Ebola, You Don’t Scare Me

Ebola.

Ebollllllla

Ebolalalalalalala.

EBOLA.

It’s everywhere.  On the news, in the paper, Facebook news feeds everywhere, the Twitter.

EBOLA OUTBREAK!  STOCKPILE THE FOODS!  NEVER LEAVE THE HOUSE!

Ebola, You Don't Scare Me

Out of 319,000,000 people in the United States, eight people are currently being treated for Ebola.

Eight.

Less than a baseball team.

A percentage so low that even my calculator laughed.

It’s so easy to get swept up in the fear-mongering that the media is throwing our way, but let’s take a moment to use our brains and be realistic.

Your chances of contracting Ebola are slimmer than me squeezing my ass into a pair of size six jeans.  That’s nearly impossible.

I’m scared of a lot of things.  Ebola is not one of them.

Things that scare me more than Ebola:

  • Head lice
  • Twelve-year-old girls
  • Vasectomy failure
  • Spiders
  • Underestimating a fart
  • My credit card bill
  • The kids’ bathroom
  • Explaining morning wood to my boys
  • Peeing when sneezing/coughing/laughing
  • Math
  • Port-a-potties
  • Hearing “Mom, I think I’m gonna barf”
  • Running out of Candy Crush lives, because DAMN IT, I KNOW I CAN BEAT THIS LEVEL
  • No wine
  • No coffee
  • No chocolate
  • Sitting in someone else’s pee
  • Crickets
  • Being licked by your dog and his tongue slips into your mouth, right after he licked his balls.
  • Chin hair
  • Auto-correct changing ‘forget it’ to ‘fuck you’ as you send a text to your mother
  • When the four-year-old says he wiped his butt all by himself
  • Wearing a bathing suit
  • Sleepovers
  • Boogers hanging out of your nose during an important interview
  • A room full of preschoolers
  • Sending a dirty text to the wrong person
  • Politicians
  • Hitting that friend request button while face-stalking someone
  • Nude leggings
  • When a kid climbs into your bed in the middle of the night and you feel something warm on your leg

Maybe I’m naive, maybe I’m an idiot, maybe I’m just tired, maybe I have the PMS; the one thing I am not is afraid.

Ebola, you don’t scare me.

PS:If you want to help those in West Africa that are living in real fear for their lives here is a list of non-governmental agencies that are accepting donations.

PSPS: This is a humor piece, I shouldn’t need to make that disclaimer but this is the internet. 

PSPSPS: It wouldn’t hurt to wash your hands from time-to-time.

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I’m Mediocre and I’m OKAY With That

I’ve been having some issues lately.  Mental ones I suppose, since physically I feel pretty good–except for the terrible case of writer’s ass, but that’s my own fault. Issues I’ve had a hard time diagnosing due to trying to fit ten pounds of shit in a five-pound sack on a daily basis.  

See if this sounds familiar:

Go here, go there, do this, fill this out, write this check, go back over here, answer this phone call, respond to this email, wipe this ass, clean up this vomit, do the laundry, try to remember to pick up your kids wherever you dropped them off, and don’t forget to cook supper. Clean up, wad up fold the laundry, mop the kids and bathe the floors. Make sure it is all done with a smile and that all the fuckthisshits and eye rolls are done behind a locked bathroom door.

I have come to the realization that I can’t continue the act.  I just can’t.  I can’t pretend that I have it all together because I don’t.  I can’t pretend that I have the slightest clue what I’m doing with my kids because quite frankly I’m winging it.  I won’t pretend that life is all rainbows and glitter because there are days when shoveling a barn full of cow shit would be more enjoyable than dealing with the cards that we have been dealt.  I’m here to make a confession today my friends.  I just have to get this off my chest and run with it.

I’m mediocre.

That’s right, I said it.  Mediocre.

Now I don’t want you all to be making comments to smooth the waters and boost my ego, that’s not why I’m telling you this.  I’m telling you this because I want you to know that it’s OKAY to be mediocre.  DO YOU HEAR ME?  IT’S OKAY TO BE MEDIOCRE.

Yes, I’m yelling at you because I want you to hear me.  Say it with me:  IT’S OKAY TO BE MEDIOCRE.

I'm Down With It

I’m Down With It

I don’t mean to settle for being mediocre, we should never settle for being mediocre.  What I do mean that it is OKAY TO BE MEDIOCRE from time to time.

No one is going to run from you screaming if they see you in yoga pants with no makeup on and your hair in a messy bun at the grocery store.

It isn’t going to kill your kids if they eat pizza and ice cream with a soda chaser for supper every once in a while.

You aren’t going to burn in hell for yelling at your kids to PICK UP THEIR SHIT.

The teachers at school aren’t going to think any less of you if you forget that permission slip.  For the third day in a row.

While your tween may be raging pissed at you for not letting her have a Facebook/Pinterest/Instagram account because the rules say you must be 13 and damn it, she’ll have plenty of time to lie about her age when she gets older.  She will get over it.

If you don’t clean the toilets today, you will have a second chance to wipe them with a clorox wipe clean them tomorrow.

Taking the kids out for dinner and a movie is always a great surprise.  Even if by “dinner and a movie”  you really mean running through the drive-thru and the kids eat in the backseat while the DVD player is on.

Having one of those days in which you just want to run away to a tropical island with Johnny Depp while you catch up on some reading while having drinks in your private cabana?  Totally normal.  Maybe not the Johnny Depp part, but you know what I mean.

Getting so tired of stepping on Legos and looking at Barbie’s skinny ass that you just want to throw it all into trash bags and forget about it?  Join the club.

Fighting the urge to send your kids outside to play then locking the door behind them is nothing to be alarmed about.  As long as you don’t actually act on it.  For too long.

Oh, you locked yourself in the bathroom this morning in order to take your morning constitutional alone?  Pooping in peace is an acceptable expectation. Never properly acknowledged-as you could probably tell by the constant knocking on the door-but completely acceptable.

Cereal for dinner?  Fuck it, why not.

They’ve watched two seasons–not episodes–of Phineas and Ferb on Netflix—today? As long as they’ve gotten up to pee and get a snack, don’t sweat it.

Here’s what I want you know.  On those days in which you feel like you are failing as a parent, you aren’t.  

When you see that kid with the perfect lunch, know that their mom probably just went grocery shopping and re-stocked.  They will most likely be eating peanut butter and jelly with a few cracker crumbs and marshmallows by next week.  

Those kids at the park are actually wearing clothes that match? Yesterday must have been laundry day at their house. The day before they were probably wearing their underwear inside out, if they were wearing any at all.

No matter how bad you think it is and how alone you may feel and how much you believe you totally suck as a parent, know that you aren’t alone and you don’t suck.

Know that I’ll be right here, becoming even more comfortable with my mediocrity and I’ve got your back.

 

You Might Be a Parent IF…

 

You Might  Be a Parent IF...

You might be a parent if….

You can brush your teeth and hold your 3 year olds wiener while he pees.

You can brown up some hamburger, fix someone a drink, and cut up some veggies all with a baby on your hip and a toddler or two flailing on the floor because you aren’t fast enough with the milk.

You can stop mid-bite to go wipe someone’s ass only to come right back and resume business as usual.

You can whip up six dozen cookies at the last-minute when your kid tells you they forgot that they needed to take snacks for the school program….which happens to be tomorrow.

You aren’t afraid to catch vomit in your bare hands.

You can lay down on the couch and still know exactly what your kids are doing. With your eyes closed.

You take your kids out to dinner and you spend more time in the bathroom than you do at your table.

You can answer all their questions with movie quotes.

Big boogers no long scare you.  You will pick it and you will wipe it on your pants and you just won’t give a shit.

You schedule all well child checks months in advance so that you are guaranteed an on-time appointment but you can’t remember to schedule your yearly hoo-ha check.

You can’t remember to take your grocery list when you go shopping but you know exactly where Sally’s red sparkly headband is that she wore three weeks ago.

Laundry.  So much laundry you actually consider turning your home into a nudist colony.

You can play two different board games at the same time while catching up on your Words With Friends matches, and you manage to win them all.

Your most popular phrases are “get your finger out of your butt”, “we don’t eat boogers for lunch”, and “no, I don’t want to smell your fart”.

Your living room decor no longer consists of beer can pyramids and wine bottle trees.  Instead you discover non-commissioned works of art using mediums that you are certain should be removed by men in hazmat suits.

Your bathroom always smells like pee, no matter how often you clean it.

You can change a diaper in the dark and not leave any residue behind. Except for that shitty smell on your hands that can only be removed by amputation.

You can tiptoe through a bedroom at three in the morning and not step on a single Lego, but attempt it in the daylight and you are damning them all to the depths of hell.

You aren’t against taking a glass of wine and your tablet or smart phone or even Goodnight Moon into the bathroom and locking the door, whether you have to poop or not,  just for a few minutes of alone time.

You do laundry because hampers are full, not because you have a shirt that is dirty that you want to wear to the bar tonight.

You can discuss the contents of your child’s vomit over dinner and continue eating as if you are talking about rainbows and unicorns.

You do math homework.  Or at least you try.

You use glitter.

Most of your conversations are centered around poop, farts, burps, butts and boogers.

While we may not be huge fans of some of the things we do now (I for one am not a lover of vomit), we wouldn’t change any of it.  Except maybe the poo on the walls.

 

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Anniversary Gifts for That Special Someone

We have now reached the point in our lives in which Bob has put up with my shit for over half of his life.  It’s like he truly does love me.  I should give him a medal or something.  Or at least a gift.  Sonofa….

I didn’t get him a gift.

Our anniversary passed on by and I didn’t buy him a gift.

In my defense, we never give each other anniversary gifts. We have a trifecta (Christmas, his birthday, and anniversary) all in a two-week period.  Who in the hell does that?  The queen of poor planning does, that’s who.

We have a tradition that we started way back in the “holy crap we are broke” days.  This tradition has never been broken.  Until now.

This year he broke the no-gift tradition.  He broke the damn tradition and he bought me an amazing gift.

I didn’t get him a gift.

I am an asshole.

I need to fix this.  I mean, he bought me jewelry.  JEWELRY.

This is very serious.  I need a gift.  Maybe a gift basket.

I took my problem to Amazon (because Prime has saved my life) and here are some of the items I’ve been debating.  I present to you, my dear readers, my first ever horrible anniversary gift guide.

Anniversary Gifts for That Special Someone

1. Subtle Butt: disposable gas neutralizers (5 saving graces):

  • In a nutshell…Subtle Butt absorbs and neutralizes odor from flatulence. Yes, our fart filters really work! Does your loved one have smelly gas? Is the passenger in 12C stinking up the plane with his altitooties? Is the dog getting a lot of blame?
  • Take the bad part out of the fart with Subtle Butt fart pads. We combined activated carbon, fabric, and adhesive to create the most effective fart pad on the market.
  • Each pack of 5 Subtle Butt fart pads effectively filters the odor caused by flatulence.
  • Simply stick one in the right place and you’re ready for a chili cook-off or an all-you-can-eat Indian buffet. Giving Subtle Butt as a stocking stuffer is a great gift idea for your spouse, boyfriend or co-worker with smelly farts.

This is number one on my list for a reason.

Subtle Butt

2.  Undies For Two

Because who doesn’t need underwear with FOUR leg holes?  Sharing underwear, especially the same pair at the same time, is truly a sign of a strong marriage.  Getting in them is half the fun!

Undies for Two

3. Willy Warmer

It gets cold when you are working outside in the Kansas winter.  Avoiding significant shrinkage is imperative.

The Willy Warmer

4. Accoutrements Emergency Underpants Dispenser

There comes a time when a man is too far from home during desperate times.  Always be prepared.

Spare Underpants

5. What’s Your Poo Telling You?

Because we take our health seriously.

With universal appeal (everyone poops, after all), this witty, illustrated description of over two dozen dookies (each with a medical explanation written by a doctor) details what one can learn about health and well-being by studying what’s in the bowl.

What's Your Poo Telling You?

6. The Good Wife Guide: 19 Rules for Keeping a Happy Husband

When he returns home from his demanding job, a man rightfully deserves a bit of pampering. A happy smile, a warm kiss, and a pair of cozy slippers are just the start. Here are all the secrets for helping him feel comfortable and content: advice on cooking from scratch, the lowdown on why a clean home makes hubby feel better, and valuable hints on making yourself more attractive to him.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.   I don’t think so.  No need to give them unrealistic expectations that are destined to end in massive disappointment.

The Good Wife Guide

7. Ring for Sex Handbell

Please refer to my description for The Good Wife Guide.

Sex Bell

8. Weener Kleener Soap

Personal hygiene is always important, and like the package (I said package) says:  Large or small or inbetweener, nothing beats a cleaner Weener!

Weener Kleener Soap

9. EZ DRINKER 6 Pack Redneck Beer and Soda Can Holster Belt, Camo Camouflage Design

You never know when you might get stranded somewhere, always be prepared.  *Beer sold separately*

Beer Holster

10. The Bobcat Headband with Hair Mullet

  • Get your life back
  • Full time lady gettin’ mullet headband to wear on a part time basis

Bow-chicka-wow-wow.  For increased odds for a little action, wear with the EZ Drinker.

^^^NOT Farmer Bob

Maybe I should keep shopping????

 

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The Lone Ranger; A YKIHAYHT Review

Today is DVD release day, so I figured why not remind you as to why you need to buy this movie.  It will make a GREAT stocking stuffer (or early Christmas gift <hint, hint Farmer Bob>)

Editor’s (who also happens to be the author) note:  FYI: I’m not a professional movie critic, but I AM a professional opinion giver.

This may come as a big surprise to my long-time readers, but  I saw The Lone Ranger this weekend. Twice.  Oh yes I did.  I wasn’t going to write about it because if you peruse these interwebs you can Google that shit and find a review by every Tom, Dick, and Harry that experience actually write that kind of drivel for a living.  I broke down for the sake of “research” and did just that last night and I gotta tell ya, I was bored to tears.  BORED.  Stab my eyes out with an ice pick bored.  Movie reviews are snooze-fests.  So technical and usually the complete opposite of what I think, so it was then I decided why the hell not write something?  Surely I can come up with something a little more exciting than the crap reviews I read.  I can’t promise anything spectacular or even grammatically correct, but I can at least promise to try to make it more relatable and less technical.

The Lone Ranger

SEE THIS  MOVIE.  How’s that?  Too short?  Not descriptive enough?  You need more than that?  Read on.

When I go to a movie, I expect to be entertained.  I want to laugh/cry/scream/have my heart go all aflutter.  I want to imagine that I am actually IN the movie.   I don’t go for the complex plots and the outstanding costume design.  I don’t analyze character development or the historical accuracy of the script.  I don’t compare the actor’s performance in this movie to his performances in previous flicks.  It isn’t because I lack the intelligence to process it all, but movies are an escape.  A chance to exit my reality of wiping asses and stepping on Legos and to enter a world that I would never experience outside of a theater.   A couple of hours to forget about the two-hundred loads of laundry and five kids whining for more food awaiting me at home.  Some time to just  sit in a seat with my over-priced drink and the snacks I snuck into the theater in my purse and watch with the expectation of being entertained and the hope that I don’t have to get up to pee halfway through.

As I snuggled down into my comfy reclining seat (just after a good bladder flush), the lights dimmed and I anxiously waited for the previews for movies that don’t even come out until freaking Thanksgiving to end.  I have to be honest, I went into this movie blind.  I didn’t read any reviews, no script synopsis, nada.  I knew that I would have my ass parked in that theater no matter what, so all I had done to prepare was to watch the trailers and of course, as painful as it was <cough, cough>, I caught JD on a few late night shows.  That’s right, I’m playing the stupid card here.   Anywho, I went in blind.  Blind to the plot of the movie that is, I was quite visually aware of what I was going to be watching if you know what I mean <wink, wink>.  (Spoiler alert: Johnny Depp is shirtless through the entire movie)

Here we go, my seven (because remember, I suck at lists) reasons why you need to go see The Lone Ranger:

1.  Johnny Depp:  Duh.

2. The scenery:  When  I say scenery I’m actually not referring to Mr. Depp.  This movie makes me want to pack up all the kids, throw them in the car and travel west.  Yes, I said it.  Pack up all five kids and travel.  In the car.  Driving for hours.  Did I mention with five kids?  That is how beautiful it is.  Crazy beautiful.

3.  Armie Hammer:  He is perfect in his role as the Ranger and his chemistry with Tonto is remarkable.  He is also not too bad on the eyes.  Speaking of eyes, his are delightful.

4.  You will feel a range of emotions: You will laugh, you will feel fear, you will feel anger, your heart will palpitate, you will laugh some more.  It is a great mix, and to quote my friend I Want a Dumpster Baby, you will FEEL ALL THE FEELINGS.  You know, if you don’t have a stick up your ass which prevents you from doing so.

5.  The rest of the cast:  That’s right, there is more to the flick than just the Ranger and Tonto.  It would be a pretty pointless movie without the villains and all the supporting roles. With actors like Tom Wilkinson, Helena Bonham Carter, William Fichtner, and some pretty amazing animals, you really can’t go wrong.  Simply amazing chemistry.

6.  The music: The William Tell Overture.  Movie. Made.  The other music is fantastic as well but let’s be honest, it wouldn’t be The Lone Ranger without that one piece.  It brings a smile to your face,  makes your toes tap, and you heart skips a beat.  If it doesn’t,  you have a lonely, boring  heart that needs more music in it.

7.  Did I mention that Johnny Depp is the star?  I do not hide my admiration for, or my desire to meet, this man.  I am not about to sit here and analyze his role as Tonto.  I’m no expert on these things, nor will I ever pretend to be, I just know what works for me and this role works for me.   Contrary to what many critics say, it’s not Captain Jack, it’s Tonto and in my very un-professional opinion it is very well done.

If you want to be entertained for over two hours and escape the monotony of life, then GO SEE THIS MOVIE.  Will it sweep the Academy Awards?  Probably not, but those movies that do usually aren’t the ones that I like anyway.  If you are looking for a great movie that can run the gamut of emotions, go buy it.  If you like a western complete with a couple of charming heroes and a sense of humor, saddle up and go on the ride baby.     I enjoyed the hell out of this movie and I feel bad for the critics that didn’t.  It must really suck to not be able to sit back and truly enjoy a great movie because you are too busy analyzing every word, every part of the plot, every character, every song, every actor.  Sometimes it is just sitting back in a quiet room and allowing the music, the scenery, and the actors to take you somewhere far away from boogers and Barbies that makes a movie really spectacular.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” -Theodore Roosevelt

Just buy it.  You know you want to.

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Regular Guys are Sexy

In old news, Adam Levine has been named the “sexiest man alive” by People Magazine.    Because I have nothing better to do <sarcasm font>, I had a few thoughts and came up with an idea:

1.  I’m hungry.  Maybe that is because while I do find Adam delightful (so don’t you dare  go off sending me hate mail), I feel as if I should offer him a cheeseburger or something to fatten him up a bit.

2.  I really need to go get that new tattoo that I’ve been wanting.

3.  I understand that they have to give other guys a chance, but um HELLO???? WHERE IS JOHNNY DEPP?

4.  What constitutes “sexy”?  Sure Adam is easy on the eyes, but how do we know he isn’t a total prick?  (I’m sure he isn’t, but since I’ve never met him I cannot say for sure either way).  What about Johnny Farmer Bob?  No one showed up here to measure Bob’s level of sexiness.   Does Bob not make the list because he isn’t a guy with millions of adoring fans or have millions of dollars?  I see that Bob is at a massive disadvantage here.

5.  I’m still hurt over the Johnny thing.  I mean come ON.

6.  Who decides these things and why was I not consulted?

7.  WHAT ABOUT BOB?

I say it is time.  Time to show that our regular guys are sexy too.

Damn it, celebrities aren’t the only sexy men.  Our “regular” guys can compete with the likes of Adam, Idris, Jimmy, Luke, and of course Johnny. They CAN fortheloveoftatersandgravy!  After all, we married them/live with them/made babies with them/share a dog with them/haven’t killed them in their sleep to make the snoring stop so we must see something incredibly sexy about them.

While it is common practice to consider one “sexy” just based on what our eyes see <ahem, Johnny>, is that truly what makes them attractive?   Did you choose your husband/boyfriend just based on their looks?  Doubtful.  You chose him for his heart.  For the father you imagined him to be.  For the man you saw in him.  And yes, of course you chose him because his looks made your heart go all a-flutter.

That’s right ladies and gents, I want to see your sexy men.  I don’t just want to SEE them though, I want to know what makes them sexy.  What about him gets you all hot and bothered?  Don’t be shy, this is your chance to show off your man.  Follow closely my friends, there are rules and I need you to follow some directions. There may be a test.  Let’s start with some examples:

From my friend The Underachiever’s Guide to Being a Domestic Goddess:

DG’s husband, also known as the Greek God Adonis is sexy because he is able to laugh along with her daily at the basic, every day events in their family, he’s kind, generous and has a steady base that she can lean on. He comes home and immediately starts entertaining the kids while she gets dinner ready and is right there to help clean up and get the kids ready for baths. When he’s not working, he spends his extra time building Legos , fighting in epic light saber battles, and coaching the boys’ lacrosse team. He doesn’t mind getting up in the middle of the night to be there for the kids, he makes a mean breakfast, and he can fix anything that needs fixin’. He loves to play on his over 40 league lacrosse team called the Rusty Bones where, in each game, he demonstrates exactly why it is called that. He is even sexy when icing knee injuries and other bruises from playing like he’s still in high school. The sexiest thing of all is the way he loves his family with all his might and supports, encourages and cheers on everyone in his life.

DG

Mr. DG appears courtesy of DG

From my incredible friend Craughing:

The sexiest thing about The Fixer is his confidence in being a man. In a world overwhelmed with technology, money and being fake The Fixer shows his heart easily and with confidence. He is not overly concerned with looking tough and has somehow learned the perfect balance of being strong and sensitive. Somewhere along the way in his life, he learned that in order to be a man being open and loving is necessary and masculine. He is not afraid to try new things, admit when he is wrong, or show the world love and compassion. He strives to be a better person every day, and to make those he loves know they are adored. He also has a wicked sense of humor and laughs easily. Overall, his confidence in himself is what makes him the sexiest man I have known, that and he loves me well.

Craughing

The Fixer appears courtesy of Craughing Girl

I Want a Dumpster Baby thinks Dumpster Husband is sexy too, here are her thoughts:

What makes my husband sexy? Simple. He makes me laugh harder than anybody I’ve ever known. That’s the sexiest thing ever. That, and he has a great ass.

DH appears courtesy of IWADB

DH appears courtesy of IWADB

From the beautiful Blissfully Discontented:

Ordering dessert even though I said I didn’t want any, asks for two forks, and turns it toward me for the first bite…at the risk of losing it all to my ravenous sweet tooth.
His ability to laugh at himself…and see the funny in just about anything.  If I didn’t have him to make me laugh I know for a fact I would get sucked into my depressive oblivion as I’m known to do.  Also…he can quote stupid-funny movies like a mofo.  This is what first attracted me to him.  Hand to God.
He doesn’t always get why I need certain things in my life…like my need for sunshine and the shoreline.  But he gets ME.  He knows I operate on a solar-powered battery.  And although having his feet in the sand does absolutely nothing for him he knows the impact it has on me.  He holds my hand and walks countless miles up and down the beach.  He sits with me facing the tide for hours on end.  And he does it with a smile.  Means more to me than any jewelry in a fancy little box could every provide.
Most importantly, he is an excellent dad.  You can see the admiration and love in our kids’ eyes when they look at him.  He is firm but loving.  Silly but focused.  Even when life gets hard and work is overwhelming he puts it all aside and remembers what is important.  Aside from his ability to quote Chevy Chase or Adam Sandler…his ability to connect with kids is what truly attracted me to him.  When we first met we were camp counselors for a summer camp.  The way he interacted with his campers…I knew he was a catch then. I wanted to watch him grow into the man and father I knew he would one day become.  I thank God that he picked me to share this life and these babies with him.
The Gentleman appears courtesy of Bliss Dis

The Gentleman appears courtesy of Bliss Dis

And finally, here is what makes Farmer Bob sexy.  That’s right my friends, you finally get to see Bob.  Here is what makes him even sexier than Johnny:

Being an amazing father is what does it for me.  The way he isn’t afraid to show them his silly side, or his sensitive side, or his angry side.  The way he shows them every single day that he loves them whether it be playing a game of football in the front yard, helping them with homework, or showing them how to put a part on a tractor.  Throw in his never-ending support for me and my goals as a mother and as a woman/writer/person, it’s a wonder we don’t have more kids.  He puts up with me when I’m grumpy, when I’m being redonkulous, and when I’m being over-the-top silly.  He builds my confidence and reminds me that I am beautiful even when I disagree.  He makes me smile when he walks in the room and cheese on a cracker this man deserves a peace prize or something. Thankfully he settles for cookies instead.

Yes, that's really him. <3

Yes, that’s really him. <3

So here is the challenge, think about your man.  Really think.  Write down what makes him so irresistible to you.  What are the qualities that you see in him that maybe he doesn’t see in himself?  What makes him sexy as hell?

Once you have it nailed down (not your husband, your words)  I want to read them and I want to see your man.  Post a picture (keep it clean, the kiddies are watching) along with your words on my Facebook page or share it with me on Instagram (tag me @YKIHAYHT and use #mysexyman). I will give you until December 11 and then  I will assemble all the photos into a Facebook album for all to see and if the response is overwhelmingly positive, we will see where to go from there! <looking for some sponsors for some manly prizes maybe?  HINT, HINT>

Now don’t be shy, let us CELEBRATE our amazing men because the “regular” guys are sexy too!

*Stay tuned ladies and gentlemen, depending on the success (or utter failure) of this experiment you will (hopefully) have your turn to return the favor for your lady in the near future.*

 

 

Pumpkin Bars with Cream Cheese Frosting

I had Pumpkin Bars for breakfast. That’s right, I said it. Pumpkin Bars with Cream Cheese Frosting. I figured it has grains and dairy and fruit (pumpkin is a fruit isn’t it?) so why not. Then I thought that it just wasn’t fair to eat it and not share the recipe with you. Because you deserve a healthy breakfast too.

Now before you get all up in my grill about posting a recipe, let me be very clear….I AM NOT A FOOD BLOGGER. I won’t even pretend to be.  My reasons are simple: I only cook because I like to eat and food blogging looks hard.  Too much prep, too many pictures.  I’m way too unorganized for that biz.  Not to mention the fact that when I cook I use technical measurements like “a little bit”, “some”, and “oh shit, I used too much”.  I’m not meant for the food blogging business.

What I do know is that these bars are freaking delicious and I want to share them with you.  I have no fancy pics because I just decided to write this as I was shoving one in my pie-hole this morning.  I suggest you just print the damn recipe and bake some up yourself.  Sharing them is optional.

Wait.  Share the recipe.  I mean sharing the actual bars in all their deliciousness is optional.  However I would suggest you share them if you want to be able to continue to fit into your pants.  Unless you are still in your pajamas like I am.   Elastic is a wonderful thing.

See why I can’t be a food blogger?  Here’s the one picture I took and the damn recipe.  Enjoy.

Pumpkin Bars with Cream Cheese Frosting

Pumpkin Bars with Cream Cheese Frosting
A pan full of fluffy pumpkin deliciousness.
Prep Time
10minutes
Cook Time
25minutes
Prep Time
10minutes
Cook Time
25minutes
Pumpkin Bars with Cream Cheese Frosting
A pan full of fluffy pumpkin deliciousness.
Prep Time
10minutes
Cook Time
25minutes
Prep Time
10minutes
Cook Time
25minutes
Ingredients
Servings: Depends on how big you cut them. If you are selfish, it serves 1.
Instructions
  1. Mix dry ingredients in a large bowl. I wisk them to get rid of clumps. Make a well and add pumpkin, oil and eggs. Mix until smooth. Spread batter evenly in a greased jelly-roll pan. Bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes. Cool and spread with a thick layer of cream cheese frosting.
  2. Throw the butter and cream cheese in a bowl. Beat them together until they are friendly and dump in some powdered sugar. Keep beating, you won't go to jail. Add a little bit of milk to keep it moist (I said moist). Alternate powdered sugar and milk until it's like you like it then cover those pumpkin bars. Don't be shy, use it all up.
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Would Someone PLEASE Talk to Me?

As a work-from-home (mainly via e-mail) parent, I find myself missing something during the day.

A shower? Not a shower, well sometimes a shower.

A clean toilet? You can’t miss something that you never have.

Empty laundry hampers?  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

No, I miss conversation. Spoken words exchanged with another human being.

While I do enjoy my own thought-provoking words, mainly because I’m the only one that doesn’t argue with me,  I need me some verbalization during the day with other persons.  Some good old face-to-face, could you stop looking at the giant zit on my chin and look me in the eyes conversation.

One would think that with five kiddos between the ages of three and eleven, words would be a-plenty around here.  I’m here to tell you that you would be WRONG.

Example #1:  Conversation between a mother and her three-year-old son

What did you do today?

<silence followed by a fart and a giggle>

Did you take an Alaskan cruise?

No.

Did you ride a camel across the desert?

No.

Did you walk across the Great Wall of China?

No.

Did you pick pomegranates by the bucket?

No.

How about an African safari?

No.

Did you chase a herd of buffalo?

No. <farts again>

Did you hike over the Alps?

No.

Sunbathe naked on the beaches of Monte Carlo?

No.

Travel by donkey to Machu Piccu?

No.

Buy a herd of alpacas?

No. <fart>

Trek across Siberia?

No.

Poop?

No.

Climb the Eiffel Tower?

No.

Swim the English Channel?

No.

Shear the sheep?

No. <fart>

Visit the South Pole?

No.

Cure cancer?

No.

Well then what exactly did you do all afternoon with your dad?

We cut the mywo (milo) with the cutter-cutter (aka, the combine).  Duh.

Sonofa…..

Moral of the story?  Three-year-olds are not the best of conversationalists but aren’t afraid to express their gas.

Don't Speak to Me

Example #2:  Conversation between a mother and her nine-year-old son.

Good morning!  What should we do today?

Watch football,then play football on the Wii, then go outside and play football, then come in and watch more football. Football, football, FOOTBALLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!

<sigh>

Example #3:  Conversation between a mother and her eleven-year-old daughter

How was school today?

FINE. <rolls eyes, stomps off, slams bedroom door>

Good talk.

Moral of the story?  Always keep cold wine in the fridge and your conversations with yourself will become more more entertaining.

I guess I will just be here.  Talking to myself.  The best conversationalist that I know.

 

I Think I Have a Future With Hallmark #BirthdayFail

When it comes to birthdays, us moms (and you dads too, but since I’m a mom I’m using that term), are often overlooked.   It doesn’t happen on purpose.  It doesn’t happen because no one cares.  It doesn’t happen because we aren’t loved.  It happens because, well because shit happens.

So when Hallmark approached me to talk about Birthday Fails,  I thought that maybe they are just waiting to hire me to write witty, best-selling birthday cards for them.  So I thought why not get ahead of the game and come up with a couple of cards to kind of build up my repertoire.  That way I have a few bargaining chips when it comes time to negotiate a salary.

See if you think Hallmark would be interested in these sentimental cards.

Let’s see, how about this one for those farmers (not Farmer Bob, but other farmers <ahem>) who are out working hard on their spouse’s birthday:

Farmer #BirthdayFail

Farmer #BirthdayFail

We all love choosing where (and what) we eat on our birthday.  Surely you don’t cook on your birthday?  I mean, I usually do (see card above) but I just know that your kids love taking you out to a special dinner:

Dinner #BirthdayFail

Dinner #BirthdayFail

After dinner, you only hope for the perfect gift.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s always the thought that counts (like a free hat from the Co-Op), but it’s the really thoughtful gifts that keep on giving.  All. Year. Long.:

Nice try kids, but laundry is a massive #BirthdayFail

Nice try kids, but laundry is a massive #BirthdayFail

I suppose they could always go for the tattoo to prove their love…um……

Tattoo #BirthdayFail

Tattoo #BirthdayFail

Luckily for you, Hallmark isn’t beating down my door to write cards.  They hire real professionals, like these guys,  to make the perfect cards to take that birthday from a #BirthdayFail, to a #BirthdayWin.

If I were you, I’d stick with them.  They actually know what they are doing. Your mom/wife/husband/kid/dog/cousins-sisters-boyfriends-daughter will thank you.

Hallmark

 

This post has been sponsored by Hallmark, but the words and thoughts are all my own

Do you think I have a chance?  Tweet me (@YKIHAYHT) and Hallmark (@Hallmark) using #BirthdayFail.  Maybe they’ll give me a shot!

The Day I Give Johnny Depp a Glimpse at “Normal” Life

Hold on to your hats my dear readers, there is absolutely nothing controversial about what I am about to admit.  Are you sure you can handle this?  Take a deep breath before you read this next statement…. <and in…..and out>

I’m a tad bit enamored by Johnny Depp.

<GASP>  It’s a shocking development that is for sure.  I’ve tried to hide it, but I just can’t do it any longer.  It’s time to lay it all out on the line.  You know that I have never invited him to the farm.  I would never ask him to have dinner with me.  I’ve never gotten up at four in the morning to catch a glimpse of him in person.  I sure as hell would never begin to speculate about how it would really go down if he actually showed up at my door.

That last sentence is a lie.  I totally would do that.  Especially after seeing my friend Ilana (of Mommy Shorts fame) interview Taye Diggs (hottie mchotterson)  on her very own couch.  Ilana has kicked off an amazing new show on Ulive that you simply must watch (please come back when you are done).  Take a few minutes to watch her episode with Taye while I fetch a hot cuppa joe (seriously, watch it.  He takes off his sweater and his smile is delicious).

I get asked over and over again what I would do if JD ever showed his handsome face on the farm.  Until that happens for realz I cannot say for sure, but I say we have some fun speculating.

Who IS that coming in my driveway?

Chances are, when he arrives I will be sitting out on the patio with a good book like  I Just Want to Pee Alone and my coffee.  I will most definitely still be in my jammers with some pretty amazing bed head dreaming about a maid to come take care of my housework.  The sound of a car approaching the house will no doubt wake me from my dream and I will be shocked back into my glamorous reality.    He will get out of his car all Rico Suave-like and I will spill my coffee on my fancy fleece PJ’s.  This will come in handy as it will disguise the fact that I peed myself.  I will ask him not to hug me since I haven’t showered in who knows how many days and the coffpee perfume doesn’t really mask that. (Wait a minute, who am I freaking kidding?  There would be hugging and hopes that the coffee smell overpowers all the other odors.)

Once we get past the initial awkwardness of my inability to form a coherent sentence void of multiple obscenities,  we would discuss what I am reading and he would undoubtedly ask me to sign a copy of IJWTPA for him.  Of course I would do it because who wouldn’t, but at this point I would have to invite him in because I don’t keep a pen in the glove compartment of the Little Tikes Coupe.

I could make time....

I could make time….

I have read many an interview in which he wishes for a “normal” life.  That he didn’t “ask” for fame, it just happened.  That some day, he just wants to “live life.  REALLY live life.”  His wish is my command.  These toilets don’t magically scrub themselves, meals don’t appear out of nowhere, homework doesn’t get done without a fight, and this farm doesn’t run its self.  No one here is any more special than the others, so I hope he brings some rubber gloves.  Here’s how I picture it:

What’s that?  You need to use the bathroom?  Super, while you are in there here’s the toilet brush and some cleaner, the clorox wipe-down from last week has expired and these boys can just never seem to hit the hole.  Don’t forget the floor, because that isn’t water around the toilet.

Hey, go in the laundry room and switch that laundry over for me.  Is there a problem?  You put the clothes in the machine, put in a little bit of soap and press the start button.  NO, NOT SO MUCH SOAP!  Damn it.  Guess we’ll do a second rinse on this load.

PITA is screaming?  Oh, he just needs his butt wiped.  If you’re lucky it was a clean one.  Have fun.

The sheep are out, be a champ and run out there and chase them back in.  WAIT!!!! COME BACK!!!! I forgot to tell you……..to be careful not to scare them or they’ll scatter.  Oooops.  I hope he figures that out. Nope.  Poor guy.

Have a seat for a little bit, time to pay some of these bills.  Oh, not that one.  We can’t pay that one yet.  Nope, not that one either.  That one will be OK, but not that other one.  Money doesn’t grow on trees around here, you have to time these things just. right.

I should probably grab a shower.  You hang out with PITA and if you could whip up some grilled cheese or something for lunch, that’d be great.  Really?  You need a recipe?  Bread, cheese, bread.  Toast it up.  Here’s the griddle, figure it out.

The kids are home from school.  Can you start them on their homework while I run this part and some seed out to Farmer Bob?  I think they’ll be OK with you, they know your face well enough.  You’ll be fine.  Trust me. <snicker>   Besides, after that incident with the last babysitter I hid all the duct tape and rope.

Oh, and PITA is on the pot again so you’ll need to tend to that while I’m gone.  From the smell of things, it’s not good.  I told him to lay off the blueberries yesterday.

Helloooooo?  Anyone home?  Johnny?  Oh shit, they found the tape. <finds JD asleep in the recliner, kids running amok.  Breathes sigh of relief and goes to cook up some grub>

After filling our bellies and putting the kids to bed we would finally have time to chat.  I would bring out the wine, remember that he doesn’t drink, rejoice because that means more for me, and we would stay up into the wee-hours of the night solving important worldly problems like why I am so inept at playing string instruments, why I fed PITA blueberries, and why so many critics disliked The Lone Ranger.

He would undoubtedly admit that this “normal” life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  He makes a few phone calls and arranges for maid service once a week, because I shouldn’t have to work so damn hard.  He tells me to call my boss and quit my job and hires me to create and run all the social media accounts for his publishing company and himself.  He gives me strict instructions to only create and post at my leisure, because writing a book should be my first priority.  Book?  What book?  Why the one he just signed me to write.

I would then ask him for a signed copy of House of Earth: A Novel and he would retrieve the one from his bag that he brought just for me. First edition of course. <swoon>

He would struggle with telling me good night, we would exchange phone numbers and make plans to get together next week in order to squeeze in a “business” dinner at his place.  Sans kids.