tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30833542218566942432024-03-13T08:21:40.018-04:00The WifeWhat DO I do all day?The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-23729726113461996662009-06-30T13:08:00.002-04:002009-06-30T13:32:46.655-04:00Say CheeseI just got back from Target with the kids. One of the items on my list was tampons. I'm standing on that aisle looking for what I need when the three year old starts shouting, "I want some cheese sticks!" I told him that we could have a cheese stick when we got home but he started reaching for the tampon boxes on the shelves. "Cheese sticks! Cheese sticks!" he shouted. At this point, my eight year old (who knew they were NOT cheese sticks) is cracking up.<div><br /></div><div>I grabbed what I needed and headed for check out. All the lines were packed but I selected one and when I put all my items on the conveyor belt the little one saw the Tampax again. "What is that?" he asked. I told him those were for mommy. "Mommy's special cheese sticks!" His older brother is now hysterical. The little one kept shouting, "I want Mommy's special cheese sticks!" while grabbing for the tampons. Did I mention that all the lines were packed? Yeah. I'm going to have to wear a disguise the next time I go to Target.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-37847086849353910332009-02-23T09:23:00.003-05:002009-02-23T09:30:22.494-05:00Feburotten? Suckuary?I am SO ready for March to arrive. February has been horrible. Since Feb. 5th this is what I have dealt with:<div><br /></div><div><ul><li>Bobby had the stomach flu<br /></li><li>I had a horrible cold<br /></li><li>Charlie had a horrible cold<br /></li><li>Someone rear ended me - I was stopped at a light and she hit me going about 35 - major damage to both cars but everyone was OK<br /></li><li>Dealing with insurance/rental cars for said accident</li><li>downstairs toilet broke</li><li>modem broke - no internet!</li><li>oven broke</li><li>husband out of town all last week and for most of the next three weeks</li><li>moron at Sears sells us an oven that upon delivery does not fit</li><li>still have no oven</li><li>Stepfather diagnosed with prostate cancer</li><li>Grandmother has been in hospital since last Thursday with severe anemia</li><li>Charlie woke up last night with a bad cold/croup</li></ul><br /></div><div>Seriously, if anything else goes wrong I am going to lose it. It really doesn't help that husband is out of town for all of this as well. I am trying to remain positive but it's getting harder. Girl Scout cookies are helping somewhat but there is only so much they can do.</div>The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-25662113284271238052009-01-25T10:26:00.003-05:002009-01-25T10:29:44.374-05:00My First Award<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3itdXB-A1DA/SXyFFxslzWI/AAAAAAAAADY/iTICVMGzoHo/s1600-h/lemonade_award_from_sandy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 137px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3itdXB-A1DA/SXyFFxslzWI/AAAAAAAAADY/iTICVMGzoHo/s320/lemonade_award_from_sandy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295253596167064930" /></a><br />Thank you to <a href="http://princessfreckles.blogspot.com/">Princess Freckles</a> who gave me my first award! My husband said he wasn't sure about the Great Attitude - unless sarcastic and snarky counts. But I am thrilled that anyone besides my mother even looks at this thing. So thanks again Princess Freckles!The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-47764092574767269842009-01-23T13:11:00.000-05:002009-01-23T13:15:49.756-05:00I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.Charlie loved Christmas. Especially the lights. The lights on the tree. The lights on the street. Now that they are all gone he really misses them. Every morning when he comes downstairs he says, "Christmas all gone." It broke my heart for about a week but now I'm kind of used to it. <br /><br />Yesterday in the car Charlie said, "Take shoes off?" I told him no, that it was really cold and he needed to leave them on. When we got home he was completely barefoot. I said, "Charlie, what happened?" He said, "It's a Christmas miracle!"The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-66132989234491420952009-01-14T16:20:00.003-05:002009-01-14T16:27:11.578-05:00This is what happens when you listen to your husband.Sweet <a href="http://chloehumphries.blogspot.com/">Cloggsy</a> left a comment asking what happened to the post about the misunderstanding that occurred while stroking my husbands ear. <div><br /></div><div>Short story is husband didn't like it. He thought it didn't make sense if you weren't there to experience the hilarity of it. I explained that I wasn't really looking to win any major awards and he pointed out that I should at least try to write clearly. So I deleted it. </div><div><br /></div><div>But when Cloggsy left her comment I realized that it probably was funny even if you weren't there (or at least to certain odd minds like ours, eh Cloggsy?). Unfortunately, I thought I could repost it but I totally deleted it. I will try to rewrite it and put it back up later. </div>The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-15065711283382746432009-01-09T16:53:00.002-05:002009-01-09T16:57:09.923-05:00Albuterol Man, Where Are You?I overheard Bobby playing with one of his Bionicles this afternoon. He was attacking it with these little glittery puffballs from the craft drawer and had the Bionicle saying, "Oh no! Somebody help! Get me my inhaler! My inhaler! Help!" Apparently the Bionicle was allergic to the puffballs? Anyway, it cracked me up.The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-80630778749564190772009-01-01T20:03:00.008-05:002009-01-06T11:43:41.784-05:00So. Christmas.<a id="myphotolink" href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=30106206&id=1550868463"></a>In spite of all the Elf craziness, we all had a pretty good Christmas. I wanted to post a few pictures but can't find the camera - so maybe later.<br /><br />We didn't have to travel at all this year which was wonderful! Last year was the first year that we didn't and it was really nice. The problem is really distance. My mom is a good 7-8 hour car ride away and with the two kids and getting all of, ahem, Santa's workshop there - it's a tight fit. One year we tried shipping all the gifts there so we wouldn't have so much to take but then we had to get it all home. So this year my mom and step dad came on the 26th and my inlaws came on the 29th. It was busy but we all had a great time. <br /><br />Bobby was sick with anticipation all Christmas Eve. He kept saying, "Why is this day so long?" We finally took the kids to the Festival of Lights just to keep them busy. We got Bobby to bed about 8:30 and then my wrapping frenzy started. We didn't hear a peep out of him until about 11:30 - right as we were taking all the Santa stuff down! He didn't see anything but he was UP. The Husband basically had to stand guard while I took everything down. We finally went to bed but Bobby was getting up about every 20 minutes. At 2:45am(!), I was really worried that no one was going to get any sleep so I told Bobby to get in bed with me. He finally settled down and fell asleep about 3. He woke up at 5 on the dot and begged to go down. I told him it was too early and he started to cry and said he didn't think he could. It was so sad. So I told him to wait 30 more mins. As soon as that clock showed 5:30 he woke me up. The Husband and I let him go down and look at the Santa stuff and then we woke his brother up about 6:30. <br /><br />It's so funny how different these kids are. Bobby's mission is to get everything unwrapped as fast as humanly possible. We are constantly telling him to wait or slow down. Charlie on the other hand, likes to take it slow. To be fair, he still doesn't really "get" Christmas and Santa, but it took him over a week to get everything open. At one point on Christmas morning, as I was trying to get him to open another present, he said, " No more presents!"The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-108271335103407592008-12-27T15:36:00.018-05:002008-12-27T16:04:36.345-05:00In Case You CareSo you may be wondering, "What happened with that <a href="http://wifeallday.blogspot.com/2008/12/im-two-faced-bitch.html">crazy elf box</a>?" Well, we were doing great until Charlie threw Bobby's Nintendo DS across the kitchen floor and smashed it to bits.<br /><br />Bobby was inconsolable. He loves that thing. Santa brought it to him last year and he plays with it all the time. That night he wrote a letter to Mike the Elf asking him to please fix it and left it with the broken DS on top of the elf box. <br /><br />If it had been Bobby's fault at all I would have said "Tough crap. Start saving your money". But it wasn't and he didn't even ask for a new one. I told The Husband that we should go buy a new one and just let him think the elf magically fixed it. He said no way. He left a note from Mike saying that Mike was just a candy elf. He didn't know how to fix toys. Bobby was disappointed but every night he continued to leave it on the box.<br /><br />I felt so bad for him that I finally wore The Husband down. But now it was the 23rd and I couldn't find a black DS (to match the one he had) anywhere. I could only find silver. So, that night "Mike" left a note saying that he would take the DS to the North Pole and let a toy elf look at it. Bobby was thrilled. <br /><br />Christmas morning, next to the plate of eaten cookies was Bobby's broken DS and a note from Mike. It said, that the toy elf, Hannibal* couldn't fix the DS but had a surprise for him behind the box. Behind that damned elf box was the new silver DS. Bobby was beside himself - it was probably the best part of Christmas. <br /><br />*The most disturbing part of this story is that my husband seems to have the whole elf world clearly laid out in his mind. I asked him why the toy elf's name was Hannibal and not, say, Paul. He replied way too seriously that candy elves had regular names like Mike and Paul but toy elves had names from the classical era, like Caesar or Octavius.The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-62287317411836355022008-12-21T18:39:00.005-05:002008-12-21T18:52:54.505-05:00In Which I Turn a Year Older and Hate on Pier 1Yesterday was my birthday. Despite the general dread of being one year closer to 40, (full disclosure - I'm now 37) it went pretty well. The best part was my husband's present - a laptop! Yes, I have been blogging and shopping from Ye Olde Desktoppe. But those days are over. I have had this thing in my lap for most of the past 24 hours. My children - they will probably be neglected while I delight in laptoppiness. My house - well, it's already neglected, but it obviously is not going to get any better this week. Hopefully the threat of houseguests the day after Christmas will allow me to get up and do some laundry or dust. But don't count on it.<br /><br />In other news, whaddup with the bitchy sales staff at Pier 1? I went in the other day to pick up an ornament or two for my book club's ornament swap. I ended up buying three ornaments and took them to the counter. The sales lady looked at me with total disdain and said, "Is that all the ornaments your tree will hold"? It was so rude that I couldn't even initially respond. I finally said, through gritted teeth, "No, MY tree is full. These are for an ornament exchange, bitch". OK, I didn't say bitch, but it was implied in my tone, trust me. On what planet would anyone say this to anyone else, much less an employee to a customer!!! Probably be awhile before I stick my head in there again.The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-29866772855516603452008-12-20T20:57:00.003-05:002008-12-20T21:03:13.453-05:00Scenes from the hallwayThe Husband: Come on boys! I'm taking you outside! Get your shoes!<br /><br />The Boys: Yeah! Yeah! Outside! Yeah!<br /><br />The Husband: (to me) I'll take the boys outside while you get ready. Wait, do you even know where outside is?<br /><br />Me: Of course. It's where the stores are.The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-90492170461377100442008-12-04T14:48:00.022-05:002008-12-04T17:10:37.586-05:00Dude. He's, like, a fish.At Thanksgiving, several family memebers asked if we had a pet and/or were we getting Bobby a puppy for Christmas. My initial reaction (Hell to the no) was usually tempered with my classic response that I only house break one thing at a time (Charlie is still in diapers). My oldest would love to get a dog. Or a cat. Or basically any kind of pet with fur. (For some reason, he does not think his two year old brother counts, although I see many similarities). I have no interest in getting a dog for the obvious reasons. I will be the one who walks it, bathes it, trains it and picks up it's poop. A cat seems like the next best thing but I am horribly allergic. So that's out. <br /><br />We have had one pet in the past. A fish. Well, I guess it counts as a fish. <br /><br />At our old house there was a large pond in the backyard and one day all the neighborhood kids were scooping all these tiny minnows out and trying to sell them to each other. <em>(Note: The collective idiocy of the neighborhood children was one of the big reasons for our move). </em>In one of his less shrewd moments, Bobby came running in the house asking for $5 to buy a fish. I explained to him that he could scoop one out for free. He needed a fish bowl but I wasn't prepared to invest any money in housing for a free minnow that probably wouldn't last the day. I found an old take-out wonton soup container (this was during my incredible wonton soup cravings while pregnant with Charlie), added some pond water and our little pet was all set up. Bobby named him Dude. I'm not sure why. At the time, he was really pushing us to name his baby brother Corn. Again, not sure why.<br /><br />Dude grew a little. Very little. Later we read that fish will only grow enough to fit their environment. And that wonton soup container was nice and tall but not so wide. He seemed happy though. <em>(I can't believe I just wrote that. Can a fish seem happy?)</em> We refreshed his (nasty) water from the pond and tried to feed him fish food from the store (a 79 cent investment) but he didn't seem interested. He was, I guess living on whatever was in all the pond water (which was rather murky). <br /><br />Bobby got really attached to Dude. The Husband and I could not believe he was still alive. We explained to Bobby that he probably wouldn't live very long since he was really meant to live in a big pond. Bobby was convinced that we had saved him. Surely, some larger fish or turtle would have eaten Dude by now had he been left to shift for himself out there! <br /><br />A year and a half later Dude finally went belly up. A YEAR AND A HALF. A year and a half of changing that horrible water and Bobby worrying when we traveled if Dude would be lonely. He would usually set up an elaborate ring of stuffed animals around his bowl/soup container. Which actually seemed to me like it would scare the crap out of the little fish to see all those large brightly colored furry things about to take over his home. But Bobby was convinced that they would keep Dude company. <br /><br />But I digress. Dude, he died. And Bobby was broken hearted. He cried and cried. He was so worried that Dude had gotten sick and he hadn't noticed or that we should have done something different <em>(ahem, like maybe get him a real bowl).</em> We put Dude in an old matchbox on top of a tissue and buried him under a tree in our backyard. Bobby had us put a picture of him in the box with Dude so that he wouldn't be lonely. A few months later we moved and Bobby was upset that we were leaving Dude behind. There was talk of exhuming him and moving him with us but I quickly killed that idea. <br /><br />With this much drama around a free, wild minnow, I cannot imagine the trauma and drama if we lost a <em>real</em> pet. So, for now, we will remain puppy free. Unless someone knows where I can get a puppy that fits in a wonton soup container.The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-40228344868369365302008-12-03T15:40:00.001-05:002008-12-03T15:41:58.115-05:00Well I Do DeclarePlease add me to your blog! I used to read you all the time and then you went private. I was so excited to see you comment! Thanks in advance!The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-44822305077394071112008-12-03T12:25:00.014-05:002008-12-03T12:55:32.485-05:00I'm a Two Faced BitchSo I got my hair cut. Really short. For me, anyway. I have basically had the same haircut since 8th grade: a slightly above the shoulder bob or sometimes I let it grow past my shoulders and then get sick of it and cut it. So last Saturday I had it cut to my chin. It's still a bob, just REALLY short. At first, I loved it. So light! So easy! And hey, I probably lost of few pounds in just hair so, bonus. <br /><br />The problem is that half of the time, when I look in the mirror, I think, "It looks good! Just like I wanted it". The other half I get a glimpse of myself and think, "Sweet Lord, what a hatchet job"! It's like that girl in the Seinfeld episode who looked great in one sort of light and horrible in another. That's me, but with my hair. I'm a two face. <br /><br />Also, my annual Scrooge-fest has begun. Normally, I love Christmas but several Christmases ago we got one of those advent boxes. You know, with 24 little boxes inside one big box? Anyway, my husband told our oldest child, Bobby, that the little gifts inside were from one of Santa's elves, who dropped them off while checking to see if Bobby was being good. It became known as the Elf Box and it is the bane of my exsistence.<br /><br />It is really difficult to find enough crap to put in all those little boxes without getting too repetitive. The Husband finally said to just buy bigger stuff and he would write a clue from the elf to put in the box that would lead to the treat. This opened a whole new can of worms. Bobby loved the "hunts" as he called them. Problem is, he now expects them. It totally Scrooges me out. I sigh as soon as I see that damn Elf Box unpacked every year.<br /><br />I know this really doesn't sound like that big of a problem, but on top of all the regular Christmas shopping, decorating, baking, wrapping, etc. I have to come up with 24 gifts/candies and/or the notes and clues for hunts! Plus, I always forget to put the treats in the box. We have to wait until after Bobby is asleep to do it, but by then I have forgotten/blocked out that we have the stupid thing. This year, it only took me until the second night to forget. I remembered with a start at about 11:45 and sat up, "Crap! Did you do the Elf box"? This of course, woke up The Husband (as it was meant to). Of course he didn't. So I got up to put the damn treat in the box. What do I find in the box? A note to the elf, from Bobby, asking: "Dear Elf, What is your name?" He even drew a blank for the elf to fill in. <br /><br />Now, I can be creative, but coming up with elf names on the spot at 11:45pm when I have already been sleeping, turns out not to be my strong suit. So I did what anyone else would have done. I went back upstairs and woke The Husband up again. <br /><br />Me: "He wants to know what the elf's name is!"<br /><br />Husband: "Mike."<br /><br />Me: "Seriously? Mike?"<br /><br />Husband: "Yes. Mike"<br /><br />Me: "Wow. I would have picked Snowflake or Gumdrop or something. Ok. Mike it is."<br /><br />Which I think turned out to be a good pick since Bobby seemed to be excited about the fact that the elf was named Mike, but I'm not really sure why.<br /><br />Anyway, I have been grousing and bitching about this box for three days so the bright side is: only 21 more days of bitching to go!<br /><br />Note: I originally thought of three other stories to write about but every one of them involved poop. And poop somehow just didn't seem very seasonal. Of course two faced bitches = reason for the season.The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-23358368361969787002008-07-04T08:12:00.012-04:002008-07-04T08:23:36.368-04:00Sex and MoneyYesterday while out and about running errands, that old '80's song, "Livin' in the Wild, Wild West" came on the radio. There is a line that says, "Gimme gimme safe sex". So Bobby says, "Mom, what's safe sex?" Great. <br /><br />Now I am a mom who believes in answering honestly. He has already had the rundown about how babies are born <em>and</em> due to a trip to the pharmacy with him a few weeks ago, he knows that there is "special medicine mommy takes that keeps her from having more babies". He's an inquisitive one, this kid. <br /><br />Anyhoo, I decided not to give him the full rundown on STD's, but since he already sort of knew about birth control I told him that it meant that you were careful when you had sex to make sure that you weren't going to have a baby. So then he wanted to go over the whole "How you make a baby" which is fine, but really? I just wanted to go to Target. <br /><br />Thankfully, he was diverted by driving by our bank which brought up his favorite topic, money. He had to go through all the different ways you could acquire big bills. Forget one dollar bills, my kid likes fives, tens and twenties. It is his dream to have a fifty or one hundred dollar bill. <br /><br />He always says stuff like, "If I saved up three weeks worth of allowance and added the money I already have I could go to the bank and get a ten and a five and still have some ones". I tell him that is correct. "If I saved up my allowance for two months and added the money I have I could get a twenty and a ten, if I had some change from my piggy bank". You see how this conversation was going. He could do this all day. I guess it's good that he understands money but can't we just talk about Star Wars again?The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-13521673942607295282008-06-19T20:50:00.004-04:002008-06-19T21:00:12.381-04:00Read thisHow is it that I am just now reading The Glass Castle? I started it yesterday and ended up sitting up until 1am to finish it. It was so good. I don't know why I like reading stories about someone's crazy, dysfunctional childhood, but I do. I've read Angela's Ashes several times. This was sort of the American version of that book. I think the thing I like about both of these books is that the author still loves his/her parents very much. There is anger and bewilderment but also love.<br /><br />Also, I think it makes me feel better about my own life. I quit crabbing about people stealing my towel at the pool or that I spent this morning scraping chewing gum out of my dryer. (I always check the pockets, but that damn piece of Super Bubble eluded me).<br /><br />Anyhoo, if you haven't read this wonderful book yet, you really should.The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-78937792273497716952008-06-18T12:46:00.004-04:002008-06-19T20:58:45.967-04:00UrinetownThe neighborhood pool has not had an auspicious start this year. My first trip this year someone STOLE my towel! Hello, it's a neighborhood pool. Do not think for one minute that when I see someone with my Lands End pink and white polka dot towel that I will not reclaim it. I'm afraid it might get ugly. I was stranded with no towel for me or Charlie since I thought, "He's little - we'll share this big towel". So we were both stuck.<br /><br />The <em>last</em> time I went to the pool we were playing on the stairs which have these fountains that shoot water out where a lot of the younger kids play. This girl who was at least nine or ten goes shooting up the steps holding herself, screaming, "MOM! I HAVE TO GO THE BATHROOM!" Before her mom can even put down her book, the kid yells, "I'M GOING RIGHT NOW!" Sure enough, she has pee running down her legs (right in front of my lounge chair, of course).<br /><br />Now, friends, if this had happened to me, I would have died a thousand deaths right there. But I think I discovered the problem when I looked over and the mother is laughing her ass off. Not helping. Not jumping to her feet to help her daughter to the bathroom. Not even pretending like she doesn't know her. Just laughing so hard she can't speak and pointing in the direction of the bathroom.<br /><br />The girl starts for the bathroom which is completely at the other end of the pool. She runs/waddles half way there and stops, turns around and screams back at her mother, "IT'S OK! I'M FINISHED NOW!" Well, thanks. So back in she hops. The mother never even got up and said anything to her. She was WAY too old for this to even have happened. Much less not to at least have someone tell her that you may not want to scream about peeing your pants across a public pool. It's only mid-June. It's gonna be a LONG summer at the pool.The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-67250539343892672902008-06-18T12:44:00.003-04:002008-06-18T12:46:06.707-04:00Um, HiOops! Is it June already? Ok, I have no real excuse for not writing except the end of school craziness, another round of the barfing flu (don't worry - NO ONE got left out this time!) and summer malaise. Since it is already way too hot, I will hopefully be inside where it is cool and will be able to get back to my blog. Anyway, if you're still here - sorry!The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-11109584368670526682008-04-24T15:43:00.002-04:002008-04-24T15:47:28.866-04:00Scenes from the sofa<em>Scene: Evening on the sofa after dinner. The Husband has been complaining all day about a pulled muscle in his leg.</em><br /><br />Husband: Ow. Ow. My leg is killing me. <br /><br />Wife: Ooh, look - old Saturday Night Live with Justin Timberlake. Let's watch that. <br /><br />Husband: Ow.<br /><br /><em>Justin sings.</em><br /><br />Husband: You know that I'm bringing sexy back, don't you?<br /><br />Wife: With that gimpy leg?<br /><br />Husband: I'm bringing it slowly.The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-35580828773685138562008-04-24T15:37:00.004-04:002008-04-24T15:43:31.048-04:00BonannofestI'm sure that many of you have already received the email but in case you haven't Stephen Bonanno Sandals is having their annual Sunfest Sale. It lasts from May 1 - May 4 and you get $20 off EVERY PAIR of sandals you order. I just received a pair of the new Tiffany sandals and they are super cute. Love that grosgrain ribbon! If I can locate the camera I'm going to do a post on all my Bonanno's - I LOVE them! Go start playing around with the colors so you will be ready on the first!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.stephenbonanno.com/">http://www.stephenbonanno.com/</a>The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-67707469142081062682008-04-09T20:42:00.005-04:002008-04-09T20:56:24.554-04:00I've got the feverSpring cleaning fever has apparently hit me. Yesterday I picked up the 2,654,345 things that were downstairs that belong upstairs. No kidding, I think it took all day just to get everything back to where it was supposed to be. Today I tackled the pantry.<br /><br /><br /><br />We moved here last July and basically just threw everything in. Then we stuck some office supplies on a shelf since we weren't sure where to put them. Some art supplies. Some extra cables (I still don't know what they are for). We figured we would organize it later. <br /><br />Later arrived today.<br /><br />I threw out a ton of expired food. (Why do I love throwing out expired food? I am almost disappointed if the food is still fresh. "Ooo, look, another can of tomato sauce stuck in the back! I bet that's expired! Rats! Not 'til Sep. 08. Damn!")<br /><br /><br />No worries though. We have plenty left in the larder. Although once I moved the art supplies, office supplies, paper shredder and cleaning products back to their homes, I found I now have two completely bare shelves!<br /><br />More concerning perhaps, is that I discovered we have four (yes, four) boxes of confectioners sugar. Three are unopened and the fourth is pretty full. How does this happen? Who, exactly, is buying all this confectioners sugar? Also, we had a half full bag of flour (expired - hooray!), another half bag of flour (still good) and three full unopened bags of flour - one of baking flour and two of whole wheat! So if you want to come over and bake some whole wheat bread and then sprinkle it with powdered sugar, stop by. I've got plenty for everyone.The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-70681251792004682642008-04-09T20:40:00.001-04:002008-04-09T20:42:41.983-04:00Maybe this is the only answer they giveBecause every blog I have seen that has done this says:<br /><br /><table width="145"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#FFFFFF" style="border: 2px solid #006600;color:#ffffff;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:5px;"> <p style="font-size:15px;font-family:Georgia,Serif;color:#000000;font-weight: bold;"> I am a<br />Snapdragon <a href="http://www.thisgardenisillegal.com/flower-quiz.htm" style="font-size:15px;font-family:Georgia,Serif;color:#0000FF;"> <br /><img src="http://thisgardenisillegal.com/quiz/snapdragon.jpg" width="140" height="200" border="0" /><br />What Flower <br />Are You?</a><br /> </td></tr></table><br /><br /><br />"Mischief is your middle name, but your first is friend. You are quite the prankster that loves to make other people laugh."<br /><br />And I am too.The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-72708121158292893612008-04-09T12:01:00.007-04:002008-04-09T12:13:28.982-04:00UpdateThank you so much to everyone who commented with concern about Charlie. He's fine. <br /><br />Until July I had a wonderful pediatrican - an 60 something man who was very no-nonsense but you never felt rushed and he always answered any questions without looking at his watch. He retired at the end of June but we were moving across town in July so the timing was good. His office (there are five or six other doctors in the practice) was opening a new branch office about a mile from my new house so I just transfered my records there and hoped for the best. And then this.<br /><br />At first I had some doubts about this doctor because she is very young and has no children. (I don't know why I think this is so important since my ob/gyn is a male and I would fly in from Russia to have any future children delivered by him.) My problem isn't really with her so much but her nurses suck! Obviously, the one who screwed up my sons chart sucked and she is already gone but even before her "mistake" I didn't like her because she reeked of cigarette smoke. It was so strong I really thought she might have a lit one hidden in her pocket. <br /><br />However, I don't like the new nurse either. She is as slow as molasses (she's not old) and she scares the kids. She's one of those people who gets right in kids faces and talks loud. "HELLO, CHARLIE! ARE YOU READY TO SEE THE DOCTOR!" And now he's crying. Which he wasn't before. Then she says, "OH, THEY REMEMBER <em>THIS</em> PLACE". Um, no, they are frightened of you. Shh. They're little. <br /><br />So I'm on the hunt.The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-40305361143746095162008-04-07T15:57:00.013-04:002008-04-07T17:50:14.001-04:00Double ShotLast Thursday Charlie had his appointment for his 2 year well visit. No big deal. He is finally back on the charts weight wise which is good (23.6 lbs). Still growing (35 1/2 inches). Passed all the developmental crap (can point to body parts, talk somewhat). Great - get a couple of shots and we're outta there. Easy peasy. <br /><br />Until that afternoon about 3:30 when the doctor calls me. Calls <em>me</em>. At home. She says she is sorry to bother me but she has a question. Did I remember if Charlie got any shots when he came in for his 18 month visit? I said I was pretty sure he did. Then she began talking very slowly. Very carefully. And explained to me that they had duplicated the shots from the last visit at todays visit. She explained that there was no need to worry - kids end up getting multiple immunizations due to moving and being unable to locate shot records, adoption, etc. <br /><br />Which is all well and good but HOW did it happen? So I asked, weren't the nurses supposed to write everything down in his chart? I mean, Weren't they supposed to write down the vial number so the exact dose can be traced in case of some sort of problem? She said yes but that the nurse at his 18 month visit did not do any of that. The doctor caught the mistake when going over her notes and looked back at his 18 mo. visit where she had noted he needed shots. The nurse never did any paperwork so the "official" part of the chart had no information. And that nurse has already left the practice. Of course.<br /><br />Whatever. I was nice to the doctor but started crying as soon as I hung up. Mostly because I was angry. And a little scared - I mean what if it wasn't just an immunization but something that could have caused real problems? Of course he's fine, but I think I am going to look for a new pediatrician. I'm already going gray - I don't need this extra stress.The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-89902337729533182572008-04-06T09:00:00.007-04:002008-04-06T09:12:48.014-04:00OK, no more posts about my kids singing.....probablyYesterday, while out and about with the kiddos, the song "With You" by Chris Brown came on the radio. It starts out, "I need you boo, I gotta see you boo". Bobby jerked his head up and said, "See your POOP?" "NO!", I said, "See you, BOO!" "See your BOOB!?!" and at this point collapsed into hysterics. After that, every few minutes, you could hear him mutter, "See your boob!" and crack himself up. Maybe we need to go back to the Wiggles.The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083354221856694243.post-91263213899169310202008-04-06T08:55:00.002-04:002008-04-06T09:00:09.514-04:00WithdrawlThursday night my monitor died. The power flickered about three times but never went out. When I went back upstairs the monitor would not turn back on. To be fair, it is ten years old. Unfortunately, my husband was in the middle of a major crisis at work and since he is the guru of all things technical, I had to wait until last night to get and install my new monitor. <br /><br />48 hours with no computer. I had no idea how hard that would be. I would rather it have been the television! But now I have a fancy 22" monitor which I am loving so it's all good. I had to spend about five straight hours catching up on email and my blogs. And I haven't even caught up on my shopping yet!The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11857295230454998708noreply@blogger.com0