A Thank You Note in Pictures

Oil of Old Lady

Years ago when my grandmother was alive I found a jar of Oil of Olay in her bathroom and I always laughed and laughed about it and called it "oil of old lady" My grandmother had a beautiful face; it was deeply lined and you could tell that she had been through an extraordinary life. From being adopted as a baby, to joining the Marines, raising three sons, losing a husband, remarrying and having grandchildren (one great grand too!) she had earned every single line on her face.  I don't remember seeing her put the oil of old lady on her face, but I am sure she did because it was replaced every once in a while (I was an odd child, ok? I paid attention to those things)

Today I was perusing our local shopping center (side note: that sounds WAY classier than "wandering aimlessly through walmart", right?) and I found myself in the oil of old lady aisle...not only that but I found myself picking up the jars and reading them thinking "hmm, maybe it's not such a bad idea to get some of this" and I realized at the point, as I piled anti aging and anti wrinkle cream into my cart that I am truly aging.

I don't feel like I am in my mid thirties rapidly approaching 35; in my mind I am about 20 or so. Maybe 25 on a bad day. I don't think of myself as being old enough to have a child in the 3rd grade. Hell, having a kindergartener doesn't even make me feel old despite the fact that she'll be six in a few weeks. I don't feel older until I look in the mirror at night after the day is done and I see skin starting to sag and fine lines around my eyes and the occasional grey eye brow hair. I see those things and think to myself, "hmm maybe I *am* aging after all and should do something about it" but what? Plastic surgery? No thanks. Botox? Not for me. The only solution, of course, is oil of old lady and to embrace that I am finally maturing. I am past the point of acne and hormonal flare ups; I don't have to wear blue eyeshadow and bright red lipstick anymore, I can get away with a bit of mascara and lip gloss. No one expects me to look completely coiffed and made up to go out for groceries or to the bowling alley, in fact people might take my temperature if I started going places in full make up ha ha. As long as I still get carded and called Miss by barely 20 year old servers in places I think I'll be fine with aging...

Now if you'll excuse me, it's time to try the oil of old lady and see how it works...

Ha ha ha ha BUTTS!

Houston, we have a problem. Gabe is a problem. Well, not Gabe per se, more like his HORMONES or the start of his hormones. At what point exactly, did my sweet little "I love sports and books and dirt" boy turn into a "Jenny, Penny, and Mary [pseudonyms used to protect the true identities of these girls mostly for Gabe's safety...no need for any angry dads coming to the house] are soooo cute." All of the sudden, Gabe has noticed that girls are cute and he feels nervous around  them and blushes like crazy. Truth be told, it's adorable when he blushes talking about girls. There's one little girl in particular who makes him blush when he merely hears her name, never mind when they are actually together. Today he was filling out Valentine's Day cards and had to redo hers THREE times because he got so nervous he kept spelling things incorrectly. He was blushing furiously when he was finished. What was the message he wrote her? "You're a good friend ♥♥♥" yes, three hearts. *shakes head*

Not only are girls on his mind (sort of haha) toilet humor is in full swing at our house. Farting, burping, and talking about butts are the most hilarious things ever.  Tonight watching the Super Bowl, the camera guy panned over some players' rear end and for some reason got stuck there. Gabe lost it, he completely lost it giggling and then kept saying "oh my gosh, it's his BUTT. HIS BUTT ha ha ha ha butts"

I think I may start drinking now because I am not going to survive him actually going through puberty. Armpit hair, stink, and a crackling voice may kill me. On the plus side, at least it's not Bitsy going through this phase right now because I literally could not handle a dozen giggly girls talking about boys. I think boarding school-all girls boarding school-are in the future for her...and wine for me. Lots and lots of wine.

I'll Be Brief

SarahAnne is the cutest child on earth because of numerous reasons, however this reason *may* top all other reasons...

She walked out of her bedroom two nights ago and said "can you believe it, Boni cat whispered to me!"

When questioned further it turns out that she is positive he is whispering when he opens his mouth and does this weird little meow that you can barely hear; it's his greeting to you if he's been woken up suddenly or feels very kittenish. However, now we all know the truth, it is just Boni whispering. Pardon me while I die from the cuteness that is SarahAnne.

The Dryer Portal

My dearest socks,

        We desperately need to have a chat. You are multiplying somewhere in this house; there are only four of us yet suddenly there are enough socks in the odd sock basket to outfit at least 50 or more people...if those fifty people only had one foot. How on earth do we have so many ODD socks? I can't figure it out. I am getting to the point where I am finding socks I've never even seen in the basket. I want to know if this is some sort of sick joke the sock gods are playing on me or has our dryer suddenly become a portal that sucks in OTHER people's odd socks? Wait, this makes sense now, somewhere there must be a mother like myself who thought she only had the socks to outfit four people who is suddenly finding odd socks that don't fit anyone in her house and that she's never seen. There is a dryer portal and all of our socks are being mixed up somewhere in there. Well played dryer portal, well played...now can you please send someone to FOLD all of these suckers?!

Thanks,
C

Bits and Bots

What day is it today? It surely cannot be a Monday because my day has been far too organized to be a Monday. Monday and I don't agree on many things, particularly that I would like to be organized and it would like to continue to be a lazy pain in the rear. Often Monday comes and tries to kick my butt with motivation and I have to sit down, crack open a diet coke and tell it to sit on a tack. Today has been an out of the ordinary day for me; I not only managed to a) have the kids backpacks completely organized b) have Gabe's lunch packed and c) have the kids to school on time, I also managed to make approximately 45893 phone calls, set some appointments, pay a bill, have my back adjusted, and do a little thrift store shopping (Monday's are 25% off everything day which  I never remember but I did today! huzzah!) Surely all of this productivity will come back to bite me in the rear, but in the mean time, Monday, sit on a tack.

One of the appointments I made today was for Mr. Nibbler, who has become quite the surly little bastard lately. (Side note: When I visualize the words "surly bastard" I see a man with a beard and tattoos who scowls a lot...is it just me who sees that? It is? Oh...moving on then) Nibbler has decided that he needs to be the Alpha in our house so he sprayed my couch with urine, then because that didn't work because of the amazing Nature's Miracle orange scented oxy cleaner that shockingly worked, he sprayed a piece of cardboard. God love the little nitwit, he's not so bright and didn't realize I would just pick it up and throw it away. Can't blame a guy for trying I guess. Next week he's losing his hairballs and hopefully the surly bastard attitude as well. I mean seriously Nibbler, we LIKE you, we want to pet you and feed you treats and all you want to do is bite us...and you wonder why the dog tried to eat you...

Wait, did I forget to tell you about the incident last week with Betsy trying to eat Nibbler? Oh that one was fantastic. I was doing laundry, as I always am-I mean seriously people, would it kill you to wear something more than once or in the case of Bitsy, for more than five seconds?! I could hear Betsy's tags rattling so I turned around...just in time to see Nibbler's entire head in Betsy's mouth. I shouted "Betsy" and she let the cat go and the cat looked at me as if to say "holy crap, what was that?!" and Betsy gave me that innocent dog look, you know the one that says "who me? do something wrong? NOOOOOO not me" It was hilarious only because Nibbler was fine. It's almost like Betsy just opened her mouth and tried to swallow him-he wasn't even fighting her about it. The pets in this house are so so bizarre. They might be weirder than the kids actually.

I started this entry earlier today when I had a ton of ambition and wit about me...and then I got a headache and had to lay down. Thankfully a nap, Tylenol, and some diet coke seem to have gotten rid of it but wheweee. What a crappy interruption for my day! Now for some tv, some homework and sending the kiddos to bed!

Happy birthday G da G!

Today is Great Grandpa's birthday and to follow in the tradition we have each year, I asked Gabe how old Grandpa was today...his answer (drum roll please) 80! Bits didn't want to be left out so I asked, "Alright Bitsy, how old is Gramps the great today?" She very matter of factly answered "90" wellll you win some you lose some right?! haha! Hope it's been a fabulous day for you Gramps! Love you lots!