Potty.

You guys, I completely forgot that I had to train a small human to use the potty. I don't know, I guess it slipped my mind what with being so busy feeding him and dressing him and making sure there isn't some sort of goo in his hair. There's usually goo in his hair...but at least he's fed and partially dressed.

Amazingly he is doing well in the potty training department and he's not even two yet! That's good right? I'm going to go ahead and say yes, that's great.
Well. He's been doing great at going pee in the potty. He doesn't go every time but if we ask him if he needs to go he yells, "YEAH!" and runs to go. Today he went POOP in the potty. Poop. It's a big deal, in case you don't know.
Joe was home when this happened. The poop happened and Joe tells Cooper, "Okay buddy. You stay right here and I'll go grab you a new diaper."

You.
Stay.
Right.
Here.

Take a beat. Really let that soak in. Let the fact that a grown man told a one and a half year old to, "Stay. Right. Here."

Joe is in the other room trying to find the pull up style diapers, he's bent over digging through the diaper drawer when he looks up and there stands pantsless Coop.

Cooper has his hand stretched out and says proudly, "Dadd'n" (That's how he says Daddy.)

What do you do when someone holds there hand out to you? Do you hold your hand out back? Yes.

Of course you do. Even if that other small little hand is full of poop.

Now, you're hand is full of poop.

And you are a parent.

And you are proud, because your kid just pooped in a potty.

Is it poop or is it chocolate?

Well hi there. Haven't missed me have you?

Here's a run down of what's been going on that I've been leaving you all in the dark about:

1. I quit my job.
2. I gained a million pounds.
3. I'm managing a store that my mom, step-dad and their friends opened...are opening. We open on Friday. Fuck.
4. My face is a zit field.
5. I joined a gym yesterday.
6. I still have an elliptical that I don't use.
7. My oldest started second grade.
8. My youngest says lots of words now, including but not limited to "pease", "buggy" and "boogy". (Boogy as in booger...buggy as in bug.)
9. I got new glasses. 
10. Your mom.

Okay, those last two I just threw in there so it would be an even number. Whatevs.

Opening a brand new from scratch business is haaaaard. It makes me whiny and tired. It also makes me use a lot more cuss words in daily conversation with my momma. Then we laugh. Then she calls me an asshole. Then we laugh again. Then she asks if I'm done with the ad design for the paper. Then I cry...

I just remember that it's due tomorrow...shit.

Oh! That's all I have to do?

Sure it is...

It's Happening

Recently Morgan (brother) needed to do some laundry because he was all out of black clothes that didn't puff out glitter with every step like a fairy Pigpen. He works at M.A.C., that should explain everything. And because I am a grown up, I have fancy grown up things like a washer and dryer. And because he and Angelo live in this super cute apartment with built in floor to ceiling book shelves and a closet just for body butter and fragrances, they don't have a washer and dryer. It's okay. Everything is going to be okay.

He requested the use of my facilities and by requested I mean, he called and said "What's the code to your garage again? Also, how much ketchup do you have?" (Oh yeah, I have a garage AND ketchup. Holler.)

Now is where I should tell you that my dryer takes FOREVER to dry clothes. Also, it will run forever. As in, it won't turn off. It would go for days if I forgot and didn't hear the clanging of metal buttons on metal dryer drum OHMYGODWHATISTHATNOISEMAKEITSTOP!

He called me while at the house and we discussed status of said dryer.

Me: What time do you need to leave to go to work?

Morgan: I should leave here at about 2...that is, if my clothes are dry by then. Your dryer sucks.

Me: I know! It takes forever, ugh, I hate it. But it runs forever, so I think it just doesn't know what to do.

Morgan: That's not how it works, it doesn't know that it's going to run forever and then disperse the time and heat.

Me: Meh. Maybe. Maybe it doesn't want to be so hot, maybe it's saying, "No. I want to operate at a cool 60 degrees and I will take 7 days to dry these towels thank you."

Morgan: Maybe.

Me: The machines are taking over, and mine are the first to start.

Morgan: I love that when the machines take over, it's not to rule the world, but just to inconvenience you.

Me: I KNOOOOW! So rude.

Then he made fishticks and used 3 cups of ketchup, because he hates to run out of ketchup mid-fishtick consumption.

This was after 500 fishsticks. He used a gallon of ketchup.

The Blog Post That Gets My Blog Flagged By All Government Agencies

This is where I tell you that today I will be getting some in-front of the camera acting practice. I will be playing a crackhead. This is my second time working with this particular director and it has been fun to practice and get a few pointers.

I consulted with Morgan on how to make myself look like a crackhead, besides the obvious suggestion that I'm sure you are thinking of right now, which is, duh, become a crackhead real quick.

He told me what he did when he had to make someone look like a crackhead so I tried it out last night and I must say, it worked. After about an hour of walking around the house like that, Madison said, "Did someone punch you...in BOTH of your eyes?"

Then she said that she had a headache. She had been whining a good bit all evening, mostly when I asked her to do something or to eat her food. "My head hurts....my tummy doesn't feel good..." You know, the kid standard. I kept having her drink water and made her lay down. As you know from previous posts, this kid does not do well with being still. She has these legs...and arms....and they're spindly and they move without even being told to. Finally I just sent her to my bed, because sometimes when you're a kid you just feel better if you can lay in momma's bed.

I still go to my momma's house and lay in her bed.

I started looking for any children's pain relief medicine I could find...which was none. At this point she starts crying ya'll. Actually crying. Now I'm really trying to find medicine. MEDICINE THAT I KNOW WE FUCKING HAVE WHERE IS IT!!!!!????? I tore apart every drawer, every cabinet, and every shelf. If you are a parent, and you have ever had a child in so much pain that they are crying and you can't find anything to help them, then I'm sure you know the feeling. It's 11 pm, and I can't figure out what to do. I have infant's tylenol but I can't find a damn thing anywhere that tells me how much I can give an older kid if needed. I have grown up tylenol but it tells you right there to not give it to kids or else all of their organs will go on strike and develop drug problems and bad attitudes.

FINE! We're going to the store I yell at the medicine cabinet. I snatch Coop out of his slumber in his Wonder Pets pajamas, grab Madison by the hand and run out the door. Anyone seeing this from the street would've thought our house had a bomb in it. [Oh, hi Homeland Security, no bomb's here, just an exaggeration. Sorry for any inconvenience.]

Cooper thinks we're going to a party, he's squealing and clapping his hands. Madison is holding her head like if she let's go it will fall apart. I go to the 24-hour grocery store and pull up to the door...the doors that are barricaded with carts. ASSHOLES! I drive to the other doors. Madison wants to stay in the car, but I assure her that if I leave her in the car screaming with a toddler the police will come and take me away.

In the store I put both kids in the buggy and turn to go into the second set of doors...BLOCKED BY A FUCKING SIGN! So, I turn to go into the other doors. Unfortunately, at the same time as a young man who I berated with my comments to noone that WHY IS IT SO DIFFICULT TO GET INTO THIS DAMN STORE AND LOOK! IT'S LIKE A MAZE IN HERE! WHY ARE THERE BEACH TOYS?THERE'S NO BEACH HERE, NO ONE'S BUILDING ANY SANDCASTLES!!!! That man will never get married or have kids. Or go to that store ever again.

I finally get out of the maze of unnecessary summer products and I see that there's only one cashier open and there's a long ass line, a line that I have to cut through with a crying child to get to the pharmacy, a line that I know I'm going to have to stand in with a crying child when I come back. As I cut through the line, I look at everyone and say OF COURSE!! Like it's their fault.

That's when I notice they are all staring at me. That's when I remember.

I LOOK LIKE A FUCKING CRACKHEAD.

I look like a crackhead. I have two children in my cart, both in their pajamas, one of them screaming, one of them clapping, my hair is half in a pony tail and half falling down all crazy, it's almost midnight. At this point I looked down just to make sure I had pants on, I was really unsure. I was surprised to see that I was fully dressed.

Well, at least there's that.

I got to the pharmacy and tore into a box of Tylenol Meltaways, which must be the fucking best thing ever because as soon as she was done chewing them up her headache was feeling better...which was all just in her mind because as soon as we got in the car she was crying again.

While at the pharmacy I stocked up on all child medications because I'll be damned if this happens again. Then I surveyed my cart to make sure I couldn't cook meth with any of these items because I just knew there would be questions at the check out counter, what with me being a crackhead and all. But, because I don't even know what's involved in cooking meth I just crossed my fingers. [Hello, DEA. No meth or crack here, I assure you. Thanks for stopping by.]

And that's that. We went home and I put Cooper back to bed, which really confused the shit out of him because he think's it's morning and where's the balloons, I thought we were going to a party?!

Before.

After...OH MY GOD RUN!!

(note: those aren't real zits...I totally put those on with make-up.)

One Year Ago

I'm about to do one of those posts about a personal matter that isn't comical or necessarily humorous in fashion, so if you'd like to step away I won't be offended.

One year ago Mammaw passed away. One year ago my Momma's Momma was called up to heaven. One year ago the lady that always made pancakes in the morning that were just the right size, and she would leave the leftover ones on a plate on the stove and they were good all day even if they were cold and she would call me sugar-root and hug me tight, that lady, she left her pain and her illnesses behind for glory and an eternity playing cards and hulling peas on a front porch probably.

I believe in heaven. If you don't that's fine, I don't mind. As long as you don't mind what I believe, because I couldn't imagine living this life with nothing to look forward to afterwards.

This lady:

 F-O-X.

(name that movie)

  

 Mammaw and Pappaw

 

I always aspired to be as beautiful as her.

 

Standard 70s pose. Only thing missing? Finger guns.

 

 Glamour.

This was Mammaw's standard summer attire. 

 

Fishing day.

 

 

 She loved us no matter what hairstyle or how many piercings we had.

Never one to miss an opportunity to do something funny in a picture.

 Momma and Mammaw

 All of us girls/ladies/women together all because of the one we love the most.

Thank you for sticking around and sharing in this day with me and thank you for sticking around for every day that I happen to share with you.

I appreciate it.

Wanted: My Brain.

If you happen to see my brain around could you please send it home straightaway? Thanks, oh, and tell it to bring some milk. We're all out.

I have been having one of those weeks, and it's only Tuesday. We are in the middle of a typical Alaskan summer. Which means 20 hours of sun...but without the sun. Also, rain. It has me all fucked up yall. I can't even write funny things, or meaningful things or real things that maybe you'll care about.

I could bring up the Rep. Weiner thing, and how I bet the guys at Fox News and MSNBC are just having a field day with coming up with titles for all the stories this guy is creating. I'm sure that's being done all over the place, right? Sure.

I have a song stuck in my head, I have no clue what the words are...I'm just mumbling them and humming and also whistling (sorry Lord). I wonder if Shazam works like that, maybe I can just hit the SHAZAM button and hum it and then it can tell me what the song is. Please hold...

Nope. Now I look like an idiot because I'm humming and whistling into my phone.

Dear Shazam, please make it so I can hum into the phone and then tell me the song. Thanks.

See what happend all up there? That's what an email typically looks like from me, if you haven't had the pleasure of corresponding with me yet. I just write things, usually just one sentence, press enter and then BAM, new topic. Now you know.

Sometimes I don't have much to say.

Surprising, I know.

Accidental Thievery

Years ago, about 8 years...I think, I don't know. Whenever it was, I think Morgan was in middle school. We lived in a really nice neighborhood and he would often bike to the local grocery store.

One day he returned from the grocery store with a bike that wasn't his own.

Morgan: "You won't believe what happened!"

Me: "What?"

Morgan: "Someone STOLE my bike and left my theirs!!"

Me: "sigh"

Morgan: "Isn't that insane?! What assholes!!"

Me: "Morgan. Let me get this straight. You left your bike on the rack, went into the store, came back out and your bike was gone but this one was in its place?"

Morgan: "...  ...  ...yeeeeeessssss."

Me: "Morgan. You just stole someone's bike."

Morgan: "No....no...wait...no. Oh no."

He kept it.

And this is where I tell you of our fear that we have somehow committed a crime and don't know it. Both of us have this fear. Whenever we see a cop we think, "Oh God. Did I rob a bank and not know it? Did I shoplift and not realize it? Did I murder someone by accident and not even KNOW!?" "How am I going to prove my innoncence when I don't even know what happened!?" "Where was I yesterday?" "Where was I today, oh God. I've killed someone haven't I? Jesus."

And that was a peek into my brain. I hope you survived.

Paranaoid Parrot.

We think the exact same things.

Movies I've Seen Lately

I watch movies frequently, as you already know. I've done one of these lists before, as you already know. If you don't know, then feel free to check out my last movie breakdown here.

Wristcutters: A Love Story: If you can stand to watch a very dark comedy about the after life of people that commit suicide then this is the film for you. If you can stand to watch a movie that has an actress in it that in real life named her son Audio Science, then this is definitely the film for you. I really enjoyed it. Right up until about five minutes before the very end. I won't give it away, just in case you haven't seen it. But, prepare yourself. For. Nothing. And maybe some spinning around in space. Okay, that's all I'm going to say. And this.

Say "cheese"!

The Broken Hearts Club: Um. I loved this movie. It's a love story centered around a group of gay male friends. I'm not sure exactly how many, if any, of the actors that portrayed gay men were in fact actually gay. I know for a fact that one of them isn't. And I swear on all that is holy if you ever tell me that he is, I will punch you in the face. Okay. Aside from that. It was a lovely movie, a refreshing love story and the love story comes from a place that you don't expect.

What? This is a totally legitimate baseball team.

When Strangers Appear: I caught this flick on Lifetime during one of my Saturday afternoon laundry-fests. By laundry I mean sitting on the couch. This movie took about $15 to make. The main story seemed like a good idea...but that all goes down the drain when you realize that  *SPOILER ALERT* when the movie is over you have no clue what was going on or the reason behind it. That's right. The credits roll and you look around like maybe you've been Punk'd. (It's been years humanity, can we stop using that term now? We could call it 'Amber'd' but that would mean that before the trick happened I would have to show up and giggle right before and perhaps roll around on the floor.) So, I suggest seeing this movie if you can stand to be left not knowing. Anything.

The Sandlot 2: Stop it.

 Seriously. Don't watch this.

Proud

Today is a post where I brag about my brother. Because I love him and because I want to. And because one time I slapped him in the face because he followed me all the way from the far away barn on our farm to our house while yelling and throwing rocks. I still feel bad. I don't think he gives a shit, hell he might not even remember. That? Is love. Also, an example of how I don't let things go. One time he pulled down my pants in front of the gas station. So there.

After high school my precious Morgie Porgie went to California to attend MUD - Make-up Designory. When he left I cried like he was never coming back...even though he was coming back in a few weeks for Thanksgiving. Then he went back after Thanksgiving...I may have cried even more. Then he was gone for awhile...then he was home for summer or something...and then he went back...and then I finally had to upgrade to a Blackberry to increase my texting speed. I don't even know how people can text without a full keyboard. So inconvenient.

Then he got all done with make up school and came back home to get his business degree. Isn't he amazing? I know.

THEN he worked at a local furniture chain because OHMYGOD do you know how hard it is to get a job at the MAC counter at Nordstrom?

So, guess what? HE GOT THE JOB FINALLY! YAY! Hero of the day!

And guess what else he did in between all of that? Met someone else that is amazing, Angelo!

And guess what happened to Angelo this week also? He became manager of the salon that he works at.

What an amazing week for them and an amazing life coming up! So, that's what this is about. Saying that I'm so proud and happy to be a part of their lives and couldn't imagine a life without them.

There he is. Cute.

 There he is with my favorite girl.

There he is with my favorite boy.

 And there is Morgan and Angelo.

Even they can't believe the magnitude of the awesomeness contained here in this photo.

See A Penny Pick It Up...

Do yall know that saying, "See a penny, pick it up, all the day you'll have good luck."? I know it because it was engraved onto my soul as a young'n. Being from Louisiana, I'm full of sayings and superstitions. And no, I am not also full of shit, regardless of what my husband says.

Mammaw taught me to only pick up the pennies that are laying heads up, those are good luck. Heads down, bad luck. Not only that but she also taught me to put the penny in my shoe. She ALWAYS had a penny in her shoe, and so did I.

Momma taught me to never throw away money or vacuum up money off the ground. She explained it as, if we treat money like it means nothing or is trash then we can't expect the Lord to bless us with financial health. She didn't say it that eloquently, it was more like, "If you throw away or vacuum up money you can't expect Jesus to help you out when yer broke, also, I'll whoop yer ass." I'm not saying she isn't eloquent, because Lord knows she is, she just didn't waste her beautiful talk on my childhood ears. On a similar note, I recently had to explain to Madison what "half-ass'n it" means.

I feel like you should know this about me, since recently one of my closest friends displayed her shock at my alien like behavior. Because apparently, picking up pennies is just crazy sauce.

We were leaving the mall, I was trailing behind a bit and I noticed the shine of a penny on the ground. As I passed I noticed it was heads up, well, I can't pass that up. I do try and pick up pretty quickly because, let's face it, I don't want to remain bent over in public very long. I tried picking it up quickly but faltered because it was raining and it was kind of in a puddle, at that moment Stephanie turned around.

"Did that just happen?"

Yes it did.

And I'm one lucky sonofabitch.

Okay, well, not really...but one day I bet.

PENNY!