Mother of Beans

You're The Petal To My Flower

2010-03-15T23:29:00.002-04:00

The sun creeping in the window forced me to open one eye. With a sideways glance to the bedside clock I groaned and rolled over. Ava was lying sideways in the giant over plush bed and instantly protested my semi-aggressive take over of her precious bed space. It was barely after six in the morning, but no matter how hard I tried to fall back to sleep the sound of the ocean that had lulled me to sleep the night before was now calling my name to rise.
Ava and I got out of bed and loudly got ourselves dressed. Me meandered downstairs for our free breakfast that the Hilton graciously offered us. This was our first impression of Palomar Beach in Southern California. They did us good. We gorged ourselves on fresh fruit, Belgian waffles, turkey sausage, and yogurt. Several people stopped by our table to comment on what an adorable pair we made, and my! Look how well behaved this little girl is! Yes, but you don't want to see her when the food runs out.
When it came time to leave the hotel, I employed my navigation to direct us to the Flower Fields at Carlsbad. Vicki, my navigation system, responded cheerfully to my inquiry that the fields were less than a mile away. I felt like she was getting snarky with me, and then I realized she might be right as I crossed over the interstate and saw a giant windmill.
The fields were breathtaking. For as far as the eye could see, there were rows upon rows of perfectly formed Ranunculus flowers. Over 20 acres, in every stage from seedling to full bloom. Ava and I boarded an antique tractor that pulled us to the top of the hill. There aren't many words to described the view... With the pacific strong and blue in the background, the distinct salty fragrance in the air and a world blooming all around. Instantly, we were enchanted. It wasn't hard to spend hours lazily walking up and down the isles of endless beauty, with the bright blue sky dotted with ideal puffy clouds.
Ava's eyes were large saucers in her face. The mystery and wonder of the flowers entranced her. "Where do they come from Momma?" She asked. She picked a few. Touched many. She ran, walked, laughed... and cried a little when her hand got dirty. There was only one thing more beautiful than the flowers, and that was my Ava Mae.

We Interrupt Your Program

2010-02-08T00:01:00.003-05:00

Breaking News: A woman was caught on tape driving wildly through the streets of southern Arizona. Watch as she weaves carelessly from lane to lane, narrowly missing a large tree, and leaving a terrified book in her wake.

Tragedy Strikes! It appears the young woman has crashed her pink hot rod into some sort of glass retaining wall. On site reports an injury to one of her passenger! The woman's conversation was overheard as she calmly tries to asses the wreck.

"What are you doing bro! Look at ya, all on the ground and shit. Laid up on that wall, like it's an IKEA or somethin'. This is not how things go down in the streets playboy! Brush it off! I hear sirens! MOVE!"

The Plot Thickens: Oh this won't look good at all. One man down, one safely secured in the flaming hot rod. What's this? The crazed woman is famed doctor of cholendochojenjunostomy? Are you fucking serious? Is that even real?! Wait! She appears to have produced an emergency surgical kit!

Luckily, the downed passenger still has a heartbeat in his crotch.

Oh my! As police arrive on the scene, the wild woman flashes stunning blue eyes and a charming smile, hoping to buy herself more time. The victim appears to be wrapped in a thermal insulating sack, that does not resemble Ava's winter hat at all.

When her attempt at using her dashing good looks to avoid arrest failed, the deranged woman took off in a sprint for the woods. Her maniacal laughter could be heard for miles as she whizzed past stunned onlookers and rescue workers.

We'll update you as the story develops.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

When do I miss you, Love?

2010-02-02T22:24:00.003-05:00

It's hard to pinpoint the precise moment that the heart within a mother's chest will break when it comes to these things. Some say it's the second she realizes what she must do. Others will say it's the moment of departing. I still don't know. All I know is that I'm counting the miles, the days, the breaths, and the heartbeats until you are back home in my arms. I've thought long and hard about missing you. Sometimes, it's not so bad. Other times, I realize there is a high rise building planted firmly in the center of my diaphragm, and it gets a little hard to breath. Heh. I'm nothing if not dramatic, ya'll.

My days seem shorter without you here. It's almost as if there is no time for me, for joy, for play. Not to say Ava doesn't keep me entertained. It's just... Without you, this house is not a home. There isn't crayon on the walls. When I walk into the hall bathroom, I don't step into a puddle because you've again defied me and tried to sail away on your fly boat in the sink. I don't wake up in the mornings to a layer of cheerios on the kitchen floor, evidence of your midnight snack. The Dante's Peak of laundry that's always ferociously ready to erupt has been reduced to a manageable stack that hasn't even reached the top of the basket yet.

I took Ava to school today. It was her first day back without you. As we exited my car Ava loudly declared that this is NOT North Carolina, and WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?! Like, a CACTUS or something? Did it just WAVE at me, or, like, uh, where are the pine trees and shit?! Of course, that is verbatim. She stood in the parking lot with her hood on and lost interest in the cactus and its greeting. She stared at the school with it's plain stucco walls and simple fence. She looked right at the doors, then looked up at me with the saddest blue eyes. In barely more than a whisper, she told me, "No Mom. This is brudder's school.... I just can't. Brudder is gone." The sheer force of such plain words took my breath away. I sat down on the curb to tell her that her "Brudder" was OK, and he'll be back just as soon as he can. We walked into the school, but it's just not the same without you. Nothing is the same without you.

We are waiting for you. Every second without you is a lifetime. Please, for Momma, don't grow up.Not yet. Don't change. Stay my baby boy for a little longer. Keep your deep green eyes shining, and your smile quick. Don't be afraid to speak your mind and tell the world exactly what is on your mind. The world could fall apart, but you would stay my heart. My first true love. Remember you are never alone. You'll come back to me someday. They say love is letting go, but I'm learning that lesson a little too well right now. You were mine for a time, and soon you will be right back where you belong. I don't know how to keep from falling apart, love is keeping me together. Like a permanent glue that doesn't fade with distance. I'll close my eyes tonight, just like every other night and watch a slide show in my mind. The first time I saw you... with your soft blond hair when I held you close and breathed your name. The day you started walking, your first words. The look on your face when you saw the 4lb 2 oz "kitty cat" that you later found out was your baby sister. The nights you laid by my side, and I sang you a lullaby, and we drifted off to a land where dreams do come true....However mighty I may seem, I'm nothing without you and Ava. We're waiting for you...

These are the times, when I miss you Love.

December 2009: Luca's Story

2010-01-01T00:34:00.002-05:00

First off, let me apologize to everyone for my acute lack of information. Many of you asked daily for updates that I simply could not provide. Please do not take this personally, I truly appreciate your concern for our well being.

Now on to the dirt.

On Wednesday, December 9Th Luca began acting strangely. He insisted his tummy hurt and would not eat or drink for most of the day. Since he was not running a fever or showing any other outward signs of illness, I let it slide. The next morning I dropped him off at preschool at 6am. At 6:56 am I received a call saying Luca had vomited massive amounts of fluid and blood... but had not eaten anything at all.

I picked him up from school and took him to Urgent Care here in Yuma, Arizona. Within ten minutes they were sure it was his appendix and sent us on our way to Yuma Regional Emergency Room. After this, things get blurry and rushed.

Things moved quickly as doctors and nurses began I.V lines and drew blood. The plot thickened immediately when his labs came back ridiculously out of whack. His blood sugar was 30 when it should be at least 104, his sodium was low, and his white blood cells were off... but not high to indicate infection. It took three doses of sedative and one shot of Morphine to calm him enough for a cat scan.... which revealed his bladder was grossly distended. It was three times the size it should be.

Back in the hospital room, hit vitals dropped. His blood pressure went up, then bottomed out. His heart monitor was constantly going off due to severe tachycardia....his heart wasn't beating right. His pulse oxygen showed he wasn't getting enough oxygen.

Throughout the rest of the day they tried to get him stable. Late in the evening, Danny arrived at the Hospital. (Note: He had been in Yuma for over a month for Marine Corps related training.) After the sun went down, the decision was made that he belonged in a Children's ICU and that this general hospital could do nothing more for him. The life flight was called. We were told we'd be flown to San Diego where doctors would be waiting.

As you'll see in the photos, they strapped Luca's green car seat to a stretcher. He was loaded onto a four seater beetch craft airplane. The seats were lined single file down the left side of the aircraft, with Luca's stretcher on the right. We then found out we'd be going to Tucson, a 5 hour drive from Yuma. Every 20 minutes on the flight, Luca was pricked for blood. Twice he was given a shot of Dextrose to prevent a coma. We landed in Tucson and were loaded into an ambulance. On the way to the hospital, we saw a helicopter in the air on a police chase. Welcome to Tucson, ya'll.

The next few days are again foggy.... Luca was NPO for over a week, meaning no food or water by mouth. I certainly wasn't about to eat in front of him. I was however hoping to lose some weight and get hot while I was there. His blood was drawn and his vitals were taken every hour on the hour, so we also had NO sleep. Read: NO SLEEP. After each blood draw it would take a good thirty minutes to calm him down and settle back in, then it was time for the next one.

Literally everything you can imagine was done to this boy. MRI's, cat scan, ultrasound, X-rays, Upper GI barium scans, endoscopy.

He was put under general anesthesia for surgery... which was the hardest thing I've done in a long while. Walking away from him.... They went into his small intestine and found lesions and growths. Biopsy results have not come back yet.

Four times over the two weeks he cried out in pain as his stomach grew to four times its normal size and became rock hard. This occurrence was followed by vomiting of massive amounts of fluids. (Keep in mind he had not eaten or taken any fluid by mouth)

Twice they blew out all his veins and had to take blood from his ankle. I stopped counting on day three at 64 needle pricks,

Once he pooped blood.

Twice he ripped out his I.V ports by accident.

Six times he hit this one scary looking doctor.

Three times he asked the goofy janitor to come home with us.

Not one time did he complain.

By the end of the first week, we was telling the doctors and nurses where they were going to draw blood from, and exactly which cartoon character bandaid he was going to receive.

Today was his 4Th birthday. We spent the day in the hospital of course. I'm exhausted and scared. But shit, this boy is strong.

Worst case scenario, it's cancer. Best case, it's some type of metabolic disease that can be treated symptomatically. Only time will tell. Regardless, I'm lucky to have this boy in my life. Every beautiful, funny, stressful, sad, explosive second is a blessing.

(Note: Yes, Ava did stay in the hospital with us for some time, and YES. That is a PONY. In the freakin' children's ICU.)

(Note Also: There are a couple photos where Luca is surrounded by a bunch of Goobers in ugly clothing holding books. They were from Barnes and Noble. They brought a News crew to document them "reading" to the kids in the hospital for the holidays. Ahem. They gathered around Luca for about 7 seconds, enough time for the film crew to shoot some footage and some chick to snap a series of photos. Then they bounced. Exploit my kid? K. I stole 6 of their books. Ugh, tools.)

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Again, Life Has Changed

2009-06-26T23:10:00.002-04:00

On June 7Th 2009 my car was packed to the brim. There was not a single inch left that was not occupied by some life necessity. Pots, dishes, socks, pants, a few books, blankets, and a single small TV. I was ready. Today, is the last day I'll live in this humid hell. The tank was full, and the C.D's were burned. The last thing to do, the only real people I needed to say Goodbye to slept like wee little rocks. I approached them individually.

Ava first. My tiny, tiny princess. The sweetest, most dramatic, most perfect little girl. I leaned down and kissed her forehead. Her soft blond hair tickled my nose, and her sweet scent hit me hard. I whispered to her some things I needed her to remember, and touched her tiny hands. I told her to behave, and that "brudder" would not leave her side. "Trust me, little girl, We'll be okay."

Next, Luca. My big handsome guy. So smart, so witty. He is wise beyond his years. Truly, an amazing boy. I ran my hand through his short hair, careful not to wake him. I ran my hand down his chipmunk cheek. I told him what he needed to know. I told him to ensure "Viva" was OK, to look after her. "I'll be gone only a little while big guy, don't worry."

I took a few steps and caught my breath. There was a rock the size of my car in my throat. I felt my chest heaving with the knowledge of the task ahead; Move cross country while the kids stay here. I kept reassuring myself that it's what is best for them... they idolize their father. They will be fine. Besides, it will not be an easy drive. Things would not be good for them. They are OK.

I hit highway 70... holding my breath for the first hour. I did fine. I did not shed a single tear. My roommate, Mary, made some jokes to lighten the mood. She told me to quit being a "girl", which is the term we use when someone is overreacting.... however, she was feeling it too.

I jumped on Interstate 95 which took us straight down to South Carolina. Excitement crept up: We were on our way! To a better life! To brighter days!

In Sumter, South Carolina we stopped at a gas station for food and a pee break. Sadly, we were so tight on money our meals consisted of convenience store snacks and cheap sodas. I went to the restroom to pee. I stood looking in the mirror, and my heart broke. My eyes... Luca has them. The shape of my mouth... is Ava's. I broke down in the bathroom. I was one state away from everything that holds me together. Eventually, I pulled it together and left the single toilet room. There was a line formed. I mumbled something about the damn sodas and full bladders and went outside. I tried to call them.... no answer.

A few hours later we crossed into Georgia. There was major construction through Atlanta, and I was certain I was about to meet my untimely death. For several miles, there was a high concrete wall that was positioned directly on the left guide line of the road. Same for the other side. One minor error, and a major crash would occur. I gripped the wheel so tight that blisters formed on my hands. Just past the Georgia Wall of Death, a monumental flashing sign informed drivers that it was ok to drive on the median! Go for it! Never mind the silly traffic laws you learned! Live a little!

Shit. No.

I certainly was not about to get on that median. Unless I could see solid proof that after driving on that median I'd exit with a perfect rack chiseled by the hands of God and a firmer ass, I was not getting on that median. That would have to be one mother fucking riveting median. Gladly, I didn't. Two miles later even larger, brighter, more demanding signs said GET OFF THE MEDIA FOOLS! Needless to say, I did not like Georgia.

Finally we passed a sign: Welcome to Alabama! Ah the deep south. So much history, plenty of athletics, and oh! The creepy pick up trucks with toothless drivers. (READ: I was concerned.) The sign for Birmingham was a welcome sight. We were only twenty miles away when the navigator we were using on our cell phones began to die... We really drained that battery! This lead to the great LG Dare Massacre of 2009. Had to be done.

We stayed in downtown Birmingham, not only for the mass amounts of history it held but also because we could afford it! We wound up having to walk about 40 blocks to find food, uphill. That was somewhat less than pleasant, but well worth it. We walked right past the 16Th street church where in the 1960's an explosion took place killing four black little girls. We were walking the streets where the civil rights movement lead to change. Amazing.

I also may or may not have stalked the Bama campus... Yes, I'm a North Carolinian born and raised but I roll tide saucy... I love me some Bama Football.

We ate a quick dinner and headed back to the hotel only to find blisters on our heels from the humidity and long walk. Bummer! It was strange already being in a different time zone, and having driven through four states in one day was impressing. We set our alarms, and began to drift off.... Tomorrow, what will you hold for us? How many states can we cross? We'll see.....

Join My Fight

2009-04-14T19:30:00.002-04:00

http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR?pg=team&fr_id=12875&team_id=387731

That's a powerful link right there.

It's a portal to my team site. We represent the Crystal Coast here in eastern NC.

We have been working hard to raise money for cancer research. We are lucky to be a part of the American Cancer Organization.

Please, join our fight.

Please help me raise money to fight this disease.

Just five dollars will make a HUGE difference in some one's life. I've committed 30 hours a week EVERY week to raising money for this cause. I will not quit until we find a way to stop this horrible disease. Almost everyone has been affected in some way by cancer. No one is immune to it, and sadly we have no control when it rips someone sacred from our lives.

I've worked so much, and fought so hard.

Our relay for life weekend is SOON, and my team is still short of our goal. PLEASE HELP US!

Just five dollars can CHANGE SOME ONE'S LIFE! Think about it: What's five dollars? ONE McDonalds meal? ONE cup of coffee at Starbucks? ONE beer at a club? We can all make that small sacrifice.

Just copy and paste the link above....

You can make an anonymous gift, or you can click any person's name on my team and make it in our honor.

We are all relaying because cancer has touched our lives.

HELP ME MAKE A DIFFERENCE! We can do this!

Visit cancer.org for more info.

Our team name is Crystal Coast with the Most.
I'm the team captain, TaraLynn Lumley.

Visit us at Best Buy in Morehead City!
We are selling Chocolate as well.
We have luminary bags to remember loved ones lost.
I'm selling raffle tickets for *$450* worth of merchandise from our store.

PLEASE! Help me reach my goal!

TaraLynn Lumley
(910) 650-2070
tara.lumley@bestbuy.com

We're here. All day everyday. Fighting, until there's a cure.

Who Have I Become?

2009-02-22T13:38:00.002-05:00

I wake up too early in the mornings lately. It seems I am always up before the sun. My tiny apartment seems to get smaller with each passing day. The walls look whiter and more somber every day. I'm the last one to bed, and the first one up. It's.......... lonely.

I take the kids to school each morning and resist the urge to call out of work and spend the day on the playground or in the sandbox with them. I laugh and smile, and pretend their tears and pleas of "Mommy... don't go" don't hurt me. When I leave their school, the hallways always appear a little too long, and a little too quiet. Generally the only sound is the clicking of my heels on the highly polished floor. Everything is lemon scented and brightly colored; just a little too quiet.

I go to work exhausted every day. No matter how much I've slept in the previous days, I'm always tired. I laugh and joke with my coworkers. I sell contract after contract to a variety of customers who don't give two shits about the effort we put forth to make the business work. I listen to employee complaints, because I'm the view point leader for the store. I push and push to raise money for the American Cancer Society, as I am also the captain for our relay for life team. I plan. I clean. I organize. I task manage. I say sorry. I argue. But I do not complain.

Everyday is the same. My hair is perfect, my clothes are clean. The ever-shrinking apartment is spotless. The kids are fed, bathed, in bed. My homework occupies my nights. Deciding to go into the medical field was advantageous, but it's rewarding.

I never hear thank you.

But am I making a difference?

I like to think so. I like to think that the change and dollars I scrape together for cancer research WILL make a difference in someones life. I choose to believe that the two jobs I work to pay my bills benefits me beyond the monetary standpoint. My children smile. They laugh. They're happy.

That's all I need to know. I do not regret the life I've chosen. I'm lonely, yes. But I'm okay.

So here you are folks. An update.

Now if you please, forget all this nonsense and view this ridiculously adorable photos while your heart melts. You're welcome.

Bathroom Watch 2008

2008-07-20T21:52:00.002-04:00

Or, HOT CAKES. What Happened to the Shitter?

Or or, Farewell Ugly 70's Decor, I'd Say We Would Miss You, But We Won't. At All.

Eventually, this house will be flipped.

Eventually, this house will be sold.

I won't lie, I miss my home in Jacksonville. I'll be busting the proverbial nut there this week, cleaning it and redoing the gardens. The current tenant has been kicked out, and I'm on the prowl for a new one. (When I say I'm on the prowl, I mean Century 21 American Properties is on the prowl.)

It's awesome that the rent value has skyrocketed. Good ole Marine towns, I tell ya. That just means less hours I have to work while I complete Le Degree de Bachelor's. Indeed.

Anyways.

Bathroom. Demolished.

You don't believe me? Assholes.

Want to know how this turned out?

Tune in tomorrow, kids.

Just Another Day in Paradise!

2008-07-16T12:19:00.002-04:00

Ring Ring.

Ring Ring

Me: "Hello? Huh? He has what now? How? Uh... what? Are you sure? Oh... what's that? Um. Okay. I'll be right there.

Click.

Ring Ring.

Ring Ring.

Me: Hey SgtDad. YES I KNOW THEY JUST CALLED AND THAT IS GROSS.

Click.

So Peanut has pink eye, properly known as conjunctivitis. Sick. I took him to the Express Care at the hospital in New Bern where it was confirmed. I've never known anyone with pink eye so I've been especially grossed out. We got a prescription for eye drops and walked out of there with the advice of washing our hands every 18 seconds.

I took the kid to Wal-Mart to fill the prescription. He kept pointing to his eye and declaring loudly "Mommy! Ouchie-booboo! Ouchie-booboo! MOMMY!"

So I did what any sane mother would do: I took him to the toy section to find a new fyefye truck. (For those of you who don't speak peanutese, that's a fire truck.) While meandering down the toy isle, peanut was eyeing the various fire trucks and police cars, muscle cars and monster trucks.

His final pick?

A bright purple PT Cruiser that plays Ricky Martin's "Living La Vida Loca" over and over again.

For the sake of his father, I tried to convince him that the 76 Chevelle painted bright orange was a much better choice.

No such luck.

We spent the the next half hour rocking out to a 90's pop star that I'm still not convinced isn't dead. I need to see some proof. Sigh.

BOO!

2008-07-13T21:08:00.003-04:00

Let's say it's the final week of the summer semester at school.

Good.

Let's pretend the 12 page paper for English isn't intimidating, the two 6 page papers for history don't irritate me because WHAT'S THE POINT, and the in depth sociological study of the family structure paper isn't dull beyond all reason.

We will also pretend that the finals aren't a bitch either.

Generally, one of three things happen when I get stressed. I'll scrub every surface within a city block until the bleach erodes porcelain and walls alike. I will turn into Martha-Freakin-Stewart and bake the most delectable desserts and culinary delights your taste buds every encountered. (Of course then I'll scrub the shit out of those pans.) Or, I eat.

I like food. A lot.

Well it's safe to say I'm stressed this week. Between the end of the semester (YUCK) and trying to find a renter for my home in Jacksonville, and worrying about the renovations in my latest real estate purchase, and periodically freaking out because MY BACHELOR DEGREE IS TAKING GOT DANG DECADES TO GET, and the day care making me it's bitch, and the daily traumas associated with raising two toddlers, oh and the new job... did I mention I got a new job? Because yes. I did. A new job. So now you know.

Standing in the kitchen today I was slicing cucumbers and strawberries to accompany the pancakes I made for the kids when I pretty much inhaled 6 huge strawberries. I moved on to a bowl of cheerios. I don't mean a standard bowl of cheerios either. I mean the beast of a bowl over flowing on the sides. The kind of bowl where you have to hold the cereal in with one hand while pouring the milk with the other. Sweet.

Shortly after that I was back in the kitchen gazing into the refrigerator longingly. Those bagels looked damn good. The string cheese had my name on it. Delicious granola bars were yelling my name, and let's just say it's serious when food begins speaking to you. The hot dogs looked tempting even though I only like hot dogs in blanketed pig form.

You sonofabitch pizza rolls aren't safe either.

I spent the day writing a shit ton of collegian papers. I'm not too sure why I'm writing now, or writing phrases like "shit ton". I need an outlet. I'm tired people! I should go eat something. Those enchiladas for dinner were bitchin'. I am in fact a culinary mastermind. Maybe I should look into why my 5 foot 6 inch frame only carries 118 pounds even though I eat like a fat man. Well, it's not like I lose weight easily. I just sure as hell don't gain it. Works out well I suppose, except when I'm pregnant. Then I am subjected to my OBGYN shoving hoagies and ho ho's down my throat and cold metallic instruments up my hoo-hahs. That sounds like a good time, no?

Screw this, I'll be in the kitchen.

FIN.

Bye Guido, Thanks for the Memories!

2008-07-03T21:08:00.002-04:00

Guido, our dear 2007 Hyundai Sante Fe. Back in September, I drove you off the lot with a mere 12 miles on you. Your ice blue exterior shining in the sun, and your cream colored seats releasing the sweet smell that only a brand new car possesses. Your wood grain dashboard and glorious blue back lighting never bored me. I was always pleased when you hauled ass off the line at a stop light and left mustangs and chargers in your wake. You are a great and loyal crossover SUV.

I'm sorry we traded your ass in.

Dear Anton, you are our new Mazda. You match my other Mazda perfectly. You and Jacques, both French Mazda's purchased by yours truly, now live together in harmony in the driveway. After deep consideration, I've decided to marry you two. To be politically correct, it's a "commitment ceremony" seeing as gay marriage is not yet legal in the state of North Carolina. I just can't have you two slutting around after we go to bed. You are bright candy red; we've already had complaints about your color burning people's retinas. You have black interior... a challenge to stain for the wee toddlers who occupy your back seats. Your five gear manual transmission shifts smoothly and quietly. You too haul ass off the line. I love you already. Welcome to the family.

You should know that once I purchase a Mazda, I never. Ever. Ever. Let. It. Go. Look at your new significant other, Jacques. After nine years of faithful service, 160,000 miles, a duct tape air intake, two missing hubcaps, fours minor car accidents (NONE my fault!) and one new clutch, he is still my one true love. Basically, you too are now my bitch.

Well Then.

2008-06-05T19:07:00.003-04:00

I interrupt your program to bring you the following newsflash:

Is it the fact that the temperature reached over 100 today?

Or maybe it's the Blue Angels that have been flying over my house for DAYS now rehearsing for this weekends big air show. (I'm able to overlook the abundance of civilians that will flock to this tiny military town)

Perhaps is that first bite of my spaghetti dinner. You know, the bite that has the most Parmesan cheese on it. I don't like to mix it in, I just eat the top layer of spaghetti and tend to filter the rest towards SgtDad's plate.

Could it be the wonderful feeling of wind in my hair as I race down the highway, windows down stereo up?

I think it's a possibility it's my college instructors.

What about the girl at Wal*Mart today that was diligently working on scanning the meat section, who smiled at me and commented on how unusually gorgeous my daughter was....

The thought has crossed my mind it could be a combination of all these things. At the end of the day when I crawl into my queen size pillow top mattress bed, one thought stands out in my my: I am damn proud to be an American. Moreover, I'm damn grateful.

If we step outside ourselves for one second and look at the big picture we would not complain about the minute annoyances that occur in our daily lives. There is civil war raging in Sudan. The people of Darfur haven't eaten this week. Tsunami and earth quake victims have lost everything; their families, belongings, and home.

I won't go on and on about the suffering of the world, I think if we all sat down and really thought through it all, my point would be clear.

We truly are the land of opportunities. We want to go to school? We go to school. We want a job? We can get one, even if it's only McDonald's. We have so many resources at our fingertips that folks in other parts of the globe can only imagine. Wow, how lucky are we?

Step 1: Realize your dream. Grasp it. Understand it. Don't manipulate it to fit someone else's desire, OWN IT.

Step 2: Find your path. The old saying rings true: Where there is a will, there IS a way.

Step 3: Remain stubborn at all cost. You will hit road blocks. You will get frustrated. You will feel like giving up. When you do? Think about how many millions of people would DIE so their mother, sister, or son could have the chance to do this.

Step 4: PRAISE GOD.

Step 5: Live, love, laugh. Think, thank, and thoroughly examine each day with critical eye.

Step 6: GIVE BACK. No matter what rung of society you are on, there is a way to give back to your community. There is a way to help someone. There is a way to better the world. Don't be fooled and think that whatever you do will be too small, too insignificant to make a difference. It will.

Step 7: Inspire others to pursue their dreams.

Right now, right this very second I am doing thing I never thought I could do. I've gained so much confidence and faith in myself. I've lost some supporters and naysayers along the way. Is it worth the cost of my independence? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it doesn't matter. I was put on this planet for a reason. I may spend my entire life searching for that reason, but I'm okay with that.

Need some ideas on how to give back? Sponsor a child in Africa. Five dollars a month means one less Taco Bell meal for us, and a shit ton of school supplies for them. Pick up trash at your local park. Volunteer at the animal shelter. Go to a retirement home and just sit, talk, and listen to the elders of our country weave nostalgic tales of better days.

Rah rah rah, go America.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

Nevada Journey Pt. Duex

2008-05-25T20:41:00.002-04:00

I feel the need to note, CplDad is no longer CplDad. He is now SgtDad! He picked up E-5! In under 4 years! I could not be more proud of him. Congratulations to you, SgtDad. You amaze me more everyday!

So we landed in Reno at an ungodly hour and immediately sent out a search team for our checked bags since in theory, they should have arrive about 3 decades before us. We found them ten minutes before the US Airways office closed. We made our way to the Avis rental counter where they promptly overcharged us by a billion dollars and we had to keep reminding them that yes, we were active duty military and yes, we could prove it BC HERE ARE OUR IDs RIGHT HERE LADY. We got it straightened out and went to the parking deck to see our new whip. A 2008 Chevy Cobalt. The car? Crap. I? Will never buy it. However, we made that car look shit hot. We cruised on over to Carson City. I was terribly disappointed that is was dark outside. I could see the outline of the mountains against the sky. Somehow they looked formidable.

We slept like rocks that night. We were house guest of some old friends of SgtDad who were gracious enough to offer us their camper and let me just say, it was the mack daddy of campers. Awesome.

The next day we ventured to the historic mining town of Virginia City. The Comstock was huge here, and the historic buildings and breathtaking views were amazing. The boardwalk was incredibly uneven and rickety, and showing it's age of well over 120 years old. The Fourth Ward School still had students names etched into the railings, students who graduated a hundred years before I was born. SgtDad and I were able to ring the old school bell, it's crisp and clear sound bounced off the mountains around us and could be heard for miles, I'm sure.

On the way back to Carson Valley, we ate at Jack-n-the-Box, which was a first for me. I hate to say, I wasn't impressed. Sorry to all you loyal fans out there!

I'll leave you with a few pictures from the Historic Fourth Ward school in Virginia City, NV. I highly recommend it to anyone. It's an impressive sight!

The Fourth Ward School

Ring that bell!!!

It's like going back in time...

Impressive views!

Authentic graduation gown circa 1889

Nevada Journey Pt. 1

2008-05-16T23:32:00.000-04:00

Yes, the Las Vegas Odessy. Indeed. The journey began at 4:03 in the morning, on the day we were scheduled to leave. It was US Airways informing us that our flight, scheduled to leave at 7:00 am, was delayed due to operational difficulties. (That just leaves a little too much to the imagination. Did they run out of the mini bag of pretzels they always skimp on? Did the “Occupied” sign on the lavatory stop working? DID THE FREAKING WING FALL OFF THE PLANE?!) So after we listened to the recorded voice on the other end repeat its message twice, we called US Airways. Our flight was moved to later that afternoon.
This should have been a preview to what our flight was going to be like for the rest of the trip. Foreshadowing is a bitch, ya’ll.
We got to the New Bern airport and checked in all excited-like. I was jumpy and nervous. For some reason it slipped my mind that while flying there is a lot of sitting done and also a lot of hurry-up-and-wait-ing. The plane took off without incident and we made the short flight to Charlotte-Douglas airport, where we realized they had graciously given us 17 minutes to get off that damn plane and haul major ass to the next one, which happened to be boarding at a gate sixteen miles from the gate we just left and oh my hell, that’s a long walk. We made the flight, but barely. The flight from Charlotte to Phoenix was slightly more awkward, as I was sitting between CplDad and an older fat man who kept sniffling loudly and smelled suspiciously like potatoes. His largeness also blocked my view of the window. Bastard.
It was no surprise when we hit major turbulence. The first time the plane jumped I nearly peed my pants. It was much more violent than any I had ever experienced. The engines roared, and then quieted. I was convinced the plane was making a free fall for the ground. A plump flight attendant made her way down the isle. With each step she took I could feel the floor vibrate, it was no doubt that the floor was about to give way and we would all plummet to our deaths.
I’m only a little nervous about flying. Heh.
We finally landed in Arizona and CplDad and I went straight for our next gate. The mass amounts of people standing around worried us, but not to the extent of panic. We went to get some ridiculously overpriced drinks and a snack, and came back. Ten minutes later, the flashing screen indicating the flight arrival/departure time had not changed.
Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot, mate?
We inquired at the nearest desk. “PFFT!” smirked the US Airways attendant. “Your flight left fifteen minutes ago. From a gate OVER THERE IN KENTUCKY!”
Assholes.
We rearranged out itinerary to accommodate for either US Airways or CplDad and me being idiots. Whoever was at fault made no difference: We were still stuck in Phoenix for several hours. We struck up a conversation with another airline employee who was very interested in CplDad, and the fact he had just returned from Iraq. He was pretty much a war hero people. When she asked to see our tickets, we didn’t argue. When she returned them to us, we found she had bumped us up to first class. OOO-RAH.
Let me tell you, there is nothing, I mean NOTHING, like flying first class.

Motivated

2008-04-16T19:59:00.002-04:00

I'm guessing JellyBean is going to be my mentor on my journey to becoming a Marine.

Every morning at O'Dark-thirty, she is waking me up. Now if we lived on a farm and there were cows to be milked and fresh chicken eggs to be collected I'd be in luck. BUT SWEET SNEAKERS OF LOVE AVA I LIKE MY SLEEP SO STOP IT.

Since CplDad got home things have been interesting. Well, he is already getting on my nerves and I wish he'd go back. Am kidding, by the way. Things are lovely and simple. I won't say things are normal, since he has been home he has had to work every day. I've been swamped by school finals and projects, and have had little time to actually spend with him. I won't lie though, it is a spectacular feeling knowing I have help with these dang kids.

I was sitting on the couch today and typing up a report when I realized the book I needed was on the complete oposite side of the house, in my bedroom. "Shit," I though. "Now I have to get my lazy ass up.....WAIT."

Snicker.

Giggle.

"CplDad! I loooooooooooooooove you. I mean, I looooooooove you like a fat kid loves cake. I looooooooove you like the lawn loves rain. I loooooooove you like Bobby and Whitney like to fight then make up....I.."

"What do you want?"

"Mah book. That really heavy one in the room."

"pfft, Chh."

Hells yea!!! I'm not alone anymore! Now the great debate is on over which Military Ocupational Specialty (MOS) I shall choose. I know what I want, and CplDad knows what he wants me to want. Right then.

Well, I'm out like a fat kid in dodgeball. I have so much ish to do around here, dear Lawd.

Welcome Home Tigers, Job Well Done.

2008-04-12T15:38:00.004-04:00

I cried.

11 April 2008, we awoke at 0600. Having not slept the previous night, save for two measly hours, we were all groggy. Anxiety hung around me like a dark cloud. Repeatedly, I found it hard to breathe, as if someone were sitting on my chest. I received a call from CplDad around seven that morning, and he was in Maine. He was stateside.

I obsessively called the hot line set up for spouses to check that the arrival times had not changed. They bounced around, from 0900, to 1630. The final time was 1100. The squadron was decorated with American flags and Welcome Home banners. Food, drinks, and bounce houses occupied one side. The Marines had taped bubble wrap to the floor, and kids were running manically back and forth over it, laughing as it popped beneath their feet. The hangar doors were open, facing the flight line. Neighboring squadrons did not delay their work just because the Tigers were coming home. The loud Harrier engines could be heard above all else.

JellyBean and Peanut were wearing matching t-shirts, that proudly displayed a photo of them and CplDad, with the saying "For months he's been in Iraq, today I get my Daddy back!" Penguin made these shirts herself, and there were a hit. Everyone gushed over them, and wanted photos. Of course, Peanut did not let his "Daddy Hat" out of his sight either.

Rumors starting circulating that they had landed... People were talking... Questions were being asked. They finally announced, our Marines are on deck. They have landed safely. I cried.

We stood at the edge of the hangar door and watched the Tiger jets fly over head, with everyone cheering and waving their flags. The jets made it home. Everything was official.

The sun was hot, and was beating down on us from where we stood. A majority of the people kept wandering back into the hangar to escape the blistering sun, but I refused to move from my spot. I was not wavering in the heat, not until I saw my Marine.

They kept announcing the same thing, they will be here in five minutes. Ten more minutes. Just five more minutes. Five more. Twenty minutes. Five more minutes.

My stubborn tears kept escaping, even though I fought them every step of the way. I was holding my breath, and looking down at my shoes when I heard someone yell. Just twenty yards away, over the top of a couple storage containers you could see a red and yellow Marine Corps flag bobbing.... Our Marines were coming.

They marched past us in flawless formation as we rushed onto the flight line. Orders were called out, the Marines halted. I shielded my eyes from the sun, but try as I might I could not locate CplDad in the group.

The order was called for them to fall out, and everyone was running around me. Panic struck me, I couldn't see CplDad. Then from behind me, Penguin yells, "THERE HE IS!!!!" And he was.

I took off like a shot, dodging crying Mothers and laughing children. I literally dove into his arms, and as always, CplDad caught me. I'm not sure how long I clung to him sobbing, with my legs wrapped around him and my face buried in his neck, but I'll tell you this: It wasn't nearly long enough.

Peanut was all smiles, JellyBean was sleeping... but we woke her up to reintroduce her to her Daddy.

My Marine came home to me, just like he promised.

Enjoy.

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Things To Do When It's Time For Your Marine To Come Home

2008-04-07T23:09:00.003-04:00

Presented to you in list form because I like lists.

1. Sit and stare at the wall for 42 minutes daydreaming about your Marine's face.

2. Search YouTube for videos of other peoples Homecoming's.

3. Vacuum, and re-vacuum the floor. Get frustrated when the kids mess up the perfect vacuum lanes in the carpet.

4. Realize you have gone 9 months without sex, and start thinking about.... well. Thinking About. Ha.

5. Switch to diet soda and rice cakes ASAP, because now you have mere DAYS to tone up.

6. Cross of number 5, and just stop eating completely.

7. Call all close friends randomly to babble about what to wear at Homecoming, should I take the stroller? I don't know what perfume to wear. Should I just go naked?

8. OHMYHELLICANTBELIEVEHEISCOMINGHOMEWTF

9. Decide you are NOT ready, call the Major and ask if they can leave him out in the desert for 2 more weeks.

10. Vacuum.

11. Decide to make Homecoming Banner. Drive around on base and look at everyone else's. Decide that theirs all suck, and your's is going to kick some hardcore ass.

12. Work on banner late at night, spell husband's name wrong. Pray he doesn't notice.

13. Get really, really stressed out. Let school, work, my fun vacation to Marine Corps boot camp, homecoming, current job, kids, and the fact that I have forgotten to take the trash to the road three weeks in a row get to you.

14. Cry. Then vacuum.

15. Decide that you are not ashamed you spelled your husbands name wrong, and think back to the days before you made the banner when everyone joked about how bad that would be. Feel tons better when your Martha Stewert-esk friend figures out how to fix it.

16. Fuck number 6, and hit up Taco Bell.

17. Sit down with laptop, view all archived videos of your Marine, cry, look at photos from D-Day (deployment day) and revel in how much the kids have changed since the last time he saw them.

18. Curse. A lot. Curse like a Marine. Throw down that "F" word like there is no tomorrow. I'd punch the wall, but I don't want to break a nail.

19. Sit in your friend's bright red truck in the drive way, and sing, "He's coming home! yeah! yeah! yeah!" over and over, then realize your neighbors are sitting on their front porch, with their eyebrows raised.

20. Lug inside all the heavy trunks and boxes your Marine has mailed home.

21. Vacuum.

22. Recruit as many family members and friends to attend Homecoming, these Hero's need to know that THEY WERE MISSED.

23. Cry, then laugh. Then curse. It's recommended you cry some more after the cursing phase, but it's not mandatory.

24. Rush to get all final projects done for school, because you are going to be busy with..... stuff... when he gets home. You ain't guna wanna stop for no Homework.

25. Sleep tight, knowing that these Marines have your back.

26. Wake up, vacuum.

Fair winds and following seas, my Marine is coming home to me.

No matter how much I say it, it's still so ridiculously exciting. We are planning a trip to Nevada, in early May. CplDad has not been home since boot leave. We also just found out his Mother has an aggressive malignant tumor in her breast, and will be going in for surgery in two weeks. Just after that, CplDad and I will go and talk to the recruiters, and see about securing me a fair MOS in our beloved Marine Corps. I'll save details on that for another riveting post. For now, I will submit this to you: My Marine is coming home. This is on my mind constantly. It cheers me up, even when this penguin weather is bringing me down. I've honestly spent copious amounts of times vacuuming, and I'm not sure why. It's truly a losing battle, since my kids eat a lot of crackers and pop tarts, and their cracker trails would be more than suitable for Hansel or that slut Gretel. There is so much more I could be doing, like ripping down the rest of the wall paper in the kitchen, or picking up all the stray toys that are meandering around the house. I could scrub the bathrooms until my hands bleed. I could sweep of the sidewalk and driveway, and make it look neat and appealing, and welcoming for CplDad's big day. I could reorganize the the dressers, in our bedroom, to make room for his clothing. All of these seem so pointless, so I vacuum.

It just now occurred to me all the of "lasts" that have taken place. I've made the last mortgage payment. I've gone grocery shopping the last time alone. I've gone to church the last time without CplDad. I have purchased the last package of diapers I'll need before he comes home. I took the kids to the beach for the last time without their Daddy. This is huge. I'm obsessing hardcore about it, and now if you are unlucky enough to Google "CplDad" or "Crazy talking psycho wife who is about to join the corps and may be obsessed with vacuuming" and stumble upon this site. HAHA. Sucks for you.

The last time I took the kids to the beach, it was clear and warm. The wind coming off the ocean has a slight chill to it. Nothing to severe, just enough to warrant a light jacket. The air was thick with humidity. The smell of salt water engulfed us the second we stepped across the threshold of the dock. We sat on the sand. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the gulls and the waves crashing. We snacked on crackers. Well, JellyBean and I snacked on crackers. Peanut used his for a shovel and then fed them to the greedy gulls. Peanut got overly ambitious and made the executive decision to explore the sand dunes alone. I called out to him to come sit with us, but his two year old curiosity out weighed the threat of Mom. He was terribly interested in the broken shells he found up there. JellyBean was terribly interested in eating sand. She would shout her protests every time I caught her hand halfway to her mouth, her tiny fist clutching as much sand as it could. When I went to retrieve Peanut from his explorations, JellyBean decided to take off towards the large pieces of driftwood that had washed up in the most recent storm. I let her wander off a bit, since there was no one else around on the wide open beach. Peanut and I laid back on the sand, and I quickly realized how easy it would be to fall asleep. I know that if this happened, I would awake to JellyBean gnawing on a huge dark piece of driftwood. I could imagine myself yelling at her to stop, and her shouting back, "Too late woman! I already ate half of it!" When I opened my eyes again, she was still just five feet away, eyeing the gulls. When several of them landed withing ten feet of her she began yelling at them, and pointing. Then, she took off after them crawling as fast as her tiny legs would let her. When the gulls flew off, she let them know she was pissed. "Come back here you sonsabitches! I'm going to slobber on you!"

The point of this long winded story is, that was our last beach trip alone. The beach is a very special place to our family, and this was the last time we would have to go alone.

Why?

Because my Marine is coming home.

Finally.

I'm going to vacuum.

The Fewer, The Prouder.

2008-04-03T18:33:00.002-04:00

Do I have what it takes to become a United States Marine?

Will my family and friends stand behind me and support me, or turn their backs on me because they don't approve?

A lot of you know I've had the dream of joining the military for years. I never had my chance. I don't want to look back on my life and regret not doing what I wanted.

I ask again, do I have what it takes?

No Cake Left Behind

2008-03-28T12:44:00.003-04:00

Oh hi.

What?

The party?

Yes, it was a smashing success.

Am I sad?

Yes. I'm marginally depressed that my baby turned one. It's unreal. Unfathomable. She was supposed to be our littlest baby forever.

The cake? Is gone.

Yes, I ate most of it.

No I don't feel bad.

What's that?

Am I ready for another baby?

Well. You shut your dirty pirate hooker mouth right now.

No.

I SAID GOOD DAY SIR.

She needed assistance shoveling cake into her mouf, and since we didn't have a shovel handy and if was her birfday, I was happy to oblige.

This gift was from Popp, and it was on sale. Personally, I think it was a bargain.

JellyBean knows how to work it. Work it girlfriend! Hey girl hey!

One of the best gifts I have ever received. Do you think it's too late to exchange it? I think I've lost the reciept.... Damn.

You might be a big girl now, but you better believe I'm sneaking in my smooches!

"JellyBean, your delicate palette is not sophisticated enough to enjoy this pizza and beer. Please move along, and find your juvenile baba, or some such. By the way, I am confiscating these head bands, they match my new purse."

The Story of JellyBean

2008-03-28T12:44:00.002-04:00

Shock, fear, and excitement took hold the day the pregnancy test showed two lines, indicating that we were pregnant. Our son, Peanut, was just over 6 months old. Our children would be born close in age, and would come to be known as "Irish Twins". The pregnancy was generally uneventful, I was sick constantly. The days would be fine, I would eat and maintain myself without showing any outward symptoms of being with child. When the sun would go down, and I would be ready for a good night of sleeping is when the sickness began. I quickly lost count of how many nights I spent on the bathroom floor, with CplDad coming in from work around 5 am and carrying me to bed. We thought nothing of it.

At 22 weeks, we knew she wasn't growing right. She was small. I didn't even look pregnant.

31 weeks came around, and another growth check showed she was at least 3 weeks behind in growth.

At 35 weeks, my skin started feeling tight all over my body. I felt thousands of tiny pin pricks constantly. Then I started to itch.

At 36 weeks, my blood work showed that there was unusually high levels of bile. Something was going on in my liver.

I remained close to the hospital, worried about what was happening. The diagnosis came back as Cholestasis of Pregnancy. More test and ultrasounds showed that she was far too small for her gestational age. They estimated she stopped growing around 32 weeks. The fetal heart monitor showed her heart rate struggling. A resident sat down next to my bed and explained to me the serious nature of the situation. Infants born to Mothers who suffer from Cholestasis have a high risk of still birth after 36 weeks. We were already into the danger zone.

At 37 weeks, my conidioned had worsened.

38 weeks, no improvement. JellyBean's heart was not going to hold out. She hadn't grown. My liver was shutting down. We wouldn't be going home.

At 5:56 pm, on March 29th 2007, exacty a week before her scheduled due date, she came into this world via emergency c-section. CplDad was not able to make it to the birth. She was tiny, and blue. I got a glimpse of her as the NICU team rushed in to take over. I heard a small kitten like squeek. I heard someone call out, "She's tiny. 4lbs. Call the NICU, apgar 3. Unresponsive."

Tears slid down my cheeks as I closed my eyes and prayed. Please God, don't take my baby.

The NICU was good to my baby. They were good to me.

She improved, my liver improved, and eventually, we left the hospital together.

Now, it's her first birthday. This is a milestone for us. This is a slap in the face to the doctors who had nothing to say to us but "I suggest you abort" and "fetal demise" . We have had issues with her eyes, and her weight. She will be one tomorrow, and she weighs almost 14lbs. She is almost in the 2nd percentile.

She is our tiny JellyBean.

Do you see what I see?

Spring Break 2008

2008-03-15T19:45:00.005-04:00

WHOOOOOOOOO!!!! Spring Break 2008 is officially underway!!

Yes, it's true Peanut and I have been puking our guts out hardcore this week, to the point of totally losing our voices, but I think we are getting better!

No school!

No work!

I've got so much planned for this week, so much to do! Starting with Easter of course, but followed closely by booze, rockstars, loud music, tacos, booze, and a quick trip to Cancun! Also, some Mardi Gras beads! GAH I'm so awesome! I don't have an ego, I just really enjoy how awesome I am! Let's get this party started! It's time to get rowdy! Just wait til you see zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.......................

Official Monday Night Inquest

2008-03-15T19:45:00.003-04:00

Thank you to everyone who submitted questions to entertain my restless mind. I believe I forgot to mention in the previous post, that I reserve the right to alter your question in any way I see fit. (Read: To make it more comical, to me.) Also, you can leave questions in the comment section, they don't have to be e-mailed to me. Ready for this? Let's go.

1. I'm pregnant. My boobs hurt. Advice?
Pfft. Chh. Kuhh. Pssh. When I got pregnant with Peanut, I was an average B cup. Within hours of his birth, I looked like Pamela Anderson on steroids. It was awesome. Then I got knocked up with JellyBean. I wasn't so lucky this time around, after she was born and I attempted to breastfeed, dear God. I don't think she got any boob juice, she just sucked out all the boob tissue. Because now? I have no boobs. I'm the proud owner of mosquito bites. So my advice to you to to enjoy those melons why you can, because they can't last forever. It pregnancy and hoover influenced newborns don't take care of them for you, then time will.

2. My husband and I argue. Should I learn how to work on our family car? I'm not mechanically inclined whatsoever.
Ahh... I wouldn't say go to Auto Mechanic school, or start applying at Goodyear, but I will submit this to you: Invest in a roll of duct tape, a flash light, and an emergency package of crackers. The flash light is pretty self explanatory. Every time my car has ever broken down and left me stranded, it's been at night. Also, it has been winter. Damn my luck. So far in my experience, I've yet to run into a problem that duct tape can't fix. Most recently, the air intake on my car just crumbled. A few Military Police officers later, I had a roll of duct tape in hand to make the repair. (Good as new!) Duct tape can also come in handy when your brother rear-ends you going 45 mph and you are completely stopped at a light. When he knocks your muffler off, and damages his own headlights, duct tape works wonders. When those cranky two year olds in the back seat won't quit sassing you, duct tape is a life saver. The crackers are just to snack on in case the duct tape fails, and you are stuck waiting on your husband or a tow truck. Happy taping!

3. What's the worse pick up line you have ever heard? How do you handle that?
I've heard a lot of good lines in my day. A lot of lame ones too. I think the most appalling one I've ever heard was, "Can I buy you breakfast?" Which not only implied he wanted to take me home, but also told me he was too lazy to cook for me, and honestly? McDonald's breakfast isn't going to hack it. I handle situations like this with sarcastic humor. I handle almost every situation with humor. I believe my answer to him was, "Thanks, but I'm trying to quit." A quick snark like that, and then promptly walking away usually ends the situation. A close second to this one actually happened on the same night. A gentlemen walked by us, and stopped to ask my friend Pop, "Haven't I worked on your car?" Ha. Ha. Silly menfolk. This is super easy to handle, you just go psycho bitch on the. "Oh. Hell yes, I remember you. You ruined my transmission! I WANT ME MONEY BACK!" Throwing your drink in his face adds to the effect, but is not necessary.

4. My unborn baby kicks so hard, it hurts. What can I do?
Kick back. Oh, you think I'm joking? When that overgrown fetus you are lugging around starts pound on your cervix Mohammad Ali style, start poking whichever of his body parts that presents itself most conveniently for you. If his little butt is sticking up? Give it a jab. If you see a knee poking out of your side? Shove it. Let that fetus know who is boss. Don't get bossed around by your womb-mate.

5. I think I have a yeast infection.
Who are you?! Why would you ask me that? Are you sprouting muffins? I'm not a doctor, so I'm not going to offer up any medical advice, but I'll say this.... if you don't have any insurance, drop about 16 dollars on one of those at home test kits. It will let you know if you should see a doctor. Or just buy the damn Monistat 1 treatment. If you don't have an infection, it can't really hurt you........ again, I'm not a doctor!

This concludes this weeks Monday Night Inquest! Keep the inquiries coming! No question is too big or to small for the wondrous Mother of Beans to tackle! Now I'm off to find a snack.....

Monday Night Inquest

2008-03-15T19:45:00.002-04:00

Well folks! It's that time of the week. Prepare yourself for what I am about to bestow upon you. We all know I'm a straight shooter, I tell it how I see it. I'm a fan of utter honesty, and I like to think I keep it real real. What I am about to offer to you is not for persons' of weak disposition. The Monday Night Inquest is an opportunity for you to ask me anything, and I mean anything, that's on your mind. I will tell you exactly what I think. I'll give you my honest opinion. For those of you who know how my mind works, this could get interesting. So whether you have a question about the military life, parenting, sex, God, love, tacos, the Backstreet Boys, or your dog snoopy, send it on in. Let me put my psychology minor into good use.

Bring it on bitches. Being it's already Saturday, you only have 36 hours(ish) to get these questions in. So, uh, yea. Get on that shit.

Also, a side note, potty training is a bitch. I sat Peanut down on his brand-spanking new potty seat last night. It's one of those soft plush seats that fits perfectly on top of the toilet. It's actually very luxurious looking, and I'm only slightly jealous. I've also considered losing about 20 pounds so I can sit on it. I figured if I stop eating, my body will eat my ass, then I'll be down to a slim 98 lbs and I too, can use this palatial toilet perch. Ah, I digress.

He sat on that seat for a good half an hour, just swinging his legs and talking in Peanutese. I'm only partially fluent in Peanutese, and some days I wish desperately for a translator. He chatted, I read. He sang a song, I sighed in desperation. Every couple minutes, I'd ask him if he had to pee pee yet. He would glance at me, exhale, and reply, "Nope."

I'd wait a few more minutes and ask him if he was done. The reply was the same.

Eventually, I commended him on a first-class attempt, and lifted him off the seat. I placed him on the floor and set about straightening the bathroom.

I felt something on my foot, and turned around just in time to see the last of his pee stream hit the tile on the floor. Sigh.

No one said the road to potty training would be an easy one, but damn. I haven't been peed on since his infancy days. I need to teach him that you can't just go around peeing on people, you have to at least buy them dinner first.

Well that's enough pee talk. I'm going to have to think on this one long and hard. Do I throw cheerios into the commode, and prompt Peanut to "sink" them? Do I run out and buy four different brands of Pull-Ups? Should I buy a bag of M&M's, and a colorful jar, and offer him a chocolate every time he squeezes out a drop of urine? Hmmmm. Ponder, ponder.

I'll keep you posted. Yes, I know dear Internet. Your day is not complete until you have heard about the daily spar with my potty training attempts. You're welcome.

(send in those questions all quick-like. Dear Abby ain't got nothin' on me.)

Fair Winds, and Following Seas

2008-03-11T19:23:00.002-04:00

My Marine is coming home to me.

Joy of joys! I just got home from the official Homecoming Meeting. All kinds of pointless and remedial information was passed about, we all eyed each others shoes and hair, some compared horror stories of this most recent deployment, and others, like myself, sat there trying to distract their thoughts from the first time we will actually see our Marines. Tears kept creeping up, and threatening to spill themselves over my lashes. I made jokes and fidgeted, waiting for the Chaplain to finish his talk, knowing the Sergeant Major had the information we all so desperately desired.

We know the date.

In regards to OSPEC, and their wishes, I will not post the official date of the squadron's homecoming. But I will say this, we are down to double digit days. If the overwhelming sense of curiosity bugs you to no end, then e-mail me, and with proper security clearance, I will let you in. Maybe.

My lonely nights are almost through. My managing two kids under two in Wal-mart amidst toddler meltdowns alone, is over. My taking out that damned trash every Monday, is over.

My Marine is coming home.

Of Toddlers and Eye Ball Pokage

2008-03-08T20:15:00.002-05:00

So there were these crazy winds here in NC today. I mean cra-zeee. Like Hurricane force winds. Without the Hurricane. Loud noises from the exterior of the house kept scaring me.

Damn screen doors.

I also noticed the neighbors cat has once again gotten into my trash, and torn the bags all to hell. One thing that stumps me is how this eight pound cat gets my trash bags up and out of our trash cans. Anyways, the fierce winds blew the trash all over my backyard. I am not looking forward to picking that crap up. I'm pissed.

All in all, I had a glorious day inside with the kids. We baked cookies, and ate every one of them without an ounce of guilt. We played with trains, built a small castle, had water chugging contests, and at one point, the kids were battling to see who could poop the most in one hour.

Days like today make me want another baby. Someone recently said, " I enjoy my children too much to think of not having any more." She was so right. My kids are amazing. They are gorgeous, smart, quick minded. JellyBean turns one in three weeks. I have not blogged about this, because I have not yet come to terms with it. How can out tiny NICU baby be turning one? How can we have two toddlers in the house, and no infant? It's just not right. Not right, I tell you.

Some people think I'm full of myself. At least JellyBean thinks I'm funny.

Peanut has decided to just keep sucking his thumb. He doesn't want to pay attention to that Woman With Camera. However, he got reckless and his fingers wandered into his eye.

Crap that hurt! GAH GAH GAH OWIE!

I'm serious Woman With Camera! I'm PISSED!

Whatever. I'm so over it.

Can we bake some more cookies now? I mean, that whole eye incident was pretty traumatic. I think cookies would help. Kthanks.

Les Misérables

2008-03-03T13:01:00.003-05:00

I’ve always considered myself a somewhat graceful creature. I float from room to room; I hop around all nimbly bimbly, that’s right. I’ve had two kids, but I am still quite spry. However, my hopes of winning the Olympics for being super graceful woman 2008 came crashing down this past weekend.

I stumbled into the kitchen in the near dark, like a moron. (Come on, I have two kids under two, there are bound to be toys and obstacles at every impasse, and come on, how could I be so naïve to believe I remember where all the haphazard toys had been place and COME ON. Just, come on.) So as I attempted to navigate myself to the kitchen hutch, I slipped. To make a long, painful story a wee bit shorter, I went down like a ton of bricks.

Sliiiiiiiiiiiiide POW THWACK!!!!!

Prolific use of the “F” word followed. I laid there for the better part of an hour, cursing my stupidity and also the large wet spot on the floor. I eventually made it to my feet, and back to bed. I figured that by morning, I may be a bit sore but I would be fine.

I was wrong.

My leg started to swell a bit, and was remarkably sore, and there was a small bruise on the back right side of my leg. The decision was made by CplDad and me that I should see doctor post haste. The verdict from the doctor wasn’t a pleasant one. It’s a Grade 2 Calf Strain, meaning I tore a little of the muscle in my leg, and have a 4-6 week recovery ahead of me. The doc also told me that with this type of injury, bruises form from deep inside the leg and move outward. This means, the bruises would progressively get worse until the internal bleeding of the muscle stopped. He also thanked me for not shaving my legs before coming in. Heh. Heh. Silly doctor, I’m not trying to impress anybody.

So off I went, with an Ace bandage wrapped tightly around my right calf to support the healing muscle, and three prescriptions for pain and anti-muscle inflammatory. It took hours (HOURS!) for the pharmacy to fill my script. I tried not going home, since I knew once I got the kids and myself up the front steps and into the house, I wasn’t going to feel up to going back out. Four hours later, I had the scripts in hand and went home.

Les Misérables Pt. 2

Upon arriving home, I made the executive Mommy decision to put the children to bed immediately, as I was in a fair amount of pain and not prepared to deal with any whiny bullshit. (Yes, I just called my kids’ pointless whining bull. Yes, there was a shit on the end of that.) While preparing them for bed, I found myself short of breath and unusually hot. I was breaking a sweat during an activity that I’ve done day in day out for over two years.
Luckily, the kids went down without much of a dispute, so I began to pick up around the house. In hindsight, this attempt is futile since nothing stays where I put it for long. Curse my OCD! Halfway through the living room, I stood up and felt like someone had punched me directly in the top of my head. I came damn close to passing out.

The Plot Thickens

I attributed the odd headache and sweating as side effects from my injury, it’s bound to take a toll on me somehow. I abandoned all hopes of a clean living room and headed to bed. A few house into my sleep cycle, nearing R.E.M, I awoke to find my clothing and bed sheets damp. I sat up, and was promptly punched in the top of the head AND the leg again. I reached for my water, and found I had a hard time swallowing. This is not good.

By morning, I had battled a fever of 103 and sever headaches and throat swelling. I called the doctor back, but they had nothing available until the following day. The pain in my leg had intensified to the point where I could not walk without great effort, and also not without tears. (They were thug tears, ya’ll!) I sent my best friend approximately 412 text messages begging for help. She responded with a “What the hell is your problem?!” Just kidding, I’m so mean. She hurried right over and bundled up my kids and their belongings, tried to sabotage me by spilling formula on the kitchen floor, (she is gunning for my other leg!), then told me to call her if I needed anything. With the kids gone, I was free to sit, and cry, because Oh. My. Hell. My leg hurt, my throat hurt, and I think my eyeballs damn near fried out of my head.

The Verdict

Well it’s confirmed. On top of the torn calf muscle, I’m now suffering from an official case of Strep Throat, a double Ear Infection, and some sort of fluid build up on my lungs. I’m the proud new owner of seven different medications. I’m struggling. Let’s face it, this could be worse. I could be getting sick slash injured the week CplDad got home. Even though this is super hard without him, I’m glad it will be all better by the time he gets back.
A lot of you loyal readers ask when he is coming home. We find out the official window of the Homecoming on March 11th, which is next Tuesday. I will keep you posted. I’m so excited I could jump for joy. No, wait, I can’t because I’m an OFFICIAL GIMP.

Also, apparently, I left some pretty interesting bulletins on MySpace yesterday. Gah, I love Vicodin. Feel free to check those out, if you are in need of a laugh, or, let’s be honest…. A self esteem boost.

I'll thank you to ignore my fat legs, and instead focus on the residual bruising on my left leg.

This is the ever expanding bruise on my right leg, it's gotten a bit bigger since I took this photo, it's pretty gnarly looking. Yuck!

My new best friends. I'll thank you to acknowledge them by their names.

Yes, Another One

2008-03-03T13:01:00.002-05:00

We had another VTC with CplDad on Saturday. I'll admit, it was a bit easier than the first. For me anyways, the kids had a rough time with it, I think.

We got there obscenely early, since I was completely terrified we would be late and miss our window. We sat in the car munching on hash browns from McDonald's. My mind flashed between seeing CplDad, and the thought of my kids consuming trans fat.

After sitting in the car for about 20 minutes, we were ready to head in. I broke out the wipes, and targeted the Shrek's that had congregated on my children's noses.

The wait was shorter this time, and there were less people there. The connection was slighty worse than last time, but again, it didn't matter. CplDad got to see how fast JellyBean crawls now. He got to see just how much Peanut's "Daddy Hat" means to him. He got to see JellyBean tip over her bottle and dribble milk on the official-looking table. Then he watched as I used JellyBean to clean it up.

Just a few swipes with that diapered butt, and the table was good as new.

All too soon, came the knock on the door... our time was up. This was the last time I got to see his punk ass, before I actually get to see his punk ass.

As I was walking out, he called my name. I turned around just in time to see him flash a black
velvet box in front of the screen.... It had something shiny in it....

"Boo bah gleeb gah blub shhh viva DADDY school hat ha ha fuu sheeeee cookie da furet ah."

There is our Daddy! Our hero!

"I no want byebye... DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!!! NOOOOOOO!!"

Epic Deployment Blog

2008-02-14T12:47:00.003-05:00

I know you guys are more than tired of hearing my nonsensical ramblings about the bittersweet woes of military deployments, but I’m going to cop out once again and make this my final entry on it. (By “final entry” I really mean until CplDad comes home and I “get some”, which let’s face it, the blogs following this grandeur event will no doubt be entertaining).

In an instant he is gone. In one moment, you realize that all your so-called failures and shortcomings are only in your mind. This deployment won’t kill you; it will force you to live. Maybe the lesson to be learned is about patience and acceptance. If you learn to make peace with this, even if it doesn't get easier, then you can do anything. I would never say that deployment is a gift. But it can be a catalyst, or a teacher. We all have something about ourselves we wish we could change. Sometimes you can, and sometimes you can't. The limitless opportunities to alter our lives, and change and grow are there. The important thing is to take advantage of it.

I’m a stubborn one, and I refuse to be a victim of circumstance when I am perfectly capable of dictating my own future. CplDad is gone, but my life is not over. Life is messy and brilliant, gorgeous and staggering, terrifying and exhilarating, just like deployments.

Somehow, my life stopped when he left. It’s still August of 2007 to me. Every day is a good day, a hot summer day. Every night, he is there sleeping next to me. Each morning, I feel his lips brush my forehead, and his fingertips trace my back as he leaves for work. Then fate delivers it’s crushing blow when I wake up, and he isn’t there. It seems as though nothing has changed, and yet, everything has changed. I want to tell CplDad that I’m the same person I was when he left, but the reality is I’m not. I’m older. I’ve learned to function entirely on my own. I never thought I’d be able to work and attend school fulltime, raise two kids under two, and not let the house burn down. I’ve started running. I’m no longer drinking soda. I’ve learned to line dance. This is all exciting in the sense that we will get to know each other again when he gets home. We get to relearn all the little quirks that make a person. Will we have missed the time we lost? Or will it be like he never left? The thing about time is it’s priceless. It’s not like money; it can’t regenerate itself. Once you spend it, it’s gone

He needs to do this. I have to be strong.

I paint a big smile on my face to hide my broken heart. I won’t get in the way of your duty.

Baby, get ready, get set……. Don’t go.

Patience is trusting Gods’ timing…

In the end, everything will be okay. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.

So I’ve put it all out there. When I began this site, I argued with myself about whether I would put actual photos of us on this site. (Side note: Apparently I have no inner monologue; I was getting some strange looks from fellow Target shoppers.) If I’m going to put my life out there, might as well go all out. I cry on a weekly basis, I forget to shut the door when I go pee, I’m the proud owner of at least 4 Hanson C.D’s, I do the robot in public, I’ve been known to use humor as an escape, I’m terrified that I have a tumor on my cerebellum, prolific use of the “F” word is not uncommon in conversation with me, I’m stubborn to no end, and I’m always right. This is me, and this is my life.

ValenSUCK Day

2008-02-14T12:47:00.002-05:00

You know that one chick Tara? Also know as the Ultimate Personification of All Gods’ Beauty? She don’t like no Valentines Day. (Before my English professor reads this and promptly dies of an aneurysm, Tara DOESN’T like Valentines Day.)
For all the years that CplDad and I have been a Hot Item, we have yet to spend ONE V-day together. Not. A. Single. One. What. The. Fuck. I could go on into all that lovey dovey bull, about how even though he is ten thousand miles away in a freaking WAR ZONE, he is still in my heart… but that’s just not my style. Instead, I am going to enlighten you all on our very first V-day together. We had known each other a few months, and while we both knew there was something amazing there, we were still on unsure ground as far as a relationship label goes. He was deployed, as always to a base known as El Centro. I wasn’t expecting anything from him, except a phone call and sweet words, and maybe a few “I miss you” hints. Instead, I got a card in the mail. The card was in Spanish. Actually, it was a Spanish birthday card… but it did say I LOVE YOU in it. Hand written in the bottom right corner, CplDad wrote in childlike hand, “I’m not sure what this says, but I think it says I love you, and I do.” I still have that card. Somewhere in all the moving I lost the flowers that came along with it, which were dead and dried out anyway.
I doubt this blog is going to pave the way to my literary fame, but I thought I would let you all in on a bit of Mother of Beans love history. It’s still early today, so there is hope a surprise is in store for me. I hate to expect anything, because come on he is in a war zone, and come on we don’t just have extra cash lying around, and come on, isn’t him defending my freedom enough? DAMN WOMAN!
If nothing chocolaty or pretty shows up on my doorstep, you better believe I will be on my way to wal-mart tomorrow morning to collect on the 50% off candy, and I might as well buy myself a musical card. Who doesn’t like those? Seriously. They rock.
Well, I’m off to go running to work out some sexual and aggressive urges. Ah, I’m starting to sound like a Freudian. If I have to be alone on V-day, I might as well go burn some fat cells off.
Take it sleazy dear readers, and if you aren’t alone today, go get some. Also, keep our troops in your thoughts and prayers! Also v2.0, buy me chocolate.

Ahh, my retinas are retracting from the hotness… I’m a lucky one. I’d give anything to have him home already. Happy Valentines Day CplDad, you are my hero. I love you, and I’m proud of you.

Veggie Head

2008-02-10T20:50:00.001-05:00

I have made the personal decision to stop eating meat. That's right; I am voluntarily converting to vegetarianism. The goal is one week, to test the waters. I promise nothing, except that in this one week, I WILL NOT EAT MEAT. After the week, I shall reevaluate my attitudes. The reason behind this is purely experimental. Will I have more energy? Sleep better at night? Lose weight? Have fewer headaches? Will I go through some sort of weird meat-withdrawal, where I see my friends as walking stick figures with hamburger shaped heads? Will the chicken nuggets taunt me from the freezer, and call my name as I pass them by for the frozen broccoli?

I informed CplDad of my decision via Yahoo! instant messenger. The conversation was as follows:

MomBeans: oh I am becoming a vegetarian tomorrow
CplDad: why?
CplDad: I hope that you are still taking your vitamins everyday then
MomBeans: when I remember
MomBeans: I don’t drink soda
MomBeans: just water, and on occasion, a diet one
CplDad: well that’s good
MomBeans: I’m really going to miss tacos.
MomBeans: I've decided Tina and I can still have our taco dates
CplDad: and I’m going to eat them right in front of you
MomBeans: we just have to ask for chopped tomatoes instead of meat
CplDad: and tell you how great every bite taste
MomBeans: Oh. Good.

Well, wish me luck. Any advice, dear readers, will not be turned away. Good thing my yard is filled with tons of leafy trees I can snack on in my times of desperation.

Hottish

2008-02-05T20:19:00.001-05:00

So I'm sure all of you in North Carolina are enjoying today's 80 degree weather just as much as I am. A friend in Chicago was excited today as well, it got all the way up to 36 degrees there. Admittedly, this is hot weather for a winter. But let me remind you, North Carolina has four seasons; Summer, Summer, Almost Summer, and Christmas. Write that down, it's a juicy bit. Complain I will not, because I hate the cold. I also hate lady bugs, and for some reason this weather reminds me of lady bugs. Yuck. Moving on.

Peanut seems to be doing quite well in "school". Technically, it's a daycare. They are big on teaching though, and each day is structured like a school day. Let me tell you, I practically had to sell a kidney to get him in there. Soon, I will have to offer up a spleen to get JellyBean in. The waiting list for infants is 8-14 months. Outrageous, no? When I went in to have the kids put on the waiting list, I was shocked at the length of the waiting list. So I asked her, what are people supposed to do, put their kids on the waiting list the day they find out they're pregnant?! She looked at me and laughed, her reply was a simple, "Almost." Ok, so if we have another child, I need to walk into their office with the fresh pee stick in my hand and say "Hi! How the hell are you? I'm here to register our zygote for daycare! We won't know if it's a boy or girl for at least 5 more months, possibly longer, and it currently has a tail, but we are working on that! Put us on the list! Kthanks! Bye!"

Ahh, it's all worth it. Peanut is thriving in this enviroment. He has already picked up new phrases, (good ones) and better eating habits. He is learning to share, and follow instructions. I think this may be what he needs. Oh how I love my extrovert! I'm planning on going to lunch one day at his school.... parents are welcome and it only cost one buck! One clam! Just one! That's a bargain I tell you! Thankfully, they send home a calender each month that informs me what they will be serving each day..... You better believe I'll be there for the roast chicken and mashed potatos day! Go ahead and throw me about 4 more of those rolls too pimpin'!

Do they have Mexican food day? If they have pollo loco you can count me in. I'm on a diet, but if it's for Peanut, I'll bend the rules a little bit. Will there be queso? Wait... did you or did you not say they serve tacos? Nevermind. Drop me off at Taco Bell.

Kitchen Watch 2008

2008-02-05T20:19:00.000-05:00

Here is a photo of our kitchen shortly after we bought this house in 2007.

Here is a photo of it now.

I'm just going to go ahead and say, I'm not liking being dominated by a kitchen circa 1972. I'm looking forward to having walls, countertops, appliances, and proper insulation. Oh what a joyous day that will be! Home renovation is hell.

You know Mom, we could just eat chicken nuggets everyday. I like chicken nuggets. JellyBean likes chicken nuggets. Even Jesus likes chicken nuggets.

The Cheese Stands Alone

2008-01-29T21:27:00.000-05:00

You know those things, Steel Wool? Does that mean that there are Iron Sheep running around Illinois somewhere?? Also,I don't like the children's story, Hansel and Gretel. Believe me, I'm going to elaborate. I think the old woman was misinterpreted, or at the very least, misunderstood. She spent her entire life, and more than likely her entire fortune building her dream house out of gingerbread. Then one fine day, here comes these two little brats who decide to eat her HOME. Was she really in the wrong for putting them in lock down? They were trespassing. They saw the "Private Property" signs she has placed every 5 feet around the entire border of her property. We have no proof she tried to eat them. What happened to innocent until proven guilty? She merely took them inside, sat them down and had an old fashioned "talking to". Then she sent them on their way with paper bag lunches. Think of the distinct possibilities of what really could have happened when they left. They could have been kidnapped by the big bad wolf, or died from positional asphyxia by proxy of a wild berry. Better yet, they could have simply moved to Vegas for the next American Idol tryouts.

In other news, I attended yet another homecoming for our wonderful Marines. I cannot tell you the immense pride one feels standing there, watching the planes land, 7 tons roll by, and then those buses.... those glorious buses pull up. You can actually feel your heart grow ten times it's normal size in a Christmas-Grinch sort of way. Tears well up, people begin to yell and cheer, signs and banners are raised into the air, each one displaying a colorful welcome home message to our warriors. One by one, our Hero's step off that bus. Each one met by a handshake, a hug, an "OOORAH!". I was present at this Homecoming to photograph it for a dear friend. It's not the first time I've done this, and I'm sure it won't be the last. Standing there in the cold, snapping away photos, I'm crying my poor green eyes out. I'm crying because I'm happy for my friend, I'm happy her husband is home and I'm happy their kids have their father back. I'm crying because I'm jealous. I'm crying because I know I've still got such a long road until my Marine is home. I'm crying because SHIT, it's 3 am, and it's the middle of winter and OH MY COW I CANNOT FEEL MY TOES. Once again, I walked away alone.

Peanut starts school on Friday, and like any mother I'm anxious. I've begun packing his things in an overly organized fashion. Each spare set of clothes, complete with socks, is tucked into a gallon sized Ziploc bag and labeled with the contents and his name. His toothbrush has a cover on it. Each one of his diapers proudly displays his name. His little black book is tucked away in his coat pocket, ready to write down the names of all the little hotties in his class. Except for that one Lance Corporals daughter, because let's face it, that is one homely looking kid. This Friday is also the day I will be interviewing in home daycares for JellyBean. I'm extremely skeptical in this situation because I'm not sure people realize how lucky they will be to care for our precious shnookum jellbell baby... That and I'm totally paranoid about Shaken Baby Syndrome and the fact that all too often infants are neglected. I'm not accepting applications from anywhere under a two-star facility. This family has standards dammit.

Well, this foundation looks pretty sturdy. No sign of termite damage. I'm not digging the landscaping, but we will discuss aesthetics later.

Yes, I think if I can acquire Mother's new Puma shoe box, I can add a nice addition over here. Perhaps a sun room. Or a study. I'll need a quite place to work on my Thesis.

You know what? This is rather cozy. I'll take it.

I fell

2008-01-26T21:26:00.000-05:00

I knew from the beginning that being a Marine wife was not for person's of weak disposition, but somehow that knowledge doesn't prepare you for the overwhelming sense of loss you feel when your Marine is deployed. This is not my first deployment. I've been down this road, I've survived this before. I'm stubborn and strong willed. I'm independent and difficult to persuade. I'm determined, and this is proven by the fact that I'm still writing this blog despite the 27 pound 2 year old jumping on my legs. So I'm in college full time, I manage the household, including laundry, dishes, vacuuming, lawn, trash, cleaning, raising two kids under two by myself, I work part time, and the house has not burned down. At the end of the day, my kids are still breathing a smiling, even if everything else is a mess, I consider it a success.

I fell.

Today the Marine Corp was kind enough to schedule us a Video Tele-Conference with CplDad. After some minor technical difficulties, we were up and running. We sat down in a long conference room usually reserved for Squadron meetings. I sat down at the head of the table, holding my breath. I sat JellyBean on the table in front of me, and shortly after Peanut crawled up to sit next to his sister. We waited.

I fell.

After what seemed like an eternity, CplDad appeared on the large plasma screens in from of us. There was a 2.5 second delay in the audio, but it didn't matter. There he was, my love, my best friend, my Marine. It was hard to look at the screen. I wanted to look away and run; it was so good to see him but it hurt so much. His charm, his smile, his wit, my heart beguiled. I fought back tears as a huge revelation slapped me in the face. Why had I never thought of this before? How could this not have ever crossed my mind? It was so obvious, and so simple. I'm going to love this man until the day I die.

I maintained my composure, and prompted the kids to speak to Daddy. My heart broke into a million minuscule pieces when Peanut stood up on the table and walked the whole length of it until he was standing directly in front of the screen that displayed CplDad. His arms were outstretched, and all he kept saying was "Daddy? A hug? A hug? Daddy? Hug?"

I left the room with a smile on my face, and bid goodbye to the other wives, and the Major's wife and made it to my car. I buckled the kids into their seats, and turned on the car. A song by a country artist named "Chely Wright" was on the radio. A song about Marines. I fought those tears as hard as I could, but sometimes the feelings of love and loss are too much even for the most stubborn strong willed individuals. I drove straight to my best friends house, and without saying much, she just hugged me. She knows exactly my feelings, as do many other Marine wives. We don't need to talk, we just need to be there for each other. We are holding on, taking each day as it comes. Five months down, and a handful more to go.

CplDad called shortly after I arrived at my friends house, he had one thing to say. "When I saw you on that screen today, I fell in love with you all over again, I'm the luckiest man alive."

Don't worry love, I fell too.

When are you coming home Daddy? We are getting so big, we have so much to show you! Do you miss us Daddy?

Please come home soon Daddy......

Shaken, Not Stirred.

2008-01-14T20:42:00.000-05:00

I am sure you are all familiar with that debonair, deliciously handsome, worldly secret agent James Bond. He always knew far too much, about far too many things. He also had a knack for picking up the elegant, yet sleazy looking women. My dear friend Joey just recently said, "The only difference between a tease, and a whore, is her ability."
I digress. I digress to gresses unknown. Back to my story.
I went to a local Target for school supplies and such, and of course I took the offspring with me. I put them in a shopping cart and began strolling the isle looking for the best deals that would leave me deliriously happy, and my bank account dangerously low. I have bad cart luck, and always get one with a wobbly wheel, or one with sticky substances all over the child's seat. (That's bad parenting karma right there!) On this particular day, I got one with a jumpy wheel. The cart bounced along, and my kids bounced along with it. It struck me in a funny way, so I announced to my companion who was a few feet away, "Hey! I like my babies shaken not stirred! PHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" She laughed. She got it. There were some nearby head shakers who did not have the faintest idea of what I was talking about. Also, they may have left their sense of humor at home. Oh, and I may or may not have had a bottle of wine in my hand.

In other news, I bought the DVD Superbad with the intentions of mailing it to CplDad. It didn't make it past my DVD player. (Sorry Snugglemuffin!) For years now, I thought that I had been an extremely creative and prolific user of curse words, but in reality, I have oh-so-much to learn. I'm going to maintain the PG-13 rating on here though, lest the blogging God's strike me down mid-sentence, or worse yet, stop paying me. You understand, don't you a**hole?

I began a whole new chapter in my life last week... I went back to school. That's right. Mother of Beans is back in college. Maybe I should learn to curse on a collegial level. I've already got the diet down; pizza, soda, and booze. I'm actually looking forward to the challenges that school will put upon me. Just think, by this time next year my writing could be on a professional level! But seriously... I intend on improving our quality of life, and not resolving to be a victim of circumstance. With that said, I will leave you with this photo. While giggling at the chocolate covered fruit of my looms, also remember how fabulous my ass looks in jeans. That's right, two babies in fourteen months and I'm wearing a size three. Eat your heart out Susanne
Sommers!

"You know Mother, I can't help but notice the annular, arced, arched, arciform, bulbous, circular, curvilinear, cylindrical, discoid, domical, egg-shaped, globular, orbiculate, oval, rotund, rounded, spherical type shape of JellyBean's head. So I'm just wondering, what happened to mine?"

The Reason

2007-12-01T22:25:00.000-05:00

Everyone has motivation for every thing they do. Whether it's a subconscious action, or an intelligent well formed action, there are reasons. I just wanted to let you all know, the motivation I had for procreating. I know what you are thinking.... You are all sighing to yourselves and sitting back in your chairs. The thought running through your mind is this: "Duh duh DUH DUH. She wanted to pass on her superior genetic code."

WRONG!!!

Ha. You guys, you don't know me at all!!!! Well, now that I am thoroughly offended, I'll just show you why. Pleased to present, Peanut. Bust a move, not a hip people.

Untitled from Tara on Vimeo.

Notice how his "put your head in" skills are clearly superior to those big kids? Also, at the end when he is far too cool to clap? Yes. I told him, when people ask you who you are, what you are, or why are you here? Simply reply, "I'm a slave to the groove". Be jealous. =)

Playground Notes

2007-09-22T21:38:00.000-04:00

This playground should be named "Never Never Land". As in, you should probably never never go there.

It's not so much the fact that the seat belts on the rocking cars have been ripped off, or that the slide is now being held on by only one bolt. Those things are normal wear and tear at parks that get this much use.

Something else gave me the creeps.

So Jacko, want to come out and swing?

(No pun intended)

Don't Drink And Type

2007-09-17T22:09:00.000-04:00

MomBeans: I'm crunking out fo sho
Lisa myname: lol what
MomBeans: i am so out, like a fat kid in dodge ball
Lisa myname: lol and you have to work!
MomBeans: later
MomBeans: now not
MomBeans: although
MomBeans: i should go to work faded
MomBeans: cuz itd be fun
MomBeans: but alas i have standards
MomBeans: LMAO peach fuzz
Lisa myname: lol
Lisa myname: dont u work at a hospital
MomBeans: beauno nacho homes
MomBeans: HAHAHA NACHOS
MomBeans: k
MomBeans: am cross eyed
MomBeans: that's what SHE said
MomBeans: HAHAHAHAAAAAAAaa
Lisa myname: wow...
Lisa myname: haha
MomBeans: it's all about the grammar
Lisa myname: we need to hang out sometime when i get back i want to see this in person
MomBeans: the bitches like the grammar
MomBeans: rollin rollin
MomBeans: ha
MomBeans: and line dance
MomBeans: i don't really blend in
MomBeans: can you see me now!?!?!
MomBeans: YES I CAN
MomBeans: welcome carbon based life form, although you are not country and have never seen a cow, we will clip your coupons for you
MomBeans: this shit is making me cry dude
MomBeans: it's great
MomBeans: hands off the poptart honky chicken!
MomBeans: what THEEEEEE FUCK is honky
MomBeans: I was going somewhere with that
MomBeans: yea most likely to JAIL
Lisa myname: hahaha
Lisa myname: lol im rolling
MomBeans: h
Lisa myname: go to get another beer and i come back to see this
Lisa myname: your never bored are you?
MomBeans: nope
MomBeans: mop
MomBeans: that's a stupid word
MomBeans: don't stare at me in that tone of voice!
MomBeans: I think my computer is sassing me
MomBeans: I don't take orders from electronics
MomBeans: or those damned billboard signs
MomBeans: who fucking knew cardboard could be so damned bossy
MomBeans: mmmmmmmmmmmmkay bye vye now

Like A Moth To A Car

2007-09-09T20:34:00.000-04:00

The day that CplDad left for Iraq was a pretty rough day, and naive me didn't think it could get much worse.

Until we got home.

The muffler on my faithful and trustworthy car bit the dust. Not in a small way either, this thing broke off and twisted up under the car and to the right, almost beneath the tire. The back end of my car lifted up off the ground, it's weight supported solely by the muffler.

The the damn thing just flat out got stuck. The car wouldn't budge, the muffler was acting like an anchor that was determined to keep the car firmly in place. This just wasn't a good situation, seeing as I am not in a financial place to have the car towed and fixed immediately, and yet I cannot just do without since I have three children dependant on me.

I took into consideration that the car had many flaws that could not be ignored, the engine is held together by duct tape, the windows are cracked, some days it won't even start, so the decision was made to begin the search for a new vehicle.

I began my search at the local Hyundai dealership. Before his departure, CplDad and I has discussed purchasing a Hyundai Santa Fe. The price was right, the size was right. I explained to the salesman my situation, and what I was looking for. Immediately we found the car I had envisions. We took the car home for a 24 hour test drive. It was perfect. I let everyone at the dealership know up front that I was not going to purchase a vehicle until CplDad called from overseas and gave his approval. That seemed to piss the salesman off a bit, but nothing was really said about it. I think the salesman, Tony, was a bit cocky and assumed that females are not worldly enough to purchase vehicles for themselves.

The next day, I decided that this was not the car for me. Something just didn't feel right about it, even though I had spoken with CplDad and gotten his hearty approval. He told me to "buy whatever I wanted." As tempting as it was to make a beeline for the nearest BMW dealer, I knew I had to make the right choice.

When we got back to the dealership, I told them upfront I liked the car, but was not going to buy it. Tony didn't like my answer, and responded in a passive aggressive manner. He alternated between sarcasm, talking down towards us, and whining. He was beyond rude. In the end, we agreed to test drive the car for two additional days. This decision was made just so we could get the hell out of there.

The following day, we went to another Hyundai dealership in a neighboring city. We made the ballsy move, and drove the first dealerships car to the second dealership. Five minutes after arriving, the General Manager came out to speak with me. He wanted to know straight forward, what was it going to take for me to buy the car from them and not the first dealership. I wanted a better price, better customer service, and a taco made of solid gold.

I informed them of the craptacular attitude we got from Tony, and I even divulged that he made me cry.

We test drove a car from their dealership, the exact same color and body style, but the limited edition touring package. It had the larger wheels, a larger engine, and a better interior. They asked again what it would take to seal the deal, and I told them that I would seriously consider it on two conditions. One, I had to have lunch first. I couldn't not make this monstrous decision on an empty stomach. Two, they had to throw in the dead moth that had lodged himself on the hood of the car. We'll call him George. They offered to pay for our lunch, and we declined seeing as we are not gold digging dirty pirate hookers. We did, however take the second dealerships' car to lunch. We also drove it to the mall. Maybe the strip joint too.

We got back to the dealership, and began the paperwork. I wanted that car. There was the problem of returning the first car to it's proper dealership, and you can imagine how awkward that would be. They offered to handle it for me, and I accepted. I asked what their plan of action was, and the General Manager replied,"I'm going to call them, and tell them to come get their damn car." If that didn't work, they promised to return it themselves.

In the end, I got almost the exact same car I originally looked at, only it was an upgraded package and cost me 4 grand less. Good deal.

I'd like you to meet George. Sadly, he was lost during the detailing process. Rest in peace, George. We had some good times.

This is the new car, sitting in my driveway. Not a bad whip, eh?

This was JellyBean's reaction when I told her that we didn't get the BMW.

Love Never Forgets

2007-09-06T21:12:00.001-04:00

Wednesday was a beautiful afternoon, the sun was shining and minimal clouds dotted the sky. It was warm, but not hot. One of us had the brilliant idea of taking the children to the local Historic District for an outdoor picnic. We loaded up the three kids, along with all the necessities, everything from sheets to shoe horns. We dined on fresh strawberries, cheese and crackers. Just as we prepared to open a bag of soft chocolate chip cookies, my cell phone rang.

It was CplDad.

His first words to me were, "Come home." A worrier by nature, I assumed someone in our family had been involved in an accident, or worse, had passed on. I pressed him to tell me why. His answer was simple; "I'm leaving for Iraq."

I hung up the phone, and for just a few seconds the fear took hold. A handful of tears slid down my face as the kids looked on, and my dear friend wrapped her arms around me. For a few seconds, my heart hurt in a way I could not articulate into words. I didn't think it could be real, it just had to be a mistake.

I regained my composure and we left for home. When we arrived, CplDad was already packing. It was real, he was leaving.

The next few hours flew by. The phone kept ringing with fellow Marines wanting to know the place and time of the muster, and what needed to be packed. The time came all too soon.

At 4 a.m. we loaded up the car and headed for the base. The other Marines were there, and ready to go. The bags were labeled, and the Sgt Major gave a little speech. They guys were to head to Spain, and from there they would fly into Iraq.

The realization set in that this was the last time I would be holding him for a year. I felt my heart breaking into a thousand tiny pieces. The lump in my throat was growing exponentially by the nanosecond.

CplDad took my face into my hands, and told me not to worry. He said he loved me, and that everything would be OK.

We held hands, hugged, kissed. We joked a bit, and laughed. We cried.

Then it was time.

All too soon, I had to leave him. It's true what they say, the hardest part is watching him walk away and knowing that you can't follow him. I felt like someone was sitting on my chest, it was getting hard to breath. This is a different kind of pain.

It won't be long before he is in my arms again, and I shall remain forever faithful to my Marine.

I'll pray for him every day and night, and hold my breath waiting for his phone calls. Every time I go into a store, I'll look for little trinkets and snacks for his care packages. I won't be me until he is back home, where he belongs.

UNTIL THEY ALL COME HOME.

Message From 'Nam

2007-09-01T13:31:00.000-04:00

Picture this:

Vietnam, 1962. A Sergeant in the Army is telling his men the value of comrades, and doing anything to protect your brothers in arms.

Now, follow me if you will into the modern day Wendy's. A popular fast food restaurant. I, being the simple girl that I am ordered a 5 piece nugget, with BBQ sauce.

I like things spicy.

I had it all planned out in my head, just take my tray over to the condiment table, pick up some straws... maybe some napkins...

Then it happens.

Two nuggets leaped from my tray! Pow! Pow! They hit the deck! I was stunned. My first instinct was to run, pretend I saw nothing. Just carry on with my life with my three remaining nuggets.

Then I looked down at my feet. These nuggets had banded together, to escape the treachery that is my gastric-intestinal fortitude. They plotted, they planned. This was not a last minute escape attempt.

Cass trotted over to see what the commotion was about.

Grandpa Nugget from 'Nam was just launching into his story about how we never leave a man behind! We fight to the death! Kill kill kill!!

Chesty McNuggeter was trying to follow along, but I think his nugget noggin was aching from the 3 foot plummet.

The lesson? Grandpa Nugget from 'Nam may only have one arm, wear an eye patch for no reason, and occasionally smell like baby formula, but he has a point. Never leave a man behind.

I'd also like to add, for the record, I did not kill those nuggets. They jumped.

Also like to add that no nuggets were harmed in the making of this night out, and that the nuggets that were consumed died of old age, and old age only.

They were also delicious.

Grandpa Nugget from 'Nam: "Listen up Sonny, we need to combat crawl our way to that door over yonder, no lagging. There is no time, we must abandon all unnecessary gear. Move move move! "

Chesty McNuggeter: "Man, I need some honey mustard dip."

My Daughter

2007-08-27T19:13:00.001-04:00

She had such a rough start, she was born so tiny. She made herself at home in the NICU. Every nurse and Peds doctor in the place fell in love with her. She would lay there, in the incubator, and grasp your finger and sigh. Laying there with all the wires, and tubs, and monitors on her, she would look up at you, and just gaze into your eyes. From the day she was born, we knew she had an old soul. She was wise well beyond her age. She comforted us during the time we should have been comforting her. The day she came home, she was a mini sumo wrestler, weighing an awesome 4lbs 2oz. Her skin was yellowed from the jaundice that plagued her.

She was perfect....

We knew what a blessing she was...

Our little girl, who had such a rough time in my tummy, who no one though would even be born, who stopped growing far too soon, has come upon another milestone. Yesterday, she was weighed. She weighs 10 lbs 15.8 oz, putting her just under the 2nd percentile. She is the size of an average 4 week old. Putting that aside, there is something else that requires our attention. Her eyes.

Her beautiful dark blue eyes.

Maybe she can't see, so what her pupils don't dilate, and yea, maybe there is something wrong with her optical nerve. Maybe there is a tumor. Maybe it's nothing. Either way, she is about to undergo a series of exams and tests that in no way look appealing. It's the hardest thing, as a mother, to stand idly by and watch your child hurt and cry out for you, and there is nothing you can do.

Maybe she will she will need surgery.

Maybe it's nothing.

No matter what it is, we believe in her. We still have hope. We have always had hope, even when no one else did. She is amazing, and she deserves her chance too, and we just hope that everyone else sees the amazing baby that we do.

Won't you give her a chance?

Espresso Chocolate and Blonde Number K905543

2007-08-27T19:13:00.000-04:00

So, for my Birthday this past weekend CplDad decided to take me to a lovely dinner. We went to a place down by the water, called "Bistro By the Sea". It was a cozy, quaint, high priced eatery that looked like it belonged in a small Italian town, rather than our beach city. We were led to a small table in the corner, made for just two people. It was lit by a single candle, and situated next to a large picture window that looked out over the causeway. I notice that we were sitting ridiculously close to the couple neighboring us. It wasn't until CplDad began to speak to them that I looked over and realized that it was our mortgage broker, and her husband! Small talk was exchanged, followed by an awkward silence, and then we each returned to looking over our menu.

A couple minutes went by, and our flamboyant waiter came trotting over to take our drink order. I asked for sweet tea, because, after all, this is the South. I consume little more than water and sweet tea. I was shocked by his response; "We only have unsweetened." Right. Me: "OK, I'll take the temptation. No ice. Hmm, it's my birthday, make it a double." I need that extra kick of alcohol to soothe away the anxiety of not having sweetened iced tea.

I'm a simple city girl, I'm used to placed like Applebees, and Texas Roadhouse, where the menus are in plain English, and when you ask for something you know what you are ordering. The menu's at this place seemed so small... not a lot to pick from, and half of the items I had no clue what they were. I ended up with the London Broil, thinly sliced and sauteed in a red wine Marsala, with scalloped potatoes on the side. I also had a bowl of clam chowder.

Danny went with a Nahakarookah Kobe Beef Oscar, and started with the lobster bisque. Let me tell you... I have no clue what in God's name Nahakarookah was. It sounds like some kind of sexually transmitted disease that a kangaroo would have. The flamboyant waiter explained it like this, "Well, it's organic beef. The cows are raised with no hormones, no antibiotics, hand fed with only the finest organic grains for 120 days indoors." Umm... what? He is going to eat a hand fed spoiled cow? Right.

When our food came, I tasted his hand fed cow, and it tasted exactly like a hamburger patty from McDonald's. Heh. Danny. Heh. My London Broil was fabulous, but the potatoes were too rich. The clam chowder was like sex in my mouth.

Towards the end of our meal, our mortgage broker and her husband were paying their tab. The flamboyant waiter asked if they wanted their food boxed, and they declined. They had a lot of food left. Each plate cost at least 24 bucks, and they hadn't eaten even half of their entree. Yes, I'm cheap, and no, I don't like to waste... but DAMN. Did she make enough money off of our mortgage deal that she doesn't have to take home a doggy bag? Or, maybe it was the fact that the doggy bag wouldn't fit into her Mini Cooper. Either way, I should have taken it for her. I don't know what she ordered, but it smelled good. Heh.

The next day, CpDad took me to get my hair cut. I have wanted this done since before our daughter was born, which was two years ago.

I lied.

She is 5 months old. But still! That is a long time! I have needs! Standards! My hair needs some serious help people!

The girl who usually does my hair was off, so I got some crazy pregnant woman, who was either hormonal, bipolar, or on crack. Perhaps a combination of all three. She went from being sweet as goose berry pie, to rolling her eyes at my questions. She flat out ignored me for a good half hour. I'm not too picky, and after all, this was a high end salon I went to. They do my hair several times a year. They also deal with a good portion of the area. This is the type of place where every time you go in, they write down exactly what you had done, what colors, cut, wax, whatever, on this card that gets filed away. This stylist and I got off on the wrong foot immediately because she pulled out the wrong card for me. The first name was right, but the last name was off by about 9 letters. Wow. I kept telling her that wasn't my card, and she ignored me. Mrs. Vanlandingham is going to be mighty surprised next time she comes in that she got a t-foil highlight, and some low lights put in for her birthday last week. But wait, isn't her birthday in January? No big deal.

She ignored me for a few more minutes, then it was time to wash out the color. I went over to the sink and laid back. This is my favorite part about this salon, the girls massage your head and neck for about 10 minutes, and it's the most relaxing thing ever.

She turns the water to frostbite cold and sprays it on my face. "Ooops! Sorry!" She chirps. Then she says to me, "let me know if I hurt you! I know some people have sensitive heads!" She then attempts to remove all skin from my skull. After a couple minutes, she realizes how cold the water is. I'm shivering at this point, and wishing I was outdoors in the 98 degree sun. CrazyPregnantStylist then asks if I want my eyebrows done today, I ask how much. CrazyPregnantStylist tells me it's usually 12 clams, but she'll do it for 8 today. I decline. After a few more minutes of excruciating head pain, she tells me she'll do it for free. Because, hey! It's my birthday! Also she is crazy! And pregnant! And therefor not thinking clearly!

After getting back to the chair, she notices she left a good portion of my hair unwashed, and it still had a lot of dye in it. We go back to the washing chair, and I kneel in the chair and flip my hair upside down in the sink. My ass is sticking straight up, and my face is two inches from the drain. Happy Birthday Suckah!

Next thing I know, she is being all buddy buddy to me and going off about some woman and her daughter who came in last week, and they BOTH got highlights AND a cut AND their eyebrows done and their total was like, $260 and they didn't even leave her a FIVE DOLLAR tip, and isn't that CRAP?! Okay, I'm not dumb. I see where this is going. Free eyebrow wax, random no-tip story, she is milking it for all it's worth. That bitch was two kinds of crazy. My hair didn't come out how I wanted it, and how it usually looks, but it's alright I suppose. I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

For a hair style that normally takes an hour and a half, I was there almost four.

Hair Color: $70

Hair Cut: $21

Eye Brow Wax: On The House!

Wash/Condition/Style: $8

Knowing that Crazy Pregnant Stylist is going to endure the mind numbing pain of labor and delivery sometime within the next 4 months: Priceless

I left her a $10 tip.

All About The Eyes

2007-08-25T17:31:00.000-04:00

So I went to the eye doctor yesterday. I've been wearing only one contact for a week now, and it's been causing some serious headaches. CplDad went in with me. They asked me to remove my one remaining contact lens, and I warned them that I am blind. The lady laughed at me, but damn. I was being serious.

I sat down in front of that little (ha, BIG!) machine that you look into, and you see a house far away and out of focus. You hear clicking noises, as the house comes into focus. The lady did this a few times then laughed, "My. You ARE blind!" Tee flippin' hee lady.

So I ask CplDad to help lead me back to the exam room, because when I say I am blind? I mean it. He leads me straight into a potted plant. (Thanks honey! No sex for you!) He successfully helps me into the exam chair. I was asked a few questions, about my eyes, and then asked how long CplDad and I had been married. We both start stuttering like idiots and counting on our fingers, and then ended with me talking about how handsome my husband is now that I don't have contacts in, and MY did I get a HOT piece of tush! The lady asked if I had been wearing contacts the night I met him. I smirked and said no. (Love you honey!)

After the exam, and CplDad proving to us all that he has 20/15 vision and is therefore the master of the universe, I got a temporary pair of contacts and went out to the waiting room to wait for my papers.

We walked over to browse through the glasses, discussing the pros and cons of having a pair just in case. CplDad (and his BETTER than perfect vision) tried on a few pairs, then found the dorkiest of dorky glasses. They were positions down low on his nose. He walks towards me, semi-cross eyed and says in a high pitched urkel voice: "The square root of 75 is 15! 15!"

A man walks past us.

Cpl Dad tries on a different pair, and this time with way too much teeth showing and his bottom lip protruding he says: "Meh! MEH! Look at me! I'm smart! MEH!"

The man walks past again.

He stops, and asks CplDad if he can help him find anything. CplDad says no, we are just looking. The man walks away. As we were leaving, we saw a photo. The man who was listening in on our...uh... conversation was the owner of the place.

He also wore glasses.

Those broken glasses over there? What? No. It wasn't me!

(HA! HAAAAAAAA! It WAS me! SUCKAHS!!!!!!!!!!!)

Victim Of Candor

2007-08-24T11:18:00.000-04:00

Still a victim of candor!!!

Some are scared of me.... but I guess that depends on your fears! are you scared off people who are some-what off the wall? I'm the out-of-left-field comment! I'm that twitch in your eye! I'm the thought that allowed Icarus to fly! I'm the feeling that makes you laugh when you want to cry. i creep up your spine and redefine space and time in your mind! I'm that spark of imagination that created the doodle your drawing! I'm that depth in your dream when you think your falling! I'm the safety net when you step out on the limb! sink or swim...I'll be here when you wake to push you again and again! Maybe I can just be me again! Ooh, and maybe people will accept it and like it!Like me! Love me! I am what I am, and maybe I will never change... but wouldn't that be OK?!?! hmmm? If you tell anyone the contents of this blog, I will steal your toothbrush and replace it with a porcupine named Max. Now do you really wanna brush your teeth with a porcupine named Max?!?!?! Didn't think so.

Now, would you puh-lease back up off mah grill?!?!

Dirty Rotten....

2007-08-22T18:22:00.000-04:00

When we placed an offer on this house, and the offer was accepted, we also gave the sellers a "Repair Request". That is, we submitted a list of things they had to repair on the house before we would give them the crap load of money. They accepted. (YAYAYAYAYAY!) *Fast Forward To Early August* We noticed that everything on the Repair Request had been completed, but in a lazy, downright crappy way. We looked over the paperwork, and saw that the sellers paid nearly 8,000 clams for this contractor to fix this stuff. All he had to do was repair a leak in the kitchen behind the sink, replace the rotted drywall and sub floor, and then reinstall the cabinets and sink. Alright... somehow, we got a new bathtub out of this deal, since he cracked the old on while trying to remove the rotted drywall from the other side of the wall, which is in the main hall bath. Now, we notice, the sub floor he replaced in the kitchen? Is so uneven. The brand new bathtub? Had fixtures that wobble, and come away from the wall allowing water to run freely behind it, where it will no doubt pool itself and cause further water damage. There is still rotted sub floor in the kitchen. We called the contractor back over, and he gave us LAME excuses for everything, so we consider our options. Either sue him, and go through all the stress and drama of taking someone to court, let it go and deal with it ourselves, or tack him down, kill all of his house plants and THEN deal with it ourselves. I'm opting for number 3. That contractor better be glad CplDad is leaving for Iraq in two weeks, or else he would probably be seeing us in court. Sigh. All in all, this house is coming along. No one ever said flipping a house, while living in it, with two babies, was easy. Just so we are clear, it's not. Hopefully, in the end, this will give us a nice nest egg to fall back on.

Before, a nasty, smelly, ugly living space. Complete with dog pee floors, stupid Western themed wood trim, and a misplaced bath tub.

After, a new, comfortable living space, sans ugly Western themed wooden trim and dog pee. Also, the bathtub found a new home. A proper home. Heh.

Could we puh-lease hurry this up? Because seriously, my friends are not going to be impressed. Oh, also, let's go with the granite countertops mmmkay? No one likes tile. Or Formica. Definitely not vinyl. K, thanks!

Sleep Like The Chickens

2007-08-20T14:13:00.000-04:00

If I knew how a chicken slept, I would imitate it right now. I. Am. Exhausted. I couldn't sleep last night. Why? Because I was high as a kite. No, I don't do drugs. However, attempting to redo the plumbing in our kitchen has required the use of this highly toxic glue that could apparently bond Godzilla to Mount Rushmore. I kept trying to concentrate on things, but was distracted by the colorful butterflies floating continuously past my head. 5 am came all too soon. CplDad got up for work, and so did I. I'm currently watching a 7 month old from the hours of 5 am, to 6pm. Along with my 4 month old, and 21 month old. This is a fun, fun house. Did I mention we have no water? Because yeah, that super-Godzilla-bond-forever-and-EVAH glue doesn't work so well, so the pipes leak. We can't have that. In turn, we can't have water. So it's been shut off. I'm having almost as much fun as I did that one time I landed in the hospital due to my appendix, and also my intestines. They have been plotting on me for years, I just know it. Lurking, waiting, knowing that soon enough the perfect opportunity would arise to overthrow my body. Sigh. My five minute break is up, I hear the angry cries of an infant who has not been fed in TWO HOURS. What kind of caregiver am I? Starving children for two hours!

Let The Rain Come

2007-08-19T18:05:00.000-04:00

Also, prepare for your heart to melt.

Rain from Tara and Vimeo.

Is it all melty yet? Are there puddles of love oozing out? Yes. Don't lie. It's cute. Enough cuteness to melt your computer. That is one cute boy, I wish to put him in my pocket and carry him around with me. Well, I guess he can walk.

Oh! My!

2007-08-07T19:20:00.000-04:00

So we found a small, brown garter snake next to the shed out back. CplDad fuh-reaked the hell out and killed it with a stick. (That's mah man!) We wrote it off as a one time thing. This is North Carolina, this kind of thing happens all the time....right? Well. This morning we found another more pculaier looking snake right along side of our new house. After making sure it was good and dead, I rushed inside to Google the crap out of it. My cow, guess what it was?! A Copperhead. A poisonous local. I bet he was plotting our deaths and he sunned himself on our brick patio. That little bastard. I researched it a bit, and it looks like their bites are only painful and life threatening if you DON'T get treatment ASAP. Their bites are fatal to small animala (Oh no! Not mah kitty-poo!) and infants (oh no! Not mah offspring!) But yes. We will wait and see if the mutiny I just know the snakes are planning follows through. I will sleep with one eye open from now on. We weed-whacked all the brush from our property, so if there were more, hopefully they are looking for another location to take up residence, because this particular peice of real estate? Has been spoken for, bitches.

Anyone want to come frolic in the underbrush on our land? It'll be a good time, I swear.

Snot!

2007-08-05T09:53:00.000-04:00

It's true! There is snot everywhere!

I think we may have been delusional to try and renovate this entire property. In a week. By ourselves. Actually, it's come along quite nicely. Except for the paint in my eyes, the fiberglass in my lungs, and the entire wall of mold we just discovered in the kitchen. I don't think the rotted floor is such a good thing either. But hey! We own a house again! And we are flipping it! And we are making money bitches!! The new appliances will be here Wednesday. Stainless steel baby. I can just HEAR the value of this property going up!! Cha-ching! New carpet went in with no problems. Wall, ceiling, trim, and basboard paint is done. All doors have been removed to make way for the new pretty white ones. Vents have been replace. Thermostat has been upgraded. Bling bling! We have been working day and night with little food and sleep to get this done. We want it perfect before the babies come home. I'm a little hurt that only two of my friends have taken the time to come see it and help me, and comment about the progress. Maybe I am just getting butt hurt... but I'm just so damned proud of what we have done!! Oh well!!

Our outdoor cat got stuck under the house. I guess this whole "house built on crawl space" thing is new to him. Our last house was concrete slab all the way. Bitches.

I have been sick sick sick since we began this project. With a sore, sore throat, coughing, and chest pain. It got so bad that I was coughing up blood the other day. Hmmm. For a few minutes I was worried it was something in this house that was making me sick. No one else had any problems, so maybe it's just me. Heh. Heh. Ok kids, that's mah update for today! Back to work! I must go crack the whip!

What In The Blazes!

2007-08-03T00:49:00.000-04:00

I am in the middle of renovation our newly purchased home... But I just HAD to stop by and inform the internet of my near death experience. I was driving home and took the back highways that run through the woods. It started getting foggy. Then the fog started smelling like smoke. Then as I turned a corner OH MY HELL a FOREST FIRE AND I AM IN THE MIDDLE OF IT. True story. It wasn't too close to the road, so I sped up. It started coming closer to the two lane highway I was driving down. I kept glancing in my review mirror, thinking I should turn around. Everytime I did it seemed like it was worse behind me than in front of me. I was getting a tad bit nervous, so I increased my speed a little. Then a little more. A couple minutes later I was cruising at a cool 75 mph, in a 55. Just when I was cursing myself for taking that road, flashing lights. WOOP WOOP! It was the Po-Po! The Fuzz! The 5-0! I was saved! I was.... going to get a ticket?!?! Ha, nah, he wasn't trying to catch speeders. He was trying to prevent morons from driving into certain death! I won't name names.... follow my eyes.... He told me to take a right on Bear Creek Dr and stay on that road til I hit the main highway. I did, and within minutes the air was cleared up. I had a plan to cry, and bawl, and tell him I didn't want to fry, and no one likes an extra-crispy hormonal woman, and I have babies! Think of the babies! I didn't even get a chance to speak. He saved my life. I believe I owe him my first born. Or at least a pudding cup. But not the chocolate one, because that's my favorite. He can have the tapioca. Yuck. Eck. Ew.

Please, don't go...

2007-07-24T22:40:00.000-04:00

The Marine Corps is taking my husband. He is needed in the middle of a country torn apart, to risk his life to help others and ensure freedom. Have you heard the saying, "Freedom Isn't Free"? It's true. I am not going to drag this on and on, and make one of those depressing blogs that no one likes to read, but I just want everyone to know how hard it is, how painful it is to be the ones left behind. I know what I got myself into, and I do not regret the life I chose for me. It's just the realization that he is leaving, and may not come home that haunts me. Sleepless nights filled with "what ifs". He is my best friend, my lover, the father of my children, he is my soul. Please, remember him, when you pray at night, when you hear the National Anthem, think of him and the others fighting for everything we take for granted. All gave some, some gave all. Until they all come home.......

"You say you feel sorry for me, but I feel sorry for you. You don't know the love of a military man, you don't feel the feirce pride we feel when we see the flag, or hear an OOORAH. You don't know the pain of letting him go, and the joy of the homecoming. I do. I am a military wife, and I stand among the silent ranks."

It's not easy (Being Me)

2007-07-19T22:44:00.001-04:00

So. Hi! Today isn't a good day, and probably not a day I should be blogging. I may scare off my non-existent readers. No! Come back phantom readers! I need you! I'm sorry! It'll never happen again..... that's right... sit on down.... have some koolaid....

Peanut had a doctors appointment today. We drove half an hour to get there and somehow almost managed to get hit by a Mazda Miata.... twice. A Miata. My son has larger Tonka toys than that. But yea, so we will just say they cannot merge. That's a safe assumption, considering they were barreling down the highway doing 65 in a lane that was blocked off by construction workers, and when they got to the spot where the road ends they slam on brakes like they are in shock.

Miata: "OMG! ORANGE BARRELS! Where in blazes am I? WTF! Where is the road! HOLY HELLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!"

Me: "So yea, the bright orange signs? That have been posted for the past mile and a half? You know, those ones that say the right lane is ending, and you should probably merge left, like, now? Yes. Those. They are being serious.

Miata: " AAAAAHHHHHHH! DUMP TRUCK!!! SSSkkkkkkrrrrrrr!!!"

Miate: "Whew! So close. That fucker came outta nowhere!"

Me: Sigh.

So we get to the office, and of course we have to wait approximately 2 decades to be called back. Then they tell me they can't see Peanut, since I did not bring his updated paperwork. I semi- politely informed them hell yes they are seeing him because I am on my own and have a toddler and a newborn and OH MY COW don't do this to me because YOU DID NOT SEE THE MIATA.

The lady blinked at me a few times, and told me to have a seat. I think I made my point.

So Peanut gets weighed, and measured, he looks huge to me and yet is only in the 25Th percentile. Hmmm. He had an existential meltdown about the scale. The evil scale monster was obviously staring at the last delicious roll on his thigh with delight. Toddler? Why yes please. Also, pass the hot sauce.... It took me plus two nurses to get him to stand on the scale. Afterward he clung to me like I was attempting to abandon him, or perhaps offer him up as a sacrifice to save myself from the big bad scale. They pricked his finger to check his blood.... Not. A. Flinch. How can one be so terrified of an inanimate object, and then show no reaction at all to being stabbed in the finger? Beats me. He got a sticker. I'm only slightly jealous.

On the way out, in the waiting room a couple girls where trying to shush a baby. I later found out that this newborn child was bigger than my 4 month old infant. Hmmm. The girls started making comments about my size.... my weight. Mind you, they were not talking to me, but amongst themselves. I merely overheard this. They hemmed and hawed that these kids couldn't possibly be mine! Look at my stomach! My hips! No way she birthed them herself. Aye, it's true. Two babes in two years. These two are the fruit of my looms. I was tempted to say something to them, but opted to keep my mouth shut.

You see, I care way too much about what others think of my body. I shouldn't. It's mine, and I should love it. But I don't. I obsess over how many sit ups I can do in a minute, every calorie that goes into my body is counted, every meal I skip gives me a high like no other. I'm not anorexic, and I don't consider myself to have an eating disorder. However, I do have a stomach disorder that makes it painful to eat some days. It's a daily struggle most of the time. I force myself to eat. I tell myself I need the energy! Babies need me! Don't worry, it won't hurt you! Then sometimes it does, and I can't escape it. It's a rather vicious cycle, one that I want out of. But hey, who cares about that! I have a flat stomach! Heh. Heh. Right? That's all that matters. Heh. Let them think what they want. Oh yes. You are right. That girl stays skinny because she just won't eat. You have me figured out! Here is a cookie.

Want to share that cookie?

We have DIRT!

2007-07-19T22:44:00.000-04:00

It is true! Since I know you were all wondering what in Sam Hill was under our house, I will tell you. Dirt. A lot of it. Oh my COW. We went to check on things, take a few measurements, you know, be the whole we-just-bought-this-house-why-are-you-touching-things people that we are. Well, things went a little haywire. Apparently. The wall separating the kitchen from the hall bathroom? It was no more. Our base cabinets? Shoved in a corner under the window. The counter top? Propped dangerously on top of the washer and dryer that came with the house. Right. That's just where we wanted it! Perfect! Let's move in.

No.

Standing in the bathroom, right about where the bathtub should be, there is a perfectly squared hole. Upon peering into this hole, I realized I was face to face with a place I never want to be... the creepy crawlspace under the house. It had... dirt. Lot's of it. Dirt circa 1970's, because it totally matched the vinyl floors. Don't get me started on the floors. MY GAWD. The phone is ringing. You guessed it, the 70's want their floor back and don't you argue with them. Also, iron my hot pants and break out the tube socks! I'm going to the car wash!

People come in tomorrow to measure for our brand new carpet. It's not hardwood, but it's delicious plush carpet that I may choose to sleep on. Who needs a bed when you have Bountiful carpet in you room? It's champagne in color, how can you resist? I bet it taste as good as it looks. Go ahead, try some.

So we are well on our way with this home renovation project. We move in in 2 weeks. Again, I must say, we are out of our minds. Buyers remorse is not a familiar feeling to me! It will pay off in the end. We are fuh-lipping this house!

I wonder if they are installing a new john. I need a new porcelain throne to perch my buns upon. I think I deserve it, after all this hard work? Yes. I want to sit down to tinkle, and say honestly that no one has EVER been here before! I'm like a guy. Or a dog. I need to mark my territory. Hi! I am macho! And manly! Let's go pee on stuff! With that line of thinking, I should go ahead and pee all over the house. Because that bitch? Is mine. OWNED.

Well Then.

2007-07-18T11:35:00.001-04:00

That was fun. I spent a looooonnngg weekend in the hospital. How exciting. I'm not going to go into details, since I have no interest in receiving hate mail from the friends and families of the people I bored to death. We will just say, I am home. Alive. Sigh.

So JellyBean is getting big, I'd bet my left ear she is 9lbs now! Next week she will be 4 months old. Can you believe it? My second child, only 4 months old and already she has succeeded in making me feel old as dirt. At least she keeps me super clean, what with the puking in my hair and peeing all over my bed. I shower multiple times a day, and you can always bet my linens are freshly laundered!

Peanut is quite a handful. He tells me "No!" on a daily basis. He has also gotten more outspoken in public, that is, until someone decides to speak back to him. Then he just cowers behind the diaper bag or shopping cart. I feel for him, because OH MY COW some of the people we come across in Wal-mart are just downright creepy.

We close on our house on the 30Th! WHOOP!! This should be fun! The last home we purchased was brand spanking new, and this one? Not so much. It was built in 1970, and needs help. HELP. Also needs massive amounts of paint, cabinetry, flooring....... Speaking of which, we took a family trip to Lowe's last night to pick out carpeting for the house. We toyed with the idea of refinishing the original hardwood floors but decided to hold off on that until our children were out of there destroy-everything-in-my-path phases. We argued briefly over whether or not to get "Honeysuckle" or "Frosted Ivory". In the end, I think we will go with the "Frosted Ivory". I'm easy to convince.

PAINT! PAINT! PAINT! Oh my cow we have so much to paint. INCLUDING the damned ceiling!!! How does one who stands only 5 foot 6 paint a ceiling without killing oneself?! I am so not looking forward to this. Ladders and I just do not get along well at all. I think it's because I don't take no lip from household items. The stupid microwave is always trying to sass me. Maybe there is a coup building as I type this, or maybe that's the percoset talking. Who knows. Time to end this! Since no one is reading it anyways! BOOO!!!

What I Have Learned This Year

2007-06-28T10:36:00.000-04:00

- Chocolate is a GOOD thing.
- When you lose sight of your feet, you just have to trust that they are still there.
- There are NOT mystical creatures and/or boogie men who reside in my closet, I am crazy and have been hearing things.
- Friends keep you sane, and bring you back to earth when you need them most.
- God promises a safe landing, NOT a calm passage.
- Lugging around that overgrown fetus that CplDad has implanted in me IS worth something, he told me to buy whatever I want with his tax return.
- Even if this baby does come out tiny, and will not grow in utero, I have complete faith that she will catch up in NO time once she enters the world. I have also come to realize that wether she is 5lbs or 12 lbs at birth, I will love her more than sunshine. (She was 4lbs, and I do love her more than sunshine! WHEE!!!)
- I will do ANYTHING to avoid the doctors, even though I am high risk. I will not attempt to make amends for this. Doctors and hospitals in general, SUCK. I'll leave this in God's hands, a-thank-you!
- Will Ferrel is the freaking MAN.
- I can go long term without sex, yes, this is an over share, but CplDad and I were cut off at 18 weeks due to a small tear in my membranes, and other factors that also rule out things like BATHS which is the ultimate luxury when KNOCKED UP.
- One plus about pregnancy is the sex dreams. Don't act all innocent, you know whats up.
- When the fetus kicks you, kick back. I mean this metaphorically.....no... I don't.... I mean knock her right back. Ha.
- When life hands you lemons, throw them at someones unsuspecting head then proceed to call your friends for a lunch date.
- Tax season is a DAMN GOOD THING when offspring are involved.....(I love you peanut! you are mommas boy!)
- Cell phones CAN make it through an entire wash cycle in the washing machine and come out working.
- Mayonnaise may not be good for the hips, but it's good for the soul.
- Your mom goes to college.
- A woman who is right at 8 months pregnant CAN move furniture alone, as well as climb ladders, mess with all things electric, and assemble a bed, then live to tell others the comical stories that came from it.
- I have come to accept that Johnny Depp as a pirate, is dead sexy. IDK why, but I am no longer denying it. Savvy?
-Flapping towels at candles will NOT extinguish them.
- Our bathtub is very, very slippery.
- That towel bar next to the bathtub? Also not sturdy. Heh.
- I love HOOTERS. Not HOOTERS as in boobs, but HOOTERS as in the eating establishment.
- I like to say HOOTERS.
- I'm Greek, that takes up a LOT of my time.
- Taking photos of cat feces, framing it, and placing it upon the shelf next to family portraits is only amusing to a certain type of person.
- I really, really, hate doing dishes. HAAAAATE them. Hate. Dislike.
- I also hate the word "best" when used to describe food, I don't like that kind of absoluteness in gastronomy.
-My oldest child has impressive gastro-intestinal fortitude. I'm not usually one to be impressed by the phenomenon that is eating and pooping, but this kid. MY COW. This kid. Ha.

Stay tuned for more as we return to our regularly scheduled programming........

The Reason God Hates Bad Drivers

2007-06-09T20:42:00.000-04:00

Well. My cow. Today has been a rough, rough day. I'm just going to dive right in with this, there is no way to lead up to it. I get kind of restless, sitting at home with two kids everyday. I feel the need to get out, like an actual adult. I decided to drive home for a visit. Home is a 4 hour drive, one way. I had a nice visit, until it was time to drive home. I was on the highway, where the speed limit is 65mph. I got stuck behind a van, who took it upon themselves to "hall monitor" and was cruising at an easy 50mph. GAAAAAHHHH. So, I wait for them to move to the slow lane, it doesn't happen. Eventually, I move to the slow lane to pass them. As soon as I did, the van sped up to 70mph, which is my personal favorite cruising speed. This little Mazda 3 comes out of nowhere. NOWHERE. He alternates riding the van's bumper, and riding mine. I'm not going to speed up just because of this kid. Sorry. I don't need a ticket. After a couple minutes, I hear HHHOOOOOONNNNNK. HOOOOONNNKKKKK!!!! I look in my mirror, and ho! He is so close, I cannot see him hood. Still not speeding up. He swerves over to the emergency lane, which we all know, is not an actual lane, and pulls up besides of me with his window down, and of course, his finger out the window. Um, HELLO! How are you?! How is your Momma? Also, I can't hear you because WE ARE ON THE HIGHWAY. He swerves in front of me, almost clipping my bumper. Then, just to make sure I know how very, very upset he is, he slams on brakes. On the highway. Doing 70mph. Then he does it three. More. Times. I was getting very nervous, bc each time, I thought for sure I would hit him and that wouldn't be a good thing at all. I picked up my phone, and called the police. The following conversation took place:

Officer: "Tell me what happened."

Tara: "OMGOMGOMG this guy! THIS GUY! blahdurbg bt!! MAZDA MAZDA MAZDA! Oh HEAVENS! Fdtlsengutng ntugn t! WAAAAAAAHHH!!! BABIES!! PREEMIE! BACKSEAT! ALSO! TOOOOODDDDLLLLEERRRRR OOOOOHHHHHH GGGGAAAAWWWDDD!"

Officer: "Ma'am? I need you to calm down."

Tara: "THE HELL?!?! NO!! WHY BLAH GOOOO BABABAB WOE IS ME THE SKY IS FALLING BOOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!!"

Officer: " Ok, which Exit are you near?"

Tara: "For the love of toasters and potatoes, I HAVE NO IDEA! WAIT! 282!!! I'M NEAR 282 DO YOU HEAR ME?!?!??!"

Officer: "We will take care of it."

Tara: "WAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!"

So yea, as soon as I picked up my phone, home boy took off. It's a 6 lane highway. In case he should stumble upon this blog and read this: Do you feel like a man now? Huh? Oh. You sure showed me. You almost killed me, a premature baby, and a toddler. You are so hardcore man, so hardcore. What's next on your agenda? Running over kittens? Small children? Or will you just go try to run some other family off the road? Because man, that was impressive. You have impressed me. With your stupidity.

I cried for an hour after that, I was so scared. Every other driver on the road made me nervous. It irritates me beyond all reason when people don't use turn signals, what do you think they are there for people?! Not just for looks. Think how many accidents could be avoided each year if people would use them.

All the way home, I kept thinking about how I have lost my husband to the war in Iraq, and how he fights for our freedom, including the freedom of people who don't deserve it, or appreciate it. Call me selfish, but I am not prepared to lose my husband and my childrens' father for people who don't care. It's true, he may not come home. It's killing me... these people don't have to worry about it, and walk around like they own the planet. I am so tired of being considerate of other people, and always worrying if my TV is too loud, or making sure I turn off my head lights before turning into my parking spot, since my spot sits right in front of someone's bedroom window. It seems that no one cares about anyone but themselves. It hurts my heart, I don't want my kids to grow up in a world like this one. Yet, they don't have many choices. I hear Pluto is nice this time of year....but wait, apparently it's not a planet anymore. (I don't buy that at all, btw)

Later, when I was almost home, I saw a rainbow. It only partially restored my faith in humanity.

Drive by in the Suburbs

2007-06-07T11:52:00.000-04:00

Granted, this is the largest military town in North Carolina, but you would think you were safe to take your kids to Chuck-E-Cheese. It's this kind of thinking that can lead to near death experiences. Now, I understand that Chuck is supposed to be some kind of role model for the kids, or maybe a "friend" they can look up to. I know for sure that I cannot be the only person who thinks that 'ole Chuck is one creepy mother fucker. I don't know why the children don't flee in terror... perhaps it is because he bribes them with tickets. Tickets they use to buy the teeniest of hard rubber fluorescent colored spiders, which they will no doubt return to their tables to promptly swallow the teeny fluorescent colored spider. I know I can't be the only one who is not looking forward to finding that in a diaper. Arachnophobia is a terrifying enough thing on it's own, without adding poop into the picture.

At one point during our visit, a real live Chuck came out to serenade us with a rendering of "How Special are You", also, he threw in a "Happy Birthday" for good measure, because you know, it had to be someones birthday! Then all these bright lights began flashing and I may have seen some kind of pyrotechnics or a near death experience, I'm not sure. What I am sure of, is this giant Chuck was eyeballing me like a was a hunk of Swiss. I don't need to tell you how creepy that is. Chuck and I may need to sit down and have a "Come to Jesus" meeting because obviously this over sized rodent is deranged.

He also tripped while making his exit.

Peanut is still far to young to be exploring the great vast land that is Chuck-E-Cheese. So, I shadow him around while JellyBean is firmly attached to my midsection kangaroo style. We found one toy/game thing that entranced him with lights/music/things to hit, so I kneeled down to show him how it worked. The following took place between 2:10pm and 2:12pm.

Tara: "Okay, see Peanut, that is a button, you push it, and then this thing right here bounces off that thing right there, and then these light things flash and you get a ticket, which we can then use to *THWACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*

Tara: *Blank stare*

Tara: *Looks around*

Basketball: *Bounces away innocently*

Creepy Old Guy: "MAN! OUCH! Are you okay?!"

Tara: *Stares at Creepy Old Guy for a few seconds, trying to figure out how in the name of Zeus did he just hit me with that ball?!*

Tara: "Dude. I'm fine."

Tara: Wait, I am very much not okay. Obviously the assault on my head has caused me to turn into a surfer guy who refers to everyone as "dude" and even occasionally calls inanimate objects "dude" because of course they can understand him. Look at that basketball goal! LOOK! It is so far away from me, no way in Hell could that have been an accident, he had to be aiming for me! Dear God! He was trying to render me unconscious so he could steal my deliciously chompable babies! OR! Even worse! That jackass is after my pizza! Oh no he didn't!*

Creepy Old Guy: *Continues shooting the hoops*

I will never return to this establishment! EVER! Clearly, this is not a place we want to be, nor do we want our children to be. A place where mutant rats and talking cars try to brainwash our children, a place where Creepy Old Guy's commit drive by's on innocent, unsuspecting bystanders, a place where.....oh! Look! A coupon for a free large pizza! Well! My Cow! I will see you next Tuesday Chuck!

Testing 1, 2 aaaandd.... we lost 3.

2007-06-05T19:33:00.000-04:00

After much debate, mostly with myself, I decided to try this whole "Blogging" thing. I dabbled with it on MySpace (Lame, I know.) Yet that never seemed to quench my thirst to get my thoughts out there. I've been told I have an interesting take on life, and even in the worst of situations, I can find the silver lining and make it comical, or at the very least, amusing. Case is point: We recently found out our youngest daughter, JellyBean, may be blind. The first thing I said? "At least she won't have to stare at my ugly mug for the rest of her life! HAAA!"

Doctors & Cpl Dad: *Blank stare*

Well, it was funny to me. Besides, the quality (Or lack thereof, as it were) will not change my feelings for her. Her brother, Peanut, has eyesight so sharp it could cut through a steel wall if he tried hard enough. So, there is hope.

Dear God. I am watching "America's Got Talent!" on Fox right now, and it must be said, they were wrong. America has no talent. Just stop. Put down the puppets and walk away. Nevermind, RUN. Maybe they can find a replacement for this Justin Timberlake fellow. Let's be honest, who do you think left sexy so he could bring it back? That's right. This girl right here. Maybe there is hope for this show after all....I'm kidding, give it a chance people! Give my blog a chance! Because? I may have more to offer than you realize.