I'll share my womb with you, but NOT my beverage

Kids are kinda gross.

Harsh and uncalled for, you say?

Oh come ON.  Have you ever spent a day in the presence of a drooling, teething, boogie-nosed toddler?  How about the dirt-encrusted fingernails?  Or the hand that was just busy digging for gold?  Or the other hand that was OMG STOP TOUCHING THE DOG'S BUTT!

Call me crazy, but boogies, drool, dirt, and what-are-you-digging-for-in-that-diaper!? are not suitable additives for a beverage.  High fructose corn syrup?  Yes.  Boogies?  No.  That's how I roll.

Exhibit A:

Gross.

And so.....I refuse to share drinks with my kids.

I don't think this makes me a bad person.  If you disagree with me, try this nifty little experiment:

Grab the nearest 3-year-old and hand him an Oreo cookie.  Watch him go to town on that cookie.....yum yum yummy!  Yep...don't forget the piece you dropped on the floor.  5 second rule, ya know!

After he's done with the cookie, it's quite likely that he'll be thirsty....so you'll hand him your nice, clean, refreshing glass of water.  And you'll watch as half of that Oreo cookie (along with a gallon of saliva) gets backwashed into your glass.

If you're like me, you'll be watching in abject horror and frantically fighting off your gag reflex.  (Have I mentioned how very squeamish I am?)

If you're Parent of the Year (or the proud owner of an iron stomach), you'll grab that glass and take a swig.  (Just the mental image is making me a bit woozy.  Maybe I should lie down.)

The Husband and I are on opposite sides of the fence with this issue.  He'll eat or drink anything....regardless of the damage that has been done.  I, on the other hand, won't eat any piece of food that might have been manhandled by a little one.  I like my beverages free of shrapnel and my food free of toddler spit.

Yes, I understand this will take me out of the running for 2011 Parent of the Year.  I've made my peace with it.  There's always 2012.

What have YOU done lately that will knock you off the POTY list?

Excuses....excuses......

Reasons why I haven't blogged since February:

1 husband
4 kids
2 dogs
1 guinea pig
2 part-time jobs
1 business that I'm trying to get off the ground
A third part-time job that I just heard about and am hoping I can get
1 house that is FOREVER messy
Meals that won't cook themselves
Laundry that won't wash, dry, or fold itself

Whew.

I sure do miss you all, though. 

When I last checked in here, we had only one dog.....Charlie.  We had discussed, on and off, the idea of adopting another dog.  The Husband was far less thrilled about the idea than the rest of us.  I kept thinking about it......I even ran it by a few other people to see if they had any advice.  Apparently, I had mentioned it to our babysitter's mother.  Miss JP, our sitter, stopped by our house one day and told me about a co-worker of hers who is in the midst of a divorce.  The husband/ex-husband doesn't want a dog and the wife/ex-wife is moving to a small apartment and is unable to keep the dog. 

"Are you interested?"

"Yes!"

"Should I give her your number?"

"Yes!"

Only after Miss JP left did I realize that I hadn't even consulted with Nick about it.  Oops.

We got "Beauty" on a Friday and told the kids that we were babysitting her for the weekend.  I was NOT about to tell them we were keeping her and then find out that she doesn't work well here.  (If you're a parent, you probably understand that kids operate best if they're kept in the dark about such matters.)

Beauty is a 5 year old golden retriever who sheds large tumbleweeds of hair every day.  The weekend went very well simply because she's quite possibly the most laid-back dog I've ever met.  She puts Charlie in his place when necessary yet she eagerly flops on the floor for belly rubs from the kids.  It took very little time for us to fall in love with her.  On Sunday morning, we told the kids that she would get to stay with us.  As expected, they were ecstatic.

After the adoption was "official", there were a couple of matters to attend to.  Item #1?  Change her name.  She is now known as Molly.  Beauty was a cute name, but totally not our style.  We like people names for our pets.  Page, Fiona, Charlie, Molly.  (If she'd been a boy, the name would have been Walter.)

Item #2?  See if there was anything at the pet store that would alleviate some of her shedding.  We got a brush, a comb, and a de-tangling spray.  Just combing her has made a huge difference.  Plus, she looooooves being brushed out.  She freezes in position and her eyelids droop as if she's just found doggy paradise.  The gray hairs around her mouth and nose tell you that she's certainly not a puppy.  For that, I am thankful.  This house can only handle one frisky, misbehaving puppy at a time, thankyouverymuch.

You can be sure that I'll have some pictures up here very soon.  However, with my track record, "very soon" is a pretty loose term.  Could be one week....could be 3 months.

My point is this:  Yes, you will see pictures.  But I wouldn't suggest holding your breath until they show up.

Peace out, people. 

My mascara contains WHAT?!?!

Nick, the boys, and I were all sitting around watching tv a few weeks ago.  The show that we couldn't tear our eyes from?  "Billy the Exterminator" on A&E.  It's reality tv at its finest.  Billy has a haircut that can only be described as mullet-meets-woodchipper.  The show follows him and his vermin-killing family.  They all wear black and appear to be 100% dedicated to ridding the world of icky things.

Hey!  Maybe that should be their company tag line!

Vexcon....We take care of the icky things.

(There's a good reason why I'm not in marketing.)

Anyway.  In this particular fun-filled episode, some poor woman had an attic full of bats.  Hundreds of them.  Her whole house stunk from the, uh, guano.  (That's poo, if you're not familiar.)  So Billy went into the attic to assess the situation....all while talking about how awful the bat droppings are.  They're smelly and full of disease and NASTY. 

Then Billy said that bat poo is an ingredient in mascara.

Ya know.....the stuff I was wearing AT THAT VERY MOMENT.  ON MY EYELASHES.  OMG.

Turns out, this is an urban legend.  But STILL.  Doesn't it sorta highlight how little we know about our cosmetics?  I'm of the "Ignorance Is Bliss" school of thought here.  Do I really want to know if there's toad placenta in my lipstick?

So while I was doing the dishes yesterday and thinking about this, I had an epiphany.  If it were true, could you imagine how the conversation went among the lab techs who were working on this formula?

Tech #1 - UGH!  I'm so frustrated.  I've tried EVERYTHING to get this mascara recipe correct!

Tech #2 - Maybe I can help.  What have you tried so far?

Tech #1 - I've tried armadillo urine, ferret saliva, border collie ear wax, kangaroo colon, frog warts, maine coon cat semen, pitbull prostate, Texas longhorn umbilical cord, chimpanzee testicles, and guinea pig placenta.  But I STILL can't get this right!  It's driving me batshit crazy!

Tech #2 - Well, maybe you could try.......

Tech #1 - WAIT A MINUTE!  I never tried bat shit!

Tech #2 - Gross.

Tech #1 - Shut up and find me some guano.