{Insert witty comment here}

Since Jack is growing at an incredible pace [anyone who has had a newborn, you know exactly what I am talking about], Dylan wanted to find out just how tall Jack was getting compared to him.



I told him he's just high enough to punch him in the balls.

Alrighty then?

Well the super cute pics I wanted to share with you all apparently are not able to be read -- somehow 'cid' is not recognized? I don't know- I'm not a technical genius when it comes to this stuff, so let me just say it was really freaking cute.

I was just thinking the other day

I really need to get some more candy. My candy jar is pathetically empty. Its actually Dylan's candy jar, but still. Oftentimes it ends up being more of a community jar than anything. Then he tells me he needs more candy, because its almost gone. I'm all 'What do you mean you need more candy?? I need more candy!!! Psh!'


Yea, that's right. It's a ONE GALLON JAR. At one point this year [I believe it was shortly after Easter] it was actually 3/4 full. Not bad, since we've added & majorly subtracted since. But still. We really don't have much of a selection left. Its pretty pathetic... you'll notice we still have the crappy chocolate Easter eggs... :sigh:

:Segues into new topic:

Who doesn't love a bonfire? How about on a Thursday night? The older boys & I decided to have a fire last night. Fredward has been working 10 hour days so he didn't join us, as he needed to rest his weary head [not to mention his body]. I didn't want to risk Jack-jack being carried off by mosquitoes, so he stayed in. I played a bit with the ISO speed on the camera to capture some of the flamage, so I can use it for further study on drawing/painting flames. Here's a few shots...



*this one is my fave.*


And of course, you can't have fire pictures without mr. Alex, the firebug. I swear, he'll end up being a pyro, just like me. He started the fire & then yelled at Dylan twice because he nearly fell INTO the fire pit [like a ding dong, walking around the stone- you can see its not very sturdy]. Ah, it ended well though. No chocolate, no graham crackers, but we had marshmallows! The 3 of us and the dog each had two marshmallows, un-charred. No big sticks for cooking the marshmallow on, as our yard is encased by PINE TREES. So much so, that Alex had to run across the street to steal some sticks from the neighbors yard to get the fire going.



Good times! Oh! And just because it looked cool...
Sadie with crazy eyes.

Diary of a MotherFucker

Its 1am, & surprise! I'm still awake.

I'm hungry, I have itchy feet & somehow my bedroom smells like a shit diaper, despite my checking the baby's pants.

So here I sit, eating the snack of champions- a banana with peanut butter. No, not a sandwich. Take the banana, peel it, smear it with a spoonful of the gift from the peanut gods, enjoy. Its the closest thing I have in the house as something 'sweet' to eat. Unfortunately the shitty Easter chocolate isn't even enough to take the edge off. Plus, this peanut butter is FABULOUS! The Natural Jif [& you don't have to stir!] is so delicious, I savor every spoonful. yuuuuummmmmmm. <--There was a free plug, if ever there needed to be one.--> Oh yea. Need I mention, I just polished off the jar? There was 2, maybe 3 heaping tablespoons left at the bottom and if you scraped down the sides. This shit doesn't last in my house. I need, like, a 50 gallon drum. Perhaps that would last a month. Or two.

Actually, the snack-o-champions used to be in my regimen of 'brain food' that I'd eat late at night [sense a theme here?] while I was in college, doing my homework after the hubby & kids went to bed. Up until 2am to write a paper? No problem! Have some peanut butter. Hell, have a peanut butter & banana sandwich. Oooh, how about some dried cherries on that? And honey? Awesome!!! Sweet, just found the chocolate chips- better add a few...

The itchy feet I blame on bad shoes, mosquitos, and my desperate need for a pedicure. The last time I went to get one, it was for my sister in law's bachelorette evening- over 2 years ago. My feet are so abused- bad shoes, barefoot the minute its warm enough, no regular pedi's or even filing of the dead skin... seriously its icky. And I'm telling you about this because...? In hopes you'll buy one of my paintings so I can get this shit taken care of. And maybe find that 50 gal vat o'peanut butter. That I don't have to stir.

Speaking of shit, I'm going to say for tonight/thisearlymorning that Jack farted & he just stank up the room. That's right. I'm blaming the baby. He's just as bad as his father. So indirectly I blame fredward. Its his fault our kid is so stanky. Its his fault because I've never heard of any other person WHO CAN WAKE THEIR SPOUSE FROM A DEAD SLEEP BECAUSE OF THE STENCH COMING FROM HIS ASS. As he giggles into his pillow... :fucker:.

In the morning, I'll tear the room up.

You had to have known this was coming.

Yes, I'm going there. The boobs, both boobs, and nothing but the boobs. [Sorry, no pictures of my boobs included in this post.]


So we have started this whole weaning-off-the-boob-switching-to-formula thingy, and oh my god, do my boobs hurt!!!

They are no longer going through this draining-refilling process because I'm so done with nursing. And in Jack's defense, he's taking it really well. He's got no problems taking a bottle of formula or eating his cereal and mush 3x a day. He still nuzzles looking for something, but its in vain, 'cause he's not getting any. So I think I'm on day 2 or 3 where I haven't actually nursed once... and wow, does it hurt. They are so sensitive and they actually ache- just like they did when I first gave birth to Jack [and Dylan] and the milk took its sweet time coming in. A week later, my chest was gi-normous and once the wind blows the wrong way I'm crippled over in pain. Awesome.

For the first time in 5 months I went bra-less to bed last night [okay, yea you didn't need to know, but I don't really care] with no leakage problems. I get up, get my morning cup o joe, take the dog out, talk to the hubby - this is all a mere 5-10 minutes of being out of bed- and I'm leaking like a fucking gardening hose!!!! What the hell is going on here? Is the wind blowing the wrong way? Does the sound of Fredward's voice make me leak? [Gah! I hope not.]

I dunno, but I don't like it much. On the plus side, my boobs are starting to even out. They were a bit lopsided during the nursing process, because one fills up waaay more than the other. [For you visual freaks, its the right side that gets bigger.] Now that I've stopped, they are becoming more equal in size to one another. Perfect, because I hate being lopsided. I've had big boobs for most of my life, and yea, I'd even say I have a pretty nice rack. Even after two kids, and many years prior to that, going bra-less for two years they still look pretty good. Yea, I was in a hippie-phase for a bit, and for the record, big boobs + bra-less doesn't = good results--- EVER.

Now that I've gotten this off my chest [har har hardy har har] I think the boy wants lunch. As I type this, he's trying to gnaw my arm off. Thanks for reading... if you've made it this far.

There are days

when I don't know whether to laugh or cry, be amused, amazed or downright mortified. Having a teenager in the house is definitely a clusterfuck of emotions. I remember being a teenager... my parents hated me [or so I liked to think], everything I did/said/thought was wrong [sometimes continues to present day], I could do no right, my parents don't know me... yada, yada, yada. And yet, here I am, typing away on my bliggity-blog, eventually posting this to my facey-spaces, realizing that these "issues" have come full circle.

I like to say that I am a very private person, and no one single person knows everything there is to know about me. I always preferred solitude, and still do, much to the disappointment of my husband & kids. I do just fine at parties, and yet, I still like the privacy oneness gives me. There is something so satisfying, and yes, selfish, about alone time.

There really is no where in particular that I am going with this post, other that pointing out this observation to you, dear reader. Oh, and the fact that my eldest son likes to think he's a "G" every now and then. This.... :grins: this boy will eat the icky chocolate eggs left from Easter just to get the colored foil so he can make his "grill".


Yep. :sigh: That's my boy!