mom’s night out photos

Posted by houndrat on Wednesday Apr 9, 2008 Under family life, kids, parenting, SAHM

Well, since Finley is still on a semi-nursing strike, all I really have the energy to do is post a few photos from our Mom’s Night Out event last Saturday.?

? You know you’re not a spring chicken anymore when the old eyelids start drooping before midnight.? Sigh.

We went to an interactive mystery/ comedy dinner theater.? The mystery and comedy?? Great.? The dinner?? I’ve had Swanson’s frozen entrees that put it to shame.? Oh well—it was still nice to have a night out.

The short-lived stay at the local bar afterwards?? Well, let’s just say I really know I’m old after attending that venue.? At least we left before I could disgrace myself by singing (very, very bad) karaoke.

Photos:

Here’s our motley crew.? I guess I should let you know which one is me, since I assume the vast majority of folks reading this have no clue what I look like.? I’m the blond, second from the right.

me and Brandy (I’m still the blond, second from the right):

Crys with the cast of the play (Because she was actually paying attention to the plot and figured out who the murderer was.? Me?? Ha!? One drink and I can barely remember who I am):

me and Elyse:

And that’s all folks—got another hot? date with Mr. Pumpy.? Woo hoo!

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Who’s gonna do my to-do list?

Posted by houndrat on Tuesday Mar 4, 2008 Under family life, procrastination, SAHM

I don’t know what’s up today.? I can’t tell if I’m depressed, apathetic, a procrastinator or just plain lazy, but it’s one of those days where nothing is getting accomplished.? You know those? days when you completely lack motivation?? Yeah?? Well, multiply that times one hundred, and you’ll find me.? All I want to do is ignore my ginormous list of to-do’s and take a nice long snooze.

I guess that wouldn’t be such a big deal, if my to-do list didn’t look something? like this:

–clean house (it’s even too dirty for me to tolerate at this point)

–do laundry (because? sometimes after you’ve worn the same outfit for the 5th time or so without washing it, it starts to exude a not-so-daisy-fresh scent)

–put away dishes (one thing I actually do on a regular basis, thank you very much)

–put away laundry (because? in this sick and twisted universe,? my? garmets do not magically march themselves into my closet once I go to all the effort to wash them—lazy bastards)? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

–throw out used diapers (yeah, so that one’s never gonna happen–but it’s still on my list)

–go to grocery store (I feel like I was just there yesterday.? Oh yeah–it’s because I was)

–buy new pots and pans (since hubby tossed all of our old ones into the trash in one fell swoop, and it’s challenging to cook in an empty? Marie Callendar’s pie pan ((although it does make for a nice dog-food dish in a pinch)))

–take care of baby (as if I could forget that one)

–send out resume (So I can try to pick up some weekend hours, with the inadvertent effect of never seeing my husband ever ever again since he commutes 60+ miles each way to work and gets home around bedtime.? Maybe we can leave each other love notes and treat our marriage like? a long-distance romance.)

–find resume first (since we have about ten computers in our home thanks to husband’s predilection for collecting electronic junk, and I have no idea which one it’s stored on)

–Dremel dogs’ nails (so my mom and aunt don’t disown me when they come out to visit and take our Ridgebacks to a dog show–for some reason, AKC judges prefer the dogs nails not to look like eagle talons–imagine that)

–cook dinner (don’t I have to go to the store first?)

–pick up punching bag from the middle of the living room floor (because apparently my husband thinks that’s the dumping grounds for new purchases)

–read parenting books (because my son has gone a little mental in response to our newest family addition, which, in turn, makes me a lot mental)

–clean out:? laundry room, front closet, car, garage bins, my brain

So, what have I accomplished so far today?? Let’s see—looked up stuff on craigslist (not on the list), looked up stuff on ebay (not on the list), emailed some people (not on list) and written this blog (not on list)

Oh, but I am taking care of the baby, so I guess the day’s not a total loss.

? In case you didn’t believe me, about the punching bag:

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There’s a Buzz Lightyear pinata in my closet.

Posted by houndrat on Saturday Jan 19, 2008 Under SAHM

Here’s a little something you might not know about me—there’s? a? 5 foot tall Buzz Lightyear pinata in my closet.? You see, one day, I was getting ready to hang up some clothes for the first time since my son was born (he’s the four-year old, by the way).? I walked (waded would actually be the more correct term here) into my closet, looked to the right, and presto!? There he was, the Toy Story hero in the flesh, er, plaster of paris.

Now, I grant you, my closet is a tad messy.? Yes, wiseass, that is an understatement.? So, if a sock puppet, a small rodent, or possibly even JFK had been found in there, I wouldn’t have been too surprised.? But a 5 foot tall Buzz Lightyear pinata?? That’s pushing the boundaries of randomness, even for me.

My assumption is when most folks pass a dude in a muscle t hawking Buzz Lightyear pinatas on the side of the road, they just drive on by.? And I think this assumption is correct—unless you’re my husband.? Apparently, he just had to have it—because you never know when a 5 foot tall Buzz Lightyear pinata might come in handy.?

Good ole? Mr. Lightyear? has? taken up permanent residence inside my closet.? ? Poor fellow is? now sans a hand–my son performed emergency surgery with a hanger, but alas, it couldn’t be saved.? ?

Come on Buzz,? my closet’s not? that scary.? Is it?

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I ain’t no housewife

Posted by houndrat on Saturday Jan 12, 2008 Under babies, family life, husbands, kids, SAHM

My friend recently told me she’s a good wife, but not a good housewife.? It got me thinking (always a dangerous? pastime in our home)—what the heck is a housewife?? I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure I? married a man, not the outrageously? over-priced tract house with the world’s most minuscule kitchen? in which? we currently reside.? Although? I suppose I could be wrong—we did have a helluva? lot of booze? at our wedding.

Seriously, though, I think the? term “housewife” epitomizes all of the outlandish expectations men have? of their wives–for example, things like mopping the floor daily (sorry, I don’t live in a Brady Bunch rerun), or cleaning the toilet until it sparkles (I’ve never really understood the need to clean an appliance that will be instantly sullied by human excrement within hours of washing it), or discarding dirty toenail clippings (hey, they’re biodegradable).? ? I don’t know about you, but my wedding vows were to love, honor, and cherish—not love, honor, and pick up thy husband’s dirty undies ’til kingdom come.? And I’m pretty sure the latter statement would have penetrated even? the haziest of? booze-impaired brains.

So, instead, I like to call myself a stay-at-home mom, or SAHM, for short.? (or, if you read dooce, it’s actually an acronym for various profanities–which is equally apropos on any given day).? Honestly, though, I? have no problems with this moniker.? I do stay at home—well, except for the plethora of playgroup meetings, music class, gym class, grocery shopping, dog walking, outings to the zoo or Legoland or the beach, picking up the dry cleaning (okay, so I’ve only done that once in my entire married life, but it sounded good), etc, that force me to vacate my? residence for seemingly hours on end.? And I am a mom, unless those two little fiends living in my home were beamed? down by aliens, whose sole purpose? is to? study the effects of supreme daily chaos on the human body? (boy, are THEY getting an eyeful).?

Come to think of it, I had that second? fiend au naturel—and since certain body parts, which shall remain nameless, will never be the same, I suppose the kids are legit. (In case you’re wondering, “au naturel” means no drugs, no hospital—just my own house, my own bed, and a leather strap to bite down on—oh, wait, my husband is now telling me that was actually his arm.? Oops.)

But note, the title is stay-at-home mom.? Stay-at-home MOM.? The problem being—this title is an evil lie.? Or, an evil lie of omission, if you will.? Because implicit in this title is a whole list of other things we SAHMs are expected to do on a daily basis, things that are far less appealing than just being a mommy.? Let’s face it, you hear the term stay-at-home mom, and and what do you envision?? Images of smiling, cooing babies,? pictures of pristine moms in Jimmy Choos ruffling their equally pristine toddler’s hair, thoughts of decked-out MILFs and beaming, spotless children skipping hand-in-hand through the meadows, right?? ? Wrong.? It’s all a bunch of cow manure.? Essence of steer.? Meadow muffins.? It’s a load of poppycock propagated by men so that women will agree to be stay-at-home moms in the first place.? They cunningly neglect to mention all the fun extras that come with the job.?

For example, would you sign up to be a stay-at-home? poopy bottom wiper?? A stay-at-home dog barf cleaner?? A stay-at-home dirty undie scooper upper?? I think not.? I mean, seriously, who is going to pee their pants? with excitement? at the prospect of? being a stay-at-home snot sucker outer?? (There may be a lot of pants-peeing going on around here, including my own due to the above-mentioned baby-damaged body parts, but I can guarantee you it ain’t out of? glee over mucous).? Or a stay-at-home-hubby’s-nasty-hair-clippings-in-the-sink cleaner?? ? The last time I checked, my Master’s degree did not? adequately? prepare me for? such topics.? Maybe I should petition my school.

One time, my husband? proclaimed that he would make a great stay-at-home dad and a great househusband.? ? I? actually think I heard God laugh out loud.? Either that, or one of the dogs blasted us with another of those high-pitched farts.? Don’t get me wrong—my husband is an extraordinarily devoted dad, and an awesome husband and dad in so many ways.? Unfortunately, none of? those ways? involve? either a single? iota of ? consistent discipline or acceptable human cleanliness.? Basically, our house would implode within a week of leaving him home with the kiddage and doggage.? Think Home Alone, only? set in Bosnia instead of the suburbs, and you’ll get the picture.

So, please, make sure you read the fine print before signing on to be a SAHM.? That way, you can start learning how to be a stay-at-home-crusty-booger-wiper-offer far, far in advance.

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