Smiling Mom

Monday’s are a hard day for me to post as I work all day, come home briefly, pick up the kids, and turn right back around. I then head back the 17 miles from where I just came for din­ner at the M’s house.

But I’m going to try.

Moods­win­ging­mommy is trying to ins­ti­tute Makeo­ver Mon­day, and I think it’s a good idea, so I’m going to play along.

Here is an abbre­via­ted ver­sion of her rules:

1. Choose a goal, same as last week, or new this week.
2. Each Mon­day, write about any pro­gress on last week’s goal, & any new goals you might have.
3. Link your Makeo­ver Mon­day post to Moods­win­ging­mommy’s page, and mine.
4. Visit other Makeo­ver Mon­day par­ti­ci­pants to encou­rage and congratulate.

So here I go.

I’m sup­pose to pick one, but I’m going to pick a three:

Per­so­nal Health:
–go the the gym 3–4 times this week (Wed-Sat)

Orga­ni­za­tion:
–orga­nize the space below our junk dra­wer in the kitchen and above the appliances

Finan­ces: (will be the har­dest for me to follow through with)
–recon­cile cre­dit card bills, allo­cate $ to dif­fe­rent bud­ge­ted categories

If I do each of these things I feel that I will have sig­ni­fi­cantly less anxiety and stress in my life. Just maybe I’ll get a decent night sleep this week, and begin to undo some of that ulcer that is cree­ping up in my sto­mach.

Thanks for the idea Moods­win­ging­mommy. I’ll update next Monday.

If you are pla­ying too, send me your link and I’ll link you up. I’ll start with the ones already lin­ked to Moodswingingmommy.

1. Moods­win­ging­mommy
2. Shauna
3. Annie
4. Lene
5. Abso­lu­tely Bana­nas

We were outside washing cars today, when I hear my son repea­tedly saying, “Smo­kin’ dope. Smo­kin’ Dope”

SM: “Uh did you just say, Smo­king Dope?”

BC: “Yup.”

SM: “Where did you hear that from?”

BC: “Daddy.”

Ring, ring. “Hello, Hubby. Ya, do you know what your son just said?”

Yes, we have dis­cus­sed ‘dope” in our house, many times actually. No we don’t smoke it. Yes, Hubby and I went to Hum­boldt State Uni­ver­sity, but neither of us have ever smo­ked a joint. Hubby didn’t actually drink until he pro­po­sed to me… he claims.

So it looks like BC’s going to be that kid who corrupts the others on the playground.

Sorry Moms!

Run’s House! It’s true. What can I say? I’m a huge fan. I know what you are thin­king, “Uh, Smi­ling Mom, you are like, thirty. Get over it!”

True, I know. But I am gro­wing up. Really, I am. I’m no lon­ger watch Road Rules, only occa­sio­nally watch Real World, but still love Sweet Sixteen.

What’s there to dis­like? Entit­led bratty six­teen year olds, pis­sed at Daddy for not get­ting them the Mer­ce­des CLK they oh so desi­red. Daddy coughs up $250K to put on a birth­day bash to top the last six­teen year old’s Daddy’ party. Daugh­ter pouts throughout the whole party, but Daddy always comes through, get­ting her the $65K car in the end! Surprise!

But Run’s House. I can’t tell you how exci­ted I was today to see that MTV was having one of their Run’s House marathons. Five epi­so­des recor­ded. I’ve already watched two.

I’m a fan.

Whose house?? Run’s House!

Don’t bother. I’m rolling my eyes at myself right now.

Seriously, my son said WHAT???

http://rpc.technorati.com/rpc/ping

Here’s the scene:

A friend’s son’s first birth­day party. It’s 100 degrees outside. Yes, in April, one hun­dred degrees. We arri­ved just 10 minu­tes before. BC had already befrien­ded a cou­ple girls in their early twen­ties and was asking them to play. eClaire was dres­sed ado­rably in her baby doll red and white flo­wer dress, coming just to her bot­tom with red briefs under­neath. She was stan­ding in the cor­ner of the back­yard, hol­ding onto the fence, sta­ring expres­sion­less at the lady trying to make nice to her.

Could that be eClarie’s ‘poop’ face I see? Couldn’t pos­sibly! eClaire already had a nice, mushy diarrhea just hours before. Damn molars. Na, she’s just being shy.

eClaire is fee­ling more com­for­ta­ble, walks toward the ren­ted cir­cu­lar table and says, “Hi,” to the lady who was pre­viously making nice to her.

Smi­ling Mom: “Ah, that’s nice. She rarely talks with peo­ple other than those she’s most com­for­ta­ble with.”

eClaire to me: “Up, peese” I love the man­ners on my 15 month old. Or maybe she just doesn’t know any dif­fe­rent at this point.

I promptly lift her up to my lap. She’s clingy, and I feed into it. I just love having a daugh­ter who wants to be cudd­led by me.

She sits on my lap, and imme­dia­tely gets down.

I look down ‚at my lap, to my cute new shorts and my inex­pen­sive, yet sty­lish new tank top.

There is a puddle, Puddle of liquidy, chunky diarrhea laying on it.

Diarrhea num­ber two of three for the day just happened.

That little shit.