to slip her sprite in her ice chips and make fun of her when weird fluids start leaking from her body.
Hopefully, I don't run a fever that day.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
The Crack of a Bat
I love Fall Ball. It's a totally different game than spring baseball/softball. Not so much competition. No titles to be won and fought over. Fantastic weather. Night games. Hot chocolate and/or coffee. In a nutshell. Lots more fun.
Opening day is October 1st. So until then, Practice, Practice, Practice. Which by the way last nights practice went will mean "learning to dodge the 12 inch, Lime green ball."
See, I have 2 girls and 1 boy. This means 2 with softball and 1 with baseball. Now, For the oldest twatwaffle, This will be her 2nd fall ball season. The other 2, This is thier first. With the oldest being 15, This means there are alot more shennanigans on the field. A bunch of teenage girls with rampaging hormones and someone telling them what to do. Maybe it's not just the older girl's team. Perhaps just girls?
Last nights practice consisted of no fewer than 4 girls taking a ball to the hip, thigh, foot, arm and the coach recieving a broken nose compliments of the new pitcher. Should have worn that face mask. These girls are tough. They may get hit, kicked in the teeth with a pair of cleats, whacked in the head with an aluminum bat, but they don't care. Just don't block the base.
The middle twatwaffle, This is another ball of wax. Quite possibly the clumsiest kid I have ever seen. She can't make it through the day without tripping on at least 2 non-exisistant things. Put her on a field and put a glove on her hand however, And she's a freakin ballerina. Fields the ball like a pro. Puts the ball to the fence. And she will knock you out of the way of that base. Ball to the hip? Who cares? She just takes her base. She's the honey badger of softball.
Now the boy child. *sigh* 9 years old. And they want concentration and focus. Are they not aware that these boys have better things to think about like, say, Sport cups and the newest Pokemon? Drawing pictures in the clay? Seeing how far they can swing the bat before it hits someone? Trying to get the bottle of Gatorade to fit in the holes of the fence? I'm surprised a game can even happen.
BUT! I get to sit and talk to other parents and we make fun of each others kids while we taunt our own when they miss that perfect pitch. Gotta keep it fun folks. My kids gets hit with the ball? "Walk it off chief, It'll heal" or "You couldn't hit it so you let it hit you?" *I antagonize my children all the time and we use insults and taunts as affection. Who are you to judge me?* They turn around, Stare at me, Roll thier eyes and then the next thing you know, Someone's car needs a new windshield. That's parenting folks.
Fall Ball is meant for fun. Not for some egotistical parent that couldn't make it to sit there and scream at thier kids for striking out. It happens. You want to coach? You should have signed up for it. Now sit there and shut up. I go to every game. I watch my kids mess up sometimes. I see them strike out or not even swing. I see them get out on first base. I see them miss that ball that was hit straight at them. Guess what? That's the game. After it's over, I remind them to check thier gloves because there has got to be a hole in it. Or in the bat. Is there a spring in your glove? You do know they didn't move first base right?
Let your kid play ball. Let them make friends. Tell the kids on the team "$20 to whoever puts it over the fence. $40 if it hits the coaches car/truck" That cost me $40 in the spring.
In other words, Bring your chair (Those bleachers are the devils trinkets), Get you a cup of hot chocolate and a corn dog. Then watch your kids make fools of themselves. That's when the good games happen.
Opening day is October 1st. So until then, Practice, Practice, Practice. Which by the way last nights practice went will mean "learning to dodge the 12 inch, Lime green ball."
See, I have 2 girls and 1 boy. This means 2 with softball and 1 with baseball. Now, For the oldest twatwaffle, This will be her 2nd fall ball season. The other 2, This is thier first. With the oldest being 15, This means there are alot more shennanigans on the field. A bunch of teenage girls with rampaging hormones and someone telling them what to do. Maybe it's not just the older girl's team. Perhaps just girls?
Last nights practice consisted of no fewer than 4 girls taking a ball to the hip, thigh, foot, arm and the coach recieving a broken nose compliments of the new pitcher. Should have worn that face mask. These girls are tough. They may get hit, kicked in the teeth with a pair of cleats, whacked in the head with an aluminum bat, but they don't care. Just don't block the base.
The middle twatwaffle, This is another ball of wax. Quite possibly the clumsiest kid I have ever seen. She can't make it through the day without tripping on at least 2 non-exisistant things. Put her on a field and put a glove on her hand however, And she's a freakin ballerina. Fields the ball like a pro. Puts the ball to the fence. And she will knock you out of the way of that base. Ball to the hip? Who cares? She just takes her base. She's the honey badger of softball.
Now the boy child. *sigh* 9 years old. And they want concentration and focus. Are they not aware that these boys have better things to think about like, say, Sport cups and the newest Pokemon? Drawing pictures in the clay? Seeing how far they can swing the bat before it hits someone? Trying to get the bottle of Gatorade to fit in the holes of the fence? I'm surprised a game can even happen.
BUT! I get to sit and talk to other parents and we make fun of each others kids while we taunt our own when they miss that perfect pitch. Gotta keep it fun folks. My kids gets hit with the ball? "Walk it off chief, It'll heal" or "You couldn't hit it so you let it hit you?" *I antagonize my children all the time and we use insults and taunts as affection. Who are you to judge me?* They turn around, Stare at me, Roll thier eyes and then the next thing you know, Someone's car needs a new windshield. That's parenting folks.
Fall Ball is meant for fun. Not for some egotistical parent that couldn't make it to sit there and scream at thier kids for striking out. It happens. You want to coach? You should have signed up for it. Now sit there and shut up. I go to every game. I watch my kids mess up sometimes. I see them strike out or not even swing. I see them get out on first base. I see them miss that ball that was hit straight at them. Guess what? That's the game. After it's over, I remind them to check thier gloves because there has got to be a hole in it. Or in the bat. Is there a spring in your glove? You do know they didn't move first base right?
Let your kid play ball. Let them make friends. Tell the kids on the team "$20 to whoever puts it over the fence. $40 if it hits the coaches car/truck" That cost me $40 in the spring.
In other words, Bring your chair (Those bleachers are the devils trinkets), Get you a cup of hot chocolate and a corn dog. Then watch your kids make fools of themselves. That's when the good games happen.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Sweet Nectar Of The Gods.
Coffee.
Can't get enough of it. Want it all the time. Hot. Cold. Doesn't matter. As long as it's strong. I like the high octane stuff. The kind that makes your cheeks by your back teeth tingle. I like it with chocolate, caramel, Sugar, Evaporated milk, cream (real cream, not that powdered crap).
About a year ago, I talked Loser into buying me a Keurig. I was instantly in love. I made coffee to my heart's content 1 cup at a time. 1 pound of coffee used to last us a week. BUT! Cup by cup, It lasted for a month! How can this be? Were we seriously wasting that much of the most delicious thing on earth? I couldn't believe it. Loser was happy because the cost of coffee went drastically down. He didn't have to make a full pot in case I wanted some and then didn't and then well, There went half a pot of coffee down the drain.
And then, One day, I made a cup of coffee while I cleaned out some drawers. The oldest twatwaffle thought that sounded good and decided to make herself one. Low and behold, She filled the K Cup ( I grind my own beans) chose her favorite cup, Hit the button and.......Nothing. What? "Unplug it and plug it back in." Again, nothing. By this time I was starting to panic. Loser starts looking at me telling me to calm down. CALM DOWN?! HOW CAN I CALM DOWN? My baby is dying and you want me to CALM DOWN?!
After an hour of taking it apart and doing his best, He delivered the bad news. We had lost it. It was over. What are we going to do now? I can't go through my day without coffee. Didn't have a spare coffee maker in the house. Why would I? I had my baby. Nothing else was needed. This couldn't be happening.
And then, He remembered. We were somewhere, (I don't remember where, I was still in shock) and Loser says "Looks like we have to break down the one your sister gave you." What? What is he talking about? and then I remembered. My oldest sister had given me a DeLonghi Espresso machine. It had been quietly waiting on the shelf in my laundry room for it's shining moment.
I brought it down. Read the manual and.....The Gods shone their mercy upon me. I bought a bottle of vanilla syrup from Starbucks and have been making Caramel Machiatos constantly. Want a Mocha? Iced or hot? A little of both? I can do that. How about some straight up espresso? I can do that. The twatwaffles keep saying it smells like Starbucks in here. I DON'T SEE THE PROBLEM!
Who wouldn't want that fantastic coffee, chocolate, nutty caramely smell in the house? Awfully comforting. I have offered everyone that comes in the door a cup of coffee. "Want some coffee? I can make anything you want" I should just buy me an apron and be done with it. A green one. OH! A MERLOTT'S APRON! Then I can combine my love of coffee AND True Blood. That's a post for another day though.
There is only 1 downfall to drinking so much coffee. I had my gallbladder removed 4 years ago. Now if you'll excuse me. I need to visit the little girls room.
Can't get enough of it. Want it all the time. Hot. Cold. Doesn't matter. As long as it's strong. I like the high octane stuff. The kind that makes your cheeks by your back teeth tingle. I like it with chocolate, caramel, Sugar, Evaporated milk, cream (real cream, not that powdered crap).
About a year ago, I talked Loser into buying me a Keurig. I was instantly in love. I made coffee to my heart's content 1 cup at a time. 1 pound of coffee used to last us a week. BUT! Cup by cup, It lasted for a month! How can this be? Were we seriously wasting that much of the most delicious thing on earth? I couldn't believe it. Loser was happy because the cost of coffee went drastically down. He didn't have to make a full pot in case I wanted some and then didn't and then well, There went half a pot of coffee down the drain.
And then, One day, I made a cup of coffee while I cleaned out some drawers. The oldest twatwaffle thought that sounded good and decided to make herself one. Low and behold, She filled the K Cup ( I grind my own beans) chose her favorite cup, Hit the button and.......Nothing. What? "Unplug it and plug it back in." Again, nothing. By this time I was starting to panic. Loser starts looking at me telling me to calm down. CALM DOWN?! HOW CAN I CALM DOWN? My baby is dying and you want me to CALM DOWN?!
After an hour of taking it apart and doing his best, He delivered the bad news. We had lost it. It was over. What are we going to do now? I can't go through my day without coffee. Didn't have a spare coffee maker in the house. Why would I? I had my baby. Nothing else was needed. This couldn't be happening.
And then, He remembered. We were somewhere, (I don't remember where, I was still in shock) and Loser says "Looks like we have to break down the one your sister gave you." What? What is he talking about? and then I remembered. My oldest sister had given me a DeLonghi Espresso machine. It had been quietly waiting on the shelf in my laundry room for it's shining moment.
I brought it down. Read the manual and.....The Gods shone their mercy upon me. I bought a bottle of vanilla syrup from Starbucks and have been making Caramel Machiatos constantly. Want a Mocha? Iced or hot? A little of both? I can do that. How about some straight up espresso? I can do that. The twatwaffles keep saying it smells like Starbucks in here. I DON'T SEE THE PROBLEM!
Who wouldn't want that fantastic coffee, chocolate, nutty caramely smell in the house? Awfully comforting. I have offered everyone that comes in the door a cup of coffee. "Want some coffee? I can make anything you want" I should just buy me an apron and be done with it. A green one. OH! A MERLOTT'S APRON! Then I can combine my love of coffee AND True Blood. That's a post for another day though.
There is only 1 downfall to drinking so much coffee. I had my gallbladder removed 4 years ago. Now if you'll excuse me. I need to visit the little girls room.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Hello? Anyone paying attention?
Blah. Can't seem to concentrate on anything. My typing is off. My brain seems to be someplace way far away. I haven't made a decent joke in days. However, The laundry is done and the supper is on the table. So I guess I'm doing my job. However thankless it may be.
See how happy I am? Mom's long for the day when a husband and 3 kids can watch her searching for 1 shoe for 30 minutes with a look of "What's wrong with you?" And then the next day they look for their ____ *insert object in plain view* for 15 seconds before whining. Knowing I'll find it just to shut them up. Oh I dole out a little sarcasm with said object. Something along the line of "OH! How in the world could you have been expected to see the bat, shoe, underwear etc... sitting in the middle of the floor?"
I think I have housewife syndrome. It's real. Google it.
Twatwaffles are totally unappreciative. Loser falls into bed as soon as humanly possible. While I sit awake wondering What The Hell Else Do I Have To Do?!
How many times do I honestly have to say "The flowers I bought myself died."? Don't ask for a bouquet of imported silver lilies from Transylvania. $10 worth of sunflowers are fantastic.*I don't think those are real, Didn't google* It's what I bought myself. I haven't gotten a flower in over a year.
Date night kind of went out the window. Compliments don't count when you have to ask for them. I love surprises. I'm the kind of girl *heh* that gets totally excited when we leave the house and I don't know where we're going. However, We end up running up to the store for beer.
There are our 3 kids. The oldest twatwaffles boyfriend which I tend to think of as one of my own now so he really doesn't count as extra. And whichever leeches happen to wander in during the day. I don't mind them being here. I love the house being full of kids. But, every now and then a wife has to be alone with her husband. While he's awake.
I know he works alot. I know he's tired. I don't expect him to spend our light bill on a date. I would be ecstatic to grab some cheap chinese and drive to the river.
He seems to be immune to hints. Totally unaware. Lost. Out to lunch. Blind. Pick one. And really, Who wants to be the nagging wife always whining, "Why can't we ever _____?" Or "Why don't you ever ______?"
"Can we ______?" Then it feels like he's just doing it to shut you up. A little hint fellas? Call your wife and tell her to be dressed when you get home. Take her somewhere you think she'd like. Even if it's just for ice cream. Sneak out in the morning and get a cheap bunch of flowers for her to wake up to. She did, after all, Push 3 of your toddler sized spawn with their enormous heads, which by the way, Didn't cone. Just big hairy soft balls shooting out of your vagina. Washes your underwear. Cooks your food just the way you like it. Stays awake for 30 hours in a row so she can take you to work and do all the shopping for the week because she knows you hate it and then put that mask on and laugh and make jokes. Which probably just come from sleep deprivation.
Maybe I've gone off course. But then again, Maybe not.
Of course I have my fabulous bunch of twatwaffles to keep me company. And that they do. They make me laugh. I make them do dishes and sweep floors. Gotta keep em in line. Seems to work out ok. But then again.
A child is all the world to her mother, But not much company.
See how happy I am? Mom's long for the day when a husband and 3 kids can watch her searching for 1 shoe for 30 minutes with a look of "What's wrong with you?" And then the next day they look for their ____ *insert object in plain view* for 15 seconds before whining. Knowing I'll find it just to shut them up. Oh I dole out a little sarcasm with said object. Something along the line of "OH! How in the world could you have been expected to see the bat, shoe, underwear etc... sitting in the middle of the floor?"
I think I have housewife syndrome. It's real. Google it.
Twatwaffles are totally unappreciative. Loser falls into bed as soon as humanly possible. While I sit awake wondering What The Hell Else Do I Have To Do?!
How many times do I honestly have to say "The flowers I bought myself died."? Don't ask for a bouquet of imported silver lilies from Transylvania. $10 worth of sunflowers are fantastic.*I don't think those are real, Didn't google* It's what I bought myself. I haven't gotten a flower in over a year.
Date night kind of went out the window. Compliments don't count when you have to ask for them. I love surprises. I'm the kind of girl *heh* that gets totally excited when we leave the house and I don't know where we're going. However, We end up running up to the store for beer.
There are our 3 kids. The oldest twatwaffles boyfriend which I tend to think of as one of my own now so he really doesn't count as extra. And whichever leeches happen to wander in during the day. I don't mind them being here. I love the house being full of kids. But, every now and then a wife has to be alone with her husband. While he's awake.
I know he works alot. I know he's tired. I don't expect him to spend our light bill on a date. I would be ecstatic to grab some cheap chinese and drive to the river.
He seems to be immune to hints. Totally unaware. Lost. Out to lunch. Blind. Pick one. And really, Who wants to be the nagging wife always whining, "Why can't we ever _____?" Or "Why don't you ever ______?"
"Can we ______?" Then it feels like he's just doing it to shut you up. A little hint fellas? Call your wife and tell her to be dressed when you get home. Take her somewhere you think she'd like. Even if it's just for ice cream. Sneak out in the morning and get a cheap bunch of flowers for her to wake up to. She did, after all, Push 3 of your toddler sized spawn with their enormous heads, which by the way, Didn't cone. Just big hairy soft balls shooting out of your vagina. Washes your underwear. Cooks your food just the way you like it. Stays awake for 30 hours in a row so she can take you to work and do all the shopping for the week because she knows you hate it and then put that mask on and laugh and make jokes. Which probably just come from sleep deprivation.
Maybe I've gone off course. But then again, Maybe not.
Of course I have my fabulous bunch of twatwaffles to keep me company. And that they do. They make me laugh. I make them do dishes and sweep floors. Gotta keep em in line. Seems to work out ok. But then again.
A child is all the world to her mother, But not much company.
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