Mr. 10: “Mom, when are you going to dye your hair again? It’s getting really grey.”

I hate it how they’re so cryptic.

You can find me over at Gunfighter’s today.

He offered me the opportunity to guest blog and even gave me a topic. How nice is that? Go check out his site. He’s a good read.

So Mr. Three came to work with me today due to the fact that we’re too lazy to drive just one kid to daycare if the other isn’t going his brother had a dentist appointment. As an added bribe to make up for having to spend the day in my office (turning the only place in my life that is neat into a mini-version of my home, I might add) we stopped by Micky D’s for breakfast on the way in.

Three has been really into Happy Meals lately for all the Shrek toys, so this addition to his day was greeted with cheers.

On our way down the highway, Three had Donkey, Artie and Shrek in his lap and they were all having a Three-choreographed conversation with small interludes of their recorded voices taking over. Apparently, Artie “doesn’t know anything about being a king.” Donkey likes playing “peek-a-boo” and this little-known fact was revealed about Shrek…

“I’m a hooker!”

Or so Three insists that’s what he’s saying.

It’s happened. We’re all gay today.

I just told Kelly that I think I lost my sense of humor in traffic a few weeks ago. I seriously don’t have much to blog about, but I hate going silent for days.

The little photo you see of me when I comment on your blog–or in my profile…well my hair is much longer now. As I mentioned a while back, my hairdresser had the nerve to move out of the area (without asking my permission) and as a result I haven’t had a hair cut since September.

Luckily, I can tell my hair is growing by the ever increasing skunk stripe running down my part.

And while I’m on hair…why is it that all the hair on my head is going grey, but my leg hair remains dark, dark, dark?!

If I’m going to:

a.) spend a fortune pretending I’m still a brunette
b.) stain my bathroom from floor to ceiling trying to save money on salon costs or
c.) look like an old hag

Why can’t I at least have the benefit of lighter leg hair?

Does all your pubic hair eventually go grey, will it fall out/stop growing first or will I need to spend my nest egg pruning the bush (es)?

Do the stop signs in parking garages hold legal weight? Can I get a ticket for blowing off a stop sign in a parking garage? I tend to view them as suggestions. But really, can police officers just skulk around a garage hanging out behind the next turn when they need to fill their ticket quota? I would.

I love growing things.

I’ve been seing all these photos of new infants lately and every time I look at one I feel like I’m going to start lactating. I really think I’d love to have another (that would be number four for those keeping score at home), but the very thought sends Shakey into a catatonic state (once he finishes hyperventilating).

So I garden instead.

I was going to put the cutest bumper around my vegetable garden but it made it too hard to weed.

Okay listen. I can’t hang around here all day chatting. I’m supposed to be earning a paycheck. You’re such a bad influence.

Any good blog topics for me?

I have an idea. Let’s do a reverse Linda “Duran Duran is neither a Duran nor a Duran. Discuss.” Richman.

You give me a topic “The Thigh Master is neither a thigh nor a master. Discuss.” and I’ll discuss (and MammaLee I haven’t forgotten about the meme).

And apparently real moms will take photos of their children even when they’re mad
because they don’t have a black nose like their brother the leopard.

200…two hundred…CC…double benjamins…ducent

• The amount of money you collect for passing “GO”.
• The number of years NOAA has been in existence.
• Double the number of words this gent allows for each post.
• The number of innocent people released from jail due to DNA testing.
• The number of calories in this serving of celery (Doesn’t eating it actually burn calories?).
• The number of calories in four OREOs (I don’t know how many are in one of these.).
• The number of times I’ve seen Sixteen Candles (at least).
• The number of freckles I have per square inch on the sun-exposed parts of my body.

• The number of this post (Our’s goes to 200…).

There once was a woman named MamaLee, she was so nice and tagged lil ole me.
Following along came Dorky Dad, and he tagged me the same, but I didn’t get mad.
A meme you see really makes me HAWT.
It gives me something to write when I haven’t a thought.
Read on if you wish.
It’s 10 things about me.
Cause I’m so damned interesting as I’m sure you will see.
And when you do, will you please figure out a a way to convince me?

It’s called the Chinese Freeze Tag, though as my man Dorky Dad said “I don’t think it’s Chinese and I’m pretty sure there’s nothing frozen about it”. I am to write 10 things about myself, and then tag 10 people to do the same.

1. I love the sound of driving over gravel. It reminds me of so many good times…driving through the parking lot at the fireman’s carnival, going to a baseball game, to an outdoor concert, catching a fireworks show.

2. Fireworks make me so happy. I get so excited whenever I see firework shows. I greet them with childlike wonder and consider them terribly romantic. I can’t help but clap when they’re over.

3. Despite the fact that he’s short, I’ve had a thing for Matt Damon for a long time…until I saw The Departed. Now? Oh I’m all about Leo.

4. The beach is my favorite place in the world. Doesn’t matter the season, doesn’t really matter which one. I feel so free at the beach.

5. Bookstores make me feel hopeful. When I see all those books I know that if there is nothing else I still have all of them to read.

6. I used to just want a different nose and straighter fingers, then I realized that my neck was too short. I’d love to have perfect feet. I’d also like a bit higher forehead and now…I’d love it if my boobs were fuller and perkier. Since most of this cannot be corrected with surgery I guess I just have to accept what I look like.

7. Some days I feel like I’m in a holding pattern waiting for something to change. I know I need to be the one to make a change, but man I’m tired.

8. For the longest time penises sort of scared me. I didn’t grow up around too many. Now I’m surrounded by them. I sort of think sex would be different for a girl if she grew up with brothers. Penises are a lot less intimidating when the first ones you see are so small.

9. I love the fact that I grew up in a house where we learned to talk about our bodies matter of factly. I was never afraid to go to my mom with questions. That also says a lot about what an incredible woman she is.

10. I want to learn how to surf and to swim with dolphins someday.

There you go. Ten facts about me. Crap I think I even bored myself. Shoot I need to get the blogging bug back. Any suggestions?

So who’s going to get tagged? Let’s go with Crouton Boy, Canape, Mitch McDad, Karrie, the Queen of Mayhem, QueenieB, Southern Fried Mom, Kelly, Lawyer Mama and MommaK.

I’m doing my best Marilyn Monroe here.

Well HIS name is Mr. Big Dubya isn’t it?!

I wanted to wish you a very happy 40th Big D–with no jokes about old age.

Oh! And an old friend of yours wanted to send his regards as well…

There was quite a bit I “learned” during pregnancy that no one told me about when I was foolishly having unprotected sex trying to get pregnant.

I knew to expect some nausea. I knew my clothes would stop fitting. I even knew that my body might never return to its previous shape. I DIDN’T know I would have to stop eating brie. I DIDN’t know about the tear-inducing heartburn. I DIDN’T know about the hemorrhoids and I definitely had NO idea that someone would suggest I give myself perineal massages.

But I got over all those things.

I missed the brie–and I might have cheated on that rule a few times. The heartburn sucked, but it went away as soon as the babies were ripped from a gaping hole in my abdomen born–same with the lovely hemorrhoids. As for the “suggested” massage? Let’s just say that if I had taken the time to get THAT in touch with my body I would have been pissed since my boys decided there was no way they were entering the world that way.

Once the babies arrived I discovered there were a ton of other things folks left out of the Beauty of Motherhood myth. You know, things like getting peed and pooped on, cracked nipples, mastitis, the cult-like brainwashing sleep deprivation, the lack of libido (see sleep deprivation), the hormone swings, bleeding for weeks after the birth, and, oh yeah, the aching joints for that first month.

Again, I lived through all that fun, and now my youngest is three.

Lately I’ve discovered that no one tells you that your children begin rolling their eyes at you WAY before they become teenagers. I’ve discovered that kids don’t have just one bike–you need a new one for every few inches they grow. I’ve discovered that little league players no longer grab the equipment from a team bag. They now carry bags bigger than they are filled with equipment expensive enough for me to buy at least one pair of crocodile pumps. I’ve discovered that by fifth grade they can really stink. And, I’ve discovered that nothing I can do will convince my three year-old that he can’t wear baseball pants every day (no kidding this has been going on for two months now).

Again, I can handle these things no one bothered to tell me about.

Today I discovered yet another thing no one told me about, and while it’s not really that bad, I think it was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

No one told me I’d be using my fingernail to scrape dried boogers off the wall as I leaned across a toilet that my boys use as a rough target for peeing.

So what is it that no one has shared with me yet about teenagers?

Wait! I’m not sure I want to know.