American Idol Tour

Mr. Schmitty and I went to the American Idol Tour concert last night. Yes, we actually went on a date with no children! Yeah, us!

We had floor seats and were about 20 or so rows back from the stage. We could see perfectly. All in all, it was a great time, even with the mood that I've been in lately. I was just happy to get out with the hubs for a while.

Here is a run down of the performers.

10. Chikezie: Dude, you should have been singing more like THAT during the competition! He was REALLY good!

9. Ramiele Malubay: I love her voice, it's so strong, and for such a little girl. She is so tiny!!!

8. Michael Johns: He was feeling a little under the weather, which you could pick up on at the beginning of his set. His last song was "Dream On" and he ROCKED IT! Though, honestly, I was in a dream state of my own, just looking at the guy. He is HAWT! And he can sing, but I could just listen to him talk in that sexy accent of his all day!

7. Kristy Lee Cook: So many times during the AI season, Kristy came across with no personality in her performance. She was called out on it a few times by the judges. She fell flat. Last night she was in her element! She really performed like she belonged on that stage. I really was pleasantly surprised. The girl is also GORGEOUS!

6. Carly Smithson: My girl!! She started off with "Bring Me To Life" by Evanescence, one of my very favorite songs, and it was awesome. Carly can sing and she just seems like the type of girl you'd want to hang out with. Very cool chick!

5. Brooke White: She is such a sweetheart. She was genuinely appreciative of all of the fans and thanked them over and over. She never disappoints when she sings, especially with "Let It Be".

4. Jason Castro: Nope, sorry, don't get it. I didn't get it during the season and after seeing him live last night, I still don't. I know he has a decent fan base and I'm sure some will be pissed that I wrote this, but he didn't belong there. He definitely should not have made it to the 4th spot. Sorry. When he performs, especially with that ukulele, I picture him sitting on a deserted island, with his dreadlocks and bare feet, under a coconut tree, strumming away. Suddenly a coconut falls and hits him on his coconut. He picks it up, looks at it, laughs, and starts strumming away again. I just call 'em like I see 'em.

3. Syesha Mercado: Amazing voice. Amazing performer. Amazing body! The girl's got calf muscles of rock! And though he won't admit it, Mr. Schmitty was quite amazed at the hooters. She either got some surgery, a "lift", or she had those jelly things tucked in her dress. I don't normally looked at women's breasts, well, yea, I guess I do, because I'm usually envious. Mine used to look like that before kids, now they sag down to my bellybutton, all 500 pounds of them. But I digress. Syesha really is a beautiful girl with a great set of jugs pipes.

2. David Archuleta: On American Idol, I always was aware that this boy could sing. He just wasn't my preference and I thought he wasn't much of a showman. And only because he is so young and is not experienced. I am glad he was the runner-up. Last night when I heard him sing I realized why the race was so close. His voice is absolutely beautiful. He has definitely been blessed. I recorded him on my cell phone, but unfortunately it sounds horrible, so I won't be able to share it. David will have a great career ahead of him. Oh and the fans? THEY ADORE HIM! My ears are still ringing from the screams!

1. David Cook: I really am contemplating leaving Mr. Schmitty for him, but I don't want to be considered a cougar. That's just tacky. I picked him as my favorite very early on in the season. I rooted for him throughout. He is a fantastic performer and he seems so humble. I hope stardom doesn't change that. I can't wait until he releases his first album!

And that, my friends, is that.

I will leave you with this (and remember ladies, he is mine, so paws off!):

Mummy Won't Play That, Though It's Tempting

Mr. Schmitty and I are very strict on what the kids are allowed to watch on television, especially at night. No gore or horror for them. It's all rainbows and bunnies, and unicorns.

You see, all three Schmitty kids are chicken shits scaredy cats, though obviously, R. isn't as much. She's the badass, compared to my boys, but she feeds off of their fears.

As much as I screen their viewing habits, even though I've set the parental controls on their tvs, W. still has friends. And 10 year old friends can be evil. They show you videos on YouTube of Sasquatch, they talk of Vampires, and their older brothers introduce you to Freddie Kruger.

Of course, poop flows downstream, and that means W. fills in T. and R. when he returns home. He whispers to them in his room, telling them of all the monsters under the bed and in the closet. He's such a good boy, sharing with his siblings. His mama sure did teach him right.

We live in a split-level home. When the sun starts to set, the boys will not venture alone, to any level of the house. They must be accompanied at all times. If I ask T. to get something from the pantry, he'll say, "C'mon R." And she'll go, no questions asked.

That's right, your little sister will protect you.

Now, I was afraid of the dark as a child, a direct result of watching Linda Blair spew green, pea soup. I feel my kid's pain, I really do. The problem I have? They try to use it to their advantage.

W. will be playing his Nintendo DS and I will ask him to run to get me some milk. The extra refrigerator is located downstairs in the laundry room. He's too busy trying to beat the gym leader on his Pokemon game, so he'll start whining that he's scared. It's broad daylight. However, if I said, "W., there is a ten dollar bill on the washing machine, you can......" he'd be gone before I finished the sentence.

The boys will be playing in their rooms for hours before bedtime. The second I say, okay, in bed, time for sleep, they start their shenanigans. "I'm scared, I can't sleep....blah, blah, blah!"

Now, I know I sound like a mean, terrible mommy with no compassion. I try, I really do, but when they try to manipulate the situation because they are being lazy or are trying to stall their bedtime, well, it's kind of annoying.

But, I guess I have to just deal until they outgrow it.

Or I could do something like this:

Even I admit, that is just SO wrong in SO many ways!

In A Very Bad Place Today

It is 8:30 pm and I am finally sitting in silence. The kids are in their rooms watching television and Mr. Schmitty is working. I am trying to write this post, but I'm having a hard time putting words together. I have too many thoughts running through my head. I can't make them stop, or at least slow down, so I can grasp one.

I've had a very rough day. I'm at the bottom of a deep, deep well and I'm trying to claw my way to the top. Just when I think I see the ledge, and a slight bit of hope begins to seep into my heart, I slip back down into the darkness. There is no one to call out to. No one to pull me up. My pride, flat-out, won't have it. I am stubbornly self-reliant, one of my greatest assets, yet, one of my greatest flaws.

I've been here before. My current state is familiar, but for some reason, today is the worst I have yet to experience. I know I'll pull through it, I always do, but each time I do, I feel like a piece of me has been crushed. I only pray I haven't crushed the souls of anyone else, specifically, my beautiful children. Whereas, I try to go through the routine of the day, normally, a smile plastered on my face, my children do seem to have a sense that something isn't quite right.

Mommy is sad and they are fully aware.

The depression today is making me a zombie. I am caught inside myself, looking out through my eyes, as though they are windows. I'm not really here. Not the real me anyway.

On my chest is a ten pound weight. It's not pressing exceedingly hard, only enough that I realize it's there. It's the same when the anxiety strikes, always that barely detectable pressure on my chest.

I know my issues are hormonal. I suffer from both PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) and PMDD (Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder). The symptoms of each disorder is draining enough, but the combination of the two makes me, at times, believe I will lose complete control.

The PMDD causes hormonal ups and downs. The symptoms are many, and I experience most of them, if not all, throughout every month. My PCOS has caused me almost a decade of infertility issues, insulin resistance, which accounted for my Gestational Diabetes times three, excessive weight gain, and other, more annoying problems.

The syndrome certainly doesn't help the disorder and vice versa.

I am caught in a constant, vicious cycle.

So, my dear friends. That is where I am right now. I take medication to assist in easing my depression/anxiety, and most days it does it's job. However, some days, not so much. Today is one of those days.

Thank you for coming to my pity party and letting me vent. Make sure to sign the guestbook on your way out.

I'm going to bed.

Bloggy Giveaways Carnival!

I don't know how this happened, but I forgot about the quarterly Carnival hosted by Bloggy Giveaways! I purchased my prize last week but writing the post? Well, I am a tad late with THAT because I'm a moron the Carnival already started and 274 people have already signed Mr. Linky!!! DOH!

I guess better late than never, huh?

So anywho, I decided to giveaway something a little different. It is SO much fun, at least I think it is. I own this and am addicted to using it.

Are any of you planning on renovating your home? Painting it? Landscaping your yard? Well, the Better Homes and Gardens Picture Painter software is a great place to get ideas. This program is awesome!

Visualize and paint in 3 easy steps. 1. Take a picture of the interior or exterior of your home. 2. Load the pictures onto your computer and mask the areas to change. 3. Choose colors, materials, and images on your own home before you paint or remodel!

The program incorporates popular manufacturers into the materials, such as: Sherwin-Williams, Benjamin Moore, DuPont Corian, Armstrong, etc.

The landscaping feature helps you choose from hundreds of plants. Plan how the outside of your home will look!

There are so many things you can do! If you are ready to get to work on your home but are not sure about colors or materials, this tool can be just the place to start.

Or, if you are like me, and like to dream about how your house COULD look, you might want this too, because it's SO.MUCH.FUN!

All you have to do to enter is leave a comment to this post. USA residents only, sorry. Open to bloggers and non-bloggers (just make sure to leave an email address, in case you win). I will pick a winner via random.org on Friday. See? Wasn't that easy?!

Good luck!

Oh, one more thing....if you enjoy It's A Schmitty Life, please don't forget to subscribe to my feed. Why not join my other readers in laughing at my expense?!

P.S. The system requirements: Windows XP/Vista or newer. 1.2 GHz processor or greater. 512 MG or RAM or greater. 2 GB of available disk space. DVD drive. java 1.5 or newer (included). A $60.00 value!

This contest is now closed.

What's A Few More Grey Hairs?

W. began to complain of a pain in his chest. Those words being uttered from W.'s mouth, are ALL I need to hear, to get thrown into a tizzy. A full fledged freak out moment of concern is completely justified because of THIS and THIS. I went into panic Mommy Mode and proceeded to badger the crap out of ask him a million and one few questions.

"Where exactly does it hurt?"
"Does it hurt to breathe?"
"Is it hard to breathe?"
"Does it hurt anywhere else?"
"Do you feel dizzy?"
"Do you know where mommy's Xanax is?"

He pointed to the area above his stomach and with his finger made a circular motion.
It only hurts when he sits up or moves in a certain direction.
No.
He had a slight headache.
No.
He thought it was next to the empty bottle of wine.

Mr. Schmitty and I agreed that it was better to be safe than sorry. He grabbed his car keys and insurance card so he could take W. to the emergency room. I made sure he had money, as he might have to grab lunch and dinner a snack from the vending machine. More than likely he'd be sitting all freaking day a while in the waiting room.

The doctor did an EKG and a chest X-ray. He examined W. and assured Mr. Schmitty that it was not his heart or his lungs. He believed it was muscular from swimming and playing. W. just needs to take it easy for a few days and the pain should clear up.

Hallelujah!

Did you feel that? That rush of air? That was me, I finally stopped holding my breath.

Welcome!

Liz Strauss at Successful Blog may have sent you here. For that, I am truly grateful. Thank you Liz.

Welcome newcomers. And welcome back my readers who faithfully stop by my place daily. Sit down, take a load off. Would you like a beverage? That's it, take your shoes off, put your tootsie's up, relax. Excuse me, you? Sorry. You, over there? You might want to put your shoes back on. Thanks. K.

First, a little introduction. My name is Mrs. Schmitty, I've been married to my best friend, Mr. Schmitty, since 1992. We have 3 children, W. (10), T. (5), and R. (4). We also have a one and a half year old Cavachon (Bichon Frise and Cavalier King Charles Spaniel mix) dog named Ruby. We don't live an overly exciting life, but a normal, hectic, life that is truly ours. We have ups and downs. I try to find the humor in those ups and downs, because honestly, if I don't, I may just lose my mind!

Liz suggested that I highlight some of my favorite posts. I hope you enjoy what I've written over the last year and a half. If you do, please subscribe to my feed and come back again. I'd love to get to know you better. Thanks for dropping by and enjoy!

I'm going to start you off with a very funny post about Baginas, because that's just how we roll here. Right to the nitty-gritty. And if we are going to talk about a girls anatomy, well, we are an equal opportunity offender at this blog, so read THIS too.

If you need to find the FUNNY in a situation, or you just might blow your brains out, you'll love The Troublemaker's Timeline. Go ahead, laugh at my expense. It's not your kid. I'd laugh if it were you it happened to. While you are at it, Superballs and Bouncy Balls will explain my hatred of grocery stores.

Not only are my kids the source of my amusement, so is my hubby. He has a tendency to stick his foot in his mouth and Needs To Quit Talking Before It Gets Worse. But he just can't shut it long enough and His Mind Is Always In The Gutter! And if it's not one thing, it's your mother (in-law).

Believe it or not, I can also be serious. REALLY! I can. OH.BE.QUIET! I CAN!! Read about Kate's Foundation, and see for yourself. My son W. had a very rough start to his life, I wrote about it on his 9th Birthday and Hasn't He Been Through Enough. I even delve into my own messed up childhood, briefly, when I mention the Man Who Spawned Me.

You had to go and make me get all grave and grim, didn't you? Now I have to lighten the mood again. THIS is probably one of my favorite posts because as I admit, I'm and ass.

So I Gave Birth To An Axe Murderer

The mailman brought me a little red envelope from Netflix yesterday. Inside was none other than The Wizard of OZ. I curled up with R., on my bed, and popped in the disk.

I just love this movie, like I'm sure so many do. Thankfully I've seen it before, because my chatterbox daughter, just talked and talked through the whole movie. She asked question upon question.

During the last scene, right before the Wicked Witch eats it, R. jumped up on her knees. Dorothy, The Tin Man, The Cowardly Lion, and The Scarecrow were running through the Witch's castle. They were being chased by The Guards, the Flying Monkeys, and The Witch.

R. jumped off the bed, and standing, mesmerized by the images on the television, began to jump up and down, frantically. She does this when she is excited. She just can not contain herself.

"Mommy, why doesn't the Tin Foil Man just get her?"

"What honey?" I asked, as she was talking a hundred miles an hour.

"Why doesn't the Tin Foil Man just use his axe?"

"For what?" I asked, knowing full well what she was thinking, I giggled. She is just SO dainty.

"TO.KILL.THE.WITCH!!"

Then, as she was jumping up and down, she yelled, "AXE HER! AXE HER!!"

Dorothy then proceeds to throw the bucket of water on The Witch. The Witch melts.

"Water? HUH? The axe would have been faster!"

Oh boy. She seriously scares me sometimes.

Stop Calling Me Evander!

Last week W. and I went for our annual dermatology appointments. After writing this post, I was a little anxious to go. I've never had any major problems in the past, just a few benign moles removed, as a precaution. Yet, I always worry because of the frequent sunburns I had during my teen years.

W. has been seeing Dr. M. for about four or five years. He has Vitiligo and some very large moles. Nothing can be done for the Vitiligo, we've tried steroid creams, to no avail. His moles are more the issue, so she measures and photographs them. She has hinted that some may need to come off in the next few years. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

When he was done with his checkup he hopped off the table and started playing his new Guitar Hero for DS, that he got for his birthday. I replaced him on the table and the Dr. started examining me.

"Did you always have this mole on the back of your ear?" She asked me.

"I don't know, I can't really see the back of my ear. Why? Is it bad?" I nervously responded.

"No, just I've never seen it and it's pretty dark. I'm going to take it off."

When W. heard this, he jumped right up.

"Can I watch?" Boys, they are so gross.

The doctor numbed the area with a needle prick. Thankfully needles don't bother me much, because W. kept telling me what was coming, step by step.

Suddenly he yells, "OW MOM, that must have hurt! EWWWW! You have a hole in your ear!"

Then he asks the doctor, "Can I see the mole? COOOOOL! Can I keep it?!"

He was totally serious and TOTALLY disappointed when he was told it needed to go to the lab.

Boys, they are SO gross. But I think we already established that.

Today I finally took off the bandage for good. I've been cleaning the wound and replacing the Spiderman Bandaid every day. Yes, Spiderman, what can I say, that's all I had. It was very much a fashion statement all week.

I decided to get a good look to see how it was healing. The mole was removed on the edge of my ear, more toward the back, right in the middle. I bent my ear forward and looked in the mirror.

OH.MY.GOD.I'VE.GOT.A.HOLE.IN.MY.EAR!! It looks like a small animal took a chunk out of my ear or one of the kids got me with a hole punch. In hindsight, I'm not sure, but I may have taken my chances with that mole because OH.MY.GOD.I'VE.GOT.A.HOLE.IN.MY.EAR!!

If Mr. Schmitty calls me Evander Holyfield one more time, I swear he's going to get an uppercut to the jaw!

UPDATE: Hey EE...you wanted a picture, here it is!! Though the picture doesn't do it much justice as you can't see the depth OF.THE.HOLE.IN.MY.EAR!! *snort.

*See Footnote (In Case You Need Clarification)

I was thumbing through the August issue of Redbook today and I came across an advertisement for SLIMQUICK™ cleanse. Notice the asterisk following the word After. If you require further explanation, please read the accompanying reference.

*Dramatization. The cartoon shown used SLIMQUICK™ cleanse for 7 days to jump start her weight loss program, then continued to lose weight by adding other SLIMQUICK™ products to her diet and exercise routine. Results not typical. Cartoons lose weight easily. Real people require regular exercise and a reduced-calorie diet to lose weight.

No shit. Well, there IS shit, because the stuff cleans your colon, but what I'm saying is, how do you think this happened?!


FYI - I turned the page and on the back of the SLIMQUICK™ ad was an ad for this:

I don't know about you all, but Taco Bell and SLIMQUICK™ cleanse, would pretty much result in the same end product for me.

Every Mom Should Own One

I was watching some tv this afternoon. Sunday afternoon. Predictably, nothing was on the bazillion channels we now have with our cable company.

I looked down at the DVR Remote in my hand. So many buttons. Then I started thinking, if only I had a remote for my kids. If only ALL moms had them. Wouldn't life be so much more manageable? We should each receive one, along with our discharge papers, from the maternity ward.

I got to thinking how each button could help me, in the day to day chaos, at the Schmitty house.

I could press the VOLUME button down when R. is TALKING IN HER WHISPER VOICE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT SO SHE DOESN'T WAKE UP "HER BOYS"! Or when she uses the same voice in church and the whole congregation is staring at us.

The VOLUME button pressed up would be great for when T. has to apologize to his sister for shoving her. Instead of making him say he was sorry twenty times, R. would hear him the first time. Because HE'S got the whispering thing down pat.

The MUTE button. R. Need I say more about my pint-sized chatterbox? OY! It would also come in handy for the summertime bickering that has been invading my ears.

The CHANNEL up and down button could help me locate a new attitude for W., when the one he is sporting, just isn't cutting it.

The FFWD button would help them step it up at bedtime. No more dragging their butts up to their rooms, they'd be sprinting up the stairs.

When no one is admitting to breaking one of my Willow Tree statues. Because, "What ball? I don't have a ball!" REWIND will give me an instant replay and help me find the culprit.

Have you ever heard an R. story? The SKIP button would help her to reach her destination point just a tad faster.

OH.GOD.THE.STOP.BUTTON! No more straining vocal chords. Just peace.

RECORD everything I tell them to do. I'll never hear them say, "You didn't tell me that!" again. The information will forever be etched into their brains.

The INFO button could help me understand, "What the hell were you thinking? We don't practice writing our letter i's on the freshly painted walls!"

When the Schmitty kids are being angels, I would definitely FAVORITE the moment for future reference.

My ON DEMAND button would be the most worn out button on my remote. I would get them to do my bidding when ever and where ever I wanted!

Lastly, the PAUSE button would allow me to keep my children little, just a few minutes longer.

Ann Landers Need Not Worry

W. has been attending camp at our church since last week. Our church offers C.C.D. classes from September-May which are an hour, once a week, after school. Or the children can register for a two week, half day, summer camp.

We opt for the summer camp for two reasons. 1. During the school year there is too much homework and throwing religion classes in, as well, becomes stressful for W. and 2. W. has so much more fun at camp because they do more than just sit in a classroom and read from a book. He does religious crafts, they sing, and they even put on a performance of what they have learned. The last day, tomorrow, the families go to church and watch as they sing, pray, and speak about God. W. has a speaking part this year and is very proud of himself. Though I'm not sure if he's prouder than his mom. I never get over how much confidence that boy can have.

Today he came home from class with some papers he worked on. One of the worksheets was an advice column. There were three "letters" with questions and W. was to give his advice on each one.

Here is an excerpt:

"I live in an apartment building. Sometimes I forget and slam the door when I'm leaving. It's happened twice this week. My neighbors called my mom to complain. How can I get out of this mess?
Mr. Forgetful

W. answered:

"You could leave the door open and let your parents close it.

Brilliant and So Absolutely W.!

BlogHer Talk

I've only been blogging since January of 2007. I was too much of a newbie to even KNOW what BlogHer was last year. So I didn't go. This year? I am too much of a broke mama to fly from Jersey to California.

Sigh.

Every where I go. Every blog I read. There it is, talk of the funtastic conference that is BlogHer '08.

Sigh again.

But I can't let 1000 women (and men) bring me down with their talk of The People's Party and various Cocktail Receptions. Or the special events like Makeovers, Massages, and Yoga. And who hasn't heard about the Silicon Valley Moms Group Summer Road Trip '08? Because everyone loves a road trip! The Agenda is packed with great sessions and I am so bummed that I will be missing out on 22 bloggers reading their posts LIVE at day one's Community Keynote.

The all-mighty Dooce will be speaking! And she will be there, and her, and these two, and how could I not mention her. Plus, you know, all the bloggers I regularly stalk read.

And to rub salt in my wounds, they have buttons! BUTTONS!

But I'm not bitter. Seriously. SHUT.UP.I'M.NOT! I'm truly happy for anyone who is lucky enough to go. I hope they all have a half-way decent crappy great time!

It's not too late to "be there" either. Download Second Life and Register to virtually attend BlogHer. Leave a comment HERE and you may have a chance to read YOUR favorite post during the Second Life Community Keynote.

For all of us gals that can't attend, there will be plenty of ways to have our faces rubbed in experience, the happenings of BlogHer.

I have sent my MOO cards to the wonderfully kind Megan. She has graciously offered to display them for me.

Kelley, my idol, has begged pimped herself out asked politely if anyone would carry her mug beautiful face around with them.

Lotus, with the incredibly hawt rack, is having the hilarious and talented Red Neck Mommy tote her Bewbs around with her.

Witness the drunken antics social etiquette of The People's Party guests via the Kirtsy Podcast.

Read the Tweets. Or if that's just too much for you, follow Erika's advice. Though anyone who would give out their cell phone like that might not necessarily be in their right mind. Erika, you sure you don't want to rethink that? ;)

We homebodies also have our OWN parties to attend. Margarita anyone? And at Kelby's Pity Party you can even win prizes! Saaaahweet!

Some chicks are getting away from it all and doing it THEIR way and going to the Bloggymoon Capital of the World for the BFF (Blog Friends Fest).

AND guess what? We have our own Button too!

So, it sounds like, that no matter where you are, the blogging world will be jumping this weekend.

Me? I'll be taking my own road trip to the liquor store, putting my feet up on my desk for a pedicure, wearing my button with pride, drinking a margarita glass of wine or two or three, Tweeting, visiting a virtual world, possibly calling Erika when I get drunk enough, and definitely checking out that picture of Lotus again!

My Bionic Nose

I have been blessed/cursed with an extremely strong sense of smell. Even when my allergies are at their worst I can smell the slightest odor.

My superhuman, enhanced, smelling capabilities have come in handy in the past. For instance, when Mr. Schmitty and I lived upstairs from his olfactory challenged mother, my sniffer picked up a hint of rotten eggs. He couldn't smell a thing and swore I was crazy, but I insisted there was, in deed, a smell.

Upon further investigation we discovered that there was a major gas leak from behind his mother's stove. My nose had saved us from being blown to smithereens.

But, I must admit, most times I just want to shove tampons up my nostrils.

• Perfume. I can't wear it because, no matter how lightly I apply the fragrance, it smells like I bathed in it. I WILL get a pounding headache. Quite a few years ago in Macy's, a woman in the cosmetic department was spritzing customers as they walked by. She came at me and I almost clocked her one.
  

• Dead skunk in the road. I can smell it about 100 yards before we even see it. Mr. Schmitty knows that we are approaching rodent roadkill because I will start freaking out and rolling down the windows. I have to let the air out of the car because I can already smell the stench building up inside. Dead skunk just about does me in.
  

• Vomit. Enough said.

• Stinky feet. Now that my son, W., is getting close to puberty, his feet reek! I've been known to throw his sneakers outside or at least in his room. Let him smell them.
  

• Wet or dirty dog. Ruby likes to dig. If she comes inside with that...that...you know... SMELL, then she either has to go in the tub or to the groomer. She is not coming near me until she does.
  

• Garlic. I love it, just not so much on another person's breath. If Mr. Schmitty eats it, I can't even sleep next to him at night. I have to make sure either he or I is facing the opposite way. Or I have to build a barricade of pillows between us. He has actually woken me up, out of a sound sleep, by breathing on me with garlic induced Halitosis.
  

• B.O. At the grocery store, I was taking a gallon of milk out of the refrigerator. I suddenly got punched in the face with this repulsive funk. I looked around, not knowing where it was coming from. I was gagging. Then I saw him, about three doors down, he was getting eggs. I think the eggs tried to run from him. He was like Pepe Le Pew. I saw a green fog just trailing behind him where ever he went. I thought he might set off the sprinkler system. How in the world could he not smell himself?! Would people please, PLEASE use deodorant? Or at least take a shower every once in a while.

See?! It's bad. So, I ask you all, while you are here, please refrain from farting, because quite honestly, I'll probably be able to smell it.

It Only Takes A Second

We finally got our nightmare of a freaking project that was a pain in my tucus to assemble because our yard is not level Intex Metal Frame Pool up and the kids got to jump in yesterday. We had a very, VERY belated family birthday party for W., who turned 10 on...um....June 4th?! YIKES!

My bad.

We sat the kids down and ran down the list of rules involving the use of the pool. Mr. Schmitty was somewhat apprehensive when I told him I wanted a pool. The combination of a pool and kids scared him. I reassured him that we were cautious parents, overly protective ones, in fact. It would be fine.

Plus, I painted a picture of what I might be like if there was no form of entertainment for our precious tykes this summer. He, I believe, weighed his two fears and realized that getting the pool was the better route to take. Such a smart fella, that hubs of mine.

So, the rules were pounded into the heads of the Schmitty kids, over and over and OVER again. We set the chime on our alarm box so we would know whenever a door or window was opened. We put Body Glove Float Suits AND water wings on the non-swimmers. T. and R. looked like the Michelin Man's babies. It was total overkill, as neither of them weigh more than 40 pounds, but the distribution of floats over their bodies prevented them from tipping over. It made them feel safer, which in turn, calmed Mr. Schmitty. At least a tad.

No children were allowed in the pool without an adult in the yard. Actually, no children were allowed in the yard without a supervising adult. They were also not allowed in the pool alone. If all but one wanted to get out of the pool, then the lone swimmer needed to deal and get out too.

We had all bases covered. We had at least five parents, at a time, as lifeguards. Mr. Schmitty was happy. The kids were THRILLED.

After the party, Mr. Schmitty was cleaning up outside. R. and her BFF, E., were "helping" him. He had turned on the filter to clean the pool and the girls were running around and splashing each other with the water from R.'s kiddie pool.

Mr. Schmitty turned his back for a second and then he heard R.'s crying. He looked across the yard where she and E. were standing, huddled together. He immediately knew what had happened. He ran across the yard. R. was crying that her hand hurt and that she had gotten shocked.

Yup, she touched the plug to the filter. It was hanging out of the outlet. She was wet. She tripped the GFI.

Thank GOD she was still breathing.

All the precautions for the pool to prevent drowning. All the over protectiveness in the world. A split second of letting your guard down. I could have lost my sweet pixie-girl.

I think I grew some grey hair last night.

Learning To Read In Target

I took the kids with me to Target today. I needed to get some cleaning supplies, paper products, and hygiene items.

I had my trusty list in my hand because I swore I was not buying ANYTHING that wasn't written down on that list. I was at the end of an aisle using one eye to read the label on an allergy medication, while the other eye watched the kids, who were now slightly up the next aisle.

T. was pointing to words on boxes and bags and then asking W. to read them to him.

Up until that point, I hadn't been paying attention to the dialogue, because I was crossing things off my list. Got to stick to the list.

I tuned into the conversation.

"W., what does this word say?"

"Gentle."

"And that one?" "Glide."

My five year old ran over to the other side of the aisle.

"What about this long one?"

"Pantyliners."

Snicker...I looked closer. It was the girly aisle.

Heck, at least they weren't throwing bouncy balls around. Plus they were teaching AND learning. My kids. Who'da thunk it?

This was such a proud moment. I pushed the cart ahead, I needed stuff in this aisle anyway.

"W., here are two words!"

"Sound it out. F makes the fu sound. E makes the eh sound. M makes the em sound. Fu eh em. Fehm. Fehminen. Feminine Wash!"

SNORT! I'm such a child.

I heard flip-flop running sounds behind me. I turned to see R. grab a box off the shelf at the end of the aisle.

Ah, how cute she wanted to get into the act!

"W. read me this one!" she exclaimed.

"Trojan. Magnum."

BAAHHHAAAAA!

I'm an ass.

What Will Their Future Hold?

I'm sure I'm not the only mom that wonders what her children will grow up to be.

A doctor? A lawyer? An exotic dancer? An Entertainer?

Or how about President? Though I think I want my children to be President of their own company rather than of the country.

T.'s preschool class put on a small show for the parents back in May. During one bit, the children carried signs that stated which profession they wanted to pursue, when they were grown. Some wanted to be Nurses, others wanted to be Policemen or Firemen, and most wanted to take care of animals and be a Veterinarian.

Five year old children are very noble.

When W.'s yearbook came home from school, I immediately turned to the 4th grade class. Next to each child's picture was their answer to the question, "What do you want to be?" Gone were the healers and protectors.

Ten year olds want to be rich and famous, baby!

The majority of the boys longed to become a Professional Jock. Top Professional Jocks too, they were all going to be in the Major Leagues! No sport was overlooked; Baseball, Basketball, Football, Synchronized Swimming.

The majority of the girls wanted to rocket to stardom as a Singer, Model, or Actress. Even the ugly ones. The overachievers wanted to be all three.

See how only five years can change a person's whole way of thinking?

I've asked my children many times what they think they might want to do in their adult lives. I'm not surprised by their answers, as the responses are pretty typical for their ages. Like any mom, I know my kids can be ANYTHING they want. They can DO anything they want.

Today I got to thinking (is something burning?), wouldn't it be fun if I had to assign them jobs based on their personalities right now? Certainly their careers would take quite specific paths.

W.'s yearbook picture stated that he would like to be a Chef. First of all, he eats pretty much pasta and bread and bread and pasta. His palate is only accustomed to blandness. Gordon Ramsey would set himself on fire. He does, however, love sweets. So, quite possibly a career as a Pastry Chef could be in his future.

I think he should be a Stuntman. He can throw a punch, flip around, and fall on the hardwood floors with a tremendous thud. It scares the bejezus out of me and makes me run from the next room because I am sure there's blood. He's usually lying on the floor laughing. He has NO fear and apparently very strong bones.

R. wants to be a Vet. The only reasonable part of that thought is that she isn't afraid of animals. My little munchkin, all 30 lbs. of her, will run up to a dog three times her size and wrap her arms around it's neck. The problem? She doesn't exactly have the best bedside manner. Ask poor Ruby who has been picked up by her tail on more than one occasion.

I think R. should be a News Anchor or a Talk Show Host. Why? BECAUSE.SHE.NEVER.SHUTS.UP! The pint-sized terror would also be excellent as a female Wrestler, Boxer, Bounty Hunter, or Hit Woman. Ahhh...my dainty girl has such a bright future ahead of her.

And finally T., my guy who will always be plagued by the middle child syndrome. Some days he wants to be a Chef and some days he wants to be a Vet. It depends on which sibling he is idolizing that particular day.

I think T. should be a Lawyer. He is the most persistent, argumentative child I have ever come across. He wants answers NOW! He'd be so great at cross-examination. He'd badger the information out of any witness that took the stand. Move over F. Lee Bailey.

So, what do your kids want to be? Or better yet, based on their personalities, what do you foresee?

This Hurts Me More Than It Does You

W. has made a new best friend, S. I'm so glad, as he was getting too comfortable with ONLY playing with the kids across the street. Constantly. They are good kids, but I wanted him to broaden his inner circle a bit.

S. is a great kid and has a fantastic personality. He is a perfect fit for W. I keep saying they were twins separated at birth. They have become inseparable since school let out.

That is, until tonight. Because tomorrow and the next day, W. went and got himself grounded. He was overtired from all of the events of the holiday week and decided to test mama's patience. He came home from dinner, with S. and his family, and proceeded to throw one of his infamous temper tantrums. It was bedtime and I said that S. couldn't come in to play.

I'm such a bitch aren't I?

So, to make a long, loud, story short. He's stuck in the house for two days. No friends. No video games.

I think I just punished myself.

Sharing The Love

I received an award from my dear, blogging friend at The Fritz Facts! Thank you so very much!

This beautiful award was created by Crystal, blogger of Memoirs Of A Mommy. She wanted to honor the organ donor who saved her son Noah's life. Her son was born with a congenital heart defect known as Critical Aortic Stenosis. He also had an Abnormal Mitral Valve.

This subject hits extremely close to home for me. My son, W., was also born with a congential heart defect, known as Transpostion Of The Great Arteries as well as an ASD. He was operated on when he was only 5 days old.

W.'s surgery was a corrective one and he did not need a transplant, as did Noah. We did, however, become friendly with the family who had a child in the bed next to W. Their son had Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. He received many surgeries to repair his heart, however, they were unsuccessful. He eventually received a heart transplant. Unfortunately, due to complications of pneumonia, he passed away. We will never forget that little boy and the family we bonded with during such a difficult time.

A.J., this award is for you! I will pass it along and every time I see it on some one's blog, I will think of you.

That being said, would Maria, Shauna, and Jamie please accept this award? All you need to do is pass it along to someone you love!

Busted!

The kids from across the street were here playing with W. and T. yesterday. They are really good kids that have been friends with W. since he was a toddler. They are here quite a bit, which is fine with me because they keep W. and T. out of my hair busy.

Even though we have known them since they were barely walking, and even though there are times they practically live at our house, they are still very uneasy around Mr. Schmitty and myself. Actually, they are pretty uneasy around most people. J., the 9 year old boy, is shy and sensitive. K., the 11 year old girl, is self-conscious and awkward. I do my best to treat them like they are my own by bringing out my goofy, silly, crazy self to get them to laugh. I try to lighten the mood as much as possible.

Like any other 9-11 year old, they are addicted to their Gameboys. After lunch J., K., and my three kids were sprawled on the living room furniture. Each had a Nintendo DS. They were all in Pictochat sending messages back and forth to each other.

T. needed a bandaid, so he and I went downstairs to find one. He was putting the bandaid on his foot, because you know, HE.HAD.TO.DO.IT, and I held his DS. I glanced down at the screen and what did I see?

The little perverts were channeling Michelangelo! I grabbed the stylus and wrote, "Nice." That only prompted another drawing. Dumb arses! T. doesn't know how to write anything other than his name, didn't they realize it couldn't have been him responding? Did they seriously think he was commenting on their artistic ability?

I wrote, "Inappropriate!" Lord, there was a 4 and 5 year old involved here. Except I really wasn't that worried because the boobs looked like big cartoon eyes and the pee-pee, well it looked more like earmuffs. But that's beside the point.

I didn't know what each kid's screen name was, so I'm not sure which one responded, "Naga? Is that you?" Naga, of course, being T.

"Not Naga, MOM."

'Sonic has left the room', 'Runyon has left the room', 'Hydronoid has left the room', which left only K., scribbling away, lost in her own, innocent world.

The other three? I think they raced each other to the bathroom to check their pants for skids.

New Blog!

I have just added a new blog to my business website. It will allow readers to keep up with New Items, Sales, and Specials. Just subscribe to the Doodle Kids® feed and you'll receive updates right in your reader!

I will also be hosting a Bi-Weekly Giveaway. My first giveaway is up and you only have until July 15th to enter. So, pop on over and give me some love.

Good Luck and thanks!!

What Goes Around Comes Around

Yesterday in the parking lot of the grocery store, an old, brown Bronco, driven by a young, twenty-something boy, passed by me. The windows were rolled down and the boy had his music blaring so loudly that you couldn't make out anything but the pounding bass. On the back window of the SUV were the written words, "Benny Go Home", in large painted letters. I walked away wondering two things. I wondered how many times the kid got his heiny beat because of his freedom of speech. I also wondered if the kid understood the meaning of "Benny" because he certainly wasn't being respectful of the locals with the way he was forcing us to listen to his tunes.

I live at the Jersey Shore, a beautiful area that is overrun with tourists in the summer. A lot of the summer guests rent homes for about three months out of the year. The season begins Memorial Day weekend and ends Labor Day weekend. For the people who live here all year round, those 12-13 weeks can be filled with some annoying encounters.

I am a pretty friendly person. But when I cross paths with an actual Benny, it is hard not to want to tell them to go home. I really have to bite my tongue sometimes.

For instance, last night Mr. Schmitty was working an all night, overtime shift and W. was sleeping at a friend's house. T. and R. were restless, so I decided to take them to McDonald's for dinner. When they were done eating they wanted, of course, to go into the Play Place.

While they were playing, I sat in a chair and watched them laugh and chase each other. I also watched, as a two year old boy stood on another chair, screamed for his mother, and smeared his tear-ridden snot all over the glass window. Where was Mom? She sat in the dining area. She smiled at him, waved, and continued to take turns chatting on her cell phone and then to another woman who was seated next to her eating an ice cream cone.

I also watched,as a six year old girl climbed up the play structure, and mooned the entire room. She was wearing a skirt, I would refer to as a hoochie skirt, if she had been older. It was about two sizes too small for the girl, as must have been her underwear, because that was up her butt like a thong.

The mother must have noticed the display of flesh because she suddenly appeared in the room and shouted in her NativeCityThatIWon'tMentionByNameButRymesWithYouFork accent, "Nina, get down and pull your panties out of your crack."

Nice.

She then picked up, the now slobbering two year old boy, off the chair and placed him on the floor. Oh fancy that, he's hers too. She plopped down on a bench and shooed him away so her friend could sit. She then began complaining about not being able to find competent cleaning ladies in this town. She then turned to a Mexican woman, who was sitting next to me, and asked her if she cleaned houses.

OH.YES.SHE.DID!

I couldn't take anymore. I called for T. and R. to get their shoes. As I was strapping R.'s sandals, I heard the obnoxious voice again. She was now standing and looking down at her feet. Her son had puked on her freshly painted pedicure.

Karma, baby!