Monday, November 29, 2010

Now there's an idea

A man came home from work and found his three children outside, still in their pajamas, playing in the mud, with empty food boxes and wrappers all over the front yard.

The door of his wife’s car was open, as was the front door to the house and there was no sign of the dog.

Proceeding into the house, he found an even bigger mess.

A lamp had been knocked over, and the throw rug was wadded against one wall. In the front room the TV was loudly blaring a cartoon channel, and the family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing.

In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the counter, the fridge door was open wide, dog food was spilled on the floor, a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door.

He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she may be ill, or that something serious had happened.

He was met with a small trickle of water as it made its way out the bathroom door. As he peered inside he found wet towels, scummy soap and more toys strewn over the floor. Miles of toilet paper lay in a heap and toothpaste had been smeared over the mirror and walls.

As he rushed to the bedroom, he found his wife still curled up in the bed in her pajamas, reading a novel.

She looked up at him, smiled, and asked how his day went.

He looked at her bewildered and asked, “What happened here today?”

She again smiled and answered, “You know every day when you come home from work and you ask me what in the world did I do today?”

“Yes,” was his incredulous reply.

She answered, “Well, today I didn’t do it.”

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Ooh! Trivia!

Here's a little trivia for you.  Each of these quotes is from a Christmas movie. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to name the movie. Ready go.

1.) What are you talking about? Everybody likes Denny's, it's an American institution. 

2.) You stink. You smell like beef and cheese! You don't smell like Santa. 

3.) "This house is so full of people it makes me sick. When I grow up and get married, I'm living alone."

4.) Aunt Clara had for years labored under the delusion that I was not only perpetually 4 years old, but also a girl. 

5.) "Can I refill your eggnog for you? Get you something to eat? Drive you out to the middle of nowhere and leave you for dead?"

6.) "There's no Christmas in the Army!"

7.) "The thing about trains... it doesn't matter where they're going. What matters is deciding to get on." 

8.) "Cause when the thermometer gets all reddish, the temperature goes up. And when the temperature goes up, I start to melt! And when I start to melt, I get all wishy-washy."

9.)  "All their windows were dark. No one knew he was there. All the Whos were all dreaming sweet dreams without care... when he came to the first little house on the square."

10.)  "Well well well. What have we here? Sandy Claws, huh? Ooo I'm really scared! So you're the one everybody's talking about?" 

Friday, November 26, 2010

Free stuff is awesome!

You know what I love? Yes, yes, I love chocolate and caffeine and the smell of fresh laundry and terrible reality television. I am of the female persuasion here. Oh, yeah, and my kids. Can't forget them. Sometimes even my husband. But you know what I really love? I love free stuff. And I love it even more when I score something for free that I was going to buy anyway.

This year, as I was making my ever-growing Holiday To-Do List, I added "Have pictures taken and photo cards made" to it just like I have every year before. But I was really going to do it this time.  Yeah, just like last year. Oh, wait. We didn't last year. I was pregnant and forgetful. Yeah, it was because I was forgetful and not because I felt ginormous. That's what I'll tell myself.

But, this is a new year. We have a new addition to the family and I am no longer the size of the broad side of a barn. We are getting our pictures done and sent out on cards if I have to tie both of my kids and my husband around the dang Christmas tree to get it done.  Don't think I won't do it. I'm determined. I would love to be a fly on the wall when the recipients open that gem.

And then I found something that just added to the fire. Shutterfly is offering 50 free photo holiday cards for everyone who blogs! Hey, I blog! Huzzah! Oh, there's a catch. There's gotta be a catch.  I looked into it, and nope. No catch. Let me say that again... NO CATCH!!! Just go the link that I have so awesomely provided and fill out the info. Here's that link for your fantastical free stuff, right here.  Not only does Shutterfly have some awesome holiday cards, they do all things birthday, too. Everything from cards to invitations.  They cater to just about everything.

Yes, yes, I know it sounds like a big ol' plug for Shutterfly, and it is, I guess. But it's FREE STUFF, people! 
And free is good!  

So, there ya go. Shutterfly is awesome. Bloggers get free stuff. Go check them out.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010


The husband and I had a little argument discussion about the proper pronunciation of words and how he had been pronouncing a word the wrong damn way  verbally mutilating a term.  Me, being the control freak thoughtful wife that I am, decided it was in his best interest that I inform him that he was mucking it all up before he misspoke in front of someone.

The word in question:  zoology

I said the proper way to pronounce it is : zOH-ology.
He said :  No, my most beautiful and hilarious wife. I believe you are mistaken. You're wrong, you friggin' fruitloop! It's pronounced: zooooooo-ology.  As in "I took the boys to the zoo today."

Me: You liar! You did not! We don't even have a zoo! And you're wrong! It's zOH! zOH! Zoh-ology!

Him: You're an idiot! It's spelled with two "o's". You don't say "I'm going to the Zoh."

Me: Well, no, because that's not the friggin right way to say it, you dipshit, my dear! Who says that? No one!

Him: It's Zoooooooooooo-ology.

Me: You're wrong.

Him: You're a numskull.

Me: Maybe. But, you're WRONG!

I knew I was right. In an effort to prove just how right I was and just how friggin oh-so-askew he was, I moseyed over to

This is what it said:


  [zoh-ol-uh-jee]  Show IPA
–noun, plural -gies.
the science or branch of biology dealing with animals.
a treatise on zoology.
the animal life of a particular region.

I clicked the little speaker icon and a woman's voice filled the room:
"zOH-ology"  She said.

I looked at my husband with a shit-eatin' grin smile, and waited for those glorious words that I wish I could record and play over and over and over. That's just how joyous those words are to hear.
"Well, yeah. Of course she's going to say it like that. She's BRITISH!"

And then I punched him the throat. "Who's going to the zoo now, bitch!?"

I'm kidding.

What do you think? What's the correct pronunciation?

Go HERE to listen to the way "the British chick" says it and report back to me what you think.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Where is my nanny?!?

It's times like these that I want to beat the living crap out of my nanny and maid. They always seem to disappear when I really need them. Yes, I make enough money to have full time help like that. If you believe that, then you can just send your check for me hanging the moon to my PayPal account.
Potty training scares the hell out of me.  I mean, it's not like doing it with a dog. You can't just put your kid in a crate and do it that way. Although, the thought of doing just that may have crossed my mind a time or two. (I said may! I said may!) When I was younger and would have nightmares daydream about having kids, it was the one thing that always made me cringe. I knew I could function on a few hours of sleep as I dealt with a newborn. Teething would not be an issue. I could manage to make it through the tantrums that the Terrible Twos brought. But potty training - my god - well, I was just hoping that by the time I would need to potty train my kids there would be a pill or a shock collar or something for that.
And so tonight, as I sit here and search for my sanity in the bottom of my Woodchuck Hard Cider to no avail, I am cursing the person that found some vaccine to prevent a deadly disease instead of inventing those little magic pills.
Grayson has shown absolutely no interest in using the toilet at all. None. Not a little bit. He'd sit in a poopy diaper all day if the stench wouldn't run us out of the house. He just doesn't care.  I kept telling myself that he'd just automatically start going to the potty.  He's always been that way. He has always been the type that would never ever show interest in something, and them WHAMO! - he's doing it like a pro. He did it with walking and crawling. No interest in doing either, and then all of a sudden the kid's the next Olympic speedwalker (minus that goofy hip-swinging gait.)  Naturally, I hoped this would be the same way the whole using the potty thing would go down, and I wouldn't have to hassle myself with that whole inconvenient time-consuming training aspect to it.
Wishful thinking.
I decided I would just have to make him realize it's time. The kid's three now. It's time. It was time a year ago. Seriously. Let's get on this.
Now, here's the tricky part with Grayson. He knows when and how to use the potty. The big toilet. Not some little potty chair. He's not afraid of it by any means, and he will go (most of the time) if you take him. Sounds like the perfect candidate for potty training, right? WRONG. The kid is lazy. He will not stop what he is doing to go pee.  I mean, seriously, if he had to stop plowing with this Ertl John Deere tractor just so he could get up to pee, there would be no crops and then all of the Weebles and plastic dinosaurs would die. And we can't have that, now can we? What kind of heartless mother am I?!?
So, I did what I do best in situations like these.
And hope that a Porcelain Pixie would visit and I wouldn't have to actually do anything. I guess the damn pixie skipped my house. I'm writing a letter to Tinkerbell - because I am sure Tinkerbell has got to be the fairy Commander in Chief.
And now here we are. The kid is three and is still in diapers. Don't judge me. Today I decided it was the end all be all.  I am determined (at least for the next 10-15 minutes) to get my oldest son to use the damn toilet.
He is my new project.
We have tried pull-ups. They don't work. They feel too much like diapers, so he just pees and poops and doesn't say anything to anybody.  I've tried switching him completely from diapers to underwear. He pees in those, too, but he immediately tells me after the fact. Ahh... we're getting somewhere now.  So, today, I decide "I'm just gonna strip him naked. No diaper. No underwear. Nothing. We'll see how this fares." And I did. Some people may call me crazy. Those people would be right.
At least for today anyway. The kid peed and pooped in the toilet every single time he had to go - even going by himself a couple of times without me prompting him.
I feel victorious. At least for now, but it could be the Woodchuck talking.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Just Around the Corner

'Tis the season for holiday shopping.  What? What's that you say? It's not even Thanksgiving yet and you're already babbling about Christmas? Yes, indeed. 39 more shopping days until the big day.  I bought my first present yesterday, which for me is early.  Last year I did most of my shopping online. Most of the stores had sales on their websites on Black Friday, so I sat in the comfort of my office chair at work, sipping coffee and not waiting in long, ridiculous lines or getting plowed into by maniacs in motorized shopping carts and I made purchases when I had a chance.

I like to shop online. It's by far a favorite past-time of mine. I can sit in my pajamas and shop and not end up on a website like People of Wal-Mart!? Um, yes. Sign me up. If it were an Olympic sport, I'd be a medalist.  While I peruse the holiday gift-giving offerings this year, I find myself once again marveling at the many items that are actually for sale. I find myself wondering more often than not, who could possibly think, "This! This! This is brilliant! Let's market it. People would totally buy this!" and then I try to envision the kind of people who would buy these things. 

So, just so we're all on the same page here, and so no one out there ends up with a really really terrible gift, I have compiled this list for you, dear readers, of things you should avoid buying this Christmas. (Or birthdays or bat mitzvahs or baby showers or anything else that might heed a gift on your behalf.)

1.)  Basket Case - "The only thing better than shooting hoops at work is shooting hoops with the basket strapped to your co-worker's head." No. I can think of about a thousand things better than that. Like being at home and not at work in the first place. Which, coincidentally, you will probably find yourself spending alot more time at home if the boss catches you and Co-Worker playing this stupid game. Take at look at the man's face. Where is his co-worker?

2.) Spinning Fork - It's a motorized fork that spins around. This is the perfect gift for the pasta lover on your list who is also too lazy to move their fork! Maybe next year they'll invent a fork that actually moves to your mouth by itself, too. That'd be great. I always break a sweat when eating my spaghetti. Finally, something that caters to my needs.

3.) 2011 Mathematics Calendar - There's a math problem to be solved every day in this calendar. For the love of God, WHY?!

4.) Dog Turd Candle - It's a candle that looks like dog turd. Nothing warms your home on a cold, snowy day like the smell of a dog poop candle flickering in the evening.

5.) Flying Monkey - I admit the name of this product is a bit misleading because a true flying monkey would make for a fantastic Christmas morning. This, however, does not fantastic Christmas morning make. What could me more fun than a flying monkey? A flying monkey that screams! You slingshot this thing across the room, and violia! Flying screaming monkey.  No. It's still a bad gift idea.

Friday, November 12, 2010

My Demise - Planning Grayson's Birthday Party: Part II

The theme was set. The location was set. The time was set.  It was going to be one EPIC birthday party. It was going to be friggin awesome. For Grayson, I mean. Not for me.

Okay, well maybe a little bit for me.

The day of the party arrived, and of course chaos quickly ensued. Chris had a work meeting that morning, so that left me munchkin/goat/pig wrangling, preparing food and generally just making sure everyone/thing was alive by the time our guests started arriving.

All in all, it was a great party. I was a bit frazzled trying to keep track of so many people.  I have no idea how many people actually showed up.  I would say we had at least 40 people. I didn't even realize I knew 40 people. There were no major setbacks or breakdowns - at least not from the kids. :S About halfway through the party I realized that in my haste to change out of grungy clothes into anything else, that I had put my shirt on backwards. Awesome.

Hope you had an awesome birthday, G-man. Just remember this birthday party when you're looking into nursing homes for me.

Go HERE to see more pictures from the party.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

My Demise - Planning Grayson's Birthday Party: Part I

I'm alive! I'm alive! I was doubtful I was going to be able to say that after this weekend after Grayson's birthday party. 

I have a tendency to "over do" things a bit.  I am a planner. An event organizer. It's what I do. It's my job. And I love to hate it. So staying in true Stacey-fashion, I saw no reason to not go overboard with Grayson's birthday party this year. I mean, he did turn the big 3.
I wanted his party to be perfect. To be a shows-stopper.  I wanted it to be something he talked about when he got older. When I get into "planning mode", my eyes tend to glaze over and my brain's logical switch gets turned off.  He's three. Of course he won't remember this party. We are talking about the same kid that ate a stick of deodorant. And, I ended up stressing myself out. Just like normal. I spread myself too thin. I was organizing a work event, and then there was Halloween, and then G's birthday, and oh, yeah, I have a family to take care of, too during this whole time. What age is appropriate to start teaching your child to cook his own meals and do laundry? Some three year olds in other countries are already married and running a sweat shop. I'm just sayin'.

I wouldn't describe what I did as sobbing because that word doesn't come close to describing what my body was doing. Is there a level of crying that comes after sobbing? Squalling? Blubbering? Convulsing? Recreating that one scene in the bible where the bearded dude has to build the boat?

Wait. Didn't every dude in the bible have a beard?

Last year when I entered Birthday Party Phase, I thought I began planning in plenty of time. I was wrong. Finding a place to host the gig was mind-numbing.  After weeks -WEEKS - of attempting to find the perfect place, I booked one of the local fire stations.  "Oh the kids will love this. And the parents will be talking about how awesome of a job I did with the party."  Pffft.  It ended up being almost 70 degrees and all the kids wanted to do was run around outside and chase each other with sticks.

But this year, I had to out-event that event. I He needed something bigger. Something better.

My parents built a park pavilion in between our houses.  I concurred it would be the perfect place to host the birthday party. A farm themed birthday party.  And then the creative juices started flowing, and the mound of ideas and my expectations just got bigger and bigger.  I would get some farm animals - some goats and whatnot, we would have farm themed food, and oh, oh, a HAYRIDE! Yes! Yes! I am a party planning guru!

My husband warned me I was getting in over my head. But the visions of kids laughing, and feeding goats, and giggling on the hayride completely submerged his cries for me to be reasonable and his pleas fell on deaf ears.  And clearly, it was to the point now, that even if I was, I wasn't stupid enough to admit it to him. I was going to win. And prove him wrong. Or die trying.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Things That Make Me Laugh

Oh, I wish I had a quarter for everytime my iphone has fricked up my text by "autocorrecting."
And now, some genius has devoted a website to the awesome mistakes autocorrect makes.

 This website is hilarious.

Here a few of my favorites:

This is only funny to me because it's to "Mom"

Cogs! Cogs! You know what I mean! Cogs!

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Plugging Myself

I am now a consultant for Thirty-One.

Book a party! Get stuff!

Go to MY WEBSITE to order stuff.


Friday, November 5, 2010

Words of Wisdom from My Granny - Part 1

My great grandmother is still alive. She is in her nineties and is still as boisterous as she's ever been. She has always had a knack for telling people exactly - and I mean exactly - how she feels about them. She's not shy to say anything, no matter how many people, races, animal species, and/or politicians she might offend in the process. God love her.

It's said that she practices black magic. At the risk of sounding like a fruit-loop here, I'm going to say I believe it. It's well known in our family, that if you piss Granny off, you'll end up with a wart on your hand. And no matter what you do or how many medications or creams you use, it will not go away until you've reconciled with her.  I know, it sounds crazy, but I've seen it happen so many times.   She is known to heal people (I use the term "heal", but I don't mean she can cure cancer. I'm talking about minor things - like the sniffles) by using a piece of string and whispering a slew of words in your ear, that if you dare repeat, will cause your ailment to return.  Weird? Oh hell, yes. But 100%  true.  Seriously, if you've been reading my blog, do you really think that I would be using this brilliant mind making up a story about my great grandmother and her magical properties? Okay, don't answer that, but I'm not making this up. If I'm lying I'm dying.

She still enjoys playing Bingo - and can win anything. I'm not sure if her mystical prowess has anything to do with it or not. She's won money, vehicles, vacations, all kinds of stuff. The woman is unstoppable.

Back in her young days when she was working, she caught one of her hands in a press machine and cut off all of her fingers at the knuckle. She's always painted the non-existent nails.

On one occasion before, as she says "The Man took her damn driver's license away",  her and my Memaw (her daughter-in-law) were driving to the grocery store. Granny was in the driver's seat and was gabbing at my Memaw, as per usual. The traffic light that they had stopped at had changed back to green, but Granny was too busy yakking it up to notice. The gentleman in the car behind her noticed, though, and blew the horn at my Granny. My Memaw says she thought Holy, shit. (Yes, my Memaw says "shit")  This poor sap has no idea what he's done.  At the moment the unfortunate mister blew the horn, my Granny threw the car in park, took off her seatbelt and got out of the car all in one fluid motion.  She marched her 4-and-a-half-foot self back to the car behind her - all the while, the driver watching in horror as some little old blue-hair comes storming toward him.  She opened his door and loudly announced to him (and everyone else that was now in line behind them) that if he, and I quote, "Was in such a fucking hurry, he should have left the day before fucking yesterday!"  She slammed his door, walked back to her car, sat down, put her seatbelt back on, put the car in drive and then ran the damn red light.  My memaw said that was one of the last times she ever rode with my Granny.

I bet that man has never honked his horn at anyone else since. I also bet that he keeps his doors locked all the time now.  I mean, I can't say I'd blame him. I would probably have panic attacks at stoplights or whenever I saw a little old woman, had it been me she confronted like that. 

I can only imagine the stories he's told about the crazy old woman that yelled at him.

The moral of this story? Beware who you honk your horn at. You may be in for a black magical treat.

To be continued....

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Babysitter? That's what the tv is for!

I don't usually talk about controversial stuff mainly because I don't have really strong opinions on many topics. I'm what you would describe as wishy-washy. I would be a nightmare on a jury. I'd be the one holding up a verdict with my, "I can see the defendant's point. But wait, the prosecution has a good point too. Then again, the defendant makes sense...."

The other day I was driving home from work listening to talk radio since the classic rock station I usually listen to was playing a freaking Kid Rock song - which is neither classic or rock in my opinion...but I digress.
They were interviewing  Julie Aigner-Clark, the creator of the Baby Einstein video empire. From what I gathered from the few minutes of the interview I actually caught, there is a huge controversy about the videos and the "negative effects these videos have on your children." 

Are you freaking kidding me?!  Have you ever seen a Baby Einstein video? It's a video of bright colored toys and everyday objects backed by a soundtrack of classical music. Yeah, that's crazy! That's sure to damage my kids. It's okay to give them Power Wheels to drive around and run each other over, but for God's sake take away the damn Baby Einstein dvds! Exposing them to *gasp* classical music and stuff they look at anyway! How dare we! Hasn't it been proven that listening to classical music is beneficial to babies development?

Moms (or dads, whoever) don't need any more guilt. We all have enough guilt over every other aspect of parenting. You don't spend enough time outside. Cheetos and chocolate milk does not constitute a nutritious mealYou're a terrible parent for working outside of the home to provide for your child. Blah blah blah. We don't need some idiot researcher (who probably had his kid sitting in front of an episode of Dora the Explorer while he did all of his "research")  telling us that if we dare to put our child in front of a Baby Einstein video or an episode of Sesame Street or Backyardigans, that we're damaging them for life. It's more detrimental if we do nothing but dote on our kids 24 hours a day. Sometimes mom needs a break! Kids too!  It ticks me off when some researcher tells me that I'm neglecting my child if I opt to put a video on for them while I take a shower or cook dinner or make a phone call.

Hell, half of what I know Big Bird learned me. (It's a joke, people)  And if it weren't for TV and movies, I wouldn't talk in Family Guy and The Big Lebowski movie quotes. And I never would have had that first date with my husband. Humdrum and boring I would be!  

Moderation, my friends, moderation. And Baby Einstein? Dudes, simmer down. That was actually the first thing I let Grayson watch. I love those videos. He loved those videos. There is nothing wrong with them! Exposure to classical music can only do good things, so relax, all you crazy non-TV watching weirdos fanatics!

Now, can someone help me down off this soapbox, please?  All that David the Gnome I watched as a kid has stunted my growth. 

Monday, November 1, 2010

I'm in love with a stripper?

God bless the public health system - without them some of these blogs simply wouldn't exist. 
On one occassion, I went to the county health department for an appointment.  My appointment time was for 1:00, but I went right after work and arrived early with hopes of getting in and out a bit quicker.  (I hate waiting.)
I walked into the building and quickly assessed the waiting room in an attempt to determine how  many people were actually in front of me in line. The place was packed.  Friggin' great. 
There was an elderly couple filling out paperwork.  There were several teenage girls. There were a couple of women (who were apparently friends) that had 5 kids all under the age of 4 with them. (Hey, let's schedule our appointments at the same time and take all 5 kids with us! Playdate!) And a brave soul with his 4 small children, the youngest of which was 2 weeks. 
The women with the gaggle of demon-spawn children were the loudly conversing type. At the end of this misadventure, I knew the kids' ages, birthdays, that the oldest had been wrongfully sent home from school for wearing a shirt that had the word "shit" on it, the middle one's daddy ran off with an 8-toed hog-caller named Beulah and a family medical history that included gout, nipple discharge, enlarged prostate, and a pubic lice infestation. Okay, so one of those things I made up. I'll let you determine which one is the falsification. 
The kids were hellions. And that's saying it nicely. While Mom and Companion were discussing the aforementioned issues, they were running around, screaming, throwing toys, running in and out of the bathrooms, hell, one may have robbed a liquor store, too, I'm not sure. There was a whole lot of chaos going on in that waiting room.  Of course, Mom and Companion would yell the obligatory "Get down off of there!" "Get that out of your mouth!" "No! no! She don't want a Titty Twister!" You know, the standard Mom-isms.  At one point, Mom did actually get up to retrieve one of the toddlers from opening the door to go out into the parking lot. When she did, she revealed to all of God's creation that she was pregnant.  It was made apparent by the t-shirt with red foil lips emblazoned on it that read "All knocked up and nowhere to go." 
The lone man with his 4 young offspring had been on his cell phone to his girlfriend trying to get information and vaccination records for the kids. I know this because anyone that was in a 2 mile radius of this guy could hear him informing her of what he needed.  He promptly ended the phonecall with an "Okay, call me back" and when he did, Preggers put her game face on. It was flirtin' time.  "You look awful familiar to me," she told him. "It's so embarrassing. I should remember when I'd seen such a good lookin' may-uhn."
Ew. I was squirming in all the awkwardness.  What was worse, Duder was eating it up.  Ew, with a side of blech.  It was like a bad car accident, you didn't really want to look, but you just had to.  And then, Bumpkin Dating Game got better.  His cell phone rang - to the tone of "I'm in Love With a Stripper." I'm not kidding. It was Baby Mama calling back about those darn vaccination records for the kids.  This did not sway Preggers in her flirtatious attempts to pick up Duder in the waiting room of the local health department.  I was in Awkward Agony. While the exchange of phone numbers took place (Seriously, there are enough kids for a basketball team between them - is this really a good idea?) I was finally relieved and the nurse called me back.  I could see the girls behind the reception area snickering, as they, too, were thoroughly amused at what was taking place. Going to the county health department is always a pain. It takes forever, and they're never on time, but at least it gives me some decent content to work with! 

Like this Health Department Tale? Stay tuned. I have another. And it involves tap dancing.