A Bug's Life

Yesterday morning I opened the door to the den and found a rather large and disturbing bug hanging on for dear life. Or so I thought. Apparently it just wanted to come over to our house for a bit of a vacay.

When we returned home later that day (like hours and hours later) H said to me, "Hon? Have you seen this thing on the door?" I looked over and sure enough that ginormous bug was still in the EXACT. SAME. SPOT on the door. It was weird and I had to go to the Internets to figure out what it was and it turns out is some sort of seed bug that is into hibernating.

I learned a valuable lesson though. Don't google random bug descriptions with the words 'large' involved. You will get freaked out beyond belief and won't be able to stop itching and scratching for hours on end. I'm still convinced there are bugs in my hair right now.

Dial 911 to Get Rid of Unwanted Stuff

The other night I went in to check on TD as she lay sleeping. As I tucked her in I heard a loud rumbling engine in front of my house. Upon peering out the window I saw that an ambulance was parked out front and the driver was exiting the vehicle and walking up to my front steps. "What the..." I said to H and we both ran down the stairs. Everything seemed OK in our house. The alarm had not gone off. What the heck was going on? Did Lex the dog suddenly decide to go the way of the Chicken McNugget lady because we are out of dog treats?

We opened the door, both standing there, surprising the ambulance driver as she hadn't even knocked on our door yet. "Oh! I'm here to pick up the puzzles?" She said. "Puzzles? What puzzles?" I asked. "The puzzles you are giving away on Freecycle? Wait. Do you not know what Freecycle is?" She said. "No, no. I know what Freecycle is, I just don't have any puzzles for you..." I answered.

H and I looked at each other perplexed as she stood back and looked at our house number. She repeated our address to us to which we both nodded in unison. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day. I was supposed to pick them up at five o'clock." She said. I glanced at the kitchen clock stating it was almost 9:30 p.m. "No problem. Have a good night." I said and I shut the door.

I looked at H, blinked a few times and he looked at me. "Well, there's our tax dollars at work." He said and we headed off to bed.


I'm up over at DC Metro Moms today and I'm talking about 'Feeding Your Soul'. I'm also giving away a $50 gift card from Smarty Pig over at MPR.

One Step Closer to the 'Burbs Way of Life

I feel as if I've been initiated one step further into the whole parenthood thing this weekend. We did the whole mall Santa thing. H & I were convinced the guy would be reminiscent of 'A Christmas Story's' (and can I just say, I identify with the father of this film a bit too much.) Santa or the incredibly scrawny guy we see at the tree farm each year but nope, this guy was pretty legit.


What was disconcerting, besides the line and vacant glazed over looks all the parents possessed, was the freakin' options for photos. Sure, you could use your own camera but you had to make a minimum purchase. These were no Polaroid shots either. No, Santa's village, which came complete with two dreary looking "elf" helpers, (don't call them Santa's helpers or Elves for the love of God! The death ray glares alone would cut you.) had so many alphabetized options and packages to choose from it was all a bit daunting. A bit more daunting than keeping a two year- old in line for forty minutes. In the end we opted for the ultra modern I-can't-believe-this-is-an- option option of a USB drive with our photos on it. Ain't we slick?


When we got home H couldn't wait to upload it all onto his Facebook account (I should have never introduced him to that quagmire on the web) and I discussed how soul sucking the experience all felt with a friend. She likened it to, "Gray. It all just sounds so depressing in a suburban sense. I think of the mall Santa and just feel depressed." I have to say, I agree. The five seconds of cuteness with TD and Dash Two was great but over all? I'm fine not ever doing it again. And keeping my $30.

Random Question # 172-'Burb Life Edition

You know you live in Suburbia when you hear the following sentences uttered...

Have you been to the new Wegman's yet? It's amazing! You must go! (This is akin to having a new Trader Joe's/Whole Foods/World Market opening in your 'hood. The giveaways, the samples, it is enough to make a person faint over dead in free basting oil.)

I LOVE tea parties! Let's have a tea party!!! (This is not said by anyone in the age 3-6 set who has a tiny Disney princess tea set. No, it is said by a grown woman.)

I think we have a hook, er, working girl living on our street... (seriously. We might.)

Did anyone have someone knock on their door at almost 9 p.m. the other night? Me too!!! Who does that? (It was then blamed on a John who must have been in the 'burb to see the hooker.)

The inevitable talk of paving stones, community pools, parking violations and patio umbrellas will shortly ensue.

What sentences scream 'burb life to you? What do you hear in your neighborhood? And uh, does anyone else have a lady of the night working their block or is it just us? And to think, our street looks and acts like Pleasantville.



Giveaway- Three EVERY MAN JACK kits - read men's products- with a toiletry bag included! Just head over to Mummy's Product Reviews (MPR) today!

Bits & Pieces

Tidbits and snippets of life the last few days...

To the man at the post office sporting a rather lethal tan, please note that our government has not turned on you and the American people simply because the sad little postal annex (not an actual post office) does not stock flag stamps right now. Really. The U.S. Government is not trying to ban the image of the American flag.

I checked snopes for you.

You can rest easy now- preferably in a sticky chaise lounge or tanning bed I'm sure. Your ten minute tirade to the clerk and all of us waiting in line (especially me, you know the lady with the toddler holding her chotch.) was completely unnecessary.


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Dear Local Pool Patrons:

It came to my attention this past weekend that my melon ball of a stomach is terrifically white. I apologize for any blinding I might have caused you. Please know it was not my intention to scare your small children with my pasty after-life type glow. I am in fact, very much alive and I am not some sort of pool zombie looking to devour your children's brains to feed my own spawn.

I would however, very much like to eat any and all of their snacks.


Signed,
Mummy

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To be filed under products I will NEVER review (nice try though.)

Poo-Pourri.

The ideal new purse essential is how it was pitched to me.

Because you never know when you are going to have to take a big, stinky poo in a unisex bathroom. Or something like that.

Seriously, folks you can't make this sh*t up. Pun intended.

Poo-Pourri comes in two delightful scents- Royal Flush and No. 2

Yes, they did go there.

And How Was YOUR Morning?!

Scene: Our house. About 3:30 a.m.

H: Ssshhh!!! Quiet Lex! I said, Quiet!!

I toss and turn wondering how it is even possibly that hot for the dog to be panting so loudly. It's not that hot.

Fifteen minutes later H turns on the ceiling fan and I wait for the dog to stop that loud panting which previously, until H began yelling "shush!" I had not heard.

Realize that the panting had quieted down but um... it smells like the coffee maker is on. WTF?! Did H set the timer on the coffeemaker last night and set it for...check clock on nightstand which now reads 4:41 a.m. Sigh...

How on earth can I be smelling coffee?! Great! Now I'm starving. Roll out of bed and eat crackers furtively in bathroom then proceed to get a bloody nose. Lurrve being pregnant. Sleep is for the weak.

Resume toss and turn nightly game that I now play with my aching hips and finally fall asleep sometime after 5 a.m.

T.D. wakes at 6:54 a.m. asking for her potty. Minutes later I'm downstairs getting her breakfast when I see the dog, Lex, streak past me at warp speed and head outside. She is a blur of black and white. H calls downstairs, "HON! Where is Lex?!" Uh-oh. I yell up to him that is she is out doing her morning bizness and what gives?

Apparently massive amounts of dog feces in the middle of the night can smell just like burnt coffee. Rock on.

After bathing the dog, cleaning up after her and dosing her on the deck with Pepto the morning could finally begin for H & I. How did you start your day?


*MPR has a sunless tanner comparison and a giveaway to be featured by Olive Kids.

White Picket Fences

I'm not a white picket fence girl. I'm more of a wrought iron woman or a tall solid stone wall that would surround my compound. You know my compound. The one I'll have someday when I actually complete my book and sell it. Anyway, back to that stereotypical dream of the white picket fence.

I had a conversation recently with a friend who stated, "I'm not about the white picket fence, that whole suburban thing with kids. It's not what I want." I detected a note of disdain in her voice. She might as well as said, "Blech!" and spit after that sentence. At first it made me angry because after all I live in suburbia and I tote T.D. around on a daily basis. I go to the community pool and take walks on the trails in my 'hood. I took what she said personally. As if it's ok for those other people who aren't smart enough to live that life, but it simply was not for her. She is above that. After a bit I caught myself. It's not me either. While I live in suburbia and I'm probably judged as a "oh she's just a stay at home mom" meaning I must be boring by some people out there (which really just gets in my craw) it's not me.

That whole tiny sentence that didn't even pertain to me but it got me on a whole track of inward thinking. I don't respect what I do. I have issues within me about my status as a mother. I feel that in one instance if I were to just give myself over to motherhood I would be lost in the mire of the mundane. Because let's face it motherhood can be pretty boring at times. I would lose myself. Only to be seen as another capri pant wearing, Old Navy shopping, organic food shoving suburban Mom. To quote Jerry Seinfeld, "not that there's anything wrong with that." There isn't. I just can't give myself over to it. Only on alternate Wednesdays or something.

I've often felt that if I just stopped questioning my roles in life it would all be so much easier. Stop thinking of how you look as a mother who doesn't really feel like she should be a mother, it's all an act. I'm not old enough or fun enough. Stop thinking that if I quit running my mouth about my staunch beliefs I would be a lot more rested. What if instead of going into mourning for the world as a teenager I just sat back and hung out? Maybe it would have been a more fun existence. Maybe if I didn't yell expletives at the University President in college and constantly fought against that system I would not have been called "Psycho Girl" by my classmates. Could I just give myself over to what I percieve to be a simple, complacent and mediocre life? Because that is what society seems to believe family life and the suburban lifestyle is about.

They plug it and disdain it at the same time. You move out to the burbs. You pop out some kids. You lose perspective and become a drone. A slave to the machine of wanting more and judging others by what they have and you have not. A cynical view perhaps, but in essence it's what I believe we are really saying in our whole media blizted mess. City people are cool, edgy, open-minded and worldly. The excitement never stops for them. You know just like it does for singles? The country/suburban folks stop reading and become mush. We only care about how shiny are car is or something. I HATE THAT IDEA.

I HATE that it's come into my way of thinking. I hate that I ponder my role as a mother so much. I chose to do what I believe to be the best avenue for our family and for me and I know I'm judged on that. I'm perceived in a way I abhor. There really is no point to this whole mish-mash of ramblings. It's just me getting out my own junk and trying to sort through it. I clearly have issues with how I think I'm judged by others. Which shouldn't even matter. I never thought about any of this until I had T.D. Now I wonder all the time if I'm going soft. If we should move out of the burbs and into the city. If becoming a mother has sucked away parts of me. Because sometimes I'm too tired to fight anymore and that makes me a bit sad. My passion for things is a tiny bit less because so much of my energy goes into being a mother.

In some ways though I guess it also keeps me questioning things. Just instead of questioning the outside world it's more questioning the inside me. Who really wants to go there on a regular basis?