Light on the starch, Martha.

You all wondering out there how Martha, Martha, Martha was? Well, the experience was cool. Going up to NYC with 9 of my mommy blogger friends was fun, funny, and then funnier (the funnier came in when one of the mommies had to have her breast pump checked by the metal detector lady - AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAA, the joys of nursing...)...but seeing Martha Stewart in all of her sourness? I say WHATEVS. Let me start with the positive: she's much thinner than she looks on tv. And that's where the positivity ends. Martha isn't friendly or nice or chatty or warm. At all. She's exactly what you'd imagine her to be: very Martha-y. As stiff and starchy as her 360-thread-count cotton percale bedsheets, as a matter of fact. And to that I say, see ya' Martha, I'm off to see Ellen next time I do the rounds. At least Ellen will come out into the audience and shake a tailfeather or two with us.

P.S.: I'd like to give a big 'ol high five to Sarah for setting up this super fun trip. Sarah's a crazy one - you can see it in her eyes - and without that crazy spark, we'd never get into half of the nutto stuff we do. Sarah, you rock! Where are we going next??????

Martha who? Oh, THAT Martha Stewart...

I've kept you in suspense long enough...yep, I'm headed to NYC on Tuesday, Oct. 28th with 9 of my fellow Mommy Bloggers to attend the Martha Stewart show!!! We have no idea of what's in store for us other than we need to be on time (which, in our kid-filled world is EXTREMELY difficult) and we need to look cute (ummm, helllll-oooooo, you're talkin' to a bunch of lil' hot mommies who KNOW when to nix the ponytails and sweats and slip into something a bit more "Manhattan")! We'll have NO problem with the "cute" part...it's the getting from Philly to NYC by 8:30 a.m. that gives me the willies. I guess I'll load up on highly caffeinated tea (I haaate coffee) and hope the trains are on time. So, get your DVR's programmed..the Chester County Mommy Bloggers are in full effect and are taking over the Martha Stewart studio on Tuesday. It'll be easy to spot us - we'll be the MILF's in the front row.

Bambi doesn't have a beef with you, GI Joe.

Hunting is not a sport. In a sport, both sides should know they're in the game. ~Paul Rodriguez

'Tis the season, people. Hunting season, that is. And it's official, I'll probably begin my Black Days very soon. Possibly even tomorrow. What are the Black Days, you ask? Basically, it's just me dressed in tons of black. The summer is over, the weather is officially too cold for my comfort, and now the meatheaded novices are crawling all over the woods and farms around my neighborhood with shotguns and rifles acting like they are G.I. Joe out to save the world. Funny thing is...there's no one shooting back at them. Their enemy doesn't even know there's a scuffle going on. Their enemy is an herbivore for Christ sake! Wow, now that's a threat, isn't it??? UGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH. My head hurts thinking about it. I've already put The Game Commission on speed dial on my celly so I can report the dimwits who can't read the big 'ol yellow PRIVATE PROPERTY signs but choose to still park their ridiculous Ford F150's with their "Go Union" bumper stickers on them there. Ew. The thought of these tobacco-chewing numbskulls, walking around in their Wal-Mart camouflage gear, CARRYING A RIFLE!!!! It's horrible. And the worst part is that last year, as I was pulling out of my street, one of these heroes was merrily slaughtering a deer right there along the side of the road - a beautiful country road lined with numerous horse farms and 100 year old oak trees - just chopping him up and letting the blood spill out on the road for all to see. Including my 2 year old son at the time. So, that...the cold, the hunting, the meatheads in my neck of woods...it's all bringing me to the darkside. I'll be the one in black tomorrow. And probably for the next few months.

Meat(ball) me in the closet...

Here's another one to add to The Book Of Strange/Whack Things That Leave Zeke's Mouth: whenever he goes into my closet in my bedroom, he starts yelling "shady meatball!" and runs out. Today he did it and I asked him what exactly a shady meatball was. He simply said that when you see a shady meatball, you have to pat it down until it's flat. ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
I really have no clue what he's talking about since I haven't touched a meatball in over 20 years and meatballs RARELY make an appearance in my home let alone my closet. And yes, if you're starting to now put blog entries together, this IS the same closet that was serving as the Milkbone embryo hatchery about a week ago. What is it with my closet and why are bizarre spirits and strange meat products attracted to it? More importantly, why can't more Prada, Chanel, and Marc Jacobs spirits work their way into my closets via some nice handbags and shoes?

I could just eat 'im up with a spoon.

HOW DOES HE DO IT??? I mean, how does my sweet Timmy smile on command? I've heard of dogs rolling over, sitting, giving their paw, even speaking. I've been impressed by them all. Let's face it, I'm impressed by any canine antics. But look at my brown and white boy up there all giggly faced and grinny...who couldn't love that puppadidalidooo? The world would be a much lovelier place if there were about 6,734 more Timmy's trotting around. Really.

I had to tell him I was married. I ruined his night and pretty much his life.

Yeah, that's Matthew Ryan and MEEEEE up there. And yeah, he's holding a sign that says Zeke. He's holding that sign b/c he's Zeke's all time fave singer and well, I couldn't quite bring my 3 year old to a show yet. So, I did the best I could and had M.R. send his tidings via a Zeke sign. But let's get back to ME, ME, ME. FREAAAAAAAAAKIN' YEAH RIGHTEOUSNESSSSS!!!!! ME AND M.R. hung out on Friday night. Well, maybe not "hung out" but we "got together"......... Well, maybe not "got together" as much as I paid to "see" him. But, well, he DID stop to talk and hold that lame-ass sign and was very, very gracious about it AND told me to get closer to him when the picture was being taken. That counts for something. Seriously, that boy can sing and write tunes. If you don't go check him on iTunes immediately, you're not my blog friend anymore. Period.

Start decorating the nursery.

Something strange is in the air. The King (Otto, our chihuahua) is trying to hatch a bone. You did read that right. He's trying to hatch a bone. And he's a HE. He's been perched like a hen in our walk-in closet for 4 days now, on Pauly's 10-year-old fuzzy bathrobe, with a bone underneath of him. When anyone approaches him, he growls and shows his teeth. I think The King thinks a puppy will be born of that bone any day now. He thinks there's an embryo in that Milkbone. It's insane. He won't eat, he barely gets off the bone to take a drink. He's obsessed with the Milkbone embryo. I really think I'm going to talk to Dr. Jane (our awesomely super vet) to see if I should rob his nest while he's up getting a drink. Funny how I'M getting obsessed over the Milkbone embryo too, isn't it??? It's kinda' all I've been thinking about for the past few days. I run home to see if The King is still hatching. I take a break from whatever I'm doing to see if the hatchery is still running. At commercial time, I check in on the Milkbone embryo. What is it that's so compelling in there on that bathrobe???? Does The King know something we don't??? I guess only time will tell. I'll let you know if anything pops it's head out of the bone..other than the mold that's starting to form.

Wordless Wednesday.

This is John Surface, a.k.a. Zeke, playing his guitar. John plays his guitar a lot these days. Like, all the time. At least 20 to 30 minutes out of every hour that we're at home. I'm just sayin'....that's a lot of guitar playing for little John Surface when he hasn't even had one lesson (and you can DEFINITELY tell he hasn't had a lesson..). Did you know the ears bleed when too much noise is piped into them on a regular basis? I've lost 22 pints of blood since this guitar obsession hit.

Peace, love, and guitar, peeps.


P.S.: I know, doesn't John Surface actually look more like the Naked Cowboy???

P.S.S. (or P.P.S.?): If you're not in the loop with the John Surface sitch go back a few days and read my bloggity blog. And for future reference, stay in my loop, 'kay???

Target: the cure for the common cold.

As we know, yesterday was not a good day for me. I did power through though and made the best of it. Zeke and I went to a pumpkin painting playdate then on to a friend's b-day celebration. When all of the fun was done, I floored it on over to my doc's office. Dr. Lou is the MAN...I was in and out in 20 minutes with a script for the Z-Pak in hand. I ran over to Target to have my script filled because, well, along with an antibiotic, I felt that a bit of shopping therapy would do my goopy head some good. An hour later (and $101..), I was outta' there with the goods and now today I'm feeling like there may be some healthier days in store for me soon. I decided though that today Zeke and I are laying low - we're doing laundry, vacuuming...ya' know, all the stuff that's usually too lame to do on super nice 70 degree sunny days. I'm hoping that by tomorrow I'll feel ready to conquer the world again. Or at least Chester County.

It's snot my day.

I feel like crap. That picture above??? That's about how my head feels at the moment. I'm all jammed up and it's not a traffic jam up there folks, it's a head full of goo. I've got nothing to say except, excuse me, I've got to go blow my nose now.

Jack-O-Lanterns everywhere. Ya' know, the "people kind".

Yesterday was our annual trek to the Pumpkin Festival in Jim Thorpe, PA. We go to Mom Mom Cookie & Pop's house and make our way down the road to the most awesome pumpkin festival on the mountain. It's super duper fall pumpkiny fun and well, to be honest, seeing all those mountain mommas and papas makes us giggle all day. Cookie and I noticed quite a few "hotties" throughout the day that boosted our ego...quite a bit. Suffice it to say that dental plans are NOT part of the their benefits packages. I'll leave it at that.

So, we counted and realized that this was Zeke's 4th official Pumpkin Festival - even though he's only 3 1/2. He's a pro by now. He knows the scoop...as soon as we enter, he immediately perches upon the heaps of pumpkins for the photo op, then we head to the food booths so that Pauly can check out the goods. I'm always too anxious to get to the rides and Ghost Town to eat, so I'm in charge of rushing the meal as much as possible. As soon as the 5 minute meal is gobbled, we head for the fairway where all of the rides and games are located. This year had a really neato addition - there was a pen of baby deer that the kiddos could enter to feed and pet. Wanna' know what bummed me out MOST??? No adults allowed. Ummm, WHY? I soooo wanted to give those little sweeties a hug. Zeke and I see them every day in our yard and this was the perfect opportunity to finally touch their amazing fur and see their cutie pie eyes up close. But no. Nope. I was shot down. I even pulled out the big guns saying to the gatekeeper that I was afraid Zeke may "manhandle" the deer. Nope. No entre for me. She told me she'd keep an eye on him for me. UUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH. LET ME IN, HORRIBLE HITLER MOUNTAIN LADY!!!!!!!!! Anyway, Zeke loved it, I kept poking my hand through the fence and manged to stroke a few deer heads with 2 fingers every now and then, but all in all it was a pretty sweet addition to the Pumpkin Festival.

Uncle Johnny and Aunt Melany joined us at the festival which completely MADE Zeke's day (since he totally thinks Uncle Johnny is a rowck starrrrr...) and I managed to get a great picture of Johnny and Zeke. Funny how the two of them really look alike, I think.

We finished off the day with a trip to a cool restaurant with an awesome view from the highest point on the mountain. It was gorgeous. Amazingly enough, Zeke fell asleep on the way home...which never...I repeat...NEVER happens. I guess that means it was a good day, huh?

Next year: our 5th official trip to the Pumpkin Festival..

An apple a day, Mr. McCain.

Wow. It's gettin' hot in heeeeeeer. I've never seen the temperature rise or felt the pressure tighten as much as it has lately in these parts. Life is just so darn POLITICAL right now. And I'm so freakin' into it, that I can't get my mind off of it. Never, ever before have I been so concerned about what's about to happen. Is it just me? I don't think so. I had a charged, intelligent conversation with 3 other playgroup hot mommas last night, and I was shocked to find out that they're McCainiacs too. Yeah, I'm one of THEM again. I know, I know...you thought that winky-eyed, kissy-faced Sarah girl scared me outta' town...but I just can't do it. I can't vote for someone who seems so radical (Obama). He seems like he's hiding something to me and I just can't put my finger on it. Could it be all of his middle-eastern ties that make me quiver? Maybe. Or maybe it would just make me feel better if he still called himself Barry. Call me crazy, but the name Barry makes my tummy less flip-floppy.

Sorry all you dems out there. I hate to disappoint. I'm simply praying that old Johnny Boy can keep his cholesterol in check and hit the treadmill for 30 minutes a day for the next four years. McCain MUST STAY HEALTHY FOR 1,460 DAYS. I'll be one unhappy senorita if I have to deal with a moose-killer for a president. It just won't be cool.

The only problem is it doesn't offer a 401K plan.

I just dropped Zeke off at school. His nose was a bit stuffy today and I really, really wanted to keep him home and just snuggle him up in my bed all day. It took a ton of self-control to stick to the day's schedule. I know for sure that it's his seasonal allergies kicking up, but still, I hate it when he sounds all congested. My poor little man. I just wanted to squeeze him and wrap him all up in his tee-tee cover (Zeke's version of a woobie) and keep him cozy all day. Of course, it wouldn't happen even if I did keep him home from school. He'd chill out for about 10 minutes, then he'd be up and ready to go outside to play. He's not the type to lay around for any extended period of time. Even when he had pneumonia last year, we were outside, bundled up in 10,354 layers of clothes, swinging on our swingset. Insane. I guess it's better than having a little couch potato. I realized something today tho when I was getting him all duded up for school. He's still just a little guy. He has little feet, little hands, little ears, ...everything is just miniature on him. It's so darn cute. As old and experienced as he acts at times, he's still just a little, tiny person making his way in this world. I love to just hold his hand and feel it's tininess at times. It's so vulnerable. And I know that it's not going to be that way for very long. These are the days I'm so thankful that I get to hold his hand...every single day as he grows up. He reaches for ME when he cries or when he wants to show me something he just drew. It's the greatest feeling in the world when I stop to think about it. I'm his center right now and I must, must, must remember that no matter how many times I miss being in a career, that this specific career...the career of creating a person...is far superior to any job I've ever done in the past. Even if I go back to work and exceed all of my expectations for myself, I think Zeke will be the highlight of my resume. After all, he's the only "job" I've ever done that has ever said "I love you" back to me. Now that's a pretty big paycheck.

Famous...in his own mind, that is.

Something strange has happened in our household. Zeke has become obsessed with playing the guitar (he has a miniature version of the real thing), and he won't put it down anytime we're at home. It's cute and cool and all that, but I have to admit, at times I find it somewhat annoying. Now, as a mom, I guess I should be all gaga over my baby's new found interest and all that junk. But, well, I just don't FEEL LIKE stopping every 10 minutes to listen to some newly created song called "The Lovely House" or "Avalon Shores". Yeah, the songs have pretty decent names, kinda' deep if you ask me, but the singing/guitar playing sometimes borders on making my ears bleed. Here's the wacky weirdo part of this whole thing tho...ever since this guitar thingy started, Zeke has proclaimed himself "John Surface". When I ask who in the heckio John Surface is, he just "air guitars" and yells "ROCK STAR"! Holy Crap. My 3 year old is living a double life as a toddler glam rocker. In his mind, that is. Isn't this why child psychiatrists were invented? And don't they like really, really medicate kids that exhibit these types of behaviors? Wow. Never thought it'd happen to me or mine. Here's my plan of action: it's simple. Don't ever, ever, under any circumstances, tell Dr. Joe (Zeke's pediatrician). If Zeke mentions John Surface at his next checkup, you can bet the house and cars that I'll tell Dr. Joe all about John Surface...my long, lost uncle from Nebraska who used to play bass in an 80's hair band.

I'd like to give a shout out to Timmy Kane.

I guess you all watched the vice-presidential debate last night, huh? What did you think? Now, I don't want my bloggity-blog-blog to get all political and hot and bothered. I'm not all about that. But I can say that Pauly and I have had some major words over this coming election. He tends to be pretty secretive about who he's going to vote for so that he doesn't sway my views. Whatevs, I'm not that wishy-washy this time, buddy. Admittedly, I have been in the past, but watching my 401K dwindle down to ridiculousness has made me a bit more aware than usual. God knows I still want to be fabulous in my 70's. So, about that debate last night...what the heck? WHO IS THIS PALIN LADY AND WHY DID THEY LET HER OUT OF ALASKA??? I really, really wanted to vote for McCain. For various reasons. But mainly because I think a president of the U.S. should have had the experience of actually fighting for his country before having the distinct opportunity of leading it. McCain, as we all know by now, is a war hero. Yadda, yadda, yadda. But after last night, I can't vote for him. Palin is a buffoon. What vice-presidential candidate gives "shout-outs" on national t.v. during a debate? What v.p. candidate actually WINKS at the audience and the American public NUMEROUS times during a debate? WHO CAN TAKE HER SERIOUSLY??? I certainly can't. It makes me sad b/c I thought it was all wrapped up in my head - I was voting for McCain, even though I had reservations. He was the lesser of two evils, sad to say. But now, well, he's got some hokey jokey Alaskan dummy at his side who can't seem to get the word "maverick" out of her head. It's over. I'm voting for Timmy Kane (my chihuahua). At least he doesn't give ludicrous shout outs to 3rd graders..

Smoking cessation program.

Since we were all beachy-keen yesterday, today was a day of catching up around here. It's nice to have the day every once in a while to play catch up and just get stuff done. I need that to keep my sanity. Zeke helps (in his own way) and tons of things get accomplished. First on the list was to clean out the rolling dumpster, a.ka. my car. It was completely, out of this world ridic. I literally opened the back door and a fly was sitting in the back seat on a pile of peanuts like "yo, close the door...". It wasn't good. Out came the Lysol wipes and shop-vac. Now my car is shiny and new again. For a half-day at least. Tomorrow is a new opportunity for Zeke to get it all gnarly again.

During the Big Clean, we saw my neighbor Shep. Shep rocks. He's one of the only neighbors around here that we really see on a regular basis, so Zeke tends to absolutely love him. Shep is also about 60 years old and looks like he belongs in ZZ Top. He's one of the original farm owners here in our development and he tends to not look too fondly upon the "yuppie types" who came along and built the newer homes around his farmhouse. Then there's his relationship with Zeke. He can't seem to be mean to Zeke. It's funny. Shep wants to dislike Zeke. Shep wants to ignore Zeke. Hell, Shep ignored me for the first 5 years I lived here. But no, Shep and Zeke are buddies. They pretty much talk every day about life and the stuff going on in Zeke's little dirt pile at the top of our driveway. And now, Shep talks to me. Maybe it's because he has to or because it's just the right thing to do if he's going to talk to my kid. But all I know is, today, Zeke told Shep that he should stop smoking the cigars that are ALWAYS dangling from his mouth as though he were born with a lit one in there. And ya' know what? I have a feeling Shep may be out buying some Nicorette patches as I type. That makes me feel like Zeke and I accomplished a whole lot today...

He wasn't going to solve differential equations today, so he didn't miss much at preschool.

We hit the beach today for one last hurrah. It was awesome. Just me and my boys playing on the beach as if the summer hadn't ended so abruptly as it just did last week. We built a stellar sandcastle, walked on the jetty (one of the perks of no lifeguards!), and splashed in the water. After the beach, we walked on the boardwalk, ate some nice beachy treats, and played in an arcade until we ran out of quarters. All in all, it was super, duper, faux-summery fun. When we were leaving, I was a bit misty-eyed. I had tons of fun at the beach this year with my family. Maybe we'll head back down again before next summer, but we probably won't be able to sit on the beach and relax in the warm sun again. I always shed a little tear when I know that's the case. I love the beach and all the beachiness that goes with it. And I can see in Zeke that he feels the same. Cheers to a great summer of 2008. And personally, I think it was well worth it to let my Zekey-poo play hooky from school to send it off with a bang! That doesn't make me a bad mom, now, does it???? Too bad if it does. Priorities people, priorities....

Random thoughts wanted. But I'm really not too random.

So, I've been "tagged" by a few fellow Mommy Bloggers in the blogosphere who want to know 6 random thingys about me. I found this out yesterday and the funny thing is...I've been stressing out over this "random" crap for over 24 hours now. Well, not really stressing, but it's been on my mind. There's nothing very random about me. I'm an extremely planned out person. Random doesn't fit in my life. Surprises scare me. Spur of the moment? I'll lose hair over that catastrophe. Anyway, I'll try to give you 6 very well thought out factoids about my persona:

1. I'm a true Virgo and like order, order, order. It makes me a much calmer person in life. Some people call this obsessive compulsive disorder and take massive amounts of prescription drugs for it. I prefer to call it Virgo-istic.

2. I love purses. I get frenzied when I spot the handbag department of any store. I actually get blurry vision and sweaty palms. I notice EVERYONE'S bag EVERYWHERE. A good bag can rescue any outfit - I don't care if it's sweatpants and yesterday's hair.

3. I believe that any sickness can be cured by drinking massive amounts of water. Water is your friend, people. Drink more of it.

4. Which brings me to random factoid #4: you'll NEVER see me without a very large bottle of water in my hand or bag. Take a look. I dare you.

5. I hate long nails. They are unnatural and uncomfortable. I like short, filed nails with clear polish on them. Period. Except for toenails. I say go all out with toenails. There's nothing cuter than a great pedicure, an exceptional flip-flop, and a red toenail.

6. I really, really dislike pigs. I admit it. I mean, I adore animals in every sense of the word. But I've come to realize that I just can't deal with pigs. Not even potbellied pigs. I've seen pigs twice recently at local fairs, etc., and I was extremely appalled. Sorry, piggies, you just are NOT cute.

and here's a bonus one for ya's:

7. I haven't eaten meat for over 20 years. Can't even cook a good steak for my hubby. Sorry Pauly...


And I know I'm supposed to do a bunch of things now to complete this "random" mission, but I think I'll just leave it at this. You guys know I'm not very good at following rules...

This little piggy became breakfast. (And I don't even eat meat.)

Eeeeeheheheheeeee..why does this picture remind me of my brother the COPPPER??? You readin' this Chris? Sorry, I couldn't resist. Actually, I took this picture over the weekend when we visited the Colonial Plantation at Ridley Creek State Park. And Mr. Piggy up there was very much alive and loving life. He was just laying in the mud soaking up the sun. But wow, the smell...not very nice. Excuse me Mr. Piggy, why must you be so..."piggish"? And your room looked like a pigpen. Clean it up.

Woe is me.

Today = crapalicious. And here's why:

1. I woke up with a really horrible neckache. It remains horrible and it's almost 10 pm and tons of Aleve later.

2. Zeke CRIED when I dropped him off at school today. Don't bother with all the yelping about "that's what you wanted him to do" junque. It won't help my broken heart. It's all mangled, messy, confused, disgusted, and melancholy. The only thing that will get me back to my old happy self is a a nice new horse in my backyard. Even an old horse in my backyard. Whichever.

3. Simon seems like he doesn't feel well. I don't know how old Simon is because I adopted him, so he could be REALLY old for all I know. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE my precious little Simon even with all of his character flaws. He may be a stinky little anti-social graying semi-toothless not-too-handsome-to-the-outside-world-4-lb.-chihuahua, but I absolutely think he is precious. I hope he knows how great his little soul is.

Such a sucky day. Ew.

How COULD she????

Ok, so I used to work at HUP (Hospital of the University of PA), but that was before Zeke or simply "B.Z." as I like to call it. While at HUP, I worked with a super-fab girl named Christa. I took to calling Christa "Missy" for some crazy reason, so here's my rant about Missy. I love Missy. I think Missy rocks. Missy, I think, loves me. At least I hope so. Do you Missy? Do you? Do you? Anyway, Missy has this awesome blog called http://thefoxandthecrow.blogspot.com/. When you check it out, you'll see that Missy is a natural-born writer and her stuff is addictive. It's funny, dry, witty, cutting-edge, and just plain cool. Then, I came across her post of September 16, 2008. I was turned inside-out when I read Missy's post. I read it, then re-read it just to be sure I was "getting" what she was writing. HOW COULD SHE BETRAY ME LIKE THIS????? WWWWHHHHHHYYYYYYYY? After all we've been through, after all the long, crappy days in that office, Missy. After those seemingly endless days up in Pathology looking at all the ugly stuff we never really wanted to see in the first place - I thought we *had* something? A bond of some sort. But no. You go and diss me with an anti-pooch post. All you in cyberland reading this...please, go now and read her madness. It's jibberish. It's maniacal ranting. It's simply...wrong. It's the mutterings of a good friend gone....well...CAT. And tell me, have you ever heard "catty" used as a compliment? Sorry Missy, I love you, I love your wicked sense of style, and I love your intelligence. I also love your house full of cats. But show me some chi-chi lovin', girl! I'm sure my pups will give you lots of sloppy, slurpy smooches if you change your evil ways...

Oh, wait, I've got it...

Just dropped 'im off. I'm not all nutty about it today. Maybe I'm getting the swing of this *school* thing, now. I actually drove home really, really fast so that I could maximize my alone time for MOI!!!! I figure, what the hell, it's Friday...why not REALLY crank the iPod while I clean the kitchen. Does that make me a total loser????

Here's what I've learned so far about being a school Mommy:

1. It's not cool to crank inappropriate music in carline. Note to self: turn off the iPod when turning into Goshen Friends parking lot.

2. It's also not cool to show up for carline 30 minutes early just so I can spy on my kid while he's in the playground. Jenn H., you need to heed this advice...

3. There's something amiss when my kid has only been in school for 6 days and he is correcting my inappropriate language. i.e. Nancy: "Oh, crap, I burnt the chicken." Zeke: "Mommy, you can't say crap."

4. Never, ever is it ok for Zeke to wear the Fight Club t-shirt to school. What is the Fight Club t-shirt? Oh, let me tell you. It's a stellar piece of clothing that Pauly bought at 5 Below one day on his lunch hour that apparently he thought was swell. It has a picture of two boxers duking it out on it and it says "Fight Club" in big letters across the chest. Ummmmm...way to send a message Pauly. Not good.

5. Lastly, I'm going to be ok at this whole thing. And as someone so wisely commented to me recently (Stinky John Jones) maybe I'll smarten up and use this time to ride some handsome horsies...

Who's that girl?

Wow. There's not much to say. It was a school day for Zeke today, so what's that leave me with? Me. That's what. What the heck? I'm sooooo not used to that word. Me, me, me, me, me. Repeat 50 times and maybe you'll remember just who exactly that is, Nancy. Crazy. It's been a long, long time since I've been able to actually hear the birds chirping outside or hear the hum of a lawn tractor off in the distance somewhere. Now, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon, I can. It's strange. I'm not quite sure if I'm ready to call it "relaxing" yet, but today, just for a moment, I felt my pulse slow down a bit. And that hasn't happened for 3 years, 4 months, and 21 days. Not that I was counting...

Next generation of buds.

We went out to dinner with some old friends last night. They have 2 daughters, both are at least 3 years older than Zeke. It's funny to watch how older kids interact with toddlers. At first, it's just the whole "you're so uncool and little - I can't possibly hang with you" sitch. Then, after a while, when they realize they're going to be stuck with this kid for at least a few hours while their parents wine and dine, they make do and start to warm up to said toddler. That's exactly what happened last night. Our friends' girls played so well with Zeke at the restaurant (and yes, I literally mean "played", since we went to The Winner's Circle and it's UBER kid-friendly with the 10,432 arcade games there!). By the end of the night, when we gathered at our cars to say goodbye, all three kiddos were exchanging hugs and saying sad farewells. It's so cute to see them grow up together - especially since their fathers did the very same thing.

Dissed in a Malibu don't know what to do.

Today was the second official day of preschool for Zeke. When we woke up, Zeke asked me where Daddy was (as he usually does) and I answered "at work." Zeke then asked me if he had to go to school today. My heart did a little flip-flop. Would this be THE day? The day when all the craziness began? The day when my baby boy would really start to show his true emotions and tell me how much he didn't want to leave me, how much he wanted to just stay with me and do fun things with me??? I knew it was coming. I prepared for it. I was all ready to tell him it was ok to be nervous but that school was a safe, fun place where he'd make new friends and paint, color, play, and learn. I had all the lines down in my head, like a good, prepared Mommy should. But, something strange happened that threw a monkey wrench into my speech. When I told Zeke that yes, indeed, it was a school day, he simply said "ok." Even worse yet, when I asked him if he wanted me to draw our secret heart on his hand before we left for school (the secret heart is a green heart that I draw on his hand, kiss it, then close his hand. If he gets lonely at school and misses me, he kisses his hand and knows that I'm kissing him back..), he told me that he didn't need our secret heart because he could remember me in his head! Wanna' add insult to injury??? Ok, well, as we pulled up in car line for him to get out and go into his classroom, Teacher Mary took him out of his car seat and he immediately started chatting with her about drawing a pine tree - I NEVER EVEN GOT A GOODBYE!!!!

You see, today I realized that Zeke is different now. He's gotten a taste of the "big boy" world and I think he likes the flavor. He wants to branch out and meet the big new world of school. I just wish he wanted our green heart on his hand while he did it.

Where's my right hand man???

Education is not filling a pail but the lighting of a fire. ~William Butler Yeats

Today is Zeke's first real day of preschool. If you could see me now, you'd be horrified. I prepared for the worst and wore waterproof mascara today, but still...it's bad. I'm not a pretty crier. I get all red and blotchy, swollen and mucky. That's how I am right now. I dropped him off about 45 minutes ago and still..I'm upset. I know deep down that it's time. It's time to light that fire in Zeke's soul - let him go to learn more, explore more, and experience more. But I just wish I could be there with him every single moment to see how he takes it all in. If I could, I'd jump in his Spiderman backpack and peek out the pocket to see how it's all going. But, I can't, so I won't. In the meantime, I'll trust that he's in good hands. I'll trust that all of my research into exactly who I want introducing him to the world of education is fruitful. I can't promise though, that each time I drop him off in carline, that I won't shed some tears as I pull out of that parking lot. I miss my baby too, too much.

Can you repeat that please for those of us in the back that didn't hear it?

I needed some humor today and didn't think I'd find it anywhere. Most of my humor comes from Pauly and well, he's been in Newport, Rhode Island on a business trip, so "funny" has been on hold for a few days. Although, I have to say, Zeke is running a close second these days. Take for instance:

we're in the kitchen baking a cake to celebrate Pauly's return home tonight. In the background, the t.v. was on, but I didn't think Zeke was listening to it since we were busy chattering away about eggs and cake batter, etc. Well, as I was putting the cake in the oven, Zeke disappeared for a few minutes. In the living room, I heard a commercial on t.v. for the NuvaRing - which is some new form of birth control for any of you men out there who are asking "what's a NuvaRing and should I have gotten one for my wife for our last anniversary???" So, anyway, not a minute later, Zeke comes in singing the NuvaRing jingle and then proceeds to tell me that we should "Google NuvaRing." Holy moly. Top that one, Pauly.

That's the sweet smell of furry faces.

I'm not sure why I love animals so much. I'm not really one of those totally "outdoorsy" type of chicks...but the older I get, the more I realize that the world of animals is amazing. I'm finding that my love of dogs and horses, especially, is becoming more than just a passing fling. I think when I get ready to go back to work, I should seriously consider the fact that my passion may have drifted from the chem lab to the world of animals. I'm not quite sure how I can turn that into a career...but hey, you never know.

Check out my photos from our adventures today. We visited Ryerss Horse Farm where they house retired and abused horses. Ummmmm....what more can I say? Completely awesome.

That's gotta' hurt.

Labor Day weekend was laborious. We did tons of yard work. We pulled weeds, planted Mums, and Pauly patched the sinkhole by the swing set. But I managed to squeeze some fun into the days in between all the yucky stuff. On Saturday, we went out to the Ludwig's Corner Horse Show and Country Fair and had a ball. I just looooooove anything horsey, so I was giddy & giggly the whole time. Add to it the fact that we took a hayride (OMG, LOVE hayrides) around the entire fairgrounds, and I was loving life. I saw so many handsome horseys that I coveted....ooooooh, I was just in love. Pauly has 2 years and dwindling to get me my very own baby (horse baby, that is...). I've already told him, I don't want a 40th birthday bash...I just want a horse. No pressure there, huh?

So, now it's Tuesday and all is quiet on the home front. We played this morning with playgroup buddies and had fun. When we got home, Zeke started playing with a little caterpillar he dubbed his new best friend. Sorry to all the kiddos he's hung out with for the past 2.5 years....apparently your friendship isn't as strong as we all thought it was. Otto the Caterpillar has shimmied in and claimed your spot in Zeke's heart. And yes, you read that right - it's Otto the Caterpillar. If you have a really good memory, you'll remember we have a chi-chi named Otto. Guess Zeke just likes that name. Anyway, as he was playing with the caterpillar, he asked me why mustard was coming out of him. WWWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAA? I knew immediately that Otto the Caterpillar was leaking guts all over my deck and kid. And mustardy-colored guts at that. I'm not sure I can Shout that out. Sorry Otto the Caterpillar, I'm more concerned about the stain than your leaking intestines.


P.S. out to Pauly: your birthday surprise for me was most unexpected but sooooo awesome! Who DOESN'T LOOOOOVE a masseuse showing up at their door for a ninety minute massage??? Oh my - how heavenly. And so is my hubby! You rock Pauly!

The car makes the canine.

We were driving into an adjacent neighborhood today to go to Pauly's favorite breakfast spot (you've got to check out the King Street Grille in Malvern - Randy makes the most decadent blueberry muffin french toast you'll ever hate to love, considering it's about two days worth of calories...), and while on our way, we came across this unbelievable sight. Look at this picture to the right - is it not a postcard???? First of all, I love the classic car. I'm a sucker for old cars since my brothers and father have a never ending love affair with classic Mustangs. Little known factoid: my very first car I ever drove was a 1967 Mustang. How coolio is that? Anyway, second cool thing about this picture is the two completely awesome doggies just hanging out in the car like the canine versions of James Dean. Soooooo incredible. I'm happy I convinced Pauly to stop the car and let me hop out to snap the photo. You can see a bigger version of this picture at the bottom of my blog - the detail makes all the difference. Amaaaaaazing.

Don't use this picture for your passport.

When I look back at old family pictures, I realize that my foolishness was caught on camera for all eternity - much to my parents' delight. Of course, they'll deny this and claim that the picture in question is "cute" or it was "appropriate for the time". I do believe that's a bunch of horse manure. It's called taking advantage of the situation, Mom and Dad. And now, I am happily at the helm, and well, I've got some revenge up my sleeve. Sorry, Zeke, you're an innocent pawn in this game and the next generation will feel your wrath.

Look to the right - here you will see what I call the "Boo Boo Picture". Zeke came to me today with big tears in his eyes. He had a tiny cut on his middle finger and needed a Spongebob bandaid. "Sure", I said, "but only after you hold your boo boo up for the camera..."

But it's MY birthday. I should get what I want.

Do you see that picture of the little blonde chihuahua on the right hand side of the screen over there? Well, I really want her. I want her badly. She's up for adoption on Petfinder.com right now. Pauly says no of course. I think it's only fair that I get her since it's MY BIRTHDAY, for God's sake. He thinks I'm getting like one of those old ladies that starts to collect cats or something. What's so wrong with that???

Wordless Wednesday.

As you know by now, Zeke has a "thing" for fashion. Or at least he thinks he does. He likes to accessorize. The latest? The green froggy boots. Apparently, they are seasonless, defy all weather conditions, and go with any outfit. Whatevs.

Pump the brakes, sister.

I just wanted to run my errands, get some groceries for the meal I was taking to a sick friend, then boogie on home and enjoy the ride while doing so. It didn't happen. As I was doing forty-five in a twenty-five, the unthinkable happened. Those darn red flashing lights, the ridiculously embarrassing high-pitched sirens - OMG, he was pulling ME over. What a sucky sitch. I had to juggle the iPod out of my lap, put down the cell phone, turn off Tom-Tom, and lower the volume on Zeke's dvd player all while fishing around for my driver's license. Didn't that copper know I was too BUSY to get a ticket today??? Jesus. Anyway, here's where all the right stuff clicked into place: I found my license and then...BONUS...I found my little Get Out Of Jail Free Card that my brother the piggy (cop) gave me a few years back in addition to the nice, big, fat, FOP symbol for my license plate. Yippity skippity. I handed it all over to the big daddy at my window, he smiled, asked where brother piggy worked, we chatted for a few minutes about brother piggy's job, then big daddy told me he was "happy to see that Zeke and I were buckled in safely" and to have a good day. GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAA! I was all smiley and happy and polite and ready to put on my little turn signal to leave when Zeke yelled from the back..."I TOLD MOMMY TO SLOW DOWN - SHE'S A DANGEROUS DRIVER!"

Thanks for diming me out, punk.

Mountain momma.

I got a little beach time in this weekend, but it wasn't salt water I was looking at. It was mountain lake water. I'll settle for that, even though I'm really a salt water babe at heart. I have to say, though, it was definitely a good little beach day even though we didn't have that salt water breeze and the funky smell of rotten shell fish. It was a beautiful day, the sand was clean and, well, sandy, and Zeke and Pauly had a great time splashing around in the lake with Mom Mom Cookie and Pop Pop. It was nice. And, for the first time in a long while, I saw Pauly sit back and close his eyes and maybe, just maybe....relax for about an hour. Now that's saying something. Life is short Pauly, ease up and smell the roses every once in a while!

Smell ya' later.

My mom reminded me the other day that I used to constantly ask her when Zeke would start talking. I worried all the time when he was a baby - was he ok, would he walk at the right age, would he get potty trained, would he ever know how to talk? Ter-Ter (my mom) would just roll her eyes and tell me it was coming. How very little did I know.

Fast-forward 3.3 years and Zeke is walking, talking, peeing & pooping on the big boy potty, and well, also proudly doing "bom-boms". Just what are bom-bom's and how do I know he's doing them, you ask? Well, the bom-bom goes back a few generations in my hubby's family (when in doubt with all the "strange" stuff that your kid does, blame it on the hubby's genes...) - it's basically just a..."fart" with a crazy alliteration-filled name. Ew, I know. But, aside from myself, everyone does bom-boms. Admit it. But what everyone doesn't do is announce their bom-bom's in the middle of the King of Prussia Mall or Boscov's. That kind of doesn't work for me. It does, however, work really well for Zeke. He'll deliver the bom-bom, then announce it proudly for all to hear. Tonight, it happened at Bertucci's. "Ah, hello sir, hope you enjoy some nice bom-bom with your pepperoni wood-fired pizza..." How completely embarrassing. Now, at least it takes a moment for Zeke's general audience to "get" what he's talking about. I mean, would *you* really know what he's talking about if he said "I DID A BOM-BOM"! and I scooted him away super quick??? Probably not. You would, however, know in a few seconds once your olfactory senses kicked in...

Make my cake chocolate, please.

I finally have someone who understands the true meaning of a birthday. I've been telling Zeke for the past few weeks that my birthday is coming up and we should start getting excited. He's constantly asking me what day it is and if we're having a party today. I keep telling him that it's not for a little while (7 days to be exact - wooooo hoooooo!) and that we can still keep the countdown going. Every night when Pauly walks in the door, Zeke asks him if he has "mommy's present". Heheheheeeehhehheee. Nothing like a little toddler pressure to get the hubby moving on the ol' b-day gift. Gotta' love it. But really, I never actually got all jazzed up about my own birthday. I love celebrating other people's b-days, but mine, well, whatevs. NOW, tho, holy moly, it's so fun now that I have Zeke to count down the days with me! I think he thinks a birthday fairy is coming to leave me birthday gifts under my bed...so maybe, just maybe, if I wish really, really hard...she will. Stay tuned. And hey Pauly, if you're reading, I'd like a nice necklace and those L.L. Bean Wellie Boots in the Dark Umber Springer print, size 6 please. If in doubt, ask Zeke, he knows exactly what I'm talking about...

One tough hombre.

I don't think I know anyone who doesn't like chocolate. If I ever did know someone who disliked it, I guess I erased them from memory. Simon (chihuahua #3), is no exception - he *LOVES* his chocolate. Now, I know what all of you doggie-lovers out there are saying, I hear you in unison chanting "BUT CHOCOLATE CAN KILL DOGS"! Um, yeah, I know, but so can the streets of Trenton (where this poor little pup was found before I adopted him). But Sy made it through that, so I don't think a morsel of chocolate is going to be his kryptonite. I indulge him once in a while and give him a bite and he trots away happy as, well, a former street chi-chi, now eating a nice piece of chocolate. Tonight, Simon went too far. As I was unpacking our lunch cooler, I found a few leftover Peppermint Patties and threw them on the table. Zeke saw them, snatched them up, and ran for the hills. As I yelled for him to stop in his tracks, he panicked, dropped one, and Sy scooped it up and headed for the Happy Hut. (Side Note: the Happy Hut is a tiny little heated doggie hut located in our den for the chi-chi's. It stays heated year-round for optimal chihuahua pleasure.) Now, as I said, I'm fine with Sy having a taste of chocolate - milk chocolate, that is. If you know your candy, you'll know that Peppermint Patties are coated in DARK CHOCOLATE - *not* good for a pup. As soon as I realized all of these details, I ran and dove in the Happy Hut. Simon (all 4 pounds of him) wrestled with me, wouldn't give in (that's the STREET in him...) and simply swallowed the Peppermint Patty, foil wrapping and all. I've never lost battle to a 4 pounder before. Tonight I did. It's been about 2 hours and Sy is happy as, well, a former street chi-chi who just enjoyed a nice Peppermint Patty, wrapper and all.

To the left of the shed.

I finally had my hair cut and colored last Friday. As many of you know, I was about 2 weeks overdue and was starting to get "creative" with my hairstyles. I was working the baseball caps, hairbands, ponytails, etc. I was really, really in a sad state. Well, happy, happy, happy...Dawn (my hair stylist) worked her magic and I'M BACK BABY. Goodbye hairbands. Anyway, Dawn is such a funny chick. She's a stylist who runs her business out of her home because she has FIVE KIDS. (Give me a minute to compose myself....). Yep, she has five kids and they're all under the age of about 15. How nutto. So, when I'm sitting there in her little 1 chair "mini-shop", there is constant entertainment. On Friday I got the latest story regarding her 3 year old: Hayden was out in her back yard playing with sidewalk chalk. Apparently, nature called. Hayden didn't answer the phone. Or the cell phone. Or the pager. Hayden ignored all of nature's attempts to get him into the potty. At the last possible minute, Hayden realized making it to the potty wasn't an option, so he proceeded to poop on the ground next to the shed. Of course, Dawn's 5 year old daughter ran in to share this delightful gossip with Dawn. Dawn ran out and was shown the offending matter by her daughter - and there it was right next to the shed just as she was told. Dawn asked Hayden if he pooped next to the shed and he said no. She showed him the poop and told him she knew he did because it was right there on the ground. Hayden said "how do you know that's not a piece of brown sidewalk chalk? I think you should pick it up and write with it to make sure". WOW. I don't think Hayden should meet Zeke ANYTIME soon.

Blue adieu.

Things just aren't the same anymore. Everything's changing and I'm not liking it. I like continuity, patterns, order. This mongrel three year old that happens to live with me is rocking the boat in my house and it's just not good. You see, his tastes are changing. Drastically. What's with that??? Since when does he have a say in what he wears and what he watches??? I used to be Queen Bee in charge of all that was cool. Now he thinks HE knows right from wrong, cool from loserdom. When did it all change? And here's the ultimate question: when did Blue's Clues become so lame? I mean, just a year ago, I based an entire birthday party on this tv show. I spent a few hundred dollars on crap with Blue's perky face plastered all over it... and I liked it! Blue is my friend for a few reasons. #1: she's a dog. #2: she's a she. Now, Zeke never knew Blue was a girl, but I did. I think if he knew she was a girl, the love affair may have ended sooner. He still doesn't know, but for reasons unknown to me, Blue is out. She's banished to the "inadequate" list. She just doesn't make the cut. Blue is out, Spiderman is in. I don't like Spiderman or even spiders, for that matter. I'm in for a long, estrogen-free haul...

First class ticket to Funtowne.

The past two mornings I've walked out onto our deck, as I always do, to see how the birds are doing. Zeke and I like to bird watch, even for just a moment or so, and I simultaneously check the weather while we're scoping out our feathered friends. The difference in the past two mornings, however, was the distinct crispness in the air. It's coming, folks. Fall, that is. I feel a sense of melancholy about this for the first time ever. I'm usually *ready*...ready for the cool air, the pumpkins, the apple cider, and most importantly Halloweenie. I'm just not ready yet. I think having Zeke with me all summer made it quite different this year. He has changed my mind about loving the summer and all the fun that goes along with it. I've relived my summertime memories through him this year - and it's been superfun. Having a 3-year old is awesome - it gives you an excuse to go down water slides, get on roller coasters, have your face painted, and eat Tootsie Rolls. It's simply, summertime fun. And I'm not ready for that to end yet.

That cookie's gonna crumble.

The other night we were rushing around trying to get out the door for a dinner out with my MIL (mother-in-law), Mom-Mom Cookie. We haven't seen Cookie in a while, so I really didn't want to be late and more importantly, I didn't want any last minute chocolate milk spills, mud pie creations, or bug box fiestas. I simply just wanted to brush the hair, teeth, wash the hands/faces, and get in the car. As I was rushing everyone out and simultaneously applying a coat of mascara in the car mirror, I turned to see Zeke walking out of the garage with this outfit (???) on. Now, I'm all for accessorizing, but I like to keep the accessories in their proper seasons, at least. The earmuffs simply didn't work for me in AUGUST. And especially with a sleeveless tank top. Ellie, the elephant...she'd go well with anything really. She's like Mikimoto pearls - timeless...

I would if i could but i can't so i won't.

Thursdays turn into crazy days sometimes. Yesterday was just that. I was going to hang low - even check in with my doc for a "mini-tuneup". It never happened. Mom-Mom Mare and Poppy had other plans. You see, I told Poppy about this new development of homes being built way far out in Chester County that "have the appearance of being matured over several centuries". WWWHHHHAAATTTT???? Sounds exactly like my dream home if you ask me. So, Poppy being Poppy (and loving the real estate sitch as much as I), decided we HAD to go take a gander (twist my arm...). Well, holy moly. I'm in love. $1.7 million in love, to be exact. But really, I don't know if it's an impossible dream. (Pauly, close your ears...). The builder has some creative options for purchasing your lot, etc., etc., so who knows what could happen. Let's just say my wheels are really turning. Anyway, that was just the beginning of the day. After all that heavy window shopping (and I'm really, really not a good window shopper), we had to do lunch/some real shopping. Well, at lunch I saw the following thing that really freaked me out: let me set the scenario...I'm in the ladies room washing my hands at the sink. I look in the mirror and old lady #1 walks by me with the Wig from Mars. Completely 3 sizes too big for her tiny cranium and so brown that it would have been a few shades too dark for her back in her twenties let alone her mid-eighties. I giggled - a lot, stifled it and rinsed. As I was drying, I turned to walk out and was almost knocked onto the floor by the vision in front of me. Old lady #2, clearly old lady #1's friend/sister (she was talking to old lady #1) was walking towards me WEARING THE EXACT SAME 3-SIZES-TOO-BIG-FOR-THE-TINY-AGING-CRANIUM-2-SHADES-TOO-BROWN-WIG-FROM-MARS. Clearly they got a BOGO (buy one get one free) on the Mars Wigs. I wish I had the cahunas to snap their photo.

I did however, get this classic photo (see top side photo...) in one of the shops we stopped in...who, in their right mind, would ever post something so silly? I'll tell you who: someone who's never had a kid. Funny how I NEVER would have looked twice at this 3 years ago. Now it just slapped me in the face with stupidity and uselessness. Here's the deal, people: if I could keep my kid under control at all times, I would never have the need to hire the $10/hour babysitter just to preserve my sanity. duh.

3 new friends for Zeke.

So, a lot of mommies do contesting blogs to win swag and give away swag (a.k.a. stuff). I don't really use my blog for that kind of stuff. I like to blog about my family, my doggies, myself - it's just my "thang". But I came across this little contest through a friend's blog where they're giving away three LIFE-SIZED stuffed doggies to one lucky little kiddo! In order to enter this contest, I have to put the link to these puppy dogs on my bloggity-blog-blog and then go back and leave my name, etc. Easy enough. So here it is, check it out if you want to see what I hope will be coming to our front door sometime next week! Keep your fingers crossed...because our three chihuahuas & especially Zeke want some big 'ol company!!!! http://www.5minutesformom.com/3961/three-stuffed-puppies/

Ruling with an iron tongue.

Why is it that sharing doesn't ever seem to be an attractive option to a 3 year old? Or a 40 year old, for that matter? Case in point: Zeke never wants to share. Well, yeah, of course, he's three. The sharing thing hasn't quite clicked yet. I'm constantly using the buzz words "share nicely", "let your friends try it out now", etc., etc. He looks at me like he just knows I'm blowing smoke up his Spiderman bigboy underwear. I stick to my guns though, and try, try again each time we encounter a sharing sitch. But what about my 40 year old baby (Zeke's daddy, my hubby)? Why doesn't HE ever want to share??? Case in point: there's one chocolate bar left. We both want it. He picks it up, we have words regarding said chocolate bar. He smiles, knowing he has the upper hand because a) he's taller than I, and can lift it way above my head if I choose to instigate anything physical related to obtaining the chocolate, and, here comes the insane part... b) he knows what he's about to DO to the chocolate bar so he doesn't have to share it. He proceeds to lick the entire bar, top to bottom, to claim it as his own. Sharing isn't an option at that point. And the 40 year old baby knows it.

Délicieux.

Can I just say that I *love* Trader Joe's???? Ever since I went to the nutrition playdate at Jaime's, I've really been thinking about changing our eating habits. I was sidetracked by vacation, but now we're back and today was really my first big grocery shopping I've done since The Big Turnaround. The nutritionist said the easiest way to a healthy kitchen is through Trader Joe's, so I went there and did it. I bought everything I need for the week and I'm giving it a shot. Tonight I made lasagna with a vodka marinara sauce and I have the rest of the ingredients for some pretty healthy din-din's all lined up for the week! I'll let you know how I do and how the men in my house like it...stay tuned.

Summertime funk.

Man's Smelly Feet Trigger Police Raid

Mon Jul 9, 2007 12:08pm EDT

BERLIN (Reuters) - German police broke into a darkened apartment fearing they would find a dead body, after neighbors complained of a nasty smell seeping out onto the staircase.
The shutters of the apartment had been closed for more than a week and the mailbox was filled with uncollected mail.
But instead of a corpse, they found a tenant with very smelly feet, asleep in bed next to a pile of foul-smelling laundry, police in the southwestern town of Kaiserslautern said on Sunday.


Interesting that I came across this article this evening. Why, you ask? Well, because as I was sitting out on our deck "cloud-watching", as Zeke calls it (I call it sleeping with my eyes open), I noticed that his fingernails were grossly long and dirty and in need of a clipping. Don't ask me why,but he seems to enjoy me grooming him, so it's never a problem getting out the clippers and trimming him up a bit. After the digits were clipped, he said "now my toes, Mommy". Ummm, ok. I hesitated a bit based on the outward appearance of this child. He was duuuurty. Like, Center City street pigeon dirty. He wasn't just visibly dirty, he had the "summertime funk" steaming off of him too - you know that smell - dirty hair, dirty skin, dried up sweat and playground dirt. He was gnarly. But, since I gave birth to El Dirtybird, I figured I could handle some dirty piggies. Then he did it. He removed the Crocs. OH MY GOD IN HEAVEN. The smell. The sight. The hell I entered was unimaginable. I think there were live maggots crawling in between his toes and THEY were actually crying because of the nasty stink. And he had the nerve, the gall, to plop that sickness on my lap! What did I do? Well, he's my boy. I clipped his toenails, of course. Then I power washed him.

Supersoaker 2000.

Zeke and I had a fun week - we played with friends, did quite a few play dates, and in between I chipped away at the laundry mountain. But, today, I had to put my foot down, resist the invite from Jenn to go to Dutch Wonderland, and get my junk done before the weekend rush. First up, take The King to the vet. ("The King" is our first chi-chi, Otto. After 10 years and tons of lovin', he has earned the whoppin' good title of "King"). The King has had an eye sitch going on for WEEKS now - seems that a nasty infection took hold of his gorgeous baby blue, and it's been taking a while for it to clear up. So, Dr. Jane (our vet) has been checking on him weekly to be sure he's healing up nicely. By the way, major shout out to Dr. Jane - each visit has been a freebie - she's only been charging me for the meds - HOW COOOOOL IS SHE??? Lovin' her for sure. Anyway, in addition to Otto's eye conundrum, Timmy (chi-chi #2) has exhibited a limp in his right leg for about a week. Now, I don't know about you all, but I can't let a little defenseless animal limp, for God's sake. He needs help. And if I have to sell my house and move into my car for a few months while we pay off the vet bills...well, at least I have an SUV. Pauly, on the other hand, prefers the limp. Needless to say, Timmy went to see Dr. Jane with us today, too. (Pauly lost.) So, there we were: Zeke, me, and two chi-chi's making our way into a packed waiting room with some major pooches coming in for the kill. Apparently "chihuahua" is synonymous with barbecued spareribs in doganese. How do I know that? Well, the salivating German Shepherd and Rhodesian Ridgeback staring at my pups were the first two clues. Luckily, the vet tech behind the desk sensed the impending doom, and ushered us into the exam room STAT. As we were waiting, I was standing there talking to Zeke about what color lollipop he was going to get from Dr. Jane, when I felt something warm on my flip-flopped foot. I looked down only to see Timmy peeing on my toes. Wow. Not good. And that was only at 9:30 this morning. I couldn't get angry though because, you see, Timmy and I have a lot in common. We both pee when we get nervous.

Where's my patchouli when I need it?

Hey Shannon O:

Thanks for this cool new button - The Brighter Planet 350 Challenge: Fighting Climate Change. It's sweeto neato and I'm loving that it's focused on cleaning up our duuuuuuuuuurty little footprints on this earth! About a year ago, I wasn't even recycling - do you believe that??? I've repented and I'm on a mission now. I enjoy these days with my friends and family too much to see it all melting away. So, thanks Shanny (I'm diggin' that nickname now...), your blog is a bute!

I feel like an earthy lil' momma.

Wordless Wednesday

This is my mood after doing laundry all week. Thanks for being such a supermodel Simon. You sexy beast.

That's one quirky turkey.

Tag, I'm it. I've been tagged, which means that a few peeps out there want to know 6 quirky things about me. Lil' ol' me. Hmmm. What's quirky about my junk? Buckle up...here we go:

A. I won't go anywhere without a very big purse. I need my stuff. It's important that I have my stuff with me. I'm lost without my stuff and my big purse. If I define "stuff" it'll just bore you because the stuff consists mainly of crinkled tissues, crumpled up lists, makeup, gum, old/crappy cell phone, and various/sundry stolen pens.

B. Which brings me to my next point...I will steal pens any/everywhere I go. And I also feel it's my privilege to steal a pen when I go to the doctor or dentist. Here's why: if I must go and allow someone to poke/prod/question me regarding private matters of which I have no desire to rehash and discuss, I feel the least I should get out of the demeaning ordeal is a good pen.

C. I hate doctor's offices but yet I am obsessed with anything medical. I love watching surgery/gore shows and feel that I have missed my calling in life - I should be a medical examiner.

D. I love dental floss and feel that it is highly underrated. We need to teach our children to floss. Although, I must say, my dental hygienist, Mary, is the floss Nazi. She has carried the flossing philosophy to the extreme. She has crossed the line - my God, she flosses while watching Big Brother. That's just unethical. She loses her BB card for that b/c no true Big Brother fan would ever disrespect the hour like that.

E. I want to read more books but I can't. I don't have the patience. I want to, I try to, but I fail. Magazines are it for me - and I can't even commit to them - I rent them from the library.

F. I only use Dove soap. Always. The white kind. Don't even try to switch me to anything else fancy or expensive or French and perfumey. I can't go there. Lovin' my Dove.

G. This is like the Bonus Jonas, one little extra tidbit - you'll notice it now every time you see me: I'm never without a big, huge water bottle. It's like my purse sitch - gotta' have it. All day/all night. It's my woobie.

That's it. Nothing too crazy. Nothing you need to call the fuzz about. Maybe you don't really want to hang out with me anymore now that you've read some of these things, but hey, maybe now you'll floss. That's a good thing...

I'm gonna' stuff that chicken.

I'm on a mission today. And Susan L. would be proud of me. We used to take work breaks and discuss what we were going to make for din-din. Well, guess what Sooz...I'm not doing chicken in the crock. I'm gettin' all fancy-schmancy. I'm pullin' out the big guns and opening up a bag of SUN DRIED TOMATOES! Yep, you heard that right. Sun dried tomatoes. And fresh parsley and garlic and gruyere cheese. It's gonna' be some amaaaaazing chicken over here tonight (for once). I'm motivated and I have my eye on the ball (or breast, I guess). I'm gonna' chop, mix, and then stuff those chicken breasts...then bake until it smells like Mary T. is in da' HOWSE (mary t. is my momsy for all of you not in the know..). I guess this sudden surge of domesticity has hit because I haven't seen the inside of my kitchen in a while. And I've also watched my men eat junk, junk, and more junk - which in turn makes me feel like a complete zero. It's Monday folks, and this zero is going all hero. My Monday night chicken is gonna rock...I'll try to take photos. :)

Long Time, No Bloggy

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaawn. Hear that? That's the sound of the sand falling out of my hair, fingernails, and other unmentionable places. And I'm not happy about it. If I had my way, I'd have sandy crevices from now until Halloweenie. I'd legally change my name to Sandy Trunks (word up, Pauly!) if it would buy me more time at the beach. But, well, it all ain't happenin' and I'm back here at home getting reacquainted with my rusty blog. I had all intentions of gettin' bloggy with it while we were vacationing, but the salt air intoxicated me and I got a case of the lazies. I have found out something about myself that I never, ever knew. I like to be lazy. I like doing nothing and being responsible for nada. You see, I'm not good at chilling out. I'm always on the go, always feeling like there's soooo much to be accomplished and so little time. I'm always TELLING people to smell the roses, but I'm the one always planting, watering, fertilizing and pruning them. As Zeke would say "not good." But after this vacation, I've found a new side of me. Lazy. And I'm going to try to cultivate that side - Lazy is the new Industrious. That should be a t shirt...

Getting a little more real tho, vacation was fun. As you can tell, it was relaxation maximization. It went something like this: wakey-wakey-cornflakey, hit the beach, walk 20 steps back to the house for lunch, walk 20 steps back to the beach after lunch, trudge ("trudge" this time b/c we're now carrying 55 lbs. of beach gear, of which 20 lbs. was actually used...) back to the house for post beach workout (p.b. workout = snacks, drinks, shower, laying on deck, gathering troops for evening festivities), then off to nighttime funfests. Repeat the above about 6 times and voila!, there's our vacation. Perfecto. Zeke had a ball - he had his cousins to play with all week plus he hung with Mom Mom Mare and Poppy a bit, so life was A+ in his book. Pauly and I got to sneak away twice for some Cape May dinners and strolls - woo hoo! All in all, a great time was had by all. Am I ready for the real world? No. But, it has smacked me in the face in the form of a laundry pile 6 feet high.

Gotta go - I've got a date with the washer and dryer. For the next 3 days. In between loads I'll hold down the blog so keep reading...

Thursday Thirteen? Ok, here I go.

I love this Thursday Thirteen thingy, since today has been all about chores and not much else. Sorry Zekey-poo. I'll make it up to you next week and we'll have a really rockin' good time. So, Jenn over at http://www.thebestisyetunwritten.blogspot/ wants to see my favorite 13 pix...


Here we go:

1. Zeke on a swing during his 3rd birthday photo shoot with MicDuff Photography.

2. Again, 3rd birthday photo shoot, MicDuff Photography

3. Ditto.

4. Pauly feeding Zeke for the first time. OMG, love this one.

5. Meat feet. Yes, these were my feet for the last few months of my pregnancy. I couldn't walk to the top of my driveway to get the mail. Ew.

6. My beloved chihuahua Simon. He bites everyone but is in love with Pauly and me. We're in his very small circle of friends and that's ok with us. Love him to little tiny pieces.

7. Zeke's crew chillin' on Ronnie's deck at a popcicle play date. This to me defines summer.

8. Again, Zeke and his crew chillin' in Alexander's hammock. Lilly is moving in on Zeke while Gracie plays it cool (she knows her daddy will NOT be happy...).

9. Another 3rd birthday photo shoot pic.

10. Alex and Zeke at the Elmwood Park Zoo back in May.

11. Pauly and Zeke celebrating Zeke's 2nd birthday.

12. Zeke's annual visit to the Pumpkin Patch in October 2007

So many memories, so much of my life, so much fun...

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