Press here if you like hot, sinewy, half naked men.
Press here if you like sexy chickadees. (this is a new, ever-evolving board. I’ll happily take direction/suggestions on who to have on it, guys!)
Back yet? Good. I’m glad I have your attention because this post is chock-full. I’m not stopping at ten. Hang onto your seats… (more…)
I’m pretty sure Lizzi hinted something to the effect of naked people and a cake?! Well, that’s what I heard so that’s what I’m goin’ with. I had better see some nudity, preferably in the form of a hot man. I call licking the spoon!
Uhhh, I see cupcakes, but no hottie. WTF? I guess I have to take matters into my own hands, AS USUAL. Please take the time to peruse the at least 15 extra special cakey new additions to my *special* Pinterest board. It was tough research, but I think you’ll appreciate the outcome. Enjoy. I know Lizzi will.
ANYway, I have plenty to be thankful for, but am also a bit panicked because as I’m typing it’ll be just *looks at watch* four hours before my two boys will be home from school for the next nine days. NINE DAYS. This is something to be grateful for. Probably. And I am. A little. But part of me is also squinching (that’s a word, autocorrect!) because of all the writing still on my plate that I’m clearly not going to finish this month as I’d hoped. I sort of forgot about that whole nine days I’m home with the kids right after five days with my family. So I’m taking the pressure off myself *lifts off and throws*. I’ll finish when I finish. *sticks tongue out at no one in particular*
Now on to some fun stuff, you know, since I have no more pressure on me. Yippeeee!
I’m thankful the pressure to finish all my editing this month is gone. Thank you, Beth! Oh, no problem! You’re so welcome! You’re the best! No, you are. No YOU are. Stop! You stop!
I’m thankful for birthdays, namely my good friend, Kathy’s, because she always chooses our favorite Ethiopian restaurant, Queen of Sheba, to have her birthday meal, and it’s always the best day ever. The aromas…the tastes….the whole experience is transcendent. Happy Birthday, Kathy! I had SO much fun. See you in a few weeks for mine. Guess where we’re goin? My mouth is watering already. 
I’m thankful that my almost-fiancé-sextape-partner Adam Levine was chosen sexiest man alive by People magazine! Wooop! Good job, sugar-buns! Way to work it!
….and thankful/tickled that people went out of their way to text and call me, alerting me of the above news. The fact that others associate me with him is the most fun thing EVAH. My work is done. Now if I can just get him to do it….*taps finger on chin deviously*
I’m am infinitely thankful for maid services. I don’t use them on a regular basis, but every so often I have a full cleaning done…and ermergahrd…I have two boys who keep me picking up after them constantly….to come home to this e-n-t-I-r-e house immaculate….all at once…I have three words for you: better than sex.
I’m so very grateful for Movember, because beards. BEARDS. Facial hair is sexy as hell. Doesn’t have to be full beards, in fact, I prefer goatees, scruff, shadows…ohemgee…hot. This is my favorite time of year. The hubs is looking scrumptious.
I’m grateful for the weather, and this will count for two thankfuls:
a) for bringing cold weather so I can live in beanie hats for the next three months.
b) for bringing “fronts” and “pressure systems” and “drama weather” so I can finally win the weatherman argument with my husband! Our one biggest, never ending disagreement is over meteorology. He thinks weatherman are as full of shit as palm readers (hey – I love me a palm reader!) and I happen to respect the profession. I mean, it’s based on science, people. SCIENCE. I digress…
Watching the weather at our house is down right comical because I staunchly defend them while he’s busting out an exaggerated forecaster impersonation, which is actually funny so I try desperately not to laugh. Jim knows, he KNOWS, they are right more often than not, he just won’t admit it. This Winter I’m making a graph…I’ll show him….muwahahah. Last night they predicted a strong front bringing cold and rain. IT HAPPENED.
Weatherman – 1, Jim – bigfatzero. SUCKIT
I’m thankful for last minute babysitters! We’re going to the movies – WOOP! I think we’re seeing…..oh, who am I kidding. I don’t even know. I’m in it for the popcorn….
Yes. That’s a stein of wine.
(We saw “The Armstrong Lie”. It was pretty interesting. But I drank a freakin’ gallon of wine. The Smurfs would’ve been interesting.)
And that’s ten! No no no, don’t go back and count….it’s ten. Shhh. shhhh *pets your hair* Now go on to comments and tell me what you’re thankful for, or join up with the TToT group yourself! Do you trust weatherman? Come on, pick a side! Are you on Team Beth or Team Loser Jim? I heart your comments BIG!
WELCOME to a Fly on the Wall group post! Today 14 bloggers are inviting you to catch a glimpse of what you’d see if you were a fly on the wall in our homes.
Come on in and buzz around my house (SCROLL DOWN), see what you think, then click on these links for a peek into some other homes:
Baking In A Tornado
Just a Little Nutty
Follow me home . . .
Stacy Sews and Schools
The Sadder But Wiser Girl
Menopausal Mother
Moore Organized Mayhem
The Insomniac’s Dream
The Momisodes
Spatulas on Parade
Searching for Sanity
The Rowdy Baker
Writer B is Me
Sorry kid, Your Mom Doesn’t Play Well With Others
The actual conversation (if it indeed qualifies as such) that occurred this morning on the way to school. Myself and my two boys. To makes things easier (and protect the obnoxious), I’ll use their nicknames, D-man (9yo) and Cheesy (6yo):
D-Man: I HATE school. I can’t believe I have to go back to that awful place. I HATE third grade.
ME: I know it’s tough, buddy, but you can do it. Just hang in there. Things will seem bet–
D-Man: –I talked to this older kid and he said he hated third grade the most. He said it sucked out of all the grades.
ME: What older kid?
Cheesy: Do rabbits have penises?
ME: What? Wait, D, what older kid did you talk to? How old?
D-Man: Thirteen.
ME: Where on Earth are you talking to thirteen year olds?
Cheesy: MOM! Do rabbits have penises?
D-man: On Xbox. Hey, did I tell you my dream about the robot?
ME: Yes!
D-man: I already told you about my dream?
ME: No. Rabbits have penises.
Cheesy: And balls? *lots of giggles from the back seat*
ME: *sigh* Yes, if they are boys.
D-Man: So this giant robot made of Minecraft brick comes crashing out of the ocean….
Cheesy: Does Milo have balls? (our dog)
ME: Well, uh, he did. I mean, yeah. But he’s neutered. *immediate regret* rewind rewind rewind
D-Man: ….and then he twirls this snowman monster thing over his head….
Cheesy: He’s noonered! What does THAT mean?!
ME: It’s an operation dogs have so they can’t make puppies. please Lord get me out of this
D-Man: …..smashes this grey pile of ash that sprays up and blows the robot’s head off……
Cheesy: I thought only girls made babies?
ME: Cheesy, I can’t do the birds and the bees right now. Let’s tal—
Cheesy: BEES HAVE PENISES TOO?!?!
I’m home alone about 10AM. Kids are in school. Hubs calls.
ME: Yes? How may I help you?
HIM: Whatareyoudoing?
ME: On the computer. Whatareyoudoing?
HIM: I called to give you a couple reminders.
ME: Great. You know how much I like that.
HIM: I thought you might. I need you to be sure and take the ipad mini back today and see if they can replace it. The boys can’t be playing on it with that crack in the screen.
ME: Uh-huh.
HIM: And it would be great if you returned that hat to the party store before someone ruins it.
ME: Yep. That would be great.
HIM: And while you’re out, you should take your car to that place I told you about and get the oil changed because they’ll also wash it for you and your car is disgusting.
ME: My car is fine.
HIM: Your car is awful, Beth. Are you going to do any of those things?
ME: I will only commit to putting them on my list.
HIM: Your list.
ME: Yup.
HIM: And you’re going to put oil change on your list?
ME: Probably not.
HIM: Why? I don’t understand what the problem is…
ME: You know I hate going to the oil change place. I designated that a man job long ago.
HIM:
ME: I find it very sexy when you do man jobs.
HIM: Reeeealllly. Well, now we’re talkin’. (I can actually hear him smiling)
ME: *eye roll* it’s so damn easy
It’s past bedtime. The 6yo comes downstairs with what appears to be glitter and a piece of paper and approaches me at the couch. I’m limp with fatigue, and no longer care if anyone is in jammies or has brushed their teeth. I have deferred to daddy and am attempting to escape reality by engrossing myself in Twitter and Facebook a book on orbital mechanics. Yet here is a child in my face with craft supplies.
6yo: Mommy. Mommy. You know that thing where you put glitter on the paper and shake it off and it makes dots?
ME: Uh-huh.
6yo: Can we do that?
ME: Absolutely not.
6yo: Whhhhhhyyyyyyyyyy?????
ME: What do you mean why? You’re supposed to be in bed, young man. It’s late. And we don’t even have glue.
6yo: Yes we do. *disappears around corner*
He’s out of sight, therefore, officially out of my mind. This is a bad thing, because approximately 11 minutes later, Dad calls from upstairs wondering where the 6yo is. It’s about this time that I realize glitter boy is sweeping the kitchen.
You’re smart people. You know my child spilled glitter everywhere. But what I need to explain to you is this was not ordinary glitter. This was *special* fine-as-powder-fairy-dust glitter that I bought for a specific teacher craft last year, WHICH IS WHY IT WAS HIDDEN UPSTAIRS IN MY OFFICE WHERE HE GOT IT, THE LITTLE BURGLAR. You can’t even tell any is missing from the vial, yet it is every-fricken-where. No, really. You don’t understand. I can’t envision a scenario where this glitter will not be a part of our house for the rest of our lives.
But, let me tell you something. His glitter picture? AWESOME.
If you’ve been to this blog before you’ve probably seen one or two photos of me floating around somewhere. THEY’RE ME. I swear. That’s something I’ve actually had to say to my family.
I think they look exactly like me. I’m mean, it’s frickin’ ME. I turned the cell phone around and snapped the photos myself – that’s how I know it’s not an imposter. That’s also why it shocked me when my husband AND CHILDREN repeatedly swore the photos didn’t look like me.
uh…how am I supposed to take that?
After hearing my husband say it again, I had to ask him: in what way do they not look like me? Like, they are pretty photos and I’m a barker in real life? Or, they are awful and I’m prettier than that? Or, they are weird and not a representation of me at all? WTF?
He said, “You look sexy. You have on lipstick and stuff.”
ME: “Oh” *puzzle pieces click* “You mean I usually don’t look that made up?”
HIM: “Not really. If you have a bra on in that photo…that would pretty much be our wedding day.”
Well shit. I realize I’m a low-maintenance, crunchy granola type gal, but it’s more than a little disconcerting to know I could disappear into the witness protection program with a little mascara. I mean, I put no effort into those photos.
No really. I took my hair out of a ponytail and put on tinted chapstick. And my children think it looks like someone else. Some other lady.
ahem. Perhaps I should put more effort into my everyday appearance.
*braids hair* *climbs into tree house* Nah.
Beth Teliho 