I'm sorry I've been MIA. It's been a rough coupla weeks - but I'll explain that later. I'm sure you've all been sitting there with bated breath for my next post...

*knock, knock*

Is this thing even on?

*crickets chirping*

After having experienced three practices with coach-pitched baseball, I'm happy to say that I think C-dub will be just fine. He seems to love it, although I find myself cringing whenever they throw the ball to him and he dives to catch it in such a dramatic, compound fracture leg breaking sorta way. It seems that since C-dub has started kindergarten, he has turned into an absolute clutz - almost like the missing member of the three stooges. Judging from the way the other little boys on the team dramatically throw themselves to the ground for no apparent reason, I guess he's a normal kid.

I know he's having fun, but it does cause me some stress. I fear for his teeth and the new tooth that just sprouted. I worry for his turquoise blue eyeballs and the his perfect little snub nose. He's my middle child; he's my Jan Brady. He gives me such anxiety with his antics.

The practices only last an hour but it's long enough to let Gunny roll around in the awesome dirt pile and practice his driving skills with his monstah twucks:

And, it's long enough for Taterbug to sit in the stands (bundled up), making friends and giving up family secrets:

An interesting tidbit about the blanket wrapped around Taterbug - it's an original blanket from one of the old Pacific Lumber bunkhouses. Papa Tom aquired it ages ago and I have a feeling we'll have it forever since you can't even tell it's a relic.

All in all, it's good, somewhat clean fun, although the biting weather does produce some monstruous "Dumb and Dumber" snotsicles.

As far as the tears go, the good news is that they aren't for my Grandma. After a bunch of additional tests, pokes, and stress, it was determined that the "cancerous tumor" is actually a large, innocuous cyst, and the neurologist will be watching it's growth for the next several months. I congratulated my Grandma on her large internal zit. Her relief allowed for a chuckle.

The real tears are for a life situation I'm dealing with. Without going into too many therapeutic details, I'm trying to work through an issue where I need to make some tough choices about friendship, loyalty and truth. I'm in such an emotional state right now and the phrase, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me," has been echoing through my head. I dunno what I'm going to do but climbing in a hole and hiding out until next year, sounds very appealing right about now.

On a different note, as soon as my POS laptop gets repaired, I'll have some new pic's to post that are sure to turn you "green" with envy and may even bring you a prince, if you kiss it right :-).

Posted by Mommazilla at 09:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Today, Oakland PD began to lay their brothers to rest. I really feel for this Department as well as the city as a whole. Peace and healing needs to start and I hope it does soon.

A PART OF AMERICA DIED

Somebody killed a policeman today
And a part of America died...
A piece of our country he swore to protect
Will be buried with him at his side.
The beat that he walked was a battlefield, too,
Just as if he had gone off to war;
Though the flag of our nation won't fly at half-mast
To his name they will add a gold star.
The suspect that shot him will stand up in court
With counsel demanding his rights,
While a young, widowed mother must work for her kids
And spend many long, lonely nights.
Yes, somebody killed a policeman today...
Maybe in your town or mine,
While we slept in comfort behind our locked doors A cop put his life on the line.
Now his ghost walks the beat on a dark city street,
And he stands at each new rookie's side:
He answered the call . . . of himself he gave his all,
And a part of America died...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In Memory :
Deputy Nicholas S. Bryant
Lee County, Sheriffs Dept, Ft. Myers Fl.
April 12, 1972 - April 19, 1998.

Posted by Mommazilla at 01:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I am beyond torked tonight. My friggin' laptop, barely three months out of the shop, crashed again. I hate Dell. Let me tell you that one more time, just in case you couldn't hear me screaming at the top of my lungs inside your head:

I HATE DELL!!!

The laptop is two years old and I paid a pretty penny to make sure it was outfitted well. It is absolutely ridiculous that the piece o' crap melted down on me again. I dunno what I'm going to do with it but a sledgehammer sounds mighty nice.

Seriously, the month of March has sucked so bad. I sure hope it picks up. I've some how angered Karma and she's been an absolute biotch to me. Geesh.

Posted by Mommazilla at 10:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

I spent a good part of the afternoon fishing in our creek and I don't even have a fishing license. Heck, I don't even think it's the right time or year or season to be doing such nonsense. However, I think I'm alright, because as far as I can tell the elusive "baseball fish" is not on the list of things you necessarily have to get permission to "catch'. Plus, I was using a rake and stick - not a fishing pole and net.

Dangling over the precarious bank of blackberry and stinging nettle bushes, was slightly painful and frightening. While I played Indiana Jones, hanging from vines and watching out for King Cobras (the beer - not the snake), I also had to dodge an aerial assault from Gunny, since he decided to help me out by throwing rocks above my head. The little boulders would land in the water, spraying my sweaty face with a cool, murky film. It was slightly refreshing but utterly disgusting.

My little adventure caused me to sustain four painful slivers in my (ironically enough) middle finger, a few abrasions, and some slight bruising to my pride and legs. I narrowly escaped death and pneumonia in order to retrieve baseballs for my little slugger.

I'm the official title holder of "Mommy of the Year." Take that Nadya Suleman.

You might be wondering why the heck I was fishing baseballs out of a stream and I'll explain because it's quite the story. Well, not really but I'll fudge it up a bit to at least entertain you.

The story begins with a little six year old boy with a serious case of "Iwannaplaybaseballweallybad" and a convincing "puppy dog face." C-dub had it set in his mind that he wanted to play t-ball this year. He begged and pleaded for us to sign-up him up. Hubby happily obliged him since I would be doing the transports to practices, games, etc., and he looked like the hero for saying yes. I fought it based on a logistics defense (I hate playing Taxi). My whining was ignored and I finally gave in after I saw how much he wanted to play and I knew he'd look cute in a baseball hat.

I signed C-dub up and he had his first practice yesterday. When I arrived at the parking lot, I started looking for the cute crowd of five and six year olds, making daisy chains and running the opposite directions around the bases. Instead, what greeted us was a bunch of half-grown men, some sportin' peach fuzz, obvious jock itch, and a wad of chew. As we walked towards the field, I swallowed my fear with a huge gulp while the half-grown neanderthals spit their chaw into empty cans of Budweiser, all the while sizing us up. Little C-dub held his head high and made his way up to the coach, introducing himself and eventually finding his place on the field.

I glanced around, looking for the "tee" set-up, as I'm kind of a pro having taught one season of T-ball. When I couldn't find the "tee" I thought to myself it was a little strange. And besides the presence of huge man child players, I noticed they were all wearing baseball pants and cleats. My little man was in jeans and his "skater" shoes. Crap, what the heck was going on? His name was on the roster so I knew we were at the right place but my baby needed to progress through T-ball before I felt comfortable with him acting manly on the field and hanging out with these thugs (whom I later found out ranged in age from six to eight).

I questioned a few of the parents and eventually the coach as to what the heck was going on. I learned that C-dub's team was coach-pitch and that t-ball was for babies. This one hour practice made my little boy a man with talks of jock straps and cups (which, I had to explain to him did not involve drinking juice from), proper hitting and catching technique, and massive amounts of base running. I was so proud. And scared. Was he really ready for coach pitch having zero experience other than the Wii?

I knew we had homework. I told Hubby that I'd dress the little fella and make him look the part, but other than that, technique and equipment purchasing would need to be done by some father-son shopping. I fulfilled my part of the bargain by dropping off $80 off at Sport-n-Cycle in order to get him looking like a handsome little baseball stud. The shoes, pants, socks, bat, balls - everything he needed to begin his transformation. *sniff*

And this is how we get to the beginning of my story. When we got home from outfitting him, it was decided that we'd give him some hitting practice. C-dub has decided he really doesn't care for the catching part so much, and just prefers to nail them out of the park. With my awesome pitching, C-dub hit the little baseball so hard that it went right into our creek after taking a beeline off of my thigh. So much for it being a "safety ball" 'cuz that little sucker hurt like hell when it ricocheted off my femur.

It would have been only one baseball, but Gunny decided to try and play catch with the second ball, while I was busy rake fishing. I'm not coordinated enough to catch with one hand while dangling from the other, so it promptly made it's home next to the one bobbing in the creek. He's got a great arm for a little guy - but he'll definitely start with t-ball.

Wish me luck - I mean him luck. Practice is tomorrow and much to C-dub's dismay, I'm breaking out the camera. You can't take the mommy out of the baseball fan.

Posted by Mommazilla at 04:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Happy Birthday to the most wonderful, handsome, and accident prone hubby a gal could get! Love ya babe!

Here's some songs to help celebrate this momentous occasion:

Posted by Mommazilla at 08:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

You don't expect to find them as cancerous tumors living within the head of a loved one. When my mom called tonight, I could instantly tell something was wrong. Her voice reeked of worry and she confirmed her anxiety by telling me she was at the ER with my bingo-loving grandma. Grandma had been experiencing a terrible headache since earlier today. So bad in fact, she decided she needed to be taken to the ER.

I didn't take the news lightly; My grandma is a tough old lady, having had a plethora of kids to raise and contend with over the past 82 years of her young life. I knew it was bad if she agreed to go willingly to the hospital (and not because we had handcuffed and hog-tied her).

My mom informed me she didn't have much information as Grandma was currently getting further testing done. I asked her if the doctor had any idea of what was going on and she said that he did not. I was instantly worried she was having a stroke or some other serious malady - as I'm a worrier and tend expect the worst but hope for the best. Mom calmed me down by assuring me it was more than likely just a migraine and that Grandma would be back home and in time to catch the shuttle to Cher-Ae Heights.

A few hours later, information started to roll in as to the true condition of my grandma. When all was said and done, the neurologist who looked at her scans explained she had a lemon-sized tumor at the rear of her skull, embedded into her brain and skull cap. He thought the tumor was probably cancerous and had been living there, rather quietly, for awhile. The tumor was putting a great deal of pressure on Grandma's brain, causing the pain and dizziness she was feeling. Thankfully, the traveling neurologist will be in Humboldt this Monday and she will be seeing him for possible treatment ideas, which also come with their own dangers.

At this point of my life, I'm just about ready to throw in the towel and say to the world:

"Uncle! I freakin' give up. You got me!"

Seriously, I think I need to hide in bed until the month of March is over. April has to be better or I'm going on strike.

If you're a religious person or a person with your own spirituality, I would greatly appreciate you saying a prayer or positive thought for my Grandma. She has more great-grandchildren to see, more bingo games to play, and most importantly, she's the #1 fan of my blog.

Lord, you can't have her yet. I can't make other recommendations if you're needin' somebody, but Grandma stays with us.

I love you Grandma.

Posted by Mommazilla at 02:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen
Dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine
You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life
See that girl, watch that scene, dig in the dancing queen

~ ABBA - Dancing Queen

After a recent session of dance class, I quickly came to realize that my daughter had inherited sassy smooth moves and awe inspiring natural rhythm from someone other than her parents. Hubby and I only think we've got the moves after some liquid courage; thank goodness she doesn't take after us. I'm very proud of her accomplishments in dance although she could care less for the stretches.

Posted by Mommazilla at 06:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Thanks to Tracey, I now have a video that truly celebrates this posting:

I'm really sorry that I've been such a bad blogger lately. I do have an excuse that relates directly to my title. My house has been overcome by Sir Barfs-a-lot and his evil sidekick, Sir Poops-a-lot. It all started with C-dub having a projectile session early on Sunday morning and then Gunny following his lead with a midnight hurl last night. Hubby (who is still at home and recovering) and I have been cleaning carpets and doing endless loads of laundry, all the while keeping our fingers crossed that the stomach bug doesn't bite us in the - well, you know where. Literally.

And to be totally honest, my life has been rather boring lately without too much to comment on. The kids have been relatively sane and Hubby has been a huge help around the house since being home free from problem appendix. Other than the sporadic puking, I really have nothing to complain about, which really isn't like me.

I did have a momentous appointment on St. Patrick's Day. Without going into the gory details, it was an appointment I've re-scheduled over and over again for the past three years. I hate going to the doctor especially for this trip, the one I like to call "Bonazaesque" since I'm back in the saddle with feet firmly planted in the *cough* stirrups. Yes ladies, I'm talkin' about the dreaded visit where our girly bits are the star of the show. Where the doctor or midwife can't recognize you at the grocery store unless you're naked. It's the...dun, dun, dah!...glamorous pelvic exam and ever so pleasant sounding pap smear. Oh joy of joys, how I love this trip.

In honor of St. Patty's day, I almost chose to do a green glitter sort of theme but thought better of it in case the doc wanted pics. Or to test me further with more probing and needles.

Hubby doesn't understand why I dread these visits so much; after all, I look forward to labor and find my greatest accomplishment to be natural childbirth. I tried to explain to him while you're in terrific agony or under the influence of fabulous pain medication, you really couldn't give two schats as to who looks at your hoo-hah. Under the stone cold veil of utter sobriety, it's slightly embarrassing having another person break out the salad tongs and tell you to relax all the while asking you questions about your kids and what you're making for dinner that night.

Prior to the doc making her entry (not the best word to use, I guess), the nurse asked me several questions related to my personal life and history. When she got to the point of protection and what I used, my answer was simple;

Children and opposite shifts.

She looked at me quizzically but then wrote it down anyway. The she asked me me if that meant I was abstinent. My reply was:

Not by choice.

Yes, children who find your bed much more comfortable than your own and who enjoy watching a scary episode of Ghost Hunters prior to bedtime, provide an excellent form of birth control for poor parents like ourselves. And remember, after the birth of Gunny, we finally figured out what was causing these little curtain crawlers to keep showing up so we just stopped doin' it.

While the nurse was asking me questions, I could hear my cell phone vibrating. During this sensitive time of my life, Hubby took it upon himself to send me numerous texts asking about equipment temperatures, table positioning, and other vulgar things he thought hilariously funny. I can't wait for his first colonoscopy. I will be there, selling tickets while shooting video that will live streaming on this blog. Boo yah!

I know it was very bad of me to wait so long and I hope the rest of you have more common sense and courage than I did. It's really stupid to skip preventative appointments - even if you're a big fat chicken, like as myself.

Which appointment freaks you out the most? The dentist? Eye doctor? Any doctor?

Posted by Mommazilla at 08:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Posted by Mommazilla at 09:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I was recently perusing our local blogs and found some very poignant postings on Auntie Mayme's Couch. One posting that caught my eye was in regards to Megan's Law and it reminded me that I haven't recently checked out the site to see if I had any sex offenders living in my neighborhood. I was very unpleasantly surprised to see I had two offenders living within a one block radius of my house. They live on the street which directly borders the top portion of my property. Just a hop, skip, and a jump could allow one of these guys to peer right right into one of my windows - and then down the barrel of my 30th birthday present.

The worst part? They are both registered due to offenses related to the molestation of a child (or children) under the age of 14. I noticed that one of them just became out of compliance which means he didn't even bother to register this year. God knows where he is currently living.

Did you know that approximately 25% of sex registrants are not even included on the Megan's Law website? The state weighs each crime and then determines whether or not the crime should be included based on the safety of the public. Here are the list of offenses that the state considers to be a registrable offenses. This page discusses what crimes may be excluded from the Megan's law website. In essence, you could be living right next door to an offender and never know it. But don't worry, the government knows whether or not this person is a threat. *Insert sarcastic eye roll here.*

The Megan's Law website says that in Humboldt County, we have 326 sex registrants. Of those registrants, I counted 30 of them as having a big red check mark - indicating they are in violation and are not currently registered. Of all people to keep dibs on, these people should be a the top of the list.

I don't believe for a second that you can totally rehab a sex offender. I equate their existence to be that of a ticking time bomb; just waiting for that perfect opportunity to arise. I may be wrong about that, but I'm certainly not willing to test the waters out in my community. The idea that 30 of these creeps are out of compliance in our county is truly frightening and unacceptable. However, I really doubt that our local law enforcement agencies have either the time or money to round these monsters up.

I guess the good news is that we, as citizens, have the ability to educate ourselves and see who the predators are in our community, by using this website. Empower yourself and protect your family by knowing who lives near you. I hate to sound paranoid or preachy, but our children are our greatest gifts; don't let a slime ball steal away any of their innocence.

Posted by Mommazilla at 08:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

If you are going to be on a television show that is watched by thousands if not millions of people, it might be wise to obtain proper permits and allowances in order to do your profession.

This is a note that should have be written and practiced by the owners of S&S Aqua Logging. They were recently featured on the History Channel's "Ax Men" show. The men who operate this company are actually my favorite crew to watch because they seemed to blunder about so much that you automatically expect a disaster if not a good old fashioned family fight between the crew. One episode will tell you these guys do not have their act together but it sure makes for good TV and beautiful fireplace hearths.

Speaking of those logs, that's what got them into trouble. Evidently the idea of obtaining permits and potentially ruining the Hoquiam River environment didn't seem to cross their minds while they fumbled and bumbled around on their barge uprooting ancient logs. They were eventually caught by the officers from the Washington Department of Natural Resources, who had watched "Ax Men" and saw the crime being committed. Oops! Needless to say, a search warrant was issued, no permits were found, and now they're in a bit of trouble.

I love the quote uttered by one of the Smiths' (partial owner of S&S Aqua Logging). He said, "We're normal guys that do extraordinary things." Yeah, like commit crimes and then tape them for the whole world to see. Good job, boys.

Anyhoo, if you haven't see the show, take a look at it when it comes on. It's actually a very interesting show that will make you thankful for a desk job.

Posted by Mommazilla at 10:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

10AM tomorrow starts the second ride of my lifetime. Tickets come on sale for :

Def Leppard

Poison

Cheap Trick

September 3rd, the acid-washed Levis, Aqua Net, and blue eyeshadow are coming back.

Posted by Mommazilla at 04:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

But on this Friday the 13th, it doesn't. Please show support of our local teachers who are receiving their pink slips on March 13th, 2009. The state is facing 11 billion dollars worth of paycuts to public schools, colleges, and universities. This year, the March 13th date was the deadline for school districts to issue their preliminary pink slips to teachers. What a lovely date to pick.

We lost 5,000 teachers last year, after 10,000 were intially issued pink slips. This year looks like it will be much worse and it makes me sick. My daughter's small elementary school is losing nine valued and respected teachers. This means we get to look forward to bigger classes, overworked teachers, and even less available resources.

In case you're interested, here's a link to what we pay our California officials. It's amazing how much we give our "respected" leaders. I know that some of them donate back their salaries in an effort to support our economy but for the most part, we are paying them too much to begin with. Afterall, it was their careful planning and lack of foresight that helped to get us in the craphole. Let's take the money away from the admin and give it back to the teachers who are (1) not paid enough and (2) spend a lot of their own money in their classrooms.

Need more convincing? Jen has 13 reasons why you should wear pink and support our California teachers.

Here are my nine reasons:

Mr. Sanders
Mrs. Carroll
Mrs. Stockwell
Mrs. Croteau
Mrs. Head
Mrs. Betts
Mr. Grimmett
Mrs. Benbow
Mrs. Crosswhite

Posted by Mommazilla at 11:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

What kind of "fur" gets your fire going? Hubby saw this sign while we were getting gas and I had to take a pic!

Posted by Mommazilla at 11:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

After having watched Taterbug complete her first real school project, I feel as though I'm an expert on the subject of iguanas and school project parenting. Since I'm tired and my fingers hurt (you'll see why below), I can only form my thoughts in the shape of a carefully constructed list. Please forgive me as my brain is in meltdown mode:

1. School projects are expensive, even when you take a trip to the Dollar Tree. At least they had fake bugs and lizards and I was able to buy some Peeps to keep us going.

2. Let's face it; school projects equate parental homework. I think I was more stressed about this damn thing than she was. I even dreamed about iguanas and how we could accurately portray their life on construction paper. So sad.

3. Iguanas are bad parents. But, I think they may be onto something as they're forethought is amazing. Escaping the teenage years by leaving your eggs before the little leapin' lizards even hatch? Brilliant.

4. Iguanas are really soft and cuddly. At least that's what Taterbug says. She has been working on her dad to allow her to buy Juliette, the three foot iguana at the Fortuna Pet Shoppe.

5. Hot glue will melt your skin to the bone. There is a reason Martha Stewart keeps a bowl of ice water under her craft table. I used a cold Budweiser and it did the trick.

6. Iguana eggs taste like cheese. I don't know from personal experience but Taterbug swears it's true.

7. Hot glue melts Easter grass even in places you don't necessarily want it to (counter tops, fingertips, hair, etc.).

8. One glass of Dr. Pepper will keep a nine year old on task and bouncing around the table proclaiming, "THIS IS THE BEST PROJECT - EVER!!!!"

9. Did I mention that the Dollar Tree has four colors of Peeps? And yes, I ate them. ALL.

10. The Dollar Store does not have anything in stock that resembles cactus fruit. Thank goodness for an old box of Thanksgiving decorations and a lecture about imagination.

11. It is very hard to turn off your OCD when watching your child put together an assignment - especially if they are doing something crooked or just a tad bit off. I had to bite my lip and shut my mouth which I don't find to be the easiest thing to do. It is her project; not Mommy's project.

12. I now understand the feeling of relief. The project is complete and Taterbug is thrilled with the outcome. I'm excited to get my kitchen table and counter back.

I'm happy to say that we lived through her first project. I'm already having anxiety for the dreaded science experiment but I found a site that gave me some good ideas. I think I'm ready. Any suggestions?

Posted by Mommazilla at 06:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

When I picked up Taterbug from school today, she informed me that she had a fairly large project/report she was working on. The teacher allowed each of the kids to pick out an animal and I expected hers' to be warm and snuggly. When she told me she was writing about iguanas, I gulped.

I am not a fan of the leathery, cold, slimy, and scaly species nor do I allow any to be kept in my house. I just about had a heart attack last summer when a rather large alligator lizard crept out of a stack a wood and made a beeline across my driveway. Needless to say, I wasn't too excited about her choice in critters. But, it's her report and I decided to make the best of it. After all, I was kinda excited since this is her first "real" project requiring her to put in a lot of time and energy. My little girl is growing up. *Sniff* Next thing you know, it will be a thesis or even her first sci-fi novel. *Double sniff and a snort*

She had all sorts of ideas involving many chunks of clay, pipe cleaners, glitter, and Easter egg grass. My ideas involved crayons and construction paper (so much less vacuuming). Needless to say, we had to have a quick planning and budgeting meeting since we were obviously thinking of two different ideas. It was finally decided (over cherry soda and cookies) we would take a look at the local pet store and see if they had any iguanas. If they did, we would try and capture a couple of shots of the beast.

Our nearest pet store was the Fortuna Pet Shoppe. I hadn't recently been in there (mainly due to Hubby's orders), and was so pleasantly surprised when we walked through the front door. They had a lot of different animals that touched at my various comfort levels eliciting a variety of distances I was willing to breach; fish (nose to tank), rodents (one foot an inch), snakes (fifty feet - aw heck, who am I kidding, I didn't go near the things!), birds (six inches as long as the beak was little and dull), and lizards (three feet - just outside of striking and gross out distance).

The grand prize of the day? A huge female iguana whose name I didn't quite catch. Let's just say I wasn't too thrilled to be that close nor was I interested in taking her home as little Taterbug requested. Barf. I think I wore my first layer of skin away due to my use of antiseptic gel.

Taters held the greenish gray beast until her little heart was content. The cool part was that the store employees were so nice and let us take pictures for as long as we wanted.

Look at this smile? Who's kid is this? Certainly not mine if she was happy to be holding this thing!

After oohing and ahhing at the iguana, we took a gander at the baby parrots. Oh. My. Goodness. I just wanted to squeeze their little fluffy goodness. But that would probably hurt them and their beaks looked a tad bit sharp. I have very meaty thumbs and I'd like them to stay that way:

We saw a hungry parrot who showed us his/her nut cracking abilities:

And a pair of super cute birds (I think they were also a type of parrot) sharing bath time (should I feel bad for watching?):

Finally, when I had about all I could take of cuteness, Taterbug begged and pleaded with me to buy her an organic toothbrush. Normally, I'm all for the environment, but I knew Hubby would flip at this natural plaque fighter:

All in all, we had a great time at the pet shop. The store was clean and the employees were super friendly and extremely helpful. We got some great shots and even better yet, we managed to walk out with no additional animals, so my marriage is still intact. A HUGE THANKS to the Fortuna Pet Shoppe!!!

Posted by Mommazilla at 10:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

I'm so excited that my mother-in-law and Barbie share the same birthday. I'm sure my MIL is as well. Afterall, they are both icons in their own right; one for our family and the other our society. Anyhoo, in the tradition of embarrassment:

Happy birthday Grandma Linda! We love you!!!

Posted by Mommazilla at 08:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I've always been a huge Barbie fan. I remember (as a little girl) my very first Barbie was clad in a bikini and reeked like some sort of nasty coconut suntan lotion. She had big boobs, a fake tan line, and straight bleached blonde hair; she was gorgeous and I loved her. A few weeks later, Ken came along and then Skipper and a few more Barbie friends. My infatuation with this doll lasted well throughout my childhood and continues on with my own daughter, who still plays with her dolls on occasion.

My favorite dolls were the ones with big sparkly dresses and poofy hair but on occasion, I did enjoy collecting the dolls that were just a bit harder to find. Like this one:

Trailer Trash Barbie:

I love me some Tattoo Barbie:

And you can't forget about Gangsta Barbie:

And someone from Humboldt County even came up with some local specials:

Manila Barbie:

Bayside Barbie:

Trinidad Barbie:

Eureka Barbie:

Arcata Barbie:

Fortuna Barbie:

McKinleyville Barbie:

Sunny Brae Barbie:

And my supreme favorite (of course!):

Boudoir Barbie:

Can't get enough Barbie? Get a candid look into her life here.

Happy birthday Barbie! Here's to another 50 more!

Posted by Mommazilla at 08:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Not necessarily work or child safe, but good for a giggle.

Posted by Mommazilla at 04:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I'm one of those anal people who actually look forward to receiving their monthly PG&E bills. Don't get me wrong, it's not because I necessarily love paying it, because I honestly don't; it's because I want to see how much I was able to lower it as compared to the last month and the year's previously monthly bill. It makes my heart do flip-flops and quivers of joy when I can look and see that I've save $25, $50 or even $100 over what I'd previously paid. It doesn't happen very often but as you can see, it really floats my boat when it does occur.

Yesterday, I received my friendly little e-mail indicating that I had a new online statement available. I chose to do everything online so I can save the trees and prevent paper cuts to my tongue by having to mail a bill. Yes, I have cut my tongue before and the thing bleeds like a mother. I'm sure the billing department doesn't appreciate the hazardous waste envelope created from my mutilated flesh.

I clicked on the little icon that opened up the e-mail and waited for the magical numbers to appear. And they did...

$513.31

Oh...my....frickin'....GAWD! I had to seriously sit down and release a few expletives. I've NEVER had a PG&E bill so atrociously high. NEVER. Not even when I had so many Christmas lights in my front yard that Hubby made me take them down for fear of a small plane landing in our yard. The bill was almost two and a half times what it was last month!

I immediately phoned Hubby and in between gasps and sputters, told him how much the bill was. After he had his own spasm episode, he told me that he had seen the meter reader at our house earlier during the month. He said it was funny to watch her because she never even left her truck. She sat there with a pair of binoculars and read the meter from the comfort of her Ford Ranger. Wow.

Was it the chickens?

Or maybe the chicken crap all over the driveway?

Perhaps my 60 pound lump of brown chocolate fat dog was passed out on the front porch?

Whatever the case, she did not get out of her vehicle to visually inspect my meter and now I have a $500+ bill. Could it be a coincidence? I think not.

Hubby called customer service (it was in his name) and they had him go out and give the reading on the meter. Wow, go figure... It didn't match the numbers in their system. After knocking over $200 off of our bill (which, in my opinion, is still way too high), the pains in his chest subsided and the sweat stopped dripping from his brow. The customer service agent explained to Hubby that we would be getting new meters next month that should take the human error out of the equation. I understand that people can make mistakes, but after all the crap we've been through with gimpy lately, this one just takes the cake.

So please, check your PG&E bill. You may have been the victim of the drive-by meter reader and her less than perfect binocular reading. Thanks for the mini-stroke and heart palpitations, PG&E. If you knew Hubby's medical track record, you wouldn't be pulling crap like this.

Posted by Mommazilla at 03:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Alright, here's your chance to get not one, but two Snuggies, plus two booklights, for less than $15. You know you wanted one at Christmas so scoop up the deal now. And then send me a picture. I love to see fugly fashion!

Posted by Mommazilla at 04:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Since I'm technically taking care of four children this week, my life has been a little chaotic to say the least. Rather than trying to compose myself into paragraphs, I'd like to share a few observations and gripes with you all. Should you not care to hear me biotch about my life, please feel free to skip this posting and carry on with your fabulous life. Or, feel free to add your own. Good day!

1. To Safeway: I hate you. You recently changed your chocolate chip cookies to a perfect combination of chewy, chocolately goodness. I mourned they're loss after I ate the whole freakin' package. Damn you Safeway.

2. To the old guy at Winco: Did you seriously need to take up the whole bagging area? And then only put one item in at a time? Good grief, basic bagging 101, I'm sending you to grocery school. I knew there was a reason I only went there once a month.

3. To the little boy passing notes to my Taterbug: Watch yourself, buddy. Keep'em g-rated and don't even think about making contact. She's says your too short anyway, so back off, Mister.

4. To the makers of Vicodin: Thank you for taking Hubby's pain away. Thanks for making him snore so loud I have to sleep on the couch. Thanks for making me have to parent by myself for the past four days since he's been out of comission.

5. To the Pediatrician's Office: Thanks for giving me an approximately five minute delay between after the doctor leaves and when the nurse comes in to administer the "ouchie." Please remember that I have a smart three year old that knows all too well what's gonna happen when he can't immediately put his pants back on after the doc leaves.

6. To my parents and in-laws: Not a gripe but a huge THANK YOU. You guys have helped us out so much this week. I love you and so does your wussy baby (Hubby).

7. To my kitteh kats: Seriously? It takes me all of five minutes to clean out your litter box and replenish it with sweet smelling litter. Why is it that Gracie immediately needs to do the potty dance as soon as I start the process and then leave me a gift exactly where the litter box goes? Ugh.

8. To Wendy: Why, why, why did you molest my eyeballs with this video? I'm a huge proponent of breastfeeding and even extended breastfeeding, but when your child can compare which breast has more milk and then communicate with a camera crew about his mum's "nummies," it's just WRONG. And an 8 year old still nursing? I'm not even going to go there.

9. To the Chicken Nugget Lady: Congrats on your 15 minutes of fame. At least the story ended with a happy ending; you went to jail plus McDonald's sent you a coupon for a free meal. Way to waste resources while entertaining the general public.

10. To the Penis Addicted Anchorwoman: Thanks for the laugh. I needed it.

Posted by Mommazilla at 08:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Can you believe that Daylight Saving Time hits us next weekend (March 8th)? Where did the time go? At least we're one step closer to summer.

On a side note, now is a good time to change in the batteries in your smoke detectors. And if you don't have smoke detectors, go buy some for chriminy's sake!

Posted by Mommazilla at 09:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I about croaked when I got my last PG&E bill - it was nearly $300. I knew we had been running our "efficient" forced air heater more due to brisk mornings and cold nights, but I didn't think it was that often. Needless to say, the switch has been turned to "off" and our woodstove has been getting a great workout. Hubby was able to cut quite a bit of wood over the summer and our woodshed is slowly emptying while we get the benefit of a warm house and a cozy fire every night.

I also get to have a little fun now that I have the chore of bringing wood in, since wussy boy (a.k.a. Hubby ) can't lift anything over 10 pounds. Look what I found tonight:

Mother Nature can be quite clever. Or I'm just a perv.

Posted by Mommazilla at 06:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Hubby was freed from his second residence late this afternoon and was very happy to be home. I had already put clean sheets on the bed and built a fire, so the house was nice and toasty for the sicky.

Once Hubby got into bed and was drifting in and out of consciousness, Piper and Gracie discovered that their daddy had returned and were so excited to sink their little paws into him. But Hubby was not so convinced. He does not appreciate the love offered by the feline persuasion and they know this hence their continued admiration.

At first he just took the abuse via some licking and gentle love bites:

He tried to distract them by whining and throwing his hands up in disgust, but it was to no avail...The purring and bread making continued:

He then gave up. At least until they decided to wrestle and pounce directly over his incision site. Poor guy.

I've now bribed the beasts with a can of stinky ocean fish. Hubby has a 20 minute reprieve so he better act fast and take a catnap. Sorry - I couldn't resist.

Posted by Mommazilla at 05:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

You would not believe how and where I spent my Sunday. Hubby is back at it. He thought so much of the service he received last Sunday, he decided to visit the ER again, but this time with a "hot appy." That's doctor lingo for a raging piece of rabid flesh otherwise known as the illicit appendix. If my Hubby didn't have bad luck, he'd have no luck; seriously.

His latest adventure began last night after eating a particularly delicious catered meal. Blaming the wonderful food and his overeating, he went to bed with a side ache and woke up with fever, pain and nausea. After a couple of quick calls to friends smarter than us, we decided it would be best for him to pay a visit to his second home (the hospital).

For whatever reason, Hubby has angered the wrath of God and He has decided to take Hubby out one body part at a time. It was pretty sad having to explain to nurses and doctors that he had just paid them a visit last weekend - especially when they were checking his circulation and noticed his swollen yellow and purple foot. It earned him a great deal of sympathy and I'm sure double the amount of chuckles he received.

After about four hours in the ER, listening to angry people demanding their psych drugs, children crying (actually screaming like banshees), and an elderly couple who didn't really seem to understand a lot of things unless it was tinkling around between the ice cubes in their scotch, Hubby was diagnosed with appendicitis. It was surreal how everything was hurry up and wait and then as soon as the results of his CT scan came in, things moved in fast forward.

I know poor Hubby was nervous because this was the first surgery he had ever experienced. Sure, he'd had stitches, staples, butterfly band-aids, casts, lost fingernails and gained numerous scars - but he's always been fully conscious for all these blessed events. The idea of being knocked out really scared him and it frightened me too. Thankfully, he's a strapping young fellow and we were assured he'd sail through with flying colors.

I guess I probably wasn't helping the situation by commenting whenever I heard strange sounds from the hallway, that it was the surgeon sharpening his scalpel and assorted knives. Hubby really doesn't know how to take a joke sometimes.

I was able to walk him to the OR door and give him a quick smooch and pat before they rolled him away. The surgery was only supposed to last one to two hours and the surgeon later proved to be true to his promise. The good news was that it didn't appear his appendix had perforated and shared it ooey gooey goodness with the rest of his internal organs. The surgeon was also able to use laproscopy which meant for much smaller incision sites and hopefully less pain during recovery.

Everything went just as planned and I was once again reunited with him in the recovery room. I know that Hubby tends to be a good-natured drunk (on that rare occasion he chooses to partake amongst the spirits) and I was very curious to see how he would react with high grade medical goodies. My curiosity was rewarded with such statements and questions to the male recovery nurse as:

* Did you add any inches to my, you know?
* Did it get enlarged?
* Was it in length? Or just the girth? I'd be really happy and I bet she would too (nodding to me with his eyes closed. I was just trying to record his goofy statements in my memory bank).
* Did I get a brazillian 'cuz it sure feels like I did.
* Where are my underwear?
* Some guy took'em off of me. I didn't like it. Not one bit.

After about 30 minutes of listening to him ramble about his junk, he was moved to a regular room and continued to sober up just enough to tell the nurse that he'd compare her skills to mine, since I refused to spend the night in the plastic recliner playing nursemaid. I'm sorry, but the idea of an empty bed and clean sheets was far too tempting. And on all honesty, I'm not even sure what skills he was talking about but neither did he is my guess.

I finally called it a day around 10 PM tonight, as I watched him drift in and out of a blissful morphine sleep. It's so cute to watch him snore with that medically induced smile on his face :-). I know he's in good hands and the nurses are taking fabulous care of him - but I miss him. You'd think after the past week he spent at home nursing a bum ankle, I'd feel a little relieved to have a night off, but I do love the little turd.

Do me a favor and ask me how I'm feeling at then end of this week; you may get a different answer.

Posted by Mommazilla at 11:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)