Monday, July 12, 2010
I love Goodwill!
And, so should you. It is an untapped goldmine of wonderful things! Case in point, we needed a new diningroom table. Our was oak, farm-ish, not our style. I was lazy about painting it. So lazy, I never did. After dropping off husband and daughter at the airport, daughter 2 and I went on an excursion to the Goodwill in Maize. Wow. I saw the table and liked it, but didn't get it. I know, how stupid! I called my mom and she reconfirmed my stupidity and confirmed that we needed to get back over there ASAP. Problem was, that I saw
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Peanut and the 'Gina
You probably know where this is going. Nana buys book with body parts pictured and named, toddler loves book, demands names, mother wants to wring Nana's neck.
I suppose it started out innocently enough. We were in the book section of Goodwill and Nana finds a child's book detailing the body, all of the body. Asks me if it is on the toddler approved reading list, it's not, by the way. I give my okay, thinking it will be put up til toddler is say, OLDER?!?!
Flash forward a couple of weeks, Mia finds the book on her bookshelf at Nana and Papa's house and demands a reading, right then and there. I politely decline, grabbing the baby and bolting for the door. Nana bought it, she can read it. Well, of course, Mia wants to "share" some new information, pictures and all. Keeping in mind these are more or less line drawings, I acquiesce, and have a gander at the naked pencil drawn kids. Boy, they are pretty anatomical. We give the "parts," as they are currently called, the real, honest to goodness names. You know, penis and vagina, the words you want your kid to yell out while you are waiting in line at Walmart. She already has a grasp of boobs and breast, so why not just get it all out there, so to speak?
Last night, I am nursing Ivy and Mia is laying on a little rug, with a blanket and a potty training book that I stuck in Ivy's bookshelf. We will be giving that a whirl sometime next week, kidding, of course. Anyway, Mia is running down this little checklist, quietly, but I can still hear what she is saying.
"Mommy, the 'gina."
"Mia, the 'gina."
"Ivy, the 'gina."
"Nana, the 'gina."
"Sofie, the 'gina." She is our cat, by the way. Don't want her parts to be left out.
"Daddy, the peanut."
"Max, the peanut."
"Papa, the peanut."
"Jon, the peanut."
I don't want to laugh, but it is difficult. She then proceeds to point out the parts of dear, little Prudence. "Look, she has parts, it looks like a smile! Look, has a hole in her bunnies for poop." I just sit there and agree, not wanting to put a damper on all of the fun she is having. I have to draw the line, when she says my parts look like a rabbit. I don't even want to know where she was going with that!
So, thanks Nana for a book on peanuts and the gina's. Let's hope you don't have the Joys of Sex floating around somewhere!
I suppose it started out innocently enough. We were in the book section of Goodwill and Nana finds a child's book detailing the body, all of the body. Asks me if it is on the toddler approved reading list, it's not, by the way. I give my okay, thinking it will be put up til toddler is say, OLDER?!?!
Flash forward a couple of weeks, Mia finds the book on her bookshelf at Nana and Papa's house and demands a reading, right then and there. I politely decline, grabbing the baby and bolting for the door. Nana bought it, she can read it. Well, of course, Mia wants to "share" some new information, pictures and all. Keeping in mind these are more or less line drawings, I acquiesce, and have a gander at the naked pencil drawn kids. Boy, they are pretty anatomical. We give the "parts," as they are currently called, the real, honest to goodness names. You know, penis and vagina, the words you want your kid to yell out while you are waiting in line at Walmart. She already has a grasp of boobs and breast, so why not just get it all out there, so to speak?
Last night, I am nursing Ivy and Mia is laying on a little rug, with a blanket and a potty training book that I stuck in Ivy's bookshelf. We will be giving that a whirl sometime next week, kidding, of course. Anyway, Mia is running down this little checklist, quietly, but I can still hear what she is saying.
"Mommy, the 'gina."
"Mia, the 'gina."
"Ivy, the 'gina."
"Nana, the 'gina."
"Sofie, the 'gina." She is our cat, by the way. Don't want her parts to be left out.
"Daddy, the peanut."
"Max, the peanut."
"Papa, the peanut."
"Jon, the peanut."
I don't want to laugh, but it is difficult. She then proceeds to point out the parts of dear, little Prudence. "Look, she has parts, it looks like a smile! Look, has a hole in her bunnies for poop." I just sit there and agree, not wanting to put a damper on all of the fun she is having. I have to draw the line, when she says my parts look like a rabbit. I don't even want to know where she was going with that!
So, thanks Nana for a book on peanuts and the gina's. Let's hope you don't have the Joys of Sex floating around somewhere!
Friday, July 24, 2009
Intervention
We are mostly moved in to our new house. There are mismatched pictures on the wall and lots of empty places, that I just don't know what to do with. I decided, because I read all of these crazy thrifty decorating blogs, that I need to get off my butt and make something, anything. I leave the girls with the husband and head to Hobby Lobby, the mecca for pretty much everything. I grab a cart and take out my list. I need fabric for the ragamuffin garlands, a capital letter L and some moss to cover it. Not sure why I need a cart, but something is bound to jump out at me that requires an extra pair of hands that I just don't have.
Hobby Lobby is amazing! They have everything you need and alot you don't. I find all kinds of things that I MUST have. My palms begin to sweat and my heart races. Wow, stuff is 50% off in every department. I nearly have to call my husband to rescue me from the towering shelves of stuff that I want. I need a professional intervention. Calling my mom would have been useless. She would have jumped in the car and started stuffing the stuff into my cart. I WANT everything, but cannot for the life of me, figure out what to do with most of it. I read about how all of these thrifty women spray paint everything. Man, if I had a can of paint, I would be painting everything too, metal candlesticks, frames, the kids, I don't care at this time, I am motivated and want to get busy!
I grab what I need and some that I don't. You just really never know when you will need a $24.99 doodad, that was marked down to $2.50. Maybe with a little paint...
Ok, so I didn't buy paint but am going to Walmart today and may pick up a can(or 6). Not sure what I am going to paint yet, but it is coming. I have this brass chandelier that is in for a big shock!
Hobby Lobby is amazing! They have everything you need and alot you don't. I find all kinds of things that I MUST have. My palms begin to sweat and my heart races. Wow, stuff is 50% off in every department. I nearly have to call my husband to rescue me from the towering shelves of stuff that I want. I need a professional intervention. Calling my mom would have been useless. She would have jumped in the car and started stuffing the stuff into my cart. I WANT everything, but cannot for the life of me, figure out what to do with most of it. I read about how all of these thrifty women spray paint everything. Man, if I had a can of paint, I would be painting everything too, metal candlesticks, frames, the kids, I don't care at this time, I am motivated and want to get busy!
I grab what I need and some that I don't. You just really never know when you will need a $24.99 doodad, that was marked down to $2.50. Maybe with a little paint...
Ok, so I didn't buy paint but am going to Walmart today and may pick up a can(or 6). Not sure what I am going to paint yet, but it is coming. I have this brass chandelier that is in for a big shock!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Move in ready
So, we have a new house. It "used" to have a turret and be on a quiet, tree lined street. Now, it is rather big, has no fence and sits facing a major busy street. What happened, you ask? Well, we put a contract on one, we were outbid. We looked at a few more. One had columns, lots of space and only one bathroom. My lovely husband hates it, "Has columns, don't like it." What? More looking ensues, when in fact, we aren't even selling our current home.
I see a house online. It is listed as having 3 bedrooms with a main floor entertainment room. I say I want to see it, we meet our realtor there. It is spacious and has all pedestal sinks, don't ask. It has so, so, so many things that I love, LOVE, hear me? A big kitchen, a big master bedroom with bath. It also has a nice screened in porch and a lovely terrace off my bedroom. Closet space is fine, with ample room to store my massive collection of shoes. That sold it for me right then. Hubby wasn't quite as convinced. "Blah, blah," I hear him say. Ok, I'm done.
His mind changes and we go for it. There is that nasty back and forth that occurs in the real estate world. It is finally agreed upon and we have a house. Wish I could move there.
I see a house online. It is listed as having 3 bedrooms with a main floor entertainment room. I say I want to see it, we meet our realtor there. It is spacious and has all pedestal sinks, don't ask. It has so, so, so many things that I love, LOVE, hear me? A big kitchen, a big master bedroom with bath. It also has a nice screened in porch and a lovely terrace off my bedroom. Closet space is fine, with ample room to store my massive collection of shoes. That sold it for me right then. Hubby wasn't quite as convinced. "Blah, blah," I hear him say. Ok, I'm done.
His mind changes and we go for it. There is that nasty back and forth that occurs in the real estate world. It is finally agreed upon and we have a house. Wish I could move there.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Get over it!
I am on a couple of mommy boards. One, in particular, seems to be rife with irritation so much that I have read that it might be shut down. The reason is really incredible and really stupid. It seems there is quite a bit of bashing of certain members, so much that it has driven a couple of the women to actually quit participating. I understand the reasoning. One mom was attacked because of how she disciplined her son. It didn't seem all that unreasonable, the way she handled the situation. But, as usual, things got out of hand and she was personally attacked in a way that I would describe as petty and ignorant. Another member, one who jokingly admits she has a beer and a Xanax, was also recently attacked by her so called "friends." Someone questioned her role as a mom and wondered how her kids would grow up with a crazy, alcoholic mama. I mean, really? There are so many other things in this world that demand our attention. The board calls these people trolls because they interject things that are meant to stir the pot, piss people off and cause the moderators to have to moderate. We are supposed to be friends, to support each as friends and women. Creating havoc doesn't create happy people. I don't think that many from the board in question read my blog, but if they do, if you are a petty betty, step off!
Friday, April 17, 2009
Wild Kingdom
As if Larry the Lizard wasn't enough, darling husband came home the other day and told me to have a look out the kitchen window. What I saw was a bird, a hawk, eating something. Turns out, he was dismantling another bird! There were feathers everywhere. That makes 2 days of animal behavior at my house. What in the world is happening here?
Jurassic Basement
We have company coming, so I decided to take my shower curtains down to the laundry for a washing. I use alot of bleach on the liners and am always afraid that it will get all over me while I try to get them out. When I heard the washing machine stop, I went down and started taking off my clothes. Nice visual, huh? Anyway, I was down to my bra and had the belt of my jeans unbuckled, when I saw something walk past the dryer. It was, are you ready for this, a LIZARD! WTH? It looked alot like this.
See how he is mocking me, daring me to come closer so he can eat me? Or, maybe he is saying, "Na, na, na, na na, I'm in your basement! You can't touch me!" Yeah, laugh it up big guy, laugh it up. So, my reaction to finding this little bit of the herpetarium in my basement is to scream like I am being cut with a samurai sword. The neighbor probably heard. All of them.
I call my husband to have him come home to remove the beast from the basement. He cannot understand me through all of the screaming. At the exact same time that I am screaming at him, a friend calls on my cellphone. She never calls, so while I was concerned, I was a bit more concerned for what was stalking me in the basement. I scream at her too, telling her their is a large reptile in my basement. She, not surprisingly, couldn't understand me and hangs up, texting me to find out what was them matter. I text her back and she just laughs, no offer to come over with a lizard trap. Hubby says he has to go to a meeting and I am left to fight off the beast in the basement. I call my parents. My mom puts my dad on the phone and I tell him to come over immediately to put this thing out of my misery. He says let it be, it eats the bugs. I scream that I don't care and get over here. He does.
We go into the basement. I point out the location of the offender and he grabs a flashlight and step stool. We have weapons but he chooses to go at it unarmed. He pokes and prods things, nothing happens. By now, the thing is probably wandering around the house. The useless cat doesn't even seem interested in what I am telling her. My dad reassures me that at least it isn't a snake. How freakin' reassuring is that? He then goes on to say, that it has probably been in the basement for quite some time, grown up there, so to speak. Freakin' great. I tell my dad to get out because I don't want anymore of his opinions.
I post on my mommy boards. I explain the entire story and my responses are interesting. Most say that I am lucky it isn't a huge spider. While this is true, I could kill a spider and that would be it. Now, I basically have a pet in my basement, and an unwanted one at that. Most laugh at my underwear clad self screaming at the top of my lungs about something I may never see again. Whatever, I am never going into the basement unarmed again.
Larry the Lizard, as I call him now, wasn't really that big. I am figuring about 9-10 inches. That is pretty long though, I think, especially for someone that doesn't like things living in her house that don't make any kind of contribution, other than scaring the crap out of me.
This is probably a more accurate representation of the visitor.
You know, the smiling, happy go lucky lizard that just wants to hang out and be friends. Larry was brown, but you get the idea.
I have yet to see Larry the Lizard again, and I am totally fine with that. I carry a broom and make alot of noise to scare him away. I am not feeding him or setting out water for him, I want him go away, far away. I am still faced with the fear of him crawling into my clean laundry and making his move upstairs. I may need therapy.
See how he is mocking me, daring me to come closer so he can eat me? Or, maybe he is saying, "Na, na, na, na na, I'm in your basement! You can't touch me!" Yeah, laugh it up big guy, laugh it up. So, my reaction to finding this little bit of the herpetarium in my basement is to scream like I am being cut with a samurai sword. The neighbor probably heard. All of them.
I call my husband to have him come home to remove the beast from the basement. He cannot understand me through all of the screaming. At the exact same time that I am screaming at him, a friend calls on my cellphone. She never calls, so while I was concerned, I was a bit more concerned for what was stalking me in the basement. I scream at her too, telling her their is a large reptile in my basement. She, not surprisingly, couldn't understand me and hangs up, texting me to find out what was them matter. I text her back and she just laughs, no offer to come over with a lizard trap. Hubby says he has to go to a meeting and I am left to fight off the beast in the basement. I call my parents. My mom puts my dad on the phone and I tell him to come over immediately to put this thing out of my misery. He says let it be, it eats the bugs. I scream that I don't care and get over here. He does.
We go into the basement. I point out the location of the offender and he grabs a flashlight and step stool. We have weapons but he chooses to go at it unarmed. He pokes and prods things, nothing happens. By now, the thing is probably wandering around the house. The useless cat doesn't even seem interested in what I am telling her. My dad reassures me that at least it isn't a snake. How freakin' reassuring is that? He then goes on to say, that it has probably been in the basement for quite some time, grown up there, so to speak. Freakin' great. I tell my dad to get out because I don't want anymore of his opinions.
I post on my mommy boards. I explain the entire story and my responses are interesting. Most say that I am lucky it isn't a huge spider. While this is true, I could kill a spider and that would be it. Now, I basically have a pet in my basement, and an unwanted one at that. Most laugh at my underwear clad self screaming at the top of my lungs about something I may never see again. Whatever, I am never going into the basement unarmed again.
Larry the Lizard, as I call him now, wasn't really that big. I am figuring about 9-10 inches. That is pretty long though, I think, especially for someone that doesn't like things living in her house that don't make any kind of contribution, other than scaring the crap out of me.
This is probably a more accurate representation of the visitor.
You know, the smiling, happy go lucky lizard that just wants to hang out and be friends. Larry was brown, but you get the idea.
I have yet to see Larry the Lizard again, and I am totally fine with that. I carry a broom and make alot of noise to scare him away. I am not feeding him or setting out water for him, I want him go away, far away. I am still faced with the fear of him crawling into my clean laundry and making his move upstairs. I may need therapy.
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