Dinnertime

My children are just masquerading as children. I actually believe them to be feral wolf boys that have learned how to work the system. The amount of meat they can consume in one sitting is startling. I'm always walking the line between wanting to satisfy their hunger and clogging their arteries.

Tonight, I'm roasting a chicken (Barefoot Contessa's recipe). Little boy #2 is breathing down my neck for MEAT. Here's the conversation:

Boy #2: Can I PLEASE have a piece of meat!

Me: It's not ready yet.

Boy: (Counts to 20 as fast he can) It's ready!

Me: It doesn't work that way sweet potato.

Boy: Can I just PLEASE HAVE IT?

Me: Go back upstairs, I'll call you when it's ready.

Boy: Yeah, when I'm a skeleton.

Best App Ever

My husband read about this iphone application and decided to try it out on the children.

Here's the husband trying to coerce boy #2 to sing.

And here's boy #1, totally off the cuff singing an ode to warthogs.

We are now accepting offers from agents. Show us the money.

Happy Birthday Boy #1

Big day today. Big boy #1 is into the double digits. I can't believe it. He likes the fact that my age is EXACTLY 30 years more than his age. I don't like this so much anymore.

He came home from school today and announced that he's decided what he wants to be when he grows up: A Scatologist. I'll save you the trip to google:

http://education.yahoo.com/reference/dictionary/entry/scatology

I'm thinking of asking for a partial refund of my property taxes.

Bigger problems.

My boys and I were in the bathroom the other night "brushing and peeing" (I was supervising, not participating). We were all looking at our reflections in the mirror. My older son has scratches all over his face from his overly enthusiastic love of our new bunny ("I will love him, and squeeze him and call him George....") My younger son has a ring around his mouth caused by his new transitory tick of childhood; incessant licking. And I, of course, have zit scabs.

So I'm slathering all of our faces up with Neosporin and say something like "sheesh, I can't believe I have so many zits, it's just not fair." And my loving son says:

"Yeah, you have so many other things to worry about like wrinkles and double chins and arthritis!"

(My evil fantasy reply)

"No kidding! Not to mention that whole 2012 end of the world thing? It's totally happening. G'night honey!"

The ledge: Talk me off it please.

I just pulled these out of my head. These are the first from the Northern Hemisphere (ahem). If it weren't 2 p.m. and I didn't have to teach a spin class at o'dark thirty tomorrow, I would start drinking now. I know this is stupid. I know this vain. But I'm still freaking out. Psst.....hey aging, FUCK YOU.

My fingers are ready

Well that blog title should get some interesting hits on google. Hey ya pervs! Now go away. To the rest of you friends, hi :) How the heck are you? I'm pretty good. I put the 'ole blog on the back burner for quite awhile, and almost left it there (as I've been known to do cooking whilst imbibing) but it's been beckoning to me lately.

I've always been a very linear, goal oriented person. I got through high school and college by focusing on little "milestones" (getting drivers permit, getting drivers license, getting a certain G.P.A., etc.). This blog was easy for me when it was milestone driven (my 40th birthday). I think I had the adult equivalent of finals week letdown after my birthday. And it's still lingering except this time I don't have a three day hangover and bronchitis.

So it's time to invent a new and/or improved purpose for this blog. Here's what I love about it. I love making people laugh, smile, snort, giggle and possibly pee a little bit through relatable stories. I love talking about great discoveries or calamities in my life. I love talking about the things that make aging a little more bearable and the things that make it really freaking frustrating. I love talking about my kids. I love not feeling alone in the world. I love inspiring people to live their best lives whatever their age.

I don't love it when it feels like work. I don't love editing myself because I'm worried about being crass or some future employer reading my blog on a background search and deciding not to hire me based on my potty talk. There's a REASON this blog is semi-anonymous. I started it for catharsis. I miss my girlfriends who I can be ridiculous with. We spend so much energy editing ourselves to be appropriate around our kids, our co-workers, strangers, in-laws and the like. Sometimes it just feels good to let it all hangout you know?

One of my very wise readers commented a long while back and said something that has stayed with me: "I see life in terms of my eulogy. Give me the crazy, goofy Aunt telling stories on me any day. (Over the p.c. "she was a pillar of her community/family/church version.)" I need to remember that if someone doesn't like what they read here, they will move on. And that is fine by me.

Let's have some fun.

Grrrrrrumpy

On a normal day, this picture would inspire me. Today it just pisses me off.

I set a new record for gluttonous behavior this holiday season. Not happy with myself whatsoever.

Not to mention PMS.

So Gwenny, my birthday-sharing sista:

SUCK IT.