The baby honeymoon is over.? Now that our daughter is four months old, those sweet, idyllic moments are seemingly gone forever.? ? The enchantment with our little bundle of joy has officially worn off.

Before you accuse me of being an unatural? mother (don’t worry, I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time), let me assure you I’m not talking about my feelings.? ? Nor my husband’s.? We are still disgustingly ga-ga over the newest member of our family.?

Alas, I’m talking about our four year-old son.? You see, he has finally figured out that his baby sister is here.? To Stay.? FOREVER.? Equally apparent is the fact that he’s less than thrilled with that knowledge.? ? Or at least, that’s what I’m deducing, based on his recent complete and utter loss of coping skills.?

Not that he ever says anything mean about his sister.? It’s always, “Oh, look how cute baby Finley is”, or “Aw, she’s so silly”.? ? So, how do I know he’s upset?? Let’s put it this way—-does the word “tantrum” mean anything to you?? Yes, I realize that most toddlers and preschoolers throw tantrums, but my son just wasn’t one of them.? Oh, he’d get in a snit every now and again, but on a? truly awful day, twenty seconds was about? his max.? (By the way, do not take this to mean I think my son was a perfect angel in every other regard—that thought is so ludicrous that I need to stop to take a laugh break right now.)? ? Seriously, my son? comes with more than his quota? of special and interesting challenges and “idiosyncrasies”, if you will.? It’s just that tantruming didn’t happen to be one of them.? Until now.

I guess it’s one of those special perks of having a second child that you just gloss over in the parenting books, thinking surely it won’t pertain to your well-adjusted child.? Okay, folks, I can hear the cackles from the seasoned parents of multiple kids even through the Internet—knock it off.? Admit it—you were living in the same dreamland of denial when planning your second child as well.? Just because you’ve already lived it doesn’t make it funny when others are? suffering.? Or maybe it does.? ? In fact, I take it back—I can’t wait for the day when I get a good chuckle from somebody else’s misery in this department, so long as my own son isn’t wailing over the fact that he’s suddenly? ravenous in the middle of his sister’s bath.? Or sobbing because he didn’t get a hand stamp? at gym class.? (Apparently, if you don’t get? a stamp at gym class, the world as we know it might end at any moment.)

In fact, before Finley turned three months old, I could probably count the number of tantrums my son had on one hand.? With fingers to spare.? Now?? Heck, I need two hands, and on a bad day, feet, to make it through? one twenty-four hour stretch.?

I know? this too shall pass.? I mean, we’ve survived? my son’s daycare flasher phase, his pushing-is-fun phase, and his mommy-needs-to-fix-my-covers-at-3:00-in-the-morning phase.? ?

Not with any dignity, mind you, but hey—dignity is over-rated, especially as it pertains to child-rearing.

Okay, so my hubby made HUGE progress this weekend in the picking-up, or as I like to say, the not-being-such-a-massively-disgusting-slob,? department.

? We didn’t get off to a good start, though.? On Friday morning, I was ready to pull out my hair.? Piece by piece. Until I was sporting the Bruce Willis look.? Why?? Because I was bemoaning the fact that a grown man either a) cannot find the trash can in his own home, after residing there for over two years or b) lives in a dreamland where trash miraculously morphs into the trash can all by itself or c) both of the above.

See, my husband had a little? snackie that morning, and left me to wake up to this:

Exhibit A:? Fortune cookie left on counter

Apparently, it was either a disgusting cookie, or he only opened it for the fortune inside.? Either way, he left the? cookie entrails? behind for me—how sweet.? ? Here’s hoping? the fortune said, “I see cleanliness in your future”, and not “You are destined to live your days like filthy swine”.

The next photo, though, is awe-inspiring.? This is a very rare moment, a once in a lifetime occurrence, and I got it on camera.? My husband was actually cleaning his hair cuttings out of the sink within minutes of making the mess!? Without any prompting from me!

If I hadn’t actually? recoreded this moment for prosperity, I would have thought I was daydreaming.

Granted, he left the vacuum in the bathroom afterwards, but hey, you’ve gotta crawl before you walk.? Baby steps, people, baby steps.

I know, I know—if I’d? just stopped to glance? at the title even once while writing my last post, I would’ve remembered? what the heck I was supposed to writing about? .? But that would have required (a miniscule amount of)? thinking.? Which, by the end of the day, is not my strong point.? Besides, my brain likes to hibernate at night (which is how I excuse my reality show habit).? You know, bears should really think about wintering on chocolate truffle cake—it sure does the trick for me.

So, finally, on to the intended subject of my last post—-our 3-car garage? (afer all that build-up, this is destined to be anti-climactic).?

When we bought this house, there were two things I really, really craved—a huge walk-in closet, and a bigger kitchen.? There were also two things my husband wanted—a big yard and a 3-car garage.

Somehow, yours truly? ended up? the big stinkin’ loser of that round.? Prior to moving, I wasn’t even aware it was possible to trade up to a bigger house while trading down in kitchen space.? And the walk-in?? Well, I can ambulate into it, so I suppose it qualifies.? What I really wanted, though,? was one of those gi-normous ones I could? throw a decent-sized party in, if I so desired.? Unfortunately, unless I’m planning a fiesta for two very, very intimate friends, it ain’t happening.?

So, my husband ends up with a bigger yard (for which we have to out-source the upkeep) and a 3-car garage.

Personally, I think the larger garage was a really bad idea.? My theory?? Well, it’s? based on purses.? See, if you are a purse-stuffer, like myself, then you know it’s best to carry a tiny purse.? Why?? Because no matter what size purse you carry, it will soon be filled to the brim, and then some, with a plethora of crap.? And the rules of physics and basic anatomy dictate that a smaller crap-stuffed purse is much lighter and easier to manage than a larger crap-stuffed purse.

This same rule applies to garages.? When you are a horrible unorganized pack-rat, it makes sense to err on the side of a smaller crap-stuffing space.? ? Don’t believe me?? Well, I’m pretty sure a quick gander at our garage is all the convincing you’ll need.

Exhibit A:? left side of garage

Exhibit B:? middle of garage (Yes, that’s the car that was totaled back in? April, 2007.? If you’re wondering why it’s still here, you need to check out a few of my posts on procrastination.? But, hey, it makes a nice suitcase and box holder, don’t you? think?)

Exhibit C:? right side of garage:

The funniest part?? My husband likes to give me grief about what he calls “the wife drawer” in the kitchen, because it’s so messy.? But the garage is his domain.

So I’ll take my tiny drawer in my tiny kitchen, thank you very much, and leave him with this:

By the way, some of the bins on the left?? Those are the clothes that don’t fit in my new closet.

Paybacks work in mysterious ways.

Okay, so this picture has absolutely no bearing on the intended subject matter of this particular blog post, but it was just too cute not to share.? Maybe my hubby’s ADHD is contagious.

Oh, crap—also unrelated to my blog post, but entirely relevant to my real life—I totally forgot to order the photos we took of Finley at Kiddie Kandids last week.? How long do you suppose they keep them until they’re deleted?? (Please don’t say a week, please don’t say a week, please don’t say a week.)? ? I pray they still have them available to order, since my mom already picked out the ones she liked.? Unfortunately, she has a mind like a steel-trap when it comes to details (whereas mine is more like….unsteel.? Who? the heck made up that? ridiculous saying, anyway?), so there will be no photo-switch-a-roo possible.

Okay, so on to the real topic of my blog…which is….um….yeah, so apparently I just forgot.? Hey, you try to write while listening to American Idol wannabes hack out horrible renditions of classics in the background.? The human brain can only take so much torture at a time.? And mine is about done for the day.

Besides, I’ve gotta see if I can still order those photos—before I’m disowned.?

The Diaper Champ.? Great in theory, a stunning disappointment in reality.? See, evidently they only work if you actually put an empty? bag inside them and then throw the bag away once it’s full of diapers.? Really—who has time for that?

? The? chances of those events occuring? in our house?? ? I’d say about as likely as the Pooper Scooper Fairy? paying us a visit, waving her wand,? and magically? making the gazillion pounds of canine manure? fertilizing our lawn disappear.? I mean, I think at one point we may have stuck a bag in the Diaper Champ, but who can be expected to remember such insignificant details every single time? (Well, bully for you.? Show off.)

? Now, say, if the Diaper Champ were actually a robot,? and could take our seemingly endless contribution to? America’s landfills out to the trash can all by itself—then we’d be talking.? Or maybe a? Diaper Nanny—I don’t need help with the kids (Well, not much, anyway.? Okay, so this is a flat-out lie, but humor me here—it makes for better reading)., but if Mary Poppins wanted to swing by every few hours to dump our diaper disasters, that’d be sweet.? Which is not a word I’d associate with the smell emanating from the discarded mound of diapers lying forlornly next to? the Diaper Champ.? So close, and yet, so far.

I assume what occurs in normal households (and I can only assume, since I don’t have firsthand experience with one of those) is something like this—Diaper Champ gets full, dirty dipes no longer fit inside, and somebody takes them out to the trash.? Seems simple enough, right?? Unless you live in our home, where my husband and I routinely engage in an endless? game of diaper chicken.? Basically,? we? see who can go the longest living amongst? the? stench of germinating baby bottom.? Once the Diaper Champ is full?? Well, we like to conserve energy (the kind that involves walking outside to the trash can) and so we pile diapers on top of the Diaper Champ, beside it, in the bathroom trash can, even on the fireplace mantle—basically, anywhere other than the proper receptacle.? Admittedly, we can’t close the bathroom or bedroom doors, lest the ammonia fumes knock us back 50 fifty upon entering.? But we can live with that.

Exhibit A:? Maxed-out Diaper Champ

Exhibit B:? The overflow

Exhibit C:? The overflow’s overflow

Exhibit D:? The evil mastermind behind it all

I really, really, really am planning to do the research and switch to cloth diapers this weekend.? Of course, I’ve said that for the past 8 weekends now, and you can see how far that’s gotten me.

At least the cloth dipes will be more colorful lying next to the Diaper Champ.

My dog is broken.? ? Or defective.? Either that, or she’s a Mastiff in disguise.

Why do I say this?? Because as far as I know, Ridgebacks are not supposed to spill enough water when they take a drink to cause the Titanic to sink.? Seriously, I’m afraid one day she’s going to flood my kitchen, at the very least.

None of our eight other Ridgebacks have ever done this (And before you ask—no, they don’t all live at my house, although I realize that’s hard to believe, given the? mess).? ? In fact, most of them are downright dignified imbibers, taking dainty tea sips from the bowl.? At the most, they spill a drop here or there.? I mean, we’re talking Ridgebacks—if they get their paws wet, they might melt.

So why, oh why, do I have? the? defective one? that forces? me to wade through small ponds of water day after day, soaking my socks with spillage and doggy drool?

Exhibit A:? ? Fergie, taking a drink.

Exhibit B:? The aftermath.

The question now is—-do I refill the bowl, or do I just let her drink off the floor?

So, why don’t I trust the FDA?? I’ve got two words for you—aspartame and bovine growth hormone.? Okay, so maybe my counting skills are lacking, but my research skills aren’t.? And it doesn’t take much searching to figure out that the FDA blew it big time when it approved the? alternative sweetener? half the? country is addicted to and the cow hormone injections? routinely ingested by our children.

So, you think NutraSweet? is safe, just because our government approved? it for use in foods and drinks?? ? Please.? If you’re buying that load of hooey, then please, come buy our Southern California house at the premium we paid for it over two years ago.? Scout’s honor—it’s worth at least as much as the FDA’s word on chemical sweeteners.

For example, did you know that some of the ingredients in aspartame convert to formaldehyde in your body?? And if you did, were you then aware that formaldehyde is a Class-A carcinogen?? ? So, every time you take a sip of that diet soda, you’re taking a little sip of the main ingredient in embalming fluid.? I guess it’s sort of ironic, in a way, because if you drink enough of it over time, you might be the next one requiring the services of a good undertaker.? ? So, how refreshing is that fizzing super-sized cup of toxic chemicals looking now?

Also, were you aware that aspartame acts as a neuro-exciter, and in all likelihood over-stimulates brain cells—to their death?? ? I mean, if I’m going to whack some brain cells, at least give me a good buzz and some pink elephants to go with it.? Hey, and there’s even better news.? Apparently, this effect is cumulative over time.? So, if you want to do a little science experiment on your brain, keep chugging those 64 oz Super Big Gulps and see what happens.

Where does the FDA fit in?? Well, to start with, they banned the stuff for 8 years.? Sounds good so far?? Yeah, just wait.? Eventually, the head of the FDA approved the stuff.? ? Why?? Gee, I don’t know.? Taking a big, bloody stab in the dark—perhaps it had something to do with? him then jumping ship and joining the aspartame folks’ public relations firm for oodles of money.? ? Coincidence, oh yee-of-too-much faith muses?? There’s more.? The government lawyers who dismissed the case against the aspartame folks’ then went to work for their? law firm.? Again, oodles of money were involved.? Not ready to jump off the FDA band wagon yet?? Then alas, I fear you are already suffering from the effects of excessive Equal consumption.? Feel free to read the entire story about aspartame and the FDA, as well as side-effects.?

Now, I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t leave me feeling all warm and fuzzy about the good ole Food and Drug Administration.? Either they’re incompetent, unscrupulous, or, as I suspect, a little of both.? I mean, by far and away aspartame has the most adverse effects reported to the FDA every year.? Do you really think if this was something that didn’t make billions of dollars it would still be on the market?? But with Monsanto and the diet soda industry involved, good luck getting it removed.? Just don’t be surprised when the people at the FDA and Diet Pepsi start to invest heavily in cancer drugs.?

And then comes the bovine growth hormone.? It’s basically the same old story.? The bottom line?? FDA goofs, American public pays.? If you haven’t watched the youtubevideo on the subject yet (maybe you missed it in my? previous? blog), now’s the time.

Yes, I’m a little bitter.? See, when I buy my milk, I’m not really looking for a hormone and antibiotic cocktail.? Why the antibiotics?? Because the growth hormone approved by the FDA causes mastitis in the cows, which in turn requires antibiotics.? And we’re not talking a few doses.? Basically, the homrones necessitate the cows to be on antibiotics for the entirety of their milking existence.? A really nice side-effect of all this? Our new antibiotic resistant cooties.? Not to mention the possible health effects of the hormones in and of themselves.? Hey, it’s not good enough for Canada, but Americans will drink it.? They’ll drink anything.?

I’m sure you’re familiar with the old saying—you are what you eat.? Well, I guess all I’m saying is I don’t want to be a cancer-ridden, brain-cell deficient, hormone and antibiotic-laden freakshow, courtesy of our very own FDA.

….she’s not.

Take a peek.? Here, she’s (pretending to be) such a good little hound, just idly lounging on the bed with her buddy, Skye.?

But if you look closer, you’ll see she’s? on Santa’s? naughty list.? Again.

Apparently, my comforter is just another stuffed dog toy to her,? but on a grander scale.

Anyone? need a slightly used liver-nosed Ridgeback?? (joking—she’s a keeper, even if she is? the naughtiest hound on the block)

Anyone who hasn’t watched the video on the Fox News whistle blowers in Miami, regarding bovine growth hormone,? needs to.

? As if I needed another compelling reason not to trust the FDA.? Or the news.

And then there’s Monsanto, a lovely company that brought us the safe, healthy treats (read sarcasm here) of aspartame, hormone-laden milk, and genetically-modified produce.? Yum.

More to come.? I just wanted to get this link out there asap.

Okay, quick disclaimer: This is a guest post from the webmaster – not the houndrat…

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I’m not sure how the web will evolve, but there needs to be a better way to find sites such as these when you want to find them. I just wanted an online mba. That’s it. But getting started and finding a central repository of information was exceedingly difficult. I’ve been perusing the information, but I still question the value of an “online” degree versus a bricks and mortar college experience (3 degrees already). If anyone has any good information, please post it in the comments below!

Thanks!