Must Love Tots

It Was Supposed To Be a Dear Someone Day

2009-11-05T17:40:00.004-06:00

So I had all these great Dear Someone letters in my head yesterday that I was going to post today.

I went to mom's to get the man after volunteering at the Dae's school.

All my thoughts went out the door after I got thrown up on.

So I'm going with yesterday's theme:

Some days are better than others, and other days it's like this:

The dog craps blood
In the house no less
You can't find a clean spoon to eat with
You find your little man drinking out of the dogs' water bowl
And later on you find him putting the insides of the blue Care Bear in his mouth
Only to be topped when you find him cleaning the toilet
with the scrubber
and his hands
and dripping toilet water on your boots
And today he threw up on me

File this under: The things I was never told when I was pregnant. Thank you everyone for keeping your mouths shut.

Wordless Wednesday: Vamp-tots

2009-11-04T16:34:00.002-06:00

I present to you: Vamp-tots. The tots dressed as bride & groom vampires. The man ended up looking more Eddie Munster though. Still freaking cute.

And I pose this question to you: Who in your house eats all the Halloween candy? See the poll to answer. I only ask because I'm chowing down on Now & Laters as I impose limits on what the tots eat.

Suicide Walk this Weekend

2009-10-29T09:51:00.002-05:00

Dear Friends,

This weekend, HH & I will be joining with thousands of people nationwide this fall to walk in AFSP's St. Louis Walk 2009 Out of the Darkness Community Walk to benefit the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. I would appreciate any support that you give me for this worthwhile cause.

We are walking in honor of Steven Nelson. Weldon's best friend who committed suicide on February 15th of this year. He left behind friends, family and so many loved ones who miss him every day. HH & I are trying to help Jessica, the mother of 2 of Steve's youngest children, and the love of his life raise money for this incredibly worth-while cause. Any help is appreciated.

The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention is at the forefront of research, education and prevention initiatives designed to reduce loss of life from suicide. With more than 33,000 lives lost each year in the U.S. and over one million worldwide, the importance of AFSP's mission has never been greater, nor our work more urgent.

I hope you will consider supporting my participation in this event. Any contribution will help the work of AFSP, and all donations are 100% tax deductible.Donating online is safe and easy!

To make an online donation please click "Support This Participant". Thank you for visiting Jessica's fundraising page!

Steven's Myspace Page

The Story of S & H

HH in Mourning

Dear You & You & You

2009-10-29T08:41:00.003-05:00

Dear Mornings,

Why must you suck so bad? I can think of a million different things I'd rather be doing at 6:30 AM than waking up. Okay, okay, so I can only think of one thing, but it's something I rather excel at. Sleeping. Sleeping is what should happen at that ungodly hour. An alarm clock at that time is just plain rude. So can you find a way to not be so sucky?

Signed,
I'd Rather be Snoozing in E-ham

****

Dear Comfy Bed O'Mine,

Wow. You rock my world. You're soft. And comfortable. And warm. Inviting. Conducive to hitting the snooze past the point that the alarm actually goes off. As I despise mornings, can you turn rock solid at the same time my alarm goes off so that I may actually get up on time? No? Okay, well, I'll just keep pulling the blankets over my head and cozy up to the tots that inevitably find their way in.

Signed,
Queen of the Snooze Button

****

Dear Creator of Laundry Hampers,

Hi. So I'm short. Not elfin short, but short enough to not be able to buy regular length pants. And I'm proportioned correctly. Thus, I do not have ape arms. Considering my dirty laundry goes into said hamper, I really do not like going in head first up to my shoulders in the hamper to get that one lone sock that always manages to find it's way to the bottom of the hamper. Hampers smell of dirty socks and something else that should not be named. I always feel a need to shower after half my body has been crammed inside of the hamper. What I'm really trying to say is, short people do laundry too. They also buy laundry hampers. If you could make a hamper that does not require contortionist type moves to get the laundry out, that would be phenomenal.

Signed,
Short in Stature

****

Dear Man,

Yes, you are undeniably cute. But even the cute get in trouble. And not even your award-winning mischievous grin of yours will get you of your discipline. The sooner you learn that, the better off we'll both be. I'm only bringing it up because it's hard to follow through with disciplinary measures when you are looking up at me with those big blue eyes and all-knowing smile.

Signed,
Wrapped Around Your Finger,
Momma

****

Dear Nightmares,

Really? Still? I'm 27. Isn't there like a cut-off time for you? Yeah, I get the occasional bad dream. But to still have heart-pounding, scream-inducing, sweat-producing nightmares as an adult just seems wrong. Stop with the horror movies you say? But I don't have nightmares about Jigsaw or Leatherface . So can you just stop already?

Signed,
Scared Sh*tless at 3 AM

****

Visit Shortmama at a Family of Shorts for more Dear Someone letters.

8 Years and Counting...

2009-10-26T13:04:00.003-05:00

Dearest Dawn,
Happy, actual, 8year anniversary! ! ! You are the love of my life. Through thick and then and over again, I love "U" through and through. You are my teammate, my best friend, and my my love. I'm am glad that we met. I'm even happier that you pulled the first move and opened the door to what is the rest of our lives together. May we be happy forever. You are the reason I get up in the morning and my motivation to do all that I am able to do. Without you a day is just a day, but with you.....words just can't describe. Thanks for being there for me. I've always loved you from day one and will love you far beyond this life on earth.
With All My Love
Always and Forever
"Your" Husband
Weldon
A.K.A. HH, S, SS

54 and 8

2009-10-24T21:06:00.003-05:00

Today is my dad the Pap's birthday. Daelyn woke up at 8 am and promptly called him to wish him a Happy Birthday. Once Dae girl knows it's your birthday she insists on celebrating from sunup to sundown, and long past then if we would let her. He opened gifts. We did the cake thing in the form of Halloween cupcakes. The toppers were Halloween-themed rings. Guess who picked it out? Yeah. We went bowling. Tots + Cam + Us + Pap + Jon-Jon + bowling lanes = good times. I actually broke 70 the first game. And much to my disbelief, I broke 100 the second game. I'm not sure I've ever done that. (Yes, I'm a horrible bowler. But Lord, I love it.) The tots loved it. Beware if you ever see said tots in the bowling alley: Watch your toes. And your drinks. And your ice buckets. We got back to our place and Pap made dinner. Yes, the birthday man cooked. On his birthday. It's what happens when you used to cook for a living and can cook the pants off Julia Child or Emeril or whomever. Great-freaking-day.

And today is also the day that celebrates 8 years of HH and I as a couple. 8 years ago today I tapped him and we've been together ever since. I love him more now than I ever have thought possible. This anniversary means more to me than our wedding anniversary. We had Daelyn before we got married so to celebrate only our wedding anniversary seems wrong. It seems to me that we would exclude Daelyn that way. I know, it's only in my head. But still. We didn't do anything special to celebrate. We celebrate on our wedding anni. But we are together tonight as a family. In the house we made a home. Surrounded by memories and photos of loved ones.

Life is Good.

To whom it may concern

2009-10-22T12:51:00.006-05:00

Dear Man,

It wasn't about the milk. It was the principle. You asked for something to drink at nap time. I politely told you no but you could have some after nap time. And then the fit happened. I offered you a drink of water. You not-so-politely refused the water. Almost an hour later of you screaming was not going to get you your desired milk. As hard as it was to listen to your tantrum, your refusal of water reinforced the fact that you would not die of dehydration in your sleep. And yes, my name is still mommy, I am just ignoring your screams of "MOMMYMOMMYMOMMYMOMMYMOMMY!" At this point in time, it's just the principle of not giving in to you. I really don't give a hoot about the milk. I'd give you a cow if that's what it was about. But it's not. You may not realize it now but when you have your own tantrum-throwing child you will get it. And I will laugh my grandma *ss off.

Until then,
I love you screams and all,
Mommy

****

To whom it may concern:
Or more specifically, the creator of those little ball things that are inside stuffed animals,

Yeah, what were you thinking? You apparently are not a woman, and if so, not a mommy. Because mommies? We wouldn't put something as choke-hazard as those little ball things inside our children's stuffies. And you could also have not been a dog owner. Because you would have known. You would have known how much puppies like to chew. You would have known that puppies are intrigued by those d*mn little balls. You would have known how much of a mess they would make once the reindeer or dolphin or bear #1 or stuffed animal of the day would create once the eyes and nose was chewed off. You would have known that once those cute little hard things that get the dogs attention in the first place are gone, the attention goes to the inside of the frog or bear #2. And that's where your ever-so-bright idea crumples. Because that is when those little ball things go all over the floor. And you were clearly never in non-carpeted household. Because you would have realized that once those little balls of death are let loose onto a non-carpeted floor, they roll. They bounce. They go all over the d*mn place. And several sweepings and vacuumings later, those little ball things are still under the couch, in the couch, under the entertainment center and in the corners of the rooms. Multiple rooms. And just for the record, they don't sweep up very well. And don't even get me started on what happens when you step on one or seventeen in a half-dazed sleep and about break your tailbone in an effort to stop the sliding. And if you had been one of said people, then you must have had a maid. And we could never be friends.

Signed,
Momma and Dog-owner in a little ball filled house

****

Dear Neighbor,

Hi. I know we have not really talked but last Halloween pretty much insured the fact that I would stay safely on my side of the street. Do you not remember me? Oh, well let me remind you. I'm the neighbor who last year had both the black and red supermen. I'm the one who really liked your red she-devil costume complete with realistic snake draped around your neck. I'm the one who brought my children to your candy bowl with no FLIPPIN CLUE that the *shudder* thing *shudder* around your neck was real. Yeah, remember me now? Yeah, I'm the one who left her children on your doorstep while I backed off in a pale stupor after realizing that said thing was moving and flicking it's tongue out. Anyways, last year aside, I'll be the one standing on my doorstep while my husband takes our tots to your door. Because me? Yeah, I'm deathly afraid pee-my-pants terrified of those things without legs. I just don't think something that has no legs should be able to move on land, in water, up trees, and into small crevices. It's just not right for lack of a better word. So Happy Halloween to you from my side of the street to yours.

Signed,
Pale with little bladder control

****

Dear HH,

Thank you. You have no idea how much it brightened it my tantrum-filled morning-turned-afternoon to find a bag of Snickers in the freezer. I love you. And your surprising ways.

Signed,
Your Snickers-eating-loving wife

****

Dear Snickers,

Why do you have be so gosh-darned good? And you rock my world frozen. Can you come out with a fat-free no-love-handle-inducing version of your delicious self? Oh, no? That's alright. I'm still munching away here.

Signed,
Your #1 Fan

For more Dear Someone letters, and to find out what a javelina is, visit Shortmama at a Family of Shorts.

She's typing now.

2009-10-20T20:10:00.002-05:00

As typed by Daelyn, herself:

daelyn

mommy

daddy

dunston

weldon

gia

sophie

oma

opa

pappy

5 2 27 29

7 7 54

orders

tgftygtftgyftfyftdtfyffyftfyffyyffyggyuysgugughgghg

To Kegel or not to Kegel.

2009-10-19T07:51:00.003-05:00

I have children. Twice in my life I was pregnant. Therefore, I have no bladder control. I got really excited this weekend when we were playing a game of Cranium with some friends. Needless to say, I dribbled in my pants a little. Hi, I'm 27 and I can pee my pants.

Yes, I know, KEGELS. I'm sorry, but really? When I sit down, I just want to sit down. I don't want to be exercising my nether-regions. As I told HH this weekend, "Only people like Julia Roberts who can have someone do them for her actually do Kegels."

Did you do Kegels? OR. Do you pee your under-roos?

***

And in a far more controversial topic, Christina is having a bit of issue with guns and racism. Her son is 4. He plays with guns. We live in Central Illinois. Land of deer hunters. He says funny things. The child is clearly not a racist as he was just over at our house last week. HH watched him and the tots while Christina and I went to dinner with some friends. Weigh in here.

And just for the record, HH and I fairly liberal and are very Pro-Obama. But, clearly, Calvin is 4. He has an imagination.

He Learned From the Best.

2009-10-12T21:01:00.004-05:00

Dae: Mommy, Weldon is dipping his chicken into his milk and eating it.

Me: Daelyn. Don't.

Dae: But he's also putting his hand in his cup!

Me: Daelyn, Don't tattle. Weldon, keep your hand out of your cup.

(stomp stomp stomp)

5 minutes later:
The Man: Mommy, Dae Dae is putting her french fries in her milk and eating them.

Dae: So?

It's called Karma.

Dear Someone

2009-10-08T15:43:00.004-05:00

Dear Self,

No matter how much you try, you cannot walk through closed doors. You are not a spectral. You have physical properties and your nose will be broken if you continue to do so.

Signed,
Bruised and Battered Me

Dear Skin,

What's with you? I never had acne in high school and for that I am thankful. But, at the age of 27, breakouts?! Really? I have better skin hygiene than that of my ten-year-younger self. It doesn't make sense.
And this impetigo thing, yeah, it blows. I have tots. They like to touch my face. I have 2 dogs, one of whom is a puppy and likes to lick every-damn-thing, including me. I have a husband. I like to kiss him. Based on the location of you on my chin, you are making my life unnecessarily difficult. A chin is extremely hard to bandage anyways. And since I am allergic to band-aids, I do this thing with a gauze pads and paper tape that makes the lower half of my face look like I am a mummy in progress. And ohmyword, you itch like a b*tch.

Signed,
Itchy with a Slight Chance of Acne

Dear Rain,

I'm tired of you. You have soaked me to the bone numerous times today. I am sure the ground has enough water to last a while based on the multiple downpours today. And, this may be a universal thing, but short people tend to soak up a gallon of water or more in each pant leg. I am one of those people. I do not enjoy walking into a building feeling like I gained 10 pounds in my ankles alone. Besides, it makes a for a messy walk. So, please. Stop already.

Signed,
Lady who is in her 3rd pair of Pants for the Day

Dear HH,

Thank you for letting me sleep on what was supposed to be our date night. The tots thoroughly exhausted me yesterday and combine that with knock-me-on-my-arse effect of Benadryl to soothe the itch on my chin (see Dear Skin letter), I just couldn't keep my peepers open longer. And I really appreciate you carrying me to bed. You're more than I could ever ask for. Thank you.

Signed,
Well-Rested Wifey

Dear Inventor of the Lock & Key,

You really did come up with a great invention. I appreciate the fact that I can lock my doors and feel somewhat safe and sound in crazy world. However, you did not think about the moms in the world who have to park outside because they are in the midst of preparing for a huge garage sale and have a sleeping tot and still-hot Long John Silver's. Do you know how hard it is to unlock the door when all this is going on? And did I mention that said moms are probably wet because the rain is relentless? Oh, well, consider it said. Can you come up with an easier way to get in the door without dropping the most precious cargo ever, a sleeping tot? I mean, please? We're in the world of space travel and immediate communication all over the world.

Signed,
Overloaded & Wet

Dear Menards customer service guy,

Hi. I am not an abused woman. I just forgot to take my sunglasses off when I walked into your store and straight up to your counter. I was not covering black eyes. And the awkward bandage on my chin? Yeah, that's impetigo. It's a weird rash also known as infantigo that typically affects children aged 6 and younger. Yes, I know, I am far past that age, I'll just consider myself lucky to know this curse. You see, I'm a mom. We moms tend to do hare-brained things sometimes. We are the all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful to children. We can find the impossibly hard to locate shoes. We can whip up a somewhat healthy dinner in minutes. We know when report cards are coming and the dates of upcoming doctor appointments. We know the difference between the la-la-la song and the boy song. So forgive us if we sometimes forget something as simple as taking our sunglasses off. In all honesty, it's a miracle I even made it to your store in the first place.

Signed,
Married to a Wonderful Guy
Who Only Touches me in Loving Ways

For more letters, check out Shortmama at a Family of Shorts.

For Jeri.

2009-10-07T15:18:00.005-05:00

My cousin Jeri just had her first-born. Almost 5 weeks early. He was airlifted to Cardinal Glennon in St. Louis for lung/breathing issues. From what I understand, he will be fine though. I am reposting this for her. Originally posted August 10, 2007.

Gone are the days of sleeping in and staying up late.
Here are the days of little body snuggles.

Gone are the days of quick trips to Wal-Mart and the grocery store.
Here are the days of seeing the world through a child's eyes.

Gone are the days of watching all the gory movies I love.
Here are the days of re-watching all my beloved children's movies and
discovering new ones.

Gone are the days of free time to read.
Here are the days of discovering great children's books.

Gone are the days of using the bathroom in private.
Here are the days of honest questions.

Gone are the days of free time, lazy time.
Here are the days of pretending to be a dog and watching a child's eyes
light up.

Gone are the days of peace and quiet.
Here are the days of peace and chaos.

Gone are the days of a clean house and clean laundry.
Here are the days of "I love you's" and laughing as you watch a child
struggle to eat Jell-O or ice cream.

Gone are the days of wondering what I was meant to do with my life.
Here are the days of knowing.

Wordless Wednesday: The Loves of My Life.

2009-10-07T09:01:00.005-05:00

He's a happy man.

Dude loves his truck.

Too cute for words.

Notice her hair takes up the entire frame. She has a Lion's mane.

I miss the pink frames.

I just love this shot.

If You Would Have Told Me, I Would Have Laughed.

2009-10-06T13:24:00.003-05:00

I am now the ever-so-proud owner of skinny jeans. Yes, skinny jeans. And I'm pretty sure I openly mocked Jesse when she announced she had a pair. Yeah. AND I LOVE THEM.
I own a pair of Miley by Max Azria shoes. Because they were the only shoes at Wal-Mart in my size when I was in a pinch before HH's class reunion. I don't like Miley or the HM brand that is shoved in my face ALLTHEFREAKINGTIME! However, the shoes are comfortable and are undeniably cute. But I vow not to put any more of my $$$ into the hands of Miley or her alter ego.
I do not miss the t.v. Yes, occasionally I look ever so wanly at the thing and wish that Grey's would magically appear. But, I thoroughly enjoy my time with the tots and HH more. Stuff gets done around the house (just don't look in my laundry room!). HH and I are happier, we bond over Boggle and laugh at each other's antics. We're not tied to a time schedule revolving around the t.v. Dinner is eaten in the dining room. I will not pretend, however, that movies are not on in constant rotation for background noise.
I like being up and about earlier in the day. This does NOT mean in any circumstances that I actually enjoy getting out of bed. I just like getting stuff done before 9 am (again, don't look in the laundry room. I despise laundry.).
I actually like to mow the yard. Granted, we have a non-yard that takes less than the time to bake a pizza, but it's therapeutic. I zone. I'm outside. I can hear nothing other than the roar of the mower and the occasional screech of the man yelling at me. I.like.to.mow. Yes, I said it.

What would you laugh about if someone told you in advance?

The Big 2-9, Not Mine

2009-10-03T09:52:00.003-05:00

Today is my husband's birthday. And I feel like I got the present. Him. He rocks my world. He's sweet, generous, caring, handsome as hell, the best father to our tots, he does laundry and cleans, and spoils me unrelentlessly. And this song sums it up for me. I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend. I love you baby. Happy Birthday.

Don't Try This At Home

2009-09-30T09:50:00.002-05:00

Have you ever tried to wrap birthday presents with an-almost-3-year old and a 6 month old puppy?

Unless you're a fan of large amounts of tape all over of the floor and drool-ladened gift wrap, I don't recommend it.

Reasons Unknown

2009-09-28T11:40:00.005-05:00

My dad called me last night waking me from deep slumber, reassuring me he was okay. Hearing those words I was immediately completely awake.

There was a hit-and-run in front of the tavern in the town I used to call home. A small town where you know someones nickname and cannot remember their given name. A town of 200 where you leave your doors unlocked and kids can play outside unattended.

My dad was talking to W. W had to smoke. So W went outside, joining others. My dad stayed inside.

Moments later the bartender was screaming for the cops.

There was no sound of brakes or screeching of tires as a car hit 3 people.

3 people hit. 2 people were injured, one of them being thrown half a block. And another was dead. W. Dead. He was just talking to my dad.

And the driver of the car did not stop.

For the remainder of the night and into the wee hours of this morning, all I could think of was the little girl that W left behind. A beautiful little girl, younger than my own, with Downs Syndrome. A little girl who may not remember her father.

And the car did not stop.

The New Taz

2009-09-24T11:04:00.003-05:00

Dear Lil Man,

I'm sorry if I'm grouchy today. See, I have a headache. Yes, I've taken Ibuprofen which has only so far taken the edge of.

But I'm more than a little upset with you. How did you manage to ruin 2 of my lipsticks, a box of tampons, and get chocolate all over my purse while I was in the bathroom? I'm going to start calling you Taz because you leave a path of destruction in your wake.

And I'm also less than thrilled with the fact that there is stuffing all over the floor which is courtesy of Sophie but is linked directly back to you as you gave her the ~~damn~~ stuffed animal.

In the meantime, I'll be repeating to myself my new mantra: I love my son. I love my son. I love my son.

I really do love you even if I don't like you right now.

Love,
Momma

I Don't Do 8 Legs.

2009-09-23T17:53:00.004-05:00

I'm driving. Tots are snug in their seats behind me. I flip the sun visor down. Something black, the size of a dime falls in my lap. Something with 8 legs. HOLY MOTHER-F-ING SHIT! THERE'S A SPIDER ON ME. HOLY SH*T! I slam the truck into park, regardless of the fact that I haven't properly braked yet. I can't get out of the truck fast enough. I'm slapping myself. My fingers hurt. My legs hurt. The console of the truck would hurt if it had feelings. I'm out of the truck. I don't see anything. I'm peering into the truck ever so carefully. I see nothing. I get back in the truck. We're going. I'm freaking out. Where the hell did it go? A spider doesn't disappear into thin air. I'm driving, shoving my hands into the back of my pants everywhere time I move and think I feel something. I'm dancing around like a blooming idiot, sure that there is a spider ready to launch it's attack.

We're home now. No other sign of that-thing-with-8-legs. Could have been a black piece of fuzz. But how did it get in my truck? Could have been my imagination. But I'm not completely delusional. Yet. So I'm keeping the windows of my truck up when it's parked somewhere, fearful of another 8-legged attack.

Now my question is this, will a spider die in a truck because it will have nothing to eat? I mean surely it will, right?! RIGHT????

***

And for something not so comical, my mom's cancer is now in both lungs. Suck-Freaking-*ss.

This One's For You...

2009-09-22T15:27:00.002-05:00

HeartNiki, who rocks in many ways, awarded me this lovely little gem:

So for those I think are good reads:

Crusty Beef - Because I'm all about the beef.

Life In Left Field - She's 3 followers shy of 100. Once she reaches 100, there will be a giveaway. Check out the awesome prizes. I'm hooked.

Sugar Sweet Thoughts - Christina flat out rocks.

Watching Airplanes - She just told everyone that she and her husband are about to get busy. Awesome.

Enjoy ladies!

She May Never Have Tots Now

2009-09-18T12:41:00.003-05:00

We're much better thank you all so very much!

And because I laughed my *ss off at this, I thought I'd share. It's a response from the Dear Sickness post, from one of my child-less friends.

This posting simultaneously makes me throw up a little in my mouth, [want to]
have my biological clock squashed, and makes my heart hurt for you dealing with
it. My prayers ur way tonight. Yuck, c

Dear Sickness

2009-09-17T15:55:00.005-05:00

Dear Daelyn,
I'm sorry you got sick today. The triple whammy sucks. But next time you get sick, can you please keep it to yourself? I can't wipe your butt when I'm on the toilet in the other bathroom. And it really p*sses me off when you feel better a mere half hour later when I'm still sick to my stomach five hours later.
Signed,
Your fellow shatter,
and *ss wiping momma

***

Dear Man,
I'm sorry to send you off to Pappy's house when it seemed like the beginnings of a great day because Daelyn would be home all day. However, I only did so for your benefit. Trust me. This. Bug. Is. Awful. And, okay okay, maybe for a bit of my benefit as well. I can hardly keep up with on a good day. There was no way I could handle your high energy levels when I can't decide what end of my body to put on the toilet because my stomach is rumbling. AND, considering you're just 2 1/2 and recently potty-trained, I don't want to see what diarrhea looks like on your impossibly cute heiny.
Signed,
The still sick one
and *ss-wiping momma

***

Dear Big Tub,
Thank. You. So. Freaking. Much. for providing an hour of entertainment to the tots and some quiet while I tried to squelch the inner rumblings of my tummy.
Signed,
The one who cleans your big self

***

Dear Gia & Sophie,
I love you. You both know that. But can you please oh please oh please not bark up a storm when I'm lying on the couch recovering from my most recent sprint to the bathroom? I blame you for my headache.
Signed,
The one who feeds you
Momma

***

Dear Trash Company,
WTF? 2 weeks in a row and you don't pick up our trash until we call you? Our bill is paid. Our trash is not overflowing. There is no yard clippings in the can. I don't like looking like the lazy *ss neighbors who just don't know how bring their trash can back to the house at the end of trash day when the truth is you just never came and got it. We recycle now. We have considerably less trash. We got a bigger, more durable trash can after you destroyed the last one. Now do as we pay you to do and haul our trash away without a call from us first.
Signed,
The ones near the hospital
That. You. Forget. Routinely.

***

Dear Pappy,
Thanks for taking the man for me today. There was no possible way I could handle the man today. I am sorry for all the tears that ensued. However, I'll just call it as payment for the multiple layers of dirt and grime that inevitably finds its way on the tots when they go to your house.
Signed,
Your Favorite Daughter
And Mother of your grand-tots

***

Dear HH,
Thank you for the Gatorade and Pedialyte this afternoon. You have no idea how much we needed it.
Signed,
Sick momma
and sick tot

Vomit, Poo, and a Bloody Nose

2009-09-17T09:00:00.003-05:00

As a mother, vomitting and diarrhea is nothing new. But it never fails to amaze me the body's ability to completely disgrace itself and let loose on both ends at the same time.

To an adult, it sucks but cannot be helped.
To a child, it's unsettling and scary. Add a random bloody nose to the mix and it's quite the mess.

And I now know from experience that only motherhood provides that there is no good way to keep a cloth on a bloody nose while throwing up and sh*tting your guts out.
Needless to say, by 7 am it was quite apparent that Daelyn was not going to school today and that it would be a day for scrubbing toilets and floors and washing towels.

Laundry Excuse

2009-09-15T11:55:00.001-05:00

Ran out of hangers. I'm taking it as my cue that I need to stop with the laundry.

Dear Patrick

2009-09-14T20:57:00.004-05:00

Dear Patrick,

You were my first crush before I even know what a crush was. You immortalized Johnny and Dalton for me. No other actor has since had me captivated in quite the same way that you did.

I grew up watching you. Literally. I was 5 when I wore out my first video cassette of Dirty Dancing. By the age of 6, I had all the lines memorized. Songs included. I can't hear "Hungry Eyes" without picturing the dance scene. The same goes for "(I've had) The Time of My Life". I watched that movie so much that my mom couldn't stand it any more.

Then came Roadhouse and I was hooked. I laugh before I should because I know the polar bear is going to fall. I get embarrassed early because I know when the s*x is coming. It's beyond a guilty pleasure of mine. It's just a pleasure to watch you.

I religiously watched The Beast earlier this year because I felt it a right to support you.

When I learned you had cancer I cried. To hear that you died breaks my heart. I know all too well the battle a cancer patient faces. And to know that a man such as you with all the access to the best medicines and greatest care can succumb to cancer scares the sh*t out of me.

I avidly watched the headlines and kept up with your status as best I could. I watched you with Barbara Walters. I cried.

I cry now for your wife.

Thank you for bringing us Johnny and Dalton. You will be missed.

--
Dawn