We surely have figured out by now that I am sort of a strange bird. But I’m at peace with that. It’s lovely being different. Some examples of my strangeness? Well, I like to talk out loud to, and answer myself. Nothing wrong with being a conversationalist, right? I have important things to rant about and SOMEONE has to listen. When I pass gas, I like to blame it on the “barking spiders”. Also, I am always talking with accents. Terrible accents. I think my worst accent is Chinese, but my Irish accent is also pretty bad. 

Also? I collect blue glass. That’s not so strange. But kissing the new blue glass hen that Jeremy bought me on Friday? That’s maybe worth seeing a doctor about…

She who makes out with chickens. Delicious blue glass hens. Yumm.

I’m also kind of strange in that I don’t like company that doesn’t call first. I just don’t like surprises. I’m really tired of salesmen coming to my door to try and clean my rugs or sell me magazines. Hellloooo!? Babies nap after lunch! Doorbells wake sleeping babies. Duh.

Speaking of strange? I’m not the only weirdo in this neighborhood. Nope. My neighbor spends every evening trying to rope a bull made of straw. I’ve never been to a rodeo, never really had a thing for men in Wranglers, but I am fascinated by watching his determination. He spends hours roping a bale of hay with horns on it.

Speaking of no soliciting signs, his wife has borrowed so many eggs from me that I think I should stop kissing chickens and start breeding them. Dude. I have 5 people to feed. Ask your husband to put down the rope and go to the grocery store. Obviously the bull he’s been trying to rope isn’t going anywhere. Geesh.

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Austin actually let me take a picture of him today. Isn’t he sweet? I love this dude. Some mommas raise up hay roping cowboys, some mommas raise up basketball players. We all do it right as long as we do it with love! 

I’m sorry, y’all. I’m just not motivated. I’m feeling slumpy. I haven’t much to say, so I haven’t posted in awhile.

But I’m going skiing tomorrow! So maybe I’ll have something to write about then! I’ve been going to the gym, hanging out with other stay-at-home moms, and making delicious meals. I’ve been able to put Noah to bed every night at 8 pm, wide awake, and he falls asleep by himself. I do cheat though. I bring him to bed with me when I go so that I don’t have to answer midnight calls on the other side of the house. I’m not good about getting up in the night. I’ll eventually get to a place where I’ll just leave him in his bed all night. It’s time for that, but neither of us are very motivated to implement sleeping separately. Cuddling is good for the soul!

We’ve been dreaming about home remodeling. The great part about renovating is that we don’t have to pay anyone to do it– Jeremy is “The Man”. We increased our home value by 35,000 just by putting in 8,000 in materials last year! So, when we have the money (not right now) we’ll be adding a master bathroom, building a deck, landscaping & yard play area, getting a woodstove, painting the exterior, and replacing windows (not in order of importance, but in order of my preference). I’d like to finish these projects in the next 2-3 years. That’s a reasonable goal I think. Obviously, the need for windows and a woodstove will come first. Bummer, those aren’t the fun things.

Here’s the deck I want (Ummmm, I’ll take the awning, the friends, AND the mojitos in the picture too, please). The kid’s play area (but not that fancy). The woodstove. Something like this for the bathroom.

Oh, while we’re dreaming: Summer is coming. In 4 months. Zzzzzzzz. 

Anyhow, I might like my body more by then. Maybe not as much as I like these models’ bodies, but whatever. Shoosh, this is my dream, ok? So, in this dream I might need this. This will definitely keep me driven towards toning the old mommy body. This please. And this. But don’t forget this, k? It perks boobs, they say. And let me tell ya, the boobs could use some perkin’ after 3 babies. Giving props where props are due, these items are all from www.victoriassecret.com .

Dreaming is good for the soul. And it gives me something to talk about, cause I’m all bore these days. What’s on the top of your “wish” (not need) list?

… she goofed up BIG! On stage! In front of the President, Tom Hanks, AND Dolly Parton. She messed up! Nanny, nanny, NAAAAnny! 

Yep, I’m envious. Yes, I wish I had a fantastic body like hers. Yes sireee, I’m green with jealousy. I admit it! But still, y’all! She flubbed! Jessica Simpson doesn’t flub (she’s perfect, don’t ya know?)! And no, it wasn’t cute in my opinion.

That gal has never worked a day in her damn life and I know that because I saw the episode of Newlyweds where she admitted she had never washed clothes before! What does the gal know about workin’ 9 to 5!? Also, the words of the damn song aren’t that difficult, Jess! We southern girls have loved IDOLIZED Dolly since the beginning of time, way back when she was a HHH sized bra. Did you really have to embarrass us all by flubbing the words and needing a teleprompter to show you the way? And the chicken cluckin’ head thing? At least Britney can dance. The belly holding thing you did? Rehearse, girlfiend, and you won’t have a nervous stomach, or need to fidget, or need a teleprompter, or have to cluck your neck.

I suppose it makes me happy to see one of “them” mess up. But really I’m just mad that she calls herself a Southern Belle and then flubs up the southen working woman’s theme song. Come on! It’s insulting!

And Jess spends a lot of time with/around Bush. I know she’s a Republican, but I bet she’s his Marilyn Monroe. Ok, maybe not. He’s kind of an asexual kind of guy. Kennedy wasn’t, he was pretty hott. That’s just an opinion. Maybe Jess is really one of his stem cell, test tube creations so he has to follow her around like a mad scientist. Or perhaps she’s his fembot– secret sevice protector and terrorist annihilator. Yes, those jumblies are so large as to house automatic machine guns and a few grenades. There’s got to be some reason they are always in the same places. By ”they” I mean George and Jess, not her boobs. Of course the boobs are in the same places at the same times. Geesh. Get your head out of the gutter, enough about her boobs (Oh, Gosh. What kind of Google search traffic will I get now?). Anyhow, she just can’t admit their love affair because how cool would she be if she admitted going from this to that. Yeah, not very, huh?

Anyways, enough about that. Watch this if you haven’t already…

I decided it would be fun to start a new category that I’ll add to now and then, particularly when I am having writer’s block. I have titled it, “Changes” and it will consist of random things I think have changed in my thinking and behaviors over the years. It’s my blawg, y’all, and so it has to have random weirdness from my brain! Here’s the first thing that came to mind when I thought about a change I’ve made:

I have always been a bit neurotic. I was the only child in elementary school who had read books on the Heimlich maneuver or how to do first aid on a rattlesnake bite. I had migraines that I was sure were likely from high blood pressure or a brain tumor, at the age of 7. I was positive that the world would end by some horrible catastrophe by the time I was old enough to wash my own laundry. My mother’s death really emphasized this behavior, as did her Registered Nurse career when she was alive. “Stephanie! Guess what I did today? I got to assist with a spinal tap on a 4 year old,” or “Steph, guess what!? Today I was the nurse who assisted Dr. Landers during surgery to remove a tumor in a young woman’s left breast!” “Steph, I assisted in the delivery of a baby whose mother had male and female genitalia!” (No. I’m not kidding. There is someone out there with two parts and I know all about these parts.)

I couldn’t imagine myself ever reaching the age of 32, her age when she died. Guess what? I’m almost there! Even though the high stress of spending 30 years terrified of everything should have caused a potentially life threatening heart condition or a bleeding ulcer (actually they say these aren’t stressed related now), I am still here! It’s a fucking miracle!

Motherhood changed my neurosis a bit. I don’t worry so much about dying as I do about keeping my children safe. I have to work very hard not to instill every fear I have into my children. Would you like an example?

“Austin? Are you really going to suck the helium out of that balloon!? A-hem. Umm. Nevermind. Suck the helium. It could cause a blood clot in the lungs. But not your lungs. It does lead to cancer in lab rats, but never mind that. I mean, children all over this planet suck helium. Don’t even think twice about shorting your brain of oxygen which might lead to deafness in your right ear or ulcers on your gums. Uhhh. Nevermind Austin. I love you, honey. Suck the helium. Go ahead. Have fun!”

Ok, slight exaggeration. But you get the point. I’m Crazy, y’all! What matters is that we are able to change and grow over the years, right? I went from a 4 foot tall fruity pebble to a 6 foot tall froot loop. Ha!

See, I looked a little on the looney side even then.