Thursday, June 30, 2011


Summertime brings bare feet, sandboxes, and dusty parks - making nightly baths a must. There is no night off from the bath in the summertime. However, as the sun stays out longer so do we and sometimes I just don't have it in me to start bath time at 9:00 at night....So.....

Look what I found:

These are baths in a box - sold at CVS. According to the package: They are pre-moistened - no rinse required, ph-balanced, hypo-allergenic. Kills germs and eliminates odors. Hell-ya. 

Either I'm the laziest mom alive or a total genius.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

The Bra-llelujah

I believe that I need new bras. Now, sometimes I have trouble differentiating between what qualifies as a want and what qualifies as a need. But in this case, I think I've got it. 

The following list describes most of the bras I am currently wearing:

1. Some of the hooks are rusted or missing.

2. Its nude but I'm pretty sure it used to be white.

3. The underwire is now squeaking - I wish I was making this up but sometimes when I move it like, moans, like its begging for mercy.

4. The material is transparent and not in a sexy way but in a stretched-out nasty itching my nipple kind of way.

5.  It has snaps to unleash my boobs for feeding and my baby is now eating lunch meat. 

Yes, I need new bras - good bras. Now, I used to think that good bras meant Victoria's Secret. Pluuzzeee -  I have breasts that have been used and are now retired. Victoria's Secret is nothing but bells and whistles for ladies who parts haven't been sucked, sagged or worn out by three kids. 

I'm going with Spanx. Did you know they made bras? They also promise to banish back fat. Can you imagine any marketing campaign at Victoria's Secret including the words back fat? Don't think their angels could fly with back fat.
I figure any company whose primary purpose is to suck in fat and conceal lumps can handle breasts that are ready to be put out to pasture. Giddy-up. 

Thursday, June 23, 2011

My Breakfast is AWOL

There has been a complete breakdown in my universe.

Every year, for the past three years, I have eaten South Beach Cereal Bars for breakfast. Breakfast for me includes a South Beach Bar, a Diet Big Red and a little tab Zoloft on the side. Yes, I am the epitome of good heath - don't be jealous.

I like routine. I thrive on order. I'm a bit of a Rain Man. Don't throw me any curveballs - I'll likely miss.

But this weekend when Wal-Mart didn't have my bars in stock, it was no big thing. I'd just go to another store. Then I guess another - and another. Where in the EFF are my bars? Seriously was this a cosmic joke?

What's even more disconcerting is that they are sold out on Amazon. If Wal-Mart doesn't have them and Amazon doesn't have them.....its not looking good.

All week, I have just forgone breakfast deciding that if I couldn't have my bars then I didn't want anything at all. I'm very mature.

This went well until today when I totally flipped my lid around 10am. I dropped the girls off at swim lessons and was so ravenously hungry, I couldn't take it. My stomach was screaming - not for a South Beach Bar - but for a McDonalds cheeseburger. It was a craving so strong that the mini-van willed its way to the drive-through.

I pull on up and ordered myself up a cheeseburger only to be told that they wouldn't serve lunch until 10:30. Well holy hell - this just sent me over the edge and I called Justin at work to vent.

Me (in a wailing, starving, pleading tone): Justin!!!! The universe has ran out of South Beach Bars and McDonalds refuses to serve me a cheeseburger, and I'm just really going to lose it.

Justin: I'm really sorry hon.

Me: What am I going to do?!?!?!?!

Justin: Dear, I realize that these are some very very serious problems you've got going on but I have to put out a newspaper.

Me: Well fine, can you put a reporter on the South Beach Bar shortage?


Me: Hello? Hello?

So dear readers, I implore you to find me some South Beach Cereal Bars (Cinnamon Raisin please).  My mental health, my diet, my marriage and quite possibly your newspaper subscription depends on it. Thank you.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Say Cheese

I like smelly cheeses. The smellier the better. I've rarely met a cheese I didn't like. Bleu Cheese, Feta Cheese, Mozzarella Cheese, Goat Cheese, and dear old Colby Jack - I love them all. However, I don't always have my favorites on hand, which is for the best because I have a good low-cal alternative - grated parmesan.

I don't even have to eat the real stuff. I like the grated powdery stuff out of the can. I like to eat it with a spoon. I can hear some of you gagging on said spoon but go ahead and gag your hearts out - Its a delicious snack.

Yesterday, while my sister was visiting, I pulled it out of the refrigerator opened it up and dipped my spoon right in. My dear sister was slightly disgusted, but I told her that you really couldn't beat it in terms of a low-cal snack. She looked puzzled and asked, "Isn't that pretty fattening?"

"Well no," I replied. "There are only 100 calories in the whole container. I ate it all through college."

She grabbed the jar from me, which was a ballsy move. She's lucky she still has her hand.

She looks at the label and says to me - "Abbie, this is 10 calories per teaspoon. There are 1000 calories in here - not 100."

Damn it. This explains soooooo much.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Why The F*ck Didn't I Write That Book?

The mommy universe is all abuzz about a new "children's" book called "Go the F*ck to Sleep."  

Well,  "Why the F*ck didn't I write that book?" 

Since I missed the boat on that, I've decided that I'm going to write the sequel. Here are some suggested titles.

1. Stop F*cking Crying!!!

2. You did what? Are you F*cking Kidding Me??

3. For the love of God, Stop F*cking Whining!!

4. Just get in the F*cking Tub!

5. Eat what I cook and shut the F*ck up about it!

6. Find your F*cking Shoes!

7. Go on the F*cking Potty!

8. Because I F*cking Said So!

9. Clean your up your F*cking toys!

10. Go ask your F*cking Dad!

Me: Justin read this blog post - What do you think?

Justin: God, Abbie, you better say something nice at the end or people are going to think you really hate your kids

Me: Seriously? Do you think people think I'm serious?

Justin: Maybe....

Me: Really - do you think anybody takes anything I say seriously?

Justin: Good point. Leave it. Its fine.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Top Ten Reasons Why I'll Never be a Real Housewife of Any County, City or State.

1. I consider goods from Target high-end merchandise.

2. I do not cart around small animals unless of course, you count my children.

3. My hands have not been manicured since 2003.

4. My social life happens at the T-ball field.

5. These days, I consider Applebees fine dining. 

6. I don't have servants - I am the servant.

7. I consider two-buck Chuck from Trader Joes a luxury wine.

8. I roll in a swagger wagon.

9. My diamond is *gasp* a single carat.

10. I am my own hair and make-up team and I'm pretty sure I need to fire myself.

Monday, June 13, 2011

Festival of Fools

Last weekend Justin and I went to Cincinnati to see Phish.

Yep, Phish - that crazy hippie band. Though I think my days of three-day festivals are behind me, catching a show or two per tour is still a pretty good time.

I started seeing Phish when I was 17 and now 15 years later, I'm enjoying the show just as much, probably more, than I did the first time. My attitude towards all those damn hippies has morphed from a strange fascination, to irritation to finally settling at a fine amusement. 

If you love to "people-watch", a Phish show is the place to go. I am almost as entertained by the fans and their antics as I am the band. Phish has the most entertaining fans in the world. From the nappy girl selling her burritos to the guy who spins in circles for three straight hours to the poor guy crying because his glow stick died, it is a festival of fools and I absolutely love it. 

We took off to Cincinnati - only Justin and I for a much needed break from real life. We found our break bar hopping on Saturday night and then dancing at the show on Sunday. In real life, I think parents often operate what I like to call a grocery-list marriage. When you have three kids, communication consists of what we need at the store, who needs to be taken where, who has to give the kids baths and who paid the cable bill. These are essential conversations, but they are mundane. At the end of the day, there really is no time to kick back, hang out and have a real good time. 

To be honest, when we took of for our mini-vacation, I was a little worried that we wouldn't have anything to talk about. Quickly, however, my fear faded as I remembered that we really do like and enjoy each others company. Justin and I have a really good time together. How easy that is to forget in the rigors of the day. 

So, thank you Phish. Thanks for bringing out all the crazies. Thanks for the marriage therapy. Thanks for playing Bathtub Gin. Thanks for everything - I had a damn good time.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

The Lord's Prayer

Hadley has been learning The Lords Prayer at Sunday school. Since we're not very good parents - and she's missed a few Sundays here and there, she's missing bits and pieces of it but I'm sure God gets the gist.

Hadley and Cameron were playing when Cameron shoved Hadley. I'm not sure why. I don't know why my kids do anything they do. They are kind of like little psychopaths who lack impulse control.

Hadley then takes a deep breath, stands up and screams to the heavens, "Forgive us our Trespassers!!!!!"

She then glares down at her sister and says, "And, Cameron - you are one of my Trespassers."

Heaven help us all.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Meet My Grandmother

My Grandmother was raised by her father and her five older brothers in rural Kentucky. Her mother died of Tuberculosis when my Grandmother was only 6 years old. She is now 84 years old and full of fire. She's incredibly funny and I thought I'd introduce her to all of you.

Grandmother with Hadley in 2006
Grandmother spends the winter in Texas with her son, my uncle Harry and usually returns to Indiana in the spring to live with her daughter, my aunt Lucinda.

Today she arrived home and came over to see the kids

This is what she had to say.

Me: Grandmother, I like your purse.
Grandmother: Thanks -  I think it looks like a vagina.

Me: I'm tired, I had two glasses of wine last night and stayed up too late.
Grandmother: Wine is no good - I like whisky. I have a few drinks and I'm drunk for the week.

Me: Jack looks so much like Justin.
Grandmother: Yeah, looks like he just shit him out his butthole.

As she's leaving...
Grandmother: "Trust me Abbie, these are the best times of your life...."

You know, I'm pretty sure I believe her.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Go Away Creepy Pervert!

Justin walked out the door to go to work this morning, was gone for about ten minutes then turned around and came back in. He was outside talking to our neighbor who informed him that there had been a man looking in our windows last night.

I guess we're moving. Anyone buying?

Apparently our neighbor saw the creepy pervert and scared him off. However, my theory is that he saw the toy room and ran like hell. 

So Justin tells me to lock the doors -  then leaves and he won't be back until Friday night! He's going overnight to a family funeral. Now maybe I shouldn't be divulging that he's leaving town, but I'm going to take a leap of faith that the creepy prevert isn't an avid reader of The Kids Made Me Fat. 

I decided I couldn't stay here alone tonight so I called reinforcement.: my 5'2"inch 100lb mother. It was either her or my father, who just recently graduated from cardiac rehab - so the pickings were pretty slim.

My neighbor, knowing I'd be alone tonight, called and offered to bring me a gun. Apparently they have an arsenal of firearms and had one to spare. I passed on that offer as the idea of me with a loaded weapon just seemed like a bad idea. So, instead they brought me a bat, and I booby trapped the back door with the baby's swing and a box of Pampers - so if the creep heads in the house that way - we might get a head start. 

My booby trap.
I could pack up the kids and go stay elsewhere, but that is such a daunting task that I think I'll take my chances with the pervert.