Dear Santa, I have been a good girl!
and my Christmas will not be complete unless I have a Bear Claw Chair/sleeping bag.
This may be a fake probably is must be fake, but I don’t care! I want one!
Yeah, the brain eating is bad, but the addictiveness is the real problem!
There has been a lot of zombie talk around here lately.
Against my better judgment, I took IH to the local zombie walk the Saturday before Halloween. We went with my brother, and a couple of friends – remember Baby A? Not so much a baby anymore!
Anyway, I was a farmer who got kicked in the head by a horse, IH was a farmer who got ran over by a lawnmower. It was pretty awesome actually. Disorganized, but what do you expect from zombies?
The real zombie issue is Plants versus Zombies on our iPhones. We are all three totally addicted. KH and I have both beat the basic level, and now are working our way through the achievements. IH, mostly just loves the zombie bowling and Whack a Zombie. You know, good clean family fun. Right?
So, that is what I did tonight instead of writing a heartwarming and thought provoking post. Fighting Zombies!
Christmas Card outtakes.
This is what I was going for, but it was too cheesy-and, that is really saying something because I love cheesy-so I went with a family beach picture instead.
Living Will
Tonight’s post is courtesy of too much pumpkin pie and an email from my dad. Make sure to check twitter tomorrow for Ang’s birthday joke.
Last night, my kids and I were sitting in the living room and I said to them, “I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle. If that ever happens, just pull the plug.”
They got up, unplugged the computer, and threw out my wine.
They’re so considerate.
Filed under Family-blame the DNA, stupidity | Comments OffCutastrophe ‘aught nine.
Alternate title: In which I overreact on a huge scale.
He inherited a head full of crazy cowlicks from The Husband’s side of the family, and a thick head full of independent and stubborn hair from mine. Buzz cuts are just not my style, and short, short little boy hair is cute on other little boys….but, I like MY kiddo to have as long of hair as my hubby will allow. If it were just up to me he would be sporting a shaggy skater do.
This kid just needed a teeny, teeny, itsy bit taken off of his bangs. Our usual and most wonderful stylist K had a baby one week exactly before this one. I reasoned that there was no need to drive 25 minutes and bother K just for a teeny little bang trim. Surely anybody who is a licensed stylist could handle that, right?
Wrong. I told her to just trim them to his eyebrows. First snip of the scissors saw three inches of hair on the cape. I literally gasped. Calm down, calm down. It is just a little short. Snip. Snip. Snip. Fourth cut. ACK! FOUR INCHES right off the front. “Your kid is moving! He needs to mind me and hold still.” “I am standing right here! He is holding perfectly still.” “Well, he is making me nervous.” “You are making ME nervous.”
I picked him up, removed his cape, and walked out, not paying, four cuts into the worst hair massacre ever. WAY worse than this. You think I am exaggerating?
And it looked even crazier in real life.
I called K in tears. I felt like I was confessing to cheating on her. She graciously invited us to her home, let me cuddle her babies, and calmed me down.
She is awesome–but she is not God, and cannot magically grow hair, so the end result is still A LOT shorter than this pseudohippy would like, but it is much better.
Lesson learned: if you love who cuts your hair–NEVER EVER go somewhere else, even for a teeny trim. Oh, and also? K said she would have cried too.
Filed under Boy is my face red, Friends-All three of them, NaBloPoMo, Parenting for Dummies, The Son, lexapro lexplains it, stupidity | Comments (6)More as story develops.
Oh sweet Jesus, here is the before. Yeah, he needed a haircut. I get it.
NaBloPlace holder
In less than twenty-four hours I landed in San Antonio, went to a wedding with authentic Mariachis and an awesome country band, complimented the bride on her kicking cowgirl boots, had a mild fight with my husband, made-up (and out) with my husband, groused about people letting their three old’s run crazy in hotels at seven AM –like my own three year old has not done the same thing, walked barefoot back through security, and was in the air again on my way home.
It was what you might call a whirlwind trip, and you never even knew I was gone–but I was and now I am tired. Which means you get a cheater NaBloPoMo post tonight.
I have no idea who this kid is, or where he is–but I do know how this mama feels. Most people can spot a breastfed baby pretty easily, but this child makes it TOO easy!
Filed under Breastfeeding, NaBloPoMo, stupidity | Comments (2)