Am I Actually Watching This???

There's a show (that just happened to be on) that I'm watching and will be turning off shortly.  It's called, "Conveyor Belt of Love".  The coincidence is Farrah and I went to the Sushi Belt tonight for dinner!  However, this show is not that cool.  No.  Instead of delicious sushi treats, it's MEN on a conveyor belt.  They slowly wrap around the 5 women while they explain a lil' about themselves and why the women should hold up a sign that says, "interested".  Sometimes, they say, "Not Interested."  Mostly, it's "Not Interested".  This show makes me soooooo uncomfortable.  The dudes are dancing, singing, holding dogs as props, doing magic tricks, and simply acting like psychos.  Some of the guys are cute, but I'm pretty sure they're not interested in the girls, but instead, interested in the other guys.  I think it's funny when the girls pick the guys that clearly don't want to be with the girls.  So, I'm now going to turn it off so I can relax rather than feeling incredibly awkward for both the women and the men on the show.
Maybe this show should have a guy holding sushi!  That would be a great show.

There Goes Our Sex Life

Farrah's bed has not yet arrived, but it is on its way.  However, we do have her mattress.  So, we decided to give her a taste of what it will be like to be in a big girl bed, beginning Christmas Eve.  It was very successful.  That's because she didn't know what it meant, yet, to have the freedom of not being caged up in a crib.  But, she knows now.

"Mommy, I need to go potty."
"Mommy, I need to blow my nose."
"Hi Mommy."
"Hi Daddy. Mommy is Daddy sleeping?"
"I want to watch another movie."
"I need a hug and a kiss."
"It's over! The movie is over. Mom, it's over."

She has now discovered free will.  She just walks right on in our room and lets us know what's up, what she needs, what she feels she needs to tell us, whatever comes to mind.  She doesn't even have the courtesy to knock!  Rude.  I clearly need to teach my daughter some new manners.  One thing she hasn't quite picked up on yet, is when she is upstairs napping and we are downstairs watching TV or something, that she can actually walk down the stairs.  She just shouts from the top of the stairs at us, asking if she can be awake now.  "No."

Well, here we are at a new phase of our little girl's life.  I hate the idea of clicking the lock over on our bedroom door, but it might be necessary until she learns to knock.  I don't want her to have to tell a horror story to her friends as she grows up about when she walked in on her Mom and Dad one fateful night.  No thanks.

On another note, Christmas was wonderful.  She received a Dollhouse from Santa Claus along with dolls (from Great Grandma), chapstick, nail polish, candy canes, a little hockey set from Auntie Bre and Uncle Steve, Mr. Potato Head from Grandma Jan and Boppy Bobby, Cinderella Dress from Uncle Jeff, and so many more gifts to mention.  She had painted a ceramic cereal bowl for her Daddy with her hand prints on it, a tea cup/kettle set for Grandma Jan, a Beer Stein for Boppy Bobby, and something for Grandma Rita and Poppy Dan but I can't mention it because they haven't received it yet.  So, shhhhh.  Mike and I gave each other lovely gifts (digital photo frame and pearl ring for me - 928 photo, Bose Stereo, and custom money clips for Mike).  I received a Snuggie from Alex and Mike received the awesome new iMouse from Alex.  Very thoughtful.  Jeff and Steve were quite clever with their gifts for us.  Very fun and creative.  It was my first time making Christmas Dinner in my entire life:  Turkey, green bean casserole, candied yams, stuffing, rolls, and game sauce.  Too much for one person to do.  Now I understand the chaos of having so many of us in the kitchen during Thanksgiving and Xmas.  Hard work.  I attempted gravy and failed miserably.  Sorry.  Anyhoo, there's the most recent update.

Merry Christmas 2009...it was great!

Small Town, Watch OUT!!!

Today, was a prime example as to why you shouldn't be a douche bag out on the road; particularly if you are 1/2 a mile from my gym.  It started with me getting off the freeway and trying to merge over to the left, but everyone in the left was trying to get over to the right.  Well, the butthole behind me was trying to do the same, apparently.  However, he was unable to see that the reason I had come to a complete stop was because 3 cars ahead of me were also at a complete stop.  But, still, he insisted on honking and screaming at me to, "GOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!" and wail around like a psycho.  Being the smart person that I am, I turned around and told him to  "eff yourself mother effer piece of shit, eff you!!!"  Didn't think it was family friendly to use the eff bomb but still keep it PG-13 with the word, "shit".  Of course, Farrah was very displeased with my poor choice of words, as was I.  But he was an ass!  So here, lies the problem.  Was he a gym member?  Does he frequent my place of business?  That could suck in so many ways.  This area is too small not to recognize one another.  Oh, and the best part is, my car is COMPLETELY decked out in Gold's Gym Marketing material.  Well, maybe he thinks I just love to work out and not that I'm there EVERY SINGLE DAY.  On the other hand, I could just as easily find him and cancel his membership or simply make a scene about his bad driving etiquette.

I'm probably the asshole in this, because he probably got some bad news earlier, and me stopping behind other stopped vehicles was more than he could stand.  So, sorry, angry douchey driver behind me today.

Fugly Sweater Day

Today, I picked out a pink sweater to wear to work.  It's a cute pink sweater with 3/4 sleeves and ribbed cotton.  Neat, huh?  If it were 1999.  It used to be flattering.  Mike even said it looked slimming on me, this morning.  Then, my day began at work.  I felt quite unattractive in it ALL DAY LONG.  That's a sign that the sweater must find its way to a clothing recycling bin.  I can't be tempted to put this thing on my body again.  It's almost as if I forget how bad it looks and can only remember how nice it looked on me in the 90s.  That image is engrained in my brain throughout my car drive to work, making me believe this was a good choice, later to discover it was not.

Take care, pink sweater.  I am breaking up with you.  You need to see other people and I need to see other sweaters.

Dear Mike

This blog is about you, Mike.  You have been slaving for days (really, for months) on the Fuzion Mobile program to get a little monster of a business off the ground and running.  We have several people who are putting a lot of time and energy into this, but you are who I see everyday, so it is you who I am writing about.
You work from home because you know how important it is to stay focused on your project.  And you really do!  The last few days, you have locked yourself in your office and virtually glued your ass to your office chair.  The only time you've moved is to just get a change of scenery by moving your computer to a different location in the house.  I am surprised your eyesight isn't completely failing from staring at a computer screen all day. You've written so much for the people to better understand what exactly Fuzion Mobile is all about, and when doing that, you've dissected all that you've written and rewritten it again!
I pointed out last night that you worked yourself to the point of blowing a massive blood vessel in your left eyeball.  That's like "Xtreme Working"!!!  You went without a shower for two days straight.  So, this morning I rubbed your furry head and kissed your prickly face with nothing but pride in my heart and sympathy for the sheer exhaustion I know you're experiencing.  Type, type, type, print, print, print, corrections, phone calls, web conferencing, deligating, and trying to sneak in a hug or two from your girls.
I've watched the sadness in your eyes because of the sacrafices you've had to make with your family.  But I know this is important and who you are doing this for.  She loves you so much, and who knew a 3 year old (tomorrow) would understand that daddy has work to do but it's all good?  She gets it!  And in the meantime she gets her wrestling matches with you and gets to jump off your back and cuddle up with you.  She LOVES that!  I love that!

And, then there's moments like tonight...
I watched you in a moment where you shined!  After the long nights, running on 6 hours of sleep (if that), and the blood, sweat, and tears; it all came together for this moment.  The constant pressure on you to get it done and the weight of the world on your shoulders if you didn't, and you still managed to be cool, calm, and collected throughout the whole thing.

I wanted to jump out of my seat and start clawing and screaming, because one of the investors was "busting your balls".  While he questioned you and your abilities I wanted to scream, "Because he is perfect for this job!!! Because he cares so much!!!  Because he wants everyone to be successful!!!  Because he doesn't want to nor intend to let anyone down!!!"  But, thank god for that little bit of Xanax I took right before the meeting.  I was a nervous shaking mess.  But I watched you do so well and so perfectly at something I know I would fall to pieces doing.  I nodded to Kelly that the man busting your balls, was going to be a part of what we're doing, because you had the right answers.  You weren't cocky about having all the answers, but understanding and caring about giving the man the answers he needed.  Kelly even whispered how "you were doing SO WELL."

I can't say enough, Mike, of how TRULY TRULY TRULY proud I am of you.  And I'm not saying it as your wife because I have to, but saying it as your friend, too, because it's true.  I got to see my husband in the role he was meant to have.  No experience running a multi-million dollar company?  You get to have it now, babe.

Here's The Bed

You wanted to see the bed...

Ta Dah!!!!

Farrah's new bed to arrive right before her third Birthday.

Hooray!!!

Another Milestone...

I know it's a little early to talk about Farrah's third birthday, but here I am writing about it a whole 8 days before the big day.  She is so excited.  I explained to her, "Sweetheart, when you start to see Xmas lights everywhere and you see Santa around, know it's almost your birthday!" "WOTTT?!!!"  She has learned how to hold up three fingers.  However, she knows better not to lie about her age.  She tells people, "I'm gonna be freeeee" (that's three in Farrah language).

So, other than the fact that my "Kitten" or "Face" or my sweet little baby girl is turning 3, she has moved on from another stage in her life.  Her present that her Mommy and Daddy got her today was her brand new "Big girl" bed.  Yes, my daughter has been in her beautiful crib these past 3 years of her life, which has turned out to be excellent for her.  Her crib is white, lacy, and round.  Very unique and very special. Her Daddy picked it out for her but also for me.  It was a surprise for me.  He let me in on the secret when he had been working on her room.  However, he gave me a sneak peak so that I wouldn't be upset with his choice.  I couldn't have been more happy.  He wanted nothing but the absolutely best of the best for his little girl, and so she got it.  Her crib held up so long and Farrah never became a "climber".  She always stayed in her bed.  She has done a little bit of damage over the years by chewing on it, kicking it, having a temper tantrum in it while jumping up and down, to the point now it wobbles with very little effort.  Sooooo, in effort to keep our child safe....a new bed it is!

I'm excited for her, but inside a little saddened.  She's growing up SO fast.  She has been going to pre-preschool with Gamma Jan and Boppy Poppy for the last couple of months.  She's drawing, doing puzzles, counting, and her vocabulary is growing more rapidly than ever expected (but I expected it).  So, being the little smarty pants that she is, she and I look online for new beds for her.  Anytime I turn on my laptop, she asks to look at beds.  She tells me the ones she likes and is sure to point out the ones that don't interest her at all, whatsoever.

She is getting a Cinderella Canopy bed.  It's simple, yet a little elegant and not too over the top.  But I loved growing up with a Canopy bed.  It didn't feel right that she should go from something so beautiful to something that wouldn't make her jaw drop.  It's a tubular steel bed formed to make wheels at each end and the top comes together so I can purchase a large piece of chauffon to hang elegantly.  Am I reinforcing the "princess" complex?  Probably, but not as much as I could in the next year or two.  THAT bed will be freaky cool.

So, she's graduated from the crib and will be into her new bed in a matter of days.  Again, this stings in my heart, but it also radiates me with pure joy and happiness that the look on her face will be that of complete amazement.  Because we paid attention and picked out the one she wanted.  I can't wait!

But...a small part of me can. : )

Happy third Birthday, Farrah Raquelle Moody

Um, I Don't Know

There are times that Mike and I don't keep an eye on every single thing she does.  However, we are good enough parents to at least take the time to shout out, "Farrah!!! What are you doing??!!"  Sometimes she responds with an accurate answer, explaining that she's watching a movie, playing with her ponies, or reading a book (yes, she reads now).  But! If she says, "Um...I don't know!" we know we are in trouble.  I've learned the hard way "I don't know" means she does know what she's doing and that it's not good whatever it is.  One time, that was her answer and I accepted it for what it was.  Just an answer.  She stopped whatever it was she was doing and came upstairs with me to get ready for bed.  Later, I went back downstairs to get something from the kitchen and discovered what her "I don't know" was.  It was her digging through a drawer and discovering a bag of spaghetti and dumping it on the floor.  Not in whole pieces, no!  She likes to make her messes just that much more fun for me to clean up.  She was sure to break the dried spaghetti into tiny little pieces.  Thanks.  Last night's "I don't know" was interesting.  She found the spoon and bowl full of water...in the bathroom.  Yes, it was the toilet brush and the toilet.  She put little pieces of toilet paper in the bowl and was busy stirring.  She took the brush out and put it back in over and over again being sure to cover the entire floor with the water.

"Um, I don't know" is never a good thing.

She knows.

She knows.

Look What I Found

So, out of curiosity, Mike and I were wondering what age you had to be to be considered a "cougar". I guessed somewhere after 40. But, since I wasn't sure, I decided to google, "what age to be a cougar" and after looking at a couple of sites, I found the attached link. 
http://www.dateacougar.com  
Ohhh emmmm geeeee (OMG). Effin' awesome stuff. The best part is the picture that accompanies the site...

Old Lady Garments

However...

I hope my body looks that great when I'm in my 50s.  But, I refuse to wear that.

Really..."What are you waiting for?"

Tough Decisions and Hard Choices

Well, it happened. The cookies, doughnuts, and late night snacking finally found a way to sneak up on me. I shouldn't have been surprised, however, had I just turned around. It was there the whole time...on my ass. I am the heaviest I've ever been since being pregnant. In fact, I have 15 more pounds to go to get to my peek pregnancy weight! Fanfuckintastic! So, I, just like everyone else, must reevaluate what food I'm putting in my mouth and force the workouts my body needs and wants. I don't feel completely great about myself. My belly sticks out like its got a baby bump, only it's Pepperidge Farm Golden Orchard Cookie Collection "bump". I also have a ba-donk-a-donk. Awesome. I also just bought some new jeans 3 weeks ago and they're tight. TIGHT!!! So, tomorrow, I'm switching my protein drink, going to my oatmeal breakfast, wonderful cottage cheese and fruit lunch, and hitting the treadmill hard. I'm so out of shape right now, it will take me a little while to get to the point where I used to be with how much I used to run on the treadmill. Maybe I'll have to take one of my Group X classes that I keep telling myself to take. In any case, I have to do something. And how convenient that a bunch of fat took it's claim on my 6 pack abs right before my favorite holiday. Thanksgiving. I will be there with everyone else, first thing in the morning, at the gym, working off as many calories I intend to take in. I know I can do this. I have to do this. My hair looks too rad right now to have it ruined with my new "curves".

Thank you, Mike

I want to submit a blog that publicly thanks my husband. Mike, I want to thank you for all that you are doing and all that you have done to make our family feel safe and secure. I particularly want to thank you for making me feel secure...in us. You have displayed such efforts to express your love for me and how much we are great together. I love that. I know you have gone out of your way to make me feel safe. I notice these things. You don't even have to point it out. I want you to know how much I appreciate it. I have strong faith in us and always have. I look forward to the future that I've always known would be. It all includes, love, joy, fun, and lots of laughter. We're already on our way...

I love you, Mike.

Farrah

Me: Farrah, I don't feel good, honey. I need you to help take care of Mommy. (sniff, cough, cough)

Farrah: No. You can take care of yourself. I don't want to.

So...this is the life in which I must prepare myself. I should expect by the age of 60, that my daughter will be putting me in an "old-people's" home although I'll be completely healthy and totally coherent. Mike will be wondering where the hell I am and my daughter will simply shrug her shoulders and roll her eyes. At least, she'll be a bit more compassionate in her older age and decide that clearly I can't take care of myself and therefore, will have the nursing staff do it for me. I will, of course, understand this decision of hers, because after all, she did tell me when she was two. I was forewarned.

On a nicer note, she does say to me all the time, "I love you soooooo much, mommy."

My next question should be, "So much that you won't have me put away?"

Agggghhhhhhhh

This evening, Farrah was playing and went towards the door leading to the garage when she suddenly screamed for dear life at the top of her lungs and ran into my arms. I could barely get her to calm down and stop crying. Daddy walked around to see what freaked her out (of course, my first guess was that it was a ghost, though I hoped it wasn't) and found a little frog. Mike was not thrilled to catch it. In fact, he is usually the one to take care of any critter that finds it's way into our home and always without causing damage or death. That's important to him. A frog, however, is an entirely different category than spiders, flies, bees, mice/rats, or unwanted bears. Yes, there is a bear in the Arlington area, but that is unrelated to this story. The frog was bright green and about an inch in length. Mike had tried to put together a sort of trap for the frog that involved putting together a broom, a clear plastic bowl, and duct tape. That way, no one would have to actually get close to the evil frog, which is clearly a sign of the looming apocalypse. 2012 y'all! So, I was too impatient to catch the beast while my daughter clung to me for safety. I handed her off to her Daddy while I grabbed the bowl. I started to inch toward it while Farrah whined and Mike pulled out his phone to take a picture. He let me know the reason why he wanted to make the tool was because the frog was cornered and only had one way to jump... and that would be straight for me. My hair started to raise on my neck as I approached, and the monster moved!!! I shrieked and ran away. When I say "move", it did just that. It turned around. That's it. It scared the effin' shit out of me. Mike finally stepped up to his appointed plate and took the bowl from me. He stretched his arm as far away from his body as it would go while the bowl was in hand. He followed the fleeing frog until he found his moment. It was captured under a Glad Disposable bowl. He scooped the Maxim magazine under it. In the moment he examined it, he discovered it was the same frog that was in our house YESTERDAY. It had the same Pine needle on its head. How the hell did he get back in here??? No, this was not our first encounter with this frog. We thought it was a sign that we needed to start building an arc. In the end, we decided to release the frog out into our backyard which is close to a creek. Hopefully, he will remember that is where he is supposed to live. He needs to know we do not like unwelcome guests. And clearly, Farrah is not a fan of things that jump at her.


On a side note...
We were watching the news and there was a story about a raging fire on a big dock. The news anchor said that the dock was "badly damaged by the fire". And Mike and I had to stop and look at each other with confusion in our eyes. In the footage, it showed us that it was a catastrophic loss of the entire dock. There was no dock left. So, by "badly damaged" they meant completely destroyed. Mike decided that was about as close to saying, "Carol was struck by a car and partially killed and she is not expected to survive her funeral, although her family is still holding out hope." I felt this humorous comment deserved a post. Take a bow, Mike.

Packaging Meds

You know, I may have blogged about this at one point or another, but I honestly don't have time to go back and look. So, if this is a repeat, then that means it was that important to write about more than once.

Today I purchased a packet of Zyrtec for my allergies. 5 pills. Picture in your mind what 5 pills look like (they're about the size of half a kernel of corn). They are individually wrapped around a 1.5" x 1" packet. Then those 5 individually wrapped packets are stored in another package about 3.5" x 4". Why? Is it so necessary to keep us from getting to this pill to keep my nose from running and sneezing or make my eyes stop itching? How freakin' WASTEFUL!

My Imatrex is the same. There is a sheet of very stiff card stock with foil about 4" x 2". It is periforated for approximately 6 pills in each 1.25" x 1" section. But no. They keep you guessing why they only allow 3 pills on that card stock. It makes absolutely no sense to me at all. And do you want to know the fun part? When you have a debilitating migraine, you usually need to get to those meds right away because you only have a small window to settle that exploded blood vessel down. Unfortunately, you're so busy digging your nails in (ultimately breaking that lovely nail in your haste), breaking the pill in 3 different spots, and finally throwing back the crumbs of the medication that just got destroyed.

I suggest to the government to go after the pharmacutical companies with a different approach. If they choose to be so dumb and wasteful with their packaging, they should get a nice juicy tax hike. That, alone, could pull us out of this deficit.

Whatever. I'm tired because luckily my Xanax is stored in your basic pill bottle. No waste and just the right amount of ease.

WinCo

Okay, I've told the story a few times, but many of you are waiting for my interpretation of what I call my "WinCo Experience". Unfortunately, since I have told the story verbally to people, my typed version may end up sounding stupid and insignificant. But, I'm telling it anyway, because it is worth writing about.

Let's start with my massive slash I gave myself before heading to the store. I was taking a shower and quickly grabbed my razor and swung it around towards my back to rinse it off. Too fast and too damn close. AHHHHHH SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! Blood oozed down, breathing sped up, and my heart rate increased. What did that equal? Fainting and more fainting. I don't do well with stuff like that. In any case, it worked on healing and scabbing over for the rest of the day.

Towards the later part of the afternoon, it was time for me to venture off to this store, WinCo. I had been told that I could save a lot of money there, and this somewhat prepared me for what I would find. It would be a close second to WalMart. Farrah and I went together. It was one of those reeeeeally hot days, making my seat particularly sweltering. When we found our parking spot and it was time to slide out, my scab chose to keep itself stuck to the seat while my leg went the opposite direction. Bloody mess yet again. Nice. Come to find out later, my nasty bloody wound helped me fit in quite nicely with the crowd that was there that day.

Anyway, we got our shopping cart and yes, I felt I was walking into a Walmart. There's always someone without a shirt or someone who forgot their shoes. Why, I ask. We got in and started making our way down the first aisle, and I was already checking out the various escape routes. I stood in line in the potato chip aisle like I was in line for a Disneyland ride. Only it was potato chips. The way they had their meat stacked (it was for a special) was all up on top of each other, convincing me that there was no way in Hell the meat was staying at the required temperature that wouldn't make you die. I toughed it out a bit longer and simply chose to make an adventure out of it. Ultimately, it wasn't too horrible in the end. There were a couple of times that I wanted to punch people in their faces, like when I was trying to get some sandwich meats. There was a family of five leaning their sweaty ass bodies over the meats to cool themselves off. Are you kidding me??? Sick bastards. But do you want to know what was really sick? I still bought the meat. I was on a mission! There were somethings I didn't buy nor would I ever buy. I would only feel 70% comfortable buying the produce. Produce is one of the big things that steers me towards a grocery store. If it's rotten, the rest of the store probably is too. However, I ended up getting lucky with half the fruits and vegetables that I purchased. The other thing I refused to buy there was their meats (steak, hamburger, fish, etc). I know where I like my meats and where I can trust it will be perfect every time. That's Costco or Haggens. I never see flies, and that's a good thing.

Yes, in the end, while I felt the need to take a steel wool pad shower after being in there, I ended up spending SO much less than I would've anywhere else. In fact, I could have afforded to purchase that steel wool pad and it would probably not have even dented my account. So Kudos to WinCo for sucking me into their evil clutches of bargain shopping. You win...WinCo.

Days Like Today

Sometimes there are days like today that melt my heart and warm my soul. Today was Oliver's 3rd Birthday Party. Farrah and Oliver played very well with one another as well as with Raven. They all had so much fun. I watched in awe as my little girl interacted with her cousin and new friend, Aunts and Uncles, her brother, grandparents, and of course Mommy and Daddy. This was one of those days that every chance I got I would steal a hug, a kiss, and tickle torture moments. I could have eaten her up! Any time I could just sit there and watch her, I would. When we got home tonight, I walked in her room on 4 different occasions to watch her sleep. I had to hold myself back from picking her up and just holding her. It's days like today that I feel so lucky to have Farrah as my daughter. My heart feels like it is swollen with so much love. Life is pretty good.

Dance

Am I the only one who does this? When some of Farrah's cartoons are on, I'll stand in front of the TV (so she'll have to watch me, of course) and dance real hard like I'm auditioning for "So You Think You Can Dance". Sometimes I also take a song that might be playing on the cartoon and clap my hands in a way that seems to transform the sweet song into some hard core rock 'n roll. Anyway, that's what I do.

Okay, on another note...I'm watching Noddy...again. I have to make one more observant complaint: What's up with the British chick at the beginning of these shows? She has an extremely unnecessarily strong English accent. She's really over doing it. Can't understand a damn thing she says.

Make Way For Noddy

Have any of you seen this cartoon? Noddy. Farrah is a huge fan. Every night I have to set it up for her to watch in order for her to relax for bed. That's our routine. Well, lately I've decided there's something not quite right with this cartoon. There's always a lesson to be learned as there is with pretty much every cartoon, but I seem to always be waiting for a different ending. Here's why: there are 2 goblins on the show. They're total douche bags. They steal shit and irritate the hell out of everyone in Toyland, but no one does a damn thing about it. What the eff?!! If I lived there, I would have hired a hit man by now to take them out. There's also a female monkey who wears overalls. She's a complete bitch. She walks around with a frown on her face and she criticizes everyone in town. Why? Who does she think she is? They actually had an episode about her trying to make friends, but everyone said they were already her friend. Liars. All of them. They're clearly just saying that so she'll leave them alone. She's horrible. Then there's the police officer. He's incredibly arrogant and has some weird superiority complex where he feels the need to boss everyone around, however this guy can't even put those asshole goblins in the town jail for more than 5 minutes! Are you kidding me??? Who gave this guy a job?!! At the end of each episode, I'm seriously expecting someone to stick up for themselves and the people in town by confronting these jerks. I think that would be a great episode. Everyone in town (including Noddy) should come after the goblins, the monkey, and the police officer with pitch forks and torches and kick them out of Toyland once and for all. Enough is enough, I say!

But why do we watch Noddy? Because Noddy is a good boy. He's sweet and kind and really is friends with everyone in town. Farrah and I sing along with the opening theme song too. In fact, we're watching it right now.

Don't worry. I don't discuss my issues with the other characters with Farrah. That would be rude.

Precious

This Mother's Day weekend, Mike, Farrah and I went to Wenatchee. It was just the 3 of us. Ahhhhh. It was relaxing and wonderful. Usually, we wind up watching 10 movies and several television series. This time it was a whole bunch of play dough games, Yahtzee, naps, and of course, bike riding!

Then we tried something new...

It was time for Farrah to go to bed the first night we were there. We chose not to bring her play pen to sleep in and give her a chance to sleep on the trumble bed. If it didn't work out, she'd end up sleeping on the couch. When we let her know it was bed time, she wasn't very happy. She ended up whining and pouting, but ultimately grabbed her ditty and drug her feet with her head down off to her new little room. She got all curled up in her bed and settled down.

Then he said it in the kindest, sweetest, and most sincere tone.

"God, she's f*cking precious."

And she is. She really is.

Dvd

I am writing this from my phone in bed, so bear with me (or is it bare with me? You choose). This is a story I could not pass up to share with the World Wide Web, no matter how wrong it may be.

For about a month, our gym's daycare has been without cable, let alone a working DVD player. Mike and I have shopped around looking for reasonably prices DVD players all over town. Luckily, we happened to find one stored away in our house. It's a little older, but in perfect working condition. Yay for free! I took it to the daycare and the gal working knew how to hook up electronic stuff so I let her loose. I had been on the phone when she walked up to my desk when her shift was up and it was time for her to head home. I was talking to our payroll company. When she came up to my desk she placed something on it, smiled, said, "this was in the DVD player," smiled again and walked off. I was still talking to payroll when I waved good bye and then I looked down. My stomach dropped to my toes. I could no longer hear a thing the person on the other end of the phone was saying because I was laughing so hard. I quickly wrapped up my conversation, hung up, and did my notorius scream-laugh.

We had left raunchy porno in our DVD player. When she hooked it up, the menu screen came up and the remote was fumbled with until the program had been turned off. Luckily only two kids were there, one of which was mine. This was a proud and somewhat embarrassing moment. I've told everyone. It's too effin funny not to. The good news???: we weren't on the film.