KA- CHOW!

I've decided to make myself a new ID badge of sorts. . One that is self explanatory. One that I "pull" and "present"... when necessary.



Say for instance:

Fathers' Day BBQ. What can Debby bring?

BAM:

Not one single thing.

Also. Why are the Father's Day gifts wrapped in HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAPER AND PAINTERS TAPE?

"Watch out!"

wHAM!

Cause that's the way I roll. That's why.

Why did that hoboken leave her shopping cart; NOT IN THE CORRALL?

WHATCHA!!

Cause I couldn't find a parking spot near the corrall and as you can plainly see from above. I've got three kids sitting in my OPEN van. No thanks. WHATCHA!

Look at her yard. Couldn't she have planted some flowers this year. Or MULCHED at least.

HI- YA!

HOpe you ducked for that one.

Does she even WALK her dogs?

FOR REAL? Are you really going to make me?

Ooookay.

Here it comes.

POW!

If I walked those two damn dogs plus my 3 kids ... can you imagine the blogs?

You get the idea.

:)

So be sure not to ask me to volunteer for any shit . I might just chinese star you with this proud puppy.

Hope you all had a grand weekend. Father's day is over. I am prepping for our upcoming COlorado vacation.

OHHOOOHHHH speaking of.

I'll be sure to take my card and present it to the pilot slash airline persons of interest slash people on the plane next to me and my brood.

KACHOW!

Sorry dude next to me and the infant whose screaming while my boob is hanging out.

Let me introduce you to my little fwend...

Lard Crackers

One of the blogs I read in any faithful way a mother of 3 can.. is Glamorous Life of A HausFrau... I just really like it. She has a great following and her blog draws out some great comments from her followers..

So she was bloggin nostagically about her favorite meal growing up as a southern girl. Tacos. It was very sweet and at the end she asked what our favorite meal memory was.. or something like that. So I was a' thinkin... ALL DAY... about a meal memory that I could answer and or blog.

And heres' what I came up with.

Butter Crackers.

Say what??

Butter friggin Crackers.

No lie.

All these people were pot roastin it... I could smell the deliciousness of each comment. And there I sat. Butter crackers.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN WE HAVE A LARD ASS IN AISLE 3 .. everyone come see her EAT BUTTER CRACKERS.

And if for one second you are thinking that I am speaking of some brand of buttery cracker goodness... I tell you NO.

I mean.. saltine crackers..slathered with BUTTER.
DING A DONG.Excuse me for one sec. Someone's at my door.

okay.. I'm back.
Weight Watchers just sent a super weight watcher lifetime person to my door.

Seems butter crackers are 45 points PER serving. Super WW reminded me of this. oH KIND ONE.

For real. I commented about my second favorite meal memory.. broccoli casserole.. but my whale butt remembers having SALTINE CRACKERS SLABBED WITH butter.

AT my gram's kitchen table. The warmest, most cozy place of conversation in all the land. A silver butter knife, a white, krinkled package of saltines, a butter stick on a plate... and the best fam in all the land. Eatin butter crackers and just talkin. Nowhere to be. Nothing you felt you had to say or pretend to be. Just butter crackers at 940 Butler St.


lol

Just thought I'd share.
I'll continue the post in House Frau's honor. :)

What's your meal memory?

what is the meaning of life

I have so many questions about the world.. so many darn random good ass questions.

Seriously though, I could care less who slash how the world was created... I'm here and that's all that needs to be known. Did I come from a dinosaur? ... Emma says I roar like one.. nuff said.

Do I believe in God. You betcha. pssssstttt.... over here... I fer certain am not going to be the one person at the pearlies who chanced it and didn't believe. Nope .. won't catch me. = I also believe in ghosties.. and enter creepy rooms chanting something like this, " I believe in you, I believe in you , I believe in you... you don't have to show me. " Same difference.


I also don't need to know the secret to cellulite erasage...I don't have any. Unless you count when I squeeze "certain areas" ....then it appears. soooooo Weird.

I really don't mind that I don't' fully comprehend the entire United States election process. Those who have tried to explain it to me ... disintegrated into dust as I bore into them with my bored, dead eyes.

But.


I do want to know why....

Michael's fine craft store

opted for miniature shopping carts?

Seriously.
Why the QUARTER sized carts? What's the purpose?

OOOOOOH OOOOOHH ( hand raised) PICK ME PICK ME!!

Same purpose as Miniature HORSES I'm suuuuuuuuuuuuuureee.. ...



NONE.

As I ponder...I'm 89 percent certain it was done, just to piss me off and also serve as a reminder ; TO NEVER HAVE ANOTHER CHILD AGAIN.

I'm just sayin' ( thanks double o) ... if I was intending to shop in a miniature store... and say.. pick up some miniature dollhouse furniture for say... my odd little dollhouse furniture collection that I covet WEIRDLY AT age 34..... then the miniature cart would be entirely appropriate.

However, one infant car seat, a diaper bag the size of South Dakota and two gremlins in tow.. does not make a good case for the justification of el miniature cart.

Just sayin'.


What did I attempt to BUY at Michael's today?
Some delicate packs of scrapbooky shit?

Yeah right. No dice.

A 16 x 20 wooden shadow box.

WHAT did I have to do with said box while shopping? Put it in my cart?
Nope.

Cause it was miniature.

I carried the f.. cker around the store LIKE SOME MULE. all the WHILE PUSHING the cart / makeshift stroller .. with the infant seat and diaper bag clipped on... ALL the while GROWLING at my two other children to stay close or I would have to punish them by teaching them about the election process.



In the midst of the whole debacle: the inevitable " I HAVE TO PEE" announcement occurred.

S.O.B. says me.

JUST ONCE.. I want to be "punked." Just so I don't have to actually go through the ensuing and upcoming ridiculousness that involves the attempts of me running to the bathroom with 2 kids.. one holding her lady area like the dutch boy at the dam the other stopping to admire sparkly pretty shiny things and the last installment.. in the 100 lb infant seat beginning to wake up and threaten all remaining calmness left in the world.. with a FEED ME SEYMOUR SCREAM. All while pushing the miniature cart and holding the 16 x 20 BOX.

The damn horses would have better served my predicament at that point. I could've put my miniature kids on the miniature horse, smacked it's ass and said " TO THE BATHROOM YOU GO!"

Then I could've kept shopping for massive items that won't FIT INTO A MINIATURE CART.


My life is a virtual never ending circus.
And it sure is funny.


What was the 16 x 20 shadow huge box for you ask?

Why ... my miniature furniture collection.. of course.


So next you frequent Michael's for some last minute try to be crafty attempt: think of me when you see the miniature carts corralled and waiting... waiting to laugh at you when you try to put that vase and giant fake sunflower bushel into it's belly. NOPE. Ain't happenin sista. And it's proabably a 'GOOD' thing.



Happy Fathers Day to my lone male.. reader. Lone ranger.

d

So much to say

Lisha asked what phrases I might repeat daily... I thought hers were a riot.. she's so damn patient... that I'm afraid to write my own.

Let's think.


Do you have to go potty?
Are you sure you don't have to go potty?
Pee potty?
Do yOu have to go poopy?
Don't you poop in those underwear.
I mean it.
OMG you stink.


I just gave you cinnamon bread.
No , we just ate.
nO. nO MORE CHEERIOS.


I can't the baby's crying.
I can't , the baby needs to eat.
Just wait.
I'm nursing. I can't.


What do you want to watch?
don't touch that dvd.
Put the dvd down you're going to scratch it.
You scratched it.
Yes I know.. you scratched it.

Yes, Lewis is going home.
No, that is not Goob's dad, it's Goob.


Clean up.
clean up NOW.
I said.. CLEAN UP.
I'm getting the vacuum out if you don't clean up.
I will suck up all of your toys.

Did you do your chores?


That's it.


This house is such a mess.
OMG if I have to clean one more thing.


Quit stalking the neighbor.
NO we dont' have tornadoes in Pittsburgh. (TOTAL LIE AS OF TONIGHT. SHE'S ON TO ME NOW. )

Your a good girl.

nO YOU MAY NOT.
Did you hear me?
Are you listening to my words?

I said NO.
If you ask me one more time...
NOOOOOOOOOOO.

I'm sorry you made that bad choice.

Go sit in time out.
NOW.
I said NOW.



I love you more than anything.



You need to listen.
Why aren't you listening.

For real?
Oh my lord.

Can I have a kiss?
Huggy?

Will a hug make it better? No? Only a kiss? Okay.

Rosey.. let's GO. Inside.
Ferny.. OUT. Now.

Who left the gate open?
You CANNOT leave the gate open.
Ferny is going to eat your toys.

Peyton you cannot LEAVE YOUR CROCS in the kitchen.. ferny is going to eat them.

Where are your blankets?
The blanky fairy is SOOO coming if you don't begin keeping them in your room.

Go to sleep.
NOw.

Tubby time!

Yes, I have to wash your face.


Whose my big girl?

Wow!



I think that's what I said today. OVer and over.

I think I need to say lovey things more.

KNock knock..
whose there.

GUILT TRIP.


NOT YOU AGAIN!!
fuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUck me. ;)

Your daily FRIGGIN FUNNY

This just never gets old. Watch it until the end...

I seriously had tears. :)



happy day.. josh is doing okay. Medicated up and recieving treatments to prevent infection as the blisters bubble and pop. They look like balloons.

WITTTY AWARD. .

LISHA, my buddy and former neighbor, over at Everyday Life With A Smile presented me with a trophy. I think there's a pic involved.. but I don't' have a spare minute to copy , edit. paste.. whatever it.. BUT THANK YOU. ;)

I have to admit 7 personality traits about myself. The seedier the better. :) Just kidding. I added that.

And then pass along the trophy to those I want to snoop shit about. Providing they cooperate. Remember the seedier the better.

1. Personality trait numero uno.

I am a total goofy ass ball. Yes that is a real word. I find humor in most things and am preeeettty damn wittttty if I must say so myself. I come up with some good ones sometimes and even surprise myself. However, I don't always let this side of myself show. Other than to the entire nation on blog land OF COURSE and to those I feel might "get it." NOthing worse than A DUD who didn't get my wiiittttttty joke.

2. Personality trait number dos

I wish I was more than I am. I have always done this. I cannot drop this stupid trait for my life and it is a direct result of a low self esteem.. witttttily masked in personality trait numero UNO. :)

3. Personality trait number thrice.

People generally piss me off VERY EASILY. When they piss me off they are often recipients of terribly wittttttty and sarcastically mean comments. Sometimes out loud.. sometimes.. GASP.. not. I write people off LEFT AND WRITE.. I MEAN right. :) And I don't care one bit. I don't have the time or energy to figure out why you DONE ME WRONG.. and I also don't do well with Liars, manipulators and / or / slash... bad humans. However, I have a hard time saying my witttttty and sarcastically mean comments with force. I am usually on the verge of tears. Thus offering a wobbly weepy comment and here we now parlay into Personality trait number FO.

4. Personality trait number fo.

I am fairly highly emotional at times. TERRRRIBLY WITTTTTTTY .. yet highly emotional. I am not embarrassed nor shamed because of it. Lead in to number EVIF.


5. Mr. Five personality trait

I don't mind sharing my not so WITTTTTTTY life with others. Nothing makes me feel more real as a person than to hear others' woes/ struggles/ situations that I can guffaw at. Nothing makes me feel more human than to admit my flaws and struggles. I secretly love to hear secrets and or things that people " think" are heinous secrets. Love it because I can usually OUTDO them.. and make them feel a whole hell of a lot better knowing that they aren't alone.


6. Sixth and counting...

I love a job well done. However, this is currently out of my reach as I have 3 hellions attached to me and a household that constantly requires me to do shit to make it nicey nice. I dont' teach because I cannot dedicate my life to it any longer. My life is dedicated to my kids on my good days... and all the rest can go to pot. Job " kinda done kinda good... but with a WITTTTTTYYY smile" is good enough for me.


7. SEVENTH place...I am not a negative person. Meaning.. I look for good things in bad situations. There are times when I can be negative towards others.. usually when they piss me off. But.. as far as situations that are daunting in life.... There's nothing out there that I can't get through.. that my family can't get through.. that my friends can't get through.. with a wink and smile.

And some wittttttttttttttty ass humor.

So I'm tagging.

Dana- MommyBrain- cuz she is intriguing
Johnny Avacodo- cuz I likes your name.
Laurie - Chitown.. IF ONLY SHE'D BLOG. sigh..


lateeeeeeeeer.. :)

unconditional

Today I opened my inbox to an email forward from my mother. Dear that she is.. she decided to email rather than call late at night...following my DON'T CALL ME AFTER 8 pm RULE...( infant cry, baths, bed, movies, snack, fussing, arguments- just plain a bad time)

The info that she was relaying, sadly, would have stopped me in my tracks had she gotten through to me.
I am the eldest grandchild. Eldest of .. let's count... Jenny... Sean, Heather, Josh, Brad, Sarah, Paige... 8 Grandchildren. A young, young family we are. Dysfunctional on our bad days... the best on our good days. We are a hilarious bunch and we are all talented in some manner.

I am 33. The MOST talented of course. ( Did you NOT listen to my sir mix a lot clip?)

The Youngest cousin is about 20.

My grandparents are in their 70's and my mother is the eldest daughter of 6 ( 4 girls, 2 boys ) and is ... 53.

We have all endured challenges. We've lost an Aunt. Our Aunt endured Ovarian Cancer and fought as she could.. everyone rallied to her side. Our cousins Sean and Heather, left alone when she succumbed. My Grandmother beat breast cancer, two years following her death. Every single one of my AUnts , including my mother.. were single moms. Dealing with lots of issues before they took on the gargantuan task of raising children alone. Husbands with issues.

They struggled. They still do at times. Struggled with the burden that raising children alone brings on. Struggled with the constant nag of " how can I be better? " " Did I screw them up?" Same struggles we all face as parents.. just a bit more I suppose. That guilt I always speak of. It doesn't go away. Ages 20 and up.. and they still worry for their children. Relationships have taken a toll for various reasons. You think you know it all at 23 and such .. right? You don't need anyone.



My cousin Josh- rough age of 23, son of my Aunt Di... was badly burnt 2 days ago by a FRYER that exploded in his kitchen. He was alone. He kept going in to check on it as it warmed up. Said it would bubble, then stop... bubble then stop. The last he knows ... the last he "checked " on it.. it was hissing... bubbled over ... and he turned and RAN as it exploded in his kitchen. Burning his back, arms and portions of his leg.

The shock that he was in must have impaired his judgement, physically delaying the pain the he would soon feel. He thought he was in okay shape... so he didn't call 911. But guess who he did call....

He called his mom.


There are days when you think you've gotten it all wrong as a parent.. shoot as a human for that matter. If you could erase years.. I'm sure you just might.. cliche's aside.

But it doesn' t matter... they come back to you in their weakest times of need. Cause they are your babies... no matter how grown.


Josh is okay. The pictures of the injuries are monstrous. His mother called 911 for him.. as the pain slowly began to introduce itself while they were on the phone. He began crying. We don't know much more at this point other than he is recieving treatments now as an outpatient at Mercy Hospital Burn Unit in Pittsburgh. THink of him. Think of your babies. Don't think about what you did wrong today as a parent. IT is unconditional.. though muddled and hidden at times ... it is unconditional.

June- hem and the passerby the dog ate UPDATED

I wanted a catchy post- like MAY- hem... but then I realized it was no longer May. Go figures.



So I made up my own word, something I've been known to do... here and there and everywhere. June- hem it is.



I also mix songs together. That is a RARE talent indeed and a gift not to be taken lightly. One that many are jealous of. It takes work and dedication to mix together flawlessly, " Oh Sherry" by Steve Perry 1984 ( giggle) and "Sarah" by Starship circa 1986....



UPDATED: I offer to you my nettie friends.... front row seats for your listening pleasure. Don't be sad that you can't sing/ mix it.. like moi. It's a talent indeed. Like I stated .. up there somewhere.

And please. Don't submit it .. to like.. American Idol.. or America's got talent. I know it's hard... your itchin to do so.. but I just don't have the time to dedicate to America. It's a hard decision.. but.. sigh... my family comes first. My mixin dreams.. not first.

It is my claim to fame.
Seriously though... don't submit me.

( I CANNOT believe I just posted that for you.)



Speaking of "fame".. seems they are remaking the movie/ tv show? Innnnnnnnnteresting... they didn't ask me to partake. I'll have to check on that one.





So we re-financed our mortgage at 4.5 percent.. one of the all time lows seen round these parts...and it's been nothing short of a nightmare financially to say the least. When we finally closed yesterday: a kind woman named Diane came to our lair and got a taste of our life .. while trying to have us sign 175 documents. No joke.



Highlights



1. Emma rolls out the welcome wagon by screaming from the second floor for about a half an hour because she cannot go outside while we are signing our names OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND over and over and over and over and... you get it. She is literally SCREAMING and crying like some maniacal freak. WELCOME DIANE.. oh holder of 175 documents and our financial mortgage future.



2. Madalynn decides to .. .not want to be put down. Well now Mady. When you are 33 and are trying to re-finance your home after a nightmare long process... I am coming to your home and sitting in YOUR lap WHILE you try to sign 175 documents with your perfect signature.. one handed and without mistake.



I don't forget.



I'll be there.

Promise.



3. Peyton.. who began yesterday to pee and POOP on the potty.. ( thank you genius mom who FINALLY realized that maybe a TINY TEENY TINY potty would better serve the purpose)

So.. she proceeds to come bother us and then report to Diane that she peed on the floor 2 feet Miss Mortgages feet. Sho nuff.. she did.







June-hem.

Upcoming.

A trip to Colorado with 3 kids, 1 husband, 1 nenny and 1 gramma. I'm sure I'll have lots to report.



In the meantime: I see outside of my office window that my daughters have hijacked a young female passerby and they are now in my backyard, jammie and croc clad... playing. THe young girl.. who I do not know... has left her scooter on the front sidewalk...




I must go before her parents come , see that scooter on it's side and think the worst ...

that my killer dog ate her.. whole.

Have a great day my netties. I have a date with the new kids this evening.



evening.

MIlk and Jugs

I am unearthing this post for a contest. I'm determined to win. Head over to check out Baby Making Machines blog for some insightful posts from a mommy to be.

YOu thought this post was about boob milk dintcha?


mwaahh ha ha.. well it IS but not just yet..


So anyways: my whole purpose of this post is to tell you that I do serve milk in another way other than leaking from my boobages.


My two eldest children drink milk like it's going out of effin style. If I purchased a dairy cow to graze in my yard: Walmart would go out of business due to the fact that my loyal 4 gallons per week.. is no more.


What is so irritating about the milk gluttony is this simple fact: it requires ME to get UP from wheres I am and get the little pissers MORE MILK after I JUST WALKED AWAY thinking I had the whole snack thing in the bag.


NEVER.



"More milk please? "


ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! What the holy hell? Are you having chug contests when I turn my back? Doing milk jug stands? Playing milk pong???? Quarters???


CRIME-ENY.

So I am always looking for ways to save time... limit me from having to do repetitive friggin things that BURN MY EYEBALLS to do.. over and over and over.

Getting milk.. pouring it in a cup.. 100 times a day .. FOR these children.. is A PAIN. Especially when you are BOOB SHACKLED.


So I first.. found straw type of sippies. That was ALLLL good until I had to wash them.. then the damn things GREMLIN'D into a million pieces and presented themselves as a FRIGGIN PUZZLE upon RE-ASSEMBLY.


I HATE PUZZLES.

So I saw these at Walmart the other day and contributed YET MORE MONEY to the Walmart will someday rule the world fund. ( I do believe that Walmart is the devil itself.. just yet . .unrevealed.)

They look innocent right?

SOme jugs. I was WAAAAAAAAY totally excited.

I figured they WOULD HOLD LOTS OF MILKIES and relieve me of a few milk runs throughout the day. They were cute, had ONLY A FRIGGIN cap ( essential for putting the remaining milk BACK INTO THE FRIDGE so as not to wa ste- some precious cow's life blood) and did not spawn into a damn puzzle during re-assembly.

What I neglected to notice was how MASSSSSSSSSSIVE THEY WERE compared to my daughters heads. Also.. how HEAVY they were filled with milk.

I just about pissed myself watching the girls attempt to use them.. and use them we did.. but boy was it funny!!

So back to the drawing board...

Anyways... about... milk jugs in the flesh.

My INTRO to boob feeding came with my first daughter. I did not enjoy being toggled to her day and night.. she was fussy. I gave up 3 weeks in.

My second intro to boob feeding came with my second child of course. ANyone else sucking on my boob for milk: would be quite odd.

I made it 4 weeks and couldn't handle the shackle of 1 child yelling for juice while one child was belly up to the boob bar.

THIS time.. I 've made it 6 weeks plus and things are going well. One jug friggin hurts EVERY time she begins nursing no matter what I try. I think it's just an odd boob. LIke me.

It agrees with her as you can see..






so I continue. Much acclaim with added applause from the lactivists slash milk jug moms of the world I'm certain. I am now .. kinda.. one of them. Or at least parading around pretending for the time being... I'm A FAKE BOOB!

Sheesh.. if you think talking about politics or ROsie Odonnell vs.. Elizabeth on the View..gets you in hot water: yell this line out while standing at a play area full of moms.

" I think I 'm going to start formula FEEDING soon."

YOu will NOT get past the ffffffff sound in formula.. I guar-ron tee.

The masses will descend, well intentioned of course.. waving their boob flags and knocking each other over to tell you their personal nipple horror stories.

SCAB!

THEY cry when they find out you WENT TO THE OTHER SIDE.. even once. THE DARK SIDE.

If they came to my door unannounced... I'd have to dispose of my powdered formula ( given once per night) down the flusher before they realized! Like some crack addict!

It's a riot. :) Democrats and Republicans have nothing on Lactivists. Go milk makers!

Thank you to any and all of you rioting lactivists who have encouraged me to keep the jugs going. I appreciate it and so does miss Mady! I cannot TELL you how MANY people have told me nipple stories. I kid you not. More than 8.

Milk jugs unite.

Yell that line in MY play area: and I just might descend upon you as well... telling you about my once scabby nipple.

* Update

I am a scab. I made it 3 months. I'm hiding this post for fear of the wrath. I quit because my M just couldn't handle it. Gas = not fun. No matter what I tried, positions, elimination of food , reading books, la leche.. she couldn't hang. We moved to the F bomb and : life is all good.

Kudos to all of you who do this for a living. You should seriously get paid dollars up on dollars in addition to those chubby BF cheeks you kiss because it is INDEED well worth it and misunda-stood.

There is a science behind it. There is dedication threefold. There needs to be more support.

If you are trying to BF my best advice is this. Continue. After the three week mark, just like all the juggernauts tell you endlessly.. it truly does kick in and get easy. Should you encounter a maddening experience like mine. Don't be afraid to try alternatives should you exhaust every other road, as I did.

xxoxoo

d

feel the burn

So this is a quicky post. Dont' worry.. you'll be satisfied. Or at least .. just lie to me.

So anyways-

HALT

that was sooo friggin out of my comfort zone to write .. that I just aged a little writing it.. but I'll leave it for your enjoyment so that you can visually see the anatomy of a ~ d post. Prudy prudence- don't play that. Kinda like homey. But there it sits.

So anyways.
I was thinking today...

that if I ever turned lesbian, left my husband for another woman

she-person with a she-person mullet, blue man blazer and a single solitaire diamond earring stud.. that I wouldn't go sit on Oprah's couch ( circa 2006/7 ) and spew to the world about it only to come back on Oprah circa 2009 via skype: a single person. A single person who got dumped and is now.. no longer a lesbian. AND has gone back to the drawing board: with a MAN .

SAY WHAT???

NOpe.
Huh.. uh.

Won't catch me.

FOR ONE:
Cuz I'm Prudence . MIzz. Prudence Pendelton if your nasty. Wouldn't tell the world on Oprah.


And for two: wouldn't that just BURN YOUR ASS to have to go on skype and re-tract your lesbianishism? Burn like a bad roid I tell you.. a bad roid.

Won't catch me.

:)

dRIVE IN stupidness

STRANDED AT THE DRIVE-IN
BRANDED A -FOOL
WHAT WILL THEY SAY
MONDAY AT SCHOOL?


Thank you Danny z.

We attempted to go the drive- in theatre last night to see UP. Because it's UNFAIR that I never get to go to a movie and pretty much: I complained and whined.

Tis the life of a mom of 3. or 2... 1... you don't get to do much cause you do everything for everyone else.

So we

I ....gave the kiddos tubbies, jammied them up and loaded them into the fake cleaned van ( thank you DBD) and headed out for what turned out to be.. SURPRISE... a slightly frustrating and mighty stressful night.

Why we thought a movie beginning at 9 pm with 2 children and one infant would be fun? Not so sure.
pERHAPS Cause I'M stupid.

So first off: Let's get the story right.

1. DBD neglected to bring ME a chair.

2. It was cold. and I didnt' have A CHAIR.

3. There was no room at the INN (back o the van) for me... cuz I DIDN'T HAVE A CHAIR..

4. Miss Infant of America decided she wouldn't cooperate. .and also I DIDN'T HAVE A CHAIR

5. Pey ( 3) decided that she wanted to go home approximately 3 minutes after she finished her home made popcorn ( hellllo recessssion) .. and that was approximately 4 MINUTES after I found out I DIDNT' HAVE A CHAIR.

6. My recession popcorn was sooo good that it ended up burning the lips of the whiniest child in aallllll the land. Go figure. Hey guess what?... she whined about her lips for approximately 35 minutes after she fInIshed her recession corn... and approximately 7 minutes after i found out... I HAD NO CHAIR.

7. I retreated to the front of the van with the non cooperative baby and proceeded to open up the boob bar for the next 55 minutes... all the while LISTENING to the movie .. that I SOOO WANTED TO GO TO THE DRIVE IN TO SEE because I NEVER get to go to the movie. And also; I DIDN'T HAVE A CHAIR.

8. dbd AND I fought... GO FIGURE.. and it WASN'T ABOUT THE FACT.. that .. I DIDN'T HAVE A CHAIR.

9. I saw approximately 3 minutes of the movie on the big screen and approximately 1.5 minutes from my passenger side mirror: backwards.

Gotta love family trips .. as a party of 5.

:)

Oh yeah. NO CHAIR.