WTF #16

2008 is almost over.

wtf?

where did it go?

Oldielocks is 8, and bought lip gloss at Limited Too today. wtf? who said she could grow up?

Middle is 6, and is missing a tooth and pierced her ears. All in this last month. wtf? who said she could grow up?

Baloney is 2, and peeing on the potty. While dressed in a size 6 Snow White costume and beanie on her head.wtf? who said she could grow up?

they are growing up. and getting bigger. and wiser. I have to keep one step ahead of them.

Tomorrow is 2009.

Twas the night before christmas WTF

Twas the day before Christmas, when all through the parking lot,
Everyone was stirring, even those with tiny tots.
The people were at Target, driving with care,
In hopes that all their shopping could be finished there.

The signs were huge, with a circle in bright red,
While walking up to Target do I see a little head.
The windows of Starbucks are perfect for a little one's tap,
And it was clear the little baby had just woken up from it's nap.

When behind me the husband made such a clatter,
I turned from my daydreaming to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
looked past the old grandpa in his handlebar moustache.

In between the windows painted with snow
stood a mom, her 2kids and packages below.
When, what to my shocked eyes should appear,
but WTF......a naked baby on the table, it's hind end up like a reindeer.

With a full diaper, so smelly and thick,
I knew in a moment I was about to be sick.
More disgusting than that, the thought came,
was that she changed him on top of the table where people eat, oh for shame!

"Oh disgusting, oh gross oh nasty and unsanitary!
"That's raunchy, and wrong and just plain scary!"
"Why change him there? Seriously the bathroom is just past that wall!
"Send over two cases of bleach and ten thousand gallons of Lysol!"

I am flabbergasted that I had to witness such a sight
but in the spirit of Christmas, I shared with you, so enjoy the rest of your night.

WTF Wednesday #15

Goin' to the chapel and we're gonnnnnna get marrrrieeedddd.

I've been to lots of weddings. LOTS. All kinds, catholic, mexican, christian, outside, inside, hotels, parks, military, so many. When the husband and I were dating, one of his relatives at the time..... it's all complicated, but I'm not one to draw the branches of the family tree, but we'll keep it at "relative" was getting married. In another state. Now, let's all say in unison how I'm a west coast girl, still shell shocked about any other place other than So Cal. Second verse same as the first. And of course, this was in Michigan.

We drive to this quaint little town, in a cute little town church. Adorable. Laura Ingalls was playing in the churchyard, I swear. And I *heart* Laura Ingalls and her down home goodness, so you know I was digging this church. Wedding was pretty, quick and easy and it was on to the reception time.

We have our directions, and can't find this place for anything. We call boyfriend/husbands mom, and she tells us it's behind the party store. For those who are not in with the cool crowd, these Yankeeganders call the liquor store A.K.A 7-11 "party stores". I can only imagine why. But that's what they are. They are not a one stop shop to get your Winnie The Pooh birthday supplies. I dunno who would think such a thing.... probably some naive west coast bozo of a girl....if I had to take a guess. They even have drive through "party stores", yes, yes they do. So you can get your drink on all the faster. Apparently.

We pull up and....um.... WTF!

The reception was behind the part store... as in parking. You then gallivanted your way to the door... underneath the party store.

Yes, we are now entering the reception, underneath the vodka aisle. We go sit down at our plastic checkered tablecloth covered lunch table, complete with a bowl of mints that are stale, and pastel, as if they were used at George Washington's baby shower.

I look up and see blue and red lights. The ones that belong on a squad car, in various spots of the ceilings. And they thought I was half kidding when I mentioned if the lights were to warn us if the pace upstairs was being held up. By a thirsty masked hairy and 3/4 naked man. But I wasn't kidding. I was dead serious. I was WTF times a thousand all over the place.

It was time to eat, and we get in the buffet line. We can have 7 layer bean salad. Or ham in some congealed sauce... much like spam. Or green beans... not to be confused with the 7 bean compadre at the beginning of the table. They had some marshmallow fluff dainty cloud thing. But thank god for the rolls. Rolls are safe. Rolls are what get you through when times are tough and you are stuck at a wedding with 3 olives and a dead jellied pig staring you in the eye. Rolls matter.

We had rolls. And decided it was quiting time while the groomsmen were taking shots out of coffee mugs, so we dug our coats out from next to the igloo cooler that housed the capri suns, and snuck out the back door. Of the basement reception hall... beneath the liquor shack.

I have no idea if these people are still married.

be still my gymbo and gap loving heart

I haven't been feeling the Gymboree love lately. All of it has been blah, not unique, not the Gymboree of Middle's early days that I fell in love with. I did buy her some

cute zebra rain boots for Christmas, simply because they are sooooo Middle. Nothing has been stopping me and making me drool. Which is good, since drooling over clothing = addiction and I am not an addict....lately.

SO I saw Gymbo's new stuff... and Middle must have it. This whole yellow cheerful happy sun comes out tomorrow outfit. I don't know why a 6 year old needs a purse, but it's an alligator, and completes the ensemble. First Grade, watch out. That yellow quilted jacket.... makes me thinks of rainbows and lemon drops.







Then I stopped at Gap. And since I am a sucker for all things vintage and retro and secretly believe I used to live in the 1940's, I fell for their stuff too. I love sailor shorts and nautical yachting goodness. This I would put on Baloney.

I am so looking forward to spring.

heart of the matter

I love stories about kids and what they say. Just how they connect A to B, and how they view the world with very simple, innocent eyes.

I was talking to a friend today, and she was sharing with me about what her son said. He's 8, and Santa can be a heavy subject for an eight year old. They start thinking, in how it all adds up, who he is, how can he do what he does. He told her that he thinks Santa is Jesus. And his reason, makes all the sense in the world. He said that he knows that magic isn't real, but he knows there are miracles, and that's how Santa is Jesus. I love that kid. He honestly is one of the most thoughtful, compassionate kids I know.

Then she tells me how his little friend came over, and had plans. For a hot chocolate stand. It's December, so lemonade wouldn't really be the hot seller it is in the summertime. But his reasons for selling hot chocolate? So he could donate the money to a needy family. This sweet little boy sat out in the cold, for 3 hours, in 30 degree weather, selling hot chocolate. Not for himself, for but for others.

I want to be more like them.

rip my heart out

WTF #14

It's December.
Which, before you shout out a big old snarky "Thank you Captain Obvious...", I'm making a point. Point is, I have to go out shopping. A lot. Because I have several siblings and in-law and out law siblings. All kinds of whack jobs in this bunch, but alas, they need gifts.

I go into MACYS, to get something that I already had picked out for Construction Brother. I look and see a multitude of heavenly hosts -er, sale signs. Sorry the Christmas spirit is trying to over take my blog. The jacket I want to get him is on sale. 25% off Men's Action outerwear. And I have a coupon. Someone really, really likes me today.

So I thought.

I take it up to Ken, you know of Barbie and Ken? Blonde, plastic face, equally as plastic personality. I think his hair had no chance of moving, at that moment or in an f-4 tornado.

Ken is super chipper, in a plastic super chipper sort of way. I place the coat on the counter and we proceed.

"69.50 is your total."

"Isn't it supposed to be 25% off?"

"Um....let me..... (pretend to look around and figure out this oh so perplexing problem all the while my plastic hair chills in place)....no... actually the only things on sales are hoodies and things."

"It says outerwear."

"well.... this is considered a shirt."


WTF!!!

(here is a picture of said shirt)





This shirt has a Sherpa lining, because all shirts are made of heavy flannel, Sherpa lining, and then soft silkie-esque lining in the arms. Especially shirts in Southern California, you know we got to have protection from the frozen tundra out here. Good thing you can layer your jacket, you know the other thing with Sherpa lining over this one. Construction Brother, meet the Abominable flannel lovin Snowman.

"That's a shirt? It has lining inside....and it's bulky, with more lining in the arms. No way someone is going to tuck that in their pants.....I'm pretty sure it's a jacket. In fact, I'm convinced."

"Nope, we sell it as a shirt."

"But it looks exactly like that flannel over there, that you are selling as a jacket. The only difference I see is color. Sherpa lining, everything the same."

"It's just what it's labeled as. The hoodies and the jackets are the outerwear that's on sale."

"I get that, I'm just baffled by the fact that you call this a shirt, when clearly, it's not."

"well good news is, with your coupon it's only 59 dollars."

Is Ken Doll serious? Yay, you choked on a dead worm in your salad, but at least it wasn't poisonous, even though there should be no worms in your salad. wtf-ever. Have fun working in MACYS, the idiotic clothes store.

" I guess, even though it would have been even cheaper had it qualified as a jacket in the sale lotto."

"Hee hee."

"Can I get a box?"

"Sure." Ken Doll looks around and his plastic eyes size up the 12 inch pile of heavy flannel and Sherpa shirt. "This is all I have, hopefully it fits."

"I don't see why it wouldn't fit in a shirt box, seeing how it's a shirt and all."

Then I walked my MACYS hating ass away.

and ps, his name really was Ken.

oh, I'm around

Note: That does not read I get around.


I've been crafting, because everybody and their grandma around meis having babies. Well, I really hope their grandmas are not having babies, but seriously, people need to find some new recreational activities.

I made this:
along with that quilt, a few burp cloths, and a nursing cover for baby Maverick.

And I made this stuff:



which is a nursing cover out of some fabulous Amy butler fabric that I will be making an apron out of and perhaps a wrap dress for Baloney. And the matching burp cloths, because girls should always be princessy, even when they spit up. These are for Baby K being born tomorrow. I will make a shirt with her name, and one with her sister, along with a tutu for older sister.

So yes, I am being productive. I think.

WTF wednesday #13

When Oldielocks was in K and 1st grade, I walked her to and from school everyday. It was one street over, a short little jaunt, and tho it sucked frozen polar bear balls in the winter, it was actually fun, very mayberry and June Cleaver like.

We had this neighbor on the corner, old lady and her man. They weren't married, both had kids that were 40 or more. Their yard was full of junk yard toys. Like a wooden dog taking a poo, with a bubble sign that said "No! No! No!." Which is good, because all the neighborhood dogs would always read her sign and take a doggie dump in the yard next door. Or so the thought. They had an owl mirror hanging in the tree, a skunk in their rock garden, geese planters, Bows in their bushes, a well in their driveway, really just a big fat Snow White meets Odd Lots and had a cheap plastic hot mess of a baby.

One day, as the hubby and the kids and I were walking home, she was outside. She stopped and asked us about moving, commented on the girls, etc. Then she wanted to show us something inside. Of course, my stranger danger PBS afternoon special radar goes off. Then again, I am 20 something, and there is no way she is going to chop me up and put me in cookies. That would be hell of a lot of cookies.

The inside is exactly like the outside. A cheap china store threw up in the living room, a dollar store was maimed in the kitchen, and an antique shop had started growing in the back room. She starts giving us a tour of her little house, showing us where she kept her clothes,telling me how she has to run *shudder* naked *shudder* from the bathroom to the third bedroom. Of course I am jotting down mental notes, such as, ...never get close to neighbor's windows for fear of catching a glimpse of this wrinkly, leathery naked lady with a white lion's mane streaking around her house, sidestepping the 4 china cabinets and toy train on the floor... somethingoffbeat like that.

Then it happens. The hubby leaves me with the white haired friendly yet loony neighbor, pleading something about snack time, and I am stuck.
By myself.
No way out.
Just me, floating around crap's creek, without a damn paddle or a boat.
Making more mental notes....divorce hubby for treason.....

She invites me downstairs, because she absolutely has to show me where they have card parties with their friends. It's such a cozy place, and she fixed it all up. Everyone loves coming over.
In their basement.

I go downstairs, ignoring the 3 different kinds of carpet remnants on the stairs.
Um......
to sum it up nicely...

a thrift store had explosive diarrhea all over their basement.

The front part is set up like a room. With a bed, and an ugly 50's table. As in you sit on the bed, and throw down a pair of two's. Or an ace of Spades. And gather up your loot of Mentos, or however they high roll. Perhaps bottles of Metamucil. I dunno. There is a T.V. and clothes hanging up. Her bras are hanging everywhere. And a horrific yellow and orange couch. That she probably bought when she turned 40. She has fake flowers in vases, you know, to make the place look pretty. Snazz it up. Impress the homies. There is posters of cats on the wall. And a pile of romance books.

We walk past into the second part, the diarrhea trickles into there, and see Mt. Cardboard box. It blocks the windows. She digs around, showing me junk and then she hands me a box. That she wants me to have. That she knows Hubby will put to good use. And since I am super polite and will not break a sweet old lady with white crazy hair's heart, I smile and accept it. She talks some more and I leave. I kissed the ground outside and ran away. fast. I swear it was cookie making time in there.

I get home, and open the box.
It
is
a
bunch.......
of.......


WTF!!!!!!!!



old, used t-shirts. Folded up neatly. One was in bright fluorescent pink and blue, screaming Daytona Beach, that was probably from Spring Break of '84. Some other crazy throwbacks. Towards the bottom are tons of white undershirts. Used. Complete with stinky yellow pit stains.
Perhaps from her ex husband. Or her son. Or she bought them at a garage sale along with all the other crapola in her house. The hubby is staring. And staring. At the pit stains. I think they are staring back. And then we both collapse into a fit of laughter.


At least it wasn't used underwear.