Fun Facts

16 - Number of days the boys have off from school for Christmas vacation, including weekends

8: 14 - Time I stayed in bed 'til this morning since I didn't have to be anywhere as a result of this vacation

93 - Minutes it took for the kids to drive me insane and cause me to lose my gratefulness at being able to slow down and stay home since school was out

79 - Degrees of temperature for Christmas day

18 - Days I have until the half marathon

13.1 - Miles IN a half marathon

3 - People in my household who are sick with a cold, to one degree or another

1 - Christmas presents I still need to purchase (it snuck in there)

4,365 - Christmas presents I need to wrap (perhaps that one's a bit exaggerated, but I detest the wrapping aspect of Christmas)

Be Real, People

Alright, so I can concede that perhaps most people would like to use their blogs to put better feet forward.

But sometimes life has some ugly, dirty, stinky feet. Feet that need a pedicure.

Why not put those feet out there and admit the need? Don't say, "Look how lovely and wonderful my ugly, dirty, stinky feet are! They are so glorious and wonderful and by the way I making lemonade from rotten lemons in my spare time." Cause I ain't buying it.

I just read a blog from a northern dweller where the temps are no doubt quite frigid this time of year. The blog said something to the effect of "It has been a deliciously rainy week. It's so cold at night that in the morning everything's covered with ice."

Seriously? Is there anything delicious about rain where it's so cold that it results in actual, honest to God ICE? I live in Florida, so perhaps I'm off base here, but don't we as humans sorta detest ice? Icy roads, Icy sidewalks, Ice caving in roofs and such? I'm really having a hard side seeing the upside...

I am going to revise an adage. Instead of "If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all," I am going to abide by the following: "If you don't have something nice to say, don't try to blow smoke up people's asses."

I am going to work on being more optimistic. Maybe that will be one of my resolutions.


In the meantime, check out what winter looks like where I live. Eat your heart out.

Fashion Connondrum

So here's the thing--I live in Florida. And it just so happens that I seem to be emerging from underneath the coma of I-just-had-a-baby--or-a-second-baby-or-a-third-baby-and-might-actually-want-to-dress-in-something-other-than-yoga-pants stage of life.

It's a good stage of life. When you start to emerge a little more as a person and a little less as only someone's mother.

And I've decided I need a new wardrobe to match this new stage.

I'll say it again--I live in Florida.

And Fall Fashion is Not Florida Friendly.

Boots, Scarves, Coats... I have no use for this stuff! It's 85 degrees as I type this.

It is so, SO cute. Like this girl...

Or this one....

Or how about these?



I mean, honestly. Even if I were so inclined to shell out the $399 that these boots retail for, where would I wear them? The Beach?

Yes, I would most certainly shrivel up and DIE of a heart stroke if I were to wear any of this stuff.

What's a girl to do?

So I take this moment to tell you northern dwellers that I am jealous of you and your limitless fashion possibilities. To be clear, I don't envy your frosty weather. I just want the clothes.

Sorry to be a hater.

Differences Between Moms and Dads

My fellow Southwest Floridians can attest to the fact that there's been a lot of thunderstorms here as of late.

This has resulted in the revelation that Mason is very afraid of thunder. He's four now, and naturally more aware of things. Every afternoon during what has become the daily thunderstorm, he comes running and tells me he's scared. I secretly kind of like it because he actually wants me to hold him, a rare occurrence anymore.

But as his mother, it's my duty to make him un-scared of the storms. So as he sits in my lap shaking like a leaf, I tell him not to be scared of thunder. It's just the angels up in heaven bowling, I tell him. Don't they make a lot of noise? They sound like they are having a ton of fun!

Today, Rey attempted to take the boys on his dad's boat to the beach on Keewaydin Island, but when they all got to the dock and checked the radar, the weather wasn't going to be good. The boys were really wanting to go to the beach, and couldn't understand why they were turning around and going home. Telling them "there will be thunder and lightening" wasn't sufficient. They demanded an explanation.

Here's Cole, recounting what he was told:

In case you can't understand Mr. Pizza Face... Translation: You'll get killed.

I am told Cole and Mason informed everyone on the dock that they better go inside so the thunder doesn't kill them. Cole even told a boater and his dog that, "You better go inside or the thunder will kill you. And it will kill your dog too."

Something tells me my angels bowling story isn't going to do much good anymore...

The Week in Review

So, you'll be happy to know I'm not the same cranky battle-axe that I was on Tuesday. Things are looking up!

Baby Girl decided to shut off the faucet feature on her nose inasmuch as it doesn't leak constantly anymore. She still does need to employ the use of a Kleenex now and again, so should you run into her in public and this be the case, please forgive her. I am just loving her to pieces these day. She is at the best age. We pass our mornings having conversations like this:

Me: LilaGirl, do you want some bananas for breakfast?
L.G.: Dadadadada. Ayayayayaya. Babababababa. Eeeeeeee! Eeeeee! (Bangs on high chair, indicating the desire for food. Looks at me like she honestly believes I understood what she said.)

Hey, at least I'm not talking to myself anymore.

The boys have apparently exhausted the fun-factor out of terrorizing me because that has abated. Although perhaps my reprieve was only granted because my health improved and therefore my ability to throw down the iron fist of justice has been restored. Yesterday they colored with markers in peace for almost an hour. Mason was practicing letters and Cole was drawing what Mason calls "scribble scrabble" and making pictures that looked like a serial killer's artwork. But he was having a swell time! And there was only minor screaming situations involved--once during a "scribble scrabble" lesson when Cole was not complying with Mason's demands and once during a minor altercation over the color Blue. Oh, and I turned my back for .0000012 seconds and Mason drew all over the countertop (and I might add it was the forbidden "scribble scrabble.") I could kiss whoever invented washable markers.

The brush fire smoke... OH the Brush Fire Smoke! It's yucky. Stinky, vile, gross, loathesome, and hazardous to one's health. And with mere moments before the days where heat will chase us inside lest we drown in our own perspiration, I would like to spend as much time as possible outside, but the smoke stands in the way. Mother Nature is a Bitch.

The neck... much improved. Had follow up today with the Good Doctor. Apparently I was not in as good shape as I believed, because he found all sorts of problems with me. (I guess it's all relative, I was in so much pain an agony a week ago that the improvement seems miraculous!) He talked me into a repeat round of heat and shock therapy. My reward was a first-class great-like-wow spinal adjustment. Although my father (who is apparently quite against this practice) told me that the Good Doc was going to paralyze me if I let this go on. So with every crrrack I would wiggle my toes... just in case. (Thanks for the paranoia Dad.) The neck still freakin' hurts, which is annoying but at least I can function. I received the go ahead to make my triumphant return to the gym, so long as I do no upper body strength training. Bit of a downer, but I will take what I can get.

The sore throat that won't die... has turned into the sore throat--and cough--that won't die. No congestion, no runny nose, just the sore throat and cough. (I informed the Good Doc of this, he was unimpressed. He think the cold will get me sooner or later. In the meantime I'm popping chewable Vitamin C like it's candy.) I really haven't slept much lately, and two nights ago I coughed and coughed and coughed until I couldn't cough anymore. With all that coughing, you'd think I was disturbing my dear husband's sleep which he so desperately needs to be his Important Self. But nope, he slept like a baby. There's something about when he's sleeping and I'm not that makes me want to smother him with my pillow. Really, it's a miracle he survived me being up at night nursing three babies. Anyway, last night, in my desperation to acquire some sleep, I resorted to narcotics. I have some prescription cough syrup left over from my March Cold (yes, my colds have Monthly Names, there are Monthly, after all). So I dosed myself with that last night and slept like a baby. Only 7 hours, but still quality REM. Score.

And the best part of today? It's Friiiiiiday! Which means two whole days of a two parent household. (Save tomorrow when Rey has to steal away to a Condo Commando meeting for "only an hour." READ: He will be gone for at least 90 minutes, two hours is more likely.) Either way, when the boys come in tomorrow morning at an inhuman, ungodly early hour, they will pick him to jump on and beg for breakfast. Times like this that it's beneficial to be Old and Dull Mommy instead of New and Shiny Daddy.

Beau-tee-ful

Today's high was 77 degrees. In FEBRUARY. Just further proof that Florida is the best place on earth.

(Now, no one hold the above statement against me this summer when I'm cussing and swearing because it's 95 degrees, 100 percent humidity and I'm swimming through the air it's so thick. )