I have a beautiful view out of my bedroom thanks to a large sliding glass door and a redwood forest. If you haven't gathered it before, our house is actually pretty rural in that we can freely walk around in the buff without fear of giving the neighbor a heart attack or ending up in a strange video segment on Youtube. Not that we do but I'm just sayin' if we wanted to it would certainly be a possibility. A true assault to the eyeballs so I suggest calling before you visit.

Anyhoo, since we have such a private piece of property, I rarely close the drapes over my sliding glass door. I love waking up to the sun beating down on my face or fuzzy little bunnies scampering around my backyard. Like this:

That's Mrs. Bunny. She visits us every spring with a coupla kits (baby bunnies). I've never seen a Mr. Bunny so I've got a feeling he's pretty scandalous and that he may just be a yearly boo-tay call for Mrs. Bunny. I guess he's just lookin' for a little Cottontail (!). Eh, she seems to enjoy it and the byproducts are super cute, so all is well in this year's episode of "As the Rabbit Turns."

Although I normally feel pretty comfortable leaving the drapes open and exposing myself to my forest friends, I have recently acquired an admirer that is causing me to develop some modesty. It's this guy:

Zeke has started frequenting my backyard with his lady friends. They're normally very peaceful, looking for the occasional bug and berry - not causing a ruckus - just enjoying the fruits of freshly mowed lawn and springtime. I don't mind them being back there, in fact I love their organic bug eating abilities and the goofy attitudes they portray while I'm sitting on my bed and enjoying the show.

This peaceful serenity has recently been broken by a change in Zeke's attitude. I'm sure I'm just reading him wrong and his manifested interest is because of springtime rooster lady lust, but I've recently been closing my drapes due to his innate "interest" in my well-being.

For example, last week as he was walking near my back deck, I saw him do a double-take as he passed by my sliding glass door. Our eyes met and for a minute, I swear I could hear Joey Tribbiani (from Friends) saying:

How you doin'?

Then, he proceeded to hop up on then bench sitting on my back deck, and serenade me with crows for the next half hour. Seriously, what did he expect me to do? He is a friendly little rooster, but I'm certainly not going to try and pet him or reward him with strawberries for his signing prowess. So instead? I reward him with a smile and close my curtains. I leave poor Zeke to perform on an empty stage with only his Henny Penny lady friends as an audience. He still crows and crows, but his song length is certainly shortened and my peace and modesty is quickly restored.

Should I be flattered? Well, maybe. But in all reality, he's probably just viewing me as a strange potential threat to his lady friends. With my blinding beauty, milky white skin, and flowing auburn tresses, who can blame him? I probably look like some vixen ready to steal his ladies from him. You do realize that description came from my inner voice, right? And it might just be a little exaggerated - ok, a lot exaggerated - right? Just checkin'.

I can't wait for Spring fever to leave my poultry and make me remember my 33 year old mommy body.

Posted by Mommazilla at 01:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

For those of you who had to go through the Barney fetish - complete with annoying songs, videos, and dolls - theis video is for you!

Posted by Mommazilla at 09:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Most people who have children are used to the monsters bringing friends over. Slumber parties, play dates, and genuine good times are also welcome at this house and my kidlets know it. Evidently, my animals are also aware of this rule because Diva the Duck brought home friends the other morning. Eight little friends, actually, with the sphincter control of a newborn:

I have no idea where Diva found her buddies but she looked perfectly content to share her grass with them:

I don't even think that Diva realized these beasts were giants in compared to her demure size and that they could have easily slurped her up along with the wayward slugs that are no longer in my yard:

Diva's buddies only visited for a few minutes - mainly because they received the official welcome wagon from these two heathens:

And this guy trying to figure out how to use my camera:

The kids got a kick out of Diva's buddies as they slowly ambled out of our yard. I'm sure they belong to a neighbor but I honestly wouldn't mind if they stopped by occasionally for a visit - and promised not to drop goose bombs on my driveway.

Posted by Mommazilla at 08:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

For the past three years, I've been telling my friends and family about the tattoo I'd get one day. I've spoken to different friends, researched a variety of shops and then sat on the information while my confidence slowly grew. For me, a tattoo had to be of some significance and not some drunken piece of artwork I'd have forever as a memory on a body part.

When I mentioned the idea of a tattoo around my family members, I received nothing but, "you're gonna do what to what?" and "you wanna be the 90 year old woman with ink?" I finally stopped saying anything realizing I'd receive no support. I think it may be a generational thing because it seems like so many more people have tattoos now-a-days and it's really not the abnormal thing to do. I think tattoo artistry is beautiful and when done with symbolism and talent, it can truly be an asset to one's personal well being. With that said, Dad - am I convincing you yet?

Taterbug was one of my biggest opponents, sharing with me a story that came out of a recent Costco shopping trip she and I had shared. She explained to me how she had been watching an elderly couple shopping together. On the old man's arm was a large tattooed heart with the name, "Shirley" inked into it. It had some words that included, "Forever Wife," around the top portion, and a cupid's arrow completing the scene. Taterbug explained how she had heard the man call the woman he was with, "Paula" and how he had made reference to her being his (now) wife.

She explained it to me this way:

Mom, you don't wanna be a Shirley. Tattoos are like, FOREVER.

Much to Taterbug's dismay, I decided last week to suck it up and actually venture into the tattoo studio and speak with the artist. Once I got past the piercing selections (you would not believe where you can be pierced - I was blushing - which takes a lot), skulls, heavy metal and dark lighting, I actually felt pretty comfortable and confident that I was making the right decision. Within the next two hours, my tattoo was complete and I was thrilled:

The significance of the butterflies (to me) is rebirth and the start of a new life which I recently did on several levels. The largest of the butterflies contains both my Hubby's and my birthstone colors. Descending from the top butterfly is a butterfly representing each of my kiddo's birthstone color (from oldest to youngest). I plan on getting a few more, but will wait until I have just the perfect idea and meaning. Plus, I need to decided what other part of the body will be least effected by old age and stretch marks.

As a side note, if you're debating getting a tattoo because of the pain, trust me that it's really not that bad. I'm not gonna lie and tell you that it feels like a walk in the park, but it's not that terrible - irritating but tolerable. It's an extremely personal thing between you and a good artist, and when done with the right reasons in mind, can be a great experience.

Posted by Mommazilla at 04:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

I was totally surprised to read about our Kinetic Sculpture Race making Perez's site. Here's a link to the article. Too cool!

Posted by Mommazilla at 10:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Freedom is not free

I watched the flag pass by one day,
It fluttered in the breeze.
A young Service man saluted it,
And then he stood at ease.

LCDR Kelly Strong, USCG - Copyright 1981

Posted by Mommazilla at 09:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

A special thanks to Darren Arney of Arney's Tattoo and Body Piercing Studio!

Posted by Mommazilla at 11:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

You like that title? How about that smell? It's exactly what I smelled like - actually reeked like - the other day after valiantly trying to defend my new squash plants from the four heathens who have taken over my yard:

I bought this magic elixir that promised to not only scoot the deer out of my yard but to keep the bunny rabbits at bay as well. After a quick spray of the goop, I about barfed not realizing how terrible it would smell. As I squirted, gagged, and sprayed some more, I attempted to stand up wind in an attempt to avoid smelling like a an old school pizza joint's urinal.

I thought I had been successful with dodging the funk until I walked into my house and began to scream at my cats for releasing their bodily juices on my carpet. As I reached down to check behind the couch for a suspicious yellow puddle, I caught wind of my sweater and realized I was actually the odoriferous offender. It was so bad that I had to strip down to my skivvies and start a load of laundry right then and there. It took quite a bit longer to actually get the funk out of my hair, which I had to keep back in a ponytail so that it wasn't a constant friendly reminder of my garden.

Barf. I hope I at least get a couple of zucchini out of all of this.

Hubby and I did a frantic gardening session last weekend, firing up the rototiller and weeding several planter beds. We rushed to get our plants in after getting a super late start due to the rats with wings thwarting my initial tries at planting seeds and raising a garden from scratch. Thankfully, I was able to find some healthy plants from Charlie's Blossoms (thanks to Kristabel - great meeting you!).

And yes Zeke, I see you. Quit molesting the fresh dirt in my yard:

During our process of gardening, I received a lot of advice as to how to keep the heathens out of our garden. Someone suggested that I go to a barber and ask for his leftover hair clippings. Evidently the deer are not so keen with the smell of old man hair but in actuality, neither am I. Even if I would have gotten the hair, I know for sure it would have sat in my garage forever - like Cousin It in a bag. I probably would have avoided using my garage all together. I know I thwarted a catastrophe by not picking up that fur.

Another suggestion we received was to put a hot wire (electric fence) around the garden. The only problem is with three curious kiddos and three rambunctious puppy dogs, someone was sure to get hurt. Plus, I could only imagine my boys taking a test run at putting a variety of things on the fence to see what would happen. I speak from experience and can probably name about 20 different things that conduct electricity rather well. Juicy plums, for example, will give you an especially nice, exquisite zap. I can still remember the muscles seizing in my right arm and the weird feeling I had the rest of the day, after my brother and I conducted our own series of electrical tests.

The last idea someone mentioned was to pee around the area of our garden. I thought this would be the most organic of our choices and after feeding Hubby several Budweiser beers throughout the day, I figured he may be able to do one, if not two laps around the entire garden, perhaps even stopping to write his name for good measure. But, like the hair, I knew I would never be able to till that soil again, knowing it had been defiled by a willing urinator. Even though I bypassed the liquid gold idea, I did keep feeding him hops and barley nourishment because I quickly found that a tipsy Hubby was more motivated to make my planter box as big as I wanted it rather than the dismal size he had initially mentioned. I am a master manipulator - bwahahahaha!

Looking back now, I'm wondering if I should have just went the hair, hot wire, or urine route since the bottled up liquid Hell I bought seems to be as disgusting (and way more expensive) than the rest. Do you have any suggestions? How do you keep the deer out of your garden?

Posted by Mommazilla at 11:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I've been a blog slacker due to a hideous work schedule combined with three days of photo shoots. I can say, without a doubt, that I will never be a child photographer. But enough about that. Here's some videos for your mindless enjoyment!

And because this has been such a "burning" topic lately, here's some history for ya:

Posted by Mommazilla at 02:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

When I was in 7th grade, my life revolved around our local skating rink. Every Friday, and sometimes Saturday night, my mom would haul my brother and I down to our local rink to have a few hours of fun times and new relationships. That's right, I said relationships. At the ripe 'ol age of 12, the only way for a boy crazy girl to find new meat was to hit the rink. My friends and I would scout out local boys from other schools and come home with a new boyfriend each week. I "dated" boys from all over the Eel Valley area; sometimes even twice if the pickins' were slim.

I guess I should explain to you the concept of my "dating" so as you do not think my behavior resembles that of a garden tool. Back in the days, dating meant you took the obligatory spin around the skating rink during the couple's dance. The new lovebirds would skate in endless circles, holding sweaty hands to the beat of "Purple Rain" or "Without You." The lights would be down and the strobe lighting a strobin'; It was amazing.

Throughout the school week, numerous phone calls would be exchanged, perhaps even a couple of pieces of snail mail with some pictures enclosed, and then by Friday, drama would ensue and the young love would be terminated....all in time for a new relationship to blossom. This was my form of "dating."

At this particular skating rink, there used to be a couple older boys, actually "men," who had the skills. They were the king of rink and all the girls would do their best to get their attention. Whether it be to feigning poor skating skills to wearing the tightest Bongo jeans your prepubescent body could fit into; it was all done for their benefit - even if they didn't really seem to notice. I remember lathering on as much "Tranquil Moments" as physically possible and then making my hair stand at an amazing height with a can of Aqua Net only to attract a pimply 12 year old's attention rather than the "men" of the skating rink. Rejection seemed to be a bit easier to swallow with the help of a boy who told you how "rad" he thought you were.

It seems like just yesterday, standing awkwardly with my girlfriends and plotting evil against the girls who managed to get a couples skate with these handsome rico suaves. We'd cross our fingers the skanky broads would wipe out or even better, chip a tooth on a railing, because in all fairness these hotties were our property and eye candy, not to be had by these two bit floozies. Clicking our retainers and braced marked teeth in disgust, we'd always go home promising each other to come back the following week and finally get the well deserved attention of our men. *sigh*

Flash forward to current date and time...One of the best things about a small town is that the people you knew as a child will sometimes stick around to remind you of your fun and albeit, embarrassing times. One such example can be found at my daughter's school where they hired several new teachers at the beginning of last school year. As karma would have it, one of the new teachers happened to be one of the "men" I used to fawn over at the skating rink. In fact, he was the one my little girl group was absolutely in love with and probably made the biggest fuss about. The first time I was in a room with him, I was instantly embarrassed - hoping to GAWD that marriage, three kids, and a hair color change would hide the rosy red cheeks of adolescence.

I recently told Taters about my lost "love" and my skating rink adventures. Her reply?

"Wow Mom. I can't even imagine Mr. Hottie skating around with a huge afro and those funny looking bell bottom pants. That woulda been hilarious!"

Yikes. After a quick reminder that dear old mom was only 33 she still looked at me in shock.

"Really? I was thinkin' for sure it was like 1970 or something. It's still really funny Mom. And weird. You were crushin' on a teacher!"

It's kinda funny how fate and past actions can suddenly appear to bitch slap you in the face with a dose of embarrassing reality. We all have these moments so what are yours'? Has history caught up with you yet to provide any uncomfortable, "yes that was me," moments?

Posted by Mommazilla at 04:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Wow! Can people get any dumber? At least it makes for good blog fodder!

Posted by Mommazilla at 09:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I'm not a huge fan of the grocery shopping trip. I loathe having to deal with crowds and other bargain shoppers who feel the need to be chatty or get all up in my grill when I'm checking out the rump roast. When I'm there, I just want to get the job done - as fast and efficiently as possible.

Coming from a small town and being related to half of the people I see, a simple shopping trip can take twice as long as I'd normally like. Because of this, I decided to change things up and go at a time I might not normally go which equated 10AM on a Wednesday morning. I figured my only shopping competition would be some silver-haired foxes and the occasional momma just like me - frazzled and wishing she were single.

After I dropped the big kids off at school and returned home to launder both myself and Gunny, we then set out to tackle Safeway. I must admit that I like Safeway. I know people have issues with their personal information and the whole Club Card thing but I have no problem with it. I'm a lazy shopper and prefer not to have to cut coupons. If my little red card will save me money, I could care less if they keep track of how many 12 packs of Budweiser beer I buy, or how I have an infatuation with the $2.99 Safeway cookies. Don't judge me!

Anyhoo - back to the trip at hand. Gunny and I arrived at Safeway that morning and unfortunately for me, those dang carts with the fake car attached to the cart, were sitting right at the front door. These things are full of germs, hard to steer, and they make you look STUPID while you're pushing them. And of course, Gunny loves them. After giving the door and steering wheel a quick spray of my anti-swine flu antibacterial spray, I allowed Gunny to get in and start driving. I knew I was guaranteed at least five minutes of shopping time as this was about how long it took him to get tired of riding.

The shopping trip was going great ten minutes into it. We had sang the "Bob the Builder" theme song about 45 times and had gotten our free cookie from the bakery. On a side note, did you know that Bob's cat's name is Pilchard? What the heck kinda name is that? Gunny now calls Piper and Gracie, "Pilchawd!" and it just sounds wrong.

We had managed to get half way through the store when Gunny began to rear his ugly toddler head. It first began with some excited shrieks and screams in the cereal aisle. I was able to deal with this using my motherly death ray stare. Our next drama was by the paper towel rolls where he heard a particularly catchy song via the store speakers. I saw him jump out of the car and then begin raising his elbows side to side. Thinking he was in pain, I rushed to his side only to be informed that he was "dancwin." After he got his groove in, I managed to get him back in and finish up the shopping.

Things went fairly smooth until check-out. It's amazing how a child can miraculously sprout the arms of an octopus when you are trying to load your groceries, find your debit card, and answer "No!" 17 times when your child repeatedly asks for Skittles or Hubba-Bubba. Picking chewy, icky things out of my car's carpet was no fun and I learned my lesson.

As I frantically rushed to unload my cart and keep Gunny contained in the car portion, I saw out of the corner of my eye that he had located a magazine and was reading it. He was pacified and quiet, so I let it be while I finished up.

In front of our cart, was a sweet little lady completing her purchase. She smiled sweetly at Gunny and commented on what a precious little boy he was. I smiled back with my teeth - sans eyes - because I know the inner toddler demon who puts on a good show for sweet little old ladies. As she shakily wrote out her check, I could hear Gunny call to me.

"Momma. Mommmmaaaa. Momma! Wook at her buttcwack. Its got poop in it! It stinkkksss!" he proclaimed with a shriek to emphasize the stinky portion of his observation.

I looked down, appalled, as to what my sweet little boy was referring to. Opened up in his lap with his chubby, little grimy finger pointed to a firm bikini clad hiney, was the current Sports Illustrated swim-suit edition. He was ever so carefully slipping through the pages to see how many "buttcwacks" he could locate.

The little old lady in front of us smiled, "What did he say?" and I answered back that Gunny didn't yet talk but was very loud with his sounds. Whatever she thought she heard, she surely didn't. Afterall, he was such a precious little boy. Right.

After I pried the magazine ou of his sweaty little grips, refusing to buy it much to his lispy protests, I took him out to the car and had the "buttcwack talk" with him. Again.

"Gunny, everyone has a butt and everyone poops." I looked back at him and saw him listening intently.

"Dat's wight, Momma. Evywon has buttcwacks. And poop stiiiinnnkkss!"

Well, he has the right idea, it's just a matter of getting him over this current butt affliction and onto a less embarrassing infatuation. I doubt that will ever happen - especially with little boys.

Posted by Mommazilla at 06:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

As I was sprawled out on my bed this morning, watching TV and *thinking* about getting up, I noticed a flurry of activity out my sliding glass door. As I looked out, I saw our mallard duck, Paris, walk by with about a dozen ducklings in tow.

WTF?

Had she really been gone for 20+ days and I didn't notice? Did she steal them from another hen and leave the poor gal's body in the woods? She doesn't seem the type...

Nope, these little cuties look just like their momma and I have a feeling Big Fred, the drake from up the street, had something to do with it.

I did my best to run out in my bathrobe and catch a few shots but it was to no avail. She quickly sequestered her babies in the tall grass and feigned having an injured wing. I took it as a good hint I was being a pain in her feathery butt and I left her alone.

The duck pool is again filled with large rocks so as to prevent any duckling drownings and my heart is filled with joy as my kiddos don't know anything yet. What a great thing to come home from after school - fuzzy babies.

Posted by Mommazilla at 09:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

C-dub just lost his second tooth and Hubby took it upon himself to assist the tooth fairy with her financial donation. As he came out of C-dub's room, he had a huge smile on his face proclaiming that he had "done the deed." When I asked him how much the deed had cost, he threw this total at me:

$5

Ouch! After a brief discussion, the $5 was replaced with a $1 bill. And to think, I only got a quarter left in a shot glass...

How much does the tooth fairy leave in your house? Help me convince Hubby that inflation isn't that bad!

Posted by Mommazilla at 09:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Too all the moms out there, have a wonderful Mother's Day!

Posted by Mommazilla at 05:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Humboldt County is currently trying to find a new coroner and the Humboldt County Board of Supervisors recently published the 14 applications they received and approved. The public, in-session interviews begin on Monday, May 11th, and they are accepting public comments about the applicants (prior to the interviews).

I personally thought this was fascinating reading and it quickly made me understand that I had no clue what a coroner actually does. I thought the coroner was the person who actually performed the autopsies and so on but after reading the applications and realizing that many of them had no experience in the medical field, I decided to do a little Googling to better inform myself. From what I gather, the Coroner is the administrator for the department and they oversee the medical professionals that come in to to do the CSI sorta stuff. It's a huge responsibility and I hope the Board of Supervisors find a great candidate.

For your reading pleasure, here is our Humboldt County Coroner's website's mission statement:

Investigates all deaths reportable to the coroner; safeguards property of the deceased; notifies and counsels next of kin; conducts inquests; administers estates; provides burial for indigent persons.

Posted by Mommazilla at 03:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Cat yodeling.

Posted by Mommazilla at 05:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Be prepared, stamp prices are going up again starting Monday, May 11th, 2009. Rather than $.42 a stamp, they will go up to $.44 a stamp. This just torks me since I recently bought two sheets of stamps and will now have to buy some penny stamps. At $.44 a stamp, and with no guarantee that your item will get to it's intended spot, I think I'll stick to e-mails and online bill paying. At least that's free...for the time being.

Posted by Mommazilla at 04:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

One of the world's best dogs passed on today after living almost 15 years with our family. Her name was Peggy Sue and she never fully realized she was a dog.

Peggy Sue was a Rhodesian ridge back cross that my parents adopted from a gal who had originally rescued her from a bad situation. Peggy Sue showed right from the start how smart she was, learning tricks quickly and being uber gentle with aggressive love pats from the various kids who found her ears absolutely delightful. They were so soft that when she laid her head on your lap, you could rub them for hours and she'd certainly never complain.

As my brother and I eventually moved out, leaving empty rooms, Peggy Sue was given her own bedroom and took over as my parent's third child. She loved it and so did my parents. She went everywhere with them and would come over on occasion to our house for play dates. She was one of those dogs who had a high self esteem and would keep herself perfectly groomed and ever so ladylike. She didn't really care for our stinky golden retriever, but she'd oblige Remi with a quick game of tug-o-war or "who can run the fastest across the yard for the rotten apple" chase. Needless to say, Peggy Sue would always win. That dog was so fast and agile.

Peggy Sue truly wrapped her tail around all of our hearts and we'll miss her greatly.

Rainbow Bridge ~ Author Unknown

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Posted by Mommazilla at 03:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Ok, a totally tacky name for this posting, but heck, it works. I go to Ferndale one day a week due to a dance class for Taterbug. I normally drive the backroads and then drive some more, in an effort to get the boys to fall asleep. The $10 in gas is entirely worth the one hour of peace and quiet I get, this one time a week.

When the boys are feeling especially cooperative and I've popped enough Ativan and drank enough coffee to find life exhilarating again, I'll take them to visit some family members - at the local cemetery. C-dub loves this place and is surprisingly respectful when we visit. Gunny is normally well-behaved when we walk around, almost as if the great grandparents we're visiting are providing me with a little helping hand to keep him under control.

Here are some shots that I took today. It truly is one of the prettiest places in the Eel Valley.

Posted by Mommazilla at 09:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I never have a complete pair of socks in my house because Piper and Gracie think they're cotton mice. It's gotten to the point that I have to sneak clean clothes into my room and then immediately deposit socks into their drawers for fear they will be stalked and stolen.

Piper is especially bad about this. She is rabid for the sock mice in our house. It all starts with the evil eye:

She fights voraciously for her prey:

Even protecting Gunny from it's cottony sockmouse evilness:

After the battle has been won, she sequesters herself amongst my clean sheets, in a catmooflauged state:

I'm just happy the sockmice are bloodless because it would be a freakin' mess if they had internal organs.

Posted by Mommazilla at 08:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I was tagged by Bri over at her blog, Such Is My Life. I'm supposed to give you eight answers to eight different things so be prepared for 64 statements of awesomness! Ok, not really awesome but maybe interesting - if you're a family member at least.

8 Things I'm looking forward to:

1. Re-financing our mortgage.
2. The end of potty training.
3. My 11 year wedding anniversary.
4. The Poison/Def Leppard/Cheap Trick concert. Aqua Net anyone?
5. Retirement
6. Economy stabilization - if that ever happens.
7. Hunting season (I don't hunt but I do shop. Hubby gone = children gone = happy momma)
8. Starting my photo business.

8 Things I did yesterday:

1. Thought about blogging but didn't do it.
2. Worked
3. Ate. A lot.
4. Slept terrible.
5. Kissed my kids.
6. Kissed the Hubby.
7. Worked some more.
8. Smacked the cats. They deserved it, really.

8 Things I wish I could do:

1. Win the lottery.
2. Chill out.
3. Be pregnant again with a sweet little angel that isn't a one man demolition derby who resents the potty.
4. Go to Ireland.
5. Spend more quality time with Hubby - sans children.
6. Write a book that's been kicking around in my head for years.
7. Spend more individual quality time with each of the kidlets.
8. Break dance. Well, maybe. * insert Butterfly Twist and an Insane Corkscrew here*

8 Shows I watch:

1. Law and Order
2. Chowder (not always by choice)
3. Dexter
4. Trueblood
5. Rock of Love (Think of it as homework for my concert.)
6. I Love Money
7. Deadliest Catch
8. Ax Men

8 Songs on my music player:

1. After Party - Ozomatli
2. Sex on Fire - Kings of Leon
3. Zero - Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs
4. Ghetto Love - Spinnerette
5. Love My Family - The Roots
6. Bad Girl - Danity Kane
7. Mojo - Peeping Tom
8. Make It Wit Chu - Queens of the Stoneage

8 Favorite warm weather activities:

1. Camping
2. Taking fun pictures.
3. Gardening
4. Swimming
5. Visiting Petrolia and Punta Gorda light house.
6. Margarita making and drinking.
7. Rummage sales
8. Topless sunbathing. This is Hubby's request but it just ain't gonna happen.

8 Favorite Happy Things:

1. Sharing the bed with three clean and sweet smelling little children.
2. Sitting by a campfire with Hubby and discussing life with cold beers in hand.
3. Watching the kittens play and wrestle.
4. Glass bottom kayaks in Cozumel.
5. My children's belly laughs without any trouble attached.
6. A three course meal: In-N-Out, Coldstone Creamery, popcorn at the movies.
7. Girl's Night Out where anything goes and lips are sealed ;-).
8. Whiterock Resort, a private hot tub, and three happy children willing to spend three days couped up without the internet or TV.

8 People I tag:

Jen
Jennifer
Bobbi
Beth
Tracey
Debbie
John
Deanna

Posted by Mommazilla at 04:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I. Have. Had. It. Seriously. What do jelly beans, pretzels and Capri-Sun have in common? They make a great squishy mess on a pair of otherwise clean twin-size Nemo sheets.

After having seen Gunny's latest mess, Taterbug's reply was:

"Mom, we should put Gunny in a 'Hello Kitty' suit. By day, he's a cute little kitty. At night, well, you could just drop the 'O' and figure it out yourself."

Gosh I love that girl.

Posted by Mommazilla at 04:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

It's amazing the language skills Gunny is acquiring each day. He is really seeming to grasp the concept of many different words and he impresses me with his strong sense of knowing just what to say and when to say it. He has especially taken a strong liking to discovering new words when discussing my hair. I recently committed a major Gunny faux pas in that I did a massive change in my hair color without his prior permission. I went from a light brown with blonde highlights to a dark brown with red highlights. I needed a change in my life and this seemed to be the cheapest and most drastic form I could deal with.

From the original day at the salon to my bed hair today, his favorite word to describe my new do has been:

Ugalee

When he originally saw me at the salon on the big day, he refused to acknowledge me as his mother, to this morning when I woke up causing him to frown in disgust; his word choice has not wavered. Gunny hates my hair and lets me know on a daily basis.

Momma, yowr hair wooks UGALEE. I don't yike it oneeeee bit.

While I'm so proud of his use of words and sentence structure, I wish he'd just get over it. Sure, my feelings are hurt just a tad bad but then again, I realize I should not be taking my fashion advice from a short little dude who normally has his lunch smeared across his face and clothes. The little dude who wears a cat perch for a hat and his brother's dirty underwear for a mask. Yeah, he doesn't have a pot to piddle in when it comes to high fashion.

Does he not remember this:

Or how 'bout this:

And a Momma never forgets this fashion disaster:

So no, I don't feel too self-conscious when my little monstah chooses to call my hair "ugalee". Because I still remember this day. When he thought he thought he looked BOOTIFUL:

I love ya buddy, but get over it. I may just do purple next time to really freak you out. You ain't seen ugalee yet.

Posted by Mommazilla at 02:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)