It's all over

Max has found his pee-pee. Terrific.

Here's a funny for the day:

What is Bipolar Disorder?

Another issue as of late I've been dealing with. Interesting info. Disregard the spanish "Dr." Ben Stiller is my new BFF.

What is Depression?

Just a little info on what I have been dealing with for years. At this point I am in the 'Major Depression' category. Hopefully people will start to understand and accept that it is REAL.

Max is 9 months!

Max was 9 months on October 22. His stats at his check up were this:

29 1/4 in long = 90%
22 lbs 8 oz = 97%
47 cm head circ = 97%

They are going off the preemie scale for him still, so that makes his precentages a little higher, but he is still a big boy!

He is playing peek-a-boo, patty cake, waving bye-bye, giving kisses, scooting on his bum, and walking all over if he is holding your hands. He wants nothing to do with crawling or being on his tummy. At all.

He still has reflux. We tried him off his meds for a week or so and back came the projectile spit ups. Dr Johnson says the 'vagus nerve' (gag reflex) doesn't form fully in preemies (or something) so it is common. Wierd to call him a preemie.

Also, since babies aren't raised on their tummies anymore, and for sure Max wasn't, it is normal for him to not be moving around as much. I was worried about this. He also said when they are big babies it is way harder for them to move thier weight around. I knew this and kind of thought of it as a fat joke, but really, it must be hard. It's hard for me to move myself around! Manda's baby Blake moves a lot more, but also is a lot lighter.

They pricked his toe for a hemoglobin and he didn't care. He looked at his toe, then looked at the nurse and smiled. The shots, however, he did not smile for.

catch up

I've got a few things:

1st: 2 new pet peeves added - see sidebar.

2nd: Upon reflection, ghosts are realy just dead people, right? Why the hell did someone think draping a sheet over a body would make them look like a ghost? No, it looks like a ghost with a sheet over them. I'm just sayin....

3rd: I've always been confused by the fact that Sewing Machines and Vacuums have been categorized together. Are they really that similar? I think it is freaking wierd. It borderline ticks me off. Then, I got thinking that those Flag-Map stores are awkward too.... they have nothing to do with each other directly either, and those stores definately piss me off. Why would anyone every want to go there? Get a map on your way out of town while you are getting gas and a drink. You don't need a flag. No one does. Then, a little closer to home, copies and party supplies (@ Pioneer Party)? And at one time there were also prescriptions there too. Did someone just think one day while making a copy, "Man, I wish they had a pinata here," or "It would be so convenient if I could pick up some valium when I pick up the kids birthday party balloons," (That one might be valid) But you get what I'm saying here? Crazy combinations.

pet peeve # 329

If there is no construction & no wreck - WHY ARE PEOPLE GOING SLOW????? It makes me so dang mad when I am sitting in traffic, thinking there better be some blood going on, life flight, something, and all of a sudden traffic is flowing and there was nothing. Why the hell did everyone slow down?? Ughhh!!!

tuesday night bath

I like this little guy

freaking funny

I came across this today and laughed out loud. He freaking HATES it!! Ha! You know when Elaine is yelling "Stella" on Seinfeld? That is what he looks like. Love it!

Thriller

I have had a lot of people tell me how they'd love to be a fly on the wall at one of my family gatherings. Well folks, here's your chance. Me, my mom, 2 sisters, neice and her friend, and nephew went to see Thriller tonight. It was awesome - makes me wish/want to dance again so bad! Anyway, we went last year also, hoping we will make a tradition of it. One of my sisters said something that I thought was funny, so I started listening just randomly to the things we were saying. For protection, I will leave them anonymous. Here are a few favorites:

"There is a fine line between acting like a zombie and acting like a handicap."

"I'm getting anxiety...."

"Owen, shut up!"

"Macie, shut up!"

"Are we supposed to feel bad for that shopping cart?"

"That clown looks like your boyfriend. Really."

"Don't"

"Flock of Seagulls!"

"That girl has such a nice body. Seriously, look at her abs. I can't even concentrate on anything else. Look at that. Wow."

3 minutes later: "No really, look at her abs."

"Now I'm getting pissed."

"Didn't you have a prom dress that looked llike that?"

"That is giving me anxiety."

"I think I feel like I am high."

"Don't"

"That guy in the dress reminds me of PeeWee Herman." (*this is my favorite)

"Macie, seriously, sit the hell down,"

"His head came off! Mom, his head is off and fwoating!"

"Don't"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"That was about 3 minutes too long."

"I am so distracted by that guys huge package."

"That might have gone too far right there. I feel dirty."

"Don't"

"Why are they wearing bloody church clothes?"

"Owen, shhhhhh! Really!"

"Don't"

"What the hell is mom laughing about? Seriously, it wasn't funny."

"OWEN: shut up!"

And might I add this: I've been a dancer. I understand the need for close fitting clothing. But there is NO NEED, I repeat, NO NEED for me to be seeing a guys whole package. Pork, beans, and all. It is very distracting. Cup? A size bigger pants? Something. I can't handle it. I it is not attractive, at all. In fact, look at this. They aren't dancers, but it gets my point across.

See what i'm saying??? Unacceptable.

my mr. blue eyes

awww

I am doing a private blog to just journal Max's life & milestones and came across this picture of him in the NICU. I don't know why, but I just love it. Looks like a little indian baby in a papoose :)

1992 called

Watching DWTS the other night, I got pissed off. After a minute, I realized why; this little peach and teal number. For the life of me, I cannot fathom, why - what would be going on in someones mind, in their life, that would make them think these two colors look good together. They didn't look good in 1992 and they still don't.

(How's this for creepy)

They remind me of enrichment night craft colors, 1992. Some kind of toll painted doll with straw hair + red dots on the cheeks for 'blush' - that kind of vibe, you know?

Man, I get worked up sometimes. I have anxiety now.

He thinks peek-a-boo is freaking FUNNY!!

LAZY new car!

We took the plunge and traded in the gas consuming truck. We were very sad to part with it. I think Benj felt like a little girl downgrading to a car, but he's better now. We got the 2010 Ponitac G6. It is pretty nice. Saves us on monthly payment & GAS, and doesn't save us on car insurance, contrary to what the damn finance man at the dealership told us. D-bag. Anyway, we are pretty happy about it (I'm not overly thrilled about the color silver, dark peweter/charocoal would have been my selection, but didn't have a choice...)

However,

This is how lazy I have gotten. In the truck, the music controls were on the steering wheel. New car, they are not. Now, I have to not only move my chubby little finger, but my whole fat flapping arm down to change the channel or adjust the volume. It's just too much. I was pissed for a few days and then I realized why, kind of smiled about how lazy people are, then now I am pissed again. I guess I'll just have to hook up the iPod, on a cord, so I can hold it in my limp stout hand and not move. Another thing that has been brought to my attention with this situation (which, by the way, who/what the hell is this 'Situation' person on DWTS?? Don't.), is that in our other car, that I am now driving, (which sucks also, that I am back to my post-high school car. The deal is, whoever drives farther to work gets the car with better MPG. B-i-n-g-o, Benj wins.), the seat belt buckle doesn't have a stopper thing on it so when not in use, it slides down to the bottom of the car halfway under your seat. Have you, my friend, ever been fat? It is hard enough squeezing yourself into a sedan, but to have to contort yourself and your huge arm down underneath the seat you are siting on....and then once/if you do get it hooked up, my large chest shuffles the harness all over so I try to stuff it under my boobs but I want to put in under my pit but know that isn't proper and I might as well take the whole damn thing off and then feel guilty. Screw it. I'm not wearing my seat belt in that car. It's just a large amount of hassle, that on some days, I am not willing to deal with. (I know my logical friends out there (Manda, Cher) will argue that 'How big of a hassle will it be when you die and Max doesn't have a mom?? Huh? How about that hassle???") And to you I say, we all know that I am only half serious most of the time. So take that.

With all of that being said, I'm considering this: http://www.svsurgical.com/

positions

I'm a snuggler. Benj was a snuggler when we were dating. Now, he thinks touching his pinkie toe to my ankle bone is sunggling. Even that almost sends him over the edge (These are the kinds of things we try to learn while we are dating, kids.....). Let's just go over a few of my favorites:

The classic bobsled hand hold. Both on our backs, holding hands. Simple. This is the most used in our house, since Benj, apparently, isn't real touch-ie.

The spoon. I always have to be the big spoon, which pisses me off when he calls me 'big', which causes me to feel big, which sends me into a pissed/sad mode, and just ends up not good. Why the hell can't Benj be the big spoon? Why??

And my favorite: The limp spoon. This is where somehow we get past the big spoon thing and are spooning (I am saying spoon a lot). Then, about 20 minutes into it, we are both almost asleep, and he turns to a 45 degree angle, toward me, so his back is now on top of my right arm. My left arm is still in the regular spooning position. Man, this is a comfortable one.

All of these are better when ambien is involved.

nuts

This hits home today......

taser story

I'm sure some of you have heard this, but my hell it is funny. It is SOOOOO Benj. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I would have thought Benj was narrating this little diddy in the first 2 paragraphs. Sort of long, but worth it. Enjoy.

Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse- sized tazer. The effects of the tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety....?? WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. AWESOME!!! Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-A batteries, right? There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and tazer in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.
All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and (loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, 'no possible way!' What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best.. .?
I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, 'don't do it dipshit,' reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and . .
HOLY MOTHER OF SAM . . WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION . . . WHAT THE HELL!!!
I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs? The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.
Note: If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a tazer, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor.. A three second burst would be considered conservative?
IT HURT LIKE HELL!!!
A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was. My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. I had no control over the drooling.
Apparently I pooped on myself, but was too numb to know for sure and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head which I believe came from my hair. I'm still looking for my nuts and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!
P.s... My wife, can't stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it!

classic

I got this randomly in the mail from Cher. It pretty much sums up our friendship/past together. Honestly, I don't even know what to say, other than please, everyone, notice her foot.

the egyptians were smart

I love these things. The penguin is my fav.

Dear Tess,

I HATE YOU.

NO!

White jeans= NO

White skinny jeans = HELL NO

White skinny jeans on a guy = HELL TO THE NO

White skinny jeans on a guy with his package visible = PLEASE, PLEASE NO!!!!

cuerno grande

Just some cool pictures of my parents property down at the Big Horn Ranch. They have really made our camp look amazing. Right out of Better Homes and Gardens. I'm new to the 'collage' deal, obviously, and deleted some of the pictures while posting them and I'll be damned if I am going to re-do anything at this point. You get the gist.

good words

pet peeve #496......

Honestly, Benj, is it that hard to make it in the basket? Ok, so you suck at making baskets: PICK IT UP. Grrr. Love you though.

smart idea

Genius marketing idea. This appeals to the 1% of people who are just randomly driving around looking for a house, and the other 1% who didn't mapquest what they were looking for and just happened to 'drive right by it'. Chances are, if they missed the whole subdivision, they are going to also miss the 6x8 sign. Wouldn't it be more effective to put the signs before the community? I'm just sayin.

birth control

Can I just take a moment here and talk about the last 30 minutes of my Tuesday babysitting adventure. I know I have brought this up before, and I'm going to bring it up again. Close your eyes (not literally) and picture this:

In the background: 6 hound dogs, a "coyote" dog, and 2 mutts, barking/howling, not even exaggerating, for 1 hour straight. A tired bronchitis Max semi-whining. I also have Em's 2 kids and a neighbor kid. Neighbor kid is going to the bathroom and I hear glass shatter. I run in and a piece of pottery or whatever had fallen and broke. I'm holding whiney bronchitis, mind you, who is now also sleepy AND has started to throw himself backward, you know how they do.... I tell the kid to go outside and play. 400 dogs still chiming in the background. I lay down bronchitis and tie a balloon to him. Go in and try to pick up the glass, which for some reason is all wet..... Insert: Owen yelling from the back door: "Sardee, you have to come squirt off my foot!" I'm sweaty sweaty and shuffled, bronchitis is hysterical, pick him back up. ME: "Why, Owen, do I need to squirt off your foot? For hell sakes!!" OWEN: "I didn't see and accidentally stepped in poop. I didn't see it Sardee," Meanwhile, one of the hounds has gotten out and is on top of the neighbors 20 foot hay stack, her saggy nipples flopping all over. I had to add that part because it specifically pissed me off. Sweat. Tell Owen that under no circumstance is he to step foot in the house. Go wipe it on clean lawn, dip it in the pool, and I'll be out in a second. Bark bark. He's crying because "coyote" dog is following him around licking him. I yell at dog. I yell at the 4 other dogs who have migrated on the back step and are howling and licking and trying to get in. I might have kicked one. I hate those damn dogs. Flip through the pantry to find a cardboard something to put the glass in. Dump out oatmeal, head for the bathroom. Bronchitis cry cry, grab my hair, flop backward. Sweating heavily. Why is the house so damn hot?? OWEN: "Sardee, hurry!!" ME: "Hang ON!" OWEN: "Dudley (the 'coyote' dog) is licking my face!" ME: "Kick him!!" Bronchitis cry, whine. Pick up glass in bathroom. Why is it wet? Bark. Go outside, sweating, turn on hose. 45 dogs licking, 'nose-ing' me, etc. Tell Owen to sit his butt down on the step, I'm going to spray. Spray poopy foot. Doesn't come off. Try to get back up the steps, sweat. Dogs in the way. Bronchitis. I get in, find the box of baby wipes and throw them out the door. Tell Owen to wipe his foot as good as he can, put on his crocs and come inside and sit his ass down on the couch until I can gather myself. Bronchitis whine, thrust backward, grab my hair. Step on wet carpet. What is this? Oh, Owen spilled milk on the rug earlier and didn't tell me. Warm milk rug kuh-kuh on my foot. Speaking of my foot, while outside, I evidently stepped in mud or dirt or who-the-hell-knows-what and tracked it thru the house. Owen comes in, looks like he peed his pants. I know I squirted him, but not up there..? Owen, did you pee? No, Sardee. Whatever, I don't even care. Also, in the meantime, the neighbor kid's brother comes over to get him, didn't shut the front door, 9 million of those 'listless' flies come in and are hovering around. I hate listless flies. Bark. Howl. He doesn't dare get by the dogs who are bursting through the back door. I am yelling for kid to go home, his brother is here to get him. Poop foot. Sweat. Bronchitis. Then it dawned on me why the glass was wet. Kid was peeing, scared him, pee all over the floor. Em came home and I hit the door runnin. My hell. In her defense, the kids really were good, it was just a shuffle at the end there, and thank goodness Anna slept thru it....geez! Pretty much Max is looking like an only child. **SIGH**

great expectations....

Sometimes I am so overwhelmed with all the expectations I put upon myself and I feel like other put on me. No wonder I feel like crap-o all the time, I feel constant guilt because I can't physically or mentally keep up! I made a list of all the things I feel expected to do and whether or not I am meeting those, pretty much to show Benj because he didn't get it. Of course he thinks it is ridiculous. Just to name a few: Daily scriptures, personal prayer, family prayer, spouse prayer, visiting teaching, enrichment activities, attending all church meetings, food storage, attending temple (church stuff), at least dinner each night (should be all meals really), deep-ish clean once a week, daily sweep, counters, general clean up, vacuum if needed, keep yard up, get the mail and go thru it, dishes, pack Max's diaper bag at least twice, make bottles, do all feeding, Max meds, diaper changes, bathing, lotioning, put to sleep, clean up throw up & dirty diapers, teach Max (gospel, crawl, walk, books, etc), keep different stimuli going with him, work part time (there is a lot involved in that = STRESS), meet Benj's emotional & spiritual needs as a wife, keep him 'satisfied', visit & keep up relationships with both sides of family (& friends), keep myself fed and dressed and halfway clean, etc, etc, ETC. Let alone anything extra, like helping family, Dr. appointments, or going on a date. And no really, that is not all of them, I just can't think of them all. My hell, I can't take it sometimes. I really don't feel like any of these things are asking too much, just normal for a mom & wife & employee. I don't want to hear the 'welcome to motherhood' line, I KNOW that this is part of it, and maybe I wasn't ready. Maybe I wasn't ready for marriage. The whole "He won't give you anything you can't handle" idea sometimes just doesn't make any sense to me. I guess I'll go take an Ativan. Or two.

good one

Saw this tonight - freaking funny! Loved it!