PEOPLE ARE DEPRAVED! DEPRAVED I SAY!

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Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Awesomeness, Boys, boys, boys! And did I mention, boys?, Uncategorized | Posted on 27-02-2013

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You know, if I can’t figure out how to make millions blogging to realize my dream of flopping in a hammock oceanside while cabana boys bring me adult beverages, damnit, at least I have the depraved search terms (we’ve talked about this before!) people Google to wind up on my blog. And! The occasional ridonkulously wrongity comment that slips through the spam filter? (Spam filter—kind of like birth control–not always 100% effective! What? Who can’t use a friendly reminder?)

This potential MUFFIN TOP PORN STAR (oh you read that right and hellz yeah I’m screaming–I had to scrub myself in Clorox after I read that search term–after I pondered ever so briefly if I could make enough dough at it for my hammock by the sea scheme…..) got a good one yesterday on an old blog post about American girl dolls:

Dating or being married to an American woman is like driving a beat-up Ford Escort. If you are only used to driving a beat-up Ford Escort, then you have no idea what it feels like when you drive a Bentley or Ferrari. You need to at least test-drive a Ferrari, so you’ll have a reference point on what a real car feels like. ,

OH HELL NO! (And yes, the author of said comment is an obvious friend to grammar, what with that needless, random comma at the end. But we’ll let that slide, because she was clearly so passionate that she didn’t notice her error!)

Then? “Inge” goes on to post a link to a site that sounds like it’s about clearing up age spots on your face.

What the farfignugen?!!! Beatch, get off mah blog and take your shitty Euro cream with you!

Oh Inge! No. Foreign women are lovely, indeed, but as a born and bred proud American woman, I will redirect you to my size 8 (formerly size 7–graci-ass pregnancy parting gift!) American shoe up your age-spotless arse.

The hell we be beat up Ford Escorts! Might I remind you of many fine American women…..Christie Brinkley, Brooke Shields, Diane (please refer to a little ditty about a well known American debutante…from the back of Jackie’s car?), Mrs. Huxtable, Mrs. Brady (boom boom!), Lindsey Vonn, the Where’s the Beef lady (hey, what ever happened to her?), Dr. Ruth, suburban cougars, chics who do CrossFit, Walmart shoppers….ME! ————->

FORD ESCORT MY MUFFIN TOP! DON'T HATE ME BECAUSE I'M BEAUTIFUL!

I will add, you have a hell of a sales pitch. You must sell lots of age spot cream. To lepers. In Fuzzschmuckastan.

To the rest of you who visit my blog and are wondering:

Where to put scout badges? On your arse? So people will notice them?

What the best undergarments are for muffin tops? Do I look like I know?

Where to get Diet Coke posters? Seriously??? I love me some Diet Coke but it hasn’t made its way into my Muffin Top DIY design scheme yet….

What’s up with my wife’s muffin top? You probably drove her to drink, buttrash. What’s up with your small….never mind. 

Granny sex face? <———–That’s a special kind of sick. 

Vintage hot daddies? Well now you have my rapt attention. Tell me more! Beav’s dad was kinda hot. Shut up. 

Adam Levine ethnicity? Oooh! I know that one! Is hotsexybeast an ethnicity?

I am not fat, but have a muffin top? Well, that sucks sister. Don’t ever play the lottery. Your odds blow.

 

Bring it, Internet. I ain’t hitting the beach with the cabana boys anytime soon!

 

WE HAVE A WINNAH! AND OTHER RANDOMOSITY…..

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Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Awesomeness, Boys, boys, boys! And did I mention, boys?, Friends...you got what I ne-ed, Mom-ness, OH &^%$!!, Random Rage, Retail Therapy, Uncategorized | Posted on 20-02-2013

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SO…

We have a winnah of the Honeywell Energy Smart 360 Heater!

As promised, the drawing was random:

YUP, THAT'S A DARTMOUTH HAT. NOPE, I DIDN'T GO THERE. WOULD AN IVY LEAGUER EMPLOY SUCH LOW TECH RAFFLE METHODS? I DID DRINK THERE ONCE AND WHEN I WEAR THE HAT, I FEEL ALL NH GOOD WILL HUNTING.

Child labor ensured the process ran smoothly, efficiently, and with the utmost of integrity:

NO PEEKSIES. HE'S A PROFESSIONAL.

 

AND, WE HAVE A WINNAH!

"BECKY B! BECKY B! BECKY B IS THE GUY WHO WON THE PRIZE! WAIT, WHAT IS THE PRIZE?"

 

I told him Becky B. is a gal, and that the prize is the heater. I don’t think he much cared. He raced around the family room with the slip of paper, “Becky BEEEEEEEEEEE.” Becky, five year old will never forget ya! Congrats! Email me your deets to janet@muffintopmommy.com and your heater will be on its way soon.

As for the rest of you, I am only sorry you couldn’t ALL be winners, kind of like child athletes. But I only had ONE special heater to give. I recommend the rest of you steer clear of state lotteries, casinos, and possibly even Bingo (Those octogenarians will trample you with their HurryCane. They will.). I don’t mean to be a Debbie Downer, but you lost in a 1 in 18 chance raffle. Hold on to your money, honey!

I decided to celebrate Becky B’s win. And simultaneously drown my sorrows about your loss. We are the world.

ALSO, I HAD TO TRY OUT MY NEW FUN WINE GLASS. I LOVE IT--IT SCREAMS, "STEP OFF BOYS, THIS IS MAMA'S GLASS!", BUT IN FRENCH... IT MADE MY CHIANTI TASTE EVEN BETTER---THE ONLY RED WINE I CAN INGEST WITHOUT WINDING UP IN FETAL POSITION. YIPPEE!

Speaking of Vegas, the Boston weatherman said today that a funky storm system that is in Vegas today is going to whirl its way to Boston/the NH Saturday night and dump 6-12 inches on us!

I KNEW "WHATEVER HAPPENS IN VEGAS, STAYS IN VEGAS!" WAS A BUNCHABULLSHITE! THANKS FOR NUTHIN' , CHUMPS!

I told you gambling was bad! *exceptfreeMuffintopmommyblograffling

In other news, my office is painted its new color. I like to call it, “jailbird grey”. I like it. I don’t looooooove it. I like it more at night. And I think I’ll like it more when the touch up is done, and all my stuff is moved back in, including my colorful DIY curtains and chair. I’m working like a turtle to get my new Muffintop DIY blog up so I won’t bore those of you who only showed up for the funny and not the scary DIY projects!

LIKE THE DROP CLOTHS HUBS USED? I'M SURE IT WON'T BE HARD TO GET PAINT OFF MY HARDWOOD FLOOR. I'M NOT SAYING A WORD BECAUSE HE PAINTED FOR ME WHILE I WAS OUT RABBLEROUSING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND BUYING CHALK PAINT AND A MADAME GLASS. PAINT. WHAT PAINT? I DON'T SEE ANY PAINT!

 

FYI, jailbird grey is Stonington Gray by Benjamin Moore. However, I cheated on Benny with Val. Spar. Valspar. From Lowe’s. They have a new low VOC, high def paint that I’ve heard wonderbar things about. It’s paint plus primer and Lowe’s said two coats should do it and one gallon should do the whole room. But the first can of paint was really, really thin and we (hubs) used up almost the whole gallon on one coat. So….we had to buy another gallon. Which was bizarroly thicker and seemed better. ?????? Someone on quality control must’ve been sniffing glue, the cracksmokers. It was like two different paints. All in all, not.a.fan. And, it didn’t wind up being cheaper than Benny in the long run. Take me back, Ben! Take me back!!!!

(I used to talk to real men. Back when I was single. And ready to mingle. As my friend likes to say. But now? Now I talk to paint. That’s totally normal.)

G’day, muffintoppers, I’m off to commiserate with Madame tonight over Downton Abbey being over. Love, hugs, and randomosity–peace out!

 

CALLING ALL cold MAMAS! ENTER TO WIN!

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Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Awesomeness, Boys, boys, boys! And did I mention, boys?, Friends...you got what I ne-ed, Mom-ness, OH &^%$!!, Random Rage, Retail Therapy, Uncategorized | Posted on 11-02-2013

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Valentine’s Day is fast approaching. With three little kids and almost 13 years of marriage, I’m just hoping hubs will come home from work and sing something romantic to me.

“Let’s go Outback to-niiiight!” 

Curbside takeaway=porn for moms. Aim high. (I know. How greedy of me to hope for more after the promise of microwave slippers a few weeks ago. Don’t get all jealous, ladies. It’s not a good look!)

Hey, we can’t ALL live at Downton Abbey. My cook and lady maid are on extended vacay. Listen, we all have to play the hand we’re dealt! (Sometimes you get to frolic upstairs at Downton and eat with 27 silver utensils, sometimes you have to stir soup downstairs, and sometimes you’re stuck in suburgatory!) I’m not an addict. 

With arctic temps and over two feet of snow dumped on us this past weekend, it’s no shock my Valentine and I have our biggest rows over the thermostat. You’d think the muffin top would insulate but nooooo. Irish McFreezypants had to marry a hot blooded Italian who wears t-shirts inside the house in winter and fans himself with all the dramatics of a strange southern debutante with a Boston accent, “I’m sweeeeltahring!”

I’m sorry, Scahlett O’Hah-ra. Jeez. Since I’m shuffling about like a 4 foot kid from A Christmas Story, I’m not sympathetic!

So imagine my delight when I got the chance to review a Honeywell Energy Smart 360 Surround heater—just in time for the most wonderful time of the year! Along with mah gift of extra, energy efficient warmth, I received the following info which, I believe, demonstrates I am NOT the cray cray one in this house!

JUDGE AND JURY, I REST MY CASE!

MMM HMM. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.

I have to say this is a great little ceramic heater. It’s perfect to put under my desk by my feet while I work on my next book read Peep, and in our playroom which is often chilly since it abuts the non-heated garage–and it’s lightweight enough with convenient carrying handle to tote wherever my muffin top desires! It’s super quiet so it will not disturb any important Mario Kart racing, Lord Grantham viewing, or wine slurping. It has a wonderful control panel allowing you to adjust the temperature depending on how Christmas Story-ish you’re feeling, and how energy conscious you are! (Hey super duper green peeps, tada! You can pre-program the thermostat and even see how much energy you’re using with this heater.) This heater packs a punch as it can blast heat all the way around–hence the 360– or you can just use the 180 for a more targeted effect, and has excellent safety features like an overheat protection device, so you don’t burn the joint down! Bonus! (No really. Remember when Italian boy almost burned the house down thawing a pipe last year?)

Here’s what this little beauty looks like in real life—so you can see the scale:

SEE? TOTALLY COMPACT AND UNOBTRUSIVE!

Good news, m’ ladies (and m’ cold lords), you too can have a chance to experience this gem. Honeywell has graciously offered to send a heater to one lucky, soon to be toasty roasty, muffintopmommy reader. All you have to do is leave a comment with your name, and we will have a super official drawing—probably someone under 8 years old will pick a name out of a mixing bowl. You don’t even have to subscribe to mah blog, like me on Facebook, leave a blood sample, follow me on twitter, Pinterest, or the grocery store! (But I surely love when you do— minus the grocery store stalking–I don’t need you seeing the processed snacks in my cart!) Please enter here by next Monday, February, 18th by midnight. South Floridians need not apply. (I’m kidding! I know it gets like 45 down there at 2 in the morning once a year, you lovelies!). Heaters can be shipped to U.S. addresses only.

So what are you waiting for? Even if you don’t win, microwave slippers and a fabulous portable heater? For $59.99, or roughly the price of a Lands’ End sweater, you’re totally in biz. Visit www.kaz.com for more information on this and other Honeywell heaters.

Stay warm, muffintoppers!

*Honeywell did provide me with a free heater for review purposes. All opinions expressed are 100% my own. As usual. Ahem. 

SOMEONE LOOKS LIKE HE COULD USE SOME HEAT!

 

PSST….IS THAT A VINTAGE GOSSIP BENCH OR A MOMMY’S TIME OUT CHAIR?

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Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Awesomeness, Boys, boys, boys! And did I mention, boys?, Friends...you got what I ne-ed, Mom-ness, OH &^%$!!, Retail Therapy, Some things just don't fit into a neat little box. The uncategory! | Posted on 31-01-2013

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Have you ever heard the words?

Gossip bench.

If that alone doesn’t intrigue you just fuhget it and get off mah lawn now!

A gossip bench, or telephone table, are gems from a time gone by. Basically, it’s a chair attached to a little table. Way, WAY (and by way, way, I’m really not sure how long, lemme be honest) before cordless phones were even a thought in some MIT trained brain and people couldn’t yuk it up in every corner of the house, people had beauties just like this:

ONCE AGAIN, I NEED SOME PHOTOGRAPHY 411 BUT YOU GET THE IDEA. ISN'T SHE GRAND?

 

Look at this lovely detailing:

THAT'S THE WAY, UH HUH, UH HUH, I LIKE IT, KC AND THE SUNSHINE BAND!

 

So the rotary phone went on top of the table part, and the phone book went underneath. And the gossipy hausfrau’s arse went on the seat. Amen. I really wish that table could talk. How many incredible conversations might have gone on? I believe this table might be from the 40′s, so my imagination runs wild thinking about it. A GI calling his girlfriend? A mom calling her newlywed daughter to share recipes? Two teenagers talking about what—I don’t even know what?! Two gossipy hausfraus talking about seeing so and so’s daughter at the five and dime with a too short skirt? WHO KNOWS!

All I know is I love this random piece of furniture! And hubs loved me enough to schlep it for me from some guy I found…wait for it….on Craigslist. A man who…let me just say, hubs said after picking up this piece of history, “I don’t want to speak of it again. Sanford and Sons. Without fun Sanford. Or his son.”

Okay then.

For better or worse, people. We took vows!!!

The wood on this table was actually in pretty good shape–you can’t see too well from my iphone trick photography, but it wasn’t the best stain job. All I did was unscrew the seat and slap two coats of miracle Annie Sloan chalk paint in the same Chateau Grey shade I used on my sideboard redo. It took no time at all.

SCALPEL, PLEASE. HA HA. JUST A PHILLIPS HEAD. I FIGURED IT OUT---THIS ISN'T BRAIN SURGERY, KIDS!

 

I bought some fun, sturdy (yet elegant!), upholstery grade fabric at Hobby (I love you!) Lobby, cut a square, and stapled it. I have skillz. (Not really. Noooo.)

WE MEET AGAIN, RUDOLPH SCISSORS!

THIS PART IS ROUGH. PAY ATTENTION. YOU FLIP THE CUSHION OVER, PUT IT OVER THE CHAIR FRAME, AND SCREW IT BACK IN. NEXT WEEK I''M TOTALLY APPLYING TO GRAD SKOOL AT HARVARD.

Before I put the cushion on permanently, I did wax and buff it so it would have a softer, less…well, chalky finish. I did distress it lightly as well.

So here are some pics of the almost finished product:

THIS WAS PRE-WAX AND DISTRESS.

 

I PUFFY HEART THIS FABRIC.

 

And…..now my gossip bench is ready for some 21st century action. I have actually renamed it the Chatty Kathy bench or Mommy’s Time Out chair. I love my kids, you love your kids, all of us who have kids LOVE OUR KIDS. But sometimes, they are ginormous PITAS! (Pains in the asses. You’re welcome.) At which point, we need an escape. Well, the French New Hampshire riviera is not always possible. I give you, Mommy’s Time Out Chair:

PEEP, A KINDLE, SOME VINO. YES, I DO BELIEVE THIS IS THE RECIPE FOR SOME MODERN DAY GOSSIP. I FEEL PROUD TO UPHOLD ITS HERITAGE IN A MODERN WAY!

YES, PLEASE.

 

ONE MORE SHOT. BECAUSE YOU KNOW I DIDN'T GET TO REALLY SIT FOR THAT LONG!

 

The funny thing is, with all of my recent Craiglisting, and seeing what these go for redone (and even not redone) on Etsy, Ebay, and Craigslist, I planned to sell the Chatty Kathy. But hubs —who wouldda thunk?? Has taken a shine to it and asked me not to sell it. What!? I know.

However, if you are reading this and you have a pocket full of cash burning a hole in your pocket, I will totally cut it free behind hub’s back  (For better or worse, people!) for the right price. Because the French Riviera Disneyworld is calling my name!

 

 

 

MUFFIN TOP ROUND UP: A SCHNIZTASTIC WEEK IN REVIEW!

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Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Awesomeness, Boys, boys, boys! And did I mention, boys?, Mom-ness, OH &^%$!!, Random Rage, Uncategorized | Posted on 29-11-2012

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So, first things first.

I didn’t win the lottery.

LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSER!

 

THIEVING GOVERNMENT HACK DOUCHECANOES!

So it was back to reality.

FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD. FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD. FOLLOW...AHH, EFF IT. I'M NEVER GETTING THAT HOT TUB, AM I?

My hubs banged up his knee and is on crutches. That was timely since 5 year old is in his second above the elbow cast still. Hey, I know! Every time someone falls in my house and screams, “Owww!”, drink!

AWESOME! YOU AND 5 YEAR OLD CAN HAVE DADDY AND ME APPOINTMENTS WITH THE ORTHO DOC WHILE I GIVE ALL OUR HOT TUB FORTUNE TO THE STANKING HOSPITAL! FA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA-HA!

MOTHERFLUFFIN’ GIMPTASTIC!

Did my last picture caption sound a bit snarky? I didn’t mean it to be much. Hubs’ knee has been bugging him for a while. It buckled T-giving night while he was doing dishes, after cooking all day. (Totally true. Boy knows how to throw a shindig.) The next day he limped off to his 198? (not my biz to tell he’s MUCH older) reunion, where a little bird on Facebook (rhymes with “Shinda”)told me he was a “dancing fool” and quite limber (no comment). He came home looking like this:

YOU ARE RIGHT NOW WONDERING HOW A GAL LIKE ME GOT SO LUCKY, AREN'T YOU? WELL, I'LL TELL YOU. HE'S A LOTTERY WINNER. KIDDING!

 

Hey hubs, Belushi called and he wants his schtick back!

THESE AREN'T EVEN THE SHOES I DRESSED HIM IN FOR THE REUNION. AND WHERE IS HIS OTHER SOCK? I TOLD YOU I LIVE IN A FRAT HOUSE. FINALLY, I HAVE PROOF!

Meanwhile, at band camp, he winds up whimpering about his knee later that night, and the next AM hits the ER for the aforementioned gimptastic brace. Sing with me now, “SOLID GOLD!”

I can’t prove it, but context clues, y’all. And had the nerve to come home glowing, “The nurse was soooo nice. Hee hee hee. She asked me if I work out.” After being on solo parent ass wiping duty for the duration of the 18 hour Solid Gold reunion and listening to his howls of pain for 24 hours, I decided it was only fitting to kick him in the good knee.

Then I find out, grocery stores are hawking faux Twinkies. Golden Creme Cakes? WHO is doing your marketing, fools? Market Basket, shame on you! Stick to what you know—selling questionable produce to people who need need dental work/a bath/possibly an interpreter (I dunno….I just assume after I’ve shouted “EXCUSE ME, MA’AM!” 5 times in the crowded aisle and you don’t move your ass/cart/death scooter you don’t speak English. Or maybe you’re just a Sir. Oops. (I might have grocery store rage.)

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

LOW BROW TWINKERTUNISTIC SNACKSTERS!

To add to the fun, “Alfred”, our little rat bastard Christmas elf, is back.

THE KIDS HAVE BEEN GETTING UP AT 5 freakingfracking A.M. TO TRY TO FIND THIS EVIL LITTLE PUNK. SO I TRIED TO DROWN HIM IN MY BEER. DUDE LIVED TO TELL. FREAK!

ELFINSHAZAMALAMSHALOM, WHY CAN’T I BE JEWISH?!

And sadly, my muffin top has reached epic heights widths and I’ve resorted to outlandish behavior huffing on the treadmill.

HEY, WHO'S THE GENIUS WHO PUT PAVLOV'S TREADMILL FACING THE BEER SIGN? OH WAIT..... UMMMMM.

WHY CAN’T I JUST BE A SKIN-NAY, SOBER MORMON?!

 

I’m not going off the deep end. People, wake up! It’s ARMAGEDDON. Clearly!

I’m trying to bright side all this shiz, even as the full moon rages, and I swear if you even look at me wrong today I’ll go all me-owwwww on you.

But listen peeps, the sun will come out tomorrow. So stay gold! Solid Gold, that is.

And one more thing if I haven’t sufficiently stalked you on Facebook, I’m in a contest on Circle of Moms called Top 25 Author Moms and I would surely appreciate your vote. Graci-ass! (You can vote once per day until Dec. 7th!) MTM can’t buy publicity like that and hey, maybe if I hawk some books I can buy Belushi a new knee! OH YEAH! (Thanks for nothing, Powerball!!!) To vote, all you have to do is click on the “Circle of Moms” badge near the top right of my blog, underneath my book. It very subtley says, “Please rock mah vote.” *shameless self promotion *mama would not be proud *runs and hides under Belushi’s brace

Or you can click here!

 

A KINDERGARTNER AND A PRISONER BOTH WALK INTO AN ER….

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Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Boys, boys, boys! And did I mention, boys?, Friends...you got what I ne-ed, OH &^%$!!, Random Rage, Uncategorized | Posted on 08-11-2012

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This is the place where my sad yet funny post was supposed to go—the one I spent 90 minutes on and then deleted by accident because I was geeking out watching and analyzing election results pretending to be Tim Russert God rest his soul, and forgot to hit save and then shut my computer down because I was up past my bedtime and was delirious from drinking with Diane Sawyer and since I don’t have another 90 minutes to re-write it but can only imagine you want to know the deets on my 5 year old breaking his arm in two places in our basement during the hurricane and then us hydroplaning on the way to the “hostiple” but what good luck we were safe because I used to drive race cars live in Boston and then us getting to xray and the xray tech whipping open the door only to yell, “WHOA!” because there was a handcuffed inmate in an orange prisoner jumpsuit splayed out on the xray table with two armed corrections officers standing over him but what good luck again because there were no attempted jail breaks that day and no shots fired and little 5 year old was in so much pain it didn’t even occur to him it was odd to see an orange jumpsuit clad handcuffed man with two huge men with guns in the room he needed to be in and oh did I mention I chose this ER and drove further to get to it as poor five year old yelped in agony as we hydroplaned along because I thought it would be more “soothing” and “kid friendly” because they have a special pediatric er…oh yes…can I say it again? I CANNOT MAKE THIS SHIT UP.

 

You’ll forgive my abbreviated post because I want to go to a party tonight and I think we all know I deserve a drink. Can you believe I wrote this in only ten minutes? Bet you can’t even tell!

*OMGUPDATE. My ten minute post turned into an hour long photo debacle. I’ve been trying to make my pics bigger, because someone told me the pics on my blog should be bigger, but instead of BIGGER, I somehow made them the size of my HOUSE, and I tried to “fix” them.  I don’t even know what to say, and yes, I am 100% sober. I do not know what happened to all these photos and why they are all over the place. Clearly, I am in the wrong line of unpaid work. I was, ironically, trying to make the pics bigger on the advice of someone who I was trying to get a PAID blogging gig from. I quit!!!!!! I’m going on strike. I’ll be with my IV of beer if you need me. Good night!

**No, I am not on any meds, besides what comes in an aluminum can or a Flintstones bottle. Do you have any recommendations?????? RAH!!!!

STFU SAMMIE TIME—I NEED TO S DOWN AND S UP!

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Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Boys, boys, boys! And did I mention, boys?, Friends...you got what I ne-ed, OH &^%$!!, Some things just don't fit into a neat little box. The uncategory!, Uncategorized | Posted on 25-10-2012

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After weeks of a revolving door of sickness around here coupled with our uninvited furry house guests, I was rocking a funk pretty hard. I’d had grand plans to start back up exercising after a foot injury and drinks on the deck derailed me over summer, only to have a hacking Marlboro red cough hang on for well over a month. Co-pays upon co-pays and costly critter craziness (triple c–beware!) helped suck the fun out of fall. And ohGoddearGod the incessant political ads and phone calls are enough to drive me to drink.

More. And earlier.

I usually try not to be rude to the callers because honestly, it’s a person just trying to do their job in a rough economy, which must not be easy, especially now that we’re all battle torn. But calling me at 9:45 and asking me to complete a survey? When hubs and I had finally planted ourselves to watch our DVR’d Modern Family, commercial free and in peace?

No, homie, no.

SERIOUSLY? NO. Photo credit: Photobucket

I scowl at hubs and snatch the phone in disgust.

Me to hubs: Are you kidding me? It’s 9-naughty word-45.

Him: BLANK LOOK. What ring? Ooh, look at Sophia Vergara.

Me: I KNOW! THIS IS A BIT MUCH! I’m answering it before they wake the kids!

Hubs: BLANK LOOK. I just want to see more of Sophia Vergara.

Me answering phone: DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS? (Suddenly, and without warning, I’ve morphed into my late father, who when pressed, would go ape on people—0 to 60 in a matter of seconds. Usually his ire was reserved for the door to door Jehovah Witnesses who would always seem to try to prosthelytize during nail biter Red Sox games. I’m pretty sure the soul of my dad is prayed for even today in J Dub circles.)

Friendly survey caller: Yes! I do, it’s 6:45!

PSYCHO JANET: NOOOOO, it’s 9:45 in my world!

Friendly survey caller: Oh, I’m sorry, would you have time for a quick surv….

PSYCHO JANET: Are? Are you kidding me right now?

Friendly survey caller: So, when would be a better time to ca….

PSYCHO JANET: When would be a better time to call? Um, never, how about never!

Friendly/dumb survey caller: So, could I call you….

PSYCHO JANET: Ne-never call me. Never! Please. Never! Seriously? Never!

They broke me. They did. I didn’t want to be rude. I didn’t mean to be rude. But a girl can only take so much. (All this for FOUR electoral votes! FOUR. 1,2,3,4!)

Photo credit: Photobucket.

And then…it came. The guilt.

See, the thing about bitching about your Marlboro red cough and your kid’s asthma flaring up and your medical bills and being stalked for your miniscule fraction of your four electoral votes, and, and, and, and …the other crappity crap that’s befallen you is…..it’s called life. You gotta do it in context. Because the minute you finish decorating your big fat whiny cake for the pity party you realize, “Schmuck, there are kids who are REALLY sick. And moms who are REALLY sick. Moms who wish their worst health problem was fitting into a smaller size or lowering their cholesterol.” You know I could go from here to the moon and back on sad scenarios.

And that’s when you take your STFU sammie and sit down and shut up. Or as my bf and I like to snark, “Oh, s down and s up!” It’s crabbier and edgier and honestly, it instantly puts things in perspective.

But sometimes, it takes a kid to tell you what you’ve been missing.

I NEVER REALIZED I HAD A HOME WITH A VIEW, UNTIL MY 5 YEAR OLD TOLD ME TO LOOK UP.

Gorgeous, right? 3 year old, 5 year old, and I were playing in the back yard yesterday afternoon. I was going through the motions, kicking a ball and pushing them on the swings, but my mind was a million miles away. The critter people were due in a half hour to see if they “caught” anything. Gag. What was I going to make for dinner? Gag again. Oh, crap, scanning the yard and realizing I (and by I, I mean, hubs!) has to fix the fence/finish painting the shed/put the patio furniture away before the Frankenstorm hits. GAGGAGGAG.

Woh, woh, woh. Debbie Downer? Check please!

Also, it was my sister’s birthday. The one who passed away over two decades ago—more than half my life ago. And yet, all these many years later, the date rightly dances through my thoughts. Though I think of her all the time, this date will always be THE.YEARLY.REMINDER. of a life cut short. And every fabulous, and horrible, and yes, even mundane moment, like bitching that your favorite show was interrupted by a political survey, that we know we all take for granted— is magnified.

It weighs on me.

And just like that, my 5 year old fights to interrupt my subconscious, as if he knows damn right well I am present. But not really present.

“Mom?”

“MOMMY?”

“Mom, look!”

“What, honey?” I ask and absentmindedly glance around.

“Up there. UP THERE!” He points, emphatically.

To that sky. That gorgeous, perfect scene that loomed above the whole time, but I hadn’t noticed. Not even for a second. I was too busy looking down. And around. At all the “stuff” that had to get done. Probably, if I’m being honest, feeling a little sorry for myself.

And why? Would I and should I? How could I feel sorry for myself? When gifts are all around me. I have a life—a great, fortunate, wonderful, if not perfect, life.

I was reminded of a quote I read on Pinterest recently, “Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many.” The source is unknown. But the sentiment, is perfect.

I have a thoughtful husband and beautiful kids who love me unconditionally…..a house with A VIEW! Every day I get to live and breathe and have bad luck and good luck and no luck, really is a gift. Sometimes, I need a kick in the pants–which might be tight—but nevertheless! From a five year old.

I’m reminded that children live in the moment. Their world is black and white. They love unconditionally and without rules. And when we say or do the wrong thing or fall short of who they deserve us to be, they forgive and they pull us back. We adults, with our preoccupations and our propensity to kvetch and sulk and take things personally, we lug our baggage. It’s heavy. We get tired. I…got tired. Maybe he sensed it.

These kids are unbridled enthusiasm and glee, for the sun on their faces and the sky full of puffy clouds that may or may not look like a bear, or a firefighter, depending on who you ask. Or maybe a wink or a nod or a smile from heaven. Who knows?

Like everything in life, it’s all in the eye of the beholder.