Learn to Swerve.

Irkage at 11:00 pm

I should be sleeping, but here I sit. Being irked. By what you question? Oh you can be sure I will tell you.

1. People who ask 5.5 month pregnant women when they are due, and before you can suck in your gut and say June 11th, they give you that "I hope soon you poor thing you look like you're about to pop" face. If one more person asks me when I am due, and starts to look towards the belly with those big eyes, I'm going to simply smile and say, "Oh, I'm not pregnant." Watch them try to recover from that one.

2. My dear and delicious 30 years old as of midnight husband eating an apple as LOUD as FETCHING possible on the couch next to me. I'm saying this aloud as I type it so that maybe, just maybe, he will tone down the apple chewing, and allow me to hear fox news. Oh it worked. Thanks bunches babe. You're the man. Muah.

3. The UPS man dinging and ditching my beloved Paper Salon box of goodies on the porch in a puddle of water, (albeit the water was all the fault of my children, and perhaps he didn't see the worm and grub Olympic sized pool they built for them this afternoon with their bare-hands) the fact that he set my box IN the water, not knowing what important things lie beneath, left me a bit miffed.

4. Parents who think that height and weight percentiles have something to do with how smart your child is. I'm sorry, so because my almost 2 year old is short she's also less of an intellect? I'll have you know she says sponge-bob, and does a mean Jim Carrey in The Grinch impersonation. You're daughter's tall, high five, lay off mine. She might be short, but she's got mad skills. Not something I would usually let get to me, but today it did. Let it be known. I'm 85th percentile for weight. I'll sit on ya.

5. The pants that are currently serving as coverage for the lower half of my torso. I'm still in denial about how much weight I have gained and decided that I will wear these pants until the 6 month mark. I can't feel my feet, my hands are starting to swell, and I think I might have lost all circulation in my toes, but I will not cave. (fear not, I exaggerate the state these pants put me in, but suffice it to say we will be soon parting ways. 6 month mark. Not so much.

6. Adorable little girls who beg for MONTHS to go to dance, who dream of being a dancer, who get brand new dance shoes, dance leotards, a tutu, dance bag, and a physical that took an act of congress to finally cement, and then decide " I don't think I want to do the whole dancing thing mama". Oh yes. You want do the dancing thing. Even if for only a month which is how long I have paid for it. You are going to dance. And; you are going to LIKE it. =) Sounds mean. Reality is harsh pumpkin. You're 3. Scarring will be minimal. Let's dance.

7. The price of dental work. I tell my husband all the time the only thing I'd change about him is I'd give him the desire to go back ten  years to school and be a dentist. You can see in my self portraits down there a few entries below that my teeth are my ENEMY. They hate me. I picture them meeting weekly in the back where my wisdom teeth should be, plotting who's up next for a cavity and whether or not its time to all go in together for a root canal. I'd say pull em' all and give me falsies but I like to think that at some point they will find peace with being good teeth, and give me a break. I have 3 cavities and a root canal that needs replaced. I seriously cannot carve out anymore time in my day for more brushing and flossing. As it is, I'm the woman at the stoplight singing and flossing. I'm ready to rumble. The time to make peace is now boys.

8. The price of fruit. Mother of pearl. I can get a box of snow-balls, and 2 king sized candy bars for the price of a pint of strawberries. What gives. I want strawberries, not pink sugar covered cream filled mounds that look nothing like snowballs. I decided to go all out and get 2 pints, but I'm still eating them one at a time placing a quarter for each one into a ziploc baggie to pay back the college money I was forced to borrow from to fulfill the berry cravings.

9. My roots. Where oh where is a cheap live in hair dresser willing to dye your hair in exchange for room and board when you need one. I have come to a precipice in this hair relationship. My options are either, let the rootage grow out until every 4th month when I might be able to convince my husband to let me go get it professionally done, and take a risk that they will even do it right, or dye it all brown and say to heck with the skunk streaks. I'm almost 26, perhaps its time to throw in the towel. But I really want my streaks. Boo hiss. I will have to come back to this one when I'm not pregnant. Can't really do it right now anyways.

10. The noodle car wash. Um, OK, I realize I might be taking a risk going to a car wash that has plastic pieces that go over every surface of your car. So far, I've found my risk taking to be minimal, and have had no trauma come as a result of my refusal to hand-wash a car in 25 degree weather. UNTIL today that is. I went through the noodle wash as I do every payday trying to keep some value on the trusty pathfinder, All's well that ends well and we drive out. I do the 360 degree survey of the car that I do every-time. No scratches. HOLY HANNAH. What's this! There's no scratches but my license plate is bent in HALF. I'm talking, complete crease down the center of that bad boy. Removed the screw and everything. That's what I call a power wash. I think I might have to give into the hand-washing after today's incident. Bugs and tar, won't touch em. you want a license plate removed, the noodle wash is for you.

I have about 100 more things, but 10 seems to be the magic number to end on, so I'll leave you for tonight. Happy Birthday Baby love, hope you enjoy your UFC pay per view. Its not ringside, but who needs ringside when you've got a big-screen, me and the kids. WE love you!!

I think...

1. I must have scared you all away with my photos of smallish children spurned from the womb of something very similar to an alien film extra. I promise to keep iPhoto booth pictures to myself from here on out. Unless of course they somehow fuel the em-betterment of my post. (little George Bush humor there.)

2. The Lord gave me stretch marks so that I would not be tempted to wear outfits similar to the one worn by the lady at the Dr.'s Office today. She was taking full advantage of what the good Lord gave her, and what I can only assume was also purchased at that same Dr's Office. Even my 2 year old couldn't stop staring at the gu-dunga dunga's she was allowing to bless the fellow pediatric appointment waiters. Note to self. Look into getting breast implants.

3. I will one day regret telling my husband that I almost got him 2nd row behind VIP tickets to the UFC championship fight with Randy VS.TIm Sylvia held in his home state of Ohio, for his birthday. It was that small matter of it costing the same amount as 6 months of groceries that made me say no. Here I thought telling him of my good intentions would have made him realize what a gem I truly am. He wanted to know why I didn't go ahead and purchase them. Food? UFC? Food? UFC?  Suffice it to say I will be pay per viewing it for his gazing pleasure.

4. The people who send me the Victoria's secret catalog must not have a photo to go with my address and name. Something tells me they'd keep the skimpy version and send me the XXL one instead.

5. Regardless of what your position is on the Dugger woman having her 17th baby, you have to give the lady props for A. having 17 children, none of whom have ended up on the wanted list at the post office, and B. Still having enough hair to wear it the way she does. I know for a fact that I would be hairless and in a straight jacket if I were pregnant with #17. This lady's quiver will be full with 4.

6. I will be signing up for the Grocery Game this week to see if I can actually start saving money on groceries. That is one bill that always goes up for me, and I'm not exactly eating lobster and rack of lamb. I hear alot of people having success with it, and who knows, had I started it 6 months ago, we might just be sitting ring side at UFC March 3rd. ETA* Here is a thread about it. On two peas that got me interested!

7. Cable television is a total waste of my hard earned money. OK, so I don't make any money, but its a waste of Mike's. The only channel I even watch is the food network, and the meals they make usually cost $127.65 to recreate. I watch it for the thrill of seeing someone actually cook food and then making that face when its truly delicious. I don't get that face much around here, so I like to live vicariously through them.

8. I might actually try and sign up for some on-line classes this year, like Big picture, or Scrap-A- Faire type things. I am getting bored of my lack of ideas, and I hear nothing but good things about these classes.

9. I don't think but I actually KNOW what a lucrative business it would be to offer to fold someone's laundry in exchange for say, money? I'm actually thinking of running an ad in the Sunday paper. Wanted: Someone willing to wade through 175 articles of washed and clean smelling clothing searching for matching socks all while forcing the thought out of your mind that as soon as the timer goes off there will be another 140 articles ready to be folded and worn again.  The wretched day of folding is once again upon us, and I am so not ready to conquer it with a happy heart.

10. And lastly, I think that this baby is most definitely going to be the hairiest of all my children. If there is any truth to that heartburn equals hair theory, this one has sasquatch in his blood because its all I can do to make it 24 hours without heartburn kicking my butt. I am not sick at all, but the heartburn has me useless to the day's activities because I'm so ready to puke every time it hits.

Anyways. Thinking isn't something I do much of, but I figured I better think while I still have the brain to do so. I lose what I can only assume amounts to 1/4 of my brain cells every time I have a baby, being that this is baby number 4, I'm starting to get worried.

Reason #214 I never get anything done.

The iPhoto booth, and the kids who are addicted to it.

And yours truly who can't help but take one everytime she sits down...

I find that it gives me bags under my eyes, totally the fault of the camera, nothing to do with my skin. I have to give myself an eyelift before each shot.

This is the reason that the iMac. Rocks.

Click...

Not since the invention of the Nikon D70 has something clicked as hard as what I finally realized today...

I will never be a size 4, but my 4 children could probably care less.

My face will probably never grace the cover of a magazine, but doesn't the camera add 10 pounds?

I will never walk the red carpet. My kool-aid stained one will do just fine.

My bank account will never have more than 3 digits before the decimal point, half the world will never have any.

The great American Novel will not be penned by yours truly, writing stories with my children somehow seems just as fulfilling.

I will never be beautiful, but my husband telling me I am is so much better.

I'll never be Martha Stewart... prison isn't really my thing though.

I'm not going to be the girl that gets talked about for anything, but isn't that what high schoolers all over are trying so hard to avoid?

I won't ever be Rachel Ray. Someone has to keep stouffers in business.

Publishers Clearinghouse won't ever pick my name. What would I do with that much money anyway.

The FBI probably won't be calling to offer me that agent position I dreamt about since I was 15, yet I somehow get my fill living vicariously through Veronica Mars, and Scully.

The chance to go to college and experience life in the dorms has totally been squashed, but I hear the food is lousy and the thought of not having to pay student loans, kind of makes me smile.

My house will never be 5000 sq. feet. WHich is probably a good thing seeing that I can't seem to get control of 1250.

My kids will continue to get food on new clothes, and I will continue to buy them, that's why they make stain stick.

The world will always have something I want, that I can't afford, but the best things in my life don't cost a dime.

Perhaps it was the week I had, or maybe the life I thought I wanted somehow seemed to get lost in the realization that what I have is so much more than what I deserve. I will start being happy today. Perfection is something I will strive for my whole life for, yet the definition of a perfect existence has somehow been changed and that, I truly believe is what its all about.

Sleeping arrangements....

1 little girls bed complete with 3 side drawers and attached shelf: $259

1 Cowgirl bedding set from Target, complete with 3 pillows. $99

1 Large puppy dog to keep company the child who is supposed to occupy said bed. $19.99

1 nightlight to lighten the room in which the same child is supposed to be sleeping in. $2.49

FInding your daughter and her puppy sound asleep like this at 3 in the morning.

Priceless.

I love that "louie the lab" (the name she so properly bestowed upon her st. Bernard puppy) is asleep on the top because he is scared of the monsters under the bed. I can assure them both the only thing under the coffee table is a whole bunch of dust mites.

Thanks so much for all the comments on the layouts. And the prayers in behalf of my cooking abilities. We've made it this far. Perhaps my cooking will improve with time. Either that or my children will become really good at inviting themselves over to other peoples houses for dinner. Mike will have to rely on the chow hall for his one good meal.

I've been busy this week. Busy meaning glued to the Tv watching my second season of my new favorite show.veronica MArs . I place all blame fot this new found time waster on Sarah. She talked it about at least once an entry and being the follower I am, I decided to start watching. I. AM. HOOKED. I mean.

WHo wouldn't want to be the cutest little sleuth in all of the imaginary town of NEptune. FIghting crime, dating cute boys, managing to remain a size 2 during all the stress. SHe's my hero. Well, in the way that only television personalities can be "heros". I've found myself totally into the show, and while the lack of time during my day might seem a reason to limit me to one episode per 24 hour period. I have started cleaning the scrapbook room while watching, and found that not only can I get something done, I can stay up pretty late for a pregnant woman.

I've got nothing really great going on as far as scrapbooking goes. Trying to submit alot more than I usually do in order to put all this stuff to use. WE've had some drama  here lately that has kept me from being as dedicated as I would like, but I hope to be a bigger part of some more magazines this year. Maybe actually break into CK for the first time. We'll see. Anyways. TOmorrow is friday and I have much to accomplish for the week ahead. Enjoy your weekend, and watch your furniture. AUbree may be looking for new sleeping arrangements.

The talking kitchen...

22 years ago, my mother saw what is now completely evident in my everyday proceedings. I am not a cook.

When most 3 and 4 year olds gathered around the little tykes kitchens with fake foods and adorable aprons. I was asked to man the cash register. The cash register people. In the kitchen. I should have known.

In my 6 years as a wife and my 5 years as a mother. I have managed to keep the food poisoning and the sickness after dinner to a minimum. My gracious husband has never complained. Not when I made cookies that looked like this... or when I set the stove ablaze trying to make fried chicken just like popeye's ". It looked more like canned spinach then the cajun style goodness one finds on the streets of any southern venue.  He ate it. After the fire was put out.

I've pretty much decided that no amount of pampered chef will ever make me Rachel Ray, but until I win the lottery I have never even so much as played, eating out every night and hiring in a chef is completely out of the question. I must learn to make food that my kids will not only eat, but that they will someday look back on with fonder memories than I will. 

Enter last nights dinner. I offered to make, ( I say offer because sunday at our house is pretty much a free for all when it comes to eating. LEft-overs are what sundays are all about). Mikey and Mike took me up on my offer. They will later regret this decision. I made 2 things. Grilled Cheese, and the infamous canned tomato soup. I cannot mess this up. Oh I assure you. I can. And I did.

Things started out well. The cheese was perfectly sliced. The pan was hot, the tension was hotter. WE were making hot sandwich magic. At what point things started to go wrong, I cannot say for certain. I placed the buttered bread into the hot pan and began to watch it dance. And I mean like the devil went down to Georgia type dancing, that sucker moved across the emeril pan with the spirit of a rockette. My son happened to be "helping" me with the dinner, and his eyes got as big as saucers. "Mom. Bread is not supposed to do that." He was right.

I placed the cheese onto the dancing grains, and placed another piece on top of it before turning it over. The spatula caught the side of the bread turning it into more of a kidney bean shaped wonder rather than a sandwich. I decided against reshaping it. t cooked its minute and a half on the other side and I placed it on the plate. I knew before I even took it into the kitchen that it wasn't going to be good to the taste.

Mikey warned mike as I dished up the tomato soup that "this was not going to be good dad". He was so very right. I could not stop laughing. Aubree was trying to pray for the grilled cheese and I was trying not to snort. It was beyond prayer. It failed to meet any standard of the food pyramid guidelines, and Mike, the big bad terminator that he is, tried to swallow it  without smiling. He couldn't do it.

We learn from this experience that not only is it possible to eat bad food and live, but that our children have a sixth sense about these types of things. Mike asked mikey to wake me up this morning so I could make pancakes. I wasn't sleeping, and I heard his response.

"Do you really want mom to cook them?"  I didn't hear what Mike said. But they all had cereal for breakfast.

Not sure what this has to do anything but I wanted to document the atrocity that is my cooking in my blog. For posterity. Also for posterity. A few layouts for www.eyecandykits.com Enjoy. They're alot better than last nights dinner...

Dude. You're getting a dell...

Oh wait. No I'm not. I already have one and it decided to pick TODAY. 2 days, after the warrantly expired, to fall apart. I'm not talking a missing key, I mean like complete and total system melt down. You've seen that commercial with the Mac and the PC duking it out over who rocks more. Yeah, let's just say the iMAc is the only one still standing.

At least in my house.

  Lucky for me, my residential location of Alaska at the time of my recieving SAID computer, was outside the 48 states and the shipping time it took to get to me, extended my warranty by 2 days. DO the math peeps.

I got in JUST under the radar. How much does Dell Rock? NOt as much as Apple according to a recent study, but being bi, a term my husband coined as we have both PC and an iMac in the same household, I have to keep love on both side of the computer market. I get a tech guy to come and replace the screen that totally whizzed on me, and the system restore I was forced to perform allowed me to start anew with all my free trials. (they said it was ok. I asked).

SOO aside from losing about 5000 photos,all my digital kits, (which I have never actually used, but that is beside the point) and all my fonts, not to mention the links for decorating, and inspiration I have been stock piling for Centuries.  I am good as new!  Can you sense the excitement. HOw about the sarcasm.

ALas, aside from that and being on the phone with the Dell guy for approx. 3.5 hours, while my kids decorated the living room, today proved taxing. I'm strugging with a purpose.

DO you do that? Do you struggle to know what it is you are here for? I mean I know the BIG picture, but the little stuff. Am I supposed to quit scrapbooking and go back to school? Am I supposed to dedicate my life to my children and just be a mother? And I mean JUST in the best way ever. Will Victoria Secret rethink that Angel position they gave to Giselle and will me and my figure finally get our 15 minutes of fame?

I'm so confused. My husband is no help. He means well, but I think he really feels that anything outside of motherhood is just icing in the cake. I however like to believe we can have our cake and eat it too. I would really love some input.

I see so many people making a difference in the world. Creating things, living out dreams, Creative minds, awesome Photographers, sewers, Doctors, writers, Business owners, noble peace prize winners. I just don't want to have my time come to end and think, It was good, but was it good enough?

Deep thoughts mixed with Old navy P.J's, severe computer drama, a pan full of brownies, and some TUMS, make for a lovely Friday night post. And to think some people actually go out on Friday.

HA.

They have no idea what they're missing.

Top 10 reasons its the best V-day ever...

10. Its the first and the last one, for at least the next 3 years,  I will get to spend with my "moonlights-as-the-grim-reaper" husband.

9. My very own bag of Hershey's Dark chocolate miniature assortments. 'Nuff said.

8. Dinner a day early at the local Mexican restaurant with all 3 children, because who needs time alone?  Valentine's day, A family affair. (They did really well, and we only spilled 2 drinks!)

7. My camera is as good as new, and I think I might have finally figured out those itty bitty actions I just HAD TO HAVE.

6. Charity can finally say something besides spongebob and her vocabulary went from 2 words to about 8 in one day! This is huge for us. Today was brought to us by the word MOM. And BOY did she bring it. That mess behind her is the reason I still haven't posted pictures of my scrapbook room. Its a work in progress people... bear with me.

5. Good mail days. I got an order from my my second favorite venue. The literary guild. I love to read and even though I can't find 10 minutes to get into a book, when I actually get the chance to read, I love having ammunition. This weeks pick, Step on a crack by James Patterson. I know. Its not self- help, or inspirational, both of which would benefit me greatly, but it keeps me somewhat entertained, without all that deep thinking.

4. An assignment for something scrapbook related... Finally. I was beginning to think my creative juices had ceased to produce. At least now I can test them out. I'll keep you posted.

3. Knowing in a few short days several delicious boxes of goodness will be headed to the great state of Kentucky. DT goodies are finally headed our way and I for one am going to be getting dressed at 10 am as opposed to noon, hoping to entice the UPS man to come a little earlier knowing I'll be wearing something other than my good robe.

2. Filling out Valentine's for Mikey's first ever Valentine's party. I broke the news to him at 7pm that we really needed to fill out his Valentine's.

"Aw, fish paste mom. Nobody can even read, why do I have to write my name on them."

Well, because its good practice for writing your name.
and you don't know that none of the other kids can't read. Don't be a snoot."

I really should have supervised the writing as 10 minutes into the deep concentration...

I take a closer look...

This is how he chose to write his name.

Good stuff buddy. That'll show the kids who can't read.

I love that he thinks as long as all the letters are there, it doesn't matter what order they go in. Of course Aubree had to get her "write on". Did I mention how much i love the fact she's left handed? I always wanted to be a lefty. No such luck.

She did 4 for the care bears, and 3 for the girls at dance. (note that she still has not attended dance, but when she does, she'll be more than ready. Let's hope she doesn't have to make easter eggs for them too. I cannot wait for her physical. Its breaking my heart. And the number one reason its the best Valentine's day ever.

1. For the first February 14th ever, I can say that I am where I want to be, with who I want to be, and nobody, not even cupid, can make that feeling any better. Happy Valentine's day girls =)

Because normal is highly overrated..

and one of the eldest.
5 is apparently the age at which one becomes VERY hardcore.

And well, just because she finally has enough hair to put it in a clip.

6 things...

I waited 2 long weeks for someone to tag me on this 6 random things tag game, but it seems I either
A. Have no friends, or
2. Have already revealed far too much. I'm going with 2. SOO on my own volition, I am posting 6 of my off the wall things. Because its 11:04 pm,and I have itchy eyes. Everything is ok when you have itchy eyes.

1.I can tell you blindfolded where a diet coke came from. The bottle, the fountain at burger king, McDonald's, a can, or a liter. I've played it with my husband. He thinks I need help. I consider it a gift.

2. I hate when I get hair on my fingers when I am in the shower. I have to get it into the drain before moving it along in the lather rinse repeat chain one would normally pursue in a hot shower. And leaving it on the walls like my sister does... SOOO not an option.

3. I can't touch dryer sheets, silk, or any sort of fabric that is "shiny".  It sticks to my fingers and causes a horrifying case of the heebie jeebies.

4. I have to buy things in collections. I can't buy just one piece of paper, or one stuffed animal. I buy the whole set, or I don't buy it. My kids are thrilled with this oddity. They reap the benefits of it more often than not.

5. I won't sleep with my arms above my head. I am so petrified that someone will tickle me in my sleep. Seriously, the serial tickler is so not something to worry about, but I cannot, to this day, go to sleep with my armpits exposed. This may prove to be related to my father and his attack tickles at the tender age of 2. I don't remember it, but I'm damaged. Truly.

6. I go to the bathroom with the door open. ( are you horrified>?) My husband is. I have never liked being alone, and I think I get this from my grandma. If I close the door I have to talk to myself. Almost like a self- help coach. This one takes the cake as weird confession of the week. But that's what you come here for. Dieting and exercise tips, ways to save money, and things to make you appear more normal. I hope I've not let you down.