It is not yet 7:30 AM and already I'm having a bad day. I made my coffee and my son's oatmeal just like every other day. First I dropped the oatmeal, broke the bowl and splattered oat meal and broken glass everywhere. Then my son and his trusty dog Lily came running to see what had happened. Bad timing. They ran right into me causing me to spill hot coffee all over myself. OUCH! Good news is I only spilled half the coffee. Sweet! I can still get at least a partial caffeine fix. So I set the coffee on the table while I start cleaning up my mess.
I mopped up most of the spilled coffee with a dish towel, got most of the oatmeal and broken glass swept up, and took the dust pan outside to dump in the trash. Being less than a week before the "fall back " time change, it's still dark outside at this time of the morning. Even with the garage light on I failed to see that the outside trash can is covered with fire ants! And in about two seconds I was too. AAAAAHHHHGGGGGG!!!!!
I throw down the dust pan and start slapping at the ants crawling all over me. I'm slapping my arms, my legs, my feet! To no avail whatsoever! Those little beasts were as tenacious as they are EVIL!!! I was left with no alternative. I grabbed the garden hose and, standing right there in the driveway, I hosed those little demons off me. Again, I try to see the bright side. At least it's not cold yet here in South East GA.
So I drag my soggy ass back into the house, get a quick shower, apply some itch-stopping ointment to...well, pretty much my whole body, and prepared to grab what's left of my coffee, reheat it, and relax for just a few minutes before I have to take the boys to school. The Universe had other plans! My coffee was GONE!
OH CRAP! I forgot Daisy ( the weiner dog) loves coffee. And what's more she's still spry enough to jump right up into a chair and drink from a cup right off the table. I know Daisy loves coffee because every time my hubby leaves his cup sitting around, my darling Daisy wastes no time sticking her furry nose right in it and lapping it up like it's the Nectar of the Dogs. OK, I admit it's kinda funny when its his coffee. And I probably would have been able to laugh it off this time had it not been for one thing:chocolate. My coffee this morning was a delicious chocolate-mocha- latte-type drink. Yes, I said CHOCOLATE ! The stuff that makes dogs SICK !! There was a trail of chocolate-covered-kibble-vomit going all through the house.
All my charming sons could do was comfort poor sick, Daisy. Forget poor ME !! Don't bother offering to help clean up this millionth mess of the day! I'm the MOM! I can handle it!!! I can handle it MYSELF !!!
That was about the time my positive outlook just flew out the window. I believe that if I keep a positive outlook, positive things will happen. But c'mon, seriously !?! How much can one mom take? Is the Universe testing me? Is this Divine Retribution for not taking my shopping cart back into the grocery store? Will I survive this day?
Only time will tell.

Ever wonder why it seems to take ladies so much longer than their hubbies to get ready to go some where? I can't speak for anyone else but for me there is a very legitimate reason why I am always the last one out the door at my house.
Here is what my husband does before going out: take a shower and get dressed.
Here is what I do before going out: Make sure the kids are up and dressed appropriately. This usually means making sure that they actually have clothes on, as opposed to pajamas which they would be happy to wear 24 hours a day, and are wearing shoes, which they'd be happy to go without 24 hours a day. Then I have to take the dogs outside (don't want any "accidents" to occur while we're gone)This reminds me to check the food and water bowls. Surprise - both empty! So I go to give the dogs food and water.Wait, can't fill up the water bowl because the sink is full of dirty dishes. So I have to rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, then give the dogs their water.Now that that's done I jump into the shower. Nope can't do it. First I have to pick up all the towels that the previous shower-ers have left on the floor. Oh crap! All the towels are on the floor. Are any of them clean? Then one or more dogs starts to "waller" on said towels answering that question for me. OK fine, no problem, ever resourceful I find a beach towel to dry off on. I then jump in the shower ready to enjoy a relaxing hot shower. But NOOOOO! Always the last one in the shower, I get to bask in the luxury of tepid water while using a bar of soap that's roughly the size of an acorn.
Sorta clean and kinda dry, I pull on whatever outfit is the least wrinkled and breathe a sigh of relief, thinking I'm in the home stretch, now. Throw on a little make up, pin up my hair and go, right? Too bad my kids have liberated every one of my hair pins to practice picking locks. So
I just go with the traditional ponytail-- the official hairdo of stressed out mothers everywhere. And forget about make up, there's no time for that. I just grab a pair of big sunglasses and hope they're big enough to hide what the make otherwise would have. Then I'm out the door only to find my dear hubby and my cherubic children waiting for me.
And they ask, "What took you so long??"

I have made a decision. No more PopTarts for my kids. From now on it's gonna be bran muffins every day.Those boys need their fiber in the worst way. And when I say ''worst" I really mean it.
I have gotten sick and tired of seeing those giant redwood trees in the toilet every time one of them poops and "forgets"to flush.
"Always flush after you use the bathroom!''I constantly remind them. Who knew those words would come back to bite me in the ass.
Last night, I went into my bedroom to get something and noticed wet dog footprints everywhere.You can imagine my surprise when I looked to find the source of the water and found an overflowing toilet.
Just to be clear on this, it wasn't one of those darn-it-I'd-better-grab-a-mop situations. It was at least two inches of water on my bathroom floor, complete with dog tracks and floating turds! And it was still pouring! Luckily I had the choice of going in to shut the water off barefoot, or in the flip flops I was wearing. Talk about your no-win situation.
I rolled up my jeans and got the water turned off, then went and got the shop-vac. In case you don't know, that's a wet and dry vacuum and literally picks up anything and everything.
But here's the thing... the last time I used this particular shop-vac, I noticed how dirty the filter was. So I took some initiative and washed it. Then I sat it out in the sun to dry. I didn't really notice that besides being a very sunny day it was also a very windy day. The filter blew away and I never found it. I had every intention of buying a new one but somehow it got shifted to the bottom of my priority list.
Being the non-mechanical type that I am, I really had no idea what the filter was even for.So I decided to just use it without one. It was for the greater good, after all. Now I am acutely aware of at least one of the functions that filter performed. This lesson was learned when I began to use the shop-vac and it began to shoot shit-water out at me.
To say I was disgusted would be the understatement of the century. But I stood my ground against my new arch enemies Shit-water and Floating-turds, and finally got the mess cleaned up.
In true pissed off mama form, I went to my sons ready to bring down the wrath of God on whoever did this.
"The toilet just overflowed,does anybody have any idea why that might have have happened!?" I said
''I don't know anything about that, mama.''said Nikk as he looked up at me with his innocent brown eyes, "All I did was take a dump and flush it. You always say to flush when we take a dump."

It's a dog eat shoe world

W e've had our dog, Rocky since last May and it's not getting any better. He's ALWAYS chewing up something. He got a couple of pairs of my flip-flops. He's just lucky I have over forty pairs or I would have went off on him. Then one day, he took a pair of jeans that I had laid out to wear the next day and got them off the dresser and chewed a hole in the knee. This could have been considered fashionable had it not bee the back of the knee.
It seems he also targets Joey's shoes. Joey has gone through five pairs of sandals since June. now he's reduced to wearing two sandals of different colors because Mom (that's me) is tired of buying replacement sandals just because he's too lazy/forgetful/whatever to put his shoes in the closet and shut the door.
Rocky also seems to have an appetite for literature. In other words he likes to eat books. What fascinates me is his choice of books. When I'm reading a book I make sure that when I lay it down it's out of Rocky's line of sight-usually on the back of the couch. I know that if I leave it on the coffee table or some easy-to-reach place I'm risking having my book turned into kibble. But seriously, he can't even see what's on the back of the couch, and he's trained not to get on the furniture. (fine with him he has not one, but two comfy doggy beds)

Rocky hasn't chewed any books in a very long time. The kids even leave books on the coffee table now and he shows no interest in them whatsoever. But last week I was reading Cujo and when I started getting tired I put it on the back of the couch and went to bed. The next morning when I woke up I found the book ripped shreds lying in Rocky's doggy bed. I thought it was odd that out of the blue he'd start a)climbing on furniture and b)chewing books again. So I punished him and went to the library to get another copy so I could finish the story. That night I put the book up on a four and a half foot ledge that seperates the dining room from the foyer. I'm not even sure how he knew it was there. But sure enough the next morning I caught him with that book, chewing the corner like there's no tomorrow. I got the book away from him before any major damage was done.

I wondered aloud why he chose that book in particular. Joey came up with the best answer. He said that Rocky knew the book was about a bad dog and since Rocky is a good dog he thought he had to destroy the bad dog to protect us. Sounds logical to me.
Then there's the issue of eating out of the garbage. If there is any leftover food on our plates we either scrape it off into his dish or down the disposal, so there is no actual food in the trash can. He just likes to get whatever is in there (like maybe, the box a hot wheel came in, for example) and chew the hell out of it, usually scattering bits and pieces of it all over the house.
I started punishing him. Every time I caught him eating garbage I would smack his nose and put him in "time out" on his bed. Not one of my better ideas. He just started getting garbage and taking it directly to his bed. My final solution was trash cans with lids.
And then there's the shedding. You wouldn't think a short haired dog could shed so much. But it's unreal how much hair comes off this damn dog every day. I try to keep the house (the house with all tile floors, by the way) swept regularly. But if I miss a day or -God forbid- two, the house ends up looking like the set of the porn classic "Shaving Arizona". It's pretty gross.
Why do I even keep this dog? Well, I guess I must just love his furry, black ass. Having a dog seems to make the house a home. If you're a dog-person you'll understand. If you're a cat-person, you can take comfort in knowing that Stephen King never wrote a book about a rabid Tabby.

Quick Freddie, stage an intervention!!!

Well, I just finished reading Nikki Sixx's The Heroin Diaries, (Good book by the way) and I feel that qualifies me to diagnose addiction.

So all I have to say is Freddie, grab Daphne and Velma and stage an intervention quick! Shaggy is a junkie!

My first clue was his unkempt appearence. He never shaves or changes his clothes. And who knows how long it's been since he's had a bath. Apathy about personal hygiene is a sure sign of a serious drug problem.

Not only that, there are other serious indicators.

For example:
-Paranoia (always thinks monsters are chasing him)
-Hallucinations (thinks his dog can talk)
-Eats copious amounts of food (marijuana munchies?) but fails to gain any weight (amphetamines anyone?)

Shaggy, if you're reading this, just know you are not alone, there is help.
The first step is admitting you have a problem.

Holy Crap! It's been awhile.

I can't believe it's been so long since I've blogged!
Yeah, I was sick and everything... but seriously!
It's totally NOT because I've had nothing to bitch about. Nothing could be further from the truth. Not the least of which is having yet another birthday. Damn, I hate getting old. But I guess it beats the alternative-getting dead.
Another big part of the reason I haven't been on the computer much lately is because hubby-poo has been buying and selling online to make a few extra bucks. I totally DO NOT mind the money. but he's always monopolizing the computer. If not him, then it's one of the kids. But fair is fair and everybody should get a turn. So now that I've finnally got a turn, I gotta go referee a squabble between kids. Nice. More later.

Oh, Poor Me!

Well, it's been ten days since my surgeries and I'm still not back to normal.
I was told by the docs that the surgeries themselves went well. The only exception being that my gall bladder was swollen, causing them to have to make a bigger set of incisions to get it out. No big deal. And the nose surgery went perfectly. No bruising or anything.
I felt like I was batting a thousand. I was told to expect quite a bit of pain, but for the first three days I didn't even have to get the pain pill Rx filled. Of course, I wasn't doing cartwheels but my recovery seemed to be going really great. Then out of the blue I started hurting really bad in my stomach. I just assumed the stomach ache was the pain I was supposed to be expecting. Then I noticed I was getting a little swollen. Well, actually very swollen. especially my feet. At one point they were looking a bit like water melons with pudgie pork sausages for toes.
Then as the pain got worse, I started losing control of my bladder. Talk about adding insult to injury.
I spent all day July 2nd in the emergency room, only to find out that I was retaining water, but they couldn't figure out why. They stuck a catheter in me to keep my bladder drained and sent me home.
Well, the cath did its job. The swelling went down and I actually lost 18lbs of water weight overnight. I felt a lot better except for the fact that I was forced to carry a sack of piss around.
But I fear things still aren't right. The urine is always heavily tainted with blood. I'm no doctor. Hell, I don't even play one on TV, but even I know that can't be good. I went back to the ER on July4 and they told me it was probably just some irritation and they sent me home with an appointment to see a urologist.
Whatever the problem was, it didn't seem to pass. Three days later my pee still looks like cherry Kool Aid.
I'm seeing the doc later today and I hope to get some answers.
I'm not in a lot of pain (except, I think I pulled a muscle in my upper stomach- nothing to do with the bladder thing) but I'm just so aggravated.
I hate having to carry this pee-sack everywhere I go. Not that I go any where outside of the house, who would want to go anywhere carrying around something that disgusting, like it's some kind of traveling museum exhibit.
I have a new respect for people who have to deal with things like this all their lives. I guess I should be grateful that it's not something much worse. But I'm only human , and therefore I'm allowed a few minutes of self pity.
Now that I've gotten all that off my chest, I'm actually starting to feel better. I guess bitching really is good for the soul.