Monday, June 28, 2010

Peeing and Updating

This is a repost, but the video below is funny enough to watch a billion times, I know I have watched it nearly that many times. I've changed some prices and shipping prices for the scrubettes. Check out the new prices and some shop updates at my shop forthwith!!!! Ultra Cute Crochet

I spent some of this morning setting up our cameras to tape a little 'demo' of myself using my new store item, All Organic Face Scrubettes. Because there wasn't any surface to prop a camera up on to do the filming and because Jeremiah was still in bed and unable to be my cameraman I had to set the camera up in a cupboard kind of hidden from view. A few moments later Jeremiah comes into the bathroom from a foggy sleep to urinate, right next to the hidden camera. I couldn't help myself and hit the record button secretly...this is the magic that ensued:

Now that we've enjoyed that, let me introduce my new product to you:

I've listed these scrubettes in my store Ultra Cute Crochet. If you are interested in ordering them outside of etsy or are interested in different colors or a bulk order please contact me at I am a prompt responder!

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Put A Ring On It

After a tumultuous weekend I've been enjoying downtime at home with Jeremiah and the kids. By downtime I mean sitting on me bum, laying in the sun next to the baby pool, working on various things that give me the opportunity to sit on me bum some more...etc...etc...

In stark contrast with my lethargy, my children have been energetic and entertaining.

Olivia was lying across my legs while we were lounging in the sun and was very taken with how smooth my legs are. She yelled across the yard to Max, "Maxine! Come feel Momma's legs...they're soooooo soft!"

Max ran over, felt my legs and looked thoroughly unimpressed.

"Hey Olivia! If you think that's soft, you should feel my butt!" Cascades of giggles and lots of butt shaking followed.


Speaking of Elijah and his underwear (or often the lack of it), I've recently taught him how to pee outside, a skill that enables more lethargy on my part.

I'm lying in the sun and he's in the baby pool and he says, "Momma! I pee in gwasssss!"

"Ok BUBBA! Yay! Go ahead. Go over by the tree." and then I lay my head back down.

I look up a few moments later to see Elijah chasing a tiny baby bunny around, his wee wee hanging out and a strong stream of pee coming from it.

"I pee on bunny MOMMA! I pee on bunny!!!!!!!"

The bunny escaped unharmed and was back for more the next day, maybe it finds Elijah as delightful as I do?

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Happy Father's Day You Capitalist Pigs!

Today might be a made up holiday, Capitalist Pigs preying on our social need to purchase needless and pointless items like greeting cards and ties, but today is also a perfect opportunity to thank all the men in our lives that make up the elite group of Daddy's, Father's, Poppa's, Pappy's, Grandpa's...

Fathers we didn't know that still made giant impacts on our very selves.

Pappy's/Poppa's who eat cookies and love babies:

Poppa's who don't share genetic materials but love and care just as much:

Daddy's who have helped make you what you are and are still proud of you despite all of your faults:

Poppa's who share their popcorn, even thought they probably don't want to:

Sons and Fathers that make each other better parents by challenging and learning from each other:

Thank you Men Folk for enriching my life and my children's lives beyond measure.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

This Night Rather than All The Other Nights

Four hours of orientation finally over, a very young me sat staring at a girl who had been in my new student group all day long. She had not said one word to me, but I couldn't help staring nonetheless.

I heard her tell the 'Dorm Mother' her name was Jenn. She was lanky and thin in a homeless girl kind of way and smelled like she hadn't changed her clothes in weeks. The smell wafting from her reminded me of the teenage boys I had grown up with, sweat and smoke mingled with just the tiniest bit of cologne, thrown on for good measure. Her orange coif was curly and kinky in that way where it might be an attempt to grow dreadlocks, might just be a unkempt mess. She had it all pulled up on top of her head with a dark blue bandanna wrapped and tied around the bundle of orange like an odd tiara balanced on her head.

I sat across from her in a narrow dorm hall, strangers in close proximity, while a jacked up but pretty R.A. with a very high ponytail and an even higher pitched voice was telling us some rules to remember.

Jenn kicked out one long chuck taylor and knocked my foot to one side. She looked me in the eyes and gave me one deliberate wink. I noticed her eyes were very pale blue in color and I spent a few moments trying to remember why pale blue eyes reminded me of death. When she had my attention she reached down between her legs and slowly slid a bottle of liquor from the folds of a beat up canvas bag. I found out later it was a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20, Peaches and Cream.

Our dorm was a very old mansion and five of us (including Jenn and myself) were exiled to the highest floor, a expansive attic with two fireplaces and giant floor to ceiling windows, framed by iron flourishes. We each had a twin bed and lots of space to set up the trappings our parents had furnished us. I loved the adorable bed set and matching lamp my momma had bought me. She had packed the most thoughtful things like little dorm cooking utensils and special bathroom accoutrements. I learned later that Jenn preferred to sleep on the floor and all of her belongings were stuffed into that aforementioned canvas bag or a larger but just as dismal looking duffel bag. I felt bad for her and glad at the same time that I had parents who cared for me so much.

All day and all night Jenn and I talked. She smoked cigarette after cigarette, billowing puffs of grey climbed and fell out of her thin mouth. I begged her not to smoke in our room and she laughed and laughed at me, so hard at one point she wrapped her thin arms around her even thinner body and started to hack uncontrollably. When she stopped she lit up another cigarette and told me,

"You can do what you want now, Baby. Just relax."

Like we had known each other for years and years...even though at that point we had met literally moments before.

I prefer to think about these moments rather than later ones. A struggling Jenn talking on the phone to her father. A failing Jenn straining over the easiest assignments. A passed out Jenn puking all over herself, throwing her in the showers, watching her body limp and seemingly dead as the water washed over her clothed body.

An inebriated Jenn bringing men back to our dorm room. Those scary men coming back to find her at all hours of the night and day.

Today I'm thinking of the day we decided to go out to eat and on a city tour. Although Jenn and I were both very familiar with the city we went to college in, most of the girls housed with us were not.
Jenn was missing the whole day before the dinner/tour and I started worrying about her around 2pm, but was distracted by the frenzy of girls around me, looking in mirrors, borrowing earrings and asking for opinions on this dress or that pair of shoes. I was wearing a simple black shift in linen and my hair was pulled back in two braids. I remember what I was wearing very clearly, being that it was one of the best nights of my life.

I also remember very clearly a giant black Escalade pulling into the cul de sac about 10 minutes after I had written Jenn off for the evening. From the back, climbing over three thugs and a rottweiler, emerged a disheveled Jenn. She was wearing cutoff jean shorts, a thin white tank so threadbare that two dark circles were plainly visible along the bones jutting from Jenn's chest. Around her waist was a flannel t-shirt (grungish 8 years too late) and her feet were bare and dirty. She greeted me with a huge smile and said,

"Let's get this show on the road, Baby!"

I had barely enough time to run to our room and grab her a pair of shoes before the shuttle came to pick us up and everyone began piling into it.

At dinner, Jenn wasn't interested in eating, although everything was delicious. She stared at me from across the table, smoked and drank wine. We had previously decided that we were all going to split the bill, but when it finally came to the table Jenn insisted on paying. As she usually did in every instance.

The city tour bus was picking us up in front of the restaurant and while we were waiting Jenn meandered over to a pay phone and made some phone calls. She whispered in my ear when she came back,

"Can you walk in those shoes?"

I laughed and we practically ran away from the group, waving and giving promises of calling later in the evening, promises not to stay out all night. I could see on the worried faces of the girls we left behind that they disapproved of Jenn, despite her warm and generous ways.

We walked and talked all night. Jenn would stop here and there, go into an apartment or townhouse and I would stay on the stoop or would stand on the sidewalk. Looking back I see how dangerous this was, but at the time I was exhilarated, amazed at how powerful this amount of freedom felt in my belly. The air was a bit chilly, but every time the wind blew I only felt grateful to be alive and walking around in our giant world, a good friend by my side.

We finally ended up in front of a giant brownstone in a much higher end neighborhood than we had previously traversed that evening. This time Jenn invited me in. She used her own key in the door and we walked into a lovely home with modern furnishings and luxury items everywhere. She barely noticed her surroundings as she went straight up the stairs and into a much less nicely appointed bedroom. From a cupboard on the wall she loaded up her bag with bottles of alcohol and packs of cigarettes.

We left without saying a word about the house or it's inhabitants.

We walked home, sharing cigarettes and a bottle of Boone's Farm Strawberry Wine. Jenn would from time to time take my plump warm hand in her cold bony one. We made great promises of life long friendship and toasted to freedom and love.

I prefer to think of this night rather than all the others, this night rather than the night I told her I would never see her again. This night rather than the time I did see her again, only to regret it. This night rather than the last time I saw her, when I told her she was better off dead, and meant it.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Adventures In Babysitting: Part One

There are some girls who are from big families that love kids and thus love to babysit. A lot of people I grew up with made and saved substantial sums of money babysitting.

I was not one of those girls. I babysat my own siblings (I'm the oldest of five children), but my mom was a very hands on stay at home mom and there were very few times where she was not at home with us. By my count (which is never trustworthy considering my memory is less than accurate) I've only babysat (outside of our home) three times..each with their own disastrous results.


The first time was on New Years Eve 1995 and I was watching a very precocious two year old little boy with the most incredibly styled baby mullet ever seen on this earth. The mother of this disastrously coiffed child was my babysitter as a child and was also babysat by my mother when she was a child. Why such a normal and wonderful lady would let her child's hair be mulleted in this atrocious manner was beyond me...even more beyond me? Why this normal and wonderful lady and her equally (or so it seemed) normal and wonderful husband would let Mullet Boy watch SHOWGIRLS at bedtime every night. Mullet Boy called it his 'noonie movie', obviously referring to the insane amount of tits flashed and shaken during this flick.

Ok, ok...I know some people out there are on the 'women shouldn't be ashamed of their naked bodies' train, but how about the blatant sex acts, the foul language and the violence also in the movie? Yeah, yeah, yeah. I want my daughters to be comfortable with their naked breasts, but I also want my son to respect women...and after watching Showgirls with this little boy, I wasn't sure I would respect myself ever again. He fell asleep during the first ten minutes (thank gosh). Just long enough for me to turn red with shame and embarrassment but not long enough for me to want to die. I was 14 and Jesse Spano's gritting teeth and grunting scared me.

I also attempted to drink some of their beer. They had four different kinds in the fridge and I tried each one (imagine a not very golden Goldilocks), then my conscience got the best of me and I tried to put them all back into the fridge with the tabs folded back up to hide my illegal consumptions. Very smooth...

I may have also stayed on their pay by the hour AOL for six hours straight. Remember chat rooms?!

So they didn't ask me to babysit again. I like to think it's because I found out their dirty little Showgirls! Noonies! secret, but it may have been the dial up bill....or the beer.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Dirty Dirty Ick Ick Ew

I was paging through blogs this afternoon while Elijah was napping and I came across some blog (if you know who's post this was or if this was your post, let me know, cause I can't find it now) with a post including photos of some 'celebrity' mom who dresses like a stripper out and about town with a little girl I'm assuming is her daughter. It made me laugh and laugh and laugh. This lady was wearing the most insane clear stripper heels on the beach with a tiny itty bitty bikini. Five or Six inch heel ON THE BEACH. My gosh. And to top it off she's wearing a giant sun hat and big round dark glasses, like she is modest and wants to hide her identity...

Anyways I had the idea I was going to post photos of so called M.I.L.F. Moms next to photos of me and jokingly compare the two. So I googled 'hot mom photos'...which was obviously a HUGE MISTAKE.

Porn sites galore popped up. Because I'm a ridiculous and curious type I look through them without actually clicking on any of the sites and was completely and totally shocked at some of the site descriptions. I was milliseconds away from clicking on one of them when my better judgment got the better of me and I tried a different search.

'Celebrity hot mom not porn'

More porn comes up.

'MILF moms with clothes on'

More porn.

'Mom photos'


'Celebrity Mom photos' we go. This doesn't seem to be porn. Click.

Ahhhh Holy God In Heaven!

The site that was supposedly photos of celebrity moms was instead just one giant photo of a hugely pregnant woman pulling down her panties to expose her bits. Now I'm scarred for life.

Interwebs, you win this time. I'm going to take a shower.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Boyfriends, Owls and Redheaded Super Stars

I feel like I haven't talked about Jeremiah in long time. But since I have talked about him sooooo much in the past I don't have anything original to say. He's super hot. He's super smart. He's a super awesome dude. Bla bla bla.

But, did you also know that he is a musician? Click on the photo below to watch his videos:

I can just imagine the face he's going to make when he sees this photo, posted for all the interwebs to see. I think it's an excellent photo.

Check out my new owl friend, Dick.

He's a creepy little fellow, isn't he? Interested in having him creep up your home? Contact me for ordering info.

All orders now through August will come with a free gift! Awwww, aren't I so sweet?

This is Elijah and my Daddy at Olivia's end of the school year play.

I don't know who that lady behind them is.

And finally, this is the best moment of Olivia's play:

Thursday, June 3, 2010

All The Single Laddies!

It's common knowledge that I know everything there is to know about everything.

Parenting. Oh yeah, I've got that in the bag. I never fret, I never yell, my kids days are scheduled to a 'T' and they're all super genius and super well behaved. Elijah hasn't peed on the floor five times so far today and Max hasn't been parked in front of the computer for an hour...nope.

Style. Right now I'm wearing one of Jeremiah's undershirts and a pair of boxers that were my the 80s...thus the charmingly monstrous maroon polka dots. Without saying anything else regarding my sense of style, you obviously can glean that I'm an icon.

Homemaking. If you don't go in the kitchen, you don't have to do the dishes. If you pretend that you can't clean upstairs because cleaning will wake the baby from his nap, the upstairs magically cleans itself.

Personal Hygiene. The bottoms of my feet are the shade of dog shit and I haven't showered in two days...and counting. I'm operating under the idea that the more bacteria and filth one accumulates on their bodies, the stronger their immune system becomes.

Because I am a moral and social compass for acceptable behaviors and etiquette, a lot of my guy friends over the years have come to me for advice about women. Whether it be they have too many women and are having a problem picking just one or if they can't get laid to save their lives, I always am hear to listen and respond in the appropriate manner.

For example, a man I know thinks that he is too shy and he also has self esteem problems. He wants to attract the right type of woman, but right now he's only attracting the bottom of the barrel scum. I have noticed in the past the thing that sets this man apart from some other men is not just his lack of confidence but also his conversational skills. He's slow to answer and it makes one think that he's not paying attention when in reality he's just considering what he should say in response.

So listen up, Men. You want to bag a smart, pretty broad? Play to her EGO.

But keep in mind, you can't slobber and fawn all over a woman and expect to get laid. She'll probably be more annoyed by your constant attentions than anything else.

Because there's a fine line, we will practice this together.

Date night. You're sitting in a bar/restaurant waiting for your date. PLEASE be reading a book while waiting. Or listening to classical music on your phone (with earphones, of course)...but preferably a book.

Look up when she gets close enough to you, cock your head ever so slightly to one side, like you're taking her in and then say something unique, like it just popped out of your head:

"Huh. The shade of that dress makes your hair look darker. It's cool."

"Hey you look different from the last time I saw you..."
"Ya. More sparkly or something."

Listening, responding and questioning during conversation is of massive importance.

"And how did you come to that conclusion?"

"Explain that again, slow down this time. It's very interesting."

If you are having a discussion, before you begin your turn to talk and present your side, compliment her on her thoughts and how she formulated her side of the conversation.

"Although I have to disagree with you, I'm really impressed at how you came up with that."

"It's a neat concept, I'm glad you told me about it in that way."

"I've never thought of it that way before..."

Get it?

Ok lets practice some more. You look at photos and compliment the women in the photos accordingly and in an original manner:

Ok, so what did you come up with?

I thought of this: "Please tell me that smirk means you're considering plans for world domination! That would be so fucking cute!"

"I could be annoyed at that scrunched up face you make, but I really just want to kiss you every time you do it."

"Is it possible your skin looks creamy? Is that a skin color? How about milky? It's just perfect."

"You're wearing a wedding ring...I'm guessing that means we're not going to get it on like Donkey Kong tonight."

Ok, don't say that.

Try this one instead, "Do you drink tea a lot? I wonder if that's why your hair is so nice."

So the bottom line is, you can trounce her ass all night long later. Kissing her ass and stroking
her ego right now is going to get you there.

(thanks to all the ladies that let me use their photos. click on their adorable faces to visit their also adorable blogs)

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Open Letters

Dear Oldest Daughter, Rosey,

Stop growing up.

Oh and I put your garsh darn soccer shoes and shin guards on the porch cause the stink radiating from them was making me feel nauseous.


Dear Jeremiah,

I can hear you talking to your friend Bill through the front window. You might think the wall can protect you from me eavesdropping on your conversation while you're on the front porch, but it can not.

Too bad you're talking about how to fix the dryer and not about how hot I am.


Dear Men Who Barked at me this afternoon,

I'm not sure why you did this. I've never thought of myself as a 'dog', per se. Now I'm examining the connections between my appearance and that of a canine. I'm also wondering how your '84 baby blue Honda Civic is still running although the back portion of it was dragging on the ground.

Thanks for all the deep thoughts,

Dear Children,

Why do you insist on not eating the delicious foods I prepare you for dinner, leaving me to eat on my own?

I've included these photos to show you how lonely and deranged eating alone has made me.

Salad eating and did I mention alone,
Your Momma

Dear Baby Sister,

Don't turn 13 this week. Everyone knows I'm 16 years older than you and it makes me look like a mother f-ing crone.

Your not quite old till Thursday sister,
Erin Marie

Dear Old Navy,

Thank you very much for the clothes I ordered from you online last week. I had absolutely no summer clothes to wear due to my shrinkage (i.e. weight loss) and was the only person in the world wearing jeans to all the Memorial Day weekend picnics.

However, Go to Hell for making a medium adorable black linen baby doll dress too big for me. It's like taunting me. I know I'm not a medium, hardly any of my other clothes are mediums, yet this dress is still too freaking big!!!! You're mind screwing me!

But if I take it back and get a small can I tell everyone in the world that I am now wearing a size small??

Please say yes,

Dear Al and Tipper Gore,

You keep telling me that it's not my fault, that you'll both still love me forever...but why am I so sad?!

Syke. I'm not sad at all. Just ashamed and bewildered that I read the news article containing the information about your divorce.

Also ashamed and bewildered that I googled 'Is Al Gore Gay?' right after reading aforementioned article.

Sorry for doubting you Big Al,