The Butt Paste of Champions

Do any of you use this stuff? It's great! For diaper rash. Or anything else you so desire, I guess.

I have Boudreaux's on the mind because John M. made me almost pee myself laughing a couple of weeks ago, as I was changing his diaper. I noticed he had a little bit of a rash, so I told him "stay right there and Mom's gonna get you some cream". I walk back over to him and he says, "Boo-doh's, Mom?". I had no idea he could identify the butt paste.

I called everyone in the room to hear it and we grill him regular now on what I spread on his bottom. Anna especially loves to hear it.

Anna: John M., what does Mom put on your 'wee-wee'?

John M: Boo-doh's!!!

Anna: Boo-doh's what?

John M: Buh Pace!

I'm so proud.

From Billy Ray to Miley

Emma's latest purchase is a 'Hannah Montana' CD, you know from Disney? She is the daughter of Billy Ray Cyrus (remember? Achey Breakey Heart?) and her real name is Miley. My girl has been waiting for a Miley Cyrus CD to come out since the summer, so she pounced on it when it appeared at the Mart of Wal.

Here comes the strange part: I listen to it all the time. In my car, by myself. Sans kids. What the hell? The thing is, I love fun music. It doesn't have to be quality music, as long as it's fun and dance-able. In my own 'white-girl', geeky dance way, I enjoy it. To quote American Bandstanders, if 'it has a good beat and you can dance to it.' , I'm there.

And it doesn't hurt that when I don't have the girls with me, Hannah Montana keeps their energy with me. So, I'm learning every single song on that CD and I'll be singing them over and over for a while, at least until Christmas.

So, try not to knock those 'weirdos' listening to The Gogos, Debbie Gibson, New Kids OnThe Block, Tiffany, Midnight Star (and the list goes on . . ) because hey, I'm one of them.

Now, I'm off to rock to some Milli Vanilli.

Halloween 2006

One slightly hoochified pumpkin girl (Lillian Vernon costume that was rather short), one Queen of Hearts, and one petrified dalmatian pup.
He was terrified of my 12-year old nephew's costume (I kind of was too). That's him in the back, looking like a giant squid is engulfing his face.





I think John M. thought if he shoved his face in the side of the stroller, the monsters couldn't see him. Later . . .

"I don't have time"

It's a phrase I use way too much. Not that I usually say it out loud, but it's something that I tell myself too often on a daily basis. I always wonder how others seem to have time for 'extras', whether it's doing things around their houses, volunteering their time to charities, or just doing something for themselves that they need. Maybe a 'date' with their husbands or making a craft because it's something they enjoy. I find myself constantly feeling like I'm trying to get 10 different things done at once and never being able to give 100% to any of them.

This feeling overwhelms me many times so I just tend to cut things out. Many times it's this blog, which I really want to keep up on a 'historian' level, thanks, Dani. Many times it's spending time with friends or doing something special for them because they really do mean so much to me. (Thanks for the b-day gifts, Chesney and Beki.) Mark and I very rarely go on dates anymore; I think we've been out, just the two of us, one time this year. I know that it's something we need and the fact that we don't do it often enough does damage our relationship. Marriage is hard enough in and of itself, but when you're constantly surrounded by children all-day every-day with no break, it wears you down. And cuts out any possibility of romance. At.All.

I'm going to try and work on these things. I'm going to tell myself that I do have time. If that means letting the dishes sit in the sink, or not watching 'The Duel' on Thursday nights, so be it.
I want to focus on the things that really matter. Wish me luck.

(I have a backlog of pictures that I hadn't downloaded, here's a couple)



Me blowing out my birthday candles. Look at those cheeks, WOW!












Anna and her best friend at the pumpkin-carving party this weekend. Doesn't my girl look pretty here?









Sidenote: Emma gave me a homemade 'coupon book' of treats to cash in on for the next couple of weeks. Most of them are for massages (maschs, in Emma-spell). There was one name I particularly enjoyed, the 'hot blow massage'. Don't ask.

37 reasons why being 'almost-37' isn't so bad

Well, okay maybe not 37 reasons. How about 3?

1.) 37 is a nice age to look back and see how far you've come, the things you've accomplished, and all the ways you've become wiser.

2.) 37 is pretty much mid-career for me. 15 years 'til I'm out of the workforce forever.

3.) 37 isn't dead yet.

The end. Whew, that took a lot out of me! I'm not getting any younger, you know.

I'm Hangin' Up Now

Do you ever hang up on people? Isn't that such a rude thing to do?

I do it all too often.

Take this morning, for instance. I was on the phone with a customer service rep from Visa. He was actually the original rep's supervisor. I had requested him because the first rep appeared to be not the sharpest Crayon in the box. He repeated that my problem was 'unfornuate' about 12 times in a 2 minute span.

The supervisor comes on and pretty much echos what Moron #1 had told me and apologizes for the 'unfortunate' situation. That word must be in the Visa training manual. "Use the word 'unfortunate' and the customer will feel that you sympathize with them." Not this customer. I was just pissed.

I was so frustrated after a while. There were long moments of silence on the other end of the phone after my comments to him, where he just said nothing and I was wondering if he went out for pizza or something. So I just hung up.

I used to feel guilty doing this, but not so much anymore. Like when I receive really bad 'customer service' or when salespeople call and won't take one 'no', but have to wait for you to turn them down 3 or more times.

Rude? Maybe, but so be it. Unfortunate, isn't it?

So, are you a hanger upper?

Bop

Had enough of Barney talk yet? I didn't think so.

See below. This is 'Little Bop'. Not 'Baby Bop', according to John M. I kind of agree that 'Little Bop' is more appealing as a name, for some reason.

But Bop's little, squeaky annoying voice makes me want to hurl. And when she starts singing about her 'blankey', I want to stuff the blankey in her dinomouth. I'm going to call her Barfy Bop.

Take a breath

I'm not kidding when I say my middle-8-year-old child has not shut up for more than 15 seconds at a time the entire day.

We went to Baton Rouge for some shopping and she talked the entire way there, the whole time shopping, the whole way eating, the whole way back and she continues to talk as I type this.

I've asked her repeatedly to be quiet but I think it's impossible. Anyone have this same problem? Anyone have a nice muzzle? Send it on over please.

Sam and Mike

It's hard to believe that I haven't posted about Sam and Mike before, because they play such a huge part in the lives of my kids. 'Mrs. Sam' has been my babysitter, nanny, daycare provider, since Anna was a wee tot back in 1995. She keeps children in her home. 'Mr. Mike' is her husband who has been there helping all along. He just retired a few months ago, so he's home more often now and they pretty much co-sit the kids.

Mike and Sam both have a 'way' with children. Do you know what I mean? A 'way' that many of us simply don't have. Sam has been able to get all 3 of my kids to do things that they would never do at home. Case in point; taking a nap at a regular time, on cue. Also, eating all kinds of non-kid-friendly vegetables, like broccoli, cauliflower, and okra. Mr. Mike has a garden across the street from their house where he grows amazing vegetables and is nice enough to share with us 'moms.'

Did I mention Sam is an incredible cook who makes the best eggplant lasagna and gumbo I've ever tasted? The kids she keeps actually request different meals on her 'menu' when they're off for the holidays.

I've found that Sam and Mike are akin to an extra set of grandparents for my kids. They've been there for them through every stage of their lives thusfar, and have never failed to give them just what they need. They are a permanent part of my 'thank-you' list in my prayers, because I do realize how incredibly blessed we all are to have found them.

(Here's a shot of Mr. Mike hanging up the clothes last week on Mrs. Sam's birthday, when he promised to take over all the chores.)

Get a life?

Ever had such a dull life that the high point of your weekend was taking pictures while wearing geeky 3D glasses in a movie theater on a Saturday night?


















Yeah, me neither.

This is not an advertisement for WhiteStrips

It only plays one on TV.

Take 1 . . . action! 9/16/06 - Renee's beige teeth.















Take 2 . . . 10/5/06 - After using Crest Whitestrips for 2 weeks. Renee's new and improved whiter teeth!














Tell me you can see a difference. I actually can.
I'd recommend these to anyone trying to get their teeth to not be ecru.

Party!

John M's 2nd birthday party was yesterday. We had it at a park in Baton Rouge and although it was pretty hot out, it was nice in the shade of the trees. We barbecued weenies and burgers, and just let the kids play. John M. loved it; playing outside is his #1 favorite pastime, as I've mentioned before. I don't think he even realized it was a party for him until we sang 'Happy Birthday', at which point he stated 'I need anotha ween', so we had to have an encore. For the most part, he just wanted to climb, swing, and slide. He did take a couple of whacks at the pinata but lost interest quickly.



I'm so thankful to all of my friends and family that came. My extended family is pretty small now and that makes me sad sometimes. The few that I do have make up for it though. So, thank you, Mom,Kelli and Hawk (and your gaggle of kids). And John's 'Mrs. Sam friends', Sam, Anna, Allie and Carson. My friends for life, Beki, Krystal, Alison, Melissa, Laurie, Tracy, and Vernon (burger-man) and all of their kids. I don't tell you enough, but you all make my life a happy place. I honestly could not make it without all of you. Thanks for being there for my boy . . . and me. I'll stop the mushiness now. I'm just feeling a little sentimental.

Days like yesterday remind me of how blessed I am. Happy Birthday, John M.

Big Purple Annoyance - Act 3

Anna loved Barney back in 1996. Emma had a repeat performance in 1998. And guess who's back in '06?

You got it. How thrilled am I about that? I've even bought a Barney DVD from the Mart of Wal. We've now seen it about 8,709 times. We walk around the house singing the tunes. The Barney Hits that never grow old, right?

John M. sang himself to sleep just now, with his own version, 'I love me, you love me, we a happy family...'. Whenever we ask him, 'You love you?', he says 'Yeah, ME!', as if to say, 'everyone loves ME right, I don't know who this 'you' person is, but he'd better get in the back of the line'.

I'm signing off now to hum Barney tunes to myself . . . joy.

Did I just say that?

This is filed under the 'Things I've Said To my Kids That Just Don't Sound Normal' list.

Last night, as John M. had gotten hold of one of Anna's dry erase markers, while he was eating
his snack of cheese-in-a-bowl:

'JOHN M., do NOT write on that cheese!'

I actually had to repeat it a couple of times too.

Please share some similar phrases of your own.

Y'all, have a great weekend. My boy turns 2 on Sunday.

Highpoints of a Weekend in Southern Louisiana

1.) A fun swimming party hosted by my friend, Alison, that Mark actually attended with us. He's umm ... how should I put it . . not . . uh, social. Most of the time, I think he'd rather be with cows, rather than humans. Then, another party of Laser Tag. No, I didn't get to play, but I'd like to.

2.) Purchase of Febreze Scentsations machine. Do you know what I'm talking about? My house is a stinker usually. I've had enough. So I bought one of these babies and I'm trying it out. So far, I can't tell a big difference but there's always hope. Cross your fingers.

3.) Watching John M. ride one of the horses with Mark. He's been too scared to do it before, and he was finally brave this morning. It was so sweet watching them; I should have captured the moment on film, but I missed it.

4.) Picking the first few pecans of the season.

5.) Reading my niece, Jenna, a book and having her look up at me and say 'I love you'.

6.) Getting my shop on with my two homies (or home-ettes), Anna and Emma. We went to the new Macy's that just opened a couple of weeks ago and actually found some deals.

7.) Some peace and quiet at 9:37 pm Sunday evening. Big sigh . . .

Hope y'all had a good one.

Have y'all seen this on sale at Home Depot yet? I think there's a warning label attached.

Satisfaction (In Expanded Form)

Emma usually doesn't sweat tests. She usually gets everything she needs from her lessons in class. By the time the test rolls around, we just make one quick go-round over the info and that's it. So, I'm spoiled in the homework/studying department.

But then along came third grade math. She loves math, says it's her favorite subject. But last night she was studying for her test on writing numbers in expanded form (ex. 398,701 would be 300000 + 90000 + 8000 + 700 + 1). Useful stuff, eh? She was very confused and frustrated about 30 minutes into studying and broke down and started crying because she didn't understand it. We took a break for about 15 minutes, which I took advantage of and grabbed a quick bath. When I came back, she was just sitting on the couch crying because she couldn't understand her math.

I thought for a while and came up with a different approach to teach it to her and it worked. She got it, took a practice test and made 100%. All of a sudden, she gave me a huge hug. I asked 'what was that for?' and she said 'Cause you helped me, Mom'. I could have hugged her all night. It gave me such satisfaction. Satisfaction that I don't feel often.
I wonder if teachers get to experience that feeling on a daily basis. If they do, I missed my calling.

I (heart) my laptop

Did I mention I finally got a laptop ... actually Mark got me one via E-bay a few weeks back?
That one didn't work, so we got another, strike 2, so we got this one and we finally got a winner.

I bought a router this weekend and now we're connected to the web . . . wireless! Woo-hoo! I know most of you out there have probably had laptops for a while, but this is a whole new world for me and I love it.

Right now, I'm sitting in my dining room chatting with Anna while I post, not secluded in the junk room (where our desktop PC is) as usual. It's great. I may even take it outside one day and break it in with this Louisiana heat. Too much rain this weekend for that though.

So, Anna's bugging me to get this baby to feed her Neopets. Check y'all out later.

Scenes from the life of FroggieMom

This is the lake that sits in front of my house. It was once part of the Mississippi River but oxbowed off many years ago. It sits on one side of my street and the Mississippi River sits off in the distance on the other side, so most people call the area that I live in 'The Island' because it almost is completely surrounded by water. It's a really beautiful area, though I often take it for granted. I'll never forget my Daddy used to say that the two most beautiful sunsets he'd ever seen were in Saucilito, CA and right in our front yard, with the sun setting over the lake.

This is what I found in my backyard a few weeks ago. One of Mark's horses tied to our trampoline while Emma brushed her. As my sister would say, W.T., let's all say it together. . 'White Trash'! That's us. Welcome to our corner of the world. Take a load off.

Here's my cute little face. This is where he eats every meal at home. He'll say 'Hungee, Mama' and go plant himself right in this chair until some food magically appears. Notice his noopie to the right there. Have I mentioned he's gone without said noopie for a whole week and a half! He quit cold turkey.

Last but not least, here's a group of us shooting the bull at Mark's little birthday celebration. That's my sister jabbing at the table, her husband, Hawkeye (yes, that's what we all call him) with his back toward the camera chowing down, and my mom, me and Anna in the corner there. I like this picture because Mark caught us all in action, doing what we do best. . . talking.

Peace out from FroggieLand.

I suck at homework

Okay, I know I'm supposed to be a good example to my kids, when it comes to homework and such. The key word here is 'supposed'. I'm sometimes not.

For example, Anna was studying decimals, fractions, and mixed numbers for math a couple of weeks ago. She was having to place numbers like .000032 on a number line and having to write in word form things like .30226. I had to cheat to be able to help her. I couldn't help but blurt out (more than once, so maybe it wasn't a 'blurt'), 'What??! You will never, ever have to know this in real life!'. Followed quickly by 'Don't tell your teacher I said that, but it's true'. I guess it's just a part of general understanding of mathematical concepts, but it's a waste of time to me.
What do you think, should I keep these things to myself?

Emma, tonight, was working on her predicates. It was almost 9:00, her bedtime ,and I had about had it with schoolwork. The last part of her worksheet asked her to write the predicates for the following sentences:

The moon ___________
The astronauts _______________
I think outer space _____________

She asked me for ideas. I said, 'How about 'The moon sucks. The astronauts suck. I think outer space sucks.?'
She wrote it all down.
Just because she's silly like her mama.
Then she just had to erase it and put in some real answers.
Then she went to bed.

I'm a bad example, not giving a damn about predicates and the word forms for decimals carried out to the millionth place.
Should I pray they don't turn out like me?
Let's get an 'AMEN' to that one.

Say It Ain't So

I've mentioned before that our oldest, Anna, is a carbon-copy superclone of Mark. Looks, personality, taste in food, everything, she's a mini-Mark, only without a penis.

Emma, on the other hand, looks nothing like Mark, but is totally evolving into a clone of my mom.

I was trying to close one eye, stand about a half-mile away and wiggle my nose, and think that maybe John M. looked a little like me. Imagine that, my child actually looking like ME, the one who housed his little body for 9 months and went through the pain of birthing him! But, alas, I found this picture of Mark,
and my hopes went down the drain. Another Mark-clone, only this time, the penis is in tact.

Just so not fair.