I pick vacation spots by euphemism.

It's always good to try new things.

In  this case it's braised breaded beef tongue in tomato with pimento at a Basque restaurant called Epi's in Meridian, Idaho last night for dinner.

On a related note, I also had ham balls as an appetizer and ended the meal with apple bread pudding drenched in caramel and whipped cream.  

New experiences are sexy.  Eating tongue for the first time is sexy. 

Oh shush...let me have my moment.

On another related note, speaking of moments, right now I'm sitting at the finest Denny's that Boise has to offer.  Bacon is bacon anywhere but I'm wondering if I should ask the waiter if he has ham balls.

He looks accommodating.

Again, shush.

The smell from the backseat was terrible...I know that smell.

There is something about the end of the school year that prompts a well meaning mother and housewife to get out to the driveway and clean out her fabulous mini-van.  Since last summer's clean out, the contents of my family truckster have reached proportions that aren't just embarrassing but plain disturbing.  We got to a van cleaning today.  Everything should be shoveled out in the sweet temperatures of June before something you ate half of and stuffed between the seats back in January gets stinky in July.

This always inspires the rhetorical question, "What the hell did I just put my hand in?"

It's best not to think too much about the answer because it could be anything from a wad of sucked on Starburst candies to a rubbery mass that used to be someone's sneaker and sweatsock.

There was this one time, when one of my kids was still in a car seat, that they unscrewed and upended an entire bottle of milk onto the floor of the backseat.  Though we tried our best to clean it up, there were those mighty warm August days in which I cursed the lives of  Holstein cows when I had to make a quick run to the grocery store.

Since then, milk in the car has been banned.

Those kinds of odors are also why I made sure there are enough bags and containers for each passenger of the vehicle to vomit into, if the need arises.

If you ignore the van mess, you can see that I've learned a lot about the art of transporting offspring.  There might be a day where we become stranded and I know we could make it in our van for at least a week if we had to.  My home may not be fully prepared for a zombie Armageddon but my van is preparedness pimped, yo.

Here is what you need in your family truckster:

Plastic shoebox style container, or bucket, something with a lid. like mine in my photo, pre-vacuuming.  Fill this box with:

A roll of toilet paper

A stick of deodorant

Toothpaste and toothbrush

Gum

Mints

A small sewing kit with scissors

Maxi pads

Several plastic shopping bags

Packing tape

A small grooming kit with nail clippers, tweezers, comb and brush

A pencil and a pen and a pad of paper

Twenty four dollars (that's how much change was in mine...)

Sunscreen

Bug spray

Wet wipes and hand sanitizer

Granola bars

A lighter

When you are 60 miles from any public restroom that bucket or shoebox can be vomited into easily when you dump your emergency items on the floor.  Do NOT pull over and empty your vomit shoebox into the wind.

I also have two felt blankets in that van, one under the seats, and another in the trunk area which I use to cover things I wish to hide from my children.  I also have bottles of water which get replaced fairly often because one of my kids thinks that water from faucets is not nearly as special as sneaking water from the van and drinking that.

Then there is also a makeup bag in the door in which I keep over the counter medications.  You want to stop any diarrhea with chemicals before you're forced to poop in your shoebox, because you might need that shoebox to vomit into, and then you want to remember not to empty any of that into the wind.

In case you do though, you've got wet naps and TP to clean yourself with.

The kinds of lessons that stick with a kid for life...

Today is the last day of school.

This is a day full of warm promise for my children.  When I was a kid I knew I could expect hours of summer fun on the farm.  These hours were mostly comprised of horse manure.  You scooped it up daily, you left it in a pile, the pile dried, and then you and your little sister sat on top of it and played king of the hill for hours.

This, my readers and other hangers on, is why I have a work ethic and values.  Spend long enough in poop and something is bound to grow out of it.

My kids don't have ready access to a farm or large pile of poop, so I have to come up with alternative methods to teach them work ethics and values.  Or at least keep them somewhat entertained and out of each other's hair.

So, I've bought several rolls of duct tape.

The thought was that I could have done some sort of crafty housewife type shit with all this duct tape but it occurred to me while my kid was watching me type over my shoulder, that designer duct tape would serve as a creative and novel disciplinary tool in the next three months.

When we tape the kid to the wall for misbehavior, each design will point to a specific offense or lesson.  This will save me the lecturing and my voice.

Grass

 Stop running around the house and play outside.  Stop shouting in the house and shout outside.  Stop going out of the house and coming into the house and going out of the house and coming into the house. 

 

 

Wood

Should have stopped complaining about being bored and then whining and pouting through the chores I gave you to do because you were complaining about being bored. 

 

 

Steel

Stop fighting over the Playstation.  Stop fighting over the Wii.  Stop fighting over the computer.  Stop fighting over the Nintendo DS.  Stop fighting over the TV.  Stop fighting over the transistor radio.

 

 

Argyle

Should have taken a bath when I told you to.  Should have brushed your teeth and put on deodorant and put your clothes in the hamper.  For the love of the Lord, put on underwear!

 

 

Houndstooth

Quit asking for chips, soda, snacks, juice, candy, snowcones, popsicles, ice cream, fast food, cookies, and Kraft mac n cheese.  Eat a vegetable.

 

 

Paisley

Quit calling your brother names, especially the following:  Poophead, Buttsniffer, Douchecanoe, Fartknocker, Dickcheese, or Rand Paul or any other PG13 or above rated expletive.

 

 

Cheetah

This is for my 14 year old son:  Quit staring at boobs.  Do that in your room. 

 Stop using up all the hot water. 

 

 

Pink Polka Dot

This is for my 8 year old:  Pee IN THE TOILET.  As in, lift up the lid, lift up the seat, aim, and hit the water.  If you dribble anywhere, wipe it up!

 

 

Skull and Crossbones

Don't bite.  Don't spit.  Don't kick.  Don't sucker punch.   Don't hit each other with sticks, bats, pillows, the cats, rocks, books, kitchen implements, toy swords/light sabers/guns.  No snapping wet towels at one another. No hair pulling.  No pinching, rug burns, noogies, wet willies, purple nurples or wedgies.  No threatening one another with knives, scissors, screwdrivers, pins, pens, razor blades or paper cuts and lemon juice.  No bloodletting of any sort.

Hopefully that covers the summer, cross fingers.  There are other design options if it doesn't...or I could just have a cubic ton of horse apples delivered and let them have at it.

It'll be good for their immune systems if it comes to that.

Uncomplicated Life II

Since the weather has warmed up my husband and I have taken off to the miles of open desert just west of our front door to hike.  Winter was so damned cold and it seems like our souls need to soak in the sun. 

 

Many people think that my part of the world is bland.  Nothing to do.  Soulless, if you will.  I can't agree.  I love the desert.

 

 

There is plenty of sage and scrub, but not so many cactus plants about.  When we passed this cactus rose in bloom, with more buds ready, we had to take a photo.

Just wanted to share.

The Agony of Degrease

We don't often watch sports in my house, so I'm no expert, but doesn't it seem that sports reporters perform the exact same interview no matter which athlete they're interviewing?

All the same questions have the same answers too.  The only difference is how far out of the locker room the athlete is.  I prefer the interviews where the athlete is breathless and sweaty with exertion, or nausea, or defeat.

As a woman who has long mastered the sport of housewifery, I long for the chance to be interviewed just like Kobe Bryant or Tim Tebow.  Someday someone with a microphone will pull me wet out of my shower, a sponge in one hand and a can of cleanser in the other, and ask me about my performance.

My answers will be deep and moving.

Q: What do you think are the chances you'll put the hurt on that grout today?

A:  Well, that grout is tough, real tough, but I know I've got the skills and the desire to win against it.  All it takes is hunkering down and getting the job done.

Q:  Why do you think you missed that spot on the mirror? 

A:  I guess I just wasn't feeling it.  You'd wipe and when you've got one streak down, another one appears.  I've been fighting hard and I guess, sniff, today wasn't my best day.  But, ya know, the lord is with me and I'll come back from it.

Q:  Do you think you're ready to get up in the attic and clean it out for your yard sale?

A:  I've been training for that attic for a long time, putting boxes up there, taking them down, putting them up.  The real training is up here though, in my brain.  You gotta visualize it.  Visualize getting the boxes down, setting up your tables, pitching the sale, getting the payoff.  I'm pumped!  Woo!

Q:  What made the difference today in getting that toilet bowl so sparkling?

A:  Yeah, you gotta get away from your bad habits.  Try something new.  You gotta want it more.  I had a coupon for that new fume free cleaner with bleach.

Q:  You're hosting the big yearly dinner party.  How do you prepare?

A:  It pays to have a strategy.  Finger foods, main course, drinks.  Get all the work done before they get there.  Don't let them see you sweat.  Take it in stride and have fun.

Q:  How are you going to get your housework done when you've been sidelined with an illness this season?

A:  Just gotta rest and heal up.  Then we'll get back to it.  Takes work and patience.  Spit.

Q:  How do you handle the kids?

A:  Move fast.  Plenty of interceptions and good blocking.

No more Baby Ruths

The end of the school year is fast approaching my family and this year, unlike many other years, I'm actually ready for it.

In the past, my joy at being able to stay up all night and attempt to sleep in every morning was overshadowed by children who also eventually woke up.  Children who were constantly hungry, bored, gassy, dirty, hyper, and hypnotized by the pied piper effect of the ice cream truck.  By August, the facial tics I'd developed in mid-June had grown into people commenting on how much I resembled that wretched actress from Throw Momma from the Train.

If I had bothered in years previous to buy a summer pass to our local community swimming pool, this woman's head would have been coming out of the locker room on my painfully white body in a bright turquoise halter top one piece.  Savor that thought for a moment.  MILF-y, ain't it?

This summer...well this summer my children are older...one's not even home anymore...and I bought myself an Olympic style racing suit that I can actually swim in.

This suit does not give me a wedgie, nor do I have to suffer any razor burn.  Housewife win!  Still a MILF fail but housewife win!

The relaxation I will enjoy for the next three months is going to be filled with answers to my children's needs.  Hungry?  Make yourself a bowl of cereal.  Gassy?  Go outside and quit drinking so much juice.  Dirty?  You know where the shower is, use it every single day and then clean it or clean it and then use it, your choice.  Hyper?  Again, go outside and quit drinking so much juice.  Ice cream truck?  I have chores, many chores, in which you, yes you, can earn yourselves compensation to spend at mobile food vendors!

...and no one in my house wants to watch the visual vomit of Nick Jr. anymore, thank God and all the angels.

Then there is the matter of the summer family vacation.  We haven't decided where to go or what to do yet, but it doesn't matter because my children are old enough to not need diapers or a handy supply of wet naps.  We might get a little real vomit on a road trip but it won't be because of a rear facing carseat.

So, summer is welcome.  Bring the heat and the 50 spf sunscreen.  I'm going to do my thing and remember to buy family swimming pass. 

Because this summer I do not have to leave the lap pool to take a little boy into the female dressing room to take a mid swim poop.

Woohoo!

Uncomplicated Life I

My Navy Manchild sent me magic beans for Mother's Day.

 

 

They grew into this plant.

 

Just wanted to share it.