Some Rules Should Never Be Broken!

I have an issue being here in the new house. See I don't have the essentials here, like say a sharp knife of any kind. Cut the kids chicken with scissors, wasn't my greatest moment let me tell you. I also don't have a laptop or desktop, or a washer and dryer. That's what led to our latest adventure. Anyone with kids knows how vital a washer and dryer are.

So we made a happy little trip to the laundry mat. No biggie, two basket and two comforters- we should be in and out in a jiffy! Ha Ha on me. More like almost 5 hours because:

1. Had to wait for empty machines.
2. Machines only took powder detergent and all I had was liquid.
3. NO ATM. Seriously? What, do you think normal people walk around with 20 bucks in quarters in their pockets?
4. Had to load kids back into car for an ATM run.
5. Realize that the dang washers cost FOUR DOLLARS and .50 per load. Screw starting a llama farm, we are gonna open a laundry mat!!
6. Had to wait for dryers, and once clothes were dry there was the folding.

All this with two Punky Punks? It was almost too much for me. What really put me over the top was CREEPY DUDE staring at me the whole time I was folding clothes. I couldn't figure it out, did I have a booger hanging? Was he in awe that I was trying to get a 3 year old to help match socks? I tried the evil eye a few times with no success. What was his deal?

Yeah, I looked down at my pile of clothes and saw a matching bra and panty set laying out for the world, and Creepy Dude, to see. CD, didn't anyone explain the laundry mat rules to you? Allow me! Never, ever, stare at a Foxy Lady's undergarments unless they don't match, or have crazy holes in them, or unless they are granny panties (cause then your just asking for it). Don't openly stare at a perfectly normal stripey, not even Vicky Secret but more like the Target knock off brand, undergarment sets! Its rude, and it almost earned you a roundhouse kick to the face.

And so, the moral of the story is that when C gets here in 2 days he gets to do the next laundry run. Let CD try staring at my undies then! And if you are one of the other patrons at the Mat yesterday, I'm sorry for my kids. They've never met a stranger, and littlest didn't mean to consume your tasty beverage- she thought it was mine. Get over it already, I bought you a new one!

Living in the New

We finally made it to our new home!! Just days before Christmas the kids, Chubaca and I drove on up to TN and our log cabin house. Christmas was fun- but we are still missing our Dadda so if felt incomplete.

I thought I would share some useless nonsense this evening, just because I can.

1. I'm posting from my blackberry cause C has the laptop with him I'm Montana so I'm not sure how this will turn out, but its worth a try!

2. Dear Lighting Companies near Clarksville- Please help shop owners in this area! The Bass Shop light is missing its "B" and scandalized my oldest punk. The Long Branch is missing its "N" in Long and makes the place seem repetitive. What's the difference between a log and a branch anyways?

3. Always fun to meet the neighbors and find that the hubby owns his own tatoo studio. Lots of places I could go with that one, but my Mom reads this blog so I won't!

4.I always pictured TN as the land of old pick up trucks, old dogs, and cowboys. So far the only old anything around here is me. And maybe Chubaca if we are counting in dog years.

5. While returning to the car today in a crowded parking lot an SUV rolled by booming too much bass and rattling everyones windows. What does my punkiest punk do? Pull her hand from mine and immediately start shaking what her Momma gave her. In the middle of the parking lot. She stopped traffic with her sweet moves and stirring rendition of "I Like to Move It Move It." Madagascar 2 was prolly not the best stocking stuffer. She is too easily swayed by the jams.

So now that the punks are tucked away in their beds its shower time! Been having lots of baths cause I forgot the shower curtains in GA and I was too lazy to go to the store for more. Until today that is, and you can see by #5 how well going out in public flies with my Punks. Maybe I should burry them in a hole till they reach adulthood.

The Long Awaited. Hope You Didn't Hold Your Breath!

Wow, what a week. It was such a week that "WOW" doesn't quite sum it up enough. Lets get on with it.

1. In process of moving. Like to another state. To Tennessee to be exact.
2. We are moving into a LOG CABIN. A log cabin that has wood paneling all over EVERY wall. And wood floors. These people seriously like wood.
3. I drove myself to TN to get the house set up, and to take a load of our crap. Sans kids and dog.
4. I turned around the next day and drove back (to Georgia). To pick up said kids and dog.
5. Party hardy with the fam, decorated cookies, walk of shame ensued. Happens every year. Usually twice.
6. Sickness happened, yep- to me. Ear infected. Super OWIE! Not bad now, just sloshing my way around. You know the feeling when your swimming or taking a shower or something and you get water in your ear? Thats what I'm living with. No amount of antibiotics or decongestants have helped ease the slosh.
7. Rest of fam flew out to Utah. Here in GA alone with the kids and dog. We are leaving tomorrow for TN. Hope the sloshing stops soon.

So, to get back to the whole "walk of shame" issue...

We were all jamming out to They Might Be Giants "Flood" album while decorating cookies at Bert's house. This happens every year- and has happened since Bert introduced us to They Might Be Giants way back in the 90's. They were cool then, and they are cool now. Don't hate!

I was assigned to the role of "Cookie Picker-Upper" which is to say I had to keep the table around my hubby and the TrueFather clear of already decorated cookies so they could assembly line this process. And by assembly line I mean slap on a bit of icing, throw on some Red Hots, and move along to the next one. FYI, Red Hots are the only reason to eat sugar cookies, try it and thank me later.

See!?! I'm starting to get in the groove. Yeah Baby, yeah!

I was returning to the kitchen with a tray of assembly lined cookies. I was jamming out to "Whistling in the Dark," and something bad happened. See, I have what is known as a Ghetto Booty. Sometimes this ghetto booty has a mind of its own. Once I set it in motion there is no telling where it will stop. Picture Flubber, with a side of Jello and a pinch of Big Momma. On this night I lost control, I didn't keep the booty in check. It decided to keep on swinging one way while I tried walking in a totally different direction. I'm not sure what that dance move is called, but its a doozie. I should totally patent it. We could call it the "B-Dub Booty Shake" or something.

Ooops, I did it again....

Only it made me drop the ENTIRE tray of cookies. I, B-Dub, am personally responsible for wasting Red Hot covered cookie goodness. It's shameful. Perhaps it was my ghetto booty's was of telling me that I shouldn't eat any more of the cookies. Perhaps it was a cry for help. QUIET DOWN Ghetto Booty, I will deal with you after the holidays!!!

Walk of Shame. Or should I say, Clean Up of Shame?

And then, like five minutes later my dear sweet hubby decided his head was cold. I did what I could, if only for a few minutes. Personally, I think he just wanted a snuggle and didn't know how to say so in front of the TrueFather. We've only been married for what? 6 years. He prolly knows there is something going on with the two of us by now. I did have your babies and all. No reason to still be scared, if he was gonna have you iced he would have done it before now....

My issue with this picture is that my arm looks really fat. I guess I am gonna need a diet after all. And can you say "Serious bad hair day?" I obviously used a sub-par flat iron, and it was totally raining. Yeah, thats it! Rain.

I like this one better anyways.

Except I still look fat. And C looks goofy.

Bert and Me

I have a sister named Bert. She used to be Ber, or to some Ber-Ber (which always made me wanna throw up, just a little, in my mouth), then my littlest Punk came around. Ber turned to Bert, and my sis took one for the Team and ran with it. Now she has passed the point of no return and will forever be known as Bert. Which isn't as bad as my lot. I'm Mimi. And Mimi is like GRANDMA. Only I got the name when I was a whopping 22. It stuck, and my self esteem flew right out the window.

Orange flowers for the lining, brown corduroy for the "outside part"

Bert is teaching me how to sew some stuff. And that is really and truly dangerous Webby Friends, dangerous. Because they don't call me "Grace" for nothin! This one time, when I was small, I sewed my baby brother's index finger because I didn't realize that the machine would GO REALLY FAST when you stomped with all your might step lightly on the super sweet, looks like a race car, pedal. It wasn't my fault- he just didn't move his hand out of the way fast enough. Geesh, Slow Poke!

The latest adventure is a corduroy dress thingy. And I say thingy because I've never been girly enough to learn what the different styles of dresses are. All I know about dresses is you better wear tights, Punk #2, cause otherwise we all get a great glimpse of your underpants. Which is an improvement over when she was potty training and didn't wear underpants for like 2 weeks. Nudie Patudie indeed. Baby steps, baby steps, baby steps. Baby steps to the door, baby steps out the door, baby steps to the underpants, baby steps put the underpants on.... Sorry, I was suddenly stuck in  a "What About Bob?" moment. If you haven't seen that movie, well, you should. Hysterical.

Bert sewing away. I always get the little people to do my work for me. 

Life is better that way.

Anywho, so Bert is showing me how to sew a dress. Only I can't actually cut fabric in straight lines. Oh, and I can't sew a straight line to save my life. But what I CAN do is pin fabric together. Now we are getting to the whole reason for this post! See, I have always been the Odd Egg of our family. Not quite fitting in here or there, not really fitting in anywhere. But, seeing as I got all the TOTALLY AWESOME genes I guess it works out.

Sewing, or should I say pinning fabric, brought out this contrast between my family and I once more. I like to point all sharp objects AWAY from my person. Bert likes pain, so does my Mother. They point the pins towards themselves. I mean really? How many times do you have to poke yourself before the light turns on and "OH! I could turn them around and not bleed all over this fabric!" And they think I'm weird. I also remove the pins just before that part of the fabric is sewn. Cause this one time I sewed over a needle and it broke and shot my eye out. Learned my lesson, yesserrriee Bob, learned it good. Remove pin = no flying shrapnel.

See how MY pins point IN!! No poking while sewing! Genius.

See how Bert's pins are just waiting to poke any finger that gets too near!!!!

Hurry B-Dub! Move your hand before the poking begins!!

Doh, too late.

I did ask Bert if she ever experienced the flying shrapnel. And she has, but still keeps on sewing right on over those pins. She isn't scared, bring it tiny metal fragments, bring - it - on! Some people will never learn. And that, Interweb Friends, is the perfect illustration of how I differ from the rest of the Quackers on the Quack Farm.

This nut fell far from the tree indeed. It is rather nice over here, on this side of the crazy line.

And here is Punk #2, in her new pretty poop brown dress. 

Closing her eyes cause if she can't see you, you can't see her.

And she didn't want to wear the poop brown. She wanted purple stripes. 

So, she is protesting. Closed eyes mean YOU CAN"T SEE HER EITHER!!! (did it work?)

And I think I made the dress a bit on the HOLY FREAKIN HUGE side. 

Social Darling Frock GROSGRAIN GIVEAWAY!!!!

Social Darling Frock GROSGRAIN GIVEAWAY!!!!

I seriously need this frock in celebration of the fact that we ARE APPROVED!!!! We have a place to move to! This, Interweb Friends, is freakin fantastic news. The last three houses didn't work out. But NOW we have one!! I really truly need this frock for move in day. Serious.

Christmas Parties are for Dorks.

I decided that Christmas Parties are only for people who know people. And we all know that people who know people are dorks. I know people, but the people I know are cool and none of them would be caught DEAD throwing a Christmas Party.

Or maybe, I know a few people and none of us have thought about throwing Christmas Parties. Maybe, if we were invited we would attend. Who says being a dork is a bad thing? I was informed that there is a Christmas Party at the local bar every night till the 25th. After that it turns into an "I ate too much and spent way too much- Regrets Party."

Probably, I would really like to attend any kind of party. It would give me an excuse to buy a sparkly outfit. Everyone needs an excuse to rock sparkles. I'm just sayin.

This year I can't party like it's 1999. I'm moving. And in the interim I'm hanging at the ol' parent's house. Not exactly your party like it's 1999 atmosphere. Not to mention that Charley isn't here. BUT HE WILL BE ON FRIDAY!!!!!!!!!! 7 months of separation will FINALLY come to an END! Whoot!

So lets review- because:

1. I'm a dork

2. I know people who know people

3. I had to move back in with my parents till our house is ready

4. I don't own any sparkle outfits

5. My hubby is almost here

6. I am the epitome of cool

It has been decided (by me, B-Dub) that I must attend a party of some kind. Hopefully not a "Regret Party," those are downers. So, SITSmas Party (2nd annual no less!) here I come!!!! And the best part it, I don't even have to straighten my hair. Cause hair means care, and I really don't do that on Tuesdays.

It's nothing personal, Tuesdays are just not a day for hair care. Or make-up care. Or even change out of my jammies before noon (who am I kidding- why change at all? It is only Tuesday after all).

So here's to you SITS! I'm crashing the party, and there isn't much you can do about it.

I Call Her "Pretty" But What I Really Mean is "Special"

Anyone else have trouble taking pictures of a three year old punk?

I mean really? I spent an hour trying to make her self-inflicted mullet look presentable.

And this is what I get?

I know you don't really like the headband. But look! It matches the cheesy white fluff trim!

Seriously, who picks out a dress with cheesy fluff trim? What was she thinking?

Oh-no-she-dident! Is that sparkles I see in that dress? Ew.

I don't care if you don't wanna take anymore pictures!

You are going to sit pretty in this chair and SMILE LIKE YOU MEAN IT!

NOW!

Cause SCREAMING always makes Punks want to smile pretty.

Works never ever, not in a million years but makes me feel more productive every time.

No, you can't take off your shoes!

Wait, what do you mean Momma B-Dub forgot to buy you shoes?

What are you, a street rat or something?

Who does this Momma B-Dub think she is anyways?

See how great you Brother is being?

He knows how to take a dang picture!

Are girls DIVAS from Day One or something?

I didn't read how to fix that in the manual.

I demand a refund.

Let the Holidays Begin!

So we are doing things a bit different this year. Unfortunately, we aren't going to have all our stuff cause its all still in Montana and we are not.  So, since we will be in a mostly empty house I decided part of our homeschooling will involve making Christmas decorations (like we wouldn't do that anyways....) and that we have to start making cookies and other super yummies earlier than than the norm.

Yeah, last night it began. Delish milk chocolate and white chocolate and melty caramel covered the kitchen. Some of it made it to the real destination of pretzels and cookies and graham crackers. Most of the goo made it right into Punk #2's mouth. And just to rub it in a bit; these are my absolute faves! They have a layer of caramel followed by a layer of milk chocolate with crushed candy canes sprinkled over the top. No other pretzel has ever had it sooooo good!

And now if you will excuse me, my tummy is rumbly again.

Home is Where You Hang Your Hat

And life moves on

But Charley really likes this house

And life moves on

So I think Im gonna have to get it

And life moves on

Even though its "hick-ish"

And live moves on

Prolly will fall through before I can lay claim

And live moves on

Things We Leave Behind

So, now that I am officially ripping my hair out by the fist full I decided to step back and smell the roses. Because lets face it- I could still be living in the frozen tundra of Montana. Not that I really mind living in Montana- it is the most beautiful place I have ever lived- but it gets cold. And I mean freeze your nose hairs cold. The kind of cold this little Southern Girl was never meant to endure. Other than that it was great! Oh, wait, except for driving in the ice. That can go too.

So this photo montage is a tribute to the good things about Montana, because 1. I need something happy to do, and 2. to remind myself that life is a journey and I need to Enjoy the Ride.

Driving around Brittany style.

Learning 'em young

Growing some long hair

Charley in an outhouse. 

Facial Hair- his not mine- I still wax the 'stach

Unfortunately I forgot to buy spanks.

Fortunately I could breath.

Even in MT a girl has priorities.

Scaring the pants off a Punk. Good times, just make sure you 

wear ear plugs!

Driving for hours to have a picnic with the in-laws.

Just because we can.

I would also like to point out that 

1. My coat is orange

2. My camp stove is orange

3. My camp box is also orange

4. Orange is my signature color.

5. I can't believe I chopped off all my hair. Doh!  

Just When I Thought My Punks Were Normal.

Whew, life is busy busy busy right now! Like, rip out my hair, punch a punk, shove a spoon in my eye kind of week. But there are some pluses to this week:

My first attempt at a nightgown- I won't tell you it was supposed to have

long sleeves, might ruin the moment.

1. I sewed 12 pair of jammy bottoms, 1 nightgown, 1 apron, 5 stockings (yep, made one for Chubaca!), and some other stuff that is now lost in my mind.....

2. I totally rocked out Black Friday; once again all my christmas shopping complete in 1 day!!!!!

So, my first attempt at a stocking..... Didn't use a pattern, I just winged it.

Yes, Bekum, I realize the foot part is way to big for the chicken leg part. 

3. I found a house (maybe), still waiting on the whole application process. Last house I found fell through so fingers crossed Internet!!!!

4. Took the boyish Punks to play LASER TAG!!!! Twice. And they only beat me once- but that's cause they cheated.

5. Went with a whole lotta the Fam to "Lights of the South," which is just south of Augusta, GA. Had a blast!

Note to self: next time I ask someone to take a group pic, make sure they don't 

cut off Dads head. Yep, he is in the red coat. Mr. Mafia himself, the True Father.

Unfortunately for me Internet, I was under the impression that my Punks were somewhat normal. I mean, just look at Punk #1 sitting next to me (Im in the orange coat. Duh, orange is like my signature color!) and look at Punk #2 sitting there in her pretty blue coat. Normal, happy, well adjusted kids who aren't scared to move 10 days before Christmas even if that means Momma B-Dub has to sew her fingers to the bone making new stockings for the family cause our stuff wont arrive at the new house until sometime in JANUARY if we are lucky. Nope, these kids don't have a care in the world. B-Dub might need a xanex, but thats a whole other story......

Something went wrong along the way. I have no explanation for it. Something bad happened to Punk #2. Something scary. And it happened more than once. Are you ready? Look at what happens when you try and get a close up of Punk #2:

I mean, really? I don't even know what to say to that. I'm speechless. Where did that mouth come from. And I promise you I did not PhotoShop these pics. She really and truly made that face, and it wasn't a freak accident either.

See. Here she is just waiting for the Train ride to start. Totally normal Punk. 

Well, she was really really tired, hence the eye rubbing.

And the next thing you know..... WHAM! 

It happened again! She was possessed by the crazy clown mouth ghost.

Or the Rocky Horror Picture Show Mouth Monster

Or, she turned into one of those cartoon characters from way back in the day

that I can't talk about cause it isn't PC and I don't wanna offend.

Just when I thought my Punks were normal. Ha.

Also, it just occurred to me that you might not be familiar with my Punks normal, everyday, not possessed smile- so I'm providing this next pic for reference. I promise, she isn't always a crack head.

Time Off, Even When You Don't Want It

Oh Internet, how I have missed you!!! I really didn't mean to stay away for so long, but life has a funny way of working itself out. See, Ty-Guy, my Besty Bekum's baby hasn't been well. Mostly he needed Auntie B snuggles. And steroids and decongestants. But mostly Auntie B snuggles. And who wouldn't want to snuggle this guy? Really?

And then Dear, Dear Internet, my very own smallish punk (Punk #2, who is not at all small compared with Ty-Guy) decided that sickly is the new pink. And guess what makes her feel best? Momma Snuggles. And I loved it, well, at least for the first 14 hours. And from here my conflict arose. Because Auntie B and Momma can not snuggle Ty-Guy AND Punk #2 at the same time. So decrees Punk #2. And she decreed it all over the house, at the top of her lungs, for hours. Finally, after copious amounts of meds, both wee little babes rested their heads. And here I sit, Dear Internet, unable to think clearly or form complete sentences; attempting to explain my absence. And writing articles about Stuffing for AC- cause it's due today and I have never missed a deadline and I won't start now.

Also, I just ordered out Christmas Cards. And they were free thanks to The Happy Housewife!

Unfortunately, I cannot find my photo CD and this was the only picture I could think of to have my Mom e-mail me. So, Internet, if you don't care for my Christmas Cards this year please try and remember: I no longer care. So decrees Momma B, aka Auntie B, aka B-Dub; who, in an unfortunate turn of events lost hearing in her left ear when Punk #2 decided enough was enough. She wanted her Momma, and her feelings were stated very clearly on the subject.

And now I must continue packing Internet, because we are supposed to leave North Carolina today. We are supposed to drive to Georgia for Thanksgiving with my Fam. And all I wanna do is cry, or sleep, or maybe hibernate. Wake me in January when we are finished moving to Tennessee. Because really, the thought of moving December 15th is scary. And I'm not sure I can do it while single handedly pulling off Christmas for the Punks. Aarrggg.

Potty Extravaganza

This week has been inspiring for me as a blogger. The depths of honesty and clarity of writing from others in the blogosphere! And the poop! Not to forget about our good friend "peeing in your pants." Oh man, oh man. Right up my alley.

Like pooping in a Wendy's bag, or having a massive case of the runs- in the middle of your own neighborhood. I mean really? This actually happened people. I have the blogs to prove it!

It kinda got me thinking. Pondering, even. Only I can't think of a time when I pooped, or peed, in my pants. Unless you count the times (and there were many) when I was hugely pregnant and sneezed, or laughed, or moved. Might have had some squeege out then.

Or, with my first punk, I may or may not have pooped on the delivery bed. The nurse was there, and she really must have known that I couldn't handle the truth. It happened, and in retrospect I think it did, she cleverly hid it from me. Thank you Ms. Delivery Room Nurse. You helped make my day all the brighter. But really, I don't think pregnant counts for these stories of poop. Poop happens.

I can't believe I'm talking about poop.

So a few weeks ago I took my punks to the pumpkin patch. We had a good ol' time, with the exception of the Whiny Girl in the Pink Shirt that needed a good smack down. And while we were there my littlest punk, Punk #2, really needed to go. In a way that only a three year old girl needs to go. And all there was for her was a port-a-potty. And it was her very first time using a port-a-pot. Potty in a bush? Check. Poop on the beach? Check. Port-a-pot? Nope.

So we get in, and you know what they look like.

But my little Punk had to go. And quickly. I covered the seat with two rolls of toilet paper, and then tried holding her so she hovered above the badness. But she couldn't perform under the stress.

"Momma! Put me down! I gotta potty!"

Gulp.

Alright, fine. I perched her there on the mountain of toilet paper and said "Hold on to Momma, DO NOT TOUCH THE POTTY!

So she perched there clinging to my leg for dear life while she did her duty. And oh what a duty it was. As soon as she was done I busted out the bottle of hand sanitizer and proceeded to give her a sponge bath because she had pieces of TP stuck all over her. Stinky, wet, smelly TP. Gag.

As we finished the head to toe sanitizing and removal of all things TP my littlest Punk looked up at me and said;

"Momma, boys are yucky."

Out of the mouths of babes.

Even at three, this one knows all about the age old issue of boys and bathroom hygiene. I had hoped to spare her that for a few more years.

Theta Mommy: Here it is Ya'll

If you're unsure of what exactly a Theta Mom is, don't worry! I didn't know either. But apparently it means I'm a True, Authentic Mom. As opposed to a Pretend, Authentic Mom, or a True, Forgery Mom. Either way- the word MOM really sums it up, the rest is just gibberish...

I've been "tagged" and so now I am supposed to list 5 reasons why I am a Theta Mom. So, in true B-Dub fashion, I am gonna change things up a bit and make it 5 reasons why I am a Redneck Mom! Cause that's WAY more fun- don't you think?!?!

1. You know you're a Redneck Mom when your little girl gives herself a haircut and you decide to fix it by turning it into a mullet. 


2. You know your a Redneck Mom when you read your kids stories featuring characters named Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby. Only, suddenly, all the characters start reminding you of people in your neighborhood. Or yourself. Accent included.


3. You know your a Redneck Mom when your kids ask whats for dinner and you respond: Fried Chicken, Onion Rings, and Fried Okra. When they complain about the amount of fried foods you look at them sightly perplexed, and say"How do you cook if you aren't frying? Is this a joke?"


4. You know your a Redneck Mom when your hubby's friends all want you to teach a class called "How to change your oil and spark plugs while frying chicken."


5. You know your a Redneck Mom when you name your kids Punk #1 and Punk #2. Makes it easier. Keeps them in order.


How are you a Theta Mom? Or are you more of a Redneck Mom? Grab a tag and let me know!

Crime and Punishment

Thats the Life Ya'll

Dear Internet,

I was talking to my Charley today. I was feeling pretty bad for him cause he really misses these punks we are raising. One weekend every six months just isn't enough time for him. Apparently. Oh yeah, did I mention that once every six months isn't quite enough for me either. Or the punks. So really, this whole "back in the Army" thing is starting off on totally the wrong foot.

I have been bouncing between North Carolina and Georgia since May. We (the two kids, one smelly dog, and the Frazzled Momma B-Dub) are either at my parents in Georgia or my BFF's house in North Carolina. One or the other. For SIX months. And I really don't want to sound ungrateful BUT I am truly ready, like good and ready, to have my own place again. And to get my kiddo's back on a schedule. And I really won't be sad when I don't have any more road trips with two punks and a stinky dog.

I digress.

Back to feeling really bad for Charley....

So, he sends me a text message, our usual form of communication these days, and tells me a bit about his day. And I quote:

"Yeah, I cleaned. Then I slept. Then I talked with the guys. After that I took a nap and watched part of a movie. Oh, then I shot the crap with the guys again. Now I'm getting ready to go back to sleep. Pretty boring really."

Oh man, oh man. So, lets see here. I have been experiencing guilt because you have this crappy Army job that keeps you away from us. And you have to do crappy things like, say, a 15 mile ruck march. Cause lets face it, there is NO WAY that this B-Dub would EVER do a 15 mile ruck march. And I mean never, ever, not in a million years. Poor Hubby. He does have it rough.

Except that he gets to take naps. And hang out with his friends. And watch movies. And then, after all that, he gets to hang out with the guys again. Poor, poor, Charley.

And now I will enter into a period of pity. Join me in the pity party for one. Only if you join it won't be for one but you know, what-ev.

Cause I don't get to hang out with the guys, or watch movies, or TAKE NAPS!!!! And I don't ever get away from my kids. Which I have decided, Dear Internet, is essential to maintaining sanity. Don't get me wrong, I love the punks in all their punky entirety with every fiber of my being. But sometimes they do get a little annoying. They haven't heard the expression "Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder."

And then I start thinking that we should have switched places. Like, maybe, I could have gone off to some cool Army school and left him home with the kids. Only without the home part- cause we aren't sure where we are gonna be stationed and I wasn't staying in Montana all by myself.

Then I got another text. He said he was glad to have today off because tomorrow is another 10 mile run. And then I remembered how much you could never, ever, pay me enough money to run 10 miles IN A ROW! Like all at one time! Or ruck for 15. Or deploy to Iraq twice, and miss the birth of our littlest punk during the second one because they couldn't let you come home right then. Or about how he just found out that he is going to deploy again in the spring. And he is gonna miss out on seeing these punks for another year.

Well, so much for my pity party. I talked myself in a complete circle because now I am feeling bad for him again. Because he is missing out on some great stuff. He has to spend more holidays alone. Because we all need him, and others like him, to keep us safe. And there isn't anything much harder than what they volunteer to do.

But mostly because he has to run 10 miles tomorrow.

Love,

A Once Again Army Wife.

p.s. I would like to add that I have some wonderful frineds who took me out dancing this weekend. And I love dancing. I learned some new line dances and everything! It was a blast, so really, don't feel too badly for me. Sometiems I just need to vent.
B-Dub

It's a First People!!

Yesterday, and I know I'm batty, I decided to apply for a writing position with this online magazine that shall remain nameless. And they said no. And it was my very first writing rejection. And it stung, just a little bit.

And then my kids smothered me with WAY too much attention and I forgot all about it. Until today when I logged into my e-mail and there it was. My first rejection letter. Sitting there. Ug.

But then something happened to brighten my day- I received my first BLOGGER AWARD!!!!!!! Yeah! Someone likes me! They really like me! Or at least my tales of traveling across the US with two kids and a stinky dog make them so grateful that it isn't happening to them that they feel no other option but to give me awards. What can ya do?

So thank-you Mommy's Time! I love it! And it made my day; what online stupid magazine rejection letter? I am the recipient of this lovely Lemonade Stand Award. Because the internet recognizes my attitude and gratitude!

Do you know a blogger with attitude or gratitude? Why not make their day by offering this lovely Lemonade Stand Award? Here's how it works:

- Put the Lemonade Stand Logo on your blog, or within your post

- Nominate 10 blogs with great attiude and gratitude.

- Link the nominees within your post.

- Let the nominees know they have received this award by commenting on their blog.

- Share the love and link to the person from whom you received this award.

And my Nominees are"

The (Un)Experienced Mom

Big Mamma

Mamma's Losin' It!

Boo Mamma

We are THAT Family

The Happy Housewife

the Sevin Family

The Bignell Family

Again, Thanks so much for recognizing my attitude. Cause lets face it. We all know I've got one!

Chubaca the Dog

This is Chubaca.



This is Chubaca dressed in drag.



This is Stryker. Stryker is Chubaca's Lady friend. Or maybe his cousin? Or maybe its his mother's brother's mother's dog. Whatever that makes her.



And the two of them. They like to snuggle. Well, Chubaca not so much but with this lovely lady calling the shots he doesn't have much choice.

Kinda like me and Charley. Except not so much snuggling, cause then we get too hot. And then Charley sweats; and this one time Charley dripped sweat on me and it made me gag. Cause I just can't roll like that. Eeeeeeewwwwwwwwiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee.

And so, to solve our snuggle or not difficulties I have developed the "touching somewhere" technique. I employ the feet only strategy. When we are going to sleep I simply put my foot on his let and WALLA! It's just like we are snuggling! Only not so hot. And I don't feel tied down. And I can even roll over if I want to. It's perfect!

Stryker has her own interpretation of the "touching somewhere" technique. And no matter how hard Chubaca tries he just can't seem to get away. Although really, it doesn't seem like he tries very hard.

Look Momma!

I colored all the itchy on my leg. Beautiful purple. (And then she sighs)

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Day Two and Day Three Sandwich. Cause I can

So, after waking up and having a rousing rendition of "Dog Pile on Dadda" we decided it was time to get downstairs to serve up some biscuits a gravy. Sausage gravy of course. Here, once again, it was apparent that Dadda hasn't been around for a while.

See, Dadda likes to pretend that the kids are tiny, and will stay tiny, and will need everything done for them for the rest of their lives. Momma B-dub doesn't. Dadda thinks that if we are not secured within the confines of a building or vehicle the kids need to "hold -a- hand." Momma B-dub doesn't. Well, maybe sometimes.

So, the other important fact to bring to the table is that Momma B-Dub and the kids traveled from Bozeman, Montana all the way down to Evans, Georgia without Dadda. And as any Momma can tell you; if there is only one parent around, the kids have to be more independent. And mine are.

Back to breakfast. Dadda was SHOCKED that Momma B-Dub would leave his two precious, tiny, unable to sit by themselves for two seconds, never growing kids at the table all by themselves whilst she walked about 10 feet away to grab a whole lotta extra napkins.

Right.

So after we resolved that tragedy we were off to explore the great city of Columbus, Georgia! We started by heading downtown. Who knew they would have such a great River-walk? Or super great sculptures just hanging around? Not what I expected from a military town. Of course, I was basing my stereotype of military towns on Fayetteville, NC where we have been for the last 6 Army years. And I love parts of Fayetteville. Sometimes.

We also went to the Coca-Cola Space Science Center. Whew, say that fast a few times! The kids rode in simulators, drove space vehicles, and generally ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. Mostly because thats how they act when we release them from the pen. And a little because they were super excited to see all the cool stuff. And Most of All, because they were doing it with their Dadda.

And to top it all off, we got to see an Omni show. I LOVE THE OMNI SHOWS!!! Something about the HUGE curved ceiling, the way it feels like your moving, and most of all- the expressions on my Punks faces while the show was on! Priceless.

And so, there are a few things that remain constant no matter where we are, or who we are with.

1) I can't seem to take pictures of people's FACES. It's a curse.

2) I still don't have a charger for my camera, and still haven't fessed up to Charley that I lost it.

3) Dadda almost never likes the clothes I pick out for the littlest punk. This day he objected to the faux leather pants. Geesh.

4) I have a great family!

Small punk sporting faux leather pants and rocking the bowling shoes!