Obviously Cindy-Lu is a special shining star of a girl, but I’m going to be honest here for a moment. The girl scares the shit out of me. I have this fear that one day she might grow up to be the friendly neighborhood serial killer.

Oh, who am I kidding? Friendly? Cindy-Lu? Not likely.

She’s a good girl and she’s usually pretty sweet. And, Lord knows, she’s beautiful beyond words, but that girl…well, let me give you a few examples.

Eeyore and Cindy-Lu were playing nicely together when I heard the following exchange:

Cindy-Lu: If you don’t say nice things to me and do things for me then I’m going to kill you.

Eeyore: I’m not going to do that.

Cindy-Lu: Fine then. You want a lollipop? *holds out her empty hand*

Eeyore: Sure! *reaches for her*

Cindy-Lu: *stabbing noises as she pretends to stab his hand*

The fact that she threatened to kill him if he didn’t say nice things to her was bad enough, but then she offered him candy to lure him closer so that she could stab him? Serial killer.

Later in the day, she had the following conversation with me:

Cindy-Lu: Mom, if you don’t let me sleep in your bed tonight I’m going to have a bad dream about you.

Me: Oh, no! I hope it’s not too scary, because you aren’t sleeping with me tonight!

Cindy-Lu: Okay then. I’m going to dream that you have tape over your mouth and all around your arms and legs so you can’t talk or move.

Me: *finding a weapon to sleep with, just in case*

Seriously. The girl scares me.

I don’t even know how long it’s been since my last post, mostly because my blog is being dumb and not loading for me. Huh. Wonder how long that’s been going on? Oh, there. It loaded. How nice.

So, I actually have interesting stories to tell you, but I feel like an asshole coming back and being all “Let me tell what has been going on with meeeeeee!” So, how about we compromise?

How have you been?

That’s nice. Let me tell you about meeeeeeee.

I hired a housekeeper and she ruined my life. I should clarify that it was just a one time cleaning deal so that you don’t all hate me. We are selling our house (no, really. I know I say that every few months, but this time I mean it. The sign goes up Thursday! THURSDAY!) and I’m a pretty crappy wife so I needed a professional to come in and clean the junk off the front of my oven (dude, my oven SPARKLES now! Like Edward’s skin!) and scrub the pee stains from the floor around my toilet. She did a lovely job, but while she was here cleaning I had to leave the house. It just would have been too embarrassing to be here while she scrubbed away my failure, you know?

I did something that I’m not proud of while the housekeeper was here.

I took the children to the McDonald’s play place. That place is just so wrong. I don’t understand why, but bad parents just FLOCK there.

Anyway, I totally could have handled the 2 hour trip at the play place, but then the kids made friends. When it was time for us to leave the little snot nosed brats told my kids that they come EVERY. SINGLE. MONDAY.

You can imagine what the past week has sounded like around here, right?

“Mom? What day is it? Is it Monday? Is tomorrow Monday? Are my friends at McDonald’s?”

Today was Monday, so I took them back to the play place just to shut them up and SURPRISE, their friends weren’t even there.

I made friends though. The mom sitting next to me couldn’t help but love me when my daughter shouted at the top of her lungs that she sure was glad that mommy sitting there (finger pointing at the lady directly next to me, totally in punching distance) wasn’t her mommy. Me: Oh God. Oh God. Cindy-Lu. Please go play.

The mom, thankfully, didn’t punch me. Instead she befriended me and told me all about her life and SWEAR TO GOD offered me a bite of her ice cream.

I blame the housekeeper for the sad turn my life has taken. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be sucking on a stranger’s ice cream cone. (Okay, so I politely told the lady I wasn’t hungry.)

And, now it’s time for your daily weekly monthly dose of pictures of my children and Cleatus.

Also, if you follow me on facebook you’ve already seen a couple of these pictures, so I apologize.

I haven’t done a meme in, oh, about 2 years, but this one actually looked kind of fun. So here you have it. (I yanked this from Swistle, by the way.)

Eggnog or hot chocolate? I have never, not once, tried Eggnog and one of my life goals is to never, not once, try Eggnog. Cleatus and the kids have been trying to think of ways to get some Eggnog in my mouth without me knowing it’s coming (like dripping it in there while I’m asleep or some shit), but they will not succeed. So, I guess the short answer to the question is: Hot Chocolate, please, with marshmallows.

Does Santa wrap the presents or leave them open under the tree? Santa wraps them in special Santa only paper. Some years we have the kids pick out the special Santa paper and they leave it under the tree for him to use, but other years I decide that wrapping everything after they are in bed is too much work and I buy paper myself and slowly wrap the gifts throughout the month of December.

Colored lights on a tree or white? White on my tree, colored on the kids’ tree. Next year, though, I am hoping to get a white tree with colored lights, but the chance of me convincing Cleatus of that is about zero.

Do you hang mistletoe? Nope. I’ve never even been kissed under mistletoe. How sad!

When do you put your decorations up? Much to Cleatus’s dismay, we usually put everything up the week before Thanksgiving. I like Christmas, okay?

What is your favorite holiday dish? The side dishes. All of them. Keep your ham, give me all the carbs and veggies and cheese filled side dishes.

Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? We open gifts from our extended family on Christmas Eve, but everything from us and Santa gets opened Christmas morning. Except for the one present I talk Cleatus into letting the kids open the week before Christmas. I’m such a cool mom.

How do you decorate your Christmas tree? My tree is pretty boring, covered in brown, gold, and maroon balls, some bows, and a couple of “fancy” decorations. By fancy, I mean something that was purchased as a single ornament, instead of in a value pack of 12. I usually buy the fancy ornaments during the big Target clearance sale after Christmas. The kids’ tree is a mish-mash of homemade crap treasures and ugly but colorful ornaments they love.

Snow: love it or hate it? I love it, but only when it’s clean. I don’t like the brown, muddy slush crap.

Can you ice skate? Are you kidding me?

What is your favorite holiday dessert? That’s tough. I don’t think I have a favorite. I love these butter cookies (mm, butter) and these little buttons are always fun to pop in my mouth every effing time I walk through the kitchen.

What is your favorite holiday tradition? I’d like to say it’s reading a nice, wholesome Christmas story by the fireplace every evening while sipping hot cocoa before bed, but we don’t actually do that, so I guess opening my presents. Sorry, but I’m still a kid at heart when it comes to Christmas. Opening presents? Best part.

Candy canes: yum or yuck? Eh. Whatever. I don’t eat them, but they aren’t gross.

Favorite Christmas show? Probably Rudolph. I like Rudolph.

Well, that was fun. And now I’m officially in the Christmas spirit (by which I mean, ready to open gifts)! Hope y’all have a great holiday filled with cookies and lots of boxes full of fun things to unwrap!

Oh, and don’t step in any reindeer poo.

I generally don’t send Christmas cards. I know, I hear you all wagging your fingers at me. Its not that I have no Christmas spirit (my Christmas tree is already up I have so much Christmas spirit!), it’s just that I’m too lazy. There is all the searching for the perfect card, writing heartfelt bullshit inside the cards, digging up addresses for everyone, addressing the cards, going to the post office to purchase stamps, and finally walking all the way down my loooooong driveway to put the envelopes in the mail.

Baby Jesus wouldn’t want me to strain myself, you know? So I just don’t send cards.

This year, however, I decided that I would send out cards, but not just any generic store bought card, I was going to send out PICTURE CARDS. Because I am insane.

Here are just a few of the pictures from our little holiday card picture taking session we had in the backyard this afternoon:

No.

Nope.

Huh uh.

Uh, no.

Gettin’ closer.

Almost there!

…

Sadly, this story has no happy ending. I didn’t get the perfect holiday card picture. I do love all the above pictures though, just because it shows how much those two love each other and what fun they have together.

How about you? Are you all mature and responsible? Do you send out holiday cards?

I’m sure this will come as a huge shock to all of you out there, but this little blog of mine is sort of, well, not the most important thing in my life at the moment. I have tried, OH MY GOD I HAVE TRIED, to keep up with it, to post daily, to post every couple of days, to post just ONCE A FUCKING WEEK FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST, but I just can’t. For some reason, no, for a lot of reasons, it’s just not there anymore.

I’m not quitting blogging. I’ll just say that now and get it out of the way.

BUT!

I stress out about this space and how I should be filling it with all my words. I write little posts in my head and then I think of all the reasons that I shouldn’t post them here. Things have changed between then and now and I don’t know why they changed or even what it was that changed, but lately I’ve been feeling like my life is, well, private. Strange, coming from the girl who blogged somewhat regularly about her vagina, I know.

For some strange reason my kids are getting older. Weird, right? Anyway, I feel guilt that I rarely ever post about Eeyore. Is he going to one day look back at this and wonder where he was? Why didn’t I ever talk about him? Did I even love him? (And, yes, I will let my kids read this one day when they are much older and no I don’t think it will scar them or ruin their lives or make them think I hated them, but thanks for worrying about them for me, you  judgmental concerned asshole citizen of the internet.) Yet, I don’t want to write about him on the internet anymore because he’s nine years old now. There’s too much that I could say at this age that will embarrass him or bother him or just make him uncomfortable. He’s not young enough to make fun of anymore, dammit.

Cindy-Lu is fair game still, considering she’s only four, and fully deserving of being made fun of now and again. (Just today she proudly showed me a gold coin with the “Statue of Livery” on it. See? She’s an easy target.) Still, it seems wrong to write of her so often and Eeyore so little.

Here’s the part you won’t even believe, though. It’s Cleatus. He’s not even pissing me off anymore. I KNOW. We’ve been married for nearly ten years now and it’s like I’ve actually started to like him or something. It’s ridiculous, and yet, I can’t ask him to start pissing me off for blog fodder, because I’m enjoying him too much lately.

I’ve told him that the only solution is for us to have another baby, because can you imagine all the material I’d have to blog about? The sleepless nights, the poopy diapers, the being vomited on all the effing time! It’d be great. Cleatus is still an asshole in that respect though, and he said that under no circumstances will he have his vasectomy reversed so that I can blog more often.

Are any of you still reading this? If so, you are some seriously dedicated Wiping Up Snot fans and I love you.

I just needed to let you all know that I may not be here very often, but I DO still think of you all quite a bit. I am most definitely still reading blogs, but I need to be a better commenter. I am writing a couple times a week at Buns In My Oven. I’m not quitting. I’ll continue to pay the hosting fees for this site. I can’t imagine actually quitting, but I just may not write here that often.

So, there it is. I had to get that out there, so that I could stop feeling so guilty about not posting. Maybe losing the pressure I’ve put on myself to blog more often will help clear things up for me and I’ll feel more comfortable in the space again.

My first job after having Eeyore was at a collection agency. I had stayed home from work for nearly two years when we realized that no, we can’t actually afford this, are you fucking kidding me? So, I got a job. It actually paid pretty decently, and would have paid even better had I ever collected anyone’s money and gotten the bonus they kept dangling in front of me as an incentive for being an uncaring bitch who wouldn’t take no for an answer. I vaguely remember some sort of cheer we did every Friday morning about it being payday for the scumbags who owed us money. It was a warm and loving environment to work in, that’s for sure.

Anyway, I flashed back on this job today as I pulled up to a four-way stop on the way home from pre-school. You see, that four-way stop? It was where I died.

Less than a week into my new job and I was on my way home from work. One of the guys that worked there was in the other lane right next to me as we pulled up to this four-way stop (should four-way have a hyphen?). I get nervous at four-way stops anyway, but to have this guy that I barely know sitting next to me? It was awkward. So, I look over and kind of wave at him, like “hi, I’m a total douchebag who gets freaked out at four-way stops and panics about whose turn it is, oh god, is it MY turn, no, your turn, SHIT!” and the asshole revved his engine at me. Because I am a complete and utter moron I thought “Oh, wow, he’s cool. I’ll just rev my engine back at him and then we’ll be best friends forever,” only SURPRISE! I DON’T KNOW HOW TO REV MY ENGINE.

So, I floored it. I just, you know, stepped on the gas. That’s how you rev an engine, right? Only first you put it in neutral or step on the brake with your other foot, you idiot, and I forgot that part. So, there I am, all nervous at the four-way stop, during rush hour, next to my new co-worker and I wave at him and then FLOOR IT out into the middle of the road when it WASN’T MY TURN and everyone starts honking at me and BAM! I DIED.

Not from the impact of hitting another vehicle, because by some lucky twist of fate, I didn’t hit another car, but I died all the same. From the embarassment.

So, what’d you do this morning? How lovely.

Me? Oh, you know, the usual. Questioned suspects, wore a bullet proof vest, and staked out the preschool. Completely normal day for your average stay at home mom.

Yeah. So. Today.

Let’s back up, shall we?

This morning the kids and I hopped in the minivan to take Cindy-Lu to preschool. AT A CHURCH. Where the people are good! And churchy!

I pretty much NEVER drive the van anywhere, because, well, it’s a van and Cleatus’s car is infinitely more cool and it uses less gas. Today, for some weird reason, we took the van. The big, shiny, hard not to notice minivan.

I pulled on to the road for the preschool and instead of turning into my usual parking lot spot, I parked on the road opposite of the parking lot. Then I left Eeyore in the car and walked Cindy-Lu into school.

Anyway, long story long, some asshole backed out of the parking lot and bumped into my van WITH MY CHILD IN IT, ALL ALONE, OH GOD, and then he drove off! WHAT KIND OF CHURCHY PEOPLE DO I ASSOCIATE WITH, ANYWAY? Asshole.

Now, obviously this man wasn’t thinking, because he had just dropped his child off at preschool and GEE, SOMEONE HAS TO COME BACK AND PICK HER UP IN 2 HOURS! Asshole.

So, I called the cops, an officer came and staked the place out with me. I had to wear a bullet proof vest JUST IN CASE (you know how those churchy people can get!) (I’m totally kidding, I didn’t wear a bullet proof vest. ) (But, I did have to hide in the bushes with binoculars.) (No, not really.). The police officer and I questioned every parent driving a big truck and boy, was that fun! I made so many new friends today. I’m sure they’ll be calling me for playdates any time now!

Finally, TEN MOTHEREFFING MINUTES LATE FOR PICK UP (Hoping to avoid me, were you? Asshole.), some guy in a big silver truck pulls up to pick up his kid. The first thing out of his mouth was “Oh, I guess I bumped someone this morning, huh?” YEAH. Asshole. We generally stop and exchange insurance information after an accident, but just DRIVING OFF works too. ASSHOLE.

So, we exchange information and he apologizes and tells me that he had NO IDEA he had hit anyone. He felt a bump, but when he looked? He didn’t see anything back there! Because my MINIVAN is so mini you can’t even see it. Asshole. And I’m sure he didn’t hear the big crunch that people halfway across the parking lot heard. Also, he didn’t see the van ROCKING AROUND and FLINGING MY BABY TO THE FLOOR (okay, so he wasn’t actually flung to the floor, but he ALMOST fell out of his seat)! Asshole!

So, yeah, the moral of this story is this: People are assholes.

I’m over here today making you drool. You’re welcome or I’m sorry, whichever fits.

NaBloPoMo can suck it. This is Sunday! The day of rest! It’s also a holiday weekend! You aren’t actually sitting at your computer reading this. You are out enjoying your holiday.

And, yet. Here I am. Blogging. Because I said I would. Because I am a total douche.

Speaking of God (hey, the title mentioned him), have any of you read The Shackby William Young? As I’m sure you all know, I’m not much of a Jesus freak. I don’t go to church and I don’t read the Bible. I don’t agree with what most churches teach and I dunno, I just have my own little religion.  I do believe there is a God and I do believe that he is quite like the God in the book The Shack. If you’ve not read it, you really should. Even if you aren’t churchy. Even if you ARE churchy. It’s a really interesting book. (No, I was not paid or asked to pimp this book. Do you really think anyone would choose my blog to do a review of a book about God?)

Ha. I opened up my laptop with no idea what the eff I was going to say and out comes GOD. Obviously, NaBloPoMo is detrimental to my mental health.

While all of you bitches are off giddily shopping for school supplies and backpacks and new shoes so that you can send your babies away for 8 hours a day, I’m stuck at home creating schedules and lesson plans and trying to restrain myself from driving over to the nearest public school and begging them to take my kids. Don’t get me wrong, I still love homeschooling.

Well, no, that’s kind of a lie.

I love what homeschooling does for my family. I love the flexibility, I love that my kids get to spend time with their daddy (he works weird hours and they’d never see him if they went to public school), I love having a reason to buy truck loads of books. I love that I don’t worry about bullies or bad influences. I love that my son’s teacher likes him and treats him nicely (most of the time). I love not having to wake up at 6am to get everyone out the door on time. I love not spreading peanut butter and jelly on bread every god damned morning before I’ve gotten a chance to even shower.

I do NOT love actually, you know, teaching my kids and being patient with them. I don’t love that some days I want nothing more than to lock them in their rooms and demand that they KEEP IT DOWN, MUMMY WANTS TO DRINK HER VODKA IN PEACE. I don’t love spending mumblemumblesevenhundredmumbledollars on books and knowing that I’ll be spending more throughout the year when I find books that look SO GREAT I can’t pass them up even though I have a pile of books that we’ll never get to already. I don’t love all this planning and scheduling and staying sober so that I don’t accidentally schedule Eeyore to practice his alphabet and Cindy-Lu to practice her long division. I also don’t love long division. I really don’t love that Eeyore wants to learn computer programming and I’m going to have to teach it to him.

I’m just a big whiner today. I don’t love that either. It’s just that everyone else gets so happy and cheerful at this time of year, because they know that soon, so very soon, summer break is over. I’m jealous, yo.

I’m not quite ready for fourth grade AND kindergarten this year. I’m scared. Cindy-Lu could totally kick my ass if she tried and God knows, she’ll probably try. Eeyore is in fourth grade this year and I really feel like we need to push a little harder. Book reports and speeches and term papers and the SATs. You know, usual fourth grade shit.

I guess I do get to participate in a little back to school excitement though, since Cindy-Lu starts three days of pre-school in September. Yes, even though I homeschool I still send her to pre-school. Yes, I know you think that’s weird. Yes, we are doing Kindergarten and pre-school the same year. Yes, I KNOW, you think that’s nuts.

Did any of you actually read this long rambly post? No? I don’t blame you. It didn’t make a lot of sense, did it?