Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Sunkissed

  So I tried spray tan today..yes you can chuckle if you like. I have looked into getting one before but the one I learned about was a lady with a can of spray paint. OK maybe not a can of paint but she did bring a airbrush gun and a compressor. She also said she would bring a large tarp to hang up for me to stand naked in front of. As soon as she said she would make sure to get all the nooks and crannies, I lost interest. This time I made my way to a real tanning salon. I walked in and asked the perky 17 year old  behind the counter if the spray machine was idiot proof. After paying her way to much money for something I was sure to screw up she walked me through the steps and assured me that the machine would give me clear instructions the whole time.. she was a liar.

  I stood naked in the talking phone booth and braced for impact. Arms out to my sides but not bent, legs far apart for my thighs not to touch... found out fast that the phone booth was not wide enough. Who measures for these things? Chin up but not enough to make that crease on the back of your neck. I sucked in my tummy like I do when I step up on the scale. As with the scale, it did not help.

  The First pass of the spray took my breath away. The paint was cold and for just a second I lost my perfect form. Before the machine could pass again it told me to change to position two... I opened one eye to look at the position poster.. Crap..... the positions poster did not have numbers... I quickly choose one and struck a pose. Six more passes and countless positions including a few I learned on a yoga video.  The machine told me I was done and to step out. I wiped off the bottoms of my feet and the palms of my hands with the complimentary cloths, that turned out to be baby wipes.

  I took a moment to stare at myself in the floor length mirror to admire my purchase. Somehow even with step by step instructions I managed to miss a big part of my left arm. Then I raised my arms and noticed the best part. Having nursed four babies my nipples retreated in protest making a mad dash for my kneecaps, where they died. I picked one up and then the other. There was a perfect outline of where my boobs have been laid to rest without the aid of elastic, clamps and under wire. Picture a spice cake that has a powdered sugar dusting and then you remove the stencil. I laughed out loud and looked for places that the paint had settled. I am currently the proud owner of a very tan palm on my right hand, lower back, and inner left thigh (I have no idea how that happen) oh and face... my face...
 
All things considered I am calling this whole thing a success! Paid a few bucks, had a good laugh and walked away looking like most of me just stepped off a cruise ship. Merry Christmas!


Credit for this picture and other amazing food pics can be found at: http://entertaininganytime.typepad.com/sparkling_ink/2010/12/chocolate-fruitcake.html



Monday, November 18, 2013

Paper Cut

I collect crap. But some of the crap collected, is for a good cause. I scourer our groceries looking for "Box Tops" to clip out and send with my kids to school. Schools need every penny they can get. I mail in pink yogurt lids after I have licked each one, to do my part for breast cancer. I had a container that held soda can tops till I forgot what I was saving them for.

It should come as no surprise the fact that I dove right in when my kids requested that I start yet another collection. For the past week I have been painstakingly cutting out the plastic window of envelopes that have come in the mail. I even went back through my recycling to make sure I had not missed any.

The biggest contributor to my hoarding habit, as of late, has got to be Pinterest. As soon as I saw that  there is a whole section on using everyday objects in a new way, the collecting got out of control. Did you know that you can use plastic bread ties to mark your electronic cords? Or that if you slice an apple like a tick tack toe board and wrap it with a large rubber band it will stay fresh and not brown in a lunch bag! Let me blow your mind with this one.... clip all your necklaces around paper towel cardboard tubes so they don't get tangled when you move... 
Before you click off my blog to look up the crap your going to start collecting let me get back to my story..

Today I proudly held up my bounty of mail harvest to Larry and Curly. At which point they both keeled over in fits of laughter. Even through a crinkled envelope window it was clear that I had been HAD!

How dare they take advantage of my willingness to collect trash... and for SPORT! Who is raising these kids anyway?

Thursday, October 10, 2013

D.A.R.E


Excited to tell Larry that I arranged for her to go stay the night at one of her friend's houses, I told her as I was putting her to bed. Now that she is 10 there are times that she is out of my direct line of sight. It is new and still a bit scary for this Helicopter Mama!
 She giggled right along with me as she heard but then said she needed to tell me something about her friend's Dad. My heart stopped beating and I ran through in my mind all the steps that I had taken before blessing off on the slumber party..

Step one: I met her friend's Mother at a neighborhood social event and checked her out from head to toe for signs of "crazy".

Step two: I had met her friend and looked closely at her fingernails and watched to see if she looked at me in the eye when we talked.

Step three: I had her friend come over to play and stay the night here first. Then Larry went there for dinner and then again with Curly to play.

Step four: I went myself to their house to visit with their Mom and meet their Dad.

By now I was pretty much out of steps, especially taking into count that their house is 2 blocks away from ours, the girls are in the same class and by now the Dads had met at a school function.

I tried to keep a calm yet concerned look on my face as not to scare Larry from telling me more. "What is it baby?" I managed through a fake grin.

"My friend's Dad does drugs." she dropped on me.

In the blink of an eye I was suited up in my SWAT attire. My face painted in black as I stormed my neighbor's house. Knocking down the door in one motion I seized the piles of "junk" and cuffed her friend's Dad. He tried to squirm and I back handed him across the face with my fist. "Nobody exposes my kid to something without my prior approval!" I said.. well... it sounded cooler in my head but as I was working out my super hero tag line I flashed back to my daughter who was still standing at the end of the bed, waiting for me to say something.

"Baby have you seen him do drugs?". She nodded.. My heart was still not beating.. "Can you tell me what you saw please?". She motioned to her face and pushed her tongue to stretch out her bottom lip.

My heart hit the next beat as I realized she was talking about chewing tobacco. My relief must have been obvious because she started to tell me how bad of a drug it was and how it could cause him to die. I told her I was sure that he already knew that and that it was a choice that he was making. I thanked her for telling me and assured her that it would not keep her from staying the night.

As I told Mr. LbF the sequence of events I made sure to relate the story in a manner that had him grabbing for his bullet proof vest. Then we had a good laugh and reveled in the innocence of our sweet girl.

There is no going back to this time once it has past. In another heart beat she will not feel the need to tell me everything that concerns her. She may resent my hero cape, and helicopter ways. That is of course right up to the point she has her own daughter and comes asking to borrow the keys to the SWAT van.

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Play it Safe

When my soldier is away over night I do my best to play it safe. Late last night I remembered I still needed to take the trash out to the curb. We live in a wonderfully family friendly community so it was not the boogie man I was worried about when I made the choice to check in with my friend before I went outside. I sent her a text saying I was headed out and would text again when I got back in and was settled. She replied and I stood up realizing I had to pee. But now I was on the clock... If I took too long surely my friend would fly over from 2 blocks away expecting to find me mauled by lions, tigers or bears. So I clinched and opened the garage door. There is no light on that side of the house and having not put the garbage out in a while I had forgotten this.
I blindly grabbed for the trash can handle. It was squishy, cold and wet... I screamed... About the same time I realized it was covered in slugs I also realized I had released my clinch and peed down into my flip flops.

Lessons learned:
Put trash at curb during the day.. and don't check in with friends when your about to do something stupid because then you have to try and explain yourself to the person laughing their head off over the phone.

Monday, August 19, 2013

Grounded from Life


Ok, let me set the scene:

It's 6:52 pm on a Monday night. After 24 hours of caring for a sick kiddo with 103 temp, I am sitting for the first time all day. The kitchen is closed for the night and the homework tug-of-war rope has been stowed till tomorrow. My eyes have been stinging since my 4th cup of joe that I drank after a fruitless attempt at a mid-day nap. When the laundry that I am sitting on warms to the temperature of my backside I move over one cushion and grab a warm towel to fold.
And that is when it happened... Curly came casually strolling up to me and said "Mom can I go ride my bike outside?"
Dread flooded my body and I quickly went through a Rolodex of good excuses.. I mean reasons, why she had to remain inside the house.

Riding her bike requires me the "helicopter Mom" to sit at the end of our driveway making sure all safety procedures are followed. I know it looks a lot like me checking to see if I have any new comments on my blog on my iphone and once in a while standing up after a car goes by to raise my hands in the air and yell for them to "SLOW DOWN". But really I am doing my parental duty. A duty that at this point of the day I just do not have the energy for.

Then it came to me.. "You can't ride your bike you are grounded, remember?"
"But you said I was grounded from TV and the computer, you never said I was grounded from my bike?"
And there it was... the moment I have been told by so many of my friends that have kids older then mine.
She got me..
I stuttered and did the number one thing your not supposed to do... I looked confused....
On my behalf she did catch me in a moment of weakness.

How did it come to this?

My friend Tracy who has 3 boys has told me a thousand times "Never show fear".  You can clap right in her face and she won't even flinch. That is what years of being in the trenches with her children has done to her.

Curly sensed my confusion. She smirked, walked past me, grabbed her bike helmet and headed toward the garage. Scrambling I yelled over my folded towel.. "NO, BECAUSE I SAID SO"......

Mirror..mirror..on the wall, I am my Mother after all....


Thursday, August 15, 2013

Summer Lovin

The Bomar family summer was as busy as ever! Trying to fill you in on every detail would take all day and I can only hide from my kids in this closet for so long before I run out of air. To get you caught up below is our summer in pictures!


We taught the baby to splash in the puddles! Or he learned to play in the street.....?


We followed all packaging instructions on the new lawn mower... well almost..


We played "Wheres Waldo" at my sisters college graduation!


And when we found her I took really great photographs to capture the moment...


I had lots of help doing laundry.....


We threw our bodies down a wet plastic tarp and called it fun!


We hung around a river..


I went to my four year olds salon for the last time...


We all got library cards!


I found some wild animals at the zoo, and saw a few Chimpanzees.


I enjoyed being loved.....


I kept my expensive new phone out of harms way... mostly...

I ate right...well... I ate good!!


And last but not least... Got my picture taken with a lady dressed as a giant vagina, just because I could!


I pray you had a wonderful summer!





Monday, May 13, 2013

What's that Buzzing

You: "Hey Faith what have you been up to?"

Me: "Oh you know the usual feeding faces, wiping small butts, and GETTING PUBLISHED AS A GUEST BLOGGER ON SPOUSEBUZZ.COM!!!!"

Check me out:
http://spousebuzz.com/blog/2013/05/out-the-box-prep-for-every-deployment.html

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Monkey business

We have a naked house. At any point of the day someone who lives here can most likely be found in the suit in which they were born. Naked does not bother me much at all. It does however drive my extremely modest husband, crazy.

I don't think there is anything more delightful then to see a wet from the bath, naked hinny streaking down the hallway using a towel as a cape. But Mr. LbF insists I close the blinds before I do it.
OK it is usually not me.
I do however get reprimanded for changing in front of an open window or walking to the kitchen for a drink of water with nothing on but a grin.



I traced my naked is normal attitude back to my childhood. I remember hanging out with my Mom's best friend, we called Aunt S who lived out in the boonies. We would go spend summer weekends with her and not have to put on a stitch of clothes all day. You could go from running in the sprinkler to building a fort without a hitch. Once in a while a plane would fly over but that was the only person other then us you might see. At dark we would use the outdoor shower that had been heated by the sun all day and get into pj's for bedtime. I always felt so safe and so free out there.  You should have seen the look on my husband's face when I told him that charming tale of living like natives. He did not share in my warm and fuzzy feelings at all.

Being married to this prude for so long has modified my behavior enough to keep the peace. However I must tell you it is learned behavior. I know this now because I recognize myself in our daughter Curly. This girl has what her Daddy refers to as "no shame". You can walk by the bathroom anytime and catch her sitting, pants around her ankles. I try to shut the door but next thing you know she has me caught up in conversation and handing her toilet paper. With this knowledge in hand the story I am about to tell should come as no surprise.

Last evening we sent Larry and Curly to go bathe and come back to the kitchen for dessert. We have them all set up like big girls with their own bath products in different scents and scrubby poofs.
Larry came back first from her bathroom downstairs smelling like a Mt breeze and in her pj's.

Curly came prancing down the hall already loudly ordering what she wanted as a sweet treat. She was still wet and carrying her clothes in her arms. Her Dad started in as soon as she rounded the corner. He pointed at every open window in the living room and kitchen. Curly unfazed shrugged and laughed as she dropped her pants on the floor and bent over to put them on. Walking around the counter I passed her and said to Mr. LbF  "well at least you currently have the better view, I just saw a brown eyed monkey." Curly hearing this, dropped the pants from her hands and ran stark naked to the sliding glass kitchen door yelling "where, where, where did you see a monkey?".

I thought my poor husband might faint. He did not. I was proud of him.

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Perspective

Today could have looked like this:

While running late to church I found myself in the storage room upside down in a plastic tub digging through hand me downs. I was looking for Easter dresses that might, just might fit any of the girls in the size that they are today.

I struggled to get a comb through 5 heads of bedhead hair.

Tried to dress in something that made me look like I was overjoyed it was the day of the resurrection and not the day I saw the biggest number on the scale I have ever seen.

Stuffed 2 french toast stick in my cheeks and washed it down with coffee on the way to climb into a filthy minivan.

Peeled Moe off my leg in children's church.

Watched as a sandwich baggie exploded Kix all over the floor of the sanctuary. Not `Mother Approved` in that moment. Had to crawl across the floor to pick them all up so no one crunched when they stood to sing.

Curly brought the Pastor's wife into the sanctuary in the middle of the message to find me and get the keys so she could get her Easter basket out of the car. Embarrassed, I went with them to make sure I got my keys back from Curly.

After I made lunch I lost my cool and yelled at kids to clean up after themselves, because doing everything myself is making me go crazy.

Washed poopy panties out in the toilet.

Cleaned up from lunch, started making dinner all by myself.

Poured too much milk into mashed potatoes, turned them into potato soup. Tried to cook off some of the liquid and got attacked by hot potatoes.

Ran out of frosting while decorating Mr. LbF's birthday cake. Could not finish one side. Half done cake summed the day up perfectly.... or did it?






I choose to look at today and see:

Woke up on Easter morning healthy, not thin, but healthy.

My family were all glad to see me. Baby squealed in delight when he laid eyes on me.

Dressed my kids in clean clothes. Combed through their thick healthy hair.

Drove to church in our reliable vehicle. Got to church just in time to hear the band play music that praised Jesus.

Blessed enough to have something to put in the offering basket.

Took advantage of the fact we go to a church that has a nursery that feeds them snack. Took Shemp and his Kix.

Met the pastor's wife.

Fixed a meal I love to eat on Easter. Egg salad sandwiches.

Watched my husband chase our kids with water guns in the backyard, while I got to play in my kitchen alone.

Handled a situation with Moe without raising my voice, while I washed out poopy panties (no sugar coating that).

Prepared my husband's favorite meal for his birthday. Fed runny potatoes to my family without them noticing or saying a thing.


Laughed with my husband, till we were leaning on each other so we did not fall over, at how silly half his birthday cake looked.







Friday, March 22, 2013

Breaking News

Some people hear voices in their heads. I hear headlines. Or rather my brain reads headlines. No matter the situation, from cooking to driving I can hear exactly how the headline would read if my actions or thoughts turned into the Day's Top Story.

While cooking a meal for a family who just had a baby: 
Good deed gone bad, Women poisons family with chicken casserole

In regards to my kids: 
Screaming Toddler found abandoned in shopping cart, Mother located at Starbucks  

Or how about the odd news of the day:
Child chokes on condom wrapper, Nasty parents questioned

When I am pregnant I hear headlines like: 
Woman defies all odds and stays pregnant forever 
or
Baby born looking nothing like either parent

I find most of the time when I am hearing headlines it is my greatest fears playing out in bold print. When Mr. LbF is deployed my brain reads: 
Fallen Hero 
Followed the next day with: 
Local Woman dies of broken heart




Right after I catch my kids doing something stupid the headline flashes through my head:
Four year old glues hand to face

Sometimes it is like one of those choose your own adventure books where you can fill in the blank with whatever awful outcome comes to mind. 
Mother writing blog while child thought to be sleeping, child was (fill in dangerous activity ie: ingesting something toxic, falling from high point, talking to stranger, juggling chainsaws)

Sometimes I need to correct my lovely children's behavior in public. I know that I am gonna be the lucky Mother that goes viral because I thought my minivan's windows were a darker tint then it shows through with a camera phone. The tag line will read:
No Swagger in this Wagon

While working out I hear:
Woman found unconscious at base of treadmill, own breast to blame
Gym burns down, Thighs rubbing together found to be ignition point
Neighborhood alarmed by screams, woman found stuck in yoga pose
Woman claiming to be "Bringing Sexy Back", asked to please leave it where she found it

Hearing the headlines does work out in my favor sometimes. When I look at my husband I can hear:
Veteran honored for selfless service
Couple celebrates 50th wedding anniversary, still madly in love
Man given medal for being Year's most patient husband

Having this gift does come with benefits. I can read high school honor roll lists and see my kid's names. Their collage graduation and wedding announcements. Closing my eyes, our lives pass through in black and white print. Where we have been and where we are going.  Even my deepest dreams:
Book Release, Living by Faith author Faith Bomar















Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Liebster Award


I don't think I could get more excited right now! Stacey Gannett has nominated me for the Liebster award! Living by Faith will wear it with pride and I will do my best! Here I go:




What is the Liebster Award? This award is given to blogs with less than 200 followers. There are certain criteria that must be met in order to continue sharing this award with other bloggers. It's sort of a fun chain letter that helps bloggers connect, discover new blogs, and support one another because blogging is tough business.


Here are the rules a recipient should follow:
  1. Each blogger should post 11 random facts about themselves
  2. Answer the questions the tagger has set for you, then create 11 new questions for the blogger's you pass the award to
  3. Choose 11 new blogger's (with less than 200 followers) and pass the award (and link) to them in your post.
  4. Go to their page and tell them about the award.
  5. No tag backs.

11 Random Facts about me: (All totally true)

1. I prefer my tp to roll from the top.
2. Most raw veggies make my mouth itch.
3. When I see a clean q-tip I have to use it.. have to..
4. I loved being a waitress.
5. I lose my keys every single day without fail.
6. Most of the time I laugh at my jokes more then anyone else.
7. I see a celebrity in TV and think if we met in real life we would be friends, because they would love me.
8. I can make any hat look good, but don't really wear hats. It's my super power ask my friends.
9. I have all my own power tools and know how to use them.
10. I dance better when I think someone is watching.
11. I work best under pressure, and remain calm in emergency situations, but I'm a hot mess later.

Questions I was asked to answer:

1. How long have you been blogging?
I have been blogging since 2009 on a very sporadic basis but picked up the pace this year!

2. What are your hobbies?
Not to sound totally corny but telling stories through my blog is my number one hobby right now. I may also dabble a bit in cooking and bargain shopping.

3. How many children do you have or would like to have?
We are blessed with 17 children. OK maybe not, but some days the 4 we do have feels like 17.


4. What is your favorite TV show?
Right now I am totally digging Scandal but staying true to my Grey's. I also am a fan of Happy Endings and a closet fan of Duck Dynasty.

5. What is your favorite color?

What ever color makes me look less fat. I like gray/black in the Winter and white/yellow in the Summer, green in the Spring and red in the Fall.

6. If you could live anywhere, where would it be?

So hard yet so easy to answer. I want to live where ever my husband is. We have lived apart so much that it does not matter the place, as long as when I lay my head down at night I am looking at his. 

7. Do you have any pets?

We have a dog and a cat, all American pets.


8. Do you have any tattoos or piercings?
If only I had the guts, I would have tattoos all over my body. From 1/4 sleeves of flowers to birds in flight on my neck. I appreciate good body art but only have 2. My nose ring and one tattoo.

9. What is your favorite desert?

Buttered pancake wrapped around a snickers bar, deep fried with powered sugar, an espresso chip ice cream sundae extra whip cream drizzled with chocolate sauce on the side. Served with a latte, non-fat of course.

10. Are you a night or a day person?

I am a night person imprisoned in a day persons body. I can tell you, without a doubt that if I had any idea of how much sleep I would NOT be getting as a Mother, I would rethink the whole thing.... Sometimes on a Saturday after serving breakfast with the sunrise, hubby and I sneak back into bed and pretend we are back in the days of not getting out of bed except to pee and grab food to bring back into the bed. Then `they` find us... and eat our food. So we tickle them and fill our morning with baby giggles.

11. What is your favorite Season?

My favorite season is not a season but the few weeks that happen in between them all. I love right before spring when we still get snow but the trees have buds. And at the end of summer when it starts to fade into fall and the first leaves turn. It is still hot in the day but the air turns crisp by dark. I love when you can stand outside and close your eyes and feel the change in the air! For the best is yet to come!!

Nominated blogs:
Pary Moppins
Life with the frog
Kimberly Montgomery
BHBH
Meredith Carey
Mrs. Frickstar
High bounce ball
Daddy knows less
Kim Kravitz
Crazy little love birds
Caffeinated army wife

11 Questions for Nominated Blogs:

1. What are the top 3 things you search for on the Internet?
2. Would you rather go out on a date somewhere fancy or casual?
3. Diamonds of pearls?
4. Would you rather give time or money to charity?
5. How would you get gum out of hair?
6. Would you change the story of how you met your spouse?
7. If your blog turned into a TV talk show who would be your first guests?
8. Does counting to 10 calm you down?
9. If you had to sell something door to door what would it be?
10. What would be your super hero name?
11. What are you wearing right now as you type?


Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Lost in Translation

Being pregnant is a magical time to learn about your own body. When birthing, you learn how every hole in your body really works.

Before I gave birth to Larry, our first born, I wrote up the perfect Birth Plan. In this plan it stated that I wanted as few people as possible to enter the delivery room. I did not know that in the small print I should have put a asterisk next to 'delivery room' and had it also mean  'vagina'. I can only speak to my own experience and that is what I will do.
After so many hours of natural labor that my eyes were semi-permanently crossed, I had any number of strangers not only wander into the delivery room but also stick their finger up my business to "check". One of them may have been the janitor!

We lived in Germany for pregnancy number two. There was no point in bringing up the Birth Plan, no one at the hospital could read English anyway. Plus it had not really done me any favors at the last birth.

European standards of care differ in the following way, modesty is completely out the window.

I was lucky enough for my prenatal care to get a Dr that spoke fairly good English. She was a kind  lady that stood about 4 feet tall and just about as round. For nine months I exchanged pleasantries with her and never figured out how to say her name. We just called her Dr. Soyonshafersonn. She was Turkish and did the best she could to explain everything using picture pamphlets and talking with her hands. I was so glad it was my 2nd baby and I had a pretty good idea of where they came out, some of the pamphlets were not so clear.

When I went to see Dr. Soyonfafershin it was customary to hang your coat at the door and drop your pants by the window. At that point the appointment went as follows: walk half naked across the room to the extra tall exam table. Use the step stool provided and take a seat on the crinkly paper. Lie back when instructed and hoist your heels into the outstretched stirrups. Slide your rump to the end of the table and get it as close to the smiling foreigner's face as you can. An equally sweet mannered nurse then hands a very goopy internal ultrasound wand to the seated Dr and lickety split a picture of your womb, from the inside out, comes up on the screen next to your head. For a split second everything going on around you fades away and all you will focus on is the jumping bean on the TV (insert happy tears). As quick as it began, so it ends. You are handed an inadequate amount of tissue for cleaning up down below and told to meet the Dr. in 4 weeks.



I had one of these easy visits with Dr. Soyyononsafiom coming up and asked my dear friend Erika to join me to share in the magic. I warned her of the naked walk and the wand but she agreed to come anyway, because that is what dear friends do.

So there I am with legs in position. I can't see past my huge belly from lying on my back. Smiling foreigner's face disappears between my knees. Dear friend Erika is seated near my head and politely looking out the window. Jumping bean appears on the TV and we Ooh and Aah. At this point Dr. Soyionshaffersion stands on her toes looking past my belly to my face and says something about doing a check for bacteria. She held up a giant cotton swab and demonstrated in the air a quick swiping motion. Trying to keep the moment light hearted as it was a second ago, I jokingly said "Oh we don't allow bacteria at our house." Immediately the nurse began to chatter in German to the Dr. which prompts her to stop what she is doing and get up from the stool. Looking right at me she pats my leg reassuringly and says in her best English "I um did not mean to, um imply, that you havin` the sex of the anus." There was no coming back from this. Holding myself up on my elbows, I tried as hard as I could to explain that I was making a joke about bacteria, not freaky sex. Erika could not stop shaking she was laughing so hard. At that point the only thing not lost in translation was where the cotton swab was headed.

Amazingly enough that magical appointment was the last one Erika went to.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Animation fixation

First thing this morning I took a hard look at the TV programs that consume our early morning. Here is my take on a few of the characters and what to do if you run across them in real life.

If you run into Dora the Explorer you have no choice but to stick with this boxy haired bitch, she has the freaking map. But prepare your self, you are in for a long journey. She can never seem to get from point A to point B with out asking stupid questions and jumping over something. She also has a monkey who wears boots. Never trust anyone who puts shoes on animals.

Stay away from Special Agent Oso. This guy cant even blow bubbles without a multi step program.

Mickey Mouse and his crew may invite you in to their Clubhouse but be warned I think it may actually be the front for their cult and the clubhouse is really a compound. Don't drink anything that a giant hand that comes out of the floor tries to serve you.

Angelina Ballerina is a whinny bitch, but she will do very well for herself. However it will only be by pirouetting on the backs of others and most likely sleeping her way to the top.


If you run into the Little Einstein's your most likely a baby animal and your most likely lost. If you can put up with spontaneous song and dance, stick with this crew and they will get you back to where you came from. However they usually run into a big blue jet , he is kind of a dick. Watch out for him.


The Backyardigans do acid. Nobody's back yard is that fun. Stay away from them.

Jake and the Neverland Pirates are just wannabe lost boys. Jake has little man complex. They are always gathering gold but you never see them buy anything. Also they give you credit for helping them earn all the doubloons,  I have yet to see my cut. Crooks, report if seen.

The only group that would be remotely cool to hang out with would be the Yo Gabba Gabba crew. However this show really is made for adults. You can't tell me that a dude in an unitard, a dancing pink flower, a freaking robot, and a giant ribbed dildo with eyes, was not the brainchild of someone doing more then just teaching the color green!

Blue from Blue's Clues, needs to stop playing all the games and get to the f*@king point. No one likes someone so passive aggressive. Just walk away.

I sat drinking my coffee staring at the TV with total disdain. And then something happened. The characters on the screen slowly started to transform. They danced and sang and somehow became cute, even endearing. I went to sip my coffee and glanced in the mug at nothing, it was gone. I looked around and the sun was now shining, birds were singing, my kids were charming. It was in that moment I decided it might be a good idea to keep the coffee maker next to the bed.


Correction: It has been brought to the the authors attention that the Yo Gabba Gabba character in this story that is referred to as `ribbed` is in fact `studded`. The author promises to do her homework in regards to this subject.

Monday, March 4, 2013

Get low low low

From her booster car seat, Moe starts cracking up and says "Mama did you see that man that had his pants down? I could see his underpants hahahahaha".  I glanced just in time out the back window to see a guy sagging his jeans and I wondered if he knew what a joke he looked like to my very wise 4 year old child.

The acts of adults must really make kids wonder sometimes. At 5 years old Curly went up to a soldier and asked him if he knew that smoking was "gonna get you dead". She is also the child that during the food plate program they are teaching at school, told her teacher her mother did not feed her right. She brought the poster with the picture of the food groups on it home and started comparing every meal I placed in front of her. The poster disappeared over night. I have not the faintest idea where it went.
On this same subject, there was a news program that was promoting a segment and the commercial posed the question "Are the size of our plates contributing to the problems with obesity in our country?" Larry, ever so concerned, turned to me and asked "Mama, did our plates make you fat?" I answered "No bitch, it was you!". Ok, I did not say that.....out loud.

My friend Erika says it is about the age of 10 that kids start to get their own ideas of what is a good idea. I think that may be because her oldest is now 10.

In a conversation I had today it was said that kids have formed their personalities by the time they are 5 years old. So all the time I was thinking was practice, it turns out was the test. I wonder what the mother of that guy on the street did when he was 3 to make him think it is a good idea to wear his clothes half off in public.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

What to Expect: Your 30's Edition

I think my anti-wrinkle cream is actually hair growth fertilizer. I've been in my 30's for only two years and can't believe the crap that is happening to my body. Why did no one tell me this was gonna happen. All any of my older friends said to me was "Just wait..."!

I knew about the time frame my baby would be ready for solid foods or when my toddler would take their first step, because of two things. Everyone who has ever had kids would not shut up about it. And there was the book, What to Expect When Your Expecting, followed by What to Expect the Toddler Years! At any point in my kids development I could turn to page whatever and see a guide on what to watch for and look forward to!

My question is, where is the freaking book for the gal that just turned 30? There is plenty of stuff to write about! I am currently a wealth of information and I have only been going through this for 2 years.
I should be able to open the book, and reference by the weeks. Here is how it should read:

Your 32 years and 1 week:
In this eventful week you may be experiencing some hair sprouting up in unexpected places. Do yourself a favor and invest in good quality steel reinforced tweezers. Spend the money for the "good ones" as this tool will become your go to gadget as hairs begin to pop out of places they never have before. Look for these unfriendly follicles under your first chin but not quite to your second. Around your left and right nipples. Be sure to lift up and pull out your breast from your body as some hairs may be hiding. Try hanging upside down off the end of your bed, with one hand holding the magnifying mirror. With the other move your breasts out from your armpit. Pluck all unwanted guests, repeat as needed.

Your 32 years and 2 weeks:
Do not be alarmed this week as you begin to notice your ass is not where you left it at age 29. Also know that your butt is not actually bigger this week, it is just that your back fat and upper cheeks have began the wedding dance and by the time you are 40 they will have mated and become one. This week you must make the decision whether or not to invest in Mom Jeans. These nifty pants have been designed to stuff in all that you are packin'. Don't be alarmed by the 12 inch zipper in front, by the time you get used to it you will be making the move to elastic banded waist pants anyway.

Your 32 years and 3 weeks:
The checker at the grocery store, your bartender, and your waitress will all suddenly look 12 years old to you. Please refrain from referring to them as Sweetie or Honey. They are actually in their 20s. That is what you looked like too. Don't hate them, hate grows wrinkles. (See chapter 35 week 4 for more on Eyesight).

Your 32 years and 4 weeks:
Water and lotion are your friends. That supple skin you had in your 20's is a thing of the past. All the laying out on the beach and time in tanning beds you spent is coming back to bite you in your butt. You will be thirsty all the time. You will also need to invest in a multitude of lotions for every part of your body. Try pinching your upper eyelid, if it does not spring back into place you need to find a giant barrel and fill it half way up with lotion, coconut oil, oatmeal and any other quick fix cream on the market. Get into the barrel and spend as much time in there as you can, while drinking 10 glasses of water. This will buy you at least a year until you are complaining that you can feel a storm coming because your hands are so dry.

Your 32 years and 5 weeks:
Now is the time you need to start thinking about your yearly well women exam. (Read these references before your appointment: Hormone-monster, Mamo-what, KY spells Fun) 

Your 32 and 6 weeks:
The answer is YES, you would much rather watch Scandal on TV then have sex. Your drop in libido is a natural state that will reset itself when you get over the fact that you are now a 30 something with dry eyes, a droopy ass, rough elbows and hair on your left nipple.


I am sure that more chapter ideas will come to me. And being the good friend that I am I will fill you in on all the wonderful details. Right after I go wax my chins.







Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Eighteen to life

HELP! I AM BEING HELD PRISONER! (Not a genuine emergency)




Don't be fooled by my warden's size and smooth smile. He speaks a language I do not understand and only gets what he wants by pointing and screaming at me.

I am forced to wear clothing covered in snot, drool, and the leftover remnants of what ever my keeper had to eat last. I know it must be the uniform of this prison because within minutes of having on a clean shirt I am sneezed on.

When I place a peace offering of food in front of him at his throne he takes what he wants and then pitches the rest at the floor and I am forced to clean it up.

My pint size jailer refuses to walk and requires I carry him everywhere, until my arms fall asleep and my back hurts.

He has tactfully separated me from all my single friends and made it seem like I have nothing in common with them anymore.

One of his many ploys of control is sleep deprivation. I start out the night thinking I am going to get to sleep all night and then by surprise my presence is demanded in his chambers.

There are locks on the fridge, stove, and cabinet doors. He follows me everywhere even into the bathroom.

As punishment for something I must be doing wrong he goes around undoing everything I have just done. He knocks over piles of freshly folded laundry or pulls all the books off the shelf onto the floor.

The challenges get greater as he seems to wake up smarter everyday. He can also sense when my defenses are down and exploits my weaknesses to his cutie-pie face.

The greatest trick this coy overseer has played on me is that he has charmed me into falling in love with him. Even with the prison doors wide open I am blinded by joy just to hear him laugh.

Please come rescue me! Oh and bring bananas, His Royal Majesty requires bananas.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Snow Daze

I had only enough energy today to move from the bed to the couch.

Yesterday 10 inches of beautiful snow was dumped from the sky onto our house. The school and even Mr. LbF's work called a "snow day". The night before the storm hit I fell asleep with dreams of marshmallows floating in mugs of hot cocoa. And my little family sitting in front of the fire together under one blanket playing footsie. That didn't happen.

Sleep did not come easy that night. Mr. LbF fell ill with a nasty head cold. Just the sound of him trying to take in air was enough to wake the neighbors.

All to soon the sun was up and so was the baby. I reluctantly dragged myself to the kitchen and fixed the first of many meals. The rest of the day crawled by and consisted of making meals, shoveling tons of snow from the driveway, picking up after ungrateful children with cabin fever, and caring for a man with a real fever.

I was so tired and mad I took it out on the only person that could not get away from me. As I bitched at him Mr. LbF said there was a total double standard and that when I am sick he is much nicer to me. He was right.

I was not excited to find out that today, at least for the children, it was going to be another "snow day". By the time my cold meds had kicked in I had used up an entire box of tissues. Now I was sick.

This morning after Mr. LbF (who was feeling better) left for work I corralled all our kids into the living room, turned on the TV and curled up on the sofa. Every once in a while I would open my eyes take a head count and bark an order. Toy Story the movie was still on the TV so I knew I could get away with a few more winks. My big girls sat side by side in the big chair hovered over my lap top.

I sat up like a hungry bear after the winter and observed the end of Toy Story. But something was wrong. It was not the same movie. I looked at the clock and it was 1 pm. I had slept through a Pixar marathon. It was then I started to notice other "wrong" things. The big girls were now sitting side by side but they were hovered over my husband's lap top. The baby was playing sweetly with blocks on the floor next to me but he was sporting a greasy Jerry Curl hair do. I asked Larry what happen to his head. "Oh Moe rubbed lotion on his head, we told her not to." I stood up and stepped into an empty bag of Goldfish crackers. Cracker dust stuck to my foot. I walked into the kitchen. There had been 1/2 of a sheet cake when I had laid down, it was gone. A bag of toaster waffles had been left open and thawed out on the counter. There were 4 containers of yogurt each with only one bite taken. Two plastic cups of lemonade had overflowed when poured and were stuck to the dining room table.

My reliable children had fended for themselves and the house reflected it. I was very proud of them. Not one thing had happened that could not easily be wiped away! And that is when Moe came running in to the kitchen. The kitty robe she was wearing fell open. There it was, the undeniable evidence that she had been left to her own devices. She was marked and I would have to explain myself. I asked her what she had written in blue marker all over her chest and she told me it was her name and a little picture. I asked why she had used herself as a canvas and she said she could not find any paper. If nothing else my resourceful clan had kept themselves well fed and creatively entertained.

I'm booting my children out to play in the snow and will heat up the cocoa as they play. I will drink mine with a side of dayquil and 3 marshmallows!

My snow angels:






Friday, February 22, 2013

Hunting Wabbits

My soldier is a city mouse and I am a country mouse. So the other night he caught me off guard with  an announcement. The man who says he won't go camping because that is what he gets paid to do says to me:

Mr. LbF "I think I am gonna pick up hunting."

Me(Falling into fits of laughter) "What would you hunt?"

Mr. LbF (Thinking way to long) "Turkey"

Me "Do you even know what to do with a turkey after you've shot it?"

Mr. LbF "Yes, you get the feathers off."

Me "And...?"

Mr. LbF "And you cut off the head."

Me "And?"

Mr. LbF "And the legs."

Me "And?"

Mr. LbF "And you cut it up."

Me "You know they are covered in mites sometimes that crawl up your arms when you get the feathers off."

Mr. LbF (Thinking this over) "Maybe I'll hunt deer."

I was laughing so hard at this point he started grumbling and said the conversation was over. 

I am not naive about what my husband does for a living. Or what he has been trained to do when he is deployed. But when he is talking about hunting this, is what I picture:



In his job he does not hunt Wascally Wabbits. He hunts who ever the chain of command tells him to. And he looks like this:






Thank you for your service Babe, but lets say you stick to your day job and I'll get our turkey from the store.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Lunch Out




Adding up the time I have spent as an all day Baby buffet is alarming, over 3 years! As a direct result from this I can fold one breast in half like a giant pita bread. Slap on some tzatziki, shaved meat off a spicket and you have lunch! I mentioned this to Mr. LbF and he said "I could go for some greek."

I had the profound privilege to nurse all four of my children. Not for one second will I take for granted what a blessing that really is.
Last week I nursed my child for the last time. Even typing this statement my emotions are torn in 100 directions. There are feelings of release and freedom. And then overwhelming sorrow as if I am mourning the loss of a friend. Nursing and I had a love/hate relationship. Bonding with my sweet babies while we snuggled in the wee hours are some of my fondest memories. On the flip side I am no stranger to dealing with emergency room visits while suffering from mastitis, 6 different times. I secretly loved "having" to take time outs during my busy days, forced to sit quietly, breath deep and take my top off.

I walk away from my "Noonie" years feeling accomplished no matter my nursing battles. In the first few weeks of nursing when I would bleed because my baby ate every hour. To when they were a little older and I began to resent them for needing me so much. I am looking back now, thinking what else could have possibly been more important.

I am so YEA BOOB that I helped run a breastfeeding support group. I have held perfect strangers tits in my hand. This rewarding endeavor was also a humbling one. For not everyone is successful at breastfeeding, even with my magical fingers demonstrating the "pinch method".

I got real good at multi-tasking and could do such feats as change their diaper on my lap, get their older sibling dressed, or make a meatloaf at the same time as they nursed. I would use a sling and nurse while wandering a flea market. By the time I was nursing the second child I could sit next to the rear -facing car seat and whip it out on the road. We referred to this as Go-Go-Gadget Titty.

My bountiful bosom has quite the passport too. Planes, trains and automobiles. I have nursed at the Eiffel tower and the Louvre museum in Paris France. They have suckled in the south, on horse and buggy, a Nascar race, one MLB and two NFL games. Church pews, bar stools and plenty of Army pomp and circumstance. I pumped in Poland and fed in Frankfurt!

As I come out from under my Hooter Hider, we will retire my nursing bra number.  No need for a speech or bright blue ribbons. However lunch with Mr. LbF sounds grand!






Mama cow Image courtesy of chrisroll at FreeDigitalPhotos.net







Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Side show Curly

Curly looked up at me with big eyes as I cut off her hospital bracelet. I had let her sleep wearing it and now before school insisted the show was over and it needed to come off. "I would like to keep it as a remembery." Straight faced as not to hurt her feelings I reassured her that none of us were going to forget the events of the day before.

It was just after noon when I got the call that Curly was in the nurse's office at school...... again... As soon as I heard it was a legitimate reason I was stricken with guilt. But if you have heard the story of the boy that cried wolf then you have a pretty good understanding of the story of Curly that cried ouch. When we moved this last time the school nurse got a little choked up as she hugged Curly goodbye. They had spent enough time together to form somewhat of a bond.

I pushed the stroller into the office and spotted my girl's tear stained face. The very nice nurse explained the fall she had taken on the playground and showed me the bloody knee. I hugged and kissed and hugged again. Curly bounced like a pin ball through the phases of being a hypochondriac in shock. From shaking to puking to making jokes to wanting to sleep. I managed to get her to the car and on the way to the ER. It was our first trip there since our move and Lord willing our last!

We walked up to the front desk and my Drama Queen asked the clerk for crutches. I looked down at her and reminded her she just walked in. She hobbled into the triage office and sat down, s-l-o-w-l-y. The nurse began her checklist and asked Curly what had happened.
Curly said "Well you see I was at Kansas Elementary School and I am in the 2nd grade and we were at our second recess, the one after lunch. And I was gonna run a race and you see I am the fastest girl and I was winning and this boy was cheering for me and well he got in my way and I tripped and went right to the ground." Quite impressed the nurse looked up at me as not to laugh out loud. Curly continued to talk. " And you know what the funny thing is, today at school we had a lesson on safety and how to not get hurt at school, but here I am."



In the waiting room I called Mr. LbF to fill him in on where we were in this process. I also reminded him that it was his "turn" to take the sick kid to the Dr. and that now he owed me two. With four kids you do that kind of thing.

Sitting with Curly she informed me that she was not surprised we were in the ER because earlier she had been sitting on the toilet that day and knew she was gonna get hurt at some point. I asked her to please picture me winning the lottery the next time she had to go.

Back in the belly of the ER we were put in a tiny room with many drawers I wanted to pilfer. Another nurse came in and asked Curly what had happened. Curly started in, word for word, her wild tale of the race that was not hers to win. "Well you see, I was at Kansas Elementary School and..." Impressed with the story the nurse then asked to take a good look at the injured knee. "I need you to take down your britches."
 Curly shot her a look that read "what did you just call me". Seeing my daughter stiffen up I said "your jeans baby she needs you to remove your pants."

The Dr came in next and after hearing the day's events that took place at Kansas Elementary School, determined that 4-6 stitches would be necessary. Curly was a champ and did not shed a tear as he numbed the area. All she did was rattle her teeth and speak jibberish. The Dr looked at me and asked about the bump on her head. I said the bump was superficial and she was acting normal... well normal for Curly. We both watched as he finished up his work cleaning and sewing. When he finished Curly asked if he could fix the hole in her jeans as well.

Daddy and Moe walked through the door as we were checking out. Curly took very very deep breaths with each movement when she was sure someone was watching. The Dr said no bending for two days and no running till the stitches were out. Curly looked up at her Daddy and said she really thought that a new Dolly and some ice cream would make her feel better.

When we were sure the ER had enough drama we got home in time for Larry to get off the school bus. Through the grapevine she knew Curly had been picked up but when she saw her sister limping she was shocked. She said " I thought you had just thrown up because they were giving out seconds on hot dogs today."

Throughout the evening the list of activities that Curly decided she could not manage on her own grew longer and longer. At one point she had her leg up on a chair and said "well I guess I better get used to this, this is how things are gonna be now." Mr. LbF carried and propped her up in our bed with some pillows. She rested her hands under her head and told him "I could get used to this."
I tucked her in and kissed her forehead. She asked if it was ok that she had gone to the nurse's office. I let her know yes that was one of the times it was ok to go to the nurse's office.

New family word "remembery"!

Friday, February 8, 2013

Do As I Say Not As I Do


I was on the phone with my Mom and within 3 sentences I spelled out a four letter word and then dropped the f-bomb. Confused she said "the kids must not be around." I said "no, they are downstairs." She asked "then why did you spell out the four letter word and not the f-bomb?"
"I spelled out the first one? Man, I don't even know when I am doing that. I wonder how often in public with adults I defer to my ABC's for my choice words?".
I should start with the fun fact that I learned how to swear from my Mother. A fact I am sure she is cringing about while she reads this. My Mom is and was a hard working DIY'er before there was the term DIY. Back then she just called it Do It Because It Needs To Be Done. I guess that would be DIBINTBD'er. By her side I learned how to re-wire a lamp, hang sheet rock, hammer a nail straight the first time, use plumber's tape, and unleash the frustration, under your breath. I also remember many a night I would fall asleep to the hum of a sewing machine and the sharp mumble of "Piece of sh......".
I did not catch on to the art of profanities till I was an adult and even then I stumbled. At age 19 in a group that was laughing at someones expense I played along and smugly said "yeah that guy is so SOL, sorta outta luck.". It took 2 seconds for them to realize that I really did think the S stood for sorta. The joke was then, as it should be, on me.
When we were pregnant with Larry, our oldest, I was obsessed with what she was doing all day inside me and read everything I could get my hands on about my developing fetus. I set the deadline that when she had developed the sense of hearing that we, meaning I had talked Mr. LbF into this craziness, would stop cussing. Without ever skipping a beat Mr. LbF has never muttered another obscenity in our home again. Going cold turkey was not so easy for me. In conversation I would slip in a quick blight and he would shoot me the evil eye and point at my belly. I created a monster and it had turned on me. At some point I did find out that he was cheating and cursing while at work. When I challenged him he explained that as a soldier speaking to other soldiers he had to talk in a language they would understand. Apparently when you tell a young soldier he made an oopsy and needs to think about his actions it does not have the same affect as saying he f@$ked up and will now set that sh!t straight.
I have yet to curb my potty mouth.
Some people have found it alarming when they hear that I cuss when I pray. But I figure that the Lord already knows what I am gonna say before I even say it so trying to edit is a waste of time. I find it important to edit in front of children. I secretly judge people that cuss like sailors no matter who is around and have even been the crazy lady that leans over to strangers pointing out that my kids can hear the trash falling out of their face. I am oddly proud of that.

Even spelling the words out backfires when you least expect it. I recently spelled out a word and turned around to see Curly standing behind me with her eyes as big as dinner plates. I walked past her saying "so glad to see Power Reading is working out for you kid.".

In our home shut-up and stupid remain "bad" words and I will ride that out as long as I can. Larry came home from school and said a boy had gotten in trouble for saying the "H" word. I gave her a free pass to tell me what she thought he had said. She explained that is why she had told me because she had no idea what the "H" word was, and was hoping I would tell her. I told her my best guess was that it stood for hairyhinnyhippos. For the rest of dinner as a family we came up with combination H words that we were sure had landed the boy in Hot water.

After Mr. LbF got home from deployment we were driving and found that the store we were hoping to go in to, was in fact open. Larry, who was age 2 at the time, squealed in delight "YEA, DAMMIT!"
As her Mother, when it is her turn I will share the art of reupholstering a dining room chair and a well placed expletive.