Thursday Zhush

I found this shirt at Goodwill a few weeks ago and finally got around to wearing it today.

Maybe I wore it because I needed some satin and  rhinestones on this fine Thursday. Maybe I wore it because it camouflaged the muffin top created by my slightly too-snug pants. Either way, the zhush factor was there and I was digging it.

I dug it right up until I got to work and Jimmy said, "Really Jewing it up today with that shirt, aren't ya?"

My little brother: pointing out my inappropriate choices since 1985.

The School Bus Is Like Fight Club I Guess

I came home from work tonight to hear that a little girl had torn Mia's new shirt on the school bus.

As you might have guessed, I was instantly pissed! 1.) Today was the first time (and now, the only time) she'd worn the dang thing. 2.) She looked really cute in it! 

"Mia that shirt is brand new. What happened? What was this girl doing that tore your shirt?" 

"Well she was biting my shirt and wouldn't let go of it...So... I pulled it really hard and her teeth tore it."

"She was biting your shirt?! Why was this girl biting your shirt?!"

"...And now it has a hole in it. And some blood. This is blood because she was bleeding after."

"WHAAAAT?! She was bleeding?! Did she have a loose tooth?"

"Um, I don't think so."

"Was she alright?"

"Yeah. I think so..."

"Mia, do you even know what the little girl's name is?"

"No. She's younger than me. I know that."

Sweet little 8lb baby Jesus... To the mother of that little girl: I am so sorry. I swear, my second grader is not a bully. She is very sweet 90% of the time and would never intentionally hurt a younger child (unless it's Marlee, who in most situations, definitely has it coming). 

Guys, please keep your fingers crossed that my kid doesn't get kicked off the bus. And also that the other girl's mama doesn't want to come kick my ass after school tomorrow.

Let's Not Try That

Tonight I discovered a colony of winged ants or termites or some type of other nasty crawly thing with wings had infested a part of our yard. Naturally, my gut instinct told me to act like a girl and tell Chris to kill the bugs...

ME: (after running up onto the porch because you're safe from flying bugs if you're on higher ground) I don't know what they are, but they have wings and they're all over the driveway even. Kill 'em!

CHRIS: Do we have any spray to kill them with?

ME: Yeah, it's inside! Hurry! Eew!!!!

A minute later, the hubs comes outside with an aerosol can of hairspray in one hand and a candle lighter in the other hand.

ME: Um...no. One, I use that hairspray. Two, you're going to blow yourself up.

CHRIS: What do you want me to use then?!

ME: Get the bug spray!

Disappears into the house again, only to reemerge with bug spray - in yet another aerosol can - and, again, the candle lighter.

ME: Are you kidding me?! Put. The. Damn. Lighter. Up. Get the bug spray out of the garage.

CHRIS: (like I've kicked him in the nuts) Ugh...FINE!

Finally comes out with the pump and spray bug killer and begins to flood the nest/hive/disgusting bug house.

CHRIS: You never let me have any fun.

ME: Oh, I know, I'm really good at ruining things, aren't I?

CHRIS: Yeah, like my life!

ME: I love you too, honey...

Isn't that what marriage is about though - one person being the responsible one, and the other being an overgrown child? I know that's not just going on at my house!

He's A Little Bit Country ...

... and a little bit geeky like his daddy. The robot shirt and Spiderman hat really look sweet with the new cowboy boots, don't you think?!

Happy Friday, folks!

Nailing It (Horrible Pun Intended)

Today is the last day of summer break and by this time tomorrow, Mia will be a second grader.

Meet the teacher night was last night, and Mrs. S. seems like a really great fit for my big girl. I feel like we're pretty much ready for this year - name written on the new backpack, lunch box, 2 boxes of crayons, 2 boxes of markers, 56 pencils, 17 notebooks. Picked up a med form from the nurse for our inhaler. Met the new music teacher. Signed Mommy up to be a room parent (again) and a PTO member (Lord help me...). 

We've got the perfect outfit picked out, hair do chosen, glittery fairy dust on stand-by. 

But as much as we felt like we were prepared, we'd forgotten one very important thing...

MIA: Mom what's it called when you paint those silver lines?

ME: French tips. Please stop wiggling...

MIA: French like France?

ME: Yep. Miles don't do that...Miles STOP! 

MIA: He's putting Doritos in my shorts! 

ME: Miles Christopher! STOP IT NOW! Sis, what do you think of these nails?

MIA: They're pretty. Can we go to Paris one day? I really want to go to Paris...and maybe we can get French tips painted on our fingernails there - I mean, we will be in France, Mom.

ME: Someday, baby. We'll go someday.

For Pete's Sake...

MARLEE: Mommy, do I yook yike Sheorshe Washington?

(without turning around)

ME: No, George Washington had white hair.

MARLEE: Do I yook yike Abewaham Yinkin?

(still facing the other direction)

ME: No, Abe Lincoln had a black beard.

MARLEE: Who do I yook yike den?

(turn to look at her finally)

ME: A topless Mother Teresa. We're all in trouble...

Snippet: I Guess Miralax Does Work

MARLEE: Mommy! Moooommmy! THA TOY-LIT IS OVA FLOWING!

ME: What?!

Marlee: Mia did it! She pooped! She pooped ALL OVER! It's ova flowing!

ME: Guess that medicine worked, huh, Sis?

MIA: I'm sorry. I couldn't stop... it's the runs, Mom. I've got the runs and the runs broke the toilet.

MARLEE: It's so dis-gus-ting! Eew! Yuck!

ME: No words, just uncontrollable giggles.

******

If my daughters were older, they'd hate me for retelling this little poop nugget. Thankfully, they're 7 and 4 (Marlee's birthday was yesterday. Here's to another 10 wrinkles on Mommy's face.) so they're still young enough to appreciate when I laugh instead of flipping out.

I Might Be Dying

Seriously guys, I've got the shingles. 

The bad news is, apparently there's a 72 hour window of opportunity to get to the doc when symptoms start 

showing. My symptoms started last Wednesday. The good news is, nothing.

The doctor tried to patch me up with Band Aids this morning. Not my regular doctor though, so naturally I pretended it was no biggie when she put Band Aids all over my neck and chest. "Oh, by the way I'm super allergic to Band Aids!" - exactly what I should have said. I didn't say it though. And why would I? The big raw squares frame my shingles nicely. (Actually I didn't say anything because she was super nice. Plain and simple. I didn't want to come off as ungrateful.) 

Me with Band Aids:

Text to my gal pal, Trisha : I'VE GOT SHINGLES, BUT IF ANYONE ASKS, I WAS ATTACKED BY A RACCOON.

Me with the nursing skills of my devoted husband:

"Babe, be nice because I can always pull this tighter..." - 5 years of wedded bliss

Did you know that people over the age of 60 are most likely to get shingles? I'm 28. 

Also, I jinxed the shit out of myself by blabbing how I felt fine before I went to the doctor, just a little itchy. Hey! Guess who has a sore throat, itchy eyes, and the start of shingle patches on her face now? FML...

Someone lend me a turtleneck. - XOXO Jen

Shake What'cha Mama Gave Ya

This exists. If you haven't seen it, you're missing out.

A few things to remember while watching the video below:

1. I am NOT a horribly inappropriate mother. Not all of the time anyway.
2. This is exactly how Chris dances.
3. He's just a bachelor - lookin' for a partner.