Monday, January 31, 2011

I'm So Sleepy Mr. Poe

Morning Readers,

     I probably shouldn't be attempting to post today considering the night I had...but oh well.  Apparently, teething carries with it, among other things, three or four late-night rendezvous with your children. With a false sense of security, I'd foolishly looked forward to a solid eight hours of slumber, and subsequently indulged in that overly-sweet bottle of wine, sipping satisfyingly from, what I affectionately call, the Big Glass. Silly mommy...hangovers are for single people.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Teething Biscuits: The Dirty Truth Exposed

Afternoon Readers,


I might as well warn you, I’m riding a coffee-induced waive of energy and I’m ready to sling some hard-hitting investigative journalism at your craniums. Ok…that came across a little strong, and maybe it’s not as hard-hitting as previously suggested, but it concerns everyone: moms, dads, kids, and most importantly, people who desire to keep their snowy-white Pottery Barn couches and/or Anne Taylor Loft dresses clean. If you fall into anyone of those categories, read on for the dirty, slimy truth. Move over Ted Koppel...I've got this one.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

A Letter From the Editor

Dear Readers,


I’d like to apologize for a serious issue I noticed on yesterday’s post. Towards the end of the day, I went back to re-read “Welcome to Thunderdome”, and realized, with greatest shock and horror, I’d managed, while editing, to copy and paste a section of my wording in (gasp) two separate places, by accident. I wish I could blame this error on the fact that I tap this blog out with my last good finger, while viewing my words through my only eye that doesn't require a patch...but alas, I cannot. I am not a leper, nor a pirate, just a careless woman who forewent thorough proof reading, to instead, go pack the diaper bag for a trip to Grandma's. As this probably caused a great amount of confusion and did nothing for my comedic timing, please accept a sincere apology from all of us here at There’s More Where That Came From. Please tune in tomorrow for an exciting expose’ on the shady underworld of teething biscuits.

Sincerely,

Paige K

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Welcome to Thunderdome

Good Morning Readers,


     On the off chance you have absolutely no idea what Thunderdome is (which is highly likely considering it's awful, and a small blip on the the fine-art grid that is cinema), it was a movie staring the often criticized, never duplicated Mel Gibson, and,( God only knows why) Tina Turner, circa 1985. The basic premise revolves around a post-apocalyptic world where dirty-looking people with mullets fight to the death inside a giant metal cage. Genius.
     For those Readers who're already lost, I draw this parallel to lend a better visual to the recent activities of my baby boy. He's looking for a fight to the death, and although he doesn't have a giant metal cage, he's got a few square feet of wood laminate, and he intends to use it. He can't even crawl yet, but somehow, the little squish has figured out how to navigate our downstairs in one of those crazy-looking baby chairs on wheels.  Unless you place your baby right at the edge of a cliff, it's super safe and allows immobile kiddos to "walk" the house, freely gliding this way and that.

Friday, January 21, 2011

The Secret Society of the Private Dance Party

Hey Readers,


I thought I'd take today's brief snippet of quiet, generously handed to me by the twins, to ramble about something that makes me happy. The last couple posts have been so serious, I figured it was high time we speak about something ridiculous. I'm referring, of course, to The Secret Society of the Private Dance Party. Bet you didn't even know you were a member huh?

As far as secret societies go, I tend to avoid them. Every time I join it's, "blood sacrifice" this, and "keep your sinister black, hooded robe clean" that. Besides, I've never really been much for meeting under crooked trees in the middle of the night.... too chilly. On my way home last night, however, I did realize that I am a participating member in a far less sinister club, but one which others rarely speak of. Why would they? It's far too embarrassing to admit what you do..alone...in the car. Ok, that's creepy, so I'll elaborate. Please see below.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Warning....Your Man May Have This Condition

Blah, blah, blah........
For those of you who don't know, that's the sound my husband hears when I start speaking. That's right Readers, I'm talking about the little studied condition of selective hearing. Sadly, this effects 100% of males, and there is no known cure. A research grant is pending.
I bring this up only because a serious case has broken out in my house as of late. Now Readers, anyone of you who's ever been in any sort of relationship with a man has experienced this ailment; the distant stare, the glazed eyes, and the occasional non-committal nod. This particular nod, for some reason, lulls you into thinking that the man-subject is truly taking in the surely vital information that you've decided to bestow on him.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Driving Miss Crazy

Hey Readers,


Helen Keller once said, "Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experiences of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired and success achieved." But she was deaf though. So....... Anyhow, I can only hope she's right, for the simple reason that the crying around here is reaching astronomical levels. Because of this, I've just returned from the ever-reliable "Sanity Drive".
      This particular outing has been employed by parents the world over for many many centuries. (and for the smarty pants Reader who just pointed out that cars haven't been around that long, I bet if you looked back in history, you'd find some stressed-out ancient Egyptian woman driving around her donkey cart with a papyrus-swaddled, screaming baby in the back.) Most often, this technique is utilized if the child won't calm down, or the parent just needs to get out of the house for any reason at all. Today's excursion was prompted by a need to mail the credit card bill. Yes, that's right, just one little bill. But after all the screaming I've endured today, I would've jumped at the chance to drive to the town courthouse just to make sure the giant clock on the tower was in sync with my cell phone...ugh, desperation, how I loath thee.

Monday, January 17, 2011

A Letter From The Brink of Insanity...Love Me

Dear Readers,

 I'm interrupting today's lunch of coffee and chicken tenders to bring you an important message. Please see below:
Ahhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggggggggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok, now that I've got that out of my system, I believe I can type out coherent thoughts on what I'm  going through. You see, as I tap out these words, the twins are assaulting me verbally. Louder and louder they go in a horrible twin harmony. I imagine that at this precise moment, two fat baby faces are peering between and over mahogany prison  crib bars; tears meeting drool as they combine in a gooey river headed for the collars of their t-shirts. I hear my daughter as she shouts "Gah! Gah!" in indignation. My son is only mustering a pitiful "Maaa".

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Today's Forecast...Poop With a Chance of Vomit

Good Morning Readers,

First off, if you're still reading after seeing the title of today's post, thank you very much. It's a tad vulgar, but it was honestly the most accurate name for yet another smelly/near-death experience I was put through this past week. I guess I could've written about anything else today, namely, the fantastic time I had shoveling my driveway on Monday, or the last few days of cabin fever-induced staring contests I enjoyed with husband....but let's face it, baby messes are way more interesting, especially when they involve questioning the very mortality we come to take for granted. So, here we go...
     For the eightieth time this past Monday, my son needed to be changed. As my daughter can't be trusted by her lonesome anymore, this meant that I had to drag her along with us up to the oft-used changing table(which, by now, probably hates us for how much it's been peed on).  Entering their room, I set my daughter on the floor to play with toys, and plopped my son down on the table. Removing his diaper, I realized, with a sweet mix of disappointment and horror,  I had an "Up the Backer" on my hands (For a complete definition on this particular phenomena, please see my previous post It's A Jungle Around Here...No Really). Green poop was everywhere; stuck to his back and climbing up his neck. It was a sticky and annoying mess that called for more than the usual two wipe job. Oh Grossness....

Friday, January 7, 2011

I Repeat..The Enemy is On the Move.

Good Morning Readers,

Space, the final frontier….and my pleasingly substantial daughter ready to hurl herself into it like a half crazed kamikaze fighter pilate. Yes Readers, my babies are unapologetically and frighteningly on the move. Consequently, this has caused the air around here to virtually drip with a bitter mix of excitement and pure, unadulterated terror.

For all my seasoned moms out there, a tip of the cap to your diligence in keeping your children alive to this point, because I’m seriously frazzled.  Every mom has a spider sense, and mine has been oh so tingly lately.  Why, you ask? Well, my baby did try to base jump from my bed. Yeah, you read that right. As I was staring at my formally youthful face in the bathroom mirror yesterday, I heard a distinctive noise.... a coo; a beautiful, cutesy coo. This coo usually denotes when my chubby little angel baby of a daughter sees something she likes...or is getting ready to do something that she see as potentially fun or exciting. Bad. Very bad.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

My Top Ten of 2010

Happy New Year Readers,

I hope all of you rang in the next 365 days with as much excitement and panache as husband and I. So, if you said "Yes Paige, I too hauled a 5 lb. bowl of cheese dip onto my lap and inhaled it like a starving child in a third world country, all while watching the ball drop and trying to remember if I'd bought toilet paper that day", then congratulations, we all welcomed the new year in the same classy fashion.

I write today, not only to welcome you and this humble little blog to a new year and a new decade, but also because I've caught the ridiculous fever concerning top ten lists. Mind you, at first I I thought this was the lamest thing in the entire world, as the media, gasp! tends to take a good thing and ride it into the ground like a 80 year old race horse with epilepsy. But as I started to think about it, I realized that making a top ten list of my past year may help myself (and you, you lucky reader), to remember some landmark moments from, what was, a mildly interesting year. So without further ado, I give you, "Paige's Top Ten Moments of Two Thousand Ten, ten, ten, ten (I hope that had the echoey effect I was looking for.)