A Conversation with Marc

Sunday evening Doug cooked supper and his mother and 7-year-old nephew, Marc, joined us. The babies were hooting it up in their jumperoos and I had Busytown Mysteries playing for them in the background. Marc came into the living room to greet the boys and me, and that's when we had the following conversation about something that had been bothering me.

A: Have you ever watched this show, Busytown Mysteries?

M: I don't think so. Maybe when I was 4 or younger.

A: There are twins in it. Pig Will and Pig Won't. Do you see their car? They are pigs and they drive a sausage car. What do you think of that?

M: Actually, that is disturbing. Sausage is made of pigs. Sausage is dead pig. It would be like me driving a flesh car.

A: Exactly.

Important Things

It is important:

I see a lot of Rice Krispie treats in their future.

To always have fixings for rice krispie treats in your pantry.

To note that eating >1 100 calorie pack treat is defeating the purpose.

To remember that if you are not a scoring threat, be a defensive monster. Continue to block jokers even with 4 fouls and make them wish they never met you. Seriously, 12 blocks in 1 game! My love for Nerlens Noel continues to grow.

To send your mother cards just to say hello. 

Talking with my mother today, she told me she came across a card I sent her when I was a freshman in college. The contents of this card: Eller had her butt slapped by Ernesto. I spilled my 7-up in the middle of Commons Cafeteria (figures). I was being stalked by some feller with taggy, stringy hair and cheese puff residue in his teeth. (Ryan was his name. Eller said he took the effing cake. After she said that, I laughed so hard that I fell to the ground. You just had to be there, I reckon.) Lastly, I had run into Cliff Hawkins on my way to class.

To help the Children's Home with Kelli and me!

Because helping the Children's Home during Christmas was so rewarding for us, Kelli and I decided to   continue to donate year round. Month 1 donations: Super Bowl Party Treats! Together we bought for 35 children and 15 adult supervisors. Working with our $230 budget (thanks to Tyler and Anne-Marie for contributing to our fund), we hit up Kroger and Sam's and were able to purchase party food fit for a king: chips, dip, salami, crackers, salsa, skyline chili dip fixings, potato skins, mozzarella sticks, pop, wings, jalapeno poppers, cookies, and donuts! So awesome to be able to get such a spread for the kids. I hope that they have a fabulous party!

We will be doing something every month throughout this year (and probably forever). So, let me know if you're ever feeling charitable! Next up: Valentine's Day goodies!

On the Playground

I had PBS on this morning for the little dudes, and the Cat in the Hat was talking about teeter-totters. This brought terrifying recollections of late 80s-early 90s playgrounds to mind. Do you remember the death traps we were sent to play on? Let's talk about this for a moment.

The teeter-totter. This was perhaps the most frightening piece of playground equipment for me. The level of fear it evoked depended upon my teeter-totter partner. Seesawing could be an absolute blast if, say, I was playing with my best pal, Eller. I could laugh and fly through the air without anxiety. However, change my partner to my cousin John, and the fun was replaced by terror. I knew that at any moment (while I was in the air), he could and would (and did) jump out of his seat on the opposite  side of the teeter-totter leaving me to plummet to my doom! Oh, I can still feel the pain that shot through my 50 lbs body. The jar to the earth made my teeth chatter and my body convulse. Thank God my hands were in the clear. You could lose a finger in an instant!

The Merry-Go-Round. Also known as the Scary-Go-Round. I can never remember not being afraid of this contraption. When I was a kid, someone told me (probably one of my cousins or some idiot classmate) that some kid got her foot chopped off by the Merry-Go-Round. True or not, the very thought of sitting on that thing and getting slung around by the likes of Edward Dale Brewer (The Pig from Hell) and having my foot severed was enough to keep me off of that thing for life! You go ahead and spend your recess trapped on the wheel of death (cause once it starts spinning, your ass is trapped there until the bell rings), holding onto the bars with dear life. I'll be over by the swings.

And who could forget the ole tire...tire...tire bridge? I don't even know what you would call it. Basically, there were about 12 tires chained together that you could climb, jump, walk across. Or, you could attempt to do those things and have one of your legs go down the center of the tire while the other one flailed about helplessly and you lay astraddle the so-called-bridge. Not that that ever happened to me.

Last but not least: the skin-scorching metal slide! Now, I ain't one to complain too much about a slide. After all, they are pretty spectacular. But, you climb up on that sucker in July with your little short shorts on, and you might as well say goodbye to your epidermis. That top layer of skin is toast. Literally. Picture little Allison running full-speed ahead to the playground. Yes! No line for the slide! Ascending the steps, the anticipation was brutal. Crawl on top of the slide, stick my legs out in front of me, and scream bloody murder all the way to the bottom. Get off that frying pan and check out my beet red chicken legs. "No line for the slide." What a fool I was!

A Case of the Mondays

A list of things I've cried about today...well, not literally cried...a list of things I've whined about today:

Extreme snuggling.

My freaking foot hurts. Remember TWO WEEKS ago when I fell down the stairs in the bathroom?Yeah, still feeling that one. In addition to sucking for the mere pain aspect, there's also the whole I'm supposed to be exercising thing. A bum foot really impedes power-walking. I feel like a big loser because I haven't been hitting the gym, but truly my foot aches! What can you do but whine?

I was in the kitchen fixing myself a nice cold pop when I thought, "Hey, when Doug gets home, I'm going to get him to take me to Steak-n-Shake! Right on! Cheeseburger! Skinny fries! Strawberry milkshake!" Then I remembered, "Oh, wait. The little dudes. They'll be asleep when Doug gets home and we can't wake them for a 10 PM trip to Steak-n-Shake. Drat!"

Flipping through the channels trying to find something good to watch on the tube and I come across "Extreme Snuggling." YES! That sounds like my kind of show. Perhaps it is a program full of snuggling babies and kitties and puppies! Oh wait. That says, "Extreme Smuggling." Epic fail.

Ah, I guess today wasn't ALL bad. Here are a few gems:

I didn't know Juan Epstein was in Styx.

I devoured a package of white chocolate covered pretzels (100 calories pack--See! I'm  still on my diet!). Yum!

This morning as I sat down at my desk, my lovely coworker greeted me with amazing news: the boss was out of the office! Hooray! No ambushes with insane projects (at least for a few days). 

I received an email from Amazon telling me that I can access, for free, MP3s of all the CDs I have purchased from the site. Among the 5 CDs I have purchased (all of which were Christmas presents for my Mom or Uncle Bob, the only 2 people who still buy CDs) was Styx Greatest Hits. I hit the damn jackpot!!! I don't care what you say, Styx rocks! 

And finally, even though I felt like death warmed over for the majority of the day, and even though Joe Bear put up a stellar fight at bedtime, all my troubles melted when I saw my sweet little dudes all cozy in their cribs sawing logs. They are just too precious! (And, when they sleep, I get to sleep. La la loo!)

Some day, we will also rock out to Styx!

Spoiler Alert!

11 PM Friday night: I am upstairs in the nursery perusing the internet for vacation destinations. I hear this wild, loud cackle coming from downstairs. "What on earth?" I ask myself. So, I set my laptop aside to go check out the situation. It was Carol hysterically laughing at Dacian who was trying to pass off "munt" as a word in Scrabble. It's getting wild in the Woods, y'all!

11:30 PM Friday night: Finally in bed. I drift off to sleep thinking about the Parenthood Season Finale. Did you see it? I am so glad that Sarah is left alone. Ugh, she kills me. She has trampled on poor Mark's heart a dozen times. Then, finally she serves him the last blow, and chooses grouchy ole Hank over him (p.s. Why was Mark's facial hair always so scraggly? Made me sick.). But the brilliant thing is, that Hank is moving to Minnesota. Ha! Adios, Sarah! Have fun being single and continuing to live with your parents when you are 90 years old! You are no Lorelai Gilmore, and it hurts me so. Also, I kinda wanted Christina to still have cancer. I like her and all, but it was just too clean for a season finale. I thought the show might be a little edgy and have her continue her battle or die off, but that didn't happen. Anyway, what kind of inspirational story would that have been? I guess they couldn't kill her off. I don't know, I just like when shows are a little unpredictable...

Except when it is Game of Thrones! (Yes, I am still ranting about this!) Ned Stark should not have died by his own sword! I can't believe Doug let me read that entire book, and listened to me as I tried to guess how in the world Ned was to be saved. Would Aria throw needle with such precision as to stab Ilyn Payne in the head, forcing him to drop Ice, whereupon Ned would pick up Ice and single-handedly take out every Lannister in sight? Or would Aria's direwolf, Nymeria, come soaring through the crowd and bite off Ilyn Payne's arm, whereupon Ned would pick up Ice from Payne's cold, dead arm, and single-handedly take out every Lannister in sight? Or, finally, would the army of Rob Stark or Stannis Baratheon come tearing into King's Landing at just the right moment, startling Ilyn Payne, whereupon Ned would pick up Ice and single-handedly take out every Lannister in sight? But none of these scenarios happened, and Eddard Stark was no more. And I was left sitting there, madder than hell, and in shock--how could he kill off his main character who was a complete bad ass just like that?

Speaking of spoiling the endings of shows...this one time in college, I was watching The Sixth Sense for the very first time. There was about 10 minutes left in the movie, when my drunken friend stumbles into my apartment--"You know he's dead, right?" Bah! Thanks. Thanks for that.

The Picture in My Head

Some people are very visual people. You say something, they picture it in their head. My dear friend ED is like that. Unfortunately for her, I tell her horrible things about people, forcing her to endure mental trauma. I send her Tenacious D songs with lyrics regarding scrotums (perhaps I should've sent her this Monty Python song about the whole schlong). And in more bad news, we are surrounded by a lot who likes to share intimate details of their lives...their intimate lives.

Seeing her suffer today made me really think about her condition. I am one, luckily, who doesn't immediately visualize what another says to me. Except, there is one saying that has always plagued me with visualization. In southeast Kentucky, when a baby looks like someone else, for example, if the baby looks like its dad, they say, "He looks just like he crawled out of Luke's asshole." Why? Why would you ever say that about a precious little baby? Why can't you just say, "He looks like his daddy." Why do you have to paint this image of a baby tearing out of somebody's butt. Isn't the true birthing story bad enough? People, I may say "Finer than a frog's hair split seven ways." I may say, "Lord willing and the creek don't rise." Hell, I might even say, "Colder than a well digger's ass." But you will never hear me say that a baby looks like it crawled out of somebody's rump.

That is all.



Wow. The content of this blog just keeps getting weirder. 

What Do You Think About When You Hear That Song?

"Bob Dylan has sexy lips." said Eller

Music is fun. It makes you laugh (She Acts Like We Never Met--Bob Dylan). It makes you cry (He Stopped Loving Her Today--George Jones). It makes you angry (You Oughtta Know--Alanis). It makes you lovey-dovey (All Night Thing--Temple of the Dog). Some songs even make you want to get liquored up (Honky Tonk Women--The Rolling Stones)!

Today I was jamming to some tunage at work, and each time a song came on, I had a memory associated with it. So, I decided I'd jot them down quickly to share later. With my playlist on shuffle, these were the following 10 songs (and associated memories) that popped up after I decided to play this little game:

The Zephyr Song - Red Hot Chili Peppers: Walking around UK's beautiful campus, in the snow, jamming away to the Chili Peppers via my Walkman. Yes, those were the days before iPods (or at least before I could afford an iPod).

Let's Stay Together - Al Green: I will forever and always associate this song with my dear friend Brian.

After Hours - We Are Scientists: A trip to NYC with my best bud, Jenna. And a night we spent hanging around the city with her boy from Ohio.

The Gambler - Fun: Being pregnant and my obsession with this song over the summer. I am also reminded of how I thought that no one had heard of Fun because I never had, but then I discovered they sang that song, "We Are Young," which everyone and their brother knew. To quote Sally Brown, "What a fool I was!"

All My Exes Live in Texas - George Straight: My friend Nate and how he always sung to me, "Allison in Galveston, somehow lost her sanity."

Little Red Corvette - Prince: My Aunt Gladys and how she blasted Purple Rain when she took a shower.

Gotten Good at Goodbye - George Strait: Watching the Top 20 Countdown with my Mommaw and cousin Jonathan on CMT. (Jonathan, remember Streets of Bakersfield--that was our jam!)

Ain't Nuthin but a G Thang - Dr. Dre & Snoop Doggy Dogg: I always think about this song's music video, and how I wish that Snoop Dogg was my friend.

Country Roads, Take Me Home - John Denver: Dwarf! And I now associate this song with my babies because this is what I sing to them when I rock them to sleep.

Beast of Burden - The Rolling Stones: A summer vacation at Myrtle Beach with my friend, Shantell.

Thanks for taking a listen to my playlist (I may be one of a handful of folks who have The Red Hot Chili Peppers, John Denver, Snoop Dogg, and George Strait on the same playlist) and strolling down memory lane with me.

Six Months

Life before babies--snuggling kitties.

The boys are 6 months old today! Can you believe it? It's funny how life changes in the blink of an eye. They've only been here for 6 months, but I can't remember life without them. Actually, I can. I remember sleep fondly.

Six months ago, I was laid up in the hospital after just having 2 human beings removed from my body (I still can't believe I had twins...or that women totally got the shaft and have to grow humans inside themselves)...

My stint in the big house started a week before the boys were born. The doc called me on Thursday, July 12th. My lab work suggested pre-eclampsia, and since I was 36 weeks pregnant, it was time to be admitted to the hospital. She said I could go on in, or wait til morning. I chose to wait and have one more peaceful night in my own bed. Meaning, it was my good fortune to check into the hospital on Friday the 13th. The next week was totally lame and boring. But I guess, it was better to be safe than sorry. Nothing happened, save for Joey Votto blowing out his knee. Yeah, I watched A LOT of Reds baseball while I was in the hospital.

Baby A!

The boys were not set to arrive until the following Thursday. I was all right up until that morning, or D-Day, as I called it. Once the wheelchair arrived to escort me to the operation room, I got scared. That lasted for about 15 minutes. Didn't matter if I was scared or not, those little dudes had to be delivered. So, I had to straighten up and pretend to be brave. After having my arm brutally murdered by the nurse and her giant IV and horrible IV-inserting techniques (there were pools of blood on the floor to prove she was awful), it was showtime!

Sensitive J-Bird.

Boomer went into the operation room with me. She tried to talk to me, hold my hand, and all that good stuff to make me not think about the fact that my body was cut open and I was conscious (I still can't think about that...so strange). Anyway, I wasn't really listening or talking to her. I was too anxious. I wanted everything to be done and over with and I wanted to see my babies! It wasn't too longer after the doctor had started that she said, "Look up, Allison. A healthy baby boy. Baby A! What's his name?" And there he was, my little Julian. About twenty seconds later, she was holding Jonas up for me to see. Good looking little fellers. Holy guacamole! That. Just. Happened.

Douglas and Jason were out in the waiting room, uh, waiting. Boomer went out to tell them the boys had arrived, and as I had been moved to the recovery room, they could come take a gander. Jason cried, cause he's sensitive like that. I think Douglas was still in shock.

The boys had their first visitors that evening: Grandma Carol, Jovita, Joann, Day-Day, Tracy, and Jenna.  Day 2, they met Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Steve!

2nd day home.

We hung out in the hospital for the next few days. I thought I was dying, and was convinced that I was going to rip in half if I moved. (Ugh, please, Lord, take away the memory of what pregnancy and delivery felt like so that I may someday have another child.) Doug tried to sleep on a chair, and found out around Day 2 (in that room), that the chair actually folded out to a "bed." We fed our little dudes (the very first bottle we gave them was 15 mL...a big ole half ounce). Doug Bear changed their diapers (after the nurse showed us how) and took care of their nether regions. And we held them constantly. I can't believe how little they were!

We got 0 hours of sleep. I was completely uncomfortable, and so was Doug. Oh, and the boys had to be fed every 3 hours. One night, the nurse suggested we send the babies to the nursery so we could sleep. We did, and Doug finally got a few hours of shut-eye. I couldn't sleep because I was missing my little dudes. 6AM rolled around, and the nurse came back to the room, pushing the bassinets. I cried when she came in. I was so happy to have them back! (Doug was probably crying because he had to wake up!)

Our happy boys!

All of a sudden, it was time to go home. What do we do with them when we get home? Aaaah! I was still very much crippled, so Doug was really in for it. He had 2 babies and a wife to care for. That first week was pure hell. We didn't know what we were doing. The babies couldn't sleep without being close to their Mama, so I would sleep holding the babies, and Doug would watch us sleep (don't try this at home, people). I was not being successful with nursing. The babies were pissed because they were hungry, and I sucked at feeding them. I cried a lot. But somehow...somehow, we survived, and now it is 6 months later. We didn't break the boys. We realized formula feeding was better than a depressed, exhausted mother. We successfully bathed them (I was very concerned about this, and watched many "how to" videos when I was in the hospital). I changed a diaper (after 2 weeks of letting Doug handle it solo).
We were parents!

Baby B

And now, all is well. Our boys are happy and healthy, and we are learning new tricks every single day.
6 months...feels like a lifetime. Here's to many more months with my main men! (Pray that Doug and I survive!)

The B-I-B-L-E

Last month I decided that I was going to rid our house of stuff we didn't need or want. I started with the bookshelves in the dining room. We had 3 bookshelves, none of which were the same color, and all of which were sagging and looking pretty pathetic. On this shelves were dozens of books that we had never read and didn't plan on reading in the near future. We cleaned off the shelves and sent the books back to Doug's mother (most of the books belonged to Doug's dad).

Among the books I shipped out of here was my Bible. Doug's aunt discovered it and brought it back home to me. This Bible belongs to Allison Jones. A gift from Uncle Mike and Aunt Ruby, Christmas 1992. It was a nice little Bible with a red leather zip-up cover. I was happy to have it back. I opened my Bible to check it out. Inside, I found a program for a church service at Dwarf Baptist Church dated 1995. This would have made me 11 years old. Now, on the program, there is a space for you to take notes on the sermon. Did little Allison take good notes from the October 25, 1995 sermon? Well, if the preacher was talking about how Jessica Shantell Wilson truly loved Jonathan Scott Noble, then yes, I took excellent notes!

What a little heathen I was! I was sitting in church with Shantell, no doubt, tormenting her by doing "love tests" to see who her perfect match was. When I saw these scribbles, I remembered the test immediately. In order to find out the exact number of people in this world who might have been a better match for you, you did this test. You wrote out "Name #1 truly loves Name #2." Then you drew this little chart where you count the number of vowels and add them up. You mark out duplicate numbers. The number you are left with tells you how many people out there in the world might be a better match than the person you listed. Completely scientific.

Sad Times We Live In, Man

So, is it just me, or does it seem like the world is going to the shitter? What the heck is wrong with people these days? Why is everyone so doggone trigger happy? Whatever happened to good ole fist fights or name-calling? I don't know about people, man. I just don't know. Anyhow, I've been feeling icky about all of this violence lately. It started last month with the tragedy in Connecticut. My God. I don't even want to re-visit that topic. So horrible. Makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it. Then, I made the mistake of watching the news Monday night. I swear, after watching just 10 minutes on the local station, I heard the following stories: woman and teenage boys break into an elderly ladies house, elderly lady fights back, younger woman shoots her in the head; a man kidnaps his girlfriend, puts her in a bathtub full of water and dangles a hair-dryer overhead threatening to drop it in and electrocute her to death; dude kills another dude and leaves him in the hallway of their apartment building; woman and 2 dudes murder and dismember another dude.

The old man on the news tonight summed it up best. He was a gentleman from Verona and was asked by a reporter [paraphrased], "Are you shocked that these 3 dudes killed and dismembered this other dude [yes, this is a separate story from the one referenced above]?" And the gentleman said, "I was shocked at first, but then I wasn't. You can't be shocked anymore with all the idiots out there."

That is probably very insensitive, but, dang. Get it together, folks! Hug it out!

Saturday Shenanigans

The scene.

Let's rewind to Friday afternoon. On this day, I took a trip down the stairs in the bathroom. Only I could manage to do this. There I was, all set to go take a shower. The boys were in their jumper and good to go for 15 minutes, just enough time for me to run to the shower. Run I did, and somehow was moving so quickly, that I skipped the last 2 steps on my way down to the bathroom. It hurt. First of all, my bathroom is so small that I can't just land in the floor, I also have to hit something when I land. In this case, I landed on the side of my foot, which buckled due to my enormous girth. Then, my arms flailed into the sink and my head knocked against the toilet. I laid there in the floor, all sprawled out, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Crap. Please Lord don't let me have a broken bone. Check. I could move everything. I was fine, save for a minor foot injury. So, I hobbled back to the living room and laid on the couch. After about half an hour, I was good to go...although, moving a little slower than usual (and that is really slow).

Saturday was bound to be better than Friday afternoon! The morning started out pretty well. I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get everything packed for the boys stay at Tracy's. Two little dudes require so much stuff! The boys were going wild in their jumpers as I packed. Joe Bear started fussing, so I go pick him up. He was rubbing his little eyes and it was around naptime, so I thought he was sleepy. Took him to Doug, who was still snoozing in bed. A few minutes later Doug is hollering. There was....an explosion. I told you before I had babies that I wouldn't write about their poop, and so I will not. Let's just say that after this incident (and a similar incident that followed with his brother), this day was referred to as Brown Saturday.

I want to know, why do parents find baby poop stories so amusing? People like to tell them all the time. Folks at work, at school, they're all the time telling you about their children's bowel movements. Why? Is it that they are fascinated by something so cute producing something so vile? Something so tiny letting it rip in ridiculously huge amounts? Or, is it just that, as parents, we are amused at our partner's reaction to this mess. Honestly, this is highly entertaining. I hate poop and hearing about other people's kid's poop, but it is hysterical to see Doug carrying a child with a poopy diaper to the changing table and proceeding to do clean-up. That's why changing number 2 diapers is his job.

Those old ladies were cool, but not
as cool as Beetle!

We dropped the boys off and headed to Lexington for some basketball action. We had a good time at the ballgame, but unfortunately, we lost. The crowd started heading out at the 2 minute mark. We were down by 8 or so. I overheard the 2 old ladies behind me talking. "Everybody's acting like the game is over. Why, in 1978 when Kyle Macy played, there was a game where he scored 6 points in 36 seconds." I love little old ladies who love Kentucky basketball. Bless their hearts. Wish the Cats would've won it for them.

Walking back to our car after the game, 2 things happened. An old man nearly bit the dust when he was power-walking through the crowd. He hit a mudhole wide-open and nearly went to the ground. He recovered (after splashing nasty mudhole water all over me) and looked around to see if anyone noticed. We all noticed, buddy. The second thing that happened involved a toolbag. Some little punk in his corolla littered. He was sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, rolled down his window, looked at me, and threw out his DQ ice cream cup. Idiot. I just stared at him like, "You've got to be kidding." I can't believe people litter. I hope that kid gets toe rot using the dorm showers.

Ghost Hunter

Did you know that Carol is a ghost hunter? For real! Doug's aunt told me the story. Doug's grandparents (Joe and Agnes) used to live in a house that Carol now owns. This house was the last house that Doug's Grandpa Joe would live in. After his death, Agnes moved out, and Carol turned the home into a rental unit. Each time a new tenant would move in, the tenant would complain about hearing strange noises, seeing sparks fly from outlets, and seeing an older gentleman with white hair. Could it be the ghost of JFG, Sr? Carol seemed to think so, and went on over to the house to see what was up. Unlike that really cool dude Zack from Ghost Adventures, Carol did not threaten her father-in-law, or ask him to scratch her. Instead, she sincerely told him that the family missed him, but everyone was doing well, and that they all wanted him to be in peace.

After that, no more complaints.

Pointless Post

Because Justified is back and on air Tuesdays at 10, I now have to watch Parenthood the following day. (How is it that I only watch 2 shows on television and those 2 shows air at the same time?) People, is it just me, or are the Bravermans the most unfortunate family on the planet? (Yes, I realize this is a fictional family.) Let's just run through the list of issues this family has had over the past few seasons:

• Father cheating on Mother, then Mother getting a new boyfriend 
• Cousin doing the horizontal polka with cousin's boyfriend
• Child with Asperger's
• Teenager dating older dude with criminal record
• Infertility
• Birth mother backing out of adoption
• Adopting a problem child
• Kid getting stoned and wrecking car
• Teenage pregnancy and abortion
• Getting your niece a job on a campaign you're managing and her doing the horizontal polka with the candidate
• Alcoholism
• Cancer
• Unemployment
• Getting a chick pregnant 5 years ago, then she shows up with your kid you didn't know you had
• Mom doing the horizontal polka with your high school english teacher (who you have a crush on), who is a over a decade younger than mom
• The "N" word
• War veteran coming home

I'm sure I could think of a whole lot more, but I am getting emotionally exhausted just thinking of those problems. 

In other news...

I saw 2 CVG strollers today. That is, I saw 2 separate men pushing their "babies" in strollers. Only, when I got closer, the babies were bags of scrap metal. Stay classy, CVG.

Sometimes, I get random songs stuck in my head. How do they get there? How does the Family Matters or Growing Pains theme song creep its way into my brain? 

It is impossible to feed baby cereal to a baby. It is impossibler to feed baby cereal to 2 babies. Especially when 1 is a bear named Joe.

I wish I had a flat-top like Nerlens Noel.

Day 9, Kicks in the Head, Mama, and the Return of Boyd Crowder

The Bear named Joe.

Well, I am proud to report that I am still on my diet (or "dot"--Brian claims this is what it sounds like when I say "diet") and exercise routine. I have yet to die, so that is good. I've been hoofing it at the gym every day after work (which is really just 3 days since I am working part-time, but still). The first day, I had my sweet friend Jenna to pump iron with (NOTE: Neither of us pumped iron). Since then, I've been all by my lonesome. This is fine, I mean, it's not like working out is an activity that requires deep conversation or the like. For the most part, you're just walking next to each other, both rocking the headphones. But, it is a bit awkward when you are the only girl in the gym. The dudes forget I am there, and so they pick wedgies and scratch their wieners and it is gross. Who am I kidding? They're dudes. They would probably still be doing that even if I had a gym buddy. At any rate, kudos to me for still going strong at Day 9!

Jules and his hair.

The boys can no longer be trusted to stay in their pack and play together without supervision. I laid them in there yesterday evening while I went to make their bottles. I heard Jonas crying from the kitchen. "I'm coming! I'm coming! I gotta mix this formula. Good grief! Can I have a minute?! You are so demanding!" I was thinking the ole chap was mad because I was moving too slowly fixing his food. I get back into the living room with bottles in hand, and what do I see? Julian smiling and kicking his poor brother in the head. Poor little Joe Bear. 

Why is it that I see previews to the scariest movies when I am sitting alone in the dark? Have you seen the trailer for the new Guillermo del Toro movie (Mama)? Good heavens! It's a wonder I didn't have nightmares from just seeing that 1-minute clip. 

Did you watch Justified last night? Boyd Crowder is back! Yeehaw! Looks like he's going to get into all kinds of trouble this season. Walton Goggins is completely perfect for this role. I wish you all were from Southeast Kentucky and could truly appreciate this show. I mean, yes, obviously it is a television show and therefore totally outlandish at times, but, hand to God, some of the characters are dead-on folks I know back home (I know more than 1 Dewey Crow). Why, even last night Boyd Crowder's dialogue sounded like it came straight from Taylor Jones's mouth! Quoting Psalms to illustrate how God gladdened the hearts of man by making wine and using that to justify selling oxys. "And what are goods but just modern-day wine, albeit in pill form." I'm telling you! Visit Hazard, people. 

My Feet Hurt. And EDB is a Pig From Hell.

Continuing on my quest to become svelte, I hit the gym today after work. Unfortunately, I didn't bring my headphones, so I had to awkwardly walk in silence as everyone else jammed to their motivational tunes. While I was walking, I noticed several things about the manner in which I exercise.

1. Although every other person in the gym seemed to be able to play on their smart phone or read a book while exercising, I most definitely cannot. I tried. I failed. Miserably. For starters, I think I get a little motion-sickness when I attempt to navigate my phone and exercise. Secondly, I focus my attention on the phone instead of the exercise, and then I hear that old familiar noise of my feet dragging on the treadmill belt...you know, the noise you hear just before you lose your footing and bite the dust. (Note: Exercising = walking. I wonder if I am the person people refer to when they say, "She can't walk and chew bubble gum at the same time." I'm telling you, I'm talented, folks!)
2. Along the same lines, I also noticed today that I cannot walk in a straight line, nor can I walk and talk/look at someone next to me without nearly falling and killing myself. Jenna (my sweet friend and treadmill neighbor) probably thought I was going to wipe out at any moment.
3. I was about 3 minutes into my 30-minute workout when my feet started to hurt.
4. I am, by far, the most pathetic person in the gym.

As I type this, I am flexing my legs to stretch my "muscles" and it feels so good. I wonder what it is like to be an actual athlete? Or at least someone who can do more than a 30-minute power walk without having to write a thesis on its effects.

The boys eating carrots.

In other news...

I try to be a good mother, but I lied to my babies yesterday. (And so it begins.) I told them that carrots were "yummy in their tummies." Sorry, boys. Please forgive me. Carrots taste like dirt.

Today, my so-called-buddy, Brian, made me relive a horrible moment from childhood. The tale of Edward Dale Brewer. Because the wounds are re-opened, I might as well share this story with you:

Me as a 1st grader.

Edward Dale Brewer is a pig from hell. When I was in 1^st grade, he was an 8^th grader. He rode my bus. One summer day, I had a Snickers candy bar at recess. I didn’t finish it all, so I put it in my pocket to eat later when I got home. Well, it melted. I had chocolate all over the FRONT side of my pants. I get off the bus at my stop, and dadblamed Edward Dale Brewer sticks his ugly head out the window of the bus and hollers, “Allison pooped her pants! Allison pooped her pants!” My face turned blood red (and this was even before my rosacea flares) and I ran all the way home crying every step of the way.

Lardass Hogan

My new kicks and inspiration for power-walking.

Remember the tale of Lardass Hogan from the movie Stand by Me? Gordy told the story. You remember, Lardass was a fat kid who entered a pie-eating contest to get revenge on all of the townspeople (including his own brother and sister) who bullied him for being overweight. Right before the contest, he chugs some castor oil and eats a raw egg. Then, after eating several blueberry pies, he barfs all over everyone. Well, people, I'm hear to tell you, I am Lardass Hogan. Except, no one really calls me Lardass, and I am not going to enter into a pie-eating contest in order to spew chunks on folks. What it boils down to is this: I have a lard ass. This is thanks to Julian and Jonas. Well, actually, it is thanks to all of those burritos and 4-ways I scarfed down while pregnant. My state of plumpness is also owing to my complete lack of exercise and ignorance of nutrition. So, in spirit of the new year, one of my many resolutions was to lose weight. I got some new kicks to inspire me, and for extra motivation there is talk of participating in the Flying Pig in May.

I want to apologize in advance for flaking on this endeavor. It seems as though I do not have a great history with keeping up with exercise and diets. See Pineapple on Pizza, Bacon, This Diet Thing, They're all gonna laugh at you!, I'm Practically Svelte, and I Survived.

At any rate, sit back and get ready to point and laugh as I try to not eat Big Boys or drink chocolate milkshakes on a bi-weekly basis. I hope I don't become too angry due to withdrawals.

Day 1 of losing lard ass: I power-walked around the Woods.

Another New Year's resolution was to limit the use of bad words in my vocabulary (including "ass"...I am already failing). This is extra hard considering it is basketball season. At least we got that Louisville game out of the way before the New Year! Tonight's game wasn't so bad at all. It was a cupcake game. Blowout city! It even put Jules to sleep.

There were some pretty nasty dunks, lots of good defense, and some good 3-point shooting, but I don't get too excited when the opponent is Eastern Michigan. Call me when we are schooling a ranked opponent (but I still like this team).

What else? What else? Oh yes. I present to you Miss January Goat in Tree: