Wordless Weekend--are there child labor laws in Kansas?


BLerapy -- Hosting an Anonymous Post Today

Welcome visitors!

I am hosting an anyonymous post for
bLerApy © day
Hosted by

Princess of Sarcasm and SupahMommy

*Please remember that the post for today is written by an anonymous blogger and not by myself. The views, ideas and opinions expressed are exclusively the anony-blogger's.

* however i might just have a post floating around in the mix

After you read today's bLerApy© post: please feel free to snoop around my blog. Here's a post you might like!

I hope to see you again.


My friend and I were taking our nightly walk the other day around the neighborhood. We got a late start and because sassy pants Mother Nature has decided to skip fall for us this year and head straight into the depths of winter, it was probably going to be our last walk for awhile.

We talked about the kids, school, cleaning, what we didn’t get done that day, and she mentioned her stomach was kind of upset from dinner. I asked her if she wanted to turn around, we were only a few blocks from our street. She said no.

So we kept walking past the houses and around the corner. I commented on how weird it was that almost every house in the neighborhood and put up lights for Halloween this year and she interrupted me mid sentence to let me know she was going to run into her bathroom and shit her brains out as soon we got home.

Uh, great? Like I don’t get enough poop and potty talk at home.

We walked a few more blocks and discussed how many houses were for sale and foreclosed on in the area, well I discussed, she started to sweat and breathe heavily.

“Are you ok?” I asked watching her slow down a little and wipe the beads of sweat from her forehead.

“I don’t think so. I need to go. I need to go right now.”

“What do you mean go? Like poop? You need to poop right now?”

“Yea. Come on.”

She had picked up the pace and was doing this kind of gallop side run down the sidewalk that eventually turned the corner back towards our street, another four or five blocks away.

“Why are you running like that? You look like a horse with a stick up its ass,” I laughed.

“Cuz I’m about to shit my pants you asshole!” Satan reared her head around and steam and pea soup emerged from her mouth.

“Ok, sorry. Just a few more blocks,” I cowered in fear as her butt clenching gallop slowed.

“I’m not going to make it. I need to go now,” She said running into the middle of the street.

“Well, let’s knock on someone’s door and see if you can use the bathroom.”


“Uh, ok sorry. I don’t know. I mean there’s not a bathroom out here on the street,” I said not sure if I wanted to cry, laugh, or kick her ass.

“Cover me,” She galloped to the other side of the street to a large empty retention pond. I heard her slide down the hill. Oh yea, this was going to be much less embarrassing than using a toilet.

“Oh gawd,” She mumbled before it came. Ya know that scene in Dumb and Dumber where the not Jim Carrey guy shits his intestines out for about five minutes? This was her. But in the cold frozen grass, in a deep retention pond that was surrounded by at least thirty houses on each side. She may not have been able to see them over the hill, but anyone looking out their back door could see her in the rows of safety lights that came on when she moved.

I could hear it all. I didn’t know what to do. So I started to laugh, hysterically.

“It’s not funny!” She yelled in between juicy farts.

“I’m sorry. Do you need help?” I asked calming myself. What the hell lady? You’re pooping in the grass of these people’s backyard. It’s fucking hilarious.

“God damn it, my foot just slipped in it,” she mumbled. “No. Just make sure no one walks by.”

“You want me to gather leaves or something?” I asked looking to make sure the coast was clear.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP AND WAIT!” she yelled.

So I did. Amongst the symphony of loud wet diarrhea that played for at least another two minutes.

“I think I’m done,” She sighed. And then I heard real music playing. And a deep voice say hello.

“Did you hear that?” I whispered inching off the sidewalk to the edge of the hill.

“Shhhh! Yes, I heard that.” She whispered back.

We heard it again. I looked down the backyards of the houses, the security lights back on at a few from my friend walking back up to the sidewalk.

“Dude, that guy’s on his deck right there,” I pointed to a house on the far side a few houses down.

“Fuck. Come on let's go,” She said jogging to the other side of the street and towards our block.

“Oh my God, I bet he was scared something was dying. You’re probably going to be on YouTube.” I tried not to laugh.

“I hate you,” She mumbled pushing me back into the street so we could cross over to our block. “I’ll go back later tonight and clean it up. Shit! It‘s all over my jacket.”

“Clean it up? How are you going to clean up diarrhea out of grass? It‘s not like dog poop,” I said. Only a few more houses until mine.

“ I don’t know. I swear to God if you tell a single soul about this I will eat your children.”

“That’s probably what got you in this mess in the first place,” I laughed quickly dodging her fake karate kick. “Hope you feel better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight. I hate you!”

“Hate you too, bestie!” I waved watching her jog up her driveway giving me the finger.

The next day we took the kids to lunch and every time I asked if she wanted to go rent Dumb & Dumber or pick up some Depends, she’d grab my little guy and pretend to chew on his arm. We’re awesome like that.


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November 6th 2009.

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November 4th 12 midnight.

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BLerapy is almost here!

Big excitement in blog land, folks!

Tomorrow is BLerapy, hosted by Adventures of a Wanna-Be Supah Mommy. Click on that to read more. For you lazy people, here's the rub: I will be hosting a post tomorrow (Friday) written by an anonymous blogger--NOT ME---an exercise to allow him/her to vent or tell a funny story that he/she cannot post on his/her own blog for any variety of reasons. I am really excited, and I know Supah Mommy has been working hard to make this happen. So come back tomorrow & visit me again. And be sure to check out the links to the other participants' BLerapy posts, too. Surely there will be lots of laughs!

In the meantime, I leave you with one of my favorite images---apropos for this time of year:

My kids and I just can't get enough. We're basically watching it once a day.

"Never jump into a pile of leaves with a wet sucker." --Linus


We interrupt regularly-scheduled programming to...

bring you a blurb my lil' brother wrote. It was published in today's Times-Picayune, the newspaper of my beloved hometown, New Orleans. Please read it here. Way to go, Mark!


Free Write

The girls are having quiet time and so I'm going to have writing time.

I'm in the kitchen with the windows are open. It's a lovely day, the kind where the trees are dancing, whispering, tossing their leaves with arrogance as if they know of their beauty. The wind rustles and bumps, lifts some papers off my kitchen table that I was trying to organize. Oops. I seem to constantly start one project, but before I can finish it, there's another one that needs my immediate attention. My to-do list is endless, and while I'm great about starting things, I'm not so great about finishing them.

I bought the girls some kiddie rakes and we're going out later to clean up in the yard together. I need to spend more quality time with them. They are almost 4 and I don't know where the time has gone. Yelled at Izzy about something earlier and stopped dead in my tracks. It wasn't all that long ago that I had defective, unresponsive ovaries and I was on all these drugs, a total mess, thinking I'd never even be pregnant. And now there are these two little girls walking around in Fancy Nancy tennis shoes, talking about Halloween, eating peanut butter sandwiches at my kitchen table, brushing the hair back from their faces like they're 13. Abby's getting my toes, Izzy's getting my eyebrows. Little pieces of me. Abby is a little version of Daddy walking around and Izzy is a little me. It's surreal to think that they grew inside of me so long ago. And that I have pictures of them as little embryos. And I have the catheter that they traveled in to get back inside of me, my uterus. Isn't life strange? Isn't it amazing? My kids are living, breathing medical miracles. It's not right to yell at them.

I'm 33. I'm a mother and a wife and a sister and a friend. I'm a daughter, a daughter-in-law, a cousin, a niece, an auntie....but I want to be more. These things are important--they are my life, for sure. But there's something lurking, nesting, brewing underneath my skin. I'm antsy and anxious and I want to be more active. I want to stop living every day just to get through that day. That's the motherhood pose, the mantra in my head that goes, "Just get through today." I don't want to just get through anymore. It's a selfish thing. I do, do, do, all day long for my kids, my husband, other people. But I want and need to do more for myself. I need more time. There's never enough time. Time to sit and do some nothing, time to read, time to write, time to reflect, dream, regroup. Time to get back to being me. Who is that, anyway? She's been paused, on hold, stuffed away, shuffled in and out, wrinkled up and used. Surely I can dust her off, polish her up, and have her be as good as new? But she's different now. Moth-eaten, maybe. Faded. Crusty. A little musty, too.

I did a few slightly rebellious things when I was younger, just for the hell of it, to get out of my boring, goody-two-shoes rut. I have a friend, Laura. I used to baby sit for her three daughters. We became really good friends. She once told me I should get my belly button pierced because she really wanted to, but her husband would never let her. She wanted to live vicariously through me. I was scared, but I thought it would be awfully cool and unusually hip of me. I told her she had to come with me & hold my hand. She did. Can't believe I did it. It hurt a lot. Dan really liked it, too. But I had to take it out when I was pregnant and my belly was getting so huge. And it just never went back in.

When I was in college, my friend Heather and I decided to get matching tattoos. We found a place in the yellow pages and just went, without any preconceived notion of what we wanted. We were so dumb. You'd think we'd have at least gotten Phi Mu letters or something. But no. We picked a matching pink generic-looking, very small flower, and put it on our right hip. My dad was livid. Nevermind that it's the size of a nickel and no one ever sees it!

Another year in college, I got my left earlobe pierced all the way up and also pierced my cartilage. I thought I was such a rebel. After a few years I stopped wearing posts in them and they mostly closed up.

I'm starting to get that rebellious feeling again....and I don't think pink hair will cut it (we have a sitter the girls love and she often has a few strands of pink in her otherwise pale blond hair--it's really fun & cute). But it's different now. I don't know how to explain it. I think writing will solve it, but there's not enough time. Never enough time. Maybe I should start to budget some time. And I suppose blogging counts to a certain extent...at least when I post something thoughtful.

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you Nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us---don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know!

Post-It Note Tuesday

I loved this so much last week that I'm doing it again. And trying to get better at it. Wanna play along? Check out Supah Mommy's blog here.


Crummy Day

I've had a really crummy day.

I did (or rather didn't do) something shitty this morning and I can't stop thinking about it.

It reminds me of one of Melanie's recent posts over at Adventures of the Reluctant Housewife, which you can read here. And by the way, follow her!

I was on my way to drop the girls off at school. We were approximately 3-4 blocks away when I spied a young woman sitting alone on the sidewalk across from the hospital (the girls' school is affiliated with the hospital where Hubby works, and is basically around the corner from it). I thought it was interesting that she was sitting, but as I got closer I realized she was crying. Meanwhile, a construction worker was walking towards her (there is construction going on at the hospital). I could see he was facing the same dilemma as I: to stop and try to help her, or not? My windows were open and I could hear her pleading, "Please help me,"and something about her boyfriend leaving her there without her inhaler. She was crying and gasping/gagging and she wailed, "Please help me, I can't breathe!" The man in the car directly in front of me pulled over, too.

I was conflicted because my kids were in the car with me. My gut was telling me this was a normal woman in an unfortunate predicament and she just needed some help. On the other hand, I didn't know her, she could have been mentally unstable or something, and my kids were in the car and I was reluctant to potentially traumatize them.

Melanie's story differs from this in that she was confronted with a child in trouble, and I wouldn't have worried about stepping in there. But this was a grown woman.

In the end, I kept driving. I dropped the girls off at school. On my way back, there was an ambulance parked in the spot where the woman had been.

My heart sank. I felt horribly. I should have stopped. I should have shown some compassion and human decency; after all, the hospital was right there and obviously they came to her aid quickly. Thank goodness those nice men stopped and called 911.

I kept thinking: if it had been me on the side of the road in some kind of trouble, wouldn't I want someone to help me? Clearly the answer is yes.

To the young woman in trouble on 43rd Street this morning: I am truly very sorry. I should have stopped to help you, but I was scared. I hope you're alright and that they were able to help you at the hospital.

What would you have done?


Sunday Stealing--the ABC's of Meme

If you'd like to play along, go here. I love me some Sunday Stealing! Especially when I should be plunging the toilet my daughter just clogged up.

A- Advocate for: Jews, homosexuals, Alzheimer's patients, moms of multiples

B- Best Feature: my boobs. Only because they're not real, you know.

C- Could do without: bad hair days and clogged toilets.

D- Dreams and desires: I want to write a book. It's going to be years, people. I have no idea what it will be like or about. I've recently been thinking something along the lines of "Me Talk Pretty One Day," by David Sedaris. Which, if you haven't already read, you must go get. Now.

E- Essential items: tweezers. laptop. Burt's Bees lotions & products.

F- Favorite past time: reading, writing, blogging. It's a three-way tie.

G- Good at: um, nagging? yelling? making my kids cry?

H- Have never tried: skydiving. Botox. pole dancing. gambling. cocaine.

I- If I had a million dollars: I'd donate a bunch to charity, but would buy a new wardrobe for myself because apparently mine isn't good enough and I "dress like crap."

J- Junkie for: blogging.

K- Kindred spirit: all of my new bloggy buds--you know who you are. Snarkler 2010!

L- Little known fact: I read so well & so voraciously from a young age that when I started 2nd grade, the teachers put me in reading class with the 5th graders. Which worked out well because I remember feeling very bored and frustrated with my peers. They were having trouble reading Dr. Seuss and I had already read Ramona Quimby and Superfudge.

M- Memorable moment: When Hubby's groomsmen dropped me during the Hora at our wedding (the traditional dance when the bride and groom are carried around while seated on chairs). And on the way down from my chair I flashed my lacy white skivvies to all our guests. Super!

N- Never again will I: Dance drunkenly on a table at Cabo Wabo.

O- Occasional indulgence: pie. almost any kind will do, but preferably apple or pumpkin.

P- Profession: mother of twins, aspiring famous writer.

Q- Quote: "Whatever you want to do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it." Goethe

R- Reason to smile: It's fall. The leaves are changing. My kids are cute (mostly) and my husband loves me (most of the time).

S- Sorry about: yelling at Izzy for clogging up the terlet.

T- Things you are worrying about right now: whether or not I'll have to call Roto Rooter about this here clogged terlet.

U- Uninterested in: golf, unfortunately for my husband

V- Very scared of: flying roaches and/or the regular variety. Fortunately there aren't many of them in Kansas!

W- Worst habits: self-deprecation

X- X marks my ideal vacation spot: Italy. Have never been there...

Y - Yummiest dessert: pie, but also Bananas Foster, which I haven't made in a very long time.

Z- Zodiac sign: Virgo, baby.

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