It's all the little things...

I am soooo annoyed today. Everything is just irking me and I think I'm either hormonal or maybe I didn't have enough coffee today. My doctor is on my ass about not drinking too much caffeine and I don't think she understands that caffeine is the only thing holding me back from being a serial killer at this point.
The kids are blowing bubbles and having a contest of who can get their bubble the closest to my butt and it's bonus points if it lands there and pops. My husband keeps trying to be *supportive* of my hormones raging by hugging me or kissing me and every time he does it I want to jab him in the eye with one of the kids' bubble wands. The dog keeps crapping in the hallway and the neighbors invited me over for the zillionth BBQ this week and were offended because I declined. Oh, excuse me. I did not realize that your 12th, and least significant ever, wedding anniversary was reason enough to have a BBQ and invite people over to bask in your constant P.D.A. sessions.
I know I am just being bitchy and all of these things, with the exception of the butt bubbles, are supposed to be gestures made with all the right intentions but I just feel like downing a pot of coffee, laying in bed watching the entire 5th season of The Office and ignoring EVERYONE. Now, I'm getting on my own nerves... I gotta go to sleep or something.

Mutant Mouse

This afternoon I had an urge to go out back and see exactly how tall the weeds that have been growing unattended for the last seven months are, and I wish I would have had a camera on my person, as I normally do.
At first, I thought it was my dog that was playing hide and go seek with me from behind the stainless steel BBQ in the side yard and I called out to her. What I saw next is still making me want to burn down my apartment complex, change my name and move to Bali where the only thing I'll have to worry about is a couple of Kimodo dragons and being the whitest, most obese person in the tiny disease ridden country.
It had short brown hair and a long wiry tail. This creature had the body of a large mouse and the head of a small dog. I have never seen a goiter up close and personal before, but I imagine that whatever this mass of skin and hair was that was hanging from this poor animal's face, was a goiter. The head was at least a full ten inches in diameter, swollen and tight, like a ready-to-pop zit on a thirty year old man's back. It had a slow, steady and purposeful stride. It paused gracefully and turned it's engorged face toward mine. The creature's eyes gazed right to the core of everything that I fear. Small, fury animals, rat-esque creatures, goiters...
He, well, I'm guessing it was a male, looked at me with such intensity that I forgot how to move. At this point my chihuahua realized there was an intruder walking through her territory and sniffed at him furiously. It didn't phase him a bit. I was in awe. How could a creature of such tiny stature not be affected by a humongous predator such as a chihuahua? I tried in vain to flip open my phone and get to the camera option to take a quick picture so my husband would not think I was some crazed lunatic making up a story about a mutant mouse in our side yard. The mutant gained his composure and started toward the wooden fence that separates our back yard to the neighbors and in a flash, he was gone from my life, my eyesight and shooting range.

Placenta Purse

My sister calls this morning, as she does every morning, and starts talking my ear off about placentas. I'm only one cup of coffee in and I feel queasy. She is telling me about how angry she was that nobody *including Hollywood* had warned her about the actual birthing process. She was completely freaked out when the doctor asked her to first, push her child out, and second, push out the pulsating, brain-sized matter that followed the kid. I didn't even want to see my own placenta when I had my kids but now I am being subjected to someone else's account of this vomit inducing procedure.
I asked her why we were talking about placentas and she said she was just thinking about how people make them into purses after birth.
Um, yuk. I guess people also eat these things and bury them in their yards and do all sorts of other unimaginable things with this *obvious to me* bit of refuse. I didn't even know what it was really because, although I made my husband stand there and look at it, I had no idea what it was and I never cared to know. Thanks sis.

Clean your room!

OK, so is it just me that has a major problem getting small children to listen to me when I speak or is that pretty much universal? I have said, "Clean your room," about four hundred and seventy-six times in the last five days and I am at a breaking point here people.
I'm either going to bag up all of the toys and toss them into a bon fire or "mistakenly" throw in one of my kids. I have never known a three year old to suddenly be inflicted with so many headaches, tummy aches and mystery illnesses in my life and my six year old has never needed so many naps in her life. I'm going insane. I feel like a deranged parrot.
"Awwk. Clean you room. Awwk. Do it now. Awwk. I'm going to beat you. Awwk. I don't care if you realize that is an idle threat. Awwk. I'll do it I swear. Awwk. I'll drop you off at the fire department!"

Ug.

March Of DImes

It was hot, sticky and the kids are exhausted but it was worth it! The March Of Dimes was today in Fresno and there was a huge turn out! We went with the Josiah's Joggers group and since we have never been before we weren't sure of where to go exactly so we parked all the way at the front of Woodward and had to walk about three miles to get to the actual starting point of the six mile walk. The kids were stoked! *sarcasm, sarcasm* Why I would want to take a four year old and a six year old on a twelve mile walk is beyond me, but we toughed it out and the kids konked out in the car on the way home.... ahhh... silence.
The girls and I raised about fifty bucks and I'm sure we'll be returning next year to participate.

The Mother In Law Chronicles Part Three

This woman is infuriating. I'm not sure what kind of game she's trying to play here. Usually when you call someone seventy-three times and they hang up on you or just don't answer, you don't call back right?
This is my morning so far:

7:42 a.m. - I hang up on her without saying anything. * I seriously think there's a reason she's calling at something-forty-two all day long but I can't figure out the method to her madness*

7:42 a.m.- She calls back. Once again, I hang up.

7:42 a.m.- She calls back. I hang up, yet another time.

7:43 a.m.- She calls AGAIN. I hang up AGAIN.

7:43 a.m.- My husband's phone rings in the pocket of his jacket. I pull it out and hang up on her. I know it's childish, but c'mon... it's 7:43... A.M.!!!

7:43 a.m.- I receive a text. Contents of text: "It seems you keep hanging up on me or something wrong with phone. Have the girls call me. Thanks."

7:44 a.m.- She tries my phone one last time. I hang up on her.

7:44 a.m.- She calls my husband's phone again. She leaves a voicemail asking him to have our children call her and letting him know that she thinks I've been hanging up on her.

7:44 a.m.- She texts my husband to see if he got her voicemail.


SERIOUSLY people, THIS is my life.

The Mother In Law Chronicles Part Two

OK, so I think she has an alarm set for every four hours or something. She calls me every four hours on the dot. Yesterday it was 9:42 a.m., 1:42 p.m., 5:42 p.m. and then she must have decided four hours was too long to wait for the last one at 7:42 p.m.
This morning she called at 7:42 a.m., 11:42 a.m., 3:45 p.m. *gotta mix it up or it's just plain crazy*, and then 7:43 p.m.
I call my sister out of exasperation and ask her what she thinks of the situation.

My sister- "Are all of her phone calls at something-forty-two?"

Me- "No, she switched it to forty-five a couple of times and texted me at random times during the day."

My sister- "So, she's a non-committal obsessive compulsive?"

Me- "If that's what doctors prescribe Klonopin for."

My sister- "Huh. I don't know what to tell you. Are you going to put my funny joke in your blog?"

Me- "Is that the only reason you are talking to me right now?"

My sister- "Kinda. I'm busy being pregnant."

Me- "Well what the hell do you think I've been doing all day long?! Cleaning?"

My sister- "Bye-bye."

Me- "Fine. You're a whore. I hope you have twins so you have two kids with the same dad finally."

My sister- "Me too!"


So... I checked with AT&T earlier and apparently they don't have an option to block phone calls anymore unless you are a teenager and your parents don't trust you, so I'm stuck with the never ending barrage of phone calls containing her bitter acidic voice asking me *nicely* to have my children call her so she can mess with their feeble, mold-able minds. Thank heaven *or in my case, beg it to let her on up* she's six hours away, otherwise I'd have to dodge texts, phone calls, door bells and possibly bullets.