Wednesday, January 30, 2013

My Brain Monkey and I are in Car Time-Out

Brian got off work late tonight so we had to rush to go get the girls and were almost late picking them up from daycare. (All the better reason to have a personal nanny!) But I wasn't too worried because I finally got to drive with Brian in the car. He ALWAYS drives EVERYWHERE. The joys of being married to a car guy. Hey at least I get free mechanic work whenever I need it. I can't complain...scratch that.

Me - Man, I feel like I'm forgetting something.

Brian - Just drive.

Me - Drive Monkey, drive! I need a pet monkey to remind me of what I forgot.

Brian - How will the monkey tell you what you forgot?

Me - I had it figured out the other day when I was thinking about it, but I don't remember now.

Brian - You need help.

Me - For what? Can we get a monkey?

When we got to the daycare, Brian and I jumped out of the car. He shut his door, then I shut mine. Then we just stood there and watched my car roll forward eight feet, then across the sidewalk and run into the curb on the other side.

Me - Ahh, the parking brake, that's what I was forgetting.

Brian - You'll be the death of me, child.

Monday, January 28, 2013

Gingers on Ice! Get your tickets.

I'm awesome at a limited amount of things. Walking isn't one of those things, and I have already re-learned that a couple times this winter. Brian and I were walking out to the car on our way home when I walked right onto a big slab of ice. I felt that first little slippery feeling and my thoughts went like this; "Shit. It's okay I won't fall. Oh god, don't fall. Oh...yep I'm going down." My hands went up and my ass came down.

Brian - What are you doing? Stop messing around.

Chelsea - I am not messing around. I'm just trying to get to the car!

I got my feet under me but I didn't want to fall down again so I kept my hands on the ground too. It was too slippery to move forward so I just kinda scooted sideways with my butt up in the air....and fell down again.

Brian - What is wrong with you?

Chelsea - I. Don't. Know.

I decided the best way to get to the car would be to crawl there since it was a short twenty feet there. Brian left me and got in the car.

Brian - Where are you from?

Michigan :-(

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Calm and Collected with a Metric Shite Ton of Grapes

I'd like to think I'm calm and collected under pressure, but life history and my husband will both tell you that's not true. Truth be told, I'm bat shit crazy. I walked Shylee to school today because it was her turn to bring in a snack for her class and she wanted to take in grapes. Do you know how many grapes it takes to feed 20 crazed kindergarteners? A metric shit ton.  Anyway I thought it'd be funny, but also cruel to load all the grapes in her backpack and just send her on her way. And trust me, I took physics, I know that strapping 15lbs of grapes to a 30lb child would be hilarious.
Of course this would be the day we were running late, I had a meeting in about twenty minutes, and all the paths to the school were buried in six inches of snow.  We were tromping through the snow from the parking lot and I was doing the bossy mom thing, trying to hurry Shylee.  (For the record, unless there are cookies involved, kindergarteners don’t like to go anywhere fast, except in circles but that’s not productive at all.  And I think they LOVE being bossed around by their mothers.) 
I looked up from Shylee and saw the awesome winter wonderland that we were walking through, the kind that only Bavaria can offer.  Then, the school bell rang!  We had maybe a minute to get to the door or we would be locked out and have to go all the way around the campus to get a pass, walk back and get buzzed into the building.  I hear Ft. Knox is empty, so this must be where they have sent their security detail. 
I screamed RUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNN in my special voice I usually reserve for near death mishaps and when Brian tries to take my ice cream.
Probably out of sheer fear Shylee also screamed and took off running like she was being fired at. Ten steps later she tripped and almost ate snow. My mountain lion/G I Jane like instincts took over. I threw her over my shoulder, tucked the bowl of grapes under my arm like I was going to take them all the way to the end zone, and made a mad dash across the walking path, around the corner, and up the stairs for her classroom.  We made it; Shylee covered in snow, me out of breath and messed up hair, but we made it! And so did all the other parents that were standing there, staring at us, with their children, who were also staring at us. 
Turns out the bell was for the middle school, not Shylee’s school.  We were actually ten minutes early.  Yeah, that wasn’t an awkward ten minute wait.  Next time, I’m sending her to school with a note that says, “Dear Teacher, I.O.U. a metric shit ton of grapes.”

Saturday, January 19, 2013

My Five-Year-Old is Sexy

Shylee came up to me with her best duck face on and said, "Momma, how do you like my sexy face?"

Not wanting to crush her soul and tell her she is not nearly a good enough swimmer to pull off that face, I said, "What do you think sexy means?"

She said, "It means girl".

Oh obviously. Being a nearly bra burning, self empowered, woman myself I couldn't take the wind out of her sails on this one. I say nearly because these babies aren't going to hold themselves up! Anyway, I think sexy is a great alternative name for girl, so I let her roll with it.

Shylee spent the rest of the day using "sexy" in place of "girl". She asked a waitress where the sexy room is when she needed to go potty, she told Brian his shoes looked like sexy shoes (which he took as a compliment), and she walked around the house singing "I'm a girl and I know it. Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle yeah!" which is my new favorite version of LMFAO's song.

Friday, January 18, 2013

This is How You Get Corn in Your Butt

Tonight Brian and I were in the kitchen together. We have agreed to never do that again.

I was at the counter cleaning up from dinner and he was standing at the fridge looking for...who knows what. I had some food I had to throw away and thought, man if Brian wasn't in the way I could just throw this in the trash can and not have to walk ALL the way over to the trash. Just as I thought that, Brian bent over to reach something so I took the opportunity and threw a handful of corn into the trash. To his fault, not my own of course, he stood up at just the right time and took a face-full of corn.

Brian - What the fuck was that for?

Me - What?

I thought, perhaps if I act like I didn't know what he was talking about, he would think he's the crazy one and just walk away confused. It works on Shylee all the time.

Brian - You just threw corn at my head!

Me - You look really nice today. Have I told you that? I'd say dapper.

Brian took a step towards me and I instinctively grabbed another handful of corn; for protection of course. Brian grabbed my hand and tried to shake the corn out. He got most of it, but I still had a few kernels so I jumped behind him and put them in the back of his boxers.

Brian - Really?! Why would you do that?

Me - I'm sorry! My instincts took over. I couldn't help it!

Brian started spinning in circles trying to see the corn.

Brian - Where is it?!

I have no idea why, but we're pretty much in a state of panic by this time, Brian still spinning.

Me - I don't know! I can't see it! Where did it go?

Brian - I think my butt ate it! Get it out!

Haha, no!

Thursday, January 17, 2013

The Pussy and the Bong Tree

I was taking Kaydance to daycare the other day and got really distracted. As I was signing her in I heard "Oh lovely pussy, my beautiful pussy," and immediately forgot what I was doing. Um what? I didn't just hear that coming from a CD player in a daycare classroom did I?
"What a beautiful pussy you are, you are, you are, what a beautiful pussy you are. Pussy said to the Owl, you elegant fowl."
I just stood there looking really confused. Am I in a twilight zone?
Daycare Lady: Ma'am? Is everything okay?"
Me: You hear that too right?
We both wait and listen.
"They sailed away, for a year and a day. To the land where the Bong-tree grows."
She looks confused.
Me: Is this a real song?
Daycare Lady: Yes. What's wrong?
"They took some honey, and plenty of money, Rolled up in a five pound note."
Me: I'm. Going. To work.
"O lovely pussy! O pussy, my love, what a beautiful pussy you are, you are, you are. What a beautiful pussy you are."
I got out to the parking lot and googled it on my phone. Apparently this is a legit song/poem.  And its about a cat. Told you cats are weird.


Tuesday, January 15, 2013

It's Okay to Belly Flop in Yoga

After last week’s post about Zumba, I felt compelled to share my yoga experiences.  While my Zumba instructor may not get me, I feel like my yoga instructor, Michelle really does.  She says things in class and I feel like she’s speaking directly to me like, “It’s okay if you do a belly flop trying to get back down to your mat”.  When she leads us into a squat where only our hands are on the floor and our feet are hovering, I take the liberty to practice my head stand.  Most times not intentionally, but it happens.  She just says, “Yeah, okay or you can do that instead.”  If ever I decide to become a break dancer I will be appreciative of the time she gave me to practice the head standing thing, since clearly go-go dancing is out of the question.  Read this for more information on that.
I of course only listen to her for so long, as I have my own inner dialog going on.  Like, Did I shave my legs today?  Then we move into a position where I am face to face with my legs.  No, no I did not shave my legs.  Shit.  Michelle tells us to find a place to focus for a while.  Mine is usually at my leg hair.  Is that blonde or red?  I can’t tell.  Man, this is not cool. On the first big yoga position of the day I always think, Oh god, please don’t let me toot.  Please, please don’t let me toot.  And if I do, please let the class think it’s the girl next to me.
Just like most things I love in my life, I have eventually become obsessed with yoga.  I have literally worn a hole on the bottom of my big toe doing yoga.  Instead of telling people I’m limping because I had a blister that is now rubbed into a hole, I tell people I have holey feet and walk away.  I found out today that they take this as “holy” feet and are really confused.  Potato potato. (Written out, that’s really confusing too.)  What was I talking about?
If I can’t reach something from where I’m standing, instead of taking two steps forward I lean out as far as I can, center my breathing, lift one of my legs out straight, turning myself into a human T.  Making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Shylee’s lunch now takes five times longer and she just walks away saying, “Dad!  Mom’s doing that weird statue thing again.”
Shylee eventually got into it when she realized she could stay up a little bit later as long as she was doing that weird crap her mom does.  Baby Kaydance even got into helping with yoga.
Too much help!  Too much help!
In the mean time I’m trying out a new Zumba instructor tomorrow.  I’ve promised myself I won’t mention middle school dances, AIDS, ice cream, or friendship necklaces.  I’m always up for origami fortune tellers, so I refuse to rule those out. 

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Zumba, it's So Awkward with AIDS

I was standing in front of the mirror in my yoga pants and tank top when Brian walked by. 

Brian:  What are you looking at?

Me:  My love handles.  I’m thinking about naming them.

Brian:  Ah, you don’t have love handles.

Me:  Thanks.

Brian: It’s just your insides trying to get out.


So after that awkward conversation I decided to go to Zumba…and get in another awkward conversation.

After a great Zumba workout where I successfully managed to get nearly half of the steps right, I was putting my sweat pants back on over my yoga pants, when my Zumba instructor walked up.

My Zumba Instructor:  Hey I haven’t seen you here in a while.

Me:  Yeah I’ve been trying to manage my AIDS.

MZI:  You have AIDS?!

Me:  Well I have two auto-immune diseases and nobody ever understands what that is, and they don’t have acronyms, so I refer to them as my AIDS.

MZI:  So you don’t have AIDS?

Me: (Sigh) no.

MZI:  Uh okay.

Me:  But I did enjoy Zumba tonight.  I love these middle school dance throwbacks.

MZI:  Middle school throwbacks?

Me:  Yeah, you know, since Zumba is just like a middle school dance.

MZI:  I don’t think it’s like a middle school dance.  I think it’s more like the club.

Me:  I have been to the club before and this is nothing like that.  The first time I went to the club was on my 18th birthday.  My friends and I were dancing when this crazy French woman came up and gave me what I would call a standing lap dance.  It was really awkward so my friends ditched me and went back to our table while I was trapped there in a scary rendition of Moulin Rouge.  I didn’t know what to do so I just stood there trying not to make eye contact.  Most girls get creepy old guys hitting on them.  I apparently attract extremely flexible French women who may be under the influence.  That’s never happened to me at Zumba before.  Or a middle school dance for that matter.

MZI:  Oh, uh huh.  Well there are some crazy things that happen here.  A few months ago a woman busted a move, and then busted her ass on the floor.

Me:  That was me.  And apparently you never saw me at middle school dances.

MZI:  Well I still don’t see Zumba looking like a middle school dance.

Me:  Sure it is.  Only girls are dancing, the only song we really know all the moves to is Cupid Shuffle, and most of us are wondering if we have time to grab ice cream before we have to be home.

MZI:  I think most people here are watching their calories.

Me:  Oh I’m thinking about grabbing some ice cream after if you want to come.  Ice cream is one of the foods that doesn’t make my AIDS flare up.  I have to be home by 7:30 though, so we won’t have time to make origami fortune tellers or bead BFF necklaces.

MZI:  Like in middle school?

Me:  Yes!

This is when she just walked away.  No BFF necklace for her!
Enjoy this video on making your own origami fortune teller from a man with snazzy music and furry hands. 

Thursday, January 10, 2013

PSA - Stop Stinking and Stay Away from Leather Bound Bikers

I haven't posted as much as I meant to this week. Things have been crazy. Nonetheless, it's very important that I get this short public service announcement out.

PSA: Stop that stinking!

I walked into an office at work today and was slapped in the face with a whole-lotta stink! For a second I though Oh god, is that me? Then as I got closer to the olfactory offender, I realized it wasn't me. So please, if you're sitting here reading this thinking, Hmm, maybe I stink, this is for you. Also, feel free to print this out and leave it for someone you know that stinks. Or better yet, give it to someone who doesn't stink, just to fuck with them. Here we go...

If you get a wif of yourself as you walk out the door and think, It's 50/50. I don't stink too bad. - You're wrong.

If you get a wif of yourself and assume no one else can smell that stink - You're wrong.

If you work out, then go on to other activities without showering - You're wrong.

If you have eaten hard boiled eggs and have been within five feet of someone - You're wrong.

If you drink protein shakes to get "ripped bro" - You're wrong (on a couple different levels).

If you wear yoga pants when you aren't working out or going to bed - You're wrong. This has nothing to do with stinking, but its wrong and has to be stopped too.

If you're sweaty and know you stink, and touch someone with any part of you're body - You're wrong.

If you're a German biker who wears all leather with nothing underneath in 90 degree weather - You're wrong. Ask my friend James. One of you stinky fuckers gave him a quick ride when he was on crutches. He was spitting out stink for an hour. Thank you for giving him a ride though, he was seriously slowing us down.

Remember; wash, rinse, self-sniff-check, friend-sniff-check, repeat, and don't ride with leather bound bikers.

Oh how the Germans love the Hoff and leather.

Monday, January 7, 2013

Getting Naked in Public is Relaxing but Scary

Most of the time I love being a woman. Like all things, it can be good or bad. Being a woman means I am persuasive and have a memory like an FBI profiling elephant. Then there is this uncontrollable part of me that is irrationally drawn to romantic comedies. Women make no sense, more sense than men, but still no sense.

Today however is not a good woman empowering day. My stomach hurts, people keep saying stupid slap-deserving things and there is no way I'm putting on anything tight and going to the gym. I'm sure you've correctly guessed by now that I'm going through gotta-have-chocolate-itis. So I did what any rational redhead (yes you read that correctly) would do. I went to a public place, got naked and paid someone to make me happy. That's right, I went tanning! And it was fabulous. It felt so good to be warm when it's cold outside, listening to music, just relaxing, and knowing my kids weren't going to bother me.

There are three things that do freak me out when tanning though. One, that whole skin cancer thing. I try to look past that because it ruins my good times. And of course when you're naked in public, you should be having a good time. The second thing is the unlikely, but possible chance of someone locking the lid down with a chain, the bed never shutting off, and me screaming, but the German man who works there being out for a smoke and not hearing me. I blame Jennifer Love Hewitt in I Know What You Did Last Summer. Or was it I Still Know What You Did Last Summer? Anyway I think about that a lot in there. Third, I'm always afraid someone can see me naked. Blame it on a modest upbringing or too much late night TV. Every few minutes I snap my head up to check that there isn't a creepy little man peeking at me from the bottom of the bed. Not to mention if there was a creepy little man at the end of the bed, I would have no safe way to get out if his accomplice chained the lid shut. This is why I don't go to scary movies.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Not Joining the Circus Today

Another day home with the children…what to do?  Oh yeah, dream of running away and joining the circus.  At first I thought, “You little people are driving me crazy, go away”.  Then I thought, why do they get to leave?  That’s when I decided that I’m going to run away…to the circus.  It’s not 1930 though and  I don’t remember the last time the circus came to town; not that I’m willing to wait until they get here for me to join.  So I decided to go about this in a modern way.  I went to and searched “circus”.  They had lots of summer hiring jobs.  I am not waiting 6 months to run away from home.  I need to get out right now.  So I finally found a posting looking for someone who is a master of the rola bola. Unfamiliar with what that is, I had to Google it.

That looks easy enough!

My very purple knee and busted lip disagree.  And that was just getting up off the couch.  I tripped over Kaydance’s toy train, falling onto, then over the coffee table where my face was gracious enough to stop my fall.  I decided the rola bola was a bad omen, so I went back to the job search engine, moved the coffee table, and started again.  Under circus, I found this posting, which is much more up my alley.  I don’t really like cats, but it’s about 6000 miles from my house, so it will do. 

              Title:  Not Just a Job

Description:  My husband and I live in northern Dearborn County, Indiana and are looking for someone to care for our beloved cats while we're out of town from time to time.

We have four indoor-only adult cats ranging in ages from 1 1/2 to 7 years (Tut, Diesel, Jack and Luna). All four get along quite well with one another. They enjoy grooming, playing and snuggling together - as well as jumping and racing about which makes the house feel like a circus sometimes! They only rarely get snippy with one another, and even that is very short-lived!

Three of the cats are loving and affectionate with people after becoming comfortable with them in a reasonable amount of time, but the oldest is especially shy and takes a little more time to warm up and feel safe with a new person in the house. Unfortunately, he will not eat normally until he does feel secure - and this is especially unhealthy for him because he has a urinary tract issue wherein minerals in the urine will crystallize:

Urolithiasis / Urethral Blockage: crystallization of minerals (struvite or others) and irritation of the lining of the bladder and the urethra resulting in the formation of clay-like material which can plug up or block the urinary outflow tract. This blockage is life threatening if not relieved.

This may sound daunting, but prevention is simple enough - Tut is staying healthy by eating a 99% canned food diet (Prescription food mixed with Earthborn brand canned foods) and never being fed treats or scraps. There is no need for him to take medications, and our vet's only concern is that he is a bit of a ... well, a Blob! He is a big happy baby, and hasn't had any problems for ... 6+ years now!

All four cats eat the non-prescription canned food, but once in a while we will mix a little dry food into the younger three cats' servings along with some water.

Obviously, we always have clean, fresh water available for them and will even use a pet water fountain sometimes, as well. It makes a big difference as to how much water they drink daily!

That's about the extent of their diet needs - oh, and we do feed them four times a day. My husband feeds them every morning before he leaves for work, I feed them again in the late morning, then around dinner time, and finally before I go to bed. These multiple meals work beautifully for their systems and even with both of us working, this schedule has turned out to be less inconvenient than it might sound!

We do travel throughout the year so are looking for a reliable, dependable, trustworthy, caring, responsible, loving, sensitive person to develop a long term business relationship with. We need to know that when we are out of town for one night, or for 14 nights, that first and foremost the cats will be safe and healthy -- and we also need to know that the housesitter and only the housesitter will be inside our home at any time.

As you might imagine, asking someone to stay in our home while we are away is a serious matter. Until now, we have been fortunate to have had a family friend watch the cats and house for us, but that person has moved out of state, and we need to make other arrangements.

We would like to talk with you and discuss specifics of the job as well as actual payment per visit, day and/or trip. The amount shown below is a merely a ballpark figure since there are many options to weigh.
Thank you for your consideration.

Umm yeah, on second thought, I’ll stay here.  I need to put ice on my knee anyway. 

Friday, January 4, 2013

Welcome to Motherhood, We Serve Drinks

Brian had to go back to work after the holidays before I did, cruelly leaving me alone with the children.  His first day back to work he locked the door behind himself as he left.  Most people would assume it was to keep his family safe while he was gone, but I know it was because he was making it more difficult for me to run away.

Yesterday I opened the pantry to start lunch for the girls, who turn into ankle biting zombies when they’re hungry.  But when I looked into the pantry all I saw was chaos. 
 Since I was playing stay-at-home-momma (read being kept captive like a prisoner in a Pygmy tribe) I decided I’d clean it up.  After the heathens ate their mac ‘n cheese we drove to get organizing baskets. 
10 baskets and two kids in a Mini Cooper

I was so proud of my organized pantry!  I even labeled the canned goods so I could see what was in the back.
Kaydance came in to investigate and immediately informed me I did a terrible fucking job.  She’s cute, but heartless.
So I did what any mother would do (I’m of course referencing mothers in Mad Men).  I poured myself a stiff drink.
I call it the Bingy Gingy!  It’s a mix of frozen raspberries, orange juice and a bottle of champagne. 
Then of course as soon as the Pygmy Zombies saw Momma’s drink, they had to have one too.  Looks like they’re going to bed early tonight.


Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Enjoy bed!

Last year (when my New Year’s resolution still included weight loss) I signed myself and two of my gal pals up for the local version of Biggest Loser.  We vowed that we would work out at least four times a week at the gym.  And I was going to…until the first day I walked into the gym and saw that half the town had also made the same vow.  There haven’t been that many sweaty bodies outside of an orgy since the 70’s.  For the next month I worked out outside…in January, until the weaker resolutionists died out and I had room to workout inside.  I assume this year will be no different, with the exception I will not be working out outside.  I’ll wait until February to work out thanks.  Of course I could always workout at home and torture my own family with my Lycra covered ass, but they gave me really nice gifts for Christmas, so I won’t do that to them.
So in the spirit of New Year’s resolution motivation, I have found some motivational posters, and edited them with “in bed” like you would with the fortune of a Chinese fortune cookie.  So enjoy…in bed.
I hear your mom’s easy in bed.
I’ve actually found that’s not necessarily true.
Unless you’re into hookers, of course.
Beast mode off!  Beast mode off!
Yeah, like “Sorry honey, not tonight.  I have a headache.”
Yep, that’s how it works.

Arthur Ashe didn’t actually say that.
No need to answer that!  Please.
It’s a ginger thing.

Untrue.  I prefer to take up 80% of the bed and sleep in until 10.
Um, did you do it wrong yesterday?
That’s what he said.
I want to be the most successful person in the world…said no woman ever!

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

It's a New Year, Get Your Ass to the Buffet!

Life is like a Vegas buffet of knowledge.  The more knowledge we think we can consume and put away, the more room we have just made on our plate to be filled up again with fresh new knowledge that we must try to put somewhere.  Unfortunately, it isn’t served by beautiful cocktail waitresses that only Vegas can provide.  Instead we are served these lessons, or plates of knowledge, by people who press our buttons, people who we want nothing more than to judge the density of their skulls with a cast iron skillet and the little monsters we gave birth to.  For the record, I have only hit one man in the head with a skillet, but that’s a story for another time.

The magic of New Years is the promise of a new start, and a new calendar!  All of our failures and regrets are officially in the past and we begin anew.  In the past, my resolutions have been vain.  I have nothing to hide, these are just the lessons I’ve learned from past plates at the buffet.  My biggest wishes for myself have been to lose weight and look hot in a slutty little dress, make wads of cash, and “find myself”.  Oh these first world problems.

This year, I’ve decided my resolution is to be present and grateful.  That’s it.  I have no other expectations.  Worrying about weight is not the legacy I want to leave to my daughters.  Being healthy and feeling beautiful is.  If I made wads of cash, it would only result in me walking around the house looking confused, wondering where I put that cash.  Meanwhile Brian would be downstairs sneaking expensive new parts on his car.  And as for me, I’ve always been here.  I find myself in my writing, and in my relationships with the people I love, and the ones I hit with skillets.

So in this New Year, enjoy letting go of your failures and regrets.  It’s all in the past.  And when someone is making you mad, know that they are just serving you another life lesson.  Slap them on the ass, tell them they’d look good in a cocktail dress and move on.  Cheers.