I went to Wal Mart

My list included:

trash bags
cereal
bread
corn
green beans
dog food
hairbrush
milk
eggs
corn dogs
tortillas
shredded cheese
guacamole
apples

What I can home with:

Bag of polyfil
queen size foam pad
dog food (check)
green beans x4 (check)
corn x4 (check)
shredded cheese (check)
strawberries
trash bags (check)
tortillas x2 (check)
hairbrush (check)
remnant fleece
stitch witch x2
cereal x2 (check)
milk x2 (check)
mixed fruit cup
twin sheets x2

And what have I learned?
Nothing.

He hasn't changed that much

I just love 'em

Happy Birthday Jordana!

My littlest sister turns 20 today!
Happy birthday Aunt George!
We love you soooo much!

Soapbox

Alright, I openly admit that what I'm about to say is neither politically correct or rational and it might not even be nice but it's how I feel and after last night I could not say it more...

IF YOU ARE GOING TO LIVE IN A COUNTRY OTHER THAN THE ONE IN WHICH YOU WERE BORN (or maybe you were born in the opposite country) TAKE THE TIME TO LEARN THE LANGUAGE OF SAID COUNTRY.

There. I said it. I know, it's horrible. It's awful. But come on people. If you chose to live in the US, whether legally or illegally, learn how to speak English. And I am so not trying to segregate those of Spanish decent. It just so happens that in TX, the ratio of Hispanics to Caucasians is 5:1. Or something like that.

Here's the deal: since I work in the ER, there are a plethora of individuals that come in whom do not speak English. Not a lick of it actually. They even fill out their slips in Spanish. And when there are no people around whom also speak Spanish, I have to go and find someone to translate. This may take awhile. This is not my fault. It's also quite embarrassing when the doctor, DOCTOR, has to get one of the housekeepers (whom I love dearly-really) to come and translate for him. Yeah.

Also note that I would feel the same way about an American going to live in say, Germany.

But since I know that this is a null point, I'll just stew about it. And of course write about it.

Shout Outs:
Moist Facial Towelettes-make-up removal made easy.
Gel pens-I really love writing with you.
Key hooks-if Stuart actually used you, I would never have to search for the keys.

Proof: The truck in the livingroom

A Letter

Dear backyard(ish) neighbor,

I am a dog lover. My husband and I have two gigantic beasts with which to prove this point. Their names are Turbo and Scout and we lovingly refer to them as our children (though not to be confused with our human children, at times which act worse than our non-human ones but we'll leave that for another letter). I completely get why people want and buy dogs. I also completely understand why some people buy dogs for other purposes than to keep around the house, give treats to and laugh at when they take up more space on the couch than their son and they do nothing about it because it's just so cute. Some of these reasons might be for farming and guarding. I'm going to assume that your reason for purchasing and owning this breed is for the latter. I'm not going to lie, I think it's a bit cruel to leave your animal outside all day without ever bringing them inside (I mean we do live in Hotter-than-Hell Hundred boasting WF {which is next weekend and I *think* President George W might be riding in it}), but you are the master of your domain and I'm not going to tell you what to do-to an extent.

You see dear backyard(ish) neighbor, I love my sleep. More importantly I love my children's sleep. And when I am actually home, at night, and get to sleep in the same bed, at the same time that my husband is sleeping, I really would like to stay asleep. Unfortunately this monumental feat can not occur when your* non-human offspring are left out all night and thus bark and howl at the flutter of a leaf.

*these could possibly be another backyard(ish) neighbor's clansdogs, but for the sake of this letter we'll just say that they are, in fact, yours.

The dominoe effect of your brood barking and whining comes thru my doors and windows, which then causes my two, precious non-human children to whine. And if that whining and scurrying about gets loud enough, my two human children wake up.

I'm not sure if you have human children or not (I'm gonna go with not since there is no way that children sleeping mere feet from the ruckus that is enclosed in your backyard every night could in fact, sleep) but when these angels wake from slumber in the middle of the night it is neither fun nor easy to put their cherub cheeks back on the pillow and pass a spell to make their eyes close again. This recipe also leaves a mother tending to her sheep while her dear husband snores and hogs more of the now available sheets.

So you see, you, by way of your actions in letting your {sigh} dogs stay outside all night long are in effect ruining the peace and order of my nighttime house. I would appreciate and swift and immediate fix of this problem or else I might be forced to stick my head out the back door and yell like your other backyard(ish) neighbors have done for the past few nights.

Thank you for your time.

Respectfully,
Your other backyard(ish) neighbor who hasn't been screaming at you

Cleaning and Crying

So I've been trying to catch up on my cleaning and laundry since my work load this week has been a hair lighter than last week. Add to that the fact that I got sick this weekend and my cleaning "mojo" has been about zero. But since laundry doesn't stop (and is it just me or does the laundry double when mom isn't home to take care of it everyday?) and dishes must be washed or else the milk curdles and then I have the stinkiest nast-i-ous-ness (that is so a real word) on my hands, cleaning I must do.

So that is what I have done in between sleeping, eating, spending few precious minutes with my boys and of course buying new pots and pans. Oh the joys!

With that I have also been catching up on my blog friends and blogs that I stalk. Yesterday I watched this and just about ran out of tears.



Oh, and have I mentioned to go over here and check out the new update on Luke??

One last thing, my baby boy is going to be 4 (as in one, two, three, FOUR) in less than a month!

Things that make 'ya go "oooh"

I had a dream

I mean, I have many dreams. I pretty much dream every night or day depending on when I am sleeping. And I remember my dreams. We're talking crazy, accurate details. I honest to goodness remember a dream that I had when I was little that involved my sister not being thrown into a den of wolves because she ran out from under my mom's dress to reach the Barbie that was stuck in the giant spider web. I guess you could call it more of a nightmare but none-the-less I remember it. This is a big reason as to why I can't and won't watch horror movies (or their commercials for that matter)-I have these horrid dreams that I wake up in a cold sweat from and then can't go back to sleep because I start thinking about all the terrible things that could happen to my kids and husband and then I'm drowning in a sea of badliness and all I want to do is think about the things that I need to get done the next day so that I can focus on the positive. Yeah, it's that bad.

Ahem.

So this dream. I had it yesterday, during the day, since I had to work tonight (or last night if you want to be technical but since my shift encompasses two literal days...I'm not really sure where I was going with that thought but I was asleep Monday afternoon. Better?) and I had this bizarre dream that I feel inclined to share with you, my adoring readers.

Stuart and I are in Virginia and we're staying with the doctors from the show "Deliver Me." Just the brunette and the blonde doctors. I'm not sure why they are in VA, but that's where we were. And they are in this giant, Victorian style house. For some reason we decided to sleep in different rooms since the boys were in different rooms and each of the boys were on a different floor.

Sometime during the night I am approached by a man who wants for us to get involved in his business. I am not scared of this man, and I think he might also be from another reality show that we watch but I can't put my finger on it. So the this business is drug trafficking. And we say yes.

After agreeing to this insane proposition, I go back to sleep. Because, you know, that's all I really want to do these days.

Sometime later, the house gets broken into. The theifs want to take all the drug paraphernalia that we are "hiding" but they can't find any since we have magically appeared in a new house. But somehow the boys did not go with us to this new house. And I am frantic to find them.

Turns out Tyson has become a doctor and is in the hospital trying to hold down a kid (who happens to be Tucker) so that he can give him a shot in order to pull off the sippie cup lid that is stuck on his tongue (an event that actually happened last week in the ER).

I wake up from this and all I can think about is why Stuart didn't notice that Tucker had the sippie cup stuck on his tongue and why in the world did he not call me to let me know what happened. I actually got up to go in the living room and make sure all was right in the world-while-mom-was-sleeping.

And it was.

Except for the fact that the outside truck (Power Wheels, huge, massive, both boys can sit inside and drive it around the backyard truck) was inside my living room.

Sha-weet.

On Working

This has been my pattern for the last couple of weeks:

come home
engage with the boys and Stu for at least an hour
fall into bed
sleep all day
wake up
eat dinner
work all night
repeat

Seriously.

Oh and I love you JW. :)

Shout Outs:
Niel Med Sinus Irrigation System-you make me feel like I'm drowning but boy-howdy do you work.
Clean sheets-need I say more?
Left overs-yeah, no cooking.

Oh Tucker

My Girl

now without her girl parts

I was not prepared

A couple days ago I was taking my bi-daily trip to Walmart with the boys. My list included toilet paper, diapers, bread, milk, cereal and corn dogs. Of course I can never walk out of the store with exactly what's on my list so the boys and I were in the middle of the baked goods aisle (I wanted brownies) when Tyson started playing yet another of his million questions games. This particular game centered on who is whom's mother.

Tyson: Mommy, you're MY mommy.
Me: Mhmm.
Tyson: And you're Tucker's mommy.
Me: Yup.
Tyson: And Kate is Aunt George's mommy.
Me: Almost-Aunt Marci is Kate's mommy.
Tyson: And Mimi is a mommy.
Me: She's mommy's mommy.
Tyson: And Aunt Sarah is daddy's mommy.
Me: No. Aunt Sarah is daddy's sister. Nana is daddy's mommy.
Tyson: That's right! Good job mommy. Where is Nana?
Me: Well, she's in heaven right now.
Tyson: In heaven....with God? And Jesus?
Me: Yes. And she's eating chocolate cake!
Tyson: Is Nana going to come to my house?
Me: Well buddy she can't come to your house because she's in heaven.
Tyson: I really want her to come to my house.
Me: Me too, me too.

T Minus Two Years

August 10, 2007