My Latest Love Affair

Well, just let me tell ya' . . .

that Nutella commercial lies like a dog!!!

BFG hated the stuff. Will not eat it at all.

And of course, I love it!!! It's so, so yummy!

The problem is I sure don't see how it is one bit healthy.

Here's a breakdown of the love affair:

1) Nutella on toast---Pretty tasty.

2) Nutella on fresh, white bread---Whoa, this is pretty darn good.

3) Nutella on fresh, white bread with peanut butter and bananas---Oh my! This is really, really yummy. Delicious, in fact.

4) Pretzels dipped in Nutella---Divine! This seems sinful! (Checking the label.) Yup, 11 fat grams later, this is definitely a sin!

Sigh! It's so, so good! But who can eat 11 fat grams just to get 2% of your daily calcium and 4% of your iron? Plus, the first ingredient is sugar! How can they market this as healthy?

Farewell, Nutella my love! We must find a way to live apart.

At least til the baby weight is off.

Good thing it has a long shelf life. Whew! I paid full price for that unhealthy mess of tasty delight.

Mama Said

Remember when . . .

McDonald's tasted good.

Think back far.

Yup, before your oldest child could eat table food.

BFG made up a song in the car last night singing that McDonald's had the best food ever.

I laughed out loud because thanks to her the thought of Micky D's turns my stomach!

Blech!
Mama Said

Hence the Name: HOT Cocoa!

Yup, earned me another Worst Mom of the Year Awards. And right after I spent two hours freezing my toes off for BFG to sell Girl Scout Cookies, too. That kind of just doesn't seem fair.

It all started at the cookie booth really. My mom came to buy cookies and, of course, gave me money to buy BFG hot cocoa because I'm obviously to incompetent to care for my own child. Although, by the time the whole hot cocoa incident was over, I think she may be right.

For whatever dumb reason, the girls are not allowed to eat or drink at the booth. So, we had to wait until we were thoroughly frozen and our two hours were over before we could get our cocoa. Being the cheapskate that I am, I decided that the bookstore coffee shop's (where we had the booth) prices were too high and that we would go to the gas station to get cocoa for her and coffee for me.

So, off we go to the Golden Gallon! I fill hers up first so it can be cooling while I'm fixing mine. It sat for a looong time with no lid while I went all Starbucks on my coffee. Of course, I now know I would never qualify for a job at Starbucks because I totally ruined my coffee. I finally finished and put cold half and half in BFG's cocoa and stirred it, blew on it, tasted it, and everything to ensure it was drinkable. I slap a lid on it, hand it to her, and tell her to be careful because it may still be a little too hot for her, but I think it's okay.

We are walking up to the register to pay. I turn around and realize BFG has taken a drink and it is burning her mouth! She is holding it in her mouth because she doesn't want to spit it out on the floor! The girl at the register was getting ready to wipe down the counter because the people before us had spilt their coffee. I thought fast and screamed, "Give me your paper towel" and grabbed the paper towel out of her hand and held it up to BFG's mouth for her to spit out the cocoa.

We're in rare form by that point. BFG's is squalling and in pain. The salesclerk has no idea what is going on and cannot keep up with our madness. I scream out Water! and run for the bottled water dragging a wailing BFG behind me. I grab a bottle of water (after noting the cheapest one I might add) and shove it into BFG's mouth.

We make it back to the counter to pay for our drinks and the clerk starts talking about my Vera Bradley purse and showing me hers and her wallet and telling me how much she spent on them and who got her into them, yada yada. I'm thinking 1) I only have this purse because my mom bought it for me, 2) I just burned my child who is still standing here crying which translates into this is not the time to discuss the merits of Vera Bradley purses!!!! and 3) you obviously have no kids because another mother would not be having this conversation with me right now!!! Are you kidding me?

She did offer BFG a cup of ice which made her pretty happy. As we are getting in the car, I realize that I don't think she charged me for the water. Crap! But fortunately for me, she is a smoker and had already stepped outside for a smoke. The unfortunate part was that the only thing between me and her was a policeman in his car. Still, I went ahead and yelled out, Did I pay for the water? She blanched and said she wasn't sure. Then, she said yeah, yeah, you did. You did. Don't worry about it. Y'all, I really don't think I did. Unless the coffee was on sale. I looked around for a sign and didn't see one. So, I'm trying to tell myself it was really like I got a free coffee because for some reason that makes me feel better about the whole thing. Oh, and the cop was too busy on his cell phone to notice that I possibly walked off with a "free" water.

So, I left the gas station with a burned child, a ruined coffee, a bottle of water with one drink out of it, a cup of ice, and a hot chocolate the she finally drank cold. Oh, and all the hubbub made me forget to pick up my thyroid meds at the pharmacy. So, that will cost us another $5.00 and hour's time to drive back to town to get those. I'm kinda wishing I'd just shelled out the extra few dollars for drinks at the bookstore because I ended up spending way more. When will I learn?
Mama Said

Missing My Blog

Oh, Blog, Sweet Blog! Oh, how I miss you!

I miss my blog so bad! I'm hoping to crank back up again now that we are on the backside of Crybaby's colic. The thing I hate the most is that I missed blogging through my long-awaited pregnancy and the first few month's of Crybaby's life. My blog is how I journal our events and memories. Now, there is a big hole. But, c'est la vie! I just don't have much time.

And I have to admit, Facebook just about ruined me. It's quick and easy and you get immediate feedback. But, I think I'm about over it. I can't ever post anything because so-and-so might get offended or so-and-so knows so-and-so who might tell so-and-so and that would hurt their feelings, etc. It's to convoluted to enjoy. Here, I am free to be me!

I've got some good stories stackin' up around here. I hope, hope, hope I get to write them out!
Mama Said

Eat Your Wheaties!

You definitely have to eat your Wheaties to live in this ol' house! In fact, I've been through so much lately with the house that I've decided to nominate myself for the cover of the Wheaties box. I really think it's warranted. To go through the mental, physical, and emotional anguish (all while pregnant may I remind you) of living in a run-down 140 year old house and still be standing is quite the accomplishment! Oh, yes, we are constantly shelling out cash faster than Rhett can earn it and there have been more than a few psychotic screaming/crying episodes and poor BFG didn't get to sleep in her room for weeks because it was all of 90 degrees upstairs. But we are still standing. I'd like to see if Kobe, or Favre, or Peyton could live like this!


And what brings on this conquering attitude you ask? I'd be glad to tell you all about how I killed a baby snake INSIDE my house last week. Who knew I had it in me? But don't tell General Mills about how I called Rhett right afterward (still holding the bloody knife) crying hysterically screaming at him that "I was so done with this house." Yeah, that might blow my chances at the Wheaties cover shot.

Trying to remember if I have ever in my life eaten a bowl of Wheaties,
Mama Said

My Sweet Baby

My sweet baby two weeks ago. I wish I could see her every week!
Now if only we had a name . . .

Now THAT Was A Bad Idea!

Seriously, I wonder about myself. I think I could possibly be certified as an idiot.

Night before last, I heard our 100th mouse in the corner of our bedroom. Yes, the corner right by my head where we always hear the mice first, which stands to reason this may be where they are getting in but we have yet to do anything about it. The mouse was eating something very loudly in the wee hours of the morning but alas, it was not the poison packet lying under the dresser.

So, I get one of my fabulous ideas. I could tell the mouse had not found the kitchen yet. I suggested to Rhett that we put peanut butter on a fresh poison packet and put it right in the corner for the night last night and I'd make sure it was cleaned up before we let the dog out the next morning. I knew hearing it eat the poison would keep us up, but as long as it ate it we were golden. Ingenious, right?

At 1:30 in the morning when the nibbling started, I still thought I was extraordinarily smart. The mouse (or mice, I've heard they run in pairs) spent the whole night coming to the peanut-butter poison packet. I got almost zero sleep, but I didn't care. With every rustle and munch I heard, I knew their time was short and was filled with glee that my plan had worked! {Insert wicked laugh here.}

Fast forward to 6:00 am when Rhett was leaving for work, my plan failed! We checked the poison packet. Apparently, just a smear of peanut butter is enough for a mouse or two to party on all night long! They had licked up half the peanut butter and had not bitten into the poison at all! I stayed up all night for nothing listening to their peanut-butter-p*opin-party. Yeah, that's right. Just enough peanut butter to leave me plenty of pellets to clean up. Yay.

Sorry if there are typos in this. I'm pretty doggone tired! Stupid mice! I hate them! If I had one, I seriously would wear an "I Hate Mice!" t-shirt.
Mama Said

Note: Later, I did find where the mouse found our kitchen last night and ate an entire poison packet under the sink. I'm very, very grateful! I still stayed up for nothing and had even more "gifts" to clean up, but at least this one's taken care of!