Ruff days ahead….

Our house is going to get a little bigger in a few weeks ….

 

Meet Kelby.

    

Or maybe Shelby. I voted for the latter, but Reid heard “Kelby” instead and he and Reagan have run with it. Mark is hoping we can convince them Shelby is her name, but if I was a betting woman, I’d bet our new pup will answer to Kelby.

 

      

 

Isn’t she the cutest lil’ shit?!? She’s the same mix as Mark’s dog, a lab/mastiff, so I’m hoping she turns out to be as awesome as Willis.

 

The kids are totally in love though – and really, I can’t say I blame ‘em.

 

And before you all say it….. yes, I know I’m completely out of my mind for this.

Begin again…. again.

I haven’t updated in months.

I wish I could blame it solely upon trying to keep up with the kids, the house, work – life in general – but really, I blame my absence on my damn iPhone. I’m one of the “lucky” ones who is still locked into an unlimited data package. That means I can surf the web on my beloved cell phone ANYTIME my little heart desires… which tends to be any free time that I’m lucky enough to get. No time to blog, I’ve got too much candy to crush (side note: curse you, makers of that game)!!

But things are changing. I’m going to have lots of free time on my hands apparently.

I lost my job this week.

Gone.

No paycheck.

No health insurance.

No paycheck.

Did I mention no paycheck?

To say I’m freaking the fuck out is an understatement.

I’ve been busy updating my resume (because of course my most recent one was saved on my personal drive at work), searching for open positions, panicking, and hoping I win the Powerball jackpot tonight. I had a pretty decent paying job, really decent for what is out there, and everything I’ve found to apply for pays roughly $7 less per hour. Taking that big of pay cut means I can’t afford daycare. I feel like I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. I haven’t told any of my family, I’m not ready for the criticism and the questions of “what are you going to do?!?” because honestly…. I don’t KNOW what I’m going to do. The kids are with their dad this weekend and I do not look forward to breaking it to them tomorrow that I will be pulling them out of daycare in two weeks when the school year ends. They have been looking so forward to the summer program – swim lessons and field trips every week – and now I have to tell them they’ll be home instead. I’m trying to be optimistic, hoping that I can find something soon and they can go back before summer is over. My best friend told me I should look at it as a opportunity to spend time with Reagan before she starts kindergarten this fall and that’s what I’m trying to do. And though I know the kids will be bummed they’re missing out on all the fun their friends are having at school, I also know that they love me and will love spending so much time with me. I think I’m just having a hard time feeling like I failed them. Mom Guilt is in full-force right now.

Toddler Truths.

At what age does the bluntness of my almost-five year old go from adorable to just plain rude?

Laying in bed with her this morning, she lovingly pats my face, then stops, cocks her head, and says quite matter-of-factly, "Mommy. Your eyebrows are getting really hairy. I can see all those black hairs growing. You need to get that thing you use to pull them out."

Why, thank you, sweet child o'mine. I have a hair appointment schedule for Friday - which includes a brow wax - but here I now sit on the bedroom floor, painstakingly ripping hairs out of my eyebrow. I intentionally left the "s" off that because harsh as she may have been, Reagan was right - pretty sure I was close to just having ONE brow, instead of two.....

Stop the presses....

This is probably as close as I will ever get to a tutorial, but I felt like patting myself on the back for this Sunday afternoon project. My lil' redhead came down with a stomach bug and very politely asked that I make her a wreath for her room. I happened to have a heart site wreath form that I decided I hated as a base for a deco mesh wreath so I searched through the disaster that is our coat/craft closet and went to work with a couple of the fifty million spools of tulle I have. And voila! I give you Reagan's tutu heart wreath! Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go finish folding all of her puked-on bedding I just took out of the dryer....

Yeah, yeah…. I suck.

 

Remember when I was so excited to blog again and created this with the bright-eyed eagerness of actually keeping up with it?

Looks like that flew out the window rather quickly. It’s been… what?…. two months again since the last post? Sigh. I guess I forgot that whole ‘free time’ thing that blogging requires – at least for me. True to my usual form, I have zero of that. Or at least very little. And I find that when I do get a sliver of it, I seek refuge in a bubble bath. Or bottom of a wine glass. Or both.

Maybe since the holidays are finally over, I can get on with my resolution to blog more. Raise your hand if you believe me …….

 

Yeah, thought so.

 

The last two months have been pretty hectic though. There was Thanksgiving:

Don’t they look like the postcard for sibling love?

 

Then there was my idiotic decision to tackle deco mesh wreaths – mostly because I kept seeing them at craft shows, coveted one with a fervor, but was too cheap to spend the $60 everyone was asking for:

 

In the midst of all the shopping and crafting, I continued my annual holiday tradition of raising my blood pressure by attempting to get a good Christmas card photo of the kids together. It went about as well as years past….

Her “fabulous” pose with the jutted hip.

Then there was this…

‘Tis the season to sucker punch your sister in the face, apparently.

Luckily they thought my irritation was just hilarious:

Finally, I waved the white flag and went with the thirty-seventh one I took -

But I’m pretty sure this last one I snapped summed it all up:

 

I’m with you, Reido…. done-zo with this crap.

 

Christmas cards were sent out at a shockingly early date for me – by the 11th!! – which was a good thing since I did my part to help reduce the overpopulation of deer in this fricking state on the 14th,

 

launching Deerzilla the Buck a good fifteen feet one evening. My Mom Mobile was deemed totaled (and why wouldn’t it be, I was more than halfway to paying it off and that’s how my luck goes) six days before Christmas so not only did I have to finish up my usual last minute shopping clusterfuck rush, I also had to look for a new car. To say I was stressed is probably an understatement. I was frazzled and overwhelmed, and quite frankly, a raging bitch. It all worked out though and on Christmas Eve, I picked up my first ever BRAND NEW CAR (I said that in my game show announcer voice, btw). It had 12 miles when I drove it off the lot and those were all from me test driving it.

Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday to myself… because oh yeah… this also happened a few days later:

Hold on… I need a minute….

 

Okay. I’m good. Sadly turning 30 also coincided with finding about forty-two fucking white hairs on my head, which is pretty horrible timing, if you ask me. Or my boyfriend since he sat and looked at me like I was crazy while I cried about being old.

 

And now here we are in January. It’s our busiest time at work (health insurance company – new year – new benefits – ‘nuff said) so I feel like I want to bash my head against the wall most days. Or slit my wrist with a Post-It and slowly bleed out; it’s a toss up, really. As (my) luck would have it though, I caught the plague that was going around and spent Monday through Wednesday of this past week dying a slow death in my recliner. Double ear infection, strep, and sinus infection from hell, anyone? Yaaaay. When I dropped the kids off at school on Tuesday morning so that I could go to the doctor, I gave Reagan a hug and told her that I loved her. She hugged me back and said, “I love you too, Mommy… but you smell. Go home and take a shower.”

Ah. From the mouth of babes. She was probably right though, pretty sure I hadn’t washed my hair in like, three days at that point. That afternoon when they got home from school, I asked her if she wanted to snuggle with me but first had to assure her I’d showered before she would take me up on my offer. She even smelled me to make sure. Gotta love kids and their brutal honesty, right?

So. I think we’re caught up. Two months in twenty minutes. Pretty productive, if I do say so myself. And I do.

So there.

Baby Got (too much) Back.

Yesterday I was home with a croupy, sick little mister so I spent the afternoon doing super productive things like catching up on my DVR and playing Words with Friends. It dawned on me at one point that after having my iphone for nine months, it was perhaps time to actually put some music on it. Up to this point, my entire music collection on my phone consists of Little Big Town's 'Pontoon'. Great song but not on repeat all day. Anyhoos, part of the genius idea was to rummage through boxes I never unpacked when I moved and find my old Droid. Droids = free music = great music collection. Iphones = no free music = my one pathetic song. As luck would have it, it was buried in the third box I searched. I stuck it on the charger, powered it on, and before I could even connect it to my computer, got the AWESOME idea to reminisce and go through all my pictures. Dumb idea. So, so, so, soooooo dumb. Turns out, I'm super fat compared to last year. Like, I knewI gained weight over the last 12 months or so, but I didn't realize how much. I knew the number. I didn't like the number. And I knew all the fabulous clothes I bought myself last year as a reward for losing weight no longer fit. But I didn't get it. I came to work today completely depressed. I looked around my cubicle and it hit me - I totally have body dysmorphia. Ya know, like when people think they're fat and they're really not. Yeah, I have that - only I think I'm skinny. The pictures I have up are from last summer mostly. I was... brace yourselves.... 45 lbs lighter. 45. What. the. fuck. have I been doing the last 12 months?? Besides sitting on my ass and stress eating Reese's Peanut Butter cups? I look at those pictures give days a week. It's like I've become immune to them. But seeing candid shots of myself seriously messed with me. I'm SO MAD at myself! I worked my ass off (literally!!)and now it's all back. Ugh. You can be sure I'm keeping that old phone in my purse from now on though. And you can be sure that I'm going to pull up that picture of me with my slim face and collar bones and single chin everytime I want to eat a slice of pizza. It isn't going to be easy starting over at square one but I HAVE to.

Couponing for Dummies

Today is Sunday, which means two things – one, I have an arse load of laundry to do and two, I need to go buy a newspaper so I can check out the sale ads and attempt to cut out some coupons. I say attempt because I don’t really get this whole couponing craze. I mean, I get that it’s saving money and rah-rah, that’s awesome, I just don’t get how to do it. Or why really. I watch these shows on TLC where people have enough toilet bowl cleaner and canned pineapple to last six years andall I see is an organized episode of hoarders.

I’ve tried to jump on the band wagon. I’ve read tutorials, bought extra newspapers, went to coupon swaps – hell, I even signed up (and went!!) to an extreme couponing class last winter. On a Friday night nonetheless. I took notes, I paid close attention, but when it came time to actually utilize all my new found knowledge…. nada. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a complete idiot, I can – and will - cut a coupon and save 50 cents off a roll of paper towels like anybody else, I just can’t figure out how Susie Homemaker on the register next to me at Target can manage to walk out with seventeen bags and a $3 bill when I’ve spent six times that and all I have to show is a 12 pack of Charmin and some garbage bags.

              

 

Maybe I just don’t have the extreme couponing gene in me. Maybe I’m just cynical. Either way, I don’t see how, when, or why one person would ever possibly need fifteen tubes of toothpaste – free or not. One lady I met at the couponing class said she stocks up on stuff in case of an emergency. Okay. I can respect that…. kind of. But if there is some catastrophic disaster (i.e. the Mayans weren’t full of shit), the last thing I’m going to be worried about is whether or not my mouth is minty fresh. Nobody is going to barge into my house to loot and be stopped short a blast of my Crest:

“You! Yes, you there! Masked intruder! Halt, for I have fresh breath!Hands off my generator and canned goods!”

No. If people really want to prepare for the apocalypse, Red Plum needs to start putting coupons in there for BOGO hand guns or something.