the real reason the seahawks won

i just want you all to know the real reason for the seahawks’ miraculous win, was because my daughter prayed they would.

and as soon as she said ‘amen,’ she immediately knocked on wood to avoid the jinx,┬átherefore covering both religious and pagan rituals.

and that, dear readers, is how you raise a child.

luckysaid no one ever.

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can’t unring that bell

i will be 43 this year.

in that 43 years, i have not ever used the mother of all bad words.

that’s right, the ‘F’ word.

fudge

not only did i decide to use it.

i used it 3 times in a row.

while yelling.

while at work.

and at someone who may or may have been my supervisor.

and as my tongue suddenly decided to take a walk on the wrong side of the tracks, all i could think while yelling this word was: ‘my mother will kill me.” except i used her first name in my head. “frances will kill me.”

i am in my 43rd year of life, a mother myself, owner of a home, car, bills, and old enough to yell profanities if i darn well feel like it. but still, thoughts of what my mother would do if she had been standing there pop into my head.

soap

and that, gentle readers, is the power of this name.

frances

to the boy who thinks he can like my daughter

dear don juan,

your christmas gifts were thoughtful.

your shy glances, endearing.

your thoughtful questions, nice.

your manners, a winner.

thinking you can share your love in clever words you learned in beginner spanish with my 12 year old and suddenly become her boyfriend?

shock

listen rico,

rico

until your voice does not sound like mine, and you need to shave,

just keep walking by.

boy

sincerely,

just be glad i haven’t told her father yet.

the first two days can say a lot about how your year will be

upon arriving home from work this morning, and walking into my humble abode, i was hit by a wall of poo smell.

“oh.my.gosh. did the dog poo?” i asked.

“no, that was us, we have just all been pooing this morning.” replied one of my poo smelling children.

i took matters into my own non-smelling poo hands and got the matches to light the candles.

i still had my stocking hat on, which my hair lives vicariously through, so it has braids.

braids

somehow, in the process of striking the match, it broke in half, flew end over end, and landed on my hat.

therefore, catching my hat on fire.

while still on my head.

“@#$%” i said, while sucking in smoke, ripping my hat off my head.

“what happened?” my poo smelling child asked.

“i just set myself on fire!!”

she just stared at me.

things i learned while on fire, although briefly.

1) i could never be a smoker, just the one mouthful and my dreams of sexy smoking were over.

smoker

2) it is only 2 days into the new year and i have already set myself on fire.

it is going to be one helluva year.

new year’s resolution: hair war

i have decided that in 2015 i will take the world on with wigs.

some days i just might feel like this:

bike

nothing says ‘can-do’ like nicely feathered hair.

maybe i might feel like this to do my shopping:

american

because nothing screams red, white and blue more than shopping at wal mart.

or maybe i might feel like a hot night out with the hubby:

leopard

roar.

and instead of buying my kid a big wheel, i am just going to wear one:

big wheel

hello 2015.

hello sparkle.

wig

this is one new year’s resolution i can keep.

the hubby’s dreams of barf fest came true

the flu has officially hit stodmornia.

yeah, it is an actual place. why do i know this? i live there.

first it started with the infamous lunch room barf-a-rama, which we later found out did indeed have people scurrying and falling over backwards, literally, to get away from the action.

then we brought the action a little closer to home with the sink suddenly becoming a beacon for barf. for some reason, this particular child refuses to barf in the toilet.

note to owners of bathroom sinks, they were not meant to handle barf, plunger may be needed to de-clog residual barf.

plunger

not to be outdone, the next action was brought to us by the over-confident ‘i think i can make myself not barf’ participant.

he could not, he did, and the bed needed to be cleaned.

he kept a bowl handy from then on out, even when we have tried to convince him he is no longer barf prone.

the next action barfing figure is a little unnerving to me still.

this participant showed no sign of barfing. in fact, he ate a hearty snack, followed by a hearty dinner. not 30 seconds after the hearty dinner was completed, he immediately barfed in the sink.

again.

the damn toilet is literally 6 inches from the sink.

plunger needed yet again.

plunger

not to be deterred by a little barf, my child asked for dessert 30 seconds after finishing barfing.

“that is eating through the pain!” the hubby proudly exclaimed.

i personally was contemplating what exactly my womb created and who the heck eats right before and right after barfing?

the next participant in the barf-a-rama was the man who wished for it all, the hubby.

knowing the hubby as i do, and loving the hubby as i do, he did not fail me.

i got a play-by-play of the whole episode X2.

if that ain’t love, i don’t know what is.

at the moment, all’s quiet on the barf front, but the day is young and there are still three barf fest virgins holding on to their virtue.

puke