Oblivious Maven

A Verse in Truth

2008-01-29T16:27:00.000-06:00

There was a little boy,
Who had two little dimples
Right in the middle of each cheek.
When he was sweet,
He was very sweet indeed,
But when he was bad, it was unspeakable.

Really, I don't even want to talk about it.

By:
MoiHenry ForWadsItWorth LongfellowMaven

I Can't Pee Without You

2007-09-15T17:35:00.000-05:00

I can't pee without you.
Can't pee without you.
Or use a tampon.
Or wipe my sweet tush.
Or shower and shave
Past 3 minutes straight
Without you.

Because............you sound like Cujo, a big FWOMP of a bloody St. Bernard bashing his head against the bathroom door if I try to shut it and try to pee without you. Both of you. And neither of you can possibly have rabies because I practice staunch immunization of my kids.

I'm calling Parent Protective Services.

What, they don't have Protective Services for parents? That is just wrong.

Calgon, Take Me Away. Far Away.

2007-05-19T16:30:00.000-05:00

Aha! I have a GREAT idea! Why does Calgon take you away? Because here's what you do.......go buy all of it from the shelf from several stores. Tie all the boxes together like a raft. Go to the ocean, push it out, and let it TAKE YOU AWAY. Soap floats, right? Gawd, I hope I land in Aruba. This will be great!

No passengers! If Mommy really wants time for herself, Mommy must leave. No crying. No whining. No crying and no whining and no "where is _____, I can't find anything around here".

HA! Good luck finding ME. I'm floating away. I'll read up on how to speak Papiamento on the way. I'll need that in Aruba.

Ayo, mi darlings.

Kill the Termite! (Freeware Game)

2007-04-04T09:06:00.000-05:00

Oh, look! In my spare time, I'm a video game programmer! This one is called "The Termitator". The object is to kill the termite. Like the ones eating into the side of my house.

Instructions:
Beat your monitor until you no longer see the termite. You may see a black screen, you may see the blue screen of death. Either means that you have successfully terminated the termite. You win!

Or, you could do what I did. Just throw lots and lots and lots and lots of money indirectly at it through an agency. According to all the pest control agencies, termites are deathly afraid of money. The more money you throw, the more effective. Warning, this method is a lot more costly and a lot more time consuming. But the game lasts longer, I'm still playing! Whoopie.

Killing Me Loudly

2007-03-17T14:30:00.000-05:00

Expressing his pain with his lungs,
Screaming his frustration so loud,
Killing me loudly with his lungs,
Killing my eardrums with his screams,
Getting on my last nerve, my last nerve,
Killing me loudly, I'm gonna die!!!!!!

I saw one molar coming in, then I counted three more.
And so they're all coming in, and through his gums they tore.
And there he was this young boy, who turned into a spook show....

Expressing his pain with his lungs,
Screaming his frustration so loud,
Killing me loudly with his lungs,
Killing my eardrums with his screams,
Getting on my last nerve, my last nerve,
Killing me loudly, oh my, oh my!!!!!!

I feel so sadly for him, embarrassed by my rant.
I hope he never finds my blog and reads it all out loud.
But then again, he won't stop, It's driving me insane.........

Expressing his pain with his lungs,
Screaming his frustration so loud,
Killing me loudly with his lungs,
Killing my eardrums with his screams,
Getting on my last nerve, my last nerve,
Killing me loudly, I'm gonna die!!!!!!

He cries as if he knows he's pulling on my strings.
And suddenly looks at me as if he's that doll, "Chucky".
And he's coming at me, louder, looking at me so evil.....

Expressing his pain with his lungs,
Screaming his frustration so loud,
Killing me loudly with his lungs,
Killing my eardrums with his screams,
Getting on my last nerve, my last nerve,
Killing me loudly, oh my, oh my!!!!!!

Oh, he's insane, I'm insane,
Everyone in this house is insane.
Four freaking molars at one time
Will do that,
Driving the whole family....
Insane.
With his pain.

(Poor fella.)

Imaginary Rehab

2007-03-10T10:13:00.000-06:00

Here I sit with my imaginary shaved head in imaginary rehab. In Malibu. With my imaginary addiction that I had to imaginarily fake so that they'd admit me for ~~pampering~~ treatment. Ahh, this is the life. No hair to care for, someone to babysit for me 24/7, and in this elite place, for my celebrity self, I don't have chores like the ordinary rehab folks do. And I don't even have to make my own bed. Every day, I am told how to take better care of myself than I have in the last few years. I'm really liking that. Although it's great that the staff is taking care of me while I'm here.

Yesterday, I had an assignment to write a poem about someone who really touched me here at the facility. Someone I really connected with, while sober, without needing chemicals to hide behind. A natural high, a natural connection. Here it is:

"Aunt Flo"

I love you Aunt Flo,
Oh yes I do!
You don't know how relieved
I am to see beloved you!
As much as I LOVE my kids
I'm so glad there's still only two!
Oh, Aunt Flo, I love you!!!!!!!

Me Too!

2007-02-19T19:48:00.000-06:00

I also want to shave my head after my 2nd kid. Wow, what a time-saver that would be, just shave off the beautiful, long, sexy head of hair I have. Which to be honest is such a pain in the butt most of time, I mean, when I actually have the time to make it beautiful. Shoot, if someone with access to a hairdresser 24/7 shaves it off, then why have I been going it alone with this mane anyway?

And while I'm at it, I'm just going to throw away all the pots and pans and dishes. Take-out and paper plates, I'm thinking. Yeah, I'm liking this train of thought!

The kids. Ok, I'm keeping them. But I'm locking them in a closet at any whim. Three hour nap-time will be strictly enforced.

The husband. He spoils me, best leave that arrangement alone.

Bills. Throw them away. Oh, wait. See above re: husband. Continue to toss them onto his desk.

Carpets. Rip them up and throw them away. Cement floors are all the rage for that eclectic vibe. I'm thinking warehouses aren't dusted and scrubbed and mopped to the max, right? Gotta have some dust and grime for that warehouse effect.

Bathrooms. Three boys in the house. They shall pee outside. Pee all over the base of a tree other than the base of the porcelain throne, I'm thinking. Oh, they'll love that anyway. They'll think I'm so cool! This is great!

Laundry. All clothes are disposable. Replace all clothes with new clothes. Ensuing bills? See husband.

I could go on, but, but............

gotta go........

too bloody excited....about........this........

where are my.............dog cli -

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!

Sorry About the Broadcast Interruption

2007-02-12T23:46:00.000-06:00

Well, not really.

It's difficult to blog when you're getting lucky. A lot.

Loving every minute of it.
Loving every minute of it.
Loving every minute of it.
Loving every minute of it.

Only the lucky ones whose babies FINALLY sleep during the night get lucky. Only the lucky ones really get to know. Only the lucky, only the lucky ones…get lucky.

But damn. I would have felt a lot more lucky had this happened, like, EIGHT MONTHS AGO OR SOMETHING!

Can You Detect What's Wrong in These Photos?

2007-01-20T13:35:00.000-06:00

Yawn

2007-01-13T22:16:00.000-06:00

Ever watch L.A. Story? If the above depiction of a certain scene does not ring true for you, my mistake. I do plan to see it again. And I will. As God as my witness, I will. (I do need to know when low, sustained, booming noises are acceptable.)

Anyhoo, I recently received a visit from The Geek Squad.

I'm back.

Heh.

Trolls and Bugs & Such

2006-11-19T23:16:00.000-06:00

Geez.

Been here for a while now, and no-one has posted or emailed me to tell me how much I suck? I am total troll-bait, and no suck-mail? Ummmm, OK.

I have, however, received some nice comments & emails 'n stuff. Thank you, and thank you to the bottle of whiskey that you drank before typing "yrrrr ooo-kkkkkk soemetxxxxx, thx, hi!".

Unfortunately, because of the enormity of crap that my computer seems to endure only when I log onto blogging type sites like this one, I'm outta here. I've got enough to worry about in raising two human beings, I can not outwit bored and idle computer savvy 7-year-olds or assholes in general who like f'ing around with internet stuff. Pisses me off.

I now amble away, pissed.

Dear Santa,

2006-11-14T17:17:00.000-06:00

Dear Santa,

I'll tell you what I want,
What I really, really want.
Oh, I'll tell you what I want,
What I really, really want.
Yeah, I'll tell you what I want,
What I really, really want.
I want a,
I want a,
I want a full-time freaking maid,
That's what I really, really want!

Love,
Incompetent Mommy Spice

p.s.
And while I'm dreaming, this is how I envision your lap, Santa.

Mmmmmmmmmmm. Yes Santa, I am a sweet little girl. And I DO want some candy.

I Have a Cunning Plan

2006-11-03T19:45:00.000-06:00

On Election Day, I plan on voting straight-party for the Standing at the Back Dressed Stupidly and Looking Stupid Party.

Christmas to Halloween Dictionary

2006-10-31T21:23:00.000-06:00

Merry Christmas! ------------------ Happy Halloween!

Bah Humbug! ------------------ Boo!

Meet me under the mistletoe. ------------------ I want to drink your blood.

Dear Santa, ------------------Trick-or-Treat!

In the spirit of Christmas ------------------ Spooktacular

The ghosts of Chistmas past, present, and future. ------------------ Ghosts!!!!

Christmas credit card debt is a bloodsucker. ------------------ Dracula is a bloodsucker.

This textbook is dedicated to Mr. Preschool, who morphed into an Elf for Halloween. The prototype of this final work was very, very useful as we conversed with the ghouls and goblins.

Come Home a Hero

2006-10-29T14:16:00.000-06:00

Wanna be a hero? You, too can become one. For the mere cost of a dozen halloween-decorated cupcakes (non peanut variety), you can come home a hero*! Just stop by your choice of grocer's bakery on the way home, and this hero worship can be yours! And if you act now, as an added bonus, you can sleep-in a little later tomorrow instead of taking Superhero, Jr. to school.

*Offer null and void to those who already live in the State of Heroism. This includes you, Honey.

(This message is for Mr. Husband, who for some sick reason, enjoys reading my blog.)

Mistakes

2006-10-22T22:03:00.000-05:00

How I never make any:

I'm a celebrity, of course!

My thanks to all of the little people........the air-brushers, the editors, the directors, the publicists. Mwah, mwah, mwah! You know I love you almost as much as my little dog, Toto.

Next stop, my own special spot on The Hollywood Walk of Fame. Hope to see you there! (That is, if you have the right connections.)

MWAH!

My Family Portrait

2006-10-22T16:29:00.000-05:00

(Compliments of South Park.)

Want yours?

Go Here.

The Surgeon General Needs Revamping

2006-10-16T12:10:00.000-05:00

The Surgeon General needs some assistance, because too many people don't listen to him, or at least to their own damned common sense. Let me try:

Perhaps Taco Bell should start writing warning labels on those boxes of rolled-up skank like they do on their sauce packets. Perhaps people would read them then.

Tossing out some more things to ponder.........
"Smoke" rhymes with "choke" for a reason.
There is no tobacco-flavored toothpaste on the market.
There is no carpet deodorizer scented with "stale nicotine".
You don't buy tooth whitener in shade "stained ick blech".
If you're pissed-off at your tax rate, then don't. buy. cigarettes. DUH!

Temptation

2006-10-12T23:10:00.000-05:00

Say something stupid, k?

No, don't! Don't say it! Make a conscientious effort to sound intelligent.

Say something charming.

Say something really atrocious. Don't believe in that whole "If you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything" crap!!

Excuse me, Lucifer, I really like what you've done with that pitchfork. Is it crimson or velvet red?

Don't stick your foot in your mouth again today, ok sweetie? Really think about what you're going to say before you say it.

If it crosses your mind, spill it.

Hmmmmm. Let's check-in to see who's winning this one.

* Where this asterisk will appear, I don't know. How to get the red font to read more clearly, I don't give a damn anymore since Blogger doesn't either and won't let me fix it.

Listen..........

2006-10-06T13:57:00.000-05:00

*Knock-Knock*

Did you hear that?

*Knock-Knock*

Did you hear that?

*Knock-Knock-Knock*

Didn't you hear that?!

Wasn't that Ed McMahon's voice I heard behind that door, wasn't that his distinct knock?$?$?$?$!!!!!!!!!!!!! Didn't you hear the balloons bopping against each other and a camera crew whispering and a large cardboard check made out to me flapping in the wind?

No? You didn't hear that, honestly?

Rats. I guess you really don't win if you don't enter.

Ed won't be getting any fan mail from me. Jerk.

The Broadcast of Meme

2006-09-29T13:50:00.000-05:00

This blog would like to apologize for the delay in the broadcast of this meme. I apologize to my fellow network for any inconvenience that this may have caused the blogosphere.

Brought to you by: Oblivious Maven
Produced by: Oblivious Maven
Written by: Oblivious Maven

THE MEME

Four jobs I have had in my life:
1. Puke Target
2. Diaper Smeller
3. Monster Exterminator
4. Puppeteer
(One of these days I'm going to get a paying job again.)

Four movies I could watch over and over (and do):
1. 'Say Anything' (repeat)
2. 'Say Anything' (repeat)
3. 'Say Anything' (repeat)
4. 'Say Anything' (repeat)
(I really do.)

Four places I have lived:
1. At the base of the porcelain throne.
2. At the mercy of my College Algebra professor. (Actually, he was merciless.)
3. In jeopardy.
4. To tell a tale. Like Madonna. Although her tales are probably much more interesting.

Four things I like to do:
1. Sleep
2. Sleep late
3. Nap
4. Examine the inside of my eyelids

Four of my favorite foods:
1. Chips
2. Refried beans w/ cheese
3. Salsa
4. Top the above with sour cream and eat four servings

Four places I would like to be right now:
1. In Ebriated
2. Out to lunch
3. In Ecstasy
4. Done with this already, my eyelids need further inspection.

THIS MEME HAS BEEN INTERRUPTED BY A WORD FROM ~~MY SPONSORS~~ MY ABSURDITY.

This is really yummy.

I can't believe I ate the whole thing.

WE NOW RETURN TO THE REGULAR SCHEDULED MEME.

Four Websites I visit daily:
1. I'm not clicking there again.
2. Ack!! I told myself I wasn't going to click there again.
3. Crap. Someone stop me or at least tell me that they don't know that I clicked there again!?!?
4. Click! Damn it. They are totally calling the FBI on me.

Four places I have been on vacation:
1. Out of my mind.
2. Up the creek without a paddle.
3. At the end of my rope.
4. Over the Cuckoo's Nest

Four friends I think might respond:
None. No way am I tagging anyone else. I'm "it" and "it" I'll stay. And as always, impossible to define within any normal set of parameters.

If I Were a Robot

2006-09-24T17:33:00.000-05:00

Assignment:
Raise Two Human Beings

Scanning Database
Scanning Database
Scanning Database
Scanning Database

Processing Information
Processing Information
Processing Information
Processing Information
Processing Information
Processing Information

ERROR!: Can Not Process Information

ERROR REPORT:
* Too Many Conflicting Child-Rearing Models from Professionals
* Too Much Conficting Advice from Meddling Humans
* No Mathematical Solution
* Can Not Solve Ethical, Moral, and Spiritual Problems
* Can Not Control Environmental and Societal Issues
* Can Not Reply to "Where Do Babies Come From?" Without Rebooting Twice

Retry?
Y

Scanning Database
Scanning Database
Scanning Database
Scanning Database

ERROR!: Can Not Process Information

Robot Has Encountered a MAJOR ERROR!

Robot Can Not Recover from MAJOR ERROR!

ERROR!
ERROR!

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP

OVERLOAD

OVERHEATING

OVERLOAD

WARNING!

DANGER!

spark, crackle, fizzle, spark-spark-spark, fzzzssfffttttttttt............

KER-BLAM !!!!!!!!!!!!!

Free & Valuable Marital Advice

2006-09-22T11:08:00.001-05:00

Do not insult a man's barbecue.

"Friends" Episode Post

2006-09-17T21:47:00.001-05:00

This Is the One Where I Could Post Something Really Significant for Once. But I Don't.

Baby Massage

2006-09-13T09:28:00.000-05:00

Not for the baby, silly. For you. This is how the baby can give you a massage. You can probably find instructions all over cyberspace on parent-to-baby massage. But where do you go for baby-to-parent massage? Here, of course.

First, grab a snug-fitting long-sleeve shirt. Get a hot glue gun and fasten toys to the back. Perhaps a toy piano/xylophone, hammer/nails set, stuffed animals that pull & vibrate back, etc. Like this:

Put it on, then lay down on the floor. Make sure that the baby can not get out of the room and that the only toys he has are on your back. The less noise the toys make, the better, mine needs work.

There, aren't you a great parent? Your parenting skills are so powerful that you can entertain your baby in your sleep.

Really now, if you are inspired to manufacture these shirts, I'll take 3. Hurry. Babies grow up so fast.

Sasquatch Sighting!

2006-09-08T22:17:00.000-05:00

Mr. Preschool had a bizillion vaccinations yesterday. Yet he sucked up his pain and his emotions and withstood the torture. I guess he stirred up a poltergeist or something, because the next thing we knew, this was roaming around our house:

It exited out of its lair this morning with a bow-legged type gait. For most of the day, it was very reclusive and mysteriously self-sufficient. It never once complained. This creature, this two-legged primate, was docile and eerily quiet and probably will not be seen again tomorrow. Tomorrow, the return of the Tasmanian Devil is surely emminent. And it probably has a score to settle with me.

If a Tree....

2006-09-05T23:16:00.000-05:00

Q: If a tree falls in a forest and no-one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?
A: If the tree falls, it's lumber.

Q: If your baby cries all day. All day for no reason. Is it still human, or should you call Animal Control?
A: I found the number for Animal Control in the blue pages of the phone book. They couldn't hear me over the unidentified mammal wailing.

Q: Why is it that it's so unacceptable to Go Postal and it's quite OK to Go FedEx?
A: I'm not sure, but when I'm through with Being Postal, I'm Going FedEx. It won't be acceptable after I go that route, I promise.

Q: Why is it that your older child can make your younger child giggle so darned cute? Why is it that the full-bellied laughs they give each other are the best moments to witness on earth?
A: Doesn't matter why. Stop that useless peeing on the potty alone while you have a chance. This is more fun, enjoy! You can clean the puddle up later.

Q: Who holds the world's record for saying "I love you" to a child?
A: Me. Hands down. Me, me, me. Giving kisses too. Surprised? Yeah, it's me! I fooled you into slacking-off, and got ahead. You've got a lot of catching up to do. Now go!

Kick-Off at This Post !!

2006-09-02T18:00:00.000-05:00

Here's to my beloved crimson-bellied husband, whose football widow I become each fall. He'd love for me to join in, but I don't know jack-crap about football. I only know that despite his shouting at the t.v., his long-distance dialing to his Dad 23 times/game to discuss a play, and his way-too-loud exclamations while the kids are sleeping, whether it be a touchdown or a bad call.........he's having fun. So, this is the best that I can do other than wearing my crimson, bringing him a beer, and asking when it's ok to talk while he's watching the game:

Hey, at least I didn't try this in MS Paint. And this is called multi-tasking. You know that Mr. Preschool and I were having quality time together. Really, I didn't sit at the kitchen table and color with crayons all by myself. I know, you don't believe me. That's ok.

Because I'm a Mess

2006-09-02T12:57:00.000-05:00

I saw my parents and my in-laws last week. They all told me that I needed a Mom's Day Out and SOON for Mr. Baby. Yeah, I am a discombobulated, strung-out mess. Donald Trump would take one look at me and say "you're a complete disaster". I don't even try to hide it anymore, it's just too obvious.

Anyway, I got a note and a lovely pearl bracelet in the mail from my mother-in-law yesterday. In it, she told me that I was a great Mom and that things will get easier. Yes, you read that right. Focus on the point that she said "great"! Really now, focus, hone in on the fact that she didn't just say good, she said great. I certainly did.

Whoa, now! Will wonders never cease?

So, either I'm being too hard on myself because I'm doing a better job than I think I am, or she's blonde. Well, maybe it's a little of both. Either way, that was really sweet. And I believed it for a whole day. (I'm blonde, too.)

My Gift to You

2006-08-30T23:29:00.000-05:00

I have a few things around here that I'd love to accomplish....once I get around to it. I plan to get around to it. Something always seems to get in the way.

However, I did take the time to help you to get around to it......

Hope that helps. Let me know, I mean, when you get around to it.

How to Cross-Stitch with Young Children

2006-08-26T19:51:00.000-05:00

Here's an update on My Craft Project. I thought I'd share my new discovery....... how a Mommy can actually work on her own craft project while the kids are still young!

First, find a large steel-like container with locks. Restrain your kids inside, each with a separate restraining device. Have snacks and drinks and bottles and toys readily available to throw to them when you just can't stand their protests any longer. An Ipod is a nice touch, for yourself of course. Lock them inside.

Works great! Here's my cross-stitch after several hours:

That's going to be a baby's footprint. I hope to get Mr. Baby's name on it by the time he graduates college.

Oh, by the way.....while your kids are strapped in the locked container, you'll have to make sure that someone else is driving. And make certain that the restraining devices are installed properly. Be prepared to answer many variations of the question "Are we there yet?" in ways that satisfy the pickiest of captives for at least 10 minutes at a stretch. Furthermore, at the current gas prices, you might want to evaluate how necessary your project really is. This has got to be the most costly friggin' unfinished project that I've ever not yet finished.

"You Were Right"

2006-08-22T01:01:00.000-05:00

I think that these are three words (put together in this exact order) that men really crave to hear. You know, after you've been on his case for what he left lying around, didn't turn off, was proved wrong because, because, because. These three words to his weary ears are male ear candy, I'm betting.

So, I'm saying for the record that I WAS WRONG and HE WAS RIGHT about something tonight.

Honey, I was wrong. You were right. Want me to whisper that in your ear during the throes of passion?

Is there an adult video for men called "You Were Right"? Imagine this phrase whispered by those sultry "actresses" into male ears. It would sell millions, I'm certain.

Neighborhood Romancer: Lame Update

2006-08-19T22:57:00.000-05:00

Another sign appeared this week from the Neighborhood Romancer:

This sign reads "I love you. Have a great day."

**YAWN**

I did want to be more exciting and post a sign from me to this stalker-ish type requesting an update on his conquest. But not knowing the legal ramifications of temporarily defiling a street sign, I was afraid this would be me at the local Post Office bulletin board:

Nah. I'll wait to see his poster instead. I hope he's cute.

You're All Out

2006-08-17T11:43:00.000-05:00

Designers, you have failed Project Runaway.

Perhaps you forgot to "make it work"?

Project Runaway

2006-08-14T17:11:00.000-05:00

Designers, gather 'round.

For your next assignment, I'd like for you to fabricate One Big Break for me. Think big. Think high-rise 5-star hotel room with room service. Conceptualize peace and quiet. Visualize a beautiful view, a t.v. that actually tunes into adult material, and crisp, clean ironed sheets. Imagine staff that cleans before and after me. Don't forget the details like the trusted wet nurse/nanny that will need to handle the home during my absence. Budget? Who cares at this point, just go. Start sketching now. I'll be making the puppet talk for my 3 year old until your task is complete. Please make sure this is executed within a reasonable timeframe, or the puppet gets it. I will seriously auf him.

Project Runaway Results

Jimmy Crack Crocs

2006-08-10T23:29:00.000-05:00

Sometimes with socks, and I don't care.
He thinks they're cool, that's all I care.....
'Cause I didn't throw his college funds away-ayyyyyyyyy.: On overpriced hype.; That probably costs 34 cents to manufacture.; When right now, he doesn't care.; Oh woe is me when he does,; Check back with me then.

Mommies Who Cheat

2006-08-09T21:42:00.000-05:00

A revelation of sorts has finally hit me. I now know why I am no contender at all whatsoever in the unofficial contest to be the most efficient, most interesting, most rambunctious, most talented, most domestic, most creative, most mostest of the mostest of the Mommies in my corner of the universe. It's because I don't like coffee!!! Yeah, that's it!

Mommies who like-a-the-java are the ones who, with an "it's nothing" wave of their hands, announce that they make a list of things to do at 6:30 a.m., after their showers, while they're having their first Cup o' Joe. What? What the hell are they doing up that early, and is that how they get a shower in the first place? So that's how they look so damned crisp and clean, with their ironed cotton shirts, etc. They are on something! Yeah, that's it! I'd get up at 6:00 a.m. too if I could get a fix like that.

Me? I do this Mommy thing without performance enhancing drugs. I'm clean, ya'll. So there. At the end of the race, you perky Moms would test positive for cheating. I reign supreme. Yes, me dragging myself around all day on my other two feet......my top lip and my bottom lip.....I win! Even if by default, I'm doing it "Honest Abe" here, and that's what I plan to teach my children. What are you teaching yours, you violators of decency? Humph.

Oh, and the amount of caffeinated soda that I drink daily? Well, that just doesn't count.

Creative Financing

2006-08-07T13:04:00.000-05:00

I love Dr. Toffifay (DDS) because there is never a wait, he charges under a dollar (if you get the standard visit), he's eye candy, and he smells good. Since it had been a while since my last visit, I decided to pick up the deluxe visit at $1.64. Here's how my visit went:

Incisors:
Sharp enough to scrape the scrumptious chocolate circle off of the top. Nothing loose. Perfectly straight first scrape. (Dr. Toffifay dabbles a little in orthodontia as well.)

Canines and Bicuspids:
Bite is nice and even. No sensitivity to sugar. And no sensitivity to cold, either (per refrigerated version).

Back molars:
Grind and chew hazelnut nicely. Don't chip or break.

Gums:
They're still there holding my teeth in, they must be ok.

New Toothbrush:
Didn't come with either package, but with Mr. Toffifay's prices, who cares.

Final Result:
Satisfied patient. Satisfied checkbook.

Parents have to be creative when they must do without certain things....in this instance......dental insurance. We do pony it up and take Mr. Preschool to a Pediatric Dentist for check-ups. I go to Walmart, aisle 15. And even though our female dentist is a drop-dead gorgeous knockout, Mr. Husband just quit going. Now that's love.

My Craft Project

2006-08-04T17:06:00.000-05:00

Because I have been inspired by a few crafty blogs and this has been on my to-do list for 8 months anyway, I'd like to take a minute to brag on what I am finally working on here:

Before:

Three Weeks Later:

This is my small cross-stitch project, my beautiful work in process. Notice how deftly I removed the supplies from the bag. Notice that I have not yet made one mistake. Not one. It is pure perfection. You can't criticize any of my stitching, can you? Aaaaah. Perhaps it is so incredibly fault-free that I should just stop here. Why mess with perfection?

You envy me, no? You so want to hire me for your home craft projects, I can sense it. And if you have seen my previous artwork in MS Paint, I'm sure that you want to hire me as a graphics artist as well.

Sorry, I'm busy for the next 18 years, at least. It's a shame, I know. There, there. Don't cry.

Arched Backibus Infantmus

2006-08-02T10:16:00.000-05:00

Baby #1 very rarely suffered from the affliction known as Arched Backibus Infantmus, the phenomenon that occurs when your child wildly arches his back away from the car seat, screaming, arms flailing, as you try to get him buckled in. So, what a surprise when Baby #2 came along. Baby #2 has a case of Chronic Arched Backibus Infantmus.

A.K.A.: Why I'd rather stay home and blog.

Not So Normal

2006-08-01T11:55:00.000-05:00

A few days ago, Blogging Chicks was kind enough to add me to their blogroll. I got a quick and perky response, and now have this cool whatchamacallit added down to your right. You can browse the other chickies' links there. Cool, huh? I didn't even break a fingernail adding it.

Anyway, my thanks to Blogging Chicks for seeing outside of the box and letting me join the roll. Because I'm not your normal Mommy blogger pouring over literary style and grammar. I'm here to have fun. To behave childishly, because hey, I'm the adult all day. Y'know?!

So, now I leave you with this illustration. Recognize this? I get to deal with it every time around here.

I'll wink at you if you get it right.

Mission Impossible I

2006-07-28T00:11:00.000-05:00

Your assignment, Mr. Husband:
Stop by Costco.

The Plan:
Procure steaks. No toys this time. No. Toys. The last time you went there, you got Mr. Preschool a 20 foot tall waterslide, although he already had an 18 foot tall waterslide. The excuse? It was better. And it had Shamu on it?!?!?!

Focus, Mr. Husband, focus. Enter door. Grab steaks. Check out. Exit.

See Plan Details:

Go!

beep-beep-beep-beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

MISSION FAILURE !

See actual execution of plan:

Key:
S = Superman Bike for 3 year old
A = Artichokes. Massive package of enormous artichokes.
P = Phonics. Huge Hooked on Phonics software package. Humongous. Huge.
I = Ipod. For Mommy. And Mommy gets the Ipod for real. For real, ya'll! For Mommy!

He did get the steaks though. And hamburger meat. And slabs of ribs. And pork chops. And prime rib, which he cooked last night.

Although this was all nice, I swear I'm going to have to ground him from his Costco card! Mr. Husband at Costco is like a Mommy at Target.

Even in My Fantasies, I'm Pathetic

2006-07-26T16:23:00.000-05:00

My kids and I were waiting our turn in the doctor's lobby. Mr. Preschool was playing with another boy his age in the children's play area. The boy's Mom looked at me and asked me what I was thinking (as I was sitting there in the usual daze because I don't talk to anyone, I'm shy like that). I told her that I was thinking about going home to make jack-in-the-box cupcakes. She said that sounded fun and wanted to know if I needed help, because she wanted to learn how. I looked at her wearing just a t-shirt and shorts, really casual. Not a total Mrs. Perfectly Coifed and Dressed to the Nines just to go to the freaking doctor. She looked sweet and perky and she was nice and she wanted to make cupcakes with me! At my house! And bring her kiddo to play with mine. Lovely, just divine! I told her that my house was a mess, and she said, "Great, a real Mom, too, huh?" I was in heaven. My mind started looking forward to her sitting at the bar chair in my kitchen, where we'd talk and giggle and laugh and be the bestest of the bestest of friends.

"The sun woke up."

Oh great, it's The Sun Woke Up Police. Mr. Preschool is announcing that he needs juice and breakfast.

It was only a dream, and I am quite annoyed that I am being awakened from a really awesome dream. I really want to turn over and revel in the fantasy of that dream.

Darn.

I miss my best friend of 20++ years, who apparently, for whatever reason, decided that her life needed to to go on without me in it. And didn't bother to tell me.

Oh, the Things That You Will Google

2006-07-25T16:21:00.000-05:00

Oh, the things that you will google as a parent. Like every color of poop imaginable. Or will a watermelon grow in my son's tummy if he swallows a seed? Really goofy stuff, half of which you probably know the answer to if you just listen to yourself. But, alas.

My latest parental surfing on the internet began with this on my shirt:
Is that a failed home craft project where most of the beads came off in the wash? Is it a failed tie-dye? Is it permanent marker made by Mr. Preschool on Mommy's favorite shirt? Did the baby sneeze food all over Mommy? Is it blood from Mommy biting her lip to keep her from muttering half of the things she is tempted to say?

If you guessed the baby sneezing, you were close. He has done that to me, too. But lately, he is into blowing raspberries during feeding time.....sometimes. Just when I thought he's wasn't going to do it again, without warning, I got sprayed with bananas/plums/grapes. While biting my lip, I started wondering what Moms without a washer in the house do - how long do they have to wait to get to the laundromat? And I started wondering what people in other countries do who don't have the same amenities? Then I drifted into wondering if babies blow raspberries in other cultures anyway, when exposed to any language?

So, I googled something like "babies raspberries all cultures". The first tip I got was that a raspberry was a bilabial trill, which perhaps was also the "Bronx Cheer". But I got confused because there were other trills. There was a coronal trill, a uvular trill, and an alveolar trill. There were symbols for the trill in the International Phonetic Alphabet. There were symbols for the trill in sheet music.

I was sure the answer was in there somewhere, but it had gone too far. Suddenly, I didn't care. The only thing that mattered was what I knew when I listened to myself. I knew that it didn't matter where or when or how many babies made raspberries or trills or spit-ups or sneezes because my babies did and do it all much cuter. So, off I went to watch the kids being cute. End of googling.

Now, from experience, if I had been googling green, brown, yellow, red-tinged, or orange poop, I'd still be surfing. Trust me, I've done it. I've never googled purple poop, though. But, I can tell you this:

I never saw purple poop,
I never hope to see it.
But I can tell you anyhow,
I'd rather not see it
Or google it.

Some Movies are Must-Sees

2006-07-23T15:48:00.000-05:00

If you are a parent, or are thinking about becoming one, don't miss this movie, Parenthood.

It's about this fictional family:

It never ceases to surprise me, make me giggle, and make me cry. Hmmm, kind of like a roller coaster.

Be certain to listen to the wise advice from Grandma. She may be a little senile, but about life, she gets it. She just gets it.

I Bedded Johnny Depp!

2006-07-18T18:44:00.000-05:00

And I took a picture to prove it.

See! There he is. In MY bed. *Sigh*. What a gentle lovahhhhhhhhh. His caress, so light, I didn't feel it. He cuddled with me all night. He didn't snore. He didn't leave me with some sorry excuse about having to earn a hidden treasure in the morning. There are so many things that he didn't do. (Now, that's a bummer.) But, what a gentleman. He didn't even bother my husband. He didn't pirate his side of the bed, or mine.

Yeah, I'm a little desperate here. It's the closest I'll ever get, I'm thinking.

But wait, I'm not the only desperate member of this family! There are 3 others:

1. My three year old wants to get a shot at the doctor's office so that he can get a toy.

2. My husband desperately wants me to get over it already and trust someone to baby-sit the kids while we go to see "Pirates of the Caribbean - Dead Man's Chest". Probably because I'd be feeling a little amorous after we got home. Heh.

3. My 7 month old, well, he's desperate for something. And has been pretty much since he was born. He's been crying for it ever since. I still haven't figured it out. Arg, Matey! If I knew what treasure ye seek, by now, I would have plundered the Smithsonian for ye!

Wonder Woman Makes Robin

2006-07-15T21:51:00.000-05:00

I made a Robin costume for my 3 year old identity-crisis-ridden, ever-changing SuperHero a couple of days ago.

I just pulled out his red t-shirt that he's outgrowing anyway and wrote on it with a yellow fabric pen that I just happened to possess and a black sharpie. Just went after it. And I drew the perfect circle, freehand:

Ok, so it's not mathematically, geometrically, architecturally, or whatever perfect. But my gosh, that was goooooood! I've never drawn a perfect circle in my whole damned life. Killer.

I followed-up with a yellow cape, etc., then Robin and I and baby went to town twice. Not only did Robin get a lot of attention, but many, many times, Mommy heard something like "Good going, Mom", "Great job, Mom", "Wow, that is so cute, Mom". And Robin told one such observer that I was Wonder Woman.

Awwwwwww. Not only was I SuperMom for a brief shiny moment, I was SuperHero Mom.

Robin, you so totally rock. I'm so glad I created you with my Super-Uterine Powers.

New House Rule

2006-07-15T11:23:00.000-05:00

For now on.....

No matter who you are. No matter how old or what sex or how long you have known the family, or what amount of distance you live across the street when you fired-up your weed-eater, or what continent you live on across the phone wires when you called during naptime.......

If you wake up the baby.........

You will immediately grow lactating boobs, purge your system of any harmful medications or skin creams and certain foods that bother the baby, pick up the baby, and nurse him back to sleep. After 7 months of doing this myself, it's your turn. Immediately drop whatever you were in the middle of doing, you now have to figure out how to do that during the allotted time that you don't have to allot. Just like I do. You broke it, you fix it. I had that baby asleep.

And furthermore, depending on the severity of the the infraction incurred when you woke up said baby.....if you deserve it.....a three year old will SuperHero-jump-plunge himself into your chest, nailing you in the breast department. As a lactating beast, you will discover that this hurts like a mofo. And it has hurt like a mofo for seven. freaking. months.

Posted By:
Mommy During a Recent Meltdown

You Can't Change Film with a Kid on Your Back

2006-07-12T17:00:00.000-05:00

Remember those Roger Miller lyrics from "You Can't Roller Skate in a Buffalo Herd"? Well, I used to think that all of those lyrics were just silly. The thing about not being able to do jack-crap with your kid hanging all over you, well, that wasn't wacky. That was the stone cold truth. Did he have kids before he wrote that? Just wondering, as I try to blog with a kid on my lap....

You can't type your blog with a kid on your lap....I'll be going now.

Friday Night Real Life Horror Picture Show: The Reunion

2006-07-09T23:53:00.000-05:00

My thanks to the writers of The Friday Night Real Life Horror Picture Show for sparing my character, the wife, from cinematic harm.

I'm not quite sure who came home Saturday night. Perhaps someone akin to Lloyd's sister? (The one who couldn't decide to be in a good mood and just be in a good mood.) Or maybe it was my transitional person, the one that we gals seem to get involved with after we've left the bad guy that we knew was not good for us, the one we were seeing before we met Mr. Right. Y'know?

But, thankfully, I woke up once again with Lloyd Sunday morning. The one that let me sleep in as much as possible, paid bills, worked for 6 hours, took the oldest to the pool, cooked dinner, then made-up with Mommy. Or, to be more accurate, made-out. That Lloyd, he's a charmer.

Friday Night Real Life Horror Picture Show

2006-07-08T15:57:00.000-05:00

Last night, Lloyd Dobler did not come home.

Instead, I was greeted by this:

In case I do not post in the next few days, you can just guess who walked through the door again and what happened next!

2 Little Ducks

2006-07-03T21:40:00.000-05:00

Two little ducks that I do know
One's height high and one's height low.
The highest duck had swimming lessons today.
And both were great, yes I must say.

But the highest duck had nature call
And had to end class and that was all,
But not quite all, my arms must say......
'Cuz I had to hold all 20 pounds of the low one, wrigging in the air as I tried to get off the wet swimming trunks of the higher one who couldn't do it himself because they were stuck and decided he couldn't get on the potty wet and there I was wrestling them both, lifting the high one while holding the low one, without putting the low one on the nasty wet floor and my arms are killing me still now and that was quite a workout and I will be damned sure next time that all the peepee is gone before we leave the house again even though I thought I did the first time.........
And we all went home and got a snack, snack, snack!

WWLDD?

2006-06-30T21:29:00.000-05:00

What would Lloyd Dobler do..........

Would he help out with the kids, even if you didn't ask?

Would he offer to cook for you a lot just because you look tired?

Would he still look at you like you were the greatest wife on Earth even when you haven't managed to get a shower for two days?

Would he still enjoy coming home, even when the kids are crying & whining and you are rambling on about the color of poopy diapers, just because he loves you all so much?

Would he sell anything, buy anything or process anything as a career? And sell anything bought or processed... or buy anything sold or processed... or process anything sold, bought or processed... or repair anything sold, bought or processed as a career, and just let his favorite sport be his hobby if he felt that he needed to?

Yeah, I think he would. And I think I must have married Lloyd Dobler. After all, he gave me his love and I gave him this ~~pen~~ completely inexcusable oddity:

99 Dancing Hamsters on the Shelf

2006-06-27T12:27:00.000-05:00

I was feeling a little rebellious yesterday. After all, when I took the kids with me to Walgreen's, I had announced beforehand that we were not getting a toy. We did not visit the toy aisle. I have a three year old, a pretty good one actually, but I did not want to go through the whole "don't touch, put it back, no we can't have it" routine. Problem solved.

But we parents know that's not the end of it, don't we?

At the check-out counter, there is always a toy aisle all to itself. Everything is at your kids' eye level; you know it's for their benefit! Know what? I snapped. I briefly became "one of those parents" and let him push every danged "on" button he wanted to push. He's got a built-in radar for the buttons on those suckers now. If they were put there for my kid, have at it. Go for it.

Yeah, I know, the cashier who had to endure this wasn't the culprit here. The orders to place those vermin at the checkout stand came from some high-rise corporate office somewhere. And she was probably the one that suffered.

But dayum, that was kinda fun.

And, in any case, if they really wanted me to buy one of those little creatures, well, they should have stocked this one:

Cute. I would have pushed the button myself.

My Acceptance Speech

2006-06-23T23:26:00.000-05:00

Dear Children,

I accept this nap awarded to me on June 23rd at 12:30 p.m. with much humility and appreciation. I further accept all the love you give to me and I will continue to aspire to accomplish all that you demand of me. Without you, I wouldn't be awake for hours on end, delirious, a walking disaster. Someone that people glance awkwardly at in the grocery store, wondering if they should be making a call to Child Protective Services on your behalf. In closing, I really do just want to do things that matter, and you matter so much to me.

Thank you.

And please remember that I am so much better at showing you how much you matter when I get a nap. So, surely this award comes more than once a year?

All my love,
Mommy

Neighborhood Romancer

2006-06-22T20:26:00.000-05:00

Signs have been appearing in my neighborhood. Not The End of Times signs, like me working out yet again today (be very afraid!), but these signs:

(Sorry about the crappy quality on a cell phone camera, just showing proof that I'm not making it up.)

This is the first one that appeared last week. As I recall, it said something close to "I would be lost without you. I love you." Followed by, "You complete me. I couldn't live without you."

Points for:
Professing his love.

Demerits for:
Unoriginality. Didn't sign his name and didn't address his girl by name. Making me think that this sign was actually for me. (I even pathetically went so far as to ask my man if he did this for me. Boo!)

A sign appeared here the same day as the first one. However, it disappeared before I could read it or snap a picture.

But today a sign appeared again. I believe it reads "I love you. I need you. You complete me."

Points for:
Professing his love. Replacing the sign.

Demerits for:
Unoriginality (Double Demerits). Didn't sign his name, and didn't address his girl by name. (Double Demerits) Furthermore, when you are going 45 mph, who could read it anyway? Plus my name is not on here, and it is not signed by my husband. Boo.

Oh, wait, on the other side of the road, another sign appeared today! I nearly missed it. Well, I couldn't have that, now could I? So, yes, on $46.79/gallon gas, I circled the block and returned to take a picture. I do remember that the sign said "I love you", with a cupid's arrow drawn underneath.

Points for:
Professing his love. Posting a new sign. Attempting artwork.

Demerits for:
Didn't sign his name and didn't address his girl by name. (Triple Demerits) Who could possibly read it on the other side of the road going 45 mph anyway? Is he trying to kill her?

Hmmmm, thanks to that last demerit, I've decided that these signs aren't for me from my beloved. It's from a sick man who has taken out a substantial life policy on his wife.

Then again......excuse me, I have to call our agent to make sure he hasn't heard from my man in a while about policies 'n such.

Sign of the Times

2006-06-21T20:43:00.000-05:00

The end is coming!
The end is coming!
The end is coming!

It's time for prophetic people in white togas to March downtown with big billboard signs strapped on them with this message. Because strange and unusual things happen to signal The End of Times, I'm told. And there is definitely something unusual and extraordinary going on now.....

I have exercised 4 times in the last 2 days. F-O-U-R, four! That's like a 200% increase! I have gone from wannabee completely lazy sloth to wannahave a cute butt. Have aliens abducted me? Is this really me? Is the sky falling?

There is something out of whack with the world right now. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Mother's Little Helper

2006-06-20T14:04:00.000-05:00

No, not the kind that Mick Jagger sang about. Although some days, a little yellow pill sounds enticing.

My little helper is the little boy who tells me "don't forget to wipe your bottom" when I go to the bathroom. And seriously, good thing he's here, because I just might forget. I'm too busy wiping the boys' bottoms to think about mine. Besides, who cares about mine, I've been wiping it for....many years. And after the boys are grown and gone, caring for their own bottoms, I'll still be wiping mine.

I'm just so proud to have a son who cares so much about my hygiene.

By the way Mick Jagger, shame on you for ragging on Moms who just need a little mental health break once in a while. I could be wrong, but I'm thinking that you're not that innocent. Something about a pot and a kettle......

"You Had Me at Hello"

2006-06-19T00:15:00.000-05:00

I made a video-photo montage today for Father's Day. I warned my hubby, the sweet softie, that he might cry.

But hey, he's tough & firm also. He had to come home and "have a conversation" with our 3 year old in his room tonight. The night that he cooked for us on Father's Day. Pretty tough, eh? Well, he can be much tougher, but I'm talking about his soft side right now.

Anyway, I warned him before he saw this montage of photos with music to have some kleenex ready. He was kind of worn-out from working today. (Yeah, on Father's Day. Which makes him even more of a great father.) And from being worn out, he kind of guffawed at me.

The title of the picture montage emerged.

The tune started.

The pictures started.

One, Two, Three.

He already surrendered. He said, "You had me at the third picture", as the tears started pouring.

I love that man.

The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly

2006-06-16T19:36:00.000-05:00

The Good:
My three year old offspring had the dentist gig today,
"Look ma, no cavities!" is what he now can say.
For these lovely teeth, I wholly take the credit
'Cuz I brushed them twice a day, myself, there y'go, I admit it.
So for those I've come across who pegged me "Anal Annie",
Well you can pucker up and kiss my white, smug fanny!

The Bad:
Six month old "Scooter-Baby" disappeared while folding laundry.
I was panicked and dumb-founded, in a major quandary.
Instant sweat poured from my underarms, I felt close to nearly dying.
I thought he was gone for sure 'cuz I couldn't hear him crying. (The. Baby. Can. Cry.)
Then under the bed I found him, and, ok, it was kinda funny.
Mr. Onery had scooted under there, probably after a dust bunny.

Men.

Dude, it was a dust bunny.

He's got a lot to learn.

The Ugly:
My Pile of laundry. See "The Bad". Perfect example of why it's never quite caught-up. I suppose I could be doing it now. But that would be really, really ugly. And I'm a Mom of two. I don't have time to post further about really, really ugly.

Random Advice

2006-06-15T20:08:00.000-05:00

Advice:
Husband. Dear Husband. Please do not bring your personal trainer into the office after your workout while I am drinking a beer and surfing the net. Embarrassing. There you are all sweaty and getting buff and I am, well, I don't want to elaborate about how I feel.

More Advice:
Don't eat this after a guest accidentally leaves it behind at your house. Tastes like dirt. Or perhaps a dirt-worm's rear-end. Perhaps the English translation is "WormTailer".

Targeted Advice to Humongous SUV Driver:
I park "out in the boondocks" for several reasons, which I won't bother to number. For starters, I can't drive worth a plug nickel and I don't want to have to back-out wedged next to another vehicle. Not good for me or you. And, I have to load a kid into both sides of my car. One is still in that carrier that I'm too weak to carry. (Because I surf the internet instead of working my biceps with afore-mentioned personal trainer.) This is hard to do wedged next to the biggest vehicle in the parking lot on the side into which I'm trying to load the carrier. Still more, I'm afraid that you're trying to kidnap me, so I keep looking over my shoulder, keys ready to jab your eyes out. Therefore, I just might ding your car with my door in the process. Speaking of which, this is the exercise I don't mind, walking 13,000 feet to the store, because I don't want to park next to someone who will ding my beloved 1998 (yet beautifully paid-off) recently hail-damaged car that I worship. Furthermore, if you do, I can't mutter "asshole" because my 3 year old will repeat it. Find your own space 13,356 feet away.

Advice No-One Ever Bothered to Give Me. You're Welcome:
Don't buy this for your newborn unless it has batteries. A wind-up version does not go long enough for you to pee while reading a popular gossip magazine article. A really important one.

That was quite cathartic. In a cathartic kind of way. Cathartic.

Oblivious Maven Mandrell

2006-06-14T19:39:00.000-05:00

I was quirky
When quirky wasn't cool
I was quirky
From my hair to my frumpy shoes.

I still act and write the same
What you read ain't nothin' new.
I was quirky
When quirky wasn't cool.

ME:

I've been perusing blogs this week.......lots of quirky out there. It seems that quirky is suddenly cool. (The writing I mean, not the shoes. I can't see the shoes.)

Number 10, I'mAGonnaGetcha!

2006-06-13T22:15:00.000-05:00

Around 3-5 years ago, I saw an article in our newspaper regarding the ten guidelines/indicators for personal financial success. I clipped the article and had it on my fridge for a while. It really hit home with me, mainly because of #10. The other nine were cool, for self-affirming reasons, because we've done a good job here at the Maven house.

I've wasted 2 hours trying to find this article online. Grrrrrrr. Can't find it. I really wanted to link to it all fancy-like, but I'll just do the politician thing and make it up, sounding really convincing.....

Ten Signs That You Have Achieved Personal Financial Success

1. You are saving blah-blah-blah at a rate of wonk-wonk.
2. You are investing blah-blah-blah at a rate of wonk-wonk.
3. You are spending blah-blah, utilizing no wonks.
4. You have purchased a house at blah-blah, at a much less than average percentage of your blah-wonkity-blah.
5. You maintain your house and your vehicles in a blah-wonk fashion.
6. You are making sure that your blahs will be carried on to your wah-wah-wahs with wonks.
7. You tax-minus-blah the things you don't need/donate.
8. You have paid off all blahs.
9. Your wonk report is impeccable.
10. You realize that you can't have it all.

What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What?

What did #10 say? Damn you to hell, #10. You suck. You suck, suck, suckety suck. If you invited me to a party, it would be a total "Suckfest". If you were an item on the menu at McDonald's, you would be "McSuck". If you were.......

Damn you, #10. I don't know where you hide in cyberspace, but I will find you. And I have some fava beans and a nice chianti...........

Harry Has It Right, I'm the Worst

2006-06-12T22:02:00.000-05:00

In the movie When Harry Met Sally, Harry says to Sally, "There are two kinds of women: high maintenance and low maintenance. You're the worst kind. You're high maintenance, but you think you're low maintenance ". You've seen it. You know why.

Well, I've always bragged that I was Low Maintenance/Low Maintenance when it comes to gifts. I don't expect gifts, even if it's my birthday. I make deals so that Mr. Maven won't feel the need to procure something nice, yet unnecessary for me at society-delegated intervals. Poor guy, haunted by the echoes of other females who say they don't want anything on special occasions, but really do. It's taken me years to deprogram him. Years.

I notoriously grumble, grumble at set dates requiring a gift to another. What is that? Meaningless. To me, it means "have to", or "met obligation", or "Why I can't afford drapes because I'm busy buying gifts for people who will immediately give them to the Goodwill". Phooey.

However, gifts that are unexpected are wonderful. Touching. They make me feel truly appreciated and special. Because they are from the heart. Because they were given with true meaning. Meaningful.

Aaaah. The unexpected gift.

Like this charming southwest style lapis bracelet.

(Some images are darker blue than they appear.)

So here's the math. Not my strong point, so s'cuse my errors.

365 days/year, right?. Minus Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, Wedding Anniversary, Birthday, Christmas.....probably more. So perhaps only 10 days/year I'm not expecting a gift.

That leaves approximately 355 days of opportunity to surprise me with a gift, on a day that I would truly enjoy it. A day that would make me feel like the greatest Mom / Wife / Hostess / WhateverTheSurpriseExcuseThatSomeoneCouldGiftMeFor.

Harry would definitely turn to me and say "You're the worst kind".

p.s.
This post was inspired by the unexpected gift I received today from a relative. Ms. Sneaky even asked me for my favorite color first. Namely blue, darker blue.

Status: In Need Of a Few Things

2006-06-12T00:54:00.000-05:00

Check it.

Doesn't drink. Doesn't do drugs. Has practiced this over many years. Has lots of sex. No plastic surgery that I can tell.

Born: 1948

Looking good, Ted!

Doesn't drink. Doesn't do drugs. Has practiced this over many years. Has lots of sex. No plastic surgery that I can tell.

Born: 1949

Looking good, Gene!

Doesn't do drugs.

Born: A lady never tells.

Looks like you need some botox, a nap, and a date night there, Oblivious Maven!

Batman Behaves

2006-06-10T22:21:00.001-05:00

First there was Batman.
Then there was Batman Returns.
Then there was Batman Forever.
Then there was Batman & Robin.
There there was Batman Begins.

Introducing Batman Behaves.

This is what happens when you let your 3 year old wear his Batman costume to town. He gets a lot of attention. Oh, boy, does he! Everyone says "Hi, Batman"! All the townspeople love a Superhero. Superheroes keep their hands off of stuff......better. Superheroes stay with Mommy because they're kind of spooked at all of the Superhero adulation. Superheroes ask for toys less because they are distracted.

Batman, once again, saves the day.

Batman, you are my hero.

C'mere, Batman. It's been 10 minutes since I've given you some sugar. Yeah, you can keep the mask on.

The Little Things

2006-06-09T14:24:00.000-05:00

Don't sweat the small stuff. Stop and smell the roses. Enjoy the little things. Blah, blah, blah.

Ok, so I am inspired. Today, I will enjoy the little things.........

Little boogies I get to pick myself. Because just picking mine isn't quite as fun.

Drool. Baby drool is so sticky and cute.

Strong, robust plants that I am tough enough to kill by myself without even trying.

Art that speaks to me, connects with me, reaches within me, and reveals to me what I really am.

The black hole that things magically disappear into.

Ketchup shampoo.

And gifts from Grandma.

Wonk, Wonk-Wonk, Wonk-Wonk, Wonk, Wonk

2006-06-08T00:52:00.000-05:00

Charles M. Schulz of Peanuts fame was a genius.

"the garbled voice of a teacher or parent occasionally resonated in the background"

Yup.

That's because our kids don't hear us. All they hear is, "wonk, wonk, wonk". What the heck does that mean? That's why we must repeat ourselves 2,543 times/day until we drive the real meaning home. That's why I get used to repeating myself. That's why you probably get used to repeating yourself too, if you have kids. That's why I get used to repeating myself. That's why you get used to repeating yourself, probably, I mean if you have kids, y'know? I think I must repeat myself a lot. I mean, I think that someone has alluded to it. A lot. About repeating myself.

I Wouldn't Smooch the Hooch

2006-06-06T21:01:00.000-05:00

I don't get it. I have no lesbo thoughts about Angelina Jolie. And if I did have have lesbo thoughts, well, she just wouldn't be my choice of lesbo. No offense.

Furthermore, I don't want Hoochie Mama Lips. Maybe she was born with them, but I don't get the desire to go out and hooch up your lips. I don't want to look like I've just visited the letters J and B and not in that order. (Errrr, not that I would know what that does to your embouchement.)

Anyway, here are my before and after shots thanks to an online site I found where you upload your photo for virtual enhancements. This would be me with collagen injections.

Before:

After:

I would totally get arrested for prostitution if I did that to myself.

They Conspire Against Me, I Swear It

2006-06-05T22:30:00.000-05:00

Pssssssst.

Please don't tell CPS. Authorities of any kind. I'm not insane. Not totally anyway. Y'see................

They're plotting against me.

They work together, they get a daily break. A little down time. But me? Noooooooo! I never get a break. Nerp, nada, nope. It's so not fair. I never get to recharge my Radio Shack batteries and they are on super-charged Duracell batteries. They are breaking me down slowly.

It's like this.............

First, these little urchins communicate with one another.

The smaller one falls asleep. The bigger one taunts me by saying he's ready for a nap also. Wooooooo, I'm on my way, I think!

Nerp.

The bigger one needs help getting this contraption on:

Ok, contraption on.

Now, perhaps Spiderman will play Nick Jr. while I am resting.

Nerp.

The FlashPlayer/Shockwave/WhateEverTheHell, IT AIN'T WORKING!!! warning-from-hell displays, inciting an incredibly loud "Mommmmeeeeeeeee" as I lay at his feet with a pillow and a baby monitor.

I fix it. I grab my pillow, my monitor, this time a blankie, too. Inspecting the inside of my eyelids is nice. Nice.

Suddenly, this bitch is nudging me. She wants out. I weigh the pros/cons of letting her out or cleaning up her pet stain later.

(Really, bitch = female dog. Just building my vocabulary there, honest.)

Anyhoo, how pathetic and desperate is that train of thought? Ech. I hate pet stains. I let the bitch out.

I lay back in my digs on the cold floor. I'm about to snooze.

-- IMAGE FAILED OF COCKATIEL BIRD WITH SILLY SMILEY FACE/TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES!! --

Chirp, chirp, chirp, chirrup, churrup, chirp, chirp, chirrup, churrup, chirp, chirp, chirrup, churrup, chirp, chirp, chirrup, churrup, chirp, chirp, chirrup, churrup, chirp, chirp, chirrup, churrup, chirp, chirp, chirrup, churrup, chirp, chirp, chirrup, churrup, chirp, chirp, chirrup, churrup, chirp, chirp, chirrup, churrup, chirp, chirp, chirrup, churrup, chirp, chirp, chirrup, churrup, chirp, chirp, chirrup, churrup.

I get up, and place a clean towel on the the cage to cover the racket. I'll have to wash that towel again. Grumble, grumble.

I lay back in my digs on the cold floor. I practice deep breathing, I slightly forgive the bird. I'm about to snooze............

"Erf, erf, erf, erf."

It'll go away. It'll go away. It. Will. Go. Away.

(See? See? I'm capable of positive thinking!!!!)

"Erf, erf, erf, erf."

I let the bitch in.

Click, click, click, Dora's Annoying Voice, SAYMAP!!!I'MTHEMAPI'MTHEMAPI'MTHEMAP click, click, click.

I turn the damned computer speakers down.

Aaaaah. Dog is in. Bird is covered. Boy is occupied, yet supervised as I'm at his feet. Baby is in bed.

Aaaaaaah.

-- IMAGE FAILED OF AWAKE INFANT SMILING RIDICULOUSLY WITH SILLY SMILEY FACE/TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES! --

Look who's ready to play!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

With his timing, he should be a comedian. The next friggin' Johnny Carson.

I'm so amused.

Especially now that Spiderman went into his room and crawled into bed, the dog is snoring, the bird has her head tucked under her wing, and the baby looks ready to go, go, go!

It's a vast conspiracy. I think I'll turn myself in to the men in white jackets. A nice, quiet rubber room sounds nice this time of year.

This is My Brain

2006-06-05T01:34:00.000-05:00

THIS IS MY BRAIN.
(Imagine a few synapses firing when necessary to breathe, eat, sleep, and toot. And that's about it.)

THIS IS MY BRAIN ON PARENTING.
(Unmistakable Deep Void.)

ANY QUESTIONS?

Stevie Wonder Syndrome

2006-05-25T22:55:00.000-05:00

Where was this chick when I was in High School? Or has High School gotten that much more fun? This is a book report today!??!??!!

I did a stint on "Stevie Wonder Syndrome" in my Sophomore English class. I was supposed to do a "humorous speech". (The S.W. Syndrome is what you get when you hear a Stevie Wonder song and slowly start to pick up his mannerisms.) I thought that I was funny, until I forgot a part and crossed my eyes at myself. The teacher gave me a bad grade, citing "crossed eyes during speech".

I was before my time. To this day, I swear that that she secretly liked it, knowing that I was innovative, fresh, ingenious. And she just wished that she thought of it first. Ha!

Blonde Mother-in-Law

2006-05-22T21:55:00.000-05:00

My mother-in-law is blonde.

She is great in many ways, but here is a short-coming..........

Without assistance, she can't open this:

Or this:

Or this:

Or this:

And she can't be the naive fake-fake vying for attention, because I've observed, and I've been an accomplice in the treachery.....I know that, without help, she can't open things like this:

And this:

I still think she's cool. After all, once I help her open stuff, she cooks for me and drinks with me. Pay attention to the latter part.

It's Not How Much You Weigh

2006-05-17T22:53:00.000-05:00

A few summers ago, my husband decided to make an elaborate flower bed border along the perimeter of our back fence. It required him to load 3/4 ton of various doomaflochy into his Lexus XYZ-SUV (I'm too lazy to go look, it's the smaller one). Outside the Home Depot, a man stopped to ask him if he was sure he had "a three-quarter-ton truck there". My husband proceeded to tell him that he wasn't sure how much the Lexus weighed.

Now we know that a Three-Quarter-Ton Pickup Truck can haul exactly that, and how much it weighs is not in that equation. Who knew?

Just goes to show you. I can probably haul about 1/2 a dozen donuts, a six pack of Coke, and a burrito "as big as yo' face" at Chuy's in one day.

I must be a fine looking vehicle. Check out my back bumper.

Too Much Childhood TV Leads to ADHDD

2006-05-11T22:24:00.000-05:00

Adult Dumbs Herself Down Daily

I’m so tired of hearing about Miffy, everyone is always saying “what a cute little bunny”, “sweet little bunny”, “smart little bunny” she is. Miffy’s an albino blonde bitch.

Cookie Monster………it’s about time someone nailed your blue, furry carcass to the wall. You never said “Mmmmmm, broccoli” in my day. I’ve had thousands of dollars of dental work done thanks to you. You’ll be seeing my attorney in the near future.

Dora the Explorer needs to explore another outfit. Pink and orange? And quit yakking about mixing choc-o-lat-tay and going for ice cream, my kid was eating pretzels until you brought that crap up.

Telly is majorly neurotic and in bad need of Prozac. Chill Telly, chill.

Why is Baby Bear’s newborn sister Curly Bear twice as big as Baby Bear?

Ever notice that Elmo sets-up the town idiot for failure, then makes fun of him? And everyone says he’s so damned sweet.

Ernie is always singing about his rubber “duckie”. Uh-huh. No wonder Bert dances like a pigeon.

Dora's Map.......I get it. You're the map. Please don't say it again. And just so you'll know, they make Ex-Lax for the turd, that by the sound of your voice, you can't quite squeeze out of your bum.

LazyTown………where is it and what are the current housing prices? And how to we get rid of that Sportacus nuisance?

Where the hell is Kermit? I’d rather hear him do the news than Katie Couric any day.

Rubbadubbers. Heh. Ernie’s friends, I surmise. I’ve never seen it. Must be on at 3:00 a.m. on HBO.

Pinky Dinky Doo, my favorite. I love a show that teaches my preschooler to yell repeatedly, “EAT IT”!

Mmmmmmm

2006-04-24T13:26:00.000-05:00

Just ate that whole bagel.

Closet Eater

2006-04-22T20:18:00.000-05:00

I want a bagel and cream cheese. Bagel and cream cheese. Bagel, bagel, bagel. Cheese, cheese, cheese. Yummy, yummy.........oooooh I want one! Problem is, if I eat one, my three year old will want one too, and it will ruin his dinner tonight. And being the wonderful, perfect, loving Mother I am, I won't eat one so that my boy won't ruin his dinner.

Probably makes me kinda bitchy actually, not wonderful and perfect.

Every once in a while, I can sneak in a cookie or something while he's not looking, I'm pretty skilled at that now, but how do I get the cream cheese on the bagel and chew the entire thing? It takes about 20 minutes of chewing.....

Oh, the agony.

Need a Change of Physician

2006-04-13T18:02:00.001-05:00

I had a 4 month well baby check-up today. Things went pretty well, but not quite what I wanted to hear.

What the Doc Said:
Your son has doubled his weight and seems to be ready for some infant rice cereal, if you wish.

What I wanted to hear:
Just throw a hamburger and french fries into the food processor and feed by bottle. He should sleep 12 hours at night and take a four hour nap.

What the Doc Said:
I'm glad to hear that your 3 year old is not displaying jealousy toward his younger sibling.

What I wanted to hear:
Here's a prescription for your 3 year old. He will now play in his room a lot and also take a 4 hour nap.

What the Doc Said:
Maybe your 4 month old will now learn to be ok by himself, playing on a blanket, etc.

What I wanted to hear:
There is a new program for Moms of two kids. I'll write a prescription for a maid service to come visit your house twice a week. I'll make sure your insurance pays for it and waives the deductible. See you in two months, get some rest.

Toes

2006-03-25T15:48:00.000-06:00

Oh, the things you can pick up with your toes after carrying around a baby for nearly four months. A baby that wants to be held. All. The. Time. I'm a regular circus act with these toes of mine.

By the way, I'm changing my name from Mooooooooommmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyy to Mommy. Got that? It's Mommy. I no longer answer to Mooooooooommmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyy.

Yesterday I was Batman. The day before, I was Dora. That was nice. Anything but Mooooooooommmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyy.

Thank you.

A Word of Advice

2006-02-17T18:51:00.000-06:00

Do not yawn while changing your infant son's diaper.

Blechorama

2005-02-02T16:06:00.000-06:00

Blechorama (blek'O-ra'ma) n. The feeling in the pit of one's stomach when pulling out the refrigerator after an undisclosed period of time, cleaning what you discover. Blechoramize v. Blechoramically adv.

Little Snit of a Furball

2005-02-01T20:24:00.000-06:00

(To the tune of Huey Lewis & the News' "I Want a New Drug")

I want a new dog
One that doesn't get sick!
One that does not puke on the rug
And pee and poop-poop-poop.
I want a new dog!
Make this one go away!
One that doesn't growl all night
And bark all the day.

Not totally tweaked, but you get the idea. This dog needs to bite it.

Recipe for a Redneck Traffic Stop

2005-01-26T21:49:00.000-06:00

Yes, Ociffer, I do have beer on my breath. You see, I was a-makin me some Beer Can Chicken. Well, on that-there Beer Can (burp), s’cuz me, Chicken, you first drink half a can of beer to stick up the chicken’s butt. That’s right, Ociffer, right up her butt. Or her neck where her squawkin’ head used to be. Heck, she’s a woman, ain’t she? Can’t tell no difference. Anyway, there I wuz trying to get a half can of beer and there I done and drank over half of it. So, I opened up another can of beer, same thing. Went through my whole damned 6-pack. Now here I am, one raw chicken and no beer. So you see, I haven’t been out a-drinking, I’m simply a hard-working man trying to fix some dinner for my family. Think you could give me a po-lice escort to help me get on my way to the 7-11?

Pure Literature

2005-01-22T19:51:00.000-06:00

There was a young lad from Nantucket
Who carried his wood in a bucket
He had harbored some hope
A sweet maid, he'd elope
Now go wash your mouth out with soap.

Why I Am Joan Crawford, Part II

2005-01-05T02:21:00.000-06:00

With a sneer, I sneak into my toddler's room while he is playing with Daddy. I install dark curtains behind his mini-blinds. This child will sleep much later tomorrow, I vow. Ha! Ha! Sleep late my little beloved, Mommie Dearest needs her beauty rest!

Dick and Jane

2004-12-28T12:24:00.000-06:00

See ObliviousMaven. See beer. See ObliviousMaven drink beer. See another beer. See ObliviousMaven drink another beer. See another beer. See ObliviousMaven drink another beer. See another beer. See ObliviousMaven drink another beer.

See ObliviousMaven. See ObliviousMaven look green for two days. See ObliviousMaven sad. ObliviousMaven is very sad. Poor, poor ObliviousMaven.

The End.

At least she wishes it was.

Poor, poor green and sad ObliviousMaven.

Why I Hate to Shop

2004-10-13T01:07:00.000-05:00

It costs money.

Bumper Sticker Wisdom

2004-09-10T12:29:00.000-05:00

My other blog is a journal.

Why I Am Joan Crawford

2004-08-23T13:39:00.000-05:00

With stealth, I reach for the wire hanger. It is nestled with its 100’s of other cronies on the rod. I want one wire hanger, just one. From the end I pinch one wire and gently try to pull the hanger away from the others. Slowly, steadily, I pull it toward me and it grabs eleven other hangers that instantly and wildly entangle! Suddenly there are two on the floor, three of them dangle from the rod, six are attached to the one hanger I need, jutting out at me. They are like living, breathing entities, they do not let their own kind leave the fold. They are of a secluded clan of wire evil-doing. Die wire hangers, die!

I hate wire hangers.

Football Clinic

2004-07-27T12:17:00.000-05:00

I went to a Mom's football clinic recently. They gave me a quiz which I promptly flunked with flying colors. However, I did answer the extra point questions correctly.....

Q: What was your son's number last year?
A: Ummmm, my boy was only 1 at the time, so that would make it #1.

Q: What is your son's favorite position to play?
A: Well, that's easy. It would be "Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, Turn Around".

Better luck next time on the rest of the quiz.

Random Thoughts

2004-07-21T19:05:00.000-05:00

"Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.
A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked.
If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,
Where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?"

Who cares, who likes pickled peppers anyway? And how did he pick them if they were already pickled? This is a trick question.