The Texas Mama

   What will you change your clothes for?  If your child wipes snot on you, do you change?  If your baby spits up on you in a non-soaking kind of way, do you change?  If there is a little breast milk on your shirt, do you change?  If there is a small handprint of something that appears to be of a yogurt consistancy, do you change?  I wonder how bad it has to be before other moms will change their clothes…

   Now, I’m not talking about “I was wearing white”, or “about to go out to a nice place” or whatever.  If you are planning on spending your day at home, and you aren’t wearing white pants (What mom in her right mind wears white pants anyways? Is it because it can be bleached?), what stays and what goes?  Is it weird that this is even a consideration?  As your newborn got older, did you find yourself ignoring more and more stains and spills on your person?  If you’ve found yourself examining your clothes and wondering “what IS that?!”  You might be a mom.

   When Hali was first born, few things stayed clean all day.  She had acid reflux and that magical baby poop that shouldn’t even be called poop, because it defies all laws of gravity by going up their backs and no where else.
I would change her no matter what the mess, except for a little tiny dribble down on her collar of drool, spit up, or milk, she was changed.  The only way I changed myself was if I could actually smell it, or if it was poop, or if it soaked me pretty well- like my clothes were sticking to me.  Other than that, it stayed there, on my clothes- a badge of honor if you will.

   When co-sleeping with Hali, I have woken up to a wet bed more than once.  Slacker Mom that I am, sometimes, if it was just a small puddle, I just changed her, put a towel over the offending spot and put her back down closer to me so she wasn’t sleeping in it.  It was still there in the morning.  It didn’t go anywhere- except it was dried by then.  I got some sleep and in the morning theb sheets got washed.  Now, baby pee really doesn’t smell much, it’s not a biggy.  There were plenty of middle of the night sheet changing parties going on in our house due to everyone’s favorite- throw up.  Of course those parties got started by stripping off our clothes and the bed sheets and jumping in the shower together.  Sounds WILD doesn’t it?  Like one crazy party turned orgy.  Too bad it consisted of throw up, laundry, my fat butt, my baby, and occasionally my husband.  That’ll put a dampener on any party…

   I thought I would start this out with an interesting, albeit somewhat gross sounding title.  As a self proclaimed slacker mom, I am now admitting to the obvious: slacker blogger.  Yep, that’s right.  Don’t try and be nice and act like you didn’t notice.  I know.  Diarrhea of the verbal type has been spilling out onto this blog.  I have put weird, depressing, boring things that I am not proud of on here the past few entries.  I am sorry for filthying it up.  In my quest to keep trudging through, when others took breaks, I handed in some shoddy work.  But things are going to improve.  My inspiration and drive have been renewed.  BUT ENOUGH OF MY Whining!!!

   As of late I have been feasting on Hali’s face, arms, shoulders, hands, feet, legs, anything that I can kiss or nibble.  Her wonderful baby soft, smooth, chunky body can’t stay forever.  Watching the little girl in her emerge, I have been forced to realize that she will soon be a stranger to that magical world of babies.  At two and a half, she amazes me daily with her words and actions.  Frequently it is that I sit and stare at her and the little person that she is with her own thoughts and ideas.  As soon as I realize that I have missed something she has said or done that is proof of this growth, I kick myself for not always being in the moment.  It is difficult to always listen to what she is saying.  Currently, she is going through a very extended talkative stage.  We are approximating this stage to end sometime around the time when she either (a.) has a stroke and is rendered incapable of speech, at which point she will annoy her family by writing or typing every little demand out OR (b.) dies, mid-sentence.  We have resigned ourselves to the endless stream of chatter flowing from her mouth, and accept the fact that we very well may never see the end of it.  There are more annoying things out there.

   Such as a daughter, who at two and a half, does not want to (a.) give up her bottles, although she is nearly there or (b.) be potty trained or (c.) sleep in her own bed for more than the first few hours of the night.  I believe it is apparent to you all now the degree of mommy slackerness I have achieved.  It’s not for lack of trying, because I have.  In fact we are nearly bottle free.  We went diaperless yesterday until due her raised level of excitement  when viewing her favorite Rugrats movie, she refused to stay sitting on her potty.  Jumping up and down, dancing, yelling, and singing along are part of her viewing pleasure when watching a movie.  She’s very…interactive.  And the bed thing?  I don’t have an excuse (that’s very good) for that one- it’s just the slacker mom in me once again.  I just have to ball up and do it.  I have balls, my husband tells me.  You just can’t see them he insists.  He says not only that, but I have big balls.  I take it as a compliment.  I’m glad my husband thinks I have balls.  Yet another sentence that I can’t believe I have said written.

<IMG style=”WIDTH: 254px; HEIGHT: 92px” height=1767 src=”/images/21876-20889/HPIM0421.JPG” width=2112> This shirt explains my feelings about Mondays.  I don’t drink, but for some reason, I always feel as though I have a hangover on Monday.  Do I get drunk off my weekends?  This one was nothing special: Yuck- another boring weekend.  Turning into an even yuckier Monday, thus my desire to cancel Mondays.  So here are a few things to pick up Monday for all of us:

If you are a fan of the “cult classic” (ok, just in my opinion) Napoleon Dynamite, you will enjoy these, brought to you courtesy of albinoblacksheep.com.  If you have never seen it- go out and get it.  Watch it atleast twice, because that is what it takes to really get it.  It is one of those annoyingly “quotable” movies that is just plain odd, and “freakin’” hilarious.

To learn the dance, try this:  http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/napoleon

Here is a Napoleon Dynamite sound board.  If you click on your favorite quotes of his from the movie, it plays the audio for them:  http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/ndsound.php

And of course, everyone’s favorite place to say “AWWWWW!!!” :  http://www.cuteoverload.com/

Hope this cheers up your day, sorry its not much of an entry- possible employers, don’t count this one, ok?

On Thursdays, we typically go to the library. I just love to people watch there! You find the strangest collection of people there. You find elderly people being dropped off by vans, mentally handicapped people wandering around. Moms and kids.  Middle class and lower. High school kids and college students. Women strolling in dressed as if they were stuck in 1989, women stuck in 1994, women stuck in 1998, you get the picture. The lyrics “but she’s still preoccupied with 1984″ come to mind.  Why must we dress the way we dressed when we were in high school? I catch myself doing it (luckily I am only 23, so I can get away with styles only five years old or so). My dear wonderful hubby does it. Can I just get this out really quick?

SPANDEX IS NOT FLATTERING ON ANYONE-PERIOD!!!
 
Neither are: stirrup pants, big bangs (ya, I was THE queen of that- if they didn’t protrude at least 3 inches from my head it was a bad hair day), or EYEBROWS THAT ARE DRAWN ON!!!  Oh, why do women do this to themselves?  Are they unable to grow some themselves?  Do they lack the self control to not put that razor near their faces?  Was it plucking gone wild? What?  What excuse could it possibly be?!  If you are one of these women, please do not get offended- I just don’t understand it. In fact, comment and tell me why.  Also please reconsider doing it.  The I-am-swimming-in-gel look and the over processed hair that is so dry and frizzy it is about to disintegrate (they make products for that you know) look are also NOT GOOD LOOKS!  CEASE AND Desist!

Now before you try and reprimand me, I understand that some people must wear clothes that are over a decade old, because they cannot afford to buy new ones.  This is not the case with several of the women I noticed of whom I am speaking of.  In fact, I noticed two or three of them climb into their less than three year old hugenormous SUVs and leave.  So that was not the problem.  Was it laundry day, and all they had that was clean was last years gag Halloween costume?  Maybe it was eighties day at the school or office.  Maybe they are just so above earthly/worldly things such as wearing the new fashions that they don’t even consider it.  Or maybe its just bad taste because they think that looks GOOD for some reason.  Stacy and Clinton where are you?!  Please come to my local library!

And take me shopping!  As a gal on a minulesk budget, I am no fashion plate.  I am a mom, therefor I wear capri/cropped pants.  It’s like our uniform.  I finally bucked up and splurged on a ten dollars pair of gauchos.  I am already in love with them, and they came into popularity like two years ago.  I would wear flip-flops all the time if I could.  I heart tunic length shirts.  They are a mom with a post-pregnancy pooch’s best friend.  They just really mask that bulg well….oh my, what am I talking about here!  My stomach was flat as a pancake just 6 weeks after I had Hali….ya that’s it!  And I am a model/rogue secret agent/the next Martha (minus the whole insider trading thing) all rolled into one- lets just group all those disillusions of mine together, shall we?  Fun.

I feel I should place a disclaimer here for my rudeness.  Something like: 

*No people were (intentionally) harmed in the making of this blog entry.  Charli, The Texas Mama, and/or Mom and Me are not liable for any injuries sustained while reading this blog. 

No, not that kind- perv!  I am talking about that oh-so-annoying-to-others thing that I catch myself doing.  It goes something like this: ”Hali did this and this today, and I, wonderful being/wife/mother that I am did this…”  Ugh, even I don’t like me after reading some of my stuff.  I’ve been looking into writting for other big women/mommy blogging “networks” lately.  I decided it’s high time I, being the creative individual that I am (see- I’m doing it again!) figured out what I am going to be when I grow up.  That, and contributing to the family income would be, well, really great.  One site says that your articles must not have happy endings, with everything all wrapped up nicely.  To counter that, another says that you cannot write articles that are self depreciating, or negative towards yourself and your choices.  So…..

Life just isn’t like either one of those.  I do lean heavily towards the whole “everything is not wrapped up nicely” style, but occasionally there is a happy ending.  There are just not enough happy endings in life, so I’ll take ‘em when I can get ‘em, thanks. 

On the other hand, we all have negative, insecure feelings about ourselves and our abilities (esp. as mothers).  Why not write about them for anyone who stumbles onto this site to see?!  Bonding over our children, motherhood, our faults and insecurities is what we women DO!  I find myself feeling as though some of these women- the one’s who read my blog and the ones who’s blogs I read- are my friends.  I have never actually physically met them, yet we have bonded through our shared experiances.  If you blog, this is a no brainer for you- no new revelation here.  But if you don’t, this is my feeble attempt to explain things.

‘Nuff said.

Today, construction on our very own ARK began.  It has rained everyday for 6 days now.  If it rains tomorrow- and I think it will, the forecast calls for scattered thunderstorms- I will discuss the possibilities with my husband, who just happens to be working for his dad, who owns a carpentry business!  Imagine that.  Now, I know they make kitty litter boxes for lazy people that actually remove the precious kitty turds automatically, but do they make them for cows?  Because I am NOT cleaning that up, nor am I going to be smelling it for a month plus.