Apparently I’m a boob ogler...and I need help.

>> Wednesday, December 29, 2010

When my cousin Rainy asked me if she was “showing too much cleavage,” during a conversation we were having on Christmas Eve, I had no idea what she was talking about.

“You keep looking at my Boobs,” She said.

“No I’m not, are you crazy woman, why would I be looking at your boobs?” I said shaking my head and giving her the ‘you’re a moron’ Look.

“Yes you are, see you’re doing it now! Is this shirt too low cut? Should I put on a cami? Is it tacky?” She asked honestly concerned about the vast ravine plunging down between her fleshy white (all but snow covered) mounds bursting out of her V-neck.

“Well Yeah, I’m looking now! You keep talking about them, how am I suppose to NOT look at your boobs when you keep pointing THEM out. Oh and by the way I was looking at you’re butterfly necklace before NOT you’re boobs!” I snapped envies over her ample Ta Ta’s.

“Okay whatev Michelle, but really is this shirt too low should I change it?” She asked again overly concerned about her blessings.

I admit this is not the first time I have been accused of boob ogling.
 o·gle /ˈoʊgəl/ [oh-guhl]
verb, o·gled, o·gling,
1. to look at amorously, flirtatiously, or impertinently.
2. to eye; look or stare at
My good friend Andrea asked me once during a conversation if her bra was showing. Guess I was ogling her boobies and she just thought she was flashing her under-roo’s at me, nope Andrea your friends just got some issues.  (Like you didn't already know that)
Another time I could swear my neighbor across the street accused me of looking at her boobs under her breath once…kind of passive aggressive like. I couldn’t be sure what she said exactly and at the time I thought I must of heard her wrong, but in my defense she does wear a lot of low cut tank tops. 

But I know one thing for sure I. AM. NOT. looking at their boobies darn it!! 

To tell you the truth all three of the above mention woman are very blessed in this area, so maybe…just maybe they get this all the time…you know the “hey fella my eyes are up here” kind of business. So it could be just their own insecurity’s or even their own ego thinking everyone is always talking to their chest…HA! That must be it... I’m not a perv! Phew…I'm a MAN...what...wait... Scratch that!!

OR….Maybe I do have boob envy…for shame.

Hi my name is Michelle, I’m a boob ogler….and I need help.

I kid; I really have know idea what I’m doing when I’m doing it. Its one of them subconscious things, ya know. I have problems with eye contact when I’m talking to someone, my eyes will drop from their face and apparently land on their chest when I’m thinking.
I can’t think about what someone is saying to me while I’m staring at their face…I just can’t…I’ve tried…don’t work. I think about what I see on their face…a patch of dry skin…clumpy mascara…moles…scares. It’s all part of my self diagnosed autism, when my gaze drops I don’t “see” boobies, I don’t “see” anything but inside my head, that’s what happens when you’re a visual person.
This is not a problem when I'm talking to a man, unless they have a gravy stain on their shirt then that's all I can think about. But with woman...I guess I’m seen as some kind of perverted lesbo, I don’t know, no wonder why my neighbor stopped talking to me…I hit on her too many times.

P.S.  If one day we are having a conversation and I seem to be looking at your boobies... just know that I'm not...I'm really listening to what your saying and trying not to ogle at the booger in your nose. 

P.S.S. What do you want to bet I'll get a ton of "Google hits" and "p*rn spam" from this post...pervs.


"federal, state and local authorities have developed this system to keep you informed in the event of an emergency."

>> Thursday, December 16, 2010

This has been an alert from the emergency broadcast system If this had been an actual emergency, the Attention Signal you just heard would have been followed by official information, news or instructions

Where the hell is my official information, news or instructions, this emergency sure has gotten my attention, now if I could get some instructions please.

What happens when the unexpected flips my world upside down, well I’m not so blissful and my babble turns to grumbles. My husband had some serious medical issues and ended up in the hospital, after 12 days he is on the mend and hopefully will be home soon. In the mean time I have been on a crazy roller coaster of not knowing and waiting. I’ve had to “deck the halls” all by myself, take out the trash and be a single parent to 4 kids, while worrying about my husband. It’s taken a toll on my fragile sanity, my diet has jumped ship, my brain’s been overheated and in all the upheaval I went and bought a new puppy. Yes I have lost my mind.

My dear husband doesn’t know about the puppy yet, and he is going to kill me. My mom told me I’m crazy and to take her back “RIGHT NOW!” My BFF said I’d be crying on the phone to her about how I should of never of gotten the dog and how I’d want to toss her out the window. My dad said I’d be known as the nutty dog lady….Maybe…maybe not.

Miss Daisy-Mae Hope ( cavalier king charles spaniel and bichon frise mix)

She has made for a wonderful distraction from all the madness, the kids LOVE her. Just look at this face…she is sweet and cuddly and makes me happy. Plus her poop is so small it’s like little tootsie rolls.

Over the last few months I have been seeking God first in all things, learning to turn to Him in times like this, and as always He has been faithful. I am so grateful for my family and friends for helping pull me through this, however without God’s grace I don’t know what I’d do. I’d guess I would fall into a pit of despair, fear, and sorrow…I have seen the end of my rope, pushed to my limit, lost hope, fallen flat on my face and in all of the darkness have reached out in prayer. I’ve been given just a little more rope, a little higher limit, a small gleam of hope, and have been lifted off the floor (sometimes by the head of my hair but I’m still on my feet).

I read somewhere this week that “God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage”. No kidding! I pray that though this pain I will continue to find purpose, I have learned how much I am loved, needed, and blessed. I have found God trusts me to handle much more than I thought, I have gotten strength only God could give, and to top it all off…a new puppy!!


My Therapist Dogged me…

>> Tuesday, November 30, 2010

I know my blog header says “avoiding Therapy” but sometimes you have to face the music and realize when you’re as crazy as I am…you need to suck it up and ask for help. Life is hard just deal with it right? Well guess I’m dealing with it in the wrong ways and it’s time for some professional *cough* help.

I went twice and it was what you would expect, she asked questions that made me cry she told me I had to deal with these feelings. Whatever…I HATE feeling…why doesn’t she just deal with it for me?? Just give me Peppermint mocha, a scone and round it off with a bag of chips, just let me eat my way to comfortably numb! Well guess that hasn’t been working because now I’m just uncomfortably fat!

This is the deal, according to my Therapist, I have self-worth issues. DUH! Oh and I sabotage myself…and that’s what I need to learn how to stop doing.

I freaked out before my third appointment with said Therapist, the one that wants me to learn self-worth. I started to panic all day not wanting to go, not wanting to talk…to talk about…well that’s none of your damn business now is it. I sucked it up and went…and waited…and sat…and waited…and she never shows up! Hell good thing I’m not suicidal cause I might have just jumped out the window. Talk about teaching someone they are worth a lick…just not worth her time.

After an apology from the Therapist and another appointment I had to force myself to go to…she leaves me hanging again. Now I really think there must be something wrong with me… guess I’ll just go eat worms. Or better yet a bag of chips. On the bright side I don’t have to change my blog header.

P.S.  If your feeling sorry for me please send food. 


Excuse me as I grab your crotch.

>> Monday, November 22, 2010

I realize most of us have an opinion about the major U.S. airports X-ray scan that can peer through clothes or the pat-down search that includes the crotch and chest. Although many travelers said that the scans and the pat-down were not much of an inconvenience, and that the stepped-up measures made them feel safer, it’s all over the news and people are freaking out and calling for a boycott of these major airports.

Personally I’d rather be groped then have my plane plummet into the Columbia River in a fiery ball of twisted metal, but that’s just me and you know what opinions are like.

This all made me think about those  poor TSA folks who have to do the “pat-down.” Now that’s a job I would not want…everyone is pissy and offended that you’re feeling up there nether regions. Feeling peoples junk all day cannot be any fun…What kind of training would you have to go though? Would you have to pass a tests? “I’m sorry Jon, but you failed…that was not my ball sack…it was a sack of C4. Lisa however passed with her VERY thorough inspections.” *wink*

If you were a woman TAS agent having to give men  pat downs…can you imagine all the lines you’d hear

“No that is not a pipe bomb…I’m just happy to see you.”

“Can you do that again…just faster and longer?”

“Wait you might want to check again I think you missed something…yeah thats it.”

"A little to the left please."

“Oh baby…and I didn’t even have to buy you dinner.”

"Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

“Got a cigarette?”

“All this attention is making my head swell.”

“Wow this gives ‘flying the friendly skies’ a new meaning.” *wink*

I’m sure that they have male agents’ pat-down men…or we would hope. I think the next time I fly I’ll stick a banana in my pants just to make things a bit more interesting.

*Imagines from AFP


Soul snatcher?

>> Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Mommy: Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;

Child: Lord? What Lord? Lord of the rings? Lord of the fly’s!? And what’s my soul…can I still dance without it?

Mommy: if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take, Amen.

Child: Amen? Wait a minute did you say DIE! What do you mean, die? Is that Lord guy going to kill me and take my soul? Is that him under the bed! I’m sleeping with you FOREVER!

As a child I never understood this prayer, even now as an adult it still kind of creeps me out. My daughter has a little stuffed lamb that says this prayer but the second verse is much sweeter. It says “the angles watch me though the night and keep me in their blessed sight.” Angles are a lot less likely to create fear in small children, don’t ya think.

I started praying regularly with my first son, he was about two and saying a little prayer with him was part of his bed time routine. To be honest it was more for me, not really knowing how to pray, it was good practice and a two year old has no idea if you don’t know what you’re doing.
He loved to ask God to bless his Grammy and Papa and we both got comfort knowing he felt safe to drift off to sleep under Gods watch. Anything is better than worrying that someone might snatch your soul in the dark…I should know.

I realized that my Son knew the full power of prayer at the age of four, I heard him cry out to God from the bathroom one day. Well actually he screamed out for me first…I am his mother after all. I came running to the bathroom, flung open the door to find him on the toilet bent over red faced.

“What…what’s the matter,” I asked him.

He looked up at me with tears in his little eyes and begged...
 “Mom please pray for me, my poop in stuck in my butt and won’t come out!”

Now that my dear friends is what they mean by having faith like a child, we should all follow his example and reach up to God first before falling in the pit…or the toilet whatever the case might be. Oh if you are suffering from the same affliction my son needed prayer may want to keep that one off your Church’s prayer request leaflet…just a suggestion.

I have been driven many times to my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go. ~Abraham Lincoln

Night Prayer: 

Watch, O Lord,
with those who wake,
or watch or weep tonight,
and give your angels charge
over those who sleep.

Tend your sick ones,
O Lord Jesus Christ;
rest your weary ones;
bless your dying ones;
soothe your suffering ones;
pity your afflicted ones;
shield your joyous ones;
and all for your love's sake.

This ancient prayer, attributed to Saint Augustine of Hippo


Avoiding the Pit Fall...Life's lessons learned the hard way.

>> Friday, November 5, 2010

Oh honey have I ever been having a journey as of late, the breaking down of walls and a break though to personal Joy. I’m giving up the fight and giving into God's leading in my life, giving up on proving myself to the things of this world and realizing how valuable I really am. If you will, take my hand as I open my heart and show you how God’s making it a beautiful place again. 
Do you remember that classic video game “Pit fall?” The goal of the game is to swing over these big pits, on the bottom are some evil things just waiting to kill you down there in the pit. If you reach up and grab hold of the vine you can swing over the pit avoiding the alligators and scorpions, good thing It’s only a video game, to be honest I don’t have the upper arm strength to swing myself over a golf hole.

Wonder if we reached up before falling into the pits of life? What if in times of pain, sadness, insecurity, arguments, fear, and doubt we first turned to God? It’s been my prayer on my own life, that like a child that has fallen cries for mommy, I cry out to Him first. It’s not an instinct for me, for the most part I cry and whine to everyone but Him and only reach for God when all else fails, I’m deep in the pit and the scorpion is about to sting. I have thought pitifully little of the person God has made me; I’ve despised myself and considered myself inferior to others. What a foolish child I have been, He has made a wonderful treasure in me and in you dear sister. We were not meant to suffer alone behind a wall of shame, God wants us to reach up for Him first, we are deserving of His grace.

When I was 17 I worked at McDonald's with a wonderful woman named Louise. Louise was an older lady, to me she looked OLD but in reality she was maybe 50. During the lunch rush things would get hairy, we would run out of Coke, someone would no-show for their shift, or a bus load of people would pull into the lot, and on a good day all of this would happen at once. If you have ever worked fast-food you know it’s the pits, the customers cab be jerks, you have to be fast, and get paid squat. Poor old Louise was not fast, however she had something I didn’t have. During stress filled moments I’d often find Louise in the back room, hands clasped together, eyes closed, head bowed.

“The drive threw is wrapped around the building, the fries are screaming, and I’m by myself, WHAT ARE YOU DOING BACK HERE!” I’d ask her sweetly.

“Praying for the Lords strength,” she would reply, take a deep breath and make her way back to the fries with a renewed sense of peace about her. I’d roll my eyes stomp back to the drive threw window, toss a sack of burgers at the waiting car, and bark into my head set “would you like fries with that?!” Part of me envied that peace Louise had, but I wouldn’t be caught dead praying in the break room, (because if you know me at all you know I was a flaming feminist atheist back then) prayer was for weak old women. HA! It’s almost painful to realize how foolish I was.

Allison DuBois (yes the woman who inspired the hit TV series “Medium”) paints a beautiful picture in her book “don’t kiss them good-bye,” of God’s hand. I won’t get into the whole psychic thing, weather her vision was true (I believe it is) or only to comfort her…it’s a powerful one.

“As I watched the towers fall, I had a vision. I saw a woman in a blazer and skirt; she was huddled on the ground next to a desk. She was scared and she was praying as the building crumbled around her. I started to feel anger that she had to die this way. In that moment I saw the strongest, kindest, golden-white light descend though the ceiling above her and as it lowered, settling over her, it took shape of a hand. In that swift and loving gesture, the woman’s fear was removed and she knew that she was no longer alone.…. The hand was that of a God whose only intention was to show some level of mercy. The hand of this higher power covered people, shielding some of them from certain death. The same hand swiftly carried over those that He needed to call home. ”

This is an extreme example of the power of God’s hand, but He can work this same power in our lives even in the simple every day. All we have to do is reach up and He will settle over you removing your fear, bringing you peace. And honey I’m here to tell you that He has pulled up some deep roots of fear from even this damaged girl. So before we fall into the pit and have to scream out to God for mercy to avoid becoming alligator supper, reach up. I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter if your praying for strength during a stress filled lunch rush or Crying out in despair over a dyeing friend's hospital bed, He hears us and is merciful.

That all sounds fine and dandy for you Michelle, but that’s just not me…I don’t Pray.

Awe well grasshopper; let’s look into that with a follow up post about Prayer, if you will humor me I’m very excited to show you how He washed away all my doubt and smacked me up side my insecure head…



>> Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Can anyone please tell me what happened to October?  Anyone?  I blinked and it was gone, I've looked everywhere and all I could find was the Joy it left behind.  

Birthday cake...pumpkins...a little spooky...bright falling leaves...and lots of trick-or-treat candy.

And the Joy of just being loved.

October gave a party;

The leaves by hundreds came -
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.
~George Cooper, "October's Party"


Flailing around like a fool

>> Monday, October 18, 2010

I struggle daily with my relationship with God and the plan he has for my life, the path he leads me down is unfamiliar territory and downright scary. When I stretch myself beyond my comfort zone and take a few shaky steps on His path I find joy, excitement, and happiness like no other, there is always great reward down this road. But soon I start freaking out, get uncomfortable and find myself flailing around like a fool, worried and insecure.

I didn’t grow up in the Church; frankly this “FAITH” thing is weird to me. My mom did start taking us to Church when I was 11. I started looking forward to youth group as a teen, where I spent most of my time making out with boys behind the Church. I didn’t find Jesus at Church, but I did find out that most boys could be tempted with some sweet cherry lip-gloss.

Like Jonah and his Whale, (Y’all know that Bible story right?) I fight against God’s desires for my life; I give him attitude and walk away. Not that I think others are undeserving to know God’s heart, Love, mercy and forgiveness, mostly I fear looking like an idiot. Sometimes I think it would take a lot more than some little whale to make me move.

Who am I to tell you about God anyway? I am not a Bible teacher; I didn’t even grow up in a “God centered home,” Heck most Sundays I can’t even get my ass out of bed to make it to Church. I was a self-proclaimed Atheist for most of my life. I misquote the Bible and misunderstand the meaning of verses’, (as my husband will quickly point out) I gossip and use bad words, I don’t have a college degree and to top it all off I’m dyslexic…
 far far far far far from perfect!

Before Jesus entered into my heart, I was a mess, totally fucked up, and lost. Now I wasn’t whoring myself out for crack, but I was in a pit. (Wow I’m such a rebel I used the F-bomb and Jesus in the same sentence and I’m not drunk or talking politics). I know firsthand how God’s love can bring peace and joy to a crazy messed up chick like me. Jesus has given me EVERYTHING I could ever want to be happy, But I still fight with the pull of the world, the easy life…I get angry with God when He leads me to step out…WTF Doesn’t He know I’m not Perfect and NO ONE will listen?

Do you fight God’s plan for your life, do you take the easy path, I’m right there with you sister. Why do we do it? It’s selfish really, when we have the poor WTF attitude of Jonah we fail to reach others and we fail our own journey. But when we are on the path God has laid for us, people will hear and respond in Faith.

How? Seek…sister…Seek. If we purpose to do God’s will, we will know His leading and the Peace of God will rule in our hearts. (Col 3:15)

I may not be a Bible scholar but I know this for sure… in Jesus…
We have Life in His name
We have Peace in His rule
We have Hope in His promise
We have Faith in His love
We have Joy in His forgiveness
We have Grace thought His sacrifice


Dear Pittsburgh Stealers, may I have my husband back please?

>> Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Maybe you have noticed its football season, and I know I speak for everyone when I say football should be outlawed. Ok not everyone will agree with me but I know you football widows understand. Would it be wrong to wish my husband’s team go down in hot smoldering flames? The sooner the better I say! I’m very serious; I wish bad things on the Stealers. They have caused a problem in my household that, regrettably, has reached epidemic proportions.

I don’t hate the game of football, I even enjoyed going to a game when the Stealers played a rare game against the Seattle Seahawks, I was in fear for my life wearing black and gold into the Seahawks stadium, but fun all the same. So I don’t hate the sport as a whole, I just hate the Stealers for stealing my husband.

Now you may think I exaggerate, but I am not lying when I say the Stealers have sucked the brain out of my husbands head. It’s like nothing you have ever seen in your life, he becomes a raving lunatic when his Stealers are playing. His mood is subject to how the game is going, he swings way up high and happy when their winning, but honey if they lose watch out, down he goes! He once spiked a football so hard on a bad play it almost took out our 5 year old.

The Stealers gain complete control over his body and mind, he hears and sees nothing or no one but the game. He screams at the TV so loud that the neighbors know the score and the fire department is on standby in case his head should explode and set the block on fire.

My husband, like most men, is not one to get overly emotional; in fact he is very laid back. He has seen me give birth to our children and never shed so much as one tear, however I’ve witness him weep when the Stealers loose a close game in the playoffs.

Professional football is every exciting, competitive and breeds character, you know with all them men it tight leggings chasing after a misshapen ball and all, I get that. But with all the mood swings, screaming, yelling and crying, what I don’t understand is how football can take a man and turn him into a menstruating woman.

I am so getting hell when he reads this….Gooooo down Stealers!!!

p.s. in case you didn't get it...Steelers is spelt wrong to be ironic...not to be confused with my normal moronic.


Whats with all that Luggage Lady!? Let it go...

>> Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Last week I told you a story about my friend Emily and how we laughed about the horrible day she had getting to the Doctors office. Emily was running late because she stopped and got herself a much needed and much deserved Starbucks coffee, of which she didn’t even get to enjoy because she was rushing and stressed. She was so overloaded and overwhelmed she lost out on that little bit of Joy. Laughing about our stress is a great way to lift some of the weight of our baggage. I do it all the time, make fun of myself, even blogging about my blunders and burdens in life is a wonderful way to get them off my back. BUT do I let them go? No, duh I’m a woman, don’t we all have tons of worry, are we not brainwashed from a young age that worry, stress, baggage and all of it is just part of life.

I remember being about 8 when a neighbor girl and I went into her shed and peed into a canning jar. Since I was always a pushover, I peed into the jar first, not an easy thing to do mind you. We held the urine filled jar up to the light and saw that floating around in my pee was dirt, gunk and a dead spider. After I dumped out my sample, my neighbor friend peed into the same jar but the light revealed no gunk or dirt in her pee. My friend, who had not ever attended any kind of medical school, told me according to the test results, I was dirty inside and she was clean. Well of course 30 years later I know that I had just peed into a dirty jar, but I was convinced I was sick and going to die. I worried about it for weeks and thought for sure I was an unclean person (and I secretly hated that neighbor girl for being clean and gunk free.)

How do we stop this worry and fretting about things we have no control over? How do we let go and find more joy in life? How do we get a clean jar to pee in? Wait for it…’s coming…..hold on…..ready….

How the hell should I know?? I have no idea; if I did I’d be skinny and happy, not fat, sassy and blogging about it. I mean if you really want to hang on to that baggage, I say own it baby. Hold on tight to that stress and worry, who am I to tell you to let it go?  I have crap and I’m proud, shout it out sister! Bet I have more crap then you, I once peed a spider!    Heck maybe you enjoy being a victim to your burdens, do you? Naw, no one gets off on being overwhelmed and overloaded (is that redundant?).

I know one thing for sure, Emily is no longer stressed, all of Emily’s burdens have been lifted and she is no longer looking for a little peace because she has complete peace. Emily is dead. Is that what it is going to take for us to drop some of this crap that weighs us down, death? How’s that saying go?…I can rest when I’m dead. 

It’s a beautiful day, think I’ll take a slow stroll up to the store and enjoy me a Starbucks, the dust, dishes, and drama aren’t going anywhere, ya want to come?


Whats with all that Luggage Lady!?

>> Monday, September 27, 2010

My friend Emily told me this story once about how she took her infant daughter to a well check doctor’s appointment. She was walking into the office carrying her baby girl in one of them infant car seats in her right hand, her over stuffed, but fashionable, diaper bag was flung over her right shoulder; her purse hung from the crock of her left arm, and in her left hand was her Starbucks coffee. She was in a hurry, running late and it didn’t help that she was wearing some very cute and very high heal shoes. I remember Emily laughing as she described the look on the faces of the people she hurried past and the horrible feeling that her thong was showing out the back of her hip hugging jeans. With her hands full Emily was unable to pull her blouse down as she felt it riding up her back with the weight of her diaper bag, and she could no easier tug up her jeans as they seemed to be creeping down from the infant car seat perched on her hip. And the best part was she had her two year old son Connor jetting off in front of her, so as she trotted in her heals bouncing her baby in its carrier and her latte splashing about, she screamed after her son with the all vigor of a very stressed mom, “CONNOR, STOP!” “CONNOR, WAIT FOR MOMMY!” “CONNOR!”

When Emily reached the Doctors office covered in sweat and coffee, she bent over to set the baby down sending her over stuffed, but very fashionable, diaper bag swinging down around her arm and smacking her baby girl right in the head, sending the contents of the bag spilling onto the floor and her baby into fits. When the mess was picked up and the baby settled down, she hiked her pants back up over the crack of her ass, and put her blouse where it should be. Emily soon realized not every thing was right in the world… her son had taken this opportunity to suck down her much needed Starbucks!

Have you ever felt like the sweet things in life were just with in arms reach, but all the baggage your carrying with you, all the time everyday, keeps you from drinking them in? Is all of that baggage even yours?! Did you pick up someone else’s luggage too? What is that there on your back? Is that a pack of garbage your Mother in Law dumped on you last week? Why are you still lugging that around? What about that baggage under your eyes, are you missing out on some sleep, busy digging though your head looking for a way to fix someone that insists on staying broken?

Me? Oh here look at this, my over sized purse of crap, isn’t it cute. I like to open it up sometimes, run my fingers around in it, stir up some nasty smelling poop, get myself nice and worked up, and maybe even share some of my crap with my friends. I keep it around because its mine, it stinks and it’s stressful, but it’s my crap and I own it. Sure life would smell sweeter, and feel a lot lighter if I got rid of it, but just like Emily’s very fashionable diaper bag, there might be something in there I would need some day….right?

Naw, unlike Emily’s diaper bag it has nothing I need in it! The dam thing just keeps wielding around and smacking me upside the head sending me into fits, I could really do with out it. Our luggage, our unwanted carry on so to speak, keeps us from doing the things we need to do, want to do. Keeps us from hiking up our jeans and taking on the world for all its wonder, we just keep running around with our ass crack hanging out not being able to do a dam thing about it. If we weren’t so weighted down, our arms so full, and our view so obscured we could fly.

So how do I let go? How do you let go? Let God...

Oh honey ….I’m not going to leave you hanging….This is just part one.


Ding ding ding...Mean mommy is in the ring!

>> Friday, September 17, 2010

Ding ding ding...the homework battle has begun ladies and gentleman!
In this corner ...standing at 5 foot 6 and weighing in at *mumble mumble * pounds  the all time heavy wight champion...
Mean Mommy!

And in this corner...standing at 5 foot 4 weighing in 150 pounds the returning challenger with the smart mouth...
Reluctant Tween!

Graphic by Avery aka reluctant tween

 Mean Mommy took a major hit in the first round when Reluctant Tween distracted her with a chocolate chip cookie.

But Mean Mommy comes back strong in the second round rocking Reluctant Tween off his feet with a one two punch, no video games or computer.

Reluctant Teen negotiates though the third round, gaining headway with his fancy foot work, dancing circles around Mean Mommy in the fourth. 

In the fifth round Mean Mommy trips up and suffers a knock out right before the dinner bell. What a nail biter folks!

Reluctant Tween feeling cocky over steps boundaries and ends up against the ropes leaving victory to Mean Mommy in the sixth round.

Reluctant Tween pulls out all the punches in the seventh, it looked like he was going to take the crown away from Mean Mommy when out of know where Mean Mommy puts her foot down hard and spills blood.

Graphic by Avery aka reluctant tween

What an exciting match ladies and gentlemen! It was a hard fight but Mean Mommy does it again; Reluctant Tween is down for the count!


Swiss Cheese face

>> Thursday, September 9, 2010

With Kindergarten starting tomorrow I drug my very reluctant 5 year old out to get his hair cut. When we walked into the local Perfect look I was shocked to see who would be taking scissors to my son, I almost turn tail and ran out the door mumbling something about looking for the post office.
This young gal working at Perfect look had a far from Perfect look, she had metal sticking out all over her face, sporting one of them bull like rings through her nose and metal studs in her cheeks where dimples would be if she hadn't killed them. She also had tattoos running up her arms and crazy multi colored hair. Not wanting to be judgmental and look un-cool, I gave her a big smiled and let her know Sam would be getting a trim, my smile was not returned, I guess the face jewelry makes smiling difficult.

“Mom that lady is creepy,” Sam whispers to me as we follow her back to the chair, Yes, I thought, Yes she is.

Living near and working in Portland most of my life I’m not put off by lots of pricings and tattoos, Portland is famous for being “Weird” after all. 
I have 6 pricings *in my ears folks, ears!* and a tattoo myself, I’ve even always wanted to get my nosed priced, so who am I to cast stones. But I couldn’t help think if you’re going to be working with the public you should probably try and avoid scaring the crap out of small children, hell she scared me.

I know I’m getting old because I really wanted to tell her, “You have such a pretty face why did you want to mess it up with all that metal.” But I kept my mouth shut and just kept smiling like a moron.

As she was working on Sam’s hair, he sat trying to avoid looking at her for fear she would give him the Weegee stare and kill him.  I, on the other hand could not help staring at her...I noticed the area around her cheek impalements looked raw and sore and you could see into the hole in her face. This made me think what having holes in your face would be like.

Having a Swiss cheese face can’t be easy, think of all the things you can’t do, like whistle or blow bubbles with chewing gum, could you even suck a milkshake though a straw. *OMG I'd die before giving up milkshakes* You couldn’t blow up a balloon; you might shoot one of them studs out of your face and hurt someone.
And what about leakage?  Would you wake up in the morning with drool running out of your face holes? 
You can’t be a happy person if the simple act of smiling and laughing cause’s pain or do you think punching holes through your face muscles makes you smileplegic?

She didn’t smile the entire time she cut Sam’s hair, in the end she completely messed it up, when I asked her to take more off the top... she took more off the back. I was too afraid to ask her to fix it, tipped her four bucks and took my little Dorothy Hamill home. When my husband told me to take him back and have them fix his “dorkcut” I told him I couldn’t because I was scared she would use him in a Wicken sacrifice or something.


Maybe she was trying to give him that "Justin Beeper" (whatever) cut, but if you think I'm going to be blow drying, flat ironing and styling a 5 year olds hair every morning you're nuts! 


Zoo Tails

>> Monday, September 6, 2010

My husband got up this Sunday morning and asked me, “What are we doing for Family fun today.” Well the only fun I had planed was cleaning the house and doing laundry, not exactly what he had in mind. With some brain storming we came up with the Zoo, great day for the Zoo since it was in the high 60s and little chance of rain.

So we packed up the kids and headed for the Washington Park Zoo, 30 minutes and several arguments with my 5 year old later we coughed up 40 bucks *and a little white lie that my 12 year old was 11* and we were ready for some “Family fun.” Well fun if you like butts.

The animals where not happy to see us, if they happen to be out, they wouldn’t cooperate. It started with the Lion, all we could see was his hairy back side and a giant pair of, well you know. My son yells, “Hey mom take a picture of the Lion!” “Of what?” I ask, “his butt?”   Bet you can't guess what he yells next..."And his furry tenders, thier huge!"
So that’s how it went all “Family fun” day, my 5 year old Sam crying that he wanted to go home, and animals giving us the “Tail”.

Here we have a bit of Warthog butt.

A big ol Rhinoceros butt, he looked kind of...I don't know...dead, I had to make sure he was breathing, he was just napping tho.

Zebra was having none of us, just talk to the butt.

Some kind of Monkey butt.

Gazelles have cute butt’s, they keep in shape with all that running.

Can you tell who’s butt this is? Hey this could be a new segment on Sesame Street.

And the biggest Butts of all…..My kids.

Here is Jonah, just plan old pooped out from all the “Family fun”.

Sam is just Done, even had to ride with his sister because he was so tiered, wanted to go home, and didn't want to see anymore animals…sheesh…What a butt head.

What kind of Family fun did you do this weekend?


Mommy Rhapsody...Saturday sunshine

>> Saturday, September 4, 2010


Leanne, The Jerk, and long flowing stuff

>> Thursday, September 2, 2010

When my wonderful friend Leanne @ from chaos comes happiness“Tagged” me on her blog I could not refuse her, its not that I'm to cool for "Tags" I never seem to have the time for them, but I'll make time her.
Leanne is awesome in so many ways, I love reading her blog because she is always true to herself and full of life, she is also very talented. I was lucky enough to have had her design my blog header and it makes me smile every time I see it.  If you are looking for some great design work or something amazing to read go check her out.

So here we go… the following questions were given to me by Leanne, they are fun and deep, just like her.

1. What is your all-time favorite movie (the one that you can watch over and over, when just hearing it in the back ground is enough to imagine exactly what is happening on the screen)?

I love anything Steve Marten, from “the Jerk” to “Cheaper by the dozen” you can’t go wrong with Steve, he makes water squirt out of my eyes.

2. Tell me about one Halloween costume you remember wearing as a child.

Growing up we never had much money and we moved around a lot. I often went as a gypsy woman, I’d wear my mom’s long flowing skirts and peasant top with big hoop ear rings lots and lots of bangle bracelets, my mom would tie my long hair back with scarves. It was fitting really, being a gypsy woman, since I never lived in one place long enough to go to the same school for a full year.

3. Why did you start blogging?

Being that I  love to make others laugh even by making fun of myself, I offten say silly dumb stuff on my FaceBook status, one day my friend Mary commented “you always crack me up, you should have a blog”. Well I never really thought about it…but I looked into it and here I am. I enjoy it much more than I ever thought I would.

4. What makes you happy?

'Oh my…. When my husband gropes me in the kitchen and call me his honey muffin, that makes me happy. It makes me happy that my kids Love when I read to them. Ice cream makes me happy. Blog comments make me really Happy.

5. If you were able to go back in time, where would you go and why?

I’d like to visit the renaissance times, live as the women did back then, with the long gowns, hooded cloaks, flowing hair and were treated like woman should be treated….Like a Goddess. Yeah I’d like to ride through the forest on my big white stallion with my large bosoms busting out of my corset…oh sorry forgot where I was for a min.

6. What was the last thing you bought at the grocery store?

This morning the only way to get the kids out of the house and take a walk with me was to bribe them with doughnuts…we walked to the grocery store and bought 6 doughnuts, 4 chocolate milks and a Starbucks (the true reason for the walk)

7. How do you take your coffee? (If you don’t drink coffee … wait, let me get a handle on that … YOU DON’T DRINK COFFEE??? Ok, if you don’t drink coffee, then what is your favorite beverage?)

I like my coffee every morning with Carnation vanilla nut creamer….yummy.

8. Brag a little . . . tell me about a recent RAK (random act of kindness) that you took part in.

Huh? You are killing me here! Let’s see, I always try to do a little RAK, holding doors open, sharing a smile, teaching my kids kindness. I guess the last thing I did was pick up (instead of steeping over it like everyone else) someone’s Visa card off the floor of Wal-Mart and turned it in to customer service, because that’s what I would of wanted someone to do if I dropped my credit card on the floor of Wal-Mart.

This was fun, thanks Leanne!  Now I am going to be lame, because I’ve run out of time, and not forward the “Tag”.

Your welcome.


TMI about GYN

>> Thursday, August 26, 2010

My pelvic floor is pretty much shot, after 4 vaginal births, its seen better days. Being that I worked in an ob/gyn office I’ve seen what can happen when your pelvic floor gives out, it isn’t pretty. Let’s just say you sure in the hell don’t want to be sitting across from me when I sneeze, you could get impaled by my IUD.

Today I find myself sick, some junk I’m sure I picked up from our Doctors office. My 5 year old goes in for his last vaccinations before kindergarten and I walk out with some crud. It never fails, what is with parents taking their sick kids to the doctors, I mean if your kid is shivering in a blanket in the waiting room...put a dam mask on them or something…or leave them in the car…sheesh.

I am not a happy sick person (duh) because as you know moms don’t get sick days, my house is a dump and at this point I’d rather take a match to it then clean it. And how is it that you can’t suck air in through your nose but snot can drip out nonstop?  Do you have any idea what loads of herbal tea, constant hacking, and a week pelvic floor make? Damp underroos!

But the good news about my pelvic floor (Cause I know you are just dying to know) is that my fate is in my genes, no not the damp jeans I’m wearing now, buy my genetics. My grandmother gave birth to 8 kids and still has all her original hardware in its original place. Way to go grandma, and thank God we have IUD’s now a days!


The Ugly truth about my BFF...

>> Saturday, August 21, 2010

There is a reason my BFF has truly been my Best friend forever, since 5th grade. We call it the "first 5th grade" because we both got held back and had to do 5th grade twice, gives you an idea of what kind of friends we are. After 27 years of friendship she is still holding up her end of it and going strong, the following is a pretty typical conversation between us.

Me: (Licking Chili Cheese Fritos dust from my fingers) Tanya I am just so pissed at myself I can’t even stand it anymore, you have NO idea, I just can’t believe it!

Tanya: Really? What’d you do now?

Me: I don’t even want to talk about it...It's just too horid.

Tanya: Then what’d you call me for?

Me: OK OK ...well you know I got this super cute top last summer, and it like fit me really good and I’d get complements on it, you know like ‘wow that top is so cute, you’ve lost more weight’ and stuff like that.

Tanya: Yeah…

Me: Well I have it on right now and I look like a stuck PIG, like an pink over stuffed sausage, I’m so pissed, my gut is rolling over the top of my pants and this shirt has gotten so tight, it looks like I stuffed a tractor tier in there or something, its not a little muffin top it’s a fricking 3 layer cake!

Tanya: You must have shrunk it in the dryer.

Yup, She is a big fat liar...and THAT is what true friends are for…keep you in denial about the pounds that are creeping back on.  But the ugly truth is sitting right here on my lap...

The ugly truth!
A. The painful button mark from my pants as payback for having to hold up my fat ass all day.

B. what would be a cute beauty mark if it wasn't for all the ugly over shadowing it.

C. My belly button that is so deep I could lose a Lego man in it.

D.  Bottom and Top cake layers of flabby stretch marked belly fat.

E. Stark White frosting from years and years of lack of sun light.

F. Top layer of cake, sagging boobies (keeping it clean here so no booby shots and those are my finger tips so stop squinting at the screen boys)

So back to eating less and moving more...but Truth? I'd rather sit on my bum and eat some more icecream.   Its all my BFF's fault for leaving and moving 4 HOURS away, I don't know how its her fault ...but it is.


Thou shall not read…

>> Monday, August 16, 2010

Teachers will tell you that reading to your kids every day will help them learn and give them a love of reading. They jam it in your face every chance they get, teachers send home reading logs and books and truck loads of pamphlets on the benefits of reading.  Like a cult, at first they are kind and sweet about it, but next thing you know your going to burn on a stake for turning in a incomplete reading log.  (Sidenote: I agree kids should be reading, this is not a teacher bashing post, so don't click away Bossy Betty)

They also say it’s very important that your kids see you reading, by seeing you read they will want to read books just like their parents. Kids will love books if mommy loves books, that’s what they say. But they lie, all lies, lies.

I love to read; use to read all the time, every night it was me, tea, and book. I think that’s where my love of writing comes from. Even now I spend hours in the library and bring home as much as I can carry. I. love. books!

Did you know you can get books on Blogging at the Library? You can!

But my kids hate to see mommy reading, mommy reading means mommy’s not watching head stands or back flips off the couch. If I sit down with a book and a cup of coffee some alarm goes off in their little head and they need something from me, they are just dyeing of thrust, or they must get the bug out of their eye NOW. My daughter has been known to rip books from my hands and jump on the newspaper as I’m reading it.

 My husband has this same alarm in his head, but his needs are different from the kids, he will stare at me while I read in bed, or ask if I'll be reading for much longer.  So I've given it up.

Oh and the things they do to my books, it’s not pretty. They draw in them, spill drinks on them, rip pages out of them. What did a book ever do to my kids?  It's partly my fault for having books everywhere, cause I like to have them handy, so I. Can. Read.

The dog ate this parenting book, but I think my kids put him up to it.

This is my Bible; it was so hard not to tell my daughter she was going to hell for that one.

For now I’m down to reading only children’s books to my children, because that’s the only kind I’m aloud to read. Plus I fear the teachers will find out I’m not reading to them the suggested 20 mins a day and take my parenting card away.

What do you love to read, and how do you get away with it?


thank you for reading

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