June Cleaver Nirvana

Programming note: A huge thanks to all who participated last Wednesday. I was overwhelmed by the response. There was some BRILLIANT stuff! Mr. Linky will return in 2 weeks for you to link to your funniest post.

My post today is from my dear bloggy friend Janet over at The Planet of Janet. She can make me laugh harder than almost anyone around. She posted this for last week's "It's not me, It's you Wednesday" Mr. Linky. She handpicked it for me because she thought I would enjoy it. She is good. I nearly fell off my chair...

Intestinal fortitude:

This is a difficult week for those of us of the Jewish persuasion -- of which I count myself a member.

It's Passover -- truly a lovely holiday that is all about the celebration of freedom from slavery.

I love this holiday. I love the traditions. I love the two nights of seder dinners with their traditional foods. I love the way the foods are meant to represent parts of the story -- the charoset (the mortar of the bricks the Jews made for the pharaohs of ancient Egypt), the bitter herb (representing the bitterness of slavery), the matzah (the unleavened bread that the Jews took on their flight from Egypt because they couldn't wait for the bread to rise).

Yes, I love it all.

Well, almost all.

I hope it's OK if I tell you a little secret:

Shhhhhh.

Matzah really IS the bread of our affliction.

Or, to put it another way: Holy Moses! I am so freakin' constipated!!!!!

Ah, matzah, I love you, but you do not love me.

There is nothing that binds us Jews together like the traditional solidifying of our intestinal tract into a concrete block.

And please, let's not talk about the after-effects of my favorite take-to-work-during-Passover lunch: melted cheese on a matzah.

That sound you heard was my colon grinding to a halt.

Now, when I was a small child and going to seders at the home of the family matriarch (my paternal grandmother -- and you BETTER not cross this woman ... and I'm serious, young lady!), there was always something that puzzled me about the meal.

She always served this nauseating fruit compote thing for dessert.

All us kids would stare at it in horror and try to pass it off to the person to our right. Uh, no thanks, Grandma. Really! I couldn't eat another bite!

Right nasty it was, all pale and slimy-looking in a bowl.

But it wasn't until years later that I had an epiphanous moment.

It was stewed fruit, people. Apricots, peaches and PRUNES!

My grandma knew even way back then the importance of this traditional phrase:

"Let my people GO!!!!!!!!!!"

Last night Rhett (2) shocked me by devouring watermelon. A lot of watermelon. He ate piece after piece all the way down to the rind. At the end of supper he had a scattering of 6 watermelon rinds sitting in front of him at the table.




This morning Rhett (2) shocked me by devouring peanutbutter on toast. A lot of peanutbutter on toast. He ate piece after piece all the way down to the rind...

Happy Monday to you
Happy Monday to you
Happy Monday dear reader
Happy Monday to you!


I am so excited about today's potluck. I have food! Left-overs, but yummy. I have cranberry and almond pasta salad with faux chicken. Not any faux chicken, but certified veggie Fri-Chik out of the can. Mmmmmm. You can't get that from just any grocery store. I am also serving oodles of fresh fruit with marshmallow fluff and cream cheese dip. Mmmmm. Seriously people we are only going first class here.

I have written about how all God's creatures seem to congregate around my house. Well last night was a first. This sweet creature arrived:



Huh? Is it a kitty? Is it a puppy? An armadillo wearing a fur coat?
Nope. That my friends is a skunk. A skunk curled up comfortably sleeping between my house and a very large digger toy.

Not any skunk, but the skunk that went through the dog door, ate dog food, sprayed the area and then went out to sleep on my back porch a mere 6 inches from where I took the picture through the glass door.

Hello? Are these creatures NOT reading my blog. Because I think I recently posted a lengthy list of what happened to PREVIOUS creatures who dared tread on Holly soil.

Let's just say that he won't be making that mistake again. Animal control came out and extracted him. Tomorrow we will find out if he has rabies. Oh goody! If he does then I will chronicle the 90 day house arrest my animals get to endure because they are NOT REGISTERED in my town. They have shots, but I didn't fill out the proper paperwork which I am sure is going to lead to all sorts of fines. Fun stuff here at the Nirvana.

I promise the faux chicken is not skunk meat.



Regular potatoes and a VERY small watermelon.

Really now, does it get much better then the "What's in Holly's fruit bowl" segment?

Next time I go to Starbucks I am going to order this:
Venti, soy Chai tea latte in a cup that's center of gravity is not at its rim, has a tight fitting lid, a cozy that doesn't rest on the bottom of the cup and can't be easily crushed by my bare hand in the act of being carried.

Crazy me. Wanting to actually consume my $4+ drink instead of wear it. BRING BACK THE OLD CUPS STARBUCKS.

Today the cat threw up in the living room. Rhett walked through it. Rhett had major tantrum when I removed his shoes to clean them (don't ask. He is so attached to his shoes he wears them to bed...yes, with his PJs). I finally got him calm, cleaned his shoes and then started in on the carpet.

Ryan walks through and asks what all the commotion is about. Rhett says, "kitty puked". *stop a minute...where did he learn that?*

Ryan says, "what is puked?" *whoa..not from Ryan!*

If you missed my road trip extravaganza, please click here.

Skunks, small watermelon, puking cats, crappy cups, a link to floating sandwiches and faux meat...

Yes, Friends of Nirvana the bondage called Blog365 has been broken. Holly is now free to blog at her own pace. Let's all circle around, join hands and have a little Kum by Ya chorus. Oh, I am so kidding....I did end the Blog365 madness, but I am really not a touchy person so forget the circle, the hand holding and the chorus. Let's just shout with a joyful voice because today is...*drum roll*...

Potluck day!

Today's extravaganza of extraordinary freeness will be held in a field of daisies on a red checkered table cloth. My seven children will sing Do-Re-Mi followed by an elaborate puppet show three children will delight you with knock knock jokes that all end in "orange you glad..." followed by some bathroom humor that will get them sent to their rooms for time-out which will give us some peace and quiet for the potluck.

In honor of my lovely Saturday night out with fellow bloggers, I am providing food from the nice Italian restaurant where we met:
(Left to right: Me, Lisa, TX Poppet, AFF and Elaine)
We really didn't sit all in a row like we were on a blog panel. I also didn't forget my camera, but like 99% of all photos taken of me...my eyes are closed. It was a really fun evening. These girls are very funny. It was a bonus to find out that Lisa was thrilled to ride in the minivan of death that looks like a boat from above.



As you know, I have had some issues with Google. Some recent Google searches have ended here terribly wrong. BUT today I am singing the praises of the search engine powerful because it sent me someone who searched, "cute kids pictures with great expressions". Good Google. Good Google.

Another momentous moment in Nirvana-Google history also occurred with the search of the word "horridity" which I invented a few months ago and proclaimed:
"*I realize this is not a word, but someday someone will Google it and find this and use it and then another and another and someday you will use it with full knowledge that you heard it here first."
--Holly, January 2008

Well, this week it happened! Someone searched my word "horridity" and ended up at the Nirvana. In research for this highly researched post, I found that I am the second site that comes up for "horridity". I am right after the UrbanDictionary which has listed it for years...crap. Crapicity. Yep, that one is mine. Take that UrbanDictionary. Oh, and Google I better be listed FIRST when the "crapicity" search comes around.

It has come to my attention that my floor was complaining about me. Ixnay the itchingbay or I am buying a bird:
This is what Jenny came home to yesterday after being away from home for a few days (and her kids weren't even home yet). Thank God she had the blogger presence to snap a picture before cleaning it up.

Let's revisit the hypothetical mother who hypothetically locked her hypothetical three children on the hypothetical back porch for a hypothetical moment of silence:

This picture sums up the hypothetical children:
The oldest stands at the door complaining and screaming.
The middle child sits down waiting patiently for change.
The youngest takes action attempting to break back in the house.

Ryan asked today while chomping down on a drumstick, "If this is part of the chicken's leg, what is he walking on?"

And this joyful potluck will end on this life is grand moment:

Welcome home cousin Benjamin...

Happy Potluck day everyone. It is Monday! Can I get a whoop whoop? OK, if you aren't up to that, just lift up your hands and raise the roof a bit...


Today I am calling in the ice cream truck for treats:
We spent an absolutely perfect day at the park this weekend that ended with a visit from the ice cream truck. It doesn't get much better then sticky minivan seats and blue dyed hands and mouth. Oh, and the blue Popsicle pops also had random gumballs lodged throughout. Perfect to feed your 2 y/o in the car. Can I get a whoop whoop? OK, if you aren't up to that, just lift up your hands and raise the roof a bit...

The ice cream truck thing might make up for this hypothetical occurrence:
Would it be hypothetically wrong for a hypothetical mother to hypothetically lock her hypothetical three children out on the hypothetical back porch for a hypothetical moment of silence and hypothetically photograph it? Just a hypothetical question...

Since there aren't any major tree decorating holidays in the near future, let me just share what happened here the other day:
Merry Construction!


Yeah! It's time for another installment of...
I have been feeling a little guilty here at the Nirvana for mocking how my dear readers arrive. That is wrong. It shouldn't matter how you get here. You are here now and that is what matters. On the other hand...
1. If you googled, "pictures of Joan Cleaver", I am so sorry that you didn't find any of those. Might I suggest you mean June?
2. If you googled, "nude Easter bunny waking", I would email Google up ASAP and file a complaint. Google should know better then to send you here.
3. If you googled, "put down the cleaver", my answer is yes, please do.
4. If you googled, "fritos on the floor", I know who you are and you might want to check your Google results for any unusual search results regarding a certain Holiday Dog.
5. In a disturbing trend, googling "june cleaver nude" has overtaken googling "june cleaver naked" this week by 5:1. In either case, you know Nirvana policy. That is just wrong.
6. If you googled, "it feels so good to let me show you how I feel" then you are welcome and I am glad to help.

I recently received this from Jerseygirl189:
Thank you so much. I am returning the hug and then passing this award on to:
Meg
Madge
Holly
Jennifer
JCK
Angie

The Nirvana was graced with this from: Tootsie Farklepants:
Thank you! I think you are super, duper excellent in a NC-17 way and will pass this award on to:
Momo Fali
Mommy Cracked
Greta and Kiki
Queen Mommy
Christine

KEEP BELIEVING sent the following bling my way:
Angie's blog is incredibly inspirational. She can put my petty stuff in perspective in a matter of sentences. Please, please add her hubby, Brian to your prayer list. Thank you for the tiara. I am wearing it now and passing it on to:
Rachael
MoscowMom
Pinky
Jennifer
Rachel

I have to share a moment of successful mommyhood. Ryan(7) said this to me the other day, "I guess it is better then nothin'". WOW! I know to most that wouldn't mean much, but to have those words come out of Ryan who has been a give him an inch he will take 5 miles while debating the merits of taking another 105 miles and then declaring that he won't even take the inch next time unless he is guaranteed the additional 105 miles kinda boy since birth, this is major. MAJOR!

Oh! A few more days left to get your name into my very first give away. Click here and leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of Jenny Gardiner's book "Sleeping With Ward Cleaver"!

So there you have it. Today's potluck. I guess it was better than nothin'. Can I get a whoop, whoop? OK, if you aren't up to that, just lift up your hands and raise the roof a bit...

*Disclaimer: This potluck is heavily laden with idle chatter about blogs. If you don't have a blog, (Fred) get one this may not interest you. You are excused from today's potluck. Here at the Nirvana no one is contractually obligated to read on...*


*skipping into frame* Hi! It is Potluck day. Welcome to a super duper fun filled potluck in honor of all the blogs I love beginning with the letter "M". It'll be MMMMM'mmmmm. good.

Today I am contributing a yummy "M" food, mini muffins. I can make the mini muffins from a mix at home, but I am not on speaking terms with my oven right now. So a little trip to Central Market was in order.

Why the letter "M"? There are some awesome blogs in my reader starting with that letter. In fact, look at this very impressive list:

Madness, Madness, I say
Make it a Double
Manic Mommy
Marlee's Rant
Marriage Hacks
Memories and Musings
Momisodes
Mommy Cracked
Momo Fali
Motherscribe
Mrs. Flinger
My Little Drummer Boys
My Semblance of Sanity

The M's are a who's who of the blogsphere. A list of blogs I would want on a deserted island. BUT there is one problem. M is in the middle. M is in the middle of the alphabet. M is in the middle of my reader list.

I have a system. I alternate between reading my reader from the top (A down...) and the bottom (Z up...). Poor M's. Poor neglected M's. Inevitably, something distracts me midway through the list. I can usually make it down to L or up to N, but M just gets left in the middle.

I was so relieved when Madge's Mad, Madge World started with an "I" for "It's a". I am so thankful that Mad Marriage starts with a "B" for "Blog Confessions of". I can keep up with Mrs. Fussypants because she starts with an "F" for simply "Fussy".

I think Mom Two Boys is on to something with that "A"...

I suggest taking note of what has been happening in the Yellow Pages for years. If it works for plumbers, locksmiths and personal injury lawyers, it could work for your blog!

Why not add an "A" in front of your blog name? Why stop at just one? In fact, 3 sounds good! Suddenly, Motherscribe becomes AAA Motherscribe and Momisodes becomes ZZZ Momisodes. I don't want to imply that Sandy's blog would put anyone to sleep, she could use YYY or XXX, but that might categorize her out of the mommyblogging realm. I have noticed that punctuation also works as in the case of the OMG blog whose "!!" before and after elevate it to before "A" reader status.

Just a little suggestion so that Yes, and so my heart and
A Mom Two Boys don't get all the attention around here.

*deep announcer voice* And now it's time to play Holly's favorite game...

Holly: Thank you. Thank you. Today I have a winner! A winner for best Google search that brought you to the Nirvana. What makes me giddy is that after googling this...it brought you to me. It was fate. The winner is...*drum roll*...the dear reader who arrived after the search "Googling my life away"! *wild applause*

Reid(4) randomly announced "I hope the good guys win". It was without context. It was out of the blue. It is a better 6 word memoir meme then mine.

Alright, I am off to ??? Mommy Cracked??? and
!!! Momo Fali!!!...

I was in the pantry picking out a snack for Ryan to take to school (first grade) when he came running in.
Ryan: What are you sending for a snack?
Me: Cheese sandwich crackers
Ryan: *grabs the cracker package, flips it over to the nutritional information and reads intently* I can't take this because it has 11 grams of fat.
Me: You are 7. You are a growing boy. What does it matter that it has 11 grams of fat?
Ryan: The boy next to me always reads all my snacks and says there is too much fat.
Me: Huh? *pause and then I spy the Pretzel snacks and grab them* Here, take this. The boy next to you should be fine with these.
Ryan: *turns the package over for the important news* Oh great! Only .5 grams of fat. Good job mom. Thanks.

Lord have mercy on me. Ryan sits next to the snack police at school...

Do you remember the guy in college that would eat ANYTHING for a laugh? Well, I have pinpointed the exact age at which he stopped maturing: 2 years, 3 months & 15 days. How can make that call with such amazing precision? Let's buy a ticket for the dinner theater at my house.

Rhett (2yrs., 3 months & 15 days old) is now playing the crowd for laughs at dinner. Last night he turned a spaghetti dinner into the world's most immature stand-up comedy routine. He started with a crowd pleasing bodily noises review. He went on to delight with extra food mess reminiscent of Gallagher. But what had the room rolling on the floor with laughter was the very deliberate dipping of his meatballs in orange juice and V8 Fusion (blueberry/pomegranate).

He would pick up the meat, wave it wildly in the air, dip it in the chosen drink while yelling, "DIP!" and then pop it into his mouth. After each meatball received his little comedy routine, he would look up and scream, "MOMMY, MORE MEATBALLS PLEASE!" This went on for 15 minutes with a total of 6 meatballs participating in his act. His brothers were laughing so hard they couldn't eat. I was laughing so hard I couldn't enforce proper table etiquette. Blog-Stedman walked in from work in the middle of Rhett's routine and immediately got caught up in the hilarity. The boy is funny. Very funny. And all the laughing only egged him on.

I feel good about him honing his comedy skills at such an early age. Hopefully all the practice will take his routine to an elevated level. A level that someday will land us all in the Principal's office discussing Rhett and his role as class clown...

Hip, hip hooooooooray for potluckday! Someday, dear reader you will turn to your children and say, "I remember when Potluckday used to be called Monday".

There is a little legal information that I am obligated to post. The I.F.P.A. (Institute For Potluck Advancement) has written me a letter containing a cease and desist order on my negative comments regarding their job performance. I have accepted. In exchange they are not posting last week's ACTUAL menu that I served to my family. That is blackmail fair.

I am contributing egg salad, eggs ala goldenrod over toast, hard boiled eggs and deviled eggs for the potluck today. Do not be disturbed by the altered color of these food items. They were made from the 3 dozen eggs my children colored. M'm. M'm good. Who doesn't love a pink and blue egg salad?



I received one dear reader this week from googling, "says I am abusive". Now, I want to clarify that I wasn't the one who said that. Good luck to you in your search. And to Google...thanks for throwing me under the bus.

Oh goody, the IFPA is presenting this on my behalf:
Potluck, exciting and new
Come Aboard. We're expecting you.
Potluck, life's sweetest reward.
Let it flow, it floats back to you.
The Potluck soon will be making another run
The Potluck promises something for everyone
Set a course for adventure,
Your mind on a new romance.
Potluck won't hurt anymore
It's an open smile on a friendly shore.
Yes Potluck! It's Potluck!
Potluck soon will be making another run
The Potluck promises something for everyone
Set a course for adventure,
Your mind on a new romance.
Potluck won't hurt anymore
It's an open smile on a friendly shore.
It's Potluck! It's Potluck! It's Potluck!
It's the Potluck-ah! It's the Potluck-ah!

This is what happens when a squirrel runs through my backyard:


Reid(4) has been hounding me to time him while brushing his teeth. They lost the three timers that the dentist gave them so I usually just tell the boys when to start and stop. Last night, exasperated I said, "why don't you just sing the ABC song in your head. When you finish, you can stop brushing your teeth." Reid replied, "how do you sing in your head?" So I tried to show him. I mouthed the words while bobbing my head. He watched a moment and then smiled widely saying, "I hear it!"

The strikingly handsome guys of the IFPA have requested that I post this definition of potluck. It was handed down in a ruling over at Rachael's after she posed the question if it was really a potluck if only tea was served. Their reply: "Any mention of food qualifies for potluck participation. Food is defined as any mention of something edible, something that might be edible or something perceived to be edible. All liquids used for drinking also qualify except for water.*
*Water qualifies when used as a meal replacement or as prescribed by a medical professional. For example: Rachael was too sick to eat, but took sips of WATER. In this case Rachel qualifies for potluck participation." As reported at Always Wanted 4 a potluck manual will be issued soon.


I was recently listening to XM radio in my minivan. They were playing Food Network shows like Rachel Ray and Sandra Lee. Let's take inventory on what senses are actually being used when LISTENING to the Food Network:
smell-nope
taste-nope
sight-nope
touch-nope
hearing-yep, but there really isn't much talking on some of those shows, all you hear is sizzle, bang, "Ooooo that looks great!", sizzle. bang. scrape. "mmmmm".
NOT EFFECTIVE PEOPLE! Who came up with this bright idea? What is next, audio fishing?

Meet my sweet Abilene...Is it coincidence or good taste? The coincidences continue with Jen this week after she received amazing news--Congratulations. You can now add Texas to the list of things we share...3 boys, radiology, bulldogs, being super cute...will the similarities ever end?

Please don't neglect my friends in the pink box. I still don't have a blogroll...I know! I know! So visit the hand-picked, laugh coffee out your nose choices updated constantly in the super-fab box to the right. That didn't sound quite right. I want to clarify that I don't actually hand pick the coffee out of your nose...

Dear Nirvana Reader,

I need to tell my story. I come to you because others have. They reported back that venting may not have changed HER ways, but was therapeutic.

I will start with a little about myself. I am a DaysAgo Timer. I attach by magnet or suction cup to various items and keep track of how many days ago you opened it, watered it, packaged it, etc. I am super handy. I am super cute. I am ingenious.

I was featured on Oprah and in Real Simple magazine the same week. That is where Holly saw me. That is where my troubles began. She zipped onto my website, ordered me and 10 of my closest friends and 3 days later we were hers. She distributed my friends as gifts and kept me.

She seemed nice enough. She was perky. She enthusiastically embraced me and my mission. She popped me onto a can and put me in the fridge.

47 days later she cleaned out the fridge, disposed of the can I was occupying and reset me onto another can.

64 days later she cleaned out the fridge, disposed of the can I was occupying and reset me onto another can.

83 days later she cleaned out the fridge, disposed of the can I was occupying and reset me onto another can.

Then I didn't hear from her. At. All. Hello? Hello? Hello? Is Holly out there? It's cold and dark (just when the door is closed--the light REALLY does go off) in here. It has been so long.

The light goes on. The light goes off. The light goes on.

She notices me. She picks me up. She takes me out of the fridge. She stares at me:
Yes, I am stuck on "99". It has been so long that I have lost track of time. I know I am a timer. I get that. I was only programmed for 2 digits people. I was totally unprepared to live this nightmare.

So an indescribable number of days later she cleaned out the fridge, disposed of the can I was occupying and reset me onto another can.

Are you kidding me? My life is ground hog day.

Chillingly yours,
Holly's DaysAgo timer

P.S. Did I just hear Holly announce to the boys that they were having pizza buns for lunch? She must be stopped.

Hip, hip hooray...it is Monday! Monday can only mean one thing. If you look Monday up in the dictionary, you see the definition: POTLUCK.

Today's potluck is a celebration. Why? The Nirvana made Fussy's Linkapalooza for my Fight the Frump post on Friday. In honor of this momentous occasion today's potluck will be held on cloud 9. That would be the actual cloud 9, not the shady looking strip club off the freeway just outside of Abilene with the same name. Which brings me to broach this sensitive subject...
One of you arrived after googling, "Nude photos of Mrs. June Cleaver". Now, I am just going to turn my back and you may leave quickly and quietly and we will forget this all happened. I think we all know that those types of searches are just wrong. Thank you. Oh, don't you just love, love, love the new graphics for that segment? Thanks to the genius of Nap Warden all my crazy whims come true.

I have even swept the floor (just in case Fussy or any of her friends drop in) and it is Frito free:
For today's potluck I am contributing my world famous animal shaped Belgium waffles.
You may choose from a barn, a rooster, a cow or another different shaped cow. You must choose quickly or my shapist children will leave you with this:
Yes, this is the dreaded headless cow. For some reason headless animals are shunned. I can not properly correlate this since the first thing my children do is eat the head. I try to push the headless animals with the catchy slogan, "just think of it as bite 2".

Please excuse the interruption by the I.F.P.A. (Institute For Potluck Advancement):
My baby he don't talk sweet
He ain't got much to say
But he loves me, loves me, loves me
I know that he loves me anyway

And maybe he don't dress fine
But i don't really mind
Because every time he pulls me near
I just want to cheer

Lets hear it for the potluck
Lets give the potluck a hand
Lets hear it for my potluck
You know you potluck to understand

Whoa, maybe he's no romeo
But he's my lovin potluck show
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Let's hear it for the potluck

Great, the IFPA may have observed me dancing to Jennifer's posted music video causing nostalgia for 80s music. I don't think changing the words of an 80s song to include "potluck" is helping the universal potluck objective. It is just the tip of the iceberg with these IFPA guys. I am not happy with their work to date. In fact, I came across this:
This is the Nirvana's master plan. Please note if the IFPA could get their act together I would be 2/3 in my quest for world wide blog domination. They are so fired unless they come up with something better.

I need to apologize to a fellow blogger, name sharer and play date friend, Holly for throwing her under the bus at Tootsie's Weekly Advice column. I may have come across a little harsh in my assessment of the jon-jon. I may have wanted to look cool in class. I may have wanted to re-direct the attention somewhere else. After some soul-searching, I can admit to 1 (maybe 2) of my boys wearing jon-jons after the age of 18 months. Admitting that I have a problem is step one. Excuse me while I finish my Tootsie recommended home renovation...

*while Holly is out of the room, the IFPA guys walk in, see an opportunity and post this:*
The Ginsu 12 Piece POTLUCK Set Features:
Ginsu POTLUCKS are specialized for their dexterity in chopping, slicing and dicing a wide array of foods.
Ginsu POTLUCKS are forged from Japanese steel that is known for its stain and rust resistance, strength, and its ability to hold an incredibly sharp edge.
Ginsu POTLUCK handles are made of heat and water resistant resin.
This fabulous POTLUCK set includes an incredibly strong and visually stunning bamboo POTLUCK block.

*Holly returns. Holly reads. Holly rants. Holly can't believe it. Holly is irate. Holly won't stand for this nonsense on her blog. Holly exchanges blows with the IFPA. Holly is victorious (Holly has spent many an afternoon observing karate classes). Holly kicks some IFPA butt. Holly is all that and a bag of chips. Holly wonders how long people will continue to read this crap written in the third person.*

I now want to apologize to Fussy and any of her fabulous friends that came to visit today. Really, this is a celebration. It should not have come to blows. I want you to know that I realize how this reflects on me. I will do better. I will work harder. My next post will be better. By Friday's fight the frump, I should have my "A" game back...

Fig. A:*Do as I say, not as I do.*

I have been a big believer in something I came across while pregnant with Ryan. I read every parenting book ever written during that time so please don't make me tell you which one it was, but I think it was in the "Baby Whisperer". The quote is lost on me, but it said something to the point that you need to START as you plan to PROCEED.

The technique is really successful. Most things in this house have been parented in this way...naps, bedtime, sitting at mealtime, snacks only in the kitchen, etc. The kids are too young to argue when you implement it and then when they reach arguing age it is the way it has always been done so the debate doesn't surface.

One area has NOT received this technique. Breakfast. It started out innocent enough. Breakfast seemed to be the time that I had the most time. Breakfast seemed to be the time I could break a few rules. Breakfast became the time the kids could choose what they wanted to eat. Breakfast is now spiraling out of control. Breakfast is now a crazy train and I want off.

Let's take a look at Fig. A (above):
Our subject is a 2 y/o who woke mommy up at 6 am. saying, "EAT!". His patient mother held off that demand for 30 minutes because it is SATURDAY. At 6:31 am the subject ate 1 1/2 bowls of instant oatmeal and 1/2 cup of soymilk. He then yelled, "DONE!"

Approximately 23 minutes later he returns to the kitchen, pulls the Quaker oat box out of the pantry and demands "OATMEAL". His patient and attractive mother quietly explains how he already had oatmeal. "THIS OATMEAL!" he screams. His patient, attractive and loving mother thinks to herself, "well at least he is screaming for something healthy...I guess I can't turn that down". PAUSE

*Do as I say, not as I do.*

7 minutes later the oatmeal is made. The oatmeal is portioned and set in front of subject. Subject screams, "FRIDGE! HOT!" His patient, attractive, loving and helpful mother delivers the child size oatmeal portion to the freezer to cool down. PAUSE

*Do as I say, not as I do.*

Subject continues to be a royal pain in the butt while the oatmeal is in the fridge. His patient, attractive, loving, helpful and opportunistic mother then grabs the camera to take the Fig. A picture of this tyranny. PAUSE

*You can do this. If you are suffering at the hands of your children and losing control, it can at least give you a blog subject for the day. It is kind of a lemonade out of lemons thing.*

His patient, attractive, loving, helpful, opportunistic and harried mother takes the child size oatmeal portion out of the freezer and gives it back to the subject. The subject takes 5 bites and yells, "TOAST!" PAUSE

*Do as I say, not as I do.*

Ya, the freaking crazy mother made toast while Figs. B and C entered the kitchen.

*Let's just leave it at do as I say, not as I do...

Hip Hip Hooray, it's Monday! Today's potluck is super, duper commercialized fun. Blog-Stedman and the two older boys were unsupervised at Target yesterday and came home with this:
Yes, freegans we are not. The official "Pancake Puff Pan Recipe" booklet proudly proclaims, "You will be a hit at your party, when you serve up these delicious pancake puffs, and your guests will love you for it. Now go and have some fun!!" So, while the pancake puff may have a very convincing commercial, they seem to be lacking a writer. (Although I, of all people, can appreciate the need for the double exclamation point.) So....pancake puffs for everyone!!

When you spend $19.99 + tax for pancake puffs, not only to you get the amazing pancake puff pan, you get a pan hand protector (red), a magic potion injector, a shaker of all things that will fit through little holes and...(this is my favorite) the original pancake puff genuine wood flipping sticks. Wow. What a value. All that and the fun that follows...
We turned these ordinary ingredients into batter:Poured the batter into this transformation vehicle:Then this magically appears:The following are actual testimonials from the pancake puff experience:
Ryan(6): "Tastes like pancakes, only better."
Reid(4): "They taste so yummy, I cannot help it."
Rhett(2): "More."
It appears the boys drank the pancake puff kool-aid. What about the adults?
Blog-Stedman: "uh....well."
Me: "shhhh...I'm writing this all down in my blog."

So, count me in for Pancake Puff Tuesdays hosted by Meg. I bet Angie would participate too.

I wish you had a scratch and sniff screen on your computer. Rhett got into the Fresh Cannabis Santal perfume sample I was recently given. It had a tiny spray button on the end that he used to shower himself and my bathroom with the very strong scent. He reeks. No scratching needed. He smells like a little gigolo. The stench in the bathroom is even worse and simply headache inducing. I am not a big fragrance girl...you wouldn't be either if you lived through this.

Dear Smoke Detector Alarm Inventor (aka the devil):
Hi. I think your product has a slight flaw. A flaw that can induce insanity. The whole "2 quick chirps" at random intervals, never less then 90 seconds apart, only in the middle of the night system doesn't seem to be working for me. I have several smoke detectors in the house and cannot seem to pinpoint the one with the spent battery. I don't tolerate random. I don't seem to be as patient as you expect me to be. I don't have time to camp under one detector at a time to eliminate it as a possibility of the friendly chirping sounds that bore through my brain like two quick friendly ice pick blows. I know you send out public service announcements like "change all your batteries on January 1" so this hell doesn't happen. Thanks. I was a little busy on that day writing my resolutions and posting them in my blog to complete that task. Here is the deal. I have replaced 2 batteries today and I only have one more 9 volt battery and 3 more smoke detectors. Are you in some grand scheme with local mental health facilities? I was going to go to bed early. This is not the first time you have been cursed in this household. I remember a night. No, an early morning...2 am to be exact when the chirping was pinpointed to the staircase. The 20 foot ceiling staircase. I have a 10 foot ladder. Blog-Stedman and I built a temporary platform, placed the 10 foot ladder on it's top and I climbed to my death to replace the battery while he held onto my legs to secure our engineering marvel. It was like one of those team building exercises that office workers endure. So, please modify your design and send me new and improved models here at the Nirvana. If you need any advice, give me a call. Thanks!
Holly

This occurred yesterday:


And now for a new potluck feature (will the magic never end?)...It's called, "Which one of my dear readers arrived by googling this?" Hmmmm...that may need a fancy button too. Note to self: Email Nap Warden to request such a thing. Please confess if you were brought here by googling:
1. Who stole my toothbrush?
OK, I get that I am really good at finding things, but do I know you? Have I been to your house? So sorry, I didn't help you there. Did you check in the second left drawer in your bathroom?
2. Goat's feet pictures
I will assume that you were doing scientific research. So sorry I couldn't help you on your quest for cancer eradication or the reversal of global warming.
Good stuff there...Google results PLUS my apologies.

Dear children,
Hi. I know the Texas winds were blowing last night and thunder and lightening ensued, but the 4 am wake up call and subsequent climb into my bed doesn't seem to work for me. The 5 am bounce house party re-enactment was not my favorite moment today. I am much nicer when I get my sleep. I am much nicer when I get my yoga. I figure that after you live through the day with me today you will mend your ways. You are smart boys and won't want to make that mistake again.
Love ya!
Mommy

Alright, the potluck is officially over...Hi mom! I felt my other readers dropping like flies earlier on in festivities...

*Please, please act normal when you enter. DO NOT mention what went down here two days ago. I am going to carry on as if nothing happened. You know how Mondays can get...*
Happy Monday. You know what that means...(electronic drum roll from Rock Band creating oodles of points needed to unlock better songs)...POTLUCK! Yeah! Today I am contributing Herb Sliders featured on this week's menu plan at Blissfully Domestic. I am on my way to Target to get the supplies and if the kids all take 4 hour naps this afternoon I might be able to pull this off. The 4 hour time frame is in no way a reflection of the recipe author, it is more about user error. I love the IDEA of cooking, it is the EXOCUTION that worries me. The word "exocution" is a perfect fit in that sentence. So, if you are hungry now and need snacks there are a few leftover goldfi...shhhhhh.

There are several handwritten home made signs on posts (the kind that you would see for garage sale advertisement) at busy intersections nearby that read "2 Cool 4 Skool Home Daycare" followed by a phone number that is a cell number. Let me just make these bold statements: If you are selecting your child's daycare off of homemade signs sporting cell numbers at busy intersections, childcare may be the least of your problems. And to the "2 Cool" people...LOOK UP! There is a Kinkos right there! Go get a real sign!

This made me laugh very hard from Watch Me Christine. Which brings up the fancy new widget I am displaying to the right. It is my top ten most favoite recent posts and it is updated minutely regularly. Most these things are very, very funny because really, who can't use a good chuckle? So if you are bored and looking for a laugh, I have done all the work for you and searched out the most current giggles off my reader.

Speaking of work, my blogroll is currently under construction because it was the blogroll I designed when I had one non-relative reader. Please be distracted by the fancy new widget!

Thanks to Frog Ponds Rock for this sweet bouquet. I love visiting her site for the scenery. It is like a mini vacation.I would like to pass it on to everyone who made a comment on this post. I nearly fainted dead away...47 people! Thank you soooooo much. You have no idea how cool that is (Ok, some of you know how cool that is on a regular basis, but not me). And, if you go comment now to put me over 50 there is a bouquet of flowers in it for ya (is that too greedy?) So here I am again exceeding my blog spending limit, but no one carted me off to blogjail last time...can I say repeat offender? Someone should really write a manual so I know the rules.

I bought these:Stated nutritional information for one kid serving:
Calories 130
Fat 2g
Carbohydrate 26g
Fiber <1g
Sugar 8g
Protein 2g
Crap. How am I supposed to calculate it based on these results?
While you are pondering that, please let me know how to figure it out for a PB&J (insides only):


This is a 2 y/o driver:
This is why insurance companies don't insure 2 y/o drivers:
ahhhh, how cute. His first car accident. We are currently in heated negotiations with the elephant to avoid a whiplash lawsuit.