Thursday, January 31, 2008

Do NOT try this at home.

Ever seen a skunk with a red stripe?

Yeah. Me either.
Until Monday.

I'm walking through the store on Sunday, when something catches my eye.... YES! That's it. The end to my boring brown 'Mommy-Do' is at hand - I can almost taste it... I'm going to look great!
And with that, into the cart goes an at-home highlighting kit.

I know, I know... if this were a horror movie, now would be the part where the bimbo running in stilettos breaks a heel and gets killed. You want to scream at the TV "Take the &$#% shoes off and RUN, you dumbass!"

But alas... I was alone, save for a three year-old, so there was nobody there to slap me back into reality.

It was bad. Very, very bad.
It looked like a skunk/Ronald McDonald hybrid. Disturbing is one word that comes to mind....

After another dye purchase, and some serious re-processing, I managed to tone it down enough to possibly go back out in public someday.
If I invest in a few good hats, that is.

Friday, January 18, 2008

In The Eye Of The Beholder...

What do you mean, what is that?
It's me. Surely you can tell.
A few days ago my little princess comes running up to me with a picture she drew and exclaims "It's you, Mommy!" I was touched, and so very proud. She loves me enough to draw me... awwww.
Then I showed my husband, and the 'Mommy goggles' came off.
My child has quite the imagination.
I wasn't quite sure what to make of the picture after my initial giddiness over her artwork.
I'm not certain what I should be more concerned about - the fact that I have two sets of eyes? Or maybe that I appear to be trapped in a bubble/stomach/ball with a tiny, scary-looking mini-me....
At any rate, I do dearly hope that my child was taking artistic liberties.
Move over Picasso... there's a new kid in town.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Disappearing Ink

So lately I've been completely immersed in a new project - documenting my family's history and researching my lineage. Overall it has been an exhilarating experience - like discovering alcohol for the first time (or first discovering sex - you want to do it all the time).

There's a big blip on the horizon, though, that's threatening to rain on my parade - and that would be my freaking 'father' who hit the door headed for splitsville 27 odd years ago.

The man is impossible to find. Impossible.
Nobody knows anything, it seems, and my maiden name was likely an alias.
He still manages to screw things up, nearly 30 years later. Man... he's good. And here I thought he was a useless hack - apparently he is good at some things. So good that I can't find squat on him.

But if I do ever manage to track the bastard down, I am SO putting a hex on his ass. (insert evil laugh)

Hey, I believe in fair warning, after all.

Monday, January 7, 2008

You Need To Drop A Few....

I knew it was going to happen.
Even before I made the Big Mistake, I knew it was going to happen.
A little niggling thought in the back of my head said "Don't do it, Dawn! The minute you sit down at the table, the little vultures will be on your pizza like white on rice! Don't do it!"

I did it.
I took my (individual sized) DiGiorno pizza and sat down at the table with the kids, who (until then) were dining happily on hot dogs and macaroni and cheese.

Then all hell broke loose.

I was treated to a non-stop refrain (in stereo) of "I want pizza!" "Pizza, Mommy!" "I want some pizza!"

The kicker? They don't even like pizza.
But since I'm eating it, it must be a wonderful, magical, NEW kind of pizza that they just can't live without.


True to form, I parted with a slice and split it between the wild-eyed animals on either side of me... they were scaring me. I thought that at any moment they would break out of the chains (or booster belts, but whatever) that bound them and leap for my jugular. They would not be appeased otherwise.

The pizza ended up with half the cheese missing, and it's final resting place was... (*drumroll please*) the garbage can.


My kids are the best freaking diet program in the world.

Thursday, January 3, 2008

Never Trust A Cute Kid

Moon sand is the devil.

And I don't mean that in a trivial way.
I'm no stranger to a good mess - I've painted walls with a three year-old and finger painted with chocolate pudding... And really, I thought it couldn't get much worse.

Then came the damned Moon Sand.
The happy little kids and the booming, chipper announcer in the commercials make it look like such wholesome, good clean fun. "It's Revolutionary! Hours Of Fun!" So of course, I had to get some for Anna for Christmas. I scoffed at the idea that it might be 'messy'. Messy? Who cares? Show me a person with a toddler who ISN'T used to messes!

I have no problem saying that I was woefully mistaken.

What the booming announcer doesn't tell you is that you need a freaking snowblower to clean this crap up when the kids are through. It's like inviting the Atlantic Ocean in for a playdate - that's how much sand ends up all over your floor.

Mr. Announcer Man also failed to mention that for two weeks after your first (and unboubtedly last) experience with Moon Sand, you'll still be finding the stuff in completely inexplicable places. (In the cat food bowl, inside of diapers, under the bed, etc.)

Very very bad.

I let them play with it for roughly ten minutes at the kitchen table before panicking, taking it away, and banishing it to the art closet where (I hoped) it would stay for all eternity.

Then tonight the kids get a late Christmas present....

You guessed it - Moon Sand. Moon Sand that Anna is already insisting on breaking into first thing in the morning.

Pardon me while I scream.

And to think, my Mom bitched about Play Doh....

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

Auld Lang Syne

How can it possibly be 2008 already?!
I swear, it seems like yesterday that I was ringing in the year 2000 with booze and fireworks, and here I am 8 years later wondering what the hell happened! (lol)

Everyone always said that the older you get, the faster the years go by. And damn it - they were right! It's one of the huge indicators to me that I'm definitely NOT quite as young as I feel. (Well , that and the gray hairs I viciously yank out every couple of months.)

Gray hairs. GRAY HAIRS. Can you believe it?!
Before long I'll be yelling at random kids to "Get the hell off my lawn!" and will start hearing things like "Hey old timer, watch it. You wouldn't want to break a hip on that water slide." from smart-ass teenagers.

Kids today. *grumbles*

So yeah. The years are flying by lately, and 2007 was no exception. The rugrats have kept me on my toes and exceptionally busy, and I suspect that won't be changing anytime soon....

So goodbye, 2007 - here's to another year of craziness, another 20 gray hairs, and a box of Clairol (that is undoubtedly in my future).
Hip, hip, HOORAY!

Happy New Year, everyone!