Slacker : /

Yep, I’m a slacker. I have grand ideas and urge myself to follow through with them hoping and praying that this time will be different and I’ll actually stick to it. Rarely does it happen. Although, in my defense, the last couple of days have been pretty insane. We are now the proud new owners of a sectional! Which will be amazing until we have to move that beast. I’m deciding to live in the present and be thankful for good friends that also own pick-up trucks. Little Miss Finley also got her ears pierced! She’s been saying she’s wanted to since the end of Bry’s last deployment but hasn’t gotten up the actual courage to do it until today. I was sweating like a maniac the whole time. Apparently my nerves and anxiety escape through my sweat glands. Gross, I know. So it was an experience, let me tell you. Shots for a child are different. You sit there and you say, this is good for her…this will keep her from getting sick…this is what good parents do. What the hell do you tell yourself while your kid is being pierced through the ear with a piercing gun? She asked for it? She’ll be so pretty? She’ll love being able to wear different kinds of earrings? No. You tell yourself, I’m about to shell out fifty bucks so my kid can not be that strange tween without pierced ears. That’s what you say in your head. But it’s over and done now. She has beautiful blue flower earrings in her ears and hopefully she’ll be one of the lucky ones and never have to do that again. Please hope that I remember to clean her earrings 80 times a day. Ok, it’s just 3 but it feels like a huge task for me.I’m sure I’ll get into the habit soon enough. Quick story before I go watch The Biggest Loser with the hubby and eat junk food (terrible, I know, but for some odd reason all we want is chocolate and crap while watching these dedicated people work the pounds away). Anyway, my friend and I went out to lunch the other day. We both have 2 kids about the same ages and the husbands were watching them at home. We sat down at the table and had NO FREAKING CLUE what to do with ourselves. I asked her if she wanted me to start throwing shit in the floor and screaming for no reason so we’d feel more comfortable. I ended up making a paper airplane with my place mat while we waited for our food. Eventually it wasn’t so awkward but this was one of the first times in our two years of friendship that we had ever eaten a meal without four kids in tow. It’s a hopeless wonderful feeling to not know what to do with yourself when you’re in a situation most people are placed in every few days. We literally sat there saying what our kids would have been doing had they been with us. Our lives are consumed by our children and we both made mental notes that day to get the hell away from the kids every once in a while so that we don’t feel like captives being released into the world every time we do anything alone. 

Here goes all my free time…(HA!)

Free time. Will someone who doesn’t have two children crawling up their legs 90% of the day please send me a long, detailed message describing this fantasy for me? I’d pay money for free time. Although that being said, I am typing a blog entry right now with no sound in the background except for the dishwasher whirring and draining. This is what I shall now be doing when I’m not budgeting, couponing, cleaning, laundering, or well, keeping the house from caving in on itself. My husband hasn’t caught on to what I’m doing yet. He’s enjoying his (very rare) video game time. Anyway, I guess I should get on to my musings of the day. Most of my posts will be crazy shit my kids do, crazy shit my husband does, or crazy shit I come up with. So let me tell you exactly what happened to our family today. My husband (love him so much it physically hurts) has a command holiday party coming up. They were deployed up until Christmas leave last year so they had to postpone it until February. I digress, we decided to go out and buy him a suit since the poor man has never had one of his very own. The kids were in rare normal form. Nora, the youngest, was screaming like a banshee for no apparent reason and Finley, the oldest,  was running around collecting “tickets” (pieces of paper and crap she had found on the floor).  They proceeded to do this most of the time at the mall. We ended up at Sears where my husband actually found what he was looking for so instead of keeping the little monsters in the store I took them to get something to eat. Which meant Mommy passed by the Nestle cookie factory and that is what we had for breakfast. So we sat eating sugar filled junk (our favorite) and people watching. Finley did the usual…couldn’t possibly sit still at all even for a second, dropped half her cookie in the floor, yelled everything she said for no reason, and fussed at “baby Nora” for being her sister. Nora ate her sugar cookie. So then, we traipsed off to the puppy store because Mother-of-the-year here takes her kids to a pet store with no intention of ever buying a 5000 dollar dog. So sue me. There were all these precious, sweet, TINY puppies and my 3 year old chose to play with the Newfoundland hound. If you’re not familiar with the breed, that’s a big-ass puppy. We were told she was just a big teddy bear so I let Finley get her out and play with her in one of those tiny cubicles that feels akin to a death trap. The dog was not so much teddy bear-like. More like actual bear-like. It bit Finley’s feet, tore off her shoes, grabbed my sleeves and pulled with all it’s might. My child was traumatized. I was traumatized. Nora and Daddy were laughing hysterically. Assholes. Finley was passed over the wall to Daddy and I was left to tame this beast alone. I tried to laugh off the fact that it was biting my ankle (literally) and that shit hurt. I ended up standing on the bench until the sweet little girl came and picked up this cuddly, evil, dog and took it back to it’s home. I do realize that it was a puppy and normally a small dog nibbling on you isn’t such a huge thing but this dog didn’t know it’s own strength. Long story short, we ran out of that place and I have no intentions (as I’m sure Finley doesn’t either) of playing with puppies again anytime soon. We’ll stick to our grown up yorkie, Rocky.