Oh my, Rice Pudding....

"Hello, my name is Kimberly and I'm a rice pudding addict." No really...it's a horrible illness and as I type this I'm fighting the urg to run downstairs and make some. Unfortunately, I'm losing the fight miserably. Now please excuse me while I go run off to make, and devour, an entire batch of the stuff. Next time you see me and my ever growing muffin top, you'll picture me standing in the kitchen, with a spoon, eating right out of the 9x13 pan full of it. Every last bite, then lickin' the pan clean. And after a day like today, that every growning muffin top is the least of my worries. Right now, it's all about the comfort food, baby.

Don't worry about today's boring blog. I'll be back tomorrow to tell you all about our field trip today...and maybe post a picture of the teacher we saw wearing her super high wedge heels with her jeans and too small polo shirt. Yes, I said picture, because I took some of her....because that's how I roll.....

Excuse the typos. Too tired and focused on the rice pudding to care.

LONG Day

Woke up early this morning to get Mia up so we could sew her into my dress that she needed for Pioneer Day at school (because believe it or not...we're not the same size, and my dress was just a tad big on her). I had to sew her in it because when we moved, for some bizarre reason, I felt the need to throw away all my safety pins. Why? Why would I do that? Safety pins are a staple for goodness sakes! HA! That just reminded me...I could have just stapled her into it. Anyway...
We get everyone dressed and ready to go and of course we have to rush to the donut shop (for the second time this week...and it's only Wednesday!)because I have no milk, no bread...nothing. Just call me "YOUNG Mrs. Hubbard". On the way to the donut shop, I took my vitamin. After leaving the donut shop, 2 bites into my donut, the vitamin I took on an empty stomach, (because I'm smart like that), decided to try and make a comeback. Oh boy...This girl doesn't handle feeling pukey well. In fact...it's not uncommon for me to have a panic attack when I feel sick. Especially when I'm in a situation where I feel helpless...like driving down the road in a huge SUV. So, here come the cold sweats and the rapid heartbeat. Breathe, Kimberly, breathe. Don't let the kids know you're about to pass out while driving 55 down Tulare Ave. Then again, maybe I should tell Gracie that if I do pass out, to grab the wheel and slowly drift us off onto the shoulder, but again...maybe not. Don't want to panic her....but if I do pass out then she'll really panic. Ugh...just keep breathing......but of course, in between the breaths, I have a heave now and then. The look on Gracie's face was priceless. She doesn't handle puking well, either. So, I'm still trying to figure out if I should pull over or just take my chances and just puke out the window if I have to. "Take your chances, Kimberly! The girls can't be late to school!!" Fortunately, it didn't come to that and everyone made it to class on time. Whew.
Pioneer day school was a blast (she said in a monotone voice with a blank look on her face)! We headed to the multi-purpose room at 8:30 to look at all the fantastic model log cabins (and I mean that sincerely), for an hour and a half , and waited for the adorable 3rd graders to do their folk dancing. Stick a fork in me...I was done and so was Ella. Did I mention I had Ella with me? And did I mention I was in there for an hour and a half? Have I mentioned I don't have any patience and really bad anxiety? This combination is like a bad chemistry experiment.
Finally we get to go back to the classroom where the kids are going to make butter in my Dad's old butter churn. But, apparently there was some miscommunication between me and teacher because she didn't realize we could actually use the churn, and only brought a cup and a half of cream...for the 4 QT butter churn. Luckily my fantastic mother-in-law (and I say with absolutely NO sarcasm, what so ever!) came to our rescue! Not only did she pick up Ella (hallelujah), but she brought me enough cream to make a whole heckuva lotta butta. We passed the churn around the table and each kid got to take a turn. It was fun...despite the fact I was about to have another panic attack watching the kids roughly turn the crank on the 100 year old churn. But it survived.
After all that butta makin' was over (sorry, I just like to call it butta, ok?), I got to head to Gracie's honor roll "social" where she received her certificate for her 4.0 GPA. I'm so proud of her, but honestly...I'm sick of her stupid honor roll "socials". Good Gracious! I've gone to every single one since 4th grade! I'm tired of 'em. I wish she's just have one dumb trimester and give me a stinkin' break!! Geez!
After that we came home and I sat down here trying to figure out what to blog about because I promised to give you something. My arm and shoulder are aching so badly and I have the shakes so I called in my best friend for a little support. And like any best friend would be, Xanax was right there for me. Comforting and calming me. She has the gift to calm. I mean, I have the best freakin' friends in the world, but Xanax...she's my favorite.
Anyway...so I sat down here and I wanted to post a new video of Ella but it won't let me. So I went for another video of my cats on the car, but it wouldn't let me do that, either, which leads me to believe that I can't post videos on my blog and that's stupid.
Well, it's been a long day and tomorrow I get the pleasure of getting up at the butt crack of dawn so I can accompany Mia on her field trip to a Pioneer Village. I'm so over the stink' pioneers (and they were literally stinkin' because it's reported they didn't bathe too much)!! I'm going to go cuddle up on the couch with my friend Xanax and rest until Tim gets home.

Laundry Tuesday

Tuesday is laundry day. I can usually get all our laundry done in one day. Well, the stuff we wear anyway, unless Ella changes her clothes five times a day, then it can trickle over to Wednesday. And I usually do towels on Monday night and sheets all day Wednesday, or sometimes Thursday, depending, again, on Ella. But it makes me feel better to say I do it all in one day, ok? Don't question it!!!

Since I've managed to get my laundry chore down to "one" day, nothing drives me crazier than getting it all done and put away, then finding something under the girl's bed, in their closet or in the stinkin' laundry chute.

Ugh...the laundry chute. When we were moving into the new house, I opened a cabinet in the girl's bathroom and found no shelves and hole in the bottom. I did sort of freak out a little (but just a little, because I don't usually get too excited about anything...hahaha). Anyway...I'm not sure who discovered it, but someone discovered that hole lead to a cabinet downstairs in the laundry room. I know, sounds awesome right? But, did I mention that cabinet is ABOVE the laundry room sink? And did I mention that no basket fits inside that cabinet, so when I open it, all the girl's dirty laundry falls out on my head (or in the sink if I remember to jump out of the way)? And again I say, "ugh" and I'll throw in an "ew". I try to get them to put their clothes into the hampers, but the laundry chute is just too much fun. I'm just waiting for the day we have to call the fire department rescue Ella.

Oh, and the cabinet is so high that I can't see all the way back and it's not unsual for me to leave a pair of undies or a lone sock in there. Stupid chute. Although, I have to admit that it is pretty cool to tell people, "Oh, yeah, well I have a laundry chute in my house, so all the girl's laundry goes straight to the laundry room...".

Anyhoo...Having all the laundry done gives me such a sense of accomplishment. So much so, that I'm considering moving laundry day to Saturday so we can all run around naked for an entire day and every piece of laundry we have is done. Ah....How amazing would that be? Ha. I know there are people that do that, but, ew. Ew. And EWWWWWW!! Anyway...a girl can dream.

So, my undies and socks just went into the dryer and what do you think I found sitting on top of the washer? The little laundry bag full of the bras that were suppose to be in with that load. Yep. Fan-tastic!

Hold on to Your Hats!

Look out peeps!! I'm on a mission to update everyday day. Oh my gosh! Stop the squealing!! I know it's exciting, but geez! You're embarrassing me!! Now here's what I need from you...followers. So, tell your friends and tell your friends to tell their friends and their friends tell their friends and.....you get the picture.

So my plan is update everyday about stuff that happens around here, around town, around school. Maybe do a review once in a while. Hold on to your hats, peeps!! It's gonna be a CRAZY ride! Whoop!!!

I HATE Mice!!!!

Mice. I hate them. The only good mouse is a dead mouse. I hate mice. They're ugly, nasty, squeaky, disgusting little rodents. I think someone should invent a biochemical weapon to kill off all the mice in the world. In fact, I know nothing about chemistry, but I might be willing to take that one on myself. I know I can find a few people willing to contribute to the funding.

Seriously. Can someone, anyone, give me one good reason mice should exsist. I dare you. Because I will refute it. They make messes. They ruin things. They leave nothing but urine and feces in their wake. And don't tell me God created all animals, blah blah. I'm convinced these little suckers where created by the devil. The devil I tell you!!!

I suppose I should give you a little background on my hatred for the nasty little critter...no, not critters because critters is too cute of a word...how about, nasty little $#!++ers, (because that's all they do).

Growing up in the country, we had lots of mice. So many, in fact, that on regular occassions, I would walk into the house to find one in the middle of the living room floor. As I got older, like 18+ish (Yes, I still lived at home. Don't judge me!), they were in the walls like crazy. They would keep me up night after night, squeaking and nibbling and knawing and scratching and making baby mice and whatever other stupid things mice do. And on regular occassions they would die in the wall and it would reek for DAYS. I hate mice. One morning I woke up and walked to the bathroom. Still groggy, I lifted the lid on the toilet and started to sit, when I realized, "hum...I think there was something in there." My first though...Michael. He just didn't flush. He's such a pig. I turned around and, still groggy, I noticed "it" was moving. Man, what did he eat last night?!?! GEEZ!! Then, um...NO!! It was a stinkin' mouse doing the backstroke in the toilet!! They had moved in and taken over!! They had turned the toilet into their own private swimming pool. I'm suprised there weren't little lounge chairs around the rim and the cats bringing them fruity drinks with tiny little umbrellas. Well, needless to say...I didn't take this lightly. I jumped. I screamed. I ran. And I screamed some more. And some more. And some more. Mom was gone. Dad was in the shop and heard me screaming. He came to my rescue and um, well, when he found out what I was being rescued from, let's just say he wasn't too happy. On a bright note, he did take a tool in of some sort and broke that little suckers neck, before flushing it (that was way back in the day before these low flow toilets that you have to flush 16 times during one BM). That was it...I was done. But they weren't done with me. Oh...no. There was more scratching and baby mice makin' going on in those walls. So much that it got to the point that I was having nightmares and waking up screaming. It was a sad, sad time in my life.

Eventually, we moved from that house. I got married and had a home of my own. A mouse free home. Ahhhhh...peace. Or so I thought...

It was December, 1998, Gracie was 6 months old. It was time to start decorating for Christmas so Tim brought in the boxes. We got a tree and it was all Christmasy and stuff in here {{She said in her best hick accent}}. Then I noticed these little black things on the kitchen counter. Little black things that I recgonized, but refused to admit what they really were. They were just little chocolate sprinkles, I told myself. I even tried to convince Tim by sprinkling them on some ice cream, but he wasn't buying it. It was time to admit it. It was mouse droppings. AAAGGGGGHHHHHH!!!! I was a wreck. A flippin' mouse was loose in my house!! We got some traps and set them out, but nothing. Then one night, that little sucker darted out from the Christmas tree. Um...yeah, that didn't set well. I was FREAKING OUT!! Poor Tim. In the next day or so, I was in Gracie's room getting her dressed when one darted out from behind her changing table. Oh my heavens. I grabbed her and her clothes, and ran to the kitchen, where I jumped on the counter. Literally, I was sitting on the kitchen counter, dressing my baby, all while continually screaming at the top of my lungs. I called Tim and told him to put the for sale sign up. I was moving. He convinced me to stay, but it wasn't a happy time for me. I was a mess. We got some sticky traps (invented by a flippin' genius, by the way!) and put them out. Within like 30 minutes, we caught one in the laundry area. We heard a thump and this horrible screaching squeal. Ah...music to my ears! (Ok! Ok! So it was really horrible and I even felt a little guilty!) We ended up catching 3 total. After we went a few day without catching one, I finally decided that it might be ok to walk down the hall, rather than Tim carrying me (seriously, I made him carry me).

Fast forward a few years. I'm sitting in the chair and what do I hear in the wall? Yep. Scratching, squealing, baby mice making. That's it! Where are the matches? This house is going down and taking all those nasty, little, rabid, disgusting little suckers with it!! However, rather than risk losing everything and going to jail for arson, we opted to call the pest control company. And this is how it went down.
Pest Control Guy: "Where is your attic access?"
Me: "In the closet in my bedroom."
PCG: "Ok. Show me."
Me: "Ok. This way."
PCG: "Do you have a ladder?"
Me: "Um, yeah. There's one on the back patio."
PCG: {{just standing there looking at me}}
Me: "Um, I'll go get it." So I go get it and bring it in.
PCG: {{still just standing there}}
Me: {{handing PCG the ladder}}
PCG: {{still just standing there}}
Me: {{setting up the latter}}
PCG: {{climbs up the ladder, barely opens the attic and sticks a sticky trap right inside the attic. climbs down and leaves...leaving the ladder}}
Ok, really? That's your solution? Thanks for NOTHIN', Loser.
So, for the next couple years (LITERALLY), I listened to the mice making all their nasty little mice noises in my ceiling. Tormenting me during the day and keeping me up at night. I couldn't take it ANYMORE!!! Tim called the pest control company again and I refused to let them come out. Nice, try, Timmy...but this time, we're doing this our way. I insisted Tim to get his own traps and poison and take care of problem himself. (Man, do I sound like a hag or what?)Anyway...poison and several sticky traps later, we are officially a mouse free house, but not before we had to be traumatized two more times.

One time I nearly picked up a trap in the grass and the dead mouse glued to it, that the dog was trying to eat (so picture me bending down to pick up a piece of plastic in the grass and then realizing it was trap with a mouse being ripped to shreds by the dog. NOT PRETTY) I will admit that I probably didn't respond appropriately, considering I started screaming bloody murder and ran inside, leaving the two year old outside trapped in the fort, alone. The last time was when Gracie was outside in the grass, barefooted, when, yep, you guessed it...she stepped on a dead one. That didn't end well, either.

But, alas, our battle is over {{sigh}}...just in time for us to move. And so help me, if this new house has mice, my next home will be the looney bin. I'm serious as a heart attack, people.

Trying to Find the Time

How do you find time to write a book when you're a stay at home mom? You either have kids constantly needing you, distracting you or just plain irritating you. I want to make this work...I really really really do.

Right now, as I type...all 3 are mezermized by the "Imagination Movers" on Disney (I know. Disney. SHOCKING!). Even Gracie. It's a little bit disturbing and a whole lotta wonderful. It's quiet...but I don't have the motivation I need. Where are my quirky, funny girls that motivate me and make me crazy, which gives me material to write about? I'm so totally boring right now {{she said in a valley girl accent}}.

Every week day I sit down and say, "OK...this is the day. This is the day that the Lord has made...." Oh wait...I got distracted...I say, "Today is the day I will write. I will write a friggin' chapter!! Yes...Today." Then I spend 3 hours on facebook. Stupid facebook.

Actually, I do some laundry and take care of Ella. I try to sit and write, but I'm constantly distracted. I need a few days a week to really concentrate. I need Ella to go to preschool so I can write, and she can learn something besides what Phineas and Ferb are teaching her. But, in order to pay for her preschool, I need to write a book, get it published and make a fortune off of it. Sucks to be poor!!

I Have an Announcement

Ok, people...I have an announcement to make!

I've decided to write a book. A book about my life as a financially strapped Stay at Home Mom. Non-Fiction.

I'll keep you posted. HAHAHAHAHAHA!! Posted. Aw heck. I crack myself up!!