Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Would You Care for Seconds?

I tell my son a thousand times a day to keep things out of his mouth. Sometimes you just get tired of saying the same thing over and over again. Yesterday he got hold of Paige's "Passion Flower" deodorant. Oh, yes, he did. I told him THREE times to put it down...DO NOT put that in your mouth, Son!!! What did he do? He smirked and proceeded to take a huge whopping bite out of it.

What did he do then?

He started hacking and gagging and spitting for all his worth. He frantically ran to the dishwasher, pulled the lid down, climbed on it, pulled the top rack out and started throwing cups over his shoulder in search for a sippy cup. By this time I am laughing so hard I can't hardly help him. I finally catch my breath long enough to fix him some juice.

Every time he took a sip, he'd lean over and spit better than any old man whose chewed tobacco for 30 years. Obviously the juice wasn't killing that passion flower taste. He continued to hack and gag for a good five minutes.

I continued to laugh until I just about peed my pants. I did pee them just a tad. Man, was that funny.

Now, if you offer him the Passion Flower, he very firmly puts his hand up and shakes his head very matter of fact.

If only it were this easy to learn life's lessons.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006


If there is one thing that I have learned from the U.S. Navy is how to be unmarried. I have been married for 32 months and of the 32 months, my husband and I have lived together (and that is loosely defined) approximately 10 months of the 32 months. The past 16 months have put at least 330 plus miles between us most of the time. I have done holidays, birthdays, mother's day, father's day, and anniversaries all on my own. Of course the kids have been with me.

I have also learned how to defrost an ice maker. When to take the van in for maintenance. How often to balance and rotate the tires. How to balance my checkbook. How to dress four people to get to a function or church. I may be late sometimes, but I give myself a curve of sorts.

I've attended parent teacher conferences on my own. I've attended school functions and Award's Days. I've done a ballet recital that had 3 costume changes. I even remembered to bring the camera and snap a few pictures. Now my Sis in Law or mother may have gone to these functions with me, (niece was in recital, too), yet I've no backup if I've been sick.

Speaking of sick. I had walking pneumonia at the first of the year followed by two months of bronchitis and sickness. I did break down and beg my husband to come home and help me because I was seriously close to being hospitalized with all that mess. Of course he didn't come home. The Navy kinda frowns on you taking time to care for sick family. Now my husband says in his defense that by the time I got to the doctor was I getting past the pneumonia and upgraded to bronchitis. I say when I was begging him to come home...I was in the very very very sick phase of things. Always two sides to a story, huh?

I've attended gatherings alone where I had to smile and say that my husband was working when inside I was feeling like the backwards fat cousin in the corner waiting to be seen and praying that I wouldn't be.

I've had my hopes dashed rather rudely into the ground when my husband has called to say that he can't come home due to some higher up having a corn cob stuck up his butt. I've called that submarine many times to just chat with my husband about simple family issues that most people take for granted. That is, when they have shore power up and running. We've burned more cell phone minutes than a 15 year old with her first boyfriend.

I do complain but all in all I have learned how to be even more independent in this life of mine. And that's a good thing, I suppose. I'm not afraid to take care of my self or my children. There's no price you can put on that kind of knowledge or experience.

So the one thing that the United States Navy has taught me most of all? How to be on someone's Page 2, I think it's called, and have the military insurance. But most of to be un-married. ....while still legally being married. Confusing life we military wives lead. Funny, I really don't feel like one.

Remind me to send the head of the USN a card, would you? I'm just not sure what kind as of yet.

**Some people will take this post the wrong some people may be prone to do. And that's okay. No, I did not know what I was getting into when I married this man. I love him. That's the most important thing to me. I'm very proud of him and believe that he's a special person to do what he does. It's not him I have the problem's his employer.**

Thursday, May 18, 2006

I Think This Qualifies as an "Uh-Oh"

Um, I think I've made a mistake.

I love coffee. I crave coffee. That's the first thing I do in the morning when I wake up. I go straight to the coffee pot to get it going as I start getting the kids dressed. I will literally almost pee my drawers to get that pot going. I kid you not.

I pick up a pack of the disposable coffee cups everytime I go to the grocery store. My van is littered with them. I never walk into a meeting without a cup of joe in my hands. When we do a business breakfast, the waitress automatically brings me a cup when I walk in the door and keeps it filled. I am now on my third (and final) cup of the day.

I love creamer. French Vanilla. If I could buy it in a five gallon bucket, I would. I am good, though. I get the sugar free or fat free...never the real deal unless I'm desperate. I also use equal or splenda. I'm not in it for the calories....just the taste and the caffeine. Oh, the caffeine.

You could say coffee is my drug of choice.

Now, let's get to Vitt. My beautiful bad 2 year old. Vitt thinks that every cup is fair game to him. No one is safe when he's thirsty. He touched my cup one day and snatched it back saying "Hot! HOT, Mama!" Good boy. One day he touched the cup and well, it wasn't hot. So Big Boy decided to try it out.

And a monster was born.

I have to guard my cup now. If he can get to it, he will start gulping it down like he's never had anything to drink in his life. That look of ecstasy comes over his features and he does this sweet little "ummmmmmmmm" when he comes up for air.

I don't think so. This is MY addiction. I will not have a 2 year old addicted to coffee. And, no, I'm not buying decaff. Please. This is MY weakness and habit. I need it. I love it. And I'm not giving it up! EVAH.

I'm in the process of designing and making a sling of sorts to keep my cup on my person at all times so he can't get his hands on it. American Inventor watch out. Here I come.

Oh, and as we are setting up our office, I voted we get a coffee maker before we even get the furniture.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

This is What Happens

What happens when you are twelve years old and you have the weight of the world on your shoulders?
When everything that everyone does just pisses you off to no end?
When you believe that God made you the only intelligent life form on this earth?
When no one understands the black hole that is your mind?
When no one understands that there is NO GREY!!!! It is all black and white!!!!!
When you have to hate the very air that your mother breathes?
When there is no solution but to dramatically turn and walk to your room and slam the door to drive your point home?
Over...and over....and over......and over.....and over(to infinity) again?

Your door falls off the hinges. That's what happens.

I am so not gonna get it fixed.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Tip for Women

Fart. You know, there's nothing nice about that word. It doesn't look pretty or even sound pretty...and GOD KNOWS it don't smell purtty.

I have discovered something though in my now 35 years. Yeah, I had a birthday last weekend. That means I've been blogging a whole year. Go figure. Never thought I'd make it this far.

Anyway...what I have discovered. By the way...this is for women only. Because we know men just don't care.

I have discovered that if you are shopping in one of those humongous supercenters and you really gotta fart so bad you break into a cold sweat........go to the lawn and garden section. Man, that place smells so bad no one will ever know.

Trust me.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Males and Magnets

We all know something about magnets. I won't get into the scientific aspect of it, but I will bring back to mind an old saying or two. Remember "Opposites attract." or " Polar opposites"?

Men believe that they have magnetic personalities. Some are sadly disillusioned that they can just draw women in. Come on girls, we've all experienced a few like this.

Well, I'm going to go a different route with men and magnets.

I personally believe that ALL males are born with dirt magnets under their skin. Especially the face, hands, and feet. I can dress my son for church and sit him down in front of the television while the girls finish and I promise you, he will have a dirt smudge somewhere on his person before we get to the church. And it's not in my house, that's for sure. I have no idea how he does it.

And men. Grown men. How is it I can cut the grass and do yard work and barely have a speck of dirt on my person when I'm done, yet my husband looks like he's been farming? In black dirt? I just don't understand how a man can wear a uniform and come home with grease all over it. Especially when he has a particular uniform to wear when he's in the engine room working. I've given up asking him where he and boys are playing on the way home from work.

Just to point out here. My husband is gone a majority of the time and therefore has to do his own laundry. It could be that he just doesn't care to treat stains like the fanatic that I am, so by the time he gets home, the stains are set for life. Who knows.

I just know it's not only my husband and son. I've talked with friends and they have the same exact problems. We are perplexed and want to have certain tests run to confirm the "dirt magnet" theory.

I guess as long as I have spit, I'll be able to clean Vitt up. At least until he gets totally grossed out when I do it and runs away.