What really happens?  I get my cup of coffee, place it on the windowsill behind the couch. Plop my chunky monkey butt down on the couch in preparation of mindless wall staring.  Ahhh, I can almost feel the total relaxation.  

D’oh!  Within a minute, the cat is on the windowsill and knocks over my coffee!  My beautiful full cup of coffee that was screaming out my name …Jenny…sip me…. Oh so good, piping hot deliciousness!  And I did not get a SINGLE sip.

Cleaning the mess I think to myself, who needed that coffee anyhow, it is late after all. I would be up for hours. Indeed, it was a sign.

Ahhh, back on the badonkadonk, when I begin to feel like Dr. Dolittle or maybe snow white when she puts out her hand and the birds gently land on her arm and all the animals of the forest surround her singing cheerfully.  Except for me it is the cat that sits on the back of the couch behind my head and thinks my hairs is some kind of monster threat that he must immediately attack with fully opened claws and kill.  And my lap has become a puppy playground to include shark like puppy teeth puncturing my cozy socked feet. 

So I guess it’s really not anything like the Snow White scenario. Oh if only.

I throw the cat, grab a puppy chew toy and allow him to remain on my lap.  Ahhhh let the peace begin!

Within moments, cat is back. This time the look in his eyes tell me he promises to be good.  Like the sucker I am, I allow him to remain.  Puppy falls asleep on my lap, cat begins to snooze into slumber next to my head.  I begin to feel like Snow White.  If the toddler and preschooler were awake, rest assured they would squeeze in on my lap where ever they could.

Let the relaxation begin!

I got my eye on you

Boone is our cat, named after the character on Lost whom we loved so much; world meet Boone – Boone meet world.

Boone sleeps in the laundry room at night for a number of good reasons. Primarily, because he tries to climb under my covers at night, annoying right? But worst still is that he bites my legs relentlessly. It’s like he’s a man with some sort of sick fetish!

Lately, Boone has sought revenge on me, probably because I won’t allow him to chomp on my legs like Bill on Sookie! Anyhow, when I let him out of the laundry room in the morning I find he’s dragged his pooper scooper and every available dirty sock from the laundry pile into his litter box.

Who does this people! There is cat sh*t and pee in that box. Now I have to dig it out!

During the night Boone also takes his Tidy Cat litter, stands on his hind legs, scoops it up in his hands and throws it wildly around the room. Well, I don’t actually know how he gets it all over the room but I figure there can only be one way. I had enough; I was going to outsmart the dude by replacing his litter with pellet litter! Hah! I showed him…

Or did I…

Apparently the pellet litter was mighty appetizing to my little orange hater. Because two days later, I am all smug in the fact that I don’t have to walk into a laundry room full of tiny Tidy Cat sandstone floors any longer – I open the door to let him out…

VOMIT!

EVERYWHERE!

And I mean everywhere.

I don’t even know how he could have that much in him. My little exorcist must have stood again on his hind legs in the litter box saying to himself: “Oh, she thought Tidy grits were bad..wait until she gets a load of this!” then he proceeded to projectile vomit all over the room. Again, I cannot guarantee that he said that but really…what else could he possibly have said!

But wait, there is more…. Yesterday when my husband was getting our 2 year old to nap he was lying on the bed and fell asleep with her. Only to be awoken by this violent HISSING sound, he looks up to see the cat face to face with Ann Marie hissing at the sleeping baby! Then, tonight Knight screams from his bed as he was almost asleep, Boone is hissing at me!! Sure as sh*t the devil cat was by his bed sitting there hissing and looking at me like – you wanna go Mofo! Oh… we went!

I cringe to think what he is going to do next. Especially when I finally get his nuggets cut off!

What is your cat nightmare story? Surely I cannot be the only one….

Daddy:  Ann Marie, you cannot disobey me.

Ann Marie (through giant crocodile tears): OK Daddy

Knight: Daddy if you wouldn’t pick us up early at church we wouldn’t learn to disobey you and God.

1. Duh, Starbucks
2. Spanx
3. Diet Candy
4. Size Zero’s who look like they were hit with the UGLY stick!
5. English, French or Australian Accents
6. Consignment Stores
7. Solitaire
8. Arrested Development (best. show. ever!)
9. My mind, inside my head is awesome!
10. And finally – Sunshine!

With a 2 year old that is. 

It was a major overhaul, needed everything including cooking sherry but she was no where to be found – probably kept in the back room, her outfits tend to be on the risky side (Wocka Wocka Wocka!).  

The trip included myself and Ann Marie.  I have to admit, this trip was one of the better ones.  She was patient in the cart and maintained herself as well as a two year old does. 

Until…

We got to the check out line.  While the checker was scanning all the groceries Ann Marie took it upon herself to flirt with the bagger. 

Ann Marie:  Hi!

Bagger:  Hi.

Ann Marie: (louder this time) Hi!!!!

Me: Ann Marie, when you say Hi to someone and they say hi back you don’t keep saying hi. 

Ann Marie giggles a cute little two year old giggle then continues on with her flirtatiousness.

Then.

Not even a second later my manic two year old rudely yells to her new found boyfriend:

Ann Marie:  Those not your groceries! 

Me: Yes, those are our groceries, he is helping to put them into bags so we can take them home. 

Ann Marie: (really grouchy now) THOSE NOT YOUR GROCERIES!  THOSE MINE!!!

Me:  Ann Marie – you are being rude and that is not OK.  It is not nice to talk to people like that. 

Me to bagger: I am sorry, there is only one explanation, she is two.

Suddenly the smoothness of our trip disinigrates.  Everything seemed to slow, I felt like time was going at half speed, especially the checker scanning my groceries. 

Amen. Checking complete.

The kind bagger asks, would you like any help out?  I kindly decline and as we are walking away my manic Deva lays on a big ole cutesie smile at him and says: Bye bye.

What is your most embarrassing 2 year old story?  How did you handle it? 

There is great importance in this action.  At least that is what the experts say. Who assigns the experts the title of expert in the importance of a routine? 

I call bullshit. I may as well be an expert in calling the experts out on their expertness. 

Knight is 4.  Ann Marie 2. 

Our bedtime routine: brush teeth, potty, book, back rub, sleep.  Every freakin night, 365 days a year. 

What really happens

Me or Daddy: Ok, in ten minutes after this show it will be bedtime.

Knight  & Ann Marie: OK.

Me or Daddy (ten minutes later): Ok, time to get teeth brushed for bed.

Knight: NOOOOO!  Whaaaah…. Whaaaah….

Ann Marie:  NOOOOO!  Whaaaah…. Whaaaah….

We brush teeth, go potty, get jammies on, daddy reads books, mommy rubs backs (all of which takes an HOUR at minimum).

Then…we leave the room. 

Ahhhh…. relax….

Knight (calling from bedroom): Mommy… I am thristy

ME:  NO!  You already had a drink.

Knight: Whaaaah Whaaah Whaaah!

ME: grrrrrrrr

Ann Marie:  I thirsty

Me: NO! You already had a drink.

Ann Marie: Whaaaah Whaaaah Whaaaah!

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.  TEN MORE TIMES.

Ugh…  Really…. thank goodness we have a rountine.  I cannot imagine what bedtime could possibly be like if we did not have such an awesome routine that makes bedtime so easy! 

You know I am not alone… I admit, I am one of thousands of parents who actually purchased Adams Mansbach’s book: Go the F*k to Sleep.  This glorious book written to look like a children’s book yet ovbiously written for parents clearly illustrates the frustration of bedtime routines and how they DON’T work. Experts are ass holes who are experts in pretending to be experts.  They are probably laughing histerically at all the parents who make them rich by buying their books and follow their expert advice while they drink wine and have the nanny put the children to bed.

I bet they wouldn’t dare!  Ma Ingalls would be on them faster than a fly on… Poo Poo!

Look at this two year old cutie.  Sweet, innocent, adorable. 

Me:  Ann Marie you need to go put your shoes in the closet.

Ann Marie: No…..  (silently under her breath but loud enough for me to here) poo poo head.

Ok… so now I am speechless.  My two year old just called me a poo poo head.  The problem, I could not find the Ma Ingalls balls to give my sweet Ann Marie the look that says, oh no you didn’t!!   Instead, I turn my head away while I snickered quietly to myself.  Of course, after taking a 30 second giggle break I did send Ann Marie in time out for her offense. 

I swear I am ten, I think potty talk is funny; theme parks are awesome and jumping into a pile of the couch cushions never gets old! 

Let’s face it, getting old is boring.  What things from your childhood do you hold onto to keep you young?

Oh WOW - are they sitting still for storytime?

You wondering what could honestly be better than sliced bread?  How about butter on sliced, fresh out of the oven bread.  Oh yeah… the good stuff.

Or if you are 4 and 2 years old – better than bread, or butter or both would be a trip to the local library. For Knight and Ann Marie a trip to the library is equal to going to Target knowing they are getting to pick a new toy.  They love it!  And our local library ROCKS!  The section for the kiddos is actually closed off by double doors from the rest of the library. I am pretty sure it has sound proofing in the walls too. Out with days of embarrassment as your pack of monkeys runs wildly through the library screaming with excitement in the one place in the world that parents are terrified of being called out by the librarian! 

They must have about 100 stuffed animals displayed at kid height and actually for the kids to play with throughout the place. I used to HATE going to the library with my Wild Kindom of Knight and Ann Marie.  Their tiny stature is totally misleading.  Little racers running in opposite directions pulling book after book off the shelf. Leaving me no choice but to act like they are my horrible neighborhood kids that I got stuck babysitting.  But this library is like the Mercedes of libraries specifically designed for kids like mine.  Spacious, sound proof room, fully loved stuffed animals – some the size of a real tiger or bear, kid educational games with kid size tables and chairs and why of course, shelves and shelves of books.  Did I mention another awesome thing about this library, they have a bin at the end of every row for you to place the books that your kids randomly pull off the shelf and you have no idea where it goes nor could you possibly put it back without your kids pulling out 5 more while you do it. 

I LOVE this library as much as my kids do… Good Job Broomfield Library.

As we are leaving there is a woman with her husband in a booth near the exit.  Both CLEARLY Red Sox fans (ahem – I am not a big sports person, hubby is a huge Sox fan, in fact when I titled this post, I spelled Sox – SOCKS, thank goodness he corrected my error).  Anyhow I am rambling, Dave says to the woman, nice hat (you guessed it, a Red Sox hat).  She returns the compliment about David’s hat (Red Sox, of course).  It was like they had their own mini club that only other Red Sox people could understand.

This conversation followed (maybe it has to do with my microbrew, but I think my question is ligitimate):

Me: Do you suupose if you were a plastic surgeon, you were out and as you leave the restaruant you notice a woman with an amazing enhancement you would say to her, “nice boob job, are those Silicone 5000?”

Hubby: Bah – hah… that’s funny.  I don’t think it is the same thing (as the Red Sox hat thing).

Me:  how is it different, you are a Red Sox fan and the other people ovbiously are as well, so you compliment on what you like.  So there is this imaginary guy who is a plastic surgeon, therefore he has interest in enhancements.  He spots one that stands out above the rest and he feels the urge to compliment.  No difference… aside from one being baseball and the other being boobs, or jello boobs I suppose.

Hubby: It is different.

I dunno, I guess I’ve had enhancements on my mind lately (NO WORLD, there is NO WAY I WOULD EVER GET THEM).  I am about to move into a new neighborhood that will be full of enhancements – my  house will be nice, but my boobs will be prunes and theirs will be coconuts.  I mean, they have built in life preservers, I wonder if they get a discount on their boating insurance policy?

HELLO?  May I please speak to Sarah?

Or if you ran out of sugar you could go to the neighbors house and ask them to borrow a cup. 

Hi Neighbor no name.  Mommy McHousewife is in the middle of baking 5 million dozen cookies, for the PTA of course, she ran out of sugar, may we borrow a cup?

Cell phones, My Space, Facebook, and now Google+ have allowed us to never actually speak with any of our friends using our voice!  Whew… I was getting concerned I was at capacity and soon would run out of words.  Imagine how much cooler this technology would be if we actually RAN OUT of words – it would be ground breaking! For instance let’s say when you are born you only get 5 million words and when you use them up you can no longer say anything.  Maybe there would be a buy up plan, roll over words or something you could negotiate with your maker, I don’t know.  Or you could trade your words with others like trading cards.  So if you were going to a NASCAR race you would call up hill billy Joe and trade him 300 words so you don’t stand out like the upper class highly educated person that you are. I am sure you get the idea….

This all reminds me of a post my husband did at the turn of the New Year,  2010 The Year We Stopped Talking.  Do you think that over many hundreds of years our voice boxes will begin to be genetically phased out?

Personally, I think social media, cell phones, all technologies surrounding computers and the internet ROCK THE WORLD! There is no better way to connect in a world where we no longer have time to bake 5 million cookies for the PTA or even join the PTA for that matter.  And when your kids are grown (as two of mine are), it is a great way to visually see them and see what they are up to in their lives on a regular basis.  I love it!

What do you think of social media?  Are there too many choices to choose from? Do you still borrow sugar from your neighbor? Do you even know your neighbors name?

So… those who want to spy on me, not talk to me to my face or using their voice on the phone or those who just want to collect silent friends – you can connect with me HERE.