Baby fever? I think not!

There are days that I pass a sleeping baby in a stroller in Target and it takes every ounce of self control not to utilize my most super sleuth skills and silently steal that baby and snuggle him / her endlessly. I love babies, even at their crankiest. I love their chubby little legs, their drool covered chins and their toothless grins. Just seeing a baby sends my blackened heart into Mother Teresa mode. I get weepy and sentimental, my babies are becoming more and more like miniature adults as each day passes. Today was not one of those days. After the day I had with the lunatic trio, it is safe to say my new passion in life is creating birth control posters to plaster the universe with. The morning was actually off to a pretty smooth start and after dropping off the boys at school, the early afternoon followed the same pattern. Upon picking Thing One and Thing Two up at school, the ruckus began. It was subtle at first, so subtle that it was almost undetected by the naked eye. My eye is much too wise for that tomfoolery but a full blown crisis was averted. It was averted until we got home, consumed dinner at a speed that would make most gazelles green with envy and got started on 3rd grade homework! Spelling to be exact. I must credit Sophie and Pacey, my resident mini thugs. Sophie watched Annie and played silently and Pacey perfected the art of Yu-gi-oh card worship without incident. Ashton apparently had some inner spelling rage he needed to work out verbally and I was the lucky Mommie in charge! Cheese and Rice! Ashton is incredibly smart. I'm not just saying that because I am his mom and I only produce perfect and mini geniuses. I'm saying this because it is true. He is eight years old, a year ahead in school, in advanced classes and still flying through in a nonsensical way. I have no doubt in my mind that he could outscore me on any subject on any given day. No joke. I'm more than willing to account for my lack of knowledge in certain subjects because I am confident that I make up for that deficit with my smart ass charm and undeniable cuteness. That is my hope at least. Neither my cuteness or wise ass abilities helped me this evening though. Ashton was wound for sound! Not only was he in no mood to accomplish his spelling endeavors but he was hell bent on Mommie inevitably losing her shit and flailing objects around the room willy nilly. Of course Miss Sophie Anabelle used all the paper making letters to all of her friends and shoving them in the mailbox so there was no available paper on which he could do his homework. He is well aware of his sisters lust for writing and paper wasting and he is also aware that I purchased a ton of extra supplies for him to keep and bring home as needed and he chose not to. Pacey had ONE single sheet of paper he offered his brother in a rare act of good faith. Ashton, having inherited some of his mothers wise ass abilities, purposely wrote the wrong words and then over erased in a failed act of defiance and erased a dayum hole in the dayum piece of paper. Duuuuuuude. When I tell ya'll that I saw red, I flippin' saw red. RED. R E D! I envisioned Tyson chewing off Holyfield's ear. Not that I'm an ear biter, I'm not a biter at all but I can only imagine that Tyson felt at least slightly less enraged afterward. At this time I got my game plan in action. I figured my friends love me enough to do all that they could to contact Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton and Don King. Typically, Nancy Grace is my go to gal but with her Dancing shenanigans and twins, she might be slightly preoccupied. Needless to say, I feel these three gentleman can raise enough cash flow to bust me outta the clink IF and WHEN I finally react to the constant jackassery that I endure daily. I won't bore ya with the gory details but paper was purchased after a panic filled waiting period on his behalf thinking he was going to have to take a zero for this homework assignment and he did complete it effortlessly in less than fifteen minutes when presented the chance to do so with new paper. The point of this post is that I want a trophy. I want a trophy, a big ass mountain dew and taco bell. I want my trophy pink and bedazzled and fabulous and I want it engraved in fancy girly writing to say, "I came ----><---- THIS CLOSE to being on Dateline and I resisted the urge!" Make it happen.

Thank GAWD today is OVAH!

Grilled Cheesus, today was one helluva day!! As I am sure you are aware, I am not a morning person, at all. I loathe mornings, there will never be an occasion in which I am giddy at the prospect of getting up before the sun and God. Nope. Not one. Ever. Needless to say, my children have inherited my severe distaste for waking before we are damn good and ready. Clearly, the early hours are not the time to even attempt my patience or my mothering skills. My children are overachievers. They see Mommie is exhausted, not quite awake and a news story waiting to happen. Seeing this challenge, they feel obligated to push me to my limits, to see if I can truly resist the urge to pull my seriously cute Lancer over and pummel each of them individually. Today was no exception. These angelic, smart, sweet tiny humans make their mission to not only poke, prod and invade each others space but to do so at a volume that would make God, Santa, The Easter Bunny and Oprah shit their pants at first sound. Imagine that shenanigans at 7am, in an enclosed car with my already sunny disposition. Oh HAIL nah! When I tell ya'll I went bananas, I mean, I WENT BANANAS! I took away bey blades and Annie dvd's. I renounced all holidays, religious and ceremonial. I might have even shortened their ages some. Hell, I don't know. I kinda felt like that kid on A Christmas Story when he says the big F instead of FUDGE. It all happened so fast. I want ya'll to appreciate the sheer magnitude of restraint that it took not to become a statistic. Did they stop?? Oh double eff nah. They did not. The xy chromosomes were silent, mostly out of fear of losing Yu-gi-oh cards and beyblades. Sophie? Not so much. This four year old beauty and tiny tyrant was not detoured by my threats whatsoever. In fact, I think it encouraged her. She SCREAMED the entire way home. THE ENTIRE WAY HOME! I don't think you get it, the entire mother effin way home! I prayed for some plague of deafness to strike me instantly. It did not. As we pulled into our garage, she fell asleep. Do you know what happens then?? That is when *I* get to wake the screamer up. LOVELY! Luckily, the promise of breakfast and Wizard Of Oz was enough to get her QUIETLY in the door and happily going on about her four year old business! All that being said, I want you to truly realize give me mad credit for not being an alcoholic or the subject of Nancy Grace's BREAKING NEWS!

Party Like A Rock Star!!

Or should I say, over drink like a football mommie. Oy! With Halloween just around the corner, it seemed not only appropriate but absolutely mandatory to attend a block party. The Parrow Trio were spending the weekend with their grandparents and this only added to the allure of a super adult drink fest.  I brought my stolen recipe of bullfrog and one of my best friends to make our trek to the party perfect. Now listen, I fully recognize and accept my age in all ways but I also believe that I defy the odds. While I am technically a thirty two year old mother of three, I am really a twenty one year old spring chicken with an indestructable liver and an insanely high tolerance for alcoholic beverages. Hell, I was two large drinks in when we arrived. On drink three, we are mingling, drinking and taking in the festive atmosphere. That is where my counting of the drinks began to diminish. Since there was a designated driver in place, this wasn't a concern of mine. With each sip of this Mountain Dew / Kool Aid / Vodka concoction, I feel even better, giddier, riskier! Hell, there was a split second that I was convinced that I was in a disco and Dancing Queen was the soundtrack in my head. I met two awesome ladies that I am fairly sure I have known in a previous, younger, more bitchin life. One was wearing the outfit from the Sundrop commercial. You know which one. Head band, green sundrop shirt, cut off shorts with leggings underneath. OH MY GOD! I died and went to new BFF heaven. Seriously!!! It seemed only appropriate that we dance the Sun Drop dance as vigorously and accurately as possible! My muscles didn't hurt, my moves were smooth and MORE liquid inappropriateness was being consumed at an alarming rate!!

Oh yeah, that shit HAPPENED! Drunk Mimi...CHECK! Duckface that I loathe in photo's...CHECK! Jager Bombs! TWO PLEASE!! Cheeeeck. Apple pie shot!! Sure! Cheeeeeck. Some lemon shit shot! Cheeeeeck. Here, drink this, its fruity, you'll like it. Well hell yeah I will. Shoot, I'll even do it again. The room is only kind of spinning. Like, a lot. Which is kind of convenient since my dance moves were starting to slow slightly. As we ended the evening....or should I say morning, I found myself missing one of my two shirts and my shoes in the backseat of my super cute Lancer with Amber singing New Kids On The Block. Ah, bliss. Pure bliss. What I didn't fully comprehend at the time was that the fun, fuzzy, stellar feeling I was feeling in that moment would take a turn to shove me just to the brink of death. I don't remember going to bed, falling asleep or anything of the sort. What I do remember was opening ONE eye and quickly shutting that bitch shut when the miniscule glimmer of sunlight felt like a leprechan snuck into my house, waited for me to open *an* eye and stabbed me directly in the eye with a spork. Sweet mother of God! That shooting pain surged through my head like a mo fo. A mother effin' MO FO! At that point, the pounding started. Have you seen STOMP? It is an incredible show of percussionists and dancers and whatnot making beats and songs using ordinary stuff. It truly is incredible in a non smartassy way. Stomp was taking place IN MY HEAD, OUT OF RHYTHM and with no recourse to my feelings or health. I tried to reposition myself. Apparently, my attempts to be a dancer in an MC HAMMER video have left me with a muscle injury so profound that I may have to star in an infomercial similar to those you see to save the hungry kids. I tried to groan, I had no voice whatsoever and my throat burned like lava. I took every ounce of energy to shove my head *eyes slammed shut* under the pillow and turn on my side in the fetal position. I had the overwhelming urge to pee, yet I lacked the ability to even attempt to get out of bed and make the lonely trip to the bathroom. I dozed off and woke up at the crack of noon. It was time to pick up the trio from their trip to see NaNa and PaPa. I missed my kids immensely. The peace and quiet and alone adult time were phenomenal but I missed peeing with the assistance that only three kids under 10 can provide. I missed watching mediocre children's programming and answering nine million useless questions about virtually the same thing repeatedly. But I missed these things when I felt well. I was in a pit of self induced agony that I wasn't sure how to deal with. I trudged to the bathroom grudgingly, forcing my eyes open just wide enough to see. Peed, brushed my teeth and hair and pulled on clothes. We met up at Ponderosa. I love buffets. I love food. With a hangover, I wanted to die. I was starving to death, my stomach is growling like a rabid anteater and the thought of food made me wretch. So what did I do? I made nachoes! I made nachoes then followed it up with macaroni and cheese, two rolls and battered fish and two cups of mountain dew. About the time all that nonsense settled, it was time to go. Thank God I wasn't driving because I literally couldn't have kept my eyes open if my life depended on it. I dozed while the kids bickered quietly and Sophie fell asleep. Upon arriving home, I was helped into the bedroom where I plopped down on the King Size hug from Jesus and passed the eff out. PASSED THE EFF OUT. O U T. I had an epiphany, I am not a college kid anymore *gasp* I cannot drink to my hearts content with no reprocussions in the morning. I used to drink myself into a stupor and wake up at 7am and pull a double and do it all over again. Now? Not so much. It is safe to say, I've hit my thirties!

Dear Auto Correct

Ah, I knew this subject would arise again and finally, it has. I love autocorrect, I like everything to be spelled properly, even my profanity. So much so that when I got my new phone, I spent hours programming my favorite obscenities into the database. For example, before I programmed it properly, it would replace one of my favorite words with "ducking". Annoying. For the most part, everything goes smoothly, today...not so much. I intended on asking my friend Amber,"Are you GUYS going trick or treating?" I pushed send and reread it briefly and audibly gasped. It read,"Are you TITS going trick or treating tonight?" *embarrassed* I quickly explained the mishap and added that if she were going trick or treating then I'm sure her "girls" would be in attendance as well. It! Did I learn nothing from the CUTE/C*NT debacle??

Who let the crazies out??

I *love* crazy people. Seriously,I love them. They do asinine things and wear heinous clothing and speak and act in ways that any human with a double digit IQ would never do. Right now, as I type this, I am waiting for the husband to finish giving blood, there is an annoying twit beside me brag about being in a holding cell too long to donate himself. He says this braggingly while doing the Justin Bieber hair flip,wearing purple plaid shorts and blue and black loafers and a tie dye Bob Marley shirt. The visual is enough to send me to the nearest pharmacy in search of drugs that will render me blind. You'd also he interested to know that this young lad would also like to get his hair in dreadlocks, I imagine it would add a half of a point to his nonexistent street cred. Now he is singing, I can't place the song but I can assure you that rapping is not his forte. Now he is kinda staring at me as if he has super human powers and he is attempting to set me ablaze. I'm not sure why, my phone was on silent when I took the picture *shrugs*

Hello!!

After some generous prodding by some of my favorite people, I decided to start a blog. I won't lie. I did get a slight surge of self indulgent infatuation that lasted roughly .5 seconds as I realized I'm far too inept to set up this sumbitch. I can give birth to three oversized but brilliant children ( two naturally) , I can successfully care for a nation of ill behaved pugs and I can even use a public restroom while resisting the violent urge to douse myself and the restroom in Bath and Body Works Twilight Woods antibacterial hand gel. However, setting up a blog is not within my realm of capabilities! I still don't have an idea whatsoever of whqt the hell to blog about.

Being kid free this weekend has provided me with the most amazing Ambien induced sleep. My love and pure adoration of this tiny medicinal hug from Jesus could never properly be expressed with meer words. Ah! Sleep! Sleep and bad decisions. Lovely. Oddly enough, last night,I just went to sleep. It was an odd sensation to sleep until I decided to wake up, it was heaven.

Doing absolutely nothing is as exhausting as you can imagine so by the time dinner rolled around, I was more than ready to make Subway my bitch. Nom,Nom,Nom. As my bff would say, I was going to put some groceries in my belly. Bwahaha! I love her,I love listening to her talk. I never quite know if she's bullshitting me or not. She once convinced me that when I flew to Georgia to spend the weekend with her,we were going to go "snipe hunting". I am sure you know enough about me to know that I have no desire whatsoever to hunt for anything. Unless it involves shopping or the spa,count me as an uninterested spectator. Anyway, this fool had me convinced this is a real effin event and I fell hook,line and sinker.

We are standing in line waiting to build the five dollar footlong of our individual dreams and the toolbox behind me is trying to telepathically transmit a "shout out" to her dog through the subway counter,brick wall,parking lot and alas her geo prism. I'm able to focus my ADD just long enough to order my feast , that is when I turn to catch a glimpse of the Indiana chapter of Dog Whisperer Anonymous.

What a sight to behold. Patchwork sweatshirt with half a teddy bear on the front. Either her precious pooch gnawed it off in attempt to escape her ramblings or the teddy bear offed himself to end the suffering. Both options sound viable to me. I didn't fault her for the pajama jeans, they make me smile. I didn't even get to the shoes, the fanny pack had my attention. Oh Tom Cruise, Oprah! I love a good fanny pack. I kept my squeal under wraps, I almost wanted to adopt this lady......until she started to talk again.

Apparently, paying for my meal allowed her a prime view to her dog through the drive thru window. "Oh look! There's my doggie! There's my baby! I bet she knowed (yes KNOWED) I came in here. I bet she done gonna want some of my sammich. You see her? I bet she be seeing me!"

Shoot. Me. Now. Ya know what? That was a violent assualt on my ears,noise pollution isn't a joke, millions of people suffer every year! Lol! As we left, I sent an eye signal to the dog just in case she wanted to escape. We shall see!