Friday, December 17, 2010

Christmas makes me all sentimental...

I like to bake around the holidays. Sometimes for no reason other than the smell. When we were growing up it seemed like Mama and Mawmaw had the house smelling like heaven the entire month of December...then later on it was my Daddy with his famous chocolate chip cookies.

Texas Trash, cookies, name it. We had one sweet smelling house in those days. I've been baking my butt off for the last 24 hours (and plan on doing more of it) because a dear friend of mine is under the weather ( 28. Pray hard) and I figured that maybe just maybe some sugar cookies and pie would brighten her Christmas a bit.

And it gives me an excuse to bake.

And make Texas Trash- which I don't know why I don't make year round except that it's kinda expensive (Chex is awful proud of their products) and it isn't really PRACTICAL to make homemade spicy chex mix "just because..."

I just love the SMELL of something nice in the oven... Even though my sugar cookies came out like crap this year. ( I made the mistake of buying a mix instead of making them from scratch as usual, not a mistake I intend to make twice.)

At least the house smelled really good while doing it.

It for sure put me in the Christmas spirit, which has been sadly lacking.  ( I actually asked Mr. AGU if we could just skip it altogether this year- but then he reminded me we have the Heathens and that isn't really an option...)

Seriously...if you find yourself a bit lackluster this year when it comes to "the spirit"- put on some OLDIES Christmas Carols (Think Sinatra and Nat King Cole) and role up your sleeves and get elbow deep in some cookie dough with your kids...let them cut the shapes and add the icing and sprinkles...I have a full day of this planned for next week and I'm really REALLY looking forward to it.

Just see if it doesn't change your tune a bit :-)

Friday, November 26, 2010

Tell All Tuesdays (on a Friday...shaddup...I know)

I'm a slacker but in my defense with preparing for the holiday and the millions of midgets rampaging my house it's been a SERIOUSLY busy week.

Here is the THANKSGIVING Tell All Tuesday I meant to post ...but didn't...

5) My favorite dish is cornbread dressing. I wish I had my Nanny Pete's recipe because it was the shiznit. But I will eat it, just to try it, in any form because all kinds are worth trying. It is simply not Turkey Day without Cornbread dressing. My sister and I tried to doctor an atrocious bagged version my mother bought into something edible at our family dinner a few weeks was okay- but not great. Home made is infinately better. We gave it a good try though.

4) My pecan pie is to die for. Literally. I'll toot my own horn about this one. I took my grandmother's recipe (which she never admitted but mom has since confirmed came off the Karo Syrup bottle...) and tweaked it and tortured it into EVEN BETTER pecan pie. That's right. I one-upped the Karo Syrup company, my mawmaw, and my mama. It's good stuff and a holiday favorite here at the AGU house. My mother in law got her feelings hurt my first Thanksgiving with the fam because I had made one and she had made one but hers didn't cook through thoroughly and while I'm sure it would have tasted heavenly if we could have eaten it? My father in law wasn't exactly kind in his survey of it...always felt kinda bad about that. But my pie is pretty damned good, and I'm now in charge of the pecan pie at Thanksgiving.

3) That said living with a diabetic husband kinda cramps my style on Thanksgiving. If it were up to me the entire meal would consist of various forms of pie. I love to bake. Pie is goooooooooood. And yams. Hell I don't know why we just don't give thanks with a giant dessert table. Save a turkey- EAT A PIE!

2) Turkey gives me the most horrific gas. I'll honestly be shocked and amazed if Mr. AGU comes home from work tonight after what I put him through yesterday evening. Po po Mr. AGU.

1) I long for the days I can host Thanksgiving at my own house. I don't ever see this happening but the main thing is I enjoy cooking a lot- as long as I have my plan in place and someone to handle my heathen horde while I cook it.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Regarding crappy movies...

My husband has made me sit through over the last four years of coupledom...I found the 3 reasons he isn't allowed to pick the movies we watch while moving the DVD racks to make room for the Christmas tree today. (Decorating my house for Christmas takes a small militia...mainly ME, moving the entire living room around JUSTSO to make sure that you can still see the TV and get a nice view of the presents at the same time. It's an art form.)

Anyway. I'm a freak of nature and alphabetize our movies (OCD much?) and had to stare at these 3 atrocities to film several times while putting them in their appropriate places on the shelves across the room from their normal location. (I should say I had to RE-alphabetize everything, have 3 children running helter skelter through my living room daily means that the majority of them get pulled off the shelves at least a million times a day and shoved back willy nilly- I lose sleep over this. Seriously.)

Here are the reasons I've revoked Mr. AGU's movie choosing rights, what's sad is #3 and #2 are actually in his top 5 favorite movies of all time list (po po Mr. AGU...)

3) The Warriors...

For those of you who haven't been "blessed" enough to see this piece of crap? It's like West Side Story meets The Chronicles of Narnia  meets Adventures in Babysitting- but subtract any actual talent, a decent and followable plot, and the music sucks ass. The premise is a big gang war is happening these "Warriors" have been framed for killing some head honcho guy at some big gang meeting and have to fight their way home across the city. It's lame. Beyond lame actually. I compare it Adventures in Babysitting because of the gang fight on the Subway- with the exception that those guys were actually worth watching. I just kept dozing off and hoping some of these losers would die. Apparently it's based on a video game. Which we also own. That should tell you everything you need to know about this piece of crap.

2) Bloodsport

Someone told Jean Claude he could act. Oye to tha fricken VEY. I've had to sit through this horrible thing more times than I care to count because I'm a good wife like that but it is seriously bad enough to make ones eyes bleed. I'm all for a good action kung fu movie, as long as it doesn't have crappy acting in it. Unfortunately Jean Claude has never done anything that could be considering GOOD acting so this one was doomed from the start.

1) Shoot Em Up

"It looked so cool in the previews..." that was his excuse. Maybe it did. I dunno. All I know is there is a reason it was in the "5 for 5 dollars!" bin at the Blockbuster that day, and that's because it sucks so horribly I can't even explain it to you properly. All I will say is there is a prostitute that gets put in charge of caring for an orphaned infant because she's a fetish hooker and does the whole "mommy thing" and has excess booby milk or something- there are people climaxing during sex while "shooting em up" because ya know, that's practical...and the antagonist (if memory serves, I really try and forget this movie) is some guy who doesn't want to die so he's having a bunch of women have his babies and jacking the kids healthy organs after he impregnates these random women so he can live. It's ludicrous...

There ya go. The reasons he isn't allowed to so much as go to the Redbox without specific instructions. If you haven't seen any of these- count yourselves among the lucky. Seriously? Go smoke a bowl, you'll lose less braincells than watching "Shoot Em Up"....

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

HOW did she do that? And why didn't I ask her when she was still here?

That's my Granny. And she was one in a million.

I'm sitting here in my pit of a house this morning...surrounded by screaming children currently pouring their morning snack all over my living room floor- staring at the 16 or so (wish I was exaggerating) loads of laundry that HAVE to get done in the next 24 hours. And missing my Grandmother beyond belief.

Granny had 9 stair step children, lived on a fairly limited income (they weren't even close to rich, I'll put it that way.) and somehow managed to not go completely insane. By the time I was old enough to appreciate her, she'd survived a few heart attacks, a few wars (in which four of her boys served and came home), the death of her husband and 2 children-even the deaths of a few grandchildren and great grands...and was still optimistic and happy and just an all around lovely person. If she was ever pissed off about the hand life dealt her you wouldn't know it. 

I miss her. I need to know how she did it. How she managed to hold down the fort and keep her house and her kids tended. I've heard the "stories," but I need to KNOW how she managed it all!

( According to my Daddy and uncles she ruled that house with an iron fist- she may have only been five foot nothing and a hundred and two pounds but you still won't find a member of my family who would have taken her on on her WORST day.)

Was she ever sad? Was she ever just ready to throw in the towel and say "screw you kids I'm taking a bubble bath?!" Was she ever fed up with the lack of finances? Or did she greet it all with the same grace I saw her handle each of the other life's hardships?

She wasn't perfect. She had a helluva temper- but it was always garnished by a great sense of humor and appreciation for kid's antics. (I still remember how hard she laughed when at 8 years old I stuffed my pockets full of the hard candy wrappers I'd spoiled my dinner with- and how she winked at me and refilled that candy bowl just for me.)

The last time I saw her alive we sat at the kitchen table and just talked for hours. And what's sad is I can't remember much of the conversation. I was just glad to see her. We drank coffee, I smoked (she frowned but didn't yell at me- she had quit several years earlier after her son-in-law passed from lung cancer) and we just enjoyed each other's company.

I was 20 years old- and kick myself for not making more practical use of that time- like how'd you manage to take care of a family that large in hard financial times? What's the best way to get rust off a cast iron skillet without scraping your knuckles to death? How'd you handle keeping that many kids in a small home and keep it clean? Did you assign chores? Did your kids get an allowance or were they just expected to do it without question? How'd you make them all love you like crazy and still whoop their ass every Saturday "just in case" they needed it and you didn't know about it?

Here's to missed opportunities Miss Molly. I miss and love you.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Tell All Tuesdays...

It's gonna be my new thing...

I haven't been in a Confessional Booth since I was about It's been a minute. At least a decade I'll put it that way.

And since it's been "awhile"... I see no need to trouble a priest trying to enjoy his Saturday afternoon with my trivial crap. Seriously- you know he's kinda hoping no one shows up so he can get back to watching College Football. He's human.

Some of the trivialities I choose not to bother my local Priest with are as follows:

This weeks theme??


5) I don't understand Reality TV. I don't see the draw in it- or the desire to watch it. If I want to see people make asses of themselves I've got plenty of examples sitting in traffic.

4) That said? I love love love Wheel of Fortune. I get antsy when I miss it. It's not reality TV, it's a GAME SHOW. I've adored that show since I was a child- and have actually applied to be on it (more than once) and never been called to audition. I will keep trying though. I have a date with that Wheel one day... (p.s. I'm scary good at it. Really scary good at it...)

3) I watch TVLAND late at night because they play Roseanne and The Nanny in syndication. Some people love crappy reality shows, I love crappy sitcoms from the 80's and 90's. Trust me- my version of fun is FAR more entertaining and family friendly.

2) I think I've mentioned this before in some fashion but when all else fails and there is NOTHING on? Yup...I settle for the kiddo channels. Phineas and Ferb rock. And you KNOW this...

1) My brother and sister are probably going to do some serious eye rolling on this one:

Most of my political education comes from The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. I try really hard to pay attention during the ACTUAL news where they discuss such things but the regular media is either all the way Left Wing or ALL the way Right Wing and I get frustrated and turn it off.

Tune in next week for Tell All Tuesday

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Mama/Auntie Allgrowedup has a new law:

When you whine incessently because your mom informed me you were up all night being a butt because you're cutting teeth?

You go night night...

When you sit on your sister because you insisted on pushing the block wagon around the living room at warp speed even though Mama told you to stop that and you got mad?

You go night night...

When you throw a fit that lasts 30 minutes because your sister sat on you even though she was there less than 2 seconds and I'm not convinced she hurt you in the least?

You go night night...

Mama/Auntie AGU is going to go clean the house now...enjoy your LONG Looooooooooooong nap. I'll get ya'll up when lunch is ready....if you're nice to me...

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

The Clutter Monster aka: WHERE DOES ALL THIS CRAP COME FROM???

Yea. That atrocity to all things decorous used to be my dining room table.

Needless to say, we OBVIOUSLY don't eat there. I wish that I could tell you that this is an isolated incident...but sadly the majority of the available surfaces in my home currently look like this.

It never fails...I spend days and nights (literally, NIGHTS) finding homes for things, putting things away...

(Or, as exampled by the red dish towel on that table- throwing in the towel quite literally and heading to the fridge for wine.)


And despite the appearances I assure you that other than the nail polish remover and one or two other items? NONE OF THAT CRAP ON THE TABLE IS MINE!!!! It's just where I put it because frankly? I don't know what the hell else to DO WITH IT ALL...

The garage is a nightmare (you cannot walk in it) and that is AFTER I went through there not a year ago, bought brand new rubber maids, organized everything, threw away A TON of stuff, and put pretty little labels on all the stuff so that it was easy to find.


If someone had told me that kids actually got ATTACHED to the stupid toys from McNasty's??? and REALLY...they DO need to keep that broken toy because:


Yea... I would definitely have just gotten rid of all of my own worldly possessions to make room for all of THEIR crap.

(Oh wait...I kinda already DID...)

I've come up with a plan of action...and it quite seriously involves taking everything in this house that isn't directly related to paying the bills and either selling it or trashing it in the next month.  ( I'd get rid of ALL of it...but Mr. AGU might get mad if I threw out the checkbook and the insurance papers on the house...)

I'm giving myself a month to de-clutter, de-trash, and prepare for the mother of all yard sales.

(And if ya think I'm not crazy enough to throw a for sale sign on that piece of shit trailer then you really ought to re-read a few of these blog posts)

Kids say the Damndest Things

Hubs: Nephew! Get off that chair you're going to fall baby!

Lil Bit: (munchin on cereal...) ya!!! gedown!!!

Nephew: (giggles and keeps climbing)


Lil Bit: (tosses glance over her shoulder at cousin...) are SO gonna get a spanking.... geddown FOOL!

(These are the days I wish that my video camera were always charged...)

Saturday, October 16, 2010

So I want a big family? So WHAT?

Ever since I started watching my nephew I've been met with a myriad of interesting comments when we get out and about in public.

I imagine we make quite a sight! Me, pushing the double stroller containing my Tid Bit and Nephew, with Lil Man pushing the umbrella stroller containing Lil Bit, and off we go. This is after a carefully choreographed routine of getting everyone OUT of the truck, and into said strollers. Trust me, I have it down to an art form.

But in this day and age of people forgetting their manners you'd be shocked and amazed at how many people say things either to me directly, or just close enough to where I can hear them- about the size of my family.

Does it matter to them that

 a) 2 of these children are not of my loins?

No, apparently not. They are clearly of the opinion that it IS actually possible to have 3 children under the age of 2 in a span of 18 months that AREN'T multiples and/or premature. (Love how people are good at math)


b) That even if all 4 children WERE birthed by me, that their opinions simply weren't necessary, and are, in fact, down right rude?

Again, apparently not. People are quite often QUICK to tell me what they think of my large family.

Here are just a FEW of the lovely assumptions/statements people make when they see us about.

- This one usually comes from people that know me, and are just learning of Tid Bit's birth because they are SUCH good friends like that, they didn't know I was pregnant last year. They also are quick to assume it was an accident with this statement. Why YES I happen to know that SEX causes babies. My husband and I love each other and CHOSE to have another baby. She wasn't a "happy accident," She was well thought out and planned for and I wouldn't change a thing.

-Usually strangers, under their breaths, and more often than not accompanied by a disgusted look. Ummm...since when are kids a bad thing? And yes... I HAVE been busy. It's called being a mother asshats.

-No. I have no desire to be Michelle Duggar. Though I do have a lot of respect for that woman because how she had that many without going batcrap crazy is a marvel to me. Look at Kate Gosselin...batcrap crazy with only half the kids...

-According to Mr. AGU this is supposedly a compliment. I consider it a backhanded compliment because people are implying that I look good for having had FOUR children, when in reality I've only had 2. In any case I look pretty frickin hot for having had they can bite my flabby ass.

-Yea...I'm not one of those parents that plans my family around the cost of higher education. If my kids (HOWEVER many we decide to have) want to go, we will make it happen. But I'm not going to deny my family the joys of children based on what MIGHT happen in 18 years. I don't care if they work at Walmart or become Brain Surgeons, as long as they are happy hard working individuals. I have an overpriced college education myself and ended up a Stay at Home Mom who has no desire or inclination to use her degree- so why would I worry myself about the cost of college when they might not even WANT to go. Hubster and I have savings set aside in case they do, but we aren't going to plan a family around it.

"SOOO...ya'll are done, RIGHT?"
-Again, usually folks who know me but haven't seen me in awhile. To be honest Mr. AGU and I AREN'T sure that we are done, but we AREN'T sure that we want more just yet. We plan on waiting a few years and then deciding. We know our family is perfect for us right now, and we may feel like adding another bundle of joy in a few years- but then maybe not.

I just want to know WHAT happened to the large family in America? Why are the Duggars and the Gosselin's so looked down upon (other than for obvious reasons with the latter...I mean sheesh)

My Dad was one of NINE children, and my inlaws each come from families of NINE and TEN children.

In our parent's generation it was very uncommon NOT to have at least 6 siblings, and a family of FIVE was considered small...

So what changed? Why are my desires to be a mom of 4 so unrealistic?

Sunday, October 10, 2010

The Mightiness of Mighty Midget

So I've been absent from all things internet related for roughly 4 days now. (My poor lil farm animals on FB...probably starved to death. psh)

But that's because my wee bebe came down sick, and we've been in the hospital since Thursday night.

Oddly enough, I was able to tear myself away tonight (though I've sent my husband a text every hour since I left...I'm sure he's LOVING that) because I missed my house I claim to hate so much, and my kids who drive me crazy so much...and now that I know she's okay it seems more appropriate to take a little me time.

That said: the back story about the toughest damn baby ever born.

Wednesday afternoon the kids and I were playing in the back yard, and my mighty midget was rolling around on a blanket in the grass. We were only out there a short time because the mosquitos got really bad, but a good time was had by all.

Around bed time I was changing the baby's diaper and noticed what appeared to be a small ant bite just above her groin area. She also had another on the back of her leg, and another on her ankle. Hmmm...meanie bugs biting my heathen? Bastards. I put some hydrocortisone on it to keep her from worrying it and went to bed. But she was fussy. INCREDIBLY fussy. In fact she ended up in the bed with me the majority of Wed. night. (highly unusual)

Thursday morning started out normal, nephy poo arrived as my girls were waking up. Hubster was asleep, Lil Man was off to school. I went to change the baby again and the bitty bite from the night before was the size of a silver dollar, swollen and purple, and hard. She was also running fever. I dressed everyone quickly, told hubs what was up...and off we ran to the pediatrician.

Pediatrician says it's an infected bite, prescribed antibiotics, said to monitor it's size and he would like us back in a week to see how it does.

Okey dokey. Fast forward five hours later and the baby won't quit screaming. Even alternating motrin and tylenol every four hours I can't get her fever to go below 103, and the bite has grown to two inches on each side of the line the doctor had me draw around it.

Off to the ER we run...with my sister in law coming to the rescue to get my other two kiddos.

And there we've been ever since... having massive amounts of antibiotics pumped into my wee bitty baby.

All things considered she's handling this pretty well. I know if I had a big ole staph infected bug bite on MY hoohah? I would NOT be in such a good mood. But that just goes to show you that kids are so much tougher than we think. Once her fever broke she's been a completely different kid. Much more her old self, and doesn't act like the bite hurts overly much. (It HAS to hurt...but the time we got to the ER it was the size of her Daddy's fist, and even after 72 hours of antibiotics it's shrunk, but not THAT much.)

We are still in the hospital because the doctor is hesitant to lance the abcess unless he has to, when the antibiotics really are doing a good job of reducing the infection.

But I want my baby well, and home.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Words & Phrases I Over Use

I MUST over use them because there is nothing more eye opening than having a parrot for a 2 year old who repeats your every action back to you in creepy pint size mirror form....Now IS there?

5) That's Right.

I say it. I type it. It's part of my everyday lexicon. When wanting to confirm other's thoughts for them (or what I think they should be thinking)  I employ a "thaaaaaaaaaaat's right- go take out the trash" or "thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat's right....get your tookus in the corner young lady..." or "thaaaaaaaaaaaaaat's right...keep telling yourself that..."

It's a very useful phrase.

4) Dammit.

Usually followed by a list of parental excuses to my kids as to why they can't say that. My Shadow isn't so understanding. I use this one a lot. Really need to quit that. Dammit.
(While we are on the subject of my potty mouth. SHIT.Generally either precedes or follows Dammit. I almost always find myself saying this after I've discovered the latest art project on my carpet, couch, or even better? The hubster's recliner. Did I mention her artistic element of choice is usually food and drink? It's justified swearing I assure you.)

3) I'm just sayin...

... (ya gotta throw the ellipses in there, because that indicates the awkward pause while the other party tries to comprehend what I'm just sayin.)

2)  Ridiculous.

Or in the way of the Shadow? "das didiculous..." Apparently things are often ridiculous in my house- but I will say this for myself. It's a lot better than what's actually running through my mind which is usually "That's pretty f@#$ed up."

1) Seriously (?)

It's always followed by a question mark. I never noticed how much I say this phrase until a friend pointed out to me years and years ago that people thought I was copying Meredith Grey on Grey's Anatomy. NOT so much. I've always taken the phrase quite seriously. Seriously.

NOW....just in case you're wondering what the average day in MY house is like? (and you know you are.) Let's put this in practical form of conversation...

MAMA AGU: (walks in and discovers a mess) Ah Shit. DAMMIT! Heathen? SERIOUSLY? This is RIDICULOUS! I mean... I know you're playing and all but come ON? I'm just sayin maybe use a pretend bottle for your baby dolls instead of dumping your sippy cup on Elmo?! That's Right- get a towel kiddo. We have a mess to clean up!

This list can also be combined with the litany of parental phrases my Mama-hood forces me to use on a daily basis. Examples are:

Go to the corner-                         
(I have a 2 year old- this gets said almost as often as Dammit.)


Stop that-                                    

Do I you want a spanking?       

Do you understand me?               
(So lately Heathen #2 has taken to saying this back to me when she's fussing at me for something...I've even caught her fussing at her baby dolls and asking them if they understand her. The funny thing is that since she's still a toddler and her speech is all wishy washy it comes out "you stand me?" Nothing funnier than a kid no one understands asking everyone if they understand her...gotta love it.")

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Epic Spousal Fail

I really did it today. Oof.

So the day did NOT start out well. Potty training is a biznitch and since I don't sleep well when my hubster is on the night shift I was up until close to 4 am, and up by 7 with the girls. And did I mention potty training is a biznitch?

So after multiple accidents on my daughter's part today (I say accidents...she flat out peed on my living room floor on purpose ARGH!) and the instance where she felt the need to walk into the bedroom and wake up her Daddy to inform him of her many travesties against her minnie mouse underoos...

I was ready for my afternoon break.

Confession: About 2 months ago I picked up a nasty habit I'd let go with my pregnancies. I on occassion still have a cigarette. Yes I know, bad Allgrowedup.

In any case, my afternoon break was uneventful, with the exception that I opted to go to our back porch instead of the front porch-

(need a reminder why??)

because looking at those travel trailers is enough to make me drink midday, and I'm trying to DE-STRESS, not add to my reasons to harm my liver and lungs.

Fast forward 2 hours and the TV shuts off. Hmmmm...okey dokey. Tripped breaker. I alert Mr. AGU and we get to work fixing the problem (I hold flashlight while he deals with breakers.) It's a no go. All the breakers are working but the one that controls my kitchen (GASP) and my TV which shares a wall with the kitchen (DOUBLE GASP.)

Mr. AGU surmises that the breaker is broken and will need to be replaced. One issue. I KNOW I smell something burning. I smell something burning and it's stressing me out. My husband informs me that it's just residual smell and will fade in a few hours, just to keep my nose peeled in case it gets worse and I need to alert the fire department.

Okey dokey, can do.

Fast forward another hour, girls are settled down to dinner. I go to the garage to inspect my washer and dryer (consequently, NOT working) and the smell is overpowering.

Head to the back porch and discover this:

In case you're having trouble deciphering that hot mess...That USED to be a trash can. That's right. I melted a trashcan with what I thought was a stubbed out cigarette...the said trash can was near an extension cord that connects our outdoor refrigerator to the house. Hence the blown breaker.

We apparently had a full blown fire raging on the back porch for a few hours and were both too wrapped up in getting the TV to work to notice. (Thank God I'm a paranoid freak of nature right?)

Also melted: Our ladder golf set, a lawn chair, and an old laundry hamper we use to collect toys from the backyard during lawn work.

More importantly, that extension cord. The one that connects the outdoor fridge to the house.

So now that fridge doesn't work. Which wouldn't really be an issue (We don't use it much) if it weren't for the contents of the freezer. See hubs is a fisher and hunter...and on top of all of his bait (ew) being in the freezer...there is also a bobcat he killed a few years back and just hasn't gotten to the taxidermist yet.

That's right. I said bobcat.

You've seen Pet Cemetary right???

Mr. AGU informs me I will have to remove the "thing" and either bury it or find a legal way to dump it before it defrosts... bout NO? I attempted it but got the heebies and gave up. He can deal with that in the morning. I might be at fault for almost catching the house on fire but I'll be damned if I'm the one that has a frozen animal in the freezer! If he chooses to bury it the frickin cat can come back and haunt HIS ass...Thank you very much.

So that's my epic spousal fail. On a scale of 1-10 in shit days I think this was an 11. 

I think it goes without saying that I've quit smoking again. Nothing like near homelessness and possible harm to your children to get your mind right, right?

Saturday, September 25, 2010

You know come to think of it...

This ISN'T my first attempt at blogging. Many a year ago when MySpace first came out and it was ALL the rage, I had a blog for less than three months. And it was cool, people actually read it, commented on it...
Then one girl loved it so much she literally stole it. Down to the title of it.

I quit the blog right then. (Though with a scathing comment on the new girl's blog that only my Cajun ass coulda delivered with a smile and a wink just for the computer screen- don't lie, you know you make faces at yours too...)

It was called "Things I'm a whore for..." and it was just lists of things I could NOT live without at the time. I covered everything from things I HAD to buy, to my love of a weekly bubble bath, to my favorite nail polish color.

NOTE: I wasn't actually out whoring for these things, the title was ironic- though I suppose if you were to ask a certain sub-section of South East Texas Society what they thought of me at the time I'm sure the word "whore" would come up in some circles- and to those circles? Me back then would have to tell ya, don't hate. Not my fault God blessed me with a kick ass body, at the time a damn good job with loads of money to blow, and a winning personality. smooches. right here. On my buttox. kthxbai. about digression (I'm known for it. Ask my family) I had a lot of fun doing that blog...but it seems like a rather inappropriate title for a mother of three doesn't it? Mama Allgrowedup doesn't have much time (or funds...let's face are expensive lil shits...) to be much of a whore for material things.

BUT if I had to pick a few things I'm a bit of a whore for nowadays?

They would be as follows:

Hairbows. God love my baby girls I've got a damn obsession. The little one doesn't even have that much hair yet and she has a hairbow holder full of them...It's a little pathetic but I adore it. This is Texas darlin's...and if you don't have enough hair to have BIG hair...then you need a big ole bow now don't ya?

Yellow Box Shoes. I'm a convert. At first I could NOT understand why people were spending 40 dollars on flip flops. Sure they were cute, but seriously? $40.00 for Flip flops is stupid. Then some folks got me some for my birthday. Holy Heaven are the COMFORTABLE. I'm talking it's like walking on clouds people. AND if you're smart, you  can find them on sale for about 11 bucks occassionally! (Cute as they are I'm still not spending forty frickin dollars on a pair.) I have this pair in silver now too... My feet likey.

Tony's Cajun Seasoning. I've tried a million of them. Much to my husband's dismay (NOT to mention his ulcer, po po cher' bebe) I've still never found anything to compare to Tony's. When you're cooking cajun you need to have the complete package in a tiny green container. I sprinkle this on my french's THAT GOOD.

Need I say more? Try and pretend you're not. I bet we're already friends. I bet you're already harvesting some corn on my farm... and I'm WILLING to bet you're doing it from you're Iphone. I'm not cool enough for one of those yet...but a girl can dream.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. I love me some entertainment television.

Especially this hooker. Can I BE her when I grow up please? Sigh. No I can't. I hate Vodka. Damnit.

Well that's it for the present moment. It goes without saying that these are things that I just happen to thoroughly enjoy and make me happy. Or at least entertain me when I'm having a bad case of insomnia and incredibly bored. (re: facebook)

Happy Saturday!


Friday, September 24, 2010

S@#! my Spouse does...

Ever have your day royally blown to crap and back by your spouse? Everyone does's not just me.

So Mr. Allgrowedup totally blew my day to crap and back.

I've been prancing around the house the last few days in a wicked awful mood, slaying anyone in my path with a look because of who knows why...I just wasn't to be messed with.

And I decide "I'm gonna have a better day today..."

The children are behaving moderately well, it's almost the can't be that bad.

Then Mr. Allgrowedup drops the bomb on me.

The new travel trailer is

Me: So the old one is leaving today right? (does happy dance)

Mr.AGU: No baby, I have to talk to my brother about when I can bring it to his place.

Me: (crestfallen) Soooo...where are you going to put the new one?

Mr.AGU: In the driveway honey, you're gonna have to park on the street for the next week or two.

Me: wha???

Mr. AGU: Sorry honey, but if it makes you feel better the new one is going up to the lease one day next week, so you will be back to your parking spot before you know it.

Me: So there are going to be TWO fugly travel trailers in my driveway???

Mr. AGU: Sorry honey.

Me: (walks out of room and closes self in bathroom to throw shit and cry a little)

The upside? The old travel trailer totally hides the skull grafitti on the NEW one from the street, so the neighbors won't think we are satanic crazy people...just crazy people that like to collect travel trailers.

How very lovely.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

My Life is Lame

Which is PROBABLY why I have such a difficult time thinking of things to blog about. But according to my bestie I'm quite entertaining and perhaps should rethink this blog thing and post more often. So I figure, well, lists work for a lot of people so I'll try lists...but my lists are lame. Then I think, well I could always complain about Mr. Allgrowedup, or the kids...but lots of folks do that and it got old really quickly. So then I'm like, stories from my past? Whiskey Tango Foxtrot OVER, what DO I write about?

So that's where the blog has lead...I'm going to start this post with the top ten reasons my life is lame. It may very well include complaints about the fam and stories from my past. Enjoy.

10) I get excited by staying on budget at the grocery store. That's right. I count my few pennies down to the half cent and throw a celebration in the checkout line that makes the Playboy Mansion look like a Library when I come in under budget.

9) I get one date with my husband once every six months or so. We always go to a casino where we inevitably split up because we have different tastes in gambling choices. I like slots, he likes roulette. Ahhhh...romance.

8) I sport cut off sweat pants covered in paint from a Summer Stock Theatre program I did in college and actually ask myself daily "Does this make my butt look big?" because asking my husband such a silly question will get a retort along the lines of "Something needs to..." leave it to a man to exploit my self esteem issues about my non existant ass.

7) I dress my kids to the nines to run to the corner store. Gotta do something to fill the hours in the day, and my girls are hella cute rocking their hairbows in their car seats while Mommy runs in for beer and Dr. Pepper.

6) I use Facebook as an educational tool for my 2 year old. That's right. My kid learned her farm animal sounds from a game on Facebook. Who needs a See-n-Say when you have live action cartoon cows that you can feed?

5) My TV is on Nick Jr. just about 24/7...even after the kids fall asleep. I'm too lazy to change it and besides I missed this episode of Yo Gabba Gabba while I was preparing lunch...Gotta see what my Boy DJ Lance is up to today.

4) I spent a ridiculous amount of time handmaking the kiddos and myself shirts to sport at my son's soccer games. Hand glued rhinestones and a the never ending search for that shirt that was JUST the right color to match his team.

3) I really like the Kardashian's. Not gonna follow their tweets or anything but I'd totally get drunk with those crazy bitches. And Lady Gaga...MAN to be a fly on the wall when that woman is writing a song... can you imagine "I think I will write about a guy named Alejandro...while wearing a meat bikini and fighting against Don't Ask Don't Tell..."

2) If it comes on E! It must be fact. Just sayin.

AND the number one reason my life is lame:

1) I've spent the last six months plotting on how to get this fugly ass travel trailer Mr. Allgrowedup bought out of my driveway, and other than turning it into scrap metal I'm really fresh out of ideas that won't get the law called on me. I'm open to suggestions.

(No really the piece of shits gotta go... someone help me figure it out...I don't have a lot of brain cells left to waste on that particular project.)

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Why we work...

When I got married many questioned my motives. (That was annoying) Even more questioned my sanity. (That was amusing) and still more questioned my choice.

At first, that last one made me pretty mad...until I looked at "us" on paper. At first glance we shouldn't work...I mean REALLY shouldn't work. I'll break it down for you:

Lets go back a few years to the days of old:

In Highschool the hubster partied hard, I rarely left the house. He was smart, and somehow pulled really good grades (while being high as a kite and annoying all of his teachers) I usually had my nose in a book because even though I'm intelligent, I'm one of those that has to push really hard in certain areas (ick...math) He had green hair and was obsessed with Pink Floyd, I was a cheerleader who was obsessed with musical theatre. When he graduated he went straight into the workforce (and his first marriage, parenthood, and all the trimmings) When I graduated I went straight off to college and a degree, struggling to become allgrowedup.

Needless to say we didn't run in the same circles back in the day. (Though as irony would have it, my best friend dated his best friend for years post High School, we didn't meet for YEARS after)

Even now, we are so very different it's hysterical. I currently obsess and worry over niggly details that no one cares about but me, while he has a much more relaxed "take it as it comes" attitude towards life. He's good with money, I'm decidedly NOT. He's covered in tattoos, I've never had the courage to get even one. I LOVE to read, and wish I had more time to do so- he can't stand books, and doesn't understand why ANYONE would read anything they didn't have to. I'm religious and try to attend services (though not nearly as often as I should) he isn't so sure there's much to believe in in that respect, much less enough of a "something" to entice him to spend his Sunday mornings practicing "Catholic aerobics" as he terms it. I think there are certain things you just DO for your family BECAUSE they are your family, he thinks that family or not respect has to be earned and no bloodline should require you to do anything you don't want to.

And yet, we have a really solid marriage, friendship, and all around life together. I admit it- it makes no sense. We are really a case of opposites attract.

But something happened the other day that makes me go "see...people don't get it THAT'S why we work..."

I saw a billboard advertising the Houston showing of the Broadway tour for "Wicked..." and while I'm dying to go, I didn't say anything because I noticed the dates are on his birthday. The ONLY weekend it's playing is of COURSE on his birthday. So we traveled along, and he says "Hey baby, did you see that billboard back there for that show?" (hmmm) "Sure did, why?"

"You wanna go?"

Now- he saw the dates too...and when I explained to him that that is one of his only days off for the next three weeks, not to MENTION his birthday his response was "I've been wanting to take you to a show for a long time...can't think of a better way to spend my birthday than putting a smile on your face and giving you an excuse to wear a pretty dress...I like it when you wear dresses..."

His birthday, doing something I know he really could care less about, all to see me dressed up and smiling?

I gots me a keeper.

Granted, we probably won't make that show (have you SEEN the ticket prices...jimminy CRICKETS!) but the fact that he even offered shows me just how good I've got it...and he did it without my pulling any of the "usual" female tricks of hints and guilt.

Our happiness stems from the fact that each of us makes sacrifices and compromises daily JUST to see the other one smile...and that is why WE work.

Friday, July 2, 2010

I wasn't always a grown up...

For some reason all the rain this week, and my ever growing brood of Heathens has made me nostalgic. The kids are growing up too fast, and Lil Bit is so much like me that it's pretty scary. (Right down to the drama...which leads me to this post.)

She was throwing herself a good hissy tonight over some awful transgression her infant sister somehow did...(ya know...sitting in mama's lap getting horrible of her...) and her feelings were hurt.

Listening to the rain while looking at that expression on her red tear stained face made me think of an 8 year old me...sitting on a park bench in the rain thinking of how unfair life was while crying my eyes out over some imagined insult my brother and sister had committed.

My family refers to this as the time I "ran away from home..."

Granted- it's not like I ran anywhere EVER. I hate running. I distinctly remember jogging briskly for less than 100 yards and walking at a slow sulky pace the rest of the 2 blocks to the park. It was barely sprinkling and I kept thinking "They'll be sorry they were so mean...I'm never going back...NOT EVER..."

Now, as any kid that has ever ran away from home can tell you, the main point of running away is to make someone come looking for you. (duh)

Of course my mother knew I'd left the house (the siblings were quick to tell her that I was having a "moment" and had taken off faster than anyone had ever seen me move (sad but true) heading toward the park. I wasn't there, but I imagine my mother laughed.

So I sat there...sitting under the trees while it sprinkled bitty summer rain drops on me on the (new at the time) swing....waiting for someone to come.

And I waited.

And I waited.

(what seemed like an eternity to me was probably less than 20 minutes...but lets face it to a kiddo that's a lifetime...)

I'd just about given up hope (and was about to give in to my rumbling tummy as it was close to dinner time when I took off) when I saw my brother and sister...trudging down the street in righteous indignation (the way only kids of 11 and 6 years old can...) shouting "Chhhhhhhhhhhhelseaaaaaaaaa....mama says get your butt home right now or you're in BIG trouble..."

I sat there...fairly stubbornly until they got closer...then gave up and went home.

No one ever apologized for being mean, and I got a tongue lashing from my mama about running off without telling a grown up (even looking back- pretty sure it was one of those tongue in cheek speeches and she and Daddy had a good laugh over it later- I know that everyone has a good laugh over it at every holiday dinner when the story gets retold...)

and I find myself wondering- How do I steel my kids against hurt feelings? My parents method was a bit of tough love and a lot of "get over it..." (or my Daddy's favorite phrase to my drama "save it for the stage"...) but it didn't sink in to me until I was...well, allgrowedup. That you just can't let little everyday petty crap hurt your heart. Is this a lesson that my kids will have to learn the hard way? Will they be naturally tough like their Daddy? (though I will say for all my husband's tough exterior he has a gooey center) How do I explain to them that in reality, there is very little in the world worth getting your feelings hurt over?

Interesting questions...I remember being just heartbroken sitting on that bench on two counts...a) whatever it was my siblings had done to piss me off and b) WHY was it taking so long for someone to come after me? And while it certainly seems silly to me now I cried myself to sleep over it that night thinking no one in my family loved me very much.

I'm sure I'll contribute to some heartbreak in my children's lives...and I'm quite certain that most of it will be completely unintentional...but what about instances like mine? Where it's necessary to hurt a bit to strengthen a lot? How will I handle that?

Monday, April 19, 2010

A letter to the "school line"

Dear other inhabitants of the school drop off and pick up line:

Hi there. It's me, the big black bus that waits patiently in line with all the other oversized over priced domestic suv's in this horrendous line most every afternoon between 2:45 pm and 3:45 pm...and for those of you who are "green" to the process and how it works? I'm the one with the temper who has absolutely no qualms about rolling her window down and letting you know exactly what I think of you....see all those other moms? the one's giving me a good three feet of space on each side of my vehicle?...they have probably felt my wrath in the have most of the incompetant people who send the kids to the cars each day... I'm not to be toyed with so lets heed the following guidelines and no one will get hurt...especially you in the brand new mazda suv...that's right...I saw you...but we'll get to you later...

Rule number one: There are no cell phones allowed in the school ZONE anymore...much less the school pick up not think you are clever by simply holding the cell phone lower than your window...your vehicle is otherwise unoccupied and you are TALKING...with no ear piece in...with one hand conspicuosly lower than the other in the last I checked? I'm the only crazy bitch who hears voices in this line...that job is taken thank you very much. Enjoy your 2 hundred dollar fine...because I'll be tattling on you to the crossing gaurd in a minute. Why? I don't like your face. That's why. And the fact that you think you're better than everyone and don't have to follow the rules or the clearly posted signs... LIKE SAY THE SPEED LIMIT....WHICH brings me to

Rule #2:The posted speed limit is 20. Not 40-80, and most certainly NOT fucking ZERO. If we all keep moving at a gentle pace people tend to get less aggravated because all that start fucking stop nonsense just pisses type a personalities like me the fuck off... I have no patience for you and your "but suzie can't get her shoes in that two inch puddle there and is currently throwing a king sized hissy fit (true story...witnessed today) about said precious shoes so I must STOP THE CAR...PUT IN IT PARK...(WE AREN'T ANYWHERE NEAR THE PICKUP POINT LADY...) AND WALK THE 300 YARDS TO SAID PRISSY BITCH WHO CAN'T GET HER KEDS SLIGHTLY DAMP...PICK HER UP, AND CARRY HER SAID 300 YARDS AGAIN....back to your car.... ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME LADY? Your fucking spoiled brat (a SECOND GRADER MIND YOU) just caused a 150 car TRAFFIC JAM on a major road way...and next time you do that, could you at least break Rule #3 like the rest of the goons who can't follow the rules? SHEESH bitch ...

Rule #3The field. It is a soccer field, sometimes baseball practice field. It is large, it is grassy, and it sometimes used for emergency parking during school programs where there are lots of folks expected. What it is NOT is a fucking demolition derby you goddamn morons!!! People's babies cut across that field to get HOME...and you have made it the most challenging thing ever by your attempts to CUT the fucking LINE and drive like fucking maniacs across the cut the people off at the front of the line (they seriously do this...daily....) I've called the cops on a few of you...that's right...when you almost hit my neighbor's boy that day? I'm the reason you got pulled over two seconds later because I took down your license plate number and reported you for reckless driving across a fucking field in a school zone no less. Grow a fucking brain, and some patience for the love of pete. No wonder our children have no manners and fights break out over people cutting in the damn lunch line! you can't wait ten minutes to pick up fucking pouty ass haywood or whatver the fuck you named him... you have to throw it in four wheel drive and off road over other people's children to make sure he doesn't have to wait one more solitary second in the shady covering provided by the school with all the other overly spoiled brats.... gimme a fucking break.

These are simply rules. all to better the chances that each of our kids actually make it to the car ALIVE... so how about we do this? say ya'll follow the rules....and I don't go to jail for kicking the shit out of you when you actually fuck up and hurt somebodies kid....remember...I hear voices...and they all don't like you....or your face.....

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

So she's here...and I'm still a bit surprised

March 16th, 2010 at 5:05 pm our family was blessed with a new arrival. We shall call her "Tid Bit."

It went kinda like this:

So I woke up in a FANTASTIC mood- no clue why. Just DID. I played online, dropped the kids off at school, ran to the grocery store, started a pot roast...all before 8 o'clock. Came home to get my shower- and the hot water heater isn't working.

Hmmmm...oh well. Nothing was spoiling my good mood. I took a "pirates" bath, got dressed, kissed the hubs and headed off to my appt.

En route to the doc I started to have some back aches. I shrugged them off because to be honest? I've had back pain the last week and contractions for the last two- so I'm not particularly caring at this point.

In my head I've already decided how the appt. is going to go, and I'm making my to do list for the afternoon. (House cleaning mostly) and planning to repaint my nails that night, etc.

Get there...and the pressure in my lower back is increasing. Hmmm. Hurts a lot actually. Oh well. Again- NOT getting my hopes up... I pee in the cup, tell them I'm still having contractions but no biggy, get wieghed. Tell the nurse about the pressure in my back, and go wait for another 30 min. in the waiting room until an exam room opens up.

They call my name, I go to walk down the hall...and apparently the look on my face concerned my nurse because she asked me
"C- how close are they?
"Me: "what? the back pains- eh, I dunno. It's pretty constant at this point. Didn't think much of it to time it to be honest..."
Nurse: "uh huh--- bottoms off I'm getting the doctor."
Me: "uhh. k"
Doc: "lets check you out- how close are the contractions?"
Me: "haven't really had any today- just that back pain I was telling the nurse about?"
Doc: "you're at a 3- and something is telling me that's not back pain. I want you to head to L & D NOW. I'll meet you over there in an hour or so to check on you."
Me: "do I have time to run to the house and pick up my husband?"
Doc: "I don't want you driving that far. The hospital is across the street so that should be ok. Go NOW. L can meet you there- want us to call him for you?"
Me: " I can call him."

(at this point I'm scratching my head. It's JUST a backache people! I've HAD labor pains before and this ISN'T labor damnit- quit fucking with my head- teasing me is NOT funny at this point.)

No really- I'm a bit upset because I think going to the hospital is a waste of time. The contractions I'm supposedly having don't feel like contractions to me- it's a constant pain in my back. And if I'm just at a 3 and NOT contracting? Well they are gonna send me home. I'm mad- but I call the hubs anyway and tell him to meet me up there even though I think this is STUPID.

So I get there- get hooked up to all the machines. I'm pissed because it's SUPER crowded and I feel like I'm taking up a bed and wasting everyone's time- just to get sent home. Nurse comes in to check on me after an hour or so and her eyes go wide when she looks at the monitor
Nurse: "You okay honey? you're so...quiet..." (keep in mind i'm still in L & D triage, so there is a lot of moaning and groaning going on around me from other curtained areas)
Me: "I'm okay. So can I go home now?"
Nurse: "sweety- your contractions are 2-3 minutes apart...and look like they are painful as hell... you're not going ANYWHERE. You're having a baby today."

Me: "you fuckin with me?"

Nurse: (laughs insanely) noooo not so much. here, I'll show you what I mean. (rolls me off my back and to my side to help me sit the monitor- then tells me to stand and walk...) Me: ohhhhhhhhh- yup. that's familiar. So I just couldn't feel them because you guys had me on my back and it's mostly back labor I guess?
Nurse: Yup. (laughs more) we'll get you into a room shortly. Dr. will be here in a few to check on you.

From there it's a bit of a whirlwind...they broke my water at 1- contractions got good but I was okay. Didn't actually WANT the epidural when they gave it to me because I was feeling okay. In pain, but could handle it ya know? But if I didn't get it THEN I wasn't going to...and I'm all about some epidural towards the end of labor. That was around 3:30 or so, and I also got a pitocin drip because I was still at a 4 and doc wanted to get things forward to 4:30. I think my epidural has quit working. The contractions are right on top of each other and I can't top it all off my mother arrives just in time to see me burst into tears and to order my husband to go find the nurse because my epidural isn't working, and if it's not going to work I want the damn needle out of my back NOW. (My call button was broken.)

My mother starts patronizing me so I threaten to hit her if she doesn't shut up because she starts telling me "it can't be THAT bad honey- you aren't throwing things yet or hitting people like I did with you..."

Me: "doesn't mean I'm not fucking thinking it mom. Now quit admiring my restraint and leave me alone already."

Hubs comes back in with the nurse, who is concerned since I think the epi isn't working (we had had equipment problems earlier in the evening) she checks the machine, which is fine, and then checks me.... and promptly busts out laughing.

Nurse: "Honey there isn't a damn thing wrong with your epidural. You're's time to push... THAT'S why it hurts that bad."

Me: "are you fucking with me?" (note: this is kinda the key phrase all day)

Nurse: (busts out laughing) noooo...and we're close so let me call the doctor.

From there it's just a matter of literally went by THAT fast. The nurse had to get onto the hubster because he had me laughing so hard Gabby was thisclose to being born on the floor And, quite literally, my doc walked in in time to catch her.

One push. and my baby was here....and that is almost as surreal as birthing a kid during a hurricane evacuation- now ain't it?

Thursday, March 11, 2010

why am I still pregnant?

Technically my due date is not for another 7 days.

This is unacceptable to me. I've been contracting for 9 days...and have only dialated to a 1?!

That's just ludicrous.

I fully believe that women should be given SOME kind of decision making ability this close to the end...but nooooooooooooooooooooooooo the doctor is all " it'll be okay...just keep going on and we're gonna let you progress naturally..."

ummm...or you could give me a pitocin drip and get this labor moving and get this kid the hell outta me before I fly into a crazy pregnany lady hormonal homicidal rage?

hmmm? mr. doctor man?

Okay. Done whining. To be honest all of this business wouldn't be THAT bad if the kids I have already weren't sick.

That's right...they are sick. The shadow is super sick actually... We THOUGHT she was all better, and BAM...'AHAHAAHAHAHA...FOOLED YOU!'

Fever is back.

My boy has allergies for days, and a cough that would drive the most patient woman in the world (which have I mentioned I'm ummm. not?) absolutely bat shit crazy.

Who would like to wajer how many days ago mama allgrowedup went bat shit crazy? :-D

Friday, March 5, 2010

I don't wanna play anymore...

Day FOUR of contractions. 20-25 minutes apart...not strong enough to dialate me...but certainly strong enough to take the wind out of my sails.

To top it off, my lil bit has come down with RSV. (For you non parenting folks...that's a fairly contagious upper respiratory viral infection that hits the pre-k age kids pretty hard, and runs through daycares and schools like wildfire.)

Normally, no biggy. Unless I actually go into which point we are ...well.


Lil bit will be contagious for at least another 3-4 days... so she's gonna have to go to my mama and daddy I guess if I have this baby this weekend...because this RSV business is deadly to newborns. :-(


I'm tired. The doctor put me on leave from work... in order to rest my weary bones so I can push this heathen out...and for all the rest I've gotten I might as well have worked straight through.

I just keep chanting " 2 weeks. 2 weeks"... I'm officially 2 weeks from my due date today...and if I haven't had her by then he may induce me that following Monday. Maybe not.

Lets hope she comes next week? Cuz after the week I've had...

Mama All Growed Up needs a drink.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

19 days and counting...and Walmart makes me dizzy...

Omigosh my dear blog how I've neglected thee...

but I've been busy incubating, mothering, working, etc... everything but cleaning. My house is a pit.

Ironically, 19 days away from my "projected" due date with kiddo number 3... my husband has fallen ill with whateverthehell bug knocked me on my ass last week...but I got doped up on antibiotics by my OB...whereas he refuses to seek medical treatment (WHY are men so stubborn?) and is currently languishing in agony in the bed...

SO here I sit. In the pit...just returned from my customary Walmart trip with the kids (I needed underwear...that fit my fat ass) and I'm contemplating why the last THREE times I've gone into that store I get dizzy.

NO's insane...somewhere between getting the milk and the compulsory "mama I'm soooooooooooo thirsty I'm gonna DIIiiiiiiiiiie Sprite" in the checkout line...I start to see spots... then the room starts to spin...and before I know it lil man and lil bit are looking at me like I'm loony tunes I seek out the nearest bench to sit down on and put my head between my legs...

Now before everyone gets all "AHHHHHHHHHHHH! You're PREGNANT" on me... I know that thank you. I also know that my blood pressure is EXCELLENT this time around, my blood sugar is PERFECT (that's right, I keep tabs) and that I had a good breakfast this morning. The one thing I forgot to do was take my prenatal vitamin, but that can be done anytime of day.

WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS OCCUR IN WALMART? Seriously...that's the part I can't fathom. It's like God is trying to tell me to quit spending my few pennies in that stupid place.

We make it to the bench, as always, and I rest a minute or two, and then we head to the car. I came home and ate a piece of fruit. Took SEVERAL swigs of Dr. Pepper (just in case it WAS my blood sugar) and hunted up a new pack of prenatals...

and I'm still wondering if I'm just allergic to the store itself. Cuz by the time I hit the drivers seat of my big bus?? I was feeling a million times better already.