Out of the mouths of babes

I sent a good friend of mine the link to Bou's post on her boys version of the male antomy. She sent me the following story about the talk she had with her 8 year old daughter, "K". I asked her permission to reprint this. I just had to share it. It reminded me of the conversation I had last year with my boys.

I am right there with her, "K" had a "secret touching" talk
with me last night that included WHY it is important not to let
someone touch your body or hurt it cause (among a bunch of other
reasons) that it is special and when you are a grownup you get to
decide who you get to share these parts with (this was the book talking not me, LOL)...

So, "K", when getting to that part sits back, looks
straight at me and cocks her head giving me 'a look' and says, Mommm, you don't do that do you??? *OHMYGOODLLORDDD*, "Well, uh, yeah, that's how babies are made". and "K": "you talk to dad about your Boobies, oh Gross mom". (What is she gonna think when she actually figures out what "sharing" means??????).

LMAO!!! I was completely embarrassed, BUT I pulled through like a trooper and continued on with the book.

THEN, as we end the book I asked her if she understood why it was
important to never let anyone touch her without permission and how it
could hurt her etc.. etc... and she, said "Oh yeah mom, don't worry I
wouldn't let Anyone hurt my special parts, I like touching them
myself'.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GOOD LORDD.. can I just stop
at 8??? I don't want anymore, This child gives New meaning to TMI !!!!

You just gotta love the honesty of children.

Ahhhhhhhh Silent Summer Mornings

Today is the first day of Summer Vacation. My wonderful mornings begin. No has to be woken up and proded out of bed. No morning debates between brothers. No sidestepping and running into each other. Just sweet silent mornings to do as I wish. I love this time of year.

Personal Crap

I sit here and try to force the thoughts from my head down through my fingers. I type. Read. Delete. Repeat. As the words travel from my brain they just seem to be drowned out by emotions. They push on the back of my eyes trying to escape. Everything I think and feel evaporates before it becomes type. The words on the paper do not reflect the emotions I feel.
I prowl through other peoples thoughts. Reading their trials and tribulations, the pain and heartache. The joy and exuberance. I don't seem to be able to convey mine for the most part.
I write about events. I don't write how I feel. It's overwhelming. But, I guess life is that way too. Sometimes, you just have to push and push and push even when you don't feel like it. When you're scared you have to force courage and smile.
As I read back over what I have written, I can tell when my wall comes up. I start substituting YOU when it is I.
I am scared. I am alone. This is the first time I have felt this way in a really, really long time. My life right now is set up the way I choose it. And I have no regrets. This is the time in my life where my boys and myself come first. I have always lived for whatever relationship I was in. The world revolved around my "man". Everything to make sure no eggshells were cracked, no feathers were ruffled. A picture perfect world that always seemed to crumble around me.
I have a man in my life right now. Someone who has given me an opportunity to put myself and my kids first. It isn't difficult to love him. He makes it so easy. So right.
So, why do I say I am alone and scared. He is 600 miles and an ocean away. So, although he is a tremendous part of my life, he isn't in my life on a daily basis. Also, my family is over 300 miles away. Phone calls, Internet, the miraculous technology of our world helps me stay close.
But, the other week, it really hit me on how alone I am. I have been having some physical issues with my health. I detest going to the doctors so I know I am in some serious pain and concern when I go. Well, I was out shopping getting ready to head south to see my sweetie, when I began hurting in my back and abdomen and my legs began going numb. I was alone speeding down the interstate in tears debating on going to the emergency room. I realized, that other than my boys, I had no one here locally to call.
I am not a very social person. I take my time to get to know a person. Most people don't take the time to get to know me. Those that do are friends for life. I am lucky in that I have quite a few close and personal friends. I don't have many acquaintances. Unfortunately, my friends are all a long distance call away. As is my Sweetie.
Like I said most of the time I'm ok with it. This is the life I have made and I have chosen. I have some personal goals that I want to accomplish and this is my time to do them.
Reality just sank in that night and hit me like a ton of bricks. I drove and cussed at myself. Yelling and screaming my fears and frustrations away.
The doctor is running test. They can find nothing wrong. I know this is not in my head. I know what will happen. I will get tired of normal test results. I will feel like I'm wasting my time. I will quit going to the doctors. I will feel better for a while. I will breathe. Then it will start all over again.

Knock you naked....

BROWNIES! Get your mind out of the gutter. That is the name of my carnival of recipes entry. I found these on the internet and they are wonderful. It's about the only thing I get asked to make over and over.

Knock you Naked Brownies

1 package German chocolate cake mix (18.5 oz)
1 cup chopped nuts
1/3 cup + 1/2 cup evaporated milk-divided
1/2 cup melted butter
60 vanilla caramels unwrapped (one 14 oz package)
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips

In a large mixing bowl, combine dry cake mix, nuts, 1/3 cup evaporated milk and melted butter. Press half of the batter into the bottom of a greased 13x9x2 inch glass baking dish.

Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for eight minutes. In the microwave or top of a double boiler melt caramels with remaining 1/2 cup evaporated milk.
When caramel mixture is well mixed, pour over baked layer. Cover with chocolate chips.

Chill for about an hour or until the caramel is hard. Press the remaining batter on top of morsels. Return to oven and bake 28 minutes (or less for gooier brownies). Let cool before cutting.

I hope you enjoy them.

It's a Sister!

I'm a big sister! I am so excited. But, my blogmom, VWBug, didn't send me to big sister classes so I'll just have to wing it. Everyone, please welcome Tink of Tink's Tribulation.

Tink is in real life VW's big sister. But, here in this twisted like a ficus tree bad example family Tink is VW's daughter. So, VW can proudly exclaim that she is her sister's mother. That is just so messed up.

Go over and Welcome her to our family.

Hiding Places

When my world is chaotic and I'm overwhelmed I retreat to the Islands.

I should have tried this

Now, I get this in an e-mail. If I had tried this last week I might have some of my mind left. I'm going out now to find some phone numbers.
_________________________


When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don't know. I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I'd forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying "Hello." I politely said, "This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?" Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear "Get the right f**in number!" and the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked down Robyn's correct number to call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits. After hanging up with her, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled "You're an asshole!"and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word 'asshole' next to it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "You're an asshole!" That always cheered me up.
When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic "asshole calling" would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from Verizon. I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID Program?"
He yelled "NO!" and slammed down the phone.
I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an asshole!" One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I'd been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored ! me. I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his back windowwhich included his phone number, so I wrote down the number. A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (Ihad his number on speed dial) I thought that I'd better call the BMW asshole too. I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"
"Yes, it is", he said

"Can you tell me where I can see it?" I asked. "Yes, I live at 34 Mowbray Blvd, in Vaucluse. It's a yellow house, and the car's parked right out in front." "What's your name?" I asked. "My name is Don Hansen," he said. "When's a good time to catch you, Don?" "I'm home every evening after five." "Listen, Don, can I tell you something?" "Yes?" "Don, you're an asshole!" Then I hung up, and added his ! number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call. Then I came up with an idea. I called Asshole #1. "Hello." "You're an asshole!" (But I didn't hang up.) "Are you still there?" he asked. "Yeah," I said. "Stop calling me," he screamed. "Make me," I said. "Who are you?" he asked. "My name is Don Hansen." "Yeah? Where do you live?" "Asshole, I live at 34 Mowbray Blvd, Vaucluse, a yellow house, with my black Beamer parked in front." He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers." I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole," and hung up. Then I called Asshole #2. "Hello?"! he said. "Hello, asshole," I said. He yelled, "If I eve r find out who you are..." "You'll what?" I said. "I'll kick your ass," he exclaimed. I answered, "Well, asshole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now." Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 34 Mowbray Blvd, Vaucluse, and that I was on my way over there tokill my gay lover. Then I called Channel 9 News about the gang war going down in Mowbray Blvd, Vaucluse. I quickly got into my car and headed over to Mowbray. I got there just in time to watch two assholes beating the crap out of each other infront of six cop cars, an overhead police helicopter and a news crew. NOW I feel much better. Anger management really works.

Happy Birthday Improviser

In the midst of all the chaos lately there was a birthday. A very important one. It was not overlooked just not advertised. Improviser is no longer a teenager. This is a major milestone for me. My oldest is 20. Oh, it is so hard to believe.

As I look back on the last 20 something years, I think about how much my life changed with him. I was 20 and scheduled to go to Air Force bootcamp. One night of pleasure changed my life's direction forever. I love him dearly so there are no regrets.

Improviser has taught me so much. I have learned...

...that after spending 33 days in a hospital bed waiting for a stubborn child to enter the world you need a u-haul to take everything home.

...that a baby can scream for 22 hours a day if they have colic. The other two hours they sleep. Five minutes at a time. That's how long the baby swing rocks. They weren't battery operated then. You had to crank them.

...that when everyone gives you advice get details. A baby should not have cereal in every bottle every day.

...that when the car or the swing stops the baby will start screaming again.

...all the roads in my hometown.

...a hot, screaming baby who only sleeps in the car will convince you to trade the Sporty Camero with no AC for a four door family car with AC.

...that the best flowers are the ones with roots and dirt and most people call weeds.

...a toddler will not share his toys but will share the mushy cookie in his mouth.

...that if a child watches Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles a 100 times or more they will make turtle faces for school pictures.

...that when you are awakened at 2 am by rolling over on a cold pack of ham it means Improviser is up.

...that the urge to choke a child at 2am is suppressed by his smile as he offers you some of the "cake" he is making in the middle of the kitchen floor using a dozen and half eggs, milk, chocolate and who knows what else.

...that it takes 2 bottles of nail polish remover to remove the red nail polish from the bathtub and your two brothers.

...that the pre-K teacher will laugh hysterically when you request they not show 4 year olds how to use food coloring anymore.

He also taught me the meaning of unconditional love. Patience. Tolerance. And so much more.

Happy Birthday Improviser. You have become a handsome, wonderful young man. I am very proud of you.

Drowning in Blog Fodder

While pursuing through the blogdom I've noticed a trend. There tend to be two types of entries. There are days that aren't worth blogging about, but "we" do anyhow and then there are days that cute little things happen that people want to blog about immediately. But. I. have. teenagers.! So neither of those apply. At least not for the last couple of weeks. I have been drowning in blog fodder that requires tranquilizers. And since I don't drink or do drugs beating my head against the wall until unconsciousness was the only option.

VWBug recently asked what song do you sing. Immediately these lyrics popped into my head, "They're coming to take me away. Ha Ha. They're coming to take me away. He He." Oh, how I wish the men in the crisp white coats would come knocking. Where's a good man when you need him?

I have attempted self-medication lately. My preferred poison is hot baths, Stephanie Plum exploits (because she so reminds me of myself) and generally ignoring everything and everyone. I deal with reality by retreating from it. This approach generally works for a while. I regain my mental strength. Calm my nerves. And simply amaze myself that I have not killed anyone. Yet. Things seem to be calm for a minute.

I will slowly post on the events as they slip back into my consciousness. I'm great at repression and even better at just plain forgetting crap so it will not at all represent the chaos in this castle lately.

Blog Fodder coming forthwith

I've had interesting blog fodder lately; I've just been too tired to write it up. Too much OT kills the creativity.

A Thousand Words

plus the disclaimer: I DID NOT DRESS THIS KID!

Desperately Seeking Starbucks

More here.

78 Ways to know if you drink too much coffee...

You answer the door before people knock.
Juan Valdez named his donkey after you.
The only kitchen appliances you own are made by Mr. Coffee.
You ski uphill.
You get a tax cut for all the coffee you bought.
You get a speeding ticket even when you're parked.
You speed walk in your sleep.
You have a bumper sticker that says: "Coffee drinkers are good in the sack."
You haven't blinked since the last lunar eclipse.
You just completed another sweater and you don't know how to knit.
You grind your coffee beans in your mouth.
The nurse needs a scientific calculator to take your pulse.
You sleep with your eyes open.
When you open your dish cabinet, and there is only mugs.
You have to watch videos in fast-forward.
The only time you're standing still is during an earthquake.
You can take a picture of yourself from ten feet away without using the timer.
You lick your coffeepot clean.
You spend every vacation visiting "Maxwell House."
You're the employee of the month at the local coffeehouse and you don't even work there.
You've worn out your third pair of tennis shoes this week.
Your eyes stay open when you sneeze.
Your coffee cake, must have coffee in it.
You chew on other people's fingernails.
Your T-shirt says, "Decaffeinated coffee is the devil's blend."
You're so jittery that people use your hands to blend their margaritas.
You can type sixty words per minute... with your feet.
The only gift you get for Valentines Day you get chocolate covered beans.
You can jump-start your car without cables.
All your kids are named "Joe".
Your only source of nutrition comes from "Sweet & Low."
You don't sweat, you percolate.
You buy 1/2 & 1/2 by the barrel.
You've worn out the handle on your favorite mug.
You go to AA meetings just for the free coffee.
You walk twenty miles on your treadmill before you realize it's not plugged in.
You forget to unwrap candy bars before eating them.
Charles Manson thinks you need to calm down.
Every shirt or blouse you own has a coffee stain on it.
You've built a miniature city out of little plastic stirrers.
People get dizzy just watching you.
You've worn the finish off your coffee table.
The Taster's Choice couple wants to adopt you.
Starbucks owns the mortgage on your house.
You're so wired, you pick up AM radio and people test their batteries in your ears.
Your life's goal is to amount to a hill of beans.
Instant coffee takes too long.
When someone says. "How are you?", you say, "Good to the last drop."
You want to be cremated just so you can spend the rest of eternity in a coffee can.
You want to come back as a coffee mug in your next life.
Your birthday is a national holiday in Brazil.
Your hand is permanently shaped to hold your mug.
You'd be willing to spend time in a Turkish prison.
You go to sleep just so you can wake up and smell the coffee.
You're offended when people use the word "brew" to mean beer.
You name your cats "Cream" and "Sugar."
You get drunk just so you can sober up.
You speak perfect Arabic without ever taking a lesson.
Your lips are permanently stuck in the sipping position.
You have a picture of your coffee mug on your coffee mug.
You can outlast the Energizer bunny.
You can jump to the moon.
You short out motion detectors.
You have a conniption over spilled milk.
You don't even wait for the water to boil anymore.
Your nervous twitch registers on the Richter scale.
You think being called a "drip" is a compliment.
You don't tan, you roast.
You don't get mad, you get steamed.
Your three favorite things in life are...coffee before, coffee during and coffee after.
Your lover uses soft lights, romantic music, and a glass of iced coffee to get you in the mood.
You can't even remember your second cup.
You help your dog chase its tail.
You soak your dentures in coffee overnight.
Your coffee mug is insured by Lloyds of London.
You introduce your spouse as your coffeemate.
You think CPR stands for "Coffee Provides Resuscitation."
Your first-aid kit contains two pints of coffee with an I.V. hookup.

Nothing Much

I have a lot to say, but don't feel like writing. Maybe tomorrow.

Yeah! I did it.

I made a few changes. I'm so proud. I did it all by myself. I still have a few bugs to work out. I want that broken line under the comments instead of over it. But, I will work on that later. I'm tired and it's way past my bedtime.