This does not qualify as food

Ok. Maybe I'm a bit fired up from the Patriots/Ravens game. What the HELL. Did New England make a pact with Satan? I think yes. GOD I wanted them to lose. Especially after one of their players taunted the Ravens coach. Taunted. I know it's football. I. KNOW.

So.

Joe has to make congealed salad for two Christmas parties this week. Oh, it is most vile. Please, look.

Congealed. Salad.

Food Network's site does not have a recipe for this. At all. Not one.

Marshmallows and cheddar cheese. Jell-O and mayonnaise. Fruit and cottage cheese, suspended in bright green gelatin. A quivering cube of food madness. "Congealed" is a word that also describes blood. BLOOD.

Why. Why does this abomination still exist.

I am going to bed now...

*shudder*

Walking

"Walking" by Widespread Panic

Wants

Dear Santa,

I would like a coyote for Christmas.

Love~
Heather

The Absent Blogger

Man, I am SLACKING on the blog. Apologies all around. It's...it's...just so damn BUSY. We had a slew of birthdays, Halloween, a night away from the chirrens, early dismissals from school, Fall Fling, and a prospect for me and Joe's future that could be big. Real big. Dream-come-true big. Some of you already know. I'll keep the rest of ya'll posted on new developments.

Photos and video to come. Jackson is thiiiiiis close to walking. Hold on to your shorts eveyone...

Ten Months

The ride to work

Heading down the hill.

There's usually some form of a dog here. Chasing cars. Sleeping in the road. Eating...something.

Christmas tree farms. Two of hundreds in this area. We have an abundance of bumper stickers that proclaim, "Frazier Firs Make Scents."

And they do.

The car/truck I inevitably get stuck behind. Not that I'm driving fast or anything...

We are a two stoplight town.

One:

Two:

Gratuitous baby pic:

Grandfather Mountain. Every morning, when I see this, I am thankful for being able to live here.

Jackson's birthplace:

And the view from the parking lot.

A cause I can support

Because I've been there. Done that. Loved it. And feel strongly about it.

The Boob Squad.

Facebook sucks. Big time.

All is Well in the Shire

General update.

Third grade is good for Seth. Lots of reading and creativity. And the school is SO. GREAT. at specializing Seth's education. Mommy and Daddy will get a kick out of this one: Seth's problem in school? Math reasoning. I have no clue where he got that.

"Hey Heather...what's blahblahblah times blahblahblah?"
"Ummmm...wha?"
Followed by singing, stares into outer space, and fingers in ears.

Football went over like (to quote Daddy) a fart in church. A lead balloon. He did not dig it at all. So...on to alternative choices.

Jackson is eating us out of house and home. He will eat anything. Except green beans. Because I will not allow the vile vegetable to enter my home. Today, at his check up:

Dr. Clark: "Is he eating enough? He's not underweight...just right below the average weight."
Me: "Um...he eats EVERYTHING. We're putting him to work next week to cover the cost of the PHENOMENAL AMOUNT OF FOOD HE EATS."
Dr. Clark: "Is he active?"
Me: "Answering 'Yes" does not do him justice."
Dr. Clark: "Ahhhh...OK. He's fine."

Jackson is sleeping through the night, and I am more tired than ever.

Unfair.

Dr. Clark says this is because I am old. But, he is my age. So. He can get away with such smartassedness. Elsewise, I'd hang him by his toenails.

The Avery County Agricultural Fair is this week. Complete with rides of all shapes and sizes. I used to be able to ride things that went round and round. No more. Although Seth likes the way I scream for my life on the Tilt O'Whirl, he gets one chance with me. Then it's on to the petting zoo, corn dogs, and any ride that does not spin me into a nauseated, manic frenzy.

Eight Months, and Rare Cameo of Seth

Our local officers are bored, but not THIS bored

Check it out.

Samples were sent to a crime lab.

Samples of salt. And meat (though, being from McDonald's, that is questionable).

Patiently awaiting a clever retort from Craig, defending the officer for protecting this world from dangerous, burger-salting criminals...

Do huh?

Today, while traipsing through the mall with the kids, I saw a table set up for Crimestoppers. They were having a raffle to raise money. You know, to help prevent crime. The prize?

A rifle.

Um...OK.

Restaurant Etiquette

• When entering a restaurant, allow the host/hostess to greet you. Do not interrupt the greeting with, "TABLE FOR TWO. NEAR A WINDOW."
• While the server is reciting the specials, do not wrinkle your nose in disgust. Do not use words such as "gross," "ew," and "disgusting." Kitchen staff has worked hard to create said specials.
• Allow your server to greet you before barking your drink order. We will ask you what you would like to drink. Do not interrupt our spiel to ask about ther soup or the specials. We will tell you, I promise. And if you do not appreciate the spiel, do not eat in fine dining establishments. The spiel is part of the territory.
• Please, pay attention while your server is speaking to you. Example.

Server: "I will return with bread and tea. Can I get you anything else right now?"

Table: "YES. Bread and tea."

*sigh*

• Families with children. Do not allow your children to run amok in the restaurant. It is dangerous to all. Tip your server accordingly. Picking smeared pasta off the floor and gathering scattered/exploded sugar packets for a ten percent tip and $2.13 an hour is disheartening at best. Please find out what your child would like to eat before your server approaches to take your order. We have many other tables in need of our service. Example.

Parent to child: "Sweetie, how about the grilled cheese. No? How abouuuuut...the pasta. No again? Well...what about chicken. No...hmmm....do you have hot dogs here? No? What about burgers? No...hmmm..."

By this point, my four other tables are giving me the Hairy Eyeball. Hairy Eyeball...DO NOT WANT K THNX.

• Good things come to those who are good to their server. By tipping well? Yes. Of course. But also by being polite. Using common sense. Being appreciative. If you are good to us, we remember. And we return the favor.

OK. Rant over. Off to get a COLLLLD BEEEEEEER.

And do it all over again tomorrow.

Question

When will you/did you tell your kids the truth about Santa?

Part of me thinks that this should be the year.

Part of me wants to hold out one more year.

Input?

Back.

Yah, so I didn't pay the internet bill? Because I buried the bill under other bills? Then spent the money for the internet bill on copious amounts of frivolous groceries?

So. No internet or cable for two weeks. But lots of salted, roasted, in-the-shell peanuts. And Caramel Cream Diet Pepsi.

Um...I don't know how to say this without offending my family, but IT'S HOT AS SHIT UP HERE. I know, my acclimated ass deserves no pity after living in southern Louisiana for as long as I did. BUT. Ninety degrees without A/C bites.

Family update. Joe is workingworkingcookingcookingworking. 'Tis the season for us restaurant folk. August...the last hurrah for the Floridians and the country clubbers. They are flooding to the restaurant in droves. We have three events in the near future that are keeping us sane.

1. Kristin and Luke's wedding.
   
2. Food show at the Biltmore.


3. Widespread Panic, in Asheville, on Halloween, with Kristin and Luke. We have the best babysitters imaginable (only ones better would be family) and a hotel room as a gift from Mommy (THANK YOU AGAIN).
   

Seth starts school on Thursday. Football about a week later. Oughta be interesting. Will defintely post video.

Speaking of video:

Who wants a TV?

Man, I do. I mean, I have one, but...I want THIS ONE.

Here. You can try for it, too.

Change of subject. Check out this plane that Seth built.

Is that not just, amazing? Look at the pointy, teeth-like accents. And it has the capability to land on water. I mean, DAMN. The boy can build.

And in other news...

While in the car in Saranac Lake, I heard the song "Tonight, Tonight, Tonight" by Phil Collins. I hadn't heard it since it was released, oh...eons ago.

I looked at Joe, eyes wide.

"Wait...what is this song about?"
"You know what it's about."
"IT IS? Holy shit. I never really listened."

I swear, I thought it was a tragic love song. I mean, it is Phil Collins after all. And he's gonna make it right, tonight, tonight, tonight, OHHHH ohhhhhhh. And it was used in an ad campaign for beer, for God's sake.

This, from the woman who thought that ELO's "Evil Woman" was actually "He's a Woman."

Home

Total hours spent in car: 35

















We hit the road last Tuesday after my shift, around 11PM. It took us fourteen hours to get to Brooklyn. When we hit the city, I was stuck to the window like a tree frog. Then I heard Joe say, "There she is. The city." I'm all, "Then what am I looking at now?"

It was Jersey.















Holland Tunnel. Ten minutes of claustrophobic yumminess.


Brooklyn. So great. I could have sat on the stoop all day, talking to people, scarfing down pizza, and waiting for the ice cream truck. Seth jumped rope with the girls next door. A dude named Speedy lives two doors down, and plays the trumpet. Badly. But he'll regale you with stories of being in the drum and bugle corps. Joe ran into some of the neighbors, who had not a clue who he was. Then recognition washed over their faces, and hugs and smiles ensued. The shopkeepers were a trip. They engulfed Joe in Spanish chit chat, thinking him Puerto Rican. Joe just nodded and grinned. And OHMYGOD the pizza. Jimmy's Pizza has spoiled me rotten. Rotten.
















Totally got scolded for taking this one. No photos allowed in the subway since 9/11.



We took the subway to Manhattan (LOVE THE SUBWAY), and hit the Museum of Natural History. Seth and I walked around dragging our jaws on the ground. I won't even try to explain it. It is indescribable. Being a lover of all things shiny and beaded, the Hall of Gems and Minerals held me captive. Seth identified most of the fish in the Marine Life room. It was grand. Then we hit the road again, bound for Saranac Lake and Joe's 20 year reunion.




















We left Brooklyn around 6PM. At nine, Joe decided to call some hotels in Saranac, to see what's available.

Answer? NOTHING.

The Ironman triathalon was storming through Lake Placid that weekend. All rooms were either booked or $400 a night.

I called my sisters in a panic. Thank you, Amber and Nadine, for helping to save my ass. Amber booked us rooms in Plattsburgh (or Puddinville, as I dubbed it), which is about 45 minutes outside of Saranac. Arrive at 1AM. Man behind desk? Complete and total jackass. Dear Mr. Scott Whateveryourlastnameis, may you grow hair in unsightly places, and may your breath always smell of cheese. Kisses! Heather Turner.













It was Twilight Zone-like being at the reunion. I saw a part of Joe that I never knew. A chapter of time that defined him and shaped him, and I have no clue about it. It's really wild. Joe summed it up this morning:

"Being at my reunion, seeing all those people from school, really slapped me in the face with mortality."

Amen, my husband.

We arrived home on Sunday morning, after a seventeen hour drive. The sunset on the ride home was crazy gorgeous. The boys were troopers. They slept most of the way. I'm still in a mild sense of shock over that.
















And if any of ya'll know someone who needs a chef in the Adirondacks, let us know. Because that place? Is heaven on earth.

To: Jenny From: Heather

Complements of the Museum of Natural History.

I do this in love.

NYC

So. Joe's 20 year reunion is next weekend in Saranac Lake, NY.

We are all going. The whole family. Driving to Brooklyn for a few days, to see Joe's grandma, then up to the mountains.

I'm either a brave, fierce mama who is taking life by storm! Adventure! Excitement!

Or.....

I'm incredibly clueless and delusional and facing a road trip from hell.

Please, keep hope alive that number one is the correct answer.

So, the plan. The Museum of Natural History, Coney Island, Katz' Deli, a Mister Softee ice cream, Central Park. It's gonna be spectacular.

In other news:

The Squeeblis is crawling. And standing oh-so-tall in his crib. Height=Loudest Screams Yet.

The speed at which I lowered that mattress was astounding.

Jello. So sweet, yet so frustrating...

Student of the Month

Betcha can't tell who the boisterous parents are.

Update

All is well. Things are busy. Nonstop, actually.

Joe is working 65+ hours a week. I miss him like crazy. But he is doing what he loves. He is cooking. Finally in the position of head chef. And I couldn't be prouder. Joe is so good at what he does, and so good at managing people. He keeps his head about him, stays cool, gets the job done. And is respected. It is amazing to watch.

Seth is in West Virginia with his dad for two weeks. He is fishing, hiking, cooking. Rick taught him to ride a bike yesterday, and thank God. Honestly, I was dreading that. Seth fell twice, then took off and rode six miles on a mountain trail. I miss him and worry incessantly while he's gone. I also enjoy the little bits of time I've had to myself. But I want him home.

Jackson! Still not sleeping through the night. To make myself feel better about that, I've just resigned myself to the fact that I'll NEVER. SLEEP. AGAIN. Then, if it happens, I'll be pleasantly surprised. He enjoys the hours of 3AM to 5AM. Party time! WOOHOO! I sit on the sofa, waiting for him to calm down. BET happens to have jazz on at this ungodly hour, so that is nice. He is also sitting up, crawling a bit, and has two new teeth. And will eat anything you put in front of him.

He is, without a doubt, Joe's clone.

Liam

What do you say to a woman who has lost her child. Her baby. A piece of herself. With her in spirit forever, but gone in the physical realm.

Liam.

A name that is embedded in my psyche.

I do not know Kate or her family. I was drawn to her story through Amalah. Filled with all the hope in the world for Ben and for Liam. Checking a blog several times a day for updates. Crushed and sobbing when I read the news of Liam. Questioning God.

I want to scoop her up. Ease a pain that must be all-consuming. Every day, I send out what I can only describe as a mamamojo. To Kate.

To Arcenia. I have thought of you since Liam died, and thought of little Kevin. Knowing I should call you, and also knowing that I am not ready. One day, very soon, know that you can talk to me. I want to hear of Kevin. My nephew. Here in spirit, in the wind, in the trees, in the sun. Much love to you, my sister.

And to you, Kate.

Express Yourself

Seth was in trouble a few weeks ago at school.

Shocking, I know. But it happens.

He had to write about it.

The paper started with "I wish I was..." and he had to finish it.

"I wish I was happy and in nacher rite now it would be outstandingle sadiesfing."

Amen, son.

The baby, he likee the pork

BUSYBusybusybusyBUSYEEEEEEEEEEEE

Here. Here is my calendar.

Add work to it. Four days a week.

Oh yeah! And add housework. Motherhood. And yes, as it says in the corner...bathing pigs. Guinea pigs.

Um. I've been busy.

Jeanne, this one's for you.

You Are a "Don't Tread On Me" Libertarian

You distrust the government, are fiercely independent, and don't belong in either party.Religion and politics should never mix, in your opinion... and you feel opressed by both.You don't want the government to cramp your self made style. Or anyone else's for that matter.You're proud to say that you're pro-choice on absolutely everything!

What's" Your Political Persuasion?

Gratitude

Thank you, Willowtree. That was super cool of you.

And just so you know. No whining or complaining from me. Why, you ask? Because I am ABSENTMINDED AS HELL. Which means:

1. If I were you, and had missed my post, it would not have been because of computer problems. It would have been because I am ABSENTMINDED AS HELL.
2. Because of said absentmindedness (did I spell that right?), I thought I should post again about the mugs. And then promptly forgot.

Thanks, also, to all who have come by to check out my kitchenware. And the blog. I've never had sixteen comments, ever. When I saw "16 Comments," I just knew some sort of debate had broken out in my comments section. A debate over...cups? Plates? What?

This is what parenthood can do to a brain...

So what are we doing next Monday?

There are no words

Needs

Jenny has this fun little thingamabob on her blog. You go to Google, type in your name + the word "needs," and let the fun begin.

Heather needs...

1. Men! Now!
2. Two therapists
3. A childhood
4. Some bodyguards
5. Gatorade
6. A name
7. New boobs
8. Financial support

OK. Men! Now! May I pass on that one? Got enough men, thanks. Two therapists...mmmm, no...the one will do. A childhood. Nope, had that. Some bodyguards might be nice. They'd be bored as hell, though. I can always have Gatorade. Got a name. New boobs? Ohhhh alright. Financial support? Yes please.

No Rest for the Wicked

Yeah...so after a chat with my mom, I decided to begin sleep training with Jackson.

*insert scary horror movie music here*

Man, it's TIME. He is five and a half months old. He is a fat lil' chunk of baby love. He is eating people food. Is it necessary to wake up every two hours at night for milk? Or is it just the want of the boob? I think the latter. Which is cool. But.

Must. Sleep.

Work+Mommyhood+Housework=SheerAndUtterExhaustion.

So!

Last week, sleep training began. Joe and I agreed that a night schedule of nourishment every four hours was the plan. We have had two really bad nights. Nights of screaming. Constant reassurance to the Hunger Beast that all is well. He is safe. We love him.

He has slept straight through the night three times now. Ten, eleven hours at a time. Oh, how wonderful the sleep must have been, you say. How rested you must be. How refreshed!

I have woken up on those nights every two hours. Like I've done for the past...oh...six months? Maybe seven? You gotta include the incessant peeing in the last trimester of pregnancy. IT COUNTS.

Mother Nature has a fucked up sense of humor.

Thanks Mom! Campaign

I emailed everyone for whom I have addresses. For those who do not know, check it.

The link to Trevor's story is absolutely, 100% heartbreaking.

Donate. It's free.

Ready. Set. Bumbo.

Tough Love

From Cathy. I laughed for a good ten minutes.

Also, tried this with Seth. It didn't work.


Tough Love vs. Spanking
(a psychological conundrum)

Most of America's populace think it improper to spank children, so I have tried other methods to control my kids when they have one of "those moments."

One that I found effective is for me to just take the child for a car ride and talk. They usually calm down and stop misbehaving
after our car ride together.

I've included a photo below of one of my sessions with my son, in case you would like to use the technique.

What makes 'em tick?

It is so wild, the things that can make a baby laugh. You're just sitting there, making random faces and uttering strange sounds at the baby, and they suddenly burst into laughter.

The camera shakes a bit on this one, because the strange, make-Jackson-happy sound is accompanied by a head shake.

Monday Monday

The chickas over at MamaDrama turned me on to this. Ya'll should check it out. Today's quest, from Willowtree:

I would like to see your favourite Coffee Mug. But wait there's more, I'd also like to see your favourite glasses for a) non alcoholic drinks and b) alcoholic drinks. If you want extra credit you could also post your favourite plate. Note I said favourite, not best.

Well, this appeals to me. Not only do I like to collect glassware, but I like to drink.

Coffee cups...because I have FOUR favorites.



Non-alcoholic beverage cups. Got these bad boys at the grocery store, four for a dollah. Make you hollah.

Wine glass. We have about eight of these. In different colors. What I love about these is...

1. This purple glass is one of the first gifts that Joe bought me, and...


2. I can pour half a bottle of wine into one glass. Then, when I'm stumbling around the house, laughing uncontrollably and craving cigarettes, I can justify it by slurring, "But I'f only had one glasssss."
   

Alcoholic beverage glass. Er. Glasses. Pick one. I love them all.

A plethora of wine glasses.

Favorite plate. With cow creamer for style and added effect. I have eaten off this plate since I was a kid.

Two Years

Hanging with Dad

Playin' video games and eating chicken...

In honor of returning to work

First day back at work. It was slow, thank God, because I'm a bit rusty. I was welcomed back with a delightful couple on table 25.

Me: "Hi folks. What can I get you to drink?"
Him: "I do not eat chicken. I eat nothing with feathers. I am on a diet. I do not want a lot of fat."
Me: "The portabella melt is scrumptious..."
Him: "Gimme the burger. With blue cheese. But have them squeeze the fat out of the patty. And I want one onion slice, cut a quarter of an inch thick."

On a diet. Righto buckaroo. Maybe not on a diet, but definitely a FREAK OF NATURE.

I gave him the requisite bullshit server answer.

"I'll get right on that."

If you ever hear your server say this, they are blowing smoke up your ass.

So true...

Motherhood Uncensored on mommy guilt

Thank God for Sesame Street

The ONLY thing that consoled him that day...

Cats and Dogs

From Patt:

A Dog's Diary
7 am - Oh boy! A walk! My favourite!
8 am - Oh boy! Dog food! My favourite!
9 am - Oh boy! The kids! My favourite!
Noon - Oh boy! The yard! My favourite!
2 pm - Oh boy! A car ride! My favourite!
3 pm - Oh boy! The kids! My favourite!
4 pm - Oh boy! Playing ball! My favourite!
6 pm - Oh boy! Welcome home Mom! My favourite!
7 pm - Oh boy! Welcome home Dad! My favourite!
8 pm - Oh boy! Dog food! My favourite!
9 pm - Oh boy! Tummy rubs on the couch! My favourite!
11 pm - Oh boy! Sleeping in my people's bed! My favourite!

A Cat's Diary
Day 183 of my captivity.
My captors continued to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal.
The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from clawing the furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another house plant.
Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded. Maybe I should try this at the top of the stairs.
In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favourite chair. I must try this on their bed.
Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body in an attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little kitty cat I was. This is not working according to plan.
There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary confinement throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the food. More important, I overheard that my confinement was due to my powers of inducing something called "allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.
I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit.
The bird, on the other hand, has got to be an informant. He speaks with them regularly, and I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room, his safety is assured. But I can wait. It's only a matter of time.

Exersaucercise

Try with all your might to disregard my big mouth jabbering away in the background. I think I edited out all the "No shit!" comments. I said it like, ten times. To my dad. On the phone.

The look of pride and surprise on Jackson's face at the end of the video is priceless. So is his comeback to Joe's burp. Wait for it...

Things I Can't Live Without, Baby Edition, Part One

This one's for you, Keri!

• Carter's white, long sleeved onesies.
• Cloth diapers, used for everything but diapering.
• This seat. A gift from Sistahfriend Kristen. We use this EVERY DAY.
• This mirror. For wobbledy head checks.
• Boudreaux's Butt Paste
• The best tub ever.
• The Girlfriends' Guide to Surviving the First Year of Motherhood
• Socks from The Gap. They are the only ones that remain on those itty bitty scrumptious little toes.
• Pampers Sensitive Wipes. Like buttah. And snag a wipe warmer, too.
• Bath and Body Works Lavender pillow spray. Swear to GOD it relaxes both Jackson and Seth. And OHITISHEAVENLY.

That's all I can think of for now. I'm patiently waiting for my brain to return.

Love to Link You Babayyy

Babble. Looks like I'm a "New Urban Parent."

Whenever I am feeling sad and blue, I go to Cheeseburger.

Get your art on.

Vomitous Mess, Pt. Deux

That Which Doesn't Kill You Only Makes You Stronger

This vomitous mess, a week ago:






My happy, flitting little wild birds were all WTF. These pleasant, docile little creatures became screeching, aggressive beasts at the sight of seed.

Things only got better. I'm worried about Seth. Angry with Joe. I think Jackson is teething, ohhelpmeGOD. And these photos? It's gonna happen again this weekend. My patience is threadbare.

That retching sound you hear, far, far away? That's me.

BUT. BUT! Bad things always happen in nasty little clumps. Like hair in the bathtub drain. So next week will be better, dammit.

Jenny? Thinking of you, mama. And you asked how I got so skinny? Jackson is sucking the life outta me. And you have yet to see my accordion belly. Definiton, per Vicki Iovine:

"...the skin on your belly will fold down like a little accordion when you bend over at the waist. I suppose, on a dare, I could get away with wearing a two-piece bathing suit, but I would have to stay standing at attention to pull it off. I swear, you could throw a ten-carat diamond at my feet and I would not bend over to pick it up, because it would show the world my 'pleats.'"

Amen, Vicki.