tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87337424377187648492024-03-14T04:58:56.258-05:00Mom is in Time-Out... What has she done now??Dana Cloverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09174384230013782992noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-79035148982585873942011-01-05T14:44:00.000-06:002011-01-05T14:44:07.340-06:00How Do You Turn It off?I said many times that I will have worn many different hats in my life.<br />
I worked many different jobs.<br />
Some I loved.<br />
Some I didn't love very much.<br />
Some jobs were difficult.<br />
Some jobs came easily to me.<br />
But I still say that being a mother has been the most difficult, rewarding, heartbreaking, joyful, and painful job in the world.<br />
<br />
The actual act of giving birth is painful.<br />
The first time your little toddler says, "No mommy! I can do it myself!" That's painful.<br />
The first day of kindergarten, when you turn around and walk out the door leaving your little one in the care of a teacher whom you do not know, that's painful.<br />
When you sit on the bedside of the sick little one feeling helpless as there's nothing you can do to make him feel better, thats painful.<br />
Having to watch your teenager go through his first heartbreak knowing there's nothing you can do to ease his pain, that's painful.<br />
Watching your teenager drive out of the driveway without you by his side and relying on nothing but God and luck that he will make it home safely, that's painful.<br />
Having to bite your tongue and keep quiet while they make dumb mistakes in hopes that they will learn lessons, that's painful.<br />
<br />
Waking up early in the morning two days before Christmas to find out your son has moved out in the middle of the night without a goodbye, that's painful!<br />
Trying to come up with answers when your seven-year-old daughter asks "Why didn't he tell me goodbye? Doesn't he love me anymore?" That's painful.<br />
When a child who you've known his whereabouts every minute for the past nine years is gone for a week without a word, that hurts.<br />
When he blocks you on Facebook in an attempt to assert his independence, that hurts.<br />
<br />
<br />
Realizing that it will all be blamed on me because I am the "wicked stepmother", even though that for nine years I've been the best mother that I knew how to be, stepmother or not, that hurts.<br />
Hearing the lies and half-truths that are being spread when I don't know what I've done so wrong, that hurts.<br />
When you hear tales of drugs and other negative things, that hurts.<br />
<br />
When there is no remorse no humility no apology no explanation, that hurts.<br />
<br />
<br />
That's what I don't understand, as a mother, even if it's just a lowly stepmother, how can you turn being mom off?<br />
How, after spending nine years worrying about your child, trying to show him right from wrong, trying to help them learn how to make good decisions, living to keep them safe, trying to instill good values, and mold him into respectable man, do you just stop?<br />
<br />
Even though he's 18 and legally a man, how do you stop your heart from breaking when you see that he's making very wrong life choices?<br />
<br />
I feel like I'm watching a freight train racing towards a bridge that's been washed out and all I can do is watch, there's nothing I can do to stop it or even slow it down.<br />
<br />
I've spent countless hours replaying the past nine years in my mind, searching for what I did wrong or what I didn't do right enough. I've come to the conclusion that I don't think I would've changed anything that I've done.<br />
<br />
I am not the perfect mother, certainly not the perfect stepmother. But I've done the best I knew how to do, loved the hardest I could possibly love, and protected is fiercely as I possibly could.<br />
<br />
But sometimes, I guess that isn't enough...<br />
<br />
So tell me people, how do I turn it off?<br />
<br />
How do I not lie in bed at night awake worrying?<br />
How do I turn off the constant second-guessing that's going on in my mind?<br />
How do I conquer the self-doubt?<br />
How do I extinguish the anger?<br />
How do I stop my heart from aching?<br />
How do you just stop being mom?Dana Cloverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09174384230013782992noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-59658382509145546672010-09-15T08:00:00.001-05:002010-09-15T08:02:44.156-05:00Aaaaah!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDfOh43FlGZ2HxXjIwrd5_VHjVGexDQp41RXbEHFrW_eHVI3OXAFwSHkaIZTl-XUV1U7Bsj7VNFrbs7Ekcz0ZzW5c7aySNN90BM_gaZWAlsOpqcDIP2bK8OwtoG_vJ3Ly_dyVDvxXOVLQ/s1600/me111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDfOh43FlGZ2HxXjIwrd5_VHjVGexDQp41RXbEHFrW_eHVI3OXAFwSHkaIZTl-XUV1U7Bsj7VNFrbs7Ekcz0ZzW5c7aySNN90BM_gaZWAlsOpqcDIP2bK8OwtoG_vJ3Ly_dyVDvxXOVLQ/s320/me111.jpg" /></a></div>I am the mother to many children.<br />
I try to do the best I can.<br />
I try to teach them right from wrong.<br />
I praise them when they make the right decisions. <br />
I disciple them when they choose the wrong path.<br />
<br />
I have good kids.<br />
But....<br />
I have one.<br />
<br />
One who, no matter what I say or do, simply MUST test everything.<br />
One who MUST do the exact opposite of anything I tell him to do.<br />
One that has decided he can and will only learn things the "hard way".<br />
One who gives the word defiant a whole new meaning.<br />
<br />
I have grounded.<br />
I have taken beloved items away.<br />
I have lectured.<br />
I have begged.<br />
I have yelled.<br />
I have threatened great bodily harm.<br />
I've cried.<br />
I've talked rationally.<br />
I've and rambled irrationally.<br />
He doesn't care. <br />
<br />
Now, this child is NOT a little boy.<br />
He is an older teenager.<br />
He does NOT do drugs.<br />
He does NOT drink.<br />
But he is enamored by those who do.<br />
<br />
He has started, not only defying his father and I at home.<br />
But now he is bucking the system at school.<br />
He is not only breaking our rules.<br />
Now, he has decided to break school rules as well.<br />
<br />
I am at the end of my rope.<br />
I am at a loss.<br />
I don't know what else to do.<br />
<br />
He is not a bad kid...<br />
<br />
But if he continues to make the type of decisions he is making now...<br />
I'm afraid he's gonna end up in big trouble!<br />
Trouble we cannot help him out of...<br />
Trouble he can't fix....<br />
Trouble that can ruin his life.<br />
<br />
What is a parent to do when she is watching her kid run full force towards a cliff, and he won't listen to her as she screams... STOP!!!!Dana Cloverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09174384230013782992noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-35520251987101814072010-06-11T09:44:00.004-05:002010-06-11T10:05:49.935-05:00How Far I've Fallen.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyme-69fuzDS1Kz5l2tw37_oFqWlwnvA-wUMTlKCnR2sb3MxdxA_juNL67mr6aISfZhNDhY5XeKcAgtg2rRWmVhD4tMzzPUAMN1YYd2A8hfDAUQMa9Vmv1DpPpeeQ1GNJ9EZc2H101-R0/s1600/BaseballMomFancyOval.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyme-69fuzDS1Kz5l2tw37_oFqWlwnvA-wUMTlKCnR2sb3MxdxA_juNL67mr6aISfZhNDhY5XeKcAgtg2rRWmVhD4tMzzPUAMN1YYd2A8hfDAUQMa9Vmv1DpPpeeQ1GNJ9EZc2H101-R0/s400/BaseballMomFancyOval.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481527650489128994" border="0" /></a>It has happened.<br />I am officially a Baseball Mom.<br /><br />I now have 2 players in All-Star tournaments.<br />This means...<br /><br />I am running to no less than 10 practices per week..... <br />at different times and different locations....<br /><br />I am in very real danger of dislocating my shoulder hauling around a cooler full of ice and water...<br /><br />I spend at least 3 hours per week frantically looking for a lost mitt, or batting glove, or special yellow sock before games...<br /><br />My new signature scent is a combination of Deep Woods Off bug spray and Banana Boat sunscreen... <br /><br />I am now a professional red-clay-stain-getter-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">outter</span>-of-white-baseball-pants <span style="font-style: italic;">(Cascade Dishwasher Soap, Yo!)...</span><br /><br />I know the location of every bathroom at every baseball park within driving distance of our farm, AND I can tell ya which stalls are clean and have working locks...<br /><br />I no longer have a name... I will be forever called #33's Mom or #13's Mom....<br /><br />I have bruised palms from clapping and a raspy voice from cheering...<br /><br />I actually OWN a shirt that says..... "Ben's Mom" & "Brooke's Mom" with cute little baseball logos across the front...<br /><br />I am one of those women I used to point and giggle at!<br /><br />Karma..... it's a bitch!<br /><br /><br />P.S , If you see me running around town in a mini van, picking up purple Pom-Poms, Gatorade, And orange slices please PLEASE shoot me.Dana Cloverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09174384230013782992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-6139692084286157412010-04-26T19:46:00.004-05:002010-04-26T19:51:49.850-05:00My Parenting Awesomeness Knows No Bounds!Me to teenage son = <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"You need to turn your music down at night... there is no reason to have it that loud."</span><br /><br />Teenage son to me = <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"You need to have quieter sex at night mom... there is no reason to make so much noise."</span><br /><br />Me to teenage son =<span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-weight: bold;">"Rock On Dude!"</span></span>Dana Cloverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09174384230013782992noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-1187958565117436772010-04-12T19:34:00.004-05:002010-04-12T20:33:42.348-05:00That time laying on a table half naked surrounded by three strange men was NOT sexy!The Man-of-My-Dreams is working out of the country.<br />He is gone in Kazakhstan for 28 days, then he comes home for 28 days.<br /><br />It is working out quite well, actually. Just about the time he's sick and tired of being gone, it's time to come home.<br />Then, when he starts to get on my last nerve, it's time for him to go back to work.<br /><br />It's also great because we get to have a honeymoon every time he returns.<br />By the time his time away is over, we are very VERY ready for some quality "<span style="font-style: italic;">alone</span>" time. *wink* *wink*<br /><br />I've decided to have a surprise waiting for him each time he returns home, a little something special just for him.<br /><br />This trip home was no different, I remembered one time long ago when he mentioned that he thought nipple piercings were sexy.<br />You know, that whole... lady outside and a wild woman/slut in the bedroom thing?<br />Shiny, naughty, nipple rings would certainly work for that!<br /><br />After much thought, I decided that would be my surprise.<br /><br />I'll admit that the thought of intentionally sticking a very sharp object through those very sensitive bits of my body, never really has crossed my mind.<br /><br />But, the way I see it, If it's something that my man will enjoy, find sexy, and I'm not strongly opposed to it... Why not?<br /><br />I Googled nipple piercing.<br />I Googled Pain with nipple piercings.<br />I Googled nipple piercing aftercare.<br />I Googled licensed piercers.<br />I Googled Nipple Piercing pain.... again.<br />I Googled Nipple numbing techniques. (none by the way!)<br /><br />Then I made my appointment.<br />I wanted to get em done a few weeks before my man came home, so they would have some time to heal a bit before he got home and wanted to "play".<br /><br />I went by myself to the piercing studio.<br />There were two younger guys there.<br />I walked in and they immediately knew who I was...<br />Your that Wife Swap lady!!!<br />My mom loves your episode! He got on the phone with his mother.<br />"Oh Great" I thought....<br />"Now everyone in my tiny town will know that this 38yr old mother of 5 is getting her nipples pierced!"<br /><br />The head piercer walked in right after me.<br />He was tattooed from head to toe.<br />But he had a calming and very professional air about him.<br /><br />He looked at my nipples and explained what size and gauge needle I should have for the best results (14 gauge).<br />Then he asked if the two younger guys could watch because they were learning.<br />Heck! I've nursed 4 kids!<br />More people have seen my nipples than have seen the Dodgers play baseball!<br />So, I told him it was fine.<br /><br />I asked him if I needed to get my girls "<span style="font-style: italic;">happy</span>" before the piercing...<br />I mean... wouldn't it be easier to stab a sharp needle through something erect than something soft and flat?<br />He explained that the alcohol he was gonna wipe them with would take care of that... And it did.<br /><br />He wiped them clean and made little marks with his marker while I was standing up, then he had me lay on the table.<br />This is when my nerves really started to kick in!<br /><br />Here I was.... Laying naked from the waist up, on a table, surrounded by three strange men.<br />The piercer was explaining his every move to his trainees and I was trying to resist the urge to get up and run out of the door.<br /><br />1.... he said.<br />2...<br />3... STAB!<br /><br />WOW!! it hurt.<br />It hurt BAD!<br />But it was over quickly.<br />Then he stabbed the ring through the fresh hole.<br />That hurt too!<br />But I lived.<br /><br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">That wasn't so bad</span>" I told him.<br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">Oh, the next one will hurt more</span>" he explained....<br />apparently, my endorphins surged with the first piercing, and helped dull the pain.<br />I wouldn't have those with the second one.<br /><br />1....<br />2....<br />3....<br />It Took My Breath Away!!<br />I Saw JESUS!!!<br />I kicked my legs.<br />I thought I was gonna scream!<br />But I didn't.<br /><br />Thank God I don't have three nipples, cause that last sucker would be hole-less!<br /><br />My new holes are about a month old now...<br />The healing process has been easier than I thought it would be.<br />Wearing a bra 24/7 that first week was a God-Send!<br /><br />Now I have shiny little rings through my nipples.<br />I am thrilled with them.<br />So Is the Man-of-My-Dreams!<br /><br />It has defiantly brought some excitement to our sex-life.<br />It's like we have our own naughty little secret.<br />well..... we DID have a naughty little secret until this post...<br /><br />:)Dana Cloverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09174384230013782992noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-85905148339933228052009-07-08T08:51:00.001-05:002009-07-08T08:52:48.525-05:00White Socks, (Rant of the Day... again!)This post will run tomorrow on The Homesteading Housewife...<br />But I'm thinkin I should have posted it here instead....<br />So we'll just post it in BOTH blogs!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDqyJUwyDIwb84ZIq8cFf-MK41AO9QxhxmpQokwF7QyuTzHPB96-yzrI1m-fxx1j5y6fZFQK_ljB1nTHjeMLOJA-NLquYeyL7-2BZr0bmhaKNwvDUITgctdl6BKeTjyCC4y02bs-F7SZ9/s1600-h/socks.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 301px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDqyJUwyDIwb84ZIq8cFf-MK41AO9QxhxmpQokwF7QyuTzHPB96-yzrI1m-fxx1j5y6fZFQK_ljB1nTHjeMLOJA-NLquYeyL7-2BZr0bmhaKNwvDUITgctdl6BKeTjyCC4y02bs-F7SZ9/s400/socks.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356083633388732754" border="0" /></a><br />OK.... is it only me?<br />Please tell me it is NOT only me!<br /><br />I have 5 men/boys living in this house.<br />Each of those men/boys has two feet.<br />Each of those feet wear some sort of white sock. <span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-size:85%;" ><em>(well, they <strong>start</strong> out white, but that's a whole another rant for another day)</em></span><br />Each man/boy gets 12 pairs of white socks 2 times a year = 240 white socks a year.<br />There are always some left over from the year before that are still good = 300 white socks.<br /><br />I always try to buy the same brand of socks so they are easier to match.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><strong>Man-of-My-Dreams</strong> = Long socks</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><strong>Worker #1</strong> = kinda short socks, just over the ankle.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"><strong>Worker #2</strong> = VERY short-so-you-can't-see-em-above-his-shoes socks.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);"><strong>Worker #3</strong> = mid way between the ankle & knee shocks.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><strong>Worker #4</strong>= doesn't care either way, but most are kinda short.</span><br /><br />So, we have approximately 300 white socks for the men-folk of the house.<br />WHY is it, that I am sitting here after finishing folding and matching socks and I have 23 mismatched white socks?!?!?!?<br /><br />Seriously... 23!!!<br />Not one of them is like another one anywhere in the whole stinking pile!!<br />How many ways are there to make white socks for men/boys?!?!?<br />They are white socks for cryin out loud!!!<br />SOCKS!!!!<br /><br />There should be some council somewhere that regulates the making of white socks.<br />There should be a few different lengths/styles that come in various sizes.<br /><br />But 23 totally different white socks???<br />How is this possible???<br /><br />Can someone please explain to me why on earth there are so many types of white socks??<br />Is this a serious need?<br /><br />Is there some high priced white sock engineer sitting in an office somewhere in front of his drawing board who seriously thinks.. <em>"Hey! The buying public just doesn't have enough styles of white socks to choose from to cover their poor feet. I think I'll design a brand new type of white sock!"</em>???<br /><br />If there IS indeed a White Sock Council what is their address???<br />I would LOVE to write them a letter!<br /><br /><br />ok... I feel better now, Thank you for listening.Dana Cloverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09174384230013782992noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-54251724407134472662009-05-23T20:39:00.008-05:002009-05-23T21:52:39.171-05:00The Hardest Job in the World Ever, with a side of whine.I have had many jobs and worn many hats in my life.<br /><br />I scooped ice cream at Baskin Robbins.<br />I was a hostess at Golden Corral.<br />I waited tables in a Texas steakhouse.<br />I managed a sports bar.<br />I trained waitstaff for an upscale hotel.<br />I worked in the ER.<br />I worked on a ambulance.<br />I was a bartender, a cocktail waitress, a day care worker.<br /><br />I've sold insurance.<br />I've sold advertising.<br />I worked in a psychiatric hospital.<br />I owned an elder care company.<br />I've worked the farmers market, in an auto repair shop, sold on eBay, craft shows & flea markets.<br /><br />And even with all these jobs, I was only fired once in my life.<br />That's another story for another day,<br />But it had nothing do do with me or my job performance.<br /><br />I now hold the most difficult and challenging job title in the world...<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Step-Mom</span></span>.<br /><br />Being a mother is hard enough, but throw that little "step" word in front of it and it becomes 100 times more difficult.<br /><br />Let me start by saying that I love all of our kids as if I carried them each in my womb.<br />They all live with us 100% of the time.<br />They all have the same rules,<br />same consequences, same expectations & same affection.<br /><br />I don't introduce my brood by saying<span style="font-style: italic;"> "Bob, George, Spot & Frank & Suzy are mine, But Fred? Well, Fred is my step-son."</span><br /><br />I don't see them that way.<br />I love them all the same.<br />I treat them all the same.<br /><br />Or so I thought...<br /><br />When I am dealing with my natural-born children,<br />I am the be-all end-all.<br />I am Mom.<br />Period.<br />Right or wrong, perfect of not, that's the way it is, so you better just learn to deal with it.<br />It is black and white.<br />Right or wrong.<br />Yes or no.<br /><br />Being a step-parent is full of gray, full of self-doubt, full of questioning.<br />I may be far from perfect,<br />but I am a very confident mother.<br />I am, however, the total opposite as a step-mom.<br /><br />I don't let it show... they can smell fear and doubt ya know!<br />But.<br /><br />I'm always being mindful that it doesn't appear (to him OR the other children) that I am treating him different.<br /><br />If he gets into trouble and I discipline him, does he think I'm harder on him than the other kids because he is not "mine"?<br />If he doesn't get into too much trouble, do the other kids think I am showing him favoritism because he's not "mine"?<br /><br />Just this past week.... being a head-strong, attitude-filled, cocky, testosterone-filled teenager, he said something very disrespectful and nasty to me.<br /><br />I was shocked,<br />I was angry,<br />I was hurt.<br /><br />If my natural-born, head-strong, attitude-filled, cocky, testosterone-filled teenager had said it, I would have, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">without hesitation</span>, smacked his mouth clean off of his face!!<br /><br />But, with my step-son, I did not.<br />I gave him a VERY large piece of my mind.<br />He was disciplined and punished.<br />His father threatened great bodily harm if it every happened again.<br />And then he scolded me for not knocking his block off.<br />(His father is working out of state, so this is done by phone.)<br /><br />I'm not sure why it is different, but it IS different.<br />His natural mother is not involved in his life, so it's not that.<br />I am not new, I've been in his life for a long time. So I don't think that's it.<br /><br />He is a good kid.<br />He, as most teenage boys, gets stupid and mouthy at times. But nothing more than is "normal".<br />It isn't that he is more of a problem than my natural-born son.<br /><br />It's just different.<br />I pride myself in my confidence... or at least the appearance of confidence.<br /><br />I hate feeling so unsure of my every move!<br />And the worst part is....<br />I'm doing it to myself!<br /><br />I don't know if it can change, or if it ever will change.<br />I don't know if all step-parents feel this way,<br />Or if I just suck.<br /><br />Isn't there a Step-parenting for Idiots book out there??<br />If so, please send me a copy. STAT!!<br /><br />Thanks for listening/reading my whine-fest.<br />It's just one of those weeks, I guess...<br />It'll get better someday.... RIGHT???<br /><br />*tap* *tap* *tap* Is this thing on??Dana Cloverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09174384230013782992noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-87378059312705643612009-05-19T07:52:00.010-05:002009-05-21T22:59:42.555-05:00Vrrooooom! GIVEAWAY!! (Ridemakerz)This week-end we got the chance to try out RIDEMAKERZ!<br />Think 'Build-a-Bear' but with Super-Cool Remote Control Cars!!!<br /><br />This is a FANTASTIC idea for boys and girls!<br />My 16 yr old boys had just as much fun as my 9 yr old!<br />My 5 year old Daughter said it was "Awesome!".<br />And the Man-of-My-Dreams finally got a chance to design and build his dream car.<br /><br />We all did!<br />Oh BOY! You should see my Big Girl Truck!<br /><br />We went to a Mall location where we had a blast!<br /><br />If you don't have a Ridemakerz location near you,<br />You can design your own online and they'll ship it right to your door!<br /><br />Check out<a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.ridemakerz.com/RZ/Default.aspx"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"> www.Ridemakerz.com</span></a> and see what YOU can build!<br /><br />Fathers Day is right around the corner!<br />What a perfect idea for a fun Dad & Child day!!<br /><br />I'm gonna help someone out!<br /><br />Watch the video about our trip to RIDEMAKERS,<br />See how you can <span style="font-weight: bold;">win a $100 gift certificate to RIDEMAKERZ </span>or RIDEMAKERZ.com!!!<br /><br />Good Luck!!<br /><br />..<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tb6x7L3jD08&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tb6x7L3jD08&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>..<br /><br />Don't forget to leave some way for me to contact you!<br />A link to your blog or an e-mail address.<br />Good Luck!<br /><br />Earn an extra Entry!!<br />Tweet this post!<br />Be sure to leave another comment w/ your Twitter name!<br /><br />Earn another extra entry by posting about this Giveaway on your blog!<br />Don't forget to come back and leave a link!<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">CONGRATS to M Lester!!! check your e-mail!!</span>Dana Cloverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09174384230013782992noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-5210742228269511482009-04-26T07:09:00.007-05:002009-04-26T07:40:54.563-05:00Play Ball!!The Little-Foreman-in-Pink has started playing T-Ball.<br />She Loves it!<br />She loves warming up with the team...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAKVQMX6d6vJVbSN7EnD3Ow0MB-vlPTFzb7m2khk8G4OK2r8TrJ-IgA1ZVnBfyGjuHWtl5Dawf2hUBlTkU66pl4J1-TL6XMeICWjEt1itNoN6WsYda4jjhA_mIPYSbPjz6vGpWOfTA13A/s1600-h/warm-up1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 155px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAKVQMX6d6vJVbSN7EnD3Ow0MB-vlPTFzb7m2khk8G4OK2r8TrJ-IgA1ZVnBfyGjuHWtl5Dawf2hUBlTkU66pl4J1-TL6XMeICWjEt1itNoN6WsYda4jjhA_mIPYSbPjz6vGpWOfTA13A/s400/warm-up1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328972430744768178" border="0" /></a>She is a very strong batter.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ30BA1Vxi3oqKOgW6cojARPWhcF2bjXictAmN7_lFIieMZktZPbb2B84UGkyhTw7N9cPbLN1ziU_f9vpnYt6AzVGMgEDd4Ktq1Sa9TGrftlrPRL_UXZP2EIP6tSI7lHwAcDf2LnCx3j0/s1600-h/batting2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 385px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ30BA1Vxi3oqKOgW6cojARPWhcF2bjXictAmN7_lFIieMZktZPbb2B84UGkyhTw7N9cPbLN1ziU_f9vpnYt6AzVGMgEDd4Ktq1Sa9TGrftlrPRL_UXZP2EIP6tSI7lHwAcDf2LnCx3j0/s400/batting2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328972429019052322" border="0" /></a>She would be thrilled to bat all day.<br />She hits the ball farther than most of the other 4 & 5 year old girls.<br />They call her "<span style="font-style: italic;">The Hitter</span>". <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(hey! 4 & 5 year old girls aren't the most creative nickname givers. Give em a break!)</span></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;">"The Hitter"<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEA3Rdykc_el-vNeu-V6XTRc5UeNo9YkuPS60YkWJeTvQB59PsnFYLPqIj2zrCz8PpYf8XF-b1ZpuQRGWl8kN8fAUonyxbBggJu6n1xKScyD5T2B0XWQXdFsRaBJPOI9cNhycDSyBBSuI/s1600-h/102_5060.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 353px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEA3Rdykc_el-vNeu-V6XTRc5UeNo9YkuPS60YkWJeTvQB59PsnFYLPqIj2zrCz8PpYf8XF-b1ZpuQRGWl8kN8fAUonyxbBggJu6n1xKScyD5T2B0XWQXdFsRaBJPOI9cNhycDSyBBSuI/s400/102_5060.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328972427397692850" border="0" /></a>She loves to run the bases.<br />Even when her batting helmet flops around because they don't make one small enough for 5 year old girls.<br />She runs like the wind!<br />They call her "<span style="font-style: italic;">The Runner</span>"<br /><div style="text-align: center;">"The Runner"<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPogwjZfCML1C2YydVZUJCs208RbVCvqBaHxye8tYh7mypB67gclnRFRDEgI2iCgkARISfDqs68bfmTXvuAA0XrFyTNKqlNH6fA9Zq1g8-GE_I95ak7sY7H7zxb5WiInyzLgj8Zv7PGs/s1600-h/runnin2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 336px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPogwjZfCML1C2YydVZUJCs208RbVCvqBaHxye8tYh7mypB67gclnRFRDEgI2iCgkARISfDqs68bfmTXvuAA0XrFyTNKqlNH6fA9Zq1g8-GE_I95ak7sY7H7zxb5WiInyzLgj8Zv7PGs/s400/runnin2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328972425103308930" border="0" /></a>After the batting and the running comes the Out-fielding.<br />Being an outfielder is NOT her favorite part of the game.<br /><br />I think she finds it kinda dull.<br />She wants to be where the<span style="font-style: italic;"> real</span> action is.<br /><br />She takes her place in the outfield and watches for the ball. <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(in the outfield? on the outfield? out the outfield?)</span></span><br />She starts strong.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFsyeg3UriMCpdVCfPn3Sgw15omV_fmF-ioji1adRK0iEjmrqZ8TpYjHaR0ZdGyFJ6UXHysT74ST2Do57RSX1h2apIdVyDFlq-5hyphenhyphensCE8RL6XltTx-06Z3Ma-79wMDIOfnTx-73mGcoY4/s1600-h/outfield6.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 306px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFsyeg3UriMCpdVCfPn3Sgw15omV_fmF-ioji1adRK0iEjmrqZ8TpYjHaR0ZdGyFJ6UXHysT74ST2Do57RSX1h2apIdVyDFlq-5hyphenhyphensCE8RL6XltTx-06Z3Ma-79wMDIOfnTx-73mGcoY4/s400/outfield6.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328971796411846114" border="0" /></a>Then she kinda loses interest...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">"...there is a string on my Mitt..."</span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zVUKTbHeXVGXb97bo3e3X1Q1pqmh0tXNxEXi40GAuFBTqyTr0cvlxEV9R-Mx62wf0Dn00s1P7J96M0ih87FAlYyQkg9-UMpXPnRt_smezti1y0uKsAAZe9i_NQB_g0aka3N7tDljKRI/s1600-h/outfield2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zVUKTbHeXVGXb97bo3e3X1Q1pqmh0tXNxEXi40GAuFBTqyTr0cvlxEV9R-Mx62wf0Dn00s1P7J96M0ih87FAlYyQkg9-UMpXPnRt_smezti1y0uKsAAZe9i_NQB_g0aka3N7tDljKRI/s400/outfield2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328971796744057378" border="0" /></a>She is ready for any fly-balls that might come her way.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">"Peek-a-Boo"</span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ZNAh6_ZqfR6uHfdrF92gxCWIRzYOrLVTpthU8Co79djoLBlMlcKJFTIWJ_kXMgpDiCtaaeIUL1tmgZgz3D4zJcpmO-fm09bmrdbLFGqVzXBhBl732eLbQTDLCgrAID1LQKj48wL0fOA/s1600-h/outfield4.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 188px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ZNAh6_ZqfR6uHfdrF92gxCWIRzYOrLVTpthU8Co79djoLBlMlcKJFTIWJ_kXMgpDiCtaaeIUL1tmgZgz3D4zJcpmO-fm09bmrdbLFGqVzXBhBl732eLbQTDLCgrAID1LQKj48wL0fOA/s400/outfield4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328971792841255682" border="0" /></a>Um.... Did I mention she is a really REALLY strong Hitter?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY06jeFAFmDhQf_ek25d0qt05cjQqnUfMnWd9dYgIXkGGgy8663R9c1LmKCb4VAkqVr_po5AGQgG2QD6T7X2pXnv-Dw7xWNAzJRgXWnVFbTCigcLxgNmZEojBsNkbPRw_8dtt7xJfMGm0/s1600-h/outfield3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY06jeFAFmDhQf_ek25d0qt05cjQqnUfMnWd9dYgIXkGGgy8663R9c1LmKCb4VAkqVr_po5AGQgG2QD6T7X2pXnv-Dw7xWNAzJRgXWnVFbTCigcLxgNmZEojBsNkbPRw_8dtt7xJfMGm0/s400/outfield3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328971788389845234" border="0" /></a>She graciously lets someone else wear the crown of "<span style="font-style: italic;">The Outfielder</span>"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcD7R6CavATvz_2bm0MEFzsUbK0D4hZRD3i0kzonmTV4D875qnpse92oAeSDZS1QxsiGhR1FGvRnSZ7YKT46vLvq6aNlT7R4NQSUzNztE_DeYEfs2zSXh2u4yNZPIN-O9hyphenhyphenqZ-zQcVWsI/s1600-h/outfield7.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 188px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcD7R6CavATvz_2bm0MEFzsUbK0D4hZRD3i0kzonmTV4D875qnpse92oAeSDZS1QxsiGhR1FGvRnSZ7YKT46vLvq6aNlT7R4NQSUzNztE_DeYEfs2zSXh2u4yNZPIN-O9hyphenhyphenqZ-zQcVWsI/s400/outfield7.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328971791422560514" border="0" /></a>Dana Cloverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09174384230013782992noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-16662706312848602812009-04-23T20:58:00.003-05:002009-04-24T05:57:01.781-05:00How To Study Like a 16 Year Old Boy.<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;">How To Study For a Test.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Like a 16 year old boy.<br /></div><br />1.) Walk into the house and loudly announce <span style="font-style: italic;">"I have a BIG test tomorrow. I will be studying all evening. No time for chores."</span><br /><br />2.) Stomp loudly when you are walking to the door to feed the animals because your horrible mother told you to do the chores anyway.<br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-style: italic;">**Be sure to mutter something about it being her fault if you fail the test, can't get into a good college, can't get a good job to make money, and HER grandchildren have to live under a bridge, before you close the door.**</span><br /><br />3.) Come in from doing your chores, plop down on the couch and flip on the TV.<br /><br />4.) Practice your deep breathing so you can perform the worlds longest & loudest sigh when your wicked mother reminds you that you said you needed to study.<br /><br />5.) Gather up your books and go into your room and sit at your desk to study.<br /><br />6.) Go into the kitchen to get a drink.<br /><br />7.) Return to your desk to study.<br /><br />8.) Go to the bathroom and stay in there for 112 minutes doing God-knows-what.<br /><br />9.) Return to your desk to study.<br /><br />10.) Decide it is too quiet and turn on the radio.<br /><br />11.) Go into the kitchen to get another drink.<br /><br />12.) Return to your desk to study .<br /><br />13.) Open your notebook to find a note from your girlfriend, read it 7 times and smell it 16 times.<br /><br />14.) Go to the bathroom and stay in there for 73 minutes doing God-knows-what.<br /><br />15.) Return to your desk to study.<br /><br />16.) Flip through all 97 radio stations looking for one that is playing a song you like.<br /><br />17.) Preform an amazing air guitar solo and bow to your invisible fans.<br /><br />18.) Dig in your backpack looking for a pencil.<br /><br />19.) Go into your brothers room to ask to borrow a pencil.<br /><br />20.) Put your brother into a sleeper hold and make a bet that he can't get loose from your Grip-of-Death before passing out, squeeze him so hard that he farts.<br />Run out of his room before the cloud of gas kills you, making sure to knock at least two pictures off of the wall in the hallway as you fly by.<br /><br />21.) Return to your desk to study.<br /><br />22.) Open your text book.<br /><br />23.) Go to the dining room and eat dinner... twice.<br /><br />24.) Return to your desk to study.<br /><br />25.) Announce that your eyes are getting tired, and hop into the shower.<br /><br />26.) Return to your desk to study.<br /><br />27.) Go into the kitchen for a drink.<br /><br />28.) Return to your desk to study.<br /><br />29.) Text your girlfriend 62 text messages.<br /><br />30.) Play the drums along with your favorite song on the radio using the 2 pencils you stole from your btother for drum sticks.<br /><br />31.) Turn off the light and go to sleep.<br /><br />I wonder how they'll do on the test tomorrow??<br />I'll keep ya posted.Dana Cloverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09174384230013782992noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-27369070226095123442009-04-15T05:40:00.010-05:002009-04-15T07:33:04.742-05:00Things I would have appreciated someone telling me before I had 5 kids, but of course, no one bothered to tell me!When a woman announces that she is "with child" she becomes a magnet for information and advice.<br /><br />Her mother tells her about the way she felt when she was pregnant.<br />Her friends give her all their helpful tips for combating morning sickness.<br />They tell her where to find the cutest maternity clothes.<br /><br />When she starts to look pregnant, even strangers begin to share their knowledge with her.<br />Women in the grocery store checkout line suddenly feel comfortable sharing intimate details about their bodies.<br /><br />The mom-to-be hears the pros and cons of breastfeeding, vaccines, organic baby foods, TUMS, the OB departments of all the local hospitals & how to avoid the dreaded stretch marks.<br /><br />But there are many things that no one bothers to tell you!<br />Things that it would be really REALLY nice to know!<br />It's kind of like some sick initiation into some super-secret sorority.. It's HAZING! And I'm pretty sure Congress outlawed hazing for a reason!<br /><br />Today, I am going to break the silence!<br />I'm gonna fill you in.. on everything.... the good, the bad & the horrifying!<br /><br />Let's dig right in and address <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">hemorrhoids</span>.<br />Yep, hemorrhoids. Those little floppy hunks of flesh that suddenly appear "down there".<br />When they are "little" and "floppy" they are little more than a funny little thing to make you go ewwh.<br />It's when they become PISSED that they can make you squirm and long to shove an ice cube into your butt. <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">(sorry.. but it's true!)</span></span><br /><br />Oh... and make note... they will be with you for life!<br />Yep, for the rest of your life they will pop in to say HI!<br />Kinda like your annoying Uncle Buck who stops by twice a year to visit.<br />The one that stays too long and feeds your dog table scraps that make him puke all over your bed?<br />THAT Uncle Buck! From this point forward, he will be known as Uncle Hemorrhoid.<br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Breast Feeding</span> when you have a sweet baby who, for some reason, acts like your soft milk-filled breasts are from the devil, it does NOT mean your baby hates you.<br /><br />I had one baby who absolutely refused to breastfeed.<br />We tried lactation consultants, silicone nipple guards, different positions, NOTHING worked!<br />We ended up bottle-feeding him.<br />He still loved me. And, after hours of sobbing, I got over it and we bonded just fine.<br />Many women have a baby who just don't like the boob... deal with it, and get on with your life. It'll be ok!! Your baby still loves you!<br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Hairs</span>, for some reason <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">(maybe the crazy-whacked-out hormones)</span></span> I sprouted 13 hairs.<br />Thick BLACK hairs...<br />ON MY BOOBS!!!<br />Thats all I'm gonna say about it!<br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Squirting</span>, When you carry another whole person around in your gut, things stretch.<br />Not just your once perfect belly skin.<br />But muscles stretch too!<br />Not only your abdominal muscles.<br />But the often ignored but VERY important bladder muscles do too!<br /><br />My youngest is now 5 and a half years old, and I STILL have to do the "<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Slam-your-knees-together-when-you-sneeze-so-you-don't-squirt</span>" maneuver.<br />Kegel exercises help, But not enough. It gets worse after each baby.<br />So, by now, I should be wearing Depends.<br /><br />Now...<br />all this withstanding. I loved being pregnant.<br />I love being a mom <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">(most days)</span></span>.<br />None of these things are a deal breaker.<br />But it would have been appreciated if someone would have prepared me!!<br /><br />You are now prepared!<br />Go forth and populate the world!<br />You can thank me later.Dana Cloverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09174384230013782992noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-82550046455137054422009-04-08T06:47:00.007-05:002009-04-08T07:44:23.646-05:00Confessions of a Bad Baseball MomI have a confession to make...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU8_rfWtkNYOd6MH2l9w-vEm-Q93oxD3zs7G53168klQLkCAQn7Uqla2POZRQxuQsnT4YJv9sp1AVQQXy5fYUnOASgU6w8MQqheyICKX73c1pfchRUbZmj02l0upMi8JS1gvPbgMR_BsE/s1600-h/baseballmom.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 87px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU8_rfWtkNYOd6MH2l9w-vEm-Q93oxD3zs7G53168klQLkCAQn7Uqla2POZRQxuQsnT4YJv9sp1AVQQXy5fYUnOASgU6w8MQqheyICKX73c1pfchRUbZmj02l0upMi8JS1gvPbgMR_BsE/s400/baseballmom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322287910481110914" border="0" /></a>Yep, it's sad, but true.<br />I'm a baseball Mom.<br />And I'm NOT good at it.<br /><br />This year, The Little-Foreman-in-Pink (5)<br />and Worker #4 (9) are playing baseball.<br /><br />This makes me a ...<br />running between practices 6 days a week,<br />attending a combined 6-8 games a week,<br />Filling the Water Bottles,<br />Slathering the Sun screen,<br />Spritzing the Bug Spray,<br />sore palms from clapping,<br />cracking voice from cheering,<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Baseball Mom</span>.<br /><br />Now, don't get me wrong... I said I am a Baseball Mom...<br />I never said I was a good one!<br /><br />Opening Day and the first games of the season were last week-end.<br />I was all excited to watch my little ones play.<br />The 4-5 year old T-Ball game was first.<br /><br />We got there in plenty of time.<br />The little girls were SO cute with their over-sized pink batting helmets and face guards.<br />I waited for my little redhead to make her way to the plate.<br />She took her stance, and prepared to swing the bat.<br /><br />Something came over me.<br />I jumped out of my seat and started yelling...<br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 51, 51);">"Go Clover!!!, Hit it hard!!, Bring 'em Home!! Whoo Hoo!!'</span><br />She swung the bat, hitting the T and NOT the ball.<br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 51, 51);">"That's ok Clover! You'll get it next time!! Keep your eye on the ball baby!"</span><br /><br />Then I I heard a little voice...<br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102); font-style: italic;">"Mommy?...</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102); font-style: italic;">Why are you yelling to Brittany? I'm your girl. I'm over here!"</span><br />Oops! I sat down and shut up.<br /><br />Then it was worker #4's game.<br />He is 9, 9 yr old games are intense man!<br /><br />The other baseball moms are Hard Core!<br />They all have team shirts with their kids names and numbers embroidered on the back saying things like.. "Brandon's Mom" or "Jimmy's Mom".<br /><br />They all have their matching folding chairs,<br />Full make up,<br />Pom-poms,<br />Orange slices to give to their player.<br />Not a hair is out of out of place.<br />They know their cheers.<br />They have their seats saved with special bleacher chair thingies.<br /><br />I, however, am lucky I remembered to brush my teeth before I rushed out the door to get to the ball park on time!<br /><br />It's gonna be a Looong season!Dana Cloverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09174384230013782992noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-76697613591404268072009-02-27T13:46:00.003-06:002009-02-27T14:27:43.142-06:00The long distance Booty Call.Hot Stuff has been away from home for 2 weeks.<br />I have missed him.<br />Tonight, I am driving to see him and Man-oh-Man am I excited!<br />Lets just say, that I need to see him.<br />I realllly need to see that man!<br /><br />My best friend called me this morning and, as usual, the topic of sex came up.<br />People think men are bad about "locker-room talk"???<br /><br />Those men have nothing on us!<br />We talk about everything.<br />When he did that we like.<br />What he does that we don't like.<br />Ideas for things to try.<br />Warnings about things we must avoid.<br /><br />I've given her instructions on the famous, no man can see straight for days, Hot-n-Cold Blow Job.<br />She told me about her friend "Delta" (a fabulous hand-held shower head).<br />We are close friends to say the least.<br /><br />Well.... One day she mentioned to her husband that she was reading a good book, and there happened to be a pretty damn hot and steamy sex scene in the book. (so of course I had to run out and buy it too!)<br />He was intrigued.<br /><br />That night when they went to bed, he was thrilled to see that she was quite excited and ready to "play" all because of the book.<br />They have now spent several steamy nights that began with her reading him a "bedtime story".<br /><br />One book that isn't really about sex only has so many good sex scenes in it, so she was in search of new stories. Of course she called me.<br />I hoped on Amazon and did a search for womens erotic fiction and we had a blast reading through all the titles and making our book lists. <br />Now we have to wait for our books to come in. <br /><br />She gets to wait with her man by her side.<br />I have to wait in a big cold bed.<br />He has been gone for 2 weeks and I am NO longer impressed!<br /><br />I called him and informed him that the time for a conjugal visit was NOW!<br /><br />I'm driving up there....<br />He is to be waiting...<br />On the bed.... <br />Naked in all his glory....<br />I will be wearing a skirt... <br />with nothing underneath....<br />I will thrust open the door and take a flying leap ......<br />Lets all hope I hand in the right spot...<br />Impaling myself on Hot Stuff's "stuff" sounds GREAT!<br /><br />Impaling myself on his bedside table? Not so much....<br /><br />I will let you know how it turns out.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-80632577862494161802009-01-20T07:39:00.004-06:002009-02-27T14:57:43.026-06:00Well Great!<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Well I suck! I started this blog with grand plans of it being a place where I would come and be able to give a totally uncensored view of whats going on in my screwed up head.</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">A place to rant, spew my un-prettified thoughts.</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">and look at it....</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">It is empty!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Is it empty because I have had nothing to bitch about?</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">NOPE!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Is it empty because I have become a sweet perfect mommy who doesn't think nasty thoughts anymore?</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Not a chance!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Maybe it's empty because my children have decided to become some of those perfect kids who always do as they are told and give me no grief?</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I couldn't even type that with a straight face!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Is it empty because I discovered that a nice bottle of Crown is better than blogging and have been in an alcohol-induced stupor?</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I WISH!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Nope... Its simple really...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I'm a slacker,</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Yep, I'm a fat lazy slacker who forgot she had this page to bitch on...</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">But I have remembered now....</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">You have been warned!</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-21597235968889270962008-10-14T20:51:00.004-05:002008-10-14T21:51:57.096-05:00Not very nice.I used to think I was a nice person.<br />Most people like me.<br />I can get along with most anyone.<br />I am pretty non-judgmental.<br />I love children.<br />I love animals.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I sound like a pretty damn nice person right?</span><br /><br /><span>Well...</span><br /><span>I was sitting in the Mall the other day letting my youngest fruit from my loins ride up and down the escalator 700 times, people watching.</span><br /><span>I love people watching...</span><br /><span>People are fun to watch.</span><br /><span>My thoughts sounded something like this....</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Oooh she has cute boots on! I want some boots like that! </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">But my stupid calves are way too fat to pull em off... the skinny hag!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Oh my... those children are homely. Have you noticed how ugly children are getting? I am lucky my children are not that ugly..... </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> it's all a game of numbers, more ugly children = more ugly adults. </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Those ugly adults will breed then well just be the country full of people who look like extras from that Deliverance movie!! Oh dear!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">I wonder if that poor woman knows that those short belly-button showing tank tops are NOT made for people with bodies like ours?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">If my daughter went out of the house looking like that I'd KILL her!!.. well, I'd smack her silly, THEN kill her.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">I bet he beats his wife.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Pull up your pants!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Wow that perfume is strong.... smells like a whore house!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Too much make-up.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Pluck your eyebrows darling.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">etc etc etc</span><br /><br />Now..... Keep in mind that I am fully aware that I am nowhere near perfect....<br />And yet, I found myself internally thrashing these people while they walked by.<br /><br />I am not that nice of a person....<br />But you don't know that!<br /><br />are you?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-80336377226866263982008-09-29T14:33:00.007-05:002008-09-29T14:58:38.714-05:00Oh THIS is wonderful!<span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" >I am the mother of several children, most of whom are of the male persuasion.<br />My eldest testosterone laden young man is 16 years old and has his first serious, </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" ><br />Lets suck face & I wanna stick my tongue down your throat till I can taste your toe-jam girlfriend.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br />I knew this phase was unavoidable.<br />I have been preparing myself for it to start.<br />I thought I was dealing with it all fairly well.<br />I laid down the rules.<br />I watch them closely, but from a distance too, if that makes any sense.<br />He says he won't have sex for years because he is not ready, and she feels the same</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;"> (for this minute at least)</span> **rolling eyes**<br /><br />She is a good girl.<br />He is a good boy.<br />But, I don't like it.<br /><br />I have come to the conclusion that all 15-17 year old girls are slut-whores.<br />Yep, I said it... they are slut-whores who are after MY boys!<br />They call my house at 11pm.<br />They send notes to them pledging their undying love.<br />They wears their pants too tight.<br />They wear their shorts too short.<br />They wear too much make-up.<br />And they are WAY more developed than girls that age were when I was a young teen!! </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">(except for me.... the Boob fairy came to me when I was 12.. I was a 12 yr old full D-cup!! I was NOT amused!)</span><br /><br />My boys girlfriend lived about 30miles away from our house, a fact that I loved!<br />Until today!<br />Her family moved into a house 4 doors down from ours today!!<br />I am NOT impressed!<br />Of course the love-birds are thrilled!<br />They are planning their afternoons together.<br />They are making plans for every week-end for the rest of their lives spent together.<br />**yuck**<br /><br />I however, see many attitude-filled loud "discussions" with a certain 16 year old boy in my future.<br />I foresee door frames knocked loose by slamming of the doors by this soon to be angry young-man when his evil bitchy mother does not allow him to spend every waking moment with his true love.<br /><br />I believe my hard-earned title of greatest mom on the planet will quickly be replaced with the Hag who is trying to ruin his life!<br /><br />Oh yeah....<br />Happy Monday!!!</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-35488193097002599852008-09-25T12:41:00.001-05:002008-09-25T14:05:14.967-05:00Hi from the Time-Out Chair!<span style="font-size:130%;">I am a wife.<br />I am a mom.<br />I am a daughter.<br />I am a sister.<br />I am a friend.<br />I am a blogger.<br /><br />I am, quite frankly, kind of sick of doing what I "should".<br />Saying things the way I "should".<br />Leading by example.<br />And all that crap that comes with being a good wife and a good mother.<br /><br />I miss the kinda raunchy girl-talk that I used to have with my girlfriends.<br />You know the talks I speak of....<br />you say whats on your mind,<br />giving NO thought to little ears listening in,<br />not a care of what others may think,<br />just letting it all hang out..<br />pretty or not.<br /><br />In this blog, I will be speaking from my Time-Out Chair.<br />I can say what I want HOW I want!<br />I am NOT a role model here!<br />I am NOT teaching you anything.<br />I am NOT gonna bite my tongue.<br />Like it? Hate it? Whatever!<br />For Once....<br />I DON'T CARE!!<br /><br />hehe... this should be fun!<br />Kick your shoes off and enjoy the ride!<br /><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8733742437718764849.post-53569237490641850002008-09-24T22:27:00.000-05:002008-09-25T12:35:55.723-05:00Mom is in time out!Hang on to your hats ladies....<br />Mom has been put in time out....<br />there may be a reason for that!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0