{ happy halloween eve }

With the witching hour drawing nigh, I have found that my brain has been put under a spell. I am fairly certain that there is a witch or warlock out there giggling with delight at the chaos that they have put into my life. I, for some reason, have not been able to keep track of my days. For example: I usually post on Thursdays, but yesterday I thought it was Wednesday, thus providing further evidence of my brain being bewitched. Because as a mom, I would NEVER forget what day it was. Ever. *ahem* You should be slightly proud however, that I was able to remember that it was field trip day yesterday. So take that evil spell!

This is my Favorite time of year. I love fall. And I adore Halloween. Not the creepy scary blood and gore let's get chased by a man with a chain saw in a maze of corn Halloween. Oh, no. Nasty. I do not find joy and elation by putting myself in a situation where I may or may not pee my pants from fright. That just isn't my cup o' tea. This, my friends, is:

I got my son off to school, his Bumblebee costume in his backpack. We had a 'debate' whether or not he should bring his mask. As Supreme Ruler and Judge, I won. He went maskless. I am now free to prepare for the amazing holiday where kids get to stay up late, get tons of candy and get sick. Is anyone else excited that Halloween falls on a Saturday? I hate it when it falls on the weekdays. That is pure torture. I think we should change the date. Who wants to start a petition? I call that Halloween should fall on the last Friday or Saturday of the month {haven't decided which one is better}. Any takers?

Anywho, today will be filled with making these:

Recipe found here.

Recipe drooled over here.

{PLEASE head on over to the Idea Room and check out her amazing ideas. This woman is genius.}

Thanks to the fact that my daughter REFUSES to potty train again {extra thanks to this}, I have had to resort to insanely cheap decorating. My husband didn't like the idea of setting up a Halloween Decoration Fund at our local banking institution. Apparently we don't have the 'funds', or whatever that means... So I have scoured the internet and have found some fun ideas that I will be making today. How cute are these?

{When you have a solid 7, 946 hours, you must read Blue Cricket Design's Blog. Be prepared to stay awhile.}

I will be hanging them on my branches I borrowed from a trip to the remote dessert and spray painted black and dumped in a bucket. Total cost? 89 cents. Very 'fund'able.

I will also be making these as well:

{Again, another fantabulous blog! The Joys of Home blog is very addicting. Maybe you should wait until AFTER the Holidays are over and you have tons of time.}

So it is off to clean the house! I don't know about you, but decorating isn't as fun to do when your house is a maze of toys and C.R.A.P. And I have to find missing parts to my daughter's costume. She is going to be Super Girl. Unless you ask her yourself. She'll tell you she's She-Ra. {And I couldn't be more proud! Anyone else love She-Ra?}

PS. Is anyone else freaking out that it's the end of October already? Good thing we already carved our pumpkin . . . unfortunately we did it a little too early. Jerry the Jack o' lantern didn't make it to Halloween. So much for being on the ball. I have prepared a lovely eulogy:

R.I.P. Geriatric Jack-o-lantern

As we travel through the seasons of life, we find ourselves transforming in ways we had no intention of. Like our dear friend, Jerry the Jack-0-lantern. He started out so vibrant, orange and fresh . . .

. . . then with skilled hands, received a deep colon cleanse . . .

. . . and a facelift that demanded attention . . .

. . . we loved the new look. but as the week progressed, our dear friend began to sag.

{it happens to the best of us}

As the season of his life was coming to an end, the once perky eyebrows began to droop, the lips began to curve inward, and he began to get a little 'clogged up' with decaying matter. Unknowingly, he lost complete control of his bodily functions and began to give off "offensive" odors. It was time for Jerry the Geriatric Jack-o-lantern to go to a better place. A place where pumpkins roll free and happy faces are carved daily. {With a complimentary internal cleanse included.}

We love you jerry . . . until we meet again . . .

{and yes, I bathed my children BEFORE we carved pumpkins. Don't you?}

{ camryn's corner }

As I read Camryn's post this morning, I was thinking about the oxymoron that is MY LIFE. I am an impatient perfectionist. Whuh?! That's right. I stress over things being perfect, but then I am insanely impatient. Does that combo even exist in real life? Well apparently it does in mine.

Do you want something to look super nice, but 72 million hours later, you decide that enough is enough and opt out of moving the bed so you can paint behind the headboard . . . ?

I got impatient- didn't want to wait for the hubby. And I was tired. I was a brand new mom, and no one was going to see my white patch of hidden wall. Otherwise I would have taken the time to hurl mattress to the floor, scoot the box springs to the side with ease, and lift the headboard back a couple feet myself. I was relieved that I still had the paint can in the basement when we moved. Although now I am feeling deep chagrin for not taking pictures.

But you are in luck! Because Camryn did! Head on over to Mean Mommy University and read all about her 'blonde moment'. I'm just SOO glad that I'm not the only one that has those.

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Happy Monday!

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ps- here's one for the road:

A blonde has just gotten a new sports car. She cuts in front of a semi, and almost causes it to drive over a cliff. The driver furiously motions for her to pull over, and she does. The driver gets out and draws a circle, telling her to stand in it. Then he gets out his knife and cuts up the leather seats. He turns around and sees she's smiling. So he goes to his truck, takes out his baseball bat, and starts busting her windows and beating her car. He looks back to see that she's laughing. He's really mad now, so he takes his knife and slices her tires. He turns around and she's laughing so hard, she's about to fall down. He demands, "What's so Funny?!" To which she replied, "Every time you weren't looking, I stepped out of the circle!"

{ bodily functions }

Does anyone else have problems getting their 6 year old to sleep? I didn't until last night. For some reason my son would not go to bed. So me, being the genius that I am, came up with a solution. He could 'fall asleep' on my bed, and then I would begin the process of moving him to the floor {yeah, right, like I'm going to carry that heavy mass of a body with all of my 5 feet of strength down a flight of stairs and onto his own bed}. This procedure is performed as such:

1 | roll the body until the subject is on his back, with the head pointing towards you.

{here is where you prepare yourself for some awesome visual aids. It's okay to be jealous of my mad doodling with a mouse skills. *snort*}

2 | place firm grip under armpits by making sure the crook of your arm is placed strategically under the armpits.

3 | pull.

4 | gently.

5 | as the feet are last to be pulled off the 4 feet tall bed, just let them fall onto the floor.

6 | your child should be slightly coherent at this point, so tell them to lay on the pillow on the floor. If not, just drag.

7 | cover child with warm blanket.

8 | grab a huge glass of water to rehydrate yourself after your amazing workout. And don't forget to grab you a piece of chocolate from your hidden stash to reward yourself as well. What. We all know you have one. ;)

{What do you mean you don't wear hair accessories that match your furniture?}

As I went upstairs {waaaayyyy later than I should have} to begin my 'workout', an all too familiar smell was in the air.

Are you kidding me? I thought as I ran to the bed and pulled back the covers. Sure enough, for the first time in years, my son lay fast asleep in a puddle of pee.

*Don't tell Mr. Smith it was his side.*

Major shaking and tapping ensued- to wake my son up. I told him he had to take a shower and go back to his bed.

"Why?"

"Because you peed on my bed."

"Who."

"You did."

"Me?!?!?"

"Yes you."

"How?"

" . . . . . . . . "

Needles to say, I got him showered {yes, I was the only responsible adult present I was the only legal adult present}, cleaned up, tucked in, got the sheets changed, and mattress Lysoled all before midnight. Holla! {But then I froze while sleeping because I left the window open and had only a sheet for protection- yes I was too tired to get up and close the dang window.}

And then there's my daughter. I love her. Desperately. And she loves her dairy products. Desperately. She has an addiction.

Do you KNOW what happens to people who have an addiction to dairy products???

That's right. They get clogged.

My daughter is addicted to dairy products.

This resulted in the need for Milk Rehab.

1 | No milk, yogurt or cheese.

2 | Only juice or water.

3 | And rice.

After hours of tears I am happy to report this was a success. We are clog free!

I KNOW you wanted to know that. And you're welcome.

Being a mother means doing things you never in your wildest dreams thought you would do. It means touching things that would have made you spew chunks when you were younger. It means smelling things that shouldn't be smelled by mere mortals. In fact here's a song for you, dear Mother Who Has Children . . .

*sniff* Beautiful isn't it?
So here's to us Moms! Cleaners of all things gross! Smellers of all things vile! Sacrificers of all things . . . um, well . . . All Things! {I was going to put dignified, but we sacrifice much more than dignity when it comes to motherhood.}
We Rock.
And don't you forget it . . .
---------------------Have a Great Weekend!---------------------

{ camryn's corner }

There is a reason why we women do the shopping. Especially when it comes to birthdays. Because something phenomenal happens when it comes to the male brain.

It Translates.

It translates EVERYTHING. You tell them to get one thing and those wheels begin a turnin'. Sparks start flying, smoke gets conjured up, data gets pushed around. They analyze your idea about that object, come up with a better solution or idea, and then can't even remember what you told them to get in the first place, so they end up just guessing about what you told them you needed. Which is why we have to be very specific when it comes to writing our lists {verbal lists are completely useless}. And even then it doesn't compute clearly. Which is why we must obey our one true motto:

If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.

Read Camryn's post about her man's computed 'solution' to the birthday present conundrum!

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Happy Monday!

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{ round peg, square hole }

There are many things in life that don't fit. Have you ever tried pulling something small over something else that is subsequently larger? You know, like stuffing a king-sized pillow into a doll-sized pillow case. Or putting sheets on your mattress that were clearly marked 'queen' but as you wrestled and bent you fingers in ways that shouldn't ever be attempted {a.k.a. sprain}, you found that they clearly were NOT. Ooooorrrrr . . .

. . . trying to pull on jeans that you knew fit quite well before you washed them. Last week.

As I wrestled with my shrinking clean pants, I misjudged the circumference of my hips. But never fear, after a slew of grunts and wiggles, they made it on. Success!!

Instead of listening to my inner genius, I decided that these were the pants I would wear that day- because of all that work, and the fact that they still fit. Sort of. A little. How was I to know that the 'going up' was the easy part??

I didn't take into account what would happen if I had to pee really, really bad. I should of. Because: as I was dancing around trying to P E E L those jeans off when I had to go really, really badly, I bent my nail in the most peculiar way, breaking it at the sides:

Yep. Hurt like a mother.

After dealing with the emotional trauma that can only come from a broken nail due to large hindquarters, I decided to take drastic measures. I could keep heading towards a life of bent-the-wrong-way-nails, or find a system that would kick my ghetto bootay trash.

I found something:

In. Sane. People. I did the 'fitness test' yesterday. It hurts to cough and sneeze. I didn't know that my back muscles could feel like this. My inner thighs? Huh. I should have known better. It says in the pamphlet that "This is probably the hardest workout put on DVD..." I got a teensy bit scared after reading that. ". . . while you may feel exhausted after each workout, you'll feel like you conquered Mt. Everest." They aren't kidding- you can't breathe on Mt. Everest, and you sure as heck can't breathe after these workouts. Additional suggestions were "For muscle soreness, try ice and/or ibuprofen . . ." And that's when I got really scared. They didn't say IF you get sore muscles. It's like they're PROMISING sore muscles. What did I get myself into? And there is a MASSIVE warning at the beginning of each video. These people are serious. And I'm seriously aching. I have a new best friend:

It gets me thinking . . . is this pain really worth it? Well yes, it will be. But for right now, I find that I can relate to this story:

Recently, in a large French city, a poster featuring a young, thin and tan woman appeared in the window of a gym. It said:

This Summer Do You Want To Be a Mermaid Or a Whale?

A middle aged woman, whose physical characteristics did not match those of the woman on the poster, responded publicly to the question posed by the gym.

To Whom It May Concern:

Whales are always surrounded by friends {dolphins, sea lions, curious humans}.

They have an active sex life, they get pregnant and have adorable baby whales.

They have a wonderful time with dolphins stuffing themselves with shrimp.

They play and swim in the seas, seeing wonderful places like Patagonia, the Barren Sea and the coral reefs of Polynesia.

Whales are wonderful singers and have even recorded CD's.

They are incredible creatures and virtually have no predators other than humans.

They are loved, protected and admired by almost everyone in the world.

Mermaids don't exist.

If they did exist, they would be lining up outside the offices of Argentinean psychoanalysts due to identity crisis. Fish or Human?

They don't have a sex life because they kill men who get too close to them, not to mention how could they have sex? Therefore they don't have kids either. Not to mention, who wants to get close to a girl who smells like a fish store?

The choice is perfectly clear to me; I want to be a W H A L E .

P.S. We are in an age when the media puts into our heads the idea that only skinny people are beautiful, but I prefer to enjoy an ice cream with my kids, a good dinner with a man who makes me shiver and a piece of chocolate with my friends.

With time we gain weight because we accumulate so much information and wisdom in our heads that when there is no more room it distributes out to the rest of our bodies. So we aren't 'heavy', we are enormously cultured, educated and happy.

Beginning today, when I look at my butt in the mirror I will think, "Holy Crap! Look how smart I am!".

***

I must admit I do feel better when I work out. But I think I'll go for a happy medium whale. I will do this...

. . . with lots of this in between . . .

. . . buy these so I don't feel as guilty when I eat the whole bag . . .

. . . and every now and then, enjoy a sweet morsel containing the Holy Trinity of Confection . . .

. . . with my cultured, educated and happy friends.

Have a wonderful Fall Break Weekend!

{Dear FTC- I did NOT get paid by Insanity, Icy Hot, Mr. Redenbacher, Ibuprofen makers, sugar farmers, dairy folks, chocolate connesuirs, or mermaids to mention them on my blog.}

{ camryn's corner }

There's something about the way Camryn tells a story that has me rolling on the floor dying of laughter. Today is nooooo exception. Click here for a story of adventure, filled with mayhem and Michael Jackson moves. You'll find yourself on the edge of your seat as you read the thickening plot that

centers

around

this:

Disaster is averted and she has yet another amazing story to add to her repertoire.

Some people are just lucky, I guess . . .

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Happy Monday!

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{ bees, gas chambers, bathrooms and forbidden fruit }

Mr. Smith tried to explain to my children where honey comes from. . . I should have intervened.

It all began with the simple correction that bees don't just like honey- they make it. My son was intrigued and Mr. Smith continued. His definition of the honey process went as follows:

Bees make the honey in their beehives, then grandpa smokes them to death and steals their honey so that we can eat it.

Do you see where I should have taken over?

After giving him quizzical looks, then a slight glare, he went on to compare this to the Indians. Like when we came over and stole the land from them.

Do you see why I am the one that helps with the homework?

There is truth to these statements {minus the smoking to death/gas chamber analogy} which is why I held my tongue. But now my son is a little weary of eating honey.

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In related news . . .

My daughter flooded the bathroom last night.

No, I didn't take pictures.

For some odd reason, I wasn't mad. My body kicked into Mommy Mode as I ripped off my socks and shoes, rolled the pants up and began soaking up the warm liquid that overflowed from the bathtub. My first thought was "Save The Carpet!" as the edges were turning a lovely shade of darker brown. The inch of water on the tiled bathroom and hallway was quickly soaked up, and then I turned my attention to the edges of the carpet in the rooms. Adrenaline completely took over as I grabbed all the fans we own and aimed them at the wet spots.

I thought I did pretty good.

And then I stepped on the carpet about a foot out from where I had soaked up the "spots". It squished.

Crap.

Water had soaked into the carpet pad.

I grabbed more towels.

We then had a "jumping party". I made my kids jump for forever on those towels. The last thing I want is moldy carpets.

I am happy to report that it was a success!

But here comes my {serious and insanely guilt-driven} Public Service Announcement:

Last night I lay awake in my bed, not praising myself for 'saving the carpet'. I felt a wave of nausea come over me as I realized how bad things could have ended up. I had put little M in the bathtub, filled it fairly full {does anyone else's kids beg to have the water 'really high'?} and and then let her play. I was laying on the couch, trying to get my sinus headache to subside, when I recognized the sound of running water. I don't know how long the water had been running. Long enough to overflow the bathtub and create an indoor swimming pool. But the part that made me sick was the knowledge that I wasn't watching my daughter closely around water. Yes, she is three and it was a bathtub not a swim pool {which I am overly paranoid of my kids being around}. But what if? WHAT IF?

Angels were working overtime. She is safe. I said a super long prayer of gratitude that night- I'm grateful that an 'real' accident didn't happen. I'm grateful that Angels exist during my 'poor parenting' episodes. So what if the carpet gets moldy? Who cares if the dirty clothes hamper was drenched? Who cares if a sinus headache is present? That's not what's important.

This is what's important:

Anyway, here's my soap box . . .

And now I'm off it. *sigh* Kids . . . the things they do to our nerves . . . {I realize that I'm blowing this way out of proportion, but my mind has a way of freaking out on me. It's called: Obsessively Paranoid Mommy Syndrome or OPMS [not to be mistaken with the regular PMS]. I try not to be one of those moms that make my kids wear football gear and helmets every time they go outside. It's hard.}

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Sorry about the 'serious moment'. That's what happens when one gets rambling. So to lighten the mood, I would like to share a story.

Whenever your children are out of control, you can take comfort from the thought that even God's Omnipotence did not extend to His Own Children.

After creating Heaven and Earth, God created Adam and Eve.

And the first thing he said was DON'T!

Don't what? Adam replied.

Don't eat the forbidden fruit. God said.

Forbidden fruit? We have forbidden fruit? Hey Eve . . . we have forbidden fruit!

No way!

Yes way!

Do NOT eat the fruit! said God.

Why?

Because I am your Father and I said so! God replied, wondering why he hadn't stopped creation of making the elephants.

A few minutes later, God saw His Children having an apple break and He was ticked!

Didn't I tell you not to eat the fruit? God asked.

Uh huh, Adam replied.

Then why did you? said The Father.

I don't know, said Eve.

She started it! Adam said.

Did not!

Did too!

Did NOT!

Having had it with the two of them, God's punishment was that Adam and Eve should have children of their own. Thus the pattern was set and it has never changed.

If you have persistently and lovingly tried to give children wisdom and they haven't taken it, don't be hard on yourself.

If God had trouble raising children, what makes you think it would be easy for you?

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Things to Think About Today:

1 | You spend the first two years of their life teaching them to walk and talk. Then you spend the next sixteen telling them to sit down and be quiet.

2 | Mothers of teens now know why some animals eat their young.

3 | Children seldom misquote you. In fact, they usually repeat word for word what you shouldn't have said.

4 | The main purpose to holding children's parties is to remind yourself that there are children more awful than your own.

5 | We childproof our homes, but they are still getting in.

6 | If you have a lot of tension and you get a headache, do what it says on the aspirin bottle: Take two aspirin and keep away from children!

Just make sure they aren't alone in the bathtub when you do! ;)

Have a Great Weekend!

{ camryn's corner }

When it comes to advice, there is a saying: You get what you paid for. Which usually means free advice is worth just that. NOTHING.

If I just burst your savvy-deal-finding-penny-pinching bubble, dashing your hopes and dreams of saving money while receiving valuable info at the same time, here's a tissue:

And some amazing news:

Camryn is offering valuable and priceless info for free!!!

It's a part of her photography 101 mini-series. I am flaming excited. Again. Still.

Go over and check it out. Her visual aids are fantastic- I grasp a concept so much better when it is put into pictoral format. {Not to be mistaken with pectoral format. Although I don't mind gazing on a fine male pectoral every now and then.} Today is part 2 and it's all about cropping and flashing. Oh, now I got your attention . . .

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Happy Monday!

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