Do You Hate Smileys and LOLs?

This is high-larious!

SHAG Me, Baby, Yeah!

The following is a commercial that interupted my daily showing of Who Wants to be a Millionaire?.

An old guy with white hair and a brown mustache wearing a cowboy hat, black leather jacket and a faded bandana fills the screen.

"Hi. I'm Stuart Anderson. I'd like to tell you about a wonderful non-profit organization. The Senior Housing Assitance Group, or SHAG.

"Next, you see two elderly ladies with their arms draped over each other's shoulders. They are happy. Very happy.

"SHAG is dedicated to providing secure and affordable retirement housing for seniors age 62 and older throughout the Puget Sound region."

A group of senior citizens are gathered around a table playing cards. They are ecstatic!

"Give SHAG a call and tell them Stuart sent you!"

Everyone needs a little SHAG in their life and the old people agree. They couldn't be happier. Really. You should have seen the HUGE grins on their faces! Wonder if they call themselves SHAGers. It would be great if they advertised that they had a certified team of SHAG staff.

I swear...I could not have made that up if I tried. Cullen and I die laughing every time we see this commercial.

Little Mik - 3 Mommy - 0

"Bird," Mikayla said to me while pointing to a picture of a swan.

She smacked her head several times while pointing to a picture of a baboon.

"That's right. good girl!"

"Elmo!"

"Yep."

I saw a picture of a lion, pointed to it and said, "Kitty Cat!"

My lovely daughter said, "Duh."

My Ass Has Disappeared

Mikayla: "Ass. Ass. Here, Ass!" (Mik was pointing to the coat closet door.)

Cullen: "Sorry, sweetie. He's not in there today."

"Asssss. Asssss. Asssss. Ass! ASSS!"

"I know, but he's not in there today."

"Ass! Kitty Cat!"

"Oh, he's an ass. He's just not in there."

I promise, we don't curse in front on Mikayla. Usually. You can leave your children with us, without the fear that they will come home with a whole bunch of new four letter words. I mostly use five letter words. Usually.

I'm in Hell

It's hot here. Actually, it's hotter than hot. Friday's temperature was around 105 degrees with no breeze whatsoever and today it was 95.

Before we left to go to the annual Microsoft picnic today, we closed all of the downstairs windows. I wanted my crap still here when we got home. My thought was that if someone was going to pick a day to break into people's houses, today would be perfect. Everyone has their windows open and a lot of people aren't home. They're smart. They are wandering around the air conditioned stores pretending to shop.

In our coat closet downstairs, we found a hinged door that leads to the crawlspace beneath the house. We have also found that when said door is open, it is basically like a small A/C unit for the immediate area around the closet. So, before we left, Cullen opened that door and placed a baby gate in the door frame so that Mikayla couldn't fall down the hole.

When we got home we heard Gizmo meowing. Cullen starting walking down the hallway and I said, "I bet you he jumped in the hole." Cullen grabbed a flashlight and peered over the edge into the darkness. He immediately spotted Gizmo.

"You are such a stupid ass cat. What cat, who is afraid of the dark, would jump four feet down into a dark hole?" (Yes, Gizzie is afraid of the dark.)

Cullen grabbed the ironing board and lowered it into the hole to make Gizmo a ramp to get out. There was no way in hell either of us were going down there. Gizmo then decided that he didn't want to be rescued (or decided he was much more comfortable down there) and plopped his butt down and just stared at Cullen.

"Listen, jackass. We aren't climbing down there to get you out."

Gizzie didn't raise a paw.

"You asshole! You just let me know when you're out and I'll come move the gate."

Mikayla was watching this whole thing unfold. She was upset that her kitty cat was stuck and kept trying to help Daddy by calling for Gizmo, "Ass. Here, Ass!"

She now thinks that Ass is his name. Lovely.

Who you callin' an Assburger?!

"Hey, do you mind if I sign us up to do a study on Microsoft kids?"

"Huh?"

"There's this group that is doing a study on kids of Microsoft employees. They hypothesize that the kids will develop earlier than non-Microsoft kids. That, or they will have higher rates of autism and Asperger's."

"Assburger? What's Assburger?"

"No. Asperger. A-S-P-E-R-G-E-R."

"Oh. My way was much funnier."

Little Pieces of Heaven

I was eating some yummy chocolate pieces of heaven...otherwise known as Donettes. Mikayla realized (probably because of my moans) that Mama was eating something pretty tasty. She stood at my feet, patting my leg and looking up at me with her baby blues. I caved and get her an itsy-bitsy teeny-tiny piece of chocolate. I starting walking away and she attacked me. Didn't know my little 'Kayla was a part-time ninja, didja?

Seeing that the box was empty, and giggling on the inside, I gave it to her. Her eyes got wide and she whispered, "Woooowwww!" like she had just discovered who was on the grassy knoll. She opened the box and saw that there was no yumminess inside. She turned to me and gave me this look that said, "Hey, you Big Idiot. You gave me an empty box!!!". But, since she doesn't have that vocabulary, yet, she said, "Emmie", which means empty, and held her hands up. I didn't move, so she had to take actions into her own hands. She opened the box and licked the bottom! That's my girl!

Sweet Sixteen Mom PITA

I was watching last night's episode of Real World/Road Rules Challenge: Fresh Meat this morning on TiVo. A preview for the new episode of Sweet Sixteen popped up on the television. While Cullen hates that show, I find it purely amusing. On the preview, the girl and her mom were doing the usual dress shopping for the special night. I'm sure they were at some place where the sequins alone were $100 a pop. I'm sure they were at some place that had a doorbell and you had to make an appointment to grace the saleslady's presence. No browsing here, ladies! I'm not jealous...much.

Sidetrack: It seems like 90% of the moms on this show believe they are 16 again. What they wear...what they say...how they dance...good god, how they dance!

The daughter comes out of the dressing room wearing this long, gauzy dress that was a cream color and had this purple shawl thing. The mom claps her hands together and dies laughing.

"Bwahahahaha! Gawd! That thing looks heinous!"

The poor girl looked heartbroken.

Next, she comes out in this rusty colored dress that had a very busy pattern. She does the obligatory twirl.

"You got some junk in the trunk!"

I thought the girl would die! The amount of blood that suddenly rushed to her face had to be pretty dangerous...life-threatening even.

Another dress.

The mom turns to the sales associate and says, "See! She looks like a man when she comes out!" at the same time the mom squares her shoulders and moves them up and down. Even the sales associate couldn't believe how she was acting.

While the previous dresses weren't exactly my style, or even the least bit pretty, the last one was....well...it was okay. It was gold and had a halter style top with a short pleated skirt.

"Mmmm. Okay. Ho! Ho!"

The voice-over says, "With moms like these who needs enemies?".

Seriously! What would make a mom behave that way towards her daughter?! That is just nuts! I could never imagine talking like that to Mikayla. I hope that her mom ends up buying a dress that looks cute on a 16-year old so that the rest of America can laugh at how stupid she is.

Mikayla's Birth - Part 1

All of this baby talk with Prego has made me realize that I never documented Mikayla’s birth story.

So...here we go:

Disclaimer - all of this is from the memory bank of someone who was in labor AND didn't have a very good memory to begin with. Poster is not accountable for any details that may not be 100% accurate. Ha!

The last week of December 2004 was pretty hectic. Both of my hips were occasionally getting dislocated...oh so painful, Christmas was coming up and work was...oh so stressful. To help out with my hips, my doctor prescribed some muscle-relaxers that were safe to take during my pregnancy. We had finally finished preparing the nursery for little Mikayla’s arrival. The walls were a pale purple, a lilac really. She had a large oak crib that had the cutest bed set: lavendar and pink with butterflies.

There was this really comfortable pink gigham rocker in the corner next to the window ready for her first rocking and an oak changing table opposite the crib. Her closet was FULL of clothes that would have her dressed for the next year. We couldn't wait for her to get here and thought we were going to die of anticipation.

The day before Christmas Eve was the last day that I had to work that year and I was looking forward to the upcoming holiday. We woke up on Christmas Eve and got ready to go run a few last minute errands (read: go buy some last minute gifts because we suck and are procrastinators). Cullen talked to my belly and told Mikayla that we couldn’t wait to see her and that she could come and see us whenever she wanted as if she were a neighbor who wanted to pop in for a brief visit. He had just found out that the new year had started with our insurance coverage...it wasn't on a calendar year. He didn't want us to pay all this money for deductibles and such just to have a new year start in January. The delivery costs would cover our out-of-pocket maximum costs and everything else that year would be covered at 100%.

We spent a few hours over at my mother-in-law’s house opening presents and then we left to drive up to Georgia to stay the night at my grandmother’s house. On the way up, I decided that I really needed a chocolate milkshake. Since it was 9:00 pm and Christmas Eve, it took 4 stops to find out that I was out of luck. Apparently, McDonald's and Burger King do not understand what it's like to have a pregnancy craving. They were either closed or their milkshake machine was broken. Damn. Them. All. To. Hell.

The plan was to wake up on Christmas morning and have a nice breakfast with everyone before getting down to business and opening up the presents. By the time we got to Georgia, it was pretty late and we hopped in bed for some much needed sleep. At 1:30 am, I woke up with the sheets beneath me wet and I thought I was peeing the bed. I tried to stop the stream, but couldn’t. I woke up Cullen and told him that I thought my water had broke. He jumped out of the bed and smelled the bed.

“It smells like sheets.” Hmmm. Imagine that!

“The lady from the birthing class said that amniotic fluid would have a distinctive smell. It doesn’t smell like anything. The muscle-relaxer probably just let your bladder relax a little too much. Do you have back pain?”

“No.”

“Well, she also said that labor would start in your back and move to the front and don’t go to the hospital unless that is how you feel it.”

“True.”

He grabbed a couple of towels, threw them on the bed and went back to sleep. I crawled back into bed and laid there for a few minutes. I started getting Braxton Hicks contractions.

Sidetrack: From about the time I was 4 months pregnant I would get them several times a day. However, I didn’t know that’s what they were until I was 6 months pregnant. One of the dumb doctors told me it wasn’t possible to get them that early and that I just had gas. Can you guys tell how much I LOVE doctors?

I put on my glasses and watched the clock that was on the other side of the room. Interesting. Every nine minutes.

I stayed like this for a few hours. Finally, at 4:00 am I woke Cullen up and told him that I thought I was in labor and that I was having contractions every five minutes. He jumped out of bed, wide awake and I ran into the bathroom. He picked up the phone and called my doctor's office. I got on the phone with the nurse and she started asking me a few questions. About a minute into the call she said, "Come on down, you're going to have a Christmas baby!". Holy crap! It was Christmas! I had completely forgotten.

Cullen started throwing clothes on and woke up my grandmother. I remember that all I wanted to do was run a quick bath so that I could shave my legs. Cullen and my grandmother wouldn’t let me. What evil, evil people you guys are. I think I talked to my mom somewhere in there, too, but can't really remember. We packed everything into the car and started the 45-minute drive to Baptist Hospital in Jacksonville. I don’t remember much about the drive except I was in pain. Lots. I just knew that I was 5 cm dilated and when we got there, her head would be popping out. I kept asking Cullen, "How much longer?"

“Three more bridges, honey. Just three more bridges."

Only in Jacksonville could you describe how long a trip would be by counting the bridges. I remember us driving on an overpass and asking if it counted as a bridge.

ETA: I guess maybe I should get around to writing Part 2, huh? Eh.

Next Door Neighbor Twit

We have this next door neighbor who between 4:30 and 5:30 pm every day backs his trailer into his garage. He has an extemely loud truck that doesn't have any exhaust pipes. Every day for about 15 minutes we have to hear him back his lawncare trailer into his garage. Every day for 15 minutes...15 MINUTES! Seriously, after the fifth...sixth...even the seventh time, you would have figured that he could have mastered his backing up technique and got the damn trailer in his garage in 5 minutes, tops. Not the genius next door.

Today, the reason for this post, he came home from his weekend jobs at 12:30 pm for lunch. He took the usual 15 minutes to back up...and forth and back and forth and back and forth. THAT WAS THE THIRD TIME TODAY HE BACKED INTO HIS GARAGE! On several occasions he has woken Mikayla up from her afternoon nap. That is bad. That is very bad.

We have lived in this house for 45 days now. He does this twice a day. That means, just since we have lived here, he has backed into his garage approximately 90 times. Dude, come on. It can't really be that hard. Take heed, you wake up my kid again and I may no longer have any issues with paying $4000 a month in housing costs. I will be in jail...for free.

The End of the World is Near

Mikayla was sitting very still on the couch next to her Daddy. I looked over at her and could tell she was up to something: 1) She was being quiet. 2) She had a trance-like look on her face. 3) She was being quiet.

"Hey!"

She had dee in her mouth and she smiled with her eyes.

"Why are your eyes smiling? What are doing?"

She replied by squinting her eyes.

You, reader, do not know what this means. She was silently saying, "Not much. I'm just planning on how to conquer the world. Better sleep with your eyes open."

She only looks like a harmless toddler. You have been forewarned...

Hypochondriacs, UNITE!

I found this nifty little Symptom Checker on Mayo's website. Who needs to take time outta their day to see a doctor when you've got this thing?

I entered my symptoms, and this is what it said:

"You have APPENDICITIS!"...Sorry, Symptom Checker, I ain't got no appendix.

"Oh, no? Okay, how about...You have GALLBLADDER DISEASE!"... Wrong again, little guy, they snatched that out after my appendix.

"Hmmm...third time's a charm! You have PANCREATITIS!"...Hahaha...that's what the doctors thought, too. They checked for that already. Mark that one off your list, Mr. Checker.

"Sorry to inform you, Mrs. Waters, but you are just crazy."... Well! So THAT'S what's wrong with me! Glad it's not something serious!

Oh, and, Holly...it says that you are growing a baby alien. Just thought you should know.

Insomnia

I crawled into bed last night and glanced at the clock: 12:30 AM. Fabulous. Another night of staring at the dark ceiling with the occassional glimpse at the blurry neon numbers on the clock. If I squint, I can sometimes read them.

More and more each day I feel as if I am running on empty. As I roll over onto my side, I start thinking about the past couple of days. They have not been good. I feel like Cullen and I are once again being tested. Game Show Announcer: "Let's see how much stuff can be piled on them before they break!". My mind is racing through my To Do list. I mentally check tasks off and replace them with others...for every one removed, two more are added.

My eyes start to fill again. Thank god Mikayla isn't seeing her Mama cry AGAIN. Cullen is downstairs playing on his Xbox since we will be taking it back soon. He is going to put his motorcycle up for sale and I feel horrible that we have to do that. He is so happy riding his bike and seems so...free.

I hear the stairs squeak and know that Cullen is on his way up to bed. I dry the tears, put on my mask and grab my book. I don't want to add another worry for him: me. After his nightly routine he climbs into bed next to me. I lay my cheek on his chest and ask him to rub my back. I immediately start to relax and fall asleep.

I wake up and am back on my side of the bed. Cullen is out like a light and I go back to my list. I know that it's close to 4:30 AM because it's starting to get a little brighter outside, but the birds aren't singing, yet. I remember the first time I was still up to see the sunrise here. I was looking out the bathroom window and I thought there must have been a full moon because I could distinguish shapes and objects that were outside. About 15 minutes later the birds were awake. It wasn't a full moon, it was just dawn. Something that I am hoping not to see again tonight. I apparently got my wish because the next thing I know, it's 8:30 AM and Mikayla is awake.

Time to start another day running on fumes.

Edited to Add: Reading this post again was a little hard. I can still remember how difficult those times were and I am incredibly grateful to the friends and family that stuck it out with me...especially Cullen. I encourage anyone with the same type of feelings to go talk to someone...soon. It made all the difference in the world to me and once my meds were tweaked right, I felt like the old me again.

De-Thaw

Introduction to your very first Courtney-ism.

De-thaw: a combination of the words defrost and thaw.

I use this word quite frequently as a synonym for thaw. "I took the chicken out of the freezer and put it in the sink to de-thaw."

Yes, I know it's wrong. Yes, I know that technically it is the exact opposite of my intended meaning. Yes...I will still continue to use it...often.

"It's Al Dente!" - Yeah Right! It's "El Not Cooked-O"

I love to read Heather Armstrong’s blog, Dooce. A post of her's really struck a cord with me. Her husband refuses to read the back of boxes for cooking directions. While my husband will read the back of the boxes to determine how long something is supposed to cook, he refuses to test pasta and rice to see if it has been cooked enough. The timer dings and it's chow time! I can’t tell you how many times I have had a nice spoonful of fluffy white rice or a fork all twisted up in yummy, cream covered pasta and expected great things only to get a crunchy bite of rice or spaghetti pasta stuck to my teeth.

Honey, really, why are you so against testing for doneness prior to serving?

I Have No Green thumb

I'm playing around on the internet and see Cullen waving his hand in front of his face.

"What? Did you fart? Was it smelly?"
"No. There's a bug flying around my face."

A few minutes pass and a small gnat starts flying around my face. Thinking about the time I had some roses in my office at work, I said, "Do we have a plant in here? A real one?"

He peeks over his laptop screen to look at me. He snickers, I giggle and turn back to my computer. Me? A real plant? That is alive? What in the hell was I thinking?