I need some opinions, help, assistance, whatever you'd like to call it. The Preeclampsia Awareness walk is coming up in a month and I've taken on a project that needs some help. Originally we had thought to have signage available for memorial/in honor of signs that people could "purchase" to have up at the walk. A small fundraiser within the fundraiser. The sign idea has fizzled out, well the idea that I had has since the signs I wanted are too costly for me to sponsor through my business at the moment.
SO, my other thought was to create a wall of stars. You know those metallic cardboard stars from the factory card stores? What if we had a "wall" where people could purchase a star and put it on the wall. They could write the name of honor or in memory of on the star. I know the MN walk did this the first year and people wore the stars on their shirts with pins.
Another idea was an luminary, but since the walk is in the morning, that doesn't work in the sense of "light".
Any ideas?
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Leggo My Lego
We have small children. Therefore we have Legos. I suck at Legos. Seriously, suck at building things from Legos. I can manage a tower of straight up blocks, but creating an airplane, a fish, or anything else....just doesn't happen for me. My dearest husband adores Legos and makes the halfings all sorts of fun things. I was just asked to help build an airplane to complement the one that dad built the other night. Um, what? A mild sweat breaks out as I figure out how to get out of this. Thankfully, she changes her mind and I am saved. Saying "I can't" is not an option, I must be more thoughtful than that.
Do you have anything like this that your kids want you to play with and you just can't stand doing?
Do you have anything like this that your kids want you to play with and you just can't stand doing?
Monday, April 28, 2008
Another tattoo in the household
My dearest hubby got his first tattoo last week.
The beading represents the family. Green for the kids (May bdays) and I'm the purple. The beads at the bottom of the feathers are all blue for him.
The beading represents the family. Green for the kids (May bdays) and I'm the purple. The beads at the bottom of the feathers are all blue for him.
The Next Survivor Series
I got this in email from a girlfriend the other week and thought it was funny.
Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 3 kids each for six weeks. Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes.
There is no fast food.
Each man must take care of his 3 kids; keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, and complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of 'pretend' bills with not enough money.
In addition, each man will have to budget in money for groceries each week.
Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives, and send cards out on time.
Each man must also take each child to a doctor's appointment, a dentist appointment and a haircut appointment.
He must make one unscheduled and inconvenient visit per child to the Urgent Care.
He must also make cookies or cupcakes for a social function.
Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house, planting flowers outside and keeping it presentable at all times.
The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep and all chores are done.
The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily, adorn himself with jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep fingernails polished and eyebrows groomed.
During one of the six weeks, the men will have to endure severe abdominal cramps, back aches, and have extreme, unexplained mood swings but never once complain or slow down from other duties.
They must attend weekly school meetings, church, and find time at least once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.
They will need to read a book each night and in the morning, feed them, dress them, brush their teeth and comb their hair by 7:00 am.
A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information: each child's birthday, height, weight, shoe size, clothes size and doctor's name. Also the child's weight at birth, length, time of birth, and length of labor, each child's favorite color, middle name, favorite snack, favorite song, favo rite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear and what they want to be when they grow up.
The kids vote them off the island based on performance. The last man wins only if...he still has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse at a moment's notice.
If the last man does win, he can play the game over and over and over again for the next 18-25 years eventually earning the right To be called Mother!
Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 3 kids each for six weeks. Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes.
There is no fast food.
Each man must take care of his 3 kids; keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, and complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of 'pretend' bills with not enough money.
In addition, each man will have to budget in money for groceries each week.
Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives, and send cards out on time.
Each man must also take each child to a doctor's appointment, a dentist appointment and a haircut appointment.
He must make one unscheduled and inconvenient visit per child to the Urgent Care.
He must also make cookies or cupcakes for a social function.
Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house, planting flowers outside and keeping it presentable at all times.
The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep and all chores are done.
The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily, adorn himself with jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep fingernails polished and eyebrows groomed.
During one of the six weeks, the men will have to endure severe abdominal cramps, back aches, and have extreme, unexplained mood swings but never once complain or slow down from other duties.
They must attend weekly school meetings, church, and find time at least once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.
They will need to read a book each night and in the morning, feed them, dress them, brush their teeth and comb their hair by 7:00 am.
A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information: each child's birthday, height, weight, shoe size, clothes size and doctor's name. Also the child's weight at birth, length, time of birth, and length of labor, each child's favorite color, middle name, favorite snack, favorite song, favo rite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear and what they want to be when they grow up.
The kids vote them off the island based on performance. The last man wins only if...he still has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse at a moment's notice.
If the last man does win, he can play the game over and over and over again for the next 18-25 years eventually earning the right To be called Mother!
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Inner Bitch
My inner bitch is starting to shine. It's that time of month where I wonder where this beast inside me comes from? I'm crabby, tired, and when the dear hubby breathes, severely annoyed. The PMS seems to be getting worse since I had kids. It arrives about a week before Aunt Flo makes her appearance.
This weekend, Jason and I are at odds. We both think the other is saying something they really are not, and taking offense. It's just so lovely to be married at the moment.
Just be glad you don't live with me.
This weekend, Jason and I are at odds. We both think the other is saying something they really are not, and taking offense. It's just so lovely to be married at the moment.
Just be glad you don't live with me.
Pardon Me
I hate shopping at the W-world. The giant retail store where prices are cheap, but everyone is pissy to be there. Our local store turned into a "Superstore" the other year. Seems like the employees turned into super-buttholes too. They have no manners. And then there are the people who shop there. Seriously, why does every tom, dick, & harry who has half a brain cell left have to shop at W while I'm there? Why can't the normal people shop at the same time as me? Shit, does this mean I'm one of the wierdo's?
We live less than a mile from W. It's only natural I'm going to run there for a quick item rather than the 5 miles to the place with the giant red balls in front. And it's cheap. But every time I'm in that store, I'm swearing when I leave and tell myself I'm never going back.
The employees cut in front of the cart while you are shopping, never saying excuse me or pardon me, or even sorry. The cashiers are usually crabbier than all get-out. And it feels dirty in the store. Not that there is mud and shit all over, but it just doesn't have the same nice feel as the place with the big red balls. I can't recall I had an employee actually smile and say hello when I've been bummin' around in the store. And it's not because I look scary or have a "smile at me and you'll die" look on my face. At least I think it's not.
The parking lot is a nightmare. People waaaaaaiiiiittttt forever, clogging up traffic, for the space that Granny Smith is going to leave. In about 5 minutes, after she unloads her cart, pushes the cart back to the cart corral (if we're lucky), and then revs the engine. Waiting all the while there is a spot open 4 spaces down. You could have been in the store already, a-hole!
W-hell offers a pretty decent share of cart corrals in it's parking lot. But there is always some fucker who can't walk 10 more feet to push their cart into it. No, they have to leave it next to their car. The other week I was there and some woman parked in front of me left her damn cart go next to her cart. And she looks at me as it starts to careen right to my van. The words were forming in my mouth when it stopped. I muttered under my breath and took the cart myself. Here's the kicker. We were two spaces from the cart corral. I glared at her until her zippy little ass drove away.
Shopping at W-hell is an adventure. We always take a cart, even if we need one or two things. It's protection. We always seem to come out frazzled, pissed off, or tired. I get to practice my patience when I'm waiting in line at the check-out, often waiting longer than what I was actually shopping in the store for. Once December hits, we avoid W-hell at all costs as it's truly a nightmare.
You got any good W-hell stories?
We live less than a mile from W. It's only natural I'm going to run there for a quick item rather than the 5 miles to the place with the giant red balls in front. And it's cheap. But every time I'm in that store, I'm swearing when I leave and tell myself I'm never going back.
The employees cut in front of the cart while you are shopping, never saying excuse me or pardon me, or even sorry. The cashiers are usually crabbier than all get-out. And it feels dirty in the store. Not that there is mud and shit all over, but it just doesn't have the same nice feel as the place with the big red balls. I can't recall I had an employee actually smile and say hello when I've been bummin' around in the store. And it's not because I look scary or have a "smile at me and you'll die" look on my face. At least I think it's not.
The parking lot is a nightmare. People waaaaaaiiiiittttt forever, clogging up traffic, for the space that Granny Smith is going to leave. In about 5 minutes, after she unloads her cart, pushes the cart back to the cart corral (if we're lucky), and then revs the engine. Waiting all the while there is a spot open 4 spaces down. You could have been in the store already, a-hole!
W-hell offers a pretty decent share of cart corrals in it's parking lot. But there is always some fucker who can't walk 10 more feet to push their cart into it. No, they have to leave it next to their car. The other week I was there and some woman parked in front of me left her damn cart go next to her cart. And she looks at me as it starts to careen right to my van. The words were forming in my mouth when it stopped. I muttered under my breath and took the cart myself. Here's the kicker. We were two spaces from the cart corral. I glared at her until her zippy little ass drove away.
Shopping at W-hell is an adventure. We always take a cart, even if we need one or two things. It's protection. We always seem to come out frazzled, pissed off, or tired. I get to practice my patience when I'm waiting in line at the check-out, often waiting longer than what I was actually shopping in the store for. Once December hits, we avoid W-hell at all costs as it's truly a nightmare.
You got any good W-hell stories?
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Let's Go Fly A Kite
And have some fun. These are from Friday afternoon. Ariana saw it was windy and had to fly her kite. Too bad, it wasn't a steady wind. And Phoenix lurves the slide.
He will hate her when he's older
Now, I do have to admit that HE wants to dress up like her, she's not always the one dressing him up. As you can see, he's putting on the tutu by himself.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Not much to say
I haven't really been much in a blogging mood lately, forgive me. I feel a bit unsettled lately and am having a difficult time figuring out how to express myself. The words just are not coming forth this week. I'm facing old memories, upcoming excitement, and it's just been one of those weeks. Where you feel like no one understands you, you can't connect, and I would love to disappear into a good book and lay in bed all day. Time has not been my friend as of late and I'm feeling a tad, well no, alot cankerous.
Never fear, tomorrow will be a better day. Right? That's what I tell myself anyway.
Never fear, tomorrow will be a better day. Right? That's what I tell myself anyway.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
Time? Sure I've got time
Not really. I'm going out with girlfriends for margaritas tonight. YES! But I also need to prep for a garage sale for next week. And I'm not ready, whatsoever. How the hell am I going to pull this all off? I must get off the internet. Now.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Ewww
The halfings picked out HigglyTown Heroes to watch today. Moms of youngin's who watch Playhouse Disney should know this one. The characters are kinda like weebles in the sense they are big on the bottom with no legs. Weird to start off with, but it's a good show.
Well, I don't think I'll ever look at the heroes the same way again after watching the swimming episode today. First off, my charming halfing notices the boys have nipples. Greeeeaaaaattt. Can you imagine being the tech who got to draw nipples on the children's character? I wonder if that person giggled like when we were in the first grade learning to spell the word "but" and we all thought it was hilarious. I'm all for correct body parts, but something just creeped me out about it. Then pizza guy shows up without a shirt and he has a SIX-PACK! What the fuck!? He's got a pear shaped body and has these awesome abs and nipples. Um, my pear shaped ass doesn't have a stomach like that. No fair!
Well, I don't think I'll ever look at the heroes the same way again after watching the swimming episode today. First off, my charming halfing notices the boys have nipples. Greeeeaaaaattt. Can you imagine being the tech who got to draw nipples on the children's character? I wonder if that person giggled like when we were in the first grade learning to spell the word "but" and we all thought it was hilarious. I'm all for correct body parts, but something just creeped me out about it. Then pizza guy shows up without a shirt and he has a SIX-PACK! What the fuck!? He's got a pear shaped body and has these awesome abs and nipples. Um, my pear shaped ass doesn't have a stomach like that. No fair!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Hey Old Man Winter!
Could you please let some warmer temps head our way? Pretty please. We got some more snowfall over the weekend. Ugh.
Why I Don't Jog
I've had this cartoon up on my corkboard for so many years, I cannot even remember how many it's been. Seriously, this was, and still could be, me. I laughed my ass off when I first saw the cartoon, but it also held truth. I got this before I had my boobs hacked off 8 years ago and it was much funnier with the jumbo's I was carrying on my chest back then.
In addition to my issue with breathing while jogging, my other main problem is the girls. I have to hold my arms to my chest while I run/jog so they don't hit me in the face. Okay, so it's not like that anymore, but they are still big enough to flop and hurt when I bounce. I'm in need of a major, vice-grip sports bra for my ta-ta's. Any suggestions?
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Busy week
Disney released some great offers this week and it's keeping me busy, which is a good thing! Free dining on most rooms/resorts for package guests staying in late Aug-mid Sept. It's an awesome deal!
But I had to be up at the butt-crack of dawn to get on the horn to call for the packges I have booked already for clients. The payoff is nice, but oiye, 5:45am does not make me a happy camper. ;)
But I had to be up at the butt-crack of dawn to get on the horn to call for the packges I have booked already for clients. The payoff is nice, but oiye, 5:45am does not make me a happy camper. ;)
Flush
Why is it my 4 year old halfing can flush her #1 down the toilet, but #2 has to remain in the bowl?
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Kitchen Bitches
Wow. We watched the second episode of Hell's Kitchen last night. Where do they get these people from? Oh. My. God. Seriously. I've renamed the show, Kitchen Bitches since the contestants are all a bunch of bitches. I hated this show when I first saw it. Now, I've grown to love it. Come on, on how many shows can you hear "fuck" like 101 times in 42 minutes of tv? Gordan is hilarious. "Get out!" Throwing chicken up against the wall, sticking his finger in raw food and screaming. I find myself incredulous at what some of these people do.
The contestants are a nightmare. Jason is a chauvanistic fucker who I'd like to strangle. He chain smokes like crazy, as many of them do. Which I find disgusting. Especially since they never show the people actually washing their hands. Sharon (who was booted last night) looked like an alien from the movie, V. Remember that movie? We actually have it on DVD. She was just bizarre. Jen is a loudmouth who needs a serious ass kickin' with that attitude. Jeez loo-eez people. They complain constantly about each other and how no one communicates, but of course they are not part of the problem. No one seems to be working together.
Can't wait to see what happens next week.
The contestants are a nightmare. Jason is a chauvanistic fucker who I'd like to strangle. He chain smokes like crazy, as many of them do. Which I find disgusting. Especially since they never show the people actually washing their hands. Sharon (who was booted last night) looked like an alien from the movie, V. Remember that movie? We actually have it on DVD. She was just bizarre. Jen is a loudmouth who needs a serious ass kickin' with that attitude. Jeez loo-eez people. They complain constantly about each other and how no one communicates, but of course they are not part of the problem. No one seems to be working together.
Can't wait to see what happens next week.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Ink
There she is. My beautiful butterfly.
I've had just a few people ask what or why I chose this. I'm really not a prissy or overly feminine, I'm pretty simple, and well, this butterfly is pretty feminine I'd say. But I found her at a time when I needed her and I've been waiting to get her put on near my heart. She is extremely personal.
Weekend
It's been one long ass weekend. I did get my tattoo, and will hopefully have some photos up later today. But our weekend has been filled with a water heater that sprung a major leak (30 minutes before my tat appt), a water filter leak later that night, and it's been busy, busy, busy. And this week is going to be just as bumpy, me thinks.
Hoping you all had great weekends! Please tell me about your weekend, so I can live vicariously through them!
Hoping you all had great weekends! Please tell me about your weekend, so I can live vicariously through them!
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Sexual Assault Awareness Month
April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month. Chances are someone reading this has been a victim of sexual assault or knows someone who has. Sexual assault is an act of violence where sex is used as the weapon. It is motivated primarily out of a sense of entitlement and/or a need to feel powerful by controlling, dominating, or humiliating the victim. Survivors of sexual assaults are forced, coerced, and/or manipulated to participate in unwanted sexual activity. They do not cause their assaults and are not to blame. Offenders are responsible for the assaults.
If you would like more information on sexual assault and the impact it has, contact your local advocacy organization that supports victims of sexual & domestic abuse. Stand up to violence.
So Upset
I am so fucking pissed, upset, and disappointed right now, I'm in tears. And I don't, and can't, really go into it.
The Reason Why
This is the reason why I continue to raise awareness and hope for a cure. Myles is the son of a fellow Wisconsin preeclampsia survivor. He came into this world too soon at 25 weeks & 4 days and unfortunately passed away in his mommy's arms less than a month later. I am sharing the photo montage she put together in his memory with her permission. It's 18 minutes, so settle in with a tissue as you watch the journey of Myles.
Myles Lee Anderson
Myles has touched many lives and will not be forgotten. Until the day comes that mommies do not become ill with preeclampsia, I pledge my heart into this cause.
Myles Lee Anderson
Myles has touched many lives and will not be forgotten. Until the day comes that mommies do not become ill with preeclampsia, I pledge my heart into this cause.
Inked tomorrow
I'm going in for my tattoo tomorrow around lunchtime. I can't wait, but I'm also kind of dreading it.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Frustration
Our state refund came today, so we took the kids out for dinner and popped into Target. What a bloody nightmare. First off, let me say I have raging PMS. It's getting really bad, so I have zero patience and my level of parenting seems to dive a bit.
Dinner went okay for the most part. After we got a promise from the sassy child that she would indeed eat the pizza this time, we decided to go to the most delicious pizza joint in town. The deal was she had to eat one piece in order to go in their game room. Just one piece. And their pizza is cut into small squares, so it really is a small piece. She wouldn't do it. She had almost 4 garlic breads before so I wasn't all that hyped up about the pizza. But my dear husband was. A small tantrum ensued and a bargain was made. She ate one tiny piece. A sliver of the square. Fine, whatever. I hate parenting at moments like these.
Then it's on to Target where all hell breaks loose. When I'm shopping by myself with the kids they listen fairly well. Monkey boy is a bit more difficult to deal with since he wants to NOT ride in the cart anymore. But I manage. When all four of us go shopping, it's awful. As soon as we walk in the door, shit starts to fly. "I want popcorn." Monkey boy doesn't want to sit in the seat of the cart. Sassy pants is walking backward, in front of the cart. We make it through the kids shoes alright and then it's onto the clothing. I've lost my mind. I'm looking at tank tops & shorts for the kids. Jason has Phoenix, and Ariana is running around the children's department. No communication between the two of us rentals so we both seem to think the other has her in their sights. I have to start counting. Multiple times. Jason asks, "how much do you have to do yet?" in this exasperated voice. Shut up, jerky. I've done this by myself countless times. For some damn reason, the kids are hellacious when both of us are with. We zoom over to the bed sheets where I discover we hold very different opinions on sheet quality. He's fine with the 200 thread count that feels like sandpaper to me, and is on sale for $26.99. I fall in love with the 400 thread count set that matches our new comforter perfectly for $65.99. We leave with no sheets. I zip into the girls section to look at some clothes there when I hear the sigh. Ladies, you know the one. The "are you fucking finished yet" sigh. So, I ram my cart through the damn too small aisles between the racks and get in line to pay.
We are all crabby as we make our way to the van. At home, the kids are hyped up and we want them in bad asap. She won't get pj's, then tells me she's going to pee on me. Phoenix wants to be held. Ariana won't pick out stories. Jason tells me to settle down cuz I'm yelling at her, and 1 minute later he yells at her. It's these wonderful family moments that frustrate me and I remember why animals eat their young.
Dinner went okay for the most part. After we got a promise from the sassy child that she would indeed eat the pizza this time, we decided to go to the most delicious pizza joint in town. The deal was she had to eat one piece in order to go in their game room. Just one piece. And their pizza is cut into small squares, so it really is a small piece. She wouldn't do it. She had almost 4 garlic breads before so I wasn't all that hyped up about the pizza. But my dear husband was. A small tantrum ensued and a bargain was made. She ate one tiny piece. A sliver of the square. Fine, whatever. I hate parenting at moments like these.
Then it's on to Target where all hell breaks loose. When I'm shopping by myself with the kids they listen fairly well. Monkey boy is a bit more difficult to deal with since he wants to NOT ride in the cart anymore. But I manage. When all four of us go shopping, it's awful. As soon as we walk in the door, shit starts to fly. "I want popcorn." Monkey boy doesn't want to sit in the seat of the cart. Sassy pants is walking backward, in front of the cart. We make it through the kids shoes alright and then it's onto the clothing. I've lost my mind. I'm looking at tank tops & shorts for the kids. Jason has Phoenix, and Ariana is running around the children's department. No communication between the two of us rentals so we both seem to think the other has her in their sights. I have to start counting. Multiple times. Jason asks, "how much do you have to do yet?" in this exasperated voice. Shut up, jerky. I've done this by myself countless times. For some damn reason, the kids are hellacious when both of us are with. We zoom over to the bed sheets where I discover we hold very different opinions on sheet quality. He's fine with the 200 thread count that feels like sandpaper to me, and is on sale for $26.99. I fall in love with the 400 thread count set that matches our new comforter perfectly for $65.99. We leave with no sheets. I zip into the girls section to look at some clothes there when I hear the sigh. Ladies, you know the one. The "are you fucking finished yet" sigh. So, I ram my cart through the damn too small aisles between the racks and get in line to pay.
We are all crabby as we make our way to the van. At home, the kids are hyped up and we want them in bad asap. She won't get pj's, then tells me she's going to pee on me. Phoenix wants to be held. Ariana won't pick out stories. Jason tells me to settle down cuz I'm yelling at her, and 1 minute later he yells at her. It's these wonderful family moments that frustrate me and I remember why animals eat their young.
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