My Name is Mommy

Just updating and rearranging around here.  Domain stuff and things that Bald Man thought would be good.  Whatever.  Right now, it just means a pretty design here until I learn design or con someone else into doing it for me. :P  Anyone, anyone……

Life is good.  School is officially done for the year.  I’m finding that, as a homeschooling mom, I look forward to summer vacation as much as the kids!!!

What else?  Surely there’s something new and fun going on.  Who knows.  I’ll try to get less sleep deprived and come back with something entertaining.

Yep, I finally did it.

No, I wasn’t drunk. Yes, I knew it would be permanent. Yes, it hurt.

So, the why, since that’s usually the next question. I’ve wanted a tattoo for about 10 years. Yes, I really have. I just needed to come up with something that mattered enough to me to have it put on my body. I contemplated one to mark my Dad’s life and death, and I even have an idea in my head, but I’ve never stumbled upon an image that comes close to what’s in my head, yet.

So, Jack and I took a trip to South Carolina earlier this month (I’ll share more about that soon), and I decided then that I wanted a tattoo for Mother’s Day. I know many go for the mother’s ring, with the birthstones of their children in the ring. I don’t actually like the kids’ stones together, so I decided I’d go a different route.

I decided that I’d just get the kids’ initials tattooed on. I love it, it matters to me, and when I go, it goes. No ring to fight over. And if they’re fighting over the tattoo itself, it’s means I’ve seriously damaged the psyches of my kids more than I could ever imagine.
Sidenote: Did you know that it’s been illegal to get a tattoo in South Carolina until the last year or two? Something like that. Anyway, it was crazy because Jack and I couldn’t find a place in SC to get our tattoos! We ended up getting them on the way home (yes, she got one, too) at Beelistic in Cincinnati. Rich did our tattoos. I told him that anyone who permanently changed my skin had to get in a photo with me. Here he is:

Here’s Jackie enjoying the gentle tickling of the tattoo.

So, you know how I feel about teeth, then, right? Gross. Especially the wiggly ones. Ewww. I can’t stand the wiggly ones. However, the wiggly ones don’t hold a candle to the crumbly ones.

The crumbly ones ?, you ask.

The crumbly ones, I say.

I have this reoccurring nightmare that all my teeth fall out. Slowly. One by one. Well, they start out one by one, then a sort of waterfall effect occurs and they’re all falling out.

That was the tame version of the nightmare.

The not-so-tame version is that they not only are falling out, but that they are crumbling in my mouth before they totally fall out. There are not even words or expressions possible to use on the computer to express how completely mortifying this dream is to me. I’m trying, there’s nothing.

And when I have that dream, I fully expect to feel nothing but grit and crumbs of teeth in my mouth. Always a relief when I don’t. Always.

Anyway, today, I got a glimpse of it. One of my teeth chipped! It happened to me once before. My first tooth chipped while eating at a pizzeria in Times Square. A cheese calzone. Memorable.

Today? The tooth right next to the first (both on the bottom, front) chipped while eating Subway (no, I don’t like Subway, but I’m counting calories again and they’ve got those light subs and whatnot) at a picnic bench outside of Bald Man’s office. Not that memorable. Just annoying. And now the tip of my tongue is raw from messing with that tooth all day. Annoying.

So far, the rest of the teeth are fine. Maybe I should drink more milk. Calories, though. So, maybe I should actually start taking those calcium pills I bought when I realized I was at that age that I should probably start doing things like that. Or maybe I should just stop chewing on rocks. One of those things…

I’ll try to come up with something better for next time.

Honestly, I go through so many of my days without hardly sitting at all. Not for meals, not for writing, not for much of anything. That’s because as soon as I sit down, some little person is yelling, “Mom, I need….” or “Mom, can you get….?” or “Mom, Luke’s playing in the toliet!” Yeah, stuff like that.

Well, yesterday, I decided I would sit for a few minutes. My back was killing me, my legs were sore, and I thought it might be nice to re-introduce my butt to my couch. It was such a momentous occasion that I actually announced it to my husband. “Hey honey, I’m gonna go sit down for a few minutes, k?”

And I did. I sat on the couch. And not 1 minute later, my three year old was using my legs for a slide. Yep, climb up next to me, sit on my lap, slide down my legs, lather, rinse, repeat.

My butt and the couch barely had a moment to themselves.

Yup, that would be today. Ten years of Bald Man putting up with all of my neuroses. Ten years of me putting up with all of the hair in the drain. (He puts the blame on me, but I remind him that I’m still the one with hair on my head. I think the evidence supports my argument. )

Anyway, I wrote a bit about our ten years here at that marriage blog of ours.

Here, I just want to say,

Thanks, babe, for loving me. For loving our kids. For fighting for the best that we can do and be together. For not quitting when times get tough. For celebrating all the good. For being my best friend. For loving my family. I love you today more than ever before.

And, in case I haven’t told you lately, I still think you’re way hot.

Hello readers!!! I haven’t abandoned you, I promise. Life’s a bit crazy right now, and I haven’t had time to share how crazy just yet. It’s odd, though, because I’ll often be in the midst of a crazy moment/event/whatever and think, “I can’t wait til I have time to blog this!!!!”

Anyway, not a whole lot of time to write tonight, but a few things I’ve been meaning to remember to let you know about:

Bald Man and I started a new blog with b5media. Marriage Actually. Yeah, I know, you just couldn’t get enough of us already, that’s why we did it. We’re so giving like that.

My friend Kate included me as an expert (heehee) in the world of the Blogger’s Butt and included a portion of our e-mail interview in this article here. Go check me out.

I’ll see you back here tomorrow for some exciting news. Well, exciting for me, anyway.

So, I got out the other night with some friends. I try to do that everyone once in a while. Good for my goal of sanity.

Anyway, we were out for Margaritas at a local cantina. (I like saying cantina, because it’s a fun word, and the place has a Mexican theme. In actuality, it’s just a restaurant with some chili pepper lights strung above the bar. Oh, and they have chips and salsa.)

So, anyway (again, sorry), we got there a little late and so I knew I’d have only one drink. I knew I’d have one drink because I was driving home and needed to be not drunk. Because I was driving home. At some point, the waitress came around for last call (no thanks, I have to drive home).

It could only have been a few minutes later when the same waitress came around to let us know, not only would they be closing shortly, but that there was a sobriety checkpoint at the intersection of S Road and L Ave.

I’m sure she must have thought me daft as I just sat and stared at her as if to say, “And?” Yes, I am that slow sometimes. It was a good few seconds before I realized that she was issuing a warning to us. In case we were drunk as we were about to drive home, we could avoid at least the most minor of consequences in this situation.

After I got over being dumbfounded (no, it doesn’t take much, thanks for pointing that out), I got a bit ticked. Mostly because I do actually pass through the intersection of S Road and L Ave. and if anyone was planning to pass through that intersection while toasted, I’d be very happy if they got caught and taken off the street. Very happy.

Of course, as I drove home through the intersection of S Road and L Ave., I realized that the waitress actually did me a favor….all of the drunk drivers were avoiding passing though there, and the sobriety checkpoint was over. Made for a quiet ride home.

Baldman and I are sitting here watching The Real Wedding Crashers. Man, we wish this show would’ve been around when we got married! That would’ve been sooooo fun….

So many titles were fighting for choosing for this post. Here are the top candidates:

Getting the picture here?

So, I went to a friend’s house tonight to lend a hand. She’s moving and is getting her house cleaned up and ready for sale. I offered several times to help out, and she finally gave in and said sure. That wasn’t easy for her to let me come help. I doubt this experience will give anyone else a fighting chance of lending her a hand anytime in the near future.

Anyway, we found a time I could come help without the kids. The first hour was good and we were getting lots done. I was really bummed because I’d planned on brining mom’s digital to take a few photos of some of the woodwork in her house. The house was built sometime between 1900 and 1915 and, like ours, has wood floors and trim throughout the house. Unlike ours, however, her’s is still unpainted and just beautiful. Ah well, I forgot.

So, I’m moving toward the stairs to do come cleaning there. What I’d forgotten was that a grate over one of the vents had been removed for cleaning. Not a big deal in any house newly built, but for those of us with older homes (ours was built in 1925), the vents are a significant size. This opening without the grate was probably 1×2 feet?

Now, I’m not known for my observations skills. Actually, I’m known for how very bad my observations skills are. So, the fact that I’d noticed this grate missing earlier was quite a feat in and of itself. That knowledge, however, did not carry over into the moment when I went near the stairs and turned to say something to my friend and stuck my foot into the hole and caught myself by putting my elbow through her window.

Yes, through her window.

Embarrassed? Yes.
Feeling stupid? Very.
Feeling guilty? Oh yeah.

Good thing for me was that I’d gotten a little chilly early in the day and had thrown on a sweatshirt. I got out of that whole experience with only a very small cut to my hand. My pride? Well, that’s gonna scar a bit.
My friend was very gracious. I’m still very sorry. I promise to try and not offer to help anymore. If I do, you all have permission to run very quickly away from me. I’d strongly recommend it.

And the worst part (other than the obvious “did more harm than help” for my friend)? I didn’t even have the camera with me to show you a photo of my handiwork.

Okay, just a couple of things to be proud of myself for today:

1) I finally got a “Have you no shame?” comment on a post! Okay, so it wasn’t actually posted in the comments, it was just uttered to me in disbelief. Alright, alright, so it was my mother. Still, I think that must mean I must be doing something right, yes? Honestly, I really was sure either this, this, this, or this post would have earned me that query much earlier, but apparently actually presenting a photo of my dirty laundry is what it really takes to lose my reign as the good child. I’ll take it. Now I just have to figure out how to rock the boat next. Any ideas?

2) Hosted my first big blog carnival today at Play Library. Over 50 posts! That was utter craziness. If you’re interested in some fun family related posts, go check it out.

Real posts on their way soon….