do fun stuff. a kids' record for parents.

100% of the proceeds from the sale of this album goes to a grant fund Ryan from Pacing the Panic Room established with PRISMS. The money will be made available to grad students who wish to make SMS their field of choice, the benefit of this is more hard research being done, which leads to more case studies, which leads to more answers for parents and researchers.

Have a listen, or better yet, head straight to iTunes and buy the album. It is fan-freaking-tastic, and the resulting booty shaking is amazing and atrocious at the verysame time.

What? You want to put this fun little monster man on your website, too?  Click the little SHARE THIS WIDGET jobber at the bottom of the box, and copy the code.  The Google Chrome browser doesn't really like the cutesy widget, but I put mine in with Explorer, and it is very happy there.  (Thumbs down, Googles.  Way to help.)

And can I just say? I really want a tshirt with that fun little monster man on it.

Go forth and download.

i shot a wedding.

between that and canning? i'm swamped.

but.

i miss you.  and you. and you.

yep, you, too.

how are you?

xopd

so that happened. wednesday edition

So here's the deal with last week:  The Mister and his dad put an addition on the back of our house.  And since the short people are what you might call a HINDRANCE in that sort of situation, we did all kinds of fun running around away from home last week.  

Tired.

So here's the deal with this week:  The Mister is working his regular job and then is doing sound for a musical each and every night and so it's another edition of MAMA AND THE SHORTIES, LET'S DO THIS.  And so I do not have a ton of time to do actual fun things like talk to grown-ups, and eat bonbons and stuff.  Whatever.  That's life.

But.  

I called my Friend K From Up The Street after bedtime and we were chatting and it was so nicey nice nice and I went out to sit on the front step of my porch to add to the nicey nice nice.  I lit the little candle that I have out there, and closed the door behind me so the house wouldn't fill up with mosquitoes and moths and other flying critters.  And we chatted, My Friend K and I, and it was nice.

I heard one of the cats coming up the sidewalk, and I thought to myself, Self, this is quite possibly the nicest night in the history of the world, and I am talking to a grown-up and sitting on my front step in the candlelight and the breeze and my kitty is going to sit by me.

And then I snapped my fingers to call the cat, because I was still on the phone and totally paying attention to My Friend K From Up The Street, and the cat came around the corner so I could see him all the way and 

HOLY SHIT!!!!  (I screamed)  THAT'S NOT A CAT IT'S A SKUNK!!!  AHHH!!!!  

And the skunk looked at me, most crossly, and TURNED ITS BACK ON ME.

I was already scrambling to get up off the step and into the house, but I couldn't open the porch door, and I looked over my shoulder and the skunk was looking over its shoulder and around its ginormous tail, and was doing this weird walking in place thing that could only mean it was going to blast me with its terrible, totally NOT NICEY, happy-evening-buzzkill stench.

I am not kidding when I say I could not get the porch door open.  But my supersonic squealing or throwing my body against the door or else my pathetic pleading finally opened the door, and of course I totally fell onto the porch and scrambled again to get the door closed and then I just stood there, behind the door of THE SCREENED IN PORCH.  You know, so I wouldn't get hit by the spray if the skunk nailed the porch.  And of course the skunk did not spray.  He just wanted a good laugh at my expense.  And off he skittered, into the blissful night, to meet up with his little skunky friends and laugh about the tall squeaky thing he ran into on his walk.  

public service announcement

I am so! very! excited! to be a sponsor of the Dozens Diaper Drive.  What is this Dozens? you ask.  The Cloth Diaper Foundation is getting ready to re-open the application process, but they are a little short on cloth.  They are looking to raise enough money to have 100 dozen diapers to help 100 families get started with cloth diapering their babies.  

Each $5 donation counts as one diaper.  

So. 

Give it a think. And maybe give.

*****

The Cloth Diaper Foundation, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization, is dedicated to helping qualifying families all over the United States get a jump start on cloth diapering. Cloth diapers are a more natural, healthy alternative to disposables that reduce overall waste, thereby helping the environment. As a supplementary program, it is not our wish to be a family’s sole source for cloth diapers; rather, we assist families while they build their own supply of diapers. We accept donations given by caring individuals and redistribute them to families in need.

love these guys

first dance

what song did you choose for the official first dance at your wedding?

because nothing screams MOMMYBLOGGER like a good poop story

We have been spending time at a local State Park lately, and it has been big fun.  BIG, BIG FUN.  There's a beach with fake sand next to a lake made by a bulldozer and the short people swim and swim and swim and then they eat and then they swim and swim some more, and then they play with their toy bulldozers and dump trucks and random plastic bowls.  And then they swim more and when they're swimming and playing they leave me alone and I chat with the person we've been meeting there and watch the baby eat the fake sand and it is fabulous.

As it happens, there is a little playground a little bit away from the beach, and the middle two (HB and Wee Man, ages 3 and 5, respectively, for the newbies) wanted to play.  I left Elliott with the person I chat with, who is not just a random person, by the way, the short people call her Nana.  The walking boys and I walked to the playground, where the first thing that HB just HAD to do was use the bathroom.

POOP TIME!!!!

Dude always announces if  it is POOP TIME!!!! or PEE TIME!!!!  Very classy, I know, but he does hold doors open for old people so I'm calling it even on this one.

Nobody else was in the bathroom, so I stayed outside in order to keep an eye on Wee Man and Miss O, who was still swimming in the lake.  Five minutes later, HB emerged from the bathroom with no pants.

Where is your bathing suit?

Ummm, I lost it.

Where did you lose it?  (Certain people in my house have discovered a thrill in flushing items down the toilet.)

Ummm, it's still in the bathroom.  I couldn't find any paper towels.  He says whilst gesturing towards his lower half which is ENTIRELY COVERED IN, you guessed it, POOP.

Turns out he made it on time to the bathroom stall, but his efforts were thwarted by a MOTH IN THE STALL, OH THE HORROR!!! and he couldn't poop in there but then he had to poop anyway.  And so he did.  And because he's a responsible little lad of three and a half, he tried to clean it up, subsequently dumping his dump all splat-like on the floor.

And because I'm a responsible little mama of thirty-three, I cleaned it up.   And because I'm a nicey little mama, I won't tell you about that.  Because EEEEEEEWWWWWw.

I told the lifeguard what happened, and he threw up a little and then called the lady who has the unfortunate job of mopping up such incidences.  Turns out her name is Amy, and a bunch of my effbook peeps know her personally and have conveyed my apologies for the unfortunate poop incident.

But really?  A moth?  Sharting 'em over a moth?

Yeah. So that happened.

list for a wednesday

1. brush teeth
2. make coffee
3. rub Henry B's back
4. clean Elliott's backside
5. feed the short people
6. warm coffee
7. put clean diapers and wipes in bag
8. get the heck out of dodge

and maybe a few other things between #7 and #8.  like DRINK COFFEE.  naturally.

but the van is packed with peaches and rhubarb and bread and things and stuff, and we are flying toward #8.

i'm not whining, honest. i'm explaining my feelings.

There are so many houseflies this year.  And I have terrible aim.  Also I have terrible depth perception.  I'm guessing those are totally related. 

The humidity has sucked my last four remaining brain cells out of my head.  With them have gone the following: energy, motivation, ability to form complete sentences, and also the capability to fold and put away laundry.  Fortunately I still have an appetite.

My children are suffering from an entirely intolerable affliction: not staying asleep when it is dark out.  Also not going to bed ::cough cough::Miss O::cough::  Elliott is teething and learning to walk which is causing some sort of non-sleeping stress in him.  He wakes up very upset about 45 minutes after he falls asleep, and nurses frantically, then will go back to sleep for 45 more minutes if I put him back in his bed... but if I don't, he will doze for a moment or two and then smack me in the face whilst laughing maniacally until I wake up to play with him.  It. is. brutal.  Henry B has been growing like a weed (LIKE A WEED, not GROWING WEED, he's three for Lord's sake), and that is causing him to be very needy, resulting in a desire to have his back rubbed whilst lying on top of me.  This would not be so inconvenient if I were not breastfeeding around the bloody clock.  Should it happen that I am engaged in the act of breastfeeding when he MUST!!! HAVE!!! HIS!!! BACK!!! RUBBED!!! he will throw himself on the nearest flat surface and kick and wail and tear his clothes and don sack-cloth and put ashes on his head until he passes out from exhaustion or until I am finished with Elliott.  

Good times, people, good times.

Miss O also comes into our room at random intervals to fetch her stupid, enormous, wretched sweet kitty.  Or get in bed with us, and I don't know about you, but nothing makes me feel like cuddling more than sleeping with a 7.5 year old human goat.  So nice, and softy, except for the ELBOWS. AND KNEES. AND FEET.  AND HEAD BONES.  Gah.  And when she comes for the cat?  She stands by my side of the bed, snapping her fingers and clicking her teeth at the cat.  AND THE CAT NEVER ACKNOWLEDGES HER, even if she stands there for, say, ten minutes, which she will, because the cat does not take kindly to being picked up and moved.

Fortunately, it is only I who am bothered by these nighttime rompings.  The Mister, bless his heart, sleeps like the dead.  Not like the actual dead, but the sort of Mac Truck Snoring Lip Smacking Teeth Chewing Long-Legged Dead, which might be worse than sleeping with an actual dead person.  Because you could probably shove an actual dead person out of the bed, and the actual dead person would kindly be very quiet and let you try to sleep in peace, same as they are.

I'm tired. My head still hurts.  Things are making me cry, and people, I am not a cry-er. I am taking things personally and reading into unreturned phone calls, being not invited and people's busyness.  My friends are busy and wah, wah, wah, they are doing other things like taking their kids to the hospital for tonsil removal, or taking their kids to day camp, or having obstetric appointments, or going camping, or this or that or the other thing.  I have friends RIDDLED WITH AUDACITY, I tell you.  

Points will be awarded to people whose comments make me laugh.  And bonus points for wet drawers.  Conversely, I will likely kick your teeth in if you even suggest that I want my husband dead.   That's all.

birthday boy

Wee Man turned five.

sweet smile

somewhat excited about the hot wheels

Miss O picked him an Easter basket full of apples.
Dude loves him some apples.

Again, somewhat excited.
About A CARD.
Kid is awesome.

He called this a spring.
What is this slinky?
I know no slinky.

This boy?  Is fantastic. 

Bean soup was his request for birthday dinner.

With bacon AND ham.

Because how can you choose?  They're both the best.

Milkshakes with every kind of fruit for dessert.

And also cake, don't forget the cake.

And the face.

Don't forget that face.

foodish friday: week something or other

I'm SO FAR BEHIND with the whole Foodish Friday thing.  If you're someone who's a huge fan of the Foodish Friday, I apologize.  If you are the opposite of a huge fan of Foodish Friday?  Well, today's not your lucky day.

But you wanna know who *is* in luck?  All'a'y'all who have too much zucchini.  Because, well, read on, and you'll see.

It's called Zucchini Relish.  And it is yummy.  So. Yummy.  Eat it on a burger, on a dog, on a hot dog, on sausage, on a fork.  Any way you dish it, the stuff rocks.

you know you want it

Here's what you need to can about 4 pints of relish.  But don't stop there. Four is not enough.  Trust me.

• 4 cups shredded or chopped zucchini
• 2 - 3 cups shredded or chopped onion
• 2 cups chopped green and red pepper (optional)
• 1/4 cup canning salt
• 3 1/2 cups sugar
• 5 teaspoons celery seed
• 2 Tablespoons mustard seed
• 2 cups apple cider vinegar

And here's how you do it:

1. Put the zucchini, onion, and optional peppers in a big old bowl.  
2. Pour the salt over the veggies.  Stir it up so the salt is all over your veggies.  Or, you can use your hands, which is my preference.
3. Cover the veggies with cold water, and find something else to do for a couple of hours.  OR! put your veggies into plastic zippy bags, with no water, and stick them in the fridge overnight and come back to it in the morning after you've had two cups of coffee and have fed the short people.  Either way.
4. Drain and rinse your veggies.
5. Put all of the remaining ingredients into a large stockpot, and bring to a boil.  At the same time, fill up your boiling water canner, and get your jars ready.  If you are not familiar with the phrase "getting your jars ready", you should go here and read all about it.
6. When your vinegar and spices are boiling away merrily, add the veggies, and simmer 10 minutes, or longer if you happen to forget you are trying to make relish.  Not that this will happen to you. 
7. Stuff your jars full of relish, but leave 1/4 inch headspace.  If you are not familiar with the phrase "1/4 inch headspace", you should go here and read all about it.  
8. Slide a clean butterknife between the sides of each jar and the relish to get all the air bubbles out.  This is sort of a science, but not really, so just give it the old college try and trust that you did a good job.
9. Gently apply the lids and rings.  Gently place in your boiling water canner, process 10 minutes or so, unless you forget... oh never mind.
10. Remove from canner with the special canning tongs, and place jars on a cooling rack over a towel or a placemat that you're not really fond of.  
11. Stare longingly at your beautiful relish for six weeks while the flavor develops and you slowly lose your mind.  Or do other stuff for six weeks.  Your call.  Store home-canned items in a cool, dark place, and do not under any circumstances eat it if the seal has popped open, or if a foul stench bursts from the jar when you open it, or if your relish has grown hair.  Those are all very bad signs.

There.  Go forth and make relish for all your relations.  They will sing a chorus of praise and thanksgiving in your honor, and possibly give you a tiara.

pickled red onions.
just a little bonus for making it
to the end of the post.

and another.
also? yes. my kitchen is pink.

i dyed a little today.

she made me cry.

Favorite Babysitter Beth got married today.  Pardon me for just a moment while I start crying.  Again.

the photographer made her do it.

I'm sorry, did I just blow snot on your screen?  That was an accident.

it's not the best picture.
it's not even good.
but they were all sitting still at the same time.
so points are awarded.

Miss O was the flower girl (seems her advertisement paid off), and Wee Man, HB and Sweets were the ring bearers.  Sweets actually slept through the first part of the ceremony, but there was never a more adorable tux-wearing baby sleeping in a coordinating stroller.  Also, he doesn't actually walk, so he didn't actually bear anything, I guess it was more of an Honorary Ring Bearer position.  

yummy babeh.

I know I'm biased, because after all, she is Favorite Babysitter Beth and all, but people, I have not ever ever ever ever ever seen a more lovely bride.  Pardon me again, my eyes have gotten all misty-wet and I can't really see what I'm typing.  

It wasn't the dress (which was amazing, and looked like it was made for the sole purpose of being worn by her), or the hair, or the orchid in the hair, or the pearls or the anything else that could make the list... Maybe it was all of it.  I don't know.

the romance of the hair. sigh.

But in my head, I have a picture of her, taken almost ten years ago (ten! years!), where she is with two of her good friends, Favorite Babysitter Jackie and Danielle, maid of honor and bridesmaid, respectively.  They are laying on their bellies on a bed in the hotel where we had our wedding reception, grinning up at the camera.  And they are young.  High school freshmen, maybe?  That sort of math is impossible for me.  And for the record, we were providing childcare to the guests at our wedding.  We don't just get hotel rooms for teenagers.

favorite babysitter maid of honor

The year after our wedding, she started babysitting for us.  She has been holding our babies for as long as we have.  We listened to the stories and troubles and drama of high school, we tried to be good givers of advice, and tried even harder to bite our tongues.  We have been loving her longer than we've been loving our own babies.  That's not me saying we think of her as our older kid, because we don't... the Favorite Babysitters are like the younger sisters we never had.

And now she is halfway through graduate school and she is married, with a husband!  It is so good.   It's so good that my throat is hurting and tears are on my cheeks and I'm sniffing and biting my lip so that I can think, because it is SO. HARD. TO THINK. when I'm overwhelmed by the beautiful, and good Lord, people, the way their eyes speak to each other and the gentleness of his hands on her face when he kisses her.  

love.