Thursday, September 27, 2012

Late Nights: Saying "Yes" to Justin Timberlake and "No" to An Inappropriate Relationship With Justin Bieber

"It's ok, girl. I know it's just the sleepless nights and lack of hair appointments. Those roots are fierce."
Morning Readers,

Probably the hardest part of having a baby is trying not to watch too much YouTube. The second is remembering not to let your strawberry ice cream melt next to the computer, because that stuff is super expensive if you don't buy the off-brand, "Tastes Just Like Strawberry, Sometimes".

And before you think my priorities are completely askew, I'm well aware the third hardest part is figuring out how to smuggle all those litte cups of tapioca pudding out of the hospital.

I'm not an idiot.

But, back to YouTube.

As my ice cream melted, and I listened to the sounds of Doc finally sleeping in his swing, I realized, too late, I'd been sucked into the plethora of videos I'd been using to keep myself awake. A decent dabbling in Maroon 5 had turned into an ugly corner, right into the intersection of Bieber Street and Questionable Way. And, as I watched his latest video, I realized something horrible;

Justin Bieber is trying to turn himself into jail bate....

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Secret Secrets, Confessed Confessions

Morning Readers,

Most people aren't fully prepared for the turning points in their marriage. The times when they discover one-sixteenth of their relationship is a complete lie. Sure, that leaves fifteen sixteenths, but that also leaves a constant conversion to fractions, and how can romance bloom if two people are constantly worried about where to move the decimal point?

It can't. Because math kills... and is also responsible for extremely low test scores for individuals just looking to get their English degree and not find out how long it'll take for Ted to swim eight pounds of coconuts across the Ganges, if he leaves Chatanooga on Christmas. Damn it, Ted. Did you even check to see if anyone needed that much coconut?

...but, I digress.

Friday, September 21, 2012

Breaking News: Stranger Talks to Woman. Woman Stares Like Idiot

"And what's your name, pretty lady?" ... "It's ham. But only if the owl calls at midnight."
Afternoon Readers,

It could be argued that I've been inside too long. Since my journey from the hospital, I've only made a couple trips out of the house. And only then, under the cover of night. When it's dark, no one asks you if you're six months pregnant and why you're drinking Seagrams out of a paper bag in the parking lot.

Everyone's a winner.

But, the lioness had to hunt for the family. And that meant going out in the daylight. The pizza wasn't going to going to deliver itself...or, it would've if I wasn't so cheap... and that meant guessing what people are wearing these days and trying to blend in with society.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

The Tinting Effect

Afternoon Readers,

     Well, it's finally settled. Husband found a car, and I don't have to throw myself off a bridge from too much car-totaling drama. This is a huge relief, as I'd only found one bridge. And even then, the guy was all like, "Mam, please don't stand on the cart coral. This is Walmart. Not a rodeo."

After much searching, we happened up a little four door. Though newer, it has the same mileage as the last car, but won Husband over with its cleanly interior and visors that weren't missing. Admittedly, that was one of the first things that sold me as well. I gazed in awe, and stuck my head out the window. "Did you see the visors. Two of em' just waiting to block the sun."

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Caution: Whales Operating Vehicles

Morning Readers.

Usually, I find creative ways to waste our money, but my favorites, by far, are the ones where people do it for me. After all, who has time to hand out hundred dollar bills on street corners these days? I'll give you one guess who it's not. She has two thumbs and never buys a bra that's more than seven dollars.

...it's this girl!

 So, obviously, you'll understand how overjoyed I was when I got pulled over right before I gave birth.

As I rolled down the window, I adjusted my glasses and prominently displayed the side of my belly that'd readily show contractions or a foot trying to get out. Anything to make screaming, "Ripley, get off the ship," more convincing. "Good evening, Officer. Can I help you?"

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Morning, You Are the Ike to My Tina

"Today's post is brought to you by Insomnia. Because nothing says,"I think I'm dying," like Insomnia. Back to you, Paige."
Morning Readers,

I'm not sure if it's safe to blog if you've only slept for and hour and a half, but it was either that or begin weeping uncontrollably in the middle of the floor. At least, this way I get to publish content that devalues the internet a little more and saves me from having to wipe the first layer of dirt off the wood laminate...because it took a family effort to build that dirt. And when Hoarders finally shows up to film here, I want something that looks dull and un-waxed on camera, besides my face.

Last night, Doc Hoiliday decided he'd just stay up all night. I suspect this was because he couldn't poop. I can't hold this against him, as I've had this same problem, but it made for a long night of me staring into space, wondering when I won't look six months pregnant anymore, and listening to random Adam Levine songs, who, annoyingly, never looks six months pregnant.

And since he didn't father any of these children, I can never forgive him that...

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

How We're Doing...on a scale of one to ten

Morning Readers,

First off, thank you so much for all the well-wishes and words of kindness you've thrown our way; they're the only things I cling to while wandering half-blind around our house at three in the morning. I should probably start clinging to a flashlight, now that I think about it.

Doc Holiday has settled in. This means a.) I can sleep on my back again, and b.) never sleeping again.

...but if I could sleep again, it would so be on my back. *plops post-it into dreams and wishes box creaky from under-use*

It's been the general chaos of bringing a brand-new baby into the house, but the only real way to give you an accurate depiction of what the Split-level is like these days, is to give you the status report on a scale of one-to-ten:

Friday, September 7, 2012

Piper Bayard Shares: Success Tips From A Drama Dog

Piper would like you to meet Parker.
Morning Readers,

Today I have the pleasure of presenting a post by one of the best blogger friends anyone could have. She's witty, talented and can leap tall buildings in a single bound. She asked me not to mention that last part because then everyone would know she's a super hero, but I was all like,"Piper, they've gotta know sometime...also, it'll explain the tights and cape if they run into you."

I don't know where I'd be in the blogosphere without her. All I know is she's not allowed to stop being my friend...ever. *more nervous laughter...walks away with collar pulled up and sunglasses pulled down*

Take it away, Piper! ....


We got Parker from the Humane Society a couple months back when I had a feeling there was a dog waiting that would be a perfect fit for our family. Parker had been taken back twice because he doesn’t play well with others. He almost completely ignored us during our initial visit, and he was about twenty pounds overweight. Perfect, right? Yes. We saw it that way, too.

Once we got him home, we also discovered he was terrified of everything from the vacuum sweeper to the guinea pig to the staircase. But after three days and two pounds of ham to coax him up the stairs, he relaxed into a self-contained, happy pup that blended well with the family. And the best part? He didn’t seem to shed much at all.

Then came the bait and switch. We got back from our Vancouver Island vacation to find Parker had started to shed while we were away. In fact, it seemed to be his new mission in life.

In a heartbeat I had dog brush in hand and was calling our little fluff factory to the back door. But he would have none of it. Every time I stroked him gently with the dog brush, he yelped and snapped. I couldn’t even pluck away the loose tufts of hair without him acting like I was ripping off appendages.

So I had a bit of a dilemma on my hands. Traumatize the dog, or allow him to coat us and all of our belongings in his tresses?

My daughter, DD, and I decided to take Parker for a walk and contemplate the situation. While I glared at the dog and DD laughed about the matter, she started flipping the rope leash up and down along his hind end, coaxing off chunks of fuzz and leaving his tuchus looking like a topographical map of the Rocky Mountains. Parker was so distracted by all of the sights and smells around him that he didn’t notice.

That made me bold. Every time he stopped to sniff some marvelous delight, I ran forward and started grabbing out handfuls of hair. By the time we finished the walk, it looked like we’d shaved a bear on the path, and Parker didn’t notice or object once. Clearly, when it came to helping him shed, Parker was a drama queen. 

The next day, I took the brush with me on our walk and encouraged Parker to sniff every rock, plant, or animal trace we crossed as I left a trail of dog hair tumbleweeds to mystify joggers through the day.

I decided to push it and took him out on the porch at home and continued my work. Without a walk to distract him, he began yelping and snapping again, but this time, I knew I wasn’t hurting him so I gave him a firm ‘no’ and ignored his fussing. He soon settled down.

Now, Parker still hates brushing, but he tolerates it, and I don’t have to feel like a tribble every time I lie down on the couch. And the best part? After I took charge and told him to knock off the drama, he trusts me more than ever, and the new problem is not tripping as he  walks on my heels all day. 

Success lessons? Some fears are nothing but bad habits, and discipline will save the day when indulgence fails.

What does your pet teach you about success?

All the best to all of you for knowing when to take charge.

Piper Bayard–The Pale Writer of the Apocalypse

Until Next Time, Readers!

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Reporting Live: The Fat Eagle Has Landed...and a Winner!

Afternoon Readers,

I hope all of you are having a wonderful week not depending on pain killers. Unfortunately, this post has been sponsored by Percocet.

And our announcer says,

"Percocet....because you can't go through life completely unconscious. Back to you, Paige."

Anywho, now isn't the time for delivery stories, but I would like to congratulate the winner of this week's contest, Tracy, the owner of the hilarious and fantastic blog Logy Express for her guess of a ten pound baby boy. Tracy, I'll be sending that Amazon gift card your way very shortly.

Everyone, Doc Holiday was born on 9/4/12, weighing in at a whopping nine pounds and seven very fat ounces. He's so fat, I'll have to share a picture later on, just so you believe me.

In the meantime, just know that I miss you all and will be back to the blogosphere soon. Look forward to another fabulous guest post tomorrow. I have to go feed this baby a gallon of formula and try to reach the ice cream I stored way too far away from my bed. Percocet tastes great with ice cream.

Until Next Time, Readers!

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Robyn Presents: Early Days With Baby

Morning Readers,

As you know, I'm currently in a drugged-induced happy place with the new baby...gender and weight to be announced when I get back (you can still guess at that, here, until the end of the week) ... but you clicked on the blog, right? You say, "Paige, I'm glad you gave birth, but I'm here to read something funny and not about you developing a potential dependency on prescription drugs and free Jello." Right?

Lucky for you, I've dragged Robyn from Hollow Tree Ventures over here and made her write something funny. Because she wanted to. And because telling someone you're watching them from the bushes gets them to do pretty much anything you want because they think you might be stalking them...kidding... *lots of nervous laughter* End scene.

So, as a special treat, I hand the blog over to one of my favorite blogging friends, and soon to be yours, Robyn Welling... take it away, Robyn!

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Happy C-Section Day!

Morning Readers,

In about a half an hour, I'll be going where no man has gone before. For all you men who've had a c-section, please inbox me and I'll apologize when I get out of the hospital. Time to go over the final checklist before I head in:

Starving because I wasn't allowed to eat after midnight? Check.
Horrible cold that the twins gave me twenty-four hours ago? Check.
Bag packed with stuff I'll be too out of it to use? Check.
Ninety-percent of leg hair shaved so I don't terrify surgeon? Check.
Ready to have this baby so I can scream down the hallways, "More pudding, now."

Yep, Husband and I are off to bring the world yet another Kellerbaby. Will it be an Annie Oakley or a Doc Holiday? Guessing's still open here, and the competition's fierce. My Readers are some seasoned vets who know what a baby should weigh, down to the ounce. Good luck to all!

And with that...

Until Next Time, Readers!

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Guess Kellerbaby's Weight and Win a Prize: Another Saturday Evening Post

Jean the Genius says, "I think it'll be smaller than a pony."
Evening Readers,

Zero hour is only two days away. Our newest edition will be evicted on Tuesday morning, rain or shine. To make things interesting... as if this blog isn't the most fascinating thing you've ever seen...it's not?...I know... I've decided to run a contest.

Goal: Guess Kellerbaby's gender and weight.

The person who comes closest wins a 20.00 giftcard to Amazon.

Now, I know this is an astronomical amount of money. So I can understand if you want to keep this announcement to yourself and not share with your neighbors, but feel free to tell a friend. "But, Paige," you say. "I could potentially buy eight pairs of socks, five used copies of an Ace of Base album, or exactly one ton of streamers for my next party. I must keep this to myself."

And I say, you know in your heart what's right.

Feel free to leave your guess and email in the comments. Also, I'll only accept guesses that name an actual weight. Any submissions stating, "I think it won't be a tiger and weigh more than a quarter, you will be disqualified.

...not because I don't like tigers. You're missing the point.

I'll have this contest open until I get back from the hospital, so feel free to guess away. The winner will be announced when I pull myself out of the drug-induced haze I'll have been operating in for no less than seven days.

And just in case you're worried, I did check with Husband to make sure we could afford the gift card. He said, after the second mortgage paperwork is finalized, we should be able to swing it. Minor details to be sorted out with our broker by the time I send the prize to the lucky winner.

Just a lot of "Sign here", "Sign there," blah blah blah.

Until Next Time, Readers!