Our first GB is Amy. She writes a hilarious blog called Shredded Cheese and Peanut Buttered Carpet, which can go enjoy for yourselves here. (And, OMG, I think that could be the official name of my family room decor!)
I asked Amy to write a few words for
I think every mother that ever met me before I had children and 'knew everything' cursed me with a child just like me. Now I have four kids ages 12, 7, 5, and 4 and I'm getting ready to hand them out for Halloween. My name is Amy and I'm a SAHM. I started blogging because 3 a.m. wake-ups to the kids' partying (blackberry jelly on a beige carpet with m&m's and shredded cheese) usually means I need at LEAST an hour to calm down before I drop them off at the pound and pick up a potty-trained puppy. I'm a Veteran, cosmetologist, sarcastic, and probably severely cracked. My husband and I are stupid for each other and our morbid sense of humor makes the fact that I've had to say, "Stop peeing on your sister's foot and Dana, get your foot out of the toilet,"actually funny. Read with caution.
Thanks, Amy. And the the GBWJGHST games begin!
(Re posted with permission. Come on, you know I don't steal without asking first.)
Woke up this morning to a party we weren't invited to. It's 4:27a.m. right now and I'm STILL not amused. Tim woke up because he had a nightmare where he couldn't breathe and at the end he heard screaming. In reality, he heard our kids laughing, which is creepy enough at this time of night.
The Damage Report:
- I had a bottle of nail polish in my purse and they decided to paint the pine cones that they'd dipped in glitter (under adult supervision last weekend) pink. We're gonna give 'em to the grandparents when we get some string on 'em, you know, the whole project-bonding-time with the kids thing. They were actually proud of themselves for deciding to paint the pine cones. And it was really clever and the frickin things are charming.
"How can you be mad, Mom? At 330 in the morning?"
|The drug of choice for nocturnal children.|
-They also called Tim's mom and dad on his cell and I think they called Thailand on mine. I'll call the number later today to find out who picks up. Maybe they'll call me. Hopefully they'll understand English for naughty children, because I got nothin'.
-And bubble wrap. Tim bought bubble wrap after supper so I could box up the pie plates and half of our glass stuff. The kids had it and are were dancing on it. A whole brand new roll, now on the floor, popped to smithereens, because you know, if you're high on paint fumes at 4, 5 and 7 years old, doesn't it just seem like a great idea? Mom and Dad won't hear it...
-The giant jar of peanut butter had 2 forks in it, because with all the nail polish and bubble wrap dancing, you'd get hungry too. Why is it always peanut butter?
-I could overlook the painting of the pine cones. And the bubble wrap. And the fact that they called the prime minister of Phuket. (I REALLY love that there is a place in this world called Phuket, I don't care if it's pronounced that way or not.)
While Tim is throwing up everything except his socks because of the fumes, I'm surveying the damage.And trying not to lose my schmidt mom-from-Malcolm-in-the-Middle style on everything 4 feet and shorter, because they got into my purse.
The contents are all over the bedroom floor, under the bed and on the windowsill. My right eye is starting to twitch, and I can feel the bitch wrinkle coming on. And, Oh Sweet Maude, there's no way to stop it. Ann's gonna have to crank that machine up to 30 to get rid of this one. These little infidels have the nerve to act nervous and scared and confused. Tristan was finally brave enough to bring me back my shank nail file, but I had to sit on my hands and tell him to drop it in.
Maybe it's because last time I told them that in the movie Aladdin, the reason the guy in the market place grabbed Jasmine's hand is that she stole something and that he was going to cut her hand off because that's what they DO to thieves, and then followed up with a head tilt, big eyes and the psychotically whispered, "That's what happens when you take things that aren't yours. If you stole Mommy's purse over there, I'd have to cut your hand off. Good Night..."
They have to tell their therapists something, God knows they've given me plenty to talk about. .