About Me

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Married to GI Joe, and the Mother to GI Joe Jr (whom is currently addicted to the Wonderful World of Superheroes), I'm a WV Hillbilly plunked down in a subdivision. I have a backyard garden, crazy neighbors, and a goofy dog that we love on Tuesdays. We love to travel and explore new things, so feel free to browse our life. Sometimes it is exciting, most of the time it is just life. But we are having a good time at it.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Had to have THAT conversation

My son loves farm animals.





It does not matter.

Right now he is fascinated with 'cows with milk'.

But he has something wrong with his understand of 'cows with milk'.

He thinks Boy cows produce milk.

And keeps calling the Girl cows 'He' and the Boy cows 'She'.

He has a PILE of the Schleich animals...and they are anatomically correct.

VERY anatomically correct.

I mean...really really anatomically correct.

And my son keeps misinterpreting the testicles on some of the critters as 'milk'.

I explain they are not 'milk'.  They are Boys.  They have 'testicles...like you!'

He is not accepting that explanation.

According to my son he doesn't have 'testycalls'.

I finally got tired of explaining Mommy Cows Make Milk, not Daddy Cows today.

And I busted out with the following ...

"Mommy Cows make milk buddy.  Daddy Cows do not make milk.  Daddy Cows go to work and Mommy Cows feed their babies.  Mommy Cats make milk.  Mommy Dogs make milk.  Mommy People make milk."

His reply.. "No they don't.  They eat FOOD."

"Mommies make milk to feed their babies.  Babies can't eat FOOD until they are big like you.  I made milk for you"

And he got an absolutely HORRIFIED look on his face.

He kind of paused.  And he thought.

"Mommy.  I don't like that you make milk."

I had to laugh...cause he was formula fed from day one.

But it didn't change anything.

He is still calling the Mommy Cows 'he' and the Daddy Cows 'she'.

He'll figure it out...someday.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Look who was snoozing this morning!

Snoozing in my ferns...there are five total snoring in there.

So cooool!

Friday, June 24, 2011

Resigning myself...and other adventures

I'm in my mid-thirties.

I had the wild aspirations when I was 18 to be a Broadcast Journalist.

I envisioned my days in a newsroom...surrounded my busy people and wonderful stories.

Editing, photography, story writing...and best of all...on-air work!

Two years into college, I realized that I was CLEARLY not cut out for the dedication and cut throatedness of Broadcast Journalism.  I really prefered the technical work.

For the remaining two years, I worked theatre, public relations, advertising and some radio.

Did my Internship in Tourism and LOVED every minute.

But alas, Tourism jobs were few and far between...so I ended up in television.  In a department called Traffic.

Basically, we manage the daily playlist...all the commercials, programs and on air look.

It's a blast...and just up my alley.

I still get to do voice overs for commercials and promos...and it is a great job.

I have worked for two broadcast groups...and all networks except CBS at this point.

I really do love it.

But I turned in my resignation yesterday to my boss.

And we cried.

My last day is at the end of August, so she can start working on my replacement.

Being with the company for ten years means I have a lot of stuff on my desk that someone needs to learn...poor thing.

After fifteen years of working in Traffic...it is time to suck it up buttercup and find a new career.

One that does not require a one hour commute each way....with a kid in the back seat.

I leave a little after 7a and get home right before 7p if the traffic cooperates.

The time I am away from home is going to be really bad when Toddler Tween is a Kingergarten Kid.  I'm not going to be able to be involved with ANYTHING.  I'm going to be At Work...and Hour Away.

My neck is killing me from the order input and log working that I do for eight hours a day.

I'm just done.

A few months ago...when The Husband got The Call...we talked about me going back to school while he is gone.

I chickened out.

We bought a new station...we converted it...I was drowning in the pile of paperwork.

My neck Really Hurt.

Then we talked some more, and I met with the admissions counselor at a local technical career center.

The Husband and I decided that it was time.

So I signed the paperwork on Tuesday after the plumber left, got the financial aid situation taken care of (right now any way until the GI Bill transfer comes through), and I'm all set.

To be a Medical Assistant.

In my fancy Hunter Green scrubs.

Not quite a Nurse.

Not quite a Lab Technician.

But it is a sought after career where I live, and there are literally a GAZILLION medical facilities here.

Within minutes of my home.

It's going to take me ten months to complete.

Who wouldn't want a mid thirties woman, stable home, lots of office experience, managerial experience, and maturity?

I'm hoping lots of people want me.

And want to pay me well.

Cause I am having a heart attack over it.

Now to find a new Daycare.  That's turning into an adventure! 

One lesson learned:  What a rural community deems as 'top notch' didn't even qualify in my book as a 'remote possibility'. 

I'm sorry...when did separating a room with brightly colored shower curtains become acceptable in a daycare situation?

Cause I wasn't a fan...at all.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Why I bought an Annual Pass

Toddler Tween and I ventured to the Zoo today since the sitter was not able to work today.

It was not going to be a totally lost day...

I practically skipped up the stairs at 8am and asked 'Do you want to go see the Rhinos?'

The kid, with his eyes still shut, nearly fell out of the bed trying to get out of it.

He got dressed more than willingly.  I was FULLY anticipating him throwing a fit because his Rhino shirt was dirty, but he happily dressed in his crocodile shirt.

Slathered down in sunscreen, cooler packed with juice packs and ice...and of course snacks....a few quarters for that one stupid ride that takes change, and off we went.

The Zoo opens at 930a.  We were there at 925a. 

Another coating of sunscreen on his legs and a slathering on his face since it is nearly an hour drive...off we went.

To the front of the line with our yellow annual pass cards, through the ticket window, and into the Zoo.

Our Zoo has three Rhinos.  Two females and one male.

I need to name them...cause that's what my son loves to do...hang out with the Rhinos.

There are parts of the Zoo he has never seen because he likes the Rhinos so much.

He's walking along with his Lightning McQueen backpack...and his Schleich Rhino clutched in his little hands...going to see the Rhinos.

And there we remained...for probably thirty minutes, in the 90 degree heat, while he ogled the Rhinos.

As the Rhino's ate...and peed...and ate what they had peed on...and peed some more.

I just sat on the decking in a shady spot...while sending text photos to The Husband of our Little Man...and explaining to the folks giving me strange looks that 'he loves Rhinos!' with that knowing smile that all parents have.

I swear I am going to make a donation for them to put a freaking bench on that deck.  Please.

In the back of my head I am grateful I had sucked it up and bought the annual pass.  Because I love it.

One...I don't have to stand in line.
Two...I don't have to worry about bringing cash for all the rides he wants to ride (they are all covered under the annual pass)  Other than fifty cents, we are set for the day.
Three...if we spend an hour sitting with the Rhinos...it's ok.  I didn't spend $30 today to sit with the Rhinos.  The Rhinos have already paid for themselves.
Four..my kid thinks it is really cool to flash his yellow card with his picture on it for the Zoo Train, the Carousel and the Sky Ride. 

I think that's the best part...him flashing his little yellow card and the big smile.

I give up

This is just a vent...

I'm over it.

Its just not meant for me to have my couple of hours off to just go see a movie, or shop.

It just isn't.

Our first sitter...she keeps having other things come up all the time.  I book her weeks in advance, and a week before, she texts with a 'can I move the date'.   

So I've had to move her into July since she keeps having things come up.  She is a very busy young woman, and is outgrowing us.  Which makes me sad.  I like Miss Jess.  We've been using her for three years. 

So I hired one of Toddler Tween's teachers from daycare.

She's super sweet, and Toddler Tween loves her.  She checked out on all fronts...I even checked her Facebook page.

All set to sit today for five hours while I got some errands done and got away for a little while.

11p last night, I get a text that her little girl is sick.

I completely get it. 

I had the sickest kid on the planet the first couple of years of life.

It'll be fine.

And I know what it is like to have to cancel on people all the time because of a sick kid.

I just wanted to go watch a movie...without animation.

And buy new bras. 

I need new bras.

Hard to hit Victorias Secret with a three year old. 

Forget trying them on...because my child will gladly announce 'I like that bra mommy!' very loudly. 

That doesn't work.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Weekend Project

Growing up with non-artisitic parents, and iron water...I never participated in tie dyeing projects at home.

Growing up in a rural school system...I never participated in tie dyeing projects at school.

Once I got to high school...apparently I had missed the bus on tie dyeing.

Never did it.

My boss did a batch of tie dye last weekend with her kids.  And I thought ...'This will be awesome!'

How hard can this be!

And envisioned me and Toddler Tween having fun with colors.

So I journeyed to Michaels...and bought the Ultimate Kit. 

And a pile of shirts.

And spent $50...because I got caught up in the moment.

Last night...it was time to dye!

So Toddler Tween wasn't too enthusiastic. 

The gloves didn't fit him...so he didn't want to wear them.

He wanted to pour dye everywhere.

My Ultimate Kit didn't come with a single freaking set of instructions AT all... no where.  Even though there was supposed to be a booklet in it.  The packaging person missed that one, and of course I grabbed it...awesome.

So I did a quick tutorial online of how to do this. 

Yeah...this is easy.

I've got this.

Spread out the trash bags...got the gloves...shook up the dye bottles...tied up three XS shirts, a L and a 2XL because I don't know how much they are going to shrink.

And we started squirting dye on the shirts...

And wiping up the floor...

And wiping up each other....

Toddler Tween got bored.

I got mad and hot...and my neck started hurting.

Trying to keep little fingers out of the mess took it's toll.

And I stopped dyeing after the first three XS shirts.


This is stupid.

I followed the directions...put them in bags over night.  I wasn't wasting them, even though I wanted to trash them at that point.

Expecting a total hot mess this morning when I unwrapped them.


They turned out pretty awesome!

This one was the first.  Toddler Tween wanted ALL of the colors.

The red was the last one.  I got fed up and rolled it in the dishpan while squirting the dye on it.

I think I got the rhythm on this one...I like it.

So this morning, while Toddler Tween was still sleeping.. I  rinsed, unfurled, rinsed some more and hung them out on the back deck to dry.  Per the directions on the internet.  Because my $20 Ultimate Kit wasn't helpful at all.

Then decided, take the opportunity to do mine and The Husbands.

So I knotted some more knots.

Prepped the sink and dyed and dyed and dyed.

Bagged and rinsed the sink.

Then took my glove off.

Guess what color my shirt is...

I'm going with the 'car wreck' look.

And I don't own ANY bleach..at all.


Edited to Add:  The Husbands

Mine...thus the purple hand...that is normal after we went to the pool

Friday, June 10, 2011

To my younger self

Dear Younger Self

Thank your parents for doing all that they do for you.  As broke as they are, they are involved and love you very much.    And they will be there for you when you need them most.  Guaranteed.  I promise.

Tell the kids that tease and taunt you in elementary and junior high to bug off.  You are going to eventually get your swan feathers and grow up and away.   Keep your chin up...this too shall pass.

The perms...don't let Mom do them.  Please.

Don't get started drinking six gazillion Mtn Dews a day. Your tail is gonna get huge when you turn 23, and you are going to have issues getting that weight off.

Then once you stop the regular Dew, don't switch to Diet Dew and keep pounding them down.  You'll be visiting the Mammary Smashers a LOT because of it.

Dump Dead Weight early on. He's not going anywhere in life. Honey, he couldn't even pass High School English and YOU want to be a journalist. Give me a break. Walk away, quickly...and change your phone number. Or just don't give him your phone number. It isn't kismet, you are NOT in love, and he's just a mental health case waiting to happen.  I promise this is not going to end well.

Fall in love with The Husband (then the Boyfriend) completely and fully early on.  He's going to be your best friend.  Is not a psycho and is never going to break your heart.  He loves you too.

Wear your sunscreen and get out of the stupid tanning bed.  No one really cares if you are blazing white.  You will have to have moles removed before you are 40...and yearly visits to the Dermotologist.  You are a blonde with fair skin.  Nothing is changing that and you are going to stare at a poster in the Dermatologist's office in about 16 years and cry.

Work hard on the farm.  You will miss it.  Yes....you will.

Have fun.  Let your hair down.  Enjoy life!  You don't have to follow every single rule out there.  Relax a little.  (Older Me needs to take this advice too) 

Study just a little harder in college.  Just a bit.  You miss graduating with honors by .010

About that Degree.  Really.  Rethink it before you start.  I mean, your career is ok, and you are doing really well.  But let me just tell you...you end up painting yourself into a bit of a corner.

Do not eat the shrimp chow mein from the Chinese place near your first job.  Just don't ok? 

Do not buy that Green Grand Am.  Stupid Car.

Do not cut all of your hair off after The Husband gets out of Boot Camp.  You had gorgeous long blonde hair you idiot. 

Chill out about the wedding.  Really.  It's not the wedding...it's the marriage.  Loosen up.

Hire a real photographer for the wedding.  I promise.  Best thing you could do.

Go ahead and flip out on your manager at your first job.  Do it early on.  It will save some hassle and anti anxiety meds if you do.  He's going to get fired for harrassment anyway.  Get him out the door faster. 

Do not stress about the big move.  If you don't do it, you will be stuck in the hills hating each other.  It works out great.

Just drive by that white cape house that you think is so cute, and keep going about 15 minutes north on the interstate. Buy that nice sized tri level that is slightly out of your strict budget. You will thank me for it. I promise. And it really isn't out of your budget. Believe me. Ohhh...believe me.

DO NOT let The Husband buy that stupid black GMC.  Stupid truck.

When the dog is diagnosed with bone cancer...don't prolong it.  Go ahead and let her go.  The end result is just sad whether you do it then, or a few months later.  Let her go.

Go visit your grandmother that Thanksgiving even if you do feel like you have a cold.  You won't see her again.

I would tell you to just say 'not right now' on that certain afternoon after Thanksgiving in 2006...but the surprise is sitting on the couch drinking juice and rubbing that lock of blonde hair while watching Wonder Pets.

Be happy with The Husband when you find out that little blonde is on his way and don't cry for three days.   That's not the best story to tell.  Ever. 

Do not freak out about The Husband making it to The Birth.  That turns into an awesome story and everything turns out just fine.   Except for him leaving a week later to go Over There, but it will be a week you will treasure.

The infant stage will end.  They will not scream forever.  The problem is fixable, you just need to find the right doctor earlier on and stand up for Little Man.  Screaming at the Pediatrician while standing in her office in your pajama pants, flip flops a pull over sweatshirt and wearing your glasses after an all nighter of walking the floors with a screaming baby is a good start.  You will be friends after that and she will get that you are a serious parent.

Go ahead and quit work during Deployment #1.   I'm sure you'll figure something out.   I don't know what, but it is rough.  But the stress will nearly drive you up the wall and over the other side.   It's hard to recover from that year. 

You will pull that entire first year pretty much alone.  It will be ok.  But your parents will be there to back you up.  Even at 2am when you are throwing up your toes, and so is The Infant...and you have to make that phone call because you are pretty sure you are dying.  They will come.   They always do.

GO TO COUNSELING when The Husband comes home from Over There.  This would have saved everyone a lot of door slamming.

Breathe in...breathe out.

Have a glass of wine once in a while, or a beer, and chill.  You can shut your brain down for a few minutes.  The world will not stop turning if you do.

Remember to get a good giggle when you are 36 and the bagger at the grocery store tells you how excited he is to graduate high school.  You MUST inform him that you are exactly twice his age and scare the hell out of him.  :) 

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

All by Myself

Toddler Tween has been practicing the fine art of undressing himself.

This is a kid that never reveled in being naked...and I never brought up the issue of him not reveling in being naked.

He likes being dressed. 

And I'm glad.  I've never had to chase him streaking anywhere. 


Now that he has learned NOT to pull his shirt down over his hips, and stretch the neck into next week...I am feeling some sense of progress and will happily let him take charge when it is bathtime.

Dressing himself is a whole other matter.

One...we get up too early in the morning for him to be really coherant and get dressed without me having to do it for him. 

I'm lucky he is forming sentences by the time we head out the door.

No wonder coffee was invented.  If I had to wake up every morning and be faced with watered down natural no sugar tastes like crap juice...then I would cry and whine too.

PS...I am still weaning myself off of caffeine.  I am down to two cups of coffee in the morning and one Diet Dew in the early afternoon.

I am pounding the crap out of Caffeine Free Diet Cokes, but that is another story.

He's getting better and better.

And is so excited each time he manages to undress himself.

Then he has to stand on the other side of the toilet and shoot his dirty clothes into the hamper.

It's fun.

Tonight...when we got home, he decided it was time for him to put his own swimmies on. 

I was not allowed in the bathroom with him to change...

I heard the thumping, and the shuffling...and some more thumping.

I thought to myself 'wow...it'll be so nice when he can dress himself'

But a little...well...a little LOUD voice...broke that lovely train of thought....

"Mommmmeeeeeeee!  I need a little help pllllleeeeeassseee!"


He was stark naked...with his swim trunks in one hand and his swim shirt thrown casually over his shoulder.

And a big smile on his face.

So we aren't quite there yet...but close.

I'm fine with it.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Chowing Down...

Toddler Tween has pretty much recovered from his round with the  (as my grandmother used to say)  The Pew-moan-ee.

If you don't speak Hillbilly...Pneumonia.

She also used to call a Hospital a 'Horse Pistol'.

Not kidding.

After five days confined to the house, he went back to daycare on Wednesday.  Nebulizer in tow.

Today was the best day...watching him play in the yard this evening, you'd never think he had been so sick last weekend. 

It's nice to have a kid that's well.

He is eating EVERYTHING in sight.  Happy Plates at every meal!


And I am missing The  Husband. 

It really started sinking in now that I am on my own for the next year.  You really miss that extra set of hands, and the extra adult in the house. 

I miss having conversations with him...or just being near him.

Yes, it is definitely easier this time, but it's different.

I'm not up 24/7 with a screaming infant.  

And I can get a few things done.

But while filling Toddler Tween's new Lightning McQueen pool tonight, I remembered last summer when The Husband climbed in the pool, clothes and all, and Toddler Tween proceeded to dump water over his head.

We popped open our portable canopy, pulled the plastic deck chairs up to the edge of the pool, and stuck our feet in while Toddler Tween played himself silly.

It was just awesome.

And I miss him.

But we do go get to see him in three weeks at the Mobilization Station before he heads Over There. 

I sealed the deal with Toddler Tween when the idea of going on an airplane didn't thrill him.

Prospects of seeing Cars 2 with Daddy...now that completely sealed the deal.

Right now, his story is that 'we are going to see Daddy while on an airplane and watching Cars 2'.

In three year old world, that's beyond Super Cool.

Super Cool to me too.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

My bad...

I was messing around with some settings and wiped out my blog web address... 
Its all fixed now...
I hope.
I can at least find myself now.

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