Oh, What a Beautiful Morning!

So, my husband left I guess between 2:30 and 3:00 to experience the thrills of deer-hunting on opening day of gun season. Woohoo. Whatever. God knows, I wasn’t awake. But, I certainly was at 3:20, when my son decided to wake up, sit out of bed, and let me know by sitting on my head that he was not only wide awake, but hungry as well! Ok, damn. “Well, time to get used to late-night feedings again.” I thought.

I play with him for a minute or two, just in time for my daughter to come running down the hall, arms straight in the air above her head, declaring, “I’m gonna puke! I’m gonna puke!” I reply, “Well, get to the toilet!” I set my son in his crib, which is obviously the ultimate insult to him, by the way he is screaming….

I run to the linen closet to grab the “puke pan” for my daughter, in case she can’t make it to the bathroom in time. Sure enough, there she is in the bathroom….sitting on the toilet! Ok, so I let her know just to come back to bed with us once she is finished, and I will run down to grab Jackson a bottle. (Baby screams in the background) I give her the puke pan, and run downstairs, trying to keep my cool. I run back up in record time with the aforementioned bottle for my son, only to see that my daughter has now placed the “puke pan” on my dresser of all places, and she is holding back her hair, barfing and spitting into the trusty vomit receptacle. I give Jack the bottle and set him on the bed, turning on Cartoon Network, and lock the bedroom door, so he cannot flee. I then pat my daughter on the back, secretly so disgusted with the odor, chunks, and sound that I am grinding my teeth in fear that I may, at any time, wretch myself; and I am sure that I cannot hit the pan without unleashing my stomach contents onto her precious head. Thank God she stopped right then.

We walked into the bathroom, and I made a cold, wet washcloth for her to place on her forehead. Crisis over, thank goodness. I just have to rinse the pan and flush it so I can disinfect it. Flush…..Damn! My master bathroom toilet is clogged!!! Thank goodness, no, it didn’t overflow. Most of the barf nuggets went down, and I decided that was damned-well good enough.

So, applaud me, dammit! I never lost my cool for a moment. Just one more page in the gigantic book composed since the beginning of time called, “Why Moms Rock”.

Holy Shit, I DID It!!!!!

Wow! I know both people that read my blog will laugh at my wonder over the simplicity of my task, but there it is on the right!!!! My 43 things (or 4, as of today) are right there. I put them there! And I didn't even fuck up my whole blog!!!!! Most of my friends are more computer savvy than I am, so if they were to attempt this, it would be all-to-easy. But for me, it's more comparable to teaching a leech to write a dead language backwards and left-handed! Well, feel free to check on my 43- it'll add a bit of pressure and keep me honest!

Shiva Strikes Again!!!!!

I am so uninspired today. I am a bit nauseous, but not enough to ruin a day….I have even done a search on google, commanding it to “inspire me”.Got some greeting cards, an investment opportunity, an art contest…ugh. Where does inspiration come from? Do we all have our own personal font? Or can we dip into the font of another, and steal a bit of the holy waters, like a priest would administer to a sick child?

(Five minutes later...)

And in the midst of writing this entry while surfing on the side…the bitch names Inspiration has struck me on the head. Thank you, Google…for helping me find my forty-three things. I don’t have a single one down yet, but I can feel Shiva tapping me on the shoulder!
If you are still reading this entry, I am not even going to tell you about 43 Things. Just go find it for yourself!

http://www.43things.com

Just Bitchin'

A few things to get off my chest, just a few tiny random rants.....

Regarding the White House investigation: You are one of the most pwerful men in the world, and yet you still choose to go by the name "Scooter". Oh, yeah, you are goin' down!!! You are getting your indictment papers faster than a black man is gonna die in a horror flick!!!! Why is this any surprise?

Regarding PETA: I am all for the ethical treatment of animals. However, I do not believe that ethical treatment should compromise my life, or the ability to improve my life. Of course, should not destroy the rainforest, and of course no bovines should be harmed during the filming of a fabulous cinematic tornado scene. That said, I do support animal testing within reason. I knew this girl who raided her parents' medicine cabinet and wrote little messages on eveything, such as, "Tested on bunnies!". Well, Thank God!!!! I want to know what happened to those bunnies before I use that toothpaste in my mouth!!!! There is a fucking god-given food chain for a reason. Here's the deal, baby bunny. I consume you now- not for reckless fun, but as neccessary- and you consume me later. Eat me when I am dead. I think that's fair. And even if it wasn't, I did not set up the system. Bitch to the Almighty. So, what do these people say when they are holding their cancer- ridden dying child in their hands?!? Do they allow their child to be administered a life-saving medication that was previously tested on animals? That's what I really want to know. You are damned right they do.

So, today, make sure that you stop for a moment and give your thanks, praise, and rememberance to they bunnies with no eyeballs left, to the mice with human ears growing on their backs, and all of the monkeys with an 800 cold-crank Diehard battery hooked up to their genitals. God bless all of God's creatures.