Category: hilarious adventures

a night in the life of Tiffany.

We are now going on four years of no sleep around these parts of the world, so I thought instead of a “day in the life” post I’d do a “night in the life post”.

Last night shenanigans ran high, so I’m going to just do a run through of how it all went down. And unfortunately, this is not uncommon in the least.

We had a t-ball game at six and then afterward went to eat at Pizza Hut with Andy’s parents. We got home at almost nine which is an hour my children very rarely see. I give them the quickest half-baths that have ever occurred and then they were in bed. Neither were actually asleep until almost TEN. TEN O’CLOCK. I can’t even handle this hour of the night with children.

By the time I finally got in my bedroom I could hardly crawl into bed I was so tired. But, how could I NOT watch my Tuesday night shows?! Andy was already out at this point so I decided I’d watch a show.

Except how do you watch a show when you can’t hear it?!

And why couldn’t I hear it?!



mmmmmhmmmmmm.

So not only do I have the children to thank, but also the husband for the bags under my eyes.

He is going to murder me.

Once I was finally able to go to sleep after all that craziness I was woken up the first time at 12:30 by Ryder.

Ryder: MOMMA! MOMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! MY ‘JAMAS ARE ITCHIN’ ME! ITCHIN’!!!!!!!!!!!!! CAN’T SLEEP!!!!!! MAMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

So I go in there and tell her to stop yelling and change her itchy pjs because Ryder is the easiest child to rationalize with unless it comes to her itchiness or being too hot. Then its just a free for all on the yelling and weeping and gnashing of teeth.

I get back to sleep and at 2:15 I wake up with a child very creepily staring at me and blowing in my face.

Because that’s a completely normal way to try and wake someone up.

I jumped and scared her because she scared me and then we laughed for a good ten minutes. I put Rory back into her bed and tell her to not get out again.

Then at 3 I hear a little heifer sneaking into my bed via Andy’s side because she is smart so once again I pick Rory up and take her back to her bed.

3:25 brings more yelling for Ryder because I guess she assumes I can’t hear her unless she screams at the top of her lungs.

Ryder: MOOOOMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA MOMMA MOMMA MOMMAAAAA! I IS FIRSTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I NEED SOME WATERRRRRRRRR MOMMAAAAAAAAAAAAA! I CAN’T BREATHE I’M TOO FIRSTY I CAN’T BREATHE!!!!!!!!!

She isn’t dramatic or anything.

3:45 here comes Rory again trying to sneak in on Andy’s side of the bed. Because she is smart.

4:30 same thing.

4:58 same thing except this time I just let her get in the dang bed because I can’t even handle life at this point.

5:30 alarm goes off.

Andy has officially never woken up during all these shenanigans.

5:50 I actually get out of the bed while cursing the day they were all born.

6:15 everyone is up for the day.

6:30 ready to weep because I feel like I’ve already run 20392 marathons.

7:30ish drop kids off at school.

7:40 get back in my car and bask in the silence before driving on to work.

So there you have it. A typical night in the life of Tiffany.

One day they will go to college and I will sleep until I have caught up on all the sleep I missed out on.

Poor Andy.

But I feel as if I can deal with his snoring he will be able to deal with my deciding to not ever wake up when they are gone. Ha!

Happy Wednesday!

 

(PS, Andy does help me some at night- this is a funny post I am not knocking him. He needs sleep more than me probably. I can still thrive on so little.)

the story behind the pretzel. (also. help wanted.)

On Tuesday night, Ryder woke up SCREAMING in pain. She kept saying her ear hurt. I knew right away there was an ear infection going on. She wanted in my bed with me and wanted to be ON TOP of me the entire night. This NEVER HAPPENS. Never. EVER. So I knew something was for sure up with the girl.

The thing that struck me as odd was the fact that she’s already been on antibiotic for 7 days for her last round of strep. So how could she have an ear infection?

So, being the good mom that I am, I sent her on to school because I had to work and she had no fever and was acting fine in the morning. You know. What are you going to do?!

I got to work and mentioned what went on the night before to my coworkers and they were like “um she may have something in there then” to which I think OF COURSE. So I went and got Ryder and brought her back to the clinic.

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Sure enough Ryder had a mean cut in her ear that had caused an infection.

Meaning, of course, she had stuck something in her ear and it cut the canal and got infected.

So I started quizzing her about what she stuck in her ear and she stood firm for about an hour that it was a pop tart.

FINALLY she says, “Momma! I was eating some pretzels and just stuck it in my ear! Then I say OW!”

OF COURSE SHE DID.

Later on I was talking about this hilarious Buzzfeed about parents at the beginning of the school year vs parents are the end. The lunchbox is the one that is SO ME. At the beginning of the year I had such cute lunches with notes and all the glory. End of the year, I don’t even know what is going in there.

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That is when it hit me.

I realized that around two weeks ago I sent a lunch with some pretzels in the lunchbox.

Well, the children didn’t eat them all so the next day I sent them again because HELLO LET US NOT BE WASTEFUL. (But more importantly hello let us save time!)

Here we are approximately 10-14 days later and the same pretzels have been in their lunch well…. almost every day. photo

Look! There is one in there half chewed! And I’ve been sending it for almost two weeks! Maybe that one is the one she jammed into her ear?!

It suddenly hit me that MAYBE she stuck the pretzel in her ear as a cry for help. It is as if she is all SERIOUSLY MOM I’M SO OVER THESE PRETZELS I’M NOW TRYING TO DISPOSE OF THEM ANY WAY I CAN SO YOU CAN’T SEND THEM IN MY LUNCH ANOTHER DAY.

I’d like to formally apologize to my children for sucking at being a school mom at this point. I just cannot take another day of looking in folders and signing things and making decisions. AND WE ARE ONLY IN PRESCHOOL.

I’ve decided I am going to put an ad out in the paper and craigslist.

I need someone to move in to my house and do two things for me-

1) Look in the children’s folders and sign all of the things. Then tell me what they say in a way that it’ll stick in my mind. Well, we all know that won’t happen. So I need said person to just do the things I need to do and hand them to me and let me take the glory.

Must have discerning skills and be able to perfectly forge my signature.

2) Do my laundry. Wash and put up ALL OF THE LAUNDRY. No ironing is required because I do not own an iron and prefer to keep it that way.

Must be able to not shrink my clothes and put them in the correct places.

I won’t be able to pay well because daycare is sucking me dry. But just think of all the excitement you will be able to see every single day with my family!!! You’ll never experience anything like the crazy that goes on in this house!

Happy Thursday and beware of the pretzels!

 

 

kids are SO inappropriate.

When you have a set of toddlers you realize real quick that kids are so dang inappropriate.

For some reason I feel like my children are more inappropriate than others, but whatever. I’m going to pretend like it has nothing to do with me and my inappropriateness.

Do y’all remember when Ryder went around saying Shrek except it sounded like sh*t?

(Side note – would you wook at how wittle Wyder is here?!)

Well a few weeks ago I posted this video and you can tell Ryder still has the tendency to say things wrong and somehow they always end up being curse words. Why is that?! I don’t really care because it is so freaking hilarious.

At the end she says she put ICE on her lip but it sounds exactly like a**.

And here is one more…. Ryder got a My Little Pony who knows how long ago at McDonalds. She randomly carries it around.

Well, she’s been calling it a “horny pony”. No seriously. I got a little video of it but it isn’t as clear as it normally is. Bless her. She has no idea she has such a potty mouth.

So this all brings us to Kroger on Saturday night.

We went on a family date to the Pizza Grocery in Corinth this past Saturday. After we ate we went to Kroger to pick up a few things before heading home.

The girls were in the cart and talking about who knows what when Rory all of a sudden starts proclaiming …

“MOM! MOMMA! LOOOOK! LOOK AT THE HUGE BONER!”

ME: “WHAT?! SHHHH! WHAT!”

Rory: “Look! Look! That huge boner! Do you see it?! There is a huge boner over there!”

Me: “Rory seriously shut your mouth right now! shhhh! Please stop!”

Rory: “MOOOOMMMMMMM! I’m trying to show you that boner! That huge boner! See it?!”

FINALLY I saw the huge BOULDER she was talking about on an ad poster thing. And relief washed over me as I realized she really doesn’t know what a boner is at age four, she just can’t say all the words correctly.

But I mean. If you are going to not know a word correctly can we NOT have it be boner?! Sweet mercy.

It was EMBARRASSING.

Mortifying.

All of those words.

Please tell me I’m not alone here. Surely some of you have some even more mortifying stories than this?!

My friend, Erin, sent me this link once and it is hysterical! (Disclaimer, there are some ugly words on it because it is what kids say instead of the actual object’s name.)

Ah, kids. Such inappropriate little heifers.

closet purge of 2014 and the middle school years

Yesterday I completely lost my mind and decided to completely clean and re-organize my closet.

And by RE-organize I mean organize it for the first time the right way since living here for a year.

Obviously.

You may be wondering why I would decide to do this so I thought I’d share with you a little picture I’d like to call “OUT OF CONTROL”. Or if you are super cool like me you’d hasthag it #OOC.

IMG_3744I’m ashamed to even show you that picture.

But the first step in recovering is recognizing you had a problem.

AND OH DID I HAVE A PROBLEM.

The girls had lost their TV privileges a few days ago, so I turned it on for the first time in a while and they literally sat and watched Imagination Movers (most annoying show ever) and Sheriff Callie (don’t even get me started on that one) the entire time I cleaned.

Which, lets face it, is a true Christmas miracle.

Only it is March. So whatever.

The total loss of my mind also happened because of a few key factors worth mentioning:

1- My children refuse to sleep which, I know, is shocking news around here.

2- In hopes that they would sleep better I have made the executive decision to not allow naps anymore. Which has caused much weeping and gnashing of teeth FROM ME but after FOUR YEARS OF NO SLEEP, I cannot handle it any longer. No really. I told Andy I COULD NOT DO IT ANOTHER NIGHT. And of course, I did do it another night because what else can you do? Sometimes life is truly just about survival.

3- I’ve been drinking The Pioneer Woman’s (or Ree if you are friends with her which of course I am not) Iced Coffee every morning for about a week. And I don’t know what kind of crack juice it actually is but one glass of this heaven in a cup sends me into SUPER OVERDRIVE. Maybe it is the scoop of sugar and milk that make it even more crack juice-y. I don’t even care.

IMG_3742So as I’m cleaning out my closet I realize that I’m a true clothes hoarder. I don’t have the tendency to hoard anything else (except nail polish, makeup, shampoos and shoes- HA) but old clothes. I’m all over it.

Case in point. I had this dress since I was pregnant with Rory. And I used to wear it. Like I for real wore it.

IMG_4340WHY DON’T YOU PEOPLE LOVE ME?! Because if you loved me you would have told me to take this saggy boob snake mess off and THROW IT AWAY.

Sigh. Clearly I have no friends.

Then I noticed this piece of awesomeness stuck way back in the back of my T-shirts.

IMG_4337Bulldog Bash T-shirt circa 2005. This isn’t even mine. I’m pretty sure it is Sam’s from one of the times he moved in due to the fact that Andrew and him could not beat their playstation addiction in college. Why do I still have this?! Please tell me?!

The next items on my list date all the way back to the mid to late 90s.

OH YES THEY DO.

Exhibit A: Cheerleading sweatshirt circa 1999, Tigrett Thunderbolt (faux) “letter jacket” for soccer circa 1997, and Tigrett basketball windbreaker or whatever they were called circa 1996/97/98. Sweet mercy. HOW DO I STILL HAVE THESE THINGS?!

IMG_3782Please notice my name monogrammed on the windbreaker. Tiffany McIntire. The holy grail of awesome awkward.

You know. This is the perfect opportunity to interject and tell you a little story.

While wearing that windbreaker I fell, nay, tumbled violently down an entire set of bleachers during a pep rally after they called my name to come to the center of the court.

It is really too bad that they didn’t have cell phones back then because I would have been a youtube sensation FOR SURE.

I’m pretty sure I have PTSD to this day from that. And I’m pretty sure it was MOST DEFINITELY my most embarrassing event to date.

Raise your hand if you went to Tigrett and remember this! I’ve been texting my “friends” (ha) Rachel and Sara and they totally don’t remember which is the biggest disappointment of my life. Then I went to facebook messaging random friends from Tigrett and none of them remember either. So maybe it was a bigger deal in my head…. or actually NO IT WASN’T I FREAKING FLIPPED DOWN 27 BLEACHERS IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE SCHOOL. IN 7TH GRADE. Could there be anything worse OR more hilarious ever?!

7th grade is a rough year no matter what. Throw in the fact that I didn’t make the basketball team so ended up being the “ball girl” and THEN FELL DOWN THE STAIRS WHEN THEY CALLED MY NAME at the pep rally and well it was literally hell on earth. Ha!

All this thinking about middle school made me decide to find my lovely yearbook. AND OH I FOUND SOME GEMS.

First I shall show you the team picture that shows we all wore matching windbreakers:

IMG_3848There I am second row from the bottom all the way on the left. They put me there because they were worried I couldn’t handle the bleachers more than one step.

And rightly so.

But can I just say that I’m so thankful for the sweet mercy of whoever did this yearbook page because there was no mention of the ball girl status. I owe you a drink, dear friend.

Next up is a “group picture”. I stole my anorak from my sister and thought I WAS THE BOMB.COM, y’all. Because NOTHING said cool like a Gap Anorak, am I right or am I right?! I’m on the floor all the way to the left. In case you were wondering, the anorak was maroon. If you could see this more clearly you would see that anoraks and stripes were clearly BIG in ’97. Also. I had on Timberlands. Faux Timberlands from Shoe Carnival or WalMart or wherever, I’m sure. Holla Team 7A, holla.

IMG_3847I had to look twice at this one and second guessed myself until my memory came back and I distinctly remember gasping in horror when I saw that this made it into the yearbook…

IMG_3844Because every 7th grade girl wants to look like a 7th grade boy in the yearbook.

BUT! You HAVE to look on my wrist! That right there friends in your essential WWJD bracelet. Probably in navy or black. I had one in every single color, of course.

Here is my sixth grade yearbook picture. I’m throwing this in there so everyone can see that I had a version of the bowl cut in middle school which is pretty much horrific.IMG_3837And here we are at a dance in 7th grade….

Honestly I don’t even know what to point out first because there is too much awesomeness in one picture.

IMG_3833I think we should note these things: 1) everyone rocked the oily bangs, 2) STRIPES ARE STILL IN, 3) So are overalls. Corduroy overalls to be exact. 4) And sweetness look at the turtlenecks! Bless our hearts we really thought we were cool.

Also, don’t you love how I felt the need to name everyone in the picture? Of course I’m glad I did this now because I can remember people better. Otherwise how would I ever known who I faked friendships with in pictures?! JUST KIDDING.

Last but not least is my favorite picture ever for a few reasons: 1) it redeems my bowl cut a little, 2) my attire is epic to the 90s, 3) I’m “raising the roof”. Can you get more 90s than that?! Also, pretty sure dancing has always been my calling in life. Clearly you can see this on my face.

IMG_3845My attire is so right on point with the 90s it makes me want to weep. Overalls. Scrunchie to match my outfit. Velcro band watch. (Because seriously was there anything better than that in middle school?!)

Thank goodness I have a sense of humor now or else I’d still be scarred for life from those awful middle school days. Even the people I thought were just SO COOL say they would like to forget middle school ever happened.

Next up in my treasure trove of a closet – pants that state I went to Maui for my senior trip. Except really all they say is Maui across my butt which brings me to WHY DID WE EVER WEAR THINGS THAT SAID CRAP ACROSS OUR BUTTS?! I mean, REALLY?!

IMG_4466I wore these weird yoga pants/leggings/I don’t even know OUT. There is a picture out there somewhere of me doing flips through the airport in those pants. I would pay money for someone to resurrect that picture. I am, however, wearing those pants in the following picture. Sadly, you can’t see them, but this picture is the best picture I have ever taken with one of my BFFs Lauren.5288_1173043561572_6054426_nShe’s going to kill me and I cannot wait.

I also found my camp uniform from 2002. It, too, is monogrammed.

IMG_4344And how about this puffed paint pillowcase from 2001? I mean nothing says a good night’s rest like crunchy, hard pant on your face. Am I right?!

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It only took me about three hours but VOILA! Here it is in all it’s clean and wonderful glory.

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When the children came in at the end (because I called them to my room to sing my praises because I was desperate for someone to exclaim how awesome I was) they were shocked and in awe of their momma’s amazingness.

IMG_3799Here is another view of the closet. Doesn’t that look so wonderful and neat and beautiful because NOTHING IS ON TOP OF THE DRESSER except what I deemed appropriate.

IMG_3789I had a stack of clothes on the bed that I asked Andy to put up last night….

IMG_3825I will like to inform y’all that I may or may not have had homicidal thoughts for a moment. Apparently when I started breathing in a bag he realized the error of his ways and the dresser is clean once again.

I would also like to point out that while cleaning Andy’s side of the closet I realized he hoarded things as well. He had a grand total of 56 hats and 28 pairs of cargo shorts. I can’t even, y’all. Who has a need for all of that?! He also owes 10 or so maroon polos. He should win an award for most owned cargo shorts and hats.

I almost slept in my closet last night. In fact, I wish I had of slept in there – maybe everyone would have left me alone at all hours of the night. HA!

Hope my awkward middle school photos brought you great joy today. Happy Wednesday!

 

Don’t worry, this is just my poop face.

Pretty sure this past weekend was the most glorious weekends pretty much ever.

I feel like the sun hasn’t shown its face in so long and it was WONDERFUL to spend time outside. Saturday we spent the entire afternoon outside. The girls explored and talked to the neighbors and got dirty and it was awesome. Oh, and the best part? I got the tiniest amount of sun ever possible but whatever, it was still a bit of a tan.

Yesterday also marked my least favorite time of the year- annual outage time. SIGH. I’m so proud of Andy though and decided that this year instead of complaining about how hard it is on ALL of us, that I’m just going to pray for Andy everytime I think about the outage or him in general. I’m just going to pray that his poor body that endures LONG days (4am-11pm is a long day, y’all, and he has been known to pull those kind of days on a shutdown) will weather this time better than usual. I’m going to pray that he sleeps well every night, even if that means I’m up every night for the whole month. I’m going to pray that he is safe and that his contractors are safe and that the projects he is over go without a hitch. I know this is so stressful on him and I’m going to make sure this year he is bathed in prayer and loved on when he gets home no matter how hard it may be on me (because I can guarantee it is worse on him).

In other news, I was up all night last night because time change has done some damage on me and the girls. Rory didn’t go to sleep until, well, forever. She is the master procrastinator when it comes to bedtime. She came in our room no less that 20 times last night. The following are examples of her needs in life past 8:00pm:20140310-154259.jpg

“Mom! Did you hear me?! I sneezed so much.”

“Mom! You need to turn your TV off because it is waking me up.”

“Mom! I really have to go to the bathroom again.” Me: No, honey you don’t. Rory: “Mom! Do you want me to pee in my pants? Cause I will if I can’t go!”

“Mom! I sneezed again so much. You better get me some medicine for my sneezes!”

I think you are getting the point….

Ryder was up at 4:45 this morning because well, I don’t know why. So I put her in my bed so that maybe she’s go back to sleep. Well, she went back to sleep at 6:20. It was one of those mornings where I didn’t want to shower because I didn’t want to wake Ryder up, and then I didn’t want to get in the shower because Rory might come barging in and wake her up… so I had no shower and my hur is a MESS.

Yeah, I said ‘hur’.

(Hur = hair, mom.)

Rory also came in our room at 1:30 claiming that she had a dream and God told her she needed to snuggle with her daddy.

Mmmmhmmmm… well played, Rory. So once I got her all tucked back in and back in bed I had all these crazy thoughts running through my head about a blog post. Then I saw what my note said today and well, I’m quite concerned for myself.

So I figured I’d just go through each point and make a blog post out of it… because why not?20140310-154240.jpg

The first and third points in my note go together.

Yesterday we went to the Mexican after church because tradition, duh. Also, I obviously love to torture myself.

After we ate Rory declared she needed to go to the bathroom. Now, I quite despise the public restroom situation, but Rory was grabbing herself saying, “Ohhhhh lawd momma I can’t hold it anymore!” so I thought it was wise to go ahead and let her contaminate herself.

So we get in there and have to wait because the place (as in the restroom) was packed out. Of course.

We finally go into the stall and Rory declares, “Mom! I think its a poop kinda time!” … To which I respond with a hearty, ” SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! NO ONE WANTS TO KNOW THAT!”

So at this point people are already giggling. Then the giggles get louder as Rory proceeds to make lots of noises that you just apparently HAVE to make to go #2.

And as if that weren’t enough, she then decides that I must be worried because she proceeds to say to me, “Don’t worry, Mom! This is just my poop face! Its not my mad face! See, my mad face looks like this *insert mad face here* and my poop face looks like this *insert poop face and a big grunt*! See the difference?!” and then shows me approximately 10 more times to be sure we are clear that she is not mad at me, she’s just making her poop face.

I’m 100% certain one lady peed in her pants while waiting on Rory to finish poop facing in the bathroom.

As if that weren’t bad enough, I took the girls to WalMart after church last night and Rory decides that would be the PERFECT time to show Ryder the difference between the poop face and the mad face. So here they go, right in the middle of the WalMart saying things like, “Okay, Ryder- let me see your mad face…. ok ok good…. now let me see your poop face…. okay well you need to squeeze down a little harder… ok perfect” …. over and over again. Lots of grunting going on… honestly a few farts flew in that grocery cart and I thought LORD HAVE MERCY THEY ARE ABOUT TO CRAP THEIR PANTS.

But luckily, no sharts happened at the WalMart yesterday.

The next point on the crazy note is simply Weiner dog.

Now I THINK this has to do with our new neighbors. You see, I’m fairly certain they have a wiener dog and I’m 100% positive this will end badly for me.

You see, my children keep asking what their dogs names are and what kind of dogs they are and I’m 99% sure Andy told them that it is a wiener dog.

Now, you might think this is crazy to be worried about this, but really y’all? Have you read this blog AT ALL?

I can see it now… them talking to the new neighbors and me trying to act normal when lo and behold here comes the girls yelling “WIENER” and well, that would be devastating.

I know you are thinking that I’m over reacting, but I am trying my hardest to seem normal to at least one neighbor.

Because all of the other neighbors have seen me a) fall off the lawn mower on numerous occasions b) fall down my front steps at least twice c) flash them on two occasions and d) run into things with the lawn mower at least 10 times.

So, as you can tell, I’m pretty sure we leave a lasting impression.

So much so that we moved into the neighborhood and 3 homes promptly went for sale.

I’m starting to get REALLY PARANOID.

And my paranoia is so bad apparently I’m typing things like ‘wiener dog’ on my phone at 2:11 am.

The bipolar comment comes from my realization after looking back on the following text between the husband and I.20140310-154317.jpg

My last post was about how life was bipolar, but I’m pretty sure it is ME. Ha! Don’t pretend you don’t  text things like that to your husbands. This particular moment was brought to you by the “we will be leaving in just a second” text and then not hearing from him for 3 hours. So I felt the need to express my feelings in the form of a violent text. He called me .3 seconds later. HA HA! See! I know what kind of push a man needs to get a response!

Oh and one more thing- this picture makes you think my girls would never do such things as poop vs mad faces in the WalMarts, right?!

They are such precious little turds.

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#waitletmetakeaselfie

Sometimes the life of a mom is, well, hard. Is that the understatement of the century or what?!

Yesterday afternoon I was going INSANE with my children and their CRAZINESS AT DANCE CLASS. No but seriously, taking the girls to Rory’s dance class is trying. I almost always leave and get a giant coke from Sonic and I almost always wish I could spike it with something stronger.

It isn’t something I like to admit, but it is true and I’m all about the truth around here.

Want to know what is also true?

I sometimes lock myself in my bathroom and pretend I’m using it because, y’all, MOMMY NEEDS A TIMEOUT TOO SOMETIMES.

The following reasons are, what I think, legitimate reasons to take a mommy timeout:

1) When your children take a tub of Vicks Vapor Rub and COMPLETELY EMPTY IT all over themselves and their rooms and the surrounding area…

2) When your, PRECIOUS, children sneak out of their room and get chocolate chips out of the pantry (that you didn’t know you even had by the way) and empty the ENTIRE BAG out all over their room while they are supposed to be napping…

3) When you get home and their are giant piles of chocolate crap (like as in POOP) and piles of chocolate throw up because apparently your dog ate the chocolate your kids dumped out…OH AND BY THE WAY, when you also slip on those piles and fall in them….

4) When your children dump fun dip (that you didn’t know you had) ALL OVER YOUR WHITE RUG IN THE LIVING ROOM…

5) When your darling children get your wedding rings out of the jewelry box and proceed to hide them and tell you that they flushed them down the toilet…

People, shall I go on?! I’m pretty sure you get it.

See, I say that Mommy needs a timeout when things like the above happen because sometimes Mommy feels angry and sometimes Mommy feels the need to go to her bathroom, lock the door, and CALM THE HECK DOWN.

So yesterday during the craziness of dance, I started getting these awesome texts.

First, I got a text to a youtube video about selfies. I watched it and laughed really hard. We all know how I feel about a selfie…. and if you don’t know I will tell you- I feel awkward. I feel like selfies are awkward and weird and I can never figure out what to do with my face.

Also, I feel like moms maybe should lay off of the selfies. That is just my personal opinion though.

Then I started getting selfies from my friends. Now let me mention that I’ve been friends with these girls since about 1994. They are in the “lifelong friend” category. They’ve seen IT ALL. And yet, they still love me. Or at least pretend they do! Ha!

So here is how the selfie situation went down. And in between we talked a lot about how we were sick of things like wiping butts and paying for butt cream and well, normal mom stuff…photophoto 2photo 9

photo 3photo 8

photo 6

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Y’all. I can’t even. I’m pretty sure I laughed until I peed my pants. It was THE BEST.

Dear Jinny and Rachel, thank you for making my day AMAZING.

Basically, I suggest all my mom friends immediately start texting selfies to each other because IT WILL BRIGHTEN YOUR DAY.

Not even kidding.

Also, I have one more item to discuss with you.

There is apparently a GINORMOUS difference between crowns and tiaras.

Wanted to spare all of you the weeping and gnashing of teeth I experience in my house every single time I say, “I love your princess crown!”. Because “UUUUUUUUUUGHHHHHH MOOOOOOOOOOM ITS A TIARA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”.

Teenage years are something to look forward to. I can already tell.

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the perp

I don’t know if it is all of the meds or all of the fever or all of the TRAPPED INSIDE MY BEDROOM FOR FOUR DAYS, but I feel like I may be going a little insane.

I should have known this weekend that things were on the downhill for my life (I’m not dramatic or anything) because that is when all the craziness began.

Let me start from the beginning.

You see, I have a weird thing called selective OCD. Piles of laundry do not bother me, but a crooked TV- OH YES MA’AM. One of my weird obsessions is the way everything is before I go to sleep. All doors must be locked (duh), fans on, closet and bathroom door shut, and clock facing a certain way. I told you- weird.

Well on Saturday night I was DOG TIRED and for once Andy stayed up later than me watching TV. In the middle of the night I woke up and heard this noise from the bathroom. I promptly woke Andy up explaining our inevitable doom because clearly someone was trying to climb up REALLY HIGH to get into our bathroom window. Which, by the way, does not open.

Andy woke up the first time and sat up and listened to be “nice” but after that he made death threats about me waking him again. Or actually he just slept through it all. Finally I mustered up the courage (aka I had to pee bad enough) to go and shut the bathroom door. From then on out I slept like a baby.

Sunday morning I wake up all bright eyed and bushy tailed (or actually feeling like a hangover without any drinks the night before) while the kids ran around yelling and being LOUD CHILDREN. I took a shower (you’re welcome to all who had to smell me that day). When I got out of the shower I dried off and my hair was sopping wet. I leaned over my tub to squeeze some of the water out but before I wrung my hair out there was a loud noise from my tub…

I thought, “wait that’s funny- I haven’t wrung my hair out into the tub yet….” all the while turning to see….

A MOUSE IN MY BATHTUB.

That sucker was running as hard as he could to try to get out but just couldn’t do it.

And y’all, it scared me SO BAD that I screamed like I have never screamed before. It wasn’t even that it was a mouse that scared me- it was just the unexpectedness of it.

Andy tears into the room with glazed over eyes and crazy hair.

Apparently the children had been awake and I had taken a shower and Andy was asleep in Rory’s bed (because around here- you just find a place and park it to try to get some adequate sleep).

So I pause and say, “Um, were you still asleep?????” and he’s all, “Well… well… uh….. yeah I guess I was.” And I got so distracted at the hilarity of him lookin’ crazy and not even realizing he was in Rory’s bed snoozin’ while the kids were up doing their own thing.

ANYWAYS.

I promptly told him that HE SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO ME. There actually was something in our bathroom for once and he should never doubt my sanity EVER AGAIN.

Because, we all know that I am THE MOST RATIONAL PERSON EVER with NO TENDENCY TOWARD THE DRAMATICS.

So that’s how this week started.

Then I got sick and that was a crazy time because I hallucinated about being stranded in Alaska and Andy had not adequately prepared me to survive in cold weather scenarios.

And I kept waking up in the middle of our bedroom in a ball, shivering.

So that was fun and clearly all his fault because HE DIDN’T PREPARE ME.

I knew I was doomed with Ryder having the flu when she started grabbing in the air saying, “No snakes! No! Don’t come near me!” while staring up in the sky at nothing.

This morning was the first time I’ve felt normal since Monday and I’ve been spending lots of time trying love on the girls but NOT AT THE SAME TIME since Ryder’s sick.

Do you know how hard that is, people?!

Rory has spent the entire week being Andy’s buddy and she has had the best time.

Though, I’m quite concerned because she’s been calling Ryder a “perp” all day.

Example: “Hey you little perp! I’m gonna shoot!”

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So as soon as Andy gets home from work I will be quizzing him on the reasons she now has this word in her vocabulary….

I’m guessing there was a Law & Order: SVU marathon on and they watched together?????

Thoughts anyone?????

I think I will start referring to the mouse in my bathroom as “the perp”.

I was beginning to see a silver lining of all the sickness last night as I went to bed. Andy was up in the playroom sleeping and I was in our room settling in to my pillows. As I’m laying there trying to drift off to sleep I keep hearing this amazingly awful noise. I thought Andy was watching some sort of movie with a car chase or explosions or chainsaws…

so I start to march up there to tell him to quiet down already when I realized…

IT WAS HIM SNORING.

All that horrible noise was coming from HIM.

And WHO KNEW but when someone sleeps above you in a poorly insulated room it sounds like a freight train being chased and then bombed and then chainsawed in half.

Oh. My. MERCY.

Then I could hear Ryder through the monitor talking to herself in her flu state and also SNORING and the random coughing.

So I was up a good portion of the night thinking…

WHAT KIND OF FRESH HELL-O IS THIS?!

Here I am in bed with everyone sleeping SO GOOD except me. Even though I’m ALL ALONE and THIS IS THE PRIME TIME TO SLEEP PEOPLE.

But no. NO NO NO NO NO.

It was torturous.

Ok.

I’m off to stuff the 100th orange down Rory’s throat and to check temps for the 230912091233094234923-232093203904094092339202320394 time this week.

Happy Thursday!

 

I have chosen a talent.

 

You know. Sometimes I feel like I’m on the Truman Show and that everyone is secretly watching me on a screen somewhere. The things that happen to me just don’t seem to happen to other people.

For instance, this morning I woke up to EIGHT dogs in my garage. I also have eight tunnels dug up underneath my fence.

And I’m assuming I will have 8 or so puppies soon because apparently Dixie is in heat.

The thought never occurred to me.

Until 8 male dogs were beating on my door this morning.

As if ALL THOSE dogs weren’t enough, they had all taken refuge in my garage from the pouring down rain.

So the girls and I have to fight our way to the car through the mob of dogs and then I started backing out and pushed the garage button.

And this is when all heck breaks loose, people.

Every.Single.Time. I tried shutting the garage door a dog would dart underneath it as it was coming down, triggering the sensor and making the door go back up.

THIS HAPPENED FOR ABOUT, OH, 15-20 MIN.

I totally lost my religion on those dogs.

Now, remember, it was pouring down rain.

I would have all the dogs cleared away from the garage. I’d push the button to shut it and get in the car.

AND THEN A DOG WOULD DART UNDER THE DOOR AND UP IT WOULD GO.

I am still so angry, y’all.

I finally decided to brave the weather and play goalie.

So there I was, guarding the door like a soccer goalie, yell “GET DOGS, GET!” (pronounced more like ‘git’) in my best Southern drawl while flailing about trying to scare them away.

Well I’ll be dang if one of those dogs didn’t dart through and make the garage go up even with me standing there.

WHY WERE THEY OBSESSED WITH THE GARAGE???????

So, me being COMPLETELY RATIONAL at this point, hauled off and kicked the fire out of this massive dog.

Helpful Hint: Don’t kick a huge, muscular dog. It’ll cause much pain to your leg/foot/etc and NO PAIN TO THE DOG.

Y’all. WHY ME? WHYYYYYY? Why do these things happen to me? Can you tell me?

It’s the Truman Show.

In other non-news, my kids are still hilarious.

Rory and Andy had the following conversation this week when we called him while he was at work.

Rory: Daddy! Are you at the Paper Mill????

Andy: Yeah! I am! (it was loud because he was actually IN the mill so he was shouting)

Rory: Oh! Ok! Are the fans blowing?!

Andy: Yep, they’re blowing.

Rory: What about the duct work? How’s that?

Andy: It’s good.

Rory: Is the smoke still blowing out?

Andy: Yep.

Rory: Okay, good. When I get bigger and I get 4 I’m gonna come be a genius with you at the Paper Mill, okay dad?

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was the sweetest, smartest, most hilarious and completely over my head conversation I’d ever heard in my life.

Oh, that child is her daddy made over.

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And then there’s Ryder.

She’s turned into quite the terrible two year old. Bless her heart.

This morning her boot zipper seemed crooked to her so therefore…

“I CAN’T MOMMA. I CAAAAAN’T. I CAN’T WALK. I CAAAAAN’T.”

Bless.

She’s also become QUITE THE AGGRAVATOR. Like x1000.

This morning I had taken Rory into her room to have a talk about obeying.

Well Ryder kept poking her head in and saying in a bit of a song type rhythm,

“OOOOOOOOO Whoa-wy gettin’ a spankin and I am no-ot.”

She only did that about 21039203 times.

She is also way into the “do it myself” stage. Except she says, “I do’s it mys-selfs.” She obviously loves plurals.

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Please excuse the quality of these photos.

So this week I had the following conversation with my friend, Kristen, and it has tickled me all week.

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Now this isn’t the first (or last) conversation we have had like this, but I just loved it. Anyone else have needy kids that actually want us to parent?! ha!

One more little random tidbit.

I think a lot about what I would choose as my talent if I were ever in a pageant.

I don’t know why I think about this a lot but I just do. I’m a semi-okay singer so that is a definite no. And then I can’t twirl a baton. So no.

I can dance like Beyoncé, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t be a great talent to show.

Anyways.

The other day the kids fell asleep in the car on the way home and I FINALLY realized what my talent would be.

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It would be getting my kids out of a car and into their beds without them waking up.

It takes so much focus, strategy, and mind-over-matter that I know it would be a serious contender for the ol’ beauty pageant.

I have a whole map out of this task.

They fall asleep and I rush home so that they aren’t asleep more than 18 minutes. Because 18 minutes is that do or die number. If it is more then you can forget more of a nap from Rory.

BUT. If is LESS than 15, you can forget it too. It has to be between 16-18 minutes.

I park the car in the driveway. I quietly go to the GARAGE entrance and open it up, letting out Jersey and whatever animal is storing up in my house.

Then I go back and get Rory. I slide her buckle out and wrap my arm around her back and press her head firmly against my chest. Then I quickly (but not too quick!) whisk her up into my arms. I then go in through the garage entrance straight to her room. I lay her down without letting go until I can place the pillows so she thinks someone is still holding her.

I leave the room and breathe for the first time in 2 minutes.

Then I go out and get Ryder. Now it doesn’t matter with her about all of this because if she wakes up I simply lay her down and say, “Ryder, it is time to nap sweetheart.”

And she smiles at me and says, “ok momma, come back and get me soon, k?” and just like that she is out like a light.

PRECIOUS CHILD OF MINE.

So there you have it- little known fact about me and my talents.

Have a great weekend, y’all!

Because Why Not : Minivan Edition

People.

I have to talk with y’all about something.

I’m on the verge of bitter.

There were things I said I’d NEVER EVER DO ….

like EVER

EVER

EVER.

1- I said I’d never live in Louisiana.

God laughed.

2- I said I’d never live in Texas.

God laughed and made me LOVE it.

3- I said I’d never live less than 2 hours from any family.

God laughed and moved me REALLY close.

4- I said that I would never under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES ever ever ever

EVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

drive a Minivan.

God LAUGHED AND LAUGHED AND LAUGHED.

Then he probably giggled.

Then he belly laughed some more.

Because I’ll be darn if I didn’t get myself a Minivan on Saturday.

photo2Please note the “excited” face and the all black attire.

BECAUSE I AM IN MOURNING.

And let me just tell y’all about this minivan buying experience.

While I quite enjoyed shopping at CarMax for the first time, I will say they did something WAY WRONG at their car lot.

Like it is UNSPEAKABLE how wrong it was.

You see, folks, as I was looking at the minivans and feeling like another part of me was dying to Motherhood, I look across from the MV’s to see this…

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That’s right.

LUXURY SUVs.

To rub it in my face that I wasn’t purchasing one of those even more was my old car, the Volvo. My dream car. The car that disappointed me in ways I will never get over when it died mid-move last year.

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You better believe I told the management how horrific it was for me to have to look at my big ol’ momcar while being taunted by the Audis, Porsches, and BMWs.

It is just wrong, people.

To top it all off there was THAT COUPLE.

There was this young, madly in love couple car shopping too.

And you better believe they weren’t looking for a minivan.

They were about to test drive the Porsche.

Sigh.

So there they were lovey dovey all over each other, blissfully unaware of their future if they choose to have children.

They look over at me and we lock eyes.

They give me this, “Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss” face.

I look back at them like, “I know. Thank you for your condolences.” and gave them a wave like, “I will be okay. One day.”

It was tragic.

And ironic.

And symbolic.

So I test drive the MV and decided, well, of course I’m getting it.

It’s only the most wonderful car ever created in the history of the earth.

After the test drive, we park it and I just get out and walk away quickly.

The saleslady person says, “you are going to go cry aren’t you?”

I say, “Yes… let me just have a moment.”

I go and tears stream down my face for a short second. Then I sucked it up and signed the papers.

Goodbye coolness.

Hello swagger wagon.

And y’all. It was just precious.

My children were so excited about the new car they COULD NOT STAND IT.

Rory giggled ’til she cried over the automatic doors.

THIS IS NOT AN EXAGGERATION.

Girlfriend had legitimate tears over the fact that she could push a button and shut the door by herself.

Don’t even get me started on their reaction to the DVD player and the cool limo lights going on in that swagger wagon.

THEY ARE DELIGHTED WITH IT.

And honestly, so am I.

Soon I will do a post on all the ways I love my minivan.

So not only did I say I wouldn’t ever EVER ever HAVE a minivan, I also said I would get one and NEVER EVER LIKE IT.

God is laughing again.

Because I’ll be dang if I don’t LOVE THE MESS out of that thing.

So there you have it.

Because Why Not? : Minivan Edition

To be continued…

 

because why not?: Smart Phone and Pedicure Edition

Well. It happened. The Virus hit our house last weekend.

Now I won’t go over all the details because who wants to hear about all that?!

But I will tell you that I texted the word “sharted” so much over two days (because there HAS to be humor somehow in The Virus, right?!) that my phone started automatically putting the word in. And in all caps.

For example.

I was trying to text my friend, Katie, and I typed ‘sh’ and then I looked down and the sentence randomly said SHARTED in the middle of it.

I have no idea why this happened but I thought it was pretty hilarious.

Four times in one day I was trying to text words like ‘she’ or ‘shut up’ or ‘shenanigans’ and it automatically typed in SHARTED before I could put a third letter behind the ‘sh’.

DOES THAT MAKE SENSE TO YOU PEOPLE OUT THERE?!

My phone automatically assumes I’m going to type shart…. BECAUSE, WHY NOT?! My smart phone thinks it is just SO SMART. Actually I bet Suri put my phone up to this mess.

Now. Shall we talk about the pedicure?

So I’m busy this week finishing up plans and getting myself purty for my ten year HS reunion that is this weekend.

I decided a couple of things were mandatory. WAXING OF THE MAN-BROWS and a mani/pedi.

I went to our local walk-in type nail salon and picked out THE PRETTIEST COLOR called Russian Navy Suede. It was delightful.

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And somehow (because why not?!) my toes look like this…

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Now I don’t know if you can tell from the above pictures but… THAT COLOR ON MY TOES MOST CERTAINLY DOES NOT MATCH THE COLOR I PICKED OUT.

I was so busy on the phone doing stuff for the reunion and what-not that I didn’t think to make sure she wasn’t putting the color I picked out on my toes.

So she gets done and said, “Ok, you’re ready to go!” and I look down and am all, “WAIT WHAT?! THAT IS NOT RUSSIAN NAVY!” but I don’t want to be rude so I just tell her it is okay.

Side note: Girlfriend NEVER apologized, she just kept telling me how elegant the color she put on was.

And while it is fine…. it isn’t my color! Also, it really isn’t a color I’d ever pick out.

But really, would it be my life without this craziness?!

So there you have it folks. BECAUSE WHY NOT?!: The Virus and Pedicure Edition

I want to leave you with this picture in honor of our reunion this weekend. We were such babies. And Andy’s note in my sophomore yearbook CRACKS ME UP, people.

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