Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Mountain Doo-Doo

I love to shop for the kids. I'll shop for them anywhere - whether I'm browsing through racks at a high-end department store or digging through tubs at a garage sale - if I'm shopping for the kids, I'm in my element. 

One of my favorite shopping activities includes taking myself to the GAP  - filling my arms with as much as I can carry, sitting in a corner - huddled in the back of the store - and sorting through my finds as I decide what to purchase. This is obviously done sans kids as this process can be quite time consuming - and heavenly. 

Call me a junky, but babyGAP is like a shot of the good stuff in my veins. But like I said, I'm not all that picky - I'll take a cheap hit from a garage sale whenever I can find it....and that is where I recently picked up a new T-Shirt for Hadley.

Hadley is a messy girl. I'm pretty sure that if I didn't insist, she would still eat all foods - including her favorites (mac & cheese and yogurt) with her hands. There aren't a whole lot of hand-me-downs for Cameron because Hadley manages to stain nearly everything she wears. I like to get T-shirts at garage sales so she can bask in all her messy glory without me having a stroke.

My latest yard sale find for Hadley was a green T-Shirt that said Mountain Dew across the front. I paid fifty cents for it, and I thought she'd love it because her favorite color is green. Now, while I don't relish the idea of using my daughter to promote a sugary, calorie-latent, teeth-rotting soft drink, I do relish the idea of her having an inexpensive play shirt that she'll like wearing because it is her favorite color.

I showed her my yard sale find to which she exclaimed, "Mountain Dew? I'm never wearing that!"

"Why?" I asked. "It's your favorite color."

"Mountain Dew?" she relied. "Like Mountain Doo-Doo? You want me to wear a shirt that says Mountain Poop?"

"Hadley," I said in an exasperated tone. "Dew is like the wet stuff on the grass in the morning. This is like dew on a mountain. Its nature - its kind of a pretty thought."

"Mom," she said. "Its Mountain Doo-Doo like Poop."

I gave up. If she didn't want to wear the fifty cent T-shirt, I certainly wasn't going to fight that battle.

A few days later, however, we were going to the park and then to Rural King (a farming superstore) to look at the baby chickens, and I handed her her Mountain Doo-Doo T-Shirt to wear. She put it on but told me that it was an ugly shirt and that she never wanted to wear it again.

Fine. Fine. And off we went to Rural King. Yes, my red-neck daughter was wearing a Mountain Dew T-Shirt at the Rural King.

However, as we were leaving it became apparent that she fit right in.  We walked across the parking lot only to find an older man with a big belly wearing the EXACT same Mountain Doo-Doo T-Shirt. 


Hadley's face grew red and her eyes blazed at me. 

"YOU HAVE DRESSED LIKE THAT OLD GUY!!!!!!!" she screamed quite loud enough for him to hear.

"Okay, okay," I whispered to her. "You never have to wear it again. Just be quiet."

She wasn't quiet. 

The poor man in his Mountain Doo-Doo T-Shirt made his way over to us, and I wanted to make a run for it to the mini-van, but I stood politely and smiled.

He said to Hadley, "Mountain Dew - huh? That's some good stuff."

To which Hadley replied, "Its disgusting. Like poop."

I politely smiled at the man and then took their picture together. Hadley and her Mountain-Doo Doo Twin. 

For taking this picture - I owe Hadley one goldfish.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Jack Update

Jack is now 18 months old and I couldn't be more proud of him. He's a super sweet little boy and doesn't make anything all that difficult - aside from going anywhere or doing much of anything of course.

That being said, he's a bit of a brute. I'm pretty sure he could tackle and kill a wild boar with his bare hands, and I'm also quite certain that if thrown into a Hunger Games arena the kid would emerge the victor. He's a bulldozer.

However, he doesn't speak. He doesn't have time. He has shit to destroy - such as our home and everything in it.

Although I can't be certain as to why my child isn't speaking. I do have some ideas. Remember this? 

If you need a reminder - Click Here: Baby 101
While I'm proud that he can nearly climb a tree, I would appreciate if he could ask for milk rather than screeching while I guess what he needs.

True to his inner-neandrathal he primarily communicates through a grunting and pointing. And when very frustrated, he screams until my ears are bleeding and my eyes are crying.

"Jack - what do you want? Do you want that toy? A bow and arrow to shoot that squirrel? Another bat to beat your sister with? No? Oh!! Oh!!! Milk....You just want milk. Fine. Okay - Here. Please stop screaming now. Go back to hitting your sister."

Because his speaking skills aren't quite up to par with his physical skills, Jack will begin working with a speech therapist today....That is if she can lure him down from the roof.

Jack at his first Speech Therapy Session. 

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

My Greatest Dream.

Well this time I've really done it. I've rubbed my face off. My upper lip and chin look like my son's skinned knees.

If you recall, I'm a hairy beast. Maintaining a hair-free face takes nearly as much work as raising my kids. As referenced in this post [Curse You Sally Hansen], I've spent most of my life in a futile pursuit to rid myself of unsightly facial hair. I've waxed, plucked and dyed, but when I saw this - I thought, "Hey - Let's give give rubbing a try!"

This "works" by essentially rubbing an emory board over your face.
Clearly desperation has clouded my judgment in regards to reasonable ideas.

BAD BAD move. Shouldn't FDA approval be required to sell such things? Apparently this is a "let the buyer beware" type product.  Well, I now have skid marks on my aching face. Let the eyes of any poor beholder now beware - I look like raw meat.

I've had enough. I need a permanent hair removal solution. I also need cash to pay for it. Make no mistake, I'm hairy AND poor. Since my husband doesn't see the necessity for a permanent hair removal solution (I know, I know, the necessity is all over my face) - I told him not to worry about it. I'll find my own money. 

So, I've set up an Electrolysis Scholarship Fund, of which I will be the first recipient.  I think approximately 20 or so people regularly read this blog, and based on my superior mathematical skills, I figure if they all donate 25 cents…I'll have a $5 to put in my electrolysis fund....well on my way to a hair-free future. 

My greatest dream is that the electrolysis scholarship fund will grow and grow until I can offer permanent hair removal for other discouraged women who have also found themselves disfigured by creams, waxes, and dyes.

Let's all work together and we can put an end to the plight and struggles of hairy women everywhere.