Super Bowl Goodies Mean I Fast Until Sunday...

Oh my goodness, y'all - we're throwing a Super Bowl party this year, and I am so excited!  Not so much to scrub my house like the Queen is coming over, but to cook all sorts of deliciousness for our guests.  And there had better be leftovers, dammit.  You think I kid?  Don't think I won't hide something in the laundry room...

I don't have pictures to post, as I am not The Pioneer Woman, although if Ree were to invite me over to hang out, I'd probably have to change my pants I'd be so excited.  I love her to pieces, and well, she's just brilliant.  And I would love to have Charlie and Walter move in.  Basset Hounds make the world go 'round.  It's true.

Anyway...  I'm going to have big kids and little kids at this partay (hey, ho), so I needed to have my menu be somewhat little-kid friendly (there's always pb and j or mac and cheese should all else fail).  I asked The Preteen what she wanted to have, and her only request be that there be pickles available.  So I suppose I really can't screw this up too badly.

Appetizers:

Ugly Dip
Reuben Dip w/Rye Bread
Buffalo Chicken Dip
Beer Cheese Dip
A shit ton of tortilla chips
Veggie Tray
Cheese/Crackers

Real(?) Food:
Ham and Swiss sliders
BBQ meatballs and Lil' Smokies

Desserty Type Noms:
Red Velvet Gooey Butter Cookies (THAT'S WHAT'S UP!)
Football brownies

I think that pretty much covers it.  If you're dying to know the recipes, let me know.  I'm sure I stole them from someone sometime, but they've been in my kitchen for so long, eff the copyright. ;)

Maybe I should actually buy real food that only my family is going to eat too on this trip...

Direct deposited tax refunds complete me.

Okay, so since I didn't work this year (not by choice... well, kind of by choice, the only job I was granted an interview for wanted me to be on call 24/7 and with the kidlets and the Hubs' erratic work schedule, that's just not possible, so I had to decline), and with Hubs being deployed for half the year, our refund is enough to make me feel like I'm a kid and it's November and the JC Penney "Big Toy Book" just came out.  Yeah, I'm excited.

Of course, me being me - you know, practical and guilt-ridden - I'll pay off the little bit we have on the credit cards, the dogs need beds and shots, Violet needs new shoes, Quinn needs pants that actually cover his ankles, etc.  But THEN?  Oh, yes... it's all about frivolous retail therapy.  I'm shivering with anticipation.

Number 1 on the list - gym membership.  Paid a year in advance.  WUT?  Oh yes.  I know that I have exercise equipment upstairs that I'm learning to like (gasp!), but this way I'll actually get some adult interaction and not be forced to only use said equipment when Quinn is napping or down for the night, because they have daycare, yo!  ALSO?  They have this THEATER full of cardio equipment that you can use while you watch a fricking MOVIE.  Popcorn and soda not provided.  Sneak yours in at your own risk.  There may or may not be a pat down for smuggled-in Junior Mints.

TWO:  FINALLY (well not finally, it hasn't been that long, obviously since I'm not due for an upgrade yet), I'm getting a new phone!  One that won't get hot (as in battery melting hot) when I charge it or when it's just effing sitting there.  If I get cancer of the ear, let me tell you - I'm hiring Misty, and shit's going down.  So readers, I ask you, what phone can I not live without?  I currently run on Android, but I have mad love for Apple, I've never used a Windows phone - so educate me and tell me what phone you have, the pros and cons, and SELL IT.

C:  I think that Hubs and I are finally going to take a honeymoon this summer.  It will most likely be with the youngest in tow (Violet will be at her mom's), but still fun.  We're talking about going to Florida for a few days, get some sun, become bronzed, maybe Disney, not real sure yet.  What would be super great is if Quinn could go to my folks (or them here so I don't have to board the dogs, wink wink nudge nudge) so I can do nothing but sit in the sand with fruity concoctions for a few days.  Why Kelly, are you planning on spending your entire vacation shithoused if there are no children involved?  Yes, yes I am. Not only is it long overdue, it will helpfully let me forget that I'm not wearing much for clothes and I can enjoy myself.  Beach vacation + horrible body image = have to be drunk to relax.  Sad, but true.  Now where's that mai tai...

I'm so crafty, I invented a holiday.

Well, not really.  I'm letting Violet skip school today Violet has appointments all day.  We haven't seen Hubs since Sunday afternoon, and he finally made it home last night after a whole bunch of fuckery that required, well, I just get pissed when I think about it, so let's just say because of one person's fuck up, they all got punished.

Anyway, we decided that since she got straight A's (HOLLA!) that school wasn't necessary today.  And if the danged dogs didn't need to pee, I would have been able to sleep until 830!!!  Alas, I was up at 630.  At least I got to enjoy some coffee and TV that is NOT NickJr in relative silence.  I even got 30 minutes to ogle listen to Bill Hemmer this morning.  Yep, I watch Fox.  I'm moderately conservative, and well, really, I just can't stand the anchors on the other news channels, I hate GMA and Today, and don't get me started on our local channels.  This is where I'd talk about the wonderment that is KTLA and how much I miss the LA morning shows and how awesome it is to have weathermen with names like Dallas Raines and Lance Mountain, but I'd be digressing.

Wow.  Okay, so the whole point of this was to say that we're all home today, and feeling better, and are looking forward to a day of just hanging out with each other.  It's been a while.  I hope everyone has a great weekend - I'm hoping for some sun, since it's been a freaking week, and it's really wreaking havoc on my mood.

Also?  There's some red velvet cheesecake brownie swirl things on the agenda.  Yeah, I said it.

Wishes I wish that require a genie.

I wish my dogs' farts smelled like baked goods rather than rotten eggs.  I'm afraid the stench is being absorbed into every fiber in this house.  Permanently.

I wish The Jetsons' way of life was real.  Now.

I wish Merry Maids would show up.  For free.

I wish Mary Poppins would land in my backyard.  So I could shower whenever I felt like it, not just when the little one is caged asleep.

I wish I could snap my fingers and I'd be showered, coiffed, and presentable.  I desperately need a shower, but I don't have the energy.  And it's not even 8 am.  Sad.

I wish traveling by floo powder was an actual possibility.

I wish my Christmas decorations would take themselves down.  They'll be down by February.  I'm sure of it.  Maybe.

I wish it was time for an upgrade on my phone.

I wish I had something witty to share this morning.  Alas, I don't.  I'm kind of in a funk.  I wish I could find my funny.  It's probably hiding behind all the crap that needs cleaned in this house.  But no worries, I'm gonna make this place shiiiiiiiiiiiine like the top of the Chrysler Building!  And the sun will come out tomorrow, Amen.

Vagina = Virginia? It does in our house.

Last night, I had "THE TALK", and it didn't require pickling my liver afterwards!  Surprisingly, it went really well.  And, I found out that even though fifth graders sit in the back of the bus, there's no sexually inappropriate business (talk or actions) going on (prayer works, people!).  And I believe her, since A) she's a huge nark, and 2) she can't fake not knowing stuff like that.  I can read her like a book, which really pisses her off.  Heh.

Really, it was more about the girly business that is headed our way like a runaway freight train rather than the sex part, but since she FINALLY asked how babies are made, I told her.  And didn't even vomit in my mouth.  Not once.  Instead of giving a lecture, or reading off the Tampax website, I just answered her questions.

She did think that when I said "vagina" I said "Virginia", which led her to declare that her vag is now named after one of the 50 states.  It also led to a greatly needed laugh session, because a) who doesn't name their vagina, and II) nothing like busting up the potentially most awkward discussion of your life (besides telling your boyfriend you've got the herpies or the clap) with a good laugh.

DISCLAIMER:  My vagina does not have a name.  Nor will I be throwing any "WELCOME TO WOMANHOOD!" parties.  I do reserve the right to drink as though I'm throwing a frat house kegger once we're on the same cycle and PMSing at the same time.

My epitaph: She Was Fucking Tired.

Can you die from lack of sleep?  Because I think that's exactly what's going to happen today.  My insomnia is back (that's what happens when you run out of the good pills and your doctor recommends mela-fucking-tonin instead of a refill "just to see how it works") with a vengeance.  Okay, so I admit, I haven't exactly tried the melatonin yet, so I shouldn't rag on it.  Why haven't I tried it?  Well, I just got some yesterday (was kind of hoping the exercise would kick the not being able to fall asleep to the curb, but not so much), and when I was thinking about taking it, I remembered that we were to have severe weather late in the night.  Last thing I need is to be sleeping so soundly I don't hear Jim Cantone call me to tell me I'm about to be transported to Oz via tornado.  Turns out the phone did ring several times in the night due to various warnings and shit, but after watching the news, the hairy shit was southeast enough of us we'd thankfully be  missed.  (Keeping the families of the two who died in Alabama storms last night in our prayers.)

So bad weather over at about 0220 this morning, I crawl back in bed, get my covers back from the Hubs, and get into "my spot", and Captain Awesome lets out a blood-curdling scream.  Like "MOM I'M BEING ATTACKED BY MUTANT SCORPIONS" scream.  Turns out when you refuse to eat your dinner, you get a little hungry in the middle of the night. (NO WAY.) So a sippy cup of milk later, some snuggles, and it's back to bed for me, to realize in about 6 minutes THE FUCKING ALARM CLOCK is going to go off for Hubs to get to work at zero dark thirty.  Alarm goes off, he goes to work, cries ensue from Quinn's room, cries stop (molars are fucking KILLING me, y'all)... long story long, I fell asleep about 430.  To be up at 615 with a mastiff nose snuffling my face.

Such was my night.  All thoughts of being productive have gone out the window.  Bonus to all this malarkey is I finally got the hall closet cleaned out since it is our tornado shelter... but now I have to put all that shit back.  Balls.

I'd better take advantage of Quinn's naptime today and snooze myself because tonight?  I get to talk to The Preteen about periods and how babies are made.  I know you're insanely jealous.  Stay tuned, because the recap of tonight is sure to be full of embarrassing hilarity (read: I'm winging this shit.).

Eff today. Right in the ear.

I am so tired of us being sick!  As soon as one gets better, the other one gets it, and it is really wreaking havoc on my usual rainbows and unicorns shooting out of my ass mood.  Feverish little boys who don't sleep well but really want to play and get really ornery and their ears stop working require more coffee than I've consumed today so far.  Why haven't I had any coffee?  Because I've been busy cleaning up dumped out spit cups (THANK you, Hubs), cleaning up the above-mentioned feverish boy who thought "Oh lookie!  A puddle of goo for me to stomp, splatter, and sit in!", furiously mopping to keep said kid out of mess, pushing dogs aside rather unsuccessfully (since one got a mouthful), and then cleaning up dog barf from said mouthful.

THEN... Captain Not-So-Awesome, decided that it would be FUN to take off his diaper -which he had freshly filled with poop- and scatter it around the house.  Try keeping two dogs from eating turds, while getting a new diaper on the kid (cleaning up pee is NOT on my list of things I want to do today), trying to find all the poop, hoping none rolled into the heat vents, and eventually thinking "Well, we'll know when it starts to FUCKING REEK in here later..."

This sounds like I'm complaining.  I am.  I love being a mom and being able to stay at home with my kids, but mornings like this make me yearn for sitting in a boring-ass meeting with coffee that hasn't had a chance to get cold, or being on Facebook during work hours.  I know that soon this morning will be a hilarious memory, but right now it sucks.  And I'm out of booze.  AGAIN.

Here's to a calmer afternoon!  Have a great weekend!

I need minions. WHY DON'T I HAVE MINIONS???

Really, I don't neeeeeeeeeed minions.  I fricking WANT them.  Like right now, some of them would be folding the mountain of laundry and putting it away, some would be deep cleaning the kitchen (to include cleaning out the fridge - I haaaaaate that job), some would be scrubbing The Hubs' bathroom (because you can't pay me enough to clean that nasty ass germ factory - and no, I don't use it, therefore, I don't clean it), some would be going through all the shit in the garage that still needs gone through, some would be taking down the Christmas decorations that are still up, and most importantly...

SOME WOULD GO TO STARBUCKS FOR ME.  WHENEVER I WANTED THEM TO.  And they'd never need to ask what I wanted, because they're my fucking minions, so they already know.

Ahh... the thought is just so delicious.  And when I say "minion", I don't mean the little yellow-goggle-wearing things from Despicable Me (which I hated, and I think I'm the only person who didn't like that movie), but cabana boys.  Scantily clad cabana boys.  Foldin' up the laundry.  Mmm... mama likey.

Back to your regularly scheduled programming.

The First Amendment Rocks My Face Off.

Fuck censorship.  Even if I don't agree with what you say, you have the goddamned right to say it in my country.

Do something today - call a congressperson, sign an online petition, be heard.

That is all.

Haiku? I'm fine, how are you?

Because I'm an amazing poet?  No.  Because I'm inspired by the day that looks frigid yet is humid as fuck outside?  Uh, no.  Because I love the word haiku and imagine that Hello Kitty invented them?  Maayyybee...

Glorious coffee
I chugged and burnt my throat fuck
Nectar of the Gods

Oh darling Sampson
Your ass smells like rotten eggs
Good thing you are cute

I need to get up
Christmas stuff still on my walls
Blanket is too warm

Kid hit snooze alarm
Took thirty minutes to eat
Miss bus you will walk

Little would not sleep
Mama's sleeping pill kicked in
Did you sleep at all?

When do kids sleep in
I would like to sleep 'til ten
Not gonna happen

Oh bus please hurry
Cannot stand snotty preteen
Too early for wine

Dogs you fucking dogs
Are quickly driving me nuts
Run away please God

I think that pretty much sums up my current feelings in the form of ancient Hello Kitty poetry.  And Mrs. Friedrichs thought I wasn't paying attention in class.  Psshaw.

ZOMGSNOWPACOLYPSE!!!!!!

Okay.  I've determined in my 35 years on this planet that I *may* have more common sense than the average spider monkey, but sweet Jeebus, this takes the cake.

Our beloved school system cancelled school today, and cited this rationale (I'm quoting this from their FB post): "All schools are closed today, Friday, January 13, 2012. While main roads are passable, there are potentially dangerous conditions on side roads, subdivisions and on school campuses."  POTENTIALLY.  Not "This is the Superintendent, and I actually got my ass out of bed this morning to check shit out, and it sucks", but "there's the slightest chance that somewhere in the county, the roads suck, so have fun with your kids today, and hey, sorry that they're going to bitch all day because today was their pizza party for good behavior in the lunchroom, so have a great four-day weekend with your kids being complete dicks."

Now, it is possible that in some areas it might be a little slick, considering the four hours of rain we had before it started snowing, but it is certainly not a "OMG GET OUT OF MY WAY I NEED BOTTLED WATER AND CANDLES AND CANNED FOOD AND BLANKETS AND SPACE HEATERS!!!!!" kind of situation.  In fact, the grass isn't even covered with snow.  There's not enough to make a decent snowball, much less a snowman.  Oh, and did I mention the high for today is above freezing and the sun is out?

Yeah.

Welcome to Barnum and Bailey's! I mean, my house.

So as you all know, my little family consists of me and The Hubs, The Preteen, and Captain Awesome.  And a West Highland White Terrier, Roxie:

This is her "I can't believe you brought home another
fucking dog" face. She's probably also contemplating
how to kill me and/or Sampson in our sleep. 

And a Bull Mastiff, Sampson:

He looks very cute and calm in this picture.  It doesn't
last long.  And he's probably put on a good 10 lbs
and four inches since then.  He's going to be a hoss.
A big, dumb, hoss. Who army crawls because he's
that lazy.  And hates the outdoors.  "You want me to go
OUT? Whatev.  Carry me, human."

Let me describe to you exactly what is going on in my house at this exact moment.  The Preteen just walked out the door to get the bus, Captain Awesome is doing the coo-coo bird dance with Jack on Jack's Big Music Show (YES, the TV is on already.  Don't judge.)  Roxie is trying to show Sampson (who easily doubles her in size) that she rules his shit, and he ain't picking up on it too quickly.  So there's some snarling, and barking, and yipping, and whining, and oh, now Roxie is running down the hall and Sampson is galloping.  Seriously, he gallops.  And he tries to hump her constantly.  He's not fixed yet, but she is, so we won't have any mutant dumb galloping fuzzballs running around, but I really don't want to answer "Mom, WHY IS SAMPSON DOING THAT???"  Quinn just shoved three pieces of cereal bar in his mouth, turned on the light, the ceiling fan, and dumped the crumbs off his plate onto the floor, and is now licking the plate and going "ahhh", like it was a hugely refreshing drink.

I'm going to vacuum in about 3.5 minutes, and although I'm certainly not talented enough (yet) to blog and vac at the same time, this is what's going to happen. Quinn will chase me with the vacuum trying to sit on it, the dogs will chase me trying to attack the vacuum, because obviously it is this alien being trying to abduct me, or something.  The rest of the time will be me, yelling at all three to get the hell out of the way, and if "ALL Y'ALL DIDN'T LIVE HERE I WOULDN'T HAVE TO DO THIS 2174981 TIMES A DAY!"  Then, I'll nuke the coffee that has gotten cold, contemplate the meaning of life, and wish we had a bottle of Bailey's in the fridge.

Thank You, Captain Obvious.

I just received (like 15 minutes ago) an email from X employer, thanking me for applying, but the position has been filled.

I applied October 11, 2011.  Three months ago.  I kind of assumed I didn't get an interview.  Derp.

Facebook Conversations: The Storage Wars Edition

Someday, Barry, you'll hit the
motherlode. Besides, you rock
a bowling shirt much better
than Charlie Sheen, so that's
WINNING.

It all started with a seemingly harmless statement about how I want Barry from Storage Wars to come over for dinner and drinks. I absolutely love Barry.  He's an eccentric old perv who finds the most random shit, never makes money, and is just fantastic.  He also has these ridiculously awesome skeleton gloves he wears to go through the storage units.  Anyway, the conversation started about Barry, but it soon led to the other characters, namely...

Dickhead Dave.  YUUUP.  

Dave.  Whom I like to call "Dickhead Dave", because he's a raging asshole who will run up the price on a unit just because he can.  And his "YUUUUUUUUUUUP" that he says to bid?  Makes me want to poke my own eyes out with bamboo skewers, and poke him in the face with a cattle prod.  People who are asshats just because they can be should be put in the town square and have shit thrown at them.  And when I say shit, I don't mean stuff, I mean shit.  Great big balls of shit.  "LEARN SOME HUMILITY, ASSHOLE!" *splat*

Maybe you'll find a man-bra in a storage unit
one of these days, Darrell.  THAT's the wow
factor for ya.

The absolute best part of the conversation was about this guy. Darrell.  Darrell is an intense guy who - you know, I know nothing about Darrell except he NEVER wears sleeves, could really benefit from a good waxing, and as my friend Court pointed out, has a massive set of MOOBS. Please, tell me that I wasn't the only person who had never heard of man boobs referred to as moobs before!?  I thought I was going to pee - not only because Darrell totally has moobs - which are bigger than my boobs, just sayin' - but because moobs is my new favorite word.  Ever.  In fact, Storage Wars is now named "Moob Time" in our house.  It's never going to get old.


All joking aside, I fricking love this show.  If it weren't for A&E, I really don't think I'd feel any sort of normal.  Thank you, A&E, for airing Hoarders to make me clean my house, Storage Wars to remind me that I have enough shit of my own to go buying other people's crap, Billy the Exterminator to make me thankful I don't live in fucking Louisiana, and Beyond Scared Straight for parenting tips.

Can Deluded Kelly come out and play?

Oh you guys.  OH YOU GUYS.  I did something that I'm really questioning after sleeping on it.  Well, not sleeping ON it, duh.  Sleeping on my laptop wouldn't exactly be comfortable.  I registered for a 5K.  And not only that, another 5K, and TWO, yes TWO half marathons.

I think I need to pee in a cup.  ME?  Ms. "I can come up with any excuse not to exercise to include but not limited to alien invasion" is going to "DO A 5K"????

Yep, I'm gonna.  On February 18, there is a fundraiser here in town that has a serious 5K, a walk/run, and a family walk/run.  Since The Hubs is going to be off out of state doing things that the Army tells him to for the Army, The Preteen is going to walk it with me, and Captain Awesome will be strapped into a stroller, enjoying himself immenseily, as long as there is milk and chocolate Teddy Grahams for him to nosh on.  (Speaking of, that's practically the only thing I can get him to eat lately, but I suppose it could be worse.)  So really, I'm doing that one solo.

On March 31, there is a 5K down the road a piece that I'm going to attempt to run the majority of the way.  I'm starting Couch to 5K today, and the timing is right for me to be able to run the 3.1 miles by then.  And if I don't run the whole thing I'm not going to beat myself up.  I mean, really - I worked out 5 days last week, the first time since senior year track practice.  I'll just be fucking proud I finished!

Then.  AND THEN.  Oh shit.  On April 7?  The Hubs and I are attempting a half marathon down in Lynchburg - the Jack Daniels 13.1.  Seriously, I just want the t-shirt.  I hope to run/jog 3.1 of it, and walk the rest.  There's a four hour time limit.  I got this shit.

Even worse?  Better?  I don't fucking know - On April 28, I just got talked into the Nashville Rock and Run for St. Judes.  Evidently I'm "a pussy" if I don't.  Well fuck THAT.  Challenge ACCEPTED.

AND THEN... In October, I plan on doing a half with my gal pals Katrina and Courtney in Kansas City.  The three of us were in the Alpha Phi house at Washburn University together, and not only are we sisters in that sense, I would very much choose them to be my sisters, period.  They make me laugh until I pee, and then laugh at me for peeing.  They're awesome that way.

Any running tips, playlist suggestions, motivation would be greatly appreciated.  I'm going to try to do this without any major injury, as we know how graceful I am.  Thank GOD there's no flights of stairs involved.  Otherwise, I'd totally need my money back.

As if the new CROP of gray hairs wasn't enough...

Okay, so Happy New Year, resolution time, blah blah whatever - I took a challenge to be healthier.  I figured if it was something I had to fork over a little bit of cash for and I get a t-shirt (YESSSS!), I'm in.  So I have committed to 120 minutes of exercise per week, and some other little goodies (if you want to check it out, you can at http://dolifemovement.com.  It's a way to get healthier both physically and mentally, and who doesn't need that at any time of the year, right?  Right.

Anyway, I think I've mentioned before that exercise and I are not friends, hence the size of my heiney.  I've never gotten the OMGTHEENDORPHINSILOVETOWORKOUTZOMG crap that people "talk" about.  I say "talk" because I think they're full of shit, and that feeling is the dizzies you get right before you pass out.  But now that I'm a parent, and a role model (I still choke a little bit trying to say that), I need to get my proverbial shit together so that my kids don't become molded to the couch with playstation controllers stuck to their grubby little hands.

That being said, I've exercised four days in a row, and this is what I've learned:

1. It's not that bad if you can something you can tolerate.  I don't mind the stationary bike, because I can read at the same time.  I don't mind the treadmill, because I can catch up on the ol' DVR while doing that.  Kind of.  I'm not the best at multitasking in that way, but I need more than music to focus on while putting myself through this torture working on a better me.
2. I freaking REEK.  I really need to cut down on the amount of garlic I cook with.  Holy shit.
3. I. Am. Old.  As in, I'm pretty sure my muscles have atrophied in certain spots.  I attempted yoga last night, and I think I dislocated a hip.

So, if you're looking for me today, you'll find me in the recliner, with ice packs on my hips, abs, and shoulders - actually, I'll just fill the bathtub with ice and be in there.  With my laptop, shopping for a walk-in bathtub, a home-health aide, and ordering reading glasses, denture adhesive, and a bunch of polyester and elastic so I can start making my age-appropriate pants.

Happy Friday. :)

Good Tidings of Comfort = Projectile Vomiting

Happy New Year, y'all!  The last couple of weeks have been kind of a blur, nothing much interesting went on other than we were all attacked by the plague flu, which decided to strike on Christmas Eve.  Nothing like projectile vomiting to celebrate the birth of Christ.

This whole holiday season was full of last minute decisions.  Upon realizing that we would rather be waterboarded rather than to take the four of us plus now two dogs in a Honda CR-V for 12ish hours, we traded vehicles kind of spur of the moment.  I now drive a bus Ford Expedition.  2007.  Rad.  I now need new cool sunglasses and a cool haircut to go with my "I can take the entire neighborhood to soccer practice" mobile.  It is roomy, which is good, because Sampson (our mastiff) will soon take up the entire backseat.  By himself.

Not to be outdone, The Hubs decided he was ready for an upgrade from the ol' Neon (it's okay if you want to laugh.  I've laughed at that poor car for almost five years.) to a mid-life crisis Mustang.  It's pretty sharp and ridiculous all in one.

Anyway, we made it to Kansas just fine, spent our retirement in gas, but got to have Christmas with my family.  Captain Awesome was anything but awesome on Christmas Eve, whiny and crabby, and a complete pain in the rear end.  He didn't want to eat, didn't want to drink, didn't want presents, his diaper was dry, so he sat on my mom's lap, just kind of being an asshole the entire time.  So we do presents (which was awesome, I was completely surprised by everything I opened this year - well, except what I wrapped for myself...lol) and I take the little guy to take a bath (which usually perks him up) and get him in his jammies.  We're snuggling, watching some cartoons, and lo!  Projectile ravioli!  Seriously, it went a good three feet.  I was kind of impressed.  Well, four bouts of puking later, he finally slept for about four hours straight, and was just completely zombified the rest of the trip.  Poor kiddo.  The Hubs and my bro had it, too.  I didn't get hit with it until after we got back, and about two days after I started feeling better, Violet got nailed with it.

BUT!  JOY OF JOYS!  School started today - finally - and we're all back to being healthy.  Kind of.  Little guy has a fever, but his breath is so disgusting, I'm pretty sure he's getting ready for one of his last teeth to come in.  That, and he's chewing on one of the dog's rawhide sticks like it's a life source, so I'm just going to chalk it up to teeth.  I reeeeeeeeeeally needed him to take like a 7 hour nap this afternoon, but we don't always get what we want, says the Rolling Stones, so Mr. Cranky Pants and I have been hanging out the majority of the day, getting nothing done, because he refuses to leave my side/get off my lap.

I hope everyone had a great holiday!  2012 started with the pukes, so there's nowhere to go but up, right?  RIGHT?