Tuesday, March 31, 2009

You know your kid is tired when...

...you ask him "Are you tired, Stinkyman?" and he looks at you, all glossy eyed and slack-jawed and says "Uh-huh."

Kids generally don't admit their exhaustion. But mine just did. Looks like an early bedtime tonight! Woo-hoo!

Divide and Conquer

It's an old expression, divide and conquer. And since we've had more than two kids I feel like it's our life motto.

You take this one here while that one is napping so I can play with the other two. Or you take this one and that one since they will both fit in a cart at Costco and I'll go with these two to Target since I only need one cart spot. Or I'll take this one to the party and leave these two with you while that one plays down the street. I'll bathe the babies, you get StinkyMan and tell Curly to make sure her hair is totally rinsed out so I can comb it in a minute.

You know what? I don't like it. I mean, sometimes it's okay. A lot of times it's just practical...why doesn't EVERYONE have those double Costco like shopping carts? But it seems like it defeats family unity in a big way. And I never get to see Husband on the weekends until the kids go to bed because there is Stuff To Do. Grocery shopping, birthday parties, haircuts, school projects, new shoes, new clothes...Stuff To Do ends up eating up our together time.

So my wonderful friend Jamie has gifted us with passes to a local museum and I am so looking forward to going with my family. Being all together for one outing sounds awesome. I know it will probably be a little crazy, but I am going to try to remember that the reason for the trip is not relaxation, but togetherness. I think any mom of many will tell you that togetherness on an outing of any kind is more harried than relaxing, but I need to let it go. The kids won't remember if their hands were dirty because the last wipey got used on the baby or that we get dirty looks for using a child backpack/leash thing (I don't want to hear it. You've never met Peanut. She's fearless and nutty.) They won't know that Mommy inwardly counts heads every 3 seconds. They'll just remember we were together. And that is all that counts.

So when I come back here and say "NEVER AGAIN!" after our trip, which is not outside the realm of possibility, remind me to reread this post and be thankful that we had some together time because as soon as we get home it will be back to divide and conquer.

Monday, March 30, 2009

His name is StinkyMan

It has been brought to my attention that some people do not feel that I should call StinkyMan, well, StinkyMan. Obviously, this is not his real name. Ever since I read about a total nutjob who tracked a little boy down from a newspaper picture in Florida and did horrible, unspeakable things, I choose to keep them largely anonymous. If a crackpot can find a kid out of a newspaper pic, then I would think there are more crackpots and easier information access on the internet.

So I gave them their Blog Names. And apparently it bothers some people that while my girls have sweeter names, my son has a name that indicates he is somehow smelly.

First of all, he is not smelly. I do bathe him, as much if not more than my girls, for he likes to hop in the shower with his dad in addition to regular baths. He is not really yucky or stinky or dirty in any way. The name came from when he was a baby and he pooped once every 14 days and when he finally went, it was HORRENDOUSLY smelly. He was my stinky little man. And the name stuck.

So why are the girls all sweetness and light? Curly is Curly due to her hair, Peanut is Peanut due to her size and BabyGirl being BabyGirl is fairly obvious. But what you don't know is that IRL (in real life) it is a different story.

Curly is often called Poops or Mumu. Peanut is often called La Poo. BabyGirl is often called 'Tinky (short for Stinky). And StinkyMan? He's usually called "Bubby".

So see? It's equal opportunity smelly nickname assignments around here. No one is playing favorites and no one is being mean. They are all equally StinkyPeople.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

My boy is turning 4

4 years ago I was in labor. I was induced at 38 weeks, but had been utterly miserable for much, much longer.

It started at 31 weeks with some spotting and contractions. Bed rest was ordered, along with twice weekly stress tests and weekly doctors appointments. In the middle of all that Husband had received a job transfer and we were selling our house and buying a new one nearly 2 hours away.

But I had finally made it to "Baby Day" as I recall saying to Best Friend when I called to tell her the doctor had given the green light to an induction. We knew we were having a boy. We did not know yet what his name would be...we were at a stalemate there. But we were excited to add to our family.

Labor was uneventful but difficult. I took the epidural as I had with Curly, but was also on magnesium for high blood pressure and that stuff made me see triple and vomit. Not fun.

At 12:44 in the morning he was born. He was perfect, ten amazing fingers and 10 tiny, perfect toes. I won the name game, as I think most women do after they deliver their husbands' offspring.

He is an incredible kid. If there is one thing I have learned in 4 years it's that he will never cease to amaze me. He is so smart...often sitting next to Curly and completing her homework assignments with her. He is stubborn; the only one so far who will not give in to the rules simply because we say so. He has the biggest heart. He loves his sisters wholly and can be devastated when the sisters he loves do something to him that is less than lovable. He is brave. He is sweet. He has the greatest giggle ever. He gives good hugs and is the most likely to commit random acts of snuggling. And of course he is the most handsome boy in town.

Happy Birthday StinkyMan. I love you more than you can know. Thanks for being such a great kid.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Deal alert!

I already put up the Deal of the Day today, but I could not let this one go by unposted. Click HERE for great deals on ladies swimsuits. Lands End is a great product line and these suits run as high as $99 otherwise. Even better use code FREESHIPPING PIN Number: 0006021 to get it sent to your door for nothing. And if you don't like it you can take it to your closest Sears to return it no problem. Check it out!

Thursday, March 26, 2009

First foods

It is time to start BabyGirl on solids. Actually, it's past the time she can start which is widely considered to be 4 months. She is 7 months today (can you believe it?!) and it is time to give her something besides "nursey" as my kids call it.

Apparently my children have caught on to the fact that the time for more than breast milk has come, because StinkyMan just emerged from the nursery, bag of tortilla chips in hand and said "Mommy, BabyGirl likes chips!"

Being the 4th kid is hazardous to her health. It'll be a wonder if she makes it to adulthood safely.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

kid speak

My kids got a new game from my friend Claud this past weekend called "1,2,3, Octopus and Me." StinkyMan is especially excited because he loves games of all kinds. So all day long he has been asking me to play. And I have been putting him off.

Why, you ask? Because every time he asks to play it, he says "Mommy, can we play '1,2,3 Octocles and Me"? and I think it is the cutest thing I have ever heard and I want to make him say it again. Maybe it's a cross between octopus and tentacles. More likely he just hears it wrong.

Kids make the funniest things out of words. Octocles for octopus is my current favorite. Around here you will hear "meyote" instead of "remote" when we want to change the channel and running around without your shoes or socks is called "polar bear feet". That little gem was from Curly when she was 3 and I cannot let it go.

Scholars and educators alike would say that I should not encourage these mispronunciations or phrase misinterpretations. It's a disservice to the children. I had a friend who was in high school before she knew refrigerator magnets weren't really called "ree-rees".

Experts be damned. They are only young once. And if my world is full of Octocles and Polar Bear feet then that is a-ok with me. I asked Curly once if she knew where the REmote was, and she promptly handed it to me. So she does know. And my friend with the ree-rees? Yeah, she called them ree-rees even as an adult and her daughter called them ree-rees too when she was small. My friend has her Master's degree. She's no slouch.

It doesn't hurt to let them be little. They become so wise so fast, sometimes too fast. They will learn "the right words" soon enough. I don't need to correct them. I just use the right words and they'll catch on eventually. Selfishly I hope eventually comes later as opposed to sooner. I'm not ready to give up the octocles any time soon.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Thoughts on the unpleasant

I have been thinking a lot about something rather unpleasant. Death. Specifically, my own.

I'm going to explain that, because left alone it sounds really, really bad.

Natasha Richardson. Jade Goody. Mothers who died last week, both leaving children behind.

We spend our lives as moms saving our children from things that will hurt them. We make sure outlets are covered, knife drawers are blocked, TVs and dressers are anchored and we crawl around on the floor with the sole purpose of discovering anything potentially deadly down at kid level. We lock up poisons. We have the safest of car seats professionally installed. We make them wear helmets. We don't let them run with scissors. We teach them to hold our hand and look both ways before they cross the street. We take them to the doctor when their bodies hurt and we hug them close when their hearts hurt.

I'm sure Natasha Richardson and Jade Goody did these things too. And right now, in a moment when their children's hearts hurt more than ever, the mamas aren't there to kiss it better.

Which brings me back to my original sentences. I have been thinking about death. Specifically my own.

Would I want to know I was dying like Jade Goody? Would I want to be able to explain it to my kids? To have a final goodbye party? To cry myself to sleep at night wondering how many more times I would get to tuck them in? To suffer for months knowing the inevitable was coming sooner rather than later?

Or would I want to go like Natasha Richardson? Would I want to feel fine and then be not so fine after all? Would I want a quick, sudden death without the agony of suffering and seeing my children suffer with me? Without the chance to say goodbye?

Either way, I cannot fathom leaving my children motherless. Because I am not just their mother. I am Mommy. I am the one who kisses owies. I am the one who knows the bedtime songs. I am the one who knows how to best soothe bruised egos. I am the one who knows just the right amount of chocolate syrup for chocolate milk. I am the one who gives the best hugs. I am the one who knows play dates and dentist appointments and homework assignments. I know how to make the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I am Mommy.

And so for all the care I take to make sure that life is safe for my kids, I think it might be prudent to start taking care of me. Jade Goody died from cervical cancer that went undetected too long. Natasha Richardson died after she refused medical care for a bump on the head she got while skiing. You can be darn sure their kids made it to their medical check-ups and that Natasha Richardson would never have let such a bump go unexamined on one of her boys. Moms tend to sweep themselves and their needs under the rug too often. And sometimes, as a result, the unthinkable happens.

So it is time to put myself on the list of things to protect for the sake of my children. Because I cannot imagine leaving my kiddos without their mama. I don't want to be away from them and more than that I don't want that kind of pain for them. I know it can't always be helped, but it's time to do more to try to prevent it.

I hope Natasha Richardson and Jade Goody rest in peace and that their families, especially their children, find comfort in their memories. And that somehow they know that their deaths pushed at least one mother into taking better care of herself. I doubt I am the only one. I hope not.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Count this....

...among things I never thought we, as parents, would have to say:


Saturday, March 21, 2009


I am having a girls' weekend. There are 13 of us here, in my house, chilling. We are camped out, sharing beds and air mattresses and sleeping bags, gabbing late into the night and giggling like high schoolers.

For most of us this is the only true vacation we get. Away from kids, away from husbands, away from the everyday. It's only 3 days, but it is a hard earned, well deserved three days for all of us.

Cheers to girlfriends. What would life be without them?

And C, B, S and L, we miss you and cannot wait until the next time, when you can join us.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

What goes up must come down. What goes in.....

Apparently Peanut swallowed a small, lime green button.

I know this because the proof was in the pudding, er poop.


Both Curly and StinkyMan love to play on the computer. It is one of their favorite past times. Although the experts suggest it is more or less equivalent to the evil TV (which they also love and I completely allow. I'm no mommy martyr) I usually let them play it for a while every day because what they play is generally educational. We have games on discs that help with reading, numbers, and all things schooly.

But the treat of all computer treats is when they get to go online and do something frivolous. For Curly that would be Barbie.com. So yesterday, after she had done her homework and played outside and cleaned up a mess she'd made she asked if she could play computer Barbie.

"OK. Go turn on the computer" said I and she scampered off.

I came in a few minutes later and she was patiently waiting with my Yahoo homepage up on the screen and I could see the little wheels in her head spinning.

"You ready?" I asked.

"Uh-huh. Mommy, I think I know why they call this Yahoo."

"Oh yeah?"

"Because when you get to play on the computer you feel all excited and you say 'YAHOO!!!!' Do you think that might be why?"

"I think that is exactly why."

I love the thought processes of childhood. And I can think of no better reason for Yahoo to be named that. Can you?

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Math Circus

Yesterday StinkyMan wanted to watch Math Circus, but the DVD wouldn't work. I will admit we are HORRIBLE at keeping our DVDs in their proper cases. They are always getting dinged up and scratched and dirty.

Anyhow, he tried washing it and putting it back in the DVD player. That didn't work. So he tried again. And again. And again. All very, very patiently, certain each time that this would be the time. The poor baby even switched to the bathroom sink, certain that the location would make a difference in his success.

Finally I said "You know, StinkyMan, I think it's not going to work. I think it's really broken. We're probably going to have to go buy a new one."

"Can we go now?"

"Well, no, not today...maybe tomorrow."

And this is where the wheels came off the wagon, Folks. Holy moly was he mad.


"Um, no. We can't. And even if we could we would not since you are throwing a fit."


"Yeah, that's not going to get you what you want."

StinkyMan stomps off to the closet.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm gettin' my cwocs. (crocs) I'm going to the store RIGHT NOW. RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW! I'm goin' to buy Math CIRCUS!!!!!!" He looked very determined.

"Oh. I see. That's too bad because I was going to play store with you."

*sniff* "Do you sell Math Circus at your store?"

"Well, no. But tomorrow I will."

"OK" and the cwocs went back in the closet.

And at 5:45 this morning he wanted to go to the store to buy Math Circus. Who says elephants never forget? That expression should read "Three year olds never forget."

Know why I had the time to blog this? That's right. He's watching Math Circus. And a happier kid you never did see.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009


Today I went to see a beloved long time friend and her week old baby. He was so tiny, BabyGirl looked like a giant next to him. He was perfect in every way. Ten itsy bitsy little fingers and ten amazing little toes. He still has the cord stump and the look of a wrinkly new resident of Earth.

And as I watched my friend with her new son, I realized that I'm good with what I have. Some of you might remember me writing about Husband's vasectomy and how I might always be sad that we're done having babies. Well, I'm not. I felt not one twinge of envy, not one pang of "Oh I wish it were me." Not one. That's not something I've experienced before. Before BabyGirl I never felt done. I always wished for another round of 9 months and new baby when I saw a pregnant woman or a newborn.

Today I felt nothing. Which is good because we are done. But I finally feel at peace. Totally secure with the choice. Today was a test and I passed.


Monday, March 16, 2009


StinkyMan just laid down next to BabyGirl and was making her smile. Then he looked up at me and said "Mommy, is this the real BabyGirl?"

As opposed to the fake BabyGirl we keep stashed away for special occasions????

The Farmer in the Dell

So we get a note home from Curly's Kindergarten teacher on Friday telling us that the kids are to come to school on Monday dressed as a farmer or a farm animal. We are not to run out and buy anything, just use what is around the house. Fair enough. I think we can manage that.

Then Curly tells me she does not want to be a farmer. She wants to be a farmer's wife. EXCUSE ME? Did I fail? Does she not know that women can be so much more than some one's wife? That women can be farmers, doctors, teachers, lawyers, basketball players, movie starts, dentists, accountants, etc? The woman's libber in me died a little death.

She went on to say that she wanted to wear a big poofy dress and a hula hoop. Apparently, my daughter thinks that they are dressing as farmers and their wives from the 1800's. And, although I'm all for women wearing the pants in their relationships, I can understand the allure of wearing a big poofy dress. I think the hula hoop would be a hoop skirt, but I'm not sure about that. Maybe she thinks farmers' wives stand in the corn and hula hoop while the men plow the fields. I can certainly see how a six year old would find that attractive.

Well, having neither a big poofy dress or a hula hoop, I convinced her that girls could be farmers too and that there are still farmers in the world and that they wear jeans. She considered this and asked if she could be a sheep. She wanted to stick cotton balls all over herself and was crestfallen when I suggested that may not work out very well because most of the cotton balls would probably pop off before she even got to school.

Then I had a Good Mommy Moment. "You know," I mused out loud "farmers spend a lot of time in the sun. Maybe I could draw some freckles on you with make-up!"

SOLD! We devised a plan. Rolled up jeans, red rain boots (because farms are muddy), a red shirt (because farmers wear red apparently), two piggy tails with red ribbons and of course, the make up freckles.

She looked so cute this morning when she headed out the door. I think she felt very farmer-ish. And I felt like a Very Good Mommy.

Sunday, March 15, 2009


For me, there is no love more sweet, more pure, more honest than when BabyGirl, eyes closed and largely asleep, grabs my finger and holds on tight while nursing. It makes my heart surge every single time.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Out of the mouth of one particular babe

Peanut is at that wonderful age where she learns new words everyday, but has poor enunciation, little volume control and no notion of social graces. Going out is always an adventure because you never know what she is going to say. Screaming "TOOT!" when she passes gas is not an unusual occurrence.

Our latest parenting blunder was to teach her that not all eating utensils are spoons. Normally, I'm all for gentle correction. For example, when she call my tea "water" I say "That's my tea. Yum!"

So that is what we did with "spoon". She'd need a fork and ask for a spoon. We'd say "Here's your fork." She'd drop her fork and say "Uh-oh spoon!" and we'd say "Uh-oh fork!"

So why is that a parenting blunder? Take the "or" out of "fork" and put in a "uc". Then add in Peanut's propensity for shouting everything she says and you will understand why we won't be going to a restaurant anytime soon.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

I am hot.

No, it's not that warm outside. I got flirted with today. I wouldn't go so far as to say "hit on" but I definitely got flirted with.

I went kidless to pick up a pizza. I was wedding ringless too (it's too big and I'm afraid of losing it, so I take it off at night and often forget to put it back on.) My pizza wasn't ready, so I waited.

Initially I did not feel even remotely hot. My hair looked beyond bad, I was fresh faced (read: no make-up) and running on little sleep as usual. But the guy behind the counter apparently likes the tired mom of 4 look because he said "So, how are you?" well after I was finished with my pizza transaction.

I know, I know that sentence alone means nothing. But I'm a girl, I know when someone is bringing the flirt and he definitely was. I answered "I'm good. Not having to cook is always a plus." and he smiled and then another customer came to the counter and that was that.

No biggie, right? Except, I dunno, it kind of was. Most of the time I feel extremely un-cute. Remember the first season of Desperate Housewives when Lynette ALWAYS looked like crap? I'm right there 95% of the time. And today was in that 95%. Until that moment.

Now it's not like I was going to shove all the pizza boxes off the counter, jump up on it and scream "Take me, Pizza Man!" That's absurd. But he made my day for sure. I am still hot. Under all the baby spit and kid stains and baggy, puffy eyes and old clothes, I've still got it. I am still flirt worthy material.

Thanks Pizza Dude. You made my day.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

totally random thoughts

These are the random thoughts I have had today. Nothing special at all. Just the stupid crap that lives in my brain:

  • My friends are coming to stay in 10 days and I should probably clean out the extra bedroom so I don't die of total mortification.
  • My hair looks like a poodle who had relaxer put on and rinsed it out too early, so it is neither straight nor curly. Not even really wavy. Just a mess.
  • I really, really hope the CA Supreme Court makes the right choice regarding Prop 8.
  • My baby needs a bath.
  • I haven't been to the mailbox in a week. Oops. My mailman probably hates me.
  • I have leftover chocolate cake in the refrigerator and I want to eat it, but I don't want to share with the children. I'm thinking of throwing them outside and locking the door behind them so I can indulge. At first I thought that might be mean, but now I realize it's good parenting. They need the sunshine. It's good for them and chocolate is good for my frame of mind. Everybody wins.
  • Curly is a pack rat and her room is way over cluttered. I cleaned out a whole big garbage bag of total, un-freecycle-able junk and it's still not done.
  • Why do my children only play well together when it is either time to help me clean or time to go to bed? I am suspicious of this phenomenon.
  • Dammit. I got caught with the cake.
  • The more children I have the better I get with letting them Cry It Out a little. I don't know if this makes me more practical or just more mean.
  • I'm lazy.
  • I don't want to sit at gymnastics for an hour because just sitting drives me crazy. So then maybe I'm not lazy.
  • I'm having pizza for dinner with my sister. I haven't seen her in 15 months. I'm excited for her to meet BabyGirl.
That's it. Nothing exciting. But I needed to blog and I had nothing to say. So now you know all the "nothings" running around in my head.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Young Love

In order to appreciate this conversation you should know that StinkyMan has a little crush on a girl in his class we'll call Sarah.

StinkyMan: Mommy what are you doing?

Mommy: Getting the wax out of BabyGirl's ear.

S: I don't have wax in my ears

M: Yes you do. Everyone does.

S: Do you?

M: Yes I do. So does Daddy. And Grammy. And Grampy.

S: And Curly?

M: Yes

S: And Peanut? And Tommy? And Krissy? And Sam?

M: Yes.

S: And Uncle B? and Auntie M? And Miss Missy and Miss Ella?

M: Everybody has wax in their ears, StinkyMan. Everybody.

Stinkyman: Not Sarah. Sarah doesn't have wax. She's special.

Love is blind...and ear wax free.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Spring forward and add a little insult to injury

So we're all one hour short of sleep. I am also short a husband. It's another Sunday of travel for Husband. Only this time he's going to Hawaii.

Yep. Hawaii. While I stay home with 4 kids and all the everyday tasks he's going to Hawaii. It's not for fun, it's for work, but still I'm jealous. He'll get in Sunday early afternoon so he's currently trying to figure out if he's going to snorkel or see the Pearl Harbor Memorial. I am going to a 6 year old's bowling alley birthday party.

Yeah. That seems fair. *sigh*

Friday, March 6, 2009

My life is glamourous

After spending all day in the ER with Peanut yesterday after a toddler meets side table incident I was awakened this morning with this little gem:


Can you stand it? I mean really, the glamour is overwhelming. I bet Brad and Angelina don't get up and wipe tushies. Well, they're so perfect and glam I bet their kids don't even poop. Or they have a nanny who has the specific task of wiping tushies and never allowing Brad and Angie to know anything about something as foul as poop.

I need a nanny like that. Eh, I'd take any kind of nanny. As long as she works for free. Oh wait! That's not a nanny. That's a grandma. I have one of those! Lucky me!

But I still have to deal with the poop.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

I want my daughters to know better

...than singer Rihanna apparently does. Her boyfriend, Chris Brown, a star in his own right, beat the ever loving snot out of her and it seems she has forgiven him and taken him back.

The whole thing makes me sad. She's beautiful, talented, successful, wealthy and loved, but you cannot tell me that she loves herself. She must not have much self worth because it seems, from what I have read this, was not an isolated incident and she kept sticking around. It escalated into the now infamous incident and statistically there will likely be more.

The title for today is that I want my daughters to know better. I want my son to know better too, of course. I would be so disappointed if he EVER did something in any way abusive to his future girlfriend or wife. I would wonder where his dad and I went wrong. But it is the girls I worry most about. Society seems to like to tell our girls they are never pretty enough, skinny enough, smart enough, etc that it feels like a mountainous task to get them to be confident in who they are. Add a boy like Chris Brown into a relationship with a girl who suffers low self esteem and you often get another victim of domestic violence. Guys like him can smell low self worth from a mile away. Up to 3 million women are abused by intimate partners each year, and other data shows that number may be low and that it may well be closer to 6 million. 6 million!

I want my girls to know that they deserve to be treated well, all the time. They will never deserve a slap, a punch a verbal beat down, or anything of the sort. My dad used to tell me "He hits you once, shame on him. He hits you twice, shame on you because you were still there." He was right, except I would change the last bit of that. I wouldn't want my girls to have any feelings that they deserved what they got because they hadn't left. No one EVER deserves to be treated that way.

Look around. It is reported that one in 4 women in the US will have had an abusive relationship at some point in their life. Someone you know may have been or may be where Rihanna is right now. Or maybe it was or is you.

I'm wondering a lot about her parents right now. The agony they must feel with her choice to return to a man who beat her so senseless that he's been charged with two felonies. I can only imagine the helplessness they must feel, knowing she is an adult and will make her own choices but wanting desperately to protect their baby from a rage-filled and violent man.

Hug your girls. Teach them that they are beautiful, important and smart and that a good, loving relationship never contains violence. I hope for her sake Rihanna learns that soon too. And if it is you in a dangerous relationship, please call 1-800-799-SAFE (7233). Everyone deserves to be safe.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

It's been 9 years...

...of marriage for me and Husband. Today is our Anniversary.

In all honesty I don't know what to say. I've written and deleted quite a few drafts of this. I'm stumped, and here is why:

Lots of people say that marriage is work. I don't see that. I mean, we both do things FOR each other and FOR our marriage, but it doesn't feel like work. I like leaving random love notes for him. I don't mind leaving his clothes hangers untouched so he is never hangerless (a pet peeve I learned early on). I don't roll his socks. He says that stretches them. I try to always serve something green with dinner, as I know that is his preference. I watch TV shows with him that I otherwise likely would not watch because he likes them. I massage his scalp if he sits in front of me while we watch. I sneak in a random kiss or 2 fairly often. I will snuggle against him for a bit when his alarm goes off at ungodly hours for work so he can begin his day feeling loved.

And he likes to send me flowers for no reason. He often waggles his eyebrows at me to indicate he thinks I'm hot (I assure you that only my husband would think that as many days I am covered in baby spit, hence the blog title). He lets me sleep in when he's home. He's been known to bring home some of my favorite treats on no occasion whatsoever days. He smacks my rear end affectionately. He makes dinner, folds laundry and puts kids to bed without ever complaining that these are things a stay home mom should be doing. I usually don't have to ask for a back rub.

Together you will likely find us hugging or holding hands (when we aren't pushing strollers). I cheer him in his career, he pretends to care when I tell him about the latest Mommy group happenings. We are a united front on all counts. It so nice to know that someone always has my back, no matter what.

I guess what I am saying is that none of this is work. When I think of work I think of stuff I HAVE to do; tasks that need to be begrudgingly accomplished. I don't see the things I do for my husband, and in turn my marriage, as work. I like to do them. I enjoy doing them. I suspect he feels the same.

I know I am lucky. Blessed, even, if that's how you look at things. We've endured some tough times. His mom's death, a hospitalized toddler, a miscarriage, a too early baby in the NICU and the resulting bills. But we are always in it together. It's been 9 years today and walking down that aisle towards him and saying "I do" was the smartest thing I ever did.

Happy Anniversary, Babe. You are as charming, funny and handsome as ever. I didn't know it was possible at the time, but I love you more now than I did then. Thank you for marrying me and for loving me the way I love you. You are the best.

UPDATE: He just called and sang "Happy Anniversary" to the tune of "Happy Birthday" to me and asked me what he could make me for a special dinner. See? I told you he's the best!

Tuesday, March 3, 2009


You likely noticed 2 new blog sections. One is a list of blogs I like to read. Blogs of friends and family on various subjects that may or may not interest you, but they interest me, so there they are.

The second is a way for me to pass my bargain hunting freakishness on to you. In the Deal of the Day section I will post my best daily find. It can be anything from online shopping bargains, to printable coupons to brick and mortar finds (that's actual in store deals.) I will do my best to update this feature daily and keep the deals varied for lots of different people...not everyone loves shoes as much as I do.

Is that a grab to keep people checking in? You betcha! Hope it works!

I don't like this

I have a friend who has a husband who has a colleague I don't trust. A woman, of course. She's....ugh. I don't even know how to explain it.

OK, how about this....she's in the movies. And on television. At least, her type is. You've probably met her in high school or college. That girl. The one who finds a way to insert herself into your significant other's life. He is convinced she just needs his help with a few things, you are convinced she likes him and would jump at the chance to jump his bones.

My friend doesn't trust her either....who needs a married man to drive her somewhere? To pet sit? To chat on the phone at home on personal time every night for 3 weeks about "work issues"? And of course she has "no one else to call". I'd feel weird about asking any of that of a male friend and I'm married. Of course, she is not.

Friend, though not generally the jealous type, wants this chick gone. With their line of work, however, that is not a possibility. I support Friend of course. I love her and want this chick out of her hair ASAP. And I totally trust her husband....he's honorable and good and probably, rightfully, a little afraid of his wife. But this girl is not going anywhere. And I hate that for my friend. I see the potential for this to go wrong in many, many ways without even bringing actual cheating into the picture.

I know this is vague. I'm trying to protect the innocent. But I'm angry, she's angry and her husband likely thinks she's overreacting and by extension, so am I. Are we? I don't know. I don't think so. I think it's a game for this chick and it's my friend's marriage she is playing with. I'd love to hear what others might think with what little detail I have given. Are we right? Is her husband right? What's going on here?

Monday, March 2, 2009

Deal alert!

Last night I was reading a book to StinkyMan and he was stopping me to tell me all about the commas, exclamation points, question marks and periods. He identified the words "no" and "Max" and showed me that if you flip an "i" upside down it looks like an exclamation mark.

He goes to a good school, but it's not that good! I give all the credit to the good people at LeapFrog.

You know the LeapFrog people. Inventors of Tad the Talking Frog for babies, the Leapster, Fridge Phonics, the Tag Reader and much more. But what you may not know is that they also have a series of DVDs and they are fabulous. StinkyMan and Curly both learned all their letter and letter sounds this way. (I helped! I'm not a total slacker!) There is one all about letters, one about how to put those letters into words, a second one about words, one about basic number and math skills, and one about words becoming stories or learning to read.

My kids are mesmerized by these DVDs. Normally it freaks me out when they stare at the TV in a nearly zombie like trance, but not when they watch these. They have learned so much from them, as was obvious last night during story time.

So go here: http://www.deepdiscount.com/viewproduct.htm?productId=5788057

Put all 5 videos in your shopping cart. The amount should be $41.54. Entering code 22476 should take $10 off and shipping is FREE! So $31.54 for 5 DVDs that are normally $10 each. Great deal for your wallet, your kids' brains and your sanity on a rainy day or when you need 30 minutes of peace and you don't want Dora the Explorer shouting at you from the TV. Check it out. I cannot recommend these enough.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Martha Stewart I am not...

but this is the cake I made for Peanut's family birthday party today. Not bad for a woman who a) has only made 3 cakes before, b) decided at the last minute her baby deserved something better than a 9x13 cake mix cake with Betty Crocker frosting and c) took a nap for an hour before I got to work. (Hey, what can I say, I was really, really tired!)

Side view:

And so that you may have a full appreciation of my amateur skills, you should know that the whole cake is covered in these tiny little droppy things. It takes a lot of these to cover that big ol' cake!
And so now I must go rest my hand. There was a lot of squeezing done to accomplish this!