Time to put on my big girl panties and enjoy the hotel on the beach

This will be a big week for me. Not because it's the end of NaBloPoMo but because I will be doing something I've never done before. One of my deep dark secrets as a mother is that I've never really been away from my kids. Daycare while I work. Spouse or relative for Saturday afternoon shopping. And once a decade my husband and I line someone up so we can exit the house after dark alone. But that's it. For example, I've seen my daughter every single day of her life. Even when I was in the hospital having my second child, I saw my daughter everyday. And I was only in the hospital one night. I know. What kind of idiot rushes home from the hospital? I'll tell you who. An idiot who is married to my husband. Dude can successfully convince an otherwise intelligent woman that she'll rest better at home despite the fact that there's no nursing staff at your house and small children will expect to be played with. But I digress.

So after a couple years of not leaving the kids, it kinda became a habit. Like two years ago when some mandatory training came up at work. I just kinda delayed getting scheduled and the classes all filled up. Then I got promoted and it became a non issue. But then I found out about some mandatory training for my new position and even though my son had gotten old enough that it no longer seemed inconceivable, I kinda sorta delayed scheduling that one and those classes filled up too. So the issue never really came to a head. Until October.

That's when I heard about a can't miss conference in my field scheduled for the first week of December. No one's making me go. My office really isn't like that. But not going would essentially mean forfeiting a spot at the top of the food chain. Because all the top dogs go to the conference. I like to pretend I'm a top dog so I knew the jig was up on my travel avoidance.

I never mentioned my no traveling thing at work. Not because my office is anti motherhood or anything like that. It just seemed like a bad idea to advertise an area in which someone else might be more flexible than me. Better to let it be a fun surprise instead!

So anyway, this will be a big week for me. Two whole days of not seeing their faces. Three bedtime tuck ins without me. My husband's already bracing himself for the potential onslaught of teary phone calls.

I'll be fine. And I'm pretty sure I actually mean that. I know even mentioning the issue makes me a big whiny baby complaining about a stupid middle class issue that plenty of people wouldn't even consider a problem. I also like to remind myself that my husband's traveled a lot in the last year. I'm looking forward to dumping leaving the kids with him so he can see how he likes it what it's like. On top of that, an old friend is going to be at the conference so I'll get to hang out with her. And another old friend lives in the area and has a brand new baby I'm betting is in need of some cuddling from me. Oh yeah, and my hotel will on the beach in sunny California. No really! Like "throw open the patio doors and you can hear the waves" on the beach. What kind of ungrateful hag can't get happy about that? There are way worse problems to have than an employer that wants to pay you to visit the beach.

My solemn oath is to not cry. But I reserve the right to blink rapidly and dab with a tissue if necessary. A margarita with dinner might not hurt either. Later!

Best gift ever

Tonight I moved on from online shopping to selecting photos for the annual calendar I make of my kids to give to relatives as Christmas gifts. I say relatives but I mostly mean my mother. I mentioned last year that she came right out and asked for another one. As she's generally the sort of person to buy whatever she needs and never has much on her Christmas list besides socks, I figure I can at least produce a nice calendar every year.

It's generally a six hour project. Six hours going through every photo I've taken that year, picking out a nice variety and arranging them just so. Since having a second child, I also pride myself on using an equal number of photos of each one. I know. Way more work than it needs to be. But, if I can share one thing, it's worth it. Once a month, my mother tells me about flipping to the new month and what she thinks of that month's pictures. Sometimes it's how cute one of the kids looks. Other times it's how it reminded her of something she'd forgotten about. She hangs it at work so other people can admire her grandchildren and stop to chat. It's by far the second best gift I've ever given anyone and I get to give it every year.

As for the best gift I've ever given, hand's down that's the new television I surprised my grandparents with. It wasn't even for a special occasion or anything. Back when I was in college, they sent me $500 to take some extra curricular class after they read an article about something or other in the paper. It was completely random and the class didn't interest me in the least. But I figured if they could part with the money for something frivolous for me then it'd be okay to go ahead and cash the check and use it to treat them to something they should have treated themselves to long ago. Their old television only got two channels and neither of them was the channel that showed the St. Louis Cardinals games and my grandma lived and died Cardinals. It also had no remote. My Grandpa used to sit on a ottomon next to it flipping until they found something they wanted to watch.

I picked them out a new television with a remote and threw in a built in VCR for good measure. The VCR was a last minute brainstorm so we could mail them movies we knew they'd like without having to worry about talking them through how to hook up a VCR. That television was gold, baby. Gold. Something they needed. Something that improved the quality of their lives. And not given for any particular occasion. Just because I could.

They loved it. Loved that I thought of it. Loved the surprise. Used it every day. Delightful. My best gift ever.

Santa shops on eBay like the rest of us

I did not enter any stores today but I did do some hardcore damage to my credit card. Since realizing Christmas is less than a month away, I've been spending some quality time with my old friend eBay. I've won six auctions in the last 7 days and I'm closely monitoring 3 more. I also ordered crap from Old Navy, Gap, The Company Store and a store I refuse to name on the off chance my brother reads this because it will reveal what I'm giving him for Christmas.

On the downside, I think I may be addicted to online shopping. I figure that's a bad thing in June but socially acceptable in December. On the upside, I'm actually making progress on my Christmas list. Too bad, every time I cross something off I think of something new to add to my list.

It used to be a mental list inside my head. Then it started getting so long it was giving me a headache. So now it's scribbled on the back of scrap paper. The newest Kindergartner has been attempting to decipher it ever since she noticed her name on it. She likes to come by and stare. She's also tried acting casual and making conversation about it. I'd feel bad for her except when I tried asking her what she was going to ask Santa for she told me she couldn't tell me. She says it's supposed to be a secret. Hopefully "secret" is code for "I can whisper it in your ear later but I can't tell you in front of him." Because Santa can't very well shop online if she doesn't know what she's shopping for, now can she.

From our mismatched table to yours

Our dining room set may be mismatched. Our carpet may have fresh blue permanent marker scribbled on it. And there may be way too many dogs underfoot while you eat. But the food is good. The people are nice. And we laugh a lot. It was a good day. Happy Thanksgiving from our table to yours.

Knock on wood

The television in our living room broke mysteriously last month. As the only television viewing taking place in our living room is the occasional screening of Cinderella, my husband and I never got around to buying a new one. In fact, sometimes we even forget that it's broken.

My dad came over for dinner last weekend planning to sit on the couch with my husband watching football. I can't begin to describe how little it takes to make the two of them happy just staring at the screen discussing running backs. Imagine my dad's disappointment when he discovered no television.

We offered to move my husband's mammoth 52 inch flat screen into the living room but my dad assured us it wasn't a big deal. I also suggested he and my husband just go lay on the bed together to watch but I'm sure you can imagine what two grown men thought of that idea.

Anyway, the next morning my dad calls me bright and early to ask if we want a TV for Christmas. I said we had our sights set on getting one next weekend so don't worry about it. The day after that he calls to tell me he has five TVs in his house and he wants to loan us one until we get a new one. And then then the day after that he calls and tells me to go buy a television and tell him how much it was and he'll give me the money. I explained that it's really not a money issue just a "we're lazy and unmotivated because the only person inconvenienced by the no television thing is the five year old princess addict" issue. So then he's all, No really. And I'm all, No really. And he's all, I'm serious. And I'm all, Me, too. And then I guess I said, We'll see, because, dude, everyone knows that's the universal way to be vague and end a conversation that's not going anywhere. Except then the next time I see him he's shoving a blank check in my hand telling me to go out that day and get one. I was all, Huh? He even followed up the next day calling to find out if I got one yet. He was very confused when I seemed confused by his call.

First of all, it's a TV not a roof over someone's head. Obviously we'd pawn one of the children if the other TV broke and we needed some cash to replace it because I think we all know missing even one second of crappy reality television isn't an option. But this is just the backup TV. No one's currently in danger of missing the goth Scarlett O'Hara dude on Blush last night.

Second of all, dude's very worried about the status of a TV. This seemed odd to me up until five minutes ago. I think the failure to compute inside my head was because I'm not male or addicted to football. But then it finally occurred to me that dude might be worried about where he's supposed to park his butt to watch football when he comes over to our house tomorrow for Thanksgiving. Or any other day for that matter. Duh. This makes me wonder if I should call to tell him to go ahead and toss a television in his car before he heads over tomorrow. Because, shhhhh, don't tell anyone, but his many efforts haven't yielded a television yet. I know. Can you imagine actually handing someone a blank check and you still end up on their dumpy old couch staring at the wall forced to make conversation.

Third, we really don't need him to buy us a television. Dude's insane. Generous. But insane. But I guess we'd better get off our duffs and buy ourselves a TV so he can stop losing sleep at night.

Fourth, certainly gives a girl something to be thankful for. Don't get me wrong. I'm not cashing the blank check. But it's the thought that counts. That will be just one of the things I'll be saying thank you for tomorrow. Good health and family being two others. Life has been good to me this year.

Knock on wood.

Alternate uses for your kid's Pottery Barn chair

Puppies are like crack. They chew your shoes and you want to swear them off. Then they plop their butt in a Pottery Barn chair and suddenly you can't live another day without taking at minimum twelve million photos of their never ending cuteness. For example, our new puppy Bruno turned his head to rest it on the arm of the chair and I decided I couldn't live without that picture too:

Then he moved around in the chair to get more comfy and his giant puppy paws were falling out of the chair and the sky would most likely have fallen on my head if I didn't capture the cuteness:

And then he walked over to me to ask me where I'd been all his life. No, wait. That was me that asked that.

So. Cute. I'm. Putty. In. His. Paws.

Best line ever

On a recent episode, Judge Judy was asking a defendant what he did for a living. He says he's on disability because of a learning disability except then his defense involves a convoluted story about payment for work he did for the plaintiff painting and ripping up carpet. So Judy asks if he's allowed to work and get paid like that while collecting disability. He says, Yeah and she says, Don't they reduce your check by however much you make? Dude says, If you get paid by check, yeah, they reduce your check. But if you get paid in cash, they don't reduce your check because they don't care. Um. Yeah. Hello, Everything That's Wrong With This Country! How are you today? You look like you've lost weight. We should totally do lunch. Then maybe you can explain how I too can get delusional enough to confuse "don't care" with "don't know." Moron.

Beware of the wild hair

I ditched my husband and kids and hit the nearest movie theater to see Twilight today. Technically, I didn't plan to see it opening weekend. Really, I didn't. But I was leaving the house anyway because, dude, did I need some time away from my children. My husband tried to shoo my crabby behind out the door bright and early at 7:30 because he'd already sensed the rift in the force. But I told him nowhere I wanted to be was open yet. By the time I deemed it time to head out, I finally realized what weekend it was. It was like a sign. Who was I to deny it?

I liked it. I mean, the book is way better. Don't get me wrong. And, I'll be honest, you probably won't like it if you haven't read the book. Part of what I liked about it was that it was like visiting old friends. Sort of like how the Sex and the City movie felt like having an old friend visit. If you don't know all the charming little details the movie's too short to get into, I'm thinking you might not get sucked into Edward. But luckily for me, this was not an issue. I've even developed an appreciation for Robert Pattinson's above average hotness. Out of control hair and all. In a couple scenes they got really close up on Edward and Bella and his three inch tall hair got cut out of the shot and, I swear, I caught myself noticing that and maybe even missing the hair a little.

Speaking of hot, the scene with the kiss was hot. Holla. And the part where he stayed to talk to her and just laid on the bed next to her made me want to cry. Although that probably had more to do with the time of the month, if you know what I mean, but whatever.

Several plot changes distracted me. For example, certain important conversations take place in the forest not the car. And my favorite day, the one where it's Edward's turn to ask all the questions, didn't even make the cut. I guess maybe I'm willing to forgive them because it is a long book to attempt to squish into a movie.

Finally, in the history of nitpicking, allow me to present you with the grand champion of nitpicky comments which is who the hell picked the grey pea coat for Edward to wear in the big forest scene? Did they run out of black pea coats that day? Am I the only person that thinks he would have looked three times hotter in black instead of that washed out grey mess? Dare I hope those wardrobe people have been suitably punished for crimes against humanity? Seriously. It's not a J.Crew ad. Stop dressing him like it is. Focus on making him look hot. Help him help us fall into the wild hair vortex of hotness.

Although, seriously, that forest scene really is crying out to be a J. Crew commercial. And did anyone else think Jasper looked insane in every scene? Is that whacked out casting or whacked out acting? And the Cullen's house was way cooler than I'd imagined. And Edward with a hatchback seems so odd. And Bella seemed more scared and overwhelmed. In the book she seemed so much more certain.

Okay. Enough already. Thumbs up from me. Entirely fluffy but fun to watch while eating buttery popcorn. But beware of the wild hair.

Holy cow that margarita was big!

Holy cow did I drink a big margarita over dinner! The waitress was all, What can I get you to drink? And I was all, Margarita. And my husband was all, Make it a large. And I was all, Okay. And then they brought me a giant vat of it and then I drank it. Because we're in the middle of a recession and we shouldn't be wasting things. Right? Not even a $6 wading pool sized margarita. Boo-yah!

The entire car ride home I was laughing at everything. No really. Then my husband claimed he was hot so I rolled down my window for him to let the 53 degree weather in. My husband being the sort of guy that never blinks in the face of acts of aggression he went ahead and rolled his window down and turned the air conditioning on. Dude even aimed all the vents at me. Holy cow I love him.

My children finally started screaming for heat so we rolled the windows up. Maybe they wouldn't have to scream for heat if their mother wasn't so lazy and had made bothered to make them wear weather appropriate clothes. Our two year was wearing shorts and his sister was in flip flops and capris. But don't worry. We did have the sense to tell them to wear jackets so maybe that negates the lower half of their bodies. Behold the greatness that is our parenting. And that was before the giant margarita! Go, us! Holy cow was that thing big! Did I mention that? Because it was! I think maybe I'm going to go lay down and laugh at my own jokes some more. I bet my husband's in there waiting for me right now! He probably wants to cuddle too! Holy cow this night is all kinds of awesome! Yeah, margaritas!

Doesn't make you petty to want a cookie, hag

Just when I thought my crappy reality television viewing schedule was crowded enough, I discovered several extra crappy ones to brighten up my life. Whee! Let's get our reality television chat on:

America's Next Top Model: My head says McKey deserved to win but my soul thinks it was the most boring foregone conclusion in the history of Top Model. It's odd that my soul actually has thoughts on Top Model but that's neither here nor there. No way was Sam going to win. Her walk was clompy and her photos overall weren't as good as McKey's. The most exciting thing about the whole episode, aside from the funky runway with the giant hill, was Tyra's funkadelic outfits. One had some sort of shoulder pad things sticking straight out to the side. She paired those wings with some wicked tall hair. The whole look was very Melanie Griffith in Working Girl. That's not a compliment in 2008. The other outfit that lingers in my memory was the shirt she decided to wear as a dress. But, wait, maybe you didn't even notice the length on that monstrosity because you were staring in horror at the giant poofy shoulders on it. Can't say that I blame you but let me go ahead and share holy cow was that thing short.

Survivor: Survivor is currently sort of losing me because they're spending too much time letting Sugar think she's cute and clever. Maybe it's just me, but I get more annoyed with Sugar every week. On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the kind of person you wish you could be around every day of your life and 10 being people so annoying that listening to them breathe makes you want to kill them, I’m going to put Sugar at a 6.5 right now. I realize Randy’s no piece of cake either. But seriously, Sugar trying to claim she gave someone else his cookie and didn’t know it was his cookie just rides my nerves. She tried to act like she didn't intentionally do it to be mean to Randy. Right. Good one. Then to top it off, she tries to act like he's the most petty person she's ever met for being upset about a cookie. Except not everyone got a giant bowl of peanut butter and chocolate. I guess if I'd just chowed down on that maybe a cookie would seem like small potatoes. But since I didn't and my money bought those cookies, I think it's reasonable to think I should get one. I also think it would be awesome if you spent less time orchestrating not just voting someone out but humiliating someone for your own entertainment. Hag. Laughing in people's faces is not cool. Although Corinne is too arrogant for me so I did enjoy watching her face when she realized what happened at the end. Especially after she winked or whatever it was she did to her jury buddies as if she had the big trick up her sleeve. Ha. Trick's on her.

Amazing Race: Tina is officially too much for me. I want Toni and Dallas to win. Mainly because I love how nice Dallas is to his mom. I hope everyone in America tells her what a good job she did raising him. He's exactly how you hope your son will be as adult. Although he could maybe spend a little less time on his hair. I'd also be okay with Nick and Starr winning. That probably means I've just jinxed them. In which case, please don't let Tina win.

Stylista: Lesson for life: Late night cramming is all well and good but you should in fact get some rest. Sleep is good for your memory. A biology teacher once told me that you should do last minute studying before you go to sleep as opposed to after you wake up because something way over my head happens when you're asleep that stores stuff in your memory. I'm pretty sure "stores stuff" is an exact quote from my biology textbook, too. Anyway, studying all night is stupid. I would have divided the list up just like the other team. I also would have made sure I sold Kate down the river a little more for not bothering to study the list at all. What's that about. That trick did nothing except cry and complain about her waist being too small. The horror.

Blush: I know. What has my life come to that I actually watched a show this stupid. It's a complete ripoff of Project Runway except with makeup artists instead of clothing designers. All I can say is one second I'm channel surfing and the next I'm staring at crazy people. One chick is so heavy handed with the make up that her people keep looking like porn stars. Another chick was flat out told that purple eye shadow didn't go with the retro vibe they were going for but she decided that purple eye shadow was a battle she was willing to fight. And the king of the crazies is some dude that appears to enjoy him some hats. One of his hats looked like giant insect eyeballs on either side of his head. Another looked like chain mail except it was sparkly. And another looked like something Cher would've worn to the Oscars in 1986. There was crap dangling from his hair and everything. Hello.

Things I love about my children

1. That they think the gingerbread at Soup or Salad is cake.

2. The dimple in my daughter's chin. Left side. Only when she's smiling really big.

3. That they need to run over and hug us repeatedly even when they're busy playing on a playground. Slide. Hug. Monkey bars. Hug. Shove your brother in the sand. Hug.

4. That they have a favorite section in Home Depot. Lawn mowers. Duh. I wish the entire store revolved around the lawn mower section so I could watch them pretend to drive and get my shopping done at the same time.

5. That they both love canned green beans. Better than fresh ones. We buy the cans by the case at Sam's. Garlic, onion powder, two minutes in the microwave, bam. If you want to make their day, give them some ketchup to dunk them in.

6. That my daughter's idea of a good time is a trip to Target to try on shoes. And not kiddie shoes. Heels that clomp.

7. That our two year old thinks sitting quietly on our laps for an hour during his sister's parent teacher meeting is big fun. The tube of Carmex we let him play with probably didn't hurt. I'm also happy to report that I'm unlikely to get a chapped chin or cheek anytime soon thanks to the large amounts of Carmex smeared on me by said kid during said meeting. He also flipped his Croc directly into the trash can making a loud noise in an otherwise quiet room. But my husband's hysterical laughter was the real distraction at that point so really the entire class turning to stare wasn't that kid's fault when you get right down to it.

It's sad when getting on the internet is easier than adjusting the volume

Tuesday night I joined the 21st century and bought a phone technologically capable of doing more than just making phone calls. My husband even talked me into getting a cool Blackberry. I'm sure he thinks I'm going to get to work organizing my life with it. What he doesn't realize is that I'd just be happy if I could figure out how to adjust the ringer volume.

It's very fancy. For a girl who thought speakerphone was super exciting on her last phone, I'm sure you can imagine how dizzying all the features are on a Blackberry. Get this. I can type stuff into the phone and send it to people and then they get my message. Without me calling them. I know. Wild.

It's also got internet and takes pictures. All day it's been dinging at me to let me know when I get a new email. Instantaneous access to each and every one of the emails my mother forwards me with the cute kitty cat pictures and emoticons. I'd complain about some of the chain mail that woman sends me except she's literally the only person that ever emails me so I actually kind of like it. But let's keep that our little secret or she might start to think she needs to forward me literally every piece of correspondence she receives and, let's be honest, that might make me want to stab my eyes out.

Speaking of wanting to stab your eyes out, I'm pretty sure my husband's itching to do that by now. The main culprit this week is that I've been texting him my every movement for the last two days. At lunch. In a meeting. Out of a meeting. Walking out the door. Sitting upright. Breathing. I'm thinking about heading to bed now and I'm wondering where my phone is so I can text him that too. He's loving life.

Maybe I should get my mother texting. Then we could text all day. I'm sure she'd be way more appreciative of my play by play texts. Too bad she hasn't mastered voicemail yet. Looks like I'll have to keep harassing my husband. Right now he's about to run over to the grocery store to buy crap for school parties later this week and I'm thinking he's good for three or four texts while he's there.

And, seriously, on a total tangent, that man wouldn't be forced to go out to the store this time of night if the cult school could post the class party sign up sheets earlier than the Monday before the party. Call me a lazy good for nothing, but my grocery shopping got done Saturday and maybe your list should have been up before then. Doesn't make you a bad mother to find the idea of mid week grocery shopping exhausting. Whatever. I'd love to complain more but America's Next Top Model and Sylista are both on my DVR waiting patiently for me. And I think we all know I'm going to need to text my beloved to let him know I'm about to hit play.

I can't wait til she starts bringing boys to the house

The newest Kindergartner must have been worried we wouldn't have enough photos to drag out to show her boyfriends when she gets older. To help us out, she donned this ensemble and came wandering into the bedroom last weekend:

Pulling the ends of the dress down through the legs of the Little Mermaid panties was a nice touch. This one's not bad either:

I'd like to think she's trying to touching her nose and rub her belly at the same time but a little part of me thinks she might just have been smelling her own fingers. That must be some sort of genetic defect in our house:

Classy. The panties dangling half off his butt really gives it that something extra. I don't know where he gets it.

More books the Imaginary Book Club has failed to post about

The books I've read since the last Imaginary Book Club meeting are now filling up an entire shelf on my bookcase. I think maybe that means I've been slacking. So let's meet, people. Pull up a chair. More books I've read but failed to post about:

1. Plain Truth. Liked it but suspected the ending early on. I’m beginning to draw parallels between Jodi Picoult’s books and Agatha Christie books. Back during an Agatha Christie phase in which I read no less than 50 of her books, I discovered that the secret to figuring out who did it wasn’t in the clues or the dialogue. It was in who couldn’t possibly have done it. And I don’t mean stuff like the dad couldn’t have killed the daughter because dads love their daughters. I mean dude was standing on stage in front of a 300 impartial witnesses during the exact moment the murder occurred and had absolutely no opportunity to slip out of sight at all. Over time I realized I would eliminate that person early on since by all appearances there was no way in hell they could have done it. Except then there'd be some massive plot twist from left field and that was the person that always did it. That’s how she got you to be so surprised. That’s also when I moved on and started reading other books. Coincidence? I think not. I haven’t moved on from Jodi Picoult’s books just yet. But she’s on notice. These twists at the end aren’t so twisty anymore.

2. Ask Again Later. Target selection. Was there any doubt? Thumbs cautiously up. Different. Quick read. Part of what I liked about it was how quick it moved but truthfully I think I would have enjoyed more detail. Which is odd because 9 out of 10 books I usually wish at some point that they could fast forward through some description. It’s about a girl whose mom gets cancer. Although that makes it seem like you’ll need tissues to read it but you won’t. The girl’s also sort of lost so she quits her job and moves in with her mom. She’s very neurotic and she reminded me of me in all the most neurotic ways. For example, sometimes I think I’d like to start seeing a shrink but I figure I’d make small talk and refuse to talk to him about anything important for months. That would be like flushing money down the toilet so then I think why bother. I guess this girl has money to burn so she goes and does that anyway.

3. Stealing Buddha's Dinner. Interesting. Reminded me of my own leg warmer wearing childhood in the 80s. All the food chatter was a bit much for me though. But then I guess everyone's childhood is marked by certain things that stand out and for her it was food. And for the record, I totally agreed with the hierarchy of lunch box desserts. Hostess Cupcakes with the white squiggle across the top were the best.

4. How to Potty Train in Less Than a Day. In an effort to jump start the potty training in our house I bought this book based on assorted reviews including Amazon. But I swear I didn’t really believe we’d be potty trained in a day. I was mostly just hoping to get my 2 year old to sit on the potty rather than run away crying. And judging by those standards, it was successful. We gradually moved from that to wearing panties on the weekend and then eventually we just decided to go all in and committed to round the clock panties. Several days of non stop accidents and multiple loads of laundry but the light finally clicked on. Overall, potty training took us several months. After being diaper free for over a month, he regressed for a week. A week in which his teacher asked us if we had considered buying some pull ups. But then he just got right back on the horse and we've been a panty wearing house ever since. Knock on wood. I thought this book had a lot of good suggestions though. Investing in the toilet with the bells and whistles was one of them. We went with one that plays music. He loved it. Other helpful tips included getting a doll that pees and demonstrating correct procedure using the doll and getting the kid to help the doll. The newest Kindergartner got a little carried away loading the doll up with liquids but it definitely got everyone jazzed. Giving him fluids non stop so he’d need to go all the time to get some practice was another good one. And I liked the clean and dry panty checks. Having said all that, there were a couple techniques in the book that I wasn't down with. One of them included making the kid run back and forth to the potty after he has an accident. They want you to do it 10 times while the kid still has the wet clothes on. First of all, yuck. Second of all, making them do it with the messy clothes on just seemed sort of mean. Maybe I’m just delicate and soft but so be it.

5. Six O’Clock Scramble. This cookbook gets mixed reviewed so far. Some of the recipes seem a little more fancy schmancy than I expected. And by that I mostly mean some of the recipes require more than four ingredients. Cooking is not my forte but I'm trying to build a recipe arsenal to fall back. Easy being the key to good recipes for me. Black beans are also my friend.

6. Vanishing Acts. Three way friendship between 2 boys and 1 girl = someone’s a guaranteed third wheel. I’m not saying it'll always be a love triangle. But you definitely have someone out in the cold. Second, the dad in this book kidnapped his kid during a custody battle. I think I was supposed to feel torn about whether or not what he did was right. Except I didn’t. I’d get close. Like a breath away from snatching that kid and driving cross country myself but then I'd just come right back to "no." The mother had lots and lots of bad problems but she still loved that kid. Sue for custody. Require supervised visits. Whatever you gotta do. But you don’t steal a kid for 28 years. That breaks my heart. Your kid isn’t guaranteed a perfect parent. If you chose to have kids with someone less than perfect then you deal with it. I would seriously hunt you down like a dog if you took my kid and robbed me of 28 years with them. Like a dog. 28 years, dude. 28 years. The other thing that really moved me in this book were the parts in prison. It sort of took my breath away to imagine the equivalent of my dad suddenly stuck in a maximum security section in prison. Except my dad doesn’t know any recipes for meth and would most likely annoy his cell mate debating politics.

7. Lovely Bones. Super well written. Intriguing as all get out. Flew through it. But it left me sort of melancholy. And I did not understand the love scene. But, dude, was it well written.

8. The Last Summer (of You & Me). I confess to being one of the grown adults that read the Traveling Pants series so this book was pretty much a gimme as soon as I spotted it at Target. It's pretty light and fluffy but I can't deny that I liked it. If I were the kind of girl that liked to lay next to the pool, this is exactly the sort of book I'd read while I was doing it. As I am not that kind of girl because I sunburn easily and don't enjoy sweating, I read it while soaking in the bathtub. But it was sweet and sort of charming.

9. Songs of the Humpback Whale. Yeah. So, this is the first Jodi Picoult book I didn’t like. I thought it jumped around way too much. I had trouble keeping track of when stuff was happening. And I hated the ending. No, really. Hated. Made no sense to me. Kept thinking there was no way it would end that way. And then it did. What the hell.

10. Eclipse and Breaking Dawn (Books 3 and 4 in the Twilight series). Thumbs up. I'm sold on Edward. So sold I saw the preview for the movie and even though I think the guy playing him seriously needs to brush his hair more often I totally made a mental note of when it's coming out. Holla. Several people have told me they don't understand the whole Twilight thing. I seriously feel you. I do. I'm not into vampires. And, yes, I think the stories are getting more and more far fetched. For example, how the hell does no one notice that they never eat? And what about all the hissing? And the plot of book 4 is based around an even more far fetched concept. No joke. But I don't know. I guess I just decided to roll with it. In the words of my high school English teacher when my entire class complained about how implausible Frankenstein was, "Suspend your disbelief." If you do, you'll like the books a lot more. And try to imagine Dylan McKay is Edward. Although Edward got a little overbearing at times. If Dylan McKay had tried to tell me I couldn't go hang out with Brandon Walsh, I'd have told him to take a flying leap. Although then Edward does a total about face and becomes a giant marshmallow that lets Bella do whatever she wants in book 4 so whatever. I mean I don’t want some dude that’s never going to never listen to me but sometimes it's okay to say "no" to a person.

Things I wish I didn't know

That I hate bubble gum flavored toothpaste. Our two year old wandered off with our toothpaste leaving us to use the kids' toothpaste until we find it. I thought the Sponge Bob one was pretty bad until I had the Hello Kitty kind. As with all things Hello Kitty, the toothpaste is pink. Just in case the bubble gum flavor doesn't make you want to hurl the fact that it looks like you have a mouthful of foamy Pepto Bismol will.

He's puking but otherwise fine

My husband spent the afternoon off gallivanting around town without me or his two children. As my reward for tending the flock by myself in his absence, he decided to give me a heart attack. I came walking into the bedroom after an extended bubble bath. I was minding my own beeswax ready to finish off the last 20 pages of the book I'm reading so I can find out if Jane's planning to leave her husband for Sam. Except then I notice my husband sitting on the bed all teary eyed and then he mumbles something about his prized dog, Ike, and what sounded like the word "died."

Seriously, the dog's 11 years old. I'm mentally prepared for anything at any time. I immediately flipped my gourd and started crying and asking where and when. I was busy mentally picturing a dead dog in our living room. No really. I'm walking back and forth. There were some dramatic hand gestures and lots of hugging and even some shrieking about why he didn't get me out of the bathtub when it happened. That's when he mentioned that Ike had thrown up six times while I was in the bathroom. And I was all, And then what happened? And he was all, I cleaned it up. And then I was all, And? And he was all, He's resting in the living room and won't get up and walk in here.

Dude. It's too late at night to be freaking me the hell out. Dog's got an upset stomach. Further investigation revealed that his water dish looked awfully murky. And I don't mean dog fur floating in the water murky. I mean, what the hell's in there murky. I didn't call in a CSI team or anything but I'm thinking my two year old might have had something to do with it. Kid's been know to think that water dish is his own personal wading pool and/or science lab. And I gotta tell you, I think you'd puke six times, too, if some evil kid spilled hand sanitizer or something in your water. Although, hopefully no one declares you dead as a result. Because that freaks people out. Trust me.

Dead weight but cute

I decided to delay all thoughts of powers that be that be that have it out for me until Monday at the earliest. That did not stop me from sharing my C in leadership with everyone I know. One person actually gasped when I told them. Another was rendered speechless. Too bad speechless doesn't change my rating. Whatever.

In more pleasant news, we took the kids ice skating tonight. My husband stupidly promised the newest Kindergartener we'd go. I felt confident that we'd live to regret it. Or more specifically, that our aching backs would live to regret it. Here I am attempting to keep that Kindergartener upright:

She kept trying to walk across the ice and didn't understand why her feet would slide right out from under her. But at least I wasn't in charge of holding this one up all night:

Talk about dead weight. Kid couldn't skate by himself but didn't seem to understand that so he'd keep trying to skate off. He also attempted to slice my husband's finger off with his skate. It's a good thing he's so cute:

Speaking of cute, here's my husband with two children attempting to drag him to the ground:

The kids had a great time. My husband and I have back aches. But, seriously, the kids had so much fun. Thumbs up.

I don't wear mindless peon well

Two days ago I had a really great day. Today I had a less than great day. So less than great it required a grande margarita with dinner. My husband's idea. The man is clearly a genius. Although, it's really not hard to figure out that an adult beverage is in order when your wife comes home from work crying.

Turns out the higher up that told my boss to lower my performance rating, didn't appreciate it when my boss told her she decided not to go with that lowered rating. I'm told there was a lot of back and forth, some discussion and then the law got laid down. And that's when I got the world's most arbitrary rating accompanied by no supporting examples or any rational explanation other than one unpopular question I asked in a meeting. I kept my composure during the B in communication. It the C in leadership that broke the camel's back. Because last time I saw my review, there hadn't been any C's anywhere. So apparently protesting the communication rating got the leadership one lowered too. Makes perfect sense.

I can't decide if the goal of that move is to piss me off or motivate me to fall in line like a good mindless peon. I also can't decide what I'll do about it. For the moment, it's mostly making me tired and ready for bed.

Email is free, dude

Yesterday was so awesome I had an awesome hangover today. Although, those are the best kind of hangovers. For example, they actually make it palatable when your new puppy wakes you up at 4 am and can't make up his mind. Outside. Inside. Outside. Inside. When I couldn't get back to sleep I just rolled my awesome hangover self right out of bed and started my day.

I was smiling at people as I rolled into work early. I got stuff done. I answered questions while getting stuff done. And I triumphantly charged around the office upon completing a big special project. Then, a higher up took a pin and burst my bubble by acting confused by my special project. Because, oh yeah, we decided to scrap that special project you just spent six hours on. In fact, we decided to scrap it last week but kept it a deep dark secret so you could flush six hours of your life down the toilet. Good one. Way to help my inbox fill up and my desk get overrun with crap. Solid work.

The best part of the revelation was when they said they scrapped the idea because no one turned anything in by the deadline. Except then when I asked when the deadline had been, they said there hadn't actually been one. So then their explanation switched to something about how no one said they were working on one. Except no one knew they were supposed to provide status updates. I'm pretty sure we also didn't realize that failure to provide status updates could get us out of the project entirely.

And when did they start charging for email? Because last time I checked it doesn't cost you a dime to kick a shout out when plans change. Might even save someone else six hours. Here's a template for future cancellation emails:

Dear peon,

Don't bother.

Sincerely,
Can't be bothered

Federal holidays rule

Holidays = Paid day off = Awesome.

Paid day off + children in school = Insanely awesome.

Paid day off + children in school + husband finally home from trip = So awesome I think my head just exploded.

To celebrate the exploding head awesomeness, we took the kids to Chuck E. Cheese for dinner. It was empty. Empty and awesome. Even the flashing lights and repetitive playing of "It's a Small World" couldn't dampen the awesomeness. I crammed all 4 of us into the tiny photo booth to document the magnitude of awesomeness we were currently experiencing:

Then I shoved the children aside so I could surgically attach myself to my husband's side until the end of time. It looks something like this:

My trip to Chuck E. Cheese was great. So was my day. The end.

Things he doesn't tell you before he marries you

1. That not everyone thinks toilet paper should be stored on the toilet paper holder. I guess I thought that was sort of a given. I mean, isn't that why they call it a "toilet paper holder?" Because it's supposed to hold toilet paper. Except my husband's firmly committed to holding the roll in his hand while he uses it. No really. I didn't always know this about him. I discovered it by trial and error when rolls I kept putting on the holder kept turning up on the back of the toilet. Being the practical girl that I am, I started putting two rolls out. One on the holder for me. One on the back of the toilet for him. Except then I noticed that certain people who shall remain nameless never noticed their roll on the back of the toilet because my roll was always conveniently right there next to him and then we were right back where we were. Except with two rolls on the back of the toilet instead of one. So then I resigned myself to a lifetime of toilet paper rolls on the back of the toilet. And then I had kids and I resigned myself to being happy when the roll's not unraveled across the floor or dripping wet from where someone knocked it in the toilet. Although, let's be honest, it wouldn't get knocked into the toilet if it were safely secured on a toilet paper holder, now would it?

2. That he'd be okay never leaving the house to go anywhere ever again. Because, man, is that couch comfy and the batteries in the television remote are rechargeable. Score.

3. That he does in fact wear the same shorts all week long. He also conducts smell tests on clothing to determine whether things can or cannot be worn. I know. Your older brother did that when he was twelve. You thought it was gross then. You'll be amazed how much grosser it's gotten. And don't be surprised when you can smell his shoes from the other side of the room. It happens.

4. That you should just buy yourself flowers whenever you want flowers because he'll never think of it as often as you'd like them and, frankly, it's your money too so why wait on him.

5. That he won't always hit the ball out of the park picking your favorite treat. He'll claim he got you a surprise while he was at the grocery store and sometimes your treat will turn out to be his favorite kind of cookies. Except his favorite kind of cookies have nuts in them and everyone that's ever eaten with you knows you hate nuts in anything so really how could it possibly be a treat for you. Sometimes he will then compound his crime by offering you a Snickers. Love him despite that.

I'll be drooling into my pillow with a dog seated on my head

The precious 100 pound baby is improving. He woke testy this morning barking randomly at people in his vicinity but picked it up after I smooshed his pain medication in cheese for him. He's taken roughly 9.2 naps today and has agreed to walk like a semi normal dog again. Although he's still limiting his movement to when it's absolutely necessary. So far absolutely necessary has included bathroom trips and when someone opens the refrigerator. Being on the prowl begging for table food makes me think he's on the mend.

I'm a little concerned about the fact that it's Sunday night and my employer will be expecting me to be awake and capable of rational thought tomorrow. I think you're supposed to start the work week well rested and refreshed. Too bad the new puppy I'm supposed to be potty training in my spare time enjoys nightly 3 am wake up calls. When I mentioned to my husband that my fatigue level is related to waking up in the middle of the night every night, he told me I should take Tylenol PM. Dude's nuts. Like any amount of sleep aid is going to render me capable of ignoring a puppy standing on my head moaning. Although, seriously, maybe I shouldn't have made fun of his suggestions. So. Tired. Can't. Possibly. Start. The. Week. Like. This. Tylenol. PMs. For. Everyone.

I'm sure Florence Nightingale often trained puppies in her spare time, too

The second best dog to ever live went in to the vet Friday to have a growth removed from his mouth. Since they were going to have him under anesthesia, we had his teeth cleaned and a molar extracted at the same time. My husband had scheduled the procedure last week not realizing his business trip would end up getting extended indefinitely. Thursday night he told me I'd have to be the one to take the dog in.

I mentally groaned when he told me. Mostly because Ike is his dog. I don't mean that in the "his dog, his responsiblity" sense. I mean that in the "his dog doesn't listen to me" sense. Ike just stares at me when I tell him to do stuff. If he's in the mood and what I'm telling him to do isn't too much of an inconvenience for him, he'll slowly get started on it. But if what I want him to do doesn't fit in with his plan, he just sits there looking at me. And not, "Did you say something?" pretending to not to hear me staring. His stare is more of, "You're an idiot if you think I'm listening to you. Do you know who I am? Stop wasting my time. You bore me."

My husband can motivate that 11 year old dog to jump up into the back of an SUV. I, on the other hand, got to lift that 100 pound beast up into the car Friday morning all by myself. I hope our neighbors enjoyed that show.

Once we arrived at the vet, the precious decided the vet's floor was slippery and he didn't want to walk on it. Much like my two year old would, he then laid down on the floor and made himself dead weight so I couldn't get him up. So me and the vet tech each lifted half his body and sort of slid him down the hallway together. I then gave them my cell phone number and proceeded to head off to work where I subconsciously worried about that dog all day. Mostly because that dog is not allowed to die on my watch. He is the prized possession of a man with very few prized possessions. He is the best friend of a man that's not great at close personal relationships. He is the family jewel. I don't even like him to walk across the street to poop in our neighbor's yard when my husband's out of town. I'm all, what if a car whips around the corner?

So anyway, I was really happy when I saw him weeble wobbling down the hall afterwards still woozy from the anesthesia. I didn't even mutter under my breath when I was breaking my back getting his rotund butt back in the car. Except then my duties as nurse maid and full time worrier began. That 100 pound baby has pain medication and twice day antibiotics to remember. He looks heartbreakingly weak and pathetic and he's compounding it by refusing to walk. I was unaware pain in your mouth could render your limbs useless but he did have an IV in one paw so I like to pretend that might have something to do with it. It took him 4 stop and start tries to get all the way from the car to his dog bed. I was flipping out bringing his dog bed to him in the garage where he made his initial rest stop along the way. I even brought him his water bowl during his second rest stop in the dining room.

This morning when he deemed his legs capable of carrying him outside to pee, I put my five year old on duty at the window to monitor him. It took him four stop and start tries to get all the way back inside when he was done. The kid on duty kept bringing me status updates on his progress. When he finally got close to the door, the kids and I began screaming and frantically running to the door to get it open before he got there. All day I've been scooting the other dogs and the kids out of the room so he can have peace and quiet to rest. I've even become an expert at tricking him into taking giant horse pills. It involves cheese slices and lots of smooshing.

Last night my husband was all, you're the greatest and I'm sorry I'm not there to help you. By this afternoon, I guess his appreciation had worn off though because he had the nerve to ask me if I've been working with the puppy on puppy training. Right. Good one. Because Florence Nightingale often trained puppies in her spare time.

Baby products I never understood

1. Baby toothbrushes. Seriously. Kids have little teeth. Why attempt to brush them with a tiny toothbrush? The logic behind this escapes me. Especially if your kids enjoy wiggling while you brush. I've been buying 10 packs of regular sized toothbrushes for several years now. Everyone that plays their cards right gets to pick their own color and everyone that's in the bedroom watching football and playing chess can use the leftover purple toothbrush no one wanted for the next six months. But everyone's toothbrush head is normal sized. Because as long as I'm stuck helping them brush I'm not prepared to use a thimble to put out a forest fire. I've also found that regular toothbrushes last longer than Hello Kitty toothbrushes. No offense to the Hello Kitty people but I'm pretty sure the bristles shouldn't fall out after a month. Last month, while her Kindergarten class was discussing dentists, the visiting "Mr. Dentist" tried to sabotage my scheme by sending my five year old home with a Cinderella toothbrush with a head the size of a dime. Mr. Dentist apparently thinks I have time to burn at bedtime.

2. Not buying stuff in bulk. Seriously. Sam's/Costco. Way cheaper. What are you thinking buying wipes at the grocery store? Don't even get me started on the diapers. I'm also a fan of the produce. Before I had children, I never understood how anyone could eat that many grapes before they went bad. Now, I know firsthand that 2 giant cantaloupes will still mean we run out by Thursday.

3. Giant diaper bags. We own a diaper bag. For that matter, we may even own two diaper bags. I can't begin to describe the overall waste of money those things have been for us. The best idea I ever came up with was leaving wipes and diapers in the trunk of every car we own. Which is actually only 2 cars but sounds way more impressive when you say it's every car you own. We also have a mini backpack in which a backup small container of wipes, 3 diapers, a change of clothes and sweatshirt permanently reside. We only use that backpack when we are actually entering an establishment that we don't intend to exit within the next hour or two. For everything else, there's Mastercard. And the backseat of our car. If we take my husband's 4-Runner, we even have a changing table. It's called the trunk. And the beauty of the toddler sized backpack is that the toddler that needs the diaper change can carry his own diaper bag. Unless you are in the middle of an amusement park because then, let it be known, that kid won't carry the backpack more than three feet before it becomes an anchor dragging his soul down into the bowels of hell. But that's okay. Because if you're in an amusement park with a diaper wearing toddler and you don't have a stroller to toss that thing in, that's some shoddy planning on your part.

4. White pants in size 6-12 months.

5. White pants in size 12-18 months.

6. White pants in size 18-24 months. Strangely, white onesies in every size make perfect sense. Is there anything more perfectly lovely than a baby in a fresh white onesie? Seriously, just thinking about the little snaps at the bottom makes me think I need to procreate.

7. Baby hairbrushes. My husband and I produce hairy babies. Beautiful baby fine hairy babies but still hairy. They required hair brushes. Not oversized toothbrushes disguised as hairbrushes. And the baby isn't brushing their own hair. So why is the handle made for a baby's hand? Give a girl something to grip. Like, say, a normal sized handle.

8. Baby bottles that can't go in the dishwasher. Do people just have extra time on their hands or what? I don't care how many bottles you buy, you will end up having to wash them every couple days. Washing bottles gets old fast. The first way to improve that is to buy more bottles. Increasing the rotation increases the time between washing. You know, like when you run out of underwear all the time and decide to buy more to delay doing laundry. The second way to handle the bottle washing is to subcontract the work out. To the dishwasher. Speaking of bottles, there was a kid in my son's class as an infant whose parents got bent out of shape when one of their bottle lids inadvertently got switched with one of our bottle lids. When our bottle lids didn't fit their bottles that put them short one bottle in their rotation. I know this because they started asking everyday for their lid back. But we hadn't even noticed the lid issue. Because we are normal and owned a normal number of bottles. A normal number of bottles being an amount determined by whether or not losing one lid pulls the rug out from under you. Turned out the other parents only owned 4 bottles. But both our kids were like 5 months old and in day care full time. Come again? 4? I couldn't decide if they were just frugal or stupid. Or both. There will be days you don't feel like washing bottles. Buy some extra bottles so you can take a nap instead.

9. Teething biscuits. Are there children actually teething on those things? Because when my kids used them all they did was turn to mush. Almost immediately in fact. One second the kid's holding a cookie. Next second there's brown goo running down the front of their face. Disgusting brown goo I might add. How can the kid teethe on goo? The single best learning to eat solids food in our house was Cheerios. Both our kids loved them and picking them up one at a time kept them happy and busy throughout many a meal out. I miss the days when a handful of Cheerios bought me enough time to have an uninterrupted conversation with another adult.

Take your panties off and let's wrestle

Today, like everyday for the last month, was very hectic at work. I started the day with a long to do list. Then I had a stupid surprise task that line jumped on all the other stuff on my to do list because it Totally! Had! To! Be! Done! By! Noon! Then I resumed my regularly scheduled to do list stuff and zoomed right to the end of my day. On the bright side, my days fly by. On the downside, I'd like to know how I'm supposed to find time to call and yell at my insurance company.

So I was pretty happy to finally leave work. I was mentally planning to cop out and do cereal for dinner while laying in bed watching Survivor. I was thinking lights off. I was thinking snuggly peacefulness. I was thinking smooth sailing ahead. Too bad it was shredded pillow to match yesterday's shredded sheet ahead:

Even floppy eared puppies are significantly less cute when they are sitting in the middle of a cloud of what remains of a perfectly good pillow. And that may or may not have been a 400 thread count pillowcase he generously freed the stuffing from.

I don't know for sure because I walked right passed that madness and pulled on my candy cane pajamas. Not because I'm gearing up a little early for Christmas but because cereal in bed is best eaten while wearing pajamas. Pairing them with a threadbare well worn T-shirt and you've really got something to say for yourself. And, let me tell you, I've really got something to say for myself tonight.

So it was cereal and Survivor here I come. Except the kids didn't get the memo. First, there was commando puppy wrestling:

Commando as in what the hell happened to that kid's panties and why is he Greco-Roman wrestling without them? Then while he was busy torturing the new puppy, my daughter dismantled our retro futon by shoving the mattress pad off so she could use the frame as an indoor jungle gym:

Super.

Sights I was too busy to photograph include cleaning up three puppy accidents on the carpet (would it kill him to have his accidents on tile or wood laminate?), my son doing laps with the Shop Vac vacuum tube draped around his neck like a feather boa and the step ladder being used as a diving board in the hallway. I'd love to stay and share more of the hurdles standing between me and the evening I had planned in my head, but I've got to go confiscate the dog food bowl before anyone gets hurt. And by "anyone" I mostly mean my house. The dogs and kids are fairly indestructible. Too bad our house isn't.

Highlights from my day

1. My daughter explaining to me that "John Nicain" lost and that "Brock Boma" is going to be her new president. Then she asked me who my new president was going to be.

2. The World's Most Annoying Dog officially snapped out of his cute new puppy induced good behavior phase. I know this because the corner of my 400 thread count fitted sheet was laying on the floor three feet from the rest of the sheet.

3. Upon discovering the shredded sheet, I immediately debated how badly the sheet was shredded and the level of urgency to assign to changing the sheets. As I am nothing if not consistently lazy, I concluded that the shredding was livable enough that I didn't need to let it stop me from finding out who got eliminated on America's Next Top Model.

4. Crawling under desks attempting to complete a frivolous inventory at work. It's difficult to maintain the appearance of authority while on your hands and knees. That's on top of last week when I was constructing a New! And Exciting! visual goal display for my work unit. People kept walking into my office catching me in the middle of cutting out skiers and scotch taping mountains together to construct a Giant Slalom Winter Olympic display. It ended up looking pretty good but now I've got everyone asking me when I'm going to do some actual work.

5. My husband calling to tell me that his business trip will be lasting a few extra days. Super.

6. A mini Hersey bar swiped from my kid's trick or treat bucket and a cold glass of milk.

That's what you get when you don't knock on wood

Less than 24 hours after I wrote about how no one is chewing up any possessions that we love, a blue size 8/9 croc took one for the team. Our five year old claims her brother ripped it apart. Her 2 year old brother claims the World's Most Annoying Dog did it. And the new puppy, Bruno, had a large chunk in his mouth when I discovered the massacre. So I'm not really sure who did it. I'm just glad I lost my faith in our animals long ago and started buying back up pairs of crocs. Go, me.

In other news, am I the only person worried that Jon and Kate Plus 8 has taken a serious left turn sometime in the last six months? A left turn that may or may not be taking them into Jump the Shark territory. Remember when the show used to be like watching a scene out of a normal family life except with three times as many kids? Remember when you'd turn the television off after an episode and tell your husband about how you'd stab your eyes out if you had to deal with 8 small children everyday and how your life seems so much more doable if they can do it with 8?

Right. So someone needs to tell them to stop showing us all the free stuff they're getting now that their show is popular and telling us how above average awesome it is. If I wanted to watch Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, I would. So enough with the parade of free ski trips, beach houses, and backstage tours. Enough with the free teeth bleaching and hair implants. And enough with trying to tell us how much you appreciate all the freebies and then giving us the name and address of the fabulous resort you stayed at in San Diego. Seriously. E. Nough. We liked when you seemed normal. Normal people don't get free trips to Hawaii. Some of us haven't even been to Hawaii. So please reign it in. You're starting to lose me.

Although, for the record, I'll always like Jon and Kate more than the Duggars no matter how hard TLC tries to get me to watch that 17 and Counting Show. For real. Not gonna do it, TLC.

A new puppy followed us home from the pumpkin patch and insists on making us scratch his floppy puppy ears

Tonight over dinner while I waited for Tylenol to take the edge off a migraine and counted the hours until I could go to sleep, I wondered how wrong it would be to flake out three days into NaBloPoMo. Then I realized I could just take the easy way out and show the internet a photo of our new puppy:

That's Bruno. He's a black lab with floppy black ears that likes to sleep smooshed in between my husband and I. My husband announced stopping off to maybe meet some new dogs on the way home from the pumpkin patch last weekend and I was all "Why not?" Because I live with the World's Most Annoying Dog and it couldn't possibly get any worse.

Bruno is our third dog. No really. We're the idiots with three dogs:

Ike's the Rottweiler. In the history of dogs, he's like the second best dog to ever live. And I only say "second best" because Ike hasn't found any kids that fell in a well yet. But there's still time.

Twister is the terrier. I think maybe we adopted him to keep Ike company. Instead, he mostly just tortures our existence by chewing on possessions that we love. He also likes to jump on you at the exact wrong moment and can out bed hog grown adults.

My husband calls Twister his sixteenth most favorite dog. Not because my husband has 16 other dogs that he loves but because he's leaving room for all the dogs he's had and all the dogs he knows he's going to have in the future and will no doubt find less annoying. He's not a bad dog. Okay, so maybe he is sometimes. Like the time he ate a fourth pair of size 10 pink Disney Crocs. But he's mostly just sort of frustrating. Like how it's frustrating to bang your head on a brick wall.

Bruno's the "Ike is getting older maybe Twister could use a playmate this is the dog Twister should have been and holy cow puppies are cute" dog. The day we brought him home my husband kept saying we wouldn't have three dogs for long. I'm not sure if he was planning to bump Twister off in the night or what but apparently Twister caught wind of something. Next thing you know, old Twister gave up chewing on couch cushions. Me thinks someone is feeling a little threatened. Me thinks that's not such a bad thing.

My husband says Twister just needed a playmate to help him wear off some energy. I think even a stupid dog can feel himself slide down the totem pole. I can't say that I blame him though. Floppy puppy ears are hard to compete with:

It rained cats and dogs

I spent the afternoon finally uploading photos to Flickr. I've been a month behind for like two months now. I kept wondering how long it would take for my mother to finally call me up and demand to know when she can expect to see new photos of her grandkids. Although my mother enjoys attempting to be subtle so it probably would have been something like, "I haven't seen any new photos on the Flickr site in awhile. I've been checking everyday. I guess you haven't been taking any pictures lately. You should. Is your camera working okay?"

So anyway, I've uploaded all my photos. Even Halloween. For anyone waiting on pins and needles after last month's costume debate, I like to call this year's group costume Raining Cats and Dogs. I made my husband hold an umbrella in case anyone didn't immediately catch on:

My daughter and I were both kitty cats. For like an hour somewhere in the middle of October she tried to convince me she wanted to be a dog like her brother instead. But then she saw the cute pink kitty cat ears I ordered off Etsy and the rest is history:

I slapped a pink flannel oval on a black shirt and the collar is from Walmart with a rhinestone heart tag on it. She loved it. I think she'd wear the ears every day if I'd let her.

Her brother was a puppy dog. I figure this is my last year to slap overly cute crap on him so I did. Floppy ears and all:

He woofed at people all day and I kinda sorta thought I might die from the cuteness. My husband did not die from the cuteness. He mostly stood around in his cargo shorts and Harley Davidson T-shirt wondering if maybe he should have dressed up instead of being uber lame and relying on me to hand him an umbrella so he wouldn't look like some random stranger that wandered into our family photo.

In other Halloween related news, we took the crew to a local pumpkin patch last weekend. Besides photographing my offspring seated on pumpkins, I also snapped this shot of my daughter walking through the corn maze holding her precious pants up so as to avoid any potential contact with dirt:

Which is an especially amusing shot after I located this picture from last year's disastrous trip to the pumpkin patch:

Different year. Same insane kid. She gets that from her father. Don't believe me? Fine:

I told you so.

It's probably wrong to use the phrase certain failure in a post about NaBloPoMo

For the last three weeks I have been busy, busy, busy. The fact that everyone is busy did not dissuade me from starting this post with that sentence. Because I really was busy. For example, I didn't even realize that today was November 1st until approximately 2 pm. And by November 1st I mean the first day of NaBloPoMo. Despite the fact that I've been a big time blog slacker recently, I totally planned to do it again this year. Get myself in gear and stop making excuses for why I don't have time. I'm trying hard not to think I'm setting myself up for certain NaBloPoMo failure. The fact that I'm a month behind uploading pictures to Flickr doesn't do much for my optimism. But who knows. In other news:

1. My husband has only gone out of town two days in the last month and a half. One night while making dinner together, for a second it crossed my mind that maybe that was the greatest night of my life. Then I realized I was just happy not to be making dinner alone with two children clinging to my legs.

2. In honor of not traveling so much, he decided to retile the floor in my daughter's bathroom. Except then he started stripping and refinishing our dining room table too. My husband and I signed a home renovation related treaty several years ago. The gist of our "One Project at a Time" treaty is that you can do any kind of project you want to the house as long as you finish the first one before you start the second one. Imagine my confusion when I realized that my daughter's bathroom still doesn't have a toilet and my dining room table is in the garage on a dolly.

3. I was happy Leanne won Project Runway but felt bad for Korto. I did not however feel bad for Kenley.

4. My boss at work attempted to give me the equivalent of a B for communication when she gave me my annual performance review recently. My colleagues all enjoyed when I recounted for them later that my exact response was, "I don't accept that. I'm not sure where we go from here but I'm not a B." So then I read out loud the criteria for the communication rating and explained in detail why I am in fact an A+. And then I reiterated that I wasn't a B and stared at her. Don't you wish you could be my supervisor? Don't I sound fun? Whatever. Some things you know in life. Some things you don't. I know for a fact I'm an A+ in communication. So I told her so and she gave me my rightful A+. So there.

5. My boss only tried to give me a B for communication because her boss didn't like an overly opinionated question I asked in a meeting once. She actually told my boss to lower my communication rating because of that. Good to know. Won't change how I do business, of course. But I'll be sure to file that info away for a rainy day.

6. The B for communication wasn't the only score I disputed. That might make it seem like I got a bad overall performance review. Except I didn't. I actually got an awesome review. It's just part of my charm that even when you're trying to tell me I'm awesome, I feel the need to tell you why I'm more awesome. But seriously, don't forward my writing on as your own and then pretend I'm not an A+ communicator.

7. We're in the midst of potty training our two year old. Every kid is so different it's insane. We had reached full time panties only to recently regress to diapers at night and one accident a day. I don't want to have to use the word "poop" on the internet but I've recently decided that the cleaning of the panties is hands down the single grossest parenting task. Worse than projectile vomiting that soaks through your shirt so bad you think you may actually need to change your bra. Worse than the time you discovered your kid figured out how to take the used diaper off during naptime. At one point, my husband and I were actually debating panty cleaning technique. It's difficult not to think your life has taken a wrong turn when that's an actual topic of conversation. We seriously never experienced this with our daughter.

8. We watched There Will Be Blood. Interesting. Well made. Daniel Day Lewis was great. But sheesh did it leave me feeling sad.

9. We also watched Juno. Thumbs up.

10. I swear I'm not going to do lists all month long.