Frustration

I am becoming increasingly bothered by my lack of time to blog.  I've taken the last half an hour to get caught up on my email and such and in that time, I realized how out of the loop I am.  I can't remember the last time I read Pretty All True which became glaringly evident when I noted today, via Facebook, she is having a contest of sorts and posting her favourite blogs.  Guess who's not even in the running?

Me.

Why?

I didn't know about it because I don't have time to read it and when I do get any down time, as of late, I use it to either a) sit like a zombie in front of the TV or b) eat something not good for me or c) both of the above.

This sucks ass.  For any of you who've been around for any length of time you likely have caught on that I idolize Kris over there at PAT and it would be the ultimate validation or reward to have her recommend my blog and post it right there on hers. It would be akin to Jax from Sons of Anarchy showing up at my house on his Harley and declaring his love for this mother of four who has neglected the gym for quite some time now while at the same time paying extra-special attention to cookies, chocolate and ice cream (in no particular order).  He'd be all like, "Oooh, it's so sexy they way you're all nice and soft and squishy; I hate women with flat stomachs and pert breasts".  Then he'd tell me I'm insanely sexy not only because my roots are showing and that the white patch of hair at the very front of my head is driving him wild with desire but that he also can't get enough of my sweat pants.  He's wax on poetic about the wiles of women in elastic waisted pants.   Then he'd throw me on the back of his bike and we'd ride off into the sunset (Charming) where I'd become Gemma's protege, because I'm seriously more bad ass than Tara, and his old lady for keeps.

Or something along those lines anyway; I really haven't given it much thought.

For the time being though, I need to finish making supper, feed these people, drive my daughter to Drama rehearsal, make a couple of work-related phone calls, bathe some of these people and then work on a my other website.  The only chance of any part of the above fantasy coming true is the fact that I am currently wearing sweat pants and my roots are showing.  I'm not expecting Jax; instead my own husband, in a Chevy half-ton, who never appreciates my sweat pants for their hidden sex appeal.

Jerk.

Why I Don't Sleep Naked

Yesterday I found myself reading yet another hilarious post from Kris over at Pretty All True in which she disclosed her penchant for sleeping in the buff.  She seems to wonder at those of us who don't.  I would be one of 'us' that don't.  I never have slept fully un-clad and therefore am not comfortable doing so.  I wear the bare minimum in this heat and when it's cold, especially at Christmas, I have full-on flannel jammies.

Adding to not being able to actually fall asleep in the buff; we are never completely alone in our room.  We go to bed alone but it's not often we wake up alone.  Rhett's never ending desire to locate my penis would only be further encouraged by my nudity rather than deterred.  The little boys often try to catch glimpses when they can out of curiosity while the older children would likely run screaming in sheer terror were I to present myself to them in all my naked glory.

Last night though I had yet another reason for keeping myself semi-clothed for sleeping.  I woke shortly after 3 a.m.  I had been sleeping somewhat restlessly anyway and was annoyed to be waking yet again.  Then as my senses began to fully awaken, a stench filled my nose and it became clear this was the reason for my waking.  Dog shit.  Or more specifically: puppy poop.  I laid there and contemplated my course of action.  Should I just try to fall back asleep in this stench and feel like the dirtiest human being alive?  Get up and clean it and end up fully awake? 

I got up. 

Checked the damage, which was not minimal.  Woke my husband so as not to scare the proverbial shit out of him when I turned on our little carpet cleaner.  Then I set to work.

So there I was, sometime after 3 a.m., hunched over the carpet cleaning poop out of it.  And the first thing that came to mind was: "I'm glad I'm not naked; this would be ugly naked".  After that? "I am so going to blog about this".  And then I set about writing this in my head.  And as I washed my hands and got ready to go back to bed I thought, "Well, if that doesn't mean I'm a true blogger, I don't know what does".  Not that I necessarily questioned my validity as a blogger before now but it struck me as slightly odd that while cleaning up puppy poop in the middle of the night, my first thoughts were of writing about it and relating it to other blogs I read, and not about better training my dog.

In Chuy's defense, he was very sick over the weekend and is still not fully recovered and our bedroom door was shut and when you gotta' go, you gotta' go.  That being said, he slept in the living room after that.

I returned to bed, in my tank top and panties, more than grateful for both.

Third Times a Charm

This is my third attempt at posting this morning. I feel as though I've lost my mojo.  I am working on a guest post for Atomic Mommy but am not satisfied with it yet either.  It's always harder guest posting and given that right now I'm struggling with posting for myself it's not any easier.

I quite idolize kris from Pretty All True and I'm envious of her writing ability but more to the point of the great material her girls provide her with!  They are hilarious. I strongly encourage you to head over and have a read.  My children are less than ideal for providing inspiration as of late.  In fact, I just had to take a short break to put the three year old on time out for being mean to the puppy. The six year old has two suspicious wet spots on his shorts which is apparently from he and his brother trying to master the spitting trick demonstrated in the movie 'Big Daddy'. I introduced them to this movie and am now wondering if that was the most solid parenting choice I've made as of late.  Especially after they both took great delight on peeing on the side of our shed yesterday.

And there is also spit on the couch that I've spent the last two days cleaning. Sigh.

Okay, so maybe today is a bad example.  It seems they have been reading my mind and are out to show up Kallan and Maj of Pretty All True fame. 

Ah, all is quiet for a moment.  Adam Sandler just said "booby tassels".  Rhett is eating cereal and paying rapt attention and Reese is perched monkey-like on the formerly clean couch.

And I?  Plan to keep plugging away and hoping for further inspiration and semi-bad behaviour from my children to fall back on in a pinch!