He's 5 and already dilusional

Bath time is always interesting with the kids. T-Dawg likes to dance in the shower while singing something she heard on the radio. Usually Justin Barfer. Nick prefers a bath with his boats and will sit in the water until his wrinkles have wrinkles and proceed to fart around until I'm ready to scream.

The following conversation ensued tonight during the fart around time and after he started the bath by peeing in the water.

Me: "Dude, quit screwing around."
N: "I'm not mom. I'm shaking the water off."
Me: "Quit jumping around before you slip and fall and hurt your junk."
N: "I won't mom. My junk is made of steel."

They start so young!

She Just Legitimately Has No Taste and Doesn't Give A Shit

It dawned on me the other day I needed to get off my lazy ass and recap my most recent adventures! I was off work for a week and did nothing but work at home, which is always pleasurable – NOT! My sister and I have decided that our mother either is color blind or just legitimately has no taste and doesn’t give a shit. She decided shortly after I moved out the first time to paint the guest room this shade of pink that looks like Pepto. Couple that with the horrible magenta paint on all of the wood trim and doors, and you are now sleeping in a room that looks like the inside of your stomach. Repainting was my first project to tackle and it took me two days and almost three gallons of paint. The kids love it though. Getting them to decide on two colors wasn’t as hard as I thought and only took two hour long visits to the paint department at Lowe’s and Home Depot. Its been three weeks and I finally got the paint out of my hair.

Following the painting, it was yard work, but not much because it was starting to get warm finally and I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. The PNW is having an unseasonably cold summer. And by unseasonably cold I mean that I still put on a sweatshirt in the morning and some afternoons and the new $50 sunglasses FFB bought me don’t get worn much. But I mowed and weed eated and got a new border around one flower bed before it was time for me to leave for the actual vacation portion of my vacation. I had a ticket to Montana to meet Frequent Flyer Boyfriend’s (FFB) parents on their 700 acre farm.

 700 acres is small by Montana’s standards, but this is probably the closest slice of heaven I’ve seen in a long time. The farm sits in a valley complete with a creek and according to FFB and his dad, Lewis and Clark “rested a spell” at some spot on the property. It was truly peaceful and gorgeous and I can’t wait to go back. When the song says “amber waves of grain” it was this country they were talking about. The day I got there it was raining and 50 ish in PNW, which isn’t surprising. After leaving drizzily SeaTac my flight arrived in Big Sky Country an hour and a half later and it was flipping 90. I was in heaven. FFB, his three boys, mom and neice picked me up and off to lunch we went. Then to the farm to pick up his pops and off on the Harley we go to Lewistown to meet his brother. Coming home I opted to ride in the truck with his parents and gave the bitch seat to one of the boys. Glad I did too because it was windier than hell. But, I got the lowdown on the local hunting and farming from FFB’s dad and just really got to know them better.  On Friday we rode 4-wheelers up the ridge to see Tee-Pee rings left by Native Americans a few hundred years ago. These tee-pee rings are rocks that sat at the bottom of the tee-pee to keep the bottom on the ground. It amazes me that a farm with two boys (now men) managed to hold onto that piece of history for so long with dirt bikes and 4-wheelers crashing through. But I think FFB’s mom would have taken a switch to their asses if they would have fucked them up. While up on the ridge, you could see the foothills of the Rockies and several other mountain ranges where FFB’s dad likes to hunt. FFB then took me around town and showed me some of the “hot spots” of the town he grew up in. The Missouri river runs through town and there’s all these waterfalls plus its surrounded by mountains. The whole place is beautiful. I could do country life for a spell, but I’d miss my stilettos and martini’s so I wouldn’t last long in Big Sky Country. 

Looking down at the farm. No, that's not all of it.

The balance of the month has been nothing but work. My boss took a well deserved (and I’m not kissing ass when I say that) vacay to Vegas. Since I’m really the only one in our group that’s been there long enough to make everyone believe I know what I’m doing, I had more traffic than I usually do. However, she’s home. I almost wept when I saw she’d posted something on Facebook yesterday.

I wish the kid would have pissed himself

Walking through Haggens' today and Nick starts singing a song he made up. It is apparently called "Drunk Mom" and you just repeat that over and over in a sing song voice.

For the record I wasn't drunk. Nor am I now, although there is a glass of wine calling my name. I'm doing Weight Watchers (10 lbs down and counting) so booze is OK, but you really have to moderate and since I am competing with myself to see if I can go an entire week eating LESS than my daily points, I drink sparingly. I'm losing at my little competition anyway. But still.

What made it embarassing was that there was this guy who heard me ask him what he was saying because it sounded like "dumb mom" and Nick stops, smiles and says "Drunk Mom." The guy starts chuckling as I tell Nicky its not funny. Tyler asks me what is not funny, I say "nothing hon." Nick responds, "Its a song I made up and it goes 'Drunk Mom.'"

I wish the kid would have pissed himself instead.

Whatever floats your boat, I say!

The below transpired in an email conversation between myself and a co-worker whom I like to refer to as my brother from another mother only because it makes him mad and relives a time when we had this annoying woman working for us that used to call him that. I think she had a crush on him because she was always calling him pookie and honey and staring at his ass. Or lack there of because the brother is nothing but a back and a crack. BTW, the pic below is NOT my friend TJ.

For the record, he’s married (to a woman) with 4 boys. And while both of us are straight, we have several people we know who lead an alternate lifestyle of some sort. Whatever floats your boat, I say!

TJ: Heeeyyy!

ME: Why on EARTH do you have this? Is this some weird African American male bonding thing?

TJ:  LMAO I just found it, I swear to sweet baby Jesus, all wrapped up in his blanket, I found it

ME: Right. Look. I know you have "friends" and I'm really OK with your lifestyle choice. That whole "I love you too no matter what, son." It doesn't define who you are. I think that you'll be a happier person if you just admit to yourself what most of us already know. 

TJ:

ME: Apparently, you do too. Heeeyyyy!!

Your fat roll is hanging out

After a conversation with one of my BFF’s, Jessica M., she had suggested I do a blog. Supposedly these things are all the rage with crazy kids these days and she thinks I have some kind of knack for “witty banter,” which I’m sure you’ll find really means “snarky comments.”

Anyway, I digress. I like to write and, personally, I think I’m pretty damn good at it. Its therapeutic and a way to express what I’m really thinking because I’m too embarrassed and good mannered to say some of what goes on in my head out loud. Like the lady I saw at Target today. She’s walking into the wind and it’s blowing the bottom part of her blouse open so you could see her stomach hanging over her jeans. I wanted to tell her about it, but just kept walking. However, here on my blog, I can pretend to yell across the parking lot that “Hey, lady in the Hawaiian shirt! Your fat roll is hanging out.”

Moving on. Again. I’m in the process of updating my parents house. By the way, I’m one of those adults that moved back in with their parents to lick their wounds after a divorce. Which is why it’s their house getting new crap and not my own. So, my kids and I moved in like the Clampet’s only I don’t look like Ellie Mae and I have yet to strike oil while digging out the bulbs in my mom’s flower bed. The house is the same as it was when it was built in the 70’s right down to the harvest gold carpet and avocado green bathroom. Its disturbing that these people who birthed me can spend a few hundred at the casino, but can’t seem to save it for new shag and then sit in the kitchen over bad scotch and water and bitch about needing a new kitchen.. At any rate, it all started when I installed a bathroom light fixture and mentioned to Jess M casually (of course) that it would be cool to document the transformation of my old homestead. Which is in a psudo suburb, so its not really a homestead. And no I didn’t electrocute myself or make it so the neighbors garage door opens on its own when you flip on the light switch.

This “causal” conversation snowballed into a “And you could document the crap your kids do!.” Because, I’m sorry, not only are my two kids adorable, but they are freaking hilarious. Plus I’m dating a guy with three kids of his own, so my adventures truly are endless with the group of kids I call “The Furious Five.” Because I loved Kung Fu Panda and occasionally, they all make me mad but I love them. Jess M then goes on to say I could use it to document my life at home with my parents and how it might benefit some people who are going through some of the same things. I don’t know if she meant the thirty something divorcee living with her 70-something parents and two kids who works full time, goes to school part time and occasionally baby sits for her frequent flier boyfriend. OR if she was talking about how my mom has stage 4 breast cancer and I try hard to find some humor in the situation. My mom makes it pretty easy because she’s a crazy, wacky lady who wears rainbow clown wigs to the American Legion with my dad to play darts. And really making obnoxious comments to elicit laughter from people is how I deal with stress. Then we moved on to the crazy stuff we do as the babes. Like running through hotel landscaping sprinklers and “fried egg ta-ta’s” in the parking lot of a different hotel. We should probably stay away from hotels. Anyway. Most of our adventures are alcohol fueled and we just like to have fun together. Plus when we’re not together, all kinds of random insanity ensues and it always makes for a funny story.

Because that is what this is - a funny story. J