Archive for April, 2012


What is it about babies?

Man…it seems like springtime is baby time!  I keep seeing all these beautiful tiny little newborn babies and it makes me a bit itchy to have my own once again. 

And then my son screams from the toilet seat,” MOOOOMM!!!  I POOPED!”

The daydream is broken into shattered pieces. 

I love children.  Yes, yes, yes I do.  My children especially, because even when I get mad at them I realize that it’s okay because they’re pretty.  God forbid I ever get blessed with an ugly kid…I might have to beat them.  But more seriously, when I started having kids I was set on having at least 5, but nowadays I’m pretty sure that we will stop at either the two we have, or one more within the next 3 years.  It’s hard to justify having more children in a world where there are so many kids who need loving parents.  The long term goal is to have a house full of crazy munchkins whose parents are unable to fulfill their parental duties.  Oooh, and horses.  And dogs.  Maybe a few goats, who knows?  We’ll start working on that plan next year.  But for now, we have our own two little monsters, who consistently destroy furniture, write on walls (damn you Ethan!), and throw temper tantrums.  And blow bubbles.  And eat everything within arm’s (or chair, or stool, or countertops) length. Most of the time these temper tantrums lead to questions like this one:

Last night’s question of the evening was, “Mommy, what’s a temper?”   I quickly told my son that it was him on steroids.  Which then led to the question, “What’s steriods?” 

The moral of the story is folks…I love kids.  I love questions.  Kids + questions equals a happy me.  And horses.  And dogs.  And maybe a goat.  We’ll see.

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Stop or I’ll shoot!

Okay, I’ll admit it.  I love watching family-friendly shows like Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman.  I know it’s old school, but I love happy endings. It drives my husband bananas, but he puts up with it.  I swear, I’m like a pregnant woman, getting all choked up at death scenes and sad music.  WTF is wrong with me?  Ha!  I was never like this before children…I could watch a horror movie festival all night alone in my own house.  Now I jump when the cat walks around the corner.  Sheesh.  I know, I know…what kind of self-respecting ass-kicking ninja mom can’t take it when the bad guy comes in with the chainsaw?  Well, I’ll tell you who…this one.  But I swear, I learned a lot living in Texas, like how to shoot someone in their face if they get too close to my personal happy zone.  Just because California might be abolishing the death penalty does not mean that I will aim lower. 

To recap, Dr. Quinn, good.  Texas Chainsaw Massacre, fun but really scary with the lights off. Californians, scared to kill.  Texans, shoot you from the front porch. 

Oh, and if you sneak up on me in my house while I’m watching a scary movie, don’t be surprised if I shoot. 

I hear all the time that a good mother should never do the things that they did when they were younger.  Just like June Cleaver, a good mother is at home by 5 pm (or stays home with the kids), cooks dinner for the family, plays a game around the fireplace, does bathtime, then bedtime, then tucks the children in after she sings them a song with a kiss on the forehead.  Well, I guess that means that I am the mother of the century…or maybe the antithesis of the mother of the century, whoever the fuck she is.

My day goes more like this…work all day, come home, cook dinner for the kids (this is my Leave it to Beaver moment), get in the shower, get dressed for the bar, slip in a bit of homework here and there, go back to work, skank it up a bit to get extra tips for those shoes my daughter wanted, stumble in the door at around 3 am, and then pass out on the couch.  I don’t know if that qualifies as mother of the year, but its what I have to do in order to make the bills get paid.

One of these days I’ll be running my own clinic and I can have people pay me hourly to get to talk to me.  For now, I guess I’ll just stick with skanking it up.

Anyway, yesterday was a bbq at a very good friend’s house, and this morning I woke up with some colorful bruises on my right foot.  I definitely did not get these ones from derby, so I had to ask myself, “Self, how the hell did you bruise your foot like that?”  Then I remembered that about 3 beers and two shots into the evening I chased my friend’s brother through the house and slammed myself onto my ass after slipping on the tile with my wet feet.  Crap.

I did have one supermom moment though…my son almost drowned in the pool, and, just like last year, I jumped in to rescue him, fully clothed.  It was quite dramatic….I guess you had to be there.  Take that, June Cleaver…