Baby it's hot inside

Dear Husband,

I would like to thank you for getting our sweet daughter's fed and ready for school this morning. Monday mornings are really hard...especially when the night before ends with gin and limeade before bed and your wife hitting the snooze button for 50 minutes in the morning.

Believe me, I had a rough morning...ie: the above comment.

Today hit 90+ degrees, which is quite toasty.

Before you left the house, you did many things. Packed your lunch, made sure the girls had their lunches in their bags, teeth brushed, dogs contained in the bathroom. I am proud of you and I probably don't tell you nearly enough how proud of you I really am. It is hard to get kids out of the house in the morning. It is hard to get oneself out of the house in the morning.

You only forgot two things this morning.

The cat was still outside.

That's okay, there was the water bucket with the remaining waterballoons left over from yesterday's escapades for him to drink.

You did not turn one of the five ceiling fans on.

The upstairs was only 84 warm degrees and the air conditioner should be able to handle three straight hours of running non-stop.

I think that due to the sheer warmness of the Monday evening, we will have to go out and get dinner somewhere as I am too sleepy to do much of anything else.

Love, Carrie.

P.S. I am starving, so please come home soon.

xoxo

One of those ball things with hair on it?

The husband and I just had a conversation about getting something to pull B's bangs back with....he is on his way home.

And he honestly says "One of those ball things with hairs on it"

What, in gawd's name is that supposed to be? I tried, desperately, to envision it, and came up with nothing. Nothing that should be put in anyone's hair on purpose.

Hairs?

And then he suggests a barrette with a Koosh on it.

Good hell, we don't need to add anymore chaos to the hair that's already going on up there.

B wants to grow her bangs out. I said:

Do you want it long, like S's?

No. I want it big, like S's.

You mean, long hair.

No. Big hair.

huuuhhhmmmm.

Do we have a future prom queen on our hands? Because we most certainly have a present day drama queen.

The girls were eating Fat Boys in a bowl last night because due to the size of said FB's, they can't seem to eat more than three bites before they fall on the floor for the dogs to consume.
Well, S managed to inhale a piece of chocolate and I whacked her on the back and she survived.

Not seconds later, B reaches over, picks up the piece of chocolate that was just lodged in S's throat, and eats it.

Might as well face it....

I'm addicted to M&M's.

I also lost a long-winded rant, hosted by me, about how M&M's are not spelled with an ampersand... & ... but they are M 'n M's... I ranted and raved I was right, dammit, SO right.

And then I went to the store and found out that I was SO wrong.

Damn.

I hate it when I am wrong.

Pot pie? Who's got a pot pie?

I was supposed to help the husband with the moving of lawn furniture, but he has disappeared with the dog.

I had to say that I made and devoured this last night, and I have to say Thank you to Mrs. Beanpaste and her chickenpotpie. You should say that in one word.

The husband and I even split it up equally for lunch leftovers. mmmmmm

Not normally would you see the word leftover and the word husband in the same sentence, so it was truly blogworthy to note this.

Well, that's about it folks. The children are plumb tuckered out and borderline nasty, so I must go stop a Scooby-Doo fest and put them to bed before the Season Finale of Lost makes a grand premiere on my television.

20 minutes of kicking your ass

Today I am sore.

Last night I was tracking an amazon order which tried to politely tell me that the DVD I had ordered had been delivered....and since I hadn't gone out to the mailbox in two days, I got the husband to do it for me. And lo and behold, there was my Jillian Michaels 30 day Shred DVD. Glistening, in very difficult to remove, plastic casing.

I did the 20 minute, level one, workout and honestly, it *was* 20 minutes of kicking your ass.
It was great.
I don't think I can do it again tonight. I had all intentions of doing it, but after my walk at lunch and the screaming pain in my quads, I think I'll have to pass.

My dinner that I put in the crockpot this morning has also reached the point of no return. The chicken is shriveled and dry and looks very unappetizing. That really bites, because now what? I guess I should find out when the husband is planning on coming home. I may just make waffles since B is hooked on them, and little does she know that I make the ones out of whole-wheat...Bwaahaahaaaa. I'll get some fiber in these people, one way or another.