I love the smell of Aqua Net in the morning...

We went to an 80's themed birthday party last night. Lots and lots of prep work to get ready. My handsome hubby researched his Billy Idol ensemble as if it were part of a case he was working on... very diligent and thorough.

Many looks were represented, but I think my friend Connie had the best outfit of the night. Hands down. I'm not sure where she hid them in that leotard, but I imagine it takes a big pair of balls to pull this off!


I just relied on heavy make-up and a lot of hair spray. While I was getting ready, Grant told his dad: "There's something wrong with mom's hair..."

Was soooo much fun! Happy birthday, Tanya!

Oh, this one could really backfire....

I get it. Times are tough. Businesses are looking for ways to cut back, to save money. What used to be free to consumers now comes with a fee.

I suggest the folks at Irish airline Ryanair do a serious cost/benefit analysis before implementing their plan to make passengers pay to use the on board bathroom.

How lame. Which will cost less in the long run? Paying for potentially haz-mat worthy clean-ups in coach class, or just letting passengers use the potty for free? Come on! We're talking about the Irish! You just know someone is going to get lit and then need the lavatory, like right now.

Think people, think.

Your marketing plan? Not so good.

(click on photo for a better view)

Really?

A yard for sale?

Will they deliver...? Is the house included, or is it just the yard...? Will they divide it up if I just want the plants and trees...?

I am starting to wonder if this particular corner is the Bermuda Triangle of handmade signs. (This is not the worst one I've seen here...)

Am I being Punk'd? So bad it's funny... or at least it will be someday.

My day yesterday:

6:15: wake up and go back to sleep

6:30 wake up and go back to sleep

6:45 drag ass out of bed

7:00 make coffee

7:15 start chugging coffee

7:29 (note to self: do not go to bed with wet hair)

7:30 put hair in hot rollers to get rid of "Medusa" look

7:50 pull curlers out, look for Grant's jacket

8:00 drive Devin & Grant to dentist (cavity filled for Dev)

8:14 try to convince Grant it is more efficient to wear his jacket than it is to try to keep warm by "hugging himself"

8:15 try to get Grant to stop hugging himself and hold the handrail on the stairs up to the dentist's office

8:40 try to get Grant to stop hugging himself and hold the handrail on the stairs down from the dentist's office

8:55 drop Devin off at school (because he's going in late and because he has flat tires on two bikes)

9:10 go home, plan to get on treadmill

9:18 discover Grant had a little accident the night before

9:19 strip sheets and blankets from Grant's bed

9:20 start load of laundry

9:22 start bath for Grant, but am already feeling overwhelmed; change my mind, opt for washcloth wipe down instead

9:30 check emails, do online banking, balance checkbook

10:00 clean kitchen

10:15 start more laundry

10:30 clean boys' bathroom. ew.

10:35 consider getting on treadmill; decide to do it a bit later

10:45 fold clothes

11:00 take Barkley to the vet for blood test and x-ray results

11:30 learn that my sweet, 13 year old Dalmatian has a mass in his abdomen that is either caused by 2 years of Prednisone, or is cancer.

11:40 learn that the plan is to switch medicines. If the problems clear up, that means it was the other medication causing the problems. If not, the mass is cancer and we will need to put him down

12:00 go home, change clothes due to massive amounts of dog hair, start new load of laundry

12:05 fix Grant's lunch

12:10 fix my lunch

12:15 eat standing over the kitchen sink

12:25 clean up lunch mess

12:30 load and start dishwasher

12:45 fold clothes, put clean mattress cover and bottom sheet back on Grant's bed

12:55 consider getting on the treadmill; decide too tired and too soon after lunch

1:00 check and return emails

1:05 tell Grant to play nicely in his room, with the door shut

1:06 close blinds, sit on the couch, close eyes and breathe

1:25 wake up as Mitch comes in the door from school

1:26 "welcome home, how was school? do you have any papers for me to see?"

1:27 examine, sort through any papers.

1:30 add items to list of things to tell Mitch's mom about when he goes to back to her house on Sunday

1:35 supervise after school snack and getting the homework started

1:40 check calendar, add events. Notice scheduling conflict, make arrangements to resolve it

1:58 lay out clothes for T ball practice and ask Grant to put them on

2:00 leave Grant & Mitch home while I run around the corner (blessedly, by myself) to go to the library

2:05 renew my library books that I checked out 3 weeks ago but have not had time to finish

2:15 receive phone call from Devin, asking to be picked up from school. Agree to meet in front of the vitamin store...(close enough to walk to, far enough from the school to avoid the traffic)

2:25 arrive to pick up Devin

2:26 run in to vitamin store to buy energy boosting, heart healthy vitamins (really)

2:30 discuss plan of action re flat tires with Devin

2:31 call home and ask Mitchell to go outside and look at the number on the side of the flat tire, which will tell us the size of inner tube needed to fix the flat. I can avoid going home to check and going back out to the store

2:32 repeat my instructions to Mitch

2:33 wait while he finds his shoes

2:34 repeat my instructions to Mitch

2:34 (and 30 seconds) repeat which bike to look at

2:35 repeat that he needs to look on the side of the tire

2:35 (and 15 seconds) repeat that he is looking for a number

2:35 (and 30 seconds) "No, the words won't help, just a number"

2:35 (and 40 seconds) repeat that he is looking for a number

2:35 (and 45 seconds) repeat that the words are irrelevant

2:36 notice Devin shaking his head and laughing at this conversation and the obviously slow, twerpy kid who can't understand simple directions, like duh...

2:36 (and 5 seconds) resist the urge to give Devin a monkey bump

2:36 (and 10 seconds) repeat that Mitch should look for the number that determines the size of the tire

2:36 (and 30 seconds) repeat that I need the number so I can go to the store without having to come all the way home first, so please! tell! me! the! number!

2:37 explain to Mitch that psi does not indicate the size of the tire

2:37 (and 30 seconds) learn that Devin's bike has 24" tires

2:45 arrive at Target, hurry through parking lot while explaining to Devin he should run and get the inner tube, while I quickly see if there is anything that I can get for an 80's themed party

2:45 (and 30 seconds) remind Devin to hurry

2:48 contemplate life, growing older, and how it has come to pass that I am shopping for a "costume" that passed as school clothes back in the day.

2:50 pick out a pair of ugly-ass giant metal 80's looking earrings on clearance (score)

2:51 wonder where Devin is

2:53 set out to look for Devin

2:58 find him in the toy section, checking things out (to his credit, he does have the inner tube)

3:00 get in the Express checkout lane

3:02 wonder why the Express lane is moving more slowly than the "regular" lanes

3:03 wonder if the person at the front of the line is paying in pennies

3:04 wonder if I should move to another line

3:05 wonder why they don't call more checkers

3:06 pay and run out the door

3:07 give change to a man collecting for a homeless shelter, explaining my support of Children Today as I do so

3:07 (and 30 seconds) hurrying through the parking lot, listening to Devin tell me he is really surprised I gave the guy money and indicating he is under the impression I don't usually help people

3:08 get in car (note to self: explain to Devin that people who toot their own proverbial horns about their good deeds are not really giving for others, but are giving for themselves. Remind him of examples where he was with me when we did "good deeds")

3:15 arrive home, discover the baseball clothes are still where I laid them and Grant is in a Spongebob SquareTrance and did not get dressed.

3:16 run around like a spaz, dress a 5 year old, find a baseball glove, find a hat, find a jacket, get a bottle of water, give instructions to Mitch and Devin about chores and homework, remind them that Conner will be home late due to Running Club

3:30 realize I have still not gotten on the treadmill and figure I'll run when I get back from practice

3:35 leave for the park and T-Ball practice

3:40 arrive at the park, explain to Grant that he can play until practice starts

3:41 twin boys from Grant's team also arrive early to play in the park

3:42 try to make small talk with the twins' mom while we keep an eye on the boys

3:44 Grant runs to me crying that Twin A hit him. Twin A denies this

3:50 Grant comes crying that Twin A hit him

3:51 Twin A's mom says Twin A never hits at home... Twin A says Grant hit him first. Grant, through his tears, denies this

3:52 We mommies deliver the lecture about keeping hands to ourselves, etc...

4:00 the twins run on the grass with another friend they know. Grant plays happily and quietly on the play equipment

4:15 Twin A comes back

4:16 Twin A finds Grant playing across the park and kicks him in the arm

4:16 (and 30 seconds) Grant comes crying, followed by Twin A who is already saying, "Nuh-uh! Nuh-uh!"

4:17 Twin A's mom tries to get the story; I listen to see how she'll handle this and comfort Grant. Twin A says Grant hit him. She believes him. I saw the incident and know that Twin A is a little liar

4:17 (and 15 seconds) calculate the pros and cons of starting a mommy feud at the beginning of the season

4:17 (and 30 seconds) decide it's more prudent to keep Grant away from Twin A. For now....

4:18 realize my cell phone is ringing, dig through my bag to find it and see that it's Conner's school calling. My blood pressure goes up.

4:19 the school counselor informs me that Conner's bike has been stolen and that he is in tears in the office, afraid to tell me or Rich because he forgot to lock it up and that's why it was stolen

4:20 my brain begins to stall and sputter. Do I get Grant and leave practice? Do I call Rich? What.... the counselor tells me that Grandpa Tony has been called and he is coming to get Conner. (Grandpa Tony is Mitchell's maternal grandfather. Get it? My husband's ex-wife's father...) Bless his heart, that is who came to Conner's rescue

4:21 Conner gets on the phone, very upset. He is worried about how I react when things aren't locked up properly. I assure him that his first offense forgetting to lock something up (although a huge mistake) is not the same as Devin's chronic irresponsibility and constantly forgetting to lock things up

4:25 call Tony and tell him thank you for coming to the rescue

4:28 call Rich and tell him what happened

4:30 try to control/contain/focus Grant for his baseball practice

4:45 take Grant to the bathroom.... on the far end of the park. I'm not sure if he has to go for real, or if he's bored with practice, or if he would just like to see what the park's bathroom looks like, but why take a chance?

4:46 call my mommy and vent about this crappy day

4:50 back to practice. Try to control/contain/focus Grant; keep Twin A away from him; help the coaches by playing outfield and wrangling kids

5:30 practically run to the parking lot, get in the car to get home

5:35 take a call from my mom, suggesting I come over to my Aunt's (where they are having dinner) and have a glass of wine

5:36 realize it's not very likely that I'll get on the treadmill

5:45 get home, check on Conner, discover he's fine now that he knows he will not be tarred and feathered

5:50 strip Grant out of his grass stained baseball clothes and get him in the tub

5:55 check on Mitch and Devin's homework progress

6:00 tell Devin I'm going over to Aunty's and will be back with in the hour.

6:10 surround myself with grown-ups who give me wine and listen to my sob story

6:25 am able to laugh about it a little bit

6:50 have to go home to fix dinner

6:55 stop pretending that I'm going to get on the treadmill

7:00 start to ponder why the school called my cell phone after they called an emergency contact to come and pick up Conner

7:02 wonder why the school didn't call Rich at work or on his cell

7:03 wonder why Conner ran 3 miles for fun, but wanted a ride instead of walking home the 1.5 miles

7:10 start reminding boys to take showers

7:15 have Conner set the table; remind him again which side the forks go on

7:30 sit down to dinner; discuss the stolen bike

7:40 discover that school called home, Devin told them I was unavailable, as was Rich (since he was at work and probably busy). Conner told the school not to try his parents on their cell phones because he did not want us to yell at him and opted to call Grandpa Tony because he is the nicest

7:41 wonder if the counselor at the school thinks we're heartless, scary parents now

7:42 give the boys the lecture that they are not allowed to screen our calls for us

7:43 reassured Conner that a stolen bike is enough for him to learn the lesson. Should irresponsibility become a chronic condition like Devin has, then that will be different

8:00 get the boys started on KP

8:10 get a glass of wine, go take a long, hot shower

8:45 finish laundry and finish making Grant's bed

9:00 check calendar for next day's schedule

9:01 check and respond to emails

9:10 start the bedtime countdown, reminders to brush teeth, etc

9:20 tuck Grant in, read Goodnight Moon because I'm too tired to read anything longer than that

9:30 discover Conner watching TV

9:31 go out to garage to remind Rich he is supposed to help Conner with math homework

9:40 get another glass of wine, listen to the math lesson

9:45 wonder if I can stay awake long enough to get through the Top Chef finale

10:15 realize I am rooting for bug-eyed Carla to win

10:59 realize I would not have stayed awake had I known Hosea would be named Top Chef (that guy was mediocre the whole season!) Boo

11:05 get ready for bed; glance at treadmill, feel pang of guilt

11:10 crawl into bed, turn out the light and fall asleep while praying that tomorrow will be a better day or that God will give me strength and patience... preferably both

Nobody gets a shake until Mommy gets a margarita!

Overheard: What my children fear... "You better be careful or Mom will blog about you..."
Devin my dear, this one's for you.

7:30 pm, Monday night....

Mom: Devin, you have an orthodontic appointment tomorrow after school, so come straight home.
Devin: Got it.

3:00 pm, Tuesday afternoon the phone rings...

Mom: Hello?
Devin: Mom! The little thingy on my bike tire came off and I have a tire that is totally flat! Can you come and get me?
Mom: Isn't this the "spare" bike you're using because your bike needs a new tire?
Devin: Yes. It's not my fault.
Mom: Ugh! Start walking towards home with the bike, I'll put the bike in the back of the car and we'll go directly to Dr. G's.
Devin: Oh yeah! The appointment...
Mom: Yeah! The appointment! Hurry up!

(He hurried so much he was coming in the back door as I was going out the front.)
Mom: Hurry up! Put your backpack down and get in the car!

3:30 pm, Tuesday afternoon, driving to the orthodontist's...

Devin: Someone flushed one of my PE shoes down the toilet.
Mom: Excuse me?!
Devin: I am missing a gray shoe from my PE locker and there is a gray shoe stopping up one of the toilets.
Mom: Why! Don't! You! Lock! Your! Locker!??
Devin: I do! I don't know how it happens! (This, after countless locks stolen, clothes missing, glasses gone, etc.... Yes, rather than admit he's a nimrod, Devin contends that there is a master cat-burglar/Houdini-like thief in the Los Al boys' locker room that only targets him.)
Mom: Ugh!! What shoes are you using for PE? Your Vans?
Devin: No, I'm wearing them, they're too small.
Mom: What shoes are you wearing in PE? Your World Industries?
Devin: I'm wearing the ones that ripped.
Mom: Which ones are those?
Devin: The ones that ripped and the dad was going to glue the sole.
Mom: What are you wearing now? What are you using for PE?
Devin: Mom! (irritated with me) The shoes that are too small and the shoes that are ripped!
(much more, back and forth, who's on first, confusion. He ripped a pair of shoes I thought were still in great condition, told dad, but did not tell me, is wearing shoes that are old and too small and would not have mentioned the flushed shoes at all, had the topic of PE clothes not come up...)

Dr. G: Devin forgot his retainer, so I can't do the exam. You need to reschedule and come back again.
Mom: Dev! Why didn't you bring your retainer!
Devin: Because you were in a hurry and I only had like, one second to get out the door.
Mom: But you went in your room to toss your backpack in there.
Devin: That would've taken 2 seconds.
Mom: Yes, it is much better to drive here for nothing and then bring you back another time.

We set a new appointment, get in the car...

Devin: So are we stopping for shakes? (A post-ortho appointment tradition.)
Mom: Um, no.

I'll be spending my shake money on replacement PE shoes and wine.

Focus? Who needs that?

This? This is not the face of T-Ball.

This is the true face of T-Ball.

Jen Lancaster is coming to town! I might just pee my pants, I am so excited!

Jen Lancaster is my favorite author. OK, I have many favorite authors.... but she's my favorite contemporary, acerbic, non-fiction author (why get all nit-picky about it?) The fabulously funny, smart ass, wine swilling, Jen Lancaster is going on a book tour for her fourth book, Pretty In Plaid.

Her last book tour had her making 2 stops in Northern California, but leaving us So Cal residents out in the cold. I cannot tell you how excited I am that she's making 2 stops here on this tour: May 21st and May 22nd. I'm going to try to go to both stops, but one of them is the night of Conner's Open House at school. (I'm not sure if he would notice his mom as a no-show). I'll have to wing it.

If you have not read her books* I insist that you do so immediately and become a groupie like me! I am sooooo going to her book-signing (where it's rumored that she goes out for drinks with rabid fans afterward.)

I will try my best not to foam at the mouth.

* Bitter Is the New Black
* Bright Lights, Big Ass
* Such A Pretty Fat

Funny, I don't remember getting hit by a bus....

Conner just came home from school. He showed me a scrape on the back of his leg that looks like tire tracks.

Conner: "I got another scrape on my leg."
Mom: "How did that happen?"
Conner: "I don't know. I don't remember anyone, like, driving over my leg or anything."
Mom: "Well, that's weird. Try to be careful, OK?"
Conner: "Oh, you know what? I crashed my bike. Maybe that's how it happened."

Nawww..... I think it's more likely someone ran you over and you didn't notice it.
I think this child should have been wearing a helmet in his earlier developmental years.

Vote for Pedro....?

Does anyone else think that Shaun Donovan (Obama's new HUD Secretary) looks familiar?

It's the video where he really looks like Napoleon Dynamite.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

And the housing plan seems as well put together as Kip's plan to be a cage fighter.

Driving me up the wall. Really.

Scene: morning; our living room.

Mom: Grant, please go take off your pajamas, get dressed and put your pajamas back in their drawer.
Grant: OK (exits, stage left.)

A few moments go by.

Mom: Grant? Did you get dressed?
Grant: Not yet.
Mom: Get dressed please and put your pajamas away where they go.
Grant: OK

A few more minutes go by.

Mom: Grant? Are you dressed?
Grant: Not yet.
Mom: Please do what I asked you.
Grant: I can't.
Mom: (close to losing patience) Why not?
Grant: I can't reach my pajamas.
Mom: They go back in the bottom drawer. Of course you can reach your pajamas. Put them away and get dressed!
Grant: OK.

A few more minutes go by. Grant's breakfast is ready, but no Grant.

Mom: Grant! Are you ready?
Grant: No! I can't reach my pajamas.... They are on the wall.
Mom: What do you mean they're on the wall....? Oh.

There are several scenarios where mom can imagine the PJs getting from the little body to the wall.

None of them include following directions.

Bar Refaeli - Green M&M smackdown.

The Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition came out last week.

The first man in the house to grab it out of the pile of mail?

Grant.



I think he prefers the back cover to the front cover though...

O creativity, creativity... wherefore art thou, creativity?

Grant spent the weekend at Gramma & Poppa's house. In addition to serving waffles on demand, Gramma is cool because she likes boy things. Dinosaurs. Planes. Space shuttles. Science. (shut up shut up shut up. Yes. I am sexist. I think math and science are boy things. ew.)

Anyhoo. Under the umbrella of science (both literally and figuratively) they caught earthworms that showed up with all of the rain. When we came to pick him up, he proudly showed us the 4 worms they caught. They were in a round plastic container with air holes poked into it. Turning the container in a perpetual circle, Grant proudly introduced us to the 4 worms:

This one's Wormy.

That's Stripey.

This is Jumpy.

This is Wormy.

That is Long-y.

(Did I mention there were only 4 worms...?)

This is Slimey.

This is Wormy.

This is Speedy.

That one's Slow-y.

That's Wormy.

This is Wiggly.......

Keep in mind there are only 4 worms... He also drew their portraits. We took the art and the worms home with us, and I pray to God that Rich helped Grant release them back into the wild and that they are not drying up and forgotten in the depths of an overnight bag. (Note to self: follow up on that when finished with this post...)

Grant also came home with new stuffed animals.

From left to right: Cat-Cat, Dog-Dog and Pup-Pup.

At least they aren't all named Wormy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~UPDATE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The worms have been found. They were left in Rich's car overnight. They are still alive, but there are only 3 worms left. That means that:

a) one escaped and is loose in the car

b) the other worms got hungry and ate him

c) there were only 3 worms all along, making the multiple names a bit more funny.

I have my fingers crossed and am hoping the answer is c....

(The surviving worms will be released into the wild upon Daddy's return home from work.)

Happy V-Day. (Personally, I think of every day as V-Day, but whatever....)

Dipshitophobia.

I am not superstitious. I freely walk under ladders (although not over grates in the sidewalk), once owned a black cat and I would not think it lucky if a bird pooped on me. However, I do think the history and theory behind superstition is interesting, so when I saw an article promising facts about Friday the 13th, I immediately thought it would be about the origins of this "bad luck" day.

Not so much. It was about... um. Well, it was not really about anything (or it was about a bunch of little disjointed things...) From a really bad article about Friday the 13th and associated, um, "facts" (posted by livescience.com, no less):

"Superstitious diners in Paris can hire a quatorzieme, or professional 14th guest."

(Get paid to eat good food?) How do I get that job?

Among the other 12 "facts" about Friday the 13th? Fidel Castro and Butch Cassidy were born on Friday the 13th. Dan Marino wore the number 13 throughout his football career and he only made it to the Superbowl once.

Now I'm totally seeing the pattern. There really must be something to this numerology... cowboy train robbers, Cuban dictators, quarterbacks... It all comes together now. Thank you livescience.com!

"The seals on the back of a dollar bill include 13 steps on the pyramid, 13 stars above the eagle's head, 13 war arrows in the eagle's claw and 13 leaves on the olive branch. So far there's been no evidence tying these long-ago design decisions to the present economic situation."

Of course there's no evidence! Everyone knows the current economic crisis was caused by the Octo-Mom and her 14 kids. And we all know that 14 is only one number away from 13.

(Not to mention that it would be ridiculous to attribute the 13s on the dollar bill to the 13 colonies.)

If triskaidekaphobia is the fear of the number 13, what is the fear of stupid people? Because I think I may have that one.

(Don't bother to leave a comment if you suffer from sar-chasm, the space between the sarcastic people, and the people who don't get it...)

Butterflys are beautiful, but don't stand underneath them.

Grant has a bunch of plastic bugs. I don't know where they came from (I know I didn't buy them!) but they're scattered all around in the toy bins. The only one he plays with at all is a butterfly. We'd like to think he's pretending it's Mothra, but probably not.

The butterfly's name was Penny for a long time. Then Gramma and Poppa got a little dog named Penny, and the butterfly has gone without a moniker ever since. Nameless Butterfly is played with along with cars, blocks and Legos, sometimes all at once.

Last night Grant had it fly over to me, and when he wanted it to land on me, I obliged. He told me it is a yellow butterfly. "True," I said, "but do you know what this is called?" "Yeah, yellow butterfly." As I tried to explain that his butterfly is called a Monarch butterfly... he interrupted excitedly, "Yeah! And here's where the poop comes out of!"

And away it flew.

Poop is always interesting.

First base! Second Base! Third base! Home! (No? OK, just spin around or pick dandelions or something...)

We signed Grant up for T-ball. His team is made up of 4 and 5 year-olds. The phrase it's like herding cats absolutely applies here.

Here are some of the things I heard myself saying to Grant yesterday:

Stop spinning!
Listen to your coach!
There's no crying in baseball!
You don't need any crackers right now.
Stop spinning!
No, you can play on the swings later.
Stop hopping!
Yes, that is a pretty flower.
Stop spinning!

Are these kids too young for baseball? Absolutely. However, they are not to young to learn to sit still and listen when a grown-up is talking to them. They are not too young to learn to play nicely with others. They are not too young to learn to follow directions, even if there is something else they would rather be doing.

I was laughing way too hard to get video when Grant hit the ball off the T and promptly ran to third base and then to the pitcher's mound.

I was laughing too hard to get video when Grant was told to listen and "look at me, please" by his coach. Instead of turning around to look at him, Grant bent over and looked, upside down, through his legs.

However, I did get video of Grant fielding a ball and then being "helped" back into position by a coach.

It's going to be an entertaining season...

No Scooby-Snacks for Conner.

Last night Conner informed me that the dogs had knocked over the dog food container and food was all over, and they ate it all. I got the distinct impression that we were now out of dog food.

I called Rich and asked him to pick some more up on his way home.

This morning, Rich went out to feed them and came back in to say, "Conner, there's plenty of dog food left... why did you say we were out?"

After much discussion about whether or not he told me that we were almost out or completely out, and why he (apparently) did not actually check the container, but just assumed it was empty. Exasperated with us, he says, "Well how am I supposed to know!? I only had an aerial view of it!"

Huh? I now have to make a rule that chores are not done until they have been checked from all angles...?

I purposely set my house on fire. Now I'm homeless. Please build me a new house.

Octo-Mom has a website. It is the cyber version of a beggar on a street corner, holding up a sign reading "Please help. Hungry. 14 babies at home. Please help. God Bless."

There are 2 options on this website. You can make a donation, or you can leave comments. Guess which option I chose...

Nadya,
First, I am glad to know that all 8 babies seem to be doing well.
Thank God for that. (My oldest was premature and spent 9 days in the NICU, so I know how scary that can be.) However, my best wishes for them do not extend to you. You are like a crazy cat lady, but with babies instead of cats.

You are single. You already have 6 children. You were already struggling and relying on others to help care for them. Then you have more IVF treatments and have 8 more babies, knowing that there is potential for them to be born with severe disabilities. Your babies are 14 attempts to fill some psychological need for yourself.

You cannot afford to pay for their medical care. You cannot afford to get the help you need to raise them. You can't even put all of your kids in the same car. I am very curious, however, about how you can afford the time or the money to keep up your French manicure. (I am married with 4 children ages 5 to 16 and I haven't found time to get my nails done since October of 2006.) It seems like a little thing, but to me it is just one more example that you are selfish and your priorities are out of whack.

You willingly put yourself in this position. You actively created this situation for yourself and for those innocent children. Now you want donations? You are ridiculous. I hope your donations come in the form of clothing, diapers and formula and that no one sends you money. As a taxpayer and Southern California resident, I consider the financial burden you have placed upon your state and community to be plenty donation enough.

You are a drain on society. You are a drain on the economy. You are a drain on your parents, and as they get older, you will be a drain on your children. You need lots and lots of therapy. You may think you're a good mother because you love your children. I have no doubt that you love them, but you love yourself much more because you have put your needs ahead of theirs.

Great Best Man Speech.

OK, I haven't seen this before, and I usually don't believe the "LMAO" claims when someone sends me something. I don't know if I laughed my ass off, but my jeans are fitting a bit better after watching this.

http://www.freakybestmanspeech.com/

I have to find my backpack! My brain was in it!

Last Friday, Devin brought home his school backpack, full of books and homework.
For some reason, he left it near bags that were being packed into the car for a weekend at the cabin.

Sunday evening, I had to remind him to make sure it got packed back into the car to come back from the cabin.

It is a school holiday today, so he figured he would do his homework now.

Devin: Dad, where did you put my backpack?
Rich: I have no idea. I wasn't responsible for your backpack. Where did you put it?

After much going back and forth about responsibility, problem solving, snowy mountain roads, etc... Devin figured out that it inadvertently got packed in a friend's car and was only a few miles away.

It is windy and cold, and pouring rain today. I am driving Devin to get his backpack. I am dressed warmly. I notice Devin shivering in his seat, and fiddling with the heater vents. He is wearing shorts and a T-shirt.

Mom: Why aren't you wearing a jacket?
Devin: Because it's in the dryer.
Mom: Why didn't you wear a different jacket?
Devin: Is this a trick question?
Mom: No.
Devin: What do you mean?
Mom: Why didn't you wear a different jacket?
Devin: Oh. I forgot. It's OK. I'm tough and I can take it.

I am not tough, and I cannot take it. I am taking a Xanax and going back to bed.

The last time I had a real manicure? October, 2006.

OK, and another thing about Octo-Mom and her irresponsible, make the rest of us pay for her psychological-needs-masquerading-as-babies behavior.....

Her nails are done.

I saw her hands on the news this morning (as she tries to divide her time between 8 babies in 8 incubators) Her acrylic nails are nicely done with a French manicure.

My questions are:
When can she find the time to have her nails done? I don't have fake nails, but it takes about 45 minutes to get just a regular manicure. I don't have time. I try to keep them filed and polished, but I really don't have the time to sit still for a real manicure. And I only have 4 children.

How is she paying for it? If she can't afford diapers, she and her babies are racking up astronomical medical bills, she lives with her parents, has no job, etc... how is it that she thinks a manicure is a necessary expenditure?

I'm getting pretty cranky about this.

California Taxpayers v. OctoMom and her Clown Car Vagina

The more I hear about this Octuplet Mom, the more incredulous the story becomes.

In an interview with Ann Curry, from Octo-Mom's own mouth:

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

She is a single mom. She is not currently working but plans to go back to school to finish her Master's degree.
Highly educated = good. No husband/father in the picture = bad. I predict that she will never finish her degree.

She had her first 6 children through in-vitro fertilization.
Each IVF cycle costs anywhere from $10,000 to $15,000. Lets be incredibly, unrealistically optimistic and assume that the implanted embryos "took" the first time, each time. Conservatively speaking, that's at least $50,000 to get her pregnant five times. (There are 2 year old twins.) All 6 of her children are under the age of 7. It's likely that she paid for these procedures using disability payments from hurting her back and being pregnant.

The same fertility specialist helped her get pregnant 5 times, then when she came to him saying she wanted a SEVENTH child, he said "OK!"
She claims that he implanted her with 6 viable embryos for each of the earlier pregnancies. (The sites I researched said the normal amount is between 2 and 4...). For this last pregnancy, she was also implanted with 6 embryos and one of them divided, resulting in a set of twins and bringing the number of fetuses to 8.

She had a lonely childhood and all she has ever wanted was to be a mom in order to be fulfilled.
I think there are two scenarios here:
1. She is using a litter of children in order to, at best, fill an emotional void and at worst, feed some psychotic tendency she has. (I believe that the proper psychiatric term is Nutjob.)
2. She is ready for her close-up. She has no job, no money, no prospects. Becoming a reality star a la Jon and Kate + 8 must be looking pretty good. Why else is she so energetically shopping her story, asking in the neighborhood of $2 million for the first interview (to help with expenses)? She has hired a marketing and PR firm.

That's good that she'll finagle her way into getting some free diapers and get some money to help pay for the babies she shouldn't have had.... by exploiting the babies she shouldn't have had.

Now, lets discuss the financial cost for the rest of us.

I think it is safe to assume that she does not have insurance. She is on disability and is likely on Medic Aid too.

We don't know what the total for the IVF is, but lets say it's around $60,000.
Who knows what the medical costs for pre-natal care would be in this case, but it's through Kaiser Permanente, so lets figure it at about $1,000. (Kaiser is such a great HMO!)
The day the octuplets were born, the costs for that single day total more than $212,000.

(FYI - Devin was born 3 weeks premature. He spent nine days in the Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). The total bill for that care came to just under $115,000.)

The Octuplets were born 9 weeks premature. Lets figure they'll be in the NICU for at least 45 days. (Lets not adjust for 16 years worth of inflation and just go with 1992's numbers.) That is $575,000 per baby. For all 8 babies? $4,600,000. More than 4 million dollars. That number is staggering. Shall we add in the IVF, pre-natal and delivery costs as well?

4,600,000

212,000

1,000

60,000

$4,873,000

She has no money. How is she going to pay for this? She can't? Oh... OK. Lets ask the California taxpayers to pick up the tab.

Now lets add in the estimate for future assistance for taking care of all of these little bastards (using the dictionary definition of course)... Ugh. Forget it. My poor mind and pocket book are over-taxed just thinking about it.

I don't put most of this blame on the mother. (Certainly some of it, but not all.) Virtually all of the blame goes to the Head Up Their Ass Fertility Doctor who disregarded ethics, morals, and what seems to be clear medical guidelines, in order to help a mentally and financially unstable patient to bring 14 little welfare recipients into the world.

I want Rich to sue the doctor. He says that someone sure needs to, but we don't have "standing." I would argue that any taxpayer in the state of California has standing. More than 4 million dollars worth of standing. At least.

Promoting good hygiene through ridicule.

We are remodeling the only bathroom at our cabin. Well, it's more like we gutted it in early November, put the sub-floor, insulation and drywall in, and hooked up a toilet. (Which is temporary because the last people who had the cabin switched the hot and cold water pipes. Now when you sit on it, it's like a little mini-sauna for your butt.)

The bottom line? (No pun intended.) There is no shower. Consequently, we really can't go up there for longer than a weekend, or it's mildly unpleasant for the car-ride home. As soon as we can orchestrate another guys' work weekend, the bathroom will be finished.

A 3-day weekend is coming up and Rich and Devin were discussing plans. (I was not present during the first conversation, so I am both paraphrasing and taking a little artistic license.)

Scene: our kitchen, 7:30 pm.

Devin: What's the plan for the weekend?
Rich: The cabin.
Devin: Are the WoJos* coming too? (*good friends of ours)
Rich: I'm not sure. I think the lack of a full bathroom will influence their decision.
Devin: Oh that's right! Ew! No shower. I don't know if I want to go.
Rich: (laughing) Wait a minute?! Aren't you the guy we have to remind to brush his teeth, comb his hair and take a shower?
Devin: Nu-uh! That's not true!

Scene: our kitchen, 9:45 pm. Devin enters, wearing pajamas.

Devin: Goodnight!
Mom: Goodnight, Dev. Hey! Wait a minute. Did you take a shower?
Devin: Uh. Um. Did I? Oh, no, I didn't.
Mom: Did you take one last night?
Devin: (a little offended) Yes! I think so... Yes.
Mom: (exasperated.) Get in the shower please.
Dad: (mimicking Devin, with a liberal sprinkling of sarcasm) Oh, no! I couldn't possibly go to the cabin with no shower! ew!

How long does it take to scrub off parental ridicule?

A loaf of bread, a bottle of milk, and a pound of common sense... Oops, we're fresh out of that.

Are we in a recession? I'd say yes.

Are things tough all over? Unless you're Paris Hilton, I'd say yes. (Although Paris has a set of problems that none of us will ever have to deal with, thank you God.)

Are people losing their jobs, tightening their belts and wondering how they're going to make ends meet? Yes, yes and yes.

The Today Show, (which, if you keep up with this blog, you know is on every week morning while I drink my coffee...) just ran a segment on people who are needing help from food banks for the first time. The family that was profiled has two parents who work full-time, 3 children (2 of which need daycare, ouch!) and they are homeowners. These are people who have never needed assistance like this before, who are hard-working and productive, but have found themselves in this position due to circumstances beyond their control.

OK. I get it. I understand.

I am a full-time Stay At Home Mom, and my husband works full-time, running his own business. I am familiar with the battle of rising grocery, gas, clothing costs, etc... Man, I feel for ya! It is hard work to keep things going in this economy.

Oh wait a minute... What. The. Hell?


Can we talk? Lets discuss your premature reliance on a food bank.

Hmmm. Looking over the grocery bill under which you say you are being crushed, might I suggest, I don't know, um, cutting back on the Munchos and Funyons before going on the county dole?

Seriously, look at that register tape. (And yes, I know I just took a picture of the TV, but that is totally different from what Rich did, so shut up, shut up, shut up.)

Chips? Not a necessity.

Fried pork rinds? Should not be eaten in times of plenty, let alone during an economic downtown.

Right in this picture there are 2 bags of empty-calorie chips, 2 frozen pizzas, frozen taquitos and a $5 bottle of juice. I ain't no math wiz er nuthin' but I think that comes near to $25 bucks just with those few items.

Pre-packaged anything is almost always more expensive! These shoppers bought packaged, pre-peeled carrots! Buy carrots by the bunch ($0.69) and peel them yourself. You get twice as much for about half the price.

Honestly, if you're willing to go out of your way to rely on the charity of others and will deal with the inconvenience and embarrassment of standing in line for a food bank, how much more of an inconvenience is it to peel your own damn carrots and see if you can maybe save some money in the process? Perhaps you could avoid the food bank altogether?

Food banks should be for people who are truly in need... People who would be feeding their kids saltine crackers and fruit cocktail if it were not for the food bank. It should not be for people who just don't have anything good to snack on in the house.

We say that Rich's job is to earn the money, and that my job is to stretch it as far as it can go. And I am pretty damn good at my job. I look at the grocery ads that come in the mail. I clip coupons. Sometimes I actually end up getting items for free because I pair a sale item with a coupon that gets doubled. We haven't bought toothpaste in a year because I stock up when things are on sale, (or free.)

I go to my favorite Fresh & Easy store and snap up the things on sale. I take them home and freeze them. (I will admit that I initially rolled my eyes at the vacuum food-sealer Rich got for me, but it is now indispensable.) I have a full standing freezer and another fridge-freezer combo in our garage. I also have another pantry out there, all of which are full.

I have a family of 6. (Devin eats so much that I wonder if he has a tapeworm.) I try to only shop one day a week and each time I go I need to buy 6 gallons of milk and 4 loaves of bread. (That is in addition to the 3 half gallons of Lactaid, which are $4 each.) We go through about a jar and a half of peanut butter each week. Don't get me started on the fruit and cheese that we need to keep on hand.

The bottom line is this: I plan meals for 6 people, I plan my shopping trips, I am a smart shopper, and my grocery total is about $200 a week. That includes Mommy's wine. (Also an important staple in our household.) I always save at least 30% when I shop, but it's often closer to 40%. (I know this because it says so on the bottom of the grocery receipt.)

If I thought things were so bad that I might need assistance from a food bank, you could be sure that I would have gone over my shopping list again and again and again to be sure that there was nothing on there that was of the Funyon variety.

Maybe part of the reason our economy is in this state of being is because people have confused convenience and want, with effort and need.