Comfortably Numb...

Packing up from the water park. No naps, up to early, water park at 8:00am, on overdrive, refusing to eat lunch. We head to the Arcade while Seriously Daddy shoves a months worth of gear into his company car (hey, do you want to pay for gas in our SUV?) Hit the highway, Pink Floyd playing softly in the background. Silently high fiving each other thinking they are going to sleep like the dead until it's time for a potty break.

Not a chance in hell.

Pink Floyd cannot compete with that furry little red haired monster, otherwise known as THE DEVIL.

Elmo karaoke. The. Entire. Six. Hours. Home.

We may never be the same again.

Off to see the wizard...

We're here to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard known as "The Waterpark."

The second best thing about being married to a man who travels all of the time for business is that sometimes we can tag along! (The first best thing, I get the bed all to myself a lot) Seriously Daddy is working on a few new projects and we are along for ride. Don't hate the players, hate the game, baby.

The waterpark, otherwise known as the "Wizard" is a rockstar. My kids are both napping at the same time. I am loving this.

I'll update with pictures as evidence later.

Edited to add -

I am a total looser. I forgot the camera. Ugh.

Nothin' but a G thang, baby...

Grandma's coming to town today! The L's are running around the house like little crack addicts waiting for their next fix. Seriously Grandma always comes through with the goods and they know it. The Seriously In-Laws? Not so much, but we'll get there another day.

I have a full day of cleaning ahead of me, because there is no way I can let my mom in this house the way it is right now!

Tonight Seriously Daddy and I have The Bigger L's preschool parents meeting. It's hard to believe that summer is almost over.

I'll be back later with some good stories, guaranteed. Heck, I bet Seriously Daddy will want to guest post and do some venting about Seriously Grandma. She can be pretty hard on him.

Dear Little Bigger of the Little L's,

To my darling, have an answer for everything, I am way too smart for you Mama, little three year old, frazy mworon,

I love you and I always will. You will never have to question that. I will be the first one to kiss your scraped knee, wipe the spills up, turn on the right cartoon, never give you a "girl colored" fork, spoon, knife or plate. I will be there to teach you to drive because God knows I am a way better driver than your father. I will be there in the front row of every swim meet, football game or band concert even if you suck. I will be the first one at the police station when you call me at 19 years old and tell me that you were "just looking around the liquor distributors warehouse..." Get it, no matter what, I will always be there, no matter what.

But in return for that unbelievable dedication to you, I am going to expect a few things to happen. Just like the Wonder Pets, we can call it team work, except that you and I are humans and not a turtle, baby duck and a hamster. Please remember that. You and I are humans and we DO NOT POOP IN THE BACKYARD.

So along with not duking it out in the backyard I am going to ask you to please stop stealing every key in the entire house. It kind of pisses me off when I am looking for the keys to the gates and they are lost in this heaping pile of chaos we call a home. At this point in your life you are only three years old. Three year old little boys are not allowed to take their mother's car keys and start the car. NOT ALLOWED. The only vehicle you are allowed to drive is your Power Wheels John Deere Tractor that Santa brought for you last Christmas. Under no circumstances can you take your sister to Target in mom's car because you need to buy another toy "all by yourself." Yep, not allowed. Not even when you say that you will buy a toy for your sister too. It's never gonna happen, dude. You can stop trying.

I would also like you to know that even though nothing will ever make me stop loving you, I am not going to make you pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner. That's just not going to happen, so you can also stop asking.

You will also need to start going to bed on time. In return for my unwavering dedication to you, I expect some peace and quiet in the evenings. Never again do I want to see you at 10:00pm asking for another dance party. When you have graduated with a PHD in Chem E from Carnegie Mellon, then we can totally have a 10:00pm dance party. But until then, it's best if you stay in bed until morning. Mmm'kay?

I am sure there will be more but I have to wrap this up because you are next to me pretending to be invisible. Dude, I am a mom and I can see everything. Even invisible fraazzy mworons. Get back to bed.

Quote of the day.

"Mommy, I need you to blow on my big sausage."

Yes, I was actually cooking sausage and eggs this morning. But still...

I am pretty sure that The Bigger L will be writing with Dad Gone Mad and his quest for porn spam sooner than later.

I just wanted the windows open...

We have this house. It's a big old house. It's a really old house. It's a house that "had potential" when we bought it. It's a really old house with a lot of character. It's a house that has been a pain in our arses since the day we signed away our right to enjoy our expendable income. It's a house that was in the same family for 100 years, and then they saw us, and then they smiled all the way to the bank.

The old broad who lived here before us raised her 4 kids here, minus her hubs that died on a swimming trip in the summer of 1950. We have this old house and I am pretty sure it's haunted, but I'll prove my theory in another post. The crazy old lady who owned this house before she croaked didn't like things, period. I am pretty sure she was the crazy old lady who yelled at the neighborhood kids and they dared each other to knock on her door Halloween night. You know the type. In fact in the last 3 years that we have lived here, we have only given out a handful of Halloween candy and we live in the middle of town. But anyways, getting back to the windows...

It seems to us (the suckers who bought this house) that the weird old lady paid someone to CAULK. ALL. OF. THE. WINDOWS. SHUT. Yes, that's right. Every freakin' window. Not one window, storms or actual window, was able to open in this damn house when we purchased it. Even the lovely home inspector that we paid good money for his useless opinion failed to mention the fact that there wasn't one window in this big ass house that could be opened without a heck of a lot of swearing and a few outbursts from yours truly about wanting a divorce if Seriously Daddy wants to buy another "character home." So now three years later, after sinking about $60,000 into this damn house, we now have a beautifully remodeled Victorian home (in a town that sucks, but it doesn't suck if you are interested in purchasing this lovely home) with about half of the original windows that are functional. Don't even ask why we didn't/don't just replace the windows because I will gladly tell you that we are broke and have no more money to put into this house right now and not one of these stupid windows are a normal size. Three stories of windows times all custom sizes, you do the math.

This past weekend was absolutely beautiful outside and I really wanted to turn off the air and open the windows (funny, just keep on laughing) but the windows downstairs were still sealed shut. So I decide to sweet talk Seriously Daddy into getting the pry bar out and working on the front windows. He, being the manly man that he is actually got the windows open and trotted off to the garage to find the screens. HA, FUNNY JOKE. No screens for the windows but he did find an entire garage loft secret room full of huge screens for our huge front porch, complete with doors and the lots. Bonus!

We put the L's down for a nap and cut half of the garage attic floor out and Seriously Daddy starts to hand me the screens down for the porch so we can see what kind of condition they are in. I probably need to clarify that these screens on average are about 10' x 10' panels. Big. Big and dirty. Big and dirty and sometimes full of dead rodents. Big and dirty and sometimes full of dead rodents that sometimes fell on my head. Seriously.

Fast forward.

We put the entire set of screens up and then decided that they all should be re-screened, painted and the entire porch should be repainted. So now we are 5 days into another *@#**&# house project when all I wanted was the windows open.

Welcome to da crib!

Nice, huh? Huge thanks to Cynthia at NW Designs for all of her hard work. I have lots of stuff to move around and reorganize but right now I am up to my ears in crabby, over tired kids and a mountain on laundry to fold. More to come...

These are the Jaws of our Lives...

The little-er of the L's seems to be in some freakish biting stage. She is a man eater and I think she kind of likes it. The entire Seriously Family went to the grocery store on Sunday. $298.00 later we left with a helluva lot of food and a few thousand bite marks on the bigger L's arms. We had the luxury of using the ginormous race car carts in which the L's were driving. You know the ones. They are the semi tractor trailer sized carts that are impossible to maneuver through any store that offers them to parents with the word SUCKER tattooed on their foreheads. Yah, that's the one. Little-er L would lean over from her side and take a chunk out of her older brother's arm and then laugh like she was Hannibal Freakin' Lecter. I should have offered her a bottle of Chianti for cripes sake. The little bigger L would then cry and hit her, like any three year old would. So what did we do, tell him to knock it off or we were leaving. Yes, we now know that threats don't work with three year olds who have just been cannibalized and we realize that somewhere SuperNanny is laughing her silly little British ass off at us.

How can we punish him for hitting her when it was just self defense, right? But alas, the shitty parents that we are, we expected him to know better blah, blah, blah. The little-er L is frankly still to small and mush brained to understand any sort of punishment, so for now I guess she is getting away with it. Maybe this is just payback for the first few months of her life when the little bigger L would sneak up and smack her right on her head when she was nursing. Payback can be a bitch young man.

See, I told you we were not in line for any parent of the year award.

So I've got some new digs coming. Cynthia at NW Designs is pimping me out a new blog and I am so excited, it's going to be great! Stay tuned for the update.

It finally happened...

It happened.

It finally happened.

The day I have dreaded since her birth.

The day I prayed that she would never grasp the concept.

The day she learned that...

Her diaper is removable and she can do it all by herself.

And I have the picture to prove it...

She is a disgusting little creature.

I am so proud that she discovered a new skill, but I still think she is disgusting.

I hope her future husband never becomes aware of her talent.