Nothing too big, If you don't mind.

Listen up and gather 'round, children. 

Let me tell you a little something about life. 

Life isn't about the big occasions and grand gestures. 

It's all about the little things.

We have all heard it before but it bears repeating. 

In the end, it's the everyday seemingly stupid things that are what end up making a life.

I have never had the same respect for grand gestures that most of my fellows seem to. I have always worried that feeling the way I do about this stuff has made me too much like my Mother. I'm worried I come across as an ingrate. Or even just careless and selfish. 

Today, I've decided I don't care if it does. 

Seeing life as a string of grand gestures and important occasions leaves too much opportunity to miss the stuff that really makes a difference.

All the time. Every Day. Until the End. 

That's where it counts.

I keep telling all of the young'uns this but they don't believe me.

It isn't about what you ate or wore at your wedding reception but the fact that you will get up at 4 every morning to make his lunch because you know he really doesn't want to. Or whether or not you're willing to go get him Gatorade when both of you are suffering from the same heinous cold. Seriously. I would prefer he do the dishes when I would rather die than stand in front of that damned sink than spend $50 on flowers for our anniversary. No romantic gesture can mean more than him not saying a word when he comes home from work, doesn't mention that you're still in your pajamas for the 2nd day in a row and fixes himself a tuna sandwich because you were too tired to cook.

The feeling of finding the money to buy 2 kids a pair of shoes instead of figuring out which one has to wait until another payday just can't be rivaled by any purchased birthday gift that I can think of. I can't be the only one that has pulled a $20 out of the birthday card from Mom and felt like it was the best present ever when they put it in the empty gas tank the next day instead of buying themselves a little bauble. Getting a timely birthday card or gift doesn't mean as much if it's the only time I feel like you are thinking of me. Text me once a month instead.  

Your Happy Mother's Day wishes might ring a little hollow if you spent the previous week stepping over the laundry your Mom washed for you because you know she will eventually give in and fold it for you. I would pass up breakfast in bed to have you take out the trash because you actually noticed that it was a foot over the top and crawling up the bathroom wall. Even if you did it in September. The Mother's Day present that still stands out in my mind was when all the kids were really little and Tim took them to the mall and I had a guilt-free 2 hour nap. Really for reals.

Now, don't get me wrong.

This isn't meant to be a diatribe against making gestures, grand or otherwise.

 Everybody likes presents and fun surprises every once in awhile. I just feel like they shouldn't get precedence over everyday considerations. Or made to be more important because society seems to want to convince us it should be so. 

I am even sometimes guilty of this myself. 

  A flaw.

I know. Shocking.

Maybe this post is really a reminder to myself to keep track of the little things a little better as much as anything else. It's so easy to lose track. 

So, if you get a Christmas card in January, a ridiculously early birthday present, the latest thank you card ever or I can't tell you what I want for my birthday because I just can't care right now, just remember-I'm trying. 

And you know I love you.

A Summer Prayer

Today is our 

last day of school.

 Aww Yisssss.

I, using the stellar parenting instincts with which I have been blessed,

 have been waiting for this day for quite a while now. I have been short-timing it

 since the last day of Spring Break.

 Truth be told, HARDCORE short-timing it.

 As in the "project? what project? pffft. project.", "I know we don't have a dog. Tell your teacher I ate your freakin' homework" and the "will you pass with at least a D+ if you ignore this assignment?" kind of short-timing.

Just knowing that I can erase all 5 of the school related alarms on my phone is in and of itself almost enough to make me run around the building yelling "Praise the Lord and pass the tax rebates!!" 

And I'm not even wearing a bra so that tells you something. 

Not only that,

But-

after the final hell of this morning, 

I may even make it into the second week of Summer vacation before I start to wonder when I can send the kids back to school. In a regular year I'm usually ready to fob them off on the Public School System again by the first Thursday or when I catch up on sleep, whichever comes first.

 Remember that whole 

Gold Star Parent 

thing I've got going on here? 

Yup. More proof that I've earned every single one. 

Between the weeping 15-year-old with a nasty cold in the bedroom, having all of my kids (along with the 3 add-ons we've had hanging around for the last 2 weeks) fighting over the XBOX and everything else imaginable for 3 hours and my grumpy 14 year-old losing the last tablespoon of motivation he had left to even make it to the bus, the only coping skill I had left to me this morning was just to pray my way through. 

I said so many prayers for help this morning that I was down to praying to the lost civilization of the Ziox by the time the last few straggled off. 

Now that I am down to just Moaning Myrtle, and she seems to be keeping to herself for the time being, I can't seem to stop myself from offering up a different kind of prayer. 

This one of those

-To The Universe in General-

kind since I have run through just about everybody else.

To Whom it may Concern,

PLEASE:

 please please pretty please

let at least a week go by before someone complains about having NOTHING to eat in this CRAPPY house.

give me the strength to not bitch-slap the first kid to complain about being bored.

give the boys the wherewithal to gratefully acknowledge their luck in actually playing the XBOX rather than engaging in a fistfight over the best way to kill the Hanchi Wanchi 5th Level Dragon guy.

let my 11-year-old behave like the sweet child she used to be rather than the hormonal teenager she is about to become.

make all of the children enjoy the company of one another when playing Black Ops rather than ending in a fight over who was supposed to get (or not get) on the bus and got them all killed.

when the inevitable happens and someone is called a butthole(or some such),  XBOX controllers are thrown and things get ugly, keep the blood-letting to a minimum. 

allow the XBOX controllers to remain intact and fully functional-because those things aren't cheap.

if blood-letting becomes unavoidable, let it be at a non-Emergency Room visit level.

give me the strength to not shake the teeth out of the next kid to complain about there being NOOOO-TH-INGGGG to eat in this STUPID DUMB house.

remind me that I was only going to throw things away, not burn the house down when the kids still refuse to clean their rooms. 

keep me from stress-drinking my weight in Pepsi before the start of July, at least.

give me more than one day in between incidences with one of the girls making the other one cry. or scream. or both.

let my sulky 12-year old behave like the slightly less-sulky version of himself we didn't know we missed until now.

when the last kid complains about boredom and/or having to do chores a week from now, give me the strength to use only minor curse words when I finally lose my shit.

and finally

let the nest in the closet where I will be driven to spend the better part of the summer be more comfortable than the one I built last year.

Amen.

Finally! I'm an Auntie.

Okay, for something like the 532nd time but still...since he was born to my sister Janene just as she is getting ready to watch (what should have been) her youngest kids turn 13, I'm trying to keep Karma on my side for awhile.

Say hello to this sweet little nugget.

Bryson Larry Erickson
Born yesterday @2:46 p.m.
7 lbs 11oz and 19 1/2 inches long.

 

Ponderment. Yes, I did make that up just now.

It is already well into the afternoon and I have accomplished exactly squat. 

Unless you count drinking copious amounts of coffee and wasting copious amounts of time via la world wide web, which I don't. 

Okay, I did clean the tub and take a bath. Since the neighbors that passed around the last petition will count that, I guess I will too. So, one down and fifteen thousand other things to go.

Whoopie for me. 

Besides getting the local dog population to leave me alone, my bath did accomplish one other thing. It occurred to me that if I can hear everything the upstairs neighbors say when they're in their bathroom, they have probably been listening with amusement and likely horror when I sing songs from Beauty and the Beast in the shower. And secondly, (so there are 2. So what.) I had some time to get in some good pondering before the water got cold. Mostly (especially if you don't count the usual David Hasselhoff themed items) on what my computer had to offer this morning:

Firstly, I can't figure out why this isn't the most popular website out there. Not kidding.  I'm going to stop all other web related shenanigans until I experience every single combo this site has to offer. Don't be ridiculous-OF COURSE that includes paying bills. Ain't nobody got time for that.  Don't worry, this isn't going to turn into page after page of me demanding you go look at crap you don't think is funny. I just think we should send all of our money to them so that they can't go away. Ever.

What has been on my mind the most is all of the scuttlebutt going around Facebook regarding my upcoming 20th high school reunion. I was just looking at the website that they set up for it. 

Gawking in fascinated horror would probably be a more accurate description.

After taking a good look at my senior picture, I have come to three conclusions. 

1- I have the EXACT SAME hairstyle as back then. It's just thinner and shorter. 

2-A more accurate name for the website would have been www.heyfattassjustlookathowfaryouhavefallen.com. At least I would have been a little more prepared.

3-Shit.

They are also asking for a little snippet about what you have been doing with your life for the last 20 (20!!!) years. 

This begs the questions-how much info is too much?

 What comprises a snippet exactly? 

Do I mention my prison term? The love child with Danny Devito? The fact that I have 43 naked Cabbage Patch dolls under my bed? The hoard of Mega Stuff Oreos in my nightstand drawer?

That last one was a trick question of course.

 I think anybody taking a good look at me can guess at the partial cause as to why I thought my hairstylist was trimming a giant, horribly misshapen potato when she turned me to the mirror during my haircut on Monday. 

But really-putting all of this aside leaves the biggest question of all:

Should I go? 

Besides chicken cordon bleu that can be made gluten free (I always order mine with extra gluten), they're threatening us with door prizes and "other goodies". 

Does this mean I'm going to show up only to be awarded the prize for overall saggiest body?  Most likely to have raised a foul-mouthed serial killer?  Closest resemblance to a hairy pork roast? Wobbliest underarms?

There will also be a photographer. 

Oh goody.

 Maybe I can get him to take enough pictures to be able to not only count all of my extra chins, but also get one that makes people ask why Jabba the Hut was in our graduating class. 

Not to mention whether or not 

I can forgive all of the skinny bitches that don't look any worse for wear long enough to get through the night? For that matter, can I forgive the boys in my English class that thought I didn't know anything about football because I was a girl? You know who you are you sexist pigs. Okay, you probably don't because you got a life a few years ago but just give me this alright?

Maybe I should take my penny jar to the bank instead.

 That 29 dollars could be the start of my "forget a facelift, a whole body lift is more like it" savings account.

Decisions. Decisions. 

 So much pondering. I guess I had better go get back in the bath.

Wasted

So, after my ridiculous resolution from last year expired, I promised myself I would keep blogging. Not because I think anyone out there is anxious for pictures of my new cards or to read my latest rant about how stupid people are. Because it's fun and it's nice to have somewhere to dump all of the crap floating around in the old noggin. Every few days I sit down to write something, and end up looking around the room an hour later to the realization that my coffee is cold, my back is killing me (our computer chair sucks ass), and I have looked at a bunch of dumb crap instead of doing what I set out (or sat down as it were) to do. 

Insert heavy sigh and irritated head shake here.

It happened again today. Of course. 

But-

instead of paying bills and figuring out exactly how much money we don't have, I am going to share what has been wasting my time this week. I know, deep down, you were dying to know. You just can't admit it to yourself because you're too busy keeping your shit together to prove how superior to me you are.

This one is from today. 

China. That's all I can say.

I know this has made the rounds this week but since the kids and I have

 watched it multiple times since Tuesday, it obviously bears repeating. 

The T-Rex kills me. I am such a nerd.

If you are a gamer or if you're like me and just love

 how cool some of the games look, you'll like these.

I'm not one of those Disney freaks running rampant around the internets but these are

 so awesome, I would buy the dickens out of a shirt bearing almost any of these.

I would wear that shirt so hard. You have no idea.

Speaking of Disney, this will make you wonder if anybody over there

 gave any serious thought to the finer plot points in Beauty and the Beast.

And in keeping with the Disney theme, I give you this:

The kids keep requesting it so I have been walking around the house

 for the last 2 weeks humming this tune.

It's kinda fun.(the video, not the humming. that's getting irritating)

Since I just confessed to being an Olympic level time waster, you know I could go on and on but I'll leave it here. Since it's afternoon, I guess I should go find some breakfast or something.

Of sick clowns and such...

Last week I learned an unpleasant truth about myself. 

I am a spoiled brat.

Okay, maybe not learned as much as was forced to acknowledge. I have long known this in that deep dark corner of my black little heart where such things are kept.

Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.
I got myself a gig making displays for a scrapbook store. Seemed like a pretty straight up job. Just go in, get whatever packet was available, take it home and use it to make whatever was required. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy right?

Unless you get a packet of paper that makes you queasy. Not just queasy but makes you wince and squint your eyes everytime you get it out. In this case, Doodlebug Designs "Fruit Stand' was the paper. They could have been a little more accurate if they had named it "Clown Sick".
 There goes lemon squeezy-right out the window, and I am spending WAY more time than I should trying to make something that doesn't look like it has been vomited on by a circus' worth of drunken clowns. It was way too hard. Harder than making anything with paper has been in a long, long time. 

Because I am a spoiled brat.

Nowadays when I start a project or start to work something around in my head even, I usually know exactly what paper to go with. Even if I don't know exactly what paper I'm using, I have a damned good idea. AND, if I get stuck part of the way through, I just switch paper until everything comes out the way I have it in my head. Because it's easier that way. Because I can. Because having things turn out differently than the picture in my head makes me sad.

After spending the better part of a week fighting with the paper, I ended up with possibly 3 things I would claim as mine and the firm belief that I am a big fat spoiled brat that has completely lost the ability (if I ever had it in the first place) to do something I don't want to do. 

I have included the pictures I promised to all of the unfortunates that had the bad luck to call me on the phone last week and got stuck listening to me whine. Sorry about that...

 

Finding myself in a hairy situation... Get it? Get it?

I had Grand Plans to post a bunch of pics of all the things that have kept me

 busy over the last week or two. 

Until I woke up this morning secure in the knowledge that I definitely

 have the cold that has kept Thomas home from school this week.

UGH.

 Motivation down the toilet.

After being tapped on the shoulder for the umpteeth time while I was trying my 

best to waste the maximum amount of time possible on the computer, 

I decided we both needed a distraction.

And...bullied him into letting me do his hair.

 With 2 kinds of goop and even

(gasp!) the blow dryer. 

Then, of course, I had to have proof.

 Here it is:

This one was an accident. He started to cough just as I  pushed the button.

This is his Baby Peach-I don't like being sick face.

Pretending to be happy that he had more product in
 his hair than both of his sisters combined.

Even the back is pretty. Life is just not fair.

This is the, "If you had been willing to flip your head over for just a few more minutes,
 I could have made you look exactly like that kid from One Direction.
 You know, the one with all the hair." shot.

It's spelled Feb-roo-air-eee.

Holy, um, Moses. 

February.

Am I the only person that woke up this morning and thought,

 "where the hell did January go?".

Probably. I'm sure everybody else scurried around and accomplished all of their goals while I ate Peanut Butter M&M's and watched crap on YouTube. 

But-

If I'm wrong, and we're in the same boat,

-take heart-

there is a silver lining to be found here.

There is still time to make sure you start February off on the right foot.

If you're a fan of the Bad Lip Readings on YouTube, you need to watch this. Especially since the Super Bowl is this Sunday. This guy took one of the best BLR's and made it better. Who knew? 

If you're not a fan or don't know what I'm talking about; well, it sucks to be you then. Get yourself on YouTube and get yourself together man! 

WARNING: This video contains a particularly pernicious ear worm that will find you rolling over in bed at 3 in the morning with "Orange Peanut and AhhhhhahAAAhaaaaah" running on a continuous loop in your head.

I think I was led to this video by divine intervention. It couldn't be coincidence that I was talking to somebody about that website and then found this the very next day. Watch it and make a goal to wear real pants when you go out shopping this month. Every time. Most of the time really doesn't count.

Now watch this video of fireworks in reverse to wash those images out of your mind and

 calm your troubled soul. And because it's really cool.

Remember, if this mouse can pay for her own treats, whatever you've got going for

February can't be all that unmanageable.

And, last but not least, if you don't have anything like this on your 'fridge, 

you're probably going to be fine.

Chris Brown's List 

Resolvier

So, this is pretty much how I feel.

 Last January, I made a resolution to write on this blog every day. Even if it was something stupid, it didn't matter. The whole point was to force me into being better at follow through. Well, I completely dropped the ball on that whole write-every-day follow-through thing but totally nailed the stupid part so, partial victory yeah? What I mostly managed was to give myself another task at which to fail. As if I didn't have enough of those already.

 It's this experience that has made me start to wonder if we aren't going about New Year's resolutions all wrong. It's kind of ridiculous to wait until January every year to decide to do something about our problems or to fix something about ourselves. If you can't commit to making yourself better in the middle of March, or the end of June, then what makes you think you can manage it just because it's January 1st? Why do you think those money grubbing bastards at Wal-Mart have the exercise equipment front and center at the start of the year but it disappears completely by Easter, replaced by chocolate bunnies and Peeps in every color? That's because they know we will have given up on our fitness goals by then and be desperate to assuage our guilt by cramming marshmallow treats and candy coated chocolate in our cram holes. That's why. 

Think that one through, Jack.  

There is nothing magical about January, people. As months go it really kind of sucks.

 So, I propose we stop setting ourselves up for failure and make resolutions that will find us patting ourselves on the back all year rather than obsessing over the best method for committing Hara-Kari by May. 

At the latest.

With this new way of doing things in mind, I am feeling resolvier

and resolvier by the minute. 

Oh goody.  

This year I resolve to:

-drink more coffee. With creamer and sugar and anything else I like in it. And if by anything else I mean a whole fifth of vodka or enough Baileys to kill a pig, no judgement. I have 4 kids. By the middle of this year, three will be teenagers.

-buy more scrapbook paper. Because it's pretty and I like it and it's pretty and...it's pretty. As in, spend the GNP of a small but moderately well off African nation on paper. When we have to start stacking it on the bed, (about 3 1/2 weeks from now) it will just make bedtime that much more fun.

-be even more amused by inappropriate jokes rather that less. If prostitutes don't want me to find them funny, they should find a different profession.

-drink mind-boggling amounts of Pepsi and Coke. Does it really matter how fat I get if my hands are curled into useless fists anyway? Answer: No.

-stop wasting time and energy on trivialities like sweeping the floor. That's what ants and mice are for. Same goes for counter-tops and dirty dishes and...well, everything.

-use more curse words. Because they amuse me and make me feel better. Always.

-outwardly mock my fellow human beings more. Let's face it, people are stupid and I really am going to Hell anyway.

-run with any craft project that comes to mind. Trust me, there are about 1000 rolling around up there. If we end up with twice as many half-finished craft projects piled on every surface, so be it. It's NOT MY FAULT I can't  play with paper 27 hours a day.

-continue to make fun of and joke with Lisa what's-her-name. Because once you give my digits to the sister missionaries, all bets are off. AND because if I can still laugh about it, I won't give into the urge to find her and stab her with a spork every time she texts me.

-tweet more. A LOT more. Not because anybody wants me to but because it makes me happy to know that all 4 of my followers know when I am at the ghetto Wal-Mart on 3rd west or have seen a low quality picture of my orange chicken from Panda Express. 

and last but not least, 

-eat more bacon. As in, eat Oprah's weight in bacon. That kind of eat more bacon. My arteries are already pretty pissed at me anyway.