What I hate the most about being a homemaker.

When I was little, this was who I wanted to be when I grew up:



The happy little homemaker who loved nothing more than taking care of the kids, maintaining the house, and doing the dishes. I always knew I wanted to get married, have babies, and stay home with them.

My mom was a working, single parent, so I wanted to be a stay at home mom. There's absolutely nothing wrong with being a single working mother. My mom has a strength about her that amazes me to this very day. She made it to every PTA meeting, was the sponsor for my cheerleading squad, took me to school every morning, was a chaperone on nearly every class field trip, would come up to the school when I wanted her to eat lunch with me or bring cupcakes for the class for my birthday, made me outfits or Halloween costumes, bought me everything I ever wanted (I had the first computer out of all my friends AND was the first one to get contacts), she signed me up for every class I wanted to take (cheernastics, acting, music, dance, art, etc) she took me on picnics, we went to museums, she was at every color/winterguard performance, and she still worked 40 plus hours a week. My mom is Supermom.



(Mom, I know you're reading this, so I love you and thank you for spoiling me!)

Now, even growing up knowing a mom can do all those things, I still wanted to be a stay at home mom. I'm talking full on Stepford Wife!




Now, that I do have my dream come true about being a stay at home mom, I've learned a thing or two about that whole Stepford Wife ideal, it's pure BULL SHIT! I don't wake up fresh as a daisy an hour before my husband and kids (so they don't have to see me looking anything but my best), put on some nice dress and full make up just so I can do the house work! Hell, I consider it a good day, if I find the time and energy to change out of my pajamas!

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE being a stay at home mom. Being able to spend every waking moment with my children is AMAZING! We have so much fun singing and playing. I love knowing that I can stay at home all day and not have to deal with some asshole getting mad at me because they want to be able to keep an outside plant that needs lots of natural sun, inside with no light what so ever. I get to spend every moment with the people who truly matter to me.

But this is a sight NEVER seen in our home:


In fact, it looks more like this:



What do I hate the most about being a homemaker?
DISHES! I absolutely HATE, with every fiber of my being, washing dishes. Yes, we have a dish washer. Does that lessen my distain for loading and unloading it, pre-rinsing, and only having to wash a few "not dishwasher safe" items? NO!!! I STILL HATE DOING DISHES!!! Dishes are like laundry, no matter how many times you do them, the moment you have an empty sink (or clothes basket), someone else throws more in there!

It doesn't matter if they have been in the sink one day or one month, I will still try to con my hubby into doing the dishes for me. I'll make excuses, whine, pretend to forget; you name it, I've tried it.

God bless him, I have such a good man, that it usually works! Josh works 8 hours a day in the sun at a greenhouse dealing with people who have more money than sense. (I know these people have more money than sense because I use to work there myself, you might say I brought in my own replacement when I got Josh to start working there. The coworkers and the environment are wonderful, but about 40% of the customers are HORRIBLE). After he spends those 8 hours sweating, carrying heavy plants, and dealing with grumpy old money old ladies, he comes home and, if I ask just right, does the dishes. What can I say, I'm spoiled!

Dishes are the pain in my neck, the fly in my ointment, the boil on my ass! There is only one reason that I do them. That reason is: I…



I wish I could say I'd finally be happy when they invent a dishwasher that loads itself, but I'm sure I'll find something else to bitch about!

- Whether you love me or hate me, you know who I am.

"I've Been Hit By A Truck" and One Of My Favorite Books

Gettin hit by a truck will take it out of you…





Yes, you read right, my husband Josh was HIT BY AN EIGHTEEN WHEELER!!! He was at work at the greenhouse a week ago and suddenly a stupid skank, you know the kind of person with more money than brains, was speeding (these morons usually go 40-50 mph in this PARKING lot, I use to work there and say someone was gonna get hit). They then hit the front end of the 18 wheeler Josh was, at the back of, unloading. And BAM! 18 wheeler's lift gate pinpoints all the force to my husband's torso. Well, Josh has been very sore but nothing is ruptured and he is badly brused. The dr said that if he didn't get the police report faxed to his office he never would have believed Josh got hit by a truck! He said most people wouldn't have walked away. Thank God for LARGE miracles!


Ok, now to the post of the day!
Today's Blog Hop Tuesday is about your favorite book. I chose a very useful book that Josh and I have just devoured and we both consider it a must have in any human's book collection!





You're walking down the street on your way back home from the company softball game. You have your bat resting on your shoulder when suddenly you hear a moan. No, not the kids-are-asleep-so-it's-mommy-daddy-time kind of moan, but the undead-is-very-hungry kind of moan (thanks to Mr. George A. Romero you know that sound). You turn slowly and smile as you realize there's another person walking home tonight too. Your smile fades as the person begins to "raise its arms, drop its jaw, unleash a hellish moan, and stumble directly toward you." It's a ZOMBIE!!!

Do you know what to do?

Well if you had "The Zombie Survival Guide" by Max Brooks not only would you know what to do, but you'd know how to survive the outbreak with your loved ones (or other survivors who become loved ones as you fight for your lives). With myths and legends to debunk, weapon guides, information on how to tell a somnambulist (not a sleepwalker, but the undead) from a person under the influence of voodoo zombie powder, and a list of all recorded zombie attacks from 60,000 B.C. to 2002 A.D. this book is something every zombie nerd needs!






Be sure to check out "World War Z" (also by Max Brooks) for a glimpse on what a post-zombie world is like…

Mad Love!

P.S. If you don't read the Guide, the way to survive in my senario is to use your bat to bash in the zombie's skull and RUN! Keep an eye out for more ghouls and if you see a bicycle then take it! It's the best mode of anti-zombie transportation!

- Whether you love me or hate me, you know who I am.

The Biggest Problem in Our Marriage

First of all let me say ROLL TIDE ROLL!!!

Second, blogging is like getting a tattoo, you can't just stop at one! You always want another!

Ok, now that I got that out of my system: This is my husband, Josh, and his naturally huge and fluffy Fro (we are looking in to permits for it to have it's own zip code).





Well, I put his picture up because this post is all about him and his condition that is ruining my life and marriage.
My husband (and therefore my family) suffers from a horrible condition. It can ruin lives, crumble marriages, and destroy any object it comes in contact with. This devistating ailment is something I have learned to live with. Until 2006 this condition did not have a name. It's Wandering Ass Syndrome, or WAS for short. WAS is no laughing matter. Anything that gets within a foot of Josh's butt gets destroyed by being knocked about or flung to the ground by his tiny posterior. You see Josh is very skinny (but strangely strong, just like his dad), and I mean like Jim Morrison skinny. With a husband that skinny you can only ask, "How can a hiney that tiny cause so much trouble?" I only wish I could tell you.

It never fails. Josh walks by a table and, CRASH, a full glass of tea hits the ground. Josh walks by a huge frame on our wall and, BAM, it tumbles down the stairs and breaks into several pieces. Josh is standing next to the tv tray that I have all the beads that I use to make jewelry sittin on and, BOOM, I spend the next 4 hours combing seed beads out of our carpet. I have watched a WAS moment happen before my very eyes many times, and there is no warning when WAS will strike. It's not like he falls into something or trips and knocks it. He has wonderful balance. I've rarely seen this man fall and I've known him since we were 17!

How can you tell if your loved one is suffering from Wandering Ass Syndrom? Side effects of this condition are broken plates, cups and bowls (well, generally anything glass), ripped posters, over turned tv trays, carpet stains, scuffs on hardwood floors, dents in any metal, chairs inexplicibly moved mere inches, and, occasionally someone who is WAS inflicted will accidently knock over their loved ones (particularally toddlers, as they are booty high). As of now there is no cure for WAS. Based on private studies, WAS may be hereditary.






I'm worried about my sons. Ray has amazing balance too but he's showing early signs of WAS. Bruce may show them too when he learns to walk. I guess when we build a house, we'll need padded rooms… so their WAS's won't break anything and I'll have nice soft walls for when I'm driven insane by the Wandering Asses in my life.

Mad Love!

- Whether you love me or hate me, you know who I am.