Life According to Me

Another year to pack away in the chasm of my memory. I know it's common to reflect upon the happenings of the past year. To sigh, satisfied and content,  at what was. Blah blah blah.... I will not permit such rubbish, here!  Forward I go. My resolution in the coming year? Alice Walker articulates it best.... I will expect nothing, and live frugally on surprise. Saluté, friends, old and new.... ♥

If you already know the secret and didn't share, I forgive you. If you're unaware.....you're about to be enlightened beyond your wildest dreams. We front loader owners have a skeleton in our closet we don't like talk about. Our beautimous machine that efficiently and elegantly  swishes our soiled things, has a dark side. It stinks. And it makes our clothes stinky. I know, you've tried to figure it out. Keeping vigil as the wash cycle finishes. Hoping that if you rip the wet clothes out before they sit for a nano second, you've saved the load. Only to discover this has wasted your time and made you want to trade the M Effer in for a wash board. You've tried to mask the funk with a half stack of dryer sheets. Result....funky flowers. Say goodbye to that  giant jug of HE liquid soap. IT IS THE GUILTY SUBJECT!!! I am a skeptick and fully expected the switch to powder was far too elementary a solution. I BELIEVE! I BELIEVE! I BELIEVE! I've left a load of dark

It's not like Christmas is a surprise.  It doesn't jump out of the bushes and say "I'm here! Did you Mail cards?? Santa Shop?? Decorate??"  So why do I insist on believing time will do what I want it to?!? No cards mailed. Shopping not finished. Not one present wrapped. Christmas playlist not synced.... Christmas lists in hand, I embark on my Holiday power shopping trip. In the rain. The pouring down rain . Can you smell the irony?  There's a video game on Ky's list I cant' even pronounce.   IL* 2 STRURMOVIK BIRDS OF PREY . What does that MEAN??  The ultra cool,  geeky guys at Game Stop have probably posted my ill attempt at saying the name, on Youtube already. Of course....they dont have a copy. I'm screwed. Procrastination....you got me.

Dear Carpool Offenders, Carpool is meant to be an efficiant, smooth, courtious event. There is no STOPPING. There is no GETTING OUT OF YOUR CAR. There is no PARKING. May be its your first time....I see how you may be confused. Here's the protocol: Every other car- hence the "courtious" part. Have your child prepared. Lunch in hand, backpack ON....not in the trunk under all the other crap you have back there. Say your goodbye's and kisses as you process through the queue. Teach your child how to open their OWN door. Getting out to do so holds up the flow and makes me want to plow over you with my giant SUV. The epic offense of all.....CUTTING. Never ever , under any circumstances cut the queue. This will put you squarely at the top of every stressed out, bitter, mommies hit list .  Follow these simple instructions, and we ALL will have a more pleasant carpool experience.... Pissed In The Pool, Jenn

I'm on a laundry mission.  Walking room to room collecting dirty socks and underthings. When, what do I spy with my little eye....a letter. A letter written by Noah. It's on the desk in Ky's room. It's face down, so I begin reading the back first.  I nearly collapse in a heap of laughter as I read....from the begining.... So at first this chick like't me... Then on December  14th 2009 we  plad a game  then this kid named  vincint hert my  arm then the  chick said your Grawnded! Im going to telle on your mom  then I had that  song kold Give  You hell in my  hede then I told my brother he hatid it very much. His penmanship and punctuation need a little work. But he's a writer....YAY!! (Note the angry eyes and fire around his head, and Vincent's blue eye....)

I believe it's over parenting of the first born child that has brought me to this place. You know how you're sooooo very careful with the first one....like they have glass bones and paper skin. Don't give him sugar, safety caps in the outlets, big giant rediculous bumpers on the corners of all tables, no chewing gum....HE MIGHT CHOKE AND DIE... The effects of over parenting are far reaching. I wish my now self could travel back in time and tell my then self.... STOP IT! IT'S GONNA BITE YOU IN THE ASS IN 14 YEARS!!! The next children who follow get less and less of this kind of "kid glove" treatment. I only have two children. I can imagine if your the sixth child. By the time that one arrives, he can probably live outside with my cat; survive on bugs and pigeons. Scrappy.  This first child will tell me the night before Valentine's day...at 10pm...as he climbs into bed...."Oh by the way, I need to bring...ummm...you know those candy hearts with words on

Sometimes you just have to let go. For instance....when decorating the Christmas tree. While it can be made to look lovely, with all the ornaments spatially balanced, the tree itself leaning, neither to OR fro, but looking like a beautiful poised symbol of joy. Ahhhh....yes.  Enter children....and their creative little souls . Creative little souls that should NOT be squashed by their tree decorating nazi Mom.   The tree stands in the living room. If you look at it from a particular angle it looks as though it is being pulled, by an invisable force, forward . Like it has a large bedazzled goiter hanging from its neck.  I will leave it be.....my tree with it's sparkly thyroid issue. I won't redistribute the ornaments in a balanced, cohesive pattern. I won' t make excuses as to why there's a bungee cord stretching from the wall to the tree to keep it from toppling over.  Sometimes you just have to let go.... and then drink some wine.