I'm Tired of Santa making me Look Bad!

Well, that blasted man in red has done it again! 

So far, every year he has to go and do something big, much bigger than what I do, for the boys, and I always end up looking bad.

It never fails!

That dirty rotten bastard!

This year I gave the boys perfectly nice under wear, and this is the response I got for my troubles. A total lack of enthusiasm, and even a bit of sorrow.  I tell  you.  I just can't win!

But, what does Santa do? 

Why of course he goes all out and "saves the Day" by giving them a train set that they of course adore because that stinkin' kitty loves it too!

Why just once I would like to give the boys something for Christmas that would result in such a reaction!

I wan't less of this.

And perhaps more of this

But, I would even settle for an in between, like this.

Sometimes Being Sorry Just Isn't Enough

Well, the boy is sick and puking all over the place, so a few tears and some crankiness would be expected and acceptable, but where are they?

Not here.

Quite the opposite.  

The Pizzmeister is still raising hell and making jokes and being generally hilarious.  He even insisted on cleaning up after he puked all over his kitten, Naughty Maudy. 

Then, after everything was all squared away, he managed to get stuck in a clothes hamper.

Yes, that's right.  He got stuck in our clothes hamper.

It was sad, pitiful, and hilarious!

Neither one of us could stop from laughing, and, being the awesome dad that I am, I went and grabbed a camera rather than rescuing him from the hamper saying, "Sorry buddy.  I need to take a picture of this."

His response started another fit of laughter, "Sorry isn't going to get me out!"

He is quite right.  Sometimes being sorry just isn't enough.

P.s  I let him out quickly after this photo was taken.

P.P.s.  Two-zy has proven that he has a rare talent that enables him to sleep through anything.  I don't know how he slept through all the racket we were making.

12/14 Today Sucked

Well, it finally happened.  Both of my boys are sleeping peacefully  and at the same time, but I am too depressed to celebrate.

In fact, I had a hard time just letting the little brats out of my arms.  I only relented when my oldest told me I was squishing him.  So, I let him nap on the couch and not on my lap like I really wanted.  Then the baby started squirming, so I also had to let him nap out of my arms too for fear of waking him.  

After what happened in Connecticut today, I am terrified to let my boys out of my sight.  I just want to hold them and hug them and kiss them and tell them that I love them a thousand times.

I can't even imagine what those poor people are going through.

How does something like this happen?

I'll never understand.

It seems like some sort of human made tragedy comes along about once a month now days.  You can't hardly turn on the news without hearing about something horrible that some asshole has done, and this makes me feel so insecure and unsafe because there is nothing I can do about it.

I can't foresee the future to stop it from happening.  There is nothing I can say or do to make anyone feel better in the aftermath.  About the only thing I can do is latch onto my family, tell them that I love them, and hope that nothing terrible ever happens to anyone I love.

So far, I have lived a lucky life where these tragic events happen elsewhere, and I take it for granted that me and mine are safe because of where we live, small town USA.  

I have always used living a simple life in a small town as some sort of armor against this shit.  I mean, after all, it is only in the cities where violence occurs right?

Well, I'm looking at my armor now and thinking that I am crazy.  The size of the town doesn't matter.  If something terrible is going to happen, it will happen anywhere.  What happened today proved that, and I am sickened by that knowledge. 

But, what can you do?  

I'm not going to go out and buy a gun  or get a license for one because I think there are too many guns in the country already.  I am not going to add to that number.

I'm not going to write my congressman pleading to make gun laws stricter either.  I won't beg him to make handguns illegal, to retract all concealed carry permits, to ban all semi/automatic weapons, or to make it illegal for any fire arm to hold more than 5 rounds of ammunition no matter how much I believe it is time to make all these changes because it will do no good.  My pleas will assuredly fall on deaf ears.

I'm not ok with that, but I can live with it since I have to.

But, here's what I am going to do.  I am going to grab up my little ones and hug them, kiss them, and tell them that I love them a thousands times a day or more.  I am not going to waste my time on un-win-able causes because it is beginning to dawn on me that I don't have time for that.

I have to make sure that my boys and my family know that I love them because, god forbid, if anything should happen to me I want them to know just how much I thought of them and loved them, and should anything happen to them, I want them to know that they were loved dearly.  

My thoughts go out to the people of Newtown, Connecticut.  I know that nothing anyone can say can take this pain away, but please know we are there for you and we are mourning your loss with you.

Mama Bear's Take on the "Breast Milk Baby" Doll

So, I got a ranty note in my e-mail about a breast feeding baby doll from Mama Bear this morning, and guess what.  

I am going to share it with you.  

Why?

Because I agree with her totally.  

Well, for that reason and because she explains her point of view splendidly and in such a way that I never could.

All I was going to say is that I found the controversy surrounding this doll disturbing, even more disturbing than the hefty price tag.

But, then again.  I am all hippy-dippy and find nothing wrong with my 2 year old son pretending to breastfeed his baby doll either because I think it is only natural for little tykes to want to emulate their parents.

Anyway, enough of me.  Let's see what Mama Bear's take on the subject is!

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Listening to the radio on my way into work today, I heard a conversation which was very disturbing to me as a mother and woman. I don’t think any woman in our country today can fail to recognize that  women and our bodies, our motherhood, are under constant scrutiny ( I could use a lot of other words here, but will leave that for a more appropriate forum), so when the morning show co-hosts , who are generally reasonable and thoughtful people started talking about a new breast-feeding doll I was interested.  

And then almost instantly, saddened, as one of the hosts noted “I don’t have an issue with breast-feeding, but I just find this disturbing.”  

I thought the only thing that should be disturbing about this is the fact that the doll dictates how the child “should” play with it. I much prefer to let the little ones decide their own play rather than restricting their natural imaginative play with toys which “tell”  them what to do.  

Then the hosts opened up the phone lines and I hoped someone would call in with something positive or maybe even pose a question like, “What does it say about our culture, that this is even a topic of debate or conversation?” 

No one talks about dolls that take bottles or baths or cry, so why does a baby doll that eats like so many real babies do warrant a conversation? 

To my dismay, the callers said things like “I have a 5 year old daughter and I don’t think this is appropriate." 

Not “appropriate”?! 

What is there to be appropriate?!

Is it that your child knows she will someday have breasts? That she not be ashamed of her body? That she have a doll that reflects a natural, healthy maternal choice? 

What is so wrong with that?

How can we as culture expect our daughters and sons to ever be equal, if we make girls less-valuable and unclean, just because they have female bodies? 

This is not just about which is better for babies, breast or formula. The conversation about breast-feeding, in public, as a choice, as a requirement of motherhood, and all those things that have become a subject of debate, are just symptoms of how our culture feels with and deals with women and female bodies.  

Who has ever heard someone comment about a baby drinking a bottle in a store or a restaurant? To the same end, does anyone ever say to their son or daughter “that is something we do in private," or "don’t feed your baby like that it. It's for grown-ups only (or girls-only” when we see them “feeding” a doll a bottle? It’s ridiculous right? 

So, why is it so common to say about breast-feeding? 

Let's look into what we are really saying to our children when we say such things. 

We are saying “your (female) body is dirty, shameful, and inherently sexual. You should hide even something as natural and beautiful and normal as feeding and loving your child.  Be ashamed of yourself, of your body. Women deserve to be less than men because of these bodies." 

This sort of thinking is why “female” cancers like breast and uterine cancer still kill so many women.  This kind of thinking is why these  types of cancers are so much less studied and funded than male diseases. 

How is it that so many people refuse to see reality? 

Why do we still insist on treating little girls like they are second class citizens, and when will we finally recognize that we need to change how we think as a society?

Don't we realize that when our daughters suffer from inequality we all suffer too by having wives, daughters, sisters, and mothers that are devalued?

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Thanks for sharing Mama Bear even if I am a little jealous that you have always been able to state things so much better than me.

T'is the Season to Use Santa as a Tool.

T'is the season where we recount stories of crazy hunting accidents, spend money we don't necessarily have, fight each other over the last "hot" new toy in stock, desperately plea with our children to just take a nap or go to bed or even just shut the hell up for five minutes so we can drink our coffee in something that resembles peace and quiet while knowing the entire time that the brattling probably only has about 3 minutes of non-screaming, non-shrieking, non-running around like crazy in him for the day.

After those precious moments are spent, we're screwed!  

The rest of our day will be spent chasing the brat around begging for a few more moments of quiet...or at least quieter.  

Then, like a breathe of fresh air, the little tyke will probably pass out, and for a few minutes there may actually be a little calmness in the house before the baby wakes up screaming for food or attention or just because you dared to put him down for ten minutes while he was asleep. 

And, of course, the cranky baby will without a doubt wake the toddler, and he will be just refreshed enough to raise hell for the rest of the day until it is bed time.

Ok...so this is an everyday type of thing with the kiddos, but there is a major difference now.

Now, we have Santa or Hanukkah Man or whoever fighting for us.

Well, more specifically, we have the threat that whoever brings presents for the brats doesn't bring as many gifts to little boys and girls who throw tantrums or drive their parents crazy in general. 

I know a few parents out there who refuse to take advantage of this godsend, but I, for one, am not above using Santa as a tool to get the boy to behave for a few more minutes everyday.  

It's a beautiful thing!

All I have to do is mention something about Santa and how he rewards little ones who listen to their parents and behave, and it works like a charm.  The Pizzmeister will calm down a little, and my sanity will return briefly.  

If I'm lucky, the boy will be calm enough so we can do some baking or pick up a few toys or something so it doesn't look like the toy box got sick and vomited in the middle of our living room floor.  

If the mention of the big man in red doesn't work I still have an ace in the hole, the internet.

photo from http://www.portablenorthpole.com/home

Mama Bear and I found out about something called Portable North Pole. 

It's a site that sends out personalized Santa videos to your e-mail.  If my brat starts getting out of hand, and I can't reign him in a little a personalized video from Santa will do the trick every time!

It's amazing!

If you don't do the whole Santa thing, then I am sorry.  I got nothing.

Admitting You Have a Problem is the First Step

Apeshit: (according to urbandictionary.com)
A state of anger and rage that produces behavior more closely resembling that of an enraged ape than a human.

From the habit of enraged apes of flinging their own feces at their object of anger (if you haven't experienced this phenomenon first hand consider yourself blessed).

Billy-Bob went apeshit when Jimmy-Joe puked up four moon pies on his '68 Dodge Dart.

Apeshit: (according to Just a Dizzy Dad and Family)

(Verb) To apply an unnecessary amount of force mechanically to the point of mechanical failure; to over tighten; to break tools by applying too much force.

(i.e.) You broke the emergency break cable because you apeshitted the e-break lever up into place./When you apeshit the lid onto the pickle jar I cannot open the jar./ The ratchet broke because you apeshitted the bolt down, and the ratchet couldn't handle the torque.

So, after Mama Bear gave me a a good stern talking to last night, intervention style, I have come to the conclusion that she may be right about me.  It is time for me to change my wicked ways.  

Well, either I change or we go broke fixing the stuff that I break.  I just may really have a problem, and it is time to admit it.


I am a chronic apeshitter.


I am not sure when I started down this destructive path of perpetually over tightening stuff, but I imagine I couldn't have been too old because I have always had a bit of a neurosis about things not being tight enough.  


For example, when I was little, around 13, I was always worried that I hadn't tightened the bolts on my bicycle enough whenever I adjusted the seat or changed the tires, so I would keep going back and tightening the screws until I was sure that I couldn't possibly tighten them anymore.


Well, this worked for me when I was a wee little 13 year old, but it wasn't too long after that that I broke my first wrench, and from there I just haven't stopped breaking stuff.


My shed is a virtual grave yard of broken tools and bent up pieces of random things that I "fixed." Some recent additions to my dead tools list include 5 screwdrivers (2 of which were my father in laws), 2 sockets (one of which was my father in laws),  1 ratchet, 1 lug wrench, 2 lug nuts, and 2 lug nut studs.


This stuff adds up quick and replacement gets pricey, definitely not something I want to worry about just before christmas!


Up until recently I always blamed the tools. if they weren't so shoddy, I wouldn't have broken them.


Well, now, after Mama Bear has pointed it out to me, I realize that is twisted logic.  If I'm the only one breaking stuff, then the problem is me; not the tools.


Thank you Mama Bear for bringing this to my attention...again.




P.s. I can't promise that I will get better or even really try.
      But, for you.  I will try to try.  :)

Rage Filled Rage with Horror!

This post was originally going to be about the upcoming black Friday sales and how I hate them and how I now hate facebook too because it only shows my status updates and blog posts to a few people.

But, then I thought of something.  I don't have to shop on "black friday"  because I have finished all my shopping, and facebook charges me nothing for having a page there.  So, I guess I really have nothing to complain about.

But,  the Pizzmeister does.

He says he wants you guys to either stop waking him up or start bringing him coffee as a peace offering when you do.  He likes it decaffeinated with half cream, half coffee, and an ample supply of sugar.

P.s. He also says that if you want to get into his good graces you could start off by sending him all your gummy worms.

P.P.s.  Yes, I do in fact blame my readers for a lot of the things I do and make the Pizzmeister do, like wake up and go to bed at a certain time, because I hate making him mad at me.  I'd much rather throw you under the bus!  :)

P.P.P.s.  Yes, I know I am weak and pathetic!

Shrink Wrap your Windows!

Seriously, shrink wrap your windows!

I know. I was skeptical of it being a worth while investment of time and energy at first too, but it really works, especially if you live in an older home like me.

Now, if you don't know what I am talking about I'll explain myself.  What I call shrink wrapping your windows is really called weather sealing, weatherizing, home sealing, or whatever.  They all mean pretty much the same thing and you can get handy dandy little kits in just about any hardware or department store to do this, and you can do it all yourself in an afternoon.

Notice that is claims a saving of up to $190 in the top right corner.
I am not sure  about that, but I know doing this does save
you money. 

The kits look something like this, and this one cost me around $10.  They are really easy and straight forward.  Even a klutz like me can finish this project in an afternoon.  I promise.

All you'll need besides the kit is a screw driver, some scissors, a hot air blow dryer, and maybe a tape measure if you really want to be a show off.

First thing that you are going to want to do is take off all the window dressings, i.e. curtains and blinds, on the windows you are going to shrink wrap.  Then clean the window frame because later you are going to adhere double sided tape on the frame to hold the plastic over the windows.

Then cut out a piece of plastic the size you need to cover the window, put the tape on the window frame, put the plastic up, blow dry the plastic to make it shrink down and look smooth, and then put your curtains and blinds back up.  That's it.

Yes, this is kind of a pain in the ass, but it will be worth it.  Mama Bear and I have done this for a few years now, and the difference was notable, and I am positive that the heat retained from doing this did in fact save us some serious money during the winter season because before we learned about this little money saving trick our home was just hemorrhaging heat.  It's not like that now.    That's all I need to be a firm believer, so now we shrink wrap our shiz every winter.

P.s. Using the gaskets on the sockets and weatherstripping the doors helped too, but for us it was the windows that were killing us.

P.P.s.  If you wake up in the morning and your windows have condensation built up on them that means they have a bad seal and you are losing money by heating the out doors.  A little shrink wrap will help you save some of that cash. 

P.P.P.s.  I was in no way approached to post this.  I just thought I would pass along an idea on how we can all save a little money by doing an easy DIY project.

Do You Believe in Magic?

I'm a firm believer in magic.  In fact, there has yet to be a day since these bratty boys came about where I haven't witnessed at the very least one magical moment.

I mean there could be a certain special smile, an especially musical butt blast (why are baby farts so cute?), a moment when the Pizzmeister says something sweet and endearing, or any moment with the boys really.  

All these moments are special and magical.  They all have a bit of a wondrous feel to them where I have to stop and ask myself, "What the hell have I done to deserve this?!"

It's true.  

I ask myself this a number of times everyday, and it is usually in the context of "How'd I get so damn lucky?!" but, to be honest, sometimes I ask it in exasperation too, which involves a fist shaking and hunched down shoulders in what I refer to as my  "pose of resignation."

I won't lie.  

There are times when these little guys drive me batcrap crazy, and I'll swear that  they are masters of the dark arts because they have this awesomely wicked ability to transform themselves from little angels to evil little monkey trolls in seconds!

I mean, one minute the baby will be happy and giggling while the Pizzmeister is playing nicely off by himself, and then, out of nowhere, the baby will start shrieking for no reason while the big boy occupies himself with performing any number of the tricks and stunts that he routinely pulls.  

He might be doing something as harmless as making a race track for his itty bitty monster trucks or something more dangerous like arranging all the chairs in strategic positions through out the house to be used as some sort of crazy toddler obstacle course where he jumps from one to the other totally scaring the crap out of me.

*sigh*

I guess what I am really trying to say is he is always doing something.  The key to guessing what he may be doing is to listen.  If he is chattering to himself chances are he isn't doing something harmful, but the moment he stops talking you can bet he has some sort of crazy world dominating plot going on in his head, and he's about to start working some of his wizardry for evil purposes.

Like, making an impossibly huge mess!

OH THE MESSES THESE KIDS ARE CAPABLE IF MAKING!!!

It's not just the explosion of toys that is messy.  It's the dishes.  

There are always dishes to wash these days!  

It's like they never stop eating!

I swear I just finish doing them and an hour later the sink is full again with dishes and bottles patiently waiting to be washed.  

And, of course, I keep putting off doing them because for some reason I think that eventually I'll turn around and they will have washed themselves magically.  Then, to my grave disappointment, I find that more have piled up somehow.

GODDAMN YOU DISHES FROM HELL!

**Insert the pose of resignation here**

WHY CAN'T YOU JUST TOSS ME A BONE HERE AND WASH YOURSELVES?! 

*sob*

I mean, after all, my day is full of magic moments anyway.  What's one more right? 

Oh Fudge It! Peanut Butter Style

Have you ever just stopped and say to yourself, "Self.  I think I might want to try and give myself diabetes today."

You have?

Good.  I have something you may want to try.

Peanut Butter Fudge like Grandma used to Make...I think

Here's what you'll need:

1.5 cups of sugar
1/8 cup of peanut butter
1/2 cup of milk
1/8 cup of butter (I heap it up)
1/2 tablespoon of vanilla extract
1 medium sauce pan
something to let the fudge set in until it firms up (go ahead and use your imagination)

Step 1: In the sauce pan combine the milk sugar and peanut butter and heat to a rapid boil.  Stir frequently so it doesn't scorch.

Step 2: Once the mixture comes to a rapid boil take a moment to revel in the yummy fragrance and reduce the heat to low-medium. Continue to boil until the mixture is at soft ball stage.

Soft ball stage is when the candy is around 232 degrees or when you can drop some of the stuff into a bowl of cold water and mold it into a ball easily.

Step 3:  Once at the soft ball stage remove from heat add the butter and vanilla extract and beat the mixture like you caught it stealing from you until the candy starts to harden or gets firm.  You can speed this up by placing the pan in cold water.  Just make sure no water gets in the fudge mixture.

Step 4: Once the fudge mix is all firm and stuff scrape it into whatever mold you want to use and let it cool for about an hour.  I toss it in the refrigerator, but that's not necessary.

Step 5: Gobble that shiz up!

Enjoy!