Today's the day. I'm entering the extreme sports challenge of driving six hours with two toddlers. Wish me luck- or even better? If you happen to live between Lethbridge and Edmonton, show your support by cheering us on along Highway 2. You don't even have to worry about bringing water to keep us going- I'm going to have a stash of diet coke right beside me. If you feel that you really should be contributing SOMETHING, advil would be appreciated.
I didn't want to leave you without your daily dose of entertainment, so please check out my guest post about the challenge of balancing work, parenting and sleep while my husband's in Afghanistan- featured on The Work At Home Woman's blog.
And like always, please take a moment to leave some comment pretties to show me that you care. Because after the adventure I'm undertaking with these children today? I'm going to need all of the love I can get.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Caught in the Act- Chaotic Momentum Post August 23, 2010
Jewels! You are SO caught in the act with this one.
How does it work exactly? The more SLIM FAST you consume, the slimmer you'll become?
How does it work exactly? The more SLIM FAST you consume, the slimmer you'll become?
It Was the Best of Times- Chaotic Momentum Post September 10, 2010
Emotional transitions for toddlers are as frequent as the number of red lights you hit when you are seriously late for an important appointment. So for the parent, life is most accurately described as they say, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."
6:03am: Life is wonderful.
6:05am: MY SHAKE IS ALL GONE! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?
6:07am: Oh thanks Momma. I just really needed another one.
6:09am: WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU? There was hardly any in there, I swear. It's all gone Momma, ALL GONE! I can't even deal with the tragedy.
6:10am: How could you DO this to me?
6:21am: Thanks for the snuggle... Sometimes a little man just needs a little love.
6:23am: Life is wonderful.
6:24am: Nooooooooo! NO NO NO! Abbie just took my dinosaur- doesn't he know I'm not in the mood for this kind of disaster this morning?
Note to Ryker: Don't you know that Momma's not in the mood for it either? But you are so incredibly adorable when you're mad.
6:03am: Life is wonderful.
6:05am: MY SHAKE IS ALL GONE! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?
6:07am: Oh thanks Momma. I just really needed another one.
6:09am: WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU? There was hardly any in there, I swear. It's all gone Momma, ALL GONE! I can't even deal with the tragedy.
6:10am: How could you DO this to me?
6:21am: Thanks for the snuggle... Sometimes a little man just needs a little love.
6:23am: Life is wonderful.
6:24am: Nooooooooo! NO NO NO! Abbie just took my dinosaur- doesn't he know I'm not in the mood for this kind of disaster this morning?
Note to Ryker: Don't you know that Momma's not in the mood for it either? But you are so incredibly adorable when you're mad.
As Close to Thomas Edison as it Gets- Chaotic Momentum Post September 6, 2010
My electrical skills may be a little lacking, as I have been known in the past for being incompetent at even changing light bulbs. The things in the house that need fixing? I leave these to Rob, who's fortunately very good with his hands.
So it was quite confuzzling, after we moved into our home two and a half years ago, why the light above our sink WOULD NOT TURN ON.
Rob changed the bulb- no luck.
He took the casing off and checked all of the wiring- nothing out of place.
Still, no light.
We eventually just gave up on it and decided that a dimly lit kitchen is kind of sexy. Oooooo, look at me getting these dishes all hot and wet.
But my mother? Could not STAND it. Everything should be in perfect working order and how convenient is it that my sister Courtney's boyfriend (fiance now) has experience working with electrical problems?
So convenient.
But Rob, determined not to be shown up by another man's handyman skills, takes another crack at the issue we've already been living with for a year. He routes around up in there, almost like he knows what he's doing, and a few hours later?
LET THEIR BE LIGHT!
I would like to make this very clear- ANYONE could have missed this detail. Anyone. My husband and are ARE NOT idiots and any comments implying this will be deleted faster than the speed of light our bulb produces.
Upon closer inspection, Rob discovered a cleverly hidden light switch that seemed to do the trick. Disguised by just a slight mess of electrical cords that we had placed in front of it.
Could happen to anyone. And for finding this gem? I stand behind the fact that my husband is a genius at discovery.
So it was quite confuzzling, after we moved into our home two and a half years ago, why the light above our sink WOULD NOT TURN ON.
Rob changed the bulb- no luck.
He took the casing off and checked all of the wiring- nothing out of place.
Still, no light.
We eventually just gave up on it and decided that a dimly lit kitchen is kind of sexy. Oooooo, look at me getting these dishes all hot and wet.
But my mother? Could not STAND it. Everything should be in perfect working order and how convenient is it that my sister Courtney's boyfriend (fiance now) has experience working with electrical problems?
So convenient.
But Rob, determined not to be shown up by another man's handyman skills, takes another crack at the issue we've already been living with for a year. He routes around up in there, almost like he knows what he's doing, and a few hours later?
LET THEIR BE LIGHT!
I would like to make this very clear- ANYONE could have missed this detail. Anyone. My husband and are ARE NOT idiots and any comments implying this will be deleted faster than the speed of light our bulb produces.
Upon closer inspection, Rob discovered a cleverly hidden light switch that seemed to do the trick. Disguised by just a slight mess of electrical cords that we had placed in front of it.
Could happen to anyone. And for finding this gem? I stand behind the fact that my husband is a genius at discovery.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
My Hair Smells Like Dog Fart- Chaotic Momentum Post June 6, 2010
My dogs can be the ABSOLUTE BIGGEST MORONS! Do you know what tastes incredible? Weed and Feed. According to Jewels, who in minutes ate through a bag that we took out of the shed to get the lawn mower out. WEED AND FEED!
I have the emergency vet on speed dial, so I phoned them up and apparently they have call display, because do you know how they answered? Not with “Hello”, there was no “How are you”, because there might not be time for small talk with the life and death situations they hear about from me. They answered, “What did Abner do now?”
Abner… He’s lucky he’s cute, because I think that we’ve paid for at least one veterinarian’s full salary. Aside from the parasite he caught, and the weird episode of SEVERE colitis he had, he’s been in the hospital a million times for reasons due ENTIRELY to him being a moron.
Catapolting himself from the bed, to the nightstand, to the dresser to get children’s Motrin. Not once, not twice but THREE times. That caused his liver some severe damage, made better only by the veterinary induced vomiting, charcoal and some serious IV fluids.
Eatting an ENTIRE jar of diaper rash cream, well, that just made him sick.
When Jewels knocked over our DOG PROOF (haha, they underestimate the mastermind of a terrier) garbage, he ate a whole container of instant espresso that I had used for making a cake. He nearly gave himself a heart attack, it was like a Yorkie on speed. You could FEEL the size of his heart as it tried to pump out of his chest and race him down the street. In fact, it probably did a few laps at the speed of light and jumped back in his chest before we were able to take notice.
And suprisingly, husbands are just as idiotic as dogs.
“Rob, you can’t give dogs spare ribs, they can become shards as they’re chewed and rip open their insides as they’re digested. Give Abner one of his dog chews.”
Rob rolls his eyes (most likely, I was looking at Abner chewing on the sparerib Rob just gave him).
“Rob, seriously, rib bones are not for dogs.”
“The rib is as big as he is, there’s no way he can chew enough of it off to puncture him. Relax.”
“It will be on you if Abner dies then from having his intestines ripped open.”
Rob rolls his eyes again (most likely, I was ignoring him now) and goes to take away the rib from Abner to avoid further discussion. BUT, with the threat of losing his prize, Abner swallows it whole. And the one thing that Rob was right about in this dialogue was that the freakin’ bone was as big as Abbie. It shouldn’t have been biologically possible, but my dogs defy all odds. The vet thought that without surgery, it would most likely kill him as it contorted it’s way through his body. And if vomiting was induced, it would rip up his esophogus. But somehow, it went all the way through him just fine, with Abner looking up at me as if to say, “I don’t know what all the fuss was about. It’s just a bone. Dogs eat bones all the time.”
Ridiculous. And this was just this year.
But that’s Abner, and this phone call is about Jewels, who normally requires limited veterinary visits for her yearly check up, shots and the occasional binge on rocks. Yes, she is a rock eatter. But rocks are not poison, so her weird food fetish wasn’t as bothersome before.
I explain to the vet what’s happened, and there’s a pause. “You can bring her in, but by the time it will take you to get into the city and over here, with the amount she’s eatten, all that we will be able to do is put her out of her pain.”
Are you KIDDING me? Jewels’ ridiculousness is ultimately going to KILL her? No, this is NOT going to happen. I’ve put up with WAY too much crap from these beasts for them to die on me. I have the Weed and Feed bag in front of me and ask her to double check her info. It’s the C-I-L Bio-Weed and Feed. She’s been looking at the Scott’s brand (which we also have in our shed), so she pulls up her info online. Apparently, the bio brand is all natural, and although harmful when consumed, is not completely toxic. Jewels will have a severe stomach ache, and by this time, after thinking she was dead and gone, this is a complete relief. She came THIS CLOSE to death, and later that night I catch her with paws up on the kitchen counter trying to claw her way to bran muffins. A stomach ache serves her right!
24 hours pass, and she’s good, in the clear! Alive and well.
48 hours pass, and OH MY GOD! Her farts! I think that I’M going to be the one to die from stink overload. It was brutal. I’ve let her sleep in bed with me, in case she needs to go out in the night due to tummy issues, and now I cannot escape the stench. It’s permeated into every fiber of my being. I think I’m going to have to rewash all of our clothes on the upper level of our home that have been permanently stinkified. My bedding? It needs to be BURNED! I swear, even my hair smells like dog fart. I’d tell you to take a whiff to proof my point, but you would probably keel over and die.
So, as said, my dogs are the ABSOLUTE BIGGEST MORONS. Disgusting! If anyone’s interested in adopting two terriers, be my guest!
I have the emergency vet on speed dial, so I phoned them up and apparently they have call display, because do you know how they answered? Not with “Hello”, there was no “How are you”, because there might not be time for small talk with the life and death situations they hear about from me. They answered, “What did Abner do now?”
Abner… He’s lucky he’s cute, because I think that we’ve paid for at least one veterinarian’s full salary. Aside from the parasite he caught, and the weird episode of SEVERE colitis he had, he’s been in the hospital a million times for reasons due ENTIRELY to him being a moron.
Catapolting himself from the bed, to the nightstand, to the dresser to get children’s Motrin. Not once, not twice but THREE times. That caused his liver some severe damage, made better only by the veterinary induced vomiting, charcoal and some serious IV fluids.
Eatting an ENTIRE jar of diaper rash cream, well, that just made him sick.
When Jewels knocked over our DOG PROOF (haha, they underestimate the mastermind of a terrier) garbage, he ate a whole container of instant espresso that I had used for making a cake. He nearly gave himself a heart attack, it was like a Yorkie on speed. You could FEEL the size of his heart as it tried to pump out of his chest and race him down the street. In fact, it probably did a few laps at the speed of light and jumped back in his chest before we were able to take notice.
And suprisingly, husbands are just as idiotic as dogs.
“Rob, you can’t give dogs spare ribs, they can become shards as they’re chewed and rip open their insides as they’re digested. Give Abner one of his dog chews.”
Rob rolls his eyes (most likely, I was looking at Abner chewing on the sparerib Rob just gave him).
“Rob, seriously, rib bones are not for dogs.”
“The rib is as big as he is, there’s no way he can chew enough of it off to puncture him. Relax.”
“It will be on you if Abner dies then from having his intestines ripped open.”
Rob rolls his eyes again (most likely, I was ignoring him now) and goes to take away the rib from Abner to avoid further discussion. BUT, with the threat of losing his prize, Abner swallows it whole. And the one thing that Rob was right about in this dialogue was that the freakin’ bone was as big as Abbie. It shouldn’t have been biologically possible, but my dogs defy all odds. The vet thought that without surgery, it would most likely kill him as it contorted it’s way through his body. And if vomiting was induced, it would rip up his esophogus. But somehow, it went all the way through him just fine, with Abner looking up at me as if to say, “I don’t know what all the fuss was about. It’s just a bone. Dogs eat bones all the time.”
Ridiculous. And this was just this year.
But that’s Abner, and this phone call is about Jewels, who normally requires limited veterinary visits for her yearly check up, shots and the occasional binge on rocks. Yes, she is a rock eatter. But rocks are not poison, so her weird food fetish wasn’t as bothersome before.
I explain to the vet what’s happened, and there’s a pause. “You can bring her in, but by the time it will take you to get into the city and over here, with the amount she’s eatten, all that we will be able to do is put her out of her pain.”
Are you KIDDING me? Jewels’ ridiculousness is ultimately going to KILL her? No, this is NOT going to happen. I’ve put up with WAY too much crap from these beasts for them to die on me. I have the Weed and Feed bag in front of me and ask her to double check her info. It’s the C-I-L Bio-Weed and Feed. She’s been looking at the Scott’s brand (which we also have in our shed), so she pulls up her info online. Apparently, the bio brand is all natural, and although harmful when consumed, is not completely toxic. Jewels will have a severe stomach ache, and by this time, after thinking she was dead and gone, this is a complete relief. She came THIS CLOSE to death, and later that night I catch her with paws up on the kitchen counter trying to claw her way to bran muffins. A stomach ache serves her right!
24 hours pass, and she’s good, in the clear! Alive and well.
48 hours pass, and OH MY GOD! Her farts! I think that I’M going to be the one to die from stink overload. It was brutal. I’ve let her sleep in bed with me, in case she needs to go out in the night due to tummy issues, and now I cannot escape the stench. It’s permeated into every fiber of my being. I think I’m going to have to rewash all of our clothes on the upper level of our home that have been permanently stinkified. My bedding? It needs to be BURNED! I swear, even my hair smells like dog fart. I’d tell you to take a whiff to proof my point, but you would probably keel over and die.
So, as said, my dogs are the ABSOLUTE BIGGEST MORONS. Disgusting! If anyone’s interested in adopting two terriers, be my guest!
Car Porn- Chaotic Momentum Post September 21, 2010
I know. I’ve already discussed the seriousness of Rob’s car addiction. And it truly seemed as though his obsession could not get any worse.
But, once again, Rob’s broken through the cross continental barriers I’d expected to restrict him, and made his dreams become a reality. He realized after my third refusal to his email pleas that he didn't actually need me to facilitate this transaction.
So, he bought a car. While in Afghanistan. Who DOES that?
The 2005 Mustang will be dropped off at our home any day now so that it can sit in our driveway collecting dust. Or, much more likely, a thick layer of snow. Why? BECAUSE, ROB’S ACROSS THE WORLD AND WILL NOT BE DRIVING IT.
So, why does he need a vehicle if he’s not even here? Why not wait until returning, and save on payments and vehicle insurance? Why even bother to look at car listings until he returns?
Excellent questions people. But, unfortunately, this is not an issue that has anything to do with rationalizing or reason ability. When it comes to cars, Rob has lost his mind completely and there’s just no arguing with him.
Sigh.
The other day, we were discussing the need to get an external hard drive to store all of the photos and videos we’ve accumulated over the last few years. Rob mentioned a particular type, but all I heard was a computer memory thingy. Apparently, all the guys overseas are using them to store their porn. They came prepared.
My husband? He would probably use up all of the memory space just with the photos of the cars he’s owned. You should see this file I found on our computer, titled “My Rigs”, it’s filled with hundreds of photos and videos of Rob’s previous vehicles. Insane.
Maybe he does use it as porn. Car porn. I mean, it’s not that unnatural, when you think about it. Sexy women and cars have been categorized together for as long as I’ve known. Men are constantly making comments about Ferrari’s and Lamborghini’s giving them boners. At least the men I know (looking pointedly at Ted and Keith). Would it be so strange to think of cars as porn?
Something to think about people.
You may want to pay attention the next time your husband watches Pimp My Ride, or takes a car magazine into the bathroom. You may be missing out on some funny business, and these things? They’re just good to know.
But, once again, Rob’s broken through the cross continental barriers I’d expected to restrict him, and made his dreams become a reality. He realized after my third refusal to his email pleas that he didn't actually need me to facilitate this transaction.
So, he bought a car. While in Afghanistan. Who DOES that?
The 2005 Mustang will be dropped off at our home any day now so that it can sit in our driveway collecting dust. Or, much more likely, a thick layer of snow. Why? BECAUSE, ROB’S ACROSS THE WORLD AND WILL NOT BE DRIVING IT.
So, why does he need a vehicle if he’s not even here? Why not wait until returning, and save on payments and vehicle insurance? Why even bother to look at car listings until he returns?
Excellent questions people. But, unfortunately, this is not an issue that has anything to do with rationalizing or reason ability. When it comes to cars, Rob has lost his mind completely and there’s just no arguing with him.
Sigh.
The other day, we were discussing the need to get an external hard drive to store all of the photos and videos we’ve accumulated over the last few years. Rob mentioned a particular type, but all I heard was a computer memory thingy. Apparently, all the guys overseas are using them to store their porn. They came prepared.
My husband? He would probably use up all of the memory space just with the photos of the cars he’s owned. You should see this file I found on our computer, titled “My Rigs”, it’s filled with hundreds of photos and videos of Rob’s previous vehicles. Insane.
Maybe he does use it as porn. Car porn. I mean, it’s not that unnatural, when you think about it. Sexy women and cars have been categorized together for as long as I’ve known. Men are constantly making comments about Ferrari’s and Lamborghini’s giving them boners. At least the men I know (looking pointedly at Ted and Keith). Would it be so strange to think of cars as porn?
Something to think about people.
You may want to pay attention the next time your husband watches Pimp My Ride, or takes a car magazine into the bathroom. You may be missing out on some funny business, and these things? They’re just good to know.
Pamprin is Surprisingly not for Men- Chaotic Momentum Post September 15, 2010
In the next paragraph, I’m going to make mention of something that no one likes to read about. And in the paragraph after that? I’m going to bring up another something that is usually a taboo subject. BUT- have a little faith, people. I will breeze by the topics so quickly your head will be spinning. Why must I include this information at all, you ask? You NEED the background information for this post to make any sense at all.
My apologies, but here it comes. Periods. All women get them and no one likes to hear about them. Especially us women. Bring up the subject of PMS and expect to get a swift kick to the groin. But, here it is anyway. The background information you require. I get brutal periods and horrible cramps. That’s it- the end.
One more thing to quickly bring up and be done with? Rob has just recovered, for the most part, from a serious infliction of food poisoning. Enough said.
Whew- now that the uglies are out of the way, let’s get on with the story.
With Rob away, our conversation time has become incredibly limited, so we try and make the most of it by only discussing the things that REALLY matter in life.
“Ugh. I feel like total and complete crap. I haven’t slept all week and to make everything worse, I have my period and think I just might die. Seriously. I may go out, lay down on the highway and wait for a truck to drive along and run me down and take away my pain. Uggghhhhh.”
Rob is amazing people, because if the situation were reversed? I would so call on the fact that I was just in the hospital for my own stomach issues, which were likely about a bazillion times more intense than some menstrual cramps.
He did not. Like I said, as he’s all amazing and everything. “I have some stuff here that would probably make you feel better. I’ll bring it home.”
“Hun, you shouldn’t be taking any illegal substances across the border. Seriously.”
What? It’s not like there’s a wide array of pharmaceuticals offered in Afghanistan that aren’t available here.
“No, nothing like that.”
“Then what?”
“Well, my back’s been really, really bad again. And I’m still feeling like shit altogether, so I went to the Canex to get some Advil and something to relieve bloating. I saw a box that specifically said it works for backaches and bloating, so I picked it up.”
“Okay…”
“I didn’t notice it was for menstrual related cramps, backaches and bloating until I read the back after I was already back to my room. And also? That shit didn’t help me out at all. I still felt like crap and was out eight bucks.”
TIP: Pamprin products are not for men.
My apologies, but here it comes. Periods. All women get them and no one likes to hear about them. Especially us women. Bring up the subject of PMS and expect to get a swift kick to the groin. But, here it is anyway. The background information you require. I get brutal periods and horrible cramps. That’s it- the end.
One more thing to quickly bring up and be done with? Rob has just recovered, for the most part, from a serious infliction of food poisoning. Enough said.
Whew- now that the uglies are out of the way, let’s get on with the story.
With Rob away, our conversation time has become incredibly limited, so we try and make the most of it by only discussing the things that REALLY matter in life.
“Ugh. I feel like total and complete crap. I haven’t slept all week and to make everything worse, I have my period and think I just might die. Seriously. I may go out, lay down on the highway and wait for a truck to drive along and run me down and take away my pain. Uggghhhhh.”
Rob is amazing people, because if the situation were reversed? I would so call on the fact that I was just in the hospital for my own stomach issues, which were likely about a bazillion times more intense than some menstrual cramps.
He did not. Like I said, as he’s all amazing and everything. “I have some stuff here that would probably make you feel better. I’ll bring it home.”
“Hun, you shouldn’t be taking any illegal substances across the border. Seriously.”
What? It’s not like there’s a wide array of pharmaceuticals offered in Afghanistan that aren’t available here.
“No, nothing like that.”
“Then what?”
“Well, my back’s been really, really bad again. And I’m still feeling like shit altogether, so I went to the Canex to get some Advil and something to relieve bloating. I saw a box that specifically said it works for backaches and bloating, so I picked it up.”
“Okay…”
“I didn’t notice it was for menstrual related cramps, backaches and bloating until I read the back after I was already back to my room. And also? That shit didn’t help me out at all. I still felt like crap and was out eight bucks.”
TIP: Pamprin products are not for men.
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