Thursday, October 27, 2011

You sound like a truck driver and other things people have said to me.


Dov and I had a discussion last night that went sorta like this, "Why do people assume that I am a hard ass when I am soooo not.  I mean I am WAY nicer then most of the people I know.  I go out of my way to be nice to people who totally deserve a punch in the face."  Dov responds.  "See."  So yeah, I guess he has a point but cripes it's a little concerning that a label that got tossed on you in high school can follow you right into adulthood.  So what if I am a little blunt, at least I am not boring.  I would rather be ANYTHING then a boring person.  Even if that means that people get the wrong idea about me. This all led to a night of mind racing.  Always a good end to the day.

So around 3 am I came to the conclusion that maybe it is the short thing.  I am like majorly short.  Five foot on a good day.  So I talk louder and add a couple expletives in there now and again just so if you missed me in the crowd at least you might hear me somewhere in there.  That, and in my family, the louder you talk the louder everybody else talks, so unless you are also gesturing wildly with your hands and using swear words nobody can hear you.  Sounds awful right?  Hey, like I said, at least it's not boring.  So maybe it is all the loud talking and gesticulating that gets people assuming that I am difficult or maybe it is this...they are all assholes and I am perfect.  Yup that is what I will chalk it up too.  I seem to be doing alright for a prick.  Better then some of the "nice" people I know.


In other news Noah is funny and adorable about 10% of the time.  Making it a exhaustive task to spend the day with him while he tortures the dog and his sister while occasionally saying hilarious things.  But then I get his school picture and boy do I make good looking kiddies.  This one is a stunner.  Look at that popped collar...kid is a stone cold stud.  And from the report I got from his latest play date, he is just like his Mama.  When in a struggle over something with somebody else and you are already the physical underdog just yell out ASSHOLE loudly, preferably while gesturing manically with your hands.

Don't get your panties in a twist.  I don't condone swearing and believe me when I tell you that it has gotten me into plenty of hot water in my nearly 31 years.  It just really makes me feel better when I do it.  They recently did a poll about the effect that swearing had on people.  They wanted to know if they felt worse or better about a situation after they had used a swear and the overwhelming majority claimed that yelling the F bomb once in awhile really helped to relieve tension.  Now when you yell it at someone that is bit different, but if you stub your toe and scream out MOTHERF$%^ER! you immediately feel the pain dissipate.  Believe me, I have a doctorate in trucker mouth.  So there you have it.  A weird post about nothing in particular.

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Bella's first ballet class

Today Bella attended her first ballet class with her friend Eila.  I wasn't quite sure what to expect since Bella is mostly around boys...and big boys at that.  Most of her time is spent with Noah and his friends and she rarely gets to see other little girls.  She is pretty attached to mommy right now and tends to cling to my hip when she is outside of her comfort zone.  I guess I was pretty much expecting her to stay by me here as well.  Imagine my surprise when she got right in line with the other little girls and Eila took her hand and led her into the studio.  Priceless.

She was still a little leery and kept her distance once class started but she held her own and stayed through all the warm up exercises, occasionally stealing glances at me.  She was a good 6 months younger then the youngest member of the class and that was pretty evident.  Bella still needs her Mama nearby and that my friends is fine by me.  She is still my baby.

For now I think we might just observe ballet and let Bella build her confidence a little.  She will let me know when she is ready to go it alone.  My Bella has a good little teacher in Eila, all patience and gentle hand holding.  So sweet.  Melt.








Thursday, October 20, 2011

She had a pocket full of horses, Trojans some of em used.

Sometimes I lose my ipod.  For like months.  It will go on a trip in the truck with Dov, the kids and I and a week later I can't remember when was the last time I saw it.  Dov's truck is about as clean as my car and that is NOT saying much, so a quick glance in there is likely to yield no results.  I then come to the conclusion that one of the children has ganked it and I will find it when I decide it is time to clean the rats out from under the couch.

So anyways it has been missing since me and hubs went to see Kenny Chesney back in August.  Yeah...that long.  But you know what is the best part of finding it after all that time?  I get to LOVE all the music again. Because I am fickle with my music love and usually can find a reason to hate a song if I hear it too many times.  But there is one artist on that ipod that I hold dear to my heart.  A man that has gotten me harassed on numerous occasions, mostly in college, when I would hang his beautiful poster on my wall and blast Darling Nicky out of my Sony 5 CD changer speakers.  Yes, if you guessed Prince you would be right.  I just can NOT get sick of Prince, The artist formerly known as Prince, or any of his other incarnations.  I J'adore him and all his feminine masculinity.  Especially the oversexed, kinky Prince of the 80's, prior to him finding religion and all that jazz.  I have been known to blast Little Red Corvette so loud that my children cry in the backseat...I just can't help myself.
How about a little Prince circa 1979...
Maybe you prefer 1980's Prince when he rocked the sweet sweet perm
Diamond and Pearls era.  1990's
The more understated Prince of the 00's
I personally will take my Prince in any era...I do find that black uni-tard very sexy though.

Purple Rain-forget about it.  I will literally go into a trance when it comes on.  I think it dates back to the first time I heard Prince.  When I was about 11, my mother came home from her weekend yard sales and as usual I would run downstairs to see if she had scored any treasures for me.  She handed me the cassette soundtrack to the movie Purple Rain, and that was it.  Hooked.  I beelined down to Hopkinton Drug and scored the movie...LOVE at first sight.  Even to this day if I see it on VH1 I have to watch it.
The funny thing is Prince is SOOOOO not my type.  Just something about those sexy moves and lyrics.  Does it every time.  He is like what Micheal Bolton was to my mother.  What Elvis was to the generation before.  Prince in his tight pants and high heeled boots with that Jerry curl perm just really...mmmmhmmmm.  Go ahead turn up the playlist and let him take you away.  I promise I only picked a few of my favorites.  Oh and if your not a Prince fan I am sorry...your loss for sure!

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Have you ever cleaned neon yellow dog poop off your foot at midnight?

Yesterday I broke my one personal parenting rule.  To not buy my children toys which contain more then several pieces.  My theory is that however old the child is, that is how many parts the toy should have.  For example, Noah is 4 so therefore can have a toy with 4 pieces.  Whereas Bella is 1 so she can only have things that are 1 piece in it's entirety.  I keep this practice because I, for one, hate picking up millions of tiny parts to a toy/game and then trying to make sure that they all miraculously stay together so that the toy is not deemed useless and missing half of it's parts, and two, because the dog can eat plastic like nobodies business and I value midnight walks to the bathroom without grave injuries from stepping on matchbox paraphernalia and multicolored dog shit.

Now I do occasionally feel like my kids are lacking in the toy department when I go to other people's houses and there is a virtual Toys R' Us in the living room/basement/bedroom.  My kids go ape shit playing with their friends toys and when it is time to leave, usually some sort of meltdown ensues.  But here is the thing...when "I" buy the toy that they just HAD to have and bring it home, they play with it for five seconds and then they are right back to getting into MY stuff and I am left picking up the GD million pieces of the abandoned plaything.  The doll with the bottle and the diapers and the clothes and the baby food is scattered in 4 different rooms of the house while Bell runs around with my cell phone.  The Hess truck with the 6 matchbox cars that go inside is in at least 2 rooms and Noah is playing Angry Birds on Dov's cell phone.  So what is the point?

As parents, we all have momentary lapses in judgement, and yesterday I had a biggie.  I bought Bella a kitchen play set.  It came in about 70 pieces that I painstakingly screwed and snapped together.  It took me the better part of 2 hours to put this damn thing together.  Tiny forks and knives that I had to separate out of plastic sheets, plates and knobs and pans and stickers.  If you have ever bought the game WAR and assembled it, this is a close second.  Yes I knew it was a mistake as soon as I opened the box.  The most the children have done with it is take every single solitary piece of this set and spread it around, under and on top of the couch, rug, TV stand and up the stairs.  I literally have not stopped putting this kitchen back together since 2 o' clock yesterday afternoon.  No good deed goes unpunished right?  If the thing gets me a five minute bathroom trip alone I guess it will be worth it.  Here is how it looks as of 10 am this morning, post 2 complete cleanups at 6 am and 9 am consecutively.


Yeehawww!


Sunday, October 16, 2011

Yard sales and property lines.

Bella in POP art!

It's funny how the busier things get the less I have to say.  This weekend has been active.  Starting Friday with a visit from Jen and her two kiddos, Carina and William, where we basically came to the conclusion that one child was way easier then two, and that a 6 month old babies needs pale in comparison to a 4 year old child's.  You might think it is the opposite, but that would just make you a person who has not raised a 4 year old and a 6 month old.  The 4 year old can whine and disobey and NOT be cute AT ALL while doing the whining and disobeying.  A 6 month old is like a warm, cuddly ball of sweetness that goes wherever you put them and doesn't talk back.  Ohhh but someday...someday we will sit around and talk about how fun it all was...won't we?  That's what I have been led to believe.

Friday, after Jen and the kids left, my mother came up for a little slumber party/early morning yard sale adventure.  We had a nice dinner, a few dozen wines and awoke very early to start the day (sans children...thanks Dov).  We had a slow start but a strong finish.  A few of my treasures from the day included: A tire swing horse that I scored for 20 bucks, normally $100.00 at Tractor Supply, a book for a quarter, and a sweet floor lamp for my reading nook...where I am reading my book that I scored for a quarter.  It was a good day.  Not to mention the phenomenal reuben sandwich and cute little gift shop we managed to find in my pigeon fart of a town.  Not to shabby.  I scored a goat milk skin cream and a bar of soap that is made by a woman who lives right down the street.  Buy local baby!
My $2.00 floor lamp.  How cozy is that?


Today was a little more laid back.  Hubby and I, I am ashamed to admit, have never tried Indian food.  So today we broke out of our norm and gave it a whirl.  Lets just say it was "different" and I wish we had Thai instead.  Anything that needs THAT much seasoning could quite possibly be rotten and you would never know the difference. Oh, and cottage cheese melted down with chickpeas...gag me with it.  HOLY CUMIN and CURRY!  After our powerful lunch we headed home to argue with our never before seen neighbor about if he should be able to drive his pickup truck loaded with wood over our lawn.  THAT is a story for another blog.  Pumpkin carving and pumpkin seeds rounded out our Sunday and I am totally exhausted.  Hope you all had a great one!


Happy Halloween from 326 Captain Clark baby!

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Our shit doesn't stink. So call me back!

I think something has possessed my dear, sweet, wonderful daughter.  It started about a week ago.  She is incessantly whining and her favorite thing to say is MO!  Her version of NO.
Bella, lets get your shoes on. MO!
Bella, time for a tubby.  MO!
Bella, let's go pick up Noah from school.  MO!
Bella, can Mom have a hug? MO!
Then the whining ensues.  I swear that I am going deaf from the whining.  I went into the garage last night after dinner and found my husbands earplugs that he uses when he runs the chainsaw.  I wore them while I cleaned up from dinner and did tubs.  Oh yes I did, and believe me those kids were better for it.  I just could not listen to it for another second.  Even as I sit here she is laying next to me...WHINING.  No amount of coddling or consoling helps, because as soon as you fix the issue at hand another one quickly takes it's place and you are back at square one.  I AM AT A LOSS.  Tylenol for dessert tonight.  Oh crap, I just remembered she is entering the two's.  Grrrreat.

Just for randomness sake, septic system service companies are about as professional as their trade.  Shitty.  I have called all 5 companies in our immediate area and left a message, if not two, with them all.  Because obviously they don't answer their phones.  I have also tried calling them at all different times of the day, nothing seems to work!  I finally came to the conclusion that they obviously don't want our shit.  Literally and figuratively, since I probably would have a little attitude after being ignored for weeks on end.  I mean we have some good shit.  Who wouldn't want it?  I say it is their loss.  I bet they think we are one of those houses where the people never grew up with a septic system and so therefore flush all feminine hygiene products and prophylactics down the toilet.  Well I did grow up with a septic, and flushing a tampon was a GD felony.  Punishments ranged from a stern talking to, from your father, about tampon flushing, which is always enjoyable as a teenage girl, to first handedly having to watch as your poor father disassembled the plumbing to dislodge the horrendous remnants of your ignorance.  Both are excedingly unpleasant, and you learn pretty quickly that you are not one of the fortunate people that have town sewer.

So they won't call me back and it would be such a easy stop!  No septic newbie here!  Gross yes.  True yes.  That's what this little bloggy poo (ha) is all about. 




Sunday, October 9, 2011

Keeping it together in the crosswalk.

Well Friday night was our "no kids" anniversary celebration.  It was lovely.  While Dov drove the kids to my parents I removed the 10 billion toys from the tub and took a nice long bath.  God how I love baths.  I had almost forgotten how much I loved them since I barely have time to take a shower most mornings.  After my leisurely soak I took my damn time getting dressed and putting on makeup.  I did my makeup so good that in the one picture I took, it appears that I was able to completely obliterate my nose. 

So that is interesting right?  Not often you get to see yourself without a nose.  The great part is that at the time of the picture I had drunk just enough wine to not really know WHY the picture looked funny.  I just knew something was off.  It took a little TOO long to figure out that my honker was missing.

So dinner was great...blah blah blah.  Today the kids are home so we headed over to the Pumpkin Festival in nearby Milford NH.  Noah got to see a 1,300 lb pumpkin and I got to sweat my ass off in this unseasonably HOT October weather.  Oh and I got to watch a lady literally lose her shit about cars not stopping to let us cross the street.  This lady went friggin nuts!  Bell was even shocked.  You know when someone is being completely asinine and they want to get YOU to justify it by agreeing with them?  Yeah well she kept doing that.  *Exaggerated sigh*  "JEEZUS PEOPLE!  WHAT! YOU DON'T SEE US STANDING HERE?  GOD PEOPLE ARE RIDICULOUS!  HELLO?  HELLO?  PEDESTRIANS HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY PEOPLE!!!"  This went on for about 30 seconds and then she starts trying to get me worked up.  So I decided that crossing the street right then wasn't really necessary.  I told her that I was so mad that I couldn't possibly cross the street now and high tailed it out of there.  So that was exciting.





Fair food followed...very healthy.  Hot dogs from the Milford Lions club.  mmmmm.  Delicious.  And cotton candy because I obviously wanted my son to have a meltdown later at the grocery store.  So now that I have filled up with crap food we are getting back on track tonight with some salmon on the grill.  So good!  Hope you all are enjoying the long weekend!  Let's take a lesson from crazy crosswalk lady and RELAX. ; )

Bella's new "Good boy" phrase.  Too damn cute.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Getting old is fun! Hahahah NOT.

Now, a little about my past.  I suffered from childhood hypochondria.  If I heard that someone was sick in my house I needed to know all the details.  Was it a cold?  Sinus related?  Flu-like symptoms?  Most importantly, was there vomiting involved?  If the answer was yes then you could find me in my room till three days after the last symptom had passed.  So lets get this straight...I can definitely convince myself I have contracted horrible things if left to my own devices, which leads me to the following.  I have had this weird sore throat since I was about 4 months pregnant with Isabella.  It was like a soreness on one side of my lower throat that only hurt when I swallow solid food.  At first I attributed it to Noah being in a germ infested pre-school that obviously housed a 365-day sore throat virus.  It would come and go, sometimes it would last a couple days and sometimes a week.  I would forget about it and then it would come back.

I have always had heart burn even when I was not pregnant.  I mean THE WORST, want to vomit, can't talk right now, my chest if going to burst, kinda heartburn.  You know it is bad when you are in hard labor with your first born and you are crying and begging the nurse for antacids and not a epidural.  Yes Dov actually had to smuggle tums into the hospital because the nurse must of had to hike the Appalachian trail to get them.  Seriously, a 3 hour wait for a TUMS!  No way.  I made sure to always have TUMS in the house and chalked it up to shitty genetics.  That was until the other night when I was awoken out of my sleep with the weirdest sensation...hiccups.  And then the feeling that something was stuck in my throat.  It would get tight and then let up and then get tight again...talk about scary.  Instead of waking my husband up and telling him that I might be having a heart attack, I did what any normal person would do and went downstairs to die alone on the couch.  WHAT?  That isn't normal.

After about thirty minutes of thinking this might be the end I decided to see what Dr. Google had to say about my predicament.  He said, hmmmmm probably heartburn but don't forget about esophageal cancer.  Oh! Well gee thanks.  I should sleep like a baby now that I am worrying about a soft tissue cancer.  Great, awesome, sweet.  Needless to say I convinced myself it was the worst of the two evils and headed off to the doctors to get my diagnosis.  Yes, I am a hypochondriac.  It was heartburn.  Thank the baby Jesus.  I started taking my omeprazole and within one day the sore throat was gone.  Loving life.  Now I have to figure out what I am going to do about cutting down on the wine consumption.  That's the only part that blows.  Who would have thought that drinking red wine immediatly prior to bed would cause heartburn.  ;-)  Oh and the coffee, forget about it.  That is staying.  Unless they want me to come in for my chronic fatigue diagnosis.  What the hell.  All my favorite things are causing acid to burn a hole in my food pipe.  Cripes.  Oh well still better then the alternative.



Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Five years ago I married my best friend.

Now you will feel no rain
For each of you will be shelter to the other.
Now each of you will feel no cold
For each of you will be warmth to the other.
Now there is no loneliness for you
For each of you will be companion to the other.
Now you are two persons
But there is one life before you.
Go now to your dwelling place to enter into the days of your togetherness
And may your days be good and long upon the earth.
~Apache Wedding Blessing

Five years ago, I married my best friend.








 Waiting...
 The boys.
The girls 


Dov's mother Constance and my brother Steven. 
My brother Steven and my mother. 

Andrea looks like she is rethinking her shoe choice.



 The exchange.


 You may now kiss the bride.



My cake.  I LOVED my cake.
Bridgett giving that dress a run for it's money. 
First introduction as Mr and Mrs Jaffe.  I guess I liked the sound of it.
First dance.  Coming home to you by John Micheal Montgomery.
The ugly cry.  Held it together all the way to here.
 Dad and I.
Awwww.  Dov and his Mom.

Maid of honor Amy reading her toast.  Dov's coworkers loved hearing about his dog collar and trench coat days.
 Best man Otom doing his toast.
I believe it was about here that the man in the blue shirt ripped the train out of my dress. :-(
Gotta do something with all that dress.
Jay breaking it down for the crowd.
Everybody loves a Marine.
Groomsman Jeff getting down on the dance floor with my flower girl.
My beautiful mother...and father.
It isn't a Hanna wedding till you all dance to "We are family".
Well hello there.
Love you too. <3

The last dance of the evening.