Picked last and peed on

When you were a kid the worst thing that could happen to you at school was to be the last kid picked for the team.  Grace being my middle name and al,l I was always picked dead last.  In fact i was often the odd man out….given a “special job” by the PE teacher.  In other words you suck and we don’t want the other kids to suffer so sit here.  

While I endured some teasing, I coveted that position, never getting sweaty and always enjoying a great view of the hot guys playing sports.  I saved my energies for more delicate tasks like dancing and singing in choir and quite frankly have never need those valuable kickball skills as an adult.  

iSpoiled

After a 5 year relationship, I divorced my wireless phone company. Like a bad husband, Sprint took me for granted and now we’re through. The last straw came last week when I took my phone to Sprint for repair and they shut me down.

Despite a years’ worth of payments for insurance they would not fix a crack in the screen because it wasn’t interfering the functionality of my crappy phone. I could have taken the phone outside and finished it off with my high heel, thus warranting a repair; instead I gave the high heel to my service plan.

Mortified Mama Monday

The Sandman cometh…getting our toddler to sleep

In the beginning we slept well. Our Chibby was a superstar sleeping through the night even before 6 months.

Though he slept the minimum hours recommended for babies his age he snoozed peacefully curled on my chest or stretched out between us in bed. Then he began to kick in his sleep… so we kicked him out!

What happens in Vegas…gets blogged about

Being the good wife that I am I attended an affiliate marketing conference with Techie this last weekend in Vegas.

I reluctantly left our son with Grandma, reluctantly rented a Mustang convertible, reluctantly booked a hotel room with a hot tub, and reluctantly helped my husband pitch his new project to hundreds of other techies for two days.

Hangover mama

Vegas + Jet Lag + Hangover = too tired to post.

 See you tomorrow, I promise.

Mortified Mama Mondays

I have an amazing knack for doing stupid things and embarrassing myself.  You could call it a gift. Now that I’m a parent I also realize that when you have kids they’re always doing their fair share to humiliate.  Whether you’re embarrassing yourself or letting your kids do it for you it’s important to be able to laugh at yourself. 

A city mouse

I’ve just found out that we have mice in the wall between the living room and the front porch and have completely lost all ability to reason, concentrate, and hold my bladder.  Just the thought of the little suckers in my house scurrying around with their little claws and whiskers makes me want to shower over and over and keep my baby from playing on a the clean floor in the middle of the room. 

The backseat driver

Chibby and I were the way to Techie’s office today when the red SUV next to us merged into our lane (because giant shiny blue mini-vans are hard to spot on perfectly clear days like today) and nearly merged into our van.

My son, seeing nothing but a wall of red coming right at his window shouts “whoa mama!”

As the crazy swerved back to the right and slammed on the breaks (cuz one near collision is never enough) I called back to Chibby “not whoa mama, whoa that guy”

As the red SUV pulled closer again my son starts shouting wildly “whoa dat…whoa…whoa dat dat dat” jabbing his chubby little finger into the window and knitting his brow with all his might.

You tell ‘em kiddo.

Mama petri dish and the plauge

I apologize deeply for my lack of bloggyness of late folks but I am a walking petri dish. I came down tonsilaryngitis flumonia at Disney World and have since called in the CDC (just kidding but they did make me wear one of those SARS masks at the doctors office).

My official diagnosis is a flavorful combination of strep and laryngitis on a bed of flu, with touch of pneumonia and a delicate garnish of bacterial pink eye.