Oh, Sam!

Sam is beginning to outgrow his little undies. I am learning that things change suddenly when little boys move up undie sizes.

Sam is now to the peek-a-boo undie stage. You know, the little flap thingie in the front. I assume this is so while at the urinal they aren't flashing their butt cheeks to the world.

Anyways, I bought Sam a size bigger boxer briefs. Size 4/5, and they now come with the little flap thingie.

Trying out his new undies, Sam sticks his hand through the hole and says:

Sam: What is this?

Me: (In my head: Crap! Where is Dad when you need him???)

Me: Well, uh, when you are a big boy, you don't HAVE to pull your undies all the way down. You can just put your pee-pee through the hole, go pee and tuck it back in.

While I am saying this, I am sticking my pointer finger through another pair of undies that I am holding, you know, to demonstrate.

Sam is staring at me, and suddenly lets out this huge belly laugh. He was clutching his sides, bent over laughing and laughing.

I start laughing too, and finally he calms down and says:

Sam: Tell me again!

So, I explain it to him all over again, and....

Sam: BWAHAHAHAHAHA Side clutching, bent over....BWAHAHAHAHA

Trust me Little Man, there are lots of male mysteries that you will laugh at thoughout your life, and many female mysteries you are better off not knowing.

Mystery Master,

Gabbi

NEW CATEGORY!!!

This is a NEW CATEGORY!!!

It is called:

The Lunch Break Double Take

TA-DA!

This category will be pictures of random things I see on my lunch breaks. Things, that, make me do a double take, if you will.

Todays pics are special, so enjoy!

First: A Double Bike with a Mickey Mouse stuffed animal strapped to the back. At first glance, I thought this was a rickshaw. And I was jealous.

Second: Is this the biggest straw you have EVER SEEN???

And last but not least, I had to pull over, hop out of my still running car, dash down the street and snap a photo of this sign. Not merely because it is hilarious and confusing, but because a long time ago, my sister had taken a picture of this sign and texted it to me. I had no idea where this shop was, and happened upon it the other day.

And yes, I snapped all of these in one day, over my one hour lunch break.

Not your Grandma's Sexy Asian Antique buyer,

Gabbi

P.S. Friday, I am actually going into the store! WOO HOO

It is NOT ok

to teach my 3 year old to:



say "Shut the front door"

I realize this is not swearing, but close enough, darn it!



Fart on his hand, stick it in your face and yell "Smell IT!"

I was later informed, this is called a Ventriloquist Fart. Invented by none other thatn the Fitzgerald/Grengs clan. Thanks for that important contribution to mankind.



say "I ripped a nasty"

Gross, just gross.

Thank you for your cooperation,

Gabbi

Childish

A small sidetrip to Barnes and Noble and I am slapped in the face with my own immaturity...

Oh yeah, I saw this and immediately cracked up.

And I almost cried with laughter over this.

Did I mention when I paid with cash, my change was 69 cents? ....coincidence.... I think not!

Rivaling any adolescent male out there,

Gabbi

The Gracie Story

Today my girly is 12 years old. We have a little tradition that before we go to bed the night before her birthday, we snuggle up and I tell her "The Gracie Story"

Here it is:

On the evening of Oct. 11, 1998, I was officially one week overdue. I was miserable, every step hurt. I felt like my hips were breaking apart. I was also going through Dill Pickle Potato chip withdrawal.

SIDENOTE:
During my pregnancy I had developed an addiction to dill pickle potato chips and on more than one occasion had eaten a whole bag without even realizing it. The next day, my "ankles" if you could even call them "ankles" would be the size of my thighs. I tried to quit them cold turkey, only to find myself longing for them so desperately I would be reduced to tears. My mom finally yelled at me to "eat the damn chips!" Then she bought me a small wooden bowl at a garage sale and every night I could have one small bowl of potato chips. I love my mama.

I also had an addiction to Icee's and had to drive quite a ways to find them. Kmart in Oakdale saw me on occasion.

Back to the story:

While in the throes of DPC withdrawal, I was sitting on the porch with my mom, swinging on her porch swing and crying, saying "This baby is NEVER going to come! I am going to be pregnant FOREVER!" Sob Sob SOOOOOBBBBB

My mom, said " Honey, you will not be pregnant forever, it isn't even possible"

Me: "screw you and your damn logic, I AM going to be pregnant forever!"

And I waddled/lumbered to bed.

At around 12:30 in the morning I woke up with a contraction. One contraction. Immediately I knew: This. Was. It.

I went downstairs, called the hospital, lied my ass off and told them I had been having contractions for hours, 20 minutes apart. They told me to go take a shower, get my stuff together and to come on in.

Turning around, my mom was in the kitchen and said "Is it time?" and I said "Hell yes, it's time!"

I showered, grabbed my bag and came downstairs, my mom and both of my sisters were sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. We were ready!

My sister Shelly drove me to the hospital, after a quick pit stop at the gas station for a Mountain Dew (another one of my addictions during pregnancy). I knew those devil nurses weren't going to allow me to have anything to eat or drink. Already I was smuggling in contraband!

By the time we got to the hospital my contractions were coming fast and furious, about two minutes apart. Told you this was it.

At the hospital, I got checked in and settled in my room. I had one rule,

If I am not talking, YOU are not talking.

I needed silence to get through the waves of contrations, any outside noise immediately broke my concentration and infuriated me.

After quite some time, I had an epidural, and all was good. I felt so great, Let's visit! Hee hee

Twenty minutes later, I was ready to push and finally get this baby out of me!

I kicked everyone, but the nurses, out of the room, for some reason, I was feeling modest...

As my sister Shelly was leaving the room she poked her head back in and yelled to the nurses "We are good pushers! It will be over quick!"

She was right, we are good pushers. A few minutes later, Miss Grace's cries could be heard.

I was overjoyed.

And itchy? Itchy? Why does my face itch? Holy crap, my whole body is itching! WHAT THE HECK?!?!

Reaction to the epidural...and another shot to counter act the side effects. Ahhh, relief.

Grace weighed 7 pounds 12 oz., was 20.5 inches long, born at 12:20 PM on Oct. 12, 1998.

It was the best day of my life. The only equal to it, is the day Sam was born. On February 14, 2011, I will share "The Sam Story"

Luckiest Mama ever,

Gabbi

Newest Member of THE MOM SQUAD

So, as some of you know, my 17 year old nephew is living with me. And with that comes a whole new set of experiences and responsibilities.

I love having him there, he is a sweet kid and I truly felt honored that he would ask me to be his pseudo-mom for the year.

Last night was the first time where I really felt like a pseudo-parent of a 17 year old.

A little context:

My nephews dad is out of town so he is house sitting his dads big beautiful house set on several acres in the country.

This is how the text conversation goes:

Matt: I was thinking of having a couple friends over for a bonfire on Saturday night at my dads.

For me, immediate alarm bells are going off. As innocuous as he is trying to make this sound, I was once 17 and partied in the country also and know EXACTLY what happens in big beautiful house sitting on several acres of land during a bonfire.

And so this is where the parent part comes in....

Me: So, will there be alcohol at this bonfire? Because I am not comfortable with you having people over without any supervision. That is just trouble waiting to happen. If you want, you can have a bonfire at our house.

It really frightened me that I was texting these words.

When did I become Miss Responsible?

When I can CLEARLY remember the fun and rowdy times I had at bonfires in my youth.

As a matter of fact, I am pretty sure it was a right of passage to get drunk, have your mom and all your friends moms find out, and then all pull up in a vehicle or two together, which we called "The Mom Squad" and drag all of our sorry drunk butts out of parties while other kids are screaming "PARENTS!!!" and running, jumping out windows, off decks, hiding in corn fields, scattering like rodents trying to get away.

Can you tell I grew up in a small Wisconny town?

And here is where he lays the trap:

Matt: If you want, you can come chaperone the bonfire.

DUM DUM DUM

So, anyone want to come hang out Saturday and chaperone a bonfire with me?

It is official, this is the new face of "THE MOM SQUAD"

Old before my time,

Gabbi

Weenus

Today I was just feeling....Blerg.

I woke up late, ran around like a chicken with my head cut off, trying to get ready in a timely fashion.

I was putting my pants on and this conversation takes place:

Sam: Sooo, where is your weenus?

Me: What?

Sam: Your weenus, where is it?

Me: What is a weenus? (yes, I was pretty sure I knew where this was going, but had to check before I forayed into a quite possibly wholly unecessary conversation)

Sam Whips his pants down, points to his penis: You know, a weenus. Where is it?

Wholly unecessary conversation becomes necessary. SIGH

Me: It 's called a PENIS, not a weenus. And girls don't have a penis.

Sam, incredulous tht he would have to explain something so simple to me: YOU are not a girl! YOU are a MOOOOM. So, where is your weenus?

Me: Ok, Moms and Girls do not have a PENIS. Just boys and dads.

Sam: Uh, yeah, you do have a weenus. Tell me where it is.

Me: No, I don't have a PENIS.

Sam: Yes, you do.

Me: No, I don't.

Sam: YES! YOU! DOOOO!

Me: I DON'T!!!

I realized this conversation could go on all day and I had to get to work. I chose to walk away and the little arguer can think what he wants about whether or not I have a weenus.

Which, I don't.

Hoping he does not repeat this at daycare,

Gabbi

Ahhh, Friday. That's much better.

Does anyone else experience the Friday Phenomenon?

No matter how crappy the week, once Friday is here it all magically seems better and more tolerable. Things you could not have born on Tuesday turn into trivial little side trips to be laughed at and handled with ease.

People who the mere sound of their voice made you want to poke your own eyes out just in the hopes you might get sent home early, suddenly are just silly little creatures of God with cute little quirks.

I fricking LOVE Fridays.

We get to wear jeans at work, and for some reason I am so much more productive and happy whilst wearing jeans.

Friday Phenomenon, if only they could work something like that for Mondays...

Jeans on my butt,

Gabbi