The Buffy

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My life is pretty dull. I play with a toddler, watch a lot of Yo Gabba Gabba and experiment with the crock pot. I have no bed time and I find humor in Laffy Taffy jokes. Conan O'Brien is my anti-drug.

Thursday, June 2, 2016

Where's the beef?

It's these ridiculously ridiculous weeks like these that make me so greatful for my husband. This dude who doesn't think twice about me taking our baby out of the country to go visit a friend dealing with horrifying things. This guy who scrubbed the carpet Wednesday morning at 5 am to get Emma's early morning vomit out while I comforted her and held her hair back. This man who darted from a t-ball game tonight to race to a Walgreens to fetch children's Benedryl. This husband of mine who didn't think twice about cleaning up a new set of puke in the dining room tonight from about 2 seconds after we got home from said t-ball game, this time delivered by Tommy. This same man who then left the house to run to the grocery store to fetch sandwich fixings because I'm starving but my stomach hurts, so 'nothing fried or spicy, please'. (I hope I said please).

In this whirlwind of the last few weeks, I've seen the gentle ways and the blatant ways and the silly ways and the subtle ways he cares for me, he cares for our rotten children.

Brett, you are a damned fine man. I wish you'd drive a little faster from the Pig now that I got sickly Tommy to sleep (because seriously, I'm ravenous) but just the same. 

Sunday, April 17, 2016

Bubbles

I'm sitting outside on a Sunday morning, typing this out on my phone. 

I have a bit of a sunburn on my shoulders and my legs are itchy. Sophie the friendly pit bull is pooping in the yard at this moment. I'm watching her so I can remember where I have to clean it up later. 

Inside I can hear Tommy whining and Brett loading the dishwasher. It sounds like he's watching some of his DVR'd General Hospital. Damn, he loves that show. Emma is playing with Barbies in another corner of the house. 

As I'm sitting here I'm thinking about how long of a weekend it's been already. My body is sore from hours and hours (and hours) of yard work. My hands are swollen from too much Italian beef last night and if Emma's American Girl doll (named Rose, for future reference) needs one more wardrobe change today I'm going to cry myself to sleep.
 
But seriously, I'm so damned blessed. I can't get over the fact that I have these two beautiful children. I adore my husband, and that jackass loves me back. My dog is this gentle giant that would give her left [back] leg to sit on my lap on the couch for like two minutes of her life. Not gonna happen, pooch. Couches are leather and you need a nail trim. We have a beautiful house and 20 acres of woods and a giant bottle of bubbles and a porch swing and coffee and Taylor Swift albums and no immediate neighbors. 

Life is so damned good. 
Whenever you hear me bitching remind me that we have a giant bucket of bubbles. Those bubbles are liquid gold.  


Monday, April 4, 2016

The Lady


Oh Killer. You exhaust us daily. You stretch our sanity. You crack us up. You encourage us to try new things. You devastate us with your refusal to try new things. You elicit the most outrageous reactions from us on every level. 
Child, you probably think I hate you because of how crazy you make me. In reality, I see so much of myself in you. You're spunky and quick and silly and charismatic, but you also feel too hard and react too hard and hurt too hard. Just the same, I know you will grow to be a ridiculously strong, smart woman full capable of taking care of herself. Damn. I fear for the first man to ever wrong you... not only because of how many different, slow, painful ways your dad will kill him. I fear for him because you are going to make him regret ever wronging you. 

You amaze me, child. You are so danged strong, and you amaze me. Almost 5 years ago today you came bursting into this world with drama and loudness and there hasn't been a boring day with you since. 



A Letter to the Moose


To my Moose Man, 
The way you tug on your herniated belly button and then tickle your left ear when you are tired will forever be my favorite thing ever. Your scent is a mix of lemon and dirt and I am addicted to the scent. You throw too hard at the tv and are so manipulative at bedtime that you know exactly how to yell and cry and scream to ensure we come back in your room is maybe the most annoying thing on earth. Your short little legs crack me up, because no matter how slow you are you'll forever work your little butt off to keep up with your sister. Your love for the seester is palpable. I'm amazed at how much you emulate her and how quickly you've learned to tease her and push her buttons. Your fascination for Star Wars and your memorization of the entire soundtrack blows us away. I want to bottle up this year two and keep it in my back pocket, but instead I'm writing this reminder to myself that you are the funniest, sweetest, silliest, most affectionate little man I've ever encountered. 
I love you, buddy.

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

When babies turn two, it may be devastating.

Once upon a time on Sunday, my baby turned two. This devastated me for many reasons, some of which included the fact that he is growing too quickly, he's rapidly falling into severe terrible twos and also I will never again have a baby who is a baby. As much as I want to be done with that phase of my life, I will also forever mourn never again having those moments.

So as is only appropriate when your baby is no longer a baby, we invited approximately 50 of our closest friends and family to our home to celebrate said baby - scratch that - terrible twonager's birth. Guy is pretty much in love with 'Daydo' (read: Star Wars). It only made sense to have a Daydo theme














Friday, January 1, 2016

And as we begin a new year and a new journey and a bit of the same old


 Disclaimer: I wrote part of this last night (long before the ball dropped, while completely sober) and part this evening on the 1st of January while indulging in a 4:30 pm glass of Pinot Noir. All opinions, facts and lies stated are mine and not sponsored my anything or anyone. As in this is a legit writing moment. 

It's 2016. I can't say that 2015 was awful or amazing. It was a year, one that went far too fast with far too few major highlights. I spent a lot of time yelling at my kids. I spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself. I spent a lot of time drinking too much wine and watching too much tv. But it's not like it was a bad year. Not really.


My goals for the new year are simple. Keep on. Keep on getting stronger at the gym (because compared to where I was a year ago, or even 6 months ago after I had ACL reconstruction surgery I'm a hell of a lot stronger). Enjoy the time I spend there, because the majority of it is spent being encouraged and enlightened and motivated. Keep on admiring the physical beauty around me - our beautiful home and our beautiful woods and our beautiful neighborhood and the beautiful field across the road that often is filled with deer and sand hill cranes and geese and the occasional coyote or possum.

Keep on enjoying my hilarious family. My son will do anything for a laugh. He's such a ham! And my daughter is so quick witted I don't always even keep up with her.
She's four, folks. I can't handle a battle of wit with my four year old. Pfft.
My husband is so sarcastic, and sarcasm is most definitely my love language. Hell, it's probably my only language. I'm not sure the last time I went a full day without a sarcastic comment or five. When he mutters a dry-humor comment I look at him with hearts in my eyes all over again.


Keep on learning and experiencing and enjoying and feeling each moment with as much honesty and passion as I can muster. The hurts hurt bad, but the highs are so amazing. 
Life is amazing, folks. It can be amazing if you make it that way.

Cherish this shit, every single day.

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Ramblings of a sleepless stink

 There's something borderline poetic on a cold, snowy afternoon about curling up under a hooded sweatshirt and a stocking cap, sipping a cup of coffee and watching crap tv. My hamstrings are aching from my work out today at the gym and I'm still wearing my gross clothing from earlier. My brain is wandering in 18 different directions but life isn't bad. In fact, it's pretty damned good. Christmas has happened and gifts have been exchanged and mailed and dropped off and received. Looking forward to spring although we are just at the edge of winter, and we've only  had one other considerable snow fall in Wisconsin. Sleep is sporadic recently - it's annoying how frequently I wake up at 1:30, stay awake until 3 and then am abruptly woken again at 3:30 by one munchkin or another. 
I received a Silhouette Cameo machine for Christmas and I don't even know where to start. Any tips for a newbie? I'm looking to make my own gym shirts because I have about 900 and I constantly want more. Come on, readers. I know at least two or seven of you have a few tips for me. 
AnnnndGO.