Mama Soup


4 Day Old Beef = Not So Good

Ok, here I am reading a blog...because what else would I be doing on a Saturday morning? Emma is running throughout the house making messes and having a good ol' time when suddenly she comes running to me and drops a handful of cold, wet, greasy italian beef on my leg while simultaneously spitting and saying yuck! Yea, no shit...your supposed to heat that up. And, you're not supposed to eat it four days after its been cooked. (At least I don't eat it when its that old...I'm a bit anal about my food...gotta be cooked til its nearly burnt and it can't be anywhere near the exp. date.) So, we go to the fridge and its still open...was she raised in a barn? You close the door after you stick your hand in a bowl of beef! Hmm...gonna have to get me a lock for that fridge...may also aid in me losing weight...who wants to unlock the fridge for a quick bite?

(Oh, and obviously, I need to go clean my fridge out.)


I'd like to say I've been near death in a hospital bed...

But, that would be a lie. Instead, what I have been, is one fat lazy un-blogger who totally sucks at blogging. I read blogs each and every day. My very very favorite is Chris. She just totally cracks me up. She is funny and she is real and I love her. And, if she ever reads this she will be wondering who this crazy girl is that is totally stalking her...not to worry, I'd never actually harm her...I love to read her blog to much for that.

So, what was I talking about? Oh, yes. Me sucking. Chad's favorite subject. Ha! Hahaha. Ok, movin' on...

So, in the last, what? 2 months since I've posted something? My boy has started first grade and absolutely loves it. Yay for him. Emma has gone through this horrible Fifth Disease, kawasaki disease thing. I swear it was Kawasaki Disease, her doctor thinks I'm stupid and says its Fifth Disease. I'm sorry, but she had almost all the symptoms of Kawasaki and only one of Fifth (the rash) whatever. Stupid doctors trying to diagnose my daughter like they know more than me. Cuz, you know, who needs MEDICAL SCHOOL? I have the INTERNET. Who's the doctor now, buddy? Anyway, she's all better. Hopefully with no heart defects or aneurysms or any other scary stuff caused by the untreated kawasaki disease/fifth disease/whatever it was that turned her into a VERY.MEAN.PERSON.

Anything else? Anything at all? I feel like I should have so much to say and really...what is there? My life, as we all know, is quite boring. Ooh, I know, I know! Chad had a job interview and he got called for an aptitude test...if that goes well (and it will knowing my smart little hubby) he will go for a second interview and if that goes well...I won't be sooooo poor anymore. Right now, we are eating the grass out of our garden we are so poor. Ok, ok, I'm exagerating, but really...he took a 4 dollar an hour paycut when the company he worked for closed. And, hi, thats a LOT of money. A whole lot. Enough to make me want to So, this new job interview he is going pays 4 dollars MORE than he was making at his last company!! That's an 8 dollar/hour raise! God, if he doesn't get this job I will leave him. (Not really, but he doesn't know that. I figure it will help if he's under a lot of pressure.)

Ok, and one more, I can ramble. I just started taking Lexapro. No, I'm not asking you to come pat me on the back and tell me good job. I was just saying...I started Lexapro. So, there. Now you know. Its only day 3, but seriously...I think its helping a bit already. I guess I should explain...I'm not depressed. Seriously. Not. Depressed. I'm just a big fat moody bitch. Its true...the doctor wrote it in my patient there, I have proof. I have been professionaly diagnosed by a real live doctor as a big fat moody bitch. But, thats all going to change..atleast it better.


The Masterpiece

As promised yesterday, pictures of the forest...


Today Emma was taking a bath when she came across her girly goodies. Well...Chad and I have never been able to agree on what we were going to call this. He likes names like twinkie or cupcake. I think that is just wrong. You don't name your daughter's who-ha after FOOD! I usually just call mine "stuff" as in "I really need to shave my stuff" or "my stuff has a doctor's appointment." Yes, that was TMI, deal with it. Anyway, we both agreed that "stuff" is not appropriate for a little girl one would know what the heck she was talking about. So, today, she as in the bath and was playing with her stuff and giggling. She caught me looking at her and said "WASAT!?" I couldn't bring myself to say vagina so I just said "that's your gina!" and then asked where her nose was. After we named her nose, mouth, ears, hair, and knees I gathered up my courage and said "wheres your gina?" to which she responded by grabbing her whole face in both hands and shrieking excitedly GINA! Lovely, just lovely. My daughter's beautiful face, a.k.a. her vagina.


It's Taco Tuesday!

Today was officially Taco Tuesday. Every Tuesday is Taco Tuesday, official or not. About 10 of the girls from work get together and head to Fiesta for some mexican food...I don't think anyone ever actually orders a taco, but the name Taco Tuesday just sounds nice. So, this is one of those restaurants where you get a free basket of chips and free bowl of salsa. Anytime you go in there you will get one per table. ONE. If you go with us, on a Tuesday (or any other day we decide to go) you will see a table COVERED in chips and salsa. We get one per person. Hey, they're free and they're good and we love 'em. So, basically we waste our money even ordering food because we could just sit and eat free chips all day, but their burritos and enchiladas are extra yummy. So, today was Taco Tuesday and I ate like it was the last Tuesday to ever be.

On another note, today was also "be a good mom and pay attention to Elijah day." I decided he's watched enough TV to last the rest of the summer so I went to yahoo and searched for rainy day activities. No, it didn't rain today. But, it was 100 degrees and who really wants to go outside in that kind of heat? So, I typed in rainy day so as not to be bothered with any pesky fresh air ideas. Smart, aren't I? Anyway, I came across what I thought looked like a really fun, really simple, really crafty idea. "Window Art." Basically you get a bunch of old crayons and cut them into itty bitty pieces with a plastic knife. Then the kid arranges them on wax paper to create whatever it is they are creating that day. Then you put more wax paper over it and iron it together, melting the crayons and making "stained glass." Sounds great, huh? Its not. Not at all. It is, in fact, very bad. Cutting up crayons may sound easy...but I assure you that it is not. I look like I stuck my hands up inside a big ol' mama crayon and delivered her little crayon babies. Not pretty, but that is what my hands make me think of. Basically, crayon bombs went off in my finger nails. So, after the hour long cutting of the crayons, Elijah decided he wanted to make something "naturey." He arranged all the little pieces into a forest. It was great...really. Little colored bits of wax arranged to look like a forest. So, then I cover it with wax paper, set the iron to low and proceed to ruin his masterpiece and his day all in one go. Here was the end result:
Ok, for whatever stupid reason I can't seem to upload the picture. I'll try again later. Anyway, his "setting sun" that he worked so hard on squished all over the place. The trees are somewhat recognizable, though. I kept apologizing for ruining his picture, but he wasn't upset with me. He was mad at the iron. Damn iron, I don't care much for it either.

In other news, I played a lovely game of Monopoly Jr. with Elijah tonight. He won. At one point I got a chance card that directed me to "buy more ice." (If you don't know Monopoly Jr. , you basically set up lemonade stands and try to sell enough lemonade to take over the world.) Well, I was sick of buying more ice, so I said "Oh, not more *stupid* ice." To which my 6 year old replied, "Well, if ice is so *stupid* you can just drink warm water from now on." He didn't actually say HHHMMPPPH afterwards, but he did do the actions involved in HHHMMPPPHing. What a guy...sticking up for ice like that.


Oh, no, Thank You!

Yesterday I began teaching Emma to say thank you. I figure people will be much more tolerant of her and her screaming tantrums if she atleast says Thank You when I finally cave in and give her what she wants. She is also learning how to self feed. So, this morning I scooped some applesauce in a bowl for her and let her go town. After she ate the bowl of applesauce without making a huge mess she told me "All Gone!" So I grabbed the bowl and headed to the kitchen to get "mo!" On my way to the kitchen, the sweet little heathen yelled Thank You! without being prompted by me. She just learned how to say the word yesterday...and already she is using it in the correct context. Sometimes this kid amazes me. So, this time I fill the bowl with yogurt which she proceeds to eat while I am playing on the computer. After a few seconds of silence, I hear the dreaded word "hat." If you are not a mother of a little person who is learning or has already learned to self feed, you will not understand when I say that I really considered offing myself right then. But, I decided to be brave and look at her...and here is what I found...

Which was of course followed by this...

You can't quite tell from the picture, but all that goopy yogurt on her chin is also spread througout her hair.
Which, of course, brings the following picture...(no, I promise I did not take pictures of me beating her!)

Thank you, Emma. Thank you for reminding me that a little yogurt never hurt anyone, and really, a bowl is a wonderful hat!


And it is Friday...

You know, I just don't understand the whole TGIF thing. I mean really...what is sooooo great about Fridays? Fridays are the worst day of the week in my book. But, then Friday is the only day that I work a full eight hours. And, its the only day of the week that my kids have to go to a babysitter. Normally, I work from 8am to 12pm. Nice, huh? Monday through Thursday...I work just enough to get me out of the house and away from the mean kids. I get home just as Emma is going down for her nap. I have time to eat my lunch in peace without her clinging to my legs screaming "CRACKU!" No, just because she acts like a 13 year old girl with her first case of PMS and screams cracku day and night, my 18 month old daughter is not, in fact, addicted to crack. This is just her sweet little way of demanding crackers, a.k.a. anything that looks remotely tasty. She does not discrimate against food, no sir, if its chewable she'll chew it. And, if you tell her not to chew it, well, not to brag or anything, but for an 18 month old she really is very articulate. You say "Oh, no, sweetie! Don't put that toothbrush you were just dipping in the toilet that Elijah forgot to flush in your mouth! Acky!" And she will articulate right back at you...usually in the form of a shriek or snarl and the word DON'T! or MINE! thrown in for good measure. So, as you can see, her nap times are a very happy time of the day for all. So, I get to eat my lunch in peace while chatting with Chaddy, long for Chad, short for Chadwick...yes, he does prefer to be called Chad, but really...I'm the one saying the name all the time, shouldn't it be the name of my choosing? Besides, all the girls at work think its cute that he lets me call him Chaddy. Pretty much thats what everyone calls him now. Poor guy. And, after I chat with Chaddy for a bit, he's off to work. Yes, we do have a great marriage, quite honestly due to our crazy work/stay home with the kids routine. I leave at 8am, he wakes up at 8am. I get home around 12pm if I don't have something to do that is best left for times sans kids. He leaves for work at 1:15. I go to bed around 10pm, he gets home from work at 10:30pm or 12:30am depending on how broke we are that week. So, basically we get 3 hours together throughout the work week. The weekends are our time to catch up and love each other though, and really it works for us. Yes, I do miss him throughout the week, but really, its quite nice not having to share the remote control or watch him play playstation, yes playstation. Does every grown man own a playstation? Or is it just my grown man? I don't get it. And, yay for me! the playstation 3 will soon be out! I just can't wait! Really. I. Can. Not. Wait. Who cares that this video game console costs more than, well...more than ALOT of other things I can think of to spend that money on. And, who cares that "we have to get an hdtv before it comes out, otherwise we're just wasting our money buying it." (And, yes, obviously I tried saying then lets just not get either...didn't work.) So, yea, our schedule really will be nice after the stupid, frickin' playstation 3 comes out. So, after I am done chatting with, we don't tape it and then send it off to NBC or ABC to use as a talk show, the phrase "chatting with Chaddy" just sounds like a talk show, it really isn't though...anyway, after he leaves for work I get to hang out with Elijah, my 6 year old darling darling lovey boy. I know...all you moms of boys are thinking darling...boy? Isn't that an oxymoron? Oh, haven't met Elijah. This is the child who can not respond to I love you with a simple I love you too. No, its the I love you more game always. And, when you do anything remotely nice for this child, do you get a thank you? Yes, you do. Followed by "You are the worlds greatest mom!! You're better than the best mom ever!" And, while it does sound quite cheesy when I type it...he means every sweet word of it. One day when he was probably 3 or 4 years old I told him how happy I was that God sent him to be my baby. He told me that God didn't just send him...he picked me and Dad out. When I asked what he meant he explained that when he was a little baby up in heaven waiting to be born he saw me and Chad and just knew that we would be great parents so he asked Jesus to make us his parents. Told ya he was darling! So, thats how I start my afternoons off...nice and relaxing and then I get to clean the house up, make dinner, play with the kids, run errands, visit friends and family, go for walks to the park, play in the dirt, and surf the net. Not so on Fridays. On Fridays I work. All. Day. Long. And by the time I get home from picking the kids up its nearly 6pm and I have to get dinner ready and then put 'em to bed. So, there you go...Fridays suck! TGIFNBTMIIAS! (Thank God Its Friday Night Because That Means It Is Almost Saturday!) Duuuh!
Mesothelioma Diagnosis
Mesothelioma Diagnosis