Lost Mojo

I don't know if I ever had any mojo.... but if I did, I accidentally left it somewhere and I haven't been able to retrace my steps to figure out where. I looked in the couch cushions and under the ottoman, but its not there. And, I even cleaned out my purse, but all I found was Zain's old hearing aide. So, I am pretty sure its lost and I am not sure if it will ever be found.

Basically, I am not feeling the blog world anymore. Don't get me wrong... I love the clever and witty blogs that I read... I've just come to realize that mine isn't one of them. I used to have a list of topics and cracked myself up (and I don't care if I was the only one cracking), but I can't think of anything to say anymore. The only crack is the crack I must be smoking if I think anyone wants to read the crap I keep putting out here. I have complained about my kids, husband, life, weight, kids, politics, tv shows, kids... and I am even boring myself anymore. I have lost followers, my comments are down to next to nothing... and I just think maybe its time for me to move on to other exploits... like the laundry I've neglected since I started this thing.

At first, blogging was an addiction for me. I couldn't wait to have a couple minutes to bang out a post on my keyboard... but now it feels like a job. And God knows I don't want no J-O-B. And if I did... it would actually pay some money. So, I am taking a break, I guess. If I track down my mojo, I will put it to good use... but until then... consider this a mojo (and crappy post... or crappier than usual) free zone.

Scientific Proof

I saw part of Good Morning, America today, and they announced that my kids are killing me. I don't know if you saw it or not, but Robin Roberts announced that "Will and Jack are slowly killing Lynn". I was shocked that she knew that, but who can argue with Robin. Seriously, the woman knows her stuff.

Ok, it may not have been that blunt, but the bottom line is that they have determined that getting too little sleep literally shortens your life. A person needs 7 to 8 hours of sleep to regenerate and fix the damage done to your body during the day. Seven hours of sleep? I haven't gotten that in 3 years and some odd weeks. Probably longer than that, because at the end of my pregnancy with Will I had to pee every 35 seconds, so I am not sure I got much sleep in the interim between potty trips. Then again, maybe I passed out on the toilet a couple times... so it is possible. Plus, he had colic and slept through the night at 1 month old... so maybe 3 years is a bit of an exaggeration. I know for a fact that I haven't gotten that much since Jack was born. So, at a minimum, we are going on 10 months and three nights since I've slept a nice "life lengthening" amount. So, I am toast. Goodbye, cruel world!!!

So, at 7:45a this morning I learned that my children are shortening my life. GMA says so. Now I am left trying to determine how much time I have left on this planet. They didn't tell me how short my life is going to be. I am 30 now... so... what? Maybe I am middle aged. I am googling sports cars and toupees to allow for my midlife crisis that I apparently need to get moving on. Adding "have affair with pool boy" to my to-do list for today. I don't have a pool, so I guess that means I am heading over to Lori or Jo's house today in the hopes that they may have a pool boy stop by. I feel like I need to go skydiving.... Rocky Mountain climbing.... go two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu. But, then again... I bought Bagelfuls at the grocery store yesterday and they are like $4.00 a box with only four bagel tubes of cream cheese goodness inside... so if that isn't living life to the fullest... what is????

A Secret Wish...

There is a couple that I hold a deep and serious hatred for... even though I don't even know them. This couple is so sickeningly apple pie that they make my blood boil. This couple smiles bigger than a Colgate commercial and giggles like school children. This couple says things like "Gosh golly" and "gee whiz." This couple makes me want to puke. This.... is the couple.

I just threw up a little bit in my mouth. I don't really know what Donny and Marie have done to me personally.... but I am pretty sure they scorned me in a past life... because I just want to kick them in the shins and run away. Actually, I would rather kick them in the shins and stand and point as they wallow in the shin pain. I would kick Donny somewhere else, but I am not sure he is anatomically correct (have you seen some of the crap this "man" is willing to wear???), and I am totally sure I don't want to find out. I think they annoy the crap out of me for pictures like this:

Are they rocking out to "I'm a little bit country.... and I'm a little bit rock and roll?" And seriously, if Donny wants to claim to be a little bit rock and roll, I think that Metallica, Elvis and The Backyardigans should band together to kick his a$$ for every time he has ever claimed to be any part rock and roll.

Or... maybe they irritate me because they sing like this:

Or, it could possibly be for album covers like this:

I just watched them in a segment on The Bonnie Hunt Show, and I just have to wonder... is it real? Could two people really be that annoying? Here is what I wish... is it possible that they have invented these personalities to sell crappy music and cheesy dolls to the taste-challenged? Is Donny stopping off on Hollywood Boulevard after his appearance on Bonnie to pick up a hooker or two and head home for an evening of debauchery and sin? And Marie heads her separate way to go home to Utah and chain smoke, swig vodka and smack her boy toys around. Secretly, they hate each other and the whole brother/sister too close for comfort thing is just an act so that people think they are pure and innocent (and possibly incestuous) while they really can't stand each other and Donny had to take an order of protection out on Marie because when he told her that she was off beat on the finale of Dancing with the Stars she kicked the crap out of him. But, don't worry about Donny, because he has been sneaking into Marie's house and injecting her NutriSystem pre-prepared meals with lard behind her back.

Ok, maybe this is too much to wish for... but its a fairytale that I would like to see come true.

My uterus hurts...

My biological clock ticks sometimes. I threw it out the window a few months ago when it started ticking, but it somehow made it back inside me. I think its because so many people I know are having baby girls.... and I want one. Jess is having a baby girl. She has two boys, 6 and 4ish, I think, and now she is prego with a little bambina. Briana is popping (I wrote pooping the first time... and it made me laugh) a baby girl out this July, and Julie in Germany doesn't have confirmation but she "feels" like its a girl. Even Kat, a fellow blogger, is Queen of Boyland, but she's having a pink hatted little one soon. I kinda want one now, too. Her name is Olivia Eleanor, I think, and she would be very cute and well behaved, I'm sure. Doncha wanna meet her?

I want to be pregnant again, too. I do. I am not sure its for the right reasons though. I want to wear huge flowy frocks and have a good excuse to muumuu out. I want to eat ice cream and gain weight and have a plausible reason why. I kinda want it for the right reasons, too. I never felt Will when I was pregnant with him. Never. There was no "oh honey... he's kicking" moments in my baby growth chamber. The nurse said I was "insensitive." My response was... duh. When I was pregnant with Jack I tore my round ligament and he blinked and I felt it. There was no "awww... he moved." It was "AAAAAHHHHHHH, SIT STILL YOU LITTLE DEMON!!!!!" But, I want that. I want to sit here and feel the baby shift and lovingly stroke my belly like they do on TV. Surely that is how it is supposed to be, right? And, with Jack there were so many complications. I never sat back and relished in my baby-building amazingness. Instead, I BEGGED for it to be over. I counted the seconds until that 500 pound (ok, he was 8 pounds 10 ounces) lead weight was taken out. I want the glowy, showy happy pregnancy that Motherhood Maternity's catalogue shows. I bet they're just wearing fake bellies, huh?

But, as I have mentioned in a previous blog... I don't want to raise my baby girl. I don't really want the whole c-section thing to get it out, and God knows no one is coming out the other way! I saw that video in birthing class and that stuff just ain't right. And, I don't want it to cry. I don't want middle of the night feedings and I don't want to have a baby. I want my life back. I want sleep uninterrupted and tv watching of something other than Noggin. And books. With WORDS and not PICTURES. I want a baby girl, but not an actual living, breathing baby. I want a little Olivia (Liv) to dress in cute clothes and cuddle, but only on my terms. Not when she's hungry at 2:00a and not because she just erped up 15 tons of curdles white nasty on the ruffles. And, don't get me started on going through 9 months of pregnancy hell (oops, I mean bliss) and have that kid come with another outie and not the innie that I want!!!

So, basically my uterus longs for another trip down Procreation Lane... and my brain has pulled over onto the shoulder in protest. Part of me thinks that we should just have Mark neutered because I am probably better off sticking to the two and a half kids I've got. But, if we did, I think I would regret it. Does that mean I could have a quickie with George Clooney??? Hmm..... that plan may not be so bad.

His Name is Will... and he's a truckaholic

This is how Will goes swimming.

This is how Will goes to the farm.

This is how Will opens his birthday presents.



This is how Will parties on his birthday.



This is how Will plays at the park.




This is how Will plays at Chuck E Cheese.



Am starting to be concerned that truck addiction is getting out of hand.....

Wednesday "What the..." a day early...

I am so on top of it, I am living Wednesday today. I have a standing Wednesday playdate with some friends (and yes, we bring the kids, too), but we're doing it today... so in honor of that... I am going to do a Wednesday "What the...." today, as well. Some things are going on that warrant some commentary. Because really... what current event isn't enhanced by a little Lynn logic?!?!

1. How does an entire plane just disappear? I am not making light of this, because I am scared to death of flying, so major air disasters tend to make it on my radar. But, I am just wondering in the age of voice recorders, black boxes and uh... actual radar... why don't we know what happened? Was Air France cutting back on technology or what? Let's go ahead and agree that it is ok to cut back on the extra luggage for free, and its ok to take away our snack packs and peanuts... but it isn't ok to let us fly over the open seas and not be tracked. Some cut backs are just not ok.

2. I want to give a shout out to all the Pro-Lifers out there. I get the message and on some level, I even agree. (On some level.... not in reality land). But, could one of you explain to me why its not ok to terminate a pregnancy in the early stages, but it is ok to terminate an adult life? Because I am not sure I get that logic. That whole "every life is precious" thing should probably go ahead and apply to the already born and raised, too.

3. Lastly, on the list for Wednesday's "What the..." is the Murphy's law applied to owning a house. Why is it when you finally are going to invest in something that you would just L-O-V-E for your house (hypothetically, we'll say a patio that is actually bigger than a matchbook that could hold a table and chairs), you get an estimate on some water damage that runs at at minimum of $12,000. Goodbye, patio! Hello.... living in a box because who the hell can afford a repair that starts at $12,000. And, for the record... if you are sitting there thinking that you could easily afford that repair and you don't get where I am coming from... don't comment. Thanks.

Irreconcilable Differences

Right now, Mark and I are suffering from a major difference of opinion. It may even rival the great "Choking versus Drowning" debate of 2005 that almost lead to our wedding being cancelled. And while this topic is equally as inconsequential as that one, apparently it is going to be the catalyst for fights for the rest of our lives. And what is this monumental crisis that we can't seem to get past? Car keys. Car. Keys. Car keys left in the car. Oh yes. My name is Lynn, and I am known to leave my car keys in the car. I am 13 hours and 45 minutes rehabilitated, having brought the keys into the house when we returned from my mom's last night. But... I may fall off the wagon. Quitting is hard to do.

Some of you are probably thinking that I am nuts for leaving my keys in my car. I could get the car stolen, or worse... my DVD player and Madonna CD collection could be toast. But, I live in Tamesville, where nothing ever, EVER happens. I have seen the cops in our neighborhood twice since I've lived here, and both times were because I accidentally dialed 911. Oops! Plus, I am sorry, but I got my hands FULL. You try bringing in two giants, plus a diaper bag, plus a purse and keys when you don't have any pockets. That ain't easy. And yes, I could take a second trip out, but that all depends on what stage Jack and Will are at on their quest for world domination. Sometimes, walking out the door and back just isn't an option. Then, I admit it. I forget. I juggle nap times, recipes, roof estimates, our schedules, our bills, our bank accounts, our rental properties, what time Jack ate last, why the fish keep dying, and whether or not I should pluck my eyebrows versus waiting til the next wax. Its exhausting. Sometimes the little stuff slips.

Now don't get me wrong. I understand Mark's point of view. Take keys in.... world stays safe. I see the logic in that. I am not some crazy person who would park down in Ghettoville and leave my keys in the ignition. I am even making a concerted effort to bring them in at home (after being locked out of my car twice recently because my purse was in the car, with my keys, and Mark locked it after driving it last). We also decided that the second set of keys could hang in the house instead of in his pocket at work all day when he isn't driving the van. Makes sense, right? And, I will actually add "remember to bring in purse and keys" to the list of things running through my so-called brain all day long. Excellent compromise. But, yesterday, at my parents' house (possibly a neighborhood safer than mine because the over 90 crowd that lives there can't see over my steering wheel to drive away in the car anyway) I had no pockets and I left the keys in the car. This event will go down in history as the cause of World War III. We'll just have to wait and see who breaks out the nuclear arsenal first... the Allies or the Axis of Evil Car Key Leaver Iners.