My First

My lucky friend with dirty socks, Deb, is all alone this weekend with her calm adorable child and needs some entertainment. So she is asking for reading material in the form of our first post, mainly so she can ridicule and laugh at our lameness so she can pass the time and not miss her husband who should at least put the damn glass in her cabinet for leaving her alone on V Day. So, because I am such a great friend and love her so much not to mention the fact she is paying me 20 bucks, I am offering myself up on a silver plated platter and totally exposing myself.

I think I originally had 2 comments. I also told way too much mundane info, thinking my sister, Amy, would be the only person that would ever read it. These days I just post way too much mundane info so you all can read it and feel better about yourselves.

This post was originally written on July 16, 2008. Actually it wasn't my very first. That one was very short and meaningless, not unlike my OTHER first.

Drum roll, please...

I will begin my blog life with a little H&P (that's history and physical for all my non-medical peeps).


I am the oldest of 4 girls, (hence the control & peace-maker issues I have) born and raised in a small town in the panhandle of TX. We are a freakishly close-knit family, all up in each other's biznez, and have had some major changes over the last 3 yrs. in chronological order:

First: Sister #3 (I am #1), who, for some ungodly reason has always proudly labeled herself "the black sheep of the family,"decided that after having 4 kids, she was done being a mom, and gave them all away. I mean she didn't like set up a lemonade stand and sit on a neighborhood corner and give them away as a door prize with a large glass, but called our mom, that I will call Big Mama, to come get them.

I would go into a thirty minute dissertation trying to explain away the turmoil her THIRD divorce must have put her thru, but bottom line: drugs+alcohol+kids=no fun. So she did what every responsible alcoholic junkie would do and stopped. Being a mom, that is.

So, embittered as I may sound, I have come to accept that the upper-class-cush life she had as a child with loving parents and very cute sisters could not compare with the roach-infested hole she can now call home. I am raising her 2nd oldest, 15 yr old daughter, B, now going on 3 years. The others are with their bio. fathers. The oldest, that lived with my mom moved out on her own.

Second major change: This past Jan 5th, my daddy passed away with a sudden heart attack. We are still reeling with the devastation. He was the funniest man I have ever known and you will see many of his famous sayings thrown into all my stories. I miss him so incredibly much and have moments of hysterical laughter talking about him that sometimes end in a sobfest. But it's good.

So Big Mama, Amy(#2), and Erin(#4) and myself are all trying to live each other's lives and tell each other other what to do without two main components in the equation.

That's the History 1 Part. Stay tuned for History 2. I promise even more humor-laced bitterness as I tell you about my ex....Here's a teaser....

preacher/glass houses/rocks 'Nuff said. For today......this blogging stuff is exhausting.

Alright, I know you are chomping at the bit and are dying to know exactly what Part 2 says, so I will put it here for you. Divert your eyes if you are feeling nauseous, bored, or could not care less.

OK in a nutshell: Married for 10 years and spouse decides to become a preacher. ( Yes, I was voted most unlikely to become a preacher's wife in high school) Moves us 400 miles south to the middle of nowhere and in the middle of my third semester of RN school decides he doesn't want to married to me anymore.

OOOKEEEE.

Now for the good stuff: the products of the 19 yrs: Kalee, the oldest and the original Diva; John David, who is undoubtedly the most laid back human alive; and Trevor, the Original Baby. We adopted Claire and her brother Cooper when they were 17 months and 5 weeks respectively.

Then there were 5...

I met the right Mr. while I was taking care of his ill father in the hospital during my fun-filled divorce. He asked me out for coffee (which everyone knows flows rampantly on the med/surg floor of the hospital and was a pretty lame pick up line all in all). So, totally liquored-up on 18 cups of full-strength Folger's, I said in my outside voice, "I have FIVE kids." There, I said it. Run, boy, run. "Yes, I know," he responded oh-so-gaggingly-sweet.

Sooo, 10 months later, all 6 of us married him.

Then we all went on our honeymoon to Breckenridge to ski. Except me. I mean I went, but I didn't (and don't) ski. I instead studied for the f'n boards like the good little graduate nurse I was. Then I got trashed and the Mr. and I snuck out and stayed in the next door neighbor's cabin after they told us they were leaving early to beat the snow storm that was rolling in.

It was wickedly fun (and loud). We snuck back before sunrise (mainly because I woke up panicking that the maid might come to clean the "empty" cabin at 5am and catch us there) and all 8 were none the wiser that we were rockin' the cabin next door. HA! SUCKAS!!

I had finally found The One that was totally and completely in love with me and thought I was the f'n BOMB.

Life is good...

My Wife Is Cwazy

This week, like many others has been crazy and I apologize for the absence in both posting and commenting. I started my diet/exercise torture and Monday barely made it through the deep breathing exercises of the Wii Fit Yoga. BTW, according to their calculations, I am apparently age 44 and borderline obese.

So with that ray of sunshine, I have begun my version of working out while trying to maintain a somewhat livable environment. I cleaned like a mad woman, vacuuming and mopping my hardwoods for four hours and almost took Andy to be euthanized because he ran into the house with muddy feet.

We have survived my husband's business audit and do not have to move into a refrigerator box under the local overpass. That in itself is worth falling on my face and crying my wails of thanks and praise because God knows how much I hate camping out because of the whole peeing-in-buckets aversion I have.

Claire turns 14 next month and has evolved into this beautiful, yet obnoxious human. I felt obliged to sit her down and inform her, "This ain't my first rodeo, sister. I know what you are thinking, what you are doing, and you cannot outsmart me," to which she replied, with finger raised, " It's 'This ISN'T your first rodeo'." Stay tuned for live footage of Mom's head blowing off her shoulders.

Speaking of footage, I will soon be posting a before picture me from Sun when I was borderline obese. I am sure by now I am centerfold ready. It HAS been four days, people. I am sore in places that I didn't even know had muscles. This could be from either working out or playing cars with Grayson, my 3 year old grandson, all weekend.

I will leave you with some sayings courtesy of Grayson, or Gwayson, as he says it:

After being disciplined by his mommy and told to stop throwing his toys in the air, he replies, "Fine. And I don't even wike your hair." That should keep mom from ever telling him "no" again.

At my mom's house, she has a basket with ceramic and reed spheres on her coffee table. Baby Kaydi Jo was helping herself to them, tasting and gumming them to her big brother's horror. So in desperation to undoubtedly save his sister, Grayson calls out, "MaMa!! Kaydi Jo is wickin' your balls!" One day he, too, will find this as funny as we do, I am sure.

On that note, I weally weally need to go workout. Cwap.

Water, Gator.

Today is busy with lots of loose ends to tie up. First and foremost, we celebrated with Tuesday Whitt's family on Saturday and went on a virtual "wagie ride" joining Em and Lee and countless others.

Secondly, here is my next project:

I am starting my workout/diet and am wondering how long it takes me to throw in the towel so excited about joining Tena. She wants me to take pictures to hold myself accountable. She is sooo funny! No, I really would take a picture, but I have my grandbaby today and don't want to scar him. So the pix will come later.

Speaking of pictures, look below for some moments of "WHA?"

Just because I am always amazed at the fashion at the Award Shows, I flew there to get the live scoop on these people. Really. Then I gave the pictures to the AP. And to prove it, here are some unknown facts from behind the scenes, just in case you missed them:

"Hey can someone hand me my pants? And don't make me laugh. I am about to pee all down my 7ft long legs."

Carrie "See My" Underwood wear
(Yes, my fat thighs with cellulite and vericose veins are green. I mean look at her legs. hate her.)
Moving right along....
I had no idea Pirates Of the Caribbean's Davy Jones sang.

"Does this hairdo make my brain look fat?"

No, dear. Looking at your dress choice, you still have the skinniest brain in Hollywood.
Aphrodite called, you know the rest....

"Here, Joey, pucker your lips like this and a little shot of botox here and you can look just like me! Am I smiling?"

The Wheels On The Bus Go Round and ZZZZZZ

After reading Deb's post on a Shuttle Driver's skills, it reminded me of a post that I had been meaning to write for 2 months now. Thanks to Deb's now oddly landscaped yard reminding me, I bring you this moment of complete insanity brought to you because of my children's school district's decision-making skills.


Dear EISD,

Thank you for finally removing the narcoleptic bus driver that held my children's lives in his sleepy hands in the quick fashion you did.

I realize 3 months may seem like a long time to some, and as a nurse who has worked ER, I completely understand the importance of remaining calm, cool, and collected. But for the love of God, CHILDREN'S LIVES WERE AT STAKE!

THREE MONTHS?

I know you may think I am just angry because I had to drive them to school AND pick them up, and to that I say, well, yeah, ok, THAT did piss me off. But my kids, who only shared with me the bus driver's "funny" driving skills of careening the bus into the car in front of him because he was asleep, were at least aware that such driving abilities were a bit out of the norm.

What about the other 40+ kids who never noticed Mr. Bus Driver was snoring or the spittle driping on his chin? My call to you BEFORE he had the multiple fender-benders, although verbalized as appreciated, was apparently poo-pooed away and passed off as another panicky mom butting in where she should not.

I will confess to enjoying multiple jokes being made in said bus driver's honor and having great material, such as, "I need a nap, I think I will go on a drive," or "Wake me up when the light turns green," as well as "I have driven this way so many times, I can do it with my eyes closed. Watch," but know I remain extremely miffed at you.

I am thinking you should add the question "Do you suffer from any illnesses that could impair your driving, such as narcolepsy?" to all future employee packets.

When the kids see this behind the wheel of the 6 ton yellow torpedo they will be traveling in to attend your school, we all have problems:

P.S. Your damn taxes are way too high.

Sincerely,

Bakery Transcriptionist Needed On Aisle 7

I received this in an email. The assumed conversation went something like this:

Walmart worker: Bakery
Customer: I need to order a cake for a going away party.
Walmart worker: What do you want on it?
Customer: 'Best Wishes Suzanne,' underneath that, 'We will miss you'.

Below is what she received when she picked up the cake.

This would never have happened at Target.

Just Do It

It's Tuesday. It's tribute time.

Nothing can be better than raising money for childhood cancer. Jay talks about what he is willing to do to raise this money. So, if you qualify under any of the following criteria, I ask you to donate.
1. You have a healthy child.
2. You know a healthy child.
3. You have a child who has been diagnosed with something besides a clean bill of health.
4. You know someone who has an ill child.
5. You have hair.
6. You don't have hair.
7. You feel good today.
8. You feel sick today.
9. You want to see childhood cancer gone. Forever.
10. You woke up this morning.

Go here and see what you can do and how you can make a difference. I thank you in advance.

It's A Smorgasboard of Worthless Crap

The last four days have been crazy busy and today seems no different. So, to clean sweep my disorganized brain, I will give you a buffet of small tidbits to chew on until I can actually have a complete thought.

The Super Bowl was great. Commercials as a whole, not so much. My very favorite was careerbuilders.com with the "If you hate going to work everyday, and your co-workers don't respect you, you wish you were somewhere else, you cry constantly, you daydream of punching small animals, and you sit next to this guy, it's probably time." The lady behind the wheel screaming was modeled after me. I do that almost every morning.

I saw a lady pull up beside me at a red light with, and I SWEAR this is not a lie, had 16 stuffed animals lined up on her dashboard. One word: WHY

Michael Phelps smokes pot. Maybe I should be more disappointed. Maybe I should be shocked. But I am really neither. Proof that money cannot pay for good sense. Hey Michael, my 2 yr old grandson went as you for Halloween. You are a dumbass. He wore a too tight swim cap because he idolized you. He said your name as one word "MichaelPhelps". Can't you hire someone to make sure people aren't taking your picture while you act like you are a 23 year old party animal? Maybe by 2012 I will have forgiven you. Maybe.

We went to visit the boys this weekend. John David is the cook at this steak place where the filet mignon literally melts in your mouth. I ate until I literally couldn't move. I had to lean the seat back just so I could breathe for the ride home. Then Rick thought for the next 2 hours he would poke my belly to be funny. After the 2nd time, I told him if he ever wanted to have sex again, he better stop. I am guessing the sight of me laid up with my pants unzipped, listening to me moan every time we hit a bump, and saying 284 times, "Ohhh, I ate too much," was NOT a turn-on since he didn't quit. Sometimes I think a married a 15 year old.

I read The Shack on Thursday. If you haven't read it-READ IT! If you have, how did it affect you? It was undoubtedly the best book I have ever read. I plan to read it again when my husband is done with it. It is that good.

The stupid groundhog saw his shadow and Spring will be here late. I vote we do away with Phil and his predictions. My friends who are still buried in snow and ice need some good news. So to help them out, I put Andy in a hole and when he dug himself out, he didn't see his shadow. WHOO HOO!!!!!!!! Eat that, Punxsutawney Phil. You have been replaced.