You can leave your face masks at the door!

So... I got this as a present from a co-worker/friend this morning...

   ... with chocolate, of course.  This friend reads my blog (dangerous, right?) and my first thought was "Wow.. this chick really GETS me." and "Huh... I wonder if I talk about poop stink too much?  Nah.".  She told me she saw these and thought of me and that now I could make my home smell like I had been cheerily baking all sorts of wonderful delights while getting loads of laundry done, folded, and neatly put away... in 10 seconds flat.  No flame to tempt little fingers and no poisonous oil to swallow.  I love her.

   Lets face it folks... my wigglers can create some... oppressive odors.  I'm talking commy red star wearing, feudal farm working, google-is-the-devil kind of oppressive.  Between Sass's stash of skid-marked atrocities; that little liar, the Diaper Genie; the dishes that didn't make it into last night's load; and Hubbs's gym bag... well... break out the gas masks.  (Nope... I NEVER make stinks.)  And, of course, being the holidays, people want to come by and sit a spell... in the smell.  It lurks beneath the fresh piney scent of our spruce, waiting for unsuspecting victims to inhale through their nose.

Maybe now my Mom won't make "that face" when she walks through the door?  :)

My daughter's head is its own bio-dome.

My daughter's head is its own bio-dome.

Gross, right?  You have no idea and I don't have the heart to make you all urpy by posting the crime-scene-like photos of my baby girl's noggin.  Merry f*cking Christmas.

Once upon a time (but really over the Thanksgiving holiday) something odd popped up on Sprinkles' head.  "Maybe she bumped her head?" we thought and then thought no more on it.  The day after Thanksgiving we noticed it had grown exponentially and was no longer just a bump of flesh... it was a giant, puss-encrusted scab the size of a quarter.  Why does it smell?!?!?!  (We were trapped visiting family in the backwoods at the time so the closest pediatrician was Bubba and his magical jar of white lightin' down the holler a-ways.)  Next day we get home and immediately go see the doctor.  "It must be a nasty case ringworm." he says and gives us a foul tasting concoction that we must shove down her throat once a day for 6 F*CKING WEEKS!!!!  

Okay... there's a fungus amongus... I can handle that.  If you live in the South, then you already know, but for those of you visiting from places that are less wet/warm/fertile (heh), here in Tennessee we get to deal with a myriad of odd and disgusting infections/insects.  Ringworm does rather well here and is a common occurrence, especially in small children... as are chiggers, poison ivy, and intestinal parasites.  (insert big eyeroll)  And no... it's not because we don't wear shoes or cotton ta skoolin'... it's because we play in the creeks naked and don't drink enough moonshine.  :)

Anyhoo...  So every night for the next few days we beg/plead/trick/wrangle poor Sprinks to get the medicine go down.  (Spoon full of sugar my ass...)  It seems to be working.  Sprinks is happy because she gets a cookie every time we attack dose her.  Sass is happy because he isn't the one who has to take it.  Hubbs and I are happy because we think we know what it is and we have a cure.  All seems to be going well...

Until...  (and we all have our "Untils", don't we?)  

A couple of days ago, over the course of no more than 8 hours, we noticed that it had blown up to the size of a silver dollar; turned a very angry shade of red; was weeping copious amounts of a dubiously colored fluid; and smelled of death, corruption, and infection.  (I must note that, through all of this, Sprinkles seemed largely unconcerned by the contagion eating away at the back of her head.  So... at least there is that.)  Yikes!  Back to the doctor!  Run, run, RUN!

Diagnosis is.... (drum roll please).... Staphylococcus!  W... T...F...?!?!?  My baby has a STAPH infection on.  her.  head.  Yeah... just take a moment if you need it.  I did.  

Better?

Yeah... me neither.

Ya'll... I was raised in a lab (literally.  My mom finished her PhD in Microbiology when I was 16 and my sisters and I hung out with her her and the other graduate students all the time.  And what do graduate students talk about with small children?  Why, Fractals and Genome Sequencing!  So yeah... literally raised in a lab.) so I have a decent basic idea of what's wiggling around out there.  This freaks me out.  Now, I know staph is everywhere and all you need is an open wound and a suppressed immune system (and sometime not even that) and Tag!  You're It! but seriously?!?!?!  This is no bueno....

The good news is the infection is responding to the new medication wonderfully.  It already looks ten time better...which should help all the parents of her classmates feel a little better themselves.  I will say that it is NOT contagious, but it looks like it should be.  It looks like something that should dissolve you from the inside out in a bad SyFy Channel movie that is supposed to take place in a jungle but is actually filmed somewhere in Northern CA...

The bad news is that it is F*CKING STAPH...  Yeah....  I need another moment...

In respect and remembrance...

Tomorrow it will be back to the funny, but today... well, today will be this.  Because we are all grieving... because we are all afraid... because we all want to help... 

Please go here to donate...

...

Today the most terrible of all a parent's fears has reared its ugly head.

To the families of all those innocent children, to the teachers and caregivers and to everyone touched by this... this... nightmare-made-truth...
I cry for you...
I cry with you...
We all do.

...

My Christmas Tree is... is.... ummm....

Behold!

All Hail The Christmas Tree!  Which has been safely blockaded between the couch and the fireplace to minimize the tiny heathen damage.  Santa should be able to access one of the lower quadrants for present deposit with very little difficulty.

And yes... that is a glowing, green star.  This star is what happens when you let a 3 year old boy pick out the tree topper.  But it's not just green folks!  It slowly morphs from the color of nuclear waste to what I would like to refer to as a bright "boy fairy blue"...

It's all "Rise of the Gaurdians"...

And then to an eye shockingly purpley-pinky combo... kinda the color of the lights out side of strip joints.  It is fantastic.

Live Nudes and no cover charge for the ladies!

The lovely lady at 3 Monkeys and a Martini is hosting a Christmas Tree pic contest and I thought... "I'll do it!  That LED monstrosity needs to be aired and shared".  :)  So thank you Ms. Martini, for this opportunity to heal through sharing... *sniff*  :)

I'll take your old... but keep my new!

     I love holiday traditions.  The idea that, year after year, we do as the ones who came before us is a beautifully comforting and soul-strengthening one.  Baking, crafting… wearing lit candles on your head on purpose… it’s all fantastic.  My family of wigglers and wiggler wranglers are also having a great time creating our own little family traditions… like NOT climbing the Christmas tree.  *Ahem*   Out with the new and bring on the old, right?  Well… maybe.  Except I like technology… a lot.  And something that feels so right just can’t be wrong… yeah?  Take, for instance, the Santa Tracker on AT&T U-verse.  Whoa!  A reindeer cam?  Sass’s mind has been blown in the cutest of ways.  And this got me thinking about other things I might not be willing to do the “antique way”… which led to ….

The “Pass The Microchips, Please” List

(or “Things that are better now” List)

     Shopping

            OMG!  I love my Amazon app.  No more will I have to trudge to an actual store, rub elbows with real people, or stand in a gawdawful real line.  Whoot!  Now I have time to do the important things… like make more fudge.  No worries!  Amazon has lots of stretchy yoga pants, ready and available for perusal and purchase!

     Checking Out Library Books

            Now, I like taking Sass to the library to check out his books (mostly the same Batman over, and over, and over…) but I had a disturbing realization a couple of days ago while reading my e-copy of Shades of Grey (yes, I caved,  just like with the first Twilight movie.  Still trying to scrub the sparkly vampire crap out of my brain…).   Yes… it was a very disturbing realization.  If this was a regular book I checked out, then other people would have touched it.  Wait?!?!  How many other people and who…?  And you know where I’m going with this don’t you?  Yeah…. Ew. 

      Finding Recipes

             Ready for something McCall’s can’t offer?  You know, like, food that isn’t exclusively cooked by white Mid-westerners  (No offense guys… I love my meat and potatoes, too. You should see what I can do with a kielbasa… oh… wait…..)  Just google!  Gone are the dark ages of “Well, maybe if I just throw it all into the same dish, sprinkle bread crumbs on top, and call it a casserole no one will notice it’s actually crap from last week.”.  I can say I finally know what tabbouleh  is… AND how to make it… AND that I love it!  *Squeal*  But not how to get my kids to eat it…  *poo*

     Mr. Fix-It

           Duct tape does NOT, in fact, fix everything…. But now we can search to see what actually might fix it.  No more jerry-rigged faucets or projects left undone for months!   Does hearing “Well, wait.  Let me see what I can do with it.” make anyone else feel all stabby?  “Oh look, honey.  See how complicated this fix is in the step-by-step, expert plumber level tutorial?  Yeah… I think we should get a professional too…”  *contented sigh*   There are two problems solved…  ;)

     So yeah, let’s make to cookies and sing our songs and do whatever the mother country is doing… but leave me my wi-fi and my e-books and my instantshoppinggratification app.   Like antibiotics and hand sanitizer, not all change is evil.  Now where is my candle hat?

My people are awesome 'cause adolescent girls, 

cotton robes, long hair, and candles

 is a combo that is ALWAYS going to end well...

It will all be over soon, Teddy....

Hello all!

Don't forget, all my local yokels...  Do this!  Do this now!  It is a guaranteed warm fuzzies with a side of mulled soul re-energizing  goodness.

The tree is up, the lights are on, and Teddy, I'm sorry... but you need to take one for the team.

I have LOTS of breakable ornaments.  Why?  Because I like to live on the edge... and I'm stupid.  Glass, carved wood, and even a sand dollar with a delicately painted scene of a horse and carriage from the Charleston Market. .. my tree is COVERED in everything that stirs my Sprinkles heart to Destruction Level 4.  (There is a 5 but that involves the potty...)   Hand-blown glass Santa... "I wonder how this will taste?" *crunch, crunch, crunch*  Instant ER trip.  Cloisonne Hummingbird?  "Let me get a closer look at that beak while running!" And OOOPS!  Yay!  Stitches for Christmas.  But "Fuzzy little stuffed Teddy Bear ornaments (I have 3)  hung enticingly low and unsecured on the bottom most branches?  Why yes... how about a cuddle and a gooey mauling...."  Poor bears. Poor, poor bears.

Time for Operation Take It Teddy.  I know this may not have been what you signed up for guys, but you are providing an invaluable service to Tree and Toddler.  It is all for the Greater Ornamental Good, so let's tighten your belts (and your little string loops!) and trudge on!  Hang On and Stay Calm.  It will all be over soon.

You might want to turn your head, Santa.  

This is going to get ugly....

Calling all Mommies!

Callin' all my Nashvegas (and the surrounding area) peeps!

Kate, Lydia and Guru Louise from Rants from Mommy Land have asked that we all band together and help Moms in need by participating in their Gift Card Exchange for Give It Up Mommyland...

or by sponsoring a local organization.  We need to do this!  Go to Rants From Mommy Land and read up folks because, apart form being soul shatteringly funny and true, these ladies have a great thing going here.

And for shame Tennessee.  When I contacted Rants, I was informed that I was the first from our great state to do so.  The Volunteer State?  Really?  Now, there is no Orange involved here but that doesn't mean we can't get excited about it! ;)

I suggest we sponsor The Renewal House.  If you have any other organizations you feel passionately about, please let me know!  Let's give back because I know it hasn't always been candy faeries and care bear farts for everyone, now has it?  And we all need a little help every now and then, now don't we?  The problem is,  that I CANNOT do this alone.  The Renewal House is awesome and wonderful and fights the good fight and could really use our help.  Don't have $$$$, well, how about some time?  Don't have time?  Well... we will figure something out.

Here is a list of all the wonderful ways we can help:
     1) Adopt-a-Family-provide holiday gifts for one of the many Renewal House families;
     2) Donate food and/or gift cards for holiday meals;
     3) Donate diapers and wipes for Renewal House children;
     4) Donate money to fund a fun holiday outing for Renewal House families; and
     5) Donate Christmas trees or other holiday decoration for the families' apartments.

So, lets schedule a get together at my house and make some Happy Christmas Sh*t happen!  Bring yer kids!  Bring yer Hubbs!  Hell, bring yer dogs (fenced in back yard)!   E-mail me at dontchewonthedinnertable@gmail.com if you are interested and lets get this party started!


P.S. - And.... just ignore all my previous posts about, well, everything.  My house will be clean and my children will be wearing clothes... hopefully.  *Ahem*

Santanic Worship and Mall Glamour Shots

No... no... not dead... just tired.  I've heard that things come in threes but how about baskets full of shit throwing Chaos Monkeys fighting against the Happy Holiday Kittens?  Why monkeys?  Because they know too much.  Why kittens?  If you have to ask then you are fuzz bereft and I can't help you.

Kittens won, btw.

Suck my Yule Log, Monkeys!

All hail the beginning of the Christmas TORNADO!
Decorations are out!
Tree has been trimmed!
Santa's lap has been covered... by Sass's ass cheeks.  There is even a picture.  *shudder*

Now, I'm gonna stop here for a moment...
 
     Santa pictures... nay, all holiday creature photos, are the devil.  Why you ask?  Because they are the only evidence that I exist (because I am always BEHIND the camera... because I am the only one that REMEMBERS that there is a camera ) and they make me look insane.  There I am, year after year, frantically wrangling one of my squirming progeny with a look on my face that screams "I'm crapping my dress!" so that years from now, they can say that they did this and Mommy and Daddy loved them and wasn't it nice that we all did these things together as a family?

No... it wasn't really...  Well... some of it anyway....

     We waited forever in line in a hot shopping mall full of aromatic, incredibly under-dressed humanity (as in "More Clothes Please!"  I did NOT need an anatomy lesson this afternoon and did you know that Tennessee formal wear includes camo, a muffin top, and Axe Body Spray? ... and that's just the dudes?) while they both wined and squirmed and dropped graham cracker crumbs everywhere.  It was "We have to wait our turn, honey." a thousand times and fervently whispered prayers that they wouldn't stain their Christmas outfits before we got up to Santa.
     Then... there we were.  We gently nudged a hesitant Sass forward, underneath the oddly elongated neck of an enormous, grotesquely-grinning, white Polar Bear in people clothes, and towards Santa.  I thought Sprinkles was going to crawl out of her skin trying to get away, and Sass... well...  for Sass it was awe at first sight.  I watched him stare up at The Man Himself, thinkin' finger firmly implanted, silent and still.  My boy was meeting Santa.  THE Santa. For him, this.  Was.  IT.  Santa helped him into his lap.  We smiled for our picture.  He told Santa that he had been a good boy this year (wtf?) and what he wanted for Christmas.  I have never seen that boy so all sorts of supa-LED-lit-up glowing from toes-to-nose with excitement.  You should see the picture.  He is radiant   The moment was perfect... except that Sprinkles looks like she is trying to dig her way out of a pit of live, venomous vipers;  Hubbs is in some awkward Senior Picture pose; and I am shiny, desperate, and disheveled.  But Sass is beautiful.  And that is beautiful...

.... and THANK GAWD we won't have to do it again until next year....

To actually SEE the photo...  go here.  And no worries... I take pity "Likes".

Waiting is the hardest part... for EVERYBODY!

Once upon a time (like 6 a.m.) there was a wiggly bed ninja with ice cubes for feet and an insatiable need for Spiderman merch....

Sass:  *launches himself into bed, icy little feet headed directly for anything warm and squishy.  Stomach or butt are the preferred methods of feet warming.  Not by my choice ...*
"Mommy, have you seen da Spiderman mask dat talks?  Santa's gonna bwing me dat one..."

Me:  *snort... eek! Ack... who put ice cubes in the bed... oh wait.*  "Wha? ... Oh... good morning, sweetie."

Sass:  "Dat Spiderman mask Santa is gonna bwing me.  My fweinds has seen it."

Me:  "Oh... okay"

Sass:  "Mommy, can I have some ceeeeereal?  I need ceeeeereal."  *begins frantic wiggling*

Me:  "Sure, honey.  Just a second."  *errrr... bed too comfy...*

Sass:  *Huffs loudly, thumps to the floor, and heads for the door.*
"Dis is gonna take a wong time, Mommy.  My ceeeereal will take FOREVER."

*sigh*

...At least all the baby wants is the wrapping paper and the boxes the toys come in to chuck at her brother's head...  I need to find her some toys in really big boxes....

The Sneaky Snuggler Earfail Gummy

Black Friday, Cyber Monday, Giving Tuesday... I propose Nap Wednesday.  Let's all send those kids to daycare, Grandma's, your local pet shelter... and all take naps.  You know the kind I mean....

The "Slimy":
     The kind of nap where you sleep so hard you sweat through the clothes you fell asleep in because you just didn't make it to getting them off.

The "Vampire":
     Wait!  Wasn't it daylight outside when I laid down?

The "Gummy":
     Usually only a problem during allergy season.

The "Numby":
     Only a Hubbs issue for the most part but I think that is just because I haven't reached the level of nap-taking where my arms actually fall asleep.  He is a nap guru...

The "Earfail":
     A personal favorite of mine.  It's when you fall asleep so hard that you don't notice you've bent your ear over... don't notice until you pick your head up anyway...

The "Sneaky Snuggler":
     The nap you unintentionally take next to your child in their tiny little bed while trying to get them to take a nap.

The "Shitter":
     No, no.. not that...  It's the one where, when you wake up, you wonder when the elephant got into the house and shit in your mouth.  Can also be referred to as the "Sweater" nap. (cause you mouth feels all fuzzy and Sass tells you to stop breathing on him and to go brush yer teefs.)

Of course, any of these can be combined:

The Gummy Numby
The Slimy Earfail
The Sneaky Snuggler Vampire
The Numby Shitter
The Sneaky Snuggler Earfail Gummy
The Slimy Vampire Shitter

And so on and so on...  And they are all beautiful because they all involve sleep...

I love this one too... 

the "Car Seat Knock-Out"... 

even though it doesn't involve me 

actually getting any sleep....

Know of any I missed?  
Any favorites to share?  
Preferred Combinations?

An unholy cluster of no-sleep-demons...

     Phew!  Well, Thanksgiving turned out to be kinda like I thought it might.  An unholy cluster of no-sleep-demons and unattended sharp objects.  And marbles... Oh Gawd the marbles.... *shudder*

Now... on to Christmas!

     Sass Monkey is just now starting to really understand the Santa idea.  Unfortunately, this realization has not happened in conjunction with a deeper understanding of time and space so every morning starts with "Santa comes today?  It's Christmas?" and then every five minutes after that... and after that... and after that....  Poor guy, it's killing him.  He spent most of Sunday hovering around the fireplace (of course, with no fire in it) with his play tools "fixing"  it so that it would be safe for Santa.  This also means that we will now need a new metal fireplace curtain as he some how managed to disassemble and destroy the old one with plastic Black and Decker pliers...  Very realistic.

     I would also like to report that Sprinkles has learned a new word.  While she refuses to say "Momma" and will only occasionally use "Dadda", she will drop "Biscuit" with a clarity and conviction to rival the most finely trained of orators.  "Mommy" ranks so far below these delicious breakfast breads that she may do no more than point and grunt at me until she is 12.

"Love is not love 

Which alters when it alteration finds..." 

(Shakespeare, Sonnet 116)

     Now, because I have blocked out most of the last 4 days and hope to have it remain buried in my subconscious for the rest of my life, I am going to forgo the blow-by-blow (heh, blow) replay of the afore mentioned cluster in which I got to drink even less than I got to sit still.  (Holiday FAIL, folks.)  Instead, you are getting a listing of memorable quotes from the excruciatingly long weekend.  Enjoy!

Sass: "Mommy, you're giving me a heart attack." (Said in the middle of a crowded grocery store at the top of his lungs)

"Wow... that baby sure likes her sausage." * awkward pause*  "Huh.  That's something that shouldn't be said after she turns 18."

Sass:  "That can has GRASS in it." (Said while furiously wiping his tongue off on his jacket sleeve after he sprayed Deep Woods Off directly into his mouth.)

"That cake has liquor in it.  Do you think the baby would like some?"

Sass's Great-Grandma: "What is he saying?"

Me: "Penis, Grandma.  He's saying "penis"." 

Sass's Great-Grandma: "Oh."

And this is all I can REMEMBER...  Imagine all the gems I have blocked out because of my PTHD (Post-Traumatic-Holiday-Disorder)....

Happy Stuff-Yerself-And-Yer-Turkey Day!

A little nugget of disturbing for your holiday....

Ah yes... Gary Larson... 

you can't go wrong with Gary Larson.

Happy Thanksgiving Everybody!

(Or as Sass would say, "Is it Christmas yet?")

Turkey Tornadoes

Yay!  Turkey Time!    Time to pack up the Armada of baby crap and flotilla this sh*t out to an un-baby-proofed house made of sharp edges and wood burning everything.
No, don't touch it that it isn't a toy because I said so and where did you get this and what is in your mouth oh gawd it's a lady bugs wings but where is the body and why are you so happy about it and if you go to sleep I will buy you a pony....  
But at least the food is good.  :)
Just take a bite and try it you might like it and don't you throw that ma'am and please stay in your seat don't you dare gag that out on your plate just swallow it SWALLOW IT!  *Ug*.  
And there are lots of extra hands to help.
If you continue to whip my child into a frothing, raging frenzy right before bed I will have them sleep with you by gawd I'm not kidding it's only funny for you and NO he doesn't "wear out" what is this "wear out" that you speak of?
And liquor... or the "Nobody Dies" Juice...

This is most definitely a "Punctuation Enabler" as it allows me to actually use the proper punctuation in my brain instead of everything being all "The Sound and the Fury" in there.

Click here to read all about this 

Miracle Mommy Medicine... my Happy Holiday Helper... 

It comes in HANDLES!!!!

Ahhhhhh.... that's better....
Now, go play my little sweetlings.  We brought lots band aids and ladybugs aren't THAT poisonous....

Someone else tooted my horn for a change....

     YEEEEEEK!  So something really exciting has happened.  Did you know people actually like to read my blog?  And then actually publicly admit to reading it on their own blogs?  HUGE!   It's like the cool kid in high school actually making eye contact with me in the hallway...  They know I exist!!!

     This awesome lady at Mom Of The Year just became the popular cheerleader who rocked my bloggy existence (right here).  Oh honey, am I gonna go and get a big head about this one.... (My poor Hubbs.  I'm gonna be all mouthy and thinkin' the thoughts above my station....)  Now that I am back from the Land-Where-Cell-Reception-Goes-To-Die (a.k.a. BFE), I can tell ya'll all about it.  Tomorrow will be good!

     That is not to say that all you wonderful, spell check tolerant peeps who read, lurk, and comment don't make me feel all warm fuzzies.  I love you and you have no idea what you all have done for my now vastly inflated ego over the past couple months.  I need you all like I need Diet Mountain Dew... and air.  Definitely like air.  Thank you all so very much for validating all my neurotic idiosyncrasies and keep up the good work! (a.k.a. - stroke my ego)  :)

I am all like this....

Well, I DID ask....

After reading his bedtime story last night…

Me:  “Who did you play with today at school, honey?”

Sass:  “Bad Sam.  He pushed me down.”

Me:  “Sam pushed you?  Did he say he was sorry?”

Sass:  “No.  He’s da Bad Sam.  I said “Neener, Neener Neener!” *Thumbs plated on his cheeks.  Fingers waving insultingly* “You can’t catch me.” And den he pushed me.  But I played with the Good Sam.”

Something tells me “Bad Sam” was framed but I say nothing.

Me:  “There is a Good Sam?  So there are two Sams?”

Sass:  “Yeeeaaah.  I play wif my Super Friends.  Der is two Bob’s and two Terrence’s…”

Uuuuuummm…  So his entire class is either Dr. Seuss’s “Too Many Daves” or full of Doppelgangers?  Or is it like when Spiderman was taken over by that black goo and became “Bad Spiderman”?  Is my son’s daycare near any nuclear reactors, secret research centers, or built on an ancient Indian burial ground?  Are Sass and his Super Friends our only hope of defeating the Ultimate Evil?  Have I been watching too many bad SyFy movies after the kids go to bed?

Me:  “So there are a lot of kids in your class with the same names?”

Sass:  “No… I don’t know their names.”

Me:  “Oh.”

*Sigh*

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.*

War of the Organs

     Oh.... my heart hurts a little.  My baby girl is all grown up and totally unconcerned if Mommy leaves her at daycare.  Not even one little shriek this morning as I put her down and peeled her out of her coat.  She toddled right on over to the play stove all her little friends were hovering around, banging food on pretend burners like space apes on a monolith, and didn't even look back.  No fear, Sprinkles, no fear.
     Hubbs would just look at me funny and say "But isn't this what you wanted?" and I would say "Well, yes.... but no!"  She spent the first year of her life desperately clinging to me (A.  Whole.  Freakin'.  Year.), needing me to make the world an okay place, and now... she can do it all by herself.  All I get to do is watch. *sniff*
     Now, I am sure she will still need me for scrapes and bumps, and maybe a little snuggle on the couch at night, but it is the end of an era.  I see it now as I saw it with Sass.  The Era of Independence is upon us.  The Era of Baby has fallen behind.  All hail the time of "I Do It!". (or whatever phrase she comes up with to tell me to "back the f*ck up, yo".)
     How can I feel proud and so sad at the same time?  I suppose it is the war of the brain vs. the heart. (It is a bloody battle...  heh, see what I did there?)  My brain tells me that this is good.  She is maturing and reaching her developmental milestones (check that off yer chart, pediatrician man!) and making friends *gasp*...  My heart just needs a tissue.  * insert ugly cry here*

Oh mah baby.... 

Where ever are you growing?

Food that "hugs you", not "mugs you".

This time of year always brings out the "Comfort Food" side of me.  Potatoes, meat, onions, thick breads... all things warm and wonderful.  I am also always trying to find quick, inexpensive recipes (I like my cooking like me.  Easy and cheap.)  that don't involve a lot of pre-packaged foods for my kids.  (Not that I won't slap a chicky nugget down, now.)  I "re-discovered" (i.e. - walked to the fridge and thought "Gah!  What am I going to do with all this left over chicken?  If I make one more friggin' quesadilla, I am going to BRAIN someone!  Oh, wait...) an oldie but goodie recently and thought I would share... in case you were interested.  In other words... slow blog day ya'll.  :)

Chicken and Dumplings Slut-Style (Oh, they are so very, VERY easy!)

*I would like to start out by saying I don't really measure anything.  I just taste as I go and add where needed.  This recipe is VERY forgiving.*

Ingredients:

A couple of big handfuls (more or less) of shredded chicken.  You can use leftover "whatever" chicken.
2 cups Self-Rising (or not) flour
A little salt
milk
1/2 a large yellow onion
3 or 4 good sized carrots
2 or 3 big stalks of celery
2 or 3 tablespoons of Vegetable shortening
At least one box or 2 cans of chicken stock.  I like Better Than Bullion.  You can usually find the Chicken, Beef, and Ham bases in regular grocery stores.  No MSG and they have low sodium versions, too!

Cooking Instructions:

Bring the stock to a steady simmer and add shredded chicken and thin-ish sliced onion, celery and carrots  until the veggies are soft (about 20 minutes) .  Make sure there is enough stock to cover everything and then some.  Those dumpling will be on the absorbent side.
While everything is bubbling away , mix flour, a little salt (you don't need much) and a couple of good sized spoonfuls of vegetable shortening together with a fork.  This is where dumpling preference comes into play.  If you use self-rising flour, your dumplings will be more biscuit like.  If you use plain flour they will be more noodley.  Both are quite tasty and kid approved.   Add small amounts of milk to the mixture until you get a stiff and slightly sticky ball of dough.  Make sure you have enough liquid bubbling away before you add the dumplings.  Add more water, if you have to.  Nothing worse than a dry dumpling, you know?
Coat your hand in flour and pat out patties of dough about the size and thickness of your palm and lay them, sides touching, on top of the chicken-y deliciousness.  Cover and cook for another 10 minutes or so.  You will know the dish is done when you pull open a dumpling and the inside is dry.

Scoop, serve, and sit back to receive your praise.

This eats nice, makes a shit-ton, and reheats great.  Your kids won't even notice that they are eating fresh carrots, either, if they aren't in to that sort of thing...

This is the Biscuit Dumpling version.  

Cause I am always trying to find ways to get more biscuits in my diet...

Now it's your turn.  Post a recipe in my comments section below or e-mail it to me at dontchewonthedinnertable@gmail.com and I will post them for everyone to see and enjoy.  Help a girl out here... I need some new material!  :)

Batteries and Biscuits...

Our car batter finally gave up the ghost this morning and let all its green stuff out.  Tragic.  We had known this was coming for a while, we had just hoped it would happen closer to the end of a pay period... but why be convenient, right?  Luckily we have a second car (with no car seats at the moment) so we were able to resurrect Robert the Blue Car (What?  Your car DOESN'T have a name), drive the kids to daycare and roll into a Firestone.  And why not just switch the car seats, you ask?  Because hooking those things up takes a PhD in Physics or Spacial Development.  Damn you, Graco.

Anyway, while watching Hubbs get the jumper cables hooked up through the storm door, Sass asked,
"What is Daddy doing?"
Me:  "He's jumping the car so we can go to school."
Sass:  *Looks very confused and inserts Thinkin' Finger* (He has always stuck his index finger into his mouth when he is having the deep thoughts.  We have come to call it "the Thinkin' Finger".)
Me:  "Umm... Cars need gas and electricity to go like you need food and milk."
Sass:  *BING* "The car jumps, Mommy?  I jump too!"

And instantly, I saw in his face that Robert the Blue Care and Sass were "da sames"... compatriots in play... and jumping.  And I suppose he was right.  At least about the electricity part.  I have often wondered if Sass doesn't actually plug in somewhere when we aren't looking.  His ability to ricochet off furniture and climb the swing set can't be fueled by apple slices and meatballs alone.  This would explain so much...

We also also figured out the most successful technique (a.k.a. Operation No Scream) for Sprinkels' abandonment drop off this morning.  Food.  More specifically, biscuits.  When you get to daycare late, you arrive in the middle of morning snack.  If you arrive during morning snack, the juice and biscuits are already out on the table.  And if they are already out on the table then Sprinks won't even wait for you to put her down before her little legs begin to try and propel her towards her quarry with her arms out stretched,  fingers grasping, and lips smacking wetly at the idea of buttery carb-tastic satisfaction.  Yikes!  Replaced by pastry!  Well, at least she isn't screaming, right?

Out for good behavior...

Oh, sweethairyjeezus, yes....  A day off when daycare is OPEN!  It's like Christmas except Hubbs and I still have to wrangle on Christmas, so in some ways... IT'S BETTER!  Now, don't get yer hopes up.  

What sounds like it might be like this...

Will probably end up being more like this...

Sweet, uninterrupted sleep and/or TV time.  Disney Jr. can suck my Sperry's and Sprout can blow me.  Until the kids get home, of course.  :)  And then we are all Care Bear farts and My Little Pony piles.  Oh wait, wrong generation.  How about Little Nut-Brown Hare trails (that show makes my gag reflex really jumpy) and Captain Barnacles... well... barnacles.  (Don't worry. Quazi.  You are still my favorite.)

One of the few "shows" I will actually watch with the wigglers on purpose...

But I digress... as usual...
It is enough to say that the house is quiet, no one is wearing work clothes, and Hubbs and I just might get to actually sit down for a nice lunch out somewhere.  But lets not get all crazy talk now...  :)

Anybody else out there off the hook...free... erm... out early for good behavior?  How are you all spending your time today?

Mommy sucks and it's okay.

When your baby looks at you like this...

WTF, Mom?  I told you I wanted the PINK sippy cup!

... and your baby but-not-a-baby-anymore does this when you try and talk to him on the couch...

This is me ignoring you, Mom, 

because you are neither Jake NOR a Neverland Pirate.

... you know your are doing a good job at parenting.  (They are I-still-have-to-wipe-your-ass young going on 17 and Mom gets NO LOVE!  Unless I make meatloaf or wear clothing made out of chocolate.... which would just be awkward... mostly for me.)  I am either completely ignored or judged unworthy and I suppose I should be a bit put out by these reactions.... but I'm not.  By pushing those boundaries and voicing those opinions, they let me know that they feel safe.  They know they are loved and cherished and haven't a care in the world.  Well, except for the ones they decide to have as they push their boundaries and develop as people.  So go ahead babies, Ignore me or fuss at my sock color choice.  I know that YOU know that you are safe and we love you.  

But don't push it too far... sweethearts..... 

Frog in my throat....

     My house is in a constant state of drip.  Noses, eyes, mouths... the bathtub upstairs that apparently sprung a leak somewhere vital last week and sent water dripping down the light fixture over the dining room table.  (Super safe, that one, but back to the human drips.)  None of it is cold medicine worthy, or stay home from school worthy... you just hafta deal.  We need to go buy stock in Kleenex and I totally gave up on telling Sass to stop picking his nose about a week ago.  ("Fine.  Get a tissue.  No you don't!  Do NOT wipe it on you sister..... OR THE COUCH!")  Sprinkles just lets it run out of her nose and down her face and then screams like a burned banshee when you try to clean her up.  I think she finds the ooze comforting  (like a slimy green blankie) and to remove it will cause deep emotional scars... for you.

     Anyway, when I woke up this morning, this creeping crud had managed to sink its nasty, goo-encrusted claws into my throat, rendering me effectively mute.  So annoying.

I get to sound like this...

Looks cute but leaves nasty marks on your windows at night....  

Mostly pee dribbles and tummy slime.

But feel like this....

Ri-BIIIIIT, Bitches!

     This morning, Sprinkles gave me the shark-eye until she got a good look at me (apparently she had never had her wake up song sound quite so... guttural)  and I gave Sass a nasty start at the breakfast table.  While waiting for his breakfast he decided it would be a good idea to stand up in his chair, leeeeeean over the back of it, and try to reach the light switch behind him.  He was narrating the entire time, of course.

"I'm gonna turn the light on.  Where does this one go?  What light works it?"

     I turned from breakfast prep and saw him trying to give himself stitches before 7 a.m. (C'mon, little dude!) and what I wanted to say was, 

"What are you doing?  You are going to hurt yourself!  Sit on your bottom!" 

but what actually came out was, 

"Croak, croak, CROOOOOOAK!!!!" 

     He whipped around, eyes wide, looking a little frightened.  He then very slowly turned around, never taking his eyes off of me, and sat back down.... completely silent.  Very effective.

Didn't know Mommy could channel Irritated Toad, did ya?

Mommy Time Out!

     Last night I took a Mommy “Time-Out”.  Hubbs and I picked the kids up, got them home and through the door, and then I turned around and walked right on back out.  (After numerous hugs and kisses, of course.)  And I didn't come home until after the kids were in bed and the house was quiet. 

     You see, once a week I drive all the way to the other side of town, strap on some skates with sassy pink wheels, pad everything, and roll around a track trying to find as many ways as possible to hurt myself.  That’s right folks, Roller Derby.  It’s awesome and I suck but I DON'T CARE!  It’s not about social skills or who is wearing what.  It’s not about calming or centering anything.  It is DEFINITELY not about being polite.  It’s about falling down and getting back up.  It’s about trying hard and doing better than last week (hopefully).  It’s about pushing yourself and getting stronger.  And pain... no small amount of pain.  Like many things worth doing in this world, it takes its toll and leaves some bruises…. and lets you know that you have just being kidding yourself about core strength…  Man, that last wiggler really did my abs in.  (As in pushed them down somewhere around my navel and then left them there to die.  Which they did.)

My Ab Eliminator and future Derby Girl!

It is goooood, and I am gooooood (I am a so-very-old-lady kind of sore.  Lots of popping, and cussin’ this morning.), and I should have just enough time to heal before next week!!!

My new favorite torture device pastime....

How do you spend your Mommy Time-Outs, ladies?

*Any of my Nashville area peeps interested?  Just go here to learn all about how to join the Nashville Revolutionaries.  You will thank me later...  :)

A confection of indefatigable sass...

     This morning, as Sass in no uncertain terms told me in his snottiest little boy voice that HE was going to watch TV and then have breakfast AFTER Sprinkles, my switch flipped.  You know, the one that lets you go from 0 to Vesuvius  in 2.5....

Like this but with more PAIN...

Who was this tiny blonde dictator marching around the house every morning telling anyone and everything when to jump and how high?  Who was he to pull emotional strings and tell me that “I don't want you!  I want Daddy!”?  Had some fire-eyed creature crawled up from the smoky, black depths to possess my sweet baby boy?  Was Sass starting to exhibit the early warning signs of a severe psychosis? (Because OHMAHGAH there are no less than two nasty tempered old men and a wolverine with anger management issues living in that boy’s head right now.)   

     I stopped…. On the verge of a ohholyhellacious full-scale Mommy meltdown (Really?  Before my coffee?)… and just looked at him.  He stood there glaring at me, little brow furrowed, legs braced and arms crossed, ready for a fight.  The product of a lawyer and an unlicensed (but incredibly competent) shit talker (a.k.a Mom).  I deflated a bit.  What was I to expect?  The boy is a tough, very opinionated cookie and comes from a long line of tough, opinionated cookies.  He is a confection of indefatigable sass.  Now, that doesn't mean he gets to be a little Napolean allthedamntime but, as I considered him standing there, battle ready, I felt no small amount of pride.  And also realized I needed to change tactics.

“Fine.”  I said calmly.  “I am only going to make breakfast now.  If you don't want to eat it, I’m not going to make you.”

“No Mommy.  Daddy will make my breakfast.” * pout and stomp *

“Nope.  Daddy isn't cooking breakfast today.  If you want to eat you need to come sit at the table with your sister.”

     Cut to 5 minutes later and Sass is sitting at the table quietly tearing into a fried egg and banana.   Okay, so I sorta won this round but I can see some losses looming on the horizon.  At least I still have Sprinkles' support, right?  She sat there the entire time, happily shoving eggs into her mouth while smiling broadly and occasionally waving at me.  That’s right… the baby likes me… for now….

The Art of Post-Mastication

Alicia Silverstone ain't got nuthin’ on me.    And this is why….

     

     My family (or more specifically my Grandparents) own a cabin and some land about an hour from our house.  During the Fall and Winter, scores of my family descend upon its wooden walls and proceed to eat, drink, and kill deer (while meticulously recording any and all data concerning wind speed, number of deer seen that day, what direction the squirrels were farting, etc…  We are conservationists, not just killers.).  This past Saturday was the beginning of Muzzleloader season so swarm we did!  Now, this is no regular “Smells like men and gunpowder” hunting cabin, mind you.  What started out small so many, many years ago has slowly creaked and GROWN into a backwoods resort of sorts that has been painstakingly furnished and decorated by my Grandma in the most fantastic of Woodsy-Couture styles.  It has two full bathrooms, tons of bedrooms, a full kitchen, huge dining area… and cable!  Can’t miss the football games just because we are holed up in BFE!  Anyway, I love this place and I digress.  On to why I just accidentally made Alicia Silverstone look normal…..

     Meals are always prepared in groups.  This way, no one has to stray too far from the liquor stationed religiously on the end of the kitchen island.  As dinner was being prepared on Saturday night, a storm blew through strong enough to knock out the power.  No oven?  No problem! The world’s largest charcoal grill lives on the back porch!  Oil lamps were lit, cinnamon whiskey was liberally applied, and the dinner prep continued.  The most faboo of hash brown casseroles was mixed up and spiced with cayenne pepper… in the dark.  Needless to say, it was a bit on the spicy side and just how we liked it!

     The power eventually came back on, dishes were cooked, and we all sat down and tucked in.  It was delicious!  Sprinkles had no trouble with the burn in the casserole as it was mostly potatoes and cheese and she will not be denied her starches!  Sass didn't eat  his casserole because he is thoroughly entrenched in his “ I'm not going to eat that because it is not one of my 4 approved flavors and didn’t you get the memo?” phase so, after both pans of the gooey deliciousness were empty, I finished his.  *burp*

     On the way home that night, with both kids comatose passed out in the back, I mentioned to Hubbs that “It’s too bad Sass didn't like the hash brown casserole.  I thought it would be right up his alley.  Maybe he didn't like the spice?”  And then I remembered… he had tried it.  He had even chewed a bite for a moment… right before he spit it out onto his plate and loudly declared “I don't want this Momma!”  Wait… did I eat ALL of his casserole?  Even the… huh…. Yeah, I did.

*sigh*

Wow... and I thought chewing food for your kid was over the top....

What’s worse?  The fact that I ate post-masticated little boy leavings or the fact that it didn't bother me that I did?  

I do love fresh SEE-food...

WTF Friday?

What's up with you today, Friday?  Normally you show up, all "Yay!  Let's be friends!  Tomorrow is Saturday!" and we hug and snuggle.  Did something happen?  Did Hubbs and I say something wrong?  Because you started out, well... kinda rough.  I mean, there was the teething baby at oh-dark-hundred, and the pre-alarm wake-up ambush from Sass...  Then there was Sprinkles's footie pajama no-no that required a bath and a complete costume change for the two involved parties.  (It was all the way down BOTH FOOTIES!!!)  And don't forget Sass's Show-n-Tell meltdown... ("No, you CANNOT bring an ENTIRE tub of Legos to school.  You can bring ONE thing.  No, no.  A lunchbox full of Hot Wheels is not ONE thing..."  Things just shrieked downhill from here.)  Well, at least it's pizza-n-movie night, allhallowedbeitsname...

This is EXACTLY what it will look like... except that we pick up Little Caesars and no pizza guy actually comes to our house... my kids just like to lick the storm door....

I guess it's time for a Friday funny... (But, Friday.... you need to work a little harder on being nice to your friends.  Otherwise we aren't going to want to play with you anymore.)  This one satisfies my Nerd-Need and my Funny-Need....

F*cking Weeping Angels....

Don't forget to Follow Me or "Like" me on the Book!  It would help me feel better...

How are ya'lls Friday treating you?  Everybody playing nice?

Costume foolery!!! Send me your pictures!!!

     Last night was a sugar coated success.  It registered somewhere between a 9.5 and a 10 on the Richter Scale of fantastic fabulocity.  Sass and his BFF cleaned up the candy like a pair of lions at a visually impaired Impala conference.  After costumes had been peeled off and loot dumped into piles on the carpet to be simultaneously marveled over and devoured, he twitched on the couch for an hour, demanding “Halloween TV” and then lapsed into a deep sleep that was part diabetic coma and part exhausted swoon.  It was adorable.  Sprinks spent the evening sashaying around the house in her tutu while being admired by Grandma and screaming in terror at all the masked creatures that came to our door.  So glad she stayed with Grandma.  Masks are really not her thing.  Pretty purple tutus, on the other hand, ARE…

     I also consider it a complete success because nobody earned stitches running up and down some VERY steep driveways in the dark and nobody puked.  Gold stars to everyone for no urps!  We also got to hang out with some pretty awesome parents and have ADULT TALKING THINGS!  You know, conversations?  Whoa….

     The Trick or Treaters were faboo, too.  We actually had a boy come to the door wearing an iridescent turban and red long johns who sang the entire “Trick or Treat!  Smell my feet!” song.  Both verses.  He got free rein on the treat bowl for that one.  We also had the 18 year old girl, dressed as an “Indian Club Princess” and hiding a lit cigarette behind her back who showed up around 9:30.  She said “Trick or Treat” and smiled sweetly while her buddies giggled from the car.  She got 2 handfuls for balls alone.  Way to take that dare and get some chocolate, sweetheart.

     And now it’s time to batten down for Thanksgiving while pretending that I won’t actually eat ALL of the untouched Sam’s-sized bag of candy left over from last night.  I over estimated… badly (or goodly depending on how you look at it).  Looks like I'll be breaking out the stretch pants a little early this year…..

     Now… I want to see your Halloween costumes!  Send me pictures of your wigglers (and fam or you!) all dressed up and I'll post them on my “Cuteness” page and link it back to you (don’t forget to include the page you want me to link to!).  Email me HERE or post them in my comments.  I can't wait to see them!

It's Halloween Day!

     Ah yes!  All Hallow’s Eve, Oiche Shamhna, Samhain, Hallowe'en, All-hallow-tide, Hallowmas, Alhallow ene, Hollantide…. Give-me-da-candy Day!  Whatever you call it, it’s gonna be good!  It has always been one of my favorite holidays and I think it is ranking pretty high on Sass’s list these days.  He woke Hubbs and I up with a cheery 6 a.m. “Happy Halloween MomnDad!  It’s Halloween Day!”  Sho’ nough is little dude.  Time to cram you full of sugar till you twitch and pass out.  No puking, though.  Ug.

Know your limit, little dude.

     
     All Hail Halloween! The one night of the year kids can run around overindulging like pledges at a Frat party (But no worries, bud. I won’t sharpie a penis on your face while you lay passed out in your bed... Maybe.) I love the cold weather and costumes (and the fact that most of my “inappropriate costume” days were pre-Facebook. Did you know you can make a Ladybug slutty? Heh.) and I love the fact that I will get to skim off Sass's haul after he collapses in bed. (Sprinkles will be remaining behind with Grandma, a princess in waiting, to"help" to hand out candy.)  I love the excitement and enthusiasm. I love the freedom and imagination. I can't wait to watch Sass stumble up a neighbors steps and yell “Trick or Treat”! (Okay, hon, now what do you say?) This will be a good night full of shrieks and giggles and noses running from the cold. I. Can't. Wait.

What are your little ones dressing up as? Any cool “Halloween Day” traditions you'd be willing to share? Tell me, tell me! I would really like to know.

Not So Happy Veggie Tales

     We like to eat in my house and no food group goes un-molested.  The favorites seem to be breakfast meats (that includes kielbasa, the finest and most versatile of casing-clad meat products) and breads (biscuits, pancakes, loaf breads).  That is not to say that we don't hit it hard in the veggie department (and fruit… but who doesn't like fruit?) as well, it’s just that tastes vary so much there.  Take Sass.  From the first moment the All-Hallowed-Broccoli passed his toothless little gums he pledged his undying love and unwavering masticatory attentions to its cold-loving crowns.  The boy will pick broccoli (or green beans) over a cookie.  We've tried it and it’s true.  Sprinkles, on the other hand, is completely uninterested in the verdant greens of the light seeking veggies and has chosen instead to pledge her allegiance to the dark loving tubers.  (A child after my own heart considering that I too had an almost unnatural affinity for a mashed potato as a baby.  Yeah…. As a baby… *Ahem*) She will continue to shove potatoes and kielbasa in her mouth until her little belly is straining at the highchair safety belt, belch loudly, and then reach for more.  I worry that her one-sided-veggie-ness will become nutritionally problematic.  Not with her iron intake (have you seen her go after a pot roast?) and not with her calcium intake (we are actually considering buying our own cow…. That is how many gallons of milk we go through in a week.) but with all the other important nutrients her little body will need to keep up its astonishing growth rate.  Last night at the table I watched her idly play with a bit of cooked spinach I tried to feed her, (she was putting it in her mouth and then slowly pulling it back out but never actually chewing) and I realized that helping her develop her taste buds may be a bit tricky. 

     I have found myself “sneaking” veggies into things, something I have never had to do before, in an attempt to widen her plant-eating palette.  Peas into every casserole, zucchini finely chopped into pasta sauces… but, in truth, I am only creating one, huge culinary lie.  Now, we lie to Sass about what he is eating all the time!  Green Bell Peppers have been called “Crunchy Green Beans”.  Black Olives have become “Black Pickles”.  But we lie to get him to put the food in his mouth and expose him to the flavor and it usually works.  With Sprinkles, all the veggie-sneaking is just a desperate attempt to make sure we don't have to start grinding up Flintstones to put in her milk in the morning.  Why is it that she will eat meat spiced with Cumin, Adobo, Curry, Thyme, or fresh garlic but acts like broccoli is the most vile and odious of poisons?  Broccoli?  The most delicious of all the green vegetables?  It’s not like I am asking her to eat brussel sprouts (Yummm!) or anything….   She gives me the “Are you trying to kill me, Woman?” look if any of the offenders from her ever growing list of “Things That Aren't Potatoes” ends up anywhere near her food pile on the table at dinner time.   It is a battle and I think I am loosing…. Badly.

     Do any of you have any tips on working with picky eaters or any guerilla-veggie recipes to share?  Because I think if I put peas in anything else Hubs is going to have an intervention….

C'mon Sprinks... Don't be a hater!

Everyone needs a little love...

Oh my... the LANGUAGE!

Sass-isms and excerpts from this weekend:

Sass:  “Throw me!  Ima baseball!”

Sass:  “What you talkin’ about?  Dats Batcrap.”  *sigh*

At 6:30 this a.m., Sass marches in the bathroom (while I am trying to take a shower) and declares that:

Sass:  “ I'm mad at Daddy!”

Me:  “Why?”

Sass:  “He won’t give me dinner.”   

     We are still waiting on Sprinkles’s little nuggets of wisdom, but it seems that she prefers to remain silent as Sass does all the talking for her.

Sass:  “Sister wants a cookie, Mommy.”

Sass:  “Sister wants her milk, Mommy.”

Sass:  “Sister maybe wants to go pway wif me upstairs now, Mommy”.

     Of course, Sprinkles goes along quite happily with everything Sass Monkey suggests… well, except for when he decided she wanted to have a pillow fight and he blindsided her with a decorative throw pillow from the couch.  Nope, she was NOT down with that.  No worries though, she gets him back by taking his toys and sitting on his head while he is trying to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  Dats mah gurl….

No, Sweetie... THIS is Batcrap....

Slamming Hobbits and Bilbo's Berries

*Nerd Alert!*  You have been warned....

     The level of my obsession/love for the books The Hobbit and LOTR is frightening.  I am borderline bat-sh*t on this and the first step to recovery is realizing you have a problem, right?  Having been raised on the books I am a bit of what I would call a "Tolkien Purist" but what others might call "Oh Gawd!  Do NOT bring up the Ents... especially in public."  Apparently, I can be a little embarrassing ...
     I had a few issues with the LOTR movies (I still own the entire boxed set complete with HOURS of extras) and have been trepidatiously awaiting "The Hobbit".   I've been reading the rumor sights and looking at all the pictures that are beginning to dribble out and I thought sexy dwarves were going to be the worst thing I had to deal with... until Hubs showed me this...

Oh, Denny's...  "Hobbit Slam"?  "Seed cakes and Shire Sausage"?  "Radagast’s Red Velvet Pancake Puppies"?  I....   But....  Why,  Denny's?  Why?  And what the f*ck is a "Pancake Puppy"?
It's like my breakfast choices are roadkill or Hobbit Porn.  I feel like I need to go wash my eyes out or something.  Keep your Shire Sausage away from me!  I am a married woman, you know!  Slamming Hobbits... ewwww....

Other menu items include:
Frodo’s Pot Roast Skillet  (Oh...  no.....)
Bilbo’s Berry Smoothie (Not his BERRIES!) 
Gandalf’s Gobble Melt  (Can you put Purell on your brain?)
Hobbit Hole Skillet  (A coma sounds really good right about now...)

Oh, and there's more.  There's this...

AAAAAaaaaannnd this....

And dearsweetjeezusmakeitstop.......

This is almost as bad as seeing Frodo's nipples in ROTK.  Ack!  Nooooooo!  Hobbit's don't have nipples!  I need to go sit in a closet, curl into the fetal position, rock, and cry.  (Though not as damaging as having my Hubs, then boyfriend, set up Harry Potter in a full frontal photo from "Equus" as my "surprise screensaver".  He's a keeper, that one.)

So... happy Friday.  I guess...  *shudder*

Morning Aire... um I mean Air....

"Mommy.  I hafta fart."

This is what I heard while getting my lunch together this morning.  Sass was sitting at the table, munching happily on his cereal while Sprinks was alternating between shoving fistfulls in her mouth and gleefully throwing handfuls on the floor.

"What?"  I wanted to make sure I'd heard what I thought I'd heard.  

You see there was the "function incident" a few weeks ago when Sass was trying to tell us that something mechanical wasn't working.  "Mommy, Daddy... it not fuck... fuck... " (by this time our eyebrows had climbed to our hairlines and you could hear the crickets chirping in China).  "It not fuck-tion."  Big smile.  "OOoooohhhh, okay.  It doesn't function?  It doesn't work?", we said.

"Yeah, it's not working."

*Phew*

Anyway, back to this morning....

Sass:  "Mommy, I hafta fart" (looking concerned)

Me:  "What?"

Sass:  "I hafta fart."  Rubs his tummy.  I walk over.

Me:  "What's going to happen?"  Still playing dumb in the hopes that this is a "function incident".

Sass:  "It rolls around in here (points to tummy) and comes out down here (points to his underwear)."

Fair enough...

He start to look a little desperate, throws himself out of the chair (his normal mode of dismount), and trots toward the bathroom.

Me:  "You mean pass gas?"  

Sass:  Yeah, Mommy.  Pass gas."  As he opens the bathroom door, he looks back at me.  "And the gas is gonna come out!".  *triumphantly slams the door*

*sigh*

                                                                 He's gas powered....

Spiderman Pixie Dust

     Last night, while Sass was watching Jake and the Neverland Pirates (For those of you who have never seen this show it is about 3 children in Neverland who have adventures and are constantly harassed by a very toned down Captain Hook.  Disney basically took out all the darkness, the fear, and the sudo-pedaphilic undertones, slapped some racially obscure kids on the front and let ‘er rip.  Sass can't get enough.) and marching around in nothing but his red bandana and a Pull-Up, he declared that “Mommy, you be the pink one.  The pink banana girl.” (He has some trouble with “bandana”.)  “Okay, I do like pink.  Do I get the boots too?”  I asked.  “You get Pixie dust, mommy.” And he stopped for a second and thought and then said “I get Spiderman Pixie Dust.”  Because regular Pixie Dust is for girls, you see.  And only to use in emergencies like mace or bear horns.  So he had to man it up with some Spidey?  I guess so.  But the dude wears spandex and stays a virgin for how long?  He is a nerd with anger management issues.  He wears SPANDEX... but I digress….

But you can see his junk...

     What does this mean?  My little man doesn't want anything girly because “I’m a man, Mommy.” (yes, he has said that.).  I was concerned in the beginning.  He regularly identifies anything pink or sparkly as “princess stuff” or “Dat’s for girls!”.  He has a group of boys that he rough houses with now at school instead of girls (like at his old school … *ug.  Hipster jeans*).    He knows there is a difference…  Does he equate girly with weaker?  Lesser? 

     As I watched him squash his sister flat and then get squashed in return I realized that, no, he doesn't think of girls as lesser or weaker, just different.  He has no compunctions whatsoever with flattening a girl.  He isn't “man-ing up” he’s just putting people into categories.  “Boy” doesn't equal “better” or “stronger”, in fact, this boy refuses to touch bugs, snakes, lizards, and pumpkin guts.  (You should have seen his face when I tried to get him to help me gut the jack-o-lantern.  I thought he was going to puke.  All this while his sister is busy filling her gullet with grass and who knows what else she’s ripped up from the yard.)  Different is okay.  Different is good.  Because we are different.  He is starting with the largest grouping – male vs. female – and putting his world in order.  Order is good.  Understanding is good.  Defining is good.  We are going to have to work on the pink stereotyping though cause, honey, that boy (with his bright blue eyes and his peaches-n-cream complexion)  looks fabulous in a pink polo shirt….