Its raining its pouring!

How long was the Donner party trapped in those mountains before they went crazy, starved and ate each other?  Ok, I know it was the mountains, they didn't really go crazy and to their credit they waited for those people to die and freeze before they ate them.  I only ask the question because it has been raining here for 10 days.  10 days.  Stuck inside with The Children.  I think capitalizing it makes it seem more ominous, don't you.  You, know, like...The People Under the Stairs or The Thing.  See I have gone completely wacky!  These kids wont leave me alone, we are so bored all we can do it pick on each other.

The good thing about being stuck inside so much is that you start to notice little things about each other you never noticed before.  You get to know the little idiosyncrasies, the little personal patterns and rituals, the small intimacies that make you feel you know them better than anyone.  Things only a mommy would notice.  Like the way Maddox insists on any lingering tooth paste left in the bowl has to be rinsed out before he can rinse his mouth out.  Or that he has lately developed a thick southern accent...but that is for another time. 

Since I have a lot of time on my hands trapped in this house during the down pour I affectionately call The Apocalypse I got to thinking.  Enjoying the kids little idiosyncrasies was what my husband and I used to do with each other.  We were it and that is how we bonded.  Each other was all we had to focus on.  Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed my job and my husband enjoys his, but our relationship has always come first. Before babies we used to sit around and talk all day long about each other, what we thought, what we dreamed and make fun of each others little quirks.  Now I find myself looking at him and discovering something and asking "when did that start"?  Since when have you been parting your hair like that?  Since when do you wear cuff links?  You used to hate cuff links.  

Its stupid I know, but it bothers me.  That I know Maddox likes to put his pants on right leg first but I didn't realize that my husband had finally welcomed the French Cuff into his fashion repertoire.  Date night seems more important now than ever.  I still know my husband better than anyone does but boy is it a lot of work to make sure that other things don't start to escape notice.  Marriage is hard work, anyone who says different is lying or probably doesn't have kids.

PS

It has since stopped raining and I was able to peel the cabin bound children off me long enough to post this.  I missed you computer! Entertaining the Donner party for 10 days was exhausting.  I am never moving to Seattle or Forks.  

She bang, she bang...

I am constantly finding new and thrilling (insert sarcasm here) things about having babies that no one bothered to tell me about.  My latest find is what I like to affectionately call the Ubangi Booby Syndrome.  After having my darling children, the "girls" (another affectionate term, this time for the boobies themselves) look like they belong to a Ubangi woman, i.e. some one depicted on the cover of National Geographic.  Please, don't get me wrong.  Those women are beautiful, but their boobies, and now mine, all look like tube socks half filled with sand.  Mmmm, not the look I am going for here.  I want the perky little suckers (ewww, that is an unfortunate word to use as that is what caused the Ubangi syndrome in the first place!) I had before children.  Now my dilemma is do I spend the 7 grand it is going to cost to have a plastic surgeon bring me back to my previous glory?  Hell, for that kind of money he had better work magic.  Oh, the dilemma!  Oh, the vanity!  Oh, the constant wishing to not have to tape and push and pull the sad saggy girls into position when wearing certain items of clothing or finding it is just not possible to wear certain items of clothing without wearing the "girls" closer to my belly button than is desirable.  Wouldn't I be better served putting that money into the kids college funds?   Yes, of course I would.  Now if I can only figure out a way to insure one of them will end up as a plastic surgeon...

Photo Credit:  National Geographic

Drum Roll please....

And the WINNER of the CHIC BEBE BOUTIQUE GIVEAWAY is...

Catherine from Don't Bullshit Me

Congrats Catherine!  Just email me your address and I will have the Chic Bebe Boutique girls send you the gifty!

Of Sickness and Pedophiles...

So I was watching my stored up cache of Oprah shows on the DVR and my fear factor, which is higher than most every body's anyway, has just skyrocketed.  Thank you Oprah for focusing on my two biggest fears- sickness and pedophiles.  

Crap! You got me Oprah! That bladder infection that I wasn't really concerned about is now certainly turning into the flesh eating bacteria or MRSA.  I am going to have to spray my husband down with Lysol when he enters the house after work.   Since he works in health care he is most certainly covered in it.  

Oh Lord, Oprah! Why do you do it to me?  

I already think that anyone and everyone is out to steal my children when you come at me with even more tales of pedophiles! Most of them in my state!  Yes! Yes!  I emailed my Congressmen!  I will do whatever you want just start doing more Mommy makeovers so I can stop having nightmares about Pedophiles covered in flesh eating bacteria coming after my kids!!!  No, I am not sticking my head in the sand.   I talk to Maddox all the time about stranger danger and how private parts are called that for a reason.  This is something I worry about constantly.  I actually asked my husband if I couldn't home school the kids to avoid the sickness and the child predators since I am certain both are lurking around every corner.  Yeah, he said we cant have any more children.  He said he cannot stand to listen to me worrying about a third.  Whatever.

Now, if you will please excuse me I have to go hermetically seal my children in a bubble.  Right after I take them to be implanted with GPS locating devices.

Pig Flu What??

After seeing nothing but Swine Flu on TV this jaded wife of a husband who works in the health care field decided that the Swine Flu really did need a song.  Since I like to be silly and sing to my kids I came up with this little diddy sung to the COPS theme song...

Swine Flu, Swine Flu, watcha gonna do?

Watcha gonna do when it comes for you?

Swine Flu, Swine Flu.

Oink, Oink!

Yes, I have a lot of time on my hands.