1.  I worked and worked on a post last night about how much I hate going outside.  I eventually deleted it because it all boiled down to this:  Whine, whine, whine.  Ella can’t walk yet, it’s hard to take her outside.  Whine, whine, whine some more.  Also, I hate the EXPLETIVE wind here in Indiana.  The end.

2.  Since I deleted that post, all I have for you today is a list of things I’ve been meaning to talk about but don’t want to write an entire post.

3.  Yes I know people hate these kind of posts.

4.  **shrugs shoulders**  Too bad.

5.  For the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why people liked twitter so much.  I mean, I had an account, but I couldn’t figure out how people were participating in conversations.  A few days ago I downloaded twhirl.  It has changed my twittering life and added one more time suck to my life.  For this I am grateful.  (Can you see me rolling eyes?)  I just thought that those of you who are slow like me, would like to know about it and be sucked in, too. 

Twhirl is a twitter tool that you download.  It shows up as a little icon down in the bottom right corner and dings every few minutes when people you follow post updates.  You can also post updates from twhirl, shorten urls and read/write direct messages.   It’s much easier than going directly to twitter and hitting refresh every few minutes.

I’m not sure whether to say, “You’re welcome!” or “I’m sorry.”

6.  I just sold my couch on Craigslist.  Like, I REALLY just sold it minutes ago.  The lady came by and said she’d take it!  Woo hoo! 

7.  At least once a month I get an email from someone asking me how I got the number of subscribers/readers/traffic…that I have.  I’ve been thinking that I might start a series of posts talking about what I’ve done to gain and maintain readers.  The first post would be a general overview talking about different social networking sites, reciprocity, blog design (blah, blah, blah) and the subsequent posts would talk about each one in depth.

Is anyone interested in reading about this?  I would only post these type of posts on the weekends and save my SUPER BRILLIANT mommyblogging for the week. 

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Flashdance, 1983

[Pictures DELETED!]
She’s a maniac, maniac on the floor, and she’s dancing like she’s never danced befor-or-ore.

Shhh.  It’s Wordless Wednesday.

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Dear Mother-in-Law and Father-in-Law,

Thank you for offering to watch my two darling children today and allowing me a little alone time with the laptop.  Your thoughfulness will never be forgotten.

Love,

Jennifer

**

Dear Indiana BMV,

B?  MV?  That should have been my first clue that you’re a stupidhead.  Shouldn’t you be the DMV??  Anyway, I’m not writing to bitch about your name, but rather the fact that you’re closed on Mondays.  Screw you.

Your nemesis,

Jennifer “The Pulverizer” Playgroupie

**

Dear Comcast,

You still suck. 

From,

You know who the hell this is because I keep calling you and you keep NOT calling me back.

**

Dear Manufacturers of Digital SLR Cameras,

Hi!  I’m a blogger with respectable enough traffic.  I’d like to review your camera(s) on my blog.  All you have to do is send me one for review.  I promise to only say nice things about your camera on my blog if you pretty please send me a camera.  I’m willing to sell you my soul.  Please send me a camera. 

Thank you in advance!

Sincerely, REALLY, REALLY Sincerely,

Jennifer

PS.  I’d also like a free trip somewhere.  Anywhere.  For free!  Kthnxbai!

**

Dear Me,

Stop eating so much.  Throw away the cake and the leftovers.  Have you noticed your flabby arms?  Of course you have. 

Yours truly,

Me

**

Dear Carson,

I’m your mommy.  I gave birth to you and suffered through your colic.  I will continue to suffer through many stages of your life and yet I still love you.  I will always love you.  All I want is for you to kiss me goodnight.  It hurts my feelings when you laugh in my face and scream “NO!!!” when I ask for a goodnight kiss.

If you don’t give me goodnight kisses, I’ll be forced to take away your John Deere tractors.  I’m not kidding.

Big wet kisses,

Mommy

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Why?  WHY???  Why do I eat SO MUCH food, knowing how rotten I’ll feel afterwards???

This past weekend, we celebrated Ella’s first birthday with five pounds of pulled pork, six slabs of ribs, 27 gallons (not really, but A LOT) of potato salad, 40 tons (kidding!) of baked beans, and a huge sheet cake covered in homemade buttercream icing.

Also, beer. 

I’m certain that I ate my weight, well my previous weight in food this weekend.  Friday, I ate at least 2 cups of icing.  “Butter, I’d like to introduce you to my ass.  Ass, this is butter.” 

If I owned a scale, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it screamed at me, “You’ve gained 27 pounds, you idiot. Ever heard of putting the fork down?  Dummy.”

Eventhough my brain told me that my stomach was BEYOND full, I just kept shoveling it in.  WHY???  Why can’t I stop when I’m full?  I didn’t need seconds!  Or thirds!  Or to eat on Sunday at all!  I’m suffering from a massive food hangover right now.  Can you hear me moaning??

I promised pictures of my painstakingly decorated cake.  Seriously, I’m so full right now that even looking at this cake makes me feel even more ill.  **moan**

Since I’m already moaning and groaning, let’s discuss my cake decorating woes.  CRUMBS!  I curse you crumbs!  Despite my crumb layer and putting the cake in the fridge before the final layer, the icing was still crummy.  Delicious, yes, but so crummy.  Grrr.  Also, even with the fancy tips, I had a really hard time making a pretty edge.  And the writing on the cake! Carson could have done a better job. **moooooo-oooh-ooan**

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.[picture removed]

Quite the helpful boy
Offered to clean up spilled milk
Husband in training

Yesterday, after having just mopped the floor, Ella purposely dropped her sippy cup FULL of very expensive organic milk, which promptly spilled and left a huge mess for me to clean up.

I spend the majority of my days wondering if my son has been possessed by a teenage premenstral girl with all of his irrational tanturms and drama. Sometimes, however, Carson’s female characteristics suit him well.  After seeing the spilled milk, his womanly intuition told him that Mommy was very angry (or maybe, just maybe, he heard me cursing under my breath and saw my eyes nearly bulge out of my head, and heard my fists pound on the countertop…either way).

“It’s otay, Mommy.  Tawson twean it up!” [Carson clean it up.]

I watched in awe as he searched for his play vacuum cleaner.  (”Batuum??  Batuum?? [vacuum] Where are you??”  Could you just die from the cuteness!)  Proudly he brought it into the kitchen and began “vacuuming” the area around Ella’s high chair.

Looking very proud, he said, “Mommy not andwy [angry]!  All twean!”

Everybody together now….”Aaaaaaah!”

I’m willing to begin taking applications for those interested in being his future wife.  The line forms here.

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In the two and a half years that we’ve been parents, we have only used a babysitter once.  Sure we’ve left the kids with my in-laws on several occasions, but haven’t really used the services of a real live-zitty-braces wearing-angst ridden-sexual experimenting-text messaging-teenage babysitter.  I think that living far from family and never really having any help with the kids has made me skiddish when it comes to trusting other people to care for my kids.

To be honest, I’m scared to death to leave my kids with someone.  Some of my fears are valid.  What if something bad happens while I’m gone?  What if she hurt my children?  What if she wasn’t paying attention while the kids were eating and one of them choked?  What if, what if, what if…?  My brain could explode from all the what ifs. 

Some of my fears aren’t really fears at all, but rather my controlling personality taking over.  I honestly feel like I’m irreplaceable and that no one else can do my “job” like I can.  A babysitter couldn’t possibly know how I hold Ella just so before laying her in her bed to go to sleep.  A babysitter won’t know what Carson is asking for and he’ll end up crying for three hours because she didn’t read the penants on his wall before he went to bed.

Writing that OUTLOUD makes me realize I need to get over myself.  I also realize that I need time away from my kids, and not just on the weekends when Tate is home.  An opportunity to go on a date with my husband would be wonderful, too.

I’ve been given the numbers of two potential and highly recommended babysitters.  Actually, I’ve had their numbers for weeks and have yet to work up the nerve to call either one.  I’m not sure what to even say if I were to work up my nerve.  “Um, hi.  Could you come over so that I can meet you and reassure me that you’re not going to inappropriately touch my child or shoot up heroine in my bathroom?  Maybe you come over at 10:30 so we could meet?  No?  Why?  Is that the time you’re meeting your dealer or your pimp??”

I do think that interviewing a potential babysitter is necessary, but the thought makes me even more nervous than calling and ordering a pizza.  I really don’t know what to ask (and my cynical side tells me that they aren’t going to be exactly forthcoming with the sketchy details about their upbringings or slimy boyfriends.) Also, what is the going rate for a babysitter?  We paid our one attempt babysitter $10/hour which I thought was excessive, but also a sort of insurance policy.

Please help.  Mommy going crazy.  In need of alone time.  Got spoiled on Mother’s Day.

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It has been SIX WHOLE DAYS since Ella’s first birthday and I haven’t posted even ONE cake eating extravaganza picture.   And I call myself a mommyblogger.    I should be put on probation!

(My inner Martha Stewart feels that I must explain this ugly cake. Pardon my inability to remain silent for Wordless Wednesday. I’m baking and decorating a luau themed cake with real buttercream icing for her birthday party this weekend. I opted to use shhhhhcanned frostingshhhhh and sprinkles for her on-her-birthday birthday cake. I feel better getting that off my chest.) (Would also feel better if I could scrape the remains of all this cake I’ve eaten off my ass.)

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I dunno about this headband, Mom.  I look stupid.

No you don’t!  You look precious.  Leave it on so Mommy can get pictures!  I’ll give you caaaake!

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Hmmm? Cake, you say?

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Can’t.  Talk.  Eating.  Nom, nom, nom. Munch, munch, munch.  Cake GOOD.

High five for cake!

[picture removed]

To go see people who follow the rules of Wordless Wednesday, go here!

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